The Golden Goat WIP (Part 6)(WIP)

By StickyScribbles

A young goat nuzzled the old farmer as he diligently tapped a narrow wooden board above the marshy shore. It blissfully lowered its head for a sip of water. The kid watched curiously as its reflection dissolved into a strange ripple. Suddenly, an urgent snort snapped the herd's attention toward the horizon. Ears perked as a menacing cloud of dust churned toward them.

The old farmer gently set down his hammer and soothed the anxious kid with a tender pat. Through every burning village or siege, simple farmers didn't load their wagons with gold or ancient heirlooms. They fled with their furry companions and family. Even on uncertain days, beneath ashen skies and across barren lands, they fed their animal companions in the morning before tending to themselves.

Today, they were steadfast, and there would be no more running. The old farmer slowly rose and signaled the goats to "go play" with their new guest. He issued a familiar yet silent gesture of ramming his balled fist into an open palm, before his hand disappeared into his sleeve. The young goats baaed with dark joy, instantly recognizing their favorite game.

The bee-stung, honey-soaked terror arrived at their marshy doorstep. The dragon gave a buzzing rasp, booming with outrage at their treachery. With only the aggressive billies and the goat elder standing guard, a quick roast should have been easy pickings.

The dragon thrashed to clear a path to the water. Just as it leaned in to drink and clear its swollen, sticky throat before unleashing its fire, a youngling dashed forward, rammed the beast's snout, and dove instantly beneath the surface.

The dragon snarled at being denied a drink. Its shadow loomed over the goats with a drooling, sharp-fanged maw. "Fine, I'll settle for goat soup instead," it roared with a cruel laugh and lunged. A second wave of agile goats jabbed at the dragon's lower jaw, forcing the beast to bite its own tongue. The swimming goat slipped into the murky water to hide while the enraged dragon gave chase along the narrow wooden decks.

Deeper and farther into the morass the dragon charged, snapping at the rails just inches behind the fleeing kids. It smashed the wooden walkways to pieces, hoping to drop them into its jaws, but every violent swipe only mired its heavy body deeper into the sucking mud.

Realizing it was being led in circles, the mud-soaked dragon turned to claw its way back to solid ground. But by then the pursuing goat herd had caught up, forming a charging line to drive the beast back into the marshy depths. The earth bubbled and groaned hungrily beneath its massive weight. To make matters worse, the goats began to pounce and pound around the helpless dragon. The scaled mountain thrashed frantically, its bogged limbs drowning in its own rage.

In desperation the dragon strained its neck to keep its head barely above the slosh. The goats recklessly continued their assault, churning the loose earth into a heavy, suffocating clay.

(Part 1):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2658372

(Part 2):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2677041

(Part 3):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2677043

(Part 4):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2704926

(Part 5):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2712471

(Part 6):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2726342

The Golden Goat (Part 5) v4

By StickyScribbles

The human goat farmers were as busy as bees. They scrambled to unload their sweet wares into the flower field before their towering, scaled guest. The dragon clicked his talons together impatiently. If this tribute was unsatisfactory to his taste, he could always sort their soft and crunchy bits for later. Then perhaps dip them into sweet cream and honey or relish a slow dragon roast combining a porridge of goats, humans, and fairies.

The dragon couldn't decide which to try first. Why not both? He leaned forward, his jaws dripping as they opened wide.

A scarred fairy dashed in, riding atop a young goat. Together they had stared down volcanic death before, and they were prepared to do so again if needed. They coldly greeted the dragon. They reminded him that he needed the farmers alive to complete his temple. Great dragons should not spoil their feast of honey and milk.

The dragon paused and scoffed. "I suppose," he mused, "that all great dragons should be merciful, if only to keep the tap running."

He unrolled his tail to reveal two large jars and jiggled one with a chuckle. The jar hummed to life with the desperate rattle of a dozen trapped fairies inside. It eased the anxiety of the fellow goats to know their fairy friends were in one piece. But what about the other jar?

The dragon unceremoniously opened the second jar's lid, then announced his royal taste tester would check for quality, approval, and ill-prepared sweets. Nothing came out save for a long, deep snore. Disgusted, the dragon flipped the jar upside down and tapped the bottom to eject its sleepy contents. The Sandman landed face-first on the ground with a plop, like a clay sloth. Unbothered, the Sandman got back up, rubbed his nose and big mustache, and squinted.

Could this sea of honey vessels be real? The Sandman wondered if the dragon could have eaten him while he slept, and heaven was now pulling a feverish dream as a prank. The dragon eagerly ushered the slumbering creature back to reality before his scaled kin arrived. They would undoubtedly botch the plan or ravage everything, leaving nothing to share.

The Sandman took a leap of faith and dove arm-deep into the first set of plain jars filled with raw honey. He wiggled his feet against the jars as he climbed in. They contained generous chunks of honeycomb harvested fresh before the morning dew. The Sandman enjoyed the delightful texture and quickly downed several large jars bigger than himself, citing that the amber sweetness was worth eating all morning.

The fairies and goats had brought enough tribute to stuff two dragons, and now wondered if they had brought enough. If the portions weren't to the dragon's liking, it could end poorly. At least someone was having a delightful time.

The dragon sternly lifted the Sandman into the air by his pajama collar. He then roughly pressed the Sandman's face to a new set of glazed vessels for indulging a bit too much. The Sandman only snorted at the sweets, this time taking in handfuls of amber glaze. It was smooth, thick, and pure sweetness between his cheeks. The Sandman couldn't help but give his nodding approval with each scoop, one after another, his belly already swelling.

All that remained to taste were the ornate, jeweled vessels of royal honey. "Sample and tread lightly," the dragon growled, adjusting his grip on the pajama collar. "You are my royal taste tester, not some honey-goblin-fiend."

The Sandman nodded and peeled back some of the gold-leaf, wax-cloth seal. The sweet aroma hummed to life in his nostrils and sticky hands. The fermented, spiced royal honey was a fabled taste, worthy of kings and gods to feast upon. The Sandman sampled only a fingerful and rolled it around on his tongue. His toes curled in delight, leaving the corner of his mouth drooling. This was the best vintage in the lot. The Sandman couldn't help wanting to dive deep into the ornate jar. He was only to be halted by the dragon, who noticed the horizon darkening with a distant flock of scaled kin. There was no time to waste.

"You have done well, Sandman," thundered the dragon. "However, this heavenly sweet dew is fit for dragons!"

The dragon snatched several royal jars of honey from the Sandman and quickly gobbled his wanton share. Oh, what a blessing these peons had harvested such sweet nectar! The jar started to vibrate as the dragon was lost in his sweet gloats. Wait, what was this grainy buzzing in his throat? The dragon's eyes bulged as thousands of trapped bees danced and stung his pipes.

"Treacherous goats!?!" In his throes of pain, he thrashed, knocking the Sandman far away and cracking open the hostile vessels to set the fairies free.

The goats stomped hooves feet and bellowed a "BAAHHH" war cry, rear-kicking more bee-honey-vessel grenades at the dragon's wings. The dragon desperately tried to fly, but was grounded by a fog of stings. The scarred fairy led the charge, denouncing the winged glutton.

An ambush wave of goats burst out of grass-covered foxholes to ram the dragon off a nearby cliff. However, a fully awake and seething dragon was more than a match. A single swing of his tail sent them flying into the bushes. The dragon roared, trying to light them ablaze, only to find his throat too swollen and gummed up by the barbed treat. He scanned the field and narrowly leaped over a second wave of lively battering goats, scrambling toward a distant water marsh where the humans and young goats thought they could safely rest until the tribute ordeal was over.

The dragon furrowed his brow, and his talons cracked the ground in rhythm. Victory was still his. Either swim to free himself of this stinging, sweet trap and charbroil them all alive, or get revenge and trample their discovered encampment.

(Part 1):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2658372

(Part 2):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2677041

(Part 3):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2677043

(Part 4):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2704926

(Part 5):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2712471

(Part 6):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2726342

The Golden Goat (Part 4)

By StickyScribbles

The fitful sleep weighed heavily on the dragon’s sagging eyelids. It felt as rough and itchy as a barnyard pillow trampled by goats.

Only visions of endless milk and honey could soothe his aching scars. The dragon wore his wounds like a crown.

A brief bout of sleeplessness at the hands of petty grass-eaters was nothing to a titan of sky and land. Even the treacherous fairy would bow before such a decree. Soon bards would sing of his domination over devil goats.

The dragon’s blissful vision was suddenly interrupted by a sharp, gentle prod against his ribs.

“I am hungry,” yawned the Sandman, poking a pale finger back into the dragon’s side.

The dragon grumbled, rolling his massive bulk away to cling to the dying embers of his dream.

The Sandman blew an exasperated sigh, patting his rumbling belly for emphasis.

“I AM HUNNNGGGRR-YY!” The Sandman’s whine cut straight through the thickest dream. It sounded like a disgruntled peasant who had queued for a week only to find the banquet doors locked.

The dragon’s bloodshot eye shuddered open, his brow deeply furrowed. Smoke boiled from his nostrils. Normally, fire and ash would swiftly answer such insolence.

But the dragon hated to admit it. This sandy simpleton was an oasis to his sanity. If he had to feed the creature a pool of sweet nectar to keep the nightmare hooves at bay, so be it.

Sandy Sentinel of my Slumber, he thought, glaring down at his small captor. I shall fatten you to fuel the flow of my dreams. Keep you fed, and the nightmare hooves stay away. But jab me again, and I’ll...

Just then the Sandman let out a tiny gasp. He slumped forward, snuggling directly into the dragon’s warm, charred scales.

“Still... hungry,” the Sandman mumbled into the beast’s flank, cutting the dragon’s threat short as he instantly drifted back into sleep.

The dragon stared down at the snoring leech on his chest, then out toward the distant peaks. The goats had been given their ultimatum. Either they built his grand temple of milk and honey to feed this insatiable dream-weaver, or the mountain would burn again.

(Part 1):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2658372

(Part 2):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2677041

(Part 3):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2677043

(Part 4):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2704926

(Part 5):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2712471

The Golden Goat (Part 3) v5

By StickyScribbles

Three weeks earlier, the fairy economy in the Whispering Woods was booming. Local fairies had grown plump on stolen goat honey and cream. While a bustling casino found its sweet home inside an abandoned badger den. There, glowing tooth-dice rattled softly across a velvet toadstool.

They never heard the scales scraping until the cavern went black.

The dragon didn’t roar. It simply exhaled a plume of smoke that charred the dice. Under its colossal claw, a particularly round tooth fairy squeaked. Across the table, the local Sandman didn’t even blink, yawning through a haze of stardust as if a mountain had just dropped into his living room.

“Fix me,” the dragon growled, eyes bloodshot and twitching. “Or you both become a light snack.”

The Sandman blinked sleepily. “Can’t force a mind that won’t quiet down, scaled friend. But I happen to know who’s been selling your coordinates to the horned ones…”

(Jump to the present, after the volcanic showdown)

The irony was agonizing.

Its kin were gone. The mountain was a smoking crater. The goats had retreated. The dragon finally had a quiet night and still could not sleep. Every time it drifted off, the wind through the ash sounded like approaching hooves. BAA. It snapped awake, claws tearing at the dirt. The memory of those relentless hooves had broken the most terrifying beast in the nine kingdoms. Desperate, it hauled itself back down to the hollow roots of the Whispering Woods and cornered the Sandman. The terrified, plump fairies were stuffed into an empty honey jar like oversized marbles.

“Fix me,” the dragon rasped, “or I will crush the jar.”

The Sandman was too tired to be terrified. He yawned, curled into a soft ball on the forest floor, and murmured, “Simple, really. Close your eyes, breathe, and start counting goats—err, sheep…”

The word goats sent a fresh wave of panic through the dragon’s scales. It nearly tore the root system apart before the Sandman lazily tossed a pinch of glowing blue dust into the air.

A heavy calm washed over the beast.

“My apologies,” the Sandman sighed, brushing dust from his coat. “Sustainable deep sleep for a creature of your scale needs a heavy dose of sweet dreams. And to make sweet dreams, a caster needs a lot of sugar.” He turned out empty pockets and tapped the glass of the fairy-filled jar. “Supply chain is dead. The fairies ate all the profits.” The dragon stared at the jar, then at the Sandman. A slow but terrifying smile crept across its smoke-stained maw.

“Don’t worry. Soon the goats will build me a grand temple overflowing with rivers of honey. You help me sleep forevermore. I’ll keep your little friends alive and well-fed.” The Sandman looked at the dragon, then at the trapped fairies glaring from the jar, and shrugged. A grumpy, sleep-deprived dragon could incinerate the forest with a sneeze. Steady work, job security, and unlimited honey wasn’t a bad deal at all.

He extended a sleepy hand. A bargain was struck.

(Part 1):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2658372

(Part 2):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2677041

(Part 3):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2677043

(Part 4):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2704926

(Part 5):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2712471

The Golden Goat (Part 2)

By StickyScribbles

The dragon had finally had enough.

After months of being clobbered awake, it did something prideful dragons almost never do. It asked for help. It told its kin about the goats, carefully omitting that it had started the whole mess by eating farmers and children. The other dragons laughed. They called it soft. They said no herd of grass-eaters could bully a proper dragon. Still, the tempting promise of easy goat meat was enough to bring them along. If anything, only to mock their relative later.

The plan was simple. The original dragon leaked word that it would sleep in a narrow mountain cavern. The goats, still relying on the same tooth-fairy source, took the bait.

They climbed in, careful and quiet. Then they noticed the extra claw marks. The heavy breathing. The wrong kind of silence. Around the bend, an orange light grew. The original tooth fairy, the same one who had taken their milk and honey, was pinned under a claw. She screamed, “It’s a trap!” before the dragons silenced her.

Roaring flames followed.

The herd didn’t panic. A tight phalanx of brawny billies locked horns and formed a living wall against the inferno. The searing heat charred their coats as they sacrificed themselves to choke the narrow passage. That brutal bottleneck bought just enough time. Through the smoke, one agile kid scampered under the barrier, grabbed the fairy, and flung her onto its back. It then quickly darted back into the shadows towards their companions. The young goat’s side was badly burned, but the fairy lived. She still knew the mountain. She pointed out the weak seams while the herd scattered and regrouped in the dark.

What came next was pure goat.

They rammed the outer passage in unison, kicking down rock and dirt until only a goat-sized gap remained. Dragons lunged with flames licking their hooves. The last of the herd squeezed through as the cavern mouth collapsed behind them. Inside, the trapped, enraged dragons poured flame in every direction. The bottled heat and pressure had nowhere to go. The mountain answered by becoming a volcano.

When the smoke cleared, the ambush party was gone. The original dragon stood alone, staring at the crater that had just eaten its kin. It had planned the trap well, but its scaled relatives had treated the whole thing like a joke. Their hubris had finished them.

Its roar carried across the peaks, grief, humiliation, and rage in one sound. Then it spoke, its voice rough from ash and sleepless months:

“You win this skirmish. But more of my kind will hear what you did. When I am rested, there will be no quarter and no escape. Every cursed hoof and winged fairy pest will pay for the sleep you stole.

…Unless.

Cease your harassment. Build a grand temple to honor a dragon’s decadent slumber, overflowing with milk and honey. Do that, and I may reconsider. Those who aided you may yet see another sunrise.”

The offer hung in the smoky air.

Ordinarily, the goats would never negotiate with predators. But with a rescued fairy whose life still hung in the balance, their hooves were tied. Whether they would pay, keep fighting, set a new trap, or simply remain too stubborn to surrender was another question entirely.

The mountain was quieter now. The war was not.

(Part 1):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2658372

(Part 2):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2677041

(Part 3):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2677043

(Part 4):

https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2677043