Fate Deals the Cards Temperance

  Ch 5 Ketchie-Shoobie

  I had a cloth blindfold over my big, sensitive eyes, protecting them from the sunlight, as it bounced off the snow and ice in a blinding display of excessive exuberance. Even peeking from behind the cloth was dreadful and completely useless, but my nose, ears and less easily defined senses watched out for me, as I played in my ‘garden’.

  Even in winter it was oddly abundant, despite the abject failure of all my attempts at proper agriculture. I transplanted and cultivated berry vines, small fruit trees and such, that was no problem. Herbs, roots and seed bearing plants grew with vigor and produced abundantly all season long, but when I tried planting a small plot of wild oats, they failed to thrive.

  All around my place, grasses bore seedheads, fruits, leaves and flowers continued producing as though it were mid autumn, but I couldn’t grow anything close to ‘crops’. Every garden bed grew only the same assortment of wild plants and mingled herbs, so agriculture, like metal-work, was off the table.

  I was unhappily restringing my lyre with a fresh set of gut cords, these were braided and dipped in skeeter carapace wax, which I hoped would help… It didn’t. Three chords in, the sound went uniformly sour and slack, as my experimental strings gave up the ghost.

  In the silence that followed, I caught the faintest hint of sound, a halted breath and stifled cry; the cry of a hungry goblin child, silenced quickly.

  I could feel their gaze easily, now that I knew what to look for… I flexed my Will, in a vain attempt to vanish my lyre away into the shadows, their attention stymied me entirely, while that sense of interference with my spells guided me unerringly to the hidden eyes.

  Over at the utter edge of my domain, among the berry canes and thorny scrub surrounding my little patch of abundance, three gobbs watched my antics, silently and patiently. Two women and an infant, I knew without any magical snooping that they were cold, hungry and desperate, out in the winter barren swamp.

  I stood and stretched elaborately, tucked my lyre under my arm and slowly, carefully fumbled my way to the house. Playing up the bandage of homespun linen wound around my eyes, I pretended to be blind as I shut the door.

  Long minutes passed, as I guiltily sipped hot, honeyed tea from a clay cup, fired in my basement kiln. I enjoyed a bowl of hot, wild rice congee with ginger, scallions and fresh, shredded mole-rat meat, while the two women silently plundered my front yard of anything edible. They fled swiftly, once they had all they could manage to carry, vanishing back into the trackless wastes.

  The next morning, bright and early, the desperate little gobbs were back, lurking on my periphery, watching the house. I stayed inside all day, letting them pillage my yard in peace, while struggling with my urge to go out and say hello, after so many weeks alone.

  On the third morning, I was outside, playing my panflute to the birds, when I felt their approach again, this time more confidently, as I had taken to hamming up my blind man act, whenever I went out, by night or day. I could navigate my home easily without natural sight, after all… it was mostly me, spread out all around and diffused into the natural world.

  I could feel their movements as if they were walking on my skin, hear them like they were in my ear and smell… sweet, summery goodness radiating from one of the women.

  The one without a child stayed close to her companion, who smelled like all gobbos, kinda dirty and gross at best. The pup was the same, a dirty, sweaty little gobbling; still suckling but able to toddle about on her own, a little. The other one though… Her warm, summery scent drew my attention even more strongly than the day before, fascinating and alluring.

  Something stirred in me, something powerful and hungry, which made my ‘baby-stick’ lurch to attention with military precision. He was saluting and refused to ‘be at ease’, no matter how much I thought about baseball. I dragged my stiff soldier to the shower for a wash and a wank, which took a long, long time.

  Until the gobbs left my domain, I remained absolutely rigid and completely useless… and for a while after. I hadn’t had a lick of trouble with Ghnash junior since that night, when I left Rache and Sheela asleep and lost them. Something about that unseen, compelling gobb woman had me in a complete lather and I was pretty upset about the whole deal.

  As night fell at last, I crept out into the yard, my keen nose drinking in the scent she’d left behind, while looting my garden… I tracked her and the others to a small camp, hidden a mile away from my border, in a clump of winter bare aspens.

  The clever gobbs had found a silted up beaver lodge and made it their own, filling every gap and opening with leaves and boughs. They were as snug as could be hoped without a fire, in the damp winter wetlands.

  I stayed a quarter mile off, while suppressing my own aura firmly, radiating a sense of being uninteresting and just a part of the landscape. My cloak of undyed swamp linen blended in with the snow and mud, just as my wide snow-sandals left only confused dents in the snow to mark my passage.

  Under the blindingly bright starlight, I watched them prepare a meal, then settle in to sleep, unaware that I was observing them from afar. In the cold, clear night, I didn’t need to see them. Every rustle of their leafy nest, each snuffling whine or whimper from the sleepy gobbling told me exactly what was going on inside that cozy little lodge.

  I left a pile of warm, felted blankets, woven of pounded flax and wild rice fibers, sewn with palm fiber thread for durability outside their hut, with a willow basket of dried and smoked fish and a bit of jerked mole-rat meat. I had plenty to spare, since my abundant little garden drew more than just hungry goblins.

  All the predatory denizens of the swamp lurked at my borders, feasting on the skeeters and other vermin and blood suckers that were drawn to my patch of lingering autumn.

  Things that were no threat to me could pass freely, through my invisible boundary; while pests and mindless predators found reasons to turn away, distracted by an easy meal at the edge, where the desperate skeeters swarmed in ever-growing numbers.

  As winter deepened, the gobbs stayed put, growing slowly more confident, as they feasted on my garden’s seemingly endless bounty. I stayed away, fearful of what my approach might lead to. What kind of trouble might they flee into, if they bolted from their snug little home?

  As the weather warmed, I let the outside pool heat up again, giving me a private place to watch the stars whirl overhead, hidden among the bamboo and camelias.

  To be honest, I didn’t really want to be alone again, even if my neighbors were the sneaky, furtive type. I left things for them regularly, food, warm cloaks of spun straw and other comforts that I had in ridiculous abundance.

  I practiced my crafts constantly by day now, remaining inside so they could play and feast in safety. They moved freely in the open now, confident that the blind goblin man was no threat, after so many days without incidents.

  I supposed that was the case, anyway. I had no clue what they were thinking, since they never spoke in my hearing. By day they moved in absolute silence, by night, they whispered too softly for even goblin ears to catch a sound. I heard the baby most often, crying, cooing, burbling or complaining wordlessly, before being hushed by one of the women.

  I treasured those moments, listening as they enjoyed a taste of freedom from fear; even if they were terrified I might emerge to attack them at any second, should they make any noise.

  Winter slowly lost its bitter grip on my swamp, easing into a warm, wet spring with little hullaballoo. The sun came up earlier, lingered longer and the snow fled, almost overnight. At the same time, life exploded all around, filling the dismal, empty land with activity… and danger.

  Crocs and gators became more active, as did the giant fish and crawdaddies, stirred back to life by the warming, freshening waters. Biting, stinging and other generally unpleasant creatures emerged too, hungry for a taste of the good stuff.

  All winter I’d been thinking, working and crafting, studying the arts that were just beginning to form in my hands and head. As I watched through my unnatural senses, my itchy, uncomfortable neighbors constantly scratched at swollen skeeter bites they bore almost everywhere. The idea struck me from far away, rolling up from the back of my mind, where old me still huddled; those ragged shreds of memory barfed up a hint. Insect repelling charms!

  Just as my pipes held the echo of my intent, easing the magical workings needed to summon, change or expand my home, I could insert my Will into their auras, if I disguised it as something innocuous.

  Goblin girls love small, bright colored stones and shells… they strung them on strands, wove them into their hair and glued them to things with sticky tree sap. Without clothing, pockets or meaningful basket technology, they couldn’t really keep ‘stuff’ that wasn’t food or useful, but when they could, every goblin girl gathered flowers and shiny objects to decorate her nest.

  I had a few water snail shells, from a hearty feast at the end of summer that were perfect. The local cone-snails were deadly venomous, which they advertised with their shells. They gleamed a beautiful pearly white, shading from pale pink to deep, blood red at the entrance to the monster’s home.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Further complicating the deal, they lived in deep, murky water, at the very bottom and never came up to feed, not even by night. Most of the local wildlife stayed well clear, but the big predators and crawdaddies cared nothing for the tiny, colorful death dealers lurking in the muck.

  Dangerous to approach, deep under predator filled waters and bearing a deadly, toxic sting, their curled, rounded forms and colorful display were lovely and the critters tasted marvelous, but only a great fool would trifle with them… or me. I trifled a lot.

  I had piles of them, so I could spare a few for a good cause. My obsidian tipped stylus scratched and squealed against the tough shell as I drilled, polished and inscribed my trinkets all day long, marking them with tiny lines, incised precisely and whispering a faint idea, when warmed by the skin of a living being. ‘I’m a big, nasty spider.’

  It sighed softly into the wind, as I held it on my palm… only the primitive senses of fleas, ticks, lice, gnats and skeeters could detect the soft warning thrum. It told of a hungry predator, with no blood to suck, but sharp fangs and entangling webs, beware! I strung a few of the shiny shells on a collection of braided fibers, making some simple jewelry, like I’d seen a few gobbs wear, when I’d snooped around the miserable little towns.

  I used a fishbone needle and a long thread spun from my own hair to embroider the same sigils and glyphs, taken from my human memory, on a warm little blanket for the baby and left the bundle at the edge of my yard, where they entered most often.

  After leaving gifts for them so often over winter, they took my offering with little suspicion, delighting in the shiny trinkets. No mother could mistake the baby blanket for anything else, so I felt really smug about the whole deal. The itchy, bug bite delima was resolved neatly, filling me with a satisfaction that felt almost guilty.

  I felt like a complete heel, warm and dry in my home, while they were muddy, cold and miserable; if well fed and now protected from the nastier vermin of the swamp. It couldn’t be helped…

  Approaching another gobb in the wild was always a losing proposition. I didn’t enjoy hurting or killing the wild males and the rare wandering women always, always fled in absolute terror of me, or any male. I had no desire to spook them into an unsafe flight across the hungry, waking moors.

  Springtime slowly spread, warming the land and lengthening the days. I was feeling really in tune with the natural cycles of life and my swamp, so it took a while for me to notice. The goblin woman who smelled so… good had started showing up earlier, staying longer and coming nearer the house than she had ever before, which was way closer than the other one ever came already.

  One evening, as the sun dipped low, I heard one of them speak for the first time. Soft, distant and less than a whisper, but I caught it loud and clear through my connection to my home.

  “No Emmie… I know… but come with us. I’ll brew some tummy-leaf tea. That helps a little.” The woman with the baby whispered to her lagging companion.

  “I just want a look at him… please?” A softer voice answered, plaintively. “It hurts…”

  “Soon the baby-not root will blossom. We will find some for you, I promise, little sister. Bear with the pain, it’s better than the alternative.” The older woman sighed weakly, as they left my yard.

  My jaw cracked loudly, as I pried it loose from a ravenous clench. I Wanted… in an undirected, animal way… wanted her, even if I had never really seen her. It took a while to shake off that desperate, bestial desire… and a big double-fistful of Ghnash the younger, shaken vigorously in the shower.

  I watched a big, ropey wad of me dribble down the drain, while wondering for the thousandth time why I had functioning plumbing in my house, but I was still stuck cooking in primitive, unglazed clay pots. There was something loopy going on here, preventing me from creating all but the simplest tools in my home. Sure it was a real time and space saver… and practicing new arts on materials that could be dispelled and re-created until I got it right was neato, but I felt like I was missing something.

  With a start, I realized I’d drifted off, and little Ghnash was back on the prowl, hungry for girl flesh to assault. I wrestled my unruly dick into submission, leaving the shower wrinkled and exhausted, but thankful for endless hot water and a drain to take away my obscene production of goblin-batter. The sun was down, so I ambled outside, eager to have a stretch, out under the stars. I still wore a bandage over my eyes, even by night, since I had no real need to see on my grounds.

  With slow and measured movements, I performed the ritual drilled into me by my forgotten, spikyhaired martial arts instructor, in another life.

  Deliberate and focused movements, clear and tranquil mind, body simultaneously expanding and contracting each muscle group in opposition and co-operation; it all came together in a meditative dance beneath the stars, with my spear as my partner.

  After a long, silent workout beneath the moonless sky, I just sprawled out naked on the lawn, bathing in the warm starlight, listening to the bats and owls sing their songs. Her scent trickled past my nose, carried on an errant breeze, tricksy and sly. That goblin woman was out there, in the trees, just beyond my border, she had been watching me as I danced… naked.

  Gary Ward, the shade of my old life on earth squirmed in my soul, mortified at the idea of being seen at all, especially unclothed! At the same time, that hunger roared to life, bringing me erect so fast I almost tripped over it, while I staggered for the house, desperate to get inside and out of view.

  I barged dick first into the closed front door, impaling myself on the root of my own cock in a way that must have been hilarious to the watching goblin… since I heard a tinkle of musical laughter, before it was stilled suddenly with a faint gasp of fear.

  I picked myself up, shoved my disobedient organ aside and slipped into the house at last, gasping, aching and feeling weirdly awful, excited and confused, all at once.

  One thing was certain, I had to handle myself before I could have a rational thought about anything but smooth, warm girl-skin and furious hunger. I didn’t even shower, I just spanked it into the drain and stumbled to the outdoor pool, with a sad, sobbing gasp of relief.

  Night had come fully, drawing its concealing robes around the world. Darkness dwelling creatures swooped across the sky above my pool, chasing prey at the borders of my wards, while I floated on my back, watching the world spin, feeling empty inside for some reason. My mind and spirit were in a whirl, confused and turned all around by thoughts, emotions and hormones I was unable to fully control.

  A soft sound brought me fully alert, something moved among the bamboo stalks, something small and sneaky.

  “Please… it hurts so bad…” A soft voice whispered from the thicket, just outside the pool.

  /

  Beryl woke when Emmie slipped out of the lodge, sneaking away to spy on that gobb-man and diddle herself again… the poor thing. Tummytime had her in its grip and she wasn’t going to get better until they found the forbidden herb, or they were found by the keen nose of some wild gobb.

  A decoction of baby-not root was the only way to silence the tummytime and still her pheromones, before they drew in a roaming male.

  The odd, scentless, blind gobb in the strange hut seemed uninterested in them… Perhaps he was one of the rare sexless wanderers, or a male who coupled only with males, she’d heard of those before! Most likely, he was an escaped, neutered slave… Though, she certainly wasn’t going to get close enough to see for herself!

  Beryl cuddled little Saphie to her breast and thanked the Light that they had found a safe place with plenty of food to overwinter.

  They had fled in the night, when they overheard a tired goblin runner tell chief Bagguz the humans’ latest demands. Every goblin girl who hadn’t had her first tummytime yet and every woman with a suckling pup were to be taken away to the stone villages of men in the hills.

  She shuddered at the thought of being taken into the human towns.

  No-gob who went in never returned, ever. Better to become the bedslave of some stinking wild-gobb in the swamp than vanish into that awful, reeking town of tallmen, ruled by their wicked, leering priestlords.

  Rumors even persisted that the humans would… take goblin girls before their first tummytime! She paled at the horror of it, while worrying at her sister’s continued absence.

  “Tell me little Saphie, how long does it take to tickle herself to sleep? Honestly, that girl!” She demanded of her tiny, sleeping babe. “Let’s go get her, before she finds trouble.” Together, mother and child slipped from the lodge, following the scent of the poor, desperate gobb.

  /

  I lay very still, floating on my back, pretending I hadn’t heard, as my damned pecker stirred to life again. That soft voice whispered once more, a gasp of delight, desire and fear.

  “Hello?” I asked very softly, almost a whisper. “Come out, I won’t hurt you.” It took all I had to not cut my lips to ribbons while speaking, or sit up to look at my sneaky visitor. Either would have sent her flying for the woods, I was sure.

  “I… I have the tummytime…” She whispered softly, her voice filled with mingled fear, dread, excitement and something else… Maybe, hope?

  “I don’t know what that means, but come out. I won’t hurt you.” I murmured softly, still floating on my back and flying my flag at full staff. At this point, embarrassment was a distant memory, overruled by something more primitive.

  “You will, goblin man…” She whispered, as I heard her step out of the bamboo grove, onto the pavers beside my pool.

  “Aren’t you scared there might be pinch-monsters in there?” She asked, sounding more confident, since I remained still, with my eyes closed… Which was super difficult, let me tell you.

  “No. This pool is safe, no monsters in here.” I replied very carefully.

  “There’s one monster in there, goblin-man.” She purred, as a soft splash and the movement of a body stirred my pool, and loins.

  Small, hot hands closed on my shaft a moment later, her talons gently scratching the root of me as she came to grips with her prey. “Gimmie.”

  I opened my eyes, face to face with a small, dark green round cheeked girl with bright golden eyes, a long, slightly pointed nose, long, pointy ears that blushed pink at the tips and roots and a hungry, eager, fearful smile on her plump, pink lips. She squeaked in terror when I looked at her, but never stopped stroking my cock, not for a second.

  “Hello, I’m Ghnash’Wharrgh. Who are you?” I asked, feeling more than a little turned on and put out at the same time.

  “Emmie… Emerald.” She stammered, her green cheeks turning pale pink as she realized I could see. “Please… don’t hurt me…” The poor thing was skinny, tiny and looked terrified, but she was roughing up my dick like it owed her money and smiling, at the same time.

  “I promised I wouldn’t, twice already. For a third time, I won’t hurt you…” I gasped, as she found a rhythm that put her in charge of me for the foreseeable future. “You don’t have to keep doing that… Unless you want to.” I gasped, as her grip tightened and things got more intense, downstairs.

  “You can see… and you still have your spear and stones.” She whispered quietly in the dark, warm pool. “Why did you not track me down and… take me? Don’t you like girls?” Her confidence grew as quickly as mine withered, under her unskilled but rapidly improving handjob.

  “I like girls…!” I gasped, as one of her hands crept down to play with my balls.

  “So why do you promise you won’t hurt me? We both know you will.” She sighed, pressing herself close to me under the water.

  “Because I won’t.” That came out as a gasp, grunt and moan, as poor Emmie found herself holding a fistful of goblin stuff. “Uhhh, sorry about that.”

  “Nub nub…” She mumbled hungrily, as she washed the goo off her hands. “Gotta shake out the easy one first. That’s what Beryl says!” Her small, forceful hands pulled me to the edge of the pool, confident that I was hers to control.

  “I’d heard that there were subbie goblin boys out there, somewhere…” She cooed while clambering out of the pool clumsily. “I never thought we’d find one out here…”

  I watched, stunned as she shook herself, scattering water droplets that sparkled in the bright starlight. She was tiny, slim, a little wide hipped and a little bit busty… and perfect, gleaming in her sheen of water and falling stars. Her startlingly green hair and golden eyes shone and gleamed as she stretched and preened for me.

  “Cant believe my first time is with a subbie…” She purred, watching me climb from the bath hungrily. “On land, is an even bigger fish…” She sighed, eyeing my rapidly reviving tackle as I toweled off.

  “Be careful with that mighty spear, strange, gentle goblin… I’m new at this! Don’t burst my guts!” She growled, while pouncing on me.

  /