Can I Really Get The Chair for Killing a Goblin?

One moment, I was in my room cranking it to Twitter lewds of Brazilian Hatsune Miku; the next, a semi-truck fell out of the back of the cargo bay of C-17 Globemaster III passing overhead and obliterated my apartment, sending me to Another World. (Consider this fate the next time you find cheap rent next to an army base.)

After I met with the Goddess and accepted my role as the Destined Hero, I arrived in a blinding pillar of light and headed into the Narrows, whereupon I found a stuck-up blonde elf getting her ethereal, fair-skinned milkers molested by a hideous, slavering goblin.

It was clear she was meant to be the first in my harem of impossibly erotic yet bafflingly compliant waifus, so I drew my Gift from the Goddess—The Sword That can One-Shot Anything—and lopped the little green cretin’s head clean off.

And that, dear reader, is where the trouble started.

“Murderer!” The elf cried, cradling the creature’s headless corpse like Michelango’s Pietà.

“Murderer?!” I repeated in shock. “I just saved your life!”

“You ruined it!” She wailed through bitter tears. “He was going to drag me into the breeding tunnels!”

“Y-yeah,” I agreed in mounting confusion. “You would have been bred against your will.”

“That’s right,” she nodded, sniffling as she rocked back and forth. “They would have made me their seedbed. I was going to be swollen and bulging, tied up and gravid with goblin whelps, a broodmare to be used over and over until my feeble flesh succumbed to exhaustion.”

She broke down, inconsolable, her body wracked by heaving sobs.

“R-right,” I said, wondering if this world had any insane asylums with open vacancies. “So we agree: I saved your life.”

Her head snapped up. “I WAS GOING TO BE A MOTHER, YOU PRICK!”

Just then, a guard approached on horseback. “You there! What seems to be the trouble?”

She was an ember-tressed officer who wore either a 30G or 32DDD bra under her tight blue uniform. Probably plain black. As an expert on tits, I could tell just by looking. Naturally, she would be the second member of my harem.

“I’m glad your here, Officer,” I said in my most gallant tone. “This elf was being molested by a goblin and I saved her. I’m the Destined Hero of Prophecy.”

I hit her with the pearly whites. Girls love the pearly whites.

“You have no traveling papers then, " she said, somehow unimpressed. She looked to the sniffling elf. “Is it true, ma’am? Did this stranger kill the goblin?”

“It’s true,” she murmured, her voice distant and despondent. “He’s a murderer.”

I leaned in and whispered, “You might want to find a padded room for this one. Bit of schizo.”

“Indeed.” The Officer said, leveling her radiant emerald eyes at me. God, I was looking forward to the strip search. “And you said you were the Destined Hero?”

“The One and Only!” I beamed, planting my hands on my hip. “Point me at the Demon King and I’ll be your benevolent emperor for life by sun down.”

“I bet,” she said, drawing a taser from her duty belt. “Your kind are always looking to swing your dicks.”

Before I could ask what she meant, two small barbs pierced my chest and sent 50,000 volts coursing through my body. I collapsed in the dusty road, limbs crumpled like a freshly stomped spider.

“Dispatch, this is Officer Kindlewood,” she spoke into her walkie talkie. “We got a 187 in the Narrows. Victim is a goblin. Uh huh. Perp claims to be the Destined Hero. Yeah, another one. They’re like cockroaches.”

Whatever was happening, I had to escape. Summoning my heroic strength, I grit my teeth and promptly pissed myself. Seconds later, Officer Kindlewood’s knee jabbed into my back, pinning me to the dirt.

“You have the right to remain silent. If you do not remain silent, you forfeit your rights and I am authorized by the High Imperium to execute you here and now, without trial.”

𝑊𝑒𝑙𝑙, I thought, 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠.

The elf wiped her tears. “Is he going to jail, officer?”

Officer Kindlewood yanked me upright. I slumped in her grip, struggling to stand on my trembling, piss-soaked legs. “That’s right, Ma’am. Heavens willing, they fry him.”

“Good,” the elf said. She gingerly set the goblin’s body aside, stormed up, and spat in my face. “Rot in hell, homewrecker!”

As I blacked out, I thought about all the Brazilian Miku lewds I was missing on twitter. Ω

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝗖𝗔𝗡 𝗜 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗜𝗥 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗞𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔 𝗚𝗢𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗡?

Currently featured on: Royal Road as part of Lemmy Smackett’s Reader Roulette