Goblin Swap Part 2

More of the comissioned adventures of the boy so desperate to move to the fantasy world that he entered the body of a goblin breeder female. Possibly has some art on the way by courtesy of the buyer.

 

Tucker had to fend for himself for a while, and it wasn't much better than his time in the goblin village. His survival training courses were paying off, at least, helping him make shelters, gather food and keep a fire going while he traveled the road out of the woods. Humans weren't an everyday thing, since there were goblins here after all (it seemed that the forest was kind of a risk/reward area: quick and dangerous vs long and boring). It meant he didn't have any company but the sounds of the woods. It gave Tucker time to "grind" anyway.

It wasn't especially clear why, but there was some kind of inherent magic to everything here in Dimension A. Although slight, every person had a level of strength and power that went beyond how they appeared. That level went up upon defeating or killing others, or sometimes especially impressive feats or moments. Modern day humans picked up on this pretty quickly, and so the ill-defined terms had carried over to Dimension A as "experience" and "levels." In short, the strong got stronger until especially adventurous sorts were leaping over castle walls and punching dragons in the face. Of course, given the rate you progressed, select few ever got that far. Still, it was a chance for Tucker to hedge his bets on top of whatever actual skill he obtained.

Hunting was a generally suggested means for it, and it was serving Tucker well. He wasn't exactly twice as strong as when he'd arrived, but he was consistently hitting rabbits or squirrels with his throwing knives. He'd lost one while trying to bring down a deer, finding the smaller weapons could wound them but not bring them down before they fled. It was a tough life, but one where he was finally pulling his weight. Still, it was hard to deny the strange comforts of being a breeder when the wind blew through his simple stick shelters. He'd just grumble a goblish curse and pull the hide blanket he'd swiped from his village on tighter.

Making his way into human society proved even tougher than Lyra had suggested. Tucker eventually spotted a pair of elves on horseback, gladly running up to them. They had to have some actual food to share, or at least directions. Of course, people don't take kindly to a charging armed goblin. One pulled a sword while the other fired a quick draw arrow at him, only his quickish reflexes and squat size letting him dive out of the way.

"Wait! Wait! Not fighty!" he babbled out, but the shooty elf readied another arrow. Tucker cut his losses and bolted back into the woods. They didn't follow, but when Tucker was back out of sight, he reflected on the short encounter. He really had botched his words on that one. He'd been with goblins too long, and the time alone wasn't helping. He really did need human contact again. While he wouldn't go feral like some of the bigger monsters people jumped into, the risk of going native was still quite real. He sighed and repeated himself slower, more carefully. "Wait. I'm not here to fight," he said carefully, even if strange coming out of his scratchy little voice. He started back through the woods, following along the path and firing up his mental exercises while he wasn't busy hunting or fighting. "Two times two is four. The capital of Kansas is Topeka. The family on Full House was the Tanners..."

Things went about the same when he reached a major city. He didn't even get into earshot before they spotted him, but he could sure hear them. A loud crack sounded out and his sharp, broad ears picked up a quick zing a moment later. That's right... we'd traded guns with this dimension as well. He took it as a warning shot and threw up his hands, but he caught another glint of metal. He didn't want to press his luck, so he took off just before a bullet thumped into where he'd just been standing. Given his race, he was either being taken as hostile or target practice. He scrambled back to the woods, ducking inside and realizing he'd have to take his chances elsewhere. The big cities were too secure and the caravans would be too paranoid. There had to be some place that would let him stay long enough to get some real food and a warm bed.

Tucker went on circling the edge of the woods, unsure what exactly he was looking for. He spent a few more days living off of wild game and river water, which kept him going but not doing much for his humanity. He took some comfort in the fact that he did seem to be getting better at this. He'd finally managed to bring down a deer using his natural talents and practice so far. A bit of bait and then scrambled up a tree with his grabby little hands and natural stealth. It was easy to lure the doe out and drop down on it with his sword, taking it out in one shot. He proudly ate and skinned it the best he could that night, impatiently taking advantage of his goblin anatomy by eating the hunk of venison off the fire as soon as it looked edible.

It was another day or so beyond that when he heard the scream. He felt his gut urge him to run, but Tucker outweighed the goblin here. He had been a decent guy back in his homeworld, willing to lend a hand or a buck when people needed it. Since the prospect of becoming an adventurer had come up, that part of him had only grown stronger. He followed the noise to find a young woman, looking somewhere in high school age if she were in the modern world. She was up a tree, a discarded basket of fruits and nuts on the ground as she clung clumsily to a low branch. A pair of black wolves paced through the grass beneath her, snapping at the treed girl occasionally as they probed for anything to hang low enough for them to catch. The girl shouted for help now that she'd had her wits about her, realizing her predicament, and then she caught Tucker's eye as he peered from behind a tree. He saw the girl's eyes widen fearfully, no doubt assuming that Tucker had sent them after her (or at least here to make it worse). Tucker put a dirty finger to his lips and drew his sword, nodding towards one of the harassing wolves. The woman looked confused, which was at least an improvement from suspicious.

Tucker ran quickly for a thing with such short legs and thick thighs. A firm jab of his sword buried it into the wolf's neck and brought it down in one stroke and a quick yelp. The wolf turned and snapped at him, and while Tucker was quick enough to bring up his shield, it locked its teeth onto it and shook it wildly. While goblins were considered the real threat of the woods, the wolves that lived here were clever and vicious enough to compete with armed warriors. It whipped its head around, the fact that it was strapped on being all that kept Tucker holding onto it. This threw him to the ground as it tried to mount on top of him, which brought back all kinds of memories from the hut back in the village. He screamed in a mix of panic and frenzied adrenaline, his body jerked around as the beast pressed down on him and snapped for any opening. This was a big step up from a random deer. It nicked one of his ears with a snarling bite when he shoved up with his shield, pushing its head up and away. It was a perfect opening to ram his sword into its soft throat, jabbing it a few times to be sure even as it splashed blood over him.

Tucker hurried out from under it, wiping himself off clumsily when he saw no more before looking up at the girl in the tree. "Sokay?" he rasped up at her, sticking the sword back in his sheathe. She nodded and lowered herself carefully back to the ground. Tucker went to the basket and straightened it back upright, tossing a few fruits back into it before realizing he left some bloody fingerprints and decided to not make things any worse. "Can wadjit off," he muttered with a crooked smile.

A trio of men suddenly burst onto the scene; two were clearly some basic sort of guard, but the other simply had a woodcutting axe. They looked to Tucker, who instantly threw up his hands again. "Din't fight!" he yelped, even if some parts of him were covered in blood. He pointed a foot at one of the wolves, trying to explain the crimson stains. The woodcutter stepped up to him with his axe gripped tightly.

"Thievin' little goblin liars," the big man huffed, reaching for the goblin as Tucker braced himself to run again.

"Dad wait! She saved me!" The girl came to her rescue, and Tucker nodded rapidly when the big man looked from her back to him. The lumberjack of a man looked him over, and his eyes clearly lingered on Tucker's big lactating boobs, but he relaxed his grip on the axe.

"Just tryin' ta go somewheres," Tucker insisted, lowering his hands slowly to make sure the gesture didn't trigger the armed men.

"Where were you going?" one of the guards questioned suspiciously.

Tucker shrugged. "Anywheres but a goblin village." It got a snicker from one of them, whether at his derisive comment or his clumsy use of Common. It hadn't gotten a lot of use lately.

"We have a town near here," the girl offered. Her father gave her a stern look, but she barely acknowledged it. "We could at least get you some dinner."

Tucker smiled and his mouth watered, enough that he drooled through the gaps in his teeth. "I's gots deer to trade," he offered, bouncing the pack on his shoulder. "And I's can do some work. I ain't lazy."

"Yea?" the axe-wielding father asked, eying Tucker curiously.

"I can fight," Tucker offered, holding up his shield (the bloody sword still felt like it would be too soon). "An' I'm from that Diminshin A thing."

"We could use those," the third guy mentions. "Shafton's a little place not deep in the woods, but we've got plenty of problems we could use help with."

"Great! What kind of problems?"

"Goblins."

"Ah..."

"That a problem?"

"You know, you'd think so, but..."

The town was Shafton, a cozy little town like the kind he saw in Disney movies or Warcraft. Not the kind where you got the big jobs or the princess lived happily ever after, but the one where she starts off as a hard-working peasant or where you get your "kill 10 boars for 2 gold" quests. It had a blacksmith, an inn/bar, and a few butchers and traders. It was mostly humans, but there was a pair of female elves running a small magic shop, though they mostly just sold potions for the variously wounded. As was expected these days, the healing and speed potions also had bottles labeled things like "Gatorade" and "Pepto-Bismol."

Tucker made good on his end. It was strange at first, getting a lot of looks from people. The guards and the father-daughter pair vouched for him on the way in, not that it stopped people from staring. Even the dad didn't put the axe too far away from him while they ate. Tucker had been away from utensils and actual cups for so long that he forgot to use his fork for a part of the meal. When he got over his own delighted stomach and senses, he was able to slow himself down enough to recognize the family's stares. He slowed enough to clumsily knife and fork the rest of the meal. Thankfully, the human company did him good as far as beating back the symptoms of going native.

He was able to rent out a room at the inn, taking odd jobs and paying it off as a long-term stay. People would be surprised to see him inside, but it was hard to see the she-goblin as a threat when she was a paying customer. He sure didn't want to camp out every night, so he'd need a base of operations. He also needed a bed to sleep in and a tub to use, for the sake of his sanity if nothing else. He invested in a book and forced himself to struggle through it; it wasn't that he forgot how to read entirely, but it took him longer. The goblin brain and its instincts made something like a thick ball of mud around his actual mind, and the words had to shove their way through it. Just being among and talking to other humans brought back a lot of his humanity: his broken English slipped back into normal after a few days, and he was using utensils and bathing again. Of course, he had to work for his food now that nobody was throwing it half-cooked into his bedroom anymore, but he had his uses.

Tucker couldn't stray too far from the town, since they were about the only people who would trust a wandering goblin with a sword. He did some manual labor around Shafton to get his start, loading carriages and cleaning floors. Once he felt like he had his bearings and enough money to risk it, he went asking for more dangerous jobs. The elven couple could always use more mushrooms. Someone had to stay up to watch the sheep and horses in case the wolves got a brave bug up their ass. Places needed scouting for threats before the woodsmen would go cutting down the trees. And of course, there were the other goblins. One of the guards kept a running list of reports of goblin sightings, and there was a thin old man of a trader who paid a few copper for each severed goblin ear you brought him.

Tucker didn't recognize these goblins, though they weren't an especially varied species. Even if they were from another tribe, he'd estimated that he was tougher than a handful of goblins by himself. When he finally followed one of the reports, he proved it! When he found four goblins fighting over a dead squirrel, Tucker was able to take them out without a scratch. One went down with a sword through the back, and he knocked out another with a backhand swing of his buckler. The other two looked shocked, probably from the fact that a fellow goblin (especially a female) was attacking them. They still grabbed their spears and went after him, and if the goblin brain had any qualms fighting its own kind, they were pretty flimsy and were discarded as soon as anyone drew a weapon on him.

The one spear went for Tucker's plump chest, but his shield smacked the tip off its target. He lunged in and lopped the crude wood in half, getting a startled squeal from the countered goblin. He turned to run while the other swung a stone axe at him, but Tucker's sword swept upward and knocked it away with a clang. The remaining goblin grabbed Tucker by the hair and tried to hold him steady for an axe to the neck, but he just winced from the rather mild sting in his scalp and thrust out with his sword. It buried into the thuggish monster's eye with a quick splash of gore, his body quickly dropping into the dirt. Tucker let him fall as his eyes went up to the fleeing goblin, seeing that he was still within his line of sight. "Alright... come on," the fresh adventurer muttered to himself, pulling out one of his throwing knives. He took a half-breath to steady himself before letting it fly. It was a little off target, but it still buried into the panicked goblin's neck. He choked and stumbled until he ran face first into a tree and fell flat on his back, dying quietly.

Tucker surveyed his handiwork with a touch of pride. He saw the one he's clocked with his shield groan, stirring on the ground but still looking out of it. The sight sparked a few memories, even if Tucker only had so many types of encounters with male goblins in the past. He still found himself rubbing his crotch at the thought, recalling how he had taken the dark time and owned it to generate his own pleasure. He finally went over, kicking the dagger away from the survivor and sitting his wide bottom down on his chest.

"Wake up," Tucker ordered, a phrase he'd had hissed to him when "customers" showed up while he was napping. The wandering goblin woke up, eyes straightening before he saw the curvy she-goblin sitting on top of him, sword aimed at his face. He instantly laid flat, as if trying to shrink his way right through the ground. "What's your name?"

"Skub..." he gurgled meekly.

"Skub, I'm willing to let you live," Tucker explained evenly. "I'm also willing to kill you."

"Do the first one," Skub suggested quickly, but Tucker pushed the sword closer to his face.

"Yea, shut up a second. The problem is, I don't trust you." The other problem was his hormones going out of control. He realized he hadn't gone this long without being pregnant since he'd arrived in Dimension A. His body actually seemed to be missing it. "I let you go on three conditions."

"Three what?"

"Reasons. Rules."

"Ah. Okay. Deal!"

"I haven't said them yet, Skub."

"Right..."

"One, you don't pull anything on me. You don't go for the knife, you don't go for the sword. You stay still until I tell you. Two, you go back to your village and tell them to stop hunting here. There's not much food in this part of the woods anyway, so you can find lots of snakes and rats to eat down by the bog. Three... get that loincloth off. We're having some fun before you go."

Skub didn't object to either. It was odd for him to have the female on top, especially one so plump and curvy, but he didn't object. Tucker loved it. A part of it was the familiarity of his earliest sexual experience, but much of it was the fact that he was in control now. He was on top, and he set the terms. He loved that he could make such demands of the dense goblin hunter and he'd obey. He loved how his big milky breasts bounced when he started to hump on Skub with more passion. He loved how he had mastered his new body to know just how to grind so that the firm but rubbery goblin shaft rubbed right against his swollen clit.

Tucker had gone through two shouting orgasms before Skub had his, the goblin seeming about equally aroused and confused by their setup. Even when he was finished, Tucker held him down and rubbed out one more for good measure, rubbing the cum around inside of him. "Uh... do it again?" Skub offered gingerly.

"Maybe another time," Tucker panted, wiping some sweat from his brow. "Remember. Hunt somewhere else, or the humans will send me to come get you."

That seemed to settle things for Skub. He hurried off without bothering with his knife, leaving Tucker to gather his things and fit his armor back on. The booty call seemed to be just what he needed, and he'd been knocked up enough to know it was coming up again. He'd get a good bounty for reporting the space would be goblin-free, so he could save up plenty of gold before he became too stuffed with babies to move. He hadn't thought quite that far ahead in the moment, but he figured he could raise the baby a little while before passing it off to one of the goblin tribes. They'd be glad to take in another mouth to feed in exchange for an extra set of hands.

Pregnant or not, he was definitely getting tougher. The XP system was climbing quick as he kept taking out goblins who scouted too far or tried robbing the village. He took out a small camp of bandits and even helped some of the town guards bring down a rampaging monster of a boar (they held it off with spears while he leapt onto its back and stabbed and bit at its back until he hit a piece of spine). The local doctor had offered to help Tucker when the time came to let the baby out, only to find that the goblin body did most of the work for him. Tucker's plan changed, however, when he saw the baby. It was a girl. Sending her back to the village that would lock her away and breed her gave him mixed feelings. He definitely couldn't keep it, since he'd look funny going adventuring with a "baby on board" sticker on his buckler and an infant in his backpack. The tribes would take care of her, but what kind of life was that to force on the kid rather than take it by choice like he did.

He got back on his feet soon enough, walking around and showing the town the new child. The little green critter got a lot of awws and baby talk from his neighbors, especially since they had softened up on goblin looks with Tucker around all the time. "It's so precious," Aeril chimed, the elven woman leaning over her counter to rub a thumb over the baby's ear and getting it to giggle. "Me and Iris had been talking about adopting for a while now. Just makes me start thinking about it all over again."

He'd stopped by the potion shop enough to know by now that the elven women were a gay couple that had settled in town for their business. They had enchanted some of Tucker's new armor, which he'd bought so that his gear actually matched rather than the hodgepodge mess he'd started with (also because it had an adjustable waistband for when his belly grew in).

"Well... did you want her? I sure as hell can't raise it... I wouldn't even know how. They always just took the kids away once they could eat anything but milk." Aeril and Iris seemed delighted to take the baby in, and it started something of a pattern. Tucker's body had gotten used to having sex and getting pregnant, so it expected more of it. Whenever he went out “adventuring,” he'd always try to spare one goblin when they'd cooperate, and would make a point to get a ride out of them when he caught them wandering around on their own. The village took in the kids, at the very least interested as raising them to be cheap farm hands. The elves adored their goblin girl, and even with them being used as pets or ugly labor, the families that took in the other babies grew to love them as their own. It was hard to prove, but Tucker even felt like pregnancy was enough of a powerful experience to grant him some more XP. The whole things felt... great! Sex, pregnancy, victories, helping a need community. He was content there in Shafton, but he felt he could always go for something bigger.