Goblore

Hi! Goblore, a story of isekai human/Goblin girl breeding but also about kingdom building and also using modern tech with magic to dunk on fantasy assholes, is my latest passion project that I wanted to share with folks!

This is a rough-version of what I hope will be a novel-sized project, focusing about 2/3rds of the attention on plot and 1/3rd on spicy lewds. Given that, this section will largely be story focused with only one sex scene near the end. If you're looking for a quick fap, might not be your best option.

Still here? Yay! I hope you enjoy this. Please leave a comment or a review with your thoughts!

**************************

It took a while for Jesse Sandoval to realise that the uncomfortable material blocking him from taking a proper breath wasn't an incredibly shoddy pillow but was, in fact, the airbag of his car. How he had gotten to faceplanting himself against his steering wheel was unclear. One moment he'd been driving, and the next...

"Fucking ow," he muttered aloud, worming his face free. There was still a ringing in his ears from the crash, and his whole body ached from the jarring force of the collision. A crash he didn't remember. Seeing what hit him was impossible given the airbag. Instead of squirming around it yet, he did what the medical shows said to do and checked for broken bones. Wouldn't do to move around a bunch and puncture a lung or something.

Wiggling his toes and fingers, he was satisfied that he both retained his digits and the feeling in them. Unfortunately, given the pervasive ache he could feel coming on, he'd be hurting for a good while after this in any number of places on his body. Jesse also confirmed that he didn't have any damage to his ribs, and no sharp pain in his back as he slowly rotated his neck. No spinal injuries either. As far as the injury lottery went, he was hitting the jackpot.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and attempted to leave the car. More accurately, he fell out of the now open door, barely avoiding landing on his own nose. With a grunt of effort, he pulled his legs out of the door well and shimmied out. His hands weren't bitten into as they would have been on asphalt. Blades of thick grass cushioned his palms and slid through his bruised fingers. He rolled onto his back, staring up at a wide, almost oppressive forest canopy. He'd never seen tree coverage that thick before.

INTERLOPER.

The voice shot clear through the ringing in his ears. A deep, rumbling basso near inhuman in volume. He looked for the source. There wasn't a soul around him. It wasn't until he settled on the set of floating letters hovering a foot above his car's bent-in hood that he noticed something peculiar. English, blocky text in a dark crimson floated without fetter or mechanism, spelling out the word he had just heard. It must be a hallucination, he reasoned, brought on by the crash.

Jesse blinked. He rubbed at his eyes. He looked away and back again. The word hung in the air. Circling around the oddity, it appeared to have three dimensions. It looked like an improperly loaded model in a video game. Reaching out to touch the word caused it to collapse in on itself. The letters pull themselves into a new shape like taffy made of red wood and white bone.

YOU ARE INTRUDING.

He reached out once more, and discovered that the words are actually physical objects. Pushing against them didn't make them move. They occupied space, but still didn't seem real.

"Hello?" he asked. The letters stretched out to the left to add to their statement.

HELLO. YOU ARE INTRUDING.

So they were intelligent floating words. The way the material glinted in the light reminded Jesse of the time. It had been close to midnight when he crashed, but it was bright day outside. The canopy was too thick above him to determine what time it was likely to be. Either he'd passed out, or he'd skipped time in a fugue state. Both possibilities not positive foreshadowing for any phantom brain damage he might have received in the crash.

Slightly more concerning than the talking words or the lost time was the fact that there was no road around where his car had come to a halt. There was nothing but greenery in every direction, including a few metres from the back end of the car. How in the good god had he driven into the forest this thick without remembering?

"Assuming I am intruding...where am I intruding into?" After a moment's thought, he added: "And don't say HERE."

NINTH FADE.

Jesse scowled. "I have no idea what that means. Is there someone I can talk to here? Someone who isn't letters?"

The words vibrated before crushing together once more, but instead of forming new words, they stretched out vertically. Their texture changed, appearing almost organic. Almost...but not quite. The tone was decidedly metallic, reflecting light better than his dirt-caked bumper. The shape expanded out into a facsimile of humanoid features. Long, fibrous hair the same colour as its skin spills down its head, and its body lacks distinctive features like a belly button or nipples...or even genitals as far as he could tell. The only distinctive colour was the glowing azure hue of its eyes, which feature no pupil that he could see. It was alien, and yet somehow familiar.

"Is this better?" the creature asked.

"You...you look like someone I know," he stammered.

"I took this form from your memories," it said. Or she. Jesse was new to this and unsure whether one should gender abstract humanoid forms. Her voice was familiar too, though it had a distinct hollowness to it that evoked a woman shouting down an empty hallway.

It came back to him in a rush. Andra Morrison. Andra was short for Alexandra...or Cassandra, but he'd never had the nerve to ask which. She was in his Calc class in his First Year of University.

"Why her?" he asked, baffled by the choice.

Her eyes flickered. "Your memories say you spent a great deal of time listening to her speak. I figured it might make the information delivery easy."

Jesse averted his eyes, avoiding her gaze. "I only listened to her because I had a massive crush on her. She had some terrible opinions but I was too much of a coward to ask her out."

"Oh."

"Sorry. But I'm listening!"

"Well. Anyways. You are in the Ninth Fade, a tertiary adjunct plane that straddles the Apotheotic Ridge. The walls between planes, realities you may call them, are normally rigid and impermeable. When they interact, there can be...tears. Holes through which things can slip and enter the next world over. Or worse: become stuck between worlds. You and your conveyance have somehow entered one of these gaps."

Jesse strained to remember the details of what happened in the moments before the crash. He'd been on his way home. The dress shirt and tie still felt suffocating around his neck. He'd taken the long route back, side roads rather than the highway, lost in thought. And then...and then...He massaged his temples.

"None of this makes any sense. I didn't just drive through a hole in reality! I think I would have noticed!"

"I do not require your understanding. Alerting you to this change of location is merely a formality."

"How can I get back?" he asked. His voice betrayed his growing concern. He could feel the sweat of the humid day clinging to his clothes. The taste of metal in his mouth. The pain in his palms as his nails bit into his palms. It was looking less and less likely that this was merely a concussion-caused hallucination or an especially vivid dream.

"You can't. Once the breach occurs, the damage has already happened. Bringing you back to your own world will only cause further injury to the walls diving reality."

"That doesn't make any sense. You extract the bullet before you patch up a wound, don't you? I'm the bullet here; extract me!" he protested.

"The wound has already almost healed, by that metaphor. Leaving scar tissue behind that is extremely delicate. Pulling you through again would risk a tear that could be very dangerous for the entire Myriad. I could have just as well not altered your biochemistry to conform to the rules of this plane, but watching someone's brain melt due to the disappearance of half its neurotransmitters is not a pleasant experience for anyone."

"This is...this is fucked. I want to go back to Earth. I have family, you know. Friends that'll miss me!"

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. The walls have almost healed. I have to get back to work."

Jesse backed up, suddenly woozy. His whole life was burning up around him, and there was nothing he could do.

A rip in space appeared behind Jesse's car. He could see a writhing mass of nothing behind the hole in reality. An abyss. A swirling, heaving sea of nonexistence that reached out to claw at his sanity. He looked away, but the entity walked toward the cleft without a second glance.

"What am I supposed to do now?" he asked, throwing up his hands.

Turning back to face him, she gave the most human gesture she had since she'd first manifested a body. She shrugged.

"Your behaviour is not my concern. Once the walls have healed, this world will be your permanent home. Try to make the best of it."

He reached out for her, but his hand slid through her like she wasn't even there. "Please, I don't want to die alone!"

"Don't worry. You are not alone."

She stepped backward into the tear. Jesse watched anxiously as the rip slowly closed behind her before disappearing with a pop of white sparks.

And with that, the woman was gone.

Jesse took a bit of time to panic. He leaned up against the scuffed side of his car and hyperventilated, trying to will himself to wake up from this strangest of hallucinations. When he couldn't, and the pinching of his arm was getting downright harmful, he decided that it would be best to assume that what he was seeing was real. At least in the absence of any other proof. He'd keep an eye out for hidden metaphorical messages about being stuck in a simulation or a coma.

First thing was first: inventory. Given that he'd managed to come to this world with his car, that gave him an advantage over some protagonists from similar stories he'd read. Most times, suckers got dumped in alternate worlds with only the clothes on their backs. If he was in Full Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court-mode, he at least had a few things that could help him convince the locals that he wasn't just an insane mutant.

* 1x Wrecked Hyundai Sonata (Good for temporary shelter, not so much driving anywhere)

* 1x Package of Beef Jerky (For long hauls in traffic)

* 1x Half Finished Coffee (With cream and sugar, cold)

* 1x Emergency Kit (Includes a rudimentary medical kit, space blanket, a road flare, and other sundries)

* $5.03 in change (iron and nickel, relative worth undetermined)

* 1x Sweater (For chilliness)

* 1x Pen and Notebook (Mostly for doodling while stuck in traffic, but also sometimes to write down license plates and car details in case he got into an accident)

* 1x Smartphone

His phone! He fished it out of his pocket, confirming it wasn't broken. 63% Battery, but still functioning! Ordinarily a phone in a survival situation, especially one in another reality, was just a temporarily illuminated paperweight.

But his was different.

Years of reading time travel stories had him prepared, more or less, for this critical inevitably. He may not have sewn diamonds into his shirts or tattooed the ratio for gunpowder onto his arm, but he HAD installed the full text of QuickiePedia, the world's Number #2 free encyclopedia, onto his phone!

It had also been useful for settling dumb arguments with his friends when they'd take infrequent trips to a cabin they knew about/squatted in during the Summer.

But mostly in case of time travel.

72.5 gigs of content, though only the text. He was glad he hadn't deleted it in favour of more space for podcasts or something. With little more than a day's worth of use before his battery died, he'd never be able to copy it all down onto a cave wall. He reasoned that he'd have to make a list of priority items before the battery failed. The rest of the phone's contents were largely unimportant, besides some music and photos...no telling when he'd be able to find an electric guitar again.

His car didn't turn on when he tried the key. Which was unfortunate. Although it might not be a means of travel any time soon, it had a 12 volt adaptor that he could use to charge his phone. That, and a nearly half-full gas tank, meant that he'd have a chance to keep the information on the phone stored for a lot longer. Without it, his phone would be stuck with a steadily dwindling battery. He turned it off and slid the phone into the glove compartment. If he had his tiny screwdriver set, he might have tried to take the battery out to keep any trickle drain. But as it was, he had to settle for forestalling the inevitable for now.

With his inventory assessed, the next step was...what, exactly? He chewed over that with a chunk of jerky, as it had been a long day and he hadn't eaten since breakfast. Somehow he doubted Quickipedia would have a What To Do If You're Trapped In The Middle of a Forest guide. Water, at a guess, would have to be his priority. The human body could go a few weeks without food, but only a day or two without water.

The aches from the crash came back to him as he started to move around. He'd have bruises from the seatbelt in a little bit, and his knees felt like they'd taken a few hits from a ball-peen hammer, each. He hadn't wanged his head, at least, thanks to the airbag. He would likely need his wits about him if he was going to survive. His formal attire would not be good for long stints in the forest. His good shoes were reasonably comfortable for now, but they weren't meant for hiking like a pair of his good quality boots would have been.

Concentric circles. He had no idea if this was just a myth, or if he'd heard it somewhere legit, but he decided to take his time moving in a long, winding path around his car crash site. Not only did it help him memorize, or try to remember the important details of the lay of the land, but it also kept him from getting lost. So long as he remembered which direction his car was, it would act as a cardinal point to head to. He left all his valuables behind, downed the rest of the coffee and headed out to explore the area around his vehicle.

The forest didn't look like a scary alien planet. The leaves were green, the trunks were covered in bark, and here and there lay patches of grass stuck out for sunlight missed by the arrangement of the canopy overhead. The weather was humid but not oppressively so. Late Summer weather, he guessed. Plantlife, fresh air, even the chirps of creatures in the distance. There was no masses of psychic worms, no penis-headed monsters, and certainly no giant blue people with USB ports for hair. Although if there was an invisible hunter with a laser cannon on his shoulder, he doubted he would see the motion before it was too late.

He reached a clearing in the forest, and spotted his first real indication that this was indeed an alien land. He'd notice a strange hue to everything, like it was through a different lensed filter than he was used to. It all came to a head when he finally got a good look at the sun on this world.

Violet.

Not blue, or white, or orange, or any other colour that stars appeared to be in the universe Jesse came from. This one was the colour of an iridescent lupin.

"Something, something Kansas no more," he muttered, shielding his eyes from the light as soon as he had confirmed his initial glance. But if the star above was violet, why were all the trees green? Didn't plants gobble up different wavelengths thanks to the pigments in their leaves?

The clearing lead him to a shallow ravine which looked like it had been carved by flood waters. Promising! He stopped to make an arrow out of rocks to point his way back to his car, and travelled down the ravine's length. Not unused to hikes, he was in probably the worst clothes to do any kind of strenuous movement. He carefully removed his necktie and, with a laugh, ditched it on a treebranch as another location marker.

Following the depression in the ground yielded a reward. A creek, roughly five feet wide and maybe half that deep, rolled leisurely down and to the right of the ravine he'd followed. Vegetation boxed in the flow of water at both ends, the larger trees seeming to stand by and drink from the flow themselves. Brief worries about parasites or deadly viruses lurking in the water ate at him. Though, it was not like he was going to find a metal pot and a couple matches to get a boil going.

"Fire," he stated flatly, slapping his head. "I forgot about fire. Fuck."

He had no idea how cold it would get in this forest, but at some point, he was going to have to come up with a way to start a fire. He'd never smoked, which put a dash on anything like a zippo being hidden in his pockets somewhere. He had his keys, and some other metal objects in his pockets. You could make sparks with those...right?

There was no point in delaying it. As embarrassing as it would be if he died of dysentery in the first few days on an alien world, he'd die even quicker if he didn't find a source of water. It was moving water, at least, and he remembered vaguely that running water was a less dangerous source of contaminants than stagnant pools.

Using his coffee cup, he took a tentative swig from the river water. He didn't vomit it back up immediately, which to him was a good sign. There was some vague grittiness to it, and he spat out what was left. He tried resting the cup at the very top of the flow, rather than dipping it in, and although it took a longer time to fill, the water tasted cleaner and less gritty. Three full cups later, he was feeling pretty good about the whole not dying thing.

Once his thirst was slaked, Jesse found a seat on a fallen tree-trunk and pondered his next move. The entity who sealed the doorway behind her had told him that there was life on this world. He saw plenty of signs. Bugs, some familiar in shape and others wildly divergent, crawled and pounced and flew around him. He could hear birdcalls and the rustle of leaves marking the scampering of small rodents or similar beasts.

But what did 'you are not alone' mean really? Intelligent life? It was possible. Anything was. The entity, the Hall Monitor of Reality or whatever the fuck she was, already proved that there was more than just humans out there. And phone or no, he had a much better chance of surviving if he managed to find some help. Maybe this was a large forest preserve and he could stumble into a ranger station for assistance?

"Or maybe an alien creature like her saw no difference between me and one of these bugs," he said bitterly, "And figured I'd be at home with my own kind."

He headed back the way he came, paying special attention to the arrangement of trees, shrubs, and rocks to make sure he could find his way back from this direction. Soon he was in sight of the tie he used as a marker, mildly relieved he didn't get himself lost.

Heading back toward his car, however, allowed him to spot something he must have missed on his previous path: a brown satchel! An honest to goodness back, with a metal buckle and everything, lying next to a tangle of roots. Jesse launched toward it. It was true! He wasn't alone on this planet after all!

Jesse didn't feel the rope tug on his leg until it had already pulled taut. His foot shot upward, ponderously followed by the rest of him. In an instant, Jesse was hanging upside down from a rope lassoed around his ankle. A snare trap? The kind of thing you use to catch rabbits for dinner, but scaled up in size to haul his ass up five feet off the ground. The blood rushing to his head made it hard to concentrate, and he flailed around uselessly for a few seconds in sheer unthinking panic. By the time he'd calmed himself, there was movement in the trees.