Lady Revlim Neverhug and The Goblin House of Gloom (Patreon)

This story was entirely built around a pun and took some wild turns on me halfway into writing it.

I thought it’d be funny to have 4 goblin noble houses of Gloom, Doom, Boom, and Coom. Explosives, spooky prophecies, emo despair, and fucking like crazy. Forming it into a sex fic, the option was obvious: someone captured decides to go in the care of house Coom and becomes a sex/breeding slave.

Then I started writing it, described the leaders in what was meant to be offputting ways, but I ended up writing the name Revlim Neverhug and describing the goth head of house Gloom and she was too adorable. I swapped up the Coom mistress to be sort of intimidating in her own way and shifted gears.

I could still see visiting the other houses. The isekai element at the start was just to hurry the start along, but it could work in a way that sees the path of what if he took each choice. I’d also considered he dies after each path and resets, but didn’t really feel right either. Or lingering around House Gloom, but I feel like turning into a harem kind of cheapens the story. I have some really loose ideas on what this goblin world of Orb is like, but I may or may not actually explore them in any future stories.

Trent had no idea what was going on as he was dragged through the dark and murky halls. The last thing he remembered was he had picked up a strange, thick coin from a local gutter that looked like it was made from green gold. There was a flash and he was standing inside a dark castle with a few torches barely keeping the claustrophobic stone walls visible. He only had a minute to scan his surroundings before a bunch of small figures pounced from the darkness. Beady eyed, big-mouthed, scrawny green goblins in loincloths had approached silently and emerged with a feral hiss, tackling his limbs and dragging him down. The stocky college dropout yelled in shock as they rapidly bound his limbs and neck with shackles. He had never even been to a castle before, let alone thought that goblins were real since he was 5.

He was an out of shape corner store clerk with scruffy shoulder-length blonde hair, so he didn’t even pretend that he could fight his way out of this. He just hunched down and followed their lead through the small castle, clearly built for goblins with housing a tall, broad human clearly an afterthought. The goblins jabbered in some other barking language, sounding demanding while occasionally congratulating judging by their tones. Whether they were praising him for some reason or proud of their meath catch, he couldn’t tell.

“Hey, why am I here? I didn’t mean to show up… wherever this is…”

“Choppa choppa! Pthh!”

One of the runty, bean-colored beings just barked at him and shoved him from behind. It herded him forward, just to stagger into one of the goblins ahead of him. The front one snarled and pushed him back towards the first, turning Trent into a tool of petty revenge for his abductors.

He finally reached an open area where Trent’s elbows didn’t scratch the walls. It was clearly some official chamber, with four tall thrones set up facing him. He gulped as the goblins who caught him attached his arm shackles to a steel loop on the floor. It forced him to kneel in front of the four goblins, clearly more noble in their attire and fuller figures compared to the many snarling and androgynous ones lining the edges of the room.

Trent looked around uneasily, blowing some hair from his face. He cleared his throat quietly.

“Uh… hey?” he ventured.

The four lead goblins perked up at that. One with large, gnarled hands and a pointed nose that stuck a foot out from under her hooded robes pointed a bony finger.

“Aha! You see? He speaks the new tongue!“ she (he guess) declared in English.

“It means nothing,” sighed a more distinctly female goblin.

She was dressed sparingly in equal parts black leather and foot-long spikes in all directions with more dull, ashen green skin. Two stringy, pitch black pigtails dangled on either side of her head and very thick, oily makeup ran from her eyes down to her small chest like obsidian tears.

“Could be. Could be the chosen from the fortunes,” another grumbled.

The gravelly voiced, very round goblin was covered in thick leathers, far more practical than the dark goblin. A belt around her body held flintlock bombs and sticks of TNT. Soot stained much of her face and hands, and she seemed to be missing a thumb when she rubbed her chin.

“It only matters by how he chooses his fate,” the last leader reminded them in a sultry voice.

She really caught Trent’s eye. She was incredibly curvy, wearing a tight red corset that pushed up her enormous breasts. She was immaculately done up with makeup, large and finely groomed pink hair, and her olive green skin all but shone with its smoothness. Glitter decorated her fingernails, fingerless gloves and jewelry as she crossed some thick thighs on long legs for her short size. Big, pink eyes with what he swore were heart-shaped pupils stared at him.

There was a much huskier voice that piped up coughing behind them. A goblin closely resembling the wilder ones he’d first met hurried out from somewhere behind the thrones. He at least had a brighter look to his eyes, carrying a scroll and wearing a little vest over his loincloth. He panted and arrived near Trent, clutching a beat up, stained old wig that looked like it used to be white.

“Hi. Hey. Ahem. Uh, as your uh… represent? Yea, sure. Uh, I’m here to repper you as a prisoner of the great goblin courts of Orb.”

“Wait, you’re my lawyer? I don’t even know you and you don't know me. Talk to me, dude. Why am I a prisoner? What’s my crime?”

The wig-wearing goblin blinked at him. He checked his scroll and muttered in goblin for a second before rolling it back up.

“Oh! No crime. You did nothing wrong.”

Trent sighed in relief.

“You’re just our prisoner because we feel like it. NOW! About that! As prisoner, you have the right to choose who is going to serve as your jailer. We have our matrons here of the four goblin houses: House Gloom, House Doom, House Boom, and House Coom.”

The goblin herald (or whatever he was) gestured and bowed to each of them as he went on.

“Lady Grizzeldalek Gumswatter of the House of Doom, keeper of fortunes and omens.”

The witchy goblin covered in hooded robes, gnarled joints and a grin full of rot and bad news grinned back.

“I bet his guts would show all sorts of prophecy out on the slab,” she mused loudly enough to worry Trent.

“Lady Tuckrum Blats of the House of Boom, bearer of arms and seeker of invention,” his translator continued.

The almost spherical goblin woman smirked as she pulled a cigar from her belt. She scraped and lit a match across her upper breast before lighting the cigar. When it started loudly fizzing and crackling, her eyes went wide. She hastily flung the “cigar” down the hall before it blew up with a thunderous boom. She didn’t seem much safer of a hostess just hy proximity.

“Lady Revlim Neverhug of the House of Gloom. Keeper of the practical and master of despair.”

“Ugh… all is hopeless. This talk only wastes our already boring lives,” the spiky goth groaned.

She gave Trent a look of sour disgust. Maybe a little exciting, but definitely risky.

“Lady Monita Entiska of the House of Coom. Maker of babies and ensuring that there be goblins everlasting.”

The dolled up, more hourglass-shaped flirt of a goblin smiled sweetly past ruby lips. She batted her eyeshadowed lids and licked her lips hungrily at the sight of him. Trent blushed and felt a throbbing in his crotch that pointed him in what felt like the right direction.

“That’s right. Come to me and I’ll make a true stud of you,” Monita purred.

Maybe this “Orb” place wasn’t so bad after all. Monita’s slowly eyes widened as she rose in her seat, steepling her long and graceful fingers.

“Draining the very life essence out of you, enough to spawn an entire army in a week. A NATION within a month! Your loins shall be the sapling dying in a burning forest, bringing new life in its wake!”

She stood up on her seat, clenching her fists. “ALL OTHER BALLS SHALL SHRIVEL AT YOUR MENTION! THE TRUE NAME OF YOUR COCK SHALL BECOME A POWER WORD OF FERTILITY RITUALS! MALES OF OTHER RACES SHALL GO BARREN IN THE AFTERSHOCK OF YOUR FINAL ORGASM, YOUR AFTERGLOW AS A DYING SUN-”

Or maybe there WAS no good choice here. One wanted to fuck the life out of him. One would probably blow him up by mistake. One was an old witch with ominous plans for him. House Gloom… they didn’t seem to care either way, actually. She felt like she wanted to get this over with and seemed too lazy to fuck or torture him to death. They all had their risks, but…

“I choose House Gloom,” Trent said as hesitantly as if this were a guess at a gameshow for his life.

There was some excited chittering from the lower goblins before their herald started loudly stomping his feet. They were no gavels, but they worked just as well as the little idiots got excited and started stomping too.

“Then it’s decided. The prisoner belongs to House Gloom!” he proclaimed theatrically.

The audience broke into feral shrieks of glee. Lady Revlim groaned just as loudly and rolled her eyes.

“These hateful gods burden me so. They sour my life as if to sweeten my fate in the afterlife,” she complained theatrically.

She waved a black-nailed hand at Trent and a couple of goblins took his chains. She left the chamber impatiently and her little wretches dragged him along after her.

They traveled through what looked like a dungeon, at least in the traditional use of the word. Lots of shut doors and cells with goblins sleeping comfortably despite the open, iron barred doors on either side of the hall. It was more spacious in this hall, big enough for a cart Trent would predict. It was low lighting but it was still enough for Trent to get a better look at Lady Neverhug as his eyes adjusted.

She was short and skinny, but with a petite hourglass to her shape. Her curves were slight for a human’s proportions, but on her dainty little body they were practically voluptuous. She wore black leather briefs and what could have passed for a studded sports bra, with boosted stiletto heels that gave her a couple extra inches. Thin, stiff ears like a hairless fox’s bobbed subtly, rattling her skull-shaped earrings and twitching carefully between the dozens of thorny spines like her outfit was made from a giant sea urchin. Her stubby curves were still thick enough to wiggle about beneath all her barbs. It kept Trent’s attention on her, partly for the booty and part to make sure her wiggling hips didn’t accidentally stab him. Or intentionally.

“These once were dungeons but now serve as sleeping quarters. All things have use and value in our fleeting and desperate lives. Even you, prisoner. Somehow.”

Lady Neverhug gave him a sleepy-looking glance over her barbed shoulder.

“I suppose he’s big enough for tiresome grunt work. Keep him just bound enough that he can still clean the rooms. Make sure the overgrown brute gets the walls and ceilings. We’ve been slacking on those for some time.”

---

Trent didn’t see much of his mistress for a few days. The wilder goblins kept a loose watch over him while he went about cleaning the unoccupied cells. With little real furniture in them and his disinterested guards, it was surprisingly basic work. He still didn’t speak their language, but he started to understand their basic, one word commands when he was supposed to stop to sleep or eat. As crummy as being a cleaning slave was, he really felt like it could have gone a lot worse.

Revlim seemed to have forgotten about him by the time she wandered past him on duty. The spiny she-goblin gave him a puzzled glance as she strode by with her pointed heels and a pointed stare, escorted by another pack of raving idiots. Trent still had no idea how one so cute could exist when every other goblin looked so much wilder and less… shapely. It wasn’t like he could ask any of them in their own language, and he doubted he would be allowed to approach their leader so casually.

For the next few days, Lady Neverhug wandered by him a few more times. She seemed to check his work for a few seconds and then leave without so much as a nod. Her grim calm was always a little eerie when the other goblins could barely sit still, chattering and fidgeting constantly while they oversaw Trent’s work. Finally, the prickly noblegoblin showed up and gestured towards him.

“Take him to my chambers to clean them. And make sure he doesn’t make a mess of anything,” Revlim ordered curtly.

Her minions jabbered and gathered up Trent’s leash. They only needed a quick tug for him to know to trudge after them. They followed their gothy lady back to her bedroom, which immediately stood out as far larger and fancier than anywhere else he’d seen. It was somewhere between a very dark Victorian woman’s bedchambers and an emo teen’s wet dream. Black and purples dark enough to be mistaken for black made up almost everything, from her princessy curtained bed (which was far too big for her) to the obsidian candles patiently dripping on their stands. An open wardrobe had many carefully spaced apart sets of barbed clothes exactly like her current one, and a bucket-sized tub of her black makeup was set beside a dusty vanity mirror.

“Just try not to disturb the cobwebs,” the mistress warned before she slid into her stool in front of a writing desk.

The minions poked Trent into action. He stepped forward and got to work with his rags and broom. The goblins weren’t as concerned with cleanliness as he was, so he had built up a lot of sweat and dirt on himself over the first few days. He had started asking for more drinking water just so he could give himself a basic cleaning between shifts, but he had been surprised when the day before his guards dragged a full wooden washtub, soap, and some old-fashioned shirt and shorts for him to properly clean up and change. He was starting to suspect that his visit to the lady’s bedroom was the whole reason they’d even considered it.

Lady Neverhug let him work as she sat at her low, wide writing desk. She muttered softly here and there but remained engrossed in her penmanship. Trent peered over her tiny shoulders as he wiped down her bedposts and rather than any kind of treaty or letter, he caught glimpses of the most over the top emo poetry he’d ever seen. He had to look away again whenever she’d glance up at his shadow.

He had cleaned for about fifteen minutes when Revlim pushed her seat back from her writing desk. She snapped her dark nailed fingers and immediately had the attention of Trent and his guards.

“Guards. You may leave us,” she stated dryly.

The lesser goblins quickly forgot any previous orders for an excuse to leave. They hobbled out and yanked the thick wooden doors shut behind them, leaving Trent and Revlim entirely alone in her dark room.

This was it, he thought. Exactly when she’d gotten bored enough to kill him off.

Lady Neverhug stood up and approached him with the precise, sharp clipping sound of her stiletto heels tapping off every second. It was impossible for Trent not to flinch as she stopped just short of him. He could feel the tips of her spikes against the hairs on his legs.

“I know what you are, human,” Lady Neverhug said with her low, forever dour tone.

Trent kept quiet and listened. If she knew anything about him and why he was here, he was curious himself.

“I found ancient writings from lifetimes ago. Our foregoblins mentioned dimwitted, lumbering giants that once roamed Orb like mountains made of clumsy strength. Easy pickings for our hunters, even in small numbers. Pathetic. Tragic.”

Revlim clicked her tongue quietly as she slowly looked him up and down.

“Tragic…” she repeated a bit more breathily, like she was in love with the word. She traced a hand over his lower stomach, clearly reaching with a practiced care through her spikes.

“The stories mentioned that they were also insatiably… virile. ”

The inexpressive goblin girl’s ears twitched in place like a tensing rabbit. She whipped her head away, throwing the back of her hand against her forehead in a dramatic pose.

“The sorrow you must feel! The despair of being seperated from your kind! A creature out of time who cannot live without knowing of his people’s extinction! Forced to slave under your superiors every day until your great, brutish bones are near breaking!” she recited theatrically.

Trent had already considered that things hadn’t been that bad. He’d probably lost a little weight since he came here, and the goblin workday was about 4 hours long before they either got bored, tired, or ran out of work for him to do. He certainly wasn’t about to correct her.

“I know how you must feel! Secluded and alienated! I by privilege and you by scorn!” she went on with a low, deep enthusiasm behind her words.

“You are a beautiful beast from the other side of goblin society. I feel your primal, hungry gaze!”

Trent had never been positive if he was allowed to look at her, so he’d kept it to a minimum when she was even around.

“Why, such a romance would be forbidden! A dark, thrilling secret set upon the house of Gloom!”

Revlim let herself mock-faint dramatically backward, her makeup dripping eyes fluttering shut. She was in no danger as she fell into the bed, the spines behind her digging into and quietly ripping the blankets he’d just helped set. She batted her eyes back open to peek back at him, silently checking if she was being melodramatic enough. It finally tipped her hand completely as far as Trent was concerned, She was so completely caught up in being emotionally dry and burying herself in her gloomy poetry that she happily turned into an absolute drama queen at the slightest provocation.

“Yea… really forbidden. Really dark,” Trent agreed carefully.

“I knew it! You romantic monster!” Neverhug gasped.

A touch of blue crossed her cheeks as she blushed and averted her gaze, just to peer up at him from the corner of her makeup-smeared eyes.

“And yet… my house is meant to delve into those things dark and grim… oh, I shan’t resist your temptations a moment longer, you lust-mad animal! Ravish me~!”

Revlim basically seduced herself as Trent waited for her to finish whatever she was setting up. She pulled at a clasp at the shoulder strap of her top, operating with the finesse of a safecracker. She recklessly removed her top and threw it over her shoulder across the room. It connected with the opposite wall with a piercing thud, sticking to the looser bits of stone like the handful of darts that it really was. Her perky little breasts were, unsurprisingly, pierced with a pair of black, angular spikes going horizontally through the nipples. Her messily made up face stared up at him as she laid back on the bed, legs and arms spread as the barbs buried deeper into the bed.

It was the strangest and best thing Trent had heard since he’d arrived at the dingy old castle. He climbed into bed with her, carefully maneuvering around her lower body. Her black briefs and boots were still spiky enough to concern him.

“Oh dead and terrible gods!” Revlim gasped, her black lips parting with a shudder.

“You’d violate your own lady’s countenance and leave her loins unattended!? How barbaric! Such torture!”

She wailed out the words with nothing but excitement, running her hands over her upper body to placate her building arousal. Her fingers teased at the sharper edges of her piercings, edging herself on pain and expectation. So long as she insisted, Trent stripped out of his shorts and shirt while he knelt near her head. Her dark eyes widened as his fattened shaft popped out and hovered just above her face. Her bluish blush returned to her cheeks as the head alone looked to be the size of the skinny little goblin’s mouth. She caressed its underside like it was a relic of great power radiating his barely cleaned musk over her curiously sniffing little nose.

Not wanting to deny her reluctant wish, Trent angled his cock downward and pushed himself into her mouth. The first inch or two made her cheeks puff out and she let out a tiny squeak before wrapping her black lips and tongue around it. She didn’t let him worry about her discomfort and started bobbing her head upward, trying to suckle down more of him as she groaned with a desperate hunger. She batted her blackened eyes up as him expectantly and his role here became all too clear. The untouchable, spike-covered deadpan noble wanted it as rough as his “savagery” could manage.

He thrust in harder and deeper, forcing his dick into the soft tunnel of her throat. Revlim gave a need, shrill whine as she arched her back, smacking her lips around his shaft. It left faint rings of black lipstick around his manhood wherever she pressed hard enough, and her growing excitement meant that they centered around the lower base when she was delightedly strained. Trent squeezed around her breasts, wincing a little as the surprisingly pointed tips of her piercings. His hands started to recoil from the pinpricks but her heated cry (while being muffled by his dick) showed her intense appreciation. She quickly grabbed his hands and pulled them back to her round green tits. Trent just winced and let the pleasure of her sloppy, black-smudging blowjob wash over the pain. She pulled her back back enough to noisily slurp herself off his cock.

“You’re such an animal! Enduring such pains just to satisfy your crude human lust!” she gasped beneath him.

Revlim rapidly peppered his balls with worshiping kisses, her pigtails and ears bumping against his cock to keep it bouncing against her. His precum drooled over her chest, painting her tits in the clear ooze as the monstergirl munchkin slobbered over his sack. She entered a long, proud hum as she popped off him again, leaving a perfectly shaped lipstick mark dark as midnight on his inner thigh. She battered her eyes up at him, wide-eyed scanning him for some kind of approval. Trent pinched and pulled on her nipples with her studs as handholds.

“YAAAA~! OH YES! Punish us, masters~!” Revlim cried out loudly enough for Trent to wince and glance at the door.

His attention was brought right back to the little noble as she bit into the base of his cock. She growled playfully as her fangs didn’t penetrate the skin but the shock of stinging pleasure had Trent’s head spinning. She gave a few short licks over the spot she bit, starting to leave her mark on him between all the bites, pricks and lipstick.

“You just bring out such savagery in me, beast… it is a desire I cannot contain!”

A few quick and careful gestures and Lady Neverhug stripped herself out of her barbed boots and bottoms. They embedded themselves in the floor with a set of guillotine-like thunks. The dangerous noises still meant that she had entirely revealed herself to him, down to her petite green pussy. It was visibly sopping wet, a trickle of clear honey coming from between her tight lips and making another angular clit piercing glisten.

“Very well! Deflower me with all your uncaged lust and fury!” she commanded with the thinnest veil of reluctance.

The very thought of any relief after his imprisonment and suppressed thoughts about the similarly repressed mistress left him no choice but to obey. Trent grabbed her by her curvy hips and yanked her back into him. He lifted the featherweight goth with ease and slammed her down onto his erection. He grunted between the pleasure of stuffing his way inside her while feeling the angular edges of her piercing grate against his dick. He huffed gutturally into one of Lady Revlim’s pointed ears that bent back alertly as she screamed. It was a shrill howl of shock at the huge insertion, warping back and forth over the next few seconds. He settled himself inside her overstuffed pussy that squeezed around him like a miniature fist. Her rolling hips rubbed her hardened, tender clit against him along with the rigid stud. Trent squeezed more roughly at her tits, pulling them like handles. Her back arched enough that he could see the swell of his bulge

“Yes! Truly you understand! There is no pleasure without suffering! Misery leads to joy! You powerful brute of a prehistoric cock devastates my insides as it brings pleasures untold! Defile my sanctum, you massive dishonor of a creature!”

Neverhug’s ranting words barely reached Trent’s brain in his sadomasochistic fucking. He pulled her down while thrusting up, ramming harder each time into her tiny pocket of a pussy. He clawed at her chest as her scrapes and scratches spurred him on until he swelling inside her, nearly stuck inside her tight and sloppy slit. With a hungry grunt, Trent pulled on one of her pigtails to tilt her head aside. He bit and sucked on her neck while he squeezed one breast like a stress ball, dragging her down to impale the shortstack on his cock. Her middle fattened up to make room for his thrusting manhood as she let out another howl of chaotic pleasure. Her needle-fanged jaw dropped open, gawking with her tongue hanging out. Her dark eyes watered as she was stretched and aroused so that her already trickling makeup smeared in the wake of her bittersweet tears. Her whole body vibrated on the spot, squirting her musky cum all over his erection. She was shaking for a solid ten seconds straight before she even started to slow down. The gothic goblin’s shaking ass bumping back against Trent’s lap was more than enough to let him finish. He’d started to pull out in a last minute moment of desperation, but her legs clapped shut around the sides of his shaft.

“Inside!” she panted breathlessly but still with an air of authority.

“You still won’t be making a mess of my things…”

That apparently didn’t count her chunk of shredded blankets, but that wasn’t his biggest concern.

Revlim let out a trilling purr as he finished inside her like she requested. Her pussy clenched and then loosened around his cock, working like a strange pump to suck up his seed. Some of his jizz leaked out from her taut lips and over her thighs, but the moaning mistress promptly swept it up with her fingers and sucked it greedily off the painted tips.

“Perfection…” she sighed.

“I see that even your primitive ways knew so much about the nature of love.”

“Mmhm,” Trent panted, tensing every time she wriggled on top of his dick.

It only then occurred to him that he’d barely gotten a word in during their whole visit. Revlim was very distracting, and she certainly loved to talk herself.

“Thank you for all this,” he sighed.

“I really didn’t mean to intrude or offend. I don’t even know where I am, or how I’d get out of this castle, or where I’d go if I got outside…”

“Outside,” Revlim muttered ponderously. It was like she hadn’t thought of the concept in a very long time. She shrugged it off and cleared her throat, righting her posture a bit more neatly.

“Yes. Well. Your ignorance is understandable, and your simple methods are appreciated in its own endearing way.  To which point… lift me back off your monstrous growth.”

Trent obeyed again, carefully wiggling her around by her slender middle until he finally uncorked from her with a wet popping noise. He set her down carefully beside her, where she casually leaned up against him. She clearly tried not to draw any attention to it, but he was probably the only person to actually touch her like this for a while given her regular attire.

“Now as I was saying, your performance thus far at the common drudgery of your position has been admirable. I think you’re to be trusted with a bit more freedom… and of course, you’ll be requested to clean me out… that is, my quarters in private every week. Rather, twice a week. Just to make the most use out of you.”

“Thank you, Lady Revlim. That’s very generous,” Trent said, stifling a chuckle.

“Life is suffering. It is important to grasp what few petty pleasures we can in our tragically mortal lives,” she insisted.

Revlim hopped up to her feet and held out her arms expectantly.

“Now redress me.”

Trent winced. He was worried she’d ask about that as he gingerly picked up her bottoms by the middle of one barb. He had no idea how this thing worked…

“And if you ever tell anyone about our private moments of shared suffering, I will find you wearing my full regalia and teach you the lethal meaning of the surname Neverhug,” she added in a casual threat.

There it was. But as far as his options went, he felt like he could have made a lot worse choices than the annoying pinpricks and crazy goth goblin sex of The House of Gloom.