Maybe Kobolds Got Nixed to Keep Things PG-13

You continue to hunt boars the next day, as well as the two days after that, in much the same manner. Well, with the addition of a perhaps excessive amount of sex. You had assumed your nights would be spent intertwined and thrusting, sure, but when you called for a break and Momo immediately hiked up her robe, propping herself against a tree and wiggling her rounded bottom at you, you revised your estimation and eagerly slipped into her. You expected Gero to be annoyed or angry at it all, but that didn't turn out to be the case. The first time she noticed that the two of you had set to it in front of her, she simply plopped to the ground and shoved a hand down her pants, lightly gasping as she toyed with herself and watched the two of you fuck. It just feels right to indulge in one another whenever you have a bit of down time, and you don't really feel any embarrassment or shame about it.

Maybe it's a kobold thing. The guards at the outpost never seemed to take breaks to bang one another, at least not out in the open. You had been vaguely aware that every race and sub-race had their quirks to distinguish them, and it increasingly seems like casual yet intense physical intimacy is part of being who you now are. More evidence that the world sorely missed out on all that time it spent kobold-less.

You all think nothing of Momo curling up with Gero and lapping at her pussy when the warrior is having trouble sleeping, both of them contentedly snoozing through the night once she's been brought to a shuddering orgasm.

No one bats an eye when Gero pulls your cock out as you all sit around eating, Momo giggling when the warrior's strong, skillful fingers make you jettison a rope of cum into the sputtering fire.

Momo simply moans through a yawn and does her best to groggily get a hump or two in when Gero impishly sucks you to the very edge of climax in the middle of the night, then sticks you snugly into the smaller kobold's pussy to finish. You haven't actually been inside Gero's dripping folds yet, though you've done just about everything else. You get the impression she's saving that for some sort of special occasion. Maybe your twentieth boar.

That isn't to say you spend every waking moment hunting or fucking. You spend plenty of time cautiously exploring the forest, working out how your growing abilities can continue to mesh together, or even just even just happily chatting. When any of you feel like a a bit of sex, you go for it. When you don't, you don't. You doubt anyone else has figured out a better system.

Though it does make you wonder what else there is. Your thoughts and personalities have become more sophisticated since upgrading to kobolds, but besides this new shared hobby of fucking you all aren't that much different from the mongrels you'd been. It bothers you a little, and fascinates you a lot. You knew that there was more to you than Mongrel Packling Level One, so there has to be more than Kobold Schemer Level Seven, right? It's becoming a near constant thought, and that's what's on your mind when you notice Momo quietly mouthing her usual prayer over your latest kill.

"Who are you praying to, Momo?", you ask as the divinely touched kobold finishes her chant and opens her eyes.

"What do you mean, Shin?"

You've only vaguely outlined the question yourself. "I mean, you're sort of a cleric right? Clerics pray to Gods don't they?"

Momo tilts her head cutely to one side, mulling it over. "I hadn't really thought about it. Yes? I guess I'm praying to our God? The God of, um, Kobolds?"

You furrow your brow. Kobolds have a God? Mongrels sure as hell didn't. "Who's that?"

"Umm...I don't know." Momo's confusion mirrors yours, perhaps even surpasses it. "Maybe it says in my information? Lemme see..."

Gero gestures dismissively with her boar haunch as Momo tries to see what information she can glean. "Well whoever she is, ask her to send boars to our valley. I can't go back to eating raw sparrows."

"Okay, um....ahha!" Momo brightens, raising her sleeved hands to her face in excitement. "It says I'm a Level Seven Kobold Canter and I'm devoted to the....'Kobold's God'? That's all there is..."

Huh. That's weird. "It doesn't say anything else?"

Momo shakes her head. "No...well, not about who that is, anyways. It says it's 'Undefined' because we're missing 'Tribal Strength'."

That makes your ears perk up. Gero seems interested now too, the big female quickly swallowing her mouthful of boar to question Momo. "What's Tribal Strength? Does it say?"

Momo shakes her head, a thoughtful look in her eye. "Not really, but I think I get it...three kobolds probably aren't enough to fully power a God."

You lean in. "So, if we turn more of the others into kobolds, our 'Tribal Strength' goes up? And we'll get a God of our own?" Momo hesitantly nods. You're immediately fascinated by the concept.

"What kind of God do we get?" Gero muses with interest. "We should get a battle God. A god who smashes all of her enemies!"

You shrug at that. "Who needs a God to smash things when we've already got you?" Gero seems pleased, puffing out her chest. You'd prefer a tricky, persuasive God yourself.

Momo must have predicted your thoughts, because she sticks her tongue out at both of you as she clutches her fluffy tail to her chest. "Boo, if you guys wanted to shape a God you should've been clerics! Besides, um, the thing says a new God is mostly shaped by the nature of her people, with some help from the High Priest. And I think that's me, sooo..."

Gero scoots over, throwing an arm around Momo as the buxom kobold quietly fidgets with her tail. "Well, what sot of God do you want, then?"

She frowns a little as she quietly inspects her tail, smoothing out the already neat and clean fur. "I just, um...it's gonna sound dumb. I don't wanna say it."

You slide over to squeeze into Momo from her other side, the girl's tail wagging in her lap as her two companions comfortingly cuddle against her. "You can tell us, Momo...", you offer, Gero nodding emphatically.

Momo's her pretty face flushes darkly as she relents. "Well....it's just, I was always the smallest? And the weakest? And, um, I know that the r-runt is usually ki...um..." She's begun to tear up a little. "...ah, usually doesn't m-make it? That no one helps them."

She carefully reaches out, wrapping her arms around one of yours and hugging it to her chest. "That's why I was always so grateful that you would try to make me feel safe, Shin..." She leans over a little, resting her head on Gero's womanly chest. "And that you kept the bigger dogs away from me, Gero. You were always cold but I knew it was you."

Now it's the big warrior's turn to flush as Momo sighs in contentment, a fat tear falling from a fawn colored eye but a smile spreading across her face. "So if we have a God, that's all I really want. Even when we feel weak, and small, and useless, I want every kobold to know that there's always gonna be someone who loves them, and only wants them to feel safe and happy. I think that would be a good God...don't you?"

You aren't sure how to respond besides hugging Momo tighter. You can tell Gero is moved as well, though in typical fashion she tries to hide her sniffles behind a bit of bravado. "Can there be a little smashing?"

Momo laughs brightly, craning up her head to give Gero a peck under the chin. "Well maybe a little...."

You let the female slip out of your arm as Gero pulls Momo into a deep kiss, the little kobold happily climbing into her lap and working her clever hands under her clothes. So. 'Tribal Strength', huh? What else does that effect? This could definitely be the key to the kobolds' next step. You've got some serious pondering to do, and you haven't yet forgotten that your promised date with the outpost is rapidly approaching. It's going to take real effort to sort all this out.

Uh, that can wait though. You fish out your swelling dick and intently stroke yourself as Gero begins suckling on Momo's rock hard teat, the cleric squealing in delight. The existential questions of your life will still be there after another romp. Or two.

Or, you know, however many.