From Goblin Slave To Giga-Daddy: A Goblin's Guide to Getting a Harem
Chapter 61: Mount Milkmore!

Chapter 61: Mount Milkmore!

Bad idea.

Because the second her fingers grasped it, Rae death-rolled like a crocodile with rabies, spinning and twisting to free himself.

The sudden yank caught her off guard—and unfortunately, she had two enormous reasons hanging from her chest that threw off her balance.

"Eek—!"

WHUMP.

She landed directly on top of him with a puff of air and a muffled "oof" from somewhere under the sheet.

Her heavy breasts squished down against Rae’s head through the cloak, smothering him like two large marshmallows with a vengeance.

"U-uh, Rae? You okay?"

From under the bedsheet, Rae’s mumbled something she couldn’t understand at all.

Now she was struggling, really struggling, with the damn bedsheet.

But no matter how she wrestled with it, her hands were somehow locked in, like the fabric had grown sentient and decided this is where you die, girl.

And beneath it, Rae squirmed like a goblin possessed.

"Rae, stop moving!"

She huffed, trying to lift herself.

"Or else both of us are gonna be stuck here all night!"

But of course, Rae had no intention of stopping.

This wasn’t just an accident.

This wasn’t some innocent cuddlefest gone wrong.

Oh no—this was calculated.

Because Rae, being the sneaky bastard that he was, knew one crucial thing about this woman that most wouldn’t dare whisper out loud:

She was a lactating beauty.

A goddess with knockers so divine, they could feed an army, and yet, for the past two days, she hadn’t milked herself once.

Not a drop.

Rae didn’t need a science book to know that was a ticking time bomb strapped to two pillows of doom.

And right now, she was primed.

Rae grinned in the darkness.

And then he struck.

Two small, green, goblin hands surged forward like guided missiles—and clamped hard on her milk-heavy bazookas.

"Aahn~!"

That moan wasn’t just loud.

It was feral.

And Alice collapsed like a 200-foot kaiju finally defeated in the third act of a monster movie—slow, heavy, and totally annihilating everything in her path.

WHAM.

She pancaked down onto him, arms splayed, eyes wide in silent shock. Her cloak fluttered in the air like a flag of surrender.

Neither of them moved.

For a full five seconds, there was only the sound of rustling cloth, a soft wind outside, and the very obvious, very intense shaking of her legs.

Like a malfunctioning washing machine on max spin.

Why?

Because all the anticipation, all the tension, all the unmilked milkers had been perched on the edge like some poor soul on a rickety stool over a pool of lava—and Rae’s sudden, ruthless, double-handed tit-grab?

That was the kick that shattered the stool.

Alice didn’t just leak milk.

She gushed.

And that wasn’t the only thing leaking either.

It was like a dam inside her burst—one that had been sealed shut since forever.

Her eyes half-closed, tongue lolled out of her mouth, back slightly arched.

It was cartoonishly obscene. A pose fit for a hentai poster.

Never in a million years did Alice think this kind of thing was biologically, emotionally, or spiritually possible.

Meanwhile, Rae, now half-tangled in bedsheet like a mummy on bath salts, struggled out of the cotton chaos and finally broke free.

Panting and drenched in sweat like he just went twelve rounds with the laundry demon.

He stood up, wiped his forehead, and turned back to see Alice still face-planted into the mattress.

Head tilted sideways.

Eyes half-lidded.

Tongue still drooping like she forgot how to pull it back in.

Rae smirked.

That devious, smug-ass goblin smirk bloomed across his face.

’Now for the final nail in the coffin.’

He thought, before raising his voice with the fakest innocence he could muster:

"Ah~ Madame alreaty sleeb? Let Rae helb you cober!"

Alice heard it. Oh, she heard it. Her mind screamed Retort! Move! Scream! Hit him with your thighs!

But her body was done.

Finished.

Treated.

Defeated.

So all she could do was lie there, brain frying in slow motion, as she felt the little goblin climb up her legs like a determined squirrel going after the world’s most decadent acorn.

Why was he climbing up her legs if he wants to cover her.

"Ah, the beddheet is on ubber cide, let Rae klimb bere... and bere..."

He chirped like a happy squirrel as he began his ascent.

First her thighs, then her hips, and then—oof—a struggle over her ass cheeks, which, let’s be honest, were basically two pillowy hills that deserved a caution sign.

Alice lay there, paralyzed, not by fear or restraint, but by sheer confusion and awkward disbelief.

Why the hell was he climbing over her like some mountain goat on a sightseeing tour?

He could’ve just gone around the bed.

He could’ve pulled the sheet like a normal person.

But no.

This was Rae.

A certified gremlin.

A chaos goblin.

A two-foot-tall trouble dispenser with the common sense of a drunken pixie.

Still, she assumed, this must’ve been an accident.

A fluke.

A dumb goblin move, nothing more.

But then... something caught her eye.

Lying near the corner of the tent, barely tucked under a discarded cloak, was a small, cute pair of white underwear.

Frilly. Way too small for any hero.

Definitely not hers. Which meant...

They were Rae’s.

’Wait... he actually started wearing them?’

She blinked hard.

She remembered Alex gifting him those, mostly as a joke, and Rae had adamantly refused to wear them back then.

Screaming something about "honor" and "freedom" and "no cloth prison for goblin dick."

And now... they’re here. Off.

Her brain froze.

’Wait...’

’If those are his underwear...’

’Then...’

’What the hell is he wearing now?’

She didn’t need to finish that horrifying thought.

Because the answer... presented itself.

As Rae slid down her shoulder blades with all the grace of a drunken monkey...

He planted one tiny foot near her face, then the other—straddling her like a smug little prince on a throne.

Then—he heaved himself up. Slowly. Purposefully.

And that’s when it came into view.

The monster.

The dreaded, half-sleeping crown prince of perversion.

The one that had haunted her dreams—no, nightmares—for the last few days.

It wasn’t at full power yet, just hanging there lazily like it had just woken from a nap and hadn’t had its coffee.

But even soft... it was still a damn monster.

Her eyes widened.

Her breathing hitched.

Her thighs squeezed like a death trap.

Then he inched forward—up and up—until the crown brushed past her chin, trailing goosebumps across her skin like it was staking its territory.

’Shit! Shit! Shit! This isn’t how I imagined it happening!’

She mentally screamed.

But Rae, oblivious or perhaps deviously aware, kept moving.

And then...

It touched her tongue.

A soft, accidental brush. Just a ghost of contact. But it was enough.

The familiar scent. The unmistakable taste. That damn essence of sin.

Her pupils dilated. Her eyes rolled back. Her legs jerked once—violently.

And in that moment, Alice knew...

It was already too late.

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