This story contains: Lesbians, Monstergirls, Goblins, Shortstacks, and Magically-Assisted Sex.
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When the village of Amplestand heard that a 'Witch-Goblin' had settled down in the forest next to it, they didn't know what to make of it. They knew what a goblin was, generally speaking. Goblins were small and annoying individuals, and large numbers meant trouble. They definitely knew what a Witch was. The only reason why the villagers didn't go marching into the forest with pitchforks and torches was the possibility of curses and catastrophe. Still, it was frightening to know that the forest had become home to a Witch-Goblin.
The Burgomaster, Mr. Clarker, had called everyone to the town square -- even the women. Legends spoke of women being a witch's primary target, so Mr. Clarker wasn't about to let the potential victims be left out of the discussion.
"It has come to my attention," Mr. Clarker belted out as he paced on a wooden deck, double chin wobbling, "That we have a witch in our forest."
"Witch-Goblin, Mr. Clarker," Oron ventured up. He hunted in the forest frequently, and he was the first one out as soon as he discovered the invader. He had run into the village, straight to Mr. Clarker, hollering something about a 'Witch-Goblin', living in the forest.
Mr. Clarker looked at Oron. "What's that supposed to mean?" Mr. Clarker asked.
Oron shrugged. "Dunno, just thought it was important."
"Anyways, we haven't seen any new persons in our village," Mr. Clarker continued, "so I kindly ask for proof that there is indeed a 'witch-goblin' in the forest!"
"Tulip won't give no more milk," Bessda said. She was a tall, proud, if harried woman, wife of Farmer Grubber and mother of three. "Calves' gone to sick as well, an' my pies keep on goin' bad on the windowsill. Can't figure out why, either."
The crowd buzzed. Bessda was very well respected; she knew most everything about caring for cows, and if she didn't know what was going wrong, then it was likely the witch-goblin testing their powers.
"All right," Mr. Clarker continued, "Any other events? Anything?"
A steady stream of accusations came forth. "Someone is stealing things from my house!" said Mrs. Hubble, a rather old woman. "My house is being taken apart and my tools are being thrown about!" yelled Dreven the Woodcarver. "We've a stint of bad luck, an' it ain't natural!" piped up Mr. Hagris from the back, whose son had broken his arm recently in an accident.
In the crowd, Rose watched. She had her doubts, to be certain. It could just be poor luck. But the people of Amplestand were dead-set on the idea of there being a Witch-Goblin.
Mr. Clarker paced the stage, stroking his chin in contemplation. Everyone could see the hints of doubt in his face. Obviously, he shared some of Rose's concerns, even if they were a little bit inflated. "I must confess," he announced, "That I am not so sure about this 'Witch-Goblin'. If she exists, and we are not overreacting, she may be peaceful or we could talk her into being friendly."
There were assorted boo's from the crowd.
Mr. Clarker held out his hand to silence the crowd, and continued. "What I propose is sending an emissary to the abode of the 'Witch-Goblin' and seeing what she wants. Unarmed, of course, perfectly harmless."
"Yeah, but what 'bout the beasts o' th' forest?" Bessda brought up.
Mr. Clarker looked expectantly at Oron. Oron coughed awkwardly and said, "They've not really been an issue this past year. I've seen nary any wolf tracks nor a sign of bear or boar. The deer have been plentiful, and the birds are abundant."
"I believe that that is a good sign," Mr. Clarker said. "The only question remains; who shall go? Only a volunteer, please, I'm not conscripting anyone into this."
"Oh, I'm not going! I ain't meddlin' about with any witches!" Oron said immediately.
The village abounded in suggestions and denials until they eventually quieted down and parted around Rose. Rose's eyes widened and she whirled about. Everybody looked rather apologetic, but singling her out was a cold thing to do.
"Well, Rose," Mr. Clarker addressed Rose, "Out of anyone here, you do have the second most amount of experience in the forest. Would you like to visit the Witch-Goblin for us and see what she wants?"
It was true. Rose did have the second most amount of experience with that forest, next to Oron. It was because her grandmother, may she rest in peace, stubbornly lived in the forest and Rose used to visited her often with pastries that Rose had baked. Rose's grandmother was the only family she had for a good portion of her life. She had died a few years ago, and that forest has never been like it used to be.
Rose looked around. Everyone, from Mr. Clarker to Bessda to Mr. Hagris was looking at her, waiting for an answer. She was as curious as anyone else, and she was best-suited. Well, second-best-suited, next to Oron. What the Witch-Goblin was, if she was even real, was a nervous yet tantalizing question. "Yes, Mr. Clarker. I'll go and seek out the Witch-Goblin," Rose said.
The town was divided into a sigh of relief and worried mumbling for Rose's sake. Personally, Rose was wondering if cookies or cakes would help with a Witch-Goblin's attitude.
The preparations passed in a blur, and Rose was ready to set out the next morning. She had a lantern with oil, enough food for two days, and a mottled forest-green cloak. She had a red one, made by her grandmother, but it was far too heavy with memories. The food was in a basket, along with some cakes to get on the Witch-Goblin's good side.
And so Rose Rubiker journeyed into the forest to find the Witch-Goblin. She hadn't been in the forest since she was 14 years old, a little over 4 years ago now. It was Oron who had found her grandmother dead in her bed, and she hadn't gone back in since. Even now, ordinary branches seemed more claw-like, the shadows of the trees darker and filled with the menaces of imagination.
In the intermit time between the loss of her grandmother and now, she had blossomed into a fine young woman. After her parents both died of sickness, Rose's grandmother judged that a forest was no place to raise a child. Mr. Bakker, the, well, the town's baker, had taken her in. He had spent much of his time making sure Rose was the best baker she could be. Everyone in the village loved the products of her baking, and there was some gossip between the women of finding Rose a nice young man to settle down with. Rose didn't quite feel it; it just didn't seem right for her.
Rose had grown into a pale-skinned young woman with flame-red hair, her skin free of blemish. Her features were thin and pleasant, with clear green eyes and well-shaped lips. Almost as tall as some of the men as well as lithe, with a small but firm bosom and buttocks, she was beautiful. Even now, walking through the shifting greens of the forest, she wore a common dress with thick boots, the forest-green cloak around her shoulders.
Around Rose, the forest rose and sprouted every which way. Trampled paths used by man and beast alike wove through the trees, gnarled and straightened chaotically. Ancient stones, coated by moss or choked by vines, sprouted out of the ground as memories of some other time. Light pierced through the wafting leaves, shining down upon flowery patches but leaving other passages as darkened maws. As Rose journeyed in further, the trees became more and more gnarled. Her feet found surfacing roots and the occasional stone, each laden with memories of times walking to her grandmother's.
The Witch-Goblin's home appeared from out of the murky forest like a ghost. It didn't even take her until lunch to find the place. A ray of sunlight broke through the leafy branches above to illuminate the clean and cheerful building. It was small, but well-kept, in good repair and with an outhouse out the back. There was a sign above the door. It read "Witch, Goblin". Witch, Comma, Goblin. 'So this was how Oron found out about the Witch-Goblin,' Rose thought, 'He could do with some more reading lessons.'
She had to say, Rose was not expecting a well-kept, cutesy cottage out in the middle of the woods. The fencing was laughably short, with a gap for an entrance and a path that turned from trampled grass to pebbles as it led up to the door. There were no shingles missing, no splintering wood, nor was there any broken glass. How did the Witch-Goblin even get all the materials past Amplestand in the first place? Amplestand was the only road leading into the woods, to Rose's knowledge.
Rose slowly walked up to the cottage door and knocked on it. It wasn't terribly tall, and swung open of its own accord.
The room that greeted her was fairly spacious, and reminded Rose more of a shop than anything. A circular rug covered the broad wooden floor, and shelves were lined with dark items floating in a menagerie of jars. There was even a desk with a door behind it, covering a sizable portion of the door, and a fireplace sharing what was left of the wall. But there wasn't anybody in the room!
Clutching her basket of cakes close, her heart beating nervously, Rose called out, "He-hello?"
No answer. Rose crept her way into the room. Fish-eyes and curled-up salamanders looked down at Rose from their jars. A nervous shiver crept down her spine. She should just write down a note somehow and leave it with the cakes, saying hello to the Witch-Goblin. That would remove the chance of a nasty encounter.
"Hold on just a tic, I'll be right with you!" piped up a high-pitched voice from behind the door behind the desk.
Rose froze. Soon, she'd see what a 'Witch-Goblin' was, whether she wanted to or not. She couldn't imagine what kind of strange creature they would be. Would they be ugly? Covered in warts with green skin and a long, beaky nose? Perhaps grey and slimy, like a toad! Eyrgh, her imagination was getting the better of herself!
The door inwards swung open, and Rose's first impression of the Witch-Goblin was that of a two-foot tall black pointy hat, its tip kinked twice and at eye-height. "Sorry, sorry, I've been busy setting up the house. Just got here, you know," came the voice from beneath a wide, flopping brim.
The hat circled around the desk, giving Rose her first view of the Witch-Goblin. She was short at just over three and a half feet tall! However, her dark, tight clothes hugged her decidedly adult curves. Large, plump breasts, each almost as big as the Witch-Goblin's head, pressed against dark fabric, the cloth bunched underneath them as if to support them. Her arms were bare, as were her legs, to reveal smooth, brown skin. Was what she wearing a single piece? There was a pseudo-dress portion of it, stitched onto the front and back of her pelvis, but it had large gaps on the sides that let Rose easily see her wide hips and rounded thighs and it clung to the tiny woman's bubble-round butt!
"Well, then!" the Witch-Goblin said, placing her sizeable hands on her wide hips. Rose looked at her large feet (it was hard not to) and saw that they were bare, with long, clever-looking toes. Her hat jerked back, and Rose saw her face. Calico bangs covered large, innocent, black eyes. Her nose was just a button, her full lips born smiling. Her leaf-shaped ears, poking out from her irregular shoulder-length hair, were so large and stuck out so much that they supported her hat's brim. She was adorable, just like a cat was. "What do we have here?"
"I-I'm Rose Rubiker. I'm from the village outside the forest?" Rose stammered out.
"Oh, hello! I've already told you I just moved in, right? I guess that makes us neighbors!" the Witch-Goblin enthusiastically said. "I'm sorry, I really should introduce myself. My name's Kryss Applebottom. I came up here from down south, needed the country air for a bit. I hope you don't mind too much that I'm living in the forest!"
Rose stood there, jaw slightly agape. She was nothing like Rose was expecting. Rose was thinking of something unpleasant, and this Witch-Goblin in front of her was cute! "Oh, um, these are for you!" Rose quivered as she presented the basket, "Well, the cakes are. The rest is kind of my supplies for getting here and back."
