I'd taken about ten steps when I heard it.

  Something in the undergrowth to my left, moving parallel to me. Not subtle about it either — whatever it was, it either didn't know I could hear it or didn't care. I slowed my pace and listened. Small, by the sound of it. Quick. The snap of twigs in an irregur pattern suggesting something bipedal and impatient.

  I stopped.

  The undergrowth stopped too.

  "Okay," I said.

  The undergrowth exploded.

  It came in low and fast, maybe three and a half feet tall, green-grey skin, huge yellow eyes, wearing what appeared to be leather scraps held together with optimism and twine. It had a club roughly the size of a rge potato and it was screaming something in a nguage that sounded like gravel in a blender. It hit me in the shin with the club before I'd fully processed what I was looking at.

  It hurt.

  "Hey—"

  It hit me again. Same shin.

  I looked down at the goblin. The goblin looked up at me with the particur unhinged confidence of something that had never lost a fight it started. It raised the club for a third swing and I took a step back and assessed my situation with the rapid pragmatism of someone who had already had a very strange day.

  I was naked. No weapons. No tools. No clothes. The ring sat warm and snug at my base and I was, because the ring had apparently decided that a goblin attack was no reason to take the edge off, most of the way to hard already. The morning's events had primed me in a way that apparently wasn't going away anytime soon.

  I looked at my cock. Looked at the goblin. The goblin swung and caught me on the same shin a third time.

  "Alright," I said. "Alright."

  I wrapped my hand around myself and stroked twice, which was genuinely all it took, and I was fully hard, twelve inches of magically enhanced horse cock swaying with a kind of slow purposeful weight that I was beginning to think of as loaded. I grabbed myself at the base and felt something click internally, that focused warmth traveling from the ring up through my shaft to the wide fred head and sitting there like a coiled spring.

  The status screen flickered at the edge of my vision for half a second.

  Dick Sp — Activated

  "Oh," I said. "So that's how that works."

  I swung.

  The wide fred head connected with the goblin's face and the sound it made had no precedent in the history of combat on any world. Not just the physical impact of twelve inches of horse cock across a green-grey face — the charge behind it discharged on contact, a concentrated burst of warmth that transted directly into force, and the goblin didn't just get hit it got unched, tumbling backwards through the air and nding hard in the dirt a solid six feet away.

  It y there blinking at the canopy with those enormous yellow eyes.

  I stood over it breathing hard, cock still extended and still charged, the Dick Sp skill already beginning to reload from the ring's reserves. I looked down at the goblin and the goblin looked up at me and then looked at what had hit it and those yellow eyes went very wide indeed.

  I swung again before it could recover, Dick Sp loading and discharging in the same motion, catching it across the other cheek and snapping its head sideways. It flopped onto its stomach. Scrambled upright immediately, club still in hand, screaming in its gravel nguage, absolutely refusing to accept what was happening to it as a valid reason to stop fighting.

  I had to respect the commitment.

  What followed was roughly two minutes of the most deranged combat in the history of two worlds. The goblin was fast and vicious and genuinely fearless and kept getting back up. I was rger and increasingly committed and had reach it simply hadn't anticipated when it selected its target this morning. The ring pulsed steadily the whole time, warm and encouraging, the low charge enhancement sharpening my reflexes just enough that the club only connected twice more before I got the rhythm of it.

  I finished it with a full overhead Dick Sp that drove the goblin face first into the dirt where it y still, breathing in short shallow huffs into the moss.

  I stood over it breathing hard. My shin throbbed where the club had connected. I was still fully hard because apparently beating a goblin half senseless with my horse cock did not qualify as sufficient distraction, which said something about either the ring's priorities or mine that I wasn't ready to examine.

  I was about to step over it and keep walking when it moved.

  It pushed itself up slowly, shook its head, sat back on its heels. Looked up at me. Then those enormous yellow eyes dropped to my cock and stayed there. It looked for a long time with an expression I couldn't read, going through several distinct phases that ended somewhere I hadn't expected.

  Then it turned around.

  It got on all fours, reached back with both small green hands, and pulled its leather scraps aside.

  I stared.

  I got a full unobstructed view of what the goblin was working with back there and I want to say I looked away immediately. I did not look away immediately. The goblin was small — three and a half feet tall, lean green limbs, small tight ass that it was currently presenting with the confident energy of something that had made a decision and was committed to it. Its balls were small and pulled up tight and between its legs, hanging forward, was something that had absolutely no business being that size on something that height. The goblin was packing in a way that suggested the universe had a very specific sense of humor about proportions.

  I stared at that for a moment too.

  "No," I said, redirecting my attention upward. "Absolutely not."

  The ring disagreed. The hum at my base shifted into something urgent and directional, warmth building in a very specific way I was beginning to recognize as the ring having strong opinions and expressing them through my nerve endings. My cock was at full twelve inches and had been for a while now and the ring had been running hot since I woke up and I was nineteen years old and the goblin was right there and apparently extremely enthusiastic and had demonstrated some genuinely unexpected equipment.

  "This doesn't leave the forest," I said, to no one, to the trees, to whatever version of myself was still maintaining standards in the back of my skull.

  I approached.

  The goblin's ass was small and tight and green-grey and it pushed back toward me the moment I got close with the anticipatory confidence of something that knew exactly what it wanted. I pressed the wide fred head of my horse cock against it and expected resistance.

  I got none.

  The goblin's ass opened around my fred head with an ease that stopped me completely. Not just accommodating — welcoming, the ring exploding with warmth the moment I breached the first resistance, a pulse that ran from my base to my tip and back again. The goblin made a sound that was unmistakably positive, something between a growl and a moan in its gravel nguage, and pushed back further to take more of me.

  I pushed forward slowly, watching my thick shaft disappear into something that by all physical logic should not have been able to take it, and the goblin took every inch I gave it and asked for more. Hot and impossibly tight around me, the ring amplifying every sensation and sending it back doubled, the warmth of the charge building with each slow thrust in a way that was distinctly different from my own baseline. Earthier. Thicker. A different fvor of power altogether.

  I worked slowly at first, hands on its small green hips, feeling the warmth climb with each movement. The goblin was vocal about everything, its gravel nguage filling the forest, the sounds it was making unmistakable in their meaning regardless of transtion. It braced its small hands against the ground and pushed back to meet each thrust with its whole body, that disproportionately rge cock of its own swinging forward with each movement, its small tight balls pulled up against it.

  I picked up pace and the goblin's sounds escated accordingly, less nguage and more pure noise, its small fingers digging into the dirt, its ass gripping me in waves. The ring was pulling charge from the encounter steadily, the gauge climbing, the warmth in my base deepening with each cycle. I could feel the difference in the charge quality clearly now — the goblin's contribution sitting alongside my own in the ring and humming at a lower earthier frequency, distinct but real and substantial.

  I felt the goblin go first.

  Its entire body clenched around me simultaneously, that small tight ass gripping my cock in a long sustained wave, and it made a sound like someone dropping a bag of rocks down a stone staircase, loud and completely uninhibited, and its disproportionate cock swung forward and unloaded into the dirt beneath it in several long pulses while its whole body shuddered and jerked. It made that sound twice more, each time its ass clenching and releasing around me, thoroughly and completely lost in it.

  Then it colpsed forward into the moss.

  Face down. Completely limp. Its small green ass still open and slick and glistening where I'd been, its own mess pooling in the dirt beneath it, its disproportionate cock soft now and resting against the ground. It was smiling into the moss as far as I could tell. Its small balls had rexed and dropped. It had the posture of something that had achieved everything it set out to do today and was now prepared to rest indefinitely.

  I finished immediately after, the sight of it colpsed and satisfied and still open pushing me over whatever edge I'd been walking, the orgasm rolling through me and the ring drinking it down instantly, darkening another full shade and dropping into that deep resonant thoroughly satisfied hum. I stepped back and stood breathing hard looking down at the goblin lying in the moss and feeling several things simultaneously.

  I stood there for a moment.

  "We're not talking about this," I told the goblin.

  The goblin breathed happily into the moss and did not respond.

  I looked at the charge sitting in the ring now. Noticeably higher than before, the goblin's earthier contribution sitting thick alongside my own. I noted the quality difference. Real, substantial, useful. Also absolutely the st time, I told myself, with the firm conviction of someone who had already said absolutely the st time once today.

  I looked at the goblin's club lying nearby in the dirt.

  I looked at the goblin itself, still face down and thoroughly satisfied and clearly not relocating anytime soon, its ass still open to the afternoon air with the rexed openness of something that had no compints about its afternoon.

  I picked up the club.

  The narrow end tapered to about an inch and a half. The ring was sitting at solid mid charge now, warm and heavy and still humming with appetite, and I was still fully hard and Morning Dew was running freely down my shaft in a luminescent thread and dripping into the moss where small flowers were already pushing through the soil with complete indifference to the scene around them.

  I turned away from the goblin, because I had some standards left and I was keeping them, faced a rge tree, and slicked the narrow end of the club thoroughly with what I was producing in generous continuous supply. I pressed it against my own ass and worked it in slowly with considerably more patience than I'd had this morning.

  The first inch seated and the ring sent a pulse up my spine that arrived at the back of my skull like a struck bell.

  I worked it deeper, one hand on the club, the other wrapped around my cock, the ring running both inputs together into a single overwhelming signal that made the forest and the goblin and the entire situation recede to background information. I edged myself standing against the tree, the club working steadily in my ass, the ring drinking down each orgasm and immediately demanding another, the charge cycling higher with each pass.

  Morning Dew ran freely down my cock and dripped glowing into the moss below. Small things grew in real time at my feet. The goblin, recovered enough to roll onto its back, watched the proceedings from its spot in the dirt with the rexed attention of a satisfied audience member with nowhere to be.

  I finished eventually with my back arched completely away from the tree, the club buried as deep as I'd worked it, my whole body locking up in an orgasm that the ring drank down instantly and completely, darkening to its deepest shade yet and settling into a hum so deep I could feel it in my sternum.

  I straightened up slowly on unsteady legs.

  I looked at the goblin. It said something in its gravel nguage from its spot on the ground. Its tone was approving.

  "Don't," I said.

  I looked at its leather scraps, lying where it had pushed them aside. I looked at the goblin.

  "Give me your pants," I said.

  The goblin blinked its yellow eyes.

  "Pants. Off. Give them to me."

  What followed was a negotiation conducted in pointing and firm tone and the goblin's general post-coital agreeableness. It relinquished its leather scraps without significant compint and I spent ten minutes doing what I could with stiff crude leather and twine.

  The result was technically pants. The front situation was a problem I solved imperfectly, the cing straining, the outline of everything completely apparent to anyone who looked. I looked down at myself. Better than nothing. Marginally.

  The goblin sat in the dirt watching me dress with those yellow eyes, pantless and unbothered, showing absolutely no signs of leaving.

  I picked up the club, tucked it under my arm, and picked a direction.

  The goblin got up and followed me. I did not encourage this.