Temperance

  Chapter 9 Fire Down Below

  “Everygob else, stay here.” I grumbled, standing up with a sobbing Emmie in my arms, headed for the primitive, bamboo hatch leading down into my workshop.

  My talons squealed on the seasoned bamboo of the ladder, as I slid down into the dim, warm confines with the weeping girl over my shoulder. Before I could close the hatch, a lean, leather form spidered her way down into my domain.

  “Nub nub. Private. Family issue!” I scolded the gangly old goblin, who plopped her skinny ass down in the nest I kept by the kiln, just for me and Emmie.

  Fair enough, but as you said, I’m not in your family, so I don’t have to listen! Bray like a donkey in the wilderness, none will hear you.” She lounged on her side, one lean brown hand cupping her gray green wrinkled breast at me, while the other displayed her delicates in an indelicate manner at me. I chuffed a huge breath out through my nostrils at her, to make my feelings clear.

  The big, snotty booger that landed on her flat, wrinkled belly made her laugh with real glee, as she began knuckling her nook at me with a wicked smile on her face. “Go on, goblin, I will not interfere. So long as you do not hurt her too badly or threaten her pup in your vengeance.”

  With a snarl, I snatched Emmie up and draped her over my lap, face down and buns up. When my hard, calloused palm swatted down the first time she squealed with pain and fear, wriggling in my grasp, until I brought another ringing slap down on her jiggly bottom.

  My third spank brought from her a coo of warm pleasure and a distinct change in the weather, as her bottom warmed under my paw and she wriggled closer in my lap, nudging herself in the belly with my junk.

  “Ghnash did nub think this through…” I mumbled, as she purred and squirmed in my lap, gasping with delight. I gently picked her up and laid her in our nest, with a gentle stroke of her reddened bottom that made her whimper and coo at the same time. “Nub ever trick Ghnash again, lovely Emmie.”

  When I rose and went to my workbench, she sobbed up at me, her voice small and distant. “Gh… Ghnash lets Emmie stay? Keep baby? Beryl too?”

  “I’ll raise those snotlings for you, boy. Give them to me if nothing else…” The witch hissed when I didn’t answer immediately.

  “Family talk! Silence, witch!” I barked, rage, desire and less easily named emotions swirling inside me in a storm that shook my resolve. I turned my back to the old gob and whispered softly. “I’ll raise your pups… My pups. Ghnash has no seed to plant in Emmie. Understands. Hurts, yes, but tricks and lies maker me big-mad. Emmie’s mouth nub just for dicking. Can talk too!”

  At that, she rolled over, carefully protecting her battered bottom and let her mouth gape open, her long green, pink tinged tongue lolling out seductively.

  “Nub talking, now.” She purred, low and husky, when I didn’t leap at her.

  “Punishment. Nub nub til I say.” I snapped, a little more harshly than I intended, since I was pretty steamed up from the paddling and her antics. She let out a piteous moan and sobbed a little, rocking back and forth, holding her belly.

  “Better be a strong runtie, little one! You cost me big-big!” She whispered sadly, when I remained unmoved. “It’s right there, so long and hard…”

  “Stop whining, girl!” The witch snapped sharply. “Most goblin girls never know any pleasure from coupling, not in their whole lives! Only rutting brutes and savages or human slavers!”

  She patted my wife fondly on the shoulder with the hand she’d been fingering herself with, leaving streaks of moisture behind on my poor green darling’s skin… Not coincidentally mingling Emmie’s warm familiar aroma with the un-named crone’s not unpleasant scent.

  “I await your attention, chief Ghnash. Or will you keep all that inside, out of spite?” She murmured, her voice sounding far less harsh in my ears suddenly.

  “Make this poor girl help, or she might shatter with grief.” The witch sighed, which brought Emmie’s face out of the bedding, a small hopeful smile on her tear-stained face.

  “Helper?” She sobbed softly.

  “You draw my anger, witch!” I growled. “Nub play games with mine!”

  “She fears you will never rut with her, foolish boy. She desires you, just as much as she needs that baby inside her. Beat her or cast her out, but don’t be cruel.” The old woman snapped at me, as she took my sobbing wife under her arm, the one that wasn’t busy tickling her tenders at me.

  “You guide him into me, girl. And keep careful hold, lest he split me like a dry stick with that thing.”

  “I get a say in this, old woman!” I grumbled, not realizing I was already being pulled gently along by those familiar little claws and plunging slowly into the unknown.

  “Well, shit!” I sighed, as warm wet and snug sensations dragged me along for the ride.

  /

  Six armored riders heeled their lathered and exhausted mounts to a halt at a deep, narrow channel of murky water. Two crudely notched bamboo poles stood on the far edge, mouldering and weathered by the seasons, but clearly a primitive working of some kind. A few tattered shreds of palm fiber rope dangled limply, where the bridge had been cut away.

  “Well, shit!” Captain Peltier of the Holy office of the Inquisition spat.

  “As reports suggested, the site has been abandoned, master.” The miserable, muddy and bedraggled cat-girl moaned, kneeling facedown in the silty mud.

  “Go pitch my tent and clean yourself up.” He snapped at the wretch. “You know what will happen if you befoul any of my goods, bear that in mind.” She scurried away to the clearing where the goblin slave soldiers waited, her tail thrashing in fear as she fled.

  “Armin, Whitcolm, establish a ritual array. Divine where it has fled, we will depart at dawn and build another when we camp and triangulate this vermin’s position.” He spat at his troops. “No fuck-ups, unless you enjoy wandering in these filthy bogs.”

  Peltier sagged with relief, once his slave removed his heavy, stifling armor and racked it, she was competent at that, at least. He bemoaned internally, the scarcity of proper human slaves lately.

  Too many of the young and pretty ones went to the sacrificial altars these days, leaving only beastkin on the market with any reliability. This cat had been costly, but there was no way he was going to go out without a servant again.

  “Service me, then go make a nest for yourself.” He barked, once he was free of his arming coat and leggings. “Mind the teeth, or I’ll let the troopers have you for a night.”

  It was demeaning, even if no one of any account would ever know his shame, resorting to an animal’s mouth… He washed himself with care, once the creature slithered out of his tent. “A proper bedslave would have…” He sighed at the roof of his tent, wondering why life had to be so filled with disappointments and trials.

  A few more weeks of this and he would return to the city and derive some real pleasure from the mewling cat… Taking her tail off, one joint at a time with blunt shears would be a fine start!

  /

  “That was a fine start, goblin man! Now now again and deeper! I can take more than this chit of a girl!” The witch cried eagerly, her face buried in my nest and her bossy, boney and delightful ass in the air for me. Emmie had her hands around me at the halfway point, diligently following the witch’s instructions, without consulting me.

  I was in no condition to argue, anyway; tongue lolling out, eyes rolled back and just a proper wreck, as my weeks of self discipline and careful cultivation came unspooled under the lingering influence of whatever they’d slipped me and the pheromones drifting through the house.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Two freshly stuffed goblin girls and the oddly compelling scent of the witch, all crammed under my roof were doing a number on me. I was unfit for polite company, until the storm could pass and my head could clear.

  “You were right about everything, Emerald… Have you considered taking up as my apprentice?” The witch cooed softly, her head resting in my chest, looking over at Emmie on the other side of me, her hands idly playing with my still semi-erect member, her big golden eyes closed.

  “Nub nub. I go where Ghnash goes.” She moaned softly. “My babies are his babies, whoever sires them. Ghnash said so.”

  “Even if you must endure this again and again?” She asked gently. “The witch’s path has its pleasures, even if you will never bear a pup nor suckle again.” She whispered. “You could bounce around on him all you wish, with my arts. I have no tummytime, yet I have been nicely smushed into rubble by that mighty thing, with no ill effect.”

  I took a breath, preparing to speak, only to be sharply hushed by both warm, snugly women at once. “Girl-talk. Men shut up now.” Emmie purred, with a warm, wet kiss that curled my toes when our tongues entangled, just outside my nasty trap of teeth.

  “What I would give…” The witch sighed softly. “A pet python that knows tricks and performs on command.” Her claws scratched idly at my tummy, which stirred Ghnash the younger back to wakefulness, bringing a gasp of pleasure to the old dame. “My cup, it runneth over.” She mumbled softly. “You take this one, Emmie.”

  She bubbled with delight and absolute joy, as she reached for her favorite treat, only to have it snatched away. “Nu-nub.” I stammered, stretching my willpower to the breaking point. “Nub til I say you can has, again! Not her word, Ghnash’s!” I barked, less forcefully than I’d hoped.

  “If witch wants it sucked she can do it herself.” I grumbled angrily. “Ghnash is person. Horny person with swinging balls, but person!” My impassioned speech got me all worked up again… again.

  “Let her enjoy herself, boy. You are about to burst all by yourself, anyway.” The witch laughed and pointed at my towering tree, a droplet already gleaming like the christmas star at the pinnacle.

  Emmie couldn’t take it anymore, she snapped, seized me and jammed me forcefully into the witch’s open, laughing mouth, in among all those sharp little white teeth.

  Mouth-stuff was something Emmie and I came up with together, due to our… special circumstance. My claws and far greater strength made many kinds of play slightly risky, while my teeth made reciprocal mouth stuff downright dangerous, unless strictly regulated. Otherwise, goblin sex was grotesquely straightforward and at best, unpleasant for the ladies. I strongly suspected that most goblin girls got up to a lot of ‘mischief’ that goblin boys were not equipped to comprehend.

  I had a teenaged American boy’s spankbank of illicit porno tucked in my skull, so advantage Ghnash; thanks to Gary Ward’s absurd smut consumption. The poor guy died unspoiled, only ever kissed a girl once! Tragedy.

  Ghnash’Wharrgh was enduring the opposite extreme… and it wasn’t so bad at all. Emmie jammed me in the witch’s mouth without so much as a how-dee-doo, while juggling my balls like a stoned ren-faire hippie, gracefully and with maximum contact.

  “It’s ok to swallow; no babies in it!” She urged, while committing assault with a friendly weapon.

  The witch had nothing coherent to say, though she quickly decided that Emmie’s new game was fun, once she figured out that her tongue, teeth and claws could make me twitch, moan, groan or thrash at her whim, so long as she kept me busy.

  “Leave his tushie alone, that’s mine!” Emmie grumbled, when a wizened claw snuck toward my bum with naughty intent. “Here, skootch around, I show you a secret.”

  They jostled and shifted about, while the witch kept me firmly corralled and on a short rope to boot. When I looked up, the witch’s narrow backside was over me, held aloft by two bright green hands on her asscheeks. My aged amorous partner’s swollen, red entrance dangled there, beside Emmie’s cute, cherubic face. “He won’t bite, only lick. I promise.” She leaned forward and kissed my sweaty, fevered brow.

  “Go on Ghnash, licky licky like a good boy.” Her taloned toes gripped my shoulders, my head resting on her belly as she helped the witch ride my face to a screaming finish.

  “What are you, boy?” Sarafina asked, as we three floated together in the pool outside.

  “I’m Ghnash. Chieftain of this tribe.” I answered very slowly, since I was shaky, still. “Nub happy with Ghnash, go away. Is free country.”

  “I mean, what were you, in your last life? I see that you remember at least something.” She paddled closer and peered at me, her long, brown hair spreading out across the surface. “You look like a marsh goblin, if uncommonly big and strong… Some might think you were going ogre, with muscles like that and such a cock on you. Would explain the empty seed as well.” She shook her head and smiled, when Emmie stiffened beside us.

  “You’re not going monster, boy. A monster you always were. That’s why your seed won’t sprout in these fine young bellies.” She turned to Emmie and stroked her hair gently.

  “This boy is like me. Isekai, you have both heard that word before. We fall to the land, born of other worlds with new things and knowledge inside us. Some spring from mortal loins, others simply appear, as though fallen from the sky. Their loins bear no life, but they bring change and new ideas to young worlds and developing races.”

  “Ghnash is… something else?” Emmie asked wearily, her already strained mind trembling on the edge of a breakdown.

  “Nothing wicked or too-too strange, just a person fallen to the world dressed in the flesh of a goblin, but I think, not a goblin before.” She soothed my bride gently and glared at me for some reason. “Should have let her have a taste… You are delicious, boy! Now the poor thing is a wreck.”

  “You put her up to drugging me… Nub vote for you.” I grumbled, while shifting in the water to hide the leviathan lurking in the depths, hungry for girl-flesh… or old lady flesh, really.

  “You should feed her as much of it as she wishes… Make the gobbling in her, that much more fully yours, stupid boy. Men, they know nothing!” She complained and griped at me, while petting Emmie.

  “Feels like Ghnash is being hustled…” I grumbled, as I climbed from the bath. “I go hunting. Back in two, maybe three days.” I told Emmie, while I draped a robe of soft, felted swamp-linen over my shoulders. “When return, Emmie will be forgiven. Nub more said about this.” I fixed Sarafina with an even stare.

  “Be welcome in my home, honored elder, or depart in peace… My wives will give you all comfort and honors, or gift you with what goods you wish from my house.” It was a serious tongue twister for me and I bit myself pretty badly a few times, but it was coherent! Yay Ghnash!

  “Oh, a pretty speech, one unheard since olden times in these lands. Not since goblin men were more than they are now… far far more.” She purred from the deep folds of her own robe. “All comforts and hospitality for me and mine, you say? I have some young apprentices… They hide a few hours walk from here, for many of them have the tummytime and the root cannot be found in winter.”

  I’ll admit it… the thought of ‘several’ young goblin girls suffering tummytime was, and still remains, deeply relevant to my interests and aligned with several of my current priorities. I’m only a goblin, dear friend.

  In any case, I had not much meat left in the house, only some firewood and less forage than I would like, if we were having guests.

  “I said be welcome. I will be back soon with meat.”

  Counting and simple math was feeling like a stretch for my mind, as the weeks went on… I resolved to work out my head muscles more, in addition to music practice, spear dance and meditation. That required some thought, which felt better already.

  I considered the idea that I might go full goblin mode someday… and wondered if I would be able to find my way back, afterward. Grim and unpleasant ideas dwelt down that path. I could see myself ruling an empire dedicated to my pleasure… but then I remembered Emmie, always bringing me down to earth and lifting me up.

  The witchwood offered little prey, despite the abundance of life. It had a balance all its own, one goblins were not a good fit for. I struck out down the trail through the trees, headed for open country.

  On the lowland savannah, hunting was good. Skeeters flocked to my subtle aura call, that simple trick of Will drew them in, convinced something warm, bloody and tender was right here. I snatched them from the sky with a loose hemp net strung on two bamboo poles and dashed them to the stones, for later pickup and harvesting.

  My activities drew in some predators too, attracted by my slowly spreading swarm and the wreckage at my feet. In the sky, bats, owls and moondrinker dragonflies swooped and dove, snatching tasty morsels for themselves.

  Among the swarm, giant craneflies lurked. Identical to the skeeters in every way, they were triple the already absurd size of the damn mosquitos. That meant, among the flock of chicken sized skeets, a few flamingo sized variants lurked, preying on their smaller kin. Those were good eating too, if slightly more heavily armored and too big to catch in my net.

  On the ground was where the trouble lay. Stinkroaches began to gather at the edge of the pile of felled skeets, nibbling at the periphery.

  Bamboo darts, tipped with shards of flint flicked from my fingers, pinning several of the filthy, reeking bugs to the ground, in slowly spreading pools of their own nasty insides.

  The only creatures in all the world that consider stinkroach guts delicious are stinkroaches. The cannibalistic vermin would invariably turn on injured members of the swarm and devour them entirely, before going back to business; even if another food source was the business at hand. I gathered my prey before the roach goo could contaminate anything, or worse, get on me.

  Emmie wouldn't dream of touching me, even after a bath, if she thought I had roach guts on me.

  Carefully and methodically, I butchered my prey, taking what I needed and scattering the rest widely, to return to the earth. As always, I felt an irrational urge to ask the benediction of the god of Beasts, after my hunt… A silly idea I heard somewhere or other, since gods weren’t real. I dispersed the wings and inedible parts over a clearing and sighed up at the moonless sky above, wondering once more where the moons could be.

  Moons, two of them… and a third I remembered from my old life. That felt pretty important, somehow. I shook off those thoughts and focused up. I had mouths to feed!

  By day I made myself a snug burrow under a berry bramble’s winter dry canes and wove grasses in among the withered vines to make a warm dark place. Clear skies and dirty, half melted but still bright snow kept me under cover til darkness fell, butchering and harvesting my kills one by one until I slept, restlessly and poorly, so far from home and the connection I felt to that place, stretching out across the miles.

  Once more I moved across the starlit savanah, above the swamps I’d come to know so well. I crested a low hillside and below, a few miles off a fire burned, no three fires! Someone was encamped on the plain, uncomfortably near my territory. I didn’t need to feel paranoid, I already knew that there were humans hunting me…

  If there was any doubt, the wind brought me the scents of men, horses and goblins, all sweaty and filthy from a long time on the road. Even from so far, the smoke carried their stench to my sensitive, goblin nose.

  I considered that, as I scurried across the grasslands, ignoring many fine prey, in my eagerness to see what fresh trouble fate had brought. My keen nose, sensitive eyes and ears, they were strong assets in the hunt, but in battle? Maybe yub, maybe nub… I had some thoughts on that and some things in my Pockets!

  /

  There were girls everywhere! Well okie, there were a few new girls in the house and a few had tummytime as well, so Ghnash was gonna be a busy busy boy, no matter who had babynot tea at any particular point.

  Beryl took it on herself to regulate the dosage and control their supplies of the ingredients. It wouldn’t do to have them all clamoring for just one dick, if their cycles were to align. “Sorry Alabaster, you have to wait, dearie. Your time just began, anyway. The chief will stick you good soon.” Emmie consoled her new friend. “...so long and thick!”

  Pale green and white-blonde, cave gobs were rare on the surface. She’d been taken as a slave in a raid and escaped, when the raiders got raided by raiders, captured, raided, escaped and finally, found the clan of Sarafina, the witch, all before her first tummytime… She was feeling less than enthusiastic, in the face of her new friend’s constant, dire and oddly chipper warnings about how huge, long and hard it was.

  “I’ll survive… right?” She asked weakly, looking down at her own spare, lanky frame, compared to Emmie’s more lush curves.

  The bright green, golden eyed girl leaned close, peering at Alba’s belly, then held her hands apart, from the slim, pale gobb’s entrance to her breastbone and nodded with satisfaction. “You should manage about a third, your first time. Emmie can accommodate a little over half, if I has a light lunch.”

  Emmie didn’t notice when her friend went pale, since she was already pretty white. “Is okie, though! Even when he can’t slip you the whole thing, he still gives it all he’s got! I promise!”

  /