The fucking was brutal, devoid of mercy or gentleness.
Her slime form didn't care for his limits; it invaded him completely.
Each thrust pushed the goblin deeper into the wall behind him, back arching painfully from the pressure.
The slime cock felt enormous inside, expanding slightly with every entry, filling him with a fullness he never wanted.
It stretched his insides to their absolute breaking point.
Lyssandra leaned forward, gripping his shoulders to anchor him as she pounded him relentlessly.
A massive bulge formed on his small stomach, distended by the invading rod, rising like a mountain peak beneath the torn clothes.
The slime glided friction-free but exerted immense internal pressure, grinding against sensitive walls.
With every slap of his buttocks, the sound of wet slapping echoed loudly in the chamber.
Snot ran freely, dripping onto the dusty floor.
His eyes rolled wildly, vision blurring from the sheer intensity of the stimulation mixed with physical trauma.
She didn't slow down.
She drove into him faster, harder.
Her hips snapped forward with bone-crushing force.
The goblin squealed in pure ecstasy-pain, a mix of pleasure and torture.
Then she thrusted harder, abandoning any semblance of restraint.
The momentum crushed everything in its path.
Every bone in the goblin's fragile frame snapped audibly with sickening cracks.
Ribs shattered inward.
Shoulders dislocated.
His spine compressed under the relentless weight and friction.
Internal organs ruptured one by one—the liver burst, intestines tore, lungs collapsed.
Blood spurted from wounds across his torso, mixing with the white fluid already filling him.
Just as her own climax hit, Lyssandra released.
She pumped wave after wave of thick sperm deep inside the cavity she had created.
So much volume flooded the dying creature that his lower half swelled grotesquely.
He looked like he was triplets pregnant, his belly distending outward with taut, shiny skin threatening to burst.
The pressure built until fluids escaped everywhere at once.
Sperm oozed relentlessly from his overstretched anus, pooling on the ground below.
Simultaneously, the retrograde flow forced the seed upward through his esophagus.
He gagged and choked, vomiting a torrent of creamy semen from his mouth.
Even worse, the white fluid seeped through the gaping wounds in his chest, trickling out alongside red arterial blood.
Finally, the goblin died.
Its remaining eye glazed over completely, staring blankly at nothing.
The rhythmic twitching stopped abruptly.
His jaw hung slack, foam drying around his lips.
The distended belly, once pulsating with life's final struggle, went limp.
Only the leaking fluids remained as proof of what transpired there.
Silence returned to the corridor, heavy and suffocating.
Lyssandra stood panting, the slime dick still protruding from his corpse.
"Why is it still hard? This libido is so hard to satisfy," she groaned, voice laced with annoyance and lustful exhaustion.
Then she proceeded to clean up the mess around her.
With a thought, she commanded her slime penis to retract.
It slid smoothly back into her vagina with a wet schlop sound.
She took her time buttoning up her leather shirt, adjusting the massive cleavage back into place.
Her pants were pulled up, zipped, fastened securely.
Fully clothed again, she wiped the last remnants of blood and semen from her hands.
"I just noticed I leveled up. Great!" she laughed cheerfully, eyes shining with excitement.
"Total 67 LP, from the handjob and the fuck I gave that goblin."
Looking at the System panel, she discovered that the Inventory Tab was finally unlocked.
A new menu glowed softly before her vision.
"How can I use this inventory?", she wondered aloud.
Focusing her will, she attempted to store the sperm-bloated goblin corpse inside.
To her delight, it vanished instantly.
Poof.
Gone.
Replaced by a ghostly icon in the grid.
[Success!] flashed on the screen.
Each slot of the inventory could store a specific type of item, separated neatly.
There were many such slots available, ensuring she wouldn't need to worry about running out of space anytime soon.
"I'll save my food in here," she mused, satisfaction growing within her.
"Hunger won't be a problem in the future."
She checked the status window once more.
That appeared to be the only good news this particular level-up brought; only the Inventory feature had been unlocked.
No stat boosts, no new skills, just storage space.
"Let's go then," she decided, shrugging off the disappointment.
"Too bad I didn't get any good information from those goblins. Well, I didn't even understand their language anyway."
Picking a random direction down the dark corridor, she began walking forward with purpose.
About the goblins, she thought carefully while walking down the dimly-lit stone corridor.
Their habits dictated they usually lived in tribes.
This meant a larger settlement, or at least a band of others, must be nearby.
If so, the chief—the leader of the entire tribe—had to be a Hobgoblin.
But how did she know this?
She didn't exactly possess prior knowledge of these monsters.
Yet the information simply popped up inside her mind.
It felt like an instinctual download.
She just knew it now, clear as day.
"I hope I don't get swarmed by them later."
Suddenly, a commotion erupted just as she rounded the corner.
Muffled voices rose in argument from behind a jagged rock formation.
Two groups of goblins were huddled together, gesturing wildly with crude weapons drawn.
They seemed to be dividing their numbers for a hunt, shouting orders in their guttural tongue.
Lyssandra slowed her pace, pressing herself against the cold damp wall to observe unseen.
She watched silently, analyzing the chaos unfolding before her eyes.
A significant number of goblins were leaving the cave entrance deeper into the maze.
Was it enough to thin the herd inside?
Or too few to make a difference against what remained?
Her mind churned with tactical hesitation.
Going back now would feel cowardly, especially after killing few already.
Staying here risked walking straight into an ambush with superior numbers waiting.
Every second of indecision felt dangerous in this place.
If she moved now, she might catch them off guard while they're distracted.
Wait too long, though, and reinforcements could return.
Would she dare face a swarm alone?
"I should check the Shop first. Maybe something will give me an advantage."
She tapped the Shop Interface, ready to browse.
The list scrolled rapidly across her vision.
[Item 1]: Locked. Not enough LP.
[Item 2]: Locked. Not enough LP.
[Item 3]: Useless potion. Too weak.
[Item 4]: Locked. Requires higher level.
"Locked, locked, locked… Nothing useful. This is frustrating," she muttered, folding her arms tightly.
One hand came up to clutch her temples in annoyance.
67 points wasn't nearly enough for any game-changing gear or spells.
"Oh, this one is interesting. I think I have an idea."
She purchased the special potion immediately.
Twenty LP vanished from her counter in an instant flash.
Summoning the inventory slot open, she spawned the sperm-bloated corpse of the goblin earlier.
Ripping out a rotted, swollen arm, she held it over damp stone ground.
Pouring exactly one-quarter of the potion's content onto the fleshy limb.
It sizzled upon contact, turning the rotting flesh into something that smelled deliciously savory.
A thick aroma wafted outward, sweet and meaty.
"This will be so funny," she giggled softly behind cover.
At the cave entrance stood two scrawny sentries guarding the way.
One leaned heavily against a rough pillar, eyes half-closed, head resting beside the wooden spear he clutched loosely.
The other, looking bored, dug deep into his nostril with a greasy thumb while scratching between his legs..
From thin air, the severed arm materialized right in front of their feet with a wet thud.
Startled by the noise, the scratcher jumped violently.
He fumbled clumsily, dropping his rusty spear with a clang.
The noise woke the sleeping guard instantly, who scrambled upright, grabbing his weapon defensively.
Both peers stared down at the strange object bobbing slightly on the ground.
They sniffed the air, nostrils flaring as the scent hit them hard.
Meat? Real meat? Fresh meat?!
Hunger gnawed greedily at their bellies.
They exchanged glances, confusion morphing quickly into anticipation.
Without hesitation, the one holding the spear approached slowly.
He crouched low, poking the arm with the tip of the wood.
Nothing happened. No magic trap triggered.
He grabbed hold of the wrist, feeling the warmth seeping through skin.
Leaning forward, he took a tentative bite into the shoulder joint.
Juices burst forth, richer than anything they had tasted in weeks.
The second goblin lunged, snatching the hand portion.
Tears welled up in their small eyes as chewed flesh and gristle gave way under sharp teeth.
They tore into each piece voraciously, snapping tendons like twigs, swallowing whole chunks without chewing properly.
Scratches filled their faces as they fought briefly for scraps before realizing the temperature was getting higher.