From Goblin Slave To Giga-Daddy: A Goblin's Guide to Getting a Harem-Chapter 38: Tanned Muscle Mommy Wants Assistance!

Rae was drawing frantic little crosses over his chest like he was prepping for a self-performed exorcism.

Not because he was scared of ghosts—no, this was worse.

This was Lyra.

And judging by the way everyone was staring—his fellow goblins, the forest birds, possibly the gods themselves—it wasn't like he was casually following her into a tent.

No, It was like he was marching into a labor camp. A sexy, muscular, soul-crushing labor camp.

Even Stool had stopped mid-soup slurp, shaking his head with a look that said "Rest in pieces, buddy."

But a pervert is always a pervert.

And Rae, for all his panic, couldn't stop his traitorous eyes from locking on Lyra's swaying hips.

Her cheeks bounced with each powerful step—taut, toned, and tan like sun-kissed steel.

Her thighs looked like they could crush goblin skulls for breakfast and still have room for a post-fight protein shake.

Yet... the way her skin shifted when she moved, just enough jiggle beneath the armor, just enough softness in all that strength—

Damn it. He felt his underpants scream for mercy.

Then she turned.

She smiled.

"You... have a surprise waiting, Rae. Something you'll enjoy."

?!

Nope. Abort. Retreat. This was it. This was how he dies. Crushed by thighs or dissected for science—either way, he'd go down hard. Literally.

"Come on in, Rae. Don't be shy."

She said sweetly, lifting the flap of her tent like a hostess inviting him into a bear trap.

He gulped. Looked around.

Everyone who had been staring immediately snapped their heads away like they didn't see anything. Not. A. Thing.

'What the hell is this woman? Succubus? Demon? Muscle milf with a hobby for collecting broken men?'

But Rae was no coward. He was a goblin—technically. A pervy gremlin with pride and libido.

And damn it, he wasn't about to back down from a challenge.

Especially not when the challenge came with swaying hips and biceps sculpted by the gods of domination.

He straightened his loincloth, took a deep breath, and marched in like a man walking into the most confusing ambush of his life.

Lyra zipped the tent shut behind him. The sound was slow. Deliberate. Ominous.

A soft blue glow came from a small cube near the corner—casting long, eerie shadows across the walls like the beginning of every horror story ever.

"Madame... why... you... me?"

Rae croaked out in goblin-tongue, his voice cracking somewhere between fear and horniness.

Lyra turned toward him with that smile again. That smile. The one that made him feel like prey. Like the mouse in front of the cat who just filed her claws.

"Nothing. Nothing, Rae."

She said, hands clasped together as if she was about to pray.

His eyes darted around the tent.

A single bed lay in the middle, neat and freshly made.

But something was off—very off. He'd seen Thunder earlier, dragging Bryce's belongings to another tent entirely.

Wait.

Wasn't husband and wife supposed to sleep together? One tent for the lovebirds, one for the goblin gremlins? That's how the pecking order worked, right?

"Why no husbund ting... in dis dent?"

Rae asked, wide-eyed.

Lyra giggled. Then turned to her satchel and began pulling out vials.

One.

Two.

Five.

Ten.

By the time she set down the twentieth, Rae's entire spiritual being was screaming red alert.

Rae remembered these potions from Old Rae's memories—those weren't just for healing boo-boos.

Those were recovery-grade stuff. The kind people took when they expected to be... obliterated.

Rae blinked.

Then blinked again.

No one needs twenty potions unless they're about to fight a dragon...

"It's because that idiot doesn't love his wife at all. But I know my Rae loves me, right? Right?"

She tilted her head. That eerie smile again.

Rae gulped.

Hard.

His instincts screamed. Something was very wrong here. Bryce sleeping elsewhere. Twenty potions. That smile. The locked tent.

And those bastards outside?

They knew.

They knew and let him walk in anyway.

'Shit! SHIT! This woman's not horny—she's clinically unhinged! And I just stepped into the dungeon without backup!'

He backed up a step. Then another.

Seeing no reply, Lyra turned slowly, deliberately, like a lioness catching a scent.

"What? You don't love me?"

Rae gulped like a man being handed divorce papers and a grenade at the same time. He nodded fast.

"Y-yes!!"

He squeaked.

Her smile bloomed like a flower.

A man-eating flower.

"Then, are you afraid of me?"

He shook his head trembling.

"Gooood. Don't be. They all are afraid of me, but I am just a little damsel who needs some assistance."

Rae doubted that very much. Damsel? She? If anyone is damsel in distress here, then that's him.

She looked at him and the way he was glancing at the potions beside her.

"Oh, don't worry. These are all just precautions...he he he."

Rae gulped again. Precautions for what? He didn't ask. He didn't had to.

"Then let's begin."

She turned, sauntered to the bed, and sat with one leg casually raised. Then, without shame or hesitation, she reached behind and unclasped her breastplate.

Click.

It dropped. And so did Rae's sanity.

Her milfy melons, previously under tactical lockdown, burst free like prisoners on parole. They bounced once. Then twice. Nipples hard, proud, and entirely too confident.

'FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK!!' free𝑤ebnovel.com

Rae screamed internally, his brain short-circuiting as blood rerouted directly south.

Lyra, unfazed by the chaos she was causing, set the armor aside like a minor inconvenience.

Then, with deliberate, torturous grace, she stood and slid down her skirt, revealing thighs that looked strong enough to crush bones and soft enough to sleep on.

Then came the panties.

Slow.

Dangerously slow.

She peeled them down inch by inch, like this was a sacred ritual and not Rae's final boss fight. Her hips, bare. Her thighs, exposed. Everything—everything—was on display.

Rae's underwear was now doing emergency structural support. His breathing was ragged. His eyes wild. His hands twitching like they were about to start a prayer circle.

And then she sat down, cross legged, hands planted behind her and leaning slightly back.

"Your time has started..."

Rae's soul left his body.

He wasn't sure if this was heaven, hell, or some kind of purgatory where you came and then cried.

Either way, he was in.

Probably not out.

And definitely screwed.

.

.

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Why does Lyra needs twenty health potions? What do you guys think her intentions are?