This is the SFW version of the novel without the smol/l*li stuff (it will nuke this novel). For the NSFW version, please visit my Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/SmallScribble.
So, the task would have to fall to her own flesh and blood. Her children were not like other children, they grew fast and were imprinted with her own innate will to dominate and build. The futanari goblins, small but possessing their mother's ferocious work ethic, would be perfect for the tight spaces of the tunnels.
The Lightning Wolves could be used for transport, their speed making them ideal for hauling stone and construction materials in and out of the site.
For her children with Morgana, the human-spiders, she had other plans. Their unique anatomy and skills would be wasted on simple digging. No, their destiny was elsewhere.
There was simply too much to do. Her ambition was a furnace that burned bright, but the fuel was always a concern.
With a weary sigh, Lyssandra waved a dismissive hand at the scouts then turned toward the central arena.
The sounds of combat reached her ears before she even saw the training ground. The sharp thwack of wood striking wood, the guttural grunts of effort, and the harsh shouts of command.
The place was a flurry of activity. Her goblins, armed with crude practice weapons, were going through the drills she had personally designed for them.
The hobgoblin instructors moved among them, his deep voices barking out corrections and praise, his arms folding to demonstrate a proper block or a direct thrust.
Her eyes immediately sought out a specific group beside the newly spawned and joined goblins. Her children.
The seven futanari goblins were training with a special intensity, their small, agile bodies moving with a speed that belied their young age. It had only been a few days since their birth, but already they had grown to the size and stature of human teenagers, around fifteen or sixteen years old.
They possessed the classic goblinoid green skin and pointed ears, but their height was that of a human girl, and their frames were developing a feminine softness that was utterly captivating.
As soon as she stepped into the open, they saw her. A collective gasp went through the group. They dropped their wooden swords and spears with a clatter, their training forgotten in an instant.
"Mommy!" one cried out, a high, happy squeal.
Then they were all rushing at her, a swarm of excited green flesh, their small hands reaching, their voices chiming in a chorus of the word.
"How are my girls doing?" Lyssandra cooed, her voice soft and warm as she opened her arms to the rushing tide of her children.
She bent down slightly, a massive and dominating figure even in her squat, pulling each small body into a brief but tight embrace. They clung to her, burying their faces against her chest and belly, their excited voices a babble of sound as they all tried to speak at once.
"We're getting better, Mommy!"
"I can beat the wooden dummy now!"
"Hob says I have good aim!"
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But that was a luxury for later. Shaking off the graphic fantasy, she herded the group away from the training ground, the excited chatter of her children trailing behind her like a happy chorus.
She led them to the wall she had created near the farm, a new, smooth surface of stone. A hobgoblin foreman, one of the smarter and more disciplined of her lieutenants, was already waiting.
"From now on, you will answer to him," Lyssandra commanded, her voice switching from cooing mother to authoritative Mistress in an instant.
She gestured to a pile of sturdy iron and stone picks and shovels, tools she had bought from the system shop. "Your new task is to dig."
As the foreman began to instruct the young futanari goblins on how to use the tools, a random phrase popped into Lyssandra's head. 'Won't this be like forced child labor?'
The thought was strange and irrelevant. She paused, tilting her head. 'Who's care? This isn't that era.'
What era?
She had no answer. The feeling was like a glitch in her memory, a fragment of a forgotten world. With a dismissive shrug, she pushed it from her mind and focused on the task ahead. After the foreman briefed where to dig, what to look for and her kids beginning their work, Lyssandra turned her attention to the final piece of her new operation.
"Sparky!" her voice echoed, sharp and commanding.
The Lightning Wolf - her pet, now larger than the others with more intense, yellow lightning patterns, zoomed over. His presence was a crackle of static electricity in the air.
"We have work to do," she stated, holding up the map she had received from the scouts. She tapped a finger on the route leading from the new wall opening to the cave.
The wolf tilted his heads as he looked from the map to her, a flicker of canine intelligence in his gaze.
"Digging is for the smaller ones, the goblins with their tiny claws," he growled, his voice a low rumble of thunder. "My purpose is not to dig, but to fight. To hunt."
"And now, it is to haul," Lyssandra said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "This is not a debate, bad dog. This is my command." She leaned forward slightly, her presence looming over even his formidable size.
"You and your pack will clear the debris. The rock, the soil, everything that is removed from that tunnel will be carried away. Do you understand?" Sparky gave a short, sharp yip to acknowledge the order. He turned and loped away and the matter was settled.
Satisfied, Lyssandra strode toward her mansion and to the nursery room. The heavy door swung open at her approach. The scene that greeted her was one of decadent instruction.
There, on her colossal custom-built bed, sat Morgana. The spider queen's height allowed her to rest her back comfortably against the wall, her eight spider-legs behind curled gracefully around her, looking like the elegant decorations of an extravagant throne. Her lower body was naked, and her legs were spread wide in a shocking, open display.
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