John stood at the door of the throne room for a moment, listening to the wet thuds and high-pitched screams echoing off the marble walls. Zedrik was still alive, for now. The system would make sure of that. He had three hours before the next round of torture, three hours to do something else, something that didn't involve blood and broken bones and the sound of men crying for revenge.
"System," John said, "set an alarm for three hours. That's when I'll be back."
Done. Try not to have too much fun while they're suffering.
"No promises."
John teleported.
The world folded around him, the throne room vanishing in a blur of black marble and blue light, and then he was back in his gaming room. The triple monitors glowed softly, showing the globe interface and the live feed from the goblin village. The massive PC hummed in the corner. The bed where Selio and Yuulus had been sleeping was empty now, the sheets changed, the cum cleaned up. John didn't know who had done it. The system, probably. Or maybe Marrianetta. He made a mental note to thank her later.
But right now, he had something else to check on.
John pulled up the feed from the goblin village, and there he was. The clone. His goblin self, the one he'd sent to hunt food and keep the peace. Gob, the goblins called him. Their leader. Their provider.
And right now, Gob was sitting on a large wooden throne that hadn't been there before, holding a giant piece of roasted fish in both hands. The fish was easily three feet long, its skin crispy and golden, steam rising from the flesh. Gob took a massive bite, grease dripping down his chin, and chewed with obvious satisfaction.
Around him, pressed close on all sides, were four busty goblin women.
They were all different, but they shared the same basic features. Green skin, yellow eyes, sharp teeth. Massive breasts that strained against their ragged tops, so heavy they sagged under their own weight. Wide hips and thick thighs, the kind of bodies that were built for bearing children and for other things that John's mind immediately jumped to. They were draped over Gob like living ornaments, their hands on his shoulders, his arms, his thighs.
"Leader so strong!" one of them cooed, her voice raspy and high. "Hunt big fish! Feed whole village! We never eat so good before!"
Another woman, this one with a scar across her cheek, leaned in and licked a piece of fish grease off Gob's chin. "Mmmhh~ Leader taste good too. Not just fish. Hehehe~"
The third woman, the bustiest of the four, pressed her massive chest against Gob's arm, squishing her breasts against his bicep. "Leader work so hard. Hunt, protect, give food. We want to reward leader. Yes? Yes?"
The fourth woman nodded eagerly, her yellow eyes sparkling. "Reward! Big reward! Leader pick any of us. Or all of us. Hehehe~ We don't mind."
Gob looked overwhelmed. His silver-gray curls were messy, his green face flushed, and he was having trouble chewing his fish with four goblin women rubbing against him. "I—uh—thanks? I mean, I just did what any good leader would do. You don't have to—"
"Want to!" the scarred woman interrupted. "Leader deserve reward! We decide!"
The other three nodded vigorously, their breasts bouncing with the motion. "Yes! Yes! Leader deserve!"
John watched from the feed, grinning. The clone was living his best life. Eating giant fish, surrounded by curvy green women who wanted to thank him in the most obvious way possible. But John wasn't here to watch. He was here to take over.
He reached out with his mind, connecting to the clone on a level that didn't require words. Just thoughts. Just intent.
Gob, John thought. Switch with me. I'm taking over.
The clone's mental voice came back, petulant and whiny. What? No! I'm about to fuck! Look at them! They're literally offering themselves to me!
I don't care. You're a clone. Let the real thing have a turn.
That's not fair! I have feelings too!
You're a copy of my consciousness. You don't have feelings. You have simulated emotional responses that I programmed into you so you'd be convincing.
That's... actually kind of hurtful.
Switch. Now.
The clone groaned, a sound that John felt more than heard. fine. But you owe me. Next time we have a foursome, I'm calling dibs.
Deal.
The transfer was seamless. One moment John was sitting in his gaming chair, watching the feed. The next moment he was sitting on the wooden throne, holding a giant piece of roasted fish, with four busty goblin women pressed against him.
The fish was delicious. Greasy and salty and perfectly cooked. John took another bite, chewing slowly, and looked around at the women. They were even hotter in person. Their skin was warm, their bodies soft, their yellow eyes hungry.
"Leader?" the scarred woman asked, tilting her head. "You okay? You space out for second."
"I'm fine," John said, grinning. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."
The bustiest woman giggled and pressed herself harder against his arm. "Leader lucky? We lucky! Leader feed us, keep us safe. We want show appreciation."
Her hand drifted down, sliding across his stomach, heading lower. The other women followed suit, their fingers trailing over his thighs, his hips, his chest.
"Maybe," the first woman purred, her voice dripping with suggestion, "we go somewhere more private? Yes? Leader deserve quiet place. No village watch. Just us."
John felt their hands on his crotch, fingers fumbling with the laces of his leather pants. His cock was already half-hard, growing thicker by the second. The women giggled when they felt it, their eyes widening.
"Ohhh," the scarred woman breathed. "Leader big. Real big. Hehehe~ We gonna have fun."
John turned his head slightly, glancing at the system screen that only he could see. The alarm was set for three hours. Three hours of this. Three hours of green skin and soft curves and women who wanted nothing more than to thank him in the most primal way possible.
"I think," John said, his voice low, "I know what I'm gonna be doing for the next three hours."
The women squealed with delight, grabbing his hands, pulling him up from the throne. They led him toward the largest hut, the one that used to belong to the old chief, their hips swaying, their massive asses bouncing with every step.
John followed, grinning like an idiot, already imagining the next three hours in vivid, filthy detail.