continued from https://luffy316.blogspot.com/2017/04/goblin-diaries-diplomacy.html . Covers the visit to the lake to... the ultimate showdown with Scrappa's old tribe.
>Feb 12th: the weather's surprisingly nice for this time of year. Not exactly hot, but an early Spring kind of setup. Scrappa's a little wary about the kids, but that seems to be strictly out of goblin survival instinct (what you might call cowardice). I ask her why and she says she's afraid of predators or traps or one of them getting hurt. I hug her tight and tell her that her Bicka knows best and that I'll protect every last one of them. It takes a little coaxing and bribing her with a quick fingering in the bathroom while Sahara babysits, but she complies.
>It's overall easier said than done. I have to keep my head on a swivel to keep track of all the girls. Scuttle is happy to get something taller than the kitchen table to climb, and Boosa will run over and just start uprooting bushes and weeds to find out if she can eat them. I let her go with anything that doesn't look distinctly thorny or poisonous; just means less cooking later. Junka stays by me, and since the blood gave her nightmares last time, I make a point to pick her up and cuddle her if the pups go sprinting after something. Leashes would have felt demeaning to us all, but I feel like cartoon trailer trash before long. "Nicki, don't throw rocks at your sister. Junka, stay where I can see you. Rixin, either swallow the butterfly or let it go. Don't torture the poor thing." Just that all the way to the pond.
>The kids seem to have their minds blown by the lake as they just hurry over and stare at it. I guess they haven't seen that big a body of water before... or any, really. The water they know comes in bowls and bottles. They've only been about a quarter mile from the house in their entire lives, and I'm not sure if I'll ever take that further than that. It's a little sad to think of, but at least the house they live in is about as far from humanity as the area gets, and surrounded by some beautiful scenery.
>Speaking of, the lake is just pristine. The pixies must have kept away mosquitoes, leeches or the like, because it's absolutely quiet here. Even the birds are pretty shy about the place, which I guess makes sense if what looked like pesky little balls of light lived there. It leaves the pond to ourselves, and I set out a backpack of food and towels by a beat up old blanket. It's the best I can do for now as far as a little family vacation, but I'll have to ask around for any secluded spots in the area. I might be able to get the kids to lay low in the back seat for a while if there's somewhere nice to bring them to.
>Scuttlebutt is the first to actually go up to the pond. She makes faces at her reflection for a bit before she trips in the muddy shore and her foot hits the water. She squeaks and jumps, shaking her foot out. She looks at me, as if gauging if she should be afraid or not, and I just smile as I sit with her mama. Let them make their own decisions. Of course, Scuttle's decision is never "don't do it."
>It must be something I picked up from Grandpa, because I'm still studying my family like science projects. It turns out that there's no clear answer to "can goblins swim." It's definitely not instinct to them, that much is clear. I asked Scrappa, who shrugged and didn't know what I was talking about. The pool's only about 3-feet deep; a little higher than they are tall in the middle, but nothing I can't just wade into if they get in trouble. Scuttle gets in there and it's a little awkward, but she starts paddling around. It reminds me of when I saw a monkey swimming on the natural channel; big loping strokes followed by short rests for a second or two. When she stops to eat some kind of lily pad, the other girls stop being shocked and rush in after her.
>The reason I say the swimming test is inconclusive is because there seems to be 3 levels of response to water: yes, no, and unclear. Most of them paddle around a little, nothing special but buoyant enough between all their body fat and oils. Debrii and Junka are unclear, because they can wade around the water just fine. When they get the water up to their breasts, it seems to hit them and they go into goblin panic mode. The kids have been surprisingly mellow for the most part, but it happens time to time, and Scrappa's entered it on occasion. Panic mode is basically responding to anything scary by using every single part of your body at once; kicking, punching, screaming, spitting, biting, and rolling around. It's presumably to try to be scary, but it comes off as grating. It's no wonder that the goblin survival rate isn't fantastic. Still, the thrashing seems to keep them afloat, but it appears to be by accident.
>Boosa 100% cannot swim. It might be her weight or her just not getting it, but she can walk right to the middle of the lake and stand there, ears poking just above the water. Theedy and Nicki try to show her how, but she keeps dipping back under whenever she lays out to try to kick or paddle. I generally dish out snacks and towels as they need, and wade in to break up fights or fish out the girls who get too deep or stuck in the the deeps or mud.
>Scrappa stays fidgety though. Something keeps her on edge and her ears keep twitching, and I assume it's her natural paranoia. She takes a few minutes to head to a nearby tree and mark it with her juices, which is cute when Rixin comes over and helps her. Rixin's been doing it lately where she sits down, spreads her legs, and uses her giant tongue to lick her own clit until she tastes cum. I swear the thing's only gotten long as she grows... but I assume it's the outdoors smell. Scrappa doesn't even like it when I don't smell like her.
>Eventually, I end up having to go break up Junka and Debrii when one twin bites the other while eating moss. I get back to shore with a goblet under each arm and notice Scrappa is missing. It's just enough to concern me, because I know she can do it when she wants to, especially after her whole maternal intelligence kicked in. I start to dry off the girls when there's this piercing screech from somewhere deeper in the woods. The pups freeze, and then try to rush in the direction of the noise. Even if the noise sounded like Scrappa, it was NOT the response I was expecting from the girls who didn't like sudden noises or deep water. It makes my blood go cold to realize it must not be a warning so much as a battle cry.
>I sprint after them and grab two or three, but I can't hold them all. I set my eyes ahead of them and tense my throat in that painful way she showed me a while back and speak her name. "Sahara!" The pitch black cloud of smoke races through the air a few moments later landing in front of the kids. The pups I have squirm in my grip, as if not understanding why I'd hold them back, and the smoke closes around the girls like spectral hands and lifts them off the ground. "What's all this noise, now, handsome?" the djinn yawns, striding out from the smoke in her usual dark skin and Arabian attire. I tell her to watch the kids and I'll be right back. It's all I can think to do, and I'm not sure how long Sahara will actually stick with them. I'm not her master, and she may be relatively harmless to us, but she's fickle and can tire easily away from her hearth. I just get the first decent-sized stick/club I can and book it for Scrappa as fast as I can go without tripping.
>It's not as bad as I'd expected, but definitely stranger. My lizard brain must have assumed it was a bear or snake, but not more goblins. Scrappa is on top of another female goblin with a few more males around them watching, all dressed in similar (if lower quality) scraps. The new goblin has dirty, ice-blue hair down to her ass, and is scrawnier than Scrappa in general besides a broader nose (with a crude metal stud in the nostril) and wider hips. Scrappa is in a sort of weaponized version of panic mode: she won't stop moving, but every piece of her is being used to attack, attack, attack. She and the blue-haired goblin are going at it like cats, punching and clawing and biting everything pretty ineffectively. Every so often, Scrappa swings a fist wildly around her, enough to drive back the other goblins if they try to shimmy closer. Most of them have some kind of primitive knife, and there's a stone and wood spear discarded not far from the fight.
>One of the males looks up as I appear, baring ugly little needle teeth and spraying spit as he hisses in gobblish. "Big and ugly go away," basically; pretty much one of the main phrases Grandpa translated since they use it a lot on humans.
>"Put down the pointy and get off my mate, leg-humper." He drops his knife, but his wide-eyed stare makes it look like it was in surprise, not because of my kickass oneliner. Probably the last thing he expected from me was a legible reply in goblish. The new goblins look up at me, which just lets Scrappa deliver a perfect punch to the pierced female's nose. She squeals like a startled pig and manages to slide out from under Scrappa, snorting a blob of pinkish blood from her nostril. Scrappa lets her back off, but is still in berserker mode. She won't stop stamping her feet and furiously shrieking "MEHT! MEHT!" at them, the goblin word for "mine." I step in past the goblin males, who give me aim their crappy blades at me threatening but don't do anything yet. Even rubbing a hand over Scrappa's head doesn't calm her down.
>"These are our woods!" the blue girl demands. "Bicka Doprup owns 'em!" Scrappa screams some more before I remember what I'm dealing with, and pull HARD on her hair. I rip her off her feet and push her a foot or so behind me. She seems to remember her place and shuts up, but I can hear her growling.
>"New bicka here," I tell her. "Bicka… Steve. Tell your Doprup he's too late and to go shit somewhere else." She snorts and looks me over, but her face goes between disgust, approval, and a little bit of fear.
>"Big Bicka Doprup takes over," she insists. "I am 'best screamer' Aket, and I get to talk for him. We were here first. You just get to be in our tribe."
>Territory was weird with goblins. Wherever they lived, that was their territory, and they believed they owned it no matter what. They basically lived off the rule of dibs, except that nobody else got to play. "Good point," I note calmly. "On the other hand, look at it this-"
>I spin around and go for a grand slam swing with my tree branch that hits one of the random, unexpecting goblins in the face. It sounds a lot like that time I cut a melon in half with a meat cleaver, and blue blood sprays out of his mouth and nose as he goes flying a few feet, bouncing another foot or two before he comes to a stop, staring at the sky.
>Goblins can take a hell of a beating in terms of blunt force. It's why slapping and spanking Scrappa tends to just get her excited. Any damage I'd do with a club would likely just grow back in a day. Of course, goblins don't care about that. The boys stare at their downed brother and I remember one of the first things Grandpa's book said about goblins: they use their numbers and ambushes to fight, but the easiest way to stop them in their tracks is to plainly remind them that they can die. Or in this case, just get their asses kicked, but they get the point. They get over the shock and haul ass out of there, screaming as if a human with a tree branch was, in fact, a very cleverly disguised volcano about to erupt. They make zero effort to save their comrade, but he gets up in another ten seconds and bolts off deeper into the woods. Not the direction his friends are going, so basically a death sentence. Goblins don't tend to fare well on their own. I'm no slayer, but I think Grandpa would be proud how I handled a bunch of goblins threatening my family
>Scrappa does explain all that on the way back. It was her old tribe, but a chief's name she didn't recognize. She'd smelled and heard them with her sharper senses and snuck off to drive them off while I watched the kids. Scrappa snapped pretty quickly when they mentioned taking over their old land and smelling goblin pups, wanting to take them into their tribe. Scrappa's just puffed up with pride when I tell her that the pups tried to charge to the rescue when she gave her battle cry, and they flock to her when I show them she's okay. Sahara kept them in line, but she's yawning deeply when I thank and dismiss her. Scrappa does sport a few small bruises and scratches, most of which are already halfway healed.
>I finally convince her to cool off in the pond. She's exhausted from the fight and greasier than ever, and she says she could use the chance to wash off the other goblin bitch's stink. It doesn't keep her from giving me a lot of wiggling hips and a little striptease on her way in to splash around naked with the kids. I also find out that Scrappa is another type 2: she sinks like a greasy green rock.
>I don't tell the kids what happened with the other tribe, but Nicki looks concerned and Rixin was sniffing around a lot. They don't pry when we get home and I tell them to stay in the house without one of us; them being on lockdown isn't really anything new. They're getting bright enough to know when they'll doze off, so at night we just walk them down to their basement bedroom instead of having to lug seven girls into bed each night. I'm amazed again at how quickly they're growing and maturing as I ease the lid down on their trap door.
>That night, I make sure to give Scrappa a hero's welcome. Every position she likes for as long as she can stand it. Carefully easing the greasy milk out of her swollen breasts that had taken such a beating in the scrap. Whispering praises in her ears of how brave and strong she was for her bicka. Calling her “pretty” and “piji-riti” and all her favorite pet names. Her pride alone seems to make her break her old record in orgasms that night, which is an assuring sign of the goblin condition and how firm a grasp I seem to have on her mindset. When she's got cum in every orifice and looking so happy she could melt, she finally dozes off. I'm only updated the journal now because I made sure there was a baseball bat or equivalent near the bed and each of the cabin doors.
>Feb 14th: While I'm looking up more about goblins in terms of what to do about the other tribe, I do some research in my spare time. Scrappa's great with the kids, and while I grab one for a hug or some quick talk, they're starting to get pretty self-sufficient. Junka and Nicki know how to turn on the TV, and between Scuttlebutt and Boosa, they've stolen plenty of food by now. If I get too absorbed in my work, I just hear one of them thump down from the countertop and come back with snacks. I pretended to be absorbed in my laptop so that they chitter to each other and scurry off. When I follow them quietly, they've got an ingeniously dumb way of getting up to the food. I keep most of it up in cabinets or the fridge so their grabby hands won't get at it. The girls are used to cooked food, so they don't mess with the fridge too much (plus the handles are too high for them). So they choose the cabinets: Boosa grabs Scuttlebutt around the waist and FLINGS her up at the cupboard. She bounced off the door with a mushy little thud, stands on the counter and can't quite reach, and runs back down to Boosa and tells her to try again. The second time she grabs onto the handle and pulls it open, hanging from the handle and kicking at the inside until stuff falls out. They split a box of dry macaroni and a jar of peanut butter before walking back into the living room to bring it to the rest. They walk right by me like I'm not even there. In hindsight, goblin culture doesn't have much for a concept of ownership beyond yelling "Hey, that's mine!" A spear is only yours as long as you're holding it. Thievery is pretty much built into them, and I've found the girls inside doors I'd locked so picking and breaking and entering seem to be instinctual. I'm just glad I have the bookshelf in front of Grandpa's stash of relics and such. Even if they squeeze their way back there, they can't get it open.
>Between Grandpa's books, emails to Agent Decker, and the veteran hunter friends of Grandpa, I gather a few more bits of information. Neither of them seem terribly interested in goblin social structure, so they don't have much to offer in terms of diplomacy or warding them off with some ancient goblin law I never learned. Ezekiel says that you can't beat honey, jelly, or pickles for bait ("Anything gross and sticky. They'll love it."). I'm more concerned with raccoons getting into them at that point
>I don't get much for actual help or ideas. Apparently goblin's don't have much for strengths or weaknesses, they're just gross tiny people with healing factors. What I do get, however, is a few accounts of Grandpa at his work. I noted a few favorite examples here.
>Grandpa vs changeling. Follows up on a string of murders in a nearby town. Finds an out-of-place guy stalking a woman, and when approached the guy turns into a cat and books it. When grandpa corners him, it turns into a large wolf. Grandpa wounds it with a knife to the ribs, so it turns into a bear. He fends it off with the knife while emptying a pistol into it. It turns into a hawk, snake, and finally a rat whenever its wounds get bad enough, trying to escape when the knife does enough damage to kill it before it can change again. Police question him for once, but he's just a scratched up guy with a dead rat in an alley.
>hired by the government/The Order to kill a troll off in Scotland (they're apparently a huge problem over in Europe and their parts). He tries to one-shot it with an RPG, but it moves unexpectedly while it's eating a sheep. He only cripples a leg with the explosion of fire, so he can barely out-drive it in his jeep. He dupes it by pulling a U-turn, diving out of his car, and shooting it to trigger the explosives and blow it up. There was apparently a stink with The Order about how his contract covered all expenses so they had to replace the jeep.
>He went posing as a paranormal journalist to an old lady's house who claimed her place was haunted. Grandpa Gary goes into her attic, slays three poltergeists after getting several nails jammed through his leg, and goes back downstairs to tell the lady her place isn't haunted.
>he killed a wyrm once. he details how it's really more of a dinosaur than a dragon, since they don't fly, breathe fire, or have sentient thought. He also writes about how nobody's sure if dragons are still alive or just getting really good at laying low. I recall how Gruunda lives pretty comfortably in just a shed, amazon. with a wifi connection.
>slew a kraken on a battleship full of soldiers. Apparently a bunch of mermen (not the fun kind; the scaly freaky kind) stirred it up to take out the surface world. He fights beside the men and some agents of The Order to keep killing mermen and shooting/slashing tentacles until it's attached to the ship tightly enough that they can depth-charge it in the face.
>He killed a Yxvian, which by everything I read is basically a cthulu. It's a magical otherworldly creature that can't naturally survive in "reality." Some cultists were summoning one to end everything, so he made some calls and went in. Cultists die when it's summoned and tears them to shreds, but Grandpa holds it off with massive amounts of gunfire and some explosives. He can't kill it, but he can destroy its matter about as fast as it creates it. The thing starts to burn out its energy when Grandpa's wizard buddies he called seal the portal back up and unsummon it.
>goddamn do I come from a badass bloodline. But with all his injuries, close calls, missed holidays, and sadder reflections about his family near his later journals, I can see why "Old" Gary VanHellsing didn't exactly pass the torch to me or mom. It's not a pleasant job, but he felt like it's got to get done. I think he'd be proud to see what I'd made of his old house.
>All the doubling back on my goblin research brings me back to one point I've never really pried into: why was Scrappa left behind? In the past, asking her got shrugs and confusion. She'd been asleep and they were gone when she woke up, so she just sat around the basement and scavenged until I showed up.
>There's a few ideas I could think of, but nothing too concrete. I can only figure that the goblins must have moved into the area pretty recently, and fled even closer to my moving in. Grandpa doesn't sound the type to have tolerated goblins (not in such large amounts), even in his more lenient age. The cabin was empty for a good year or two when mom convinced him to move into town, but he'd kept the cabin (presumably if shit ever went bad again). By the time he'd moved out and had his will sorted out, the goblins could have definitely moved in, lived there awhile, and packed up. Scrappa was relatively young in the tribe, but she says she has lived in other places (none of which were as nice as the dirty basement of a cabin).
>Theory 1: rushing. Goblins aren't quick thinkers. They're barely thinkers at all. Instincts take over very easily for them, so if some kind of threat had appeared, they would have turned tail and run pretty quickly. If you'd set the house on fire, if they figured out to stop running in circles screaming, they'd rush out and not bother to go grab valuables or anyone more distant than their own direct spawn. If a bear or a troll had tried to get down there, they could have just fled without Scrappa and decided better her than them. Possible, but not sure it would explain why she's the only one left.
>Theory 2: Forgotten. When you can't count, tracking goblin population can get a little funny. If the chief has 100 goblins and decide to move out, he's not going to miss one. Even as a breedable female, the "big screamer" he'd met seemed to hold some rank in the goblins, so they weren't especially rare or valuable. Entirely possible, especially if Scrappa had forgotten about a move and slept in late. She'd take her chances on the basement rather than running off into the woods in what she hoped was the right direction. By all accounts, a solitary goblin out in the wild is as good as dead.
>Theory 3: Rejected. Pains me to think it, but they may have ditched her on purpose. As long as I've known her, Scrappa's been a bit... "antisocial" with humans, but nothing but a clingy, horny sweetheart to me. It's possible that the other goblins didn't care for that kind of gentleness. Maybe they saw her as weak or slow, or some of them got jealous and saw that she was overlooked when they moved on. It feels the least likely, maybe just because I'm a softy for her. I still think that a bitter goblin would have just shanked her
>Idea #2 sounds like the easiest and least interesting reasoning behind it. Arkham's Razor and all that (or was that a Batman villain?). Fortunately, none of those will be happening to her again. I've got a close eye on her and the girls, and she's the mother of what I'm proud to call my daughters. No way I'm forgetting her. I’m still her Piji-Riti.
>shit, that reminds me... Valentine's coming up. I love the crap out of her all year round and Scrappa doesn't know that holiday yet, so not sure it needs anything special for that one day. Might be a little cruel, but I think I'll teach the goblins in my life about 50% chocolate day instead
>Feb 16th: chocolate day is a big hit. The kids are thrilled to have free candy, but Boosa especially is a clear chocoholic. They’ve had some before, but this is the first time she’s had the opportunity to keep coming back for more. The other kids go through Peeps and jelly beans, but Boosa's obsessed with getting more chocolate. She'll ignore me passing stuff out the others (Scuttle likes running around while I toss a jelly bean for her to catch in her hands or mouth) if she sees I have more chocolate and will wait for that unless I physically hand something else to her to eat.
>The kids are still goblins, so they'll eat anything you put in front of them unless they're especially entertaining. The twins still like their old rattles, and I brought home Scrappa's old ragdoll to give to Nicki. If something stays around unbroken and uneaten, it's a pretty big deal, though that may be because we keep them so well fed. They are starting to develop favorites as they keep trying things. Rixin likes old Warner Bros cartoons while Theedy likes Amazing World of Gumball. Boosa likes chocolate while Debrii wants everything with cherry inside (which grosses Junka out; maybe again with the fear of blood). They're even starting to show something of a community amongst themselves. Goblins seem to naturally cling to each other for strength in numbers, and since they're born in clusters like this, it would make sense that they have a sense of cooperation to some degree. I don't imagine that real goblins are so big on sharing, though; they seem to have an understanding between them that makes for a crude economy based around Starbursts. They know they can trade for other colors with each other, since Nicki likes the red ones and they all try to dump their yellows on Junka (who adores them).
>Scrappa's mentioned a few times that most goblin tribes formed what was just called "tento," basically just "The Pile." Goblin ownership involves whatever you have on your person, so whatever you're not using you throw in The Pile. If you need some spare food or a weapon, you go to The Pile. It's just a communal junk heap/equipment center, and apparently basically instinctive. The kids often toss most of their toys and trash into one pile in the living room or the basement.
>Only two months old, they're really starting to pick up on things. Theedy's and Nicki are able to read a little, and Scuttle fixed the tv cables when it got unplugged. They still get scared by things once in awhile (Scrappa's still a little jumpy if a gunshot or particularly loud scream goes off on tv), but they've mostly got over their crying fits without a good reason. I've still got a list of emergency treats and ways of placating them, which I'm just compiled into a bunch of things that they've grown to like.
>Junka: Disney movies, ice pops, fried chicken, rap music
>Debrii: tissues, caramel, tickle fights, rap music, anything served with a "silly straw"
>Rixin: Pepto Bismol, orange juice, old shoes, puppies (toys, shows, whatever)
>Theedy: soda, Star vs The Forces of Evil, dinosaurs, knives (got her a plastic toy one to keep her from trying to get them from the kitchen)
>Scuttlebutt: soda, pro wrestling, Adventure Time, batteries, high places, spicey food
>Boosa: pro wrestling, chocolate, chips, anything that makes fart noises
>Nicki: superhero cartoons, mommy's doll, flash games, bread (all kinds), fish/seafood
>everyone: Baby Got Back. They'll stop doing anything short of eating to cheer, dance, and sing along. God dammit, Sir Mixalot. What have you created?
>Everyone else is asleep that night when Boosa comes crawling out of their basement to find me. I'm the only one left awake, and just browsing on the laptop when she tells me she's hungry. I'm surprised since I think this is the first time any of them have woken up for anything short of a nightmare or general crying fit, but Boosa seems pretty levelheaded, if just a bit groggy. The strongfat sister has been one of the most steadily content of them so far. She's mellow and jolly, and didn't really get fussy unless someone takes her food or bites too hard.
>Me and Boosa end up having our own little private party. She wants more chocolate, but I work her into a compromise. Soon we're sitting on the couch, Boosa in my lap while I handfeed her some improvised chocolate strawberries and watching some Netflix together. Boosa's a big girl, wide enough to take up almost all of my lap (she's already got her mother's hips) and feeling like she weighs about as much as a largish dog. I'd been trying to spend some one-on-one time with the kids anyway. I read that it's good for the development of twins and groups of kids like the girls.
>Eventually, Boosa takes a strawberry herself and offers it to me. "Daddy's eating," she says like it's a sweet little order. I tell her she has to dip it first, and she wiggles her curvy self around and has some fun swirling it around in the bowl of melted candy. I open up my mouth but she drops it down my front. It leaves a few splotches on the way down my shirt and into my lap between us, but she's on it with a quick "I got it!" She grabs it in her fist and clumsily feeds it to me.
>"It's okay. We can clean it up," I assure her, but Boosa doesn't seem too upset by this either. She smiled and rubs some of the chocolate she left on my mouth, sucking it off her fingers before going in for more. She's helpfully replaced the mess on my face with one made of goblin spit instead. "There's daddy's big girl," I praise, ruffling her big blue hair. She giggles from all the affection, and Boosa's laughter's this full body thing. Her shoulders sort of bounce as she hunches over a bit, which makes everything soft on her (aka everything) jiggle around. It makes her belly and breasts pat lightly against my chest and her breasts wobble like crazy. I guess she liked it so much that she keeps going.
>Boosa latches onto my shirt and starts sucking. She takes a big wet mouthful, once again replacing chocolate with her thick spit instead. Nothing's really perfectly clean with a goblin, so I've long gotten used to it. She keeps looking up at me for approval, and I always smile and rub behind her ears or stroke her hair. It's not hard to see where it's going, but Boosa might have thought she was pretty clever for making the most of her mess. Of course, soon she's sucking and drooling on the crotch of my shorts, and I keep my breathing low and even as she takes the edge of my shorts and looks up at me again. "Daddy okay?"
>"I'm good. Do what you want, sweety." Boosa has the whole wudu/brute mentality, and it's clear that she keeps checking with me if she's allowed to do whatever she's doing. The other kids are variously adventurous and curious, and I want to encourage that in her too. She's smart, just slow and hesitant sometimes. I lift my hips enough for her to let her take off my shorts if she wants to, and she does.
>Boosa reminds me of Scrappa's early days in our lovemaking. All passion, no patience, no experience. She sucks my cocklike she’s eating a popsicle, all her interest in keeping it in my mouth as if she actually likes the taste of dick. Not that it’s bad at all, of course. She leans her hands on my thighs, and I knew she was heavy but it’s the first time I really get a good grasp of how strong she is. Not full blown adult male strong, but a strange powerhouse for a 3--foot chubster. She even pulls on my legs at one point to pull me and my shaft closer and drags me a few inches, so she must be strong enough to move me. She gives off a lot of loud sucking noises, drooling all over my lap as she clearly forgets anything about cleaning. But she looks… happy. Serene, almost. Considering that Boosa’s all about helping her sisters and eating (more than the others, anyway), this might be borderline therapeutic for her. She definitely seems to be in her own little headspace while she works me over, absorbed in her happy little workspace rather than checking with me or someone every second as if it’s exactly what she wanted right now.
>Even when I cum from her hungry slurping, Boosa doesn’t even look phased. She wolfs it down with a little extra loud sucking, but one big gulp and she keeps going. I have to ask her to stop, but when she pulls me in deeper I’m laughing, twitching and begging her to quit it. For a midnight Boosa booty call, I’m not ready for a marathon. She comes out of her little trance and smiles at me happily, pleased with herself more than she is looking for approval now. I still smother her in praise, wiping off the cum and drool from her mouth while petting and kissing her. She’s all giggles and jiggles as I clean her up, let her finish our snack and head back to bed.
>“Can Boosa sleep with mommy and daddy?” she asks as I help carry her into the bedroom.
>Why the hell not? She’s earned it.
>Feb 19th: it's an "outside day" for me; checking in at work and shopping, which means I have to clean up and look like a sane human being again. While Scrappa and Sahara are on babysitting as usual, I've asked Abby and the taurs to watch over the woods around the house. I still haven't seen much of anything from the other goblin tribe, and I'm not willing to bet that they've just run off.
>I'm in the shower for a minute or two when I hear the door get flung open and slam into the wall. I can see through the shower curtain that, going by the bright pink, it's Rixin. "Daddy's dirty!" she shouts with the same tone she'd use for "Kitchen's on fire!" She runs over and pulls the shower open. I show my priorities by hurrying to turn off the water rather than cover up. I can't risk accidentally cleaning her if it'll do the same to her as it did to Scrappa.
>I later find out that Scrappa explained to Rixin why I keep going into the bathroom. The pups don't use it for much except sometimes for water, but considering that I've never actually seen them genuinely make any waste, I generally don't want them near the toilet or the shower. So when Rixin heard that I was cleaning up to go do work, she flips the fuck out. She'd been cleaning her sisters the whole time without realizing that her "tribe's" "Bicka" had been dirty this entire time. She scrambles into the shower and gets to work.
>I have a hard time getting a hold of Rixin. Scuttle's the best climber and sneaker, but Rixin's not far behind her. She starts to lick and suck on my legs, which doesn't mean that she has to sit still. She climbs up and clings to my legs, but her tongue's more than a foot long by now, so she can slither that around while she works. She sucks up and spits out mouthfuls of water for a few seconds before she just latches onto my dick and doesn't let go.
>I'd mentioned how Boosa was all passion and no skill; Rixin is almost the opposite. Her mouth latches on so tight it's like she's some kind of sexual leech, clamping it from every direction. Her tongue still slips out past her lips, a strange sight at first but the more she slithers it around, the more it flexes and rubs against my cock. The tip does down and rather methodically rubs around my balls, moving around as if she's intent on tasting my every crevice to compare their flavors. She stares at me expectantly as she sucks loudly and deeply on my member, big blue eyes waiting for praise for her dutiful work. She almost does the opposite of her intended job, since she's drooling all over my shaft and cleaning off any bath water... especially when her intense cocksucking makes me cum quickly in her mouth. She squeals in surprise and withdraws her tongue, slurping over it and giving an apologetic whining noise. "It's okay. It's not your fault," I assure her, rubbing her rust-colored hair as she's too busy licking up all my cum to voice what's wrong, so I eventually just pick her up. She still leans down and sticks her tongue out as far as she can, insisting on cleaning the last drop before I get her off it completely.
>"I messed up cleaning," she mewls apologetically, cuddling up in my arms with her head on my chest. I sit on the edge of the tub, bouncing her gently in my arms and rubbing the little muscle between her breast and arm in the way she likes so much.
>"You didn't mess up. Daddy cleans differently than you girls do." I try to explain it simply, but they're a bright bunch of girls. She keeps asking why, and I have to eventually tell her it's because I'm a human. This takes a bit of explanation, mostly telling her how even though I smell like a goblin, I'm like my parents or the people on TV. It feels like the "you're adopted" speech mixed with the birds and the bees, both of which are really weird to give somebody after getting a blowjob.
>"How're humans and goblins different?"
>"Well... we eat less food. We're taller, and different colors, and we don't lay eggs." She nods along as if this will be on the test later. "We use bathrooms and go to work, and..." The more I go on, the less differences I can make. They're reading and writing WAY beyond a 2-month-old level, and can carry on a conversation in goblish while using basic English from watching so much Youtube and Tv, if nothing else. "And most of them don't know about goblins."
>Rixin's eyes light up and her ears raise. "I'm a secret!?" she gasps, suddenly in awe of herself. It's fucking adorable.
>"Yes, you're a secret, Rixin. It's why you're always with me or mommy, and why we don't leave the house or the woods very much."
>She hugs me around the stomach. "Well we think you're a goblin, daddy." That's... so stupidly sweet. I love these kids. "But how do you know about mommy?"
>That one I can answer. I tell her about the time we met, seeing her big green butt stuck in the animal trap, sharing food with her, waking up to her making advances on me. Rixin listens through the basics before she shouts for her sisters, getting everyone into the bathroom for story time. I hurry through it again while the seven pups listen intently, Scrappa smiling warmly behind them in the bathroom door. It's a sweet moment, but I have to scrap going shopping before work. I towel off and get dressed, going heavy on the deodorant and hope nobody wants to smell my junk today.
>I stock up on food and essentials after work, so I'm back a little before dusk. I'm still getting out of the car when I see a woman running in the rearview mirror. She blurs the more I look at her, but when I turn to look I can see it's Abby, her skeletal form fading into view once in a while. She looks frantic, but of course, the ghost/skeleton isn't panting. She just looks like she should be.
>"Steven!" she blurts, the chubby woman leaning her hands on her knees. "Goblins, sir! The ladies sent me ahead!"
>Mentally, shit gets very real very fast. I'd been waiting for it. Abby reports hurriedly that they're not at the house yet. Ven and Tiniel spotted them, but they rerouted/ran for it when Ven shot one down. I'm no strategist, but Grandpa thought this place was a safehouse for some reason. If we have any chance of stopping who knows how many goblins, it's in the hideout of the best monster hunter in the country. I start setting things straight as quick as I can. Scrappa and the kids are all inside, as well as Gruunda and Sahara. The centaurs are coming a long way around, not wanting to confront the goblins head on just yet. That leaves me with every immediate ally we've got on the way (I figure the fairies are more of a peace treaty than allies, and contacting them would take too long).
>I get to the more long term preperations; I gather up all the traps that grandpa left behind (the ones I can figure out) and set them around the yard. Even if they avoid them, they'll likely work as alarms and slow them down to move around them. Abby gets assigned to the attic, where Scrappa and the babies will hide out unless things look bad. There's no windows up there, so even if the invaders can climb, there's no way inside but through the house. Going over Grandpa's books confirmed he had a few peepholes in the ceiling, letting Abby act as a lookout.
>I have Gruunda stay in her shack, where she's given me a few more things she's built and fixed in her spare time: more traps, some caltrop/shrapnel-looking things, and what she assures me are smoke bombs. Sahara's a last line of defense for artillary, lighting up anything that tries to sneak around or book it. She seems all too glad to start some fires. The centaurs have a similar setup, keeping to the woods and picking off whatever they can. I put a quick call in to Agent Decker, reporting what's going on and asking the polite lady on the fake hotline for backup.
>Me personally, I'm still kind of shit with a gun, so I'm just keeping inside the cabin with a bat. As an afterthought, I go to where the hunters and I had planted the swords off in the woods. I take the short one they gave to me and bring it inside. With everything as fortified as I can, I thank everyone, lock the doors and windows, make sure the basement's sealed up, and bring the laptop and TV upstairs to keep the kids from stressing out. Really, they hardly seem to notice that we might be about to go to war.
>Feb 20th: Well that's all over with. I... don't know what to tell you/me. Just... that was anticlimactic. Probably the derpiest war with 100 goblins I'll ever see.
>They showed up late at night, the kids already asleep and Scrappa staying up later before I urge her to get to bed. I don't plan on her fighting anyway if she doesn't have to. Abby points out the bunch of goblins slinking in from the woods (no eyes means darkness doesn't mean shit to skeletons). I went quick and quiet downstairs, ready with the bat by the back door where they were coming from. One of their front scouts finds one of grandpa's bear traps and blows any pretense of cover as he shrieks like a girl. There's a roar from the woods; the goblins mistook his cry of pain for a battle cry.
>About a quarter of them go down without us raising a finger. The various cages and traps catch, trip and injure a bunch of them; I see one go into a cage when he's distracted by the snack cake, get stuck, and then a second goblin get stuck when he reaches in to take it from him. The smokescreen makes them run into each other, flipping out and thinking they're being ambushed so they starting to fight one another inside the smoke. When they're close enough, I hit the porch lights that makes them flip out (as if they thought they were still being sneaky). I can make out Aket, the blue-haired goblin that threw down with Scrappa back in the woods, so it's definitely the old tribe.
>Ven and Tiniel take out plenty themselves. Where Gruunda's and Grandpa's traps didn't get them, the earth just broke into random sinkholes that sucked them inside, binding them with wildly overgrown grass and vines. Arrows steadily took one goblin out every second or two throughout the fight, whether dead or just whining like crazy on the ground. I can see from the window where some of them try to flank the house and give up on the yard full of traps, just for Gruunda to burst out of her shed and swallow one hole like some kind of gigantic bipedal spider. She easily picks up two more and clunks their skulls together.
>Once a troll and some unseens snipers are in the mix, any formation they pretended to have was long gone. Goblins started turning to flee, spending as much time advancing as they were kicking and shouting their own guys to keep going. Aket and one big fatass goblin (her mentioned chief, Doprup) are in the back trying to egg them on, but they're just making them panic worse as they're just going back and forth on what's scarier, their Bicka or the enemy they haven't laid a hand on yet.
>I've heard battles go way faster than you think, between History Channel and the journals, but their entire tribe is down or out one way or another within a minute. A handful try to flee the scene and ditch their kin, but Sahara makes a wall of fire that lines the forest, caging them in (she keeps it under wraps, having enough control to not light up the place, at least). I step out with my bat in hand and point it at him, trying to look as big and mean as I can as I shout the old goblin challenge of leadership at him. Directly translated: "You're stupid! This is stupid! Give up the chiefdom or give me your head!"
>Doprup looks between me, the wall of fire, my looming attack troll in the corner, and suddenly a bunch of soldiers from the other side of the woods lining up lasers sites on him. He just blinks a few times and shrugs, dropping his decorative club covered in feathers and shiney rocks. "Okay. I give," he says in English, managing to sound matter of fact as if he's suddenly bored. sitting down and folding his arms patiently.
>the kids and Scrappa are cheering and laughing, having been watching from the attic the entire time. It's not like I did anything besides quote some old goblish at them, have some dangerous friends, and let the goblins defeat themselves, but they act like I saved the day.
>I almost forgot how durable goblins are, since almost none of them are dead (almost…). Most were trapped or shot, but are just sort of cowing by the end of the fight. Even with The Order gathering them up in cuffs and trucks, they're begging me for mercy as their new Bicka. The females promise me all kinds of things with their bodies, and the males offer all kinds of shitty treasures. Gruunda walks by and barfs out one terrified female caked in troll spit like it's nothing. Aket is raising a bigger stink out of this than Doprup himself, stomping around and complaining about a human being Bicka. Scrappa steps up and bitchslaps her before verbally tearing her a new one. A few choice bits that I can recall:
>“You have fat stupid Bicka, not big special Bicka! You don’t get to insult! Steve doesn’t need you! He makes me hot food and gives sweet drinks! He makes strong babies and teaches them words! Steve knows LOTS of insults and he NEVER uses them on me or his [jeska/tribe]. He will always be better than you deserve, and he is MINE!! Now shut your ugly-hole before my fist fills it!”
>Aket doesn’t look happy about it, but she shuts up. I talk things over with Decker when she shows her face, and she says they’ll be able to keep the rest of the goblins. Likely for observation and research, if they’re too wild to live peacefully anywhere (aka, being goblins). It sounds shitty, but harmless for them. About as good as they deserve for trying to make a few more breeders out of my family.
>When I looked them over, I didn’t really see a bunch of psychos, though. Idiots, sluts, and cowards, but not killers. Some of them didn’t seem to understand that they’d lost or been beaten and chewed on their bars. I think about the kids, and what I was able to do with them. They’re not naturally assholes, just raised that way between a lot of abuse and bad leadership. I talk with Decker about it, and basically shrugs. They’ll obviously fall back into stupid violence before long without a proper leader, so I have her gather up the survivors in their cuffs and cells and show up with a jumbo bag of Skittles. Everyone gets one. I tell them about how strong and capable a Bicka that makes me, and the things I can get for them if they’re willing to cooperate. I have most of their attention immediately, even Doprup. I tell them that if they listen to Decker, do what she says and show they can behave like the smart, brave, and gentle goblins I know they can be, they could have a spot on my land. A lot of them look fascinated by the idea. I’ll see how long that lasts, because I’m giving them a trial period with Decker and her lab boys first. She says they’d basically be in a zoo for observation, with some human interaction to test their behavior. I’ll be about a hundred miles away, but I’m now technically the Bicka of a tribe of 94 goblins (not counting my family). While I’m thanking everyone and offering to have all my guests over for a meal tomorrow when everyone’s rested, the tribe is actually singing songs about Bicka Steve while they’re loaded up into The Order’s trucks. The songs don’t rhyme or carry a tune, and I’m pretty sure that they just make up some words in the middle there, but it’s still something I’m strangely. I guess I lived with goblins long enough to appreciate the little things.
Very nice men.
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