Isekai, West Virginia Pt. 01

But then, Roland Corville learned that there was a reason why people said all cops were bastards: because they made sure good cops didn't do anything. He had tried reporting a few of the worst offenses he'd seen on the job. In exchange, threatening letters had started to appear in his locker, and he once came home to find his front door broken and his house vandalized. It had been pretty clear who had been behind it all. They had made it clear.

So, he had transferred out of Charleston, into Isekai, and he had tucked in and tried to do as little as possible. Not for himself. For his wife, Marie. She had been on again, off again battling cancer and while it was in remission, he knew that that wouldn't mean she was Scot-free. Not for years and years and years.

The police union had made sure to get him exceptional healthcare. Good dental too.

And still?

He considered quitting. Doing anything with his life. Anything at fucking all.

Then the world blew up and he was left blinking and peering out the window at the surrounding small town buildings of Isekai. Nothing looked broken, there were no signs of fire, save for a few strands of smoke that started to peek over the southern edge of town. People had come out, looking around to see the source of the boom. But then Roland had noticed...that the mountains were gone. All of them.

"One day, retirement, all that," he muttered, then stood. He opened his drawer - not sure if he was going to go for the bottle of cheap whiskey or for his walkie talkie. Either way, he froze as he noticed that, even with sunlight streaming through the windows, the office he was in was dark.

Officer Sarah Lane MacKay came in from the back. She was young, fresh, and hadn't yet realized how shit her job was. Her short blond hair was tied into a pigtail behind her and her round cheeks were pale as chalk. "Sir!" she said. "The power's out. What was that?"

"I have no idea," Roland said. He frowned, then held up his hand. "You hear that?"

The faint sound of rumbling came from the ground. Subliminal. Almost subsonic. It buzzed through his body and as he listened, he could hear the bars rattling in their housing. The guns in the arms locker clicked and clattered. Then the buzzing-rumbling grew fiercer and stronger and a sudden strobe of green light exploded from the floor before Roland's desk. He grabbed Sarah and yanked her back, his eyes wide.

"Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed as the flash of light solidified into a green circle. A brighter spark hissed along the circle, drawing the shape with a flash, then faded. Then the whole circle fell downward, leaving a hissing, cherry red marker where the tile had been silenced through clear and perfect. A pair of pointed green ears peeped over the edge of the lip as Sarah dropped her hand to her service pistol - a Glock 22 - but Roland was still trying to process that the floor had been cut open by some kind of...

Magic, he could practically hear his nephew, Damion, piping up. But that was because his nephew was, to put no fine a point on it, a fucking nerd.

Then the green ears moved up further and a pair of bright golden eyes peeked over the lip. It saw them. Then a loud, feminine sounding scream came out and the ears and eyes whipping down. Roland frowned and started forward. He knelt by the hole, peering in to see that there was a circular tunnel leading down into darkness. He could hear scrabbling - someone trying to drag themselves down the tunnel. "Hello?" he called out. "We're not going to hurt you."

The tunnel scrabbling stopped.

More shuffling.

A faint golden gleam came from around the bend. Then a female voice, speaking quite clear English, called out. "You're not?"

"No," Roland said, then held out his hand to Sarah. She hurried over and slapped a maglite into his hand. He flicked it on and shone it into the tunnel. Those bright golden eyes peered right back up at him, not quite moving out of the shadows cast by the curve of the tunnel. They did catch the light of the miglite, though. Like a cat. He gave the best attempt he could at a smile, considering how unlovely his features were. He had been close enough to handsome as a youth, but age and time and a few scars had turned a square jaw into a granite chin. Slablike face, too.

"Who are you?" Roland asked.

"I'm Taya," the voice piped out. "A scout for Mayor Bastheb. We...kind of hoped there wouldn't be humans over us anymore."

"Humans?" Sarah asked.

Roland shifted his stance, tilted the flashlight.

The figure in the tunnel was the size of a human child - but she was no child. Her figure was decidedly adult, curvy and packed into a body that only made her seem curvier. That wasn't all of it too: her ears were long, pointed...and green. All of her was green. A bright, emerald green. And Roland was fairly sure that it wasn't paint. He gulped slightly, then whispered. "I think you should get your mayor up here."

Taya smiled at him, shyly. "You promise to be kind? To be gentle?"

"I promise," Roland said.

Taya nodded, then managed to contort, turn around, and wriggled down the hole - and, for just a moment, she flashed the most toothsome, delicious, taut rump that Roland had ever seen in his life, save for his wife's.

Roland looked quite respectfully. He was, after all, only human.

Three minuets later, Roland was sitting at his desk and listening to the most insane thing he had ever heard, while Sarah was out getting the actual mayor from his house and bringing him here to hear the sum up. It did help that the most insane thing ever told was being delivered by the most insane thing that Roland had ever seen. Mayor Bastheb, as it transpired, was about five feet tall, towering over the two other 'goblins' she had brought with her. Her features were broader, her skin was ruddy red, and she had long ears that were tufted and furred.

"This is the town of Nilbog," she said, bowing low. "Or, well, it was. We have known for years that the Empire would be attacking the Monsterlands, but we never knew they'd attack so hard and so fast. When the army came our menfolk stood against them - to buy us time. Our best magician began to work a great spell to bring us salvation. It...seems to have failed. Instead of bringing an avatar of Geenbok, the God of all Goblins, it has replaced Nilbog with...where did you call this place?"

"Isekai," Roland said, slowly. "Tell me more about this empire?"

"Oh, they're dreadful!" The goblin to the left of Bastheb exclaimed. She was short and slender, with bright purple hair, and was wrapped up in a big frumpy robe, with a broad brimmed hat that tapered off into a narrow point like a classical wizard. "They've been conquering and enslaving everyone! And they hate us monster folks." She nodded. "That's what they call us! Monsters! O-Oh, I'm Apprentice Vraile! Well, I suppose I'm Wizard Vraile now. S-Since my master, um...died..." She trailed off as Mayor Bastheb frowned at her.

Roland rubbed his finger against his temple. "And how close is this empire?"

The door burst open and several people came tumbling into the room at the same time.

"Uncle Ro!" Damion exclaimed.

"Officer Corville!" Mayor Haply huffed, pushing past Damion.

"Mayor Bastheb!" A goblin girl following Damion said.

"Quell?" Mayor Bastheb asked.

"Quell!" Wizard Vraile threw her arms around the goblin girl, squeezing her tightly.

"Officer!" Mayor Haply spluttered, looking at his goblin counterpoint.

"Uncle!" Damion shouted.

"Everyone!" Roland shouted, even louder. "Shut the fuck up!"

Everyone shut the fuck up. They all stood very still. Roland lifted his hands, frowning. "First things. First. Where is this evil Empire?" he asked, glaring at Mayor Bastheb. "How close are they?"

"They're right outside of town, Uncle Ro!" Damion said, pointing. "I saw them! We rescued Quell from her."

"They did," Quell said.

Roland frowned. "How many?"

"An army!" Damion said.

"Well, closer to a middle ages army than a modern army," Trevor, one of Damion's friends, said as he shoved in to stand beside Damion and Quell - towering over the short, curvy, green girl. "I counted maybe a hundred people."

"Shit," Roland whispered.

"D-Do you happen to have a hundred swordsmen?" Mayor Bastheb asked. "If not...I...I fear that we have merely brought you to this world to die."

"They're from the middle ages, Uncle Ro!" Damion said.

Roland blinked.

"Oh."

"...what's the middle ages?" Quell whispered.

Roland ignored her. He picked up his phone, frowned as he saw no service, then pointed at Damion and Trevor. "Get the boys. Tell em to bring their guns. Officer MacKay, Fiorie?" He turned to his two under officers. "Get the guns."

"Guns! Oh! You have guns!" Mayor Bastheb exclaimed. "We used to have them - but, well, they don't do enough against the Imperial's magics. And, well, you need more than just, how many are the boys? Fifty? Seventy? Can they organize a firing line quickly or...or..." She blinked as the first AR-15 came out of the locker and clacked against the desk, joined by magazines. Her brow furrowed. "...is that a gun?"

"It is," Quell said. "I, they have smaller ones too. It slew a level eight Knight-Gallant in a single shot."

Mayor Bastheb gaped as the second AR-15 clacked down, with more magazines.

Then the third.

And the fourth...

***

The one thing that saved quite a few lives that day?

It took time for an army to decide what to do when their general was dead. Fortunately, or...unfortunately from certain perspectives, the sergeant-at-arms under Lord Gerrin was a tough, third level Guard-Fighter named Baritt. He managed, after a series of shouting matches, to convince his men that this town could still be burnt, the goblins could still be put to the wheel and the torch, and they could return home with some honor restored, despite the death of Lord Gerrin. Doing this still took about thirty, forty minuets - the sun had shifted slightly overhead by the time Baritt had gotten his men arranged into a marching line, using the standard Imperial formation.

There was a line of fifty Guards. Their level 1 ability, Taunt and Shield Wall, allowed them to draw melee attacks and then prevent any of them getting through. Behind them were two bricks of level 1 Archers arranged into units of twenty each. Their Quick Shot and Rapid Reload abilities let them rain a hail of arrows down on the enemy, and sweep them from the field. Then, finally, behind the archers was Baritt, as the commander, and his level 3 Cleric.

At the moment, the only problem was that said cleric, Quendolynn, was trying to ruin the attack as it went in.

"This is not wise," she said, her white robes swishing around her as she crossed her arms under her pendulous breasts. She was an elf, meaning that she was waifishly thin save for her chest - and that was contained (if one could use the word) by two thin strips of white cloth that swept over her shoulders and hooked between her thighs. Her staff was tipped with white crystalite, and allowed her to channel every spell she knew from level 1 to 3. Unfortunately, she also thought that meant she had the right to put her oar in when Baritt was in charge.

"We have our orders, Cleric," Baritt snapped. "Lord Gerrin might have tolerated your elven whining, but-"

"Do you think it's a good idea to march into a town full of strange humans we've never met before, when one of them was able to kill Lord Gerrin in a single blow? From a distance?" Quendolynn asked, scowling at him.

"Do you think it's a good idea to return to the Emperor to tell him Lord Gerrin died and we did nothing to avenge it?" Baritt shook his head and growled. "You will fall into formation. Or else..."

The Cleric let out a long suffering sigh - but started to march after the formation. Baritt had to double march for a bit to catch up, but soon, the whole formation was advancing towards the strangely wide road of the town. The paving was also eerily perfect, too flat and smooth for anything made by mortal men. Only the best stone mages in the world could lay this - and to use it on something as common as a road made Baritt's hackles raise. He frowned - then called out. "All men, halt!"

The formation stopped.

Standing at the end of the road, wearing a strange assemblage of vest and blue coveralls, was an older human male, with a square jaw and graying hair. He called out. "Listen here," he said. "This is the town of Isekai, West Virginia. I'm Roland Corville and I'm the head of the local police force. And I'm going to give you one chance to depart peacefully. We don't want any trouble."

Baritt snorted, then walked forward. His men stepped smoothly aside, then reformed their shields. He pointed an armored finger at this Roland Corville.

"Your town will burn," he said. "Your women will be slaves for auction. We will slaughter the goblin vermin that live beneath your town - to the smallest child and the oldest crone. We shall burn you to the-"

Baritt's brain ceased to exist in a spray of bone and blood. He dropped to the ground as everyone in the army followed the sound of the crack to a man sitting on the roof of a building across the street.

"Goddamn it, Ulysses!" Roland shouted.

"Sorry, Ro," a voice drifted from the roof. "He just seemed a bit like a fucking fascist piece of shit. Sir."

The entire army roared in fury. They charged forward, drawing their swords, their blades gleaming. Ro swore, but did not run. He hefted up his weapon - and he started to open fire. More guns started to spit death down from the roofs and through windows that had seemed empty. Men fell, their armor clanking and sparking as blood spurted and misted into the air. Then, at last, the few survivors dropped their swords, skidding and throwing up their hands. Among them was Quendolynn, who raised her hands and dropped her staff.

"S-So, haha!" she said. "I think! Uh, can we talk? I want to talk. I like talking! Talking is good!"

And, thanks to her sharp, sharp eleven hearing...she could hear Ro as he stomped forward, grumbling under his breath.

"Fucking Union dipshits can't do fire discipline to save their fucking life, if any of them went to Iraq, they'd grumble grumble..."

Quendolynn...did not know what any of that meant.

***

The town of Isekai, West Virginia, was having a meeting. And Mike wanted no part in it.

Today had been far, far, far, far too much, and he just needed to take some anti-anxiety medication and...just...chill. He was going to let Damion carry Ass Gang's opinions. In so far as Ass Gang was going to have opinions on what to do. For him?

He was in his cousin's house.

Mom didn't even get to Isekai, he thought. She was still in Charleston, waiting for a chance to drive up. And she'd never get there now. He laid back in the guest bedroom that might be the only bedroom he'd ever have and looked out at the stars. An unsettling realization crawled into his belly, turning into ice there.

The stars were wrong.

Of course they were wrong.

They-

A faint tink came from the window - a tiny rock hitting it. Mike blinked, sat up, and peered out. To his surprise, it was not a member of the Ass Gang out there. No. It was the gobliness from before: The curvy, white haired woman that he had pulled off the cross. Mike blinked again, then opened the window. Before he could say anything, the gobliness ran towards the wall, grabbed onto the trellis, flung herself up hand over hand over hand, then finally swung herself into his room and onto his bed. The bed squeaked and Mike gaped at her as she knelt before him on the bed. She was dressed in the same rough brown tunic as before, her hair wild and long and pale white, framing her dark green features. Her bright, bright eyes caught starlight and peered at him.

"Thank you," she said.

"I...you're welcome?" he asked.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Mike, why?" Mike asked. "No, wait, that's...a..."

He trailed off.

Because, with a single twitch of her shoulders, the gobliness had shrugged off her tunic. It puddled around her thighs, leaving her full green breasts displayed, tipped with dark, dark green nipples. She crawled on her hands and knees towards Mike as he started to lean back on the bed, his eyes wide. He knew he should say something, but he was too...too...too not sure of what to say. He opened his mouth, but then the small woman was atop him, her hands on his shoulders. Her mouth was so warm. So wanting. She leaned into him, kissing him, her tongue flooding his mouth as her cushy hips pressed against his chest. Her hands cupped his cheeks and the smell of her tingled in his nose. His cock was hard. So hard. When she drew back, she husked softly. "Quell. That's my name."

"Oh."

Mike kind of wished he had thought of something better to say. But her hand reached back, stroking his bulge.

"Mmm," she murmured.

"Is this...a reward?" Mike whispered.

"Guess, human," Quell said, her voice throaty.

To her credit?

Despite having never seen a zipper before in her life, Quell managed to get it down in a moment. Her palm, warm, and strong, and oh so very silky, started to stroke Mike, his member filling her palm as he bucked his hips, unable to stop himself, or stop her. He knew he should have said more, but the pounding, thundering heat buzzing through him was too much. Quell ground her eager cunt against his chest, the dampness soaking through his shirt as she panted softly. Her hand stroked his dick faster, and faster. Slightly rougher. It was...very different from what Mike was used too - he had only ever touched himself.

"Ready?" she asked.

Mike blinked up at her. "R-Ready for what?"

"Oh you are callow." Her voice was amused. She stood, the bed creaking. Mike watched as her deliciously thick ass jiggled as she walked and put one leg on his uplifted knee. She pushed his leg down and to the side, swinging her other thigh wide. Her cunt now ground against the tip of his dick - bare and slippery and green.

"Oh shit," Mike whispered.

"Mmm," Quell groaned.

Mike knew she would sink down. She would impale herself on him. And he wanted it. But...he didn't just want to lay back. He shifted, sat up. This pressed him against her more, and his hands gripped her cushy hips, squeezing her, dragging her down. His member pushed into her tightness - stretching her. Quell groaned as he dragged her down, and Mike felt her warmth and her tightness and her slickness. He panted softly, nuzzling against the top of her head as he sat up, enfolding her in his arms, waiting to get used to her.

"Oh fuck," she whispered. "Oh fuck you humans are huge."

"Maybe goblins are just small." Mike chuckled. "Fuck." He started to slowly rock his hips. His cock slid out of her - inch by inch - then plunged back in, bucking her up. Her breasts heaved and Quell made the sweetest, most delicious husky groan that Mike had ever heard. Her head rolled back and she chuckled raggedly.

"Maybe we are..." She whispered. "Fuck me, Mike."

Mike laughed. He kissed along her ear - and felt the feathery twitching of her cunt, the tightening of her muscles as she gasped. His other hand cradled her breast, squeezing her hefty, full tit - feeling it squish around his fingers. She moaned and he started to fuck her faster now, grunting as his body found the deep, animal rhythm. His balls clapped against her thighs as she bounced against him with the same sinious need. Her voice was hungry as she moaned softly. "Yes! Yes! Take me! Ah! Oh gods, make me feel alive with your cock..."

"Quell!" He groaned, moaning as he fucked her harder. Faster. More frantic. More needing. He felt the pleasure building inside of him - fiercer. Hotter. He forced it back, trying to...to drag this moment out. His finger found her nipple, tugging her, and tugging her harder still when he felt her tightening around him. She mewled, like a cat, her eyes closing, her ears actually twitching up as she gasped and squirted around his cock - soaking his thighs with her eagerness as she quivered and came and came and...and...