Goblin Diaries: Tribesman (Patreon)

>November 7th. Damn, it's been a while. Things got kind of... weird after the wedding. That is, things got normal. Basically, I had a whole lot of work, sex and kids going on while maintaining the centaurs, troll, fairies, skeleton/ghost and genie living on my property. Bizarre shit, but the fact that it's just everyday life kind of made me run out of reasons to write in the journal. It's only back on my mind because of Agent Decker recommending it as a part of our new project.

Everyone is great on my end. The girls are literally growing every day. They're nearly a year old (December 27th, if we're going by when they hatched), and they basically look fully grown. Junka and Debrii are taller than their mother, and Boosa has been for months. I'm pretty proud to say that they've even started wearing clothes around the house. Not Scrappa, at least, but they're turning out shockingly smart and mature for how I imagined them based on Scrappa. My goblin bride's leveled out between her limited pregnancy intelligence and her normal state, so she's bright, but she's still on the primitive side of things.

Gruunda, our local troll, has basically a tiny art studio in her new shed. Nobody visits,  but she hangs up a few and she's still making good money on her art commissions. She's even done some cam-streaming stuff; she downloaded a program that changes your face around, so she looks like a CG troll. I cannot stop laughing when I watch.

The fairies are honoring their bargain and staying the hell out of our way, which it sounds like is the best we could hope for. I leave them the occasional baked good or the like out at our designated meeting spot. Abby is glad to run it out or do some light chores as our part-time nanny ghost, though Scuttlebutt keeps trying to snatch and run away with her leg bones.

Ven and Tiniel are pregnant, and I dare not ask how the quadrupedal lesbians achieved this. Surprisingly, Ven is apparently going to be the birth mother. I would have expected the much smaller and ladylike Tiniel to be the mama, but lesbian monster births are something I'm not even going to pretend to understand.

This is the big reason I'm making this journal entry... I'm going to become a Bicka. I mean, I am technically, but a full blown chief. The leader of most of the living goblins in the United States. Agent Decker worked with me on and off until she offered to unload the tribe of goblins that I'd fought off earlier that year on me and my Grandpa's old property. Scrappa's very proud instead of jealous, and the kids seem excited. I was a little nervous to start, but I've made a few visits to the lab. It's this simple office building on the outside, but inside it's all pristine labs and glass cages containing raging werewolves or rolling slime monsters. The Order has had me sit down with the occasional goblin from the tribe, and they're always psyched to see me.

"True Bicka!" is a common greeting. "Stay a while and eat!" Even their chief Doprup seems happy to see me, even after I beaned some of his guys in the face with a bat.

The goblins have been getting by in their own large cell, but they're clearly not in the best condition there. Decker has been giving them everything they need, and while they were temporarily content with this they're getting confused. It's not had to understand why, but that's probably because of all of my experience. Goblins aren't used to having it good. They're used to scavenging and poking around and working for everything. Even Scrappa, in her life she sees as heavenly, likes to busy herself with some chores or just snooping beneath the couch sometimes. A big blank room won't do much for them.

I told Decker that I could fit them but that I wouldn't be much help. I had work and the kids plus all my other "guests" on the property. Decker asked me some basics, ran some numbers, and matched my wages plus expenses if I went full time caretaker for the property as a monster reserve. I have the tribe's shipment planned for this weekend.

>November 9th. My shipment of goblin tribe arrived! The disguised truck arrives (of course the truckload of goblins had to be disguised as a garbage truck) and unloads a few sealed crates with air holes punched in. I sign off a few things with an agent, flash our badges, and he opens them up. Out spills a collected total of 97 goblins, all of which had been trying to lean up against the door to listen.

"Good news! Your Bicka Steve is back, and I saved you from your cages!" I tell them the good news in goblish, a line I'd worked out as the most positive between me and Decker. I spot the two I was most looking for near the middle: Doprup and Aket. Doprup was their former chief, a chubby male who had given up rather quickly at the threat of violence. Aket was his "best screamer," sort of his go-to goblin and messenger of choice. She had long blue hair and a crude stud in her nose, same as last time. She looked a little grumpier than the rest, but the others look pretty thrilled to be there.

I lay down the ground rules for them, and they're very similar to the ones I gave the fey. No coming into my house (the guard troll and local ghost will see to that), no hurting the other creatures on the property (short of hunting for food), no leaving the property, and always answering to me. In return, I offer them gifts and protection; specifically the extra crate that Decker shipped out of snack cakes and stale bread.

I start basic; an agent takes a headcount while I take each goblin one at a time in a line. I learn each one's name, give him my personal greeting and assurance, and give him some food. It goes well for a while until Hooga tries to push his way to the front of the line. Hooga's a big one; he's about four feet tall and muscular with this big black mop of hair. He's still nothing on my scrawny six feet of human.

"HEY!" As soon as I shout, every goblin (including Hooga) freezes. A few of them cower as I sit up and stop my interview with Jux, a pink-headed female. "What's the problem, garbage bag?! Are you special?!"

Hooga's ears immediately droop. No goblin ever likes being called out, let alone being yelled at by someone in power. Never by someone bigger than them. He shuffles back into line, but I walk towards him. He cringes as I take his shoulder and move him back to where he was in line instead of where he was cutting. "You're a big guy, Hooga. You're special," I tell him, loud enough for most of them to hear. "You're strong and brave. I can see that. You a big eater?" Of course he was. He was obviously a brute like Boosa, and they only got that big by eating enough to fuel their crazy metabolism.

"Yea, sir," he grumbles back.

"Well everyone is equal here. What's your name?"

"Hooga, sir," he says a bit dejectedly. He likely lived a good life as Doprup's muscle.

"I'll tell you what, Hooga. Get out of line and walk it back and forth. I'll get you a share of food just like everyone else right now, and then another when you're done if you keep everyone in line, okay?"

It's a good first impression in my mind. Hooga definitely pulls his weight from then on, and while he only has to nudge one or two back into place, his being there does establish another sense of order over the tribe. I don't think it's prison rules if you're already the biggest guy there, but it works.

In the end, I bring the tribe together for one major task. We have a bunch of pallets of wood, food and basic supplies from The Order that need to go deep in the woods where they're going to live. Everyone who helps pull the loads gets to take part in a massive feast tonight. Between nearly a hundred of the little buggers plus me, Scrappa and the kids helping out, we make some decent time and we're all hauled into the spot we picked out for the village. I get some goblins on starting fires and building some huts while I see about that feast; the pizza place doesn't bother asking why when I but over $150 in pizza off them, but the tribe goes mental for the greasiest and tastiest food they’ve had in months. Scrappa stays happily by my side all day like my little secretary, and we end it sitting on a pallet and eat with the kids

By the time the sun's down, we've got a good fire pit going and enough simple huts put up for everyone to cram inside with plenty of cheap pillows and blankets. Of course, we go back to the house. Bicka's privilege and all. 

>November 10th. I'm sorting out a hierarchy with the tribe, but they seem to have their own instinctive roles just like the kids. While they're the youngest, the pups are happy to show them around while picking up the finer details. Scuttle, for one, is happy to show their lookouts the best trees (that she's already taken the liberty of marking). The tribe puts up with my little princesses running around and pretending to help while I check out what we have and what they need. Aket tries to request some "boomers" (guns and bombs, like the lab's guards have), but that doesn't get very far. The Order leaves me in charge of them overnight, but says they have eyes on me. They're a secret government agency with magic, so I assume they're telling the truth.

>Shelter and food seems to be in order. Hardest part is just assigning some goons to watch the food stash so they don't just eat until they pop.

>Weapons are next in line, and they're all quick to start tying together sticks and rocks for some bows, knives, spears and clubs. They're not pretty, but they sure do the job.

>Smells seem to be an issue... not in the way I expected. Every so often someone just humps a tree or rolls in the leaves like a dog. I think the sterile lab life had been freaking them out and they want to make sure they're filthy enough. Scrappa had responded terribly to baths, after all. Gorgy asks where the swamp is before running off for what I assumed to be fishing, just to come back muddy, wet and happy.

>Their last priority is more startling than surprising. I saw Junka and Debrii running away from a hut and giggling, so I went to inspect what kind of pranks they'd come up with. Instead it was male and female goblin humping and squealing like it was going out of style. They hadn't been here for a full day before they started trying to breed. Scrappa just giggled at the sight before rubbing her face against my leg, already getting in the mood herself.

>"Hey, you two!" You would have thought I was the she-goblins father holding a chainsaw by how the male reacted. He flung himself off of her, weird green boner still out as he fell to his knees wailing and crying as he begged for his life.

>"Not a mate! Only funning, bicka!" he babbled. "Little humpy, not big humpy! Just a second! Won't take a cradle from you! Please would'nt kill me so now!" He's rambling in goblish too quick for me to piece it all together perfectly. The girl looks a lot more interested than she is afraid. Rather hiding like I'd expect a human to do, she actually pushed the blanket off farther and spreads her legs as if things just got hotter.

>I'd later catch up with Scrappa to find that as chief, I basically own all the women. With a more paranoid chief, he'd have his head split in half and the pieces thrown in different directions for taking one of my unknown harem. I gather some names and clarify a few things:

1. the pink-haired one, Skeez, is a very pretty goblin who shouldn't mate with anyone she doesn't want to. She can tell me if that ever happens and I'll make them pay.

2. if the male, Pommy, wanted to breed any pups into her, he'd have to use the other hole

>I'd expected the goblins to breed anyway. If they were going to last out here, I don't think I'd want to be the one to father all of their spawn. There's plenty of tempting cuties in the tribe (8 the 100, by my count), but I didn't think Scrappa would be too happy with me indulging. I give the two my blessing to knock each other up all they want.

>by the time we're through with the day's work and dishing out the food, we head back to the house. Scrappa asks me why I didn't hump back there.

>"Modesty, I guess. I can't just bend you over a stump whenever I feel like it when I have chief business."

>Scrappa disagrees. She purred just at the mention of the thought and rubs her face against my erection. Her soft skin and the familiar sensation of rubbery smells and purple hair bobbing against my dick has me hard in a second. She's sucking me off from below the counter before I can even properly start dinner.

>Once she's through with her appetizer, I also find out she didn't mean herself. She reminds me how I'm the new Bicka of the tribe, so every female belongs to me. It would be odd if I didn't act accordingly and remind everyone of it now and then. Otherwise they might think I had a "weak smasher."

>"So you WANT me to fuck the other goblins?"

>Scrappa practically buzzes from how high she purrs. She pushes her face into my lap again, licking at my still tender and softening shaft. "Big happy! So proud!" she insisted loudly. "If bicka has biggest hammer in the village for all the girls, I'm the one who gets to keep it!"

>I had to laugh as I thought about how she was saying it. "You're right, stinky," I said, ruffling her hair. "Scrappa IS best girl."

>November 11th. I took Scrappa's advice. I spent most of the morning feeding the kids before meeting the tribe as they finish cleaning up their own hasty meal. They caught a few dead raccoons and Scuttle swipes a paw to chew on for herself (nobody dares rob the princess of her toy). After a bit of browsing, I wait by a hut and call over a dull purple goblin. Half her head is shaved (including her eyebrow) while the rest had this ridiculously unkempt mop of black. She had big red eyes that got even bigger when she saw me and dusted some dirt and breakfast from her scrap-cloth top. It's pulled tight over a pair of C-cups, fairly medium for a goblin, despite how big they look on her tiny body, and some beads or even tin foil are tied around the top of the garment as if to draw your eye there (and clatter every time they jiggle). As an afterthought she pulls a pinecone out of her hair and flicks it away before hurrying over, a hand on her wide hip.

>"Feeling humpy. In the hut now."

>"Aye, boss!" she says in a scratchy little voice before she darted inside, a fanged grin on her face the whole time. Oddly enough, it's spoken in human... I mean, English. I have to stoop to get in the hut but I had planned to spend a lot of the time on my knees anyway. The buzzed goblin is already on her knees, utterly naked and with a mouth open wide. Her green tongue was long enough to rest on her cleavage.

>"Is that how you like it?" I asked in English as I started on my pants.

>"I like it lots of ways. Just so long as there's lots of it," the raspy purple goblin answered gleefully. She glanced at Scrappa behind me, giving a small nod of her head that was just low enough to be a bow before fixing her eyes back on my cock.

>"What's your name, gorgeous?" I say to grab her attention again.

>"Why?" she asks like it's the weirdest question to ask a sexual partner.

>"Just wondering. You speak better Human than most of the tribe."

>"Scoony, boss," she says, pushing some hair out of her eyes. It falls right back into place. "I'ms good at listenin'. I listened to the humans in da woods or with da coats so I could talk 'em. Almost tricked 'em into gettin' cock-gobbled once."

>Good to note. Considering that Aket was still grumpy about me being in charge, I might need a new messenger/translator. If history and the old Hellsing journals serve me right, there's only one way to get a goblin's loyalty for life. She's drooling when I get my dick out. She's flaring her nostrils and panting like a dog when I grab her by the half head of hair. She's howling and cross-eyed when I've barely crossed my cock into the threshold of her mouth. It's definitely new to have someone howling on my dick; these deep and almost wheezing breaths like she's going mad from the mouthful of human meat. Her long and loud (if somewhat stifled) noises draw enough attention that I can hear the other goblins come and go behind me, peaking in on the action and getting an eyeful before Scrappa shoos them away.

>Scoony's tongue isn't as long as Rixin's and she doesn't know how to use it, but the girl has absolutely no gag reflex. Her nostrils keep puffing warm air over my lap as she takes my dick all the way in and doesn't let go. She's attached like a leech up to the balls, her soaking wet throat and mouth apparently not having any trouble fitting it all in. I could feel some exciting popping sensations along my shaft where her abundant spit bubbles up or runs down my balls and thigh. She's locked on as far in as she can go and it's not until I start to pull on her hair that she gets the idea to move her head instead of just sucking in place. The girls of the tribe must have been even more cock-starved than usual after being awkward in the lab, and they were every bit as new to human cock as Scrappa was on our first time.

>With all the warm spittle, I cum before too long. Scoony gulps my first shot down without a second thought before popping me back out, blasting the rest of my cum over her purple face and tits as if in celebration. I fall back to my knees once she's finished milking me dry, but my cock is still pulsing and hard over the attention.

>"Nice big bicka! Still hard after one big pump!" Scoony praised, beaming over to Scrappa with a wink. "Is a lucky mate."

>Scrappa puffed up at that like a curvy green peacock at that. Her posture implied she was offended but she had the biggest grin on her face. "Really, Scrappa is Bicka Steve's wife," she corrected, trying to casually draw attention to her wedding ring.

>"Wuzzat?" Scoony asked witlessly, but she was clearly a bit dumbstruck from the sight of the ring. Probably nicer than anything her or the tribe had set eyes on.

>"It's like a Piji-Riti," I answered. "But for humans."

>"Dats a big deal," Scoony said, her jaw hanging open. "Am I gonna get axed for this?"

>"What? No," I said incredulously. "This was her idea. I was actually seeing if you wanted to be my translator." She frowned as if thinking hard. "To ah... talk for me. So I can speak in human sometimes when it's easier."

>"Big screamer," Scrappa added helpfully.

>"Yea, that one."

>Scoony thinks it over, picking at her hair for a minute. She flicks out another twig and a dead lady bug that she finds in there (I've had so many immunization shots before we went through with this, not that I need them). "You want me screamin'? Gimme a good ride on the thing and I'll scream whatever you want!"

>Perfectly fair. Like I said, nothing more loyal than a goblin to her dick. I lift Scoony onto my lap facing me, and while the taste of cock had her howling and drooling, she looked just about paralyzed by my dick going in her. I'm audibly squishing inside her by the second pump, her long legs wrapping around my waist to cling to my dick again with her round hips. Her warm tits and hard nips rub over my chest enough that I can feel them through the fabric of my shirt. I knead her ass beneath her loincloth to get her to ride me again, and she makes all manner of hoots, chirps and squeals as I pump her again and again. I can see Scrappa watching intently, rubbing her thighs together and biting her lip. I can tell I'm going to get it from her good later when she wanted to reclaim her position.

>That was when the screaming started. Ironically, not from my new big screamer. Scoony was still grunting rapidly on my chest when the ruckus came from outside. I tapped Scoony on the shaved half of her skull. "Scoony. Something's up. I'm going to go check it out. Can you...?"

>"No," she answered bluntly, burying her face into my collar bone. "Busy."

>"Yea. Me too. that's kind of the point." I tried to outwit her. "I'll give you two later if you stop this one now."

>"No." Still stubborn. I guess her first dicking might do that to her. I sigh and grab her ass tighter, stooping as I keep her clinging to my lap and walk out with Scoony still on my dick. It's not hard to see past her, and it's less difficult to see what's wrong. A pair of goblins are dragging another by the arms, smears of green-black blood behind them. His leg is missing below the knee.

>"Boss! Boss!" One of them barked, ignoring whatever my junk is up to as Scoony grinds and moans on it. "They got Mizz!"

>"Who got... mmf... Mizz?" I asked, trying to focus as my cock started to pulse inside of Scoony.

>"Mizz did!" the other helpful goblin answered. "He had this mole and he was carvin' it up for a snack, but he wasn't cuttin' it! Like, he kept trying and he wasn't cutting through the meat! So he says 'I'll just cut harder,' but then he realized he wasn't cutting the mole. He was cuttin' his own leg off!"

>Impressive as always. I think the story went on a little longer about their failed attempts to save his leg, but by then I was nutting into Scoony. I just braced my legs to stay upright as she sprayed some thick greenish cum over my lap, purring like a lawn mower. I audibly popped her off me before setting her down and fixing my pants.

>"Okay. This is fine. Do you have the leg?" One of his boys raised the detached stump of leg that matched the wounded one's color. "Don't worry. I've got human magic for this."

>I think I've covered this before, or at least Grandpa's books did somewhere. Goblins basically won't die unless you slice them to ribbons or really rip out their brains. You could tear one's head off and they would still live if you found a way to reattach it. They're really just big babies with healing factors. It's why the pups break down crying over a cut but will still climb the curtains and fly off onto the couch without a care.

>My human magic boils down to some duct tape and a band-aid. I put a few rounds around the knee to strap it back on and tell him to keep off it. He's on food guard duty since he can't go anywhere. I give him a Hello Kitty band-aid on his arm for good measure. "That's a thing we use to make cuts get better," I tell him. "It's got good human magic in it, so you have to leave that on. Let your leg rest and it'll work good in no time."

>They buy that it's magic and not just their ridiculous anatomy at work. I get lots of cheers and praise, which is mostly just because I got the blood out of sight. Mizz offers to give me his leg in thanks for saving it but I remind him that would ruin the point. After a quick interview with Scoony about what we want to do with the tribe, I'm settled on making her my mouthpiece while I'm away. She's a little cracked and twitchy, but she knows what's going on well enough. It's a few words from me and pointing and they all answer to her now.

>"Now if you'll all excuse me, I have a wife who needs to clean me up." I pick up Scrappa in one arm and smack her on the ass, getting her to giggle and the tribe to cheer. They're a fan of me and a fan of fucking in general, I guess. The kids scamper along after us and don't mind waiting for a big but late dinner while Scrappa rides me like a mechanical bull, establishing her scent on my cock again as she chants "Mine" under every breath.

“Bicka mine. Steve mine. Piji-riti mine! Big dicky mine!! Pussy mine!! Slutty mine!!! Chief MINE!!! BABY MINE!!! MOMMY MAKEY MINE MINE MIIIIII~NE!”

It’s a very late dinner… though I’m hard again just remembering how excited she was to hose me down with the familiar smells of her pussy. Maybe I can wake her up for one more before bed…