From Goblin Slave To Giga-Daddy: A Goblin's Guide to Getting a Harem -
Chapter 83: Lightening Indeed Strikes Twice!
Chapter 83: Lightening Indeed Strikes Twice!
Adrian’s finger wobbled as he gestured to the ring again.
Just in case Alex hadn’t connected the dots, he traced an hourglass shape in the air—hips, curves, no mistaking it.
Alex’s eye twitched.
He got it. Oh, he got it.
And he was absolutely not enjoying this revelation.
"W-what?"
His voice cracked.
"Alice?"
Adrian nodded so hard his teeth almost rattled out of his skull.
Alex’s face went pale, lips parting like he’d just discovered the apocalypse was personal.
He did not like where this was going.
"What of her?"
Alex asked.
Adrian, with the most pained expression imaginable, lifted his hand, clenched it around invisible hips, and began to slowly thrust the air.
"..."
Alex blinked.
"..."
"What the fuck?!"
Alex recoiled, practically choking on his own spit.
Was he hallucinating?
Did Adrian just point at Alice’s tent—and start dry-humping the air like some unhinged pervert?
Alex blinked hard, rain streaming into his eyes, hoping to all the gods that he was just seeing things.
Maybe the feverish exhaustion, the storm, the chaos, maybe it was all just scrambling his brain.
But when he opened his eyes again...
Adrian was still at it.
Slow, deliberate hip thrusts, like he was trying to mime the most insulting pantomime imaginable.
"What the hell are you trying to say, man?"
Alex barked, his voice cracking with disbelief and rising fury.
His ears burned so hot, it felt like the rain would start to sizzle on them.
Adrian shook his head in exasperation, mouthing something he couldn’t voice.
’This idiot...!’
He pointed at the tent again, eyes wide like he’d just seen a ghost giving head.
And just as another lightning bolt cracked across the sky, Adrian’s jaw dropped.
For a fleeting second, illuminated by the flash, a silhouette flickered into view.
A short man, almost impishly small, was gripping a woman’s hair, guiding her head with both hands as she went to town on something long, thick, and, frankly, physics-defying.
Her head was bobbing like she was trying to earn a diploma in deepthroating.
And then—darkness. Gone. Just the flap of the tent in the wind.
’What the actual fuck?’
Alex blinked.
’Did the lightning fry his brain?’
Adrian’s face was still frozen, like he’d just been given divine pornographic revelation.
’What is he looking at?’
Alex turned back to the tent—nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Just shadows, silence, and a whole lotta fabric.
Not a single blowjob ghost in sight.
"This stupid motherfucker."
And then Adrian started again. The humping gesture.
Two hands in the air, hips thrusting, like some deranged mime doing interpretive sex art.
Right in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Alex snapped.
"Look, man—"
His voice was low. Dangerous.
The kind of voice that usually comes just before someone gets punched through drywall.
"I know you’ve got that creepy obsession with my wife."
"I’ve seen the way you look at her."
"Like you wanna bend her over the coffee table while I’m still in the damn room."
Adrian blinked.
"But if you even think about disrespecting her like this again..."
Alex stepped forward. His hand shot out, grabbed Adrian by the collar like a disappointed father about to deliver a very personal life lesson.
"I will do what I should’ve done the first time."
Adrian gulped.
"End you."
And by the firelight in Alex’s eyes, that wasn’t a threat.
It was a fucking prophecy.
Adrian, for all his usual cocky bravado, was practically vibrating with nerves now.
And as if the gods themselves were throwing in a cosmic "fuck you", another streak of lightning ripped across the sky, lighting up the world in an eerie flash.
He bit his lip hard. Too hard. Copper tang filled his mouth.
He looked toward the tent again—because what else could he do at this point?
Denial wasn’t cutting it anymore.
And there it was.
Inside the canvas shadows, clear as day for one fleeting second...
The little man returned, dragging the woman by her hair like a proud caveman showing off his prized catch.
She crawled behind him, all fours, leash of hair in his fist like it was nothing.
Adrian swallowed hard.
Then he made the mistake of looking into Alex’s eyes.
They were glowing.
Not metaphorically. Glowing.
Dark. Dangerous. Not human.
’Oh fuck, this psycho’s serious.’
Adrian knew.
As unserious and ridiculously overpowered as he himself was, there was one thing he couldn’t deny—Alex was the real deal.
Stronger. Stupider, yeah. But stronger.
Picking a fight now? That’d be suicide.
Glorious, sure, but very final.
’Not yet... not now.’
He wasn’t the type to charge in swinging like some hero from a mid-budget anime.
Nah.
He was the type to wait. Observe.
Let the idiot hammer the iron until it was soft, then strike when he could mold it however he wanted.
Take what was rightfully his.
His time would come.
And when it did...?
No lightning in the world would stop him.
’But what was that? Am I still dreaming?’
Adrian’s eyes darted back to the tent—just a shapeless patch of darkness, sitting there all innocent like it wasn’t hiding anything obscene at all.
No motion. No shadows. Nothing.
He looked up at Alex, tried to scrub the confusion off his face, and gave a stiff nod.
"Good."
Alex said, his voice calm but carrying a threat sharp enough to shave a man’s dignity clean off.
Adrian squeezed out an awkward, crooked smile.
’Not going to say a word about your precious little wife, huh?’
’Hmph. You don’t even know she fingers herself raw some nights, do you?’
’You’ve got a voluptuous feast warming your bed, and you’d rather roll over and sleep like a boring old monk. Pathetic.’
His smile soured at the edges, something mean flickering behind his tired eyes.
’No matter... Sooner or later, she’ll be under me, gasping my name.’
’And I’ll make sure she’s satisfied in every way you never managed.’
’It’s only a matter of time. They’ll be here soon. Heh...heh heh...’
Alex stood up, rain dripping off his chin, and held out a hand.
"Come on. Let’s haul your sorry ass back to your tent. I’d hate for you to catch a fever and start whining."
He flashed a bright, too-perfect grin.
"And for the record—if you use getting sick as an excuse to come sniffing around my wife again, I will break your legs. Just so we’re clear."
’He’s onto me.’
Adrian smiled back.
A twitch ran up his brow, and a thick vein bulged on his forehead like it was about to explode.
’Just you wait, you smug fucker... just you fucking wait.’
He slowly reached out to take Alex’s hand—dramatic, deliberate, as if sealing some twisted pact.
And then—
CRAAACK—STREEEEEAK—DURRMMM!
Lightning slammed down from the heavens like Zeus himself decided, "Nope, this bitch has bad intentions."
The bolt didn’t just hit nearby.
It went directly into Adrian’s outstretched arm.
For a full second, he stood there getting fried, his whole body vibrating like a malfunctioning massage chair.
You could literally see his skeleton flashing in and out like some Saturday morning cartoon.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
He howled like a dying fax machine while his limbs flailed and his boots smoked.
Alex jumped back, wide-eyed, arms flailing like he might be next.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
It was pure chaos.
Adrian was legit breakdancing mid-air, his tongue sticking out sideways like he just tasted electricity and regretted it.
Finally, mercifully, the bolt disappeared back into the stormy heavens.
Smoke sizzled off Adrian’s body.
His clothes were scorched, his skin looked like he’d done three laps in a microwave, and his hair was now anime-level spiky—Goku would be proud.
He wobbled slightly, eyes half-rolled.
Alex hesitated, then took a wary step forward, like he expected Adrian to explode again.
"Y-You...you okay, man?"
Adrian’s lips moved, a puff of smoke curling out.
"G...get me out of here..." he croaked.
And just like that—he slumped over and passed out cold like a dying cockroach.
Alex stared.
Then muttered under his breath,
"...Okay, maybe he deserved that one."
...
Alice had locked the flap of the tent the instant Alex turned his back.
Click. Final chance at dignity.
No way she was risking that flap flapping open mid-defilement, her slack mouth and bouncing tits greeting the next unlucky passerby.
If she was going to lose every scrap of self-respect, she’d at least do it behind closed canvas.
What if she couldn’t even think later?
What if she was so far gone—brain milked out, eyes rolled back—she couldn’t crawl over to seal it?
What if someone walked in and saw the mess she was about to become?
No. She wouldn’t let that happen.
Lock secured. Too late to back out.
Then Rae’s voice rasped behind her, low and smug:
"Suck it."
Her whole body twitched.
No fight left. No excuses.
She opened wide, tongue out, welcoming that thick, veiny monstrosity like it was her sacred duty.
It throbbed across her lips—hot, salty, way too big—and her cheeks hollowed around it without a hint of shame.
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