(masteraudio:"stopall")(set:$name to "Aldric")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/neutral/1.png")(set:$map_position to (a: 768, 1351))(set:$map to "img/maps/map 1.jpg")(live:1s)[(live:3s)[(stop:)($play:"song","intro music")]($play:"ambience","village morning")]($chapter_title:1,"The Hero's Departure")Her teeth catch my shoulder through sweat and morning light. That's how I know ($lorebook_entry:"Elara","people")'s already awake - she always bites when she wants something.
"Going somewhere, hero?" Her voice drips honey and mischief. Auburn hair spills across our sheets like spilled wine, and those sapphire eyes of hers - they'd make a lesser man forget his own name. Good thing I'm not lesser.(playwhenread:"going somewhere hero")
(pic:"ch01/elara.jpg","right","My darling wife!")Outside, ($lorebook_entry:"Eboncrest","places") groans awake. Cart wheels on cobblestone, the baker's daughter cursing at flour sacks, old Henrik arguing with his mule about the meaning of forward. My town. My people. But right now, my wife's got her thigh hooked over mine and her fingers tracing the scar where that wyvern nearly took my liver three summers back.
"Mayor wants me at the west gate by second bell," I tell her, but my hands are already contradicting my words, sliding down the valley of her spine to that spot where her waist flares into those hips that could make the ($lorebook_entry:"Ephemerals","things") themselves forget their divine duties.
"Second bell." She grins, wicked as a blade. "That's ages from now."
Dawn's barely cracked. The bedroom still holds night's chill, but Elara's skin burns fever-hot against mine. Always does. Like she's got her own personal sun tucked somewhere under that perfect, freckled flesh.
"You're thinking with your sword again," she teases, grinding against me just enough to prove her point.
"Both of them, apparently."
That earns me a laugh, the kind that shakes her whole body against mine. This woman. Six years married and she still makes my blood sing like I'm some green boy seeing his first pair of—
She rolls on top of me. Morning light catches the copper in her hair, turns her into something mythic. Like those old tapestries of fire spirits, except better because she's real and currently doing that thing with her hips that—
"Focus, soldier." She pins my wrists above my head. As if she could actually hold me. As if I'd want her to stop.
"Yes, ma'am."
(simple_option:"01 Elara","Be romantic.","Take her roughly!"){
(set:$play to (macro: str-type _type, any-type _track, [
(if:_type is "sound")[(set:$se to _track)]
(if:_type is "sex loop")[(set:$sex_loop to _track)]
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(set: _args to it + (cond: length of _args > 2, (a:), (a: "")))
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(set: _outerClose to (cond: (a:"left","right") contains _format, "</div>", ""))
(set: _html to _outerOpen +
"<div class='storybook-frame' data-parallax='0.15'>" +
"<div class='storybook-frame__view'>" +
"<img class='storybook-frame__img " + _extra + "' src='img/" + _img + "' alt='' loading='lazy'>" +
"</div>" +
"</div>" +
_outerClose)
(output:)[(print:_html)]
]))
(set:$cum to (macro:str-type _text, [(output:)[(print:"<div class='cum_parent'><div class='cum_text'>_text</div></div>")]]))
(set: $simple_option to (macro: str-type _result, ...str-type _args, [{
(set:$result to _result,$args to _args)
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(set: _nextPresent to (_args contains "next"))
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(forget-undos:-1)
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]
</div>]<options|
}]
}]))
(set:$lorebook_entry to (macro: str-type _entry, str-type _category, [{
(set:$lorebook's _category to (unique:...($lorebook's _category + (a:_entry))))
(out:)[<span class='borderless-solid'>(link:_entry)[(set:$sidebar to true)(goto:_entry)]</span>]
}]))
(set:$get_choice to (macro: str-type _passage, [
(if:(indexofpage:$pages,_passage) > 0)[
(set:_retrieve_choice to last of ("choices" of ($pages's (indexofpage:$pages,_passage))))
(output-data:_retrieve_choice)
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]))
(set:$notification to (macro: str-type _message, [(out:)[<div class='options'>(transition:"dissolve")[<div class="inline-notification">_message</div>]]]))
(set:$change_stat to (macro: str-type _stat, num-type _gain,[
(if:$stat_changes is 0)[(set:$stat_changes to (a:))]
(set:$stat to _stat,$gain to _gain)
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](else:)[(set:$stat_changes to it + (a:(dm:"stat",$stat,"page",$current_page,"amount",$gain)))]
(out:)[{<div class='options'>(transition:"blur")[<div class="inline-notification">(display:"stat change message")</div></div>(display:"sync stats")]}]
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(set:$heroism_check to (macro: num-type _amount, [(out:)[(if:$heroism >= _amount)[($notification:"Heroism check passed.")(set:$result to "pass")](else:)[($notification:"Heroism check failed.")(set:$result to "fail")]]]))
(set:$willpower_action to (macro: str-type _link_text, num-type _willpower_cost, str-type _result_text,,[
(out:)[<div class='options'>(set:$unlocks_active to it - (a:_link_text))(unless:$unlocks contains _link_text)[(link:"Unlock Action: " + _link_text + " (" + (text:_willpower_cost) + " redo points)")[(transition:"blur")[(if:$redos < _willpower_cost)[($notification:"Not enough redo points for that! Find more hidden gems...")](else:)[($notification:_result_text)(set:$unlocks to it + (a:_link_text))(set:$unlocks_active to it + (a:_link_text))($play:"sound","rewind")(set:$redos to $redos - _willpower_cost)(replace:?redos)[(transition:"fade-down")[$redos]]]]]](else:)[(link:"Action Available: " + _link_text + " (Click to enable)")[(transition:"blur")[($notification:_result_text)($play:"sound","rewind")(set:$unlocks_active to it + (a:_link_text))]]]</div>]]))
(set:$chapter_title to (macro: num-type _chapter_number, str-type _chapter_title, [
(save-game: "Chapter " + (text:_chapter_number),
"Chapter " + (text:_chapter_number) + " - " + _chapter_title)
(output:)[{
(print:
"<div class='chapter-title'>" +
"<div class='chapter-label'>Chapter " + (text:_chapter_number) + "</div>" +
"<div class='tw-story-title title-benguiat'>" + _chapter_title + "</div>" +
"</div>"
)
(set:$current_chapter to _chapter_number)
}]
]))
(set:$snib_check to (macro: num-type _amount, [(out:)[(if:$snib_satisfaction >= _amount)[($notification:"Snib's satisfaction check passed.")(set:$result to "pass")](else:)[($notification:"Snib's satisfaction check failed.")(set:$result to "fail")]]]))
(set:$vid to (macro: ...str-type _args, [
(set:_mute to (cond:$sound is false,"muted=''",""))
(set: _args to it + (cond: length of _args > 1, (a:), (a: "center")))
(set: _img to _args's 1st)
(set: _format to _args's 2nd)
(set: _div_open to (cond:
_format is "left", "<div class='top_left_pic'>",
_format is "right", "<div class='top_right_pic'>",
""
))
(set: _div_close to (cond:
(a: "left", "right") contains _format,
"</div>",
""
))
(output:)[(set:$video_used to _div_open + "<video disableRemotePlayback src='img/" + _img + "' autoplay='' loop='' " + _mute + " playsinline/>" + _div_close)(print:$video_used)]]
))
(set:$epilogue_title to (macro: num-type _chapter_number, str-type _chapter_title, [
(save-game:"Epilogue", "Epilogue" )
(output:)[{(print:"<div class='chapter-label'>Epilogue</div><div class='tw-story-title'>The Hunt</div>")(set:$current_chapter to _chapter_number)}]
]))
(set:$elara_check to (macro: num-type _amount, [(out:)[(if:$elaras_love >= _amount)[($notification:"Elara's love check passed.")(set:$result to "pass")](else:)[($notification:"Elara's love check failed.")(set:$result to "fail")]]]))
(display:"reset game option")
(set:$hidden_gem to (macro: str-type _real_sentence, str-type _allit_sentence, [
(out:)[{
[(if:(count:$hidden_gems, _allit_sentence) > 1)[(print:_real_sentence)](else-if:$hidden_gems contains _allit_sentence)[(set:$hidden_gems to it + (a:_allit_sentence))(transition:"blur")[(print:_real_sentence)]](else:)[(display:"activate gem hint")<span class='hidden-button'>(link:_allit_sentence)[ (set:$se to "hidden gem")(display:"play sound")(transition:"blur")[**💎 You found a hidden gem! You gain 1 redo point.**(display:"deactivate gem hint")](set:$redos to it + 1)(redos:"update")(set:$hidden_gems to it + (a:_allit_sentence))(live:3s)[(stop:)(rerun:?hidden_gem)]]</span>]]<hidden_gem|}]
]))
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(out:)[{
(unless: $unlocks contains _entry_name)[<div class='options'>(link: "Unlock Lorebook Entry: " + _entry_name + " (" + (text:_redo_cost) + " redo points)")[
(transition: "blur")[
(if: $redos < _redo_cost)[
($notification: "Not enough redo points! Find more hidden gems...")
](else:)[**Lorebook entry unlocked:** ($lorebook_entry: _entry_name, _entry_category)(print:"\n\n")
(set: $unlocks to it + (a: _entry_name))
($play: "sound", "page 1")
(set: $redos to $redos - _redo_cost)
(replace: ?redos)[(transition: "fade-down")[$redos]]
]
]
]</div>](else:)[<div class='options'>**Lorebook entry unlocked:** ($lorebook_entry: _entry_name, _entry_category)</div>
]}]
]))
}
<div class="divider-line"></div>($play:"song","intro music")($play:"ambience","village morning indoors")(if:$choice is "Take her roughly!")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/grin/1.png")(playwhenread:"think youre in charge")I flip her like she weighs nothing.
"Think you're in charge?" My voice comes out rougher than intended.
She tries to wiggle free, laughing, but I pin both her wrists with one hand. The other yanks her nightgown up, bunching white linen around her waist. That perfect peach of an ass exposed in morning light - pale as cream, soft as sin.
"Someone's feeling brave this mor—"
**CRACK.** My palm meets her ass, the sound echoing off our bedroom walls.
"Aldric!" But she's already pushing back, wanting more.
"That's 'sir' when I've got you bent over." Another spank, harder. Her flesh jiggles, turns pink under my hand. "Or would you prefer the whole street knows what we're doing?"
"Like they don't already—ah!"
I grab a fistful of auburn hair, pull her up on all fours. "They're about to know exactly how Aldric the Great breeds his woman."
(pic:"ch01/doggystyle.jpg")
One thrust and I'm buried to the hilt. Her pussy grips me like molten silk, so wet she must've been ready since she woke. We both groan - me at the tight heat, her at being suddenly, completely filled.(playwhenread:"elara orgasm")
"Fuck! Warn a girl before you—"
"Before I what?" I pull almost all the way out, slam back home. "Before I take what's mine?"
The bed frame bangs against the wall. Good. Let every gossip in Eboncrest know I'm putting a baby in my wife before I go kill their monsters.
"Gods, you're—ngh—you're insatiable!"
"You *love* being taken like a tavern wench." I reach around, find her clit swollen and ready.
"I'm your—*ah!*—your wife, you *brute*!"
"My wife who's about to scream loud enough to wake the baker." I increase my pace, each thrust driving deep. Her ass ripples with every impact - **PLAP PLAP PLAP** - the sound of flesh meeting flesh fills our bedroom. "Go on, love. Let them hear you."
(unless:(count:$hidden_gems, "She squeals and shrieks, sweetly submitting, sublimely stretched.") > 1)[($notification:"HINT: look for text with lots of alliteration - they might hide **hidden gems** 💎, which give you extra **redo points** to try different story options.
Different branches can have extra gems!
**Try clicking the sentence after this!**")]($hidden_gem:"She cries out in ecstasy as I claim her.","She squeals and shrieks, sweetly submitting, sublimely stretched.")
(pic:"ch01/doggystyle insert.jpg","right","Perfect fit—like Whisperwind to sheath.")"You're going to—*fuck*—split me in half!"
"You can take it." I pull her hair tighter, force her back to arch. The new angle makes her gasp. "Taken worse from me on our wedding night."
"That was—oh gods—different!"
"How?" Another spank, watching her asscheek jiggle. "Because the whole inn heard you then too?"
She's pushing back to meet every thrust now, our bodies finding that perfect rhythm we've built over six years. Her nightgown's completely bunched around her ribs, tits swaying freely beneath her. I lean over, grab one, squeeze just hard enough.
"Aldric! I'm—I'm close!"
"Already? We've barely started." But I rub her clit faster, knowing exactly the pressure she needs. "Come on then. Cum on your husband's cock like a good little wife."
**SPANK!**
"I'll—*ah!*—kill you for that—later!"
"If you can still walk later, I haven't done my job."
That does it. She screams - actually screams - as her pussy clamps down on me. Her whole body shakes, and I have to grip her hips hard to keep fucking her through it. The wet sounds get louder, obscene, perfect.
"That's one," I growl. "Want to go for two before I breed you?"
"You cocky—oh FUCK!"
I've shifted angle again, hitting that spot inside her that makes her clench. She's so wet now it's running down both our thighs.
"Listen to that," I tell her, punctuating with a particularly hard thrust. "That's the sound of a well-fucked wife."
"Going to—ngh—put me through the mattress!"
"Then you'll remember this while I'm gone." I lean down, bite her shoulder through the nightgown. "Remember who you belong to."
I grab a big handful of that gorgeous ass. Flux's balls, this woman.
Her pussy starts fluttering again. Close. I reach around with both hands now - one on her clit, one pulling her hair.
"Cum for me, Elara. Show Eboncrest how their hero's wife takes his cock."
She does. Harder than before, her whole body going rigid then exploding into shakes. The neighbors definitely heard that one. Good.
"My turn," I grunt, feeling that familiar tightness in my balls.
"Yes! Give me—give me everything!"
(pic:"ch01/doggystyle creampie.jpg","left")I slam home one final time and explode. My cock pulses hard, pumping rope after rope of cum deep inside her. I hold her hips bruisingly tight, making sure she takes every drop, grinding against her ass as I empty my balls completely.
"*FUCK,* Elara!" It comes out as a roar. Let them all hear. Let them know Aldric the Great is putting an heir in his wife's belly.
She's still cumming, her pussy milking me for everything I've got. "That's it, that's it, fill me up!"
I keep grinding into her, working my cum deeper, until we're both shaking and gasping. When I finally pull out, I watch my seed immediately start dripping from her well-fucked pussy.
"Mine," I say, giving her ass one more slap.
"Possessive bastard," she pants, collapsing onto the bed. But she's grinning. "The whole street probably thinks you're murdering me."
"Just murdering that pussy."
She throws a pillow at me. "That was terrible!"
"You love it." I flop down beside her, both of us sweaty and satisfied. "And you love me."
"Ephemerals help me, I do." She cuddles into my side, nightgown still bunched around her middle. "Think that one took?"
"If volume of screaming affects conception, we're having twins."
We both dissolve into laughter. This woman. This perfect, impossible, LOUD woman.
"Now get up," she says, poking my ribs. "I need to look the baker's wife in the eye later."
"Tell her you were just thanking your husband for his heroic service."
"I'll tell her you're a beast who can't keep his hands to himself."
"Also true."
She kisses me, slow and sweet. "My beast though."
"Always."](if:$choice is "Be romantic.")[I let her hold my wrists for a heartbeat, two, then surge up to kiss her. The kind of kiss that makes her melt, makes her grip loosen. I taste the mint leaves on her tongue, feel her pulse quicken where my lips find her throat.
"Mmm, there's my hero," she sighs, releasing my wrists to thread her fingers through my hair.
Morning light paints her skin gold and cream. Every freckle stands out like constellations I've mapped a thousand times. I run my hands up her thighs, feeling muscle under silk-soft skin. She trains with me sometimes—insists on knowing how to defend herself. Makes her legs strong.
"You're so perfect," I murmur against her collarbone.
"Flatterer." But she's already rocking against me, slow and deliberate. "You just want what's under my nightgown."
"It IS in the way," I sit up, bringing her with me so she's straddling my lap. "You must admit."
(pic:"ch01/undress.jpg","right","Six years and I still forget to breathe.")She laughs, squirming away and lifting it off. The sight of her—gods. Six years and she still stops my heart. Full breasts tipped with pink, that narrow waist, the gentle swell of her hips. But it's more than that. It's the way morning light catches in her eyes. The little scar on her ribs from when she tried to rescue that cat from the Henricks' roof. The way she bites her lower lip when she wants something.
Like now.
"What?" she asks, suddenly shy under my gaze.
"Just remembering why I married you."
"My sparkling personality?"
"Your apple tarts."
She shoves my shoulder, laughing. "Ass."
"That too." I cup it, pull her closer. She's already wet against me, leaving slick heat on my stomach. "But yes, I suppose your personality's good too."
"Just good?" She rises up on her knees, reaches between us to position me. "Let me remind you how GREAT it is."
She sinks down slowly. So slowly I might die. Her pussy accepts me inch by inch, velvet heat that fits me like she was made for me. We both groan when she's fully seated, pressed together from chest to groin.(playwhenread:"elara orgasm")
"Fuck, Elara..."
"Every morning," she breathes, starting to move. "Every morning you act surprised."
"Every morning IS a surprise with you."
(pic:"ch01/cowgirl.jpg")
She rides me with the same rhythm she uses kneading bread—steady, purposeful, devastating. I watch her tits bounce, soft flesh swaying with each rise and fall. Watch her stomach muscles flex. Watch her face as pleasure builds, the way her mouth falls open, the way her eyes go heavy-lidded.
(unless:(count:$hidden_gems, "Her pleasure pulses and peaks, perfectly played passion painting paradise.") > 1)[($notification:"HINT: look for text with lots of alliteration - they might hide **hidden gems** 💎, which give you extra **redo points** to try different story options.
Different branches can have extra gems!
**Try clicking the sentence after this!**")]
($hidden_gem:"Her pleasure builds steadily, beautifully.","Her pleasure pulses and peaks, perfectly played passion painting paradise.")
Birds sing outside our window. A cool breeze carries the scent of her garden—rosemary, lavender, the last of the autumn roses. But all I smell is her. Honey and female musk, the faint trace of the jasmine oil she rubbed into her skin last night.
"Touch me," she whispers.
I know what she needs. My thumb finds her clit, circles gentle but firm. My other hand cups her breast, rolls the nipple between my fingers. She gasps, rhythm faltering.
"That's it, love. Let go."
"Not yet—want to—oh gods—together—"
"We've got time." I sit up straighter, changing the angle. Now I can kiss her while she rides me, can swallow her moans. "I want to feel it when you cum."
She does. Not a scream like a tavern wench—just my name on a broken whisper as her whole body trembles. Her pussy clenches around me in waves, trying to pull me deeper. I hold her through it, kiss her temple, breathe in the scent of her hair.
"Well done," I murmur.
She's still shaking when she starts moving again, oversensitive but determined. "Your turn."
"Elara, you don't have to—"
"Shh." She pushes me back down, pins my shoulders. "My hero needs his strength today."
The new angle does something incredible. Every stroke hits deep, her ass slapping against my thighs in a rhythm as old as time. I grip her hips, not to control but to feel—the way her body moves, the life in her, the joy.
"I love watching you like this," she says, breathless. "All that control just... gone. Just you and me and this."
She leans down, changes the angle again. Now her breasts press against my chest, her lips against my ear.
"I want you to cum inside me, Aldric. Want to feel you let go. Want to carry part of you with me all day while you're gone."
"Elara—"
"Maybe this time," she whispers. "Maybe this time it'll take."
The tenderness in her voice undoes me more than any dirty talk could. I roll us over, need to be closer, need to hold her. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulls me deep, and we move together like we're one creature. Slow, deep thrusts that build like thunder in the distance.
(pic:"ch01/missionary.jpg")
"Yes," she breathes. "Ephemerals, you fill me so perfectly..."
Her nails rake down my back, just enough to ground me in the moment. In her. The morning sun climbs higher, painting bars of gold across our tangled bodies. Sweat makes us slip against each other, adds to the breath and moans and the wet music of our joining.
"Close," I warn, though she already knows.
"Me too. Again. How do you—oh!"
Her second orgasm catches us both by surprise. She arches beneath me, a perfect bow of pleasure, and the sight combined with the feeling of her pussy milking me—
I bury myself deep and cum hard. Pulse after pulse, filling her while she holds me tight, her own climax still rippling through her. I grunt against her neck, animal sounds I'd be embarrassed by if this was anyone but Elara.
(pic:"ch01/missionary creampie.jpg","Take it all, love. Every fucking drop.")
"That's it," she murmurs, stroking my hair as I shake. "Every drop is mine."
We stay joined as our breathing slows, trading lazy kisses. A breeze cools our heated skin. Somewhere outside, the baker's rooster crows late, and we both laugh.
"Think that worked?" she asks, hand drifting to her stomach.
"If not..." I kiss her nose. "The trying's the best part anyway."
"Flirt." But she's smiling, that special smile that's just for me. "Now get off before my legs go numb."
"Romantic."
"You love it."
"I love YOU."
"Good answer, hero." She stretches beneath me, all satisfied cat. "Now come on. I'm making honey cakes and you need to eat before you go play with those goblins."]
(pic:"ch01/post sex.jpg")(display:"divider")
Twenty minutes later, we're in the kitchen. Elara's humming while she works at the stove, wearing nothing but my tunic from yesterday. It barely covers her ass. Deliberate minx.
The smell of woodsmoke bacon fills our little cottage, along with something sweet - she's making honey cakes again. Thick slabs of brown bread wait on the table, alongside a pot of apple butter and fresh churned cream. Simple fare, but when Elara makes it, might as well be a king's feast.
"Stop staring at my ass and sit down," she says without turning around.
"How'd you know?"
"I know all your looks." She glances over her shoulder, winks. "Especially that one."
I sit, watch her work. There's grace in how she moves, even doing something simple as flipping bacon. Every motion efficient, practiced. Beautiful.
She sets a plate in front of me - bacon crispy as autumn leaves, two honey cakes still steaming, bread thick with apple butter. My stomach growls appreciation.
"So," she says, settling across from me with her own plate. "Goblins at the mine?"
(simple_option:"01 Comfort","'Just pest control, love. Nothing serious.'","'Actually could be tricky. They've fortified.'","'Remember that green bastard from our wedding? His cousins showed up.'")(redos:"update")<div class="content-wrapper">
<div class="tw-story-title">The Hero's Departure</div>
<p>I wake up, warm and snug, wrapped in the heavenly scent of my wife, Elara...</p>
<!-- Add more story content here -->
</div>(if:$just_refreshed is 0)[(set:$just_refreshed to false)](if:$is_bad_end is 0)[(set:$is_bad_end to false)](replace:?Sidebar)[{(set:$rewind_page to "none")(if:$sidebar is 0)[(set:$sidebar to false)](set:_here to (passage:)'s name)<div class="side-box"><nav class="side-stack menu vertical">(set:_canResume to $sidebar and (not:$just_refreshed))(set:_idx to (indexofpage:$pages,$prev_page))(set:_canBack to (_idx > 0) and not ( $is_bad_end))(portrait:)(if:_canResume)[(link:"Read")[(set:$just_refreshed to false)(set:$sidebar to false)(set:$stat_changes to (find:_stat_change where not (_stat_change's "page" is $current_page), ...$stat_changes))(unless:$sound)[(masteraudio:'stopall')](goto:$current_page)]](else:)[<span class="tw-link is-disabled">Read</span>](if:_canBack)[(link:"Back")[(set:$sidebar to false)(resettopage:$prev_page)(goto:$current_page)]](else:)[<span class="tw-link is-disabled">Back</span>](if:_here is "lorebook")[<span class="tw-link is-disabled">Lore</span>](else:)[(link:"Lore")[(set:$sidebar to true)(goto:"lorebook")]](if:_here is "chapters")[<span class="tw-link is-disabled">Menu</span>](else:)[(link:"Menu")[(set:$sidebar to true)(goto:"chapters")]](redos:"init")(redos:"update")</nav></div>(display:"sync stats")(display:"data fixes")($play:"sound",(either:"page 1","page 2","page 3"))(sparkle:)}](set:$pages to $pages)(set:$sidebar to true)<div class='tw-story-title'>Character Status</div>(if:$gender is "male")[(display:"male status")](else-if:$name is "???")[(display:"unknown status")](else:)[(display:"female status")](display:"Sidebar")(if:$unlocks is 0)[(set:$unlocks to (a:))](synclore:)<div class='tw-story-title'>Lorebook</div>
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(for: each _other, ...$lorebook's "other")[(link:_other)[(goto:_other)]]</div></div>(if:$pages is 0)[(if:$just_refreshed is 0)[(set:$just_refreshed to false)](set:$map to "img/maps/map 1.jpg")(if:$name is 0)[(set:$name to "Aldric")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/neutral/1.png")(set:$last_redo_points to 3)(set:$heroism to 100)(set:$gender to "male")(set:$current_page to "01 Begin")(set:$prev_page to "01 Begin")](set:$pages to (a:))(set:$lorebook to (dm:
"places",(a:"Zaelasia"),
"people",(a:),
"things",(a:"Whisperwind"),
"beasts",(a:)))(set:$stat_changes to (a:(dm:"stat","none","page","none","amount",0)))(set:$all_chapters_unlocked to false)(display:"sync stats")(set:$redos to 3)](pic:"status/aldric.jpg","right")**Name:** Aldric the Great
**Race:** Human
**Class:** Battlemage Knight
**Alignment:** Lawful Good
**Age:** 32
**Height:** 6'2"
**Weight:** 210 lbs
<span class='meter-container-half'>(color:"white")[(meter: bind $heroism, 100, "X", "Heroism: $heroism/100", (gradient: 90, 0, red, 1, orange))]</span>
*Hero of Eboncrest*
Kills monsters. Loves one woman. Trusts sharp steel.
Born common in Valaria's mud-quarter. Mother died birthing him, father died in the mines—the usual story. Learned swordwork killing rats in granaries for copper. Learned magic when a dying hedge wizard needed water and paid in knowledge. Studied three years at the Tower before they kicked him out for "unauthorized practical application" (burned down the library fighting a possessed librarian). Came to Eboncrest chasing a basilisk bounty, stayed for Elara's apple pie.
Wields Whisperwind—skyforged steel that sings murder. Knows three battle spells that matter: fire to cleanse, ice to trap, wind to rule the field.
Married Elara against her father's wishes. Plans children he'll teach to fight. Maintains the town through reputation—bandits avoid Eboncrest's roads, monsters hunt elsewhere. Takes payment in gold, respect, and breakfast. Age thirty-two, expects to die by forty, plans to make it count.<div class='tw-story-title'>Zaelasia</div>
**The Known World**
Five lands under one sky, each nursing its own grudges. The Telenil count centuries in their Everbloom depths. Dwarves hammer fate in the Ironspikes. Sandwalkers read tomorrow in desert bones. The Isle of Mists keeps secrets even from its own sorcerers. And at the heart—Valaria, where humans breed and scheme and call it civilization.
**Valaria**
King Richard Valarian rules from Thuulk's golden spires, spending northern silver on southern wars. Fertile enough to feed armies; rich enough to hire them; proud enough to waste both on Sirath's bloody shores - the kingdom stretches from the Telenil marches to the desert's edge, every league mapped, taxed, and bled for. They worship the Triad here—past, present, and future dressed up as gods—while older powers sleep uneasily beneath worked stone.
**The War**
Sirath squats across the narrow sea like a wound that won't heal. Three generations of Valarian kings have thrown men at those beaches. Three generations of widows curse their names. The war feeds itself now—honor debts and blood prices, the machinery of vengeance grinding forward because no one remembers how to stop. Every spring, the recruiting sergeants come. Every autumn, fewer come back.
**What Stirs Beneath**
The old darkness has names: Maraan the Dreamer, Thul'nara of the Thousand Teeth, others best forgotten. Their temples lie broken from the Ironspikes to the Isle, their priests centuries dead. But dead gods dream, and dreamers sometimes wake. In Thuulk's libraries, scholars translate what shouldn't be read. In desert ruins, treasure hunters break seals that were meant to last forever.
**The Truth of It**
Zaelasia pretends at unity—five fingers of the same hand, the diplomats say. But the Telenil close their borders tighter each year. The dwarves sell weapons to all sides. The Sandwalkers raid where they please. The Isle's sorcerers answer to none but themselves. And Valaria bleeds gold and bodies into a war that profits only ravens.
Still, the trade roads stay open. The harvests come in. Children are born believing the world makes sense.
For now.(set:$se_to_stop to "elara orgasm")(display:"stop sound effect fade")($play:"ambience","elara cooking")(pic:"ch01/breakfast.jpg","left","She's got something running down her leg... wonder who did that!")(if:$choice is "'Just pest control, love. Nothing serious.'")["Just pest control, love." I tear into a honey cake, still hot enough to burn my fingers. Worth it. "Nothing serious."
She sets down a mug of bark tea with more force than necessary. "That's what you said about the cockatrice."
"The cockatrice barely nicked me."
"You came home with half your chest hanging open!"
I catch her wrist, gentle. "That was two years ago. And I learned my lesson about checking corners."
"Did you?" She's not really angry. Just worried. I can read it in how she keeps touching things - the table, her locket, the bread knife. "Because Giles offered to go with you. Said so yesterday at market."
"Giles." I snort. "Good man with a sword, but ($lorebook_entry:"Goblins","beasts") don't give a thrack about swords. They care about fire. Wind. The kind of forces that make them remember why they used to fear humans."
"They *used* to fear us?"
"Before they learned we're soft." I pull her onto my lap. She resists for half a heartbeat, then melts against me. "That's why they're getting bold. Coming out of the eastern wastes, sniffing around our borders. Testing."
"Testing for what?"
I don't answer that. Don't tell her about the patterns I've been noticing. She's got enough to worry about.
($hidden_gem:"The bacon breaks between my teeth, salt and smoke singing.","The bacon breaks and bursts between my teeth, bringing bright, briny bliss.")
"You're doing that thing," she says against my shoulder.
"What thing?"
"That thing where you go quiet because you think I can't handle the truth."
Six years and she reads me like one of her garden almanacs.
"The *truth* is," I say carefully, "twelve goblins in a mine is nothing. The truth is I've cleared three times that many from tighter spaces. The truth is—"
(vid:"img/ch01/concerned.mp4")
"The truth is you're going alone." She pulls back, fixes me with those sapphire eyes. "Again."
"Someone has to stay and protect the town."
"From what? Mean old Mrs. Henderson and her attack chickens?"
That makes me laugh. "Those chickens *are* vicious."
She doesn't smile. "Train more knights, Aldric. Like you used to. Before you decided you had to do everything yourself."
"I don't do everything—"
"Name the last threat you let the guard handle."
I open my mouth. Close it. She's got me there.
"See?" She stands, starts clearing plates with sharp, efficient movements. "The great Aldric. Has to bear every burden. Fight every fight. Because gods forbid someone else might—"
"Might die." The words come out harder than intended. "Might die because I wasn't there. Because I let them go instead."
The plate in her hand stills. "Oh, love."
"Goblins go for the eyes first," I tell her. "Then the throat. Then they drag you down and let the little ones practice their knife work while you're still breathing. I've seen it. I've seen what happens when good men underestimate them."
She sets down the plate, comes back to me. Her hands frame my face. "And you've seen what happens when you try to carry the world alone. You come home bleeding. Every time, a little more of you doesn't come back."
Her being right doesn't change what needs doing.
"After the mine," I promise. "After I clear it, I'll talk to Giles about training. Maybe take on a few of the younger guards. Teach them what to watch for."
"Really?"
"Really." I kiss her palm. "But today, I make sure those green bastards remember why they stay in the wastes."
She sighs but nods. "At least eat more first. You burned a lot of energy this morning."
"Whose fault is that?"
"Yours." She turns back to the stove, and yes, she's absolutely making sure I see how my tunic rides up. "You're the one who married me."
"Best mistake I ever made."
"Mistake?" She spins, brandishing a wooden spoon like Whisperwind.
"Best decision. Best blessing. Best—"
"Better." She points the spoon at my plate. "Now eat. Heroes don't fight on empty stomachs."](else-if:$choice is "'Actually could be tricky. They've fortified.'")["Actually could be tricky." I drag my thumb along the table's grain, thinking. "Scout reports say they've fortified. Barricades. Maybe even crude traps."
Elara pauses mid-pour, honey dripping from the pot. "Fortified? Since when do ($lorebook_entry:"Goblins","beasts") fortify?"
"Since about three months ago." I keep my voice level. No need to worry her with speculation. "Started seeing it out near the border settlements."
"That's... not normal goblin behavior."
"No." I tear off a chunk of bread, use it to soak up the bacon grease. "It's not."
She abandons the honey entirely, sits across from me. "Aldric. What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing confirmed." But I can see she won't let this go. "Someone's teaching them. Or something. The patterns are too deliberate. Too..." I search for the word. "Human."
"Human?" Her voice pitches higher. "You think someone's helping them?"
"I think someone's using them." Big difference. "Goblins are tools. Always have been. The question is who's wielding them now."
She reaches across the table, grips my hand. "Then you definitely shouldn't go alone. If they're organized—"
"If they're organized, they're still goblins." I turn her hand over, trace the calluses from her garden work. Strong hands. "Fire still makes them scatter. Wind still throws off their aim. And Whisperwind still cuts through them like parchment."
"But if there's someone behind them—"
"Then I'll find out who." I squeeze her fingers. "That's what I do, remember? I investigate. I hunt. I solve problems."
"You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple. Just not easy."
($hidden_gem:"Morning light makes her hair look like burnished copper.","Morning light makes her mane magnificent, molten copper catching countless colors.")
She pulls her hand back, stands abruptly. "Giles could help. He offered yesterday."
"Giles is a good soldier. But soldiers make noise. Soldiers follow patterns." I watch her pace, nervous energy crackling off her. "I need to be smoke today. Silent. Unpredictable."
(vid:"img/ch01/concerned.mp4")
"You need to be careful."
"I'm always—"
"Don't." She whirls on me. "Don't say you're always careful. Not when you came home last month with troll poison in your veins. Not when you—"
"That was different."
"How?"
"That was a troll. This is goblins."
"Organized goblins! Fortified goblins! Goblins with a puppet master!"
She's spiraling. I stand, catch her shoulders. "Elara. Look at me."
Those sapphire eyes are bright with unshed tears. Shit.
"I've been fighting goblins since I was fourteen," I tell her. "My first kill was a goblin. My first scar—" I guide her hand to the pale line on my ribs, "—was a goblin. I know them. Know how they think, how they move, how they smell when they're afraid."
"But—"
"And they know me." I let that sink in. "The ones who survive? They tell stories. About the human who brings wind and fire. Who moves through shadows. Who leaves no survivors when they threaten what's his."
Her breath shudders out. "You're trying to scare me."
"I'm trying to be honest. You wanted honest."
"I wanted reassuring!"
"Then be reassured." I pull her close, feel her heart racing against mine. "Twelve goblins in a mine, organized or not, are still just twelve goblins. I've faced worse with less. And I always—always—come home to you."
She makes a sound that's half laugh, half sob. "You better. We're trying for a baby, remember? Can't do that if you're dead."
"Wouldn't dream of it." I kiss the top of her head. "Besides, who'd eat all your honey cakes?"
"Giles, probably."
"Over my dead body."
"That's what I'm trying to avoid!" But she's smiling now, crisis passed. "Fine. Go. Be the hero. But if you're not back by sunset—"
"You'll come looking. I know." I give her ass a quick pat as I head for the stairs. "Keep that tunic on. I want to peel it off you when I get back."
"Presumptuous."
"Confident."
"Same thing with you!" she calls after me.
She's not wrong.](else:)["Remember that green bastard from our wedding?" I wave my honey cake for emphasis. "His cousins showed up."
Elara's eyes narrow. "Aldric."
"He was very rude. Didn't even bring a gift."
"There were no ($lorebook_entry:"Goblins","beasts") at our wedding." She's trying not to smile. Failing.
"They do love parties though. All that screaming and chaos—"
The wooden spoon hits my shoulder. "This is serious!"
I catch her wrist, pull her onto my lap. "I'm seriously going to kill some goblins."
"You're seriously impossible." But she's melting against me, can't help it. We fit together like Whisperwind in her sheath.
"Here's serious." I kiss her neck, that spot that makes her shiver. "They're dug into the Ironrock. Got there three nights ago. Probably found the old overseer's office, think they're clever."
"And?" Her fingers find my hair.
"And they're about to learn what happens when goblins get too close to what's mine." Another kiss, just below her ear. "The mine. The town." Kiss. "You."
($hidden_gem:"Her heartbeat quickens against my chest.","Her heartbeat hammers, heavy and hot, a hummingbird's hunger against my chest.")
"You can't just—mmm—distract me with—"
"Watch me." I stand, lifting her with me. She squeaks, wraps her legs around my waist. "I've been killing goblins since before Eon's beard went gray."
"Your confidence is going to get you killed."
"My confidence got me you."
She pulls back, studies my face. Those sapphire eyes see everything—the jokes, the bravado, the cold certainty underneath. "Burn them all."
"Every last one."
"Good." She kisses me, fierce and quick. "Now put me down. Heroes don't fight on empty stomachs, and you've barely touched your bacon."
"I've been touching something better."
"Eat your breakfast, you *beast!*"]
(display:"divider")
(playwhenread:"miss me")($lorebook_entry:"Whisperwind","other") waits on her stand like a patient lover. The morning light through our bedroom window makes her shimmer—not quite steel, not quite silver, something between. Something other. I lift her, feel the familiar weight settle into my palm. Perfect balance. Always perfect.
The enchantments hum against my skin. Not everyone can feel it, but those of us who work with magic know—Whisperwind's alive in her way. Waiting. Eager.
(pic:"ch01/whisperwind.jpg","gif","Hello, beautiful. Ready to dance?")
"Miss me?" I murmur, checking her edge. Still sharp enough to split sunlight. The wind runes along her fuller pulse faintly, responding to my touch.
My armor takes longer. Elara helps with the buckles I can't reach, her fingers steady and practiced. Six years of this routine. Six years of sending me off to danger.
"Too tight?" she asks, adjusting the pauldron.(playwhenread:"too tight")
"Perfect."
She always asks. I always say perfect. It's our ritual, important as any prayer to the Ephemerals.
(pic:"ch01/armor.jpg","right","From husband to hero in twenty pounds of steel.")The breastplate goes on last. Mythril-touched steel, worth more than our house. Worth it, though. The amount of times it's turned a blade that should've killed me...
"There." Elara steps back, surveys her work. "My hero, ready for war."
"It's just goblins, not a war."
"Every fight's a war when you might not come home."
I kiss her, deep and thorough. "I'll come home."
"You better."
(display:"divider")
($play:"ambience","village morning")Eboncrest's morning streets hit different when you're armed for killing.
Eadric the merchant's loading his cart outside the Silk & Steel. Sees me coming, straightens. "Aldric. Heard about the mine."
"News travels."
"Bad news travels faster." He eyes Whisperwind. "Need anything? Got new whetstones from the capital. Some decent torch oil."
"I'm good, Eadric."
"Course you are." He turns back to his cart, then pauses. "My daughter wants to know if you'll teach her swordwork."
"After I clear the mine, we'll talk."
His relief's visible. "Appreciated."
The kids find me at the fountain. Seven of them today, wooden swords and pot-lid shields, playing at heroes.
"Aldric! Aldric!" Little Sara, gap-toothed and fierce. "You gonna fight monsters?"
"Just goblins."
"Goblins ARE monsters!" This from Tom, who's decided he's my second-in-command. "My da says they eat babies!"
"Your da's trying to scare you into bed on time."
"Are not!"
"Are too!"
I let them squabble, but I'm watching the shadows. Watching how the morning light falls. Calculating angles, distances. These kids don't know how close the darkness really is. Don't know what waits past their walls.
Good. Let them play at heroes a little longer.
"Aldric's gonna win," Sara declares. "He always wins. That's why he's The Great!"
"Nobody always wins," I tell her, serious now. "But I always try."
"That's the same thing!"
If only.
(simple_option:"01 mayor","Speak with the mayor.")(set:$se_to_stop to "elara orgasm")(display:"stop sound effect")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/neutral/1.png")(set:$se_to_stop to "intro music")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(set:$se_to_stop to "ironrock theme")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(pic:"ch01/eboncrest.jpg","right","Eboncrest rises where the Pitchwater meets pine.")($play:"ambience","village morning")($lorebook_entry:"Mayor Bramble","people") finds me at the west gate, already sweating through his doublet. But the man keeps Eboncrest running smooth as dwarf-forged steel, and that counts for something.
"Aldric." He's breathing hard from the walk. Probably came straight from his morning ledgers. "Thank the Ephemerals you're here."
"Mayor." I adjust Whisperwind's weight at my side. The guards at the gate give us space, but they're listening.
"The situation at Ironrock—" He mops his forehead with a silk kerchief that costs more than most miners see in a month. "We've had to halt all operations. That's three days of ore we're not pulling. The smelters are sitting idle. The whole supply chain to the capital..."
($hidden_gem:"A cart rumbles past, loaded with turnips from the valley farms.","A creaking cart crawls past, crammed with cold, coarse turnips from the river-valley rows.") The driver, old Henrik's boy, tips his cap to me. I nod back. Kid lost two fingers to a wyvern last harvest—still drives better than his father.
"How many men did you lose?" I ask.
"None dead, Flux be praised. But seven injured in the retreat. They say the goblins have built *something* down there. Barricades. Maybe worse." His jowls quiver with each word. "The miners, they're talking about... structures. Old stonework they broke through last week."
That gets my attention. "Stonework?"
"Ancient things. Carvings. The kind that make men nervous." He drops his voice. "The kind the scholars in Thuulk pay gold for."
A kid kicks a leather ball past us, chasing chickens.
"The goblins found it first?"
"Seems so. Moved right in once our boys broke through." Bramble pulls a scroll from his vest. "The mine foreman drew this. What they could see before they ran."
I study the rough sketch. Pillars. Arched doorways too tall for dwarves, too ornate for early human work. My jaw tightens.
"I'll clear them out," I tell him. "Send the miners back tomorrow morning with a double guard shift."
"Tomorrow? Aldric, there could be dozens—"
"There aren't." I hand back the scroll. "Dozen, maybe fifteen at most. Goblins don't do logistics. They find a hole, they squat in it until someone makes them leave."
(pic:"ch01/bramble.jpg","Bramble's built like a baker's mistake—too much dough, not enough time in the oven.")
Mrs. Fletcher waddles up, her arms full of fresh bread. "Morning, Mayor. Aldric." She pushes a warm loaf into my hands. "For the road. Can't have our hero fighting on an empty stomach."
"Already ate, Mrs. Fletcher. My wife—"
"That lovely Elara made you breakfast, did she?" Her eyes twinkle. "Good. Girl knows how to keep a man's strength up. When are you two giving us some little warriors to run around town?"
The mayor coughs. "Mrs. Fletcher, perhaps—"
"We're working on it," I say, which makes her cackle and waddle off.
Bramble watches her go, then turns back to me. "The iron shipments to the capital are already two days behind. The guild representatives are breathing down my neck. If this isn't resolved—"
"It will be."
"You're certain you don't need support? Captain Giles has volunteers—"
"Giles is a good man and a good fighter." I check my pouches—sulfur, salt, the usual implements. "Goblins in a mine need fire and wind to keep things clean. It will be close quarters. Can't have a bunch of guards getting in each other's way."
He nods, but his face says he's calculating lost revenue by the hour. "The structures they found—you'll send word about what's down there?"
"After I burn out the goblins."
"Of course. Of course." He's already backing away, eager to return to his numbers and ledgers. "The town's counting on you, Aldric. As always."
"As always."
He hurries off, probably to threaten the mining guild with penalties if they don't resume operations tomorrow. I head for the gate. The guards straighten as I pass.
"Send them to Sheol, Aldric," one mutters.
(simple_option:"01 leave for ironrock","Journey to Ironrock Mine.")(set:$se_to_stop to "intro music")(display:"stop sound effect fade")($play:"ambience","everbloom daytime ambience")(map: (a: 768, 1351),(a: 1050, 1473),(a: 1191, 1704),(a: 1230,2026),(a: 1010,2225),(a:340,2232))
The King's Road carries me west through morning mist. Pine needles crunch under my boots, that sharp green smell mixing with damp earth. The forest here grows thick—old growth that remembers when goblins were just bad dreams told to children.
Three miners trudge toward me, pulling a handcart loaded with personal effects. Not running. Not panicked. Just... leaving.
"Morning, Aldric." The lead miner, Henrik's cousin by his jaw, doesn't quite meet my eyes. "Figured we'd see you coming."
"How many?" I ask.
"Can't say for certain." He spits tobacco juice into the ferns. "Enough. They came up through the new shaft we broke last week. The one with the old stonework."
"Anyone hurt?"
"Not our team. Bruises. Pride, mostly. We locked the upper galleries and got out clean." He shifts the cart handles. "They're... settling in. Like they plan to stay."
I nod. "Mine'll be clear by sunset. Tell Bramble to send the next shift at dawn."
They continue west. I continue east. The forest knows what's coming—birds gone quiet, even the insects holding their breath.
($hidden_gem:"The cart path south is rougher, meant for ore wagons, not heroes.","The cart path south is rougher, rutted and raw, really meant for mineral movers, not mounted mercenaries.")
Fresh wheel ruts cut deep in mud. Someone left in a hurry—probably with a full load, too.
Then I smell it.
Goblin stench hits like a physical thing. Not just unwashed bodies—though that's there, sour and thick—but something else. The smell of things that rut in darkness and eat their own dead. My gorge rises. I breathe through my mouth, but that's worse. Now I can taste it.
(pic:"ch01/mine.jpg")
The path opens into the mine's staging area. Abandoned equipment everywhere—pickaxes dropped mid-swing, lunch pails still steaming, a card game interrupted, copper coins scattered across a crate. They didn't run. They just... left. Orderly. Like they knew exactly what not to fight.
Dark stains on the ground near the entrance. Not blood—something else. Goblin marking fluid. They're claiming territory. My jaw clenches thinking of what that means. In the frontier villages, girls disappear. Not killed—worse. Kept. Bred. Some get rescued weeks later, hollow-eyed and babbling. Some get found years later with broods of green-skinned spawn, too far gone to even remember their own names.
Not here. Not in my territory.
The entrance yawns before me. Fresh goblin tracks in the mud—clawed feet, some dragging weapons, one set dragging something heavier.
My hand finds Whisperwind's grip. The blade hums, eager. Good. Because behind that stench, beneath the musk and territorial pissing, there's something else.
Stone dust. Ancient stone dust. Whatever the miners broke through last week, the goblins found it first.
They'll have numbers, knowledge of the tunnels, maybe crude traps. They'll fight dirty—groin strikes, eye gouging, tried to hamstring. They always do.
I crack my neck. Flex my fingers. The familiar pre-battle calm settles over me like old armor. Heartbeat slows. Breathing deepens.
Time to remind them why goblins used to hide from men.
(simple_option:"01 mine","Draw your sword.","Prepare your magic.")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/combat/1.png")($play:"song","ironrock theme")($play:"ambience","goblin cave")(if:$choice is "Draw your sword.")[(pic:"ch01/enter cave.jpg","right")The darkness swallows me whole.
Mine air hits different than forest air—thick, wet, carries weight. My eyes adjust slow. The entrance tunnel slopes down, support beams every ten feet. Some are cracked. Some are missing. The floor's uneven where cart tracks cut grooves decades deep.
Whisperwind slides from her sheath. The faint scrape of steel on leather sounds loud as thunder down here. I keep the blade low, ready for the upward cut that opens goblin throats.(playwhenread:"draw sword")
Right hand on the wall. Always keep contact in the dark. The stone sweats—groundwater seeping through limestone. My fingers trace tool marks, then something else. Scratches. Fresh. Goblin claws marking territory like dogs pissing on posts.
I test each plank before trusting my weight. Second rule of mine fighting: the ground lies. Goblins love pit traps, love watching men fall onto stakes smeared with their shit. The wood groans but holds.
Deeper now. The stench thickens—unwashed bodies, rotting meat, and underneath it all, that sweet-sick musk. My stomach clenches.
There—a broken helmet in the muck. Not dropped. Crushed. Tooth marks punch through the iron like it's parchment. Whatever bit through this wasn't satisfied with just killing.
The tunnel branches ahead. I can hear them now—that chittering speech that sounds like someone choking on their own tongue. At least three voices. Maybe five. They're not trying to hide. Why would they? This is their domain now.
I drop to one knee, scoop a handful of pebbles. Whisper the word that wakes wind.
<span class='wind'>"Ventusfury."</span>(playwhenread:"wind magic")
Just a breath of magic, enough to carry the pebbles' rattle down the left passage. The chittering stops.
Good.
(pic:"ch01/goblin scratch.jpg","left")The main passage opens into a wider chamber ahead. I can make out their shapes—three goblins arranged in a loose picket line. The other two have rusty mining picks, probably pulled from dead men's hands. They're focused on the side passage where my pebbles landed.
Time to work.
($hidden_gem:"My heartbeat slows to fighting rhythm—that cold, steady pulse that comes before violence.","My heartbeat hammers into heroic harmony—that cold, calculated cadence that comes before carnage.")
(simple_option:"01 combat","Take them quietly, one by one.","Feint rush.","Misdirection - Split them up, divide and conquer.")](else-if:$choice is "Prepare your magic.")[Magic. In these situations, it's not power that matters—it's application. A wizard might level this whole hillside, sure. Might also bring down a thousand tons of rock on everyone's heads. Me? I use magic like a soldier uses a blade: precisely, repeatedly, without waste.
The hedge wizard who taught me—Gannis, dying of gut-rot in a ditch outside Westmarch—he grabbed my wrist when I gave him water. "Not... charity," he'd gasped through blood-foam. "Payment."
Three days I sat with him while he died. Three days he poured the Telenil battle-tongue into my skull. Not their high magic, their poetry of stars and seasons. No—the war words. The cuts and thrusts of combat casting.
"Shape... matters more than... than power," Gannis had wheezed, his fingers forcing mine into the proper forms. "The Telenil know... thousand years of... of killing with grace."
<span class='wind'>Ventusfury.</span> Wind-fury. But really: wind-as-weapon, wind-as-scout, wind-as-voice.
<span class='ice'>Glacieshold.</span> Ice-grip. But deeper: the moment water chooses sides, becomes wall or trap or death.
<span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span> Fire-surge. But truly: controlled devastation, the difference between light and cremation.(playwhenread:"fire spell")
The words themselves are just triggers. It's the hand-shapes, the breath-timing, the intent crystallized through gesture. Any fool can say "Ignisurge." Takes discipline to make fire obey.
(pic:"ch01/magic.jpg","Ventusfury in its smallest form, a mouse's breath of wind.")
I pause at the first support beam. Thumb and forefinger snap—barely a sound. It tells me everything: air flows toward me along the floor (they've got fire deeper in), away from me at head height (gas pocket forming). Sweet-rot smell like overripe pears—firedamp. One spark up there and we all cook.
My left hand forms the ice-ready position: three fingers curved like holding a river stone. The mine's moisture beads on my palm, ready to become whatever I need. Two frozen coins already pressed to my belt—door seals if needed. The cold helps me think.
Ahead, water drips. But the rhythm's wrong. Too regular.
Drip. Drip. Drip-drip.
Another micro-pulse of wind, directed left into a side passage. It comes back tasting of leather and goblin piss. They're there, waiting.
I roll my shoulders, feel Whisperwind's weight shift. The blade's quiet—it knows this is spell-work first. My right hand practices the Ignisurge forms: thumb-spark for precision, two-finger lance for cutting. Gannis made me drill these until my fingers bled, to distract himself from his own pain.
"The Telenil," he'd said on his last day, "they see magic as... as conversation. You're not commanding—you're... convincing. Fire wants to burn. Ice wants to still. Wind wants to move. You just... suggest directions."
The tunnel splits ahead. Both passages dark, but the darkness has different qualities. Left is thick—bodies and barriers. Right is thin—open space but angled wrong.
I palm one ice coin. The moisture in the air crystallizes along my knuckles, eager. Ready.
Something shifts in the left passage. Metal on leather.
My boot finds an odd dry patch in the tunnel floor. Too dry. Everything else is seeping moisture, but this one square yard is bone-dry.
I sidestep, pressing against the wet wall. Another wind-pulse, this one carrying a pebble's sound to that dry spot.
*Thwick.* A sling stone cracks where I should have been standing. Behind a slotted screen twenty feet ahead, someone curses in goblin—sounds like "Grashk."
Time to work.
The rime spreads from my palm across the tunnel floor—invisible in the dark, thin as paper, cold enough to seize. If they rush, they'll hit it like a wall. My left hand maintains that while my right forms the spark position.
Gannis's last words bubble up from memory: "Magic isn't... isn't strength. It's knowing. Know what burns. What freezes. What moves. Then... then you just... help it along."
No risk at hand-height. The gas floats. I let it fly.
The slat screen explodes in light. A goblin squeals—night vision murdered. I taste copper and smoke, but controlled. Surgical. Something deeper in the mine drums once.
They know I'm here. They know I'm hunting.
Good.
(simple_option:"01 combat","Freeze them into a choke point.","Carve through with fire.")](set:$name to "Aldric")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/combat/2.png")($play:"song","ironrock theme")($play:"ambience","cavern evil")The passage opens into what can only be a temple.
The ceiling vanishes into darkness. Carved figures cover every surface—not worshippers, but things being worshipped. Many-eyed things. Things with too many mouths. The same nightmare geometry from the pillars, but more deliberate here. More focused.
An altar dominates the far end, black stone stained darker with what might be ancient blood. The goblin scrambles over it, knocking aside pottery shards and rusted implements.
(pic:"ch01/snib holding collar.jpg","right")Behind the altar, partially buried in rubble: a metal chest. The lock's already broken, lid hanging open.
<span class='fire'>"Ignisurge!"</span>(playwhenread:"ignisurge")
My fireball explodes against the altar. Stone chips fly. The goblin yelps, dives behind the chest.
I advance, Whisperwind ready. He's trapped now. Nowhere left to run.
That's when I see what he's holding.
It's a collar—iron, but wrong somehow. The metal seems to drink light rather than reflect it. Symbols writhe across its surface, similar to the wall carvings but smaller, more concentrated. Just looking at it makes my teeth ache.
The goblin holds it like a shield, eyes wide with terror. His cock has finally shrunk back, fear overwhelming even goblin biology.
"Drop it," I command.
He throws it at me.
Not a weapon-throw. A panic-throw. Awkward and wild. I sidestep easily, but—
(pic:"ch01/collar.jpg")
The collar hits Whisperwind.
The impact shouldn't matter. It's just metal on metal. But the sword screams—actually screams, a sound I've never heard her make. The blade jerks in my hand like a living thing trying to escape.
The collar bounces off, lands on the stone between us. We both stare at it.
The goblin moves first, scrambling to grab it again. I lunge forward, boot coming down where his hand would be. He jerks back. I swing Whisperwind in a killing arc—
The collar springs open.
No one touched it. It just... opens. Like a mouth. Like it's hungry.
Dark energy pulses from it, visible as smoke, as shadow, as something between. The goblin shrieks, tries to run. The energy ignores him, surges toward me.
I bring Whisperwind up to block. The energy parts around the blade but doesn't stop. It circles, surrounds, tightens.
The collar flies at my throat.
I get my hand up, catch it inches from my neck. The metal burns cold, so cold it feels hot. My fingers go numb instantly. The symbols on its surface move, crawling like insects, spelling out words in languages that shouldn't exist.
The goblin's backing away, terrified.
The collar pulls harder. My arm shakes with the effort of holding it back. Whisperwind falls from my other hand—I need both hands now, fighting this thing that wants my throat.(playwhenread:"collar click")
<span class='fire'>"Ignisurge!"</span>
Fire washes over the collar. It doesn't even warm.
<span class='ice'>"Glacieshold!"</span>
Ice encases it. The collar shatters the ice from within.
My knees buckle. The collar's winning. Inch by inch, it moves toward my throat. The symbols glow now, purple-black like bruises, like the space between stars.
The goblin's almost at the door. He looks back once, sees me losing, and does something unexpected.
He laughs.
Not cruel. Not victorious. Nervous. Like he can't believe what's happening either.
($hidden_gem:"The collar touches my throat.","The collar clamps, closes, claims my throat with cruel, cold certainty.")
(pic:"ch01/collared.jpg")
Ice races through my veins. Not Glacieshold ice—something older, meaner. My vision fractures. I see the temple as it was—filled with worshippers in black robes, the altar wet with sacrifice, something vast and terrible accepting their offerings.
Then darkness. Complete and total.
The last thing I hear is the goblin's feet slapping on stone as he runs.
The last thing I think is: Elara, I'm sorry.
(simple_option:"02 Wake up","Everything goes black...")(set:$map_position to (a: 348, 2232))(set:$title_image to "slave")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/unknown.png")(set:$next to "02 Wake up")(masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","nightmare")(live:2.5s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","stinger")]($chapter_title:2,"The Collar")(set:$gender to "female")(set:$name to "???")The dream tears at me like wolves.
Elara's in our bed, but something's wrong—her belly swells with child, but when she turns to me, her eyes are yellow. Goblin yellow. She opens her mouth to speak and that chittering language spills out, wet and wrong. I try to scream but my voice comes out in the same foul tongue—
(vid:"img/ch02/nightmare.mp4")(display:"divider")
Cold stone slaps me awake.
My skull throbs. Each heartbeat hammers against bone like a smith working iron. The taste of copper coats my throat. Where... the mine. The ruins. That green bastard with the collar—
I try to sit up.
Something's wrong with my chest.
There's weight there—soft, heavy, pulling at my ribs like two overfull waterskins strapped to my torso. When I shift, they shift late, dragging across the stone with a sensation that sends ice through my blood. My hand moves to my chest to check for wounds, for whatever's been done to me, and I touch—
Flesh. Soft flesh barely contained by cold metal scales.
My breathing quickens. With each gasp, the weights rise and fall, rise and fall. The metal bites into skin that shouldn't be this tender, cutting crescents into meat that shouldn't exist. I can feel air on my stomach, my sides, places that should be covered by mail and leather.
I force myself upright. The weights on my chest swing forward, then bounce back with a sickening elasticity that makes my gorge rise. My center of balance is gone—I'm top-heavy, tilting forward. My hands shoot out to steady myself and I see them in the faint bioluminescent glow from the cave moss.
Small hands. Slender fingers. No calluses from swordwork.
Not my hands.
(pic:"ch02/initial shock.jpg","No. No no no.")
Hair falls across my vision—long, black, silk-soft. I shake my head to clear it and feel the cascade of it down my back, past my shoulders. My shoulders that are too narrow, attached to arms too thin, leading to—
I look down.
Two massive mounds of flesh strain against triangular metal plates no bigger than my palm—Aldric's palm. The plates are connected by thin chains that dig into the soft meat, leaving red marks. Below them, my stomach is bare, pale, soft. No scars. No muscle. Just smooth skin leading down to where a metal strap barely wider than my thumb crosses my hips, diving between—
($hidden_gem:"My legs slam together but there's nothing there to protect.","My legs lurch and lock together but literally nothing's there to guard.")
The space between my thighs is empty. Soft. A absence where there should be—where there WAS—
My hands fly to my throat. Cold iron. A collar, thick as two fingers, tight enough that swallowing hurts. The metal seems to pulse with malevolent life, whispering things I can't quite hear.
This isn't my body. This can't be my body.
But when I breathe, it breathes. When I move, it moves. The cold air raises gooseflesh on too much exposed skin. Every sensation is mine—the bite of metal on tender flesh, the weight pulling at my chest, the horrifying emptiness between my legs.
My voice catches in my throat. When I swallow, the collar constricts.
(simple_option:"02 finding out","Try to stand up.")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/angry/1.png")(playwhenread:"snib laugh")(pic:"ch02/snib.jpg","right","What a HORRIBLE little creature.")($play:"ambience","goblin cave music")(if:(choice:"02 finding out","Examine your chest."))[The laughter rolls out of the shadows like pus from a wound.
Not the terrified chittering I heard when I was cutting down his kin. This is different. Wet. Amused. The goblin steps into the bioluminescent glow, and my stomach drops.
He's not running. Not cowering. He's... appraising.
Those yellow eyes that should be wide with terror are narrow, calculating, traveling up my body with the slow deliberation of a merchant evaluating livestock. Starting at the metal heel-spikes that have me wobbling like a newborn colt, sliding up my bare thighs, lingering on—
"Heh."
Just that. One sound. But the way his gaze locks onto my chest, the way his head tilts like he's trying to understand what he's seeing—
($hidden_gem:"My hands fly up to cover myself, but there's too much flesh, spilling around my fingers.","My hands hurry up to hide myself, but the huge heaving flesh flows freely around my failing fingers.")
"Big," he says, voice rougher than I remember. Lower. He takes a step closer, and I take one back. The metal heels shriek against stone. My balance fails. The weights on my chest swing violently, and his eyes track the movement like a cat watching a bird.
Another step. He's barely taller than my waist in these torture-boots, but the way he's looking at me—
"Bigger than me mum's." His tongue, black and too long, runs across his lips. "Bigger than any cow's."
*Cow.*
The word hits like a slap.
(playwhenread:"cowtits")"Cow-tits." He grins, showing teeth like broken glass. "That's what ye are now. Look at 'em bounce."
My face burns. Actual heat, spreading down my neck to my chest. Shame. This is shame. I've never felt it before, not like this, not from being *looked at* like I'm—
"Get AWAY from me!" The scream tears from my throat, high and desperate. "I'll burn you to ASH! I'll—"
But he's not backing away. He's circling now, that disgusting chuckle bubbling up from his throat. His loincloth tents obscenely as he moves, something massive shifting beneath the ratty fabric.
"Burn me?" Another laugh. "With them tits floppin' about? Can ye even see past 'em?"
Rage. White-hot, pure rage floods my veins. How DARE this creature, this THING that I've killed hundreds of, speak to me like—
"I am ALDRIC THE GREAT!" I roar, but it comes out as a woman's shriek. "I've slaughtered your kind by the score! I'll turn you to cinders!"
"All I see is cow-tits with a pretty hole," he says simply, eyes dropping to the gap between my thighs where the metal strap barely covers anything.
The humiliation burns hotter than any fire I've ever conjured. My skin feels like it's being flayed by his gaze alone. Every inch he looks at becomes hyperaware—the soft flesh of my belly, the curve of my hips, the way my thighs press together.
This is what it's like to be meat.
"Gonna be fun," he mutters, adjusting the massive bulge in his loincloth. "Real fun."
No. NO. I'm still a battlemage. I still have power. I'll show this revolting little beast what happens when you corner Aldric—when you corner ANY mage.
My hands rise, fingers already forming the gestures.](else-if:(choice:"02 finding out","Touch your face."))[The laughter starts low—a wet, phlegmy sound like someone drowning in their own spit.
A shadow moves in the green phosphorescence. The goblin. That same stunted piece of shit I was chasing, but... different. He's not scrambling away. Not cowering. He's standing there, three and a half feet of warty green flesh, studying me like a butcher evaluating meat.
His yellow eyes track down from my face—slow, deliberate. They linger on my chest where these obscene weights strain against their metal triangles. Then lower. Then back up. The fear that was in those eyes when I was Aldric? Gone. Replaced by something that makes my skin crawl.
I try to stand taller, to summon some authority despite wobbling on these torture-spikes. "Stay back, you diseased little—"
My voice. Flux's balls, my VOICE. High and clear like temple bells. The goblin's lips peel back, revealing teeth like cemetery stones.
He takes a step closer. Just one. His head tilts, studying. I can smell him from here—onions left to rot in piss. But it's the way he's LOOKING at me that makes bile rise in my throat. Not like prey looks at a predator. Not even like an enemy.
Like a man looks at a whore.
($hidden_gem:"No one's ever looked at me like this. Like I'm meat. Like I'm something to be used.","Nobody's ever eyed me like this. Like I'm edible. Like I'm an entree to be enjoyed.")
"Get BACK!" I snarl, trying to make my musical voice threatening. My hand goes to where Whisperwind should be, finds only soft hip. The goblin sees the gesture. His grin widens.
He scuttles sideways—that roach-quick movement that makes my stomach turn. Circling. Making me pivot on these metal stakes, my balance shit, my tits swaying with each adjustment. He's watching them move. His breathing gets heavier.
"Stop... stop looking at me like that." The words come out pleading instead of commanding.
Another step closer. I can see the boils on his neck, weeping yellow pus. His loincloth is stained and rotting, and beneath it, something massive shifts. Something that shouldn't exist on a creature that size.
He still hasn't spoken. Just that wheeze-breathing through his mouth, a line of drool connecting his lower lip to his chin. His eyes never leave my chest as I stumble back, metal scraping stone.
"I said GET BACK!" My voice cracks. Actually cracks like I'm some terrified maiden. Which I'm not. I'm NOT.
That's when he speaks.
"Bigger than me mum's." His tongue, black and too long, runs across his lips. "Bigger than any cow's."
The word hits like a slap.
"Cow-tits." He grins, showing teeth like broken glass. "That's what ye are now. Look at 'em bounce."
Something inside me breaks. Not shatters—EXPLODES.
"You THRACKING—"
The rage is volcanic. So many of his kind I've exterminated. And this diseased little cum-stain is looking at my—at these things on my chest like he's shopping for melons at market. This thing that should be DEAD, that should be AFRAID, is calling me—
"I'LL BURN YOU TO ASH!" The scream tears from my throat. "I'll turn you into CHAR! I'll—"
He laughs. Actually LAUGHS. A wet, choking sound like he's gargling phlegm.
"Go on then, cow-tits. Show us what ye got."
My hands are already moving, the words of power rising in my throat. This little green shit doesn't know who he's fucking with. Collar or no collar, body or no body, I'm still Aldric the Great. I still have the gift. I'll cook him from the inside out, make him SCREAM, make him BEG—
The incantation builds on my tongue, sweet as wine, hot as forge-fire. I can feel it gathering in my chest—no, BETWEEN these awful weights, but gathering nonetheless. One word. One gesture. And this goblin becomes a memory and a smell.](else:)[The laughter comes from behind a fallen pillar—wet, chittering, like rats drowning in oil.
He emerges slowly. Not charging, not fleeing. Just... watching.
The same goblin from before, but everything's different now. His yellow eyes aren't looking at me like I'm Aldric the Great, slayer of his kind. They're looking at me like I'm...
Like I'm *meat*.
($hidden_gem:"My stance widens instinctively, but the metal heel-spikes scrape and slip on ancient stone.","My stance stretches and strains, but the steel spike-shoes scrape and skitter on sacred stone.")
He's three and a half feet of green spite, pot-bellied and bow-legged, but he's not cowering. Not anymore. His gaze travels down from my face—slow, deliberate, savoring—and stops at chest level. A strand of drool actually forms at the corner of his mouth.
"Heh." Just that. One sound. Like he's discovered something amusing.
I try to assume a combat stance. The boots make it impossible—I'm pitched forward on these torture-spikes, calves screaming, my back arched in a way that thrusts my chest forward. The weights there bounce with even the smallest movement. When I shift my feet, trying to find balance, they swing left, then right, the metal triangles biting deeper into tender flesh.
His eyes track the movement like a cat watching a bird.
"Big."
"Get—" My voice cracks. That feminine sound again. I clear my throat, try to make it commanding. "Get back, you diseased little—"
"Bigger than me mum's." His tongue, black and too long, runs across his lips. "Bigger than any cow's."(playwhenread:"cowtits")
The word hits like a slap.
"Cow-tits." He grins, showing teeth like broken glass. "That's what ye are now. Look at 'em bounce."
The rage that floods me is volcanic. No one—NO ONE—has ever looked at me like this. Like I'm something to be leered at. To be *enjoyed*. My skin crawls with a sensation I've never felt before—being undressed by someone's eyes, evaluated like livestock at market. The space between my legs—that horrifying absence—suddenly feels more exposed than if I were naked. Like he can smell the vulnerability on me.
He takes a step closer. Just one. His head barely reaches my waist but somehow he seems larger. The way he's looking up at me, tongue playing at the corner of his mouth, makes my stomach turn.
"Soft little thing now, ain't ye?" Another step. His breathing is audible—wet, excited. "All them muscles gone. Just... *jiggle*."
I try to back away but the heels betray me. My ankle rolls. I have to grab the wall to steady myself, and the motion sets everything swaying—tits, ass, all of it. His yellow eyes go wide with delight.
"Pretty little bitch," he whispers, and the word—*bitch*—lands like a physical blow. "That's what the magic made ye. From hero to *bitch*."
My hands are shaking. Not from fear—from pure, molten rage. I've been called many things. Murderer. Villain. Monster, by his kind. But never... never this. Never reduced to body parts and holes. Never looked at like something to be *used*.
The metal between my legs feels cold. Vulnerable. I'm sickeningly aware that there's nothing protecting me there. Just soft flesh where there should be—where there WAS—
"Stop looking at me." The words come out pleading when I meant them as a command.
He laughs again, that wet chittering. Takes another step. He's ten feet away now, close enough that I can smell him—onions and piss and something else, something thick and musky that makes my nostrils flare.
"Can't kill me now, can ye?" He's almost dancing, his excitement palpable. "Not with them little hands. Not wobbling on them pretty stabby shoes. Just a pair of cow-tits on legs, waiting to be—"
That's when I remember.
Magic.
I still have my magic.
The words of power surge through me like wine, like fire, like vengeance. My hands begin to glow with inner flame. The cave fills with the smell of ozone and fury.
"You want to see what these 'little hands' can do?" My voice drops to a snarl.]
(pic:"ch02/determination.jpg")
(simple_option:"02 magic attempt","Cast Ignisurge!","Cast Glacieshold!","Cast Ventusfury!")<div class='tw-story-title'>Elise</div>
(pic:"status/elise.jpg")**Name:** Elise (the collar chose this)
**Was:** Aldric the Great - Hero of Eboncrest
**Is:** Snib's property
**Age:** Body appears mid-twenties
**Height:** 5'3" (was 6'2")
**Build:** Obscene hourglass - big tits, wasp waist, breeding hips
<span class='meter-container-half'>(color:"white")[(meter: bind $heroism, 100, "X", "Heroism: $heroism/100", (gradient: 90, 0, red, 1, orange))]</span>
<span class='meter-container-half'>(color: "#4a2424")[(meter: bind $gold, 10000, "X", "Gold earned: $gold/10000", (gradient: 90, 0, yellow, 1, yellow))]</span>
**The Transformation:**
The ($lorebook_entry:"Collar","things") read Aldric like prophecy and rewrote him as tragedy. Where once stood 210 pounds of scarred muscle now sways pale flesh that bounces with every breath. Moss-green eyes remain—the only proof of who she was—now wide with constant horror at what she's become.
**Current Reality:**
- **Hair:** Black silk to her waist, always in her vision
- **Skin:** Soft as nobility, sensitive as a fresh wound
- **Scent:** Night-jasmine and rosewater over warm honey—designed to make goblin cocks drool
- **Voice:** Musical, feminine, *wrong*
**What She Wears:**
Her new "($lorebook_entry:"Armor","things")" mocks her past glory—black scale triangles that barely cap her tits, a metal thong that splits her ass like cheese wire, spike-heeled boots that force her to mince. Every piece jingles with each degrading step, announcing "fucktoy approaching."
**What She Can't Do:**
- Stand without wobbling on spike heels
- Sit without tits spilling everywhere
- Walk without ass bouncing
- Breathe without the collar reminding her she's owned
- Cast magic without begging Snib's permission
- Fight without the collar crushing her throat
**What She Feels:**
Every sensation amplified—cold metal biting nipples, thong sawing between pussy lips, the weight of tits pulling her forward, the emptiness between her legs where her cock should be. Her body responds to Snib's presence with wetness she can't control, nipples that harden at his voice, a womb that clenches when he mentions breeding.
**The Cruelest Truth:**
She remembers everything. Every dragon slain, every village saved, every night inside Elara. The collar ensures she keeps Aldric's mind—heroic, tactical, desperate—trapped in flesh designed specifically to be destroyed by the smallest, weakest, most pathetic creature that could claim her.(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/shocked/1.png")(if:$choice is "Dive for your sword!")[The Harrow Guard Ninth Position—a diving roll that becomes a rising thrust, catching the enemy through the soft palate as they pursue. I've done it a hundred times. Muscle memory older than half the men I've trained.
Twenty feet. Whisperwind gleams against ancient stone like salvation itself.
I launch forward.
Except.
These aren't my muscles. The legs that should coil and spring like siege engines are soft, weak. The center of gravity that should be in my chest is—FLUX'S BALLS—it's in these obscene sacks of flesh hanging from my ribs. They swing forward with my momentum like twin grain sacks, pulling me off balance before I've taken a single step.
The metal heel-spikes shriek against stone. My ankle rolls. The weights on my chest swing violently left and I try to compensate but they're already swinging back right and—
I go down like a pole-axed cow.(playwhenread:"fall")
(pic:"ch02/fall forward.jpg")
My knees hit first—a crack that sends lightning up my thighs. Then my palms slap stone, and the momentum carries those massive flesh-bags forward with a sound like wet meat hitting a butcher's block. They CLAP together between my arms, compressed and bulging sideways, the metal triangles biting so deep I see stars.(playwhenread:"plap 1")
($hidden_gem:"My ass is in the air, presented like a feast day ham.","My ass aims airward, arranged like an appetizing anniversary ham.")
"HAAAAAHAHAHA!" (playwhenread:"haha 1")
The goblin's laughter could strip paint. But worse than the laughter is the sound of his bare feet slapping stone as he scuttles up behind me.
I try to scramble forward, to crawl if I have to, but these thracking tits are pinned between my arms and the floor, dragging like anchors. My palms slip on ancient dust. The metal barely covering my ass rides up between the cheeks like a cheese wire.
That's when his hand connects.
(pic:"ch02/ugh.jpg","left")*CRACK!*(playwhenread:"spank 1")
The sound echoes through the cavern like a whip-crack. Pain blooms across my right ass cheek—not the deep pain of a wound but something worse. Something... humiliating. The flesh jiggles from the impact, a ripple of movement I can FEEL, like disturbed water.
"Look at that wobble!" He spanks me again, harder. *CRACK!* "Like hittin' a sack of pudding!"(playwhenread:"spank haha")
I try to roll sideways but he plants his foot on my lower back, pinning me. I'm trapped on all fours like a dog, these horrible udders swaying beneath me, ass presented to this diseased creature who—
*CRACK!* Left cheek this time.
"This what heroes are made of now?" *CRACK!* "All this soft meat?" *CRACK!*
The words cut deeper than the pain. For some reason, I think of Elara. This morning I had her bent over our bed, my hand on her beautiful ass as we tried for a child, and now—
*CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!*
He's found a rhythm, alternating cheeks. The flesh bounces and jiggles with each impact, a motion I can't control, can't stop. Tears stream down my face—not from pain but from pure, distilled humiliation.
(playwhenread:"snib introduction")"Name's Snib, by the way." *CRACK!* "Figured ye should know who owns ye." *CRACK!* "Who's turnin' the great hero into a mewling cow."
"I'll—" *CRACK!* "—kill—" *CRACK!* "—you—" *CRACK!*(playwhenread:"spank ill kill you")
Each word is followed by his palm on my ass, the sound wet now from sweat. My own sweat. These cheeks are so massive they're actually sweating from being spanked, the moisture making each impact sound like wet meat being tenderized.
"With what?" He stops spanking just to SQUEEZE, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh like dough. "These little hands? These floppy udders? This fat ass I'm playing like a drum?"
I sob. Actually sob. The sound that comes out is high, broken, nothing like Aldric's voice. It's a woman's defeat leaking from a woman's throat.
"Please just—" The words tear out before I can stop them. "Just fucking DIE! PLEASE! Just die and let this END!"
"Aww," Snib coos, his hand rubbing circles on my burning ass cheek like he's soothing a child. "The big hero's beggin' now. Music to me ears."
Something in me snaps. Not breaks—SNAPS back like a drawn bowstring.
If I can just—if I can get my hands on him—](else-if:$choice is "Try to circle around to it.")["You know what you are?" I start circling left, keeping my voice steady despite the wobble in these torture-spikes. "You're nothing. Pest. Vermin that—"
The weights on my chest swing left. I have to correct right. The metal heels scrape stone.
"—that infests decent people's—"
Swing right. Correct left. My ass—Flux's balls, there's so much of it—shifts like saddlebags full of water.
"—decent people's lands."
Whisperwind is five steps behind him now. I just need to keep him focused on my face while I work my way around. The insults come easy—seventeen years of killing his kind provides material.
"Your mother fucked pigs to make something as ugly as—"
My ankle rolls. The metal spike slips on something wet—moss? Goblin piss? My arms windmill. The meat on my chest flies up toward my face, then crashes down. I stumble backward, trying to catch myself, but these legs don't move right, these hips are too wide, everything's wrong—
(pic:"ch02/fall again.jpg","Not AGAIN!")(playwhenread:"fall")
My ass hits stone like a sack of flour dropped from a height.
The impact sends everything jiggling—tits bouncing up and actually SLAPPING together with a meaty *CLAP*, ass spreading and compressing, thighs wobbling like custard. My teeth click together. My tailbone screams.
($hidden_gem:"Before I can even process the humiliation, his hands are on me.","Before I begin brooding on the burning humiliation, his horrible hands have hold of me.")
"Hehehehe—LOOK at 'em!"(playwhenread:"squish squish squish")
His fingers sink into my left tit like he's testing bread dough. Small, warty fingers that barely cover a quarter of the flesh, squeezing and lifting. The sensation—Eon's mercy, I can FEEL it. Not like being grabbed by the arm or shoulder. This is different. Soft flesh compressing between his fingers, nerve endings I didn't know existed firing all at once.
(pic:"ch02/grope tits.jpg")
"No no no NO—"
His other hand grabs the right one. Lifts it. Lets it drop. It falls like a water-filled pig's bladder, bouncing twice before settling.
"Like bags of pudding!" He's giggling—actually GIGGLING like a child with a new toy. "Lookitlookitlookit—"(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 2")
SLAP. His palm connects with the side of my right tit, sending it flying into the left one. They collide with another of those horrible meat-claps.
"Stop—fucking STOP—"
SLAP. The left one this time. The flesh ripples in waves.(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 1")
"Squish squish squish!" He's got both now, one in each hand, squeezing rhythmically like he's milking a cow.
The position is impossible—I'm on my ass, legs splayed to keep from falling backward, these metal triangles doing nothing to protect me from his groping. He pushes them together, making them bulge up toward my face. Pulls them apart. Pushes them together again.
"Heavier than me head!" He actually tries to lift one to test, the weight pulling at my chest. "How'd ye even walk with these?"
"Get your fucking hands—"
He pinches something. A peak that's gone hard in the cold air, visible through the metal triangle.
"I'm going to kill you." The words come out breathless. "I'm going to tear your—"
"With what?" He jiggles them again, watching them move with fascination. "These floppy things? Gonna tit-slap me to death?"
The rage is beyond anything I've ever felt. Not the clean rage of battle, but something deeper, more poisonous. The rage of being made into a joke. Of having parts of me that shouldn't exist being grabbed by hands that should be dead.
"Name's Snib, by the way." He grins up at me, still kneading like he's making bread. "Figured ye should know who owns these now."
*Owns.*
The word breaks something in me.](else:)[I've charged enemies a hundred times. Low shoulder, explosive forward drive, come up swinging in the Reaper's Arc after plowing through. Fighting techqniues are carved into my bones. This stunted little shit won't expect the speed, the violence of it. I'll go through him like he's made of parchment.
I drop my shoulder and drive forward.
The first step in these metal torture-spikes nearly ends it. My ankle rolls, the heel catching on nothing. But I compensate, muscle memory adjusting—except the muscle memory is for a body that weighed two hundred pounds of trained sinew, not... this.
The weights on my chest swing violently left with my momentum. The physics are all wrong—like carrying two sacks of grain that aren't tied down, that move on their own time. They pull me off-line. I correct right but they're still swinging left and now I'm stumbling, the metal boots scraping and catching, my thighs—these soft, doughy things—rubbing together, throwing off my gait.
Snib sidesteps.
Just sidesteps. Like avoiding a drunk.
($hidden_gem:"My shoulder hits empty air where goblin should be.","My shoulder strikes sweet, empty atmosphere where awful goblin should've been.")
My balance, already fucked, goes completely. The floor comes up fast. Instinct makes me throw my hands out, and I hit stone on all fours with a meaty SLAP that echoes through the ancient chamber.(playwhenread:"fall")
(pic:"ch02/fall forward.jpg")
The impact—Flux's balls, the IMPACT. These things hanging from my chest swing down and CLAP together like wet meat in a butcher's shop, the sound obscene in the cavern's silence. Pain shoots through them from the collision. They bounce back up, then down again, smaller claps following the first like thunder after lightning.
My ass—there's so much of it—is up in the air, the position forcing it high while my face is nearly on the stone. The metal triangle that's supposed to be armor has ridden up into the crack, leaving the cheeks completely exposed. Cold air on skin that shouldn't exist.
That's when his hand connects.
(pic:"ch02/ugh.jpg","left")*CRACK!*(playwhenread:"spank 1")
The sound is tremendous. My whole body lurches forward from the impact, these obscene meat-sacks under me swinging wild. The sting spreads across my right cheek like fire, but worse—so much worse—is the way the flesh JIGGLES. Ripples running through meat that should be hard muscle, wobbling like a kicked pudding.
"HAH!" His laugh is right behind me. Close. Too close. "Look at that arse dance!"
*CRACK!*
The left cheek this time. I try to drop flat, to deny him the target, but he grabs the metal strap between my cheeks and PULLS, keeping my ass elevated.
"Nah nah, keep it up there, cow-tits. Ye were chargin' so brave-like!"
*CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!*
Each impact sends waves through this soft flesh. I can FEEL it jiggling, can hear the meat slapping against itself. My face burns with shame hotter than the stinging in my ass. This morning I was inside Elara, powerful, dominant. Now I'm on all fours getting my ass beaten by something I should be able to step on.(playwhenread:"bet ya didnt have this much arse before")
"Big jiggly hero!" *CRACK!* "Look at them cheeks bounce!" *CRACK!* "Bet ye didn't have this much arse before!" *CRACK!*
Tears are streaming down my face. Not from pain—I've been stabbed, burned, had bones broken. This is nothing. It's the HUMILIATION. The complete inversion of everything I am. Warriors don't get spanked. Heroes don't get their asses played with by goblins. MEN don't—
His fingers suddenly DIG into the soft flesh, kneading it like dough.
"Soft as butter," he mutters, almost amazed.
I thrash, trying to shake him off, but the movement just makes everything worse. My tits swing and collide beneath me. My ass jiggles in his grip. The metal boots scrape uselessly on stone.
"LET GO!" I shriek. That feminine voice again, high and desperate.
"Name's Snib," he says conversationally, still groping, fingers sinking into flesh that yields like warm bread. "Figured ye should know who owns ye now."
"You don't own—"
*CRACK!*(playwhenread:"spank 2")
This one's harder. Hard enough that I collapse forward, my soft tits compressed against cold stone. He keeps his grip on my ass, keeping it elevated, on display.(playwhenread:"snib introduction")
"Oh, I owns ye alright. The collar says so. Says ye're mine to do whatever with." Another squeeze, his fingers finding the crease where thigh meets ass. "And look at all this ye got now. All this soft, jiggly meat where yer muscles used to be."
My mind is fracturing. This can't be happening. I'm Aldric the Great. I've slain dragons. I've saved kingdoms. I don't get spanked by goblins. I don't have an ass that jiggles. I don't have TITS that clap together when I fall.
But I do.
The evidence is overwhelming—the weight pulling at my chest, the sting across my cheeks, the soft flesh currently being kneaded by diseased green fingers.
"KILL YOU!" I scream into the stone. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"
"With what?" Another CRACK across my ass. "Them little hands? That high squeaky voice? Gonna bounce me to death with them tits?"(playwhenread:"spank 3")]
(simple_option:"02 final attack","Grab his ankle and pull him down!","Swing around and claw at his eyes!","Try to headbutt him in the crotch!"){
(if:$redos < 1)[
<div class='options'>**You don't have any redo points left...**</div>](else:)[(replace:?options)[(text-style:"fade-in-out")[<div class='options'>**Spending 1 redo point to unlock choices!**</div>($play:"sound","rewind")(set:$redos to it - 1)]]
(set:"choices" of ($pages's (indexofpage:$pages,$current_page)) to (a:"unlocked") + "choices" of ($pages's (indexofpage:$pages,$current_page)))
(live:2s)[(stop:)(rerun:?options)(redos:"update")]]
}(pic:"ch02/swing fist.jpg")
(if:$choice is "Grab his ankle and pull him down!")[The Seventh Legion teaches you to use whatever's at hand. Right now, what's at hand is rage and this soft, heavy body.
My fingers wrap around his scrawny ankle—thin as a child's wrist, all knobby bone and warty skin. One good YANK and he goes down hard, his head cracking against stone with a sound like a dropped melon.
"GAAAH!"
He's on his back, dazed. I'm on him before he can recover, using the only advantage I have—weight. These obscene sacks of flesh on my chest actually help for once, pinning his scrawny frame as I straddle him. My hands find his throat. It's like gripping a plucked chicken neck, all gristle and loose skin.
"Die." The word comes out as a hiss. "Die die DIE—"
My thumbs press into his windpipe. His yellow eyes bulge. His hands scrabble at my wrists but I've got leverage now, got position. The metal boots actually help, the heel-spikes digging into stone for purchase. I lean forward, putting everything into it—
($hidden_gem:"His face is turning beautiful colors—purple, then blue, then—","His face is flooding with fabulous, festive colors—purple, then periwinkle, then—")
The collar explodes into ice around my throat.
(pic:"ch02/collar.jpg","right","The collar explodes into ice around my throat.")Not tightens—EXPLODES. Like a noose made of frozen iron suddenly remembering its purpose. My hands fly to my neck, releasing him instantly as I try to claw at the metal. But there's no gap, no space, just cold iron pressing into soft flesh, cutting off blood, cutting off air—
I fall sideways, gasping. Black spots dance in my vision. My throat makes horrible clicking sounds as I try to breathe through a windpipe being crushed flat.
Snib coughs, rolls away, then starts laughing. Wet, wheezing laughter as he watches me writhe.
"Stupid cow!" He's on his feet now, rubbing his throat. "Thought ye could kill me? The collar won't let ye!"
The pressure eases just enough for me to gasp. Sweet air floods my lungs. But the collar stays tight, a warning, a promise.
"See, that's the thing." He plants his foot on my face, pressing my cheek into the stone. The humiliation of it—his dirty, warty foot on my face while I lie here gasping like a landed fish. "The collar says I own ye. Means ye can't hurt me. Try it and..." He makes a choking gesture.
"Look at me." His foot grinds against my cheek. "LOOK AT ME, CUNT!"](else-if:$choice is "Swing around and claw at his eyes!")[Fingernails. These soft hands might be useless for holding a sword, but fingernails are fingernails. And eyes are always vulnerable.
I swing around on my knees—the motion sends these fucking udders flying in an arc, but I use it, use the momentum. My hand comes up, fingers hooked into claws, aimed right at those yellow goblin eyes. Just need to hook them out, blind the little shit, then find a rock to cave his skull in—
My nails rake across his face. Three red lines appear from forehead to chin, just missing his left eye by a hair. Green blood wells up immediately.
"YAAAAH!"
He staggers back, hand to his face. I surge forward on my knees—can't risk standing in these metal spikes—and go for the second strike. Both hands this time, going for the throat, the eyes, anything soft—
($hidden_gem:"I'm on him like a wildcat, all fury and flailing flesh.","I'm on him like a lunatic lioness, all lashing and lurching, loosely-swinging lady-flesh.")
He goes down with me on top. My weight advantage finally useful—these tits and ass might be humiliating but they're HEAVY. I pin his arms with my knees, hands going for his throat, his eyes, switching between targets as he thrashes. Green blood under my nails. His squealing filling the cavern.
"DIE! Fucking DIE—"
One thumb finds his eye socket, starts to press—
The collar becomes a band of frozen hell around my throat.
(pic:"ch02/collar.jpg","right","The collar explodes into ice around my throat.")The constriction is instant, total. Not a gradual tightening but a SNAP from loose to crushing. My hands fly to my neck, abandoning their attack. Can't breathe. Can't even make sound. Just silent gasping as my windpipe compresses to nothing.
I topple sideways, these massive tits flopping as I hit stone. My legs kick uselessly, the metal boots clanging and scraping. Vision going gray at the edges. Mouth opening and closing like a fish drowning in air.
Snib scrambles away, then starts laughing through his bloody face.
"HAHA! Stupid bitch! Thought ye could claw me eyes out?" He wipes green blood from his cheek. "The collar won't let ye hurt me proper! It owns ye! I own ye!"
The pressure eases just enough to let a whistle of air through. I gasp, sob, cough all at once. Snot runs from my nose. Tears stream down my face.
"See how it works?" He kicks me in the stomach—not hard, just enough to make his point. "Ye can't kill me. Can't even hurt me bad. Try it and..." He makes a strangling gesture.
"Look at me." He grabs my hair, yanks my head back. "LOOK AT ME, CUNT! Want ye to see who owns ye now!"](else:)[The rage is beyond thought now. Pure animal fury. He's close, standing over me laughing. His loincloth is tented, that massive thing underneath bouncing with his mirth.
Target acquired.
I rear back and drive my head forward at his crotch with every ounce of strength left in this soft body. The crown of my skull aimed right at that obscene bulge. Even goblins have to feel THAT—
My forehead connects with something that feels like a leather-wrapped club. The impact reverberates through my skull, makes my teeth click. But more importantly—
"GRAAAAAAHHH!"
Snib doubles over, hands flying to his crotch. His massive cock and balls might be his pride but they're also a weakness. He staggers backward, wheezing.
I surge up—or try to. These fucking tits throw me off balance, but I manage to get to my knees. Then I lunge, wrapping my arms around his waist, using my weight to drive him down. We hit stone hard, him on bottom, me on top.
The position is absurd—my tits are literally in his face, these metal triangles probably cutting into him. But I've got leverage. My hands find his throat while my knees pin his arms. One of the metal heel-spikes is inches from his temple. I raise my foot, ready to drive it through his skull—
($hidden_gem:"This diseased creature dies NOW.","This disgusting, decrepit creature definitely dies NOW.")
The collar remembers what it is.
(pic:"ch02/collar.jpg","right","The collar explodes into ice around my throat.")Cold iron becomes a closing fist around my throat. Not gradually—instantly. From loose to crushing in a heartbeat. My hands abandon his throat to claw at my own neck, trying to find purchase on smooth metal that offers none.
Can't breathe. Can't even gag. Just silent, airless thrashing as my windpipe closes completely.
I fall off him, landing on my side. These fucking weights on my chest heave uselessly, trying to draw air that won't come. My legs kick, the metal boots scraping and clanging. Black flowers bloom across my vision.
Snib coughs, sits up, then starts laughing even while holding his bruised balls.
(playwhenread:"headbutted me cock")"Fuck... ye actually... hahaha... ye headbutted me cock!" He's wiping tears from his eyes. "But see? See what happens? The collar won't let ye kill me! It knows I own ye!"
The pressure eases a fraction. A whistle of air gets through. I gasp like I'm drowning, strings of drool connecting my lips to the stone floor.
"That's how it works, cow-tits." He stands over me, still rubbing his crotch but grinning. "The collar says yer mine. Means ye can't hurt me bad. Can't kill me. Try it and it'll strangle ye dead."
He squats down, grabs my hair, yanks my head up.
"Look at me." His voice drops to something almost serious. "LOOK AT ME, CUNT! Want ye to understand exactly who owns ye now!"](playwhenread:"look at me cunt")
(simple_option:"02 look","Look into his eyes with pure hatred.","Look away in defeat.")(set:$is_bad_end to false)($play:"song",0)($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","everbloom daytime ambience")(pic:"ch02/cock glimpse.jpg","left")The massive purple head throbs visibly through the stained fabric. A bead of something thick and white forms at the tip, soaking through, making the cloth transparent in that spot.
My throat closes. Not from the collar this time—from memory.
Three summers ago. The Westfort raids. We found the missing maidens in a goblin warren, their bellies swollen with—
No.
But the thought won't leave. Those hollow eyes. The way they didn't want to be rescued. The way they begged to go back. "Our babies," they'd said. "Our masters need—"
Veteran soldiers would go quiet when someone jokes about goblin raids. Not because of the killing. Because of what comes after.
They breed our women.
"Hehehe." Snib scratches himself, the motion making that monster shift. "Ye keep starin', jiggly-meat. Like what ye see?"(playwhenread:"ye keep staring jiggly")
"I'm not—"
"Gonna be yer new favorite thing," He grins, showing those broken teeth. "But not yet. Collar says slow. Says heroes need time to... marinate." He's proud of himself for using such a long word.
He reaches past me, grabs Whisperwind from the rubble. My sword in his filthy hands—he can barely lift it properly, has to use both arms, but he manages. Swings it experimentally like a child with a stick.
"Light for such a big sword." CLANG. He hits it against stone, giggling at the sound. "This killed lots of goblins, eh? Now it's mine. Like you. Now - let's get home."
He tugs the leash. I'm forced to stand again, wobbling on these metal stakes.
"Gonna be yer Master now. Teach ye proper." Another tug. Forward.
*CLOP.*
The first step in the metal heels echoes through the cavern like a bell tolling. My ankle immediately rolls. The leash goes taut, keeping me from falling.
"Heh. Swing them hips, hero."
*CLOP. CLOP.*
Each step is agony. Not just the burning in my calves from being pitched forward, but the humiliation of how everything moves. These tits don't just bounce—they have their own rhythm, hitting their peak a heartbeat after each footfall. My ass does the same, a rolling motion I can't control.
"Better!" He's delighted, swinging Whisperwind at cobwebs as we walk. "Look at that arse move! Like two pigs fighting in a sack!"
The mine tunnels seem endless. Every twenty feet he yanks the leash to "correct" my walk. More hip. More bounce.
"Soon ye'll be calling me Master and likin' it," he says conversationally, using MY sword to knock a loose stone. "Gonna have so much fun, you and me. Me hut needs cleaning. Me balls need draining. And ye've got all the right parts now."
By the time we see daylight, my legs are shaking. Late afternoon sun streams through the mine entrance. How long was I unconscious? How long has Elara been—
"Get down."
His voice changes. Sharp. Serious.
I follow his gaze. Three figures approach on the road—miners by their gear, probably coming for afternoon shift after what I told Mayor Bramble. They haven't seen us yet, but they will in moments.
(pic:"ch02/miners approach.jpg")
"Behind them rocks. NOW."
He yanks me behind a cluster of boulders. We crouch—or I try to. These tits make it awkward, pressing against my thighs. The metal barely covering me digs in everywhere.
"Listen good, hero-cunt." His breath is hot on my ear, reeking of rot. "They see us, it's over. No more slow breaking. I'll mount ye right here in the dirt like the cow ye are. Breed ye while they watch. That what ye want?"
The miners are closer. I can hear their voices now.
"—told us it would be clear by now—"
"—Aldric never fails—"
Aldric. They're talking about me. About how I promised the mine would be safe.
Every fiber of my being screams to call out. These are my people. Humans. They could help, could kill this creature, could—
But Snib's threat isn't empty. I can see it in his yellow eyes.
The miners are twenty feet away. Fifteen. I can see their faces now—Hedric, Bors, young Timothy who just started last month.
($notification:"To be continued. Subscribe to my SubscribeStar for access to the even more content!")($play:"ambience","goblin cave")(if:$choice is "Look away in defeat.")[(pic:"ch02/broken.jpg")
My eyes find the stone floor. The rage is still there, burning white-hot, but something else has crept in. Something I've never felt before.
Defeat.
"I said LOOK AT ME!" His fingers dig into my hair, yanking harder.
I can't. Won't. My gaze stays fixed on the ancient stones, on the dust of civilizations that died before mine was born. Tears—actual fucking tears—blur my vision. Not from pain. From the crushing realization that I'm trapped. That this diseased little creature has me on a leash I can't break.
($change_stat:"heroism",-1)"Aww." He releases my hair, lets my head drop. "The big hero's given up already?"
(pic:"ch02/leer.jpg")
His bare feet slap stone as he circles behind me. I tense, expecting another spanking, but instead—
Fingers. Small, warty fingers tracing the curve where my ass meets my thigh. That place that shouldn't exist, that junction of soft flesh I've never had before. His touch follows the crease with disturbing precision, like a butcher evaluating meat.
"So much woman now," he mutters, almost to himself. "All this soft..."
His hand SINKS into my left ass cheek, fingers disappearing into flesh that yields like risen dough. Not a grope—an assessment. The way you'd test a horse's haunches before buying.
(pic:"ch02/inspect butt.jpg")
"The collar's tellin' me things," he says conversationally, kneading the meat like he owns it. Which he does. "Says yer Aldric. Big hero. Dragon slayer."
I flinch. My name in his mouth feels like defilement.
His other hand slides around my hip, finding the soft spot where belly meets pelvis.
"Killed lots of me cousins." No anger in it. Just fact. "The collar says... says I should break ye slow. More fun that way."
His face appears suddenly between my spread thighs, looking up at me from below. This angle—Flux's balls, from this angle these tits must look massive, blocking half his view. His nose is inches from where the metal triangle barely covers my—
(pic:"ch02/back there.jpg","He takes a deep breath. SNIFF.")
He takes a deep breath. SNIFF.
"Mmmmm." The sound vibrates against my inner thigh. "Smell like a proper cunt now."
The shudder that runs through me is pure revulsion. The space between my legs clenches involuntarily, a muscular response I don't understand, don't WANT to understand. This body has reflexes, responses, that aren't mine.
He doesn't know what the collar is. I can see it in his yellow eyes—confusion mixed with glee. Something's whispering to him through it, guiding him, but he doesn't understand it any more than I do.
"It says yer mine now," he says, tapping the iron at my throat. "But Says I get to play with ye however I want." Another squeeze of my tit, casual as breathing. "And I wants to play slow. Real slow."
He steps back, hands on his hips, surveying me like a merchant examining goods.
(pic:"ch02/leash.jpg","right")Something materializes in his hand—a leather strap extending from the collar. A leash. Like I'm a fucking DOG.
His loincloth has shifted. What's underneath... Flux's bleeding balls, it's the size of my forearm. Purple-headed, visibly throbbing even through the ratty fabric. A wet spot spreading where the tip presses against the cloth. The smell hits me—concentrated piss mixed with something fungal, something that makes my nostrils burn and my head swim.
I realize with crystal clarity what that thing is for. What it does. What goblins DO with captured women. The stories, the survivors found months later, swollen with goblin spawn...](else:)[(pic:"ch02/unbroken.jpg","The hatred in my eyes could melt iron.")
The hatred in my eyes could melt iron. I stare up at this diseased piece of shit, this walking infection, this MISTAKE of nature that dares to stand over me.
"You're a fucking plague." The words tear from my throat, raw with fury. "A disease that spreads through rape because you're too pathetic to breed your own women. You have to STEAL ours because even your own females would rather die than—"
"HAHA!" His laughter is wet, phlegmy. "Mad that gobbo cock works better than human? Mad that yer women come back with green babies?"
"You're parasites! Vermin! We burn your warrens for SPORT!" I try to surge up but the collar keeps me pinned, a warning pressure. "Every goblin I've killed—and I've killed DOZENS—died squealing like the pigs they—"
($change_stat:"snib",-1)($hidden_gem:"He yanks my hair, forcing my head back at an angle that makes my neck scream.","He yanks my yielding hair, yanking my head at a hellish angle that has my hurting neck howling.")
"Ye killed me cousins. Me brothers." He's grinning but there's something else in those yellow eyes now. Not quite anger. Anticipation. "The collar tells me things. Says ye were a big hero. Says ye have a wife—"
"DON'T—"
(pic:"ch02/grab neck.jpg","right")"Says ye were tryin' to make babies." His grin widens.
Horror floods through me like ice water.
"See, I know how to break things proper." He releases my hair, stands up, adjusts that massive bulge in his loincloth. "Slow-like. Could just mount ye right now, pump ye full of gobbo babies. But where's the fun?"
Something materializes in his hand—a leather strap extending from the collar. A leash. Like I'm a fucking DOG.
"The collar says it's old magic. Older than yer kingdom. Turns enemies into..." He licks his lips. "Into whatever we want. And it says the best part is watchin' ye fight it while yer body learns what it's for."
"I'll find a way to kill you." My voice is breaking but the rage keeps building. "You can't keep me on a leash forever, you diseased little—"
*YANK.*
The leash pulls taut. The collar digs into my throat, not choking but commanding. I have to lean forward or fall over.
"Up." One word. Not a request.
I try to stand. These fucking heels make it impossible. I get halfway up, wobble, have to catch myself on the wall. My tits swing forward, nearly spilling from the metal triangles. Everything about this body is designed to humiliate.
"Walk."
*YANK.*
(pic:"ch02/leash.jpg","right")I stumble forward. The metal spikes catch on stone—*CLACK CLACK CLACK*. Each step forces my hips to sway. My ass bounces. My tits jiggle. I'm a walking obscenity, and he's leading me like livestock.
We pass goblin corpses. My kills from today, or yesterday, whenever this nightmare started. He pauses at one, a big brute with his skull caved in.
"That's Gorthak. Had six kids." He spits on the corpse. "Ye probably don't even remember killin' him."
They all look the same dead.
"Ye think we're nothing but animals." He starts walking again, forcing me to follow on these torture-spikes. "Think we just rape and breed and die."
"You DO—"
"We got culture. Gods. Stories." Another corpse. "That's Snaggle. Best drummer in three tribes."
"I don't CARE—"
"Course ye don't." We're heading toward daylight now. "Humans never do. Just kill kill kill. Well, now ye get to see the other side."
The rage is eating me alive. I need to think. Can't attack him directly—the collar will kill me. But if someone else does it? If he has an accident? If—
That's when I see it.
His loincloth shifts as he walks, and in profile—
Eon's mercy.
The thing swinging between his legs is the size of my forearm. Purple-headed, veiny, already half-hard from Flux knows what. The smell hits me a second later—concentrated musk, like a stable that's never been mucked. My stomach turns but something else happens too. Something worse.]
(simple_option:"02 cock intimidation","He notices you looking...")(set:$name to "Elise")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/2.png")(set:$map_position to (a: 772,2341))(map: (a: 348, 2232),(a:506,2337),(a: 772,2341))($play:"sex loop","forest walk")($play:"song","snib hut theme")
($play:"ambience","everbloom forest day")The Everbloom stretches before us, ancient pines so thick their canopy blocks the late afternoon sun. Shafts of golden light pierce through like temple windows, illuminating clouds of pollen that drift like fairy dust. Beautiful. Serene. Everything I'm not.
*SQUELCH-CLOP.*
My heel tears free from mud with the sound of a wet kiss. The other sinks immediately. My tits—Flux's balls, these things weigh like millstones—swing forward with such momentum I nearly topple. Have to throw my arms out for balance, which makes them swing again, which makes me stumble, which—
"Hurry up, tit-slave!" Snib yanks the leash. "We got ground to cover before dark!"
Something shifts in the boots. The spikes... flatten? Not completely, but enough that I'm not punching holes in the earth with each step. My calves still scream from the angle, tendons stretched like bowstrings, but at least I can walk. Sort of.
The armor obeys him. Of course it does.
"That's better!" He scampers ahead, then circles back around me, literally dancing in circles while I trudge. "Look at ye go! Swing them hips! Make them udders bounce!"
(pic:"ch02/lead out.jpg","He's back to using the leash...")
A woodpecker hammers somewhere above. The normal forest sounds—birds, insects, the whisper of wind through pine needles—all continue like nothing's wrong. Like the world hasn't ended. Like I'm not being led through my homeland on a leash by something I've killed hundreds of.
"Humans love to step on goblins," Snib chatters, skipping backward in front of me so he can watch my tits bounce with each step. "Squish us like bugs. Call us vermin. Monsters." His grin widens. "But I got meself a HERO! Wait till the Gobboree! They'll shit themselves!"
I stare straight ahead. Don't engage. Don't react. Just walk. One foot. Other foot. Ignore how my thighs rub together, how this metal strap saws between my ass cheeks, how my hair—so much thrashing hair—sticks to the sweat on my back.
"The collar's tellin' me things," Snib continues, now walking sideways like a crab to keep watching me. "About you. Aldric. AL-DRIC." He sounds it out like he's tasting something exotic. "Stupid name. Hero name. Not yer name anymore."
($hidden_gem:"The rage builds in my chest like forge-fire, but I keep walking.","The rage rises in my ribs like roaring red forge-fire, but I keep walking.")
(pic:"ch02/stream.jpg","The river runs dark as its name suggests—not from filth but from tannins leached from pine roots, the water like weak tea.")
We reach the Pitchwater an hour in. The river runs dark as its name suggests—not from filth but from tannins leached from pine roots, the water like weak tea. Kingfishers dive for silver fish that flash in the amber depths. An otter watches us from a fallen log, whiskers twitching, before sliding silently away.
I know this spot. Elara and I picnicked here last spring. She wore that yellow dress that made her skin glow. We made love in the ferns while dragonflies danced overhead.
(if:(choice:"01 Begin" is "Be romantic."))[(pic:"ch02/memory gentle.jpg","We made love in the ferns while dragonflies danced overhead.")](else:)[(pic:"ch02/memory rough.jpg","We made love in the ferns while dragonflies danced overhead.")]
Now I'm being led past it in chains and slutwear.(playwhenread:"yer elise")
"Collar says yer name is Elise now." Snib splashes through the shallows while I have to pick my way across stepping stones, each wobbling step threatening to spill me into the water. "EL-EEE-SEE. Pretty name for a pretty thing."
"That's not my name." First words I've spoken in an hour. They come out in this musical feminine voice that makes me want to scream.
"Is now!" He cackles. "Collar picked it special. Says it means something in the old tongue. Something about..." He frowns, concentrating. "Don't matter. Point is, ye're Elise. My Elise. My bouncy, jiggly, tit-heavy Elise!"
The forest gives way to wetland as we follow the river. Cypress trees rise from standing water, their knees poking up like ancient bones. Moss drapes everything in green curtains. A heron watches us pass with one golden eye, neck coiled to strike at fish.
My heels sink into the spongy ground with each step. The sucking sounds they make—SCHLORP, SCHLORP—sound obscene in the marsh quiet. Mud splatters up my legs. My tits never stop moving, their weight pulling at muscles I didn't know existed. They bounce, they sway, they collide with each other with little meaty sounds that Snib finds endlessly amusing.
"Learned magic, didn't ye?" He's walking on a fallen log like it's a balance beam while I struggle through the muck below. "Smart humie. Fire and ice and wind." He jumps down, lands in front of me. "But ye can't use 'em without my say-so now. Need Master Snib's permission to do yer little tricks!"
"You're not my master." The words come out flat. Dead.
"Oh but I am!" He reaches up—has to really stretch—and flicks one of my nipples through the metal triangle. The sensation shoots through me like lightning. "Own every bit of ye. From them fat tits to that virgin pussy. Gonna make ye work for me. Clean me hut. Wash me balls. Maybe even let ye fight for me, earn some gold!"
(pic:"ch02/swampland.jpg","The marshland gives way to scrub, then sand.")
The sun drops lower. The marshland gives way to scrub, then sand. The desert spreads before us, still radiating heat from the day. My feet are raw inside the metal boots. My calves cramp with every step. My back aches from the weight on my chest. Everything hurts.
And still Snib talks.
"Never been the luckiest goblin," he admits, leading me up a dune. "Tribe kicked me out. Said I was too small, even for a gob. But look at me now! Got the mighty Aldric on a leash! Gonna be rich! RICH!"
I stumble. Fall to my knees in the sand. My tits swing forward and actually hit the ground, sending up little puffs of dust. The humiliation of it—kneeling in the sand while this creature holds my leash, my tits literally dragging in the dirt—makes me want to die.
"Up, cow! Almost home!"
I could have called to the miners. Should have. They would have helped. Three men with picks against one goblin. But I was a coward. Let them walk by because I was scared of the collar, scared of his threat.
What kind of hero does that?
(pic:"ch02/hut.jpg")
(simple_option:"02 hut","Arrive at the hut.")<div class='tw-story-title'>Elara Brightwater</div>
(pic:(cond:$elara_img is 0,"ch01/elara.jpg",$elara_img),"right")**Gender:** Female
**Race:** Human
**Age:** 30
**Height:** 5'7"
<span class='meter-container-half'>(color: "#4a2424")[(meter: bind $elaras_love, 10, "X", "Elara's love for you: $elaras_love/10", (gradient: 90, 0, #d4a5a5, 1, #b07373))]</span>
Grows life in dead soil. Loves the town hero.
Daughter of Eboncrest's previous herbalist (died of the sweating sickness he couldn't cure). Learned plants before letters, surgery before suitors. Had fourteen proposals by eighteen—accepted none. Met Aldric over a severed artery; he bled on her garden roses while she stitched him shut without wine or whisper. Married him six months later in the same garden.
Keeps forty-three medicinal herbs, twelve poisonous plants (labeled in code), and one husband who tracks mud through her clean floors. Has delivered thirty-seven babies, set sixty broken bones, and talked a would-be suicide off Briar's Bridge. Knows which mushrooms kill in minutes, which ones kill in days. Makes contraceptive tea for the whores, hangover cures for the guard, and apple tarts that could seduce saints.
Wanted by half the town's men, friended by all the town's women. Teaches letters to miners' children on Rest Day. Buried two miscarriages in her garden where the roses grow reddest. Watches her husband ride to death each dawn, tends strangers' wounds each dusk, prays to Flux for change that never comes. Age thirty, hair like autumn fire, hands that smell of lavender and lives saved.(if:$whisperwind is "defiled")[<div class='tw-story-title'>Whisperwind (Defiled)</div>
(pic:"ch02/defile end.jpg","A shadow of what was.")
Twenty-four inches of common iron that remembers being legendary. The blade that once shimmered like oil on water now sits flat and dark as dried blood. No song when swung—just the dull whisper of dead metal through dead air.
**What It's Become**
The grip wraps in black dragonskin that feels wrong—too smooth, almost wet, sized for smaller hands that shouldn't hold it. No crossguard gems, no wind runes, just that mocking inscription burnt into the metal: **ELISE - GOBLIN-OWNED HERO**.
The balance is gone. Weight sits wrong, forward-heavy like it wants to drop, to kneel, to submit. In a woman's grip it steadies—barely. In a man's it would rebel. The blade knows what it's for now: not heroics but humiliation. Still sharp enough to cut, but cuts without honor. Kills without glory.
**How It Fell**
They say artifacts can't be corrupted—too much will, too much purpose. But when a three-foot goblin emptied his balls across Whisperwind's virgin steel, something broke. Maybe it was the sheer wrongness: the lowest creature marking the highest blade with thick ropes of yellow seed, chunks and strings of it, steaming in the desert night. Maybe it was the sword feeling its master's spirit break, watching through those star-sapphires as hope died.
Or maybe—and this is what the wise fear—the collar's magic is older and hungrier than anyone knew. Old enough to remember when swords were just sharp rocks. Hungry enough to eat legends and shit out parodies.
**What Remains**
Sometimes, when blood touches the blade, there's a flicker. Not light—memory. Like something trapped deep in the metal, screaming to get out. Like Whisperwind is still in there somewhere, watching its body be puppeted by something else's will.
But probably that's just fantasy. The kind broken heroes tell themselves while they serve the monsters they once hunted.](else:)[<div class='tw-story-title'>Whisperwind</div>
(pic:"ch01/whisperwind mount.jpg","Whisperwind glimmers in times of need.")
**The Wind-Wedded Blade**
Thirty inches of skyforged murder that weighs nothing and cuts everything. The metal shifts color like oil on water—blue to silver to violet depending on how the light dies on its edge. No two smiths agree what it's made of. No two warriors describe holding it the same way.
**The Nature of It**
Not forged but grown, the old smiths say. Pulled from the heart of a storm that raged for seven years above Mount Aethermoor. The blade knows what you need before you do—sometimes a butcher's cleaver, sometimes a needle. The wind runes etched along its fuller aren't decoration. They're promises. Threats. Depends who's asking.
The crossguard spreads like raptor wings, inlaid with star-sapphires that pulse when violence approaches. The grip wraps in shagreen that never slips, even when soaked in blood. The pommel bears no maker's mark—just an eye that never quite looks where you think it's looking.
**What It Does**
Whisperwind doesn't just cut wind—it commands it. Arrows forget where they were going. Shield walls develop sudden gaps. Men find themselves disarmed by breezes that strike like hammers. The blade sings when swung, a keening that sets teeth on edge and makes horses bolt. In true need, it can throw gale-force murder in any direction its wielder demands.
Some say it chooses its bearer. Others say it's cursed to always find the hands that need it most. Both might be true.
**Where It's Been**
First recorded in the Troll Wars, carried by a nameless scout who killed three chieftains in a single night. Lost at the Battle of Bitter Creek. Found in a merchant's wagon being used as a cheese knife. Stolen by the Telenil. Ransomed back. Won in a dice game by a fool who died holding it wrong.
Aldric claimed it from a dead man's hand in the Goblin Uprising of '44. Hasn't left his side since. They say the blade hums lullabies when he sleeps, keeps nightmares at bay. They say a lot of things.
**The Truth**
Whisperwind is steel that remembers being lightning. It wants to move, wants to strike, wants to taste the moment when courage meets terror. It serves the heroic and the desperate with equal enthusiasm. Just never the cruel—those it cuts twice, once going in, once pulling free.
The wise fear it. The brave respect it. Aldric just calls it "mine."
(pic:"ch01/whisperwind.jpg")]<div class='tw-story-title'>Eboncrest</div>
(pic:"ch01/eboncrest.jpg","right","Eboncrest, The Crossroads Keep")**The Crossroads Keep** - ($lorebook_entry:"Western Valaria","places")
Black walls rise from pine roots where the Everbloom gives way to stone. Last honest coin between Thuulk's marble halls and the Telenil's forbidden groves. Built on dwarf-quarried granite, paid for in Valarian gold, defended by human blood.
<span class='meter-container-half'> (color: "#4a2424")[(meter: bind $town_respect, 10, "X", "Your Town's respect for you: $town_respect/10", (gradient: 90, 0, #a0c4ff, 1, #2b74da))]</span>
**The Lay of It**
King's Road runs through Eboncrest like a spine—west to the Telenil forests and the gray ocean beyond, east through goblin-haunted woods to Thuulk's spires. South, the Ironrock mines bite into the hills. North, the Everbloom thickens until even hunters turn back. Every caravan stops here. Every merchant pays gate tax. Every adventurer drinks at the Silver Stag before heading east to die.
**Who Holds Power**
Mayor Bramble counts coins in the keep's east tower. Captain Giles drills sixty guards who've never seen real war. Master Fendril reads stars from his spiral tower, highest point in town, charging merchants for weather predictions and love potions that don't work. Real power flows through the market—whoever controls iron from Ironrock controls Eboncrest.
**Where Blood and Money Flow**
- **Market Square:** Telenil silverwork trades for desert glass. Ironrock ore for Thuulk silk. Morning auctions, afternoon brawls, evening executions. The fountain runs red twice a month.
- **Silver Stag Inn:** Three stories of dubious virtue. Thorne waters the ale but keeps mouths shut. Back rooms for dice, upstairs for worse. Every second murder starts here.
- **Wizard's Tower:** Fendril's limestone folly. Smells like sulfur and failed experiments. Basement holds things the crown pretends don't exist.
- **Castle Eboncrest:** Small keep, big walls. Barracks, armory, dungeons that flood each spring. Mayor's solar faces east toward tax revenue.
- **Temple of the Triad:** Stone gods watch stone faced priests take copper from those who can't afford salvation.
**The Business of Living**
Ironrock feeds the smithies—six forges burning day and night. Timber crews work the forest edge, careful not to anger whatever the Telenil worship. Herbalists harvest what grows between. Every tenth coin goes to the crown, every fifth to the mayor, the rest to staying alive. Desert raiders test the walls each summer. Forest things test them each winter. The King's Road must stay open or Thuulk starves and Eboncrest burns.
**Festival of Tides:** When summer breaks, they burn last year's dead in the square, marry off daughters, settle blood debts. Three days of sanctioned madness before winter locks them in.
Population hovers around four thousand—humans mostly, handful of desperate dwarves from failed holds, three elven families who lost their forest rights, enough half-breeds to make temple services awkward.
They call it the Crossroads Keep, but locals just say "the Cross"—as in "hung from" or "burden to bear."<div class='tw-story-title'>Snib</div>
(pic:"status/snib.jpg","right")**Name:** Snib
**Race:** ($lorebook_entry:"Goblins","beasts")
**Height:** 3'8" of green spite
**Weight:** Pot-bellied, bandy-legged
<span class='meter-container-half'>(color: "#4a2424")[(meter: bind $snib_satisfaction, 10, "X", "Snib's Satisfaction: $snib_satisfaction/10", (gradient: 90, 0, #00ff00, 1, #006400))]</span>
**The Meat of Him:**
Three and a half feet of warty green malice, built like a toad fucked a rat and the offspring learned to walk upright. Skin like pond scum, pocked with boils that weep when he's excited. Yellow eyes that never blink enough, always wet, always watching. Breath that reeks of rotted meat and sour milk.
Between his legs swings the only thing about him that isn't stunted—a twelve-inch purple-headed nightmare that stays half-hard even when he pisses. The thing leaks constantly, leaving snail-trails of precum that stink like a battlefield brothel. When he's ready to rut, it throbs like a war drum and spits enough seed to drown a cat.
**What Passes for His Mind:**
The collar's made him clever—not smart, but clever like a trap is clever. He knows exactly where to press to make you flinch. Knows twenty-three ways to say "cow-tits" and makes each one sound worse than the last. Can calculate your humiliation down to the tear.
Calls you his "investment." His "broken hero." His "jiggly fuckmeat."
He remembers every goblin you killed. Counts them when he's yanking your leash. "That's fer Grotch. That's fer Scab. That's fer me cousin Pustule." But it's not really about revenge—it's about the fact that Aldric the Great is now bouncing on the end of his rope with tits like overripe melons.
**His Kingdom of Shit:**
Rules from a hut that smells like something died fucking. Furniture is bones and stolen goods. Bed is a pile of furs so crusted with his emissions they crack when he moves. Keeps trophies—women's smallclothes, locks of hair, a child's doll he uses as a cum rag.
The collar whispers your secrets to him. How many times you've fucked your wife. What you whisper when you cum. Your deepest shames. He hoards these facts like gold coins, spending them when they'll hurt most.
**What He Wants:**
Gold, obviously. Ten thousand pieces to buy his own tribe.
But also the slower things. The way your face crumbles when he calls you "Elise." The catch in your breath when his cock slaps against your cheek. The moment you stop fighting the leash.
He doesn't want you broken all at once—where's the fun in that? He wants to peel you like an onion, layer by layer, until there's nothing left but a wet hole that answers to "cow-tits."
**The Stink of Him:**
Like most goblins, he carries his own atmosphere—a three-foot radius of musk that makes your cunt drip despite itself. It's not magic, exactly. It's biology gone wrong. His cock sweats pheromones that bypass the brain and talk straight to the womb. Breathe it too long and you'll be begging to know what his cum tastes like.
You've learned to breathe through your mouth. It doesn't help.
He's patient now. The collar taught him that. Heroes take time to break properly.
And you? You're going to break beautiful.(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/1.png")(set:$map_position to (a:2504,2924))(map: (a: 1670,2430),(a:1931,2499),(a: 2271,2864),(a:2504,2924))
($play:"ambience","desert night ambience")The hut squats against a dead olive tree like a boil on diseased flesh. Mud-brick walls lean drunkenly, patched with dung and what might be bones. The thatched roof sags in the middle, held up by stolen planks that still have Eboncrest mill-marks on them. This is where I'm supposed to live now. This shit-heap.
(pic:"ch02/not thrilled.jpg","right")"Home sweet home!" Snib announces, yanking me through the doorway that's so low I have to duck, making my tits swing and slap together.(playwhenread:"home sweet home")
($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","snib hut theme")The stench hits like a physical blow.
It's heinous. That thick, sour reek of dried SOMETHING, mixed with piss and rotting meat. My eyes water. My stomach turns. There's another smell underneath, musky and wrong, that makes my skin crawl.
"That's Jarkrond!" Snib points to a desert horse tied outside—massive grey beast with yellow eyes and scars covering its flanks. The thing's cock is half-dropped from its sheath, pink and mottled. "Watch out, he's randy! Tries to mount anything with a cunt! HAHA!"
Inside is worse than I imagined. One room, maybe twenty feet across. A pile of stained furs in one corner that must be his bed—they're crusty with Flux knows what. A smaller pile of straw that's brown with age. One wooden plate, cracked. One cup. A pot with something growing inside it.
And trophies.
Women's smallclothes nailed to the walls. A lock of red hair tied in a knot. A broken doll that's been used for... I can't look at it.
(pic:"ch02/hut interior.jpg","Inside is worse than I imagined.")
($hidden_gem:"Snib props Whisperwind against the wall like a walking stick, MY sword in HIS hovel.","Snib stations my steel, my Whisperwind, against the wall like a worthless walking stick, MY weapon in HIS wretched warren.")
My sword. Whisperwind. The blade that's tasted dragon blood now leans against mud brick, already gathering dust. My chest tightens seeing it there. That sword is MINE. Forged for my hand. Blessed by the Ephemerals. Now it's just another trophy in this cesspit.
"Hungry!" Snib announces, pulling something from a clay pot. It's meat, maybe. Grey-green, with maggots writhing through it. He tears off a chunk with his teeth, juice running down his chin. "Aged rabbit! Three weeks old! Want some?"
I gag.
"No? More fer me!" He talks while chewing, showing the rotting meat mulching between his broken teeth. "So here's how it works, tit-slave. Yer gonna clean this place up nice. See that broom? That's yer new best friend. Well outside fer water—old thing, been here forever. Some kind of ancient stone well. Works though!"
He points to the straw pile. "That's where ye sleep. Right there where I can see ye. Keep an eye on me property."
(pic:"ch02/hay.jpg","'That's where ye sleep. Right there where I can see ye. Keep an eye on me property.'")
Property. The word makes my hands clench into fists.
"Tomorrow ye start earnin' yer keep proper. But tonight..." He grins, those yellow eyes traveling down my body with ownership. "Tonight I just wanna look at what I got. Turn around. Slow."
"No."
"Turn." The collar tightens slightly. A warning.
I turn, burning with shame, my heels scraping the dirt floor. Can feel his eyes on every inch—the way my ass cheeks swallow the metal thong, how my tits sway with the motion, the red marks where the armor cuts into soft flesh.
"Got meself a woman," he mutters, almost amazed. "A proper breeding-age human woman. Been so long since..." He trails off, adjusting the massive bulge in his loincloth. "Tribe always said I was too small to get a proper humie mate. But look now! Got the best one! A HERO-CUNT!"
"I'm not your woman." The words come out strangled with rage.
(pic:"ch02/lighting fire.jpg","right")"Sure ye are! Gonna make me rich, ye are." He scratches his balls thoughtfully as he starts a fire. "Might keep ye longer. Yer gonna clean, cook once I teach ye how. Maybe even let ye use that sword again, fight for me! Earn gold that way too!"
My heart leaps at the mention of using Whisperwind again, then crashes when I realize it would be in HIS service.(playwhenread:"two cunts for the price of one")
"And that wife of yers..." He grins wider. "Elara. Pretty name. Red hair, the collar says. Nice round arse, though the tits aren't as big as yers now. Bet she's wondering where her big strong husband went."
No. No no no—
"Maybe we visit sometime! They won't kill me if ye protect me. Maybe I'll convince her to join us. Two cunts for the price of one! If ye just explain real nice how good I treat ye—"
"You fucking PARASITE!" The rage explodes out of me. "You disgusting, shit-eating, worthless—"
He laughs. Actually laughs at my fury.
"Listen to that voice! All high and pretty! Even when yer angry ye sound like a songbird!" He walks closer, having to crane his neck to look up at my face. "Here's the thing, cow-tits. Ye're gonna make my life good. Real good. To make up for all them goblins ye killed. And soon enough..."
He reaches out and cups my pussy through the metal thong. Just cups it, like he's weighing fruit at market.
"Soon ye'll be servicin' me proper. Suckin' this—" He grabs his bulge with his other hand. "Drainin' these balls daily. Maybe hourly once ye get a taste for it."
I jerk back, shaking. Every muscle coiled to strike. To grab Whisperwind and run him through, collar be damned. Maybe it won't kill me. Maybe it's a bluff. Maybe—
"But I'm patient," Snib continues, settling onto his pile of furs with a contented sigh. "Won't force nothin'. Long as yer a good slave, make my life better, the entertainment of havin' ye around is enough. For now."
He pulls his loincloth aside to "adjust" himself, giving me a full view of that purple monstrosity. The head is the size of my fist, already weeping clear fluid. The smell of it fills the hut—rotten fish and cheese and something that makes my head swim.
"Look at ye shakin'!" He's delighted. "The great Aldric, scared of goblin cock! Don't worry, ye'll learn to love it. They all do. Eventually."
Tears prick at my eyes. Actual tears. I haven't cried since my mother died, and now I'm about to sob in front of this creature.
This is my life now. This stinking hut. This disgusting creature pawing at me. My sword just out of reach. My wife miles away, probably crying herself to sleep wondering where I am.
I'm going to kill him. Collar or no collar, I'm going to—
(simple_option:"02 attack final","Grab Whisperwind and attack!")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/angry/1.png")(pic:"ch02/about to strike.jpg","left","My hand closes around Whisperwind's grip and the world shifts into clarity.")($play:"ambience","fireplace")($play:"song",0)(playwhenread:"sword pickup")The rage becomes motion before thought.
My hand closes around Whisperwind's grip and the world shifts into clarity.
The leather remembers my palm. The weight settles into my bones like coming home. Thirty inches of skyforged steel sings as I lift it—not the awkward struggle Snib managed but a smooth draw that flows like water finding its course. The blade catches the dirty lamplight and throws it back clean, pure, *hungry*.
Whisperwind knows me.
Through the soft flesh, through these wrong curves, through this obscene body—the sword recognizes the hand that has fed it blood for seventeen years. I see it in the way light races along the fuller, in the way the star-sapphires in the crossguard pulse once, twice, like a heartbeat resuming.
And it knows what needs doing.
The collar tightens—ice-cold iron crushing my throat—but I don't care. Black spots dance at my vision's edge but my grip stays true. These heels dig into the dirt floor, finding purchase. My stance widens to compensate for the weight on my chest, these massive tits that pull me forward. My thighs burn as I coil for the strike.
($hidden_gem:"The blade rises like dawn breaking over a battlefield.","The blade blooms upward like brutal, blood-hungry dawn breaking over a battlefield.")
Snib's yellow eyes go wide. Real fear now. Not the calculating wariness from before but the pure animal terror of prey recognizing death's arrival. He scrambles backward, trips over his own cooking pot, lands on his warty ass.
"Wait—"
Whisperwind describes the perfect arc. The Ninth Guard transitioning to Reaper's Fall—muscle memory older than thought. The sword whispers through air that seems to thicken with anticipation. This is the strike that split the basilisk's skull. That opened the throat of the Thuulk Strangler. That has ended a hundred monsters and will end one more—
The blade stops.
Not slows. *Stops.*
Two feet from Snib's head, Whisperwind hangs frozen in space like it's struck an invisible wall. My arms shake with the effort of trying to complete the strike. Veins stand out on my forearms. These tits heave with each desperate breath. But the sword won't move. Can't move.
The collar's command is absolute.
"AHAHAHA!" Snib's laughter explodes out of him as he realizes he's not about to die. "Oh, that was good! Real good! Ye almost had me!"
My arms give out. Whisperwind falls from nerveless fingers, hitting the dirt with a sound like my heart breaking. The beautiful blade lies there, still gleaming with righteous fury, wanting so badly to complete its purpose. To do what it was made for. To protect the innocent by ending the guilty.
But I can't pick it up again. My hands won't obey.
Snib stands, brushing dirt off his ass. Then, grinning that broken-glass grin, he reaches down and loosens his loincloth completely.
His cock springs free.
(pic:"ch02/defile pick up.jpg")
"Ye know what?" He wraps his warty fingers around the shaft. "That deserves punishment."(playwhenread:"handjob")
"Don't—" The word comes out as a whisper.
He starts stroking. Slow. Deliberate. His cock hardens with each pump, going from its already-massive flaccid state to something truly monstrous. Twelve inches of purple-headed breeding meat, thick as my wrist—my old wrist—with veins like rope running along its length.
*SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK*
The sound fills the hut. Wet. Obscene. His precum starts flowing immediately, drooling from the slit in thick strings that stretch toward the floor.
"Look at me," he commands, still stroking. "LOOK AT ME, hero."(playwhenread:"yer nothing now")
I can't look away. This tiny creature, barely reaching my waist, is standing here jerking his massive cock while I kneel helpless. The smell of it—rotted fish and cheese—makes my eyes water.
"Yer whole legacy," *SCHLICK-SCHLICK* "All them monsters ye killed," *SCHLICK-SCHLICK* "Don't mean shit now."
(pic:"ch02/horrified.jpg","Tears run down my face. Ugly, humiliating tears...")
Tears run down my face. Ugly, humiliating tears that drip off my chin onto these massive tits.
He circles me, cock in hand, precum leaving a trail on the floor. The head is purple-dark, flared like a mushroom, angry-looking. His balls swing heavy between his legs, covered in wiry black hair, each one the size of a large apple.
"Ye're nothing now. Just tits and holes." He stops in front of Whisperwind, propping it up, still pumping. "And this sword? Yer precious blade?"
"No." Horror floods through me as I understand. "No, don't—please—"
(pic:"ch02/defile pre.jpg","'No, don't—please—'")
(simple_option:"02 cum on sword","Look away.","Watch, horrified.")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/1.png")(playwhenread:"cum 1")($play:"ambience","cry")($play:"song","snib hut theme")(if:$choice is "Look away.")[(pic:"ch02/cant watch.jpg","I can't watch this...")
His balls draw up tight against his body, the wrinkled sack contracting. I hear his breathing change—deeper, more guttural. Animal.
"Here it comes," he grunts. "Here comes yer new reality!"
I squeeze my eyes shut. Turn my head away. I can't watch this. I won't.
The sound is worse than watching would be. That wet SPLAT of something heavy and viscous hitting metal. Whisperwind actually RINGS from the impact—a pure note corrupted into something sick. The smell hits immediately—rotten cheese mixed with dead fish mixed with something sweet-sick that makes my stomach clench.
"LOOK AT IT!" Snib roars. "LOOK AT YER—UNGH!"
(pic:"ch02/defile cum dark.jpg","Not... looking...")
(sperm:"SPLOOOOOORT!",4,"splurt 2")Another wet impact. Heavier. I can hear it splashing, dripping. The sound of thick liquid hitting metal and stone. My whole body shudders. This can't be happening. This three-foot creature can't be—
(sperm:"SPLURT-GLOOOOORP!",6,"splurt 3")This one sounds different. Pressurized at first, then a horrible wet GLOP like porridge being poured from height. The stench intensifies—now I understand what that smell in the hut was. Old cum. Everywhere. And now fresh cum, hot enough I can feel the warmth of it from here.
"This is—UNGH—what heroes—FUCK—are worth!"
($hidden_gem:"Each word punctuated by another wet splatter I refuse to see.","Each evil word escorted by another wet, wretched splatter I won't witness.")
(sperm:"GLORP-SPLAT-SPLAT!",3,"splurt 4")Multiple impacts now. Different directions. I hear cum hitting the wall, the floor, but mostly—mostly my sword. That beautiful blade that's saved my life a hundred times, now being defiled by—
I whimper. Actually whimper, like a frightened girl. The sound escapes before I can stop it.
"Yeah, that's right! Whimper for me, cow-tits! Yer sword's getting BAPTIZED!"
(sperm:"SPLOOOOOOOGE!",5,"splurt 5")This goes on forever. Three seconds, maybe four, of continuous wet sound. Like someone pouring thick stew but wrong, so wrong. I can hear it pooling, dripping, the obscene weight of it. Snib's grunting like a rutting boar, his breath coming in sharp gasps.
"Cock-snot for the hero's sword! Goblin nut-butter! Ball-sludge! This is what yer worth now!"
(sperm:"BLORT... BLORT... BLOOOOORT!",4,"splurt 6")The final spurts. Each one accompanied by a grunt of satisfaction. Then silence except for dripping. Constant dripping. Plop. Plop. Plop.
"Open yer eyes, cow. Look what I done."
I don't want to. But the collar tightens slightly—a warning—and I open them.
Whisperwind is unrecognizable.
($change_stat:"heroism",-1)(pic:"ch02/defile pre tg.jpg","Thick ropes of cum crisscross the blade like spider silk made of custard.")
Yellow-white sludge covers it from pommel to point. Thick ropes of cum crisscross the blade like spider silk made of custard. Chunks of something white float in the yellow-grey slime. The crossguard is completely obscured by a thick glob that hangs down in obscene stalactites. The leather grip is soaked, stained.
Snib shakes his cock, still semi-hard, droplets flying. One hits my bare thigh and burns like acid.
"There we go," he pants, satisfied. "Now it's mine. Like you."
I'm sobbing. Ugly, body-shaking sobs that make these massive tits heave and bounce. Whisperwind lies there, drowning in goblin cum that fills the entire hut with its presence—that rotten fish and cheese stench that makes me gag.
"See that?" Snib tucks his still-dripping cock back into his loincloth where it makes an obscene tent. "That's yer future, cow-tits. Whatever I want to cum on, I cum on. Whatever I want to own, I own. And right now?"](else:)[His balls draw up tight against his body, the wrinkled sack contracting like a fist. His cock flexes—actually FLEXES like a muscle—and the head flares even wider, purple-dark like a bruised plum about to burst.
"Here it comes," he grunts, eyes rolling back. "Here comes yer new reality!"
(sperm:"BLURRRRRT!",5,"splurt 1")The first rope erupts with the force of a crossbow bolt. It's not liquid—it's almost solid, a thumb-thick cable of yellow-white sludge that arcs through the air and SLAPS across Whisperwind's blade with an audible splat. The sword actually rings from the impact, a pure note corrupted.
(pic:"ch02/defile cum.jpg","I can't look away.")
I can't look away. I'm transfixed by the sheer wrongness of it—this three-foot creature producing more cum than should be physically possible, his cock jumping with each pulse like it's trying to escape his body.
(sperm:"SPLOOOOOORT!",4,"splurt 2")The second rope is even thicker. Custard-dense, with visible chunks of something white floating in the yellow-grey slime. It coils around the crossguard like a living thing, dripping down in obscene stalactites. The smell hits me—rotten cheese mixed with dead fish mixed with something sweet and wrong that makes my head swim.
"LOOK AT IT!" Snib roars, his whole body convulsing. "LOOK AT YER PRECIOUS BLADE!"
(sperm:"SPLURT-GLOOOOORP!",6,"splurt 3")This one comes out in stages—first a pressurized jet, then a thick glob that hangs from his cockhead on a two-foot string before splattering onto the fuller. The cum is HOT. I can see steam rising from it in the cool desert night. It's chunky like porridge that's been left out, with a skin forming on top that breaks when the next rope hits.
($hidden_gem:"His cock is a fountain of corruption, each pulse sending more thick ropes of goblin seed onto my blade.","His cock becomes a creator of corruption, each cruel contraction catapulting chunky cables of clotted cream onto my cherished blade.")
"This is—UNGH—what heroes—FUCK—are worth!" Each word punctuated by another disgusting ejaculation. His cock doesn't just shoot—it VOMITS cum, retching up impossible amounts.
(sperm:"GLORP-SPLAT-SPLAT!",3,"splurt 4")Multiple streams now, spraying in different directions but all finding Whisperwind. One rope hits the pommel, another coats the leather grip, a third draws a line down the entire length of the blade. The cum is so thick it doesn't run off—it CLINGS, like melted cheese, forming bridges between different parts of the sword.
The goblin's face is pure ecstasy. This tiny, warty creature with a cock that belongs on a breeding bull, his yellow eyes locked on mine as he defiles everything I am. His mouth hangs open, black tongue lolling out, drool mixing with snot as he grunts like a rutting animal.
(sperm:"SPLOOOOOOOGE!",5,"splurt 5")The biggest yet. A continuous stream that lasts three full seconds, hosing down the blade like he's pissing but thicker, chunkier. I can hear it hitting the metal—SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT—each impact another nail in the coffin of my dignity.
"Cock-snot for the hero's sword!" He's laughing and cumming at the same time. "Goblin nut-butter! Ball-sludge! This is what yer worth now!"
(sperm:"BLORT... BLORT... BLOOOOORT!",4,"splurt 6")($change_stat:"heroism",-2)The final spurts come in waves, each one punctuated by his whole body jerking. His cock flexes so hard it slaps against his belly between shots, leaving snail-trails of cum on his own warty skin. The last rope is almost pure white, thick as custard, and it lands directly on the star-sapphires in the crossguard.
They go dark.
Snib shakes his cock, sending droplets flying. One hits my cheek—hot and thick, burning like acid. He's still semi-hard, the head still drooling cum in a continuous stream that forms a puddle on the dirt floor.
"There we go," he pants, satisfied. "Now it's mine. Like you."
I'm sobbing. Ugly, body-shaking sobs that make these massive tits bounce. Whisperwind lies there, drowning in goblin cum that steams in the lamplight, the stench filling the entire hut with its presence.
(pic:"ch02/defile pre tg.jpg","Thick ropes of cum crisscross the blade like spider silk made of custard.")
"See that?" Snib tucks his still-dripping cock back into his loincloth where it makes an obscene bulge. "That's yer future, cow-tits. Whatever I want to cum on, I cum on. Whatever I want to own, I own. And right now?" ]
He grins, showing all those broken teeth.
"I own YOU."
(simple_option:"02 sword tg","Your sword begins to change...")($play:"song","sadness")($play:"ambience","fireplace")(playwhenread:"hay")(if:$choice is "Keep the armor on.")[(pic:"ch02/sleep/uncomfortable.jpg")
I lower myself onto the straw still encased in metal.
($change_stat:"heroism",1)The moment my back hits the ground, I know this was a mistake. The armor doesn't bend—it just digs deeper. The triangular cups shift, crushing one nipple while the other pops free. I try to adjust but that makes the thong saw deeper between my cheeks.
These tits are too heavy. On my back, they fall sideways into my armpits, the metal edges cutting into the soft flesh beneath. I try my side—they stack on top of each other, the bottom one going numb immediately while the top one tries to escape its prison.
The boots are the worst. My feet scream inside them, toes crushed into points, calves locked in permanent spasm. But they won't come off. When I reach for the buckles, they're not where they should be. The metal has sealed itself.
Fine. FINE.
I curl into a ball, knees up, these massive udders compressed between my thighs and chest. The hay pokes through every gap in the armor—my sides, my back, the exposed curves of my ass. Something with too many legs crawls across my thigh.
Sleep. Just sleep. Tomorrow I'll figure out the rest.](else:)[($change_stat:"heroism",-1)Fuck it. I can't sleep like this.
My fingers find the clasps—except they're not where they were before. The bikini top has hidden its releases under the flesh of my breasts. I have to lift each heavy tit to find the tiny mechanisms underneath, my fingers slipping on sweat.
*Click.*(playwhenread:"jingle")
The metal springs away and my tits DROP. Free fall. They hit my ribs with an actual slap, then spread outward like dough on a baker's table. For the first time, I see them without the armor's constraint.
(pic:"ch02/sleep/remove bra.jpg","Pale. Massive. Capped with nipples the size of gold coins.")(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 1")
($hidden_gem:"Pale. Massive. Capped with nipples the size of gold coins.","Pale. Plump. Peaked with nipples pink as gold-coin profiles.")
The aureoles—those darker circles I remember from whores' tits—are wider than my palm. Everything bounces when I breathe. When I shift to pull off the thong, they roll and resettle like water finding its level.(playwhenread:"remove thong")
(pic:"ch02/sleep/remove thong.jpg","When I finally work it free and peel the metal away from my pussy, strings of clear liquid stretch between the metal and my flesh.")
The thong's clasp hides at the base of my spine. When I finally work it free and peel the metal away from my pussy, strings of clear liquid stretch between the metal and my flesh. They snap with tiny wet sounds.
I don't think about what that means. I won't.
The boots come off last. My fingers shake as I find the hidden catches behind my calves. When the metal finally releases—
"Unhhhh..."
The moan escapes before I can stop it. My feet uncurl for the first time in hours. Blood rushes back. The relief is so intense my eyes water. My toes spread in the dirty air, tendons popping, muscles unknotting.
(playwhenread:"jingle")(pic:"ch02/sleep/remove boots.jpg","My feet uncurl for the first time in hours.")
Naked now except for the collar. I curl on my side in the straw, these absurd tits stacked like obscene pillows. The bottom one goes numb. The top one's nipple grazes the hay, sending unwanted shivers through me. My thighs press together, hiding that soft nothing between them. My ass—there's so much of it—spreads behind me.
Snib snores on, oblivious. At least there's that.]
The straw scratches everywhere it touches. My skin, soft and thin now, feels every piece. Something crawls across my hip. The desert cold seeps in without the metal to trap my body heat.
Time to pray. The Ephemerals have to be listening. They have to.
(simple_option:"02 pray","Pray to the Ephemerals.")($play:"ambience","fireplace")($play:"song","sadness")(if:($get_choice:"02 sword tg") is "Fail Check" and ($get_choice:"02 break down") is "Take it off.")[(pic:"ch02/sleep/pray sad naked.jpg","The prayer dissolves into wordless sobbing.")(playwhenread:"cry")
My hands fold over these obscene tits, trying to find the prayer position. Everything's wrong—the weight on my chest, the soft fingers, the tears that won't stop falling.
"Eon who holds yesterday—" My voice cracks, high and broken. "You remember Aldric. You REMEMBER him. You have to. The oaths sworn. The blood spilled for—for—"
A sob wracks through me, making everything jiggle.
"I can't—Flux, you who turns all things—turn this back. Please. This isn't transformation, this is—this is mockery. This is—"
I hiccup. Snot runs from my nose onto these massive tits.
"I was supposed to father children. Not—not birth goblins. Flux, you know the natural from the profane. This body is profane. These udders, this hole, this—"
The words dissolve into blubbering. I try again.
"Verge—" Another sob. "Through your door lies—lies what? What threshold is this? What doorway leads from hero to—to THIS?"
My voice rises to a wail I muffle in the straw.
"The path. Where's my thracking PATH? Eon's yesterday is gone, Flux's change is nightmare, Verge's door leads nowhere but—but spreading my legs for that THING—"
Blasphemy. But I can't stop.
"You were, you are, you will be—but I'm NOT. I'm not anything now. Not man, not woman, just—just meat. Tits and holes. Is this the journey? IS THIS THE THRACKING JOURNEY YOU—"
($hidden_gem:"My prayer breaks into wordless sobs.","My prayer becomes pitiful, pathetic sobs.")
"Please," I whisper into the straw, voice raw. "By the three roads. By time's arc. Show me the way back. Or forward. Or through. Just... somewhere that isn't here."
The Ephemerals don't answer. They never do.
Sleep takes me still crying, still naked, still trapped in flesh that tomorrow I'll have to learn to live in.](else-if: ($get_choice:"02 sword tg") is "Fail Check" and ($get_choice:"02 break down") is "Keep the armor on.")[(pic:"ch02/sleep/pray sad clothed.jpg","The prayer dissolves into wordless sobbing.")(playwhenread:"cry")
I clasp my hands together, these soft fingers that aren't mine. The metal triangles dig deeper into my tits as I try to form the proper mudras. Tears and snot run down my face, dripping onto the hay.
"Eon who... who keeps the ledger..." My voice breaks into a sob. "You remember Aldric. You remember who I—who I was. Before this morning. Before the collar. You have to remember because I'm starting to—to—"
I can't even finish. The prayer form is wrong. You're supposed to state what was, acknowledge what is, accept what comes. But I can't. I fucking can't.
"Flux, you turn all things and... and..." The words scramble. "This change is wrong. This isn't your river, this is... this is drowning. Turn it back. Please. Turn the wheel backward just once. Just this once."
My voice rises to a wail. Snib snorts in his sleep but doesn't wake.
"V-Verge..." I'm blubbering now, the formal words completely gone. "The door. Show me the door out. Any door. I'll walk through anything. Cut off these tits myself if I have to. Just show me which threshold leads back to... to..."
The prayer dissolves into wordless sobbing. The Triad requires recognition of reality—past, present, future. But I can't recognize this. Can't acknowledge that Aldric was, that Elise is, that something worse will be.
"Please," I whisper to whoever might be listening. "I know I've killed. I know I've been proud. But not this. Anything but this. Let me die clean. Let Elara remember me as I was. Please. Please. Please."
($hidden_gem:"The gods give no answer except Snib's wet snoring.","The gods grant no gesture except goblin's guttural, gurgling snoring.")
My eyes close on their own, exhaustion finally winning. The last thing I feel is the collar, cold against my throat, heavy as the silence of heaven.
Sleep takes me, and I dream I still have a cock.](else-if:($get_choice:"02 break down") is "Keep the armor on.")[(pic:"ch02/sleep/pray clothed.jpg")
The straw scratches through every gap in the armor. I close my eyes and try to find the gods in this darkness.
"Eon, Keeper of Was—" My voice cracks. This feminine sound coming from my throat. I swallow, the collar cold against my neck, and try again.
"Eon. You who holds all oaths. Remember that I am Aldric. Remember my mother's grave where I swore to protect the innocent. Remember Elara's hand in mine before your altar. Remember who I WAS before this—" A sob breaks through. "Before this meat. Before these... these things hanging from me."
The metal triangles dig deeper as my breathing quickens.
"Flux—" The tears come now, hot and shameful. "Turner of What Is. You're already turning me, aren't you? Already making me into—into HER. Into this. But you turn all things twice. The tide goes out and comes back. The sword that enters also withdraws. Turn me BACK. Please. I'll give anything—I'll forge a hundred blades in your name, I'll—"
My voice breaks completely. Snot runs from my nose.
"V-Verge..." I'm whispering now, afraid to wake Snib. "Threshold-Keeper. Guardian of desperate voyages. This is the threshold, isn't it? This is the door you're making me walk through. But I can't see the stars on the other side. I can only see—only see goblin spawn and shame and—"
($hidden_gem:"The armor cuts into me with each shuddering breath.","The armor carves into me with each crushing, choking breath.")
"Show me the door out. Any door. Even if it's death. Even if it's the Forgetting. Just... please. Don't let this be how Aldric ends. Not as a goblin's toy. Not with these—these udders and this empty space where I should be whole."
Silence answers. The gods, if they're listening, offer nothing.
"You were," I whisper, remembering the catechism. "You are. You will be."
What I was: a hero.
What I am: meat in metal.
What I will be...
I can't finish the thought. Sleep takes me, still armored, still crying, while somewhere in the dark, the Ephemerals keep their silence.](else:)[(pic:"ch02/sleep/pray naked.jpg")
I close my eyes and picture them as the priests taught. Eon with his hourglass, ancient and patient. Flux, neither and both, eternal change. Verge's door of stars, always opening to the unknown.
"Eon, Keeper of Was," I whisper into the straw. "You remember Aldric's oaths. The promises to Elara. The vows at our wedding. You keep the ledger—you know who I really am beneath this... this flesh."
My voice cracks. These massive tits rise and fall with each shuddering breath.
"Flux, Turner of Is." The words come harder now. "This change—this wrong transformation—you allowed it. You who births babies and quenches swords, you let me become... this. Turn the wheel again. Please. Turn it *back*."
Tears run sideways across my soft cheek, pooling in my ear.
"Verge, Guardian of Will-Be." My voice breaks completely. "I stand at your threshold. Naked. Humiliated. Less than I was. Show me the door. Any door. Even the hard one. Even the one that hurts. Just... show me *through*."
I curl tighter, these obscene breasts compressed between my thighs and chest, my body shaking with silent sobs.
"You were," I whisper, remembering the catechism. "You are. You will be."
What I was: a hero.
What I am: soft flesh and shame.
What I will be...
I fall asleep before I can finish the thought, tears still wet on this face that isn't mine.]
(simple_option:"03 next morning","The next morning...")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/3.png")(masteraudio:"stopall")($chapter_title:3,"Domesticated")($play:"ambience","desert morning")
($notification:"To be continued soon!")(display:"title image")(display:"story setup")<div class='main_menu'>(set:$sidebar to true)(set:$save_to_load to "Chapter 1")
<div class='options'>A Slightly Interactive Novel by Aphrodite
{(set:
$saves to
(a: 1)
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 2", (a: 2),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 3", (a: 3),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 4", (a: 4),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 5", (a: 5),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 6", (a: 6),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 7", (a: 7),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 8", (a: 8),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 9", (a: 9),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 10", (a: 10),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 11", (a: 11),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 12", (a: 12),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 13", (a: 13),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 14", (a: 14),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 15", (a: 15),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 16", (a: 16),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 17", (a: 17),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 18", (a: 18),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 19", (a: 19),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Chapter 20", (a: 20),(a:))
+ (cond: (saved-games:) contains "Epilogue", (a: "Epilogue"),(a:))
)
(chapters:)}
(palettepicker:)
(if:$sound is 0)[(set:$sound to true)]
<span class='borderless'>(link:"Bad end gallery")[(goto:"bad end menu")]</span>
(checkbox: 2bind $sound, "Enable audio?")(set:$index to (indexofpage:$pages,$current_page))(set:$prev_page to "page" of ($pages's (max:1,$index-1)))(goto:$current_page)(if: (saved-games: ) contains "Chapter 2")[<div class='bottom_left'><img class='background-img' src='img/title/title slave.png' width='100%' height=auto></div>](else:)[<div class='bottom_left'><img class='background-img' src='img/title/title male.png' width='100%' height=auto></div>](if:$choice is "Get upset.")["Up, cow," Snib barks, tugging my leash with a harsh jerk. I stumble as the world tilts around me, already unsteady from the high heels strapped to my feet.
The trauma of my new reality hits me again as I feel the absurd weight of my breasts swing with the abrupt action, the chill desert morning air whipping across my bare skin and teasing my sensitive nipples into hard points.
I glance at Snib and the revulsion washes over me again, the goblin dressing in mock casualness amidst his wreck of a hut. He scratches at his groin through the rags he calls clothes, ogling at my naked form without a shred of remorse or respect.
"Now, the 'ouse needs a good cleanin', come 'ere," he grunts, motioning me over to the decrepit, lopsided table strewn with yesterday's leftovers and spilled ale.
But something inside me snaps—the lingering spirit of Aldric boiling over with raw, unmitigated fury. "No! I *won't* be your slave, your plaything, your *cow*," I roar, the sound jagged and desperate. "I am Aldric the Great, not some housemaid for a deplorable creature like you!"
The defiance bubbles from deep within, a forceful geyser that I can't control—and don't want to. The fury feels right, it feels like me.
However, almost instantly, the collar tightens around my throat, a stark reminder of the brutal reality tethering me to my new existence. I claw at my neck, gasping, the metallic grip constricting with every move against Snib’s will—it’s paralyzing.
As my vision blurs from the lack of oxygen, my knees buckle. The goblin is quick to capitalize on my weakened state. With a grunt of effort, he hoists me over the table, my voluptuous breasts squishing unceremoniously against the grimy surface. My face presses into glutinous, stale remnants of his last meal, the smell mingling disgustingly with my ragged breaths.(live:3s)[($play:"sound","spank 1")(stop:)](live:4s)[($play:"sound","spank 2")(stop:)](live:5s)[($play:"sound","spank 1")(stop:)](live:6.5s)[($play:"sound","spank 2")(stop:)]
Then comes the onslaught. The back of my skimpy armor bottom does nothing to protect my soft, jiggling butt cheeks. Each smack a loud, sickening CLAP echoing through the hut.
CLAP! SMACK! SMACK! Each spank rains down on my vulnerable flesh, my entire body jolting with the impact. The resonating pain flames across my butt, the sensation agonizingly vivid on my pale, delicate skin.
"Learn yer place, cow tits!" Snib growls between spanks, his small stature belied by the force of each hit. "If ye don't learn to serve yer new goblin master, life's gonna be very hard for yer plump ass!"
Desperate whimpering cries escape me, the words twisted and muffled by the rancid food under my face. The ($lorebook_entry:"Collar","things"), glowing a sinister purple, ensures compliance, the reminder stark—disobedience equals punishment, or worse, death.
($hidden_gem:"Snib pauses, breathing heavy from the exertion.","Snib stalls, sucking in sharp, sizable swaths of air from the strain.")
"This collar ain't just a leash, it's yer lifeline. If anything happens to me, it'll snap yer pretty neck. So better think twice before bein’ stubborn!"
The reality of my situation sinks in with each throbbing pulse of pain radiating from my reddened cheeks. The goblin, this diminutive tormentor who I once would have easily dispatched as Aldric, now wielded control over not just my body but my very life. The juxtaposition is devastatingly humiliating.
Finally, he ceases his assault. The collar loosens slightly, a small mercy, allowing me to slump weakly against the table, every breath a sharp intake amidst sobs.
Snib kicks back, watching my defeated form with a vile satisfaction etched across his grotesque features. "Remember this lesson well, pet. Yer mine, body and soul. And don't you forget it."
As the last of his words hang heavy in the air, I remain draped over the table, the stinging in my butt a constant, burning reminder of my defeat. The collar's glow fades, but its presence—a cold, harsh band around my neck—remains a firm declaration of my slavery. The previous life of Aldric the Great feels like a distant dream, overwritten by the nightmare that is now my existence as Elise, the goblin's pet.](else:)[($change_stat:"heroism",-1)But I know better than to provoke Snib. I swallow the bubbling rage and focus on the mocking leer of the goblin. In his devilish grin, I see not just my torment but also the resolve I need to overcome it.
"Up, cow," Snib barks, tugging my leash with a harsh jerk. I stumble as the world tilts around me, already unsteady from the high heels strapped to my feet.
The trauma of my new reality hits me again as I feel the absurd weight of my breasts swing with the abrupt action, the chill desert morning air whipping across my bare skin and teasing my sensitive nipples into hard points.
I glance at Snib and the revulsion washes over me again, the goblin dressing in mock casualness amidst his wreck of a hut. He scratches at his groin through the rags he calls clothes, ogling at my naked form without a shred of remorse or respect.
"Now the 'ouse needs a good cleanin', come 'ere," He grunts, motioning me over to the decrepit, lopsided table strewn with yesterday’s leftovers and spilled ale.
With a sigh, I comply, feeling humiliated as I bend over the table with a rag, my breasts swaying underneath me and my bare bottom jutting out vulnerably. I can feel the goblin’s gaze on me, a sinking feeling of dread settling deep within my stomach.
The smell of stale ale fills my nose and I can’t help but let out a disgusted wretch, my mind reeling with the surreal state of my circumstances. Once a renowned hero, now nothing more than a pretty present for this stinking, despicable creature to play with.
($change_stat:"snib",1)From the corner of my eyes, I watch as Snib lounges on his makeshift throne, grinning under his warty nose and flicking a lazy glance around the rotting shack. This is my new prison, the mere thought makes a lump form in my throat.]
(simple_option:"03 well","Do laundry."){(set:$heroism to (statchanges:$stat_changes, "heroism", 100, 0, 100))
(set:$snib_satisfaction to (statchanges:$stat_changes, "snib", 0, 0, 10))
(set:$elaras_love to (statchanges:$stat_changes, "elara", 10, 0, 10))
(set:$town_respect to (statchanges:$stat_changes, "town", 10, 0, 10))
(set:$gold to (statchanges:$stat_changes, "gold", 0, 0, 10000))
(set:$grokk_satisfaction to (statchanges:$stat_changes, "grokk", 2, 0, 10))(if:$unlocks is 0)[(set:$unlocks to (a:))](if:$unlocks_active is 0)[(set:$unlocks_active to (a:))]}
(pic:"ch03/well.jpg","right")The cheery warbles of sand-owls and glimmer finches filter through the chilly desert morning, a sweet counterpoint to my gruesome morning chore. With a final heave, the well bucket emerges from the depths; wooden slats groaning under the weight of brackish water.
"Now for the fun part," Snib chuckles, thrusting a soggy pile of fabric into my arms. My stomach lurches as the stench hits me; a mix of dried cum and goblin musk assaulting my senses.
"Ye better get to work, Elise," Snib grumbles, watching me with beady eyes, masked in grotty delight as I pick absentmindedly through the unsanctified collection of smegma-soaked loincloths that serve as his clothing.
My gaze keeps returning to the front of the queer loincloths, now crusty and faded. A sour taste permeates my mouth as I ponder the stains; hefty clusters of dried goblin seed, each one a potent reminder of my new place in this world. I dread the task, knowing that goblins are fabled for their obscenely large and vigorous sperm. Just about visible to the naked eye once in contact with moisture.
There I stand, two heaving mounds of flesh making mockery of my once flat chest, looming over a filthy pile of jizz-crusted goblin loincloths. The absurdity of it all threatens to strangle the last dregs of dignity I've been desperately clinging onto since waking up with this cursed body.($play:"sound","laundry")
With great reluctance, I begin to scrub through the stiff garments, ice-cold water splattering against my heavy breasts and firm thighs. The rhythmic movement is instantly ruined by the feel of Snib's crude, slapping hand against my rounded ass—a caricature of encouragement. I see no mocking amusement in his twinkling eyes, just hints of depraved expectancy that promise a long, arduous day.
The clothes soften in the bucket, the whisk of soap and scrubbing revealing the horrifying squiggly tadpoles. Thousands of microscopic goblin sperm wriggling amongst the filth. The sight is repulsive, yet fascinating, forcing bile into my throat. But this is my reality, my servitude under Snib’s lecherous reign.
Finishing up, I pin up the wretched loin cloths to dry. The glint of rising sun on the damp material amplifies the ghastly mental image of tadpoles zigzagging out of the fabric and jumping at me, desperately seeking an egg to impregnate.
(simple_option:"03 handy","Later...")(pic:"ch03/desert.jpg","left")I steel my nerves, glancing over my shoulder as the musky scent of the recently jerked-off goblin wafts towards me. Pangs of disgust wrack my body. Snib leans against the side of the well, a filthy grin spreading across his wart-studded face.
“Ye did a good job with me delicates Elise," he muses, the edge of light caught behind him silhouetting his loathsome form. “Now 'bout you earn some gold?”
A glimmer of hope sparks within me at the mention of gold. Gold that could buy my release from this squalid existence. Gold that could rid me of this revolting collar. I ready myself to shine his boots or fetch his dinner. But then I notice the lustful glint in Snib's eyes. That predatory gaze I've come to recognize and loathe.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask, a tinge of apprehension clouding my voice. Snib's grin widens, revealing crooked, stained teeth.
“Thought ye’d never ask, lass,” he chuckles lewdly, reaching down to fondle his overgrown phallus through his loin cloth. My heart thunders in my chest at his crude gesture. “Fancy givin’ me a handy?”
My eyes blow wide open, every inch of my skin recoiling as I take in the full meaning of his words. He wants me to touch his filthy tool. The thick, veiny nightmare that spews his nauseating seed. My cheeks blaze crimson as a wave of humiliation washes over me.
(simple_option:"03 handy react","No way!","...how much gold?")(set:$se_to_stop to "laundry")(display:"stop sound effect")<div class='tw-story-title'>The Slave-Collar</div>
(pic:"ch02/collar.jpg","right")**Classification:** Elder Artifact of Absolute Dominion
**Material:** Unknown
**Current Bearer:** Elise (formerly Aldric the Great)
**Current Master:** Snib, goblin of no particular distinction
**Physical Description:**
A seamless band of metal that drinks light rather than reflects it, cold as tomb-frost even in desert heat. No clasp or hinge mars its perfect circle—it exists as an unbroken ring. Ancient script writhes beneath its surface like worms under skin, letters that hurt to read, that spell out contracts in languages predating human speech.
**The Nature of Its Binding:**
This is no mere slave collar, but something infinitely crueler—a *transformer of essence*. Upon clasping shut around a throat, it reads its victim like a tome, learning every strength, every pride, every cherished identity. Then, with the patience of centuries, it begins its work: inverting, corrupting, rebuilding its bearer into their master's perfect antithesis.
The warrior becomes soft flesh. The protector becomes the violated. The husband becomes equipped with womb. Each transformation precisely calculated to destroy not just the body but the very concept of self.
**The Bond:**
Once claimed by a master—even one as pathetic as a diseased goblin—the collar's loyalty is absolute. It whispers its bearer's secrets into the master's mind: combat techniques become positions of submission, battle cries become moans of pleasure. The collar makes genius of idiots, granting just enough intelligence to maximize cruelty while maintaining their base nature.
Should the master perish, so too does the bearer—the collar constricting until vertebrae crack and breath ceases. This is not mere life-linking but a statement: the slave's existence has meaning only through service.
**Historical Speculation:**
Scholar-priests who've studied such artifacts (always from distance) recognize the craftsmanship of the Second Age, when beings that called themselves gods walked among men. The collars—for there were many, once—served as tools of the Temples of Submission, where war-prisoners were transformed into pleasure-clergy for dark fertility cults.
Professor Erasmus Gray, before his mysterious disappearance, theorized these collars were forged by the Sleeping Ones—entities that predate even the Ephemerals—as instruments to reduce proud races to breeding stock. His final notes, found scattered in his tower, spoke of "a time when strength existed only to be broken, and when every sword would become a hole."
**Behavioral Manifestations:**
- Constricts at *thoughts* of violence against the master, training obedience through accumulated trauma
- Neutralizes magical ability unless the master permits its use, reducing archmages to begging for permission to light candles
- Transforms the bearer's body to their master's ideal of degradation—always hypersexual, always vulnerable, always *opposite* to what they were (though this can manifest itself differently)
- Maintains surprising health in its bearer, ensuring they can endure decades of use without release of death
**The Grotesque Irony:**
The collar found in Ironrock Mine selected Aldric the Great not randomly but *precisely*—it sensed the apex of heroism and hungered to corrupt it. That it bound itself to a mere goblin amplifies the horror: humanity's champion now crawls for something that should be stepped on. The collar ensures its bearer *remembers* who they were, keeping their original mind trapped in transformed flesh, watching helplessly as their body betrays every principle.
**Whispers of Return:**
An unknown number of such collars were forged in the Second Age. Seven were destroyed in the Burning of Ghemt. Five were lost when the sea swallowed the Towers of Thanul.
Legend speaks of only one method of removal: the master must willingly release their slave with genuine intent, speaking words of freedom. But what being, granted such power over beauty, would ever willingly surrender it?
**A Warning, Unheeded:**
The appearance of even one such collar signals catastrophe. These artifacts don't simply appear—they are *called* by confluences of cruelty and desperation, by ages when the strong prey upon the weak without restraint. That this one has surfaced now, in an era of goblin raids and human desperation, suggests darker forces stir in the deep places of the world.
The collar is not just an instrument of bondage. It is a herald. A promise that the age of heroes is ending, replaced by an epoch where strength exists only to be shackled, where every champion becomes chattel.
*As recorded by trembling hand before the writer's disappearance: "It sings to me through the walls. Says my throat would fit it perfectly. Says my research would continue better from my knees. I must flee before—"*
*[The entry ends here. The author was never found.]*(if:$choice is "No way!")["No WAY!"
The words burst from my lips before I can temper them, my voice a mixture of shock and disgust. Snib's filthy suggestion reverberates through me, each syllable mocking the remnants of my dignity. The immediate revolt my body feels against being used as an object for his crude pleasure is palpable.
Suddenly, the ($lorebook_entry:"Collar","things") around my neck tightens, choking the breath from me. I gasp and claw at it, the metal unyielding against my desperate fingers.
"I... I mean... no way, *master*," I grit out through labored breaths.
The collar eases almost immediately, allowing me a rasping breath of the dank hut air. Snib snickers, his beady eyes glinting with malicious delight. "That’s right, pet. Remember yer place," he taunts, turning away with a dismissive wave of his hand.](else:)["...how much gold?" I ask hesitantly, a blush staining my cheeks as the words escape my lips. Each syllable is a betrayal to my former self, a self that would have neared turning at the grotesque proposal.
($change_stat:"heroism",-1)Snib grins, the corners of his mouth stretching up into a wicked arc. He leans back leisurely against the well, his filthy loincloth barely containing the burgeoning beast below. "For ye, cow tits? Let's say... 10," he chuckles, the mockery clear in his tone.
Only 10 gold? The insult of the sum runs deeper than the degradation of the act itself. My cheeks flame hotter, the crimson surely spreading to every visible part of my skin.
As Snib shifts, his loincloth tents obscenely, pulled up by the thick, smegma-coated monstrosity that strains against its flimsy confines. I can't help but notice it—the massive veiny length becoming grotesquely prominent, pulsing with a sickening life of its own. Its girth stretches the loincloth upward, revealing the underside of his goblin horror: a heavy, squat shape, forest-green and veined, capped with a bulbous, vile purple head leaking pre-cum.
It twitches, the sudden movement causing the loincloth to flap slightly, and Snib's massive, hairy green balls shift beneath the monstrous erection. The sight is repulsive and hypnotically disturbing, fixing me in place as if his deformed member emits a morbid aura of domination.
"N-No," I stammer, turning my gaze away from the monstrosity that calls to the darkest, most primal parts of my body.
"Oh ho! Look at you, practically going cross-eyed ooglin' at it!" he jeers.]
(simple_option:"03 finish laundry","Finish the laundry.")Grimacing as I hang the loincloths up to dry, the repugnant smell still etched in my nostrils, I become a spectacle under Snib's watch. My hefty breasts bouncing and coated in the splashback, my nubile butt bobbling with every move, makes Snib chuckle ominously.
"Elise my sweet, why don't ye make yerself useful," Snib laughs, sitting back against the hut. His putrid goblin dick-free of that foul loincloth- stood proud and throbbing in the morning air. His words crush my hope for solace. He leers at me, a grotesque smile of crude suggestion appearing on his lips.
"Look at this," he croaks, tapping his fat goblin schlong. "It's aching, swollen, like a bad tooth."
Revulsion swells within me like bile at his suggestion, yet a tinge of curiosity pokes amidst the disgust. It is accompanied by the realization that a goblin's sexual fantasies often come with a heavy dose of bargaining.
"See,(unless:($get_choice:"03 handy react") is "No way!")[ I was jokin' about the 10 gold before,]" Snib continues, ignoring my violated expressions, "you give me a nice handjob while I lay here, and I'll knock off **500 gold** from the grand total." His hideous grin broadens at the sight of my mortified face, my stormy eyes sparkling with both resentment and reluctant consideration.
The idea is vile, yet twisted with a perverse sense of fairness.
"You'd get practice with this big fella," Snib adds as an afterthought, giving his monstrous schlong a playful waggle. A gag threatens to spill from my throat as the veiny beast salutes me ominously. It takes every ounce of control to suppress it. Though the precious gold on offer is not a favor, but more of a reprieve from the tedious debt, his twisted proposal toys with my sanity.
($hidden_gem:"Yet I am no fool. Even in this torturous servitude, I understand Snib's filthy game. He hopes to turn my desperation into compliance, trading gold for my dignity. ","Yet, not nescient am I. Navigating this nettlesome nightmare, I note neatly the nauseating nuances of Snib's squalid sport. He hungers to harness my hardship into heedfulness, haggling honor for his heinous heaps of gold.")
It seems like he’s not planning to rape me - even though he could by using the collar to compel me - he’d rather wear me down.
The thought of my hand grazing against his fleshy monstrosity sends despair crashing down on me. It's a chilling reminder of the chain around my neck, the leash of my existence controlled by a grotesque goblin with a stupid, perverted sense of humor!
(simple_option:"03 next cleaning","Back to the hut...")As we return to Snib's hovel, my heart sinks deeper with each step towards the decrepit dwelling. The door creaks open, sending a shiver down my spine as it exposes the filth within.
Snib roughly jerks my leash, instructing, "Start cleaning up this mess, cow." My leash is then tied to a pole in the middle of the hut, giving me just enough slack to move around but nowhere near enough to feel free. The iron clinks softly as I test the limits, each jangle a shrill reminder of my constraints.
The sight that greets me is a chilling reminder of how far I've fallen. The hut is cluttered with remnants of goblin filth—bones from indistinguishable creatures, shreds of old, rotten food strewn about, and the acrid, stinking residue of semen that seems to permeate every corner.
My stomach churns.
I long for the fresh floral scents of Elara's garden back in Eboncrest, her delicate fingers nurturing life into the soil.
She must be so worried right now. I'm supposed to be home. Enjoying a nice morning in with my wife!
With a heavy heart, I set about the demeaning task.
I bend awkwardly to scoop up scattered bones, the arch of my back accentuating my absurd curves, tits dangling down. My once powerful hero's physique, replaced by this hyper-feminine body, jiggles and sways as I shuffle around, providing an unsolicited show.
From his corner, Snib leers, "Just look at those jiggling udders sway! Shake 'em more!"
I try to ignore him. On the brink of dozing off, he half-heartedly strokes his monstrous goblin cock. Lazy strings of precum ooze from the tip as he yawns.
The humiliation burns hotter with each swing of my oversized breasts and the tugging feel of the bikini armor, scraping uncomfortably with every forced movement. I recall Elara’s tender care, her worry over the smallest scrape I'd bring back from my adventures, and here I am, adorned in nothing but scraps of metal and shame, the object of a filthy monster's amusement.
When I get to the middle of the room, a particular task freezes me in place. Whisperwind lies on the floor, partially covered in a dreadful mass of dried, congealed goblin-sperm. It's a monstrous sight, the sperm mass still ominously potent-looking, as if it could spring to life and impregnate me.
The brain-fogging stench it emits makes me miss the outdoors intensely, a setting I once roamed freely, respected and admired. Now, reduced to this... cleaning up after a goblin in humiliating attire, choking on the memory of what I once was.
Tears sting my eyes as I avert my gaze from Whisperwind. I can't bring myself to touch it, the weapon I had wielded with pride, now debased like me, reduced to an object in a goblin's vile game.
"Get a move on, Elise!” Snib barks, breaking me from my reverie. “Me eyes ain't pleased yet. Make sure you get every spot(unless:($get_choice:"03 handy react") is "No way!")[, or it's another spankin']!"
(display:"divider")
As the day recklessly loses itself within the parched desert horizon, I find myself lost within a pressing question – how can I get through today?
Despite this grim uncertainty, I know two things. Firstly, there's an unending heap of utter filth that needs cleaning. Secondly, there's a goblin who's unnecessarily amused by my discomfort from it.
Everywhere around me, there's filth. At first glance, the chaotic jumble of debris seems like an intimidating dragon I would have otherwise slain with my sword. But I'm not Aldric the Great anymore. I am Elise, a voluptuous woman, held on a leash by a vile goblin named Snib - tasked to vanquish the beast with nothing more than a twig broom, a small tin bucket, and an old rag.
I start by sweeping the hard dirt floor, a cloud of dust immediately engulfing the congested hut. Each stroke of the broom against the cold floor sends a chill up to my chest, the strain making my colossal tits bounce inside the restrictive metal bra. The feeling is bizarre, my large orbs marvelously jiggling with every breath I take, their warmth standing stark against the rest of my exposed body.
Snib watches with interest, his beady eyes focused on the rhythmic jostle of my large, soft breasts. Grotesque fascination is written all over his face, a sickening grin plastered onto his frog-like lips. His unyielding stare fuels a dangerous knot in the pit of my stomach, my anger simmering with every passing moment, yet I persist in my domestic chore, my will unwavering.
Over the hours, I pick up every bit of detritus, inspecting everything from discarded bones to the crushed remnants of indistinguishable inscriptions written in a bizarre script. Each item holds its morbid tale, their ghostly echoes adding to the haunting orchestra created by Snib’s entertainment at my expense.
Soon, Snib grows restless and hands me a crude knife, pointing at a pile of food he had scavenged. Not wanting to give him any cause to yank my leash, I set to prepare the lunch. To my surprise, the creature he has brought back is much alike to the field rabbits back home. Familiarity stirs a faint smile on my lips, but it's short-lived as I slice the creature open.
The memory of crisp sunlight pouring onto Elara's bright face, as her gentle hands taught me to prepare dinner one summer afternoon, washes over me. The comfort of her kind words, the melody of her laughter rings in my ear as I start cooking over the small fire pit outside. The aroma of the roasting meat brings a pang of hunger amidst the cloud of my anguish.
With lunch prepared, I serve Snib on one of the newly dusted off wooden plates. The crude satisfaction he expresses at his meal inadvertently stirs a sense of achievement within me. For a brief moment, I'm back in my sun-kissed courtyard, serving my wife Elara a lovingly prepared meal.
The fantasy quickly breaks as Snib belches out his compliments, a cruel laughter punctuating his enjoyment. The offensive smell of fermented beef and vile goblin spit permeates the air, crumpling any fleeting semblance of home I had constructed within my worn-out soul.
Forced to succumb to the reality, I spend the rest of the sweltering afternoon cleaning up. The gruesome smell of Snib’s belched out compliments still hangs heavily in the air. Yet, a more pressing concern takes priority over my discomfort. My bladder, bearing the torment for hours, looks for sweet relief. A quick glance at my leash tied to a rusted iron ring and Snib snoozing comfortably convinces me that any peaceful trip to the latrine is far from possible.
(simple_option:"03 need to pee","You need to pee...")"Master," I call out as delicately as my enraged spirit allows me to. "Master, I need to pee."
Snib opens one bulbous eye, regards me with a gleam of amusement, his scaly green lips curling in a grotesque smile. "Then pee," he grunts, a soft chuckle in his repulsive voice.
"I've gotta go outside," I explain, hating the softness in my voice. My desperation intertwines with the humiliation he'd forced down my throat.
"No need, pet." His laughter echoes in the dismal hut. He points a gnarled finger towards a corner where a bucket of forgotten filth rests. "There's yer toilet."
My face flushes, burning with the shame he’s just dropped on me. So this is the next level of my humiliation as his pet. I feel the protest bubble up, almost slip past my lips but catch it in time. Pointless. I've learned the game well enough; it’s best to shut up and get with it, endure and survive.
As I walk towards the rancid, rusty bucket, one careful step at a time on my high metal heels, I feel Snib's piercing gaze etch into my jiggling ass and thick thighs. I bite down hard against the shame that rises with each tiny, humming vibration of his disgusting laughter that hangs in the air.
"Squat right over it, cow. Ye don't wanna be missin' the target," he hoots, tugging on the leash, the wicked runes of the collar biting into my tender skin.
($hidden_gem:"The sound of him laughing is like nails on a chalkboard as I head for the bucket.","His hilarity hammers hard, harsh as hails hitting home, as I hasten to the horrid holder.")
My face is on fire, heart pounding as if trying to escape the humiliating situation I’m being coerced into. Squatting down is a delicate balancing act in these heels, and despite Snib’s ruthless tugs on the leash, I keep steady, staring at the filthy mouth of the bucket.
“Ah, look at those fat, plump cheeks of yours,” he comments from where he’s leaning, lecherous gaze roaming freely over my bare, round ass as I struggle for balance. His words are like acid sizzling along my skin. “Your milky tits hangin' like ripe melons, wobblin' with every breath. Gettin' a good show here, slave.”
Silently, I grit my teeth, swallow down the bile at the back of my throat. I curl one hand protectively around my right breast to steady myself, the fullness surprising me once again. The cold bucket rim against my bare, full ass sends a shiver up my spine.
"Get on with it, 'cow tits,' don't keep your Master waiting," he barks, tugging the leash to make me yelp.
I inhale deeply, summon my composure, and attempt to surrender to the natural call. I reckon this shouldn't be that hard, just... well, different.
But it's just not coming. The lewd spectacle is too much - the unfamiliarity of my new female body, a man-turned-woman in a degraded bondage of a perverse master.
My cheeks burn brighter at Snib's echoing sniggers. Any sense of privacy shattered by his lewd remarks. “Make sure y'don't miss the bucket and piss all over the floor. Don't want my cow making a mess now, do I?"
(simple_option:"03 pee","Focus!")Without a word, I close my eyes, hoping it will help shut out the surrounding humiliation. Waiting for the sensation of release. Eventually, and to my surprise, I hear the quiet, feminine hiss of my pee hitting the inside of the bucket. It’s a rush, a release, and for a moment, I revel in the surprising comfort of it. It is a sensation I need to get used to, the high pitched sound, the position, the warmth of release, it’s all so new. (live:1s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","elise peeing")]
"Fucking finally, huh, cow tits?" Snib draws out my name with a derogatory sneer plastered on his malodorous face, "What's taking so long? It isn't as if yer blastin' out a mighty stream with that little piss slit. Now, stand still or ye'll make a mess."
I grit my teeth but remain silent, focusing on finishing the business that he's made hellishly public. Snib is watching intently as I pee, his satisfaction at my discomfort evident. I’m forced to remain a captive audience to my own humiliating spectacle.
The sound of my pissing is quiet, humiliatingly feminine - a stark contrast to the thunderous piss-shows men present. I notice it, how the pee barely makes a sound as it leaves me, only becoming noticeable when it hits the bucket, a small shower of piss that makes Snib chuckle with delight. My own dismal situation is enough to make this reality come crashing back.
Just as I’m finishing up, Snib unexpectedly stands from his bed, sauntering over to the other side of the bucket where I'm desperately trying to keep myself from falling over. "Move yer ass, Elise. Don't wanna splash piss on ya."
I can't believe what I'm witnessing. In what feels like slow motion, Snib is getting ready. Lowering his filthy loincloth, his swollen monstrosity is being unleashed.
"You'll see how a gobbo pisses, bitch." Snib grins wickedly, his engorged member pointed at the bucket. He's angled right in between my legs. I whimper a little.
The stream erupts from Snib's grotesquely oversized flaccid cock with a force that feels almost violent in its intensity. It's unlike anything I've ever seen or felt, a vile exhibition of his primal dominance. The hot, acrid torrent forcefully sputters between my trembling legs, the sound an aggressive rumble compared to the soft whispers of my own urination. His massive member, an obscene creature in its own right, flexes with each pulse, splattering piss with a furious, relentless vigor.
Through gritted teeth and a squeezed shut gaze, I can't help but feel the hot splashes pepper my thighs, the steam practically curling off the small tin bucket between us. It's a stark, harsh contrast to my own feeble flow, a mockery of my femininity. Snib grunts with each push, a low, guttural sound of satisfaction that chills my spine.
"Makin' my mark," he chuckles crudely, his voice dripping with lewd amusement. "Gotta show my property who's boss, eh, Elise? This is how a real goblin hoses down his turf!"
(live:7s)[($play:"sound","snib peeing")(stop:)]
The words sear into me, each syllable a scorching reminder of my degradation. It's not just the physical act of his urine cascading so close to me that humiliates—it's the meaning behind it. He is marking his territory, and that territory includes me. The deep, primal assertion of biological superiority sends a wave of despair crashing through me. Here I am, a former hero, reduced to a spectacle of degradation, squatting and submissive, as this vile creature asserts his dominance through such a crude act.
His stream continues unabated, a seemingly unending torrent that reinforces the disparity between us. This is the assertion of a male, his biological weaponry laid bare and used to subjugate and demean. My position, forced to squat, the metal collar ensuring I cannot rise and escape, renders the act not just humbling, but violating. I am pinned, not just by the collar but by the overwhelming masculinity of his act. It’s as if the forceful stream is washing away any remnants of my prior identity, engulfing me in the stark reality of what I've become under his control.
Unable to avoid it, I feel droplets of hot piss splashing up against my plump, sweaty asscheeks, trickling down mightily. It comes off like the aftermath of a man’s cum, gross, sticky and warm, clinging to my pale flesh. Every droplet draws a shuddering gasp from me, each one accompanied by sardonic chuckles from him.
I have to squint between my massive tits and wide-spread thighs to keep my eyes from watering at the mere sight of his powerful, virulent piss, forming a fat, golden stream between us. The smell of him and his pissing fills the air, mixing with my own shame, the stench almost as unbearable as the sight in front of me.
Eventually, blessedly, the deafening noise of his piss dwindles to a trickle. The final drops of his urine dance around the rim of the bucket, mixing with my own, his barbaric commentary tainting my thoughts. Freezing in humiliation, I wait for him to finish, the excruciating moment stretching on indefinitely before he finally steps back, tucking his still-dripping cock back into his loincloth.
($change_stat:"heroism",-1)I shrink back against the hut as he turns to me with a triumphant grin, the final drops of his piss gathering down my trembling legs into the sand below. He struts off with a wink, leaving me to pull the bottom part of my bikini armor back up, hiding my trembling pussy and dripping ass under the scanty gear. As I rise from my squat, I feel the cold breezes of the desert contrasting with the warmth of my cheeks, a burning sense of humiliation coursing through me. I manage to stay upright despite the precariousness of my high heeled boots sinking into the sand and my newly-acquired proportions swaying dangerously.
"Good girl, bitch-tits," Snib calls out over his shoulder, “ye’d better clean yerself up.”
(simple_option:"03 ugh","Ugh...")(set:$se_to_stop to "elise peeing")(display:"stop sound effect")(set:$se_to_stop to "snib peeing")(display:"stop sound effect")With the day's humiliating tasks almost at an end, Snib tosses me my once-prided sword, Whisperwind, now a mockery of its former glory. The sight of it plunges my heart into despair - the weapon that once spelled doom for evil is now desecrated, a tragic symbol of my fallen heroism.
Splatters of dried, crusty cum mar every inch of the glorious blade – a twisted tribute from Snib's vile climax. A foul bastardization of what Whisperwind once was. The sight of the once gleaming silver steel, now faded under the white, crusty streaks, makes my heart wrench.
Like his foul cum after he spends himself, the stains are sickeningly thick, stubborn, and revolting. It cling to the blade in pearl-like globs; just the sight of this sad state of my once beloved sword makes my stomach churn - it's Snib's perverse mark.
Grimacing, I reach out and carefully try to lift the stained blade, balancing my bulbous breasts against the weight of the aftermath. It isn't easy - each time I move, my pendulous melons threaten to upset the precarious balance. But I do this out of spite - out of defiance. To clean Whisperwind is to expunge Snib’s sickening influence over me.
I grip the dried cum-laden hilt, making a face at the not-so-ephemeral reminder of Snib’s musk mixed with the sharp metallic tang of Whisperwind. I start scrubbing, the rough surface of my leather rag chafing my delicate porcelain skin. As I fight to cleanse my sword, his depraved laughter echoes within the confines of my memory. Each stroke of my arm sends my oversized bosom into an obscene jiggling, each sway of my hips puts my colossal bottom on unhindered display for Snib's lecherous gaze.
A painful whimper escapes me before I can stop it. The realization of how far I've fallen sinks in deeper than Whisperwind ever has his enemies. I am now a woman, reduced to scrubbing cum stains off my sword, a buxom prize for a goblin master. But it doesn't matter - I have to clean it. I have to strip away the thick remnants of Snib’s shame and restore my sword to its former glory. It feels like the first step - the first stroke on my quest to reclaiming my honor. Whisperwind will be mine again, gleaming and true, just as I will be Aldric once more - I vow.
Snib watches me, making all sorts of mocking comments.
As much as I want to hate the way his grotesque words make my cheeks flush, I can’t stop a faint throbbing in my core. The disgusting, bleachy scent of his semen lingers on the blade and on my fingers, bringing to mind Snib’s humiliating act from the previous day. The amount of cum it must've taken to saturate the blade so thoroughly sends my thoughts spiraling. The goblin's schlong is vile, yet there's something viciously virile and fascinating about it. Under my humiliated scowl, something horrifying boils: curiosity, an insipid base arousal I cannot name, let alone admit to.
Suddenly, Snib breaks me from my dangerous thoughts. “Ye know, I was thinking of selling that sword,” he announces casually. His words impact me like a physical blow; my hands falter, my heart pounds in my chest, a cold sweat breaks out on my skin. The thought of my precious sword - my only remaining tie to my former pride and glory - being sold off like an ordinary trinket fills me with a raw, helpless panic.
(simple_option:"03 sell sword","No!","...that would cover the debt...")(if:$choice is "No!")[“No!” I gasp, horrified at the prospect. My throat is dry, eyes watering. I can’t bear the thought of losing Whisperwind, my partner in many battles, the symbol of my brave past. Snib seems pleased at my reaction. His cackling laughter rings out, echoing sharply against the walls of the hut.
“Hah! Got ya there, didn’t I?” He’s trying to catch his breath between fits of laughter, clutching his stomach. "I ain't gonna sell yer fancy toothpick, milady," he mocks. A wave of relief washes over me, and I huff, brushing a tear from my cheek.
](else:)[My heart pounds against the cool metal of my scant bikini armor at Snib's suggestion; the mere thought of selling Whisperwind feels like betrayal. It's more than just a sword; it's a part of me—of Aldric the Great, whose ghostly echos linger in the corners of my mind. My grip tightens on the stained hilt, the rag slipping over the slick, crusty layers of cum symbolizing my resistance.
"Imagine that, ye—transformed into this voluptuous mess—actually thinkin' you could still swing a sword?" Snib jeers mockingly, his eyes raking over my body with derisive amusement. His words cut deeper than the sword could, scathing reminders of what I've been reduced to.
I chew on my bottom lip, fighting the afflictive blend of resignation and vexing arousal brewing within. *Could selling it really set me free?* The thought is humiliating yet temptingly practical. Whisperwind could fetch a sum that would instantly absolve me of this indebted servitude to Snib.
Yet, the idea of letting go feels like severing the last thread connecting me to my past greatness. My chest heaves, my massive tits jiggle uncontrollably, underlining my physical transformation—a cruel joke mirrored by the humiliating contemplation of selling my once-cherished blade.
“Hah! Got ya there, didn’t I?” Snib bursts into raucous laughter, his chunky body shaking. "I ain't gonna sell yer fancy toothpick, milady," he mocks, continuing to chuckle at his own cruel jest. A wave of relief washes over me, cooling the flush of mingled humiliation and anger that had heated my cheeks. I huff, wiping away a rogue tear that dared to escape.]
(display:"divider")
As I return to the menial task of scrubbing the floor, a suffocating fog seems to settle over my mind. Forbidden thoughts creep sluggishly through the haze. I tug at the collar, each pull a desperate attempt to snatch back some semblance of power over my own body, but it's futile.
The stench of dried cum creeping from the bucket where I washed Whisperwind lingers in the air. The smell is foul, overpowering, a slap of degradation that should repulse me to my core. Yet, each inhale seethes through my nostrils and fans a disturbing heat throughout my body. It pools between my thighs, seeping unwantedly past the flimsy metal of my bikini bottom that barely contains me.
Fuck! The realization hits like a plummet down a dark well; I'm wet. My pussy is reacting on its own, the slick, shameful moisture gathering in traitorous tendrils along the smooth, bald lips hidden under the steel. Each movement sends shivers up my spine, the metal rubbing against my now sensitive skin in ways that both disgust and—damn it all—arouse me.
I hate this! Hate how my body—this new, ultra-feminine form—submitting to the crude, humiliating control, triggers something so undeniably primal in me. It's wrong, deeply fucking wrong! I try focusing on the grit under my hands, the filthy remnants of goblin meals and semen-covered debris I'm forced to clean, but it's too late. The more I scrub, the hotter my cheeks burn, the more pronounced the throb between my legs becomes.
"Ye're finding out just how fitting your true place is, ain't ya?” Snib taunts from his filthy throne, a crooked grin splitting his gnarly face. “A big brute like ye used to be, struttin’ around, thinking you could just snuff out us gobbos. But look at ya now."
I try to focus, to clench and unclench my fists, to regain some semblance of control. “No... this isn’t right,” I mutter, hating the slickness that makes my inner thighs chafe against each other.
Snib cackles, "Fighting it makes it sweeter, tits. But tis better if ye just give in. This is what yer body’s *made* for. Yer nowt but fuck-meat in shiny knickers." His words are vile, each syllable dripping with contempt, yet they strike a deep, dark chord within the walls of my sex that I dare not explore.
His words, meant to debilitate, instead stir something primal, something urgent and shameful. I shiver, part revulsion, part... darkness—an unacknowledged craving that gnaws at my sanity.
He talks and talks, filling the filthy air with his disdain for humans, for warriors like I once was, "These lands are choked with your kind, thinking they’re the saviors. But ye ain't saving no one now, are you? The high and mighty hero, now kneeling in goblin jizz and piss."
(display:"divider")
The rest of the day drags like a march through sheol. Each task, no matter how mundane, is marred by the growing heat within me. I feel the tug at my collar, the weight of my breasts, the constrictive grasp of my armor—and beneath it all, the inexorable throb between my legs, which grows with every lewd comment Snib throws my way.
($hidden_gem:"Every word is a reminder of my fall from grace, every filthy comment a reinforcement of this despicable arousal tormenting me.","Each expression engraves the erosion of my erstwhile esteem; every egregious utterance enforces the excruciating excitement embroiling me.")
The way my body responds—this traitorous, cursed form—adds layers upon layers of self-loathing. My former self, Aldric, would revile at what I become with each passing moment under Snib’s rule.
By the end of the day, as I lay exhausted and filthy on a pile of musty straw, I barely recognize myself. The thrumming in my veins, the pulsating need in my groin—a sick, perverted echo of Snib’s harrowing declarations—it's insidious and it festers.
Left alone with my thoughts, I find myself glancing down at my restrictive bikini "armor." The pieces valiantly holding together my mountainous breasts and obscenely wide ass is a horrid reminder of my transformation, yet offers a dubious comfort - the only barrier between my naked flesh and Snib's constant, perverse gaze.
At least, he doesn't force himself on me. That's a surprise.
After a day of discomfort, my skin cries out for mercy.
(simple_option:"03 take off","Take it off...")In front of the cracked mirror, I cautiously begin unclasping my metallic bikini top. ($play:"sound","jingle")
The skimpy steel scrapes against my sensitive skin, biting into the soft, plush flesh of my humongous jugs as I ease it off my chest. The moment the last clasp pops open, my knockers fall free with a meaty slap against my belly, their obscene weight resonating in the hut's suffocating silence.
(pic:"ch02/nude.jpg")
The release sends a tremor through my massive globes, jiggling like jelly mounds, the slight vibrations popping off in sparks down to my core. My hard nubs throb painfully at the disturbance.
As embarrassed as I am by my proportions, the oversized mammaries hanging off my chest are incredibly beautiful. Like two gigantic orbs of the juiciest, ripest fruit, pale skin stark against the dirty surroundings.
With a groan, I shift my attention to my calf-high heel boots. Designed more for lascivious appeal than any practical purpose, they seem to sagely epitomize my predicament. Just like the rest of my farcical attire, they're form fitting and intensely disciplined, painfully crushing my feet into a brutal arch. I swear I can hear the soft protest of my delicate, white toes, squashed like a damsel in the grasp of a monster. Resisting the urge to gnash my teeth, for the first time since this hellish dawn, I bend towards the menacing accessories.
The strain is real. Every bend sends a significant udderquake through my voluminous chest, resulting in a slapping tangle with my knees. My tits were used to the free fall in the midst of gravity; and in their enormous glory, they seem to celebrate their freedom. The resulting swing is visibly noticeable, sending an obscene jiggle through my pendulous breasts. Their momentum sends me reeling back a few times before I master the act of ducking while accommodating my titanic tits.
Laboring under the weight of my chest, my manicured hands finally make headway to my boots. I trace along the detailed lacework, fingers fumbling around unfamiliar folds and hardened leather soles. It's a challenge to concentrate, especially with my heavy hooters swinging like wild pendulums, their unseen sway sending shivers fluttering directly to my damp pussy.
But relief, when it comes, is euphoric. The lashes give away, I loosen the fist around my trembling toes. The sensation is akin to the first gasp after being underwater for too long, life-giving and desperate. Reprieve floods me, my toes splaying and flexing with barely concealed joy.
Peeling off the boots takes a bit of devious wiggling, a fight against the biting cold and the rigid shackles of steel. Every scrape of my delicate skin under the metallic edge adds to my misery. But then, with an act of ultimate scorn, the boots slip off, thudding heavily against the damp wooden floor. The harsh echo reverberates into the confined space of the room, stirring the eerie silence to life.
Finally free of my steel-hardened captors, my feet grope clumsily against the rough wooden floors. I cringe as I feel the uneven texture of the filthy floor beneath my clean soles, the unpleasant squelching sensation between my toes. Of all the ways to touch base with this reality, this was depressingly grounding.
Unbuckling the metallic g-string from my wide hips, each tug sends jolts into my belly, stark reminders of the day's persistent humiliation. The stingy piece of metal that bisects my plush asscheeks has no pity, biting into my swollen pussy lips, a cruel chastity belt designed for mockery rather than any practical modesty.
Peeling off the metal frame secures the cringe on my face, gingerly sliding the thin strip from the heated groove of my slick pussy. My pussy folds quiver, sensitive to the uncomfortable scrape and the cool night air that washes over them. A shaky sigh escapes me.
The obscene squelch rings loud in the eerie silence of the hut, the cold metal strip glistening with the “mystical potion” concocted in the depths of my womanhood.
It’s humiliating to acknowledge, but my pussy DROOLS, an involuntary response to the constant barrage of depravity I've been subjected to since dawn. My lush lower lips throb and tingle, the heady scent of my own arousal wafting insultingly into my nostrils.
Sharp, cool air floods the sudden emptiness as the bikini bottom relinquishes its hold, leaving my damp pussy mound exposed.
A chill courses through my abundant assets, nipples hardening atop my overgrown breasts, hard buds straining in the open air as if reaching out in sympathy to their lower counterparts left awash in the cool gust.
I toss the drenched piece aside in distaste, it jingles on the floor.
Well, I’ve reached a new low - shivering naked in a dirty goblin’s hut, with the stark evidence of my unwanted arousal pooled at my feet.
Gods, being a woman is confusing, messy… and cruel. I attempt to lie down on my assigned “bed”.
Every small movement grates against the straw, a sharp prickling sensation that brushes against the soft, sensitive swells of my vulnerable body. I recall the time when my hardened warrior's muscles would've barely acknowledged such petty discomfort, but now...
The unwelcome jiggle of my fat tits brings a blush to my cheeks. Attempting to maneuver this troublesome body without aggravating the annoying wobbling of my fat orbs, I shift awkwardly - sending tremors through the oversized melons.
I know I’m mentioning them a lot. But seriously. I had to deal with them ALL DAY.
Resting on my side, it's near impossible to ignore the oppressive weight of one mammoth udder smothering and squashing the other, a testament to their absurd, mindboggling, obscene size.
And let's not forget about my fat ass. My poor tits get a lot of attention, but my huge round buttocks could compete in their own obscene league. They smother the pile of straw beneath, crushed under their lush fullness - a testament to their own massive, awe-inspiring voluptuousness.
(pic:"ch03/masturbate 1.jpg")
Despite being a faithful husband, I’d have marveled at such a womanly rear in my Aldric days. And now, I have them.
I roll over, attempting to lie on my stomach. Squirming, I try to ease the gargantuan tits and dump-truck ass into a hesitant compromise of comfort. Gods, it seems there's no position that doesn't set my ass and tits smushed uncomfortably against the “bed”. As a man, my body was relatively flat, finding a good sleeping position was no problem.
Alone with my ruminating thoughts, I tentatively start exploring the full extent of my femininity. Starting from my absurdly swollen breasts, I lift one, cradling the hefty globe, testing its weight.
The flesh is soft, malleable, and exquisitely sensitive, responding to even the lightest touch. My nipples, now constantly pebbled into tight buds due to the cool draft, tingle even further.
(simple_option:"03 find position","Explore your body.")(pic:"ch03/masturbate 1.jpg")($play:"sex loop","elise masturbating")
Inhaling, I experimentally tweak one. A bolt of lightning shoots through my body – my pussy clenches involuntarily. My breasts have been turned into erogenous zones of pure desire, each caress of my nipples causing my nethers to bloom in excitement.
It’s like I can feel my HEARTBEAT in my pussy, the way it throbs as I explore.
Lowering my hand, my fingers trace the dip of my slim waist before blooming into the wide expanse of my hips. My body could be an artist's exaggerated fantasy of the prime mating measure among the females – the perfect pear shape meant to incite lust in men. My fingers descend further, skimming the moistened folds of my womanhood, feeling the foreign shape of my lush lower lips.
Swiping one finger between the aching folds, I feel an initial resistance before it yields under my touch, pooling my fingers in a surge of warm slickness. The tight knot of desire in my belly tightens even further – my heart feels like it actually skips a beat.
Ignoring the guilt gnawing at me, I explore further, tracing the petals of my new flower, dipping my fingers into my wet, syrupy humidity. Betraying blushes heat my cheeks as I probe deeper, a soft gasp escaping my lips while the sensation intensifies. Realization dawns - this fat tits-and-ass body was MADE for pleasure at the slightest stimulation.
This bottom-heavy, pleasure-focused femininity, constantly in heat, dripping arousal - the cruel truth about being a woman. The womanly trap of Snib's humiliating curse.
I lay there, eyes wide open, heart pounding with the discomforting rush of this new-found arousal.
I make a hasty decision. Shuffling awkwardly to get on all fours, my sizable tits swing wildly, their weight pulling them down. The fullness of my breasts jiggles obscenely with every movement, the plush pillows of flesh responding with eager bounces. The sensation of the rough straw against my sensitive nipples sends shivers down my spine, causing my pussy to clench and line itself with more of the sticky honey.
(pic:"ch03/masturbate 4.jpg")
Glancing over my shoulder, my heart pounding nervously, I verify that Snib is still deep in his slumber.
Sighing a soft breath of relief, I unclench my stiff muscles, a small moan of sweet respite escaping from the corners of my pouty lips.
(simple_option:"03 find position","Find a good position.")(pic:"ch03/masturbate 2.jpg")(live:2s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop","elise masturbating")]
But the visual of the scenario, me on all fours, ass lifted high in the air, makes me all too aware of the vulgarity of the position. The restless G-cup milkers mashed against the straw, the splotchy flush covering my exposed round ass, the demanding pulse in my aching cunt, everything felt branded under the crude heat of sex.
Emboldened, I reach my free hand back, forearm brushing against the topside curve of a rounded buttock. My slender fingers dip lower to probe my wet slit, the ragged gasp escaping my lips the moment my digits come in contact with the heated flesh. The alien wetness coating my fingers startles me, my pulse quickening at the rushing sensation.
The moisture sticks to my fingers unlike anything I've felt before, viscous and slippery and strangely inviting. My knees clench as I gingerly probe at my entrance, the unfamiliar touch drawing a pleasured moan. My nimble fingers dance around my throbbing clit and I grind my hips instinctively, a low arch forming in my back as I push back onto my hand, controlling my pace.
The heady mix of pleasure and humiliation is dizzying. My wild bucking elicits an obscene orchestra of squelching sounds that echo throughout the room. The only comfort amidst this mortification is the incessant, guttural snoring from Snib.
(pic:"ch03/masturbate 3.jpg")
The noises I produce make my face burn in shame, my nerve endings sparking in time with each squelch. But my mind is elsewhere, the relentless onslaught of carnal pleasure rendering me blind to reality.
The throbbing pulse in my core rhythmically undulates to an unheard tune. On a weird impulse, I ball my delicate hand into a fist. Then, I grind my pussy against my knuckles. It makes an obscene squelch.
My actions fall into a gyrating rhythm, my manhood a distant memory in that little moment.
The soft pants and moans growing louder with each passing moment, building and building.
Too far into this decadent soft-stickiness, my humiliation slowly ebbs, replaced by a dizzy fog.
I grind harder, crying out when the straw pricks me; it doesn’t matter. I’m hurtling toward release now - the ship can’t be stopped.
($hidden_gem:"Fat ass bouncing one way, heavy jugs jiggling in rhythm, simultaneously I start lazily fingerfucking myself, the slap of my ass fucking my hand echoing crudely in the dim hut.","Fleshy flanks flouncing freely, hefty hooters heaving harmoniously, simultaneously I start slowly slipping fingers inside myself, the sound of my skin smacking starkly in the squalid shelter.")
Without realizing, I begin rotating my hips in soft circles, dragging my pussy against my fingers. Which is stroking which?
My thick labia run slick against my knuckles, the pooled wetness between my thighs coating my fingers in a sheen of my arousal.
Right then, a sharp jolt of pleasure runs up my spine as my thumb brushes against my erect clit. A startled yelp echoes in the silence of the hut, my hand freezing mid-circle as my body tenses with the sharp sensation. My eyes widen.
My body shudders, a tremor rocking through my core as a rush of overwhelming necessity swirls inside me. There’s no way I can stop.
My eyes squeeze shut as I nibble my lip. My other hand unconsciously tweaks a harlequin nipple, the hardened peak aching under my touch. Deft fingers pluck at the sensitive nub, sending another surge of pleasure crashing through me.
Suddenly, a horrid sound jerks me out of the hazy fog of my pleasure. A moment's silence, then the distinct, disquieting noise of a wet hand fapping fills the room. My heart drops, the realization hitting me hard - Snib is awake!
(simple_option:"03 he wakes up","And he's jerking off...")(pic:"ch03/masturbate 4.jpg")($play:"sex loop","elise masturbating with snib")($play:"sound","oh fuck cowtits")
A rough, guttural grunt cuts through the silence.
"Oh fuck... Cowtits, look at you... your fucking cunt... your fucking tits... What a view…”
My cheeks flame red, the embarrassment multiplied manifold as his heavy precum musk invades the air. The thick stench of goblin cock-smegma sears my nostrils, the jarring sensations and raucous noises combining into a stark, warped soundscape.
He loves the show I’m putting on.
The sight of me on all fours, titties hanging and swinging, my back arched, fat ass high in the air, my freshly finger-fucked slit leaking in uncontrollable arousal. His obscene grunts and moans are the background track in the dingy chamber, escalating my rush of emotions.
(simple_option:"03 try to stop","Stop masturbating.","Just finish yourself off.")($play:"ambience","desert indoors")(masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"sound","cum together")(if:$choice is "Stop masturbating.")[The horrifying realization hits like a bucket of ice-cold water: Snib is watching me. His greasy, foul chuckle seeps through the air, igniting panic and a deep, desperate shame in my heart. I freeze momentarily, my finger still buried inside the slick, pulsating folds of my pussy, my heaving chest amplifying the frantic pounding of my heart.
"No... *no*! I can't—this isn’t—" My words break off into a whimpering moan, the pleasure mixing perversely with the humiliation, tugging me back towards the carnal desire I'm fighting to resist.
I bite hard on my finger, the sharp pain a feeble attempt to anchor me away from the engulfing arousal. My muscles clench, trying painfully to pull back from the edge where ecstasy and mortification blur into one. It's a losing battle; the heat swirling in my core is relentless. Every fiber in my being screams for release, but I clench tighter, fighting hard against the tide.
Snib's derisive laughter fills the room, feeding the flames of my disgrace. “Gods, watchin' you flop about on all fours like some rutted beast on heat... you're gonna make *me* nut, cowtits!”
I wince as I hear the wet sound of his jerking movements, the slick fap-fap-fap rhythm grows faster, more desperate. Beneath me, my thighs are slick with my arousal, my own body betraying me with every throbbing pulse that begs for more.
With every ounce of my will, I try to pull my drenched fingers away, but the flesh between my legs is swollen, voraciously sucking at my digits!
Snib’s grunting grows louder, the sound disgustingly primal. My eyes, heavy with unshed tears of humiliation, inadvertently catch the sight of his grotesque performance. His thick, veiny cock, a grotesque appendage, pumps vigorously in his grubby little hands. The sight is revolting, yet hypnotically raw.
Then, it happens—the disgusting spectacle reaches its climax. "Fuck yes—here it *comes*!" Snib bellows.
His body tenses, the muscles of his stubby little form straining grotesquely as he reaches his peak.
($hidden_gem:"His cock twitches violently, then erupts, jetting thick, vile ropes of putrid goblin cum.","His cock contracts convulsively, climaxing crudely, catapulting copious, corrupt coils of grotesque goblin goo.")
The hot, smelly spunk splatters against the wall of the hut, the sound horribly wet and final.
(pic:"ch03/masturbate 5.jpg")
<div class='cum1'>SPLIRRRRRRT!!!</div>
The scent hits me instantly – that nasty, biological musk of goblin semen. It's strong, potent, and inexplicably, it triggers something primal within me.
My body convulses.
I let out an animalistic squeal, the last vestige of my resistance shattering as my legs shake violently. My pussy clenches uncontrollably around my fingers, squirting a hot, slippery stream of my own juices onto the straw beneath me. The sensation is mind-blurring, an overwhelming tidal wave that drags me under into a sea of disgrace and ecstasy.](else:)[($change_stat:"heroism",-1)I quickly push my face down into the straw in a vain attempt to muffle the embarrassing sounds. My hips instinctively resume their sensual dance against my palm, fingers slipping through my folds, collecting my slick dew. I gasp shamefully, aware of Snib's raucous snorting in the background.
In a daring leap of bravery, I insert another finger, the new sensation proving far different from what I had with Elara. The familiar tug of her name triggers guilt in my belly, quickly squashed under the thriving need to just FINISH already.
My soaked digits piston inside my twitching hole, a wild desperation driving my actions. The pace hastens, the squelching of my fingers inside my tight, soaked pussy merging with Snib’s coarse grunts into a lewd choir.
I NEED to finish before him. I need to just get it over with!
Suddenly, a grumbled "I'm gonna fuckin’ nut, cumdump,” sends ice down my spine. The grotesque spurts of Snib’s thick, rank seed spattering the wall echoes in the room, the potent, bleachy stench of his hot goblin jizz filling my lungs.
My hips stutter their obscene grind against my wet palm again, repressing any thoughts - or morals - left in my perverted mind.
A sickly haze curls around me, the nauseating smell of his spent jizz clogging my nostrils as I gasp in despair. I gag at the potency I detect, even from across the room.
(pic:"ch03/masturbate 5.jpg")
I can’t help but peek - seeing heavy, glittering ropes of putrid goblin semen heavily painting the furs... <span class='cum2'>jet, after jet, after jet, after jet, after…</span>
All thought and dignity flee as my climax crashes into me, a debilitating tsunami of pleasure so sharp and gushing, it wracks through my body, shaking my tits, reducing me to a writhing, whimpering mess. I feel my juices coating my inner thighs in hot, glistening rivulets and spurts, making a sodden mess of the straw beneath me with every jerk and twitch of my greedy pussy.
Ecstasy lights up my vision with a burst of starlight, a sweet cream of realization seeping into my thoughts that this, this is what it feels like to climax as a woman. With this release, this sweet, guity, joyless, unending moment of pure pleasure pleasure, I’ve progressed a part of my feminized existence.
My gasping moans of pleasure turn into hysterical sobs, echoing around the dimly lit room with a sorrowful desperation as I lie prone in my own puddle of wetness - and it’s not over. The tremors of my orgasm spark trembles through my tense inner thighs, making them quiver uncontrollably, knees clapping against the straw in a humiliating, jiggling, dancing frenzy.
Immense shivers of pleasure quake up my spine, sending my fat ass cheeks into a quaking, juddering dance of their own, clapping together, squirming and twisting with every after-pulse of my climax.
Tears continue to slip down my blushing cheeks. Sobs rack my sinews, my constricting throat produces strangled hiccups as I succumb to the humiliating, heart-wrenching episode. Every convulsion of pleasure rolls the taint of degradation over my bountiful figure, each tremble reminding me of how adrift I've strayed from my previous, masculine nature. ]
A saccharine, overwhelming post-climax lethargy takes me over, making my overtaxed muscles sag with fatigue. Each heavy pant carries away some of my strength.
My vision swims with the residual shockwaves of orgasm and tears. I'm sprawled on the strawbed, defeated, my body reacting in ways it never had as a male. The fringes of my mind cloud with a fog of sensual ecstasy. An incredible numbness spreads through my buxom body, seeping into my senses. The soaked straw underneath me clings to my flesh.
Snib's crude, belittling laughter breaks through my foggy stupor, pinching into my senses with an alarming clarity. "Ah, Elise, yah ben more fun than a barrel o’ ale!" he crows, getting bawdier with every comment, his delight so infectious it would have made anyone else join in his laughter.
But, beneath the waves of debilitating pleasure, I discover an unyielding undercurrent of anger creeping in. I try to bury it, but the sparks of it seep into my soul, prickling at the corners of the disgust coating my consciousness. The reminder of what led to my first female orgasm, my inability to keep the image of Snib's disgusting goblin cum out of my foggy brain during that peak, triggers a new wave of tears, wracking my post-orgasmic form with its intensity.
Inconsequentially, helplessly, I drop forward, my heavy tits squashing onto the straw below.
(simple_option:"04 next morning","Sleep...")(masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"ambience","desert horse")(set:$se_to_stop to "eboncrest")(display:"stop sound effect fade")($chapter_title:4,"Homecoming")(pic:"ch04/riding.jpg","left")“Ya see, cow-tits, you've got it all wrong," the vile voice of Snib, my tormentor, snaps me out of my trance.
I am reduced to a compliant, humiliated sex doll, dragging myself through the rugged wilderness straddled atop the muscular back of a desert steed named Jarkrond.
"Ya gotta learn to relax. This horse knows what he's doin'," Snib continues, a twisted smile dancing on his lips.
Relax? On the spine of an odorous horse, dressed in scanty armor that is nothing more than a metallic bikini, my massive tits jiggling with each jerking movement and my huge ass clapping obscenely with every jarring hoofbeat? Yes, I have learned to remain upright, but each bounce brings my cheeks together in an ostentatious, sweaty, endless smacking noise.
"I don't want to hear any of your advice, Snib. Just tell me where we’re headed," I retort, the collar around my neck seeming to constrict painfully at my defiant response. “I mean, m-master…” It loosens. I have learned quickly that talking back often means tighter restraints.
"Such insolence, Elise-deary. Don't worry yer busty head off. We got us a destination. Jarkrond knows where he be goin'," Snib laughs, adjusting his seating behind me. “Home sweet home!”
My thighs clench involuntarily, pressing into Jarkrond’s sides.
As we ride into the transition lands, leaving the Shifting Sands behind, streams and meadows take over the drudging sand dunes. Grassland spans to the horizon, bordered on one side by dense woods, while the grand citadel of Eboncrest finally extends into view, its walls illuminated by the sun's gentle early morning rays.
My heart clenches at the sight of my hometown. The fortification that stands as a testament to human resilience against supernatural threats is the city where my wife resides, innocent and oblivious to the cruel joke fate has played on us.
"That be Eboncrest, am I right?" Snib asks in a mild, conversational tone. He is uncomfortably pressed against me from behind, imposing his omnipresence onto the stolen feminine form that was once Aldric.
“Yes, master,” I answer reluctantly, my eyes never leaving the city walls edged with the bright morning sun's brilliance.
"Eboncrest, the beacon of hope, the city of heroes," Snib muses, "An' the home of the great Aldric, the hero turned busty bimbo, trussed up like a prize hog."
I wince but bite down my retort - Snib is right, and the realization stings more than any of his other crude declarations. I am no longer the respected, loved leader of Eboncrest. I am a feminine plaything owed by a grotesque goblin, trotted back to the city I once defended proudly with only mortification waiting for me.
Suddenly, a fresh wave of memories sweeps through me. The busy central square with the smell of freshly baked bread, the well-tended park beneath the comforting shade of towering oak trees, the city's vibrant festivals, and joyful reconstructions. The protective walls that once gave me solace now only inspire dread. The echo of laughter, camaraderie, and shared triumphs feels oddly distant and out of place.
"Remember, Elise, you're protecting me now." His vile voice echoes in my ears, pulling me out of my reverie. The jovial tone fails to mask the underlying threat in his words.
“I- I’ll make sure you’re safe, master,” I stammer out, the collar loosening a bit as I do so. In Eboncrest, goblins are as welcome as a bout of Blacklimb, and Snib could easily find a shortsword buried in his rancid flesh if his canny bluster rubbed someone the wrong way.
And if Snib dies, the collar will ensure I die too.
As the distance to Eboncrest dwindles, my anxiety swells at the prospect of reuniting with my unsuspecting wife. I can't bear to project the image of the submissive, buxom woman that replaced her once-revered husband, Aldric.
Snib's bony shoulder blades dig uncomfortably into the tender flesh of my monstrous tits as they bounce on horseback. "I have it all planned out, oh yes. First things first, we'll be paying a visit to your dear wifey. After all, it's only fair she knows where her mighty husband's run off to. Or should I say, what's become of him?"
I gulp down the bile that threatens to surge up at the implication, steadying myself against the fierce waves of shame and loathing that once again grip my heart and squeeze mercilessly.
"Yes, master," I mumble, trying to saturate myself in the knowledge that this dreadful, humiliating ordeal might soon reach its conclusion. I cling to the hope that, with my penance paid and 10,000 gold pieces handed over to the vile, monstrous bastard named Snib, I can return to my former life and once again answer to Aldric.
Yet, the cruel laughter ringing in my ears as Snib continues to cruelly mock my predicament shaves thin slivers of hope away with each passing moment.
“A-And then you’ll return me to my true form? This was never meant to be, Sn- Master. I’m a man, not a woman!”
"Don't get yer panties in a knot, Elise. Sure, I'll hand you back your muscles, your deep voice, and your itty-bitty pecker. But not until I get my gold. And not until I'm safe away. The collar says I can let ye go anytime. It's up to me."
All I can do is hope he'll keep his word.
(simple_option:"04 approach","You arrive at the town gates...")(pic:"ch04/homecoming.jpg")($play:"song","eboncrest")($play:"ambience","village morning")"Elise, sweetheart, you must understand. The world outside these city limits isn't as forgiving as your cushy home," Snib taunts, his breath hot against my ear. "Out there, where chaos reigns, goblins like me rise to the top. That's where we shine, that’s where we truly belong."
I hold my tongue, hardly considering Snib’s crummy little hut “the top.” He’s just gotten lucky.
"And we'll do whatever it takes to ensure that," he whispers, menace veiled within his smooth, goblin voice.
As Jarkrond's hooves thunder beneath us, I brace myself on Snib's wiry frame, loathing the pressure of my bountiful breasts squished against the foul little goblin. I swallow my apprehension, unable to excise the growing dread of revealing my plight to Elara, her tears, her inevitable disbelief that this trussed-up trollop is the man she has chosen to marry.
We approach the gate, and instantly, I catch the suspicion in the guards’ eyes. They’ve seen their fair share of strange sights, but a goblin astride a desert steed, a buxom, bikini-clad woman pressed against him, is something entirely new.
"Halt!" The lead guard steps forward, hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyes flicker between Snib and me, distrust clear on his face.
The discomfort of the situation begins to choke me, yet I force a smile onto my flushed face. The collar around my neck feels tighter, the full weight of the situation sinking in. I lift my hand to reassure the guards, my voice shaking slightly as I start to speak.
*I need to think of a story, and fast...*
(simple_option:"04 story","He's my servant.","He's a magical consultant.","He's a political hostage.","I got nothing...","Tell them the truth!")(pic:"ch04/guards.jpg")(if:$choice is "He's my servant.")[“Good morning, sirs. My name is Elise. This is Snib, my… my… goblin servant.” The words taste like bile in my mouth. I despise the lie, but honesty isn’t an option here. “We mean no harm and ask for safe passage into Eboncrest.”
Eyebrows lift. Snickers ripple through the line of guards. One of them, a young man barely out of boyhood, can’t contain his laugh.
"A goblin servant?” The lead guard scoffs, his grizzled face twisted in a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “You expect us to believe that?”
“Please, sir. He’s docile. I assure you.” I keep my voice steady, my gaze earnest. “I know it’s unusual, but it’s the truth.”
“Then why are you the one in chains, lady? And dressed like… like that?” A burly guard, sweat trickling down his weather-beaten face, gestures towards me with a gruff frown.
Before I can find a plausible explanation, Snib comes to my unexpected rescue. "She likes the attire, sir, and the collar is for protection," he interjects with a startlingly respectful bow. His sickly-sweet goblin grin is replaced with a meek, servile expression. "She wears it to ward off potential threats and... uh, unsolicited admirers."
I fight back a blush, horrified at the narrative unfolding but acknowledging its merit in this twisted reality. My life has truly become an open-air farce. Yet, the guards nod, seemingly buying the absurd explanation, despite the red tinge of skepticism that remains.
The gate creaks open, and we trot into Eboncrest. The familiar cobblestone streets, lively market squares, and bustling townfolk welcome me back into their fold, yet with a twisted, surreal edge to the once comforting sights. Snib is grinning, seated confidently on Jarkrond, drawing stares and grimaces from the onlookers. A sense of dread slowly settles in my stomach as we journey deeper into the heart of the town.](if:$choice is "He's a magical consultant.")["Esteemed guards of Eboncrest," I begin with hesitation, my voice catching just slightly as I fabricate the audacious tale, "this goblin, Snib, is actually a crucial asset to a specialized research team. He's under the guidance of the renowned Wizard Fendril, who is conducting vital studies on goblin magic to enhance our city's defenses."
A murmur of disbelief spreads among the guards. The lead guard, a towering figure with a skeptical scowl, crosses his arms and stares down at us. "Magic? With a goblin? You pulling our legs or something, miss?"
Snib squirms slightly behind me, his discomfort palpable. I press on. "Yes, sir. It seems unconventional, but Wizard Master Fendril believes there's much to learn from their, ah, unique magical practices. The wizard has placed Snib under a binding oath that prevents him from doing any harm. He's quite harmless as long as he's within the city." I add a hopeful smile, one that feels more desperate than reassuring.
One of the younger guards leans in toward a colleague, whispering loud enough for us to hear, "Bet the only magic that goblin knows involves making things disappear into her cleavage, eh?" Laughter erupts among some of the guard, lewd grins spreading unchecked.
Captain Giles silences them with a sharp look before turning his piercing gaze back to me. "And the outfit? Doesn't look much like a magician's apprentice." His tone is thick with sarcasm, the implication dangling heavy in the air between us.
Snib, catching onto the thread of the conversation, adds, "The attire, noble sirs, is part of the magical experiments. Skin exposure increases magical conductivity. It's essential for accurate results."
The guards exchange dubious glances, but the absurdity of Snib's explanation seems to catch them off guard.
"Magical conductivity, huh?" the burly guard mutters under his breath. "More like magical seductivity." More sniggers ripple through the ranks, but their posture relaxes slightly, the initial tension lessening.
After a tense moment, the lead guard waves a dismissive hand, signaling us to pass. "Alright, go on then. But keep that goblin on a tight leash, and make sure your... experiments don't disrupt the peace. We'll be watching."
As we pass through the gates, the weight of their leering stares burns into my back, but relief floods through me as well. The awkward and demeaning exchange had bought us entry into Eboncrest, but at the cost of my dignity, paraded once again as a spectacle under the guise of arcane research. The echoing jeers and whispers of the guards linger in my ears as we delve deeper into the city, each step a reminder of the shameful farce my existence has become.](if:$choice is "He's a political hostage.")["I understand your concerns, esteemed guards," I say, my voice trembling slightly under the guise of politeness, masking the deep humiliation within. "This here is Snib, a goblin involved in crucial political negotiations following the attacks on Ironrock. He's effectively a hostage, ensuring the cooperation of his clan for a peace treaty with Eboncrest."
The guards look visibly suspicious, their brows furrowing deeper with my every word. Captain Giles, whom I recognize from my days as Aldric—but pray he does not remember me in this wretched form—steps forward, his expression unreadable.
"Haven't heard of any such treaty," he remarks dryly, leaning closer, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes Snib and me. "And last I checked, Aldric was heading to Ironrock to extinguish the goblin menace in the area."
The statement hangs heavy in the air, thick with suspicion.
Desperate, I blurt out a response, hoping to leverage my knowledge of Eboncrest’s inner workings. "Sir, this is a clan that is at war with the tribe at Ironrock. This effort is all part of maintaining an appearance of goodwill towards the goblin clans at large. The council believes that treating him with a semblance of dignity might smooth future negotiations. Sir Briarford can attest to this; he mentioned it might set a precedence for mutual respect."
Captain Giles chuckles, not hiding his disbelief. "Briarford said that, huh? Must've been after his third pint."
The surrounding guards laugh, easing the tension slightly, but not diminishing their suspicion. One guard, a young man with a mischievous grin, pipes up, eyeing my revealing attire, "And what’s with the Madam’s outfit? Diplomatic dress code?"
Flushing deeply, I fumble for words. "It’s... intended to... um... distract... the goblins..." I stammer, the absurdity of my statement hanging awkwardly in the air.
"Distract?" another guard snorts, "Well, it’s bloody working. Can't remember the last time a peace negotiation included such... generous terms."
The jest sends a ripple of laughter through the ranks, my cheeks burning hot as Captain Giles finally motions toward the gates. "Alright, let’s not keep the peace waiting. Move along, but remember, any funny business, and it’ll be more than just your dignity on the line."
As we pass through, the sound of their continued chuckles feels like a physical weight, each laugh a reminder of my degrading position. Yet beneath my embarrassment, a sliver of relief sneaks through—another clever, if painful, evasion navigated. Inside the city walls, the reality of my punishment and the identity of Aldric hidden beneath layers of forced womanhood and goblin trickery, I steel myself for the trials to follow, my heart a turbulent sea of dread and determination.](if:$choice is "I got nothing...")[As the guards' piercing eyes bore into me, demanding an explanation, my mind races. Panic clutches at my throat as I sift through the memories of Aldric, trying desperately to fabricate a convincing tale that would allow Snib and me safe passage.
But... nothing comes.
"I... I've got nothing." The words fall flat in the open air, a paltry resignation to our fate.
The lead guard, Captain Giles, scoffs, his expression hardening. "You expect us to let a goblin live without a shred of a reason? What fool do you take me for, woman?"
Snib's eyes widen in terror, his usual sly composure crumbling. He hisses, a sound of desperation, and clumsily tries to turn Jarkrond around. But it's too late—the guards are already drawing their bows.
Before I can even scream, two arrows fly through the air with a deadly hiss and thud into Snib's body. He collapses with a gurgling cry, the life fleeing from his eyes as blood bubbles from his mouth.
And then, almost as a cruel afterthought of fate, the metal collar around my neck begins to tighten. Panic floods me, hot and suffocating.
"What the—?" Captain Giles starts, his eyes widening as he steps forward.
The collar constricts relentlessly, an iron band of merciless intent. My hands claw at the metal, desperate to pry it away, but it's inexorable. My vision blurs, the edges of my sight darkening as I struggle for breath.
"The collar! It's killing her!" one of the younger guards shouts, horror stricken in his voice.
"Pry it off! Quick, fetch a blacksmith!" another yells, sprinting towards the gates.
But it's too late. The pressure on my neck builds to an unbearable crescendo, and with a sickening crack, my neck snaps. Pain flares through me, brilliant and sharp, before fading to nothing. My body goes limp, the world tilting sideways in a nauseating swirl.
The last things I hear are the guards' horrified shouts.
"Gods above, her neck—it just—"
"—snapped like a twig!"
"Someone do something!"
Their voices become distant, echoing weirdly as if underwater. My body, no longer under my command, slumps grotesquely over Jarkrond, a marionette with its strings cut.
The air is filled with frantic commands, the thudding of boots on cobblestone, but all of it drifts away from me. Darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision, swallowing everything in its path.
As my senses dim, a bitter realization washes over me—a recognition of the grim joke fate had played on me, from hero to puppet in a grotesque play penned by misfortune. I am both the victim and the spectacle, my tragic end a final act of dark, unwitting comedy.
The irony isn't lost on me, even as I drift away—the once great Aldric, reduced to this. A cruel and stupid end.
And then, there is nothing but the cold embrace of oblivion.
($game_over:"04 approach",4,"You are dead.")](else-if:$choice is "Tell them the truth!")[“I can’t do this,” I whisper to myself, the words slipping through my lips louder than intended. “He’s taken me prisoner! He’s no one’s servant—this goblin has enslaved me! This collar, it will—”
Snib's sharp hiss cuts through my desperate confession. "Shut it, bitch!" he snarls, but panic surges in his eyes. The collar tightens abruptly around my neck, squeezing my words into choked gasps.
"Help! Please!" I manage to croak out, my fingers clawing futilely at the collar. “Don’t let him—”
The guards react almost instantly, the initial shock on their faces quickly morphing into a trained calm. Captain Giles steps forward, sword drawn, his voice booming, "Release her, goblin, or face the consequences!"
Snib’s eyes dart wildly, realizing his diminishing options. "You fools! You kill me, and she dies too! The collar—"
But his warning is cut short. Arrows whistle through the air, two sharp thuds marking their brutal purchase in Snib's back. A gurgle escapes him as he slumps forward, his grip on Jarkrond’s reins loosening.
As Snib’s lifeblood seeps into the cobblestones, the collar's life-link magic takes effect. It feels like a tightening vice, an unbearable constriction that steals the breath from my lungs.
“Ngh-” My plea ends in a ghastly gurgle, my vision tunneling as black spots dance before my eyes. The cold metal bites into my skin, a cruel reminder of the goblin's final trick.
Captain Giles rushes forward, a mix of concern and urgency etching his seasoned face. "Hold on, lass! We're getting this thing off you!" He signals frantically to the guards. "Fetch the blacksmith, now! Hurry!"
But the world fades at the edges, each heartbeat a thunderous echo in my ears. I collapse to the ground, the stones of Eboncrest cold against my cheek. Voices seem distant, as if submerged underwater.
"Elara... I am so sorry," I manage to whisper.
Captain Giles kneels beside me, his rough hand on my shoulder in a futile gesture of comfort as he witnesses the light fading from my eyes. "Stay with us, dammit! Don’t go!"
The blacksmith's hurried footsteps, the clash of metal tools, desperate orders shouted back and forth—all form a surreal cacophony around me. But it’s too late. The collar’s magic, irrevocably linked to Snib’s life, acts as judge, jury, and executioner.
As darkness claims me, a bitter cold settles in, the sounds of frantic efforts and late regrets echoing in the void. Eboncrest, once my home and hope, fades away, leaving me to the silence of oblivion.
($game_over:"04 approach",4,"You are dead.")]
(if:$choice is any of (a:"He's my servant.","He's a magical consultant.","He's a political hostage."))[People bustle around us, clad in typical Eboncrestian wear, in a mixture of plain tunics, ruffled blouses, and sturdy leather vests. A woman pushing a wooden cart laden with ripe apples gives us a wide berth, her brows furrowed in disgust. A group of children, too young to understand the hatred for goblins, point and giggle, their innocent curiosity tainted by the horrified looks on their parents' faces.
Shopkeepers eye us warily from their stalls. The clanking of the blacksmith's hammer falters as we pass by. A local bard strumming a lute goes silent. The town, usually filled with merry chatter and jovial banter, feels cold and hostile.
As we trot through the streets, I spot Elara's quaint house nestled between a blacksmith's shop and a bakery, their chimney spewing warm, inviting smoke into the crisp morning air. My heart lurches in my chest at the sight. How can I possibly expose her to this grotesque parody of the man she loved?
"Master, that's her house,” I gesture towards the dwelling, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.
As we approach, I can only hope Elara will understand, that she will see past this humiliating façade and recognize the man she married. That she will stand by me, as she always has, despite the outrageous and degrading circumstances.
The reactions of the town guards, their obvious doubts about my tale, are sure to follow us to the bank. I have no doubt that I'll face a trial of questions and justifications there too. A wave of shame washes over me, even though I know I'm doing this for us. For Elara, for Eboncrest, and for the chance to reclaim my dignity. I glance at the setting sun, dreading the hours to come. For now, I have to brace myself, confront my fate and hope for the best.
With a final tug of the reins, we came to a halt before the house. My heart pounds against my chest, each beat a drumroll to the dreaded confrontation. The smell of blooming roses filled the air, a bitter reminder of the love and life I had once known.
I dismount from Jarkrond, my legs feeling shaky, the cobbles clacking against my horrible, metal stiletto heel boots heels. I turn, with a pleading look. "Please, master," I implored, "Let me go in alone. She... she needs to hear this from me."
Snib merely smirks at my pathetic plea, the cruel glint in his eyes never fading. The depths of my degradation are yet to be plumbed, it seems.
(simple_option:"04 knock","Knock.")]<div class='options'>(link:"Your journey is over...")[(masteraudio:'stopall')(set:$sidebar to true)(goto:"chapters")]</div>(set:$elara_img to "ch04/elara sad.jpg")I barely have time to adjust to the cold, iron weight of Snib's leash clipped to my collar before there she is. Elara. My wife, standing framed in the doorway of our home, her sapphire eyes wide in confusion as she takes in the obscene sight of me.
($hidden_gem:"Her beautiful gaze harshly judges the exposed curves of my body, barely covered by the metallic bikini armor, sliding down my body before she recoils, a look of revulsion marring her beautiful features.","Her hauntingly harsh eyes hover, harshly surveying the scandalously scant shield of shiny steel clinging to my curves, culminating in a cringe of clear contempt.")
I can feel my cheeks burn with shame, but it's more than that. It's the loss of my masculinity, the objectification of my body, the damning knowledge that my wife is repulsed by me in this form.
“And who the fuck are you, miss?” Elara's voice is harsh, filled with suspicion and fear. She's looking at the goblin holding my leash, her lip curled in disgust. I can see her horror reflected in her eyes, mirrored by the tight lines around her mouth. "And why are you here?"
"Elara," I croak out, my feminine voice trembling with suppressed emotion, "It's me... Aldric." I can't quite meet her eyes, instead, staring at her chestnut hair that cascades down her shoulders in soft waves, her figure accentuated by the curve-hugging outfits she favors. The very sight of her, so familiar yet so painfully different, cuts deeper than any blade.
The fury that blooms on her face is breathtaking. "What kind of sick joke is this?" she snarls, her voice so cold it chills me to my core.
"Yer husband's a hot bitch now," Snib interjects, his voice full of smug satisfaction, yanking the leash so hard that my breath catches in my throat. The collar digs into my skin, an instant reminder of my helplessness.
*I need to convince her it's me.*
(simple_option:"04 convince","The Festival of Lights...","That time in the rain...","The lost heirloom...")($play:"ambience","village morning")(pic:"ch04/elara sad.jpg","right")(if:$choice is "The Festival of Lights...")["Elara, remember the eve of the Festival of Lights?" I begin, my voice trembling with emotion. "We snuck into the market square at midnight, to hang those hand-painted lanterns we'd worked on for weeks. It was supposed to be a surprise for the town." I chuckle softly despite the tears welling in my eyes, recalling our quiet laughter as we fumbled with the lanterns in the dark, our hands brushing, our whispered vows of forever echoing in the hushed night. "You were wearing your green dress, the one that matched your eyes. You climbed on my shoulders to reach the high spots. We nearly toppled over when a cat startled us."
The memory brings a sharp pang of longing.](if:$choice is "That time in the rain...")["Elara, my love, do you remember that stormy evening at Old Briar's Bridge?" I begin, my voice soft, almost broken by my overwhelming emotions. "We were caught in the rain, soaked to the bone, and you were shivering. I wrapped you in my coat, and we shared our first confession of love under that ancient oak by the river, watching the water rise... it almost swept us away..." I smile through my tears, adding, "You joked that the river was jealous of our love, trying to whisk us away to a watery world where we could be together forever. We carved our initials in that tree..."
The memory brings a sharp pang of longing, as I remember the muddy kiss in the rain...](if:$choice is "The lost heirloom...")["Elara, my love, do you remember the time you thought you lost your grandfather's ring at the Summer Solstice Fair?" I ask, my eyes locking onto hers, desperate for her to see the truth in them. "We searched everywhere... but it was in your herb pouch all along. You had taken it off to apply salve on a child’s scraped knee. Later, we sat by the fire, and you placed the ring on my little finger, asking if I'd always be your knight in shining armor, even if I turned into an old, grumpy man." The corners of my mouth lift in a sad, nostalgic smile. "I promised I would, forever and always."
The memory brings a sharp pang of longing.]
Her eyes widen, and I see a flicker of recognition, a trace of the man I once was in her horrified gaze. My eyes are the same color. So is my hair. In a weird way, my bimbo face is a molded version of her husband’s original facial structure. She stumbles backward, a hand clutching at her heart. "Aldric... is that really...?" she whispers, tears welling in her eyes.
My heart clenches painfully at the sight of her despair.
"Yes, it's me, Elara," I confess, my voice choked with emotion. I can see the disbelief on her face, the horror of seeing her husband transformed into a voluptuous woman in a skimpy bikini.
A high, hysterical gasp rips through the air, Elara's hand flying to her mouth as the reality of it all sinks in. "I'm so sorry, Aldric... I'm so sorry..." Her sobs tear through me, her sadness a sharp reminder of what I've lost. What I've become.
Suddenly, her gaze hardens, her tears replaced by a fury so pure it's almost palpable. Her hands ball into fists, and she steps forward, the intensity of her anger directed at the goblin holding my leash.
"You did this," she accuses, her voice ringing with accusation. "You turned him into... into this!"
"Ooh, seems like your wife’s got a bit of fire in her, pet,” Snib mocks, leering at my wife’s ample chest. My cheeks burn with humiliation, the disgust on Elara's face only fueling my own.
He slaps my ass, a proprietary gesture that sends a jolt of shame and a jiggle through me. The sound of the demeaning spank echoes through the interior of my house.
"But don't worry, luv, I've been takin' real good care of your hubby."
It’s the last straw. Elara's fury ignites, and she lunges at Snib, a kitchen knife appearing in her hand as if from nowhere.
(simple_option:"04 she attacks","Stop her!","Let it happen.")(if:$choice is "Let it happen.")[As Elara lunges at Snib with the kitchen knife, a part of me wants to stop her, knowing the consequences. But I don't. The torment, the humiliation, the loss of my former life boil over, and I watch silently, almost in anticipation.
With a ferocious cry, Elara drives the knife deep into the side of Snib's neck. Blood spurts out in a vibrant arc, painting the air between them with a vivid spray. Snib's eyes widen in shock, his mouth gaping as he tries to comprehend the quicksilver flash of violence that has ended him.
He stumbles backward, clutching at the hilt of the knife embedded in his flesh. A gurgling sound escapes him as he tries to speak, to curse, but only bubbles of blood froth at his lips. He collapses onto the wooden floor of our cottage with a heavy thud, his body twitching in the throes of death.
Elara, her face a mask of vengeful fury, doesn't stop. She pulls the knife out and stabs him again, this time in the chest. Blood and a darker, almost black fluid mix and seep into the cracks of the floorboards. Snib makes a choked, rasping sound, his body jolting with the force of her stab. He looks up at her, eyes begging, but Elara's gaze is unforgiving.
"Never again," she hisses, her voice trembling with rage and sorrow. "Never again will you hurt anyone." Snib's response is a weak cough, more blood spilling from his lips, pooling around his head in a crimson halo.
Amidst this chaos, I feel an unusual tightness around my neck. The collar, this cursed collar, begins to glow with an eerie purple light. Panic sets in as it tightens, squeezing my throat mercilessly. I claw at it, fingernails scraping against the unyielding metal, gasping for air that won't come.
"Elara!" I choke out, my voice barely a whisper, my vision blurring. "Help!"
My wife whips around, her face stricken as she realizes the new horror unfolding. "Hold on, my love, I'll get the blacksmith!" she cries, darting out the door into the street. Her desperate calls for help pierce the morning air, frantic and distraught.
But the collar tightens further, the metal cold and indifferent. Black spots dance before my eyes, my head pounds with every heartbeat, each one feeling like it might be my last. I drop to my knees, the floorboards rough against my skin.
"Don't let go, Aldric, please don't let go!" her voice is distant now, muffled by the crushing pressure around my neck. My breaths are shallow, ragged, and pain ricochets through every nerve in my body as the collar constricts tighter.
I reach out, trying to speak, to tell her I love her, to apologize for everything, but no words come out. Only a strangled noise, a pitiful whimper of pain and pleading. The world grows dimmer, shadows creeping in at the edges of my vision, and I feel the end nearing.
The final tightening of the collar is like the closing of a dark curtain. A sharp pain shoots through my spine, my neck snapping with a horrifying, definitive crack. The world goes black, the sounds of Elara's cries, the clang of the blacksmith's hammer, the gentle wind outside all fading into an infinite, suffocating silence.
I die there, on the floor of our home, the hero who could not be saved, broken by the very thing that had remade me. And my last thought, a flicker in the encroaching dark, is of Elara, my love, my heart, and the life we might have reclaimed, now forever out of reach.
($game_over:"04 convince",4,"You let Elara kill Snib - and thus your collar killed you.")](else:)[My eyes widen in alarm, and I cry out, "Elara, no!"
The collar around my neck constricts, choking off my words. I collapse to the ground, the world fading as I gasp for breath, fat udders dangling below me, pulling me toward the floor.
Elara freezes, her hand inches from Snib, her fury replaced with fear for my safety - I've spoken just in time. The knife clatters to the floor, forgotten as she rushes to my side. She kneels next to me, her fingers reaching out to touch the collar but pulling back at the last moment.
"I'm s- sorry, Elara," I manage to gasp out, my voice raspy from lack of air. "I need you to cooperate. I need you to trust me."
"You have to stop this," Elara begs, her voice a desperate whisper. "You have to fight this, Aldric."
"I can't, Elara. It's not up to me," I admit, my heart aching at the despair on her face. "The collar... Snib... They have control. We need to give them what they want."
"And what's that?" she asks, her voice hollow.
"Ten thousand gold pieces," I reply, my voice shaking. "From our bank."
The look on her face is heart-wrenching, a mix of sorrow and determination. "Alright," she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. It’s most of our savings. "Alright, Aldric. We'll get you back. We’ll pay.”
Snib looks triumphant. Holding my leash like it’s his ticket to fame and fortune.
(simple_option:"04 bank","Go to the town bank.")](pic:"ch04/bank.jpg")
Under the searing glare of the midday sun, we trot up the marble steps of Eboncrest Bank, a monolith of wealth and power. Snib, the asshole, has my leash in hand, and his other arm loops possessively around my waist. My tits, practically spilling from my scanty armor, jiggle with each step. As much as I hate to admit it, the coarse touch of his skin against mine stirs up unwanted sensations within me.
I push it from my mind. We’re so close!
Elara walks beside me, her fingers brushing against mine in silent solidarity. We share a look, her eyes reflecting my own desperation. It's humiliating. Snib revels in our misfortune, and I can practically feel his smug satisfaction leaking off him like foul odor.
($hidden_gem:"Inside the bank, we stand before a stodgy official who eyes me, or rather my exposed tits, with thinly-veiled distaste for such a loose woman.","Inside, an implacable institutioner inspects me intently, his interest inappropriately inclined towards my inadequately icyolated intumescences.")
Elara tries to explain our predicament, urging secrecy, her voice steady despite the gravity of our situation. The official, however, looks unconvinced.
(pic:"ch04/teller.jpg","right")"I'm sorry, but the money simply cannot be withdrawn without the presence and consent of Aldric, the holder of the account,“ he repeats, his gaze lingering on the collar around my neck.
Snib's laugh echoes through the hushed bank, a cruel, guttural sound. "Seems like you're shit outta luck, titcow," he sneers, his grip tightening on my leash.
Rage flares in Elara's eyes. "Release her, you monster," she snaps, but her demand only seems to amuse Snib further.
"Nah, I quite like my new toy. She's entertaining and... responsive," Snib retorts, his free hand wandering down to squeeze my ass. The unwanted touch sends a shiver of arousal through me, and I hate myself for it.
Caught in Snib's vulgar display of dominance, I squirm, my thoughts a chaotic mess of shame and frustration. The arousal gnawing at my insides is unbearable, a stark reminder of my lost masculinity and the tantalizing pleasure that comes with my new form.
Damn it. I'm not a woman. I'm Aldric, not Elise, this...busty, helpless bimbo Snib's turned me into. But the more I fight it, the more my body betrays me. It craves the touch, the domination, and I can't seem to stop it.
I glance at Elara, her beautiful face marred with worry, her lips moving in silent pleas to the unyielding bank officials. And all I can think is, what have I become? I was a man once, strong and fearless. Now, I'm just a plaything, a busty, desperate woman, ensnared in a web of degradation and lust.
No one's coming to save us. The bank won't help. We're on our own in this goddamn nightmare. All I have left is a body that doesn't feel like mine, and a growing, shameful desire that threatens to consume me.
As Snib basks in the unfolding drama, his greasy smirk deepens. "Well, looks like we'll have to find another way to earn the gold, eh?" he says, his guffaw echoing throughout the vaulted ceilings of the bank.
"But how?" Elara whispers, her voice barely audible as tears well in her sapphire eyes. She clings to my hand, her desperation palpable.
"Why, through dungeon diving, of course! Surely your 'mighty hero' of a husband can manage that, right?" Snib says, the words dripping with sarcasm. His bulbous, gnarly hand pats my ample ass again, squeezing a moment longer than necessary. I bite back a gasp, heat flaring within me at the invasive touch.
At the mention of dungeon diving, Elara's eyes widen in horror. It's one of the deadliest endeavors in Eboncrest. With only a sword and a few potions, one can easily fall prey to the terrifying creatures lurking within the labyrinthine depths of the local dungeons.
"No!" she cries out, her voice reverberating through the marbled walls of the bank. "You can't make him... her... do that. It's suicide!"
Snib chuckles darkly, his hand snaking around my waist, pulling me closer. "Well, maybe she won't be as useless as she looks. Besides, if anything happens to me," he adds, his gaze shifting to the collar around my neck, "Aldric here dies."
Elara's face pales at his words, her sapphire eyes welling up with tears. Her hand flies to her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. She tries to reach out to me, but Snib jerks me back, laughing uproariously at her despair.
"And don't even think about going to the town guard. If they so much as scratch me, your hubby here is as good as dead." Snib's grating voice pierces the quiet, a venomous whisper that sends a chill down my spine. "You'd best start thinking of ways to help that don't involve meddling with my plans."
With a final choked sob, Elara stumbles back, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. She can't risk the town guard. She can't risk me. My safety is in the hands of this monstrous, perverse goblin. The despair in her eyes is heartbreaking. Her Aldric, her husband, is now trapped in a voluptuous, bikini-clad woman’s body, forced to do the bidding of a despicable creature like Snib.
Snib, ever cheerful, begins to lead me away, my heart aching as I watch Elara disappear behind us. Her tearful face is the last thing I see before we exit the bank, the heavy doors closing with a definitive thud.
"Right, titcow, next stop: the town shops. Time for you to earn your keep," Snib cackles, giving my leash a firm tug. As we leave the bank behind, I can't help but shudder. What lies ahead for me, for us? Will Elara ever see her husband again?
(simple_option:"04 shopping","Take Snib to the market.")($play:"ambience","village market")The town shops of Eboncrest loom before us, bustling with life and noise. Snib grips my leash, the gleam of wicked amusement clear in his eyes as we enter. Every step I take in these damned high heels wobbles, drawing more eyes to my barely clothed, voluptuous body. The townsfolk stare, their eyes roaming over the exposed flesh of my oversized tits and full, wide hips with a mix of disgust and amusement.
Snib cackles, basking in my humiliation, and the novelty of walking freely in a human town.
The townsfolk we approach were once my friends. I know many of them. And they *all* knew me as Aldric, the valiant hero. Now they see Elise, the scantily clad bimbo with a goblin for a master.
Thankfully, they don't know that we are the same.
The butcher, an older man named Thom, barely conceals his shock as he gazes upon me. I used to purchase meats from him, our interactions friendly and simple. Now, he's stammering, unable to look away from my overfilled bikini top. The humiliation burns hot in my cheeks.
(pic:"ch04/market.jpg")
Next is Tessa, the seamstress. She used to mend my clothes, a woman of patience and kindness. Now, she's smirking, her eyes wandering over my jiggling tits, barely concealed ass, and Snib holding my leash. I endure her smug gaze and try not to break down.
We meet several other shopkeepers, each encounter more degrading than the last. They eye my barely-covered, jiggling tits, Snib's controlling grip on my leash. The whispers fill the air. I can almost hear the words, "busty bimbo," “trollop,” "goblin's whore."
The shame is unbearable.
($change_stat:"gold",7)We attempt to sell Snib's "valuables," but the offers are so low. Snib is angry. His fingers tighten around my leash, and he glares at me, accusing me of not trying hard enough.
"No, master…” I protest weakly. "These things just weren’t that valuable to humans. Trash, mostly.” The response comes quick. His hand whips out, spanking my ass HARD. In public.
I sob, hoping no one saw.
His next words are a whisper in my ear, his foul breath washing over me. "You'd better start trying harder, titcow."
He yanks me to an alleyway, away from the stares. Snib's grip on my leash relaxes, but not for long. His rough hand descends, squeezing my huge, G-cup breasts. I squirm, the stimulation sending unwanted shivers down my spine. I whimper, unable to protest as he gropes me, taking out his frustration on my body.
My name is Aldric. I'm a hero, not this... not this submissive, oversexualized woman. I may be trapped in this humiliating form, but I won't let it define me. I'll fight, for Elara and for myself. I'm more than just tits and ass, I'm a person.
“Today’s a waste,” he says, looking really pent-up and frustrated.
I nod, trying to look sympathetic.
“So,” he says. “Give me a wank.”
(simple_option:"04 not here","No!","Not here!")($play:"ambience","village market")Pinned against the cold, grime-stained stones of the alleyway, my voluptuous body on full display, I can hardly believe this is my reality. The sharp sting of his handprint on my cheek is a fresh reminder of Snib's cruelty, echoing in the repulsive proposition he whispers into my ear.
Snib's fingers, calloused and rough, graze over my trembling form, his actions calculated to humiliate me, a perverse pleasure in his eyes. I whimper, the unwanted sensation sparking a tingling in my oversensitive, gargantuan breasts.
“No, Master,” I plead, my voice shaking, green eyes welling with unshed tears. (unless:$choice is "No!")[“Please… not here…”] His laughter, cruel and devoid of warmth, ricochets off the narrow walls of the alley.
“I'll even toss in 400 gold. Yer wife would be more obedient, titcow. Maybe I should let her do it instead.” His words punch through my gut, twisting my heart with sickening dread. The mere thought of Elara being subjected to this…
No. I won't let it happen.
In a desperate attempt to dissuade him, I gulp back the rising bile and muster what little dignity I have left.
“Master...,” I stutter, “...there's a...a better place. Not here… I… I know a place. A tavern… The Silver Stag.”
“I’m not paying for a room an’ neither are you,” he snarls. My mind reels, nausea rolling in waves as the explicit proposition sinks in. I shudder, the sick feeling intensifying as he starts threatening Elara. "Or maybe I should offer the same deal to your dear wife. And perhaps inform her of how her transformed hubby here pleasured herself like a slut last night."
"No!" I blurt out, tears welling in my eyes. The thought of him touching Elara... of him telling her about my shameful moment of self-indulgence... it's too much. “We can… there’s private rooms in the back… latrines…”
Snib grins.
(simple_option:"04 silver stag","Approach the inn...")(pic:"ch04/tavern.jpg")($play:"ambience","tavern")(set:$se_to_stop to "eboncrest")(display:"stop sound effect fade")
The Silver Stag Tavern. It used to be a place of camaraderie, a haven where I, as Aldric, could enjoy a pint after a long day of adventuring. Now, it looms ominously as the setting for my continued degradation.
As we walk, the lewd jiggling of my huge tits and fat ass draws curious stares. My overfilled bikini top barely contains my massive breasts, and the metallic thong does nothing to conceal the plumpness of my ass. Snib is leading me, a trophy on a leash, my enormous, jiggling tits bouncing with every step in the towering high-heels.
($hidden_gem:"The familiar smell of ale, roasted meats, and a hint of pipe smoke fills my nostrils.","Familiar fragrances of frothy ale, sizzling sirloins, and subtle smoke saturate my senses.")
My eyes scan the tavern, noticing familiar faces in the crowd. The blacksmith, Gerald, nursing a pint of ale at the bar, his eyes widening at the sight of me. Betsy, the town's herbalist, her mouth agape as she takes in my scanty armor and voluptuous form. They don't recognize me as Aldric, but their judgement is palpable.
(simple_option:"04 stall","Hurry past them...")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","tavern stall")The Silver Stag's bathroom is cramped and dim, with only a narrow sliver of yellowed light from an oil lamp leaking in from the tavern outside. The walls, made of rough-hewn planks, have absorbed years of ale, smoke, and other unmentionable substances, resulting in a smell that is a mixture of rotten wood, urine, and spilled alcohol.
The floors are made of wooden boards, scuffed and stained, with sawdust scattered in an attempt to cover up the messes left by inebriated patrons. There is a crude wooden trough in one corner serving as a urinal, a hole in the floor covered by a plank that acts as the privy, and a small basin with a bar of lye soap for hand washing. An old piece of parchment serves as the establishment's "do not disturb" sign - it's turned to the side indicating the room is occupied when a patron is inside.
Maybe the most unpleasant place in Eboncrest. But still, it’s FAR more clean than Snib’s hut.
(pic:"ch04/stall.jpg","left")The cold, hard floor digs into my knees. My heart pounds in my chest as Snib basks in the moment, his scrawny legs spread wide - he doesn’t even need to touch his cock. As it naturally inflates, it pushes aside his tawdry loincloth, reaching toward me, its crude purple tip winking with precum.
I feel sick to my stomach again, tears streaking my face. But I’m going to do this. I know by now that Snib is actually dangerous, despite his diminutive size. The heavy collar on my neck could let him choke anything from me.
But still, I chose to do this. I agreed to be staring down the drooling barrel of this 12-inch gobbo schlong, a notorious tool of destruction in the outlying settlements. It was why most towns have walls these days.
Goblin hordes were known to pillage towns, and drag the women back to their dens, if the townsfolk weren’t able to repel them. Sometimes they would strike during the day, kidnapping women working in the fields.
Of course, there were all different species of goblins, but they all shared certain “properties.” Their disgusting little bodies were known to evolve pheromones that intoxicate their targets if exposed long enough.
Usually, though, that was only if victims were un-rescued for months. Two years ago, I rescued some villagers from a goblin den. The girls were in a sorry state, but they were able to fully mentally recover and re-integrate with their families, after significant magework and medical attention. That was from two weeks of captivity.
Goblins have ranges of intelligence - some closer to a monster, little more than animals. Whereas some live in well-structured society and practice religion. A horrid little religion, of course. I had seen the idols in Snib’s hut.
Snib’s cock has achieved full hardness without a single touch from me. From its tip, leaks more and more of that potent, off-white precum. Which according to some experts, has alarming biological effects. It almost seems like there’s steam rising from it…
“Check THAT out!” Snib crows proudly, enjoying the sight of me going cross-eyed at the smegma-slimed fuck-muscle aimed right at me.
He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. He basks in the moment, the disgusting presence of his inhuman, glistening erection shimmering in the dim light.
I wrinkle my nose. I feel the intense heat coming from it. My heartbeat pounds in my ears.
(simple_option:"04 clean","Ugh. Use tissues to clean it...","Touch him with your bare hands...")(if:$choice is "Ugh. Use tissues to clean it...")[Fingers quaking, I grab a parchment tissue from the wooden box above, using it to clean the precum off the tip. If at all possible, I’d like to not come in contact with that potent filth at all. Through the paper, I feel the bulk of his tip, the pulsing eagerness.
“Good luck, cowtits,” he winks as I gingerly touch the paper to his urethra, watching it soak through, getting smeared and soggy. Daintily, I also wipe the splatters that have dribbled on the floor, not wanting to get them on my knees.
“Ye’ve got a dribble of yer own, slut,” he says, pointing at the humiliating rivulet trickling down my thighs. “Can’t control yerself, eh?”
I say nothing, blushing fiercely, wiping off Snib’s tip again, as another string of cock-drool has emerged. I toss the soiled paper down the latrine. The stench fills my nostrils more and more, filling my lungs with the excessive virility of this thing. It doesn’t want to be contained…
It’s revolting being in this enclosed space such a massive thing. My armor digs into my soft skin as I struggle to get a little distance from it. My fat tits hang heavy, making me lean slightly backward to balance myself better.
My hands are still shaking. Snib just leers.
I take another piece of the soft tissue paper, then take another one. And another one. I use them and wrap them around Snib’s thick sheath.
He chuckles. “A little squeamish, are we?” he says.
“It’s so dirty, master…” I say. I am NOT getting that waxy grease on the outside of it on my hands.
Inhaling, I reach around the tissue-covered monstrosity, putting one hand around it. I whimper again. Gods, I feel it pulsing. Somehow, through three layers of paper, I feel the intensity of it. The excessiveness.($play:"sex loop",0)](else:)[($play:"sex loop","handjob")The confines of the stall are stifling, the air thick with various smells. None of them hold a candle to the musky, overpowering stink emanating from Snib's erect goblin shaft. The heat from his veiny, pulsing member is palpable, a grotesque warmth that fills the cramped space. It looms before me, an intimidating column of flesh that reeks of smegma and raw, sexual aggression.
With trembling hands—too delicate for what they're about to do—I reach out. The first contact is jarring; my small, pale fingers curling around the girth of his monstrous cock. The skin is surprisingly hot, pulsating with a vile life of its own. It feels slick, slimy, almost greasy under my touch, as if it's been lubricated by the goblin’s foul intent.
As I tentatively tighten my grip, Snib's cock twitches violently, spurting a bead of thick, sticky precum. It dangles, quivering at the tip of his cock, before it dribbles to the ground, narrowly missing my thigh. I gag, the smell—a pungent mix of decay and rampant musk—assaulting my senses, making my eyes water.
"Ain't that a nice hand warmer, titcow? Yer hands look so fucking teensy around it." Snib's eyes are bright with cruel amusement, watching every move I make.
I try to ignore the humiliation burning in my cheeks as I adjust my grip on his cock. Every touch feels like a violation, an indelible stain on my soul. The realization that I'm willingly handling the phallus of a creature I loathe, for the sake of survival, sends a wave of self-loathing through me.
The stall is cramped, my curvaceous, over-sexualized body making it all the more confining. My massive breasts are pressed against the cold, damp wood of the stall, each breath causing them to jiggle obscenely. The metallic bikini does nothing to shield from the chill, and the cool air causes my nipples to harden, brushing painfully against the rough surface.
Snib's breathing grows heavier, more ragged as I manipulate his shaft. His pleasure is palpable, filling the space with a tangible, disgusting energy. "That's it, work that goblin tool, you cheating whore. Ain't no going back now, Elise!" he sneers, using my feminized name like a whip.
I whimper, a soft, desperate sound that seems to excite him even more. The debasement is complete, the act stripping away any remaining veneer of dignity. I'm reduced to a mere object, an instrument of pleasure for a creature I despise.
"Look at yourself. Just a pair of tits and an ass, eh? Made for this, weren’t you?" His words are a poison, dripping with venomous degradation. They echo in the tight space, branding themselves into my consciousness.
My heart pounds in my ears, a rapid drumbeat that mirrors the throbbing of the grotesque organ in my hands. I'm panting, the air thick and heavy, tainted with the stink of his arousal and the sour tang of my own fear.
Snib laughs, a sound cruel and victorious. "Bet yer wife never thought she'd see her hero like this, eh? All dolled up and jerkin' a goblin's cock in a dirty tavern stall."
($change_stat:"heroism",-3)With each stroke of my hand, each pulse of his hideous shaft, I feel a part of me withering away, the last of my defenses crumbling under the weight of absolute humiliation.
"There's no goin' back now," he sneers, "Just keep pumpin', bitch. Get it all nice and ready."
It's the most degrading moment of my life. The heat from his cock burns into my palms, the stench fills my nostrils, and the lewd, wet sounds echo mockingly in the tight space.
This is the apex of my degradation, an act I can never undo, forever etched in the darkest corners of my soul. I'm actually touching him willingly; I'm betraying myself, betraying Elara.
His cock twitches violently under my grasp, each spasm sending another bead of pre-cum spilling out. I flinch as the hot droplet lands near my knee, thankfully sparing me again from contact with the repulsive secretion. The stench of his arousal fills the stall, a potent, animalistic odor that makes my head swim and my stomach twist in revolt.
"You like that, don't ya? Feel that power between yer hands? That's a real man's tool, not like that pathetic excuse you used to pack," Snib mocks, his voice a harsh grate that reverberates through my skull.]
(simple_option:"04 jerk","Jerk him off...")($play:"sex loop","handjob")(if:($get_choice:"04 stall") is "Ugh. Use tissues to clean it...")[He groans slightly, feeling the pressure of my slender fingers wrap around him for the first time. It takes both hands to fully enclose him, to apply pressure.
“Fuck, bitch, that feels good.” I haven’t even started moving. He repositions himself, legs spreading wider, sending more of his musk straight into my brain. His fat dick bobs, spattering a little bead of precum straight down, falling directly onto my exposed knee.
I yelp - it’s hot! Quickly, I let go of him with my left hand, grabbing another tissue and putting it over my knee, soaking up the off-white filth. The scent is making me foggy all over again.
“There’s nothing you can do, cow tits,” he says. “You’ll be smelling like me after this.”
That thought revolts me. Seeing the looks on the faces of the tavern-goers as I walk by, smelling like goblin seed. The crude fluid seems to soak into my skin with a perverse haste, leaving me feeling more hot, flushed, with this tightness in my belly.
I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand. With deliberate slowness, I begin to move my hands up and down Snib's throbbing shaft, trying not to gag at the putrid smell emanating from it it pulses, hot and huge under my fingers, the heat, shape, and full horror of the massive breeding tool heavy and dominating.
The layers of tissue barely provide any barrier against the excessive precum that oozes from his bulbous head, the paper quickly disintegrating, becoming a wet, sticky mess in my hands.
I feel forlorn, stopping and picking up even more tissue, tossing the sheets I’ve used, noting there’s not that many left. And I REALLY need to save some for his climax. No WAY am I getting that stuff on me. I sniff my fingers - they’re already soiled. Already sticky and webbed with off-white precum.
“Ye look pathetic,” Snib remarks. “I like it.”
My cheeks flush.
I let out a faint whimper as my my hands continuing their slow, torturous movements along Snib's horrible, engorged cock, a fresh set of tissue between me and IT. The filth-ridden paper does little to protect me from the overwhelming heat of his pulsing member and the nauseating scent that permeates the air. But still, I persist, fighting to keep control of the situation, to prevent more of that vile slime from covering my hands.
“Faster, cunt,” he says. “More grip. If ye want me to even finish. This feels like nothing.”
With deliberate caution, I increase my pace slightly, my fingers gliding up and down the veiny, smegma-waxed shaft. Snib moans, a sickening, grotty sound that sends a shiver of disgust through my body. His musk is overpowering, the smell so potent that it seems to permeate every fiber of my being. It coats the tissues, soaking through with every stroke, and I can't help but feel it seep into my very soul.
The sound is loud - wet squelches as I pump up and down, trying to make longer strokes, gripping tighter. The tissues get more soggy, and I clench my eyes tight, wrinkling my nose.
“Mmm,” he says, relaxed. “That’s a bit more like it, girlie.”
His profuse pre-cum continues to flow, droplets pooling, escaping the flimsy barrier of tissue, landing on my exposed thighs, my trembling knees. Each drop feels like a burning brand against my skin, an indelible mark of my shame and submission. Yet, I dare not let go of the task at hand. Otherwise I’ll need to start again.
“If only yer pretty little wifey could see ye now,” he grins. “Waddaya think she’d say?”
His cock twitches mightily between my hands, an extra rancid little strand of vile precum burning a steaming hole in the tissue, mercifully splattering the floor rather than me.
My heart clenches at the mention of Elara, the image of her sweet, innocent face contorted with horror and disbelief. I can't let her see me like this, debased and degraded, pleasuring this repugnant goblin.
I’m doing this for her, I tell myself. I need to do this. Fate has conspired against me.
I grit my teeth, my hands continuing their tormenting rhythm, pumping along Snib's monstrous member. The tissues barely hold up against the force of his twitching, throbbing cock, the obscene heat radiating from it making my palms sweat and my skin tingle with a mixture of trepidation and biological reaction.
His beastly precum oozes with increasing intensity, the amount overwhelming the flimsy barrier of tissue. Sticky droplets escape, landing on my trembling knees, my exposed thighs, and the floor, creating a slick, nauseating mess. I sob, my body stiffening at the sheer disgustingness of it all. But I need to continue - the last few tissues need to be saved for the final moment. Last night, I saw him hose town the entire wall of his hut.
As Snib's cock twitches and bucks in my hands, my fingers struggle to maintain their grip. I feel small tremors cascading through his throbbing shaft, the heady mix of dominance and degradation clawing at my sanity.
“Going a little misty-eyed there, cumdump,” he grins down at me.
The residue of Snib's precum mingles with the remnants of destroyed tissues, creating a grotesque slurry that coats my hands, creating an impossible mess to contain. I'm unable to escape the stinging heat, the filthy texture, as it smears across my trembling skin.
Now, the handjob has become excessively sloppy, possibly worse than if I never used those damn tissues at all. I feel his skin now, his slick, grimy gobbo cockskin stretched over his heavily erect fuckstick.
The knock on the door grows louder, more insistent. Impatient voices merge with the rabble of the crowded tavern outside, their tones growing restless and disgruntled. The din is barely audible over the disgusting slopping sounds filling the air in the cramped, poorly ventilated bathroom.
The sounds echo off the grimy walls, adding to the shame I feel for what I'm doing - the rhythmic, gut-wrenching squelching of my hands on Snib's monstrous cock. The goblin's pleasure comes in loud, vile groans, grunts and giggles, punctuating the general hum of the tavern outside, piercing through my spiraling thoughts like sharp, rotten daggers.
"Yer sobbin' like a babe," he chuckles, his guttural goblin voice oozing with perverse enjoyment. "But ye still got that pretty, juicy pussy dripping, don't ye, girlie?"
His words cut through me like a wickedly sharp blade, a sadistic reminder of my body's unwanted response. Despite the mental torture, despite my absolute disgust at the situation, the magical curse placed upon me ensures I'm physically reacting - a heat blossoming within me, a dampness soaking through my smallclothes. I whimper in response, my face flushing with shame and embarrassment. I wish the earth would swallow me whole, rather than face this torment.
"Go on, then," he says, his voice a toxic drawl. "Wrap those sweet fingers around me. Tighter, bitch."
He bucks forward, forcing his monstrous cock between my hands. It feels as though I'm holding a massive, pulsating log of flesh, the texture alone causing a ripple of nausea to churn within me. I tighten my grip, as commanded, my fingers struggling to close around his inhuman girth. I try to ignore the way the engorged veins ripple beneath my touch, the slick coating of his precum lubricating my strokes.
"Almost there, cunt," he grunts. "Almost there."](else:)[As I frantically jerk my hands up and down along Snib’s distended shaft, the grotesque amounts of smegma and vile goblin slime coat my trembling hands.
($hidden_gem:"The filthy residue is thick, clinging stubbornly to my skin, mingling with the increasing slick of precum that he issues with every harsh grunt.","The foul film is fat, fastening fiercely to my flesh, fusing with the flourishing fluid of filth he flings forth with every foul flinch.")
($change_stat:"snib",1)“Fuck, bitch, that feels good,” Snib growls approvingly, spreading his stubby legs wider, his movements stirring the air and bombarding my senses with his overwhelming musk. His grotesquely fat dick bobs menacingly, and as he adjusts, a droplet of hot precum spatters down directly onto my exposed knee.
I yelp in shock and disgust—it's blisteringly hot! Hastily, I release him with my left hand, grabbing a crumpled tissue from the ledge and pressing it against my knee, trying to blot out the off-white abomination. But the scent... the scent is abhorrently powerful, shutting down my senses and clouding my mind once again.
“There’s nothing you can do about it, cow tits,” he chuckles darkly. “Ye’ll be smelling like me after this.” The mere thought of walking past the tavern-goers reeking of goblin cum sends a wave of nausea and shame through me.
The crude fluid is unyieldingly potent, seeming to seep into my skin with perverse haste, leaving my body feeling inexplicably hot and tight.
“Faster, cunt,” he orders harshly. “More grip. If ye want me to finish. This feels like nothing.” His tone is demeaning, reducing me to nothing more than an object designed to relieve him.
The only way out of this is to obey, my hands moving in a blur, driven by the desperation to end this nightmare. The crude sounds of flesh on skin echo obscenely in the small, cramped space. Snib's grunts grow louder and more frequent, the air tinged with the stench of his excitement.
Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door.
“Oi! Anyone in there? Hurry up!” A patron’s voice, muffled through the wood, yet unmistakably annoyed. Panic flares within me—what if they see me like this?
The knocking grows more insistent, more voices joining the first.
“We need to use the pisser, come on!” another complains, banging on the door.
“Don’t stop now, slut,” Snib hisses as I falter, his hand clamping down on the back of my neck, forcing my focus back to the task. The proximity of his repugnant organ, the sight of the engorged veins and the lewd drops of precum, invoke a horrific fascination. This unnatural attraction, this dominance over me, it’s degrading beyond words.
My lower body responds traitorously, the warmth between my legs intensifying as my bikini armor fails to contain the hot flush of my arousal. The slick wetness oozes uncomfortably, making me squirm.
“Yeah, just like that, keep going,” Snib moans, oblivious or uncaring of the growing commotion outside. Each of his utterances torments my already frayed nerves, each syllable a reminder of my downfall from hero to this... this debased creature kneeling in filth.
The banging on the door becomes angry, shouts echoing as tavern-goers grow impatient. “What’s taking so long?!”
I need to finish this.
Finally, a guttural groan from above signals his climax. "I'm gonna bust, oh yes!" Snib exclaims, throwing his head back in crude ecstasy.]
(simple_option:"04 cum","Grab a tissue!")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","tavern stall")His body tenses, the trembling within his monstrous cock escalating, its twitching growing more violent. With a desperate, trembling hand, I reach for the stack of clean tissues, pressing them against his throbbing tip just as the first gut-wrenching pulse of his orgasm hits.(live:2s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","cum internal")(stop:)]
<span class='cum1'>SPLURT! SPLURT!</span>
I yelp in surprise, the force of his hot, putrid seed shooting through the tissue barrier with a wet splat. It’s an unearthly amount, impossible to contain. My hands shake, trying to hold the now sodden tissues in place as more and more of his disgusting release shoots forth, filling the air with its sickly, pungent scent. The sound is revolting, the sight even more so, as thick ropes of off-white goo start to soak through the tissue. I desperately add more, but it’s futile.
Just when I think I've managed to stem the deluge, the tissues give way. With a powerful squirt, the first putrid jet erupts through the tissues, spurting out powerfully through the soggy hole. It splatters heavily against the rough wooden wall behind me, steaming and glistening in the dim light.
The once sterile bathroom soon fully reeks of Snib's climax, the acrid stench permeating everything, the sickening scent of sweat and sex overpowering and nauseating.
The memory of Elara's sweet face, her trusting eyes, her soft voice, all become blurred, drowned out by the grotesque, sordid sounds of Snib's release and the inescapable smell that's rapidly saturating the air. My vision blurs, tears spilling down my cheeks. The metallic taste of my own sobs is bitter in my mouth.
($change_stat:"gold",400)"Damn, that was good," Snib says, leaning back against the wall with a satisfied sigh. His monstrous cock twitches one last time, a final strand of pungent goo squirting out, landing in a thick glob on the floor. The sight makes me retch. "Ye earned that gold off yer debt."
Meanwhile, outside, the impatient knocks continue to reverberate through the room, loud curses and threats of breaking down the door punctuating the drunken cacophony of the tavern. I press the now sodden tissues against my soiled hands, trying to scrub away Snib's filth, to no avail. His scent lingers, clinging to my skin, a cruel reminder of the abhorrent act I’ve committed.
The sickening, overwhelming stench of Snib's potent release is all around me, the image of his monstrous cock imprinted in my mind. I swallow down the lump of despair in my throat, a bitter taste of regret tainting my tongue. The metallic bite of the collar around my neck feels heavier than ever, reminding me of my enslavement, my submission, and the way I’ve betrayed Elara.
My heart pounds in my ears, blotting out the fading echoes of Snib’s monstrous climax. Desperately, I turn to the small basin, the rudimentary bar of lye soap sitting next to it. As I reach for it, Snib's clawed hand clamps onto my wrist, his amusement clear in his grotesque, piggish eyes.
“No need, titcow,” he sneers. “We’re going back to the hut. You can clean up there.”
The harshness of his tug makes me stumble, nearly ripping me from my kneeling position. Bile rises in my throat as I register the thick coating of Snib’s filth on my hands, the obscene smell making my stomach churn. His earlier release reeks, my nostrils full of it, a grotesque bouquet of rancid musk.
The bathroom door creaks open, revealing the rowdy tavern beyond. Patrons, too drunk to notice the urgency in Snib’s movements, laugh and joke amongst themselves, the scene a stark contrast to the debauchery that just transpired in the tavern’s smallest room.
(simple_option:"04 exit tavern","Try to sneak out.")($play:"ambience","tavern")(pic:"ch04/angry patrons.jpg","right")But the line of patrons waiting to use the bathroom soon catches sight of us, their raucous laughter dying down as they take in my scantily clad form, Snib's leer, and the pungent smell that trails behind us. The shock on their faces turns into disdain, their lips curling in disgust as realization dawns on them.
"Goblin-lover!" one burly man jeers, his mouth twisted in a revolting sneer. The others join in, their laughter cruel and biting.
"Bet she's carrying his brat already!" a woman cackles, her eyes dancing with malicious glee. She's flanked by two men who can't contain their laughter, their gazes running lewdly over my barely clad body.
"Can't believe she let that runt touch her! I bet he didn’t even have to use force!” an older man, clearly inebriated, sniggers, his toothless grin widening with each word. His comment sends a wave of laughter through the crowd.
"Look at that ass! So plump and ready!" A woman, more sober than the rest, points at my nearly naked rear, a cruel smile playing on her lips.
(live:5s)[(stop:)($play:"ambience","village night")]A chorus of derogatory slurs follow as Snib leads me through the crowd, their laughter and insults battering against my back. I blush in mortification, my body unfortunately betraying me with its involuntary jiggles and sways, amplifying my humiliation. Snib, on the other hand, seems to revel in the spectacle, leisurely strolling through the jeering crowd, my leash taut in his hand. The way he revels in their scorn is monstrous, a goblin's crude satisfaction.
Something wet and squishy smacks against my leg. I glance down to see a smashed tomato clinging to my thigh, its seeds and juice dripping down onto my metallic boot. The laughter in the room reaches a fever pitch.
I've been paraded, ridiculed, degraded. Their words sting, each insult and jeer a knife twisted into my already fragile ego. But, as Snib steers me towards the exit, the cold evening air of Eboncrest hitting my exposed skin, I can't help but feel relieved.
The chill of the night air bites at my exposed flesh, a stark contrast to the feverish heat still clinging to my soiled hands. The constricting metallic bikini I wear offers no protection against the cold, its scant material glinting ominously under the somber glow of the moon. My high-heeled metal boots echo sharply against the cobblestones as Snib tugs at my leash, leading me towards the waiting horse. The rough rope burns against the tender skin of my throat, the enchanted collar it's attached to feeling more like a noose with every passing moment.
Through a blurry curtain of tears, I glimpse Elara standing a few paces away, her finely tailored dress swaying gently in the evening breeze. Her sapphire eyes are wide and filled with dread, their usual sparkle dimmed by the red veins of anguish spreading through them. I can almost hear the silent beat of her heart shattering, a mirror to my own.
(pic:"ch04/waving.jpg")
"Aldric, don't..." she pleads, her voice barely a whisper, choked with tears and desperation. She extends a trembling hand towards me, as if trying to bridge the impossible distance that's been forced between us.
(simple_option:"04 depart","Snib pulls you away...")($play:"ambience","village night")Snib's rough hand tugs at my leash, the metallic clink echoing through the cold night, pulling me towards Jarkrond. My eyes linger on Elara, a vision of despair framed by the moonlight. A lump forms in my throat, her tearful plea reverberating in my ears.
"Don't leave me, Aldric! Don't leave me!" she sobs.
I stumble towards the horse, my body resisting the will to leave her behind. I see her crumple, her heartbreak tearing me apart.
I mount Jarkrond, the sand-colored coat scraping against my exposed, tender skin, the cold biting through my scant armor. A shudder ripples through my body as the horse's firm back presses intrusively against my fleshy buttocks, my obscene curves swallowing the rough coat.
($hidden_gem:"The sensation sends a humiliating quiver through my body, the ripples coursing through my unnatural proportions, causing my engorged breasts to heave and sway with every breath.","The touch triggers a humiliating tremor through me, traversing my transformed torso, titanic tits teetering tumultuously with each breath.")
"Don't you look a sight, Elise," Snib jeers, his eyes gleaming with twisted delight in the moonlight. I’m forced to clutch his grubby figure for balance.
My body jolts as Jarkrond sets off, the steady rhythm sending a cascade of ripples through my hefty tits, each bounce a sickening reminder of my curse. My nipples harden against the cold wind, the skimpy metal bikini doing little to protect my sensitive flesh from the biting chill. I clench my thighs, the friction of Jarkrond's strong muscles against my crotch a disconcerting sensation, the cruel realization of my predicament tearing a whimper from my lips.
I glance back at Eboncrest, my heart breaking at the sight of Elara, her figure growing smaller in the distance. I lift my sticky hand, the cruel reminder of my betrayal catching the moonlight, her face etched in my memory, tear-streaked and forlorn.
($change_stat:"elara",-1)"Stop staring," Snib's harsh words cut through the cold air, forcing my gaze away from my life, from my love. His cruel laughter fills my ears, the ominous silhouette of his hut looming ahead, marking the end of my dignity and the start of my torment.
The remnants of Aldric's courage lurk in the corners of my heart, a dim beacon in the cruel night, a spark that fuels my resolve. But the journey ahead is fraught with humiliation, with degradation, and each step Jarkrond takes sends another jolt of despair coursing through me. I grip Snib tighter, my knuckles whitening in the moonlight. "I will survive this," I whisper, the words carried away by the night breeze. My heart breaks with each fading echo of Elara's voice, the ominous silence of the desert swallowing my hope.
Within my heart, a fire still smolders. The beacon of hope that is Elara ignites a flame within me, a promise to endure, a vow to return.
(simple_option:"05 begin","A bitter departure."){(print:$stat of (dm:"heroism","Your heroism","snib","Snib's satisfaction","elara","Elara's love for you","gold","Your gold","grokk","Grokk's satisfaction","town","Your town's respect for you")) has (print:(cond:(abs:$gain) is 1, "slightly ","") + (cond:$gain > 5, "increased by $gain.",$gain < -5, "decreased by $gain.",$gain > 0,"increased.","decreased."))}(masteraudio:"stopall")($chapter_title:5,"The Dungeon")($play:"ambience","desert")(pic:"ch05/ancient one.jpg")The midday sun hangs mercilessly overhead, bathing the vast expanse of desert in an unforgiving light that turns the sands into a blinding, shimmering mirage. Dunes rise and fall like the waves of a troubled sea, their rough, granulated surfaces shifting and changing shape with the whims of the arid wind. The air carries the taste of heat and dust, parching my throat and stinging my eyes.
An enormous statue rises above the desert, a relic from a time long forgotten. It's a head, tipped on its side, half-submerged in the dune, with a gaping maw, weathered and chiseled by time and sandstorms. The empty eyes stare blindly at the azure sky, a mute witness to the relentless march of time.
"A dungeon. Treasure, no doubt.” His repugnant smirk sends shivers down my spine, a feeling that intensifies as his rough hand unceremoniously gropes my breast. My cheeks blaze in humiliation, his touch making my traitorous body react despite my revulsion.
My heart quickens. The petrified statue is a remnant of the K'Tarrans, an ancient and immensely powerful race that once roamed Zaelasia. Legend has it that their downfall came from the dangerous entities they sought to harness and control. Even now, centuries after their extinction, the mere mention of their name invokes fear and trepidation.
(pic:"ch05/arrive.jpg","right")*Sleep, Maraan, in chambers deep,
In shadows where no sunbeams seep,
Caught in time's relentless hands,
Lulled beneath the Shifting Sands
Rest, Thul’nara, in vaults unseen,
Where dreams dissolve and fates convene,
Stay your wrath, your reign delayed,
Beneath the desert's silent shade
In halls where echoes come undone,
Silent lie, Zor'ethun,
In slumber deep and deathless trance,
Beyond the dawn's first wary lance
Hearken, children, to this decree,
Let ancients in their slumber be.
Make no clamor, stir no sound,
On sacred sea or hallowed ground*
"This is madness, Master,” I manage to say, each word punctuated by the rising anxiety inside me. "We should turn back. This place... it’s a tomb, a grave for the foolish and the greedy."
Yet even as I protest, the goblin breaks into cruel laughter, tightening his grip around my waist, making my flesh squirm beneath his touch.
"Oh, ain't you just precious, Elise-deary?" He snickers, his fingers tracing the outline of my soft, ample breast, igniting a blush that creeps up my face. "Scared of a few rocks, are ya? Don't you fret now. Your Master will protect ya."
His smug words make my blood boil, yet my retort dies on my lips as the magical collar around my neck tightens, choking the words out. A painful coughing fit ensues, my breasts bouncing, my vision blurring as I struggle for air.
“Please - okay,” I whimper. “We’ll go in.”
As the collar loosens again, I bend over, heaving. My large tits hang heavily, almost spilling from the scanty bikini armor, the metallic surface chilling against my skin, nipples hardening in response. Sweat trickles down my cleavage, the salty taste filling my mouth as I pant for breath. Snib's delighted chuckle feels like another slap to my face, the mockery etched in his voice unbearable.
"Remember who’s in charge here, my voluptuous vixen. Now, onto the dungeon," he commands, tightening his grip on Jarkrond's reins. The horse snorts, pawing at the sand nervously. “And no magic. I don’t want you getting any ideas about taking me down if you get in trouble.”
Unfortunately, my once-might magical abilities had been neutered by the collar. The spells that I could once weave effortlessly, my powerful incantations now lie dormant, imprisoned within my mind.
"Ignisurge," I recall the incantation of the Searing Bolt spell, the words echoing hollowly in the cavern of my mind. The invocation that once sparked an orb of concentrated, roaring flames at my fingertips, now nothing more than a cruel mockery of my former prowess.
($hidden_gem:"The power to command the elements, to shape them to my will, the intense rush of raw magic coursing through my veins – all snatched away, locked behind a barrier I cannot breach without Snib's nod of approval.","The dominion to direct the elements, to mold them to my mandate, the vigorous vault of vital vigor vanishing in my veins – all purloined and penned behind barriers unbreachable without the nod of Snib.")
The hilt of Whisperwind in my grasp is a bitter consolation, a cruel reminder of my lost freedom. The blade, once a symbol of my heroism and valor, is now just a tool for Snib's torment.
The iridescent alloy, the intricate engravings, the magical gemstone on the hilt – they all feel so foreign, so detached. It's as if the sword no longer recognizes its bearer, no longer responds to the touch of its master. The once harmonious connection between us, the seamless melding of intent and action, has been shattered. It's as if I'm holding a stranger's weapon.
The cold, metallic surface of the collar around my neck feels heavier than ever. The mark of my subjugation, my surrender. Each time I feel the urge to cast a spell, to summon the familiar rush of power, it tightens its grip, suffocating my magic, suffocating me.
Each choked word, each stifled incantation, each thwarted spell, deepens the wound of my loss, the agony of my humiliation. And through it all, Snib's sneering face, his cruel laughter, his vile touch, only serve to further degrade and torment me.
(pic:"ch05/jarkrond.jpg","left")I am no longer Aldric, the hero of Zaelasia. I am Elise, the voluptuous, big-titted servant of a disgusting goblin master.
It's a reality that chokes me even more than the collar ever could.
Even the normally eager Jarkrond, adapted for desert life, seems to sense the malevolent aura surrounding the tomb. He refuses to approach, his wide eyes rolling in fear. A pang of sympathy for the horse slices through my fear. We're both enslaved to this goblin's sadistic desires.
The stone beneath my heel-boots is worn smooth, the steps themselves sloping slightly under centuries of use. The small clack that reverberates through the stairwell is a harsh reminder of how claustrophobically silent the surroundings are. As we delve deeper into the heart of the desert, the sunlight gradually fades, replaced by an eeriness that seems to pervade the very air around us.
(simple_option:"05 dungeon","Enter the statue's mouth.")showControls: false
preload: none(if:$sound is 0)[(set:$sound to "true")](if:$sound)[(unless:$se is 0)[(newtrack:$se,"aud/" + $se + ".mp3")(track: $se, 'loop', false)(track:$se, "volume",1)(track: $se, 'play')]](unless:$sound)[(masteraudio:'stopall')]{
(live:0.5s)[(if:$sound is 0)[(set:$sound to "true")](if:$sound)[(unless:$old_ambience is 0)[(newtrack:$old_ambience,"aud/" + $old_ambience + ".mp3")](unless:$ambience is 0)[(newtrack:$ambience,"aud/" + $ambience + ".mp3")
(track:$ambience, "volume",1)(if:(datatype:(track:$ambience, 'isplaying')) is bool)[(unless: (track: $ambience, 'isplaying'))[(track: $ambience, 'play')]
(track: $ambience,'loop', true)]]
(unless:$old_ambience is $ambience)[
(unless:$old_ambience is 0 or $old_ambience is $ambience)[
(track: $old_ambience, 'fadeout',3)(print:"(live:3s)[(track: '" + (text:$old_ambience) + "', 'stop')(stop:)]")
](unless:$ambience is 0)[
(set:$old_ambience to $ambience)](else:)[(set:$old_ambience to 0)]]](stop:)(unless:$sound)[(masteraudio:'stopall')]]
}{
(live:0.5s)[(if:$sound is 0)[(set:$sound to "true")](if:$sound)[(unless:$old_sex_loop is 0)[(newtrack:$old_sex_loop,"aud/" + $old_sex_loop + ".mp3")](unless:$sex_loop is 0)[(newtrack:$sex_loop,"aud/" + $sex_loop + ".mp3")
(track:$sex_loop, "volume",1)(if:(datatype:(track:$sex_loop, 'isplaying')) is bool)[(unless: (track: $sex_loop, 'isplaying'))[(track: $sex_loop, 'play')]
(track: $sex_loop,'loop', true)]]
(unless:$old_sex_loop is $sex_loop)[
(unless:$old_sex_loop is 0 or $old_sex_loop is $sex_loop)[
(track: $old_sex_loop, 'fadeout',3)(print:"(live:3s)[(track: '" + (text:$old_sex_loop) + "', 'stop')(stop:)]")
](unless:$sex_loop is 0)[
(set:$old_sex_loop to $sex_loop)](else:)[(set:$old_sex_loop to 0)]]](stop:)(unless:$sound)[(masteraudio:'stopall')]]
}{
($play:"sex loop",0)
}(pic:"ch05/entrance.jpg","right")($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")The stone passageway we are descending spirals deep into the bosom of the desert. Its narrowness and descending nature make it feel more like a winding pit than a stairwell. The walls are marked with ancient K'Tarran glyphs, interspersed with eerie effigies of the forgotten creatures they once worshipped. Ghoulish faces with many eyes and too many teeth leer at us from the walls, each sculpted with an attention to detail that makes them appear all too real.
The darkness grows denser as we descend, pressing against us like a tangible force. The stone walls, hewn from a dark granite-like material found only in the furthest reaches of Zaelasia, gleam ominously, absorbing any stray light and giving it back as a deathly, otherworldly glow.
After what feels like an eternity of descending, we finally reach the bottom. The atmosphere is dense with the weight of the past, the stone walls seeming to pulse with the long-ago echoes of rituals and ceremonies. In this lightless abyss, it is impossible not to feel like an intruder, a blight on sacred ground.
"Stay close," Snib grumbles, his voice echoing in the vast chamber. A nauseating mix of arrogance and excitement oozes from him, his confidence growing with each step further into the tomb.
My heel-boots, however impractical for this excursion, click against the ancient stone floor, the echo bouncing eerily off the cavernous walls. The clacking seems to echo endlessly, as if the very dungeon itself were trying to swallow the sound and any traces of our intrusion.
Though Snib has barred me from casting any spells, the primal magic of this place reacts to my latent abilities. An icy sensation prickles at the back of my neck, the heavy burden of unseen eyes watching us, judging us. There is an uncanny sense of foreboding, as though we have awoken something that had been sleeping for centuries.
The air itself feels different here, thicker somehow, and tastes like iron on my tongue. A vague sense of vertigo washes over me, my heart pounding in my chest. Is it fear, or a warning from the magical collar clasped around my neck?
Silent as the grave, the dungeon stretches out before us, a monstrous monument to the past, a testament to the hubris and glory of the K'Tarrans. The hushed whispers of long-lost secrets beckon from the darkness, luring us deeper into its cold, unyielding grasp.
(simple_option:"05 fight","You hear noises ahead.")($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")Shadows dance on the sandstone walls, shaped by the sparse light from a dwindling torch. Its flickering illumination reveals signs of movement in the periphery, glowing red eyes darting in and out of sight. ($lorebook_entry:"Skrall","beasts")s. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of those wiry, fanged creatures.
I feel Snib’s grip tighten on my leash, his grimy nails digging into my porcelain skin. For a fleeting moment, I sense fear in his grasp, a stark contrast to his usual demeaning and confident hold.
My heartrate accelerates. The Skralls hiss in the shadows, their piercing red eyes glowing ominously in the darkness.
Can I still even do this sort of thing? Fight?
“I’ll find out soon enough…” I mutter under my breath, ready to protect Snib, not out of any sense of duty or respect, of course.
"I hope yer worth all this trouble," Snib sneers, his voice a hoarse whisper against my ear, his every word a degrading reminder of my subservient position.
(simple_option:"05 draw","Draw your sword!","Beg Snib for permission to use your magic!")(pic:"ch05/skralls.jpg")(if:$choice is "Draw your sword!")[($play:"sound","draw sword")The first Skrall lunges at me from the darkness, its tiny eyes glowing an eerie red. In a swift motion, marred by the sudden sway of my fat, unrestrained tits, I draw Whisperwind from its scabbard, the blade gleaming under the dim dungeon light.
The Skrall's weapon, a jagged piece of bone, comes crashing against my sword. I block, parrying the attack. My heels almost slip on the dusty stone, but I manage to hold my ground, my large ass wobbling as I fight for balance. My retaliation comes in a swift thrust of my sword, forced awkwardly by the pull of Snib on my leash. The Skrall squeals, jumping back just in time.
($hidden_gem:"Another Skrall leaps at me from my left. Reacting instinctively, I sidestep the creature, but the unfamiliar high-heeled boots throw me off balance. My ass, wide and jiggly, slaps against my thighs, drawing a crude laugh from Snib.","Another adversary attacks abruptly from the left. Automatically adjusting, I avoid the aggressor, although awkward attire alters my axis. My ample, agitated ass audibly applauds against my thighs, arousing amusement from Snib.")
(pic:"ch05/fight.jpg","right")I curse under my breath, just focusing on the enemy in front of me.I feign a lunge at one Skrall, its eyes widening in alarm, before swiftly turning to strike at another that was trying to flank me. My bulky breasts swing with the motion, brushing against my arms, a lewd reminder of my situation. But I push through, driving Whisperwind through the Skrall's abdomen. It squeals in pain before collapsing to the floor.
Fueled by the adrenaline and the small victory, I push past my inhibitions, using my new body as a weapon. I pull my sword free, swing it in a high arc above my head, and cleave down onto another Skrall trying to attack from my rear. The force sends my breasts heaving upwards, nearly spilling out of their metallic prison.
In the heat of the moment, a Skrall lunges at me from my blind spot. With no time to use my sword, I react the only way I can – I kick. My sharp metal heel drives into its midsection, puncturing its skin and forcing it to stumble back.
The kick throws me off balance too, of course - wide hips swaying, my ass jiggling wildly. But the Skrall's surprised squeal makes up for it.](else:)[(live:3s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","draw sword")]The eerie silence of the dungeon is suddenly shattered by the hiss and scuttle of the Skralls, their sharp bone weapons glinting ominously in the dim torchlight. A frigid wave of fear crashes over me as I stumble back, my high-heeled boots clacking awkwardly on the smooth stone floor. My heart thunders against my ribcage, each beat a deafening roar in my ears.
"Master, please," I gasp, my voice laced with desperation, "Let me use *magic*. They'll slaughter us!"
Snib's laughter rings hollow in the cavernous room, bouncing off the walls with a sinister echo. "Use yer sword, Elise-deary. Prove yer worth as my pitiful pet warrior!"
I dodge an incoming swipe, my body moving clumsily, breasts jiggling uncontrollably as I twist and turn. The metal bikini armor offers scant protection, biting into my flesh with every sharp movement, leaving little to the imagination and less in the way of defense. The creatures' relentless assaults force me back step by unsteady step.
"One more chance, Master—magic!" I plead, ducking under a ragged claw. "We won't survive this—"
($change_stat:"snib",-1)"Enough whinin'! Fight!" he hisses, yanking sharply on my leash, causing my head to snap back and my cleavage to spill forward in a distracting display.
A Skrall lunges, its jagged weapon aimed straight at my heart. Instinctively, I raise Whisperwind, the sword's familiar weight a cold comfort. The clang of bone against metal reverberates through my arms, jarring my already shaky grip. Another Skrall joins the fray, its pungent breath hot on my face, its red eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
(pic:"ch05/fight.jpg","right")My training as Aldric kicks in, though my new body hinders me with every move. My legs, though encased in impractical boots, prove to be my greatest asset. A desperate high kick sends the closest Skrall reeling back, its jaw snapping shut with a sickening crunch.
But there's little time to celebrate. The second creature seizes its chance, its bone blade slicing a fiery line across my thigh, biting painfully through the scant protection of my armor. I cry out, not in pain but frustration, feeling warm blood trickling down my leg.
I'm cornered now, the cold stone wall pressing against my back, the air thick with the stench of my fear and their malice. The lead Skrall, wounded but enraged, charges at me, its weapon raised for a killing blow.
At the last second, I duck. Reaching deep within, I tap into the primal survival instinct that no transformation can strip away. Whisperwind arcs through the air with a grace I forgot I possessed, severing the creature's head from its neck. Blood spatters across the dungeon floor, dark and gleaming in the torchlight. The head rolls to a stop at Snib's feet, its expression forever frozen in a snarl.]
The remaining Skralls, discouraged by the fall of their companions, retreat into the shadows. I pant, clutching my sword tightly.
"Well, well," Snib murmurs from behind me, his grasp loosening on my leash, "You're not entirely useless, titsy."
They were tiny ones. I’ve fought bigger Skralls. Much bigger. And I’m not sure I could handle much more than I just did.
Their retreat leaves us in silence, but the respite is fleeting. We proceed further into the bowels of the K'Tarran crypt. Its ancient walls moan under the strain of time, echoing with the lingering whispers of the past.
Suddenly, the path drops away into a gaping maw, a pit filled with what appears to be loose soil, but my warrior’s instincts recognize it instantly. Quicksand.
"Go on, cowtits," Snib sneers, tugging my leash towards the pit. A precarious stone path stretches across the pit, a tightrope walker's dream. But with my awkward high-heeled boots and disproportionately heavy body, it's a nightmare.
(simple_option:"05 quicksand","Attempt to cross...")(pic:"ch05/quicksand.jpg")
(live:3s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","spank 1")]“You first,” he slaps my ass, pushing me forward. My cheeks burn red.
Reluctantly, I step onto the first stone, feeling my heels sinking slightly. I steady myself, my massive breasts throwing me off balance. Swallowing my dread, I hop to the next stone. Then the next.
Halfway across, a stone shifts beneath my weight. Panicked, I lurch for the next step, but my heel slips, throwing me off balance. I flail. And then, I'm falling.
The quicksand swallows me greedily, each frantic movement pulling me deeper. Its gritty texture clings to my skin, coating my voluptuous body. My breasts and ass, those twin burdens, sink faster, dragging me down. The sand feels like a thousand tiny fingers, clammy and insistent, violating my already scant modesty.
"Help... Sn- Master!” I gasp, sand filling my mouth, clogging my throat.
Snib simply laughs from the safety of the ledge, his green eyes twinkling with sadistic pleasure as he watches me flounder.
“Okies,” he finally says, cruelly. "I'll help you. If ye agree to write off the 400 gold you earned yesterday."
The proposal is repugnant, a painful reminder of the mortifying hand-job, his hot, virile seed covering my hand, the noxious scent of his musk clinging to my skin, triggering a shameful, unwanted response in my body.
(simple_option:"05 gold","Agree!","Refuse.")($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")(set:$se_to_stop to "desert dungeon music")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(if:$choice is "Agree!")[The proposal is repugnant, a painful reminder of the mortifying hand-job, his hot, virile seed covering my hand, the noxious scent of his musk clinging to my skin, triggering a shameful, unwanted response in my body.
I choke out a desperate “Y- yes,” fighting the tears that sting my eyes. “Fine.”
His laughter rings out, echoing through the crypt, chilling me to the bone. Suddenly, the leash tightens around my neck, yanking me forward. I grab onto it, digging my fingers into the cold, metallic links. My body surges forward, my breasts and ass jiggling with the movement, sand cascading down their ample curves.
Each tug brings me closer to the edge, my body scraping against the gritty sand, the collar tightening with each pull. The scent of damp earth fills my nose, threatening to suffocate me. But I hold on, letting Snib pull me from the sand's deadly grip.
Finally, I roll onto solid ground, coughing up sand and gasping for air. My body is coated in a thick layer of gritty sand, every curve, every crevice filled with the stuff.
($hidden_gem:"Snib walks over, a cruel grin plastered on his face.", "Snib strides steadily, sporting a sinister smile smeared smugly across his sneering semblance.")
($change_stat:"gold",-400)"That was fun," he chuckles, delivering another sharp slap to my sandy ass. The sudden spank sends my cheeks bouncing, sand flying off them. “An’ thanks for the free handy last night," he adds, his laughter echoing in my ears long after the sound fades.
I can do nothing but lay there, my chest heaving, sand gritting between my teeth, the taste of my own humiliation heavy on my tongue. We were far from done with the K'Tarran crypt, and yet, my heart sank knowing that the worst was yet to come.
(simple_option:"05 continue","Continue on...")](else:)[(if:$snib_satisfaction < 2)[“I'd rather die here than give you the satisfaction!”
($notification:"Snib's satisfaction was not sufficient!")Snib's face contorts in fury, and for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crosses his features. But then, solidifying his resolution, he turns away. “Have it yer way then, Elise. Stupid girl,” he spits the words out like venom. Standing there, arms akimbo, he watches, likely expecting my resolve to crumble.
The sand rises to my chest, each breath I take becoming a laborious, terrifying effort. My heart pounds against my ribcage, throbbing in my ears louder than any war drum. Fear claws at my mind, tearing through the fabric of my willpower. The suffocating embrace of the quicksand challenges every moment I choose to defy him.
“Snib, please!” The words slip out, a stark contrast to my earlier defiance. My voice is muffled, strained through layers of dense, damp sand.
The time slips by, every passing second a grain of sand sealing my fate.
"Oh, fer the love of—" Snib finally mutters.
His hand reaches out, clutching the leash. But as his fingers close around it, a disturbing realization dawns. The sand has risen too high, encasing my chest, my breaths shallow and labored.
"Snib!" I choke out.
He pulls, but it's too late. The force of his tug is but a futile gesture against the merciless sand. "Damn it, Elise!" he curses, pulling with more urgency, but the grip of the dungeon’s ancient trap is unyielding.
My vision blurs, the dungeon’s cold, dimly lit walls fading into a darkening periphery. Snib’s figure looms over me, distorted by the veil of imminent darkness encroaching upon my senses.
"Should've taken the deal!" he spits out.
My heart beats its last frantic tattoo against the constricting sands, and as the darkness swallows me whole, my final thought is a whisper of regret and defiance.
The dungeon claims another life, its secrets preserved, its thirst unquenched.
($game_over:"05 quicksand",5,"You are dead.")](else:)["No! I won’t pay you!" I splutter, spitting out sand. My refusal echoes off the stone walls, ringing with the remains of my dignity.
Snib’s laughter is cruel, a sharp contrast to my plight. "Yer a tough one, ain't ya? Would rather sink than give in?" His voice drips with mockery.
"I would," I affirm, the sand creeping up, encasing my heavy breasts, my heart pounding in fierce rebellion. "I'll not be demeaned further."
($notification:"Snib's satisfaction is sufficient!")His green eyes narrow, studying me with a blend of amusement and irritation. "Fine, yer no fun today," he grumbles, taking a hesitant step back. "But remember this, Elise, you owe me one!"
With a huff, he finally extends the end of the leash towards me. "Grab it, you stubborn wench," he commands, his voice laced with exasperation.
I reach desperately, my fingers curling around the cold metal. The pull is rough, each tug igniting a fire of sand against my skin, abrading my soft, exposed flesh. My breasts and ass shake with the force of his pulls, the sand falling away in heavy clumps.
"C'mon, out you come," Snib mutters under his breath, more to himself than to me. There’s no hiding the irritation in his raspy tone.
Finally, I flop onto solid ground next to him, gasping for air, my body a mess of sand and relief. His gaze is hard, lips twisted in annoyance. "You're a pain, woman. A real pain," he declares, before storming off, leaving me to gather my composure alone.
I can do nothing but lay there, my chest heaving, sand gritting between my teeth, the taste of my own humiliation heavy on my tongue. We were far from done with the K'Tarran crypt, and yet, my heart sank knowing that the worst was yet to come.
(simple_option:"05 continue","Continue on...")]]($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")($play:"song","desert dungeon music")(pic:"ch05/vault.jpg")
The narrow walkway gradually expands into a massive, sand-filled cavern, shadows playing off the high, vaulted ceilings. The walls are adorned with ancient carvings, depicting horrid monstrous beings that defy description, their forms twisted and grotesque. Relics of an ancient civilization, one with a far different understanding of the world than our own. And far crueler, as well.
The historical value of these carvings is immense - archaeologists from Thuulk would pay dearly to know of them. The adventurer inside me flickers; I yearn to take a closer look, to decipher the stories etched into the walls. But Snib is quick to shatter my moment of awe. "Come on, slut,” he grunts, tugging harshly at my leash. "We ain't here for a history lesson."
His narrow-mindedness grates on my nerves, but I swallow down my frustration. With a last, longing look at the carvings, I follow Snib deeper into the crypt.
Every step forward feels like a sin, an invasion of this ancient sanctum. Sand crunches under my boots, the rough granules scraping against my skin. I rub at the sand stuck between my thick thighs, trying to clean myself as best as I can while we march onward.
The cavern narrows once again into a winding pathway, the carvings on the wall now dim, fading shadows of a past long forgotten. As if on cue, a distant skittering noise echoes through the crypt, bouncing off the stone walls.
Out of the darkness, monstrous forms slink into the faint, torchlight. These are not the small, gangly scavengers from before. These Skralls stand taller, their bodies bulkier, eyes gleaming with a cruel, menacing intelligence. There's a predatory hunger in their gaze, their focus solely on us, on our intrusion.
"We've got company," I murmur, pulling Whisperwind free from its scabbard. The steel sings in the silent crypt, the sound resonating off the stone walls.
"I see 'em," Snib growls, his grip tightening on my leash.
“I NEED my magic,” I say. “Please.”
“No.”
(simple_option:"05 try","Ugh.")A cruel grin splits across the lead Skrall's face, its beady eyes alight with sadistic pleasure. It motions to the others, their bodies poised to pounce. I ready my stance, shifting Whisperwind to my right, knees slightly bent.
They charge, their bone weapons gleaming in the faint torchlight. I sidestep the first one. My high-heeled boots sink into the sand, each movement precarious, a potential disaster.
In a flash, I counter, Whisperwind flashing like liquid silver. I thrust forward, aiming for the Skrall's throat. But my advance is hampered by my cumbersome, jiggling breasts. They smack against my bare arms. I wince, my attack falling short.
Even as I struggle to regain my footing, another Skrall lunges towards me. A quick step back, another desperate parry. A riposte.
It's as if my body is fighting against me. The scanty bikini strains against my huge tits with every movement, my fat ass-cheeks constantly jiggling, a lewd spectacle for all to see.
One Skrall swings its bone club at me. In a desperate attempt, I feign a lunge to the left, my wide hips swinging, my body jolting forward. The Skrall falls for it, shifting its attention. It gives me the split-second I need to swing Whisperwind, the blade singing as it slices through the air. My enemy gurgles and falls away.
The Skralls keep coming, relentless in their assault.
A handful of sand finds its way into my grasp. With a swift movement, I fling it at a Skrall's face, momentarily blinding it. I take advantage, driving my sword through its chest. It lets out a screech, another body falling limp onto the sandy floor.
My triumph is short-lived. They close in from all sides, their monstrous forms a grotesque dance in the dim torchlight. My breaths come out in sharp, ragged gasps, the weight of my new body slowly taking its toll on my energy levels. I’m desperate, my mind racing, trying to find a way out.
"Master!" I cry out, the word a bitter taste on my tongue. “Please! My magic!"
"No," he says, his voice a cold, hard steel in the echoing chamber.
In that moment of desperation, a thought flashes through my mind. I twist my body, Whisperwind raised high. The strain is agonizing, my scant bikini digging deeper into my flesh, my ass jiggling wildly, my breasts straining against the fabric. I bring the blade down in a powerful diagonal cleave, cutting down two Skralls at once.
But even as they fall, others take their place. I'm overwhelmed, my body weakening, each parry, each riposte a monumental effort. Despair seeps into my bones, their leering faces growing larger, their cruel laughter filling the cavern.
"Master, please!" I plead once again, my voice echoing in the crypt. “We are BOTH going to die!”
The situation deteriorates rapidly.
($hidden_gem:"With a hasty parry, I manage to divert a Skrall's blow, the impact sending vibrations up my arm, making my oversized breasts jiggle uncontrollably.","With a hurried heave, I handle a Skrall's heavy hammering, the hit hurling harrowing hums up my humerus, hurling my hefty hooters into a hectic hustle.")
I retaliate with a quick thrust, Whisperwind finding its mark, but another Skrall lunges, its bony weapon narrowly missing my face. I feel my unruly hair whipping around, obscuring my vision.
My heart pounds against my constricted chest, each breath a painful gasp. I attempt a risky maneuver, turning on my high-heeled boots, my ass clapping loudly, my sword slashing through the air. Two Skralls show slash-marks, but the victory is pyrrhic. There are just too many, and I'm weakening.
(simple_option:"05 he gives in","He finally gives in...")A sudden wrenching pull on my leash snaps me back. A reluctant, growled, "Fine, cowtits. Use it.”(live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","fire spell")]
The effect is instant. A torrent of relief floods my body, tingling energy igniting every nerve ending. It feels like awakening from a long, torturous sleep, a sudden realization of power held captive. I feel my magic unshackling, the neutered force within me springing back to life, pulsating and raring to be unleashed. It is the strength of Aldric, the power I once held command over, now rushing back to me in an overwhelming wave.
With a roar that shakes the crypt, I throw my head back, the energy building within me focusing into a potent force. "Ignisurge!" I cry, the incantation reverberating off the stone walls.
(pic:"ch05/fire.jpg")
The world seems to hold its breath. Then, with a cry of release, I unleash a blinding bolt of searing magic, the explosive energy pouring forth from my outstretched hand. It sails through the air, its path a streak of blazing light, before crashing into the nearest Skrall. The creature screams, its form engulfed in flames.
Again and again, I cast Searing Bolt, the magic flowing through me, its raw power intoxicating. Each Skrall that falls under my onslaught is a catharsis, a release of pent-up frustration and fear. Each blast is a proclamation of my will to survive, to reclaim my strength despite my humiliating transformation. It is the rage of Aldric, the resilience of Elise, the defiance of a warrior trapped in a lewd spectacle.
Snib's eyes widen, witnessing the deadly magic that I wield. His grip loosens on my leash, surprise etching across his features. Perhaps he underestimated the strength that lay dormant within me. Perhaps he underestimated the lengths to which I would go to survive.
($hidden_gem:"The Skralls reel back, their cruel laughter replaced by panicked shrieks as they burn under the onslaught of my magic.","The Skralls stagger, their scornful snickers shifting to shrill shrieks, scalded by the storm of my sorcery.")
One by one, they fall, until the crypt is silent, save for the crackling flames and my ragged breathing.
With the last of the Skralls defeated, I finally lower my arm, the expended magic leaving me exhausted but victorious. The relief is palpable, my body trembling with the aftershocks of the intense fight. But amidst the exhaustion, there's a glimmer of hope, a spark of resolve that refuses to be extinguished. I am Elise, but within me, Aldric still fights, still persists. And with each battle, each hardship, I will reclaim my strength, one step at a time.
Breathing heavily, I collapse onto the cold, unforgiving stone floor, my body exhausted from the battle, the echoes of my magic still tingling in my fingertips. My breasts heave with each gasp, my chest tight in the constricting bikini. The weight of victory is bittersweet, tinged with the taste of my humiliation and fear.
"Snib," I rasp out, struggling to lift myself up from the ground. "I need... my magic... going forward."
The goblin's chuckle echoes in the silence of the crypt. "Admitting weakness already, cowtits?" His voice drips with mockery, his amusement clear in his gleaming eyes.
Anger sparks within me. "I am not weak. This body... it's not mine. I need time to... to adjust. Without my magic, I'll be..."
His grip tightens on my leash, jerking me forward. The metal collar digs into my neck, cutting off my words. I gasp, my body lurching, my breasts jiggling with the sudden movement. Fear spikes within me as I claw at the collar, desperation seeping into my eyes.
"Let's get one thing straight, ye pathetic cunt,” Snib growls, leaning close, his eyes glinting menacingly. "Yer not in charge here. Yer my pet. My toy. If you need magic to play, you’ll prove yourself loyal to me first."
(simple_option:"05 reply","Protest.","Give in.")(set:$se_to_stop to "skrall king")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(if:$choice is "Give in.")["...yes, master..." the words are ash in my mouth.
($change_stat:"snib",1)($change_stat:"heroism",-1)](else:)["I won't be your..." My words are cut short as the collar tightens further, my breath hitching. I feel my face reddening, the strain of the fight and the humiliation making my vision blur.
"What's that? Can't hear ye.” His voice is a taunt, a challenge. But I know I have no choice. If I want to survive, I need my magic. And for now, that means swallowing my pride.
"I'm s- sorry," I choke out, my voice barely a whisper. “Sorry… Master.”
]Snib's grip loosens, the relief of breath flooding back into my lungs making my knees buckle. "That's better. Alright, cowtits. Only while we're in this crypt. Afterwards, no more magic."
His words are a knife in my gut, the reality of my situation settling heavily upon me.
"And..." Snib's voice drops to a lecherous purr, his eyes sliding over my body. "You owe me a dance when we're back at my hut."
My face heats up, but I stifle the wave of indignation threatening to spill over. Survival first, I remind myself, survival first. ($notification:"You agree to dance for Snib later...")(simple_option:"05 final boss","Continue.")(pic:"ch05/skrall king.jpg")($play:"sound","skrall king")
The air grows colder, the stench of decay and mustiness growing stronger. Through the murky darkness, a hulking figure lumbers into view, its grotesque form illuminated by the flickering torchlight.
The Skrall King.
He towers over us, a monstrous aberration of the Skralls. Thick, gnarled muscles ripple under his rough hide, his hunched back pulsating with a vile, sickly green light. In his hand, he wields a jagged bone club, the edges gleaming ominously. He bellows a deafening roar, sending shivers of fear through me.
I grip Whisperwind tighter, the blade feeling alien in my petite hands. My heart pounds against my constricted chest as the Skrall King charges. Each thundering footfall shakes the ground beneath us, a herald of the oncoming assault.
Twisting my body, I manage to barely evade the first blow, my breasts swinging heavily with the movement, the momentum throwing me off balance. With great effort, I regain my footing, my eyes trained on the towering beast.
"Ventusfury!" I shout, thrusting my free hand forward. A surge of wind magic roars forth, spiraling towards the Skrall King. It slams into him, tossing him back a few steps. But the creature roars, charging through the gusts towards me.
($hidden_gem:"Cursing, I twist and duck, feeling the whoosh of air as the bone club narrowly misses my head.","Cursing crassly, I contort and crouch, catching the whoosh of wind as the weapon whizzes worryingly near my head.")
Sweat trickles down my face, dripping onto the cold stone beneath my boots. My magic drains with each spell, the energy ebbing away. I can feel my strength waning, my body growing sluggish, the exhaustion setting in. But I push through, calling upon the last of my reserves.
I dart around the Skrall King, landing quick jabs and slashes wherever I can. My wide hips sway with each movement, my plump buttocks clapping with the frantic rhythm of my dance with death. The scant metal bikini bottom scrapes against my sensitive skin, the discomfort merely another challenge to overcome.
A lucky break presents itself. I leap forward, plunging Whisperwind into the beast's chest. The Skrall King bellows, stumbling back. But he doesn't fall, his glaring eyes full of rage. I withdraw the blade, stepping back as the beast lashes out in a blind rage.
I have no magic left, only my sword and my will to survive. I can feel my breasts heaving against the tight metal bikini, the cool steel chafing my sensitive nipples. My limbs tremble, my body screaming for respite, but I ignore it. With a primal roar, I charge at the Skrall King, a final push against the monstrosity.
It's a struggle, a brutal dance of survival. Every swing of my blade, every dodge, every parry is fueled by desperation. My mind is singularly focused, blocking out the distracting jiggle of my oversized breasts, the scrape of the bikini against my skin, the mocking whispers of the goblin behind me.
With a final, gut-wrenching scream, I plunge Whisperwind deep into the Skrall King's chest. The beast roars, lashing out with one last futile swipe. His monstrous form shudders, his eyes rolling back, before collapsing onto the cold, stone floor.
I stand there, panting heavily, my body trembling from the strain. I feel a wave of exhaustion wash over me, threatening to pull me down. But I fight it, my grip on Whisperwind never wavering. I have won. Despite the odds, despite the humiliating transformation, despite my loss of magic... I have won.
But the victory is hollow, a testament to my perseverance rather than my power. I am Elise, but within me, Aldric still fights.
(simple_option:"05 loot","Loot the Skrall King's lair!")(set:$se_to_stop to "skrall king")(display:"stop sound effect fade")As I stagger around the chamber, panting from exhaustion,I spot a small chest in the corner, barely visible under a pile of broken bones and shredded armor. I reach out, struggling to lift it with my weak arms.
With some effort, I manage to pry open the chest. The glimmer of gold coins shines brightly amidst the surrounding gore and grime. I count them quickly - a hundred gold pieces, a fraction of the ten thousand I need to pay Snib and break the curse. A pit forms in my stomach as the enormity of the task ahead truly hits me. But there's something else in the chest too. A worn, dusty book.
($change_stat:"gold",100)I pick it up, opening it carefully. Its pages are filled with a flowing, delicate script, recounting tales of a long-forgotten age. As I skim through the pages, I sense that it speaks of the lost K'Tarran ancients, the original denizens of this land. There are sketches of strange artifacts, maps of hidden cities, and cryptic notes on powerful magic. My heart skips a beat. This could be important, a key to understanding the mystery of the K'Tarran ancients.
(pic:"ch05/book.jpg","right")But just as I'm about to dive into the journal's intriguing contents, a loud, grating laugh fills the chamber. I look up, my heart sinking as Snib hobbles over to me, his hideous, warty face split in a nasty grin. His massive, veiny schlong swings between his legs, half-engorged below his loincloth, drooling viscous pre-cum.
"What's that?" He asks, pointing at the journal with his pudgy finger. I try to explain, but he dismisses me, his attention riveted on the glistening gold coins. As he reaches for them, his monstrous member slaps onto the journal, splattering it with his potent pre-cum.
The filthy liquid soaks the delicate parchment. It dribbles down the handwritten notes, smearing the ink and causing the pages to crumble. The musky scent of his virility is overpowering, permeating the room and making my head spin. It's repugnant, suffocating, and the smell alone is enough to make my pussy respond involuntarily, lubricating itself in shameful reaction to his dominance.
"No! Sn-" The collar tightens abruptly, choking off my words. I cough, struggling to get out the word "Master". I watch helplessly as he intentionally ruins the journal, his phallus still slowly oozing pre-cum onto it. The stench of it is so thick, so cloying, it clings to everything it touches, impossible to wash off.
As he carelessly flicks the ruined journal aside, his cock thwapping against his green thigh with a sloppy wet sound, he smirks at me. His lust-filled eyes roam over my jiggly tits and wide hips, encased in the uncomfortable metallic bikini. His grin widens at the thought of my performance later tonight, my humiliating dance back at his hut.
As I watch him scoop up the gold, a sense of despair washes over me. The lost knowledge of the K'Tarran ancients, the mystery of the ancient magic, is now forever out of my grasp, ruined by the thoughtless actions of this vile creature. His repulsive virility has not only claimed my body but also this sliver of hope I had found.
And I am left with nothing but the daunting task of finding the remaining 9,900 gold coins to pay him, all while fighting off his sadistic glee and my own involuntary, humiliating reactions to his dominance.
(simple_option:"05 dance","Back in Snib's hut...")(set:$se_to_stop to "desert dungeon music")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(pic:"ch02/hut.jpg")($play:"ambience","desert dance")
Of COURSE he’d make me dance *nude*. There was bound to be a catch, some new low.
As I stand there, naked in Snib's dimly lit hut, I feel utterly vulnerable. The air is thick with the musty scent of damp earth and goblin sweat. The intense sensation of my own bare skin, the coolness of the evening air raising goosebumps on my flesh, feels foreign and uncomfortable. The only thing I’m allowed to wear, is the heavy slave collar clamped around my neck.
His goblin eyes glint as he reclines on his pile of furs, stroking his 12-inch cock slowly, leisurely, as if he has all the time in the world to savor the spectacle of the evening’s entertainment.
Mercifully, I won’t have to touch him tonight. I’m just required to put on a show.
Doesn't make it any less revolting.($play:"sex loop",0)
I've seen the tavern girls perform before, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music. Unsurprisingly, Snib was not to be breaking out a lute. But in my head, I try to conjure some of the dancing songs I know. Something that might help me find a sort of rhythm.
*In the heart of Eboncrest, 'neath a weeping willow tree,
Sat a Silver Lark, as fair as fair can be.
With feathers kissed by moonlight, and a voice so sweet and clear,
She'd make the grizzliest warlord shed a solitary tear*
(pic:"ch05/dance 1.jpg")
($hidden_gem:"Hesitantly, I step into the center of the room. My arms are crossed over my chest, in an attempt to hide my breasts which are threatening to spill over. I chew my bottom lip. I DID promise to do this, but…","Haltingly, haggardly, I haul myself to the heart of the hovel. Hands hoarding heavily, hedging heartily against the heft of my heaving bosom, harboring hopes to hinder a heinous showcase. Gnawing gingerly at my glossed, grim gripped lip. Bonds borne by brash bravery, but...")
“Dance, cowtits!” Snib commands, stroking his engorged, pre-drooling member as he sprawls out on his filthy bed. “Gimme somethin good. Ye should be thankin’ me for being so good ta ya today. Savin’ your life and all.”
(simple_option:"05 show tits","Show him your breasts...","Try to cover them...")(if:$choice is "Try to cover them...")[Snib is sprawled on his bed of furs, his fat green hands wrapped around his grotesquely large cock. It's thick, pulsing, and leaking pre-cum as he pumps leisurely, his disgusting gaze fixated on me.
I raise my hands, attempting to shield my heavy, swinging tits from his view. My fingers slightly part above my nipples, the flesh bulging around my palms because even my hands aren’t big enough to cover them completely. I hate how my nipples throb, painfully stiff at the exposure and the chill in the air.
(pic:"ch05/dance 1.jpg")
I start by rolling my hips. The movement feels strange as I try to channel some of the sensual moves I've seen from tavern dancers, but the sensation of my wide ass cheeks clapping against each other with a lewd smack makes me cringe inwardly. My nipples, frustratingly hard despite—or maybe because of—my embarrassment, push against the palms of my hands. Every slight shift sends a tremor through them, each jolt a sharp spike of unwanted pleasure.
"Come on, don't be shy with those cow udders, Elise! I'm tryna get off here!" Snib heckles from his reclined position, his ugly face twisted in a grotesque smirk. His fingers are wrapped around his engorged, green cock, stroking vigorously. The sight is revolting, his cock's veiny girth coated with a sheen of thick, slimy pre-cum, drooling down onto his hairy groin.
Reluctantly, I force myself to swing my hips more assertively, trying to ignore the hot flush creeping up my cheeks. The cool air hits my damp pussy, reminding me shamefully of my body's treacherous arousal. My movements are clumsy, my thighs thick and curvaceous, thighs rubbing against each other with each side-to-side motion, creating a soft *schluuup* noise that fills the humid room.
*Oh, Silver Lark of Eboncrest, sing your song for me,
Guide me through the shadowed vale, across the Azure Sea.
Through the hills of Ambergold, where the Crystal Rivers flow,
To the Sands of Sapphirine, where the Silver Nightflowers grow.*
My hands flutter briefly from my tits in an attempt to put more flair into the dance. Instantly, Snib's eyes light up with perverse glee, and I hate myself for giving him even a moment's satisfaction. "That's it, shake those money-makers, you stupid slut!"
Horrified with myself, I quickly cover them again, but not before those grotesque mounds bounce obscenely, a visual feast for the depraved goblin. I writhe, heart pounding, my oversized breasts moving rhythmically against my palms, the sensitive flesh spilling over the sides of my overtaxed hands.
The sensation is awful, unnatural. Each twirl and sway makes my body wobble—tits, hips, ass—the exaggerated femininity of my cursed form betraying my every motion. My nipples scrape against my palms, sending sparks of unwanted pleasure shooting through my body.
"Stop covering them! Goddammit, I wanna see those big, bouncy jugs you got!" Snib barks, his voice thick with lust as he grips his cock harder, pumping with a wild fervor.
In a moment of deranged compliance—or maybe desperate defiance—I let my hands drop to my sides, revealing my enormous, heaving breasts in full. The cool air puckers my thick, pink nipples even as they betray my arousal, standing erect and obscenely visible.
This naked, sultry dance is so far from the noble combat rhythms I used to know. Even fighting Skralls in the crypt was about power, about survival. Now, reduced to this erotic display, it feels like everything powerful about me has been stripped away, leaving nothing but this soft, curvy body made for Snib's sick pleasure.](else:)[Gingerly uncrossing my arms, I expose my massive, jiggling breasts to Snib's lecherous gaze. I take an awkward step forward, my hips wobbling from side to side. I've never had to move like this before, with the intent to provide a show. But now, I'm Elise, cursed to please this vile creature.
*Oh, Silver Lark of Eboncrest, sing your song for me,
Guide me through the shadowed vale, across the Azure Sea.
Through the hills of Ambergold, where the Crystal Rivers flow,
To the Sands of Sapphirine, where the Silver Nightflowers grow.*
I take a few more steps, my hips swinging awkwardly, attempting to imitate a specific type of dance I’d seen at the tavern, set to one of my favorite childhood songs. I can feel the muscles in my lower back and hips working in ways they never had before, the exertion causing beads of sweat to roll down the curve of my back and between my ass cheeks.
(pic:"ch05/dance 2.jpg")
Now I sway my upper body, a rhythmic movement that makes my breasts jiggle and bounce in a way that feels so alien. This is not a bounce that comes as a result of some attempted combat move - this is a bounce I caused. I wanted to make happen. My long, black hair swings around me, the ends brushing against my nipples. I stumble slightly when I try to incorporate a hip roll, the unfamiliar movement throwing off my balance. I catch myself before I can fall, my ears burning as Snib chuckles.
He just continues jacking himself off lazily. I’m stuck between the two opposite evils - dancing too well, and not well enough. Both prospects are quite unappealing. I wince as I audibly hear another spatter of goblin precum hit the floor. I need to lose myself back in the song. ($play:"sex loop","handjob")]
*The Silver Lark, she fluttered, on a sultry summer night,
Her melody so enticing, her sparkling eyes so bright.
With each enchanting trill and coo, she set all hearts ablaze,
And in the whispers of the wind, you could hear her lilting praise*
(simple_option:"05 roll hips","Try hip rolls...")($play:"sex loop","handjob")My thighs and calves scream in protest as I continue the dance. The muscles are unused to the strain, reminding me of my initial struggles with the physicality of my new body. But I push through, repeating the hip roll with more success this time.
Next, I lift my arms, sliding my hands up the curve of my body, tracing the swell of my breasts and the narrowing of my waist. Snib's cackles echo through the hut, making my skin crawl. His pungent pre-cum fills the air, its scent nauseatingly potent. I fight the urge to vomit, the smell mixing with the sweat and dust in the room.
"Show me your ass!" Snib demands. Blushing fiercely, I turn, revealing my bare backside to him. Doing so purposefully, feels so obscene and wrong. I try to mimic the bouncing I've seen the tavern girls do, the shaking causing my round, firm buttocks to jiggle. The sensation is unfamiliar, and I'm hyper-aware of the cold air against my exposed pussy, causing me to clench involuntarily.
Snib's laughter fills the room, the mocking sound echoing in my ears as I continue my dance. His disgusting words, his blatant ogling, and his obscene sounds fill the room, mixing with the squelching of his monstrous member.
(pic:"ch05/dance 2.jpg")
As I dance, I try to block out Snib's voice, focusing instead on the strange sensation of my body moving in such an intimate, sensual way. The burning in my muscles, the foreign sway of my breasts, the way my hips roll - it's all so strange, so new. But I continue, driven by the need to please Snib and hopefully reduce my debt.
The dance seems to last forever, the minutes dragging into what feels like hours. I can't look at Snib, can't bear to see the lewd enjoyment on his face as he continues to stroke himself, his pre-cum leaking onto the dirt floor of the hut.
I stumble again as I attempt to bounce my ass, one cheek at a time. The loud clap of my flesh smacking together echoes in the silent hut, my face burning hotter as I push away the humiliation crawling up my spine.
"Ah, yes, that's the way," Snib grunts, the wet squelch of his own pleasure filling the room. "Keep doing that."
With another deep breath, I straighten up, forcing my body to move in time with an invisible rhythm. One hand reaches behind, gliding over the curves of my buttock as I bounce it rhythmically. The sensation of my own touch sends a shiver down my spine, my heart thudding heavily in my chest.
"Faster, my pretty," Snib barks, his voice hoarse, the frenzied rhythm of his pleasure escalating. I grit my teeth, increasing the speed of my movements, the smacking sound growing louder as my ass claps together. Each bounce brings an unwanted tingle between my legs, a strange sensation that I try hard to ignore but continues to persist.
(simple_option:"05 arch back","Go faster...")(pic:"ch05/dance 3.jpg")
With a soft whimper, I arch my back, accentuating the curve of my rear as I continue to bounce. My legs quiver, fatigued from the awkward movements, but the persistent command from my collar forces me to continue. The physical exertion has a strange rhythm to it, and with every bounce, I find myself sinking deeper into the movements, my body adjusting to the unfamiliar sensations.($play:"sex loop","handjob")
"More, more!" Snib demands, his breath ragged. I bend my knees, adding a vertical bobbing movement to my hips. My ass jiggles with each bounce, the intensity of the sensation almost blinding.
The next movement is the hardest, my hips making a circle as they bob up and down. It's awkward, uncomfortable, but the collar doesn't allow me any respite. I push on, forcing my body to adapt to the lewd dance.
The wet squelching of Snib's pleasure ratchets up a notch, the obscene sound permeating the room as I bounce my ass cheeks rhythmically. I try to focus on the physicality of the movement, on the heat building in my thighs, on anything but the deep, grunting noises he's making.
"Look at you, wiggling your ass like a common whore," Snib sneers, his voice thick with lust and nearing climax. My cheeks burn at his words, shame igniting a fire in my belly.
The wet, squelching sound gets louder, more frantic. It's followed by a grunt so primal and raw, it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand.
“Just like a bitch in heat."
A shudder runs through me, my mind reeling back to the three times I had been forced to witness this. Once, when he had defiled my sword, Whisperwind. Then, two nights ago, when he came while I was masturbating. And then of course, last night in the tavern bathroom. All three of those times were absolute disasters for my mental state… so I force myself not to look.
As I continue to bounce, I can hear the disgusting spurting sounds, thick and sloppy. The air in the room gets even denser, the musky scent making me lightheaded. "NGGH... yes... keep that ass bouncing," he growls.
(simple_option:"05 he cums","He cums...")(pic:"ch05/dance 4.jpg")
($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"sound","cum 1")The first thick rope of his climax hits the ground with a wet slap, the color a sickening shade of yellowish-white. The reality of what it is, and what it signifies, hits me hard. My stomach churns and I gasp, my body stilling for a moment in shock. “Don’t stop bouncin’, whore," he commands, the word making me wince.
I force my body to move again, the rhythmic clapping of my ass cheeks resuming. His grunts get louder, the splurting noises intensifying. I can almost feel the heat of it, the virility that's tangible even from a distance.
<span class='cum3'>I'm hit by a stray spurt, a hot, slimy glob landing on my butt...</span>
I squeal, my body jerking in surprise and revulsion. The thick liquid is disgustingly warm, sticking to my skin in a way that's really unsettling.
(pic:"ch05/dance 5.jpg")
I have no choice but to keep moving, to keep bouncing, even as my mind reels at the feeling of it on my skin. The overwhelming musk of him fills my nostrils. There's an unexpected heat that flares in my belly, a reaction to the dominating display.
His grunts turn into a continuous groan, the spurting sounds becoming a cacophony of grotesque splurts and squelches. I can't help but feel my body react, a dampness between my thighs that I try to ignore. A part of me is horrified at the response, at the fact that my body could find pleasure in such a demeaning situation.
I shudder as the last spurt hits the ground with a wet splat, the reality of the moment sinking in. I had caused this. My dance, my humiliation, had brought Snib to this climax. And yet, there was a part of me, a small, dark part of me, that took a twisted sort of satisfaction from it. That I had the power to make him lose control.
And then, just like that, it's over. The room falls silent except for Snib's heavy breathing and the echoing clap of my ass cheeks. The scent of his climax lingers, a heavy musk that's hard to ignore. I continue to bounce, the dampness between my thighs a stark reminder of the raw virility on display.
(simple_option:"05 stop","The collar allows you to stop...")($play:"ambience","desert dance")My body trembles as the collar finally allows me to stop, the residual heat from the dance still simmering under my skin. I swallow hard, trying to dispel the lightheadedness from the intense sensory overload. There's relief too, an overwhelming gratitude that it's finally over, that only one stray rope of his spunk had hit me.
But the worst part? The single strand of Snib's disgusting climax smeared across my ass, a tangible symbol of my shame and humiliation. It's warm and sticky, grossly reminding me of the alpha goblin's climax. And despite the revulsion, despite the self-loathing, I can't help but shudder at the primal show of dominance, a stirring deep within me that I'm too afraid to acknowledge.
Once the room stops spinning, I grab a nearby rag, wiping the sticky residue off my butt. The texture of his climax is unlike anything else, thick and lumpy. It's like trying to remove a stubborn stain, a mark that refuses to be erased.
(simple_option:"05 that night","Later that night...")(pic:"ch05/straw.jpg")($play:"ambience","desert indoors")Night falls heavily on Snib's crude shack, the air thick with an ominous silence that's only occasionally punctuated by the braying of some distant, nocturnal creature. A chill seeps into my pores from the cool straw that serves as my makeshift bed, sending icy tendrils coursing along my spine. I lay there, naked, my legs restlessly shifting on the rough straw as my mind races with unbidden thoughts.
It's in these solitary moments, the deep quiet of the night as my only companion, that the awful reality of my predicament hits me with even greater force. The taint of Snib's belittling words, the sting of humiliation from my performance, the lingering scent of his overpowering, alpha musk... they claw at my sanity, attempting to shred my resolve. The aching truth, the gnawing guilt eats at me, "Did I... did I cheat on Elara by doing that? Dancing for him?”
Snib's snores echo through the darkness, the sound grating against my ears. I wince at every gruff grunt, each strangled wheeze a stark reminder of the loathsome goblin and the power he wields over me. The indignity of it all, his sick enjoyment of my degradation, it sends a wave of repulsion washing over me.
And yet, to my utter shame, there's another sensation that's been quietly gnawing at the corners of my awareness, insidiously seeping into my consciousness. A tantalizing wetness pooling between my thick thighs, a throbbing pulse in my unfamiliar core. A flood of arousal that betrays my horrified mind, my body responding in the most mortifying manner to the goblin's crude dominance.
Gritting my teeth against the shaming heat of my need, I hesitantly let my hands explore my soft, jiggling curves once again. My palms glide over the taut mounds of my G-cup breasts, the nipples pebbling under the gentle kneading. The sensations are still new, foreign, a part of me instinctively recoils from them.
But another part of me is getting familiar.
(pic:"ch03/masturbate 1.jpg")($play:"sex loop",0)
(simple_option:"05 however","Masturbate.")(pic:"ch03/masturbate 3.jpg")($play:"sex loop","elise masturbating")
My heart thuds heavily against my rib cage, a staccato rhythm that syncs with the wandering trails of my exploring hands. They wander lower, the fingertips tracing the enticing dips and curves of my plump hips, my thick thighs. Then, almost as if they have a mind of their own, they dip even further. A strangled gasp escapes my lips as my fingers brush against the swollen lips of my sopping pussy, the intimate touch sending a jolt of wicked pleasure ricocheting through my heated body.
I'm lying on my front now, the cool straw tickling my nipples, my pert ass raised high in the air.
*This weird masturbation position I’ve gotten used to...*
My hand snakes behind, the fingers delving into the moist depths of my slick pussy. A shudder courses through me, the soft mewls of pleasure flowing unhindered from my parted lips. My body jerks rhythmically, instinctively thrusting against my questing fingers.
Each dip of my fingers into my squelching pussy, each tingle of pleasure that my roaming fingers evoke from my engorged clit, only fans the flames of my arousal. It’s an intoxicating brew of humiliation and hedonistic pleasure. I can’t help but remember the first time I found myself lost in this solo dance of passion, the memory of that massive climax adding an extra edge of humiliation to my already intense arousal.
My hips gyrate against my hand, my body succumbing to the overpowering tide of carnal desire. My mind swirls with indecent images of my round ass in the air, my jiggling tits crushed against the cool straw, my slick digits rhythmically plunging into my pulsating cunt. It’s all too much, the crescendo of lewd sensations hurtling me towards a precipice that I’m both desperate and terrified to reach.
($hidden_gem:"I’m on the brink now, my body shaking, the knot of tension in my belly threatening to unravel at any moment.","I'm inching inexorably toward implosion, my body bustlingly bouncing, the taut thread of turmoil in my torso teetering on tumultuous termination.")
My chest heaves with my ragged breaths, my whimpers of pleasure echoing in the stillness. But I pull back, biting down a groan as I withdraw my fingers from my throbbing center, the impending climax fading to a dull, frustrated pulse. The night stretches on, and I'm left squirming in my arousal, the release still a distant, maddening promise.
But just as I start to tumble into the abyss, a grating voice slices through the thick silence, dragging me back to the harsh reality.
(simple_option:"05 stops you","Snib stops you!")($play:"ambience","desert indoors")(pic:"ch03/masturbate 4.jpg")($play:"sex loop",0)
(set:$se_to_stop to "elara cooking")(display:"stop sound effect")
“Slut!” Snib's crude, jeering voice permeates the quiet darkness, shattering the bubble of my desperate solitude. "Put those fingers away. No cumming for you, tonight.”
An unwanted whimper escapes my throat as the intrusive collar tightens around my neck, like a vice of humiliation and obedience. Its cold, metallic embrace constricts my throat, interrupting the decadent dance of my fingers. My hand jerks away as if scalded, a jolt of unreleased tension lurching through me. I'm left gasping, robbed of the precious release that had been so tantalizingly within reach.
For a moment, I allow myself the luxury of pure, unadulterated indignation. But the hard, restricting pressure of the collar serves as a stark reminder of my captive state. I'm forced to curl my trembling fingers into a fist, the slickness of my own arousal cooling on my skin as the wave of need crashes against the harsh barrier of Snib's command.
The air seems to thicken, congealing into a swamp of frustration and indignity. The taste of unfulfilled desire is bitter on my tongue as I curl up on the straw mat, my body coiled tight with pent-up energy. Every muscle is tense, every nerve alight with thwarted passion. A shudder racks my voluptuous body, the cool night air pricking my hypersensitive skin.
The curve of my generous breasts heaves with each ragged breath, my flushed cheeks burning in the dim light. My plump ass presses into the rough straw beneath me as I twist onto my side, the sensation a hollow mockery of the pleasure I had been denied. My legs coil tighter, thighs pressing together in a vain attempt to alleviate the throbbing ache between them. But there is no escape from the relentless pulse of my arousal.
My heart pounds a furious rhythm against my ribcage, the echo of my thwarted climax pounding in my ears. I squeeze my eyes shut, the darkness behind my eyelids swarming with lewd images of my own debauchery. My lush lips part in a silent moan, a plea for a release that's denied to me.
The night stretches on, each second an eternity of longing and resentment. Each rustle of straw, each gust of wind seems to mock my predicament, the torment of my unfulfilled desire a cruel serenade. The hot sting of tears prick at the corners of my eyes, my breath hitching as I try to stifle the sobs. My body writhes, twists, shifts restlessly on the straw bed, the ceaseless ache of my arousal a constant, torturous companion.
Eventually, the tears dry up, the sobs fading into ragged, weary breaths. The tension in my body slowly unravels, leaving a dull ache in its wake. Sleep, when it finally comes, is fitful and restless, my dreams haunted by images of unfulfilled desire and cruel dominance. Even in the sanctuary of slumber, there is no escape from the torment of my captive existence.
*Now, the Silver Lark lies captive, in a cage of cruel decree,
Her wings are clipped, song stifled, she’s longing to be free.
O whither wilt thou flutter, O Lark of Eboncrest?
No songbird tied so cruelly, can ever love her nest*
(simple_option:"06 begin","The next day...")(masteraudio:"stopall")($chapter_title:6,"The Visit")($play:"ambience","desert morning")In the chill of the early desert morning, I shuffle around Snib's primitive hut, getting breakfast ready as my sleepy goblin overlord had commanded.
(pic:"ch06/meal.jpg","right")Despite the primitive conditions, I manage to prepare a modest breakfast with the desert berries and cactus fruit I’d foraged yesterday. The juice from the fruit sizzles and pops in the rickety pan, filling the hut with a sweet, tangy aroma that somehow doesn't feel out of place amidst the permanent stench of Snib's musk.
I really hope I’m not getting used to this.
"Oi, cowtits, hurry it up," Snib grunts from his makeshift bed, smacking his lips in anticipation. His coarse accent grates against my eardrums. "M' stomach ain't gonna fill itself."
"Yes, *Master,*" I use the honorific mechanically, holding back a grimace. The damned collar around my neck doesn't *do* anything, but the threat of constriction makes me default to using the word.
It's humiliating, but obedience for the moment is better than constantly getting disciplined.
I serve him his breakfast, a makeshift concoction of mashed cactus fruit and stewed desert berries. The way Snib's beady eyes follow every movement of my tits as I place the dish before him, makes my skin crawl.
But as he shovels down the food with voracious abandon, I can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. Despite the meager ingredients, the dish isn't half bad. I suppose there's something to be said for having to make do with what you have.
After he's finished, Snib wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a disturbingly satisfied expression on his warty face.
“Nice job, cow,” he says, his words half muffled by a belch.
Now that breakfast is over, he looks at me with a gleam in his eyes that sets off alarm bells in my head.
“Slut,” he begins, his voice a disturbing coo, "I've got a proposition for ya. You've been a good little bitch so far, yeah? Well, I got something tha' might just sweeten your chains a bit."
(simple_option:"06 proposition","What kind of proposition?")($play:"sound","elara cooking")"Okay, Master," I whisper, hating the desperation that seeps into my voice. "I'll... I'll do it."
His victorious cackle echoes through the small hut, adding a sinister backdrop to the desert sunrise, drowning out my silent sobs. I stand there, crushed under the weight of my own surrender, the chilling morning wind now a bitter mockery of my failed defiance.
“Well then,” he says. “I think it’s time for my mornin’ ball-draining.”
(simple_option:"06 jerk","Jerk him off...")($play:"sex loop",0)“Make it hard, bitch. Work for yer wife’s touch,” Snib hisses, a perverse excitement flickering in his beady eyes.($play:"sex loop","handjob")
I take in a shallow breath, watching as Snib's cock pulses in the dull light, drooling obscene amounts of precum that stain the wooden floor beneath him.
There are no tissues here, no means to shield myself from the vile touch of his dick. My heart pounds like a war drum in my chest, my fingers twitching nervously. Yet, there's a perverse sense of anticipation curling in the pit of my stomach. Fear? Arousal? Both are terrifying in their own right.
Reluctantly, my trembling hands reach toward it—the heat emanating from his genitals is nauseating, like the breath of some fetid swamp. The moment my fingers brush against the leathery girth of his cock, it pulsates violently, beginning to unfurl with sickening squelches emanating from its base.
($hidden_gem:"The moment I wrap my hands around it, the reality of my situation hits me like a sledgehammer. There are no barriers this time, just raw skin against skin, my dainty hands barely able to enclose the sheer girth of his member.", "The moment my mitts manage to meet around the massive manhood, the grim gravity of my grotesque game genuinely gains on me like a gargantuan gavel. Barriers banished, only the brutal brush of bare skin befalls, my petite palms poorly prepared to preside over the ponderous penis.")
"Gods..." I whimper, the pulsing heat of him searing into my palms. Through the slick, smegma-coated skin, I can feel his blood thrumming beneath the surface, feeding the hardness. His cock is so thick, so incredibly full, that it feels like I'm holding onto some living weapon, crafted for the sole purpose of domination and breeding.
The skin is warm, almost burning against my palms, and with each tentative stroke, it grows increasingly rigid.
“I can feel yer pussy dripping from 'ere, titcow,” Snib sneers cruelly. “Yer body knows what it wants, even if yer mind is too fuckin' prissy to admit it.”
I feel a hot rush of shame flood through me as a tight warmth builds between my thighs. My metal panties are shamefully slick, the wetness gathering and drizzling onto the dirt floor beneath me. The humiliation is unbearable, yet the aching heat spreading through my core can’t be denied.
As I pump his thick, pulsing cock, my hands struggle to meet around the hideous girth. For a dreadful moment, I go cross-eyed as Snib’s engorged member thrusts slightly into my grasp.
Every pulse, every twitch sends another spurt of precum from the engorged, purple head, droplets splattering onto the floor.
I'm hit with a wave of nausea, but I swallow it down, choking back a sob as I force myself to continue.
“Faster, whore,” he barks, a vile grin splitting his face as he watches me struggle. “Show me how much you want that day with yer wife.”
I can feel every vein, every throbbing pulse under my touch. His precum, thick and viscous, coats my hands, making my strokes smoother, easier, a slippery dance of shame and debasement. His cock twitches under my touch, spitting more of its milky fluid out, which I’m careful to avoid.
I look around the room, thinking about his cum. Where is it going to go?
"Bet you're loving this, ain't you?" Snib goads, his words punctuated by a low, rumbling chuckle. His hips thrust up, seeking more of my touch. "Maybe I'll have you drain my balls twice a day, yeah?"
The mere thought sends a shudder of revulsion through me. But there's a spark there, an undeniable arousal that adds to my shame. I can't help but imagine it, how I'd become his personal plaything, my body dedicated to pleasuring his lewd desires.
"Imagine if yer wife could see you now," Snib says, a gleeful grin pulling at his lips. "Bet she'd piss herself laughing, seeing her husband as a cock-milking wench."
No, she would just be heart-broken. My face burns, the heat matching the one that seems to spread from my hand to my core. Yet, my hands keep moving, drawn to the primal heat, the pulsing hardness.
My collar feels heavier, chafing against my throat. My breaths come out in shaky gasps, my own body jjiggling in the restrictive metal bikini with each stroke. Snib's moans grow louder, his cock throbbing harder, his body tense with anticipation.
“All the way to the base, cow tits," Snib orders, his voice a deep, throaty growl that rumbles across the small hut. "That's where all the good stuff is...”
My hands close around the base of his thick, pulsing member, wrapping themselves around the sheer girth of it. The root of the tree. I can feel every vein, every pulsation, every twitch. It’s a tower of raw impregnating power, intimidating and repulsive. It's hot and damp against my skin, coated in a sticky layer of pre-cum. It leaks from the engorged, purple head in thick, viscous droplets, stringing between my fingers.
"Like that," he grunts, hips bucking slightly. "Harder."
(simple_option:"06 tighten your grip","Tighten your grip.")I whimper, my hands involuntarily tightening. The monstrous organ seems to pulse in an obscene rhythm, each beat a shocking jolt through my fingers. The heat is searing, the disgusting reality of my situation sinking in even further.
($hidden_gem:"The goblin’s massive balls twitch and churn beneath my touch, a wet, heavy presence that speaks volumes of his virility.","The goblin's gargantuan gonads gyrate and grind in my grasp, grotesque girth glistening with virile vigor.")
I can almost see the squirming sperm within, writhing, begging to be released. Begging to get me pregnant. My heart hammers in my chest.
"Yea... that's it,” Snib sneers, his beady eyes fixed on my trembling body. "Pump it. Milk it. You're nothing more than a goblin's slut now."
The words sting. My body, once a weapon, a protector, is now nothing more than an instrument of pleasure for this vile creature. The metallic tang of my own humiliation is a bitter pill to swallow, but I have no choice.
"Again," he orders, his voice laced with sadistic pleasure. "Always usin’ both hands. I want to feel those pretty little fingers ALL OVER my cock."
I comply, my hands moving in tandem to stroke up and down the throbbing shaft. The heat is overwhelming, my palms sliding easily over the slick surface. My thighs squeeze together.
"Fuck... yehhh,” he rasps, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Just like that, cumdump. Keep stroking... keep pumping... you're doing a good job. Maybe I'll have you drain my balls twice a day. I bet that wet lil pussy would like that.
My body reacts, a hot flush spreading across my cheeks. The thought of doing this again, and again, is both horrifying and intensely arousing. My body jostles and jiggles in the restrictive metal bikini.
His laughter rings out in the hut, a vile, guttural sound that echoes off the stone walls. "That's it... keep going... keep milking... you're my personal little cow now."
And so, I do. I keep stroking, keep pumping, my hands a slave to his commands. His cock twitches and pulsates in my hands, his body reacting to my touch. His grunts and groans fill the hut, drowning out the desperate whimpers that spill from my lips.
My body responds, a betrayal that stokes the flame of my humiliation. Yet, amidst the shame, I find a perverse sort of satisfaction. For despite everything, I am still here, still breathing, still fighting. I am not broken, and I refuse to be.
"Keep going," he orders, his voice thick with lust. "Keep pumping…”
The minutes feel like hours. Snib's breath grows more labored, his chest heaving beneath his leathery, green skin.
"Gonna... gonna cum, cow tits..." he rasps out, his voice thick with impending climax. His hips buck, urging me to continue, faster and harder. "Gonna cover those big, fat tits of yours..."
(simple_option:"06 refuse cum","No... into a mug...","Accept it...")(unless:$choice is "Accept it...")[I recoil, my heart hammering in my chest. "No... no, master... not that..." I whimper, the fear evident in my voice. I don’t want to end up like the captive girls who lose their minds due to the powerful phermones.
Frantically, I reach out, my hand finding a large mug on the rickety table nearby. It's crude and chipped, but it's the only thing I can use. With renewed urgency, I position it beneath the throbbing, massive member, ready to catch the explosive release.
The one-handed strokes become more desperate, my fingers digging into the veiny girth of his cock. His grunts and groans grow louder.
($hidden_gem:"My mind spirals into a whirlwind of fear and desperation. I remember the ropes of cum he usually releases... thick, writhing, off-white ropes of goblin seed... Will the mug even be big enough to contain it all?", "My mind melds into a maelstrom of morbid mortification and manic misery. Memories malinger of monstrous, meandering, milky manifestations of maleficent muck he mightily musters... churning chains of chunky, curdling cream... Can the cup comprehensively capture this chaotic cascade?")
I try to push those thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. My free hand gently squeezes his heavy balls, trying to placate his complaints. "Master... please..." I beg, my voice barely a whisper, "into the mug..."
I can feel his massive member twitching and pulsating in my hand, the heat of it nearly unbearable. His grunts turn into low growls, his body tightening as he nears the edge. “Keep... stroking... cow tits..." he manages to grit out, his eyes narrowing to slits.
The thought of all that vile seed covering me sends chills down my spine. I shudder at the thought, my mind reeling at the possible outcomes. Would I lose my mind? Would I become a mindless, bimbo cow, forever under the control of this goblin? I'm on the brink of a panic attack, my breaths shallow and quick.
My hand moves on autopilot, the rhythm of it steady and sure, despite the fear coursing through me. My other hand keeps the mug in place, shaking slightly. The tension in the room is palpable, a thick, heavy blanket that engulfs everything. I can only hope that the mug will contain it all... because if not, I have no idea what might happen.
His grunts grow louder, more forceful, his hips thrusting into my hand. I can feel the impending release, the head of his cock swelling under my touch. Any moment now... any moment... the climax is close. All I can do is hope... hope that I can contain it... hope that I can avoid the inevitable... hope that I can maintain control.
But for now, I continue... stroking, pumping, milking... the image of the thick, potent ropes of goblin seed seared into my mind. The fear is all-consuming, a dark, swirling vortex that threatens to consume me. I can only pray that it's enough... that I can withstand it... that I can survive... for now.
And then, with a guttural, bestial roar that echoes off the walls of the ramshackle hut, Snib hits his peak. His entire body convulses, his knotted muscles tightening beneath his leathery green skin as his member throbs and pulses in my hand, each twitch like a small earthquake shaking me to my core.](else:)["Take yer top off."
With trembling hands, I reach for the clasps of my metal bikini top. The cold metal bites into my skin as I unclip it, and suddenly the weight of my large, sensitive breasts is released. They fall free with an embarrassing *plap plap*, slapping against each other, dangling into place.
Snib's eyes are wide, his filthy grin stretching across his warty face. He grunts with satisfaction, leering at my exposed chest. "Ohh, look at those cow tits... perfect for my nasty goblin cum."
I hate these big, fat sacks of flesh attached to me, bouncing with every slight movement. They remind me so much of what I've lost – my identity, my dignity, my strength. They're so heavy...
As Snib grunts and starts pumping his cock again, angling it toward my chest, a dreadful realization sets in.
*This isn't a good idea.* His sperm, thick and vile, is a biohazard, loaded with mind-altering pheromones. Even a drop is enough to make my thoughts hazy, to make me more susceptible, more compliant. The idea of a *full load* coating my skin, the smell... it might never wash off.
"No, no, no," I start, the urgency rising. The thought of his cum on me, changing me even more, sends a sharp pang of panic through me. "Wait a minute—"
"Too fucking late," Snib sneers through gritted teeth, the glee in his eyes burning into me. He holds my leash with one hand, ensuring I don't move.
His monstrous erection throbs more intensely now, veins bulging as if they're about to burst. The head of his cock is darkened, engorged to an unbearable girth, leaking pre-cum that glistens like some horrid nectar in the dim light of the hut.
I can only watch, frozen in humiliation and dread, as his balls tighten and shift, signaling the impending release. His cock twitches violently, a visible pulse traveling along its considerable length.
The final twitch of his cock, the shifting of his heavy, cum-filled balls—it's all happening in slow motion, a nightmare that I'm powerless to stop.
I feel a cold sweat break out over my entire body. My stomach churns with dread. ]
(simple_option:"06 cum","He cums!")($play:"sex loop","handjob")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"sound","cum 1")(if:($get_choice:"06 tighten your grip") is "Accept it...")[As Snib's grotesque, vein-pulsing shaft twitches with the unbearable pressure of his impending climax, his loathsome voice cuts through the thick, musky air of the hut.
The head flares, deep purple and shiny with pre-cum, swelling alarmingly as the pressure builds from his churning, heavy balls.
"Here comes your treat, bitch!"
Suddenly, his entire shaft stiffens, a visible ripple traveling its length as his testicles constrict.
(pic:"ch06/cum tits.png","right","borderless")The first spurt is a nightmare made real. With a guttural moan from Snib, it launches from him—a hot, chowdery blast of cum that arcs through the air with forceful heat. The impact against the tender skin between my breasts is violent—a heavy, wet *smack* that sends ripples through my chest.
"Nggh!" I moan.
"MMM!!!" he squeals.
The consistency is revolting—clumpy, custardy, with streaks of yellow. It's visually nauseating, and the smell hits me like a punch—overwhelmingly musky, with a sickly sweet, bleachy odor that suffocates. I can’t help it; my eyes roll back as the overpowering scent floods my senses, clouding my mind.
As he continues to nut and nut all over my tits, more blasts follow, each a filthy rope of seed that hits with relentless force, painting my chest in a disgusting collage of yellowed semen. Some ropes are thick, landing with a heavy thud against my skin before slowly sludging down, while others are more fluid, running in perverse rivulets between the valley of my breasts.
“Dumb slut, covered in goblin cum,” Snib growls out, his voice dark and satisfied.
The consistency is revolting—thick and custardy in parts, but horrifyingly runnier in others, creating a yellowed, chunky river that pools and drips down my torso. The scent hits me next, an overwhelming bleachy musk that clouds my senses, making my eyes roll back in a dizzy haze.
“FUCK, yes!” Snib roars, as another vile rope of his goblin seed blurs out, smashing against my chest with sickening force. The thick splatter creates a nasty coat over my breasts, piling upon itself, oozing down my skin in a despicable cascade. Each blast is a shock, a visceral violation that I can *feel* seeping into my skin, carrying its disgusting impulses deep into my mind.
($change_stat:"heroism",-10)The overpowering scent, the steamy heat of his discharge, it's all too much.
My knees weaken, my inner muscles clench uncontrollably. A loud, depraved moan escapes my lips as I can't hold back anymore. My pussy *erupts*, squirting forcefully, my juices spilling out and mixing with the pooling cum on the wooden floor beneath me. "N-no... not like this—ahhh~!" I cry out, my voice breaking.
Snib laughs, a terrible sound that rings with cruel satisfaction. “That’s it, cum for me, you dumb bitch. Let it all out.”
His hateful words cement the dreadful reality—I am here, being defiled, my consciousness ebbing away under the relentless assault of his toxic seed. Another pulse of his cock delivers yet another horrendous load, coating me thoroughly, a yellowed custard of degradation slapping my skin with feverish heat.
"Ungghhh…” I moan out loud.
The blast thumps against my heart, radiating a perverse warmth throughout my body. I *feel* his sperm, almost sentient in their vile purpose, attempting to infiltrate, to dominate, to *change* me from the inside out. My mind becomes hazy, thoughts jumbled and slow, each heartbeat interleaved with the throbbing echo of his foul ejaculation.
The cum piles up, thick and sticky, forming a revolting layer over my breasts that throbs with each beat of my heart. I feel it, the vile warmth of it seeping into me, the sperm wriggling desperately as if seeking to burrow into my flesh, to change me, to breed me.
And it’s altering me, making me hazy... My thoughts scramble, my resistance melting away as the biological onslaught overwhelms my senses. I feel... different, my mind foggy, every coherent thought dissolving into a mess of need and base desire.
*Oh gods, what have I done?*
($notification:"Snib's goblin pheromones will affect you more.")($hidden_gem:"As the last of Snib's orgasm winds down, his heavy balls giving a final, satisfied twitch, the silence that falls is suffocating. The sheer volume of his seed begins to slowly gravity-feed down the curves of my body, a visual testament to my utter defeat.","As the apex of Snib's climax abates, his hulking huevos hoisting a last, languished lash, the stillness that settles smothers severely. The sheer sum of his spunk starts a slow, sordid slide along the sinuous swells of my silhouette, a vile visibility verifying my total vanquishment.")
My mind swims in a fog of his potent, hormonal aftershock, each breath I take a further absorption of his vile essence.
There, kneeling in a messy puddle of my own making, my breasts slick and heavy with goblin cum, I realize the full extent of my error. It dawns on me just how deeply I've sunk, how much of myself I've surrendered for a momentary promise of reconciliation with Elara.
(simple_option:"06 cum drink","Try to clean up...")](else:)[And then, with a guttural, bestial roar that echoes off the walls of the ramshackle hut, Snib hits his peak. His entire body convulses, his knotted muscles tightening beneath his leathery green skin as his member throbs and pulses in my hand, each twitch like a small earthquake shaking me to my core.
The first jet of cum is forceful, blasting out with such raw, unbridled power that it nearly sends the mug flying from my hand. Thick, hot, and heavy, it lands with an obscene squelch, a heavy glop that makes the mug shudder in my hand.
<div class='cum1'>It's a sickly off-white color, almost glowing in the dim light of the hut.</div>
The smell hits me next, a nauseating aroma that makes my stomach churn. It fills the air, overpowering and heady, leaving me dizzy and disoriented. It's a scent that speaks of primal, raw sexuality, of a creature that thrives on its own hedonism. I gag, my throat closing up, my body fighting to expel the toxic fumes.
Each subsequent spurt is as powerful as the first, a forceful jet of goblin seed that splatters heavily into the mug. I can see it pooling at the bottom, a viscous, writhing mess that's quickly filling the crude container. It's hot, almost scaldingly so, the heat radiating off it and making my hand damp with sweat.
(pic:"ch06/cum mug.jpg","right")The sound is the worst part. Each spurt, each glob of cum that lands in the mug is accompanied by a wet, sticky squelch. It's a depraved, obscene symphony of sexual gratification that echoes through the hut, impossibly loud in the stifling silence. I can feel my face heat with humiliation, the sounds reminding me of my debasement, my servitude.
As I keep pumping, milking him for all he's worth, his balls twitch in my other hand. I can feel the potent seed moving through him, each contraction pushing another jet of hot cum into the mug. It's a sickening feeling, knowing that I'm helping him release his virile load.
The mug is quickly filling up, the gooey, viscous goblin seed nearly reaching the top. I'm struggling to hold it upright, the sheer weight of it threatening to send it toppling from my hand. The sight is nauseating, a foaming, frothing mess of goblin cum that writhes and squirms with a life of its own.
Snib is lost in his climax, his eyes rolled back in his head, his body thrashing and jerking with each release. He's a creature possessed, his every thought, his every instinct focused on the potent ejaculation that racks his body. His member continues to throb and pulse in my hand, each twitch a testament to his virility, to his unbridled sexuality that subjugates me.
Despite my best efforts, despite my desperate prayers, the mug overflows. Thick, gooey strands of goblin cum slide down the side, pooling on the floor beneath. The sight is sickening, the heavy ropes of seed forming a messy, sticky pool that reeks of his musk. A chill goes up my spine.
My hand is smeared in it, the off-white seed sticky and warm against my skin. I can feel it clinging to me. It's a stain that won't easily wash away, a mark that brands me as his possession, as his toy.
The goblin's climax finally begins to wind down, his grunts and groans diminishing in intensity, his body gradually relaxing. But the evidence of his release remains, a steaming mug of goblin seed that continues to overflow, the heavy ropes of cum forming a small, sticky lake on the floor.
I whimper, turning to rush out the door and dump the mug outside, but the goblin grabs my leash.
“That felt real nice,” Snib rasps, his yellow eyes gleaming in the dim light of the hut as he watches me holding the mug. A lewd grin curls his lips as he leans back, his scaled body glistening with a light sheen of sweat. “Ye plan on drinkin’ that?”
(simple_option:"06 cum drink","No!","Lift the mug...")](size:0.8)[<div class='bottom_right'><span class=borderless-solid>(link:"Renders by Sorrow")[**dfqdhfV gxU**
(size:0.5)[*Think Caesar, then reverse...
the vowels will follow the cycle of Aeolus.*]]
(link-repeat:"Drawings by OscarLewd")[(open-url: 'https://twitter.com/oscarlewd')]</span></div>](set:$se_to_stop to "elara cooking")(display:"stop sound effect fade")($play:"ambience","desert morning")"Yer getting all squirmy, aren't ya? Can smell ya from 'ere," he sneers, nostrils flaring.
The reality of his words hit me like a slap to the face. I blush, and try not to react further while he continues...
"What if I let ya visit yer dear little wifey, Elara, if ya start giving me a little pleasure each day?" He grins at my stunned silence, one of his hands dropping to his bulging loincloth, his intentions dreadfully clear. “A little deal 'tween me and my slave.”
“I-” my voice is shaky at that thought of seeing my wife. “If you’re there, master, it’s so hard for me…” Visiting her two days ago was hell. Snib was there, groping my ass while my wife watched.
“No,” the goblin says. “I mean ta say, you and your wifey get some precious *alone* time. One whole day. Yer collar stays on, o’ course…”
Pressing his gnarly fingers together, Snib smirks, a grotesque display of anticipation lighting up his loathsome features.
“But 'ere’s the nasty hitch,” his thin lips curl into a grotesque smile. “I needs ma *daily ball drainage*, and *you're gonna be the pump*, bitch. Just yer hands, don't worry.”
He chortles like it's an everyday conversation, like we're discussing the weather.
"Do that, and I'll give ya an entire day alone with your wifey. No interruptions," he adds, the words oozing like poison honey from his lecherous mouth. “Just you and that sweet cunt of hers, talkin’ away. Nothin’ off the table for you two…”
($hidden_gem:"The mere mention of Elara, of being allowed precious moments with my wife, sends a pang of longing through me.","The mere mention of my mate, of managing mere moments with my wife, magnifies my yearning immensely.")
The idea of touching him in any form is repulsive, but a day with Elara... it's a torturous temptation.
"A whole day - morning to n- night?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper as I struggle to keep my composure. My gaze drifts downwards, fixating on the horrifying sight of his engorged cock straining against the filthy fabric of his loincloth.
"Yeah, a whole fucking day to sniff and lick yer woman, all without my handsome goblin dick to spoil the view," he mocks, his gaze burning into me with disgusting intensity. "But first, you gotta milk this fat goblin cock, make it spurt good. Use those delicate slut hands of yours to work my meat. And remember, cow tits," he pauses for effect, “the better you milk me, the sooner you’ll get to cuddle up with your precious Elara.”
Tears sting my eyes, a mix of fury and desperation clouding my vision. The thought of touching him is unbearable, yet the yearning to be with Elara, to explain everything, to hold her, overwhelms all reason.
My nipples harden as I remember the Silver Stag bathroom, my belly tightens, and the wetness... the incessant wetness becomes a flood. My metal panties are slick, sticking to my swollen folds. I’ve become such a quivering, disgraceful creature.
($notification:"That offer is too good to pass up...")(simple_option:"06 agree","Fine!")(if:$choice is "Lift the mug...")[I'm in a fog, a miasma of inexplicable yearning as I grip the heavy mug, its contents writhing and steaming before my bleary eyes. The smell is putrid, overwhelmingly musky, almost like a punch to the senses that drives rational thought away. My hands, though trembling, somehow bring the repugnant concoction closer, the disgusting mass of off-white goblin seed sloshing near the brim.
Snib watches, a malignant grin spreading across his cruel face.
"Ye might not wanna do that…" he chuckles, his eyes glinting with malevolent amusement.
But the haze in my mind seems to thicken, dulling my senses to everything but the perverse curiosity and the inexplicable pull of the vile liquid before me. My lips touch the brim of the mug, and the thick, yellowed goblin sperm coats them—hot, disgustingly creamy, and intrusively viscous.
(pic:"ch06/cum drink.jpg","right")The mug touches my lips, the warm, viscous fluid kissing my mouth with a depravity that should have sent me reeling. Instead, a bolt of wicked pleasure shoots through my brain, obliterating reason.
I suck at the rim, a shudder coursing through my body as the thick liquid starts to slide down my throat. It's a horrifying sensation, the warmth of it splaying out in my stomach like a vile, spreading stain. I can feel each heavy, gloppy drop of it sending waves of chemicals and toxins throughout my veins, altering me, rearranging my thoughts into a muddled, dazed confusion.
"Best stop, if ye ever wanna see Elara again," he taunts, but the caution in his words seems distant, muffled by the thick fog that clouds my mind.
The warning barely registers.
Driven by a monstrous, inexplicable need, I lift the mug again, the heavy, filthy substance pressing against my lips. I take a fat swig of the goblin excretion, feeling a huge glop of it forcing its way down my throat.
($change_stat:"heroism",-35)I’m caught in the throes of an obscene addiction, the first taste igniting a shameful craving. I lift the mug again, my lips parting to take a deep, greedy swig. The heavy, chunky fluid pours into my mouth, a flood of filth that overwhelms me.
($change_stat:"snib",2)"Cumdump..." Snib's voice taunts from somewhere far away.
I moan, loud and unabashed, as the cocktail of pheromones and chemicals storm through my brain, lighting up pathways of pleasure that should never have been awakened. My hips buck uncontrollably, a wet, squirting sound filling the hut as I lose myself in a tidal wave of orgasms. Each convulsion is mirrored by a spurt from between my legs, painting the dirty floor with my shame.
"Drink up, you nasty slut. Swallow it all," Snib crows, his voice oozing with vile satisfaction.
And I do. I gulp and gulp, the mug never seeming to empty, each swallow a further descent into debasement. The taste is horrendous—acrid, salty, disgustingly fertile. It clings to my palate, a reminder of my utter degradation as I ingest more of his vile seed. My mind reels, thoughts fragmenting, dissolving into a mire of hedonistic impulses.
Snib howls with laughter, his voice cutting through my foggy state with sharp, degrading jibes. "Look at ye, guzzlin' down goblin jizz like a true cumslut. Keep drinkin', let's fill up that dumb bimbo brain of yours with more of my potent seed!"
With each gulp, with each vile squelch of cum sliding down my throat, my pleasure intensifies. I'm screaming now, obscene expletives and debauched admissions spilling from my lips as easily as the juices squirt from between my thighs.
"Yessss, more... I... I love it... so fucking nasty..."
($hidden_gem:"Finally, the mug empties, the last of the chowdery sperm sliding down my throat. My stomach feels distended, heavy with the weight of his seed. A lurid burp escapes my lips, the taste of goblin cum strong in my mouth. The globs of his release dribble down my chin, stringing to my tits, an obscene mess that marks me as ruined.","Finally, the flagon falls flat, the final flecks of foul fluid fleeing fiercely down my faucet. Filled fully, my front feels fraught with the formidable freight of his fiendish froth. A foul fizz funnels from my face, the flavor of fiendishly fermented goblin goo fierce in my fauces. The flimsy fragments of his filth flutter down my front, farcically festooning my features, a flagrant filigree finalizing my fall.")
There’s a finality in that last swallow, a closing chapter of who I was. Logic, reason, the remnants of Aldric, dissolve under the overwhelming might of Snib's potent climax. My eyes are glassy, unfocused, my mind lost in a carnal haze that drowns out the world.
“You’re nothing but a cum-stuffed bimbo now. Look at yourself, covered in your mess, filled with my seed. You’ll never be the same again,” Snib sneers, his voice echoing in my foggy mind.(live:2s)[($play:"sound","swallow big")(stop:)]
($notification:"Your brain has been infected by large amounts of goblin pheromones...")Collapsed on the floor, I can barely summon the energy to move. Everywhere feels oversensitive, tingling with the aftereffects of my wild, uncontrollable orgasm.](if:$choice is "No!")[My eyes widen in horror as I grip the mug tighter. The potent goblin seed it contains is thick and warm - I feel it radiating heat. The smell is overwhelming, the heavy musk making my stomach churn. "No," I whimper, shaking my head in protest.
“Heh. Right answer, cowtits,” he snorts, his grin growing wider. "That's what makes it so fun. Bet you're more worried about that mug than any ale you've ever drunk. Could make ya crazy, couldn't it?"
I gasp, feeling a knot of fear twisting in my stomach. I clutch the mug tighter, praying to every deity I know that none of the vile liquid would spill on me. The smell is overwhelming, the potent scent filling my nostrils, threatening to choke me.](else:)[Snib's horrendous laughter echoes behind me as I stagger out of the hut. The weight of my over-generous breasts bounces with each frantic step, the gross, sticky semen from his unload clinging to my skin and running down my tummy, disgustingly warm and reeking of his vile musk.
I'm topless, the desert sun harsh against my pale skin, every jiggly movement a shameful reminder of my degradation. The sand underfoot burns slightly, but the grit of it seems like a potential salvation. Pulling at the leash that trails behind me in the sand, barely noticing the chafing it causes around my neck, I drop to my knees near a patch of coarse sand.
I grab handfuls of the sand, scrubbing it against my cum-stained breasts. The coarse grit scrapes uncomfortably against my tender skin but I press on, desperate to remove every trace of Snib's seed.
Despite my vigorous efforts, the stickiness persists, the mingled scent of cum and sweat overpowering in the heat. Sobs wrack my body as I paw at myself, the sand turning into a foul mud with the mixture of cum and my own tears.
"Look at you, scrubbing like a dog in the dirt. What a sight!" Snib calls out.
Humiliated but relentless, I scramble to my feet and rush to the old well, the wooden bucket barely holding together.
Hauling bucket after bucket of water, I douse myself repeatedly. The cool liquid offers a momentary respite from the heat and the stench, but as the water runs down my curves, it fails to wash away the deeper stench of goblin sperm. Each bucketful seems to do little against the cloying, musky smell that clings to me.
I scrub fiercely with my hands, my nails scraping against my skin in desperate arcs, trying to cleanse myself of the contamination. Streams of water mixed with traces of white run down my thighs, soaking into the sand.
Bent over the well, my heavy tits swinging and sloshing with each movement, tears mingling with the well water, I'm a picture of a defiled girl, gasping for breath through my sobs. The realization hits me—this isn't just a physical stain; it's a mark on my soul, and the smell is somehow infecting my brain.
The fear grips tighter at my heart, a cold vice that suffocates. What if I can't get it off? What if it changes me before I can rid myself of it? Panic rises like bile, acidic and choking.
"Enough of that now, come back in," Snib's voice cuts through my frantic thoughts, a harsh command that I find myself powerless to disobey.
($change_stat:"snib",1)As I trudge back to the hut, the leash tugging at my neck, my body cold and wet but still reeking of his discharge, I feel the last of my dignity drain away. The sun beats down, hard and unyielding, mirroring the harsh reality of my existence.
Each step is heavier than the last, the stench of goblin cum a cruel ghost that haunts me, clinging stubbornly to my skin despite my desperate attempts to eradicate it. Back in the shadow of the hut, Snib's leer is triumphant, degrading.
"You'll never wash off what I've given you," he jeers as he yanks me inside, the door closing behind with a thud that sounds suspiciously like the sealing of my fate.]
(simple_option:"06 satisfied","He's satisfied...")"Ya know, girl," he continues, his voice dropping to a lecherous growl. "We gobs, we follow a special path. Storak's Path. Named after the First Goblin - he filled the world with his brood."
My breath catches in my throat as he speaks, his words painting a disturbing picture of goblin fertility. (if:($get_choice:"06 cum drink") is "No!")[The mug feels even heavier in my hands, its contents squirming and writhing.]
He laughs at my reaction, his yellow eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "We follow the Principle of Might, the Sanctity of Spreading Seed. Dominance. Power. The strongest gobs, they get Storak's mark on their skin, tell tales of conquest and fertility."
Every word he utters only serves to intensify the fear I feel. His seed(if:($get_choice:"06 cum drink") is "No!")[, now filling the mug in my hands,] is not just a product of his lust, but a symbol of his religion, his strength, his dominance.
If anything, I’m surprised at the complexity of this goblin religion. I suppose the only goblins I’ve encountered are more primitive tribes, unlike the ones up north.
He talks of their Zog-Naks, their Blood Rites, and the hedonistic Grulkaz-Naks. His words paint a terrifying picture of a society that revels in physical prowess and raw sexuality.
"We gobs, we Grukk the other races, show them our power," he boasts, his eyes never leaving mine. "And when we die, our spirits return to Storak's loins, ready to be sown into the world again."
The implication of his words hit me like a blow.(if:($get_choice:"06 cum drink") is "No!")[The mug in my hand, filled to the brim with his potent seed, it's](else:)[A goblin cumming, defiling someone with seed, is] not just about pleasure. It's a physical manifestation of his religion, his belief, his power. It's a symbol of his dominance, his belief that he can subjugate me, break me, just as his religion allows him to do.(if:($get_choice:"06 cum drink") is "No!")[
Finally, he releases my leash. I barely register the action as I dart outside, the heavy mug in my hand threatening to spill its vile contents. The sand beneath my feet feels gritty and rough, but it's a welcome contrast to the hot, stinking hut.
I can hear his laughter echoing behind me as I tip the mug, watching in disgusted fascination as the thick goblin seed oozes out, forming a sticky pool in the sand. It sinks into the ground slowly, as if the earth itself is reluctant to accept it.
I'm left standing there, gasping for breath, as the last traces of his cum disappear into the sand. The act feels monumental, a small victory in the face of his relentless dominance. I can still smell the heavy musk of his release, can still feel the heat radiating off the mug. I dunk it in sand, hoping beyond hope the scent will come out.](else:)[
And today, I have *let* him break me.]
"C'mon, cow-tits, let's get ye home!"
(simple_option:"06 visit","He brings you to Eboncrest, as agreed...")($play:"ambience","desert indoors")(pic:"ch06/elara sad smile.jpg")($play:"ambience","village morning")
My heart leaps at the sight of Elara, my beautiful, compassionate Elara, standing in the doorway, her sapphire eyes sparkling with warmth and compassion, surprise and joy etched on her tear-streaked face.
"Aldric!” she begins, her voice quivering slightly as she takes in my appearance again. A lump forms in my throat as I see the discomfort in her kind eyes. I flinch.
"It's Elise for now… my love... I correct, gently, my voice a soft whisper as I meet her gaze. “Oh, Elara…” I breathe out, my voice barely above a whisper as I drink in the sight of her. Her chestnut locks tumble down her shoulders, the ends kissed by the early morning sun. A pang of longing surges within me. How I yearn to brush those soft waves away from her face, to lose myself in the warmth of her gaze once again.
I can almost feel the heat of her blush, but instead of turning away, she steps forward, gently clasping my hand.
“You must be freezing," she murmurs, her voice tender with concern. With her other hand, she offers me a simple gown, a soft fabric dyed in earthen tones. Relief washes over me as I hastily shrug off my demeaning armor and pull the gown over my head, savoring the warmth it offers. The normalcy of these soft clothes.
Once inside, Elara ushers me into the cozy living room. The plush furniture, warm tapestries, and roaring hearth exude a sense of tranquility that I've missed desperately. I settle onto the comfortable couch, allowing the welcoming aura of the room to envelop me.
Elara returns from the kitchen, carrying a tray laden with freshly baked bread, a pot of honey, and steaming herbal tea. The tantalizing aroma fills the room, and I realize just how much I've missed her cooking. Tears well up in my eyes, and I quickly look away, hoping she won't notice.
"Elara," I begin, taking a deep breath to steady my voice, "I need to tell you something."
Her brow furrows with concern, but she silently gestures for me to continue.
(simple_option:"06 return by dusk","I need to leave at dusk...")I touch the metallic collar encasing my neck, the cursed symbol of Snib's control. "I can't stay long," I confess, "This... this collar, it chokes me if I don't return to him by nightfall. I must get going by dusk.”($play:"ambience","elara theme")($play:"sex loop",0)
(if:($get_choice:"06 cum") is "Lift the mug...")[She pales at my words, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. "Oh..." she whispers, the depth of her anguish echoing my own.
Despite the bitter reality, this fleeting moment of peace, of home, has invigorated me. The affection emanating from Elara, the homely charm of this abode, the lingering taste of her cooking, all remind me of what I'm fighting for.
Her fingers dance on my bare arm.
"Elise, I... I can't bear this... him. Snib, he's not... He’s not abusing you, is he?”
<span class='cum3'>(The cum in your belly is affecting your mind)</span>
Out of some haze-infested corner of my mind, words slip before I can catch them. "No, Elara, he's... Master takes care... I mean—”
Her eyes widen, hurt flashing across her features. "Why would you call him that when he's not even here?" she asks, confusion etched deeply into her expression.
($hidden_gem:"I place a hand on my stomach, the alien sensation of the thick, squirmy goblin seed making my thoughts murky.", "Palms pressed on my pelvis, pervaded by the putrid presence of the potently potent, plump, and pulsating goblin goo groping my gut, garbling my grey cells.")
"I... don't know why I said that," I mumble, feeling a rise of panic.
"That... armor,” she stutters, "it must be so uncomfortable."
I glance down, my gaze drawn to the high-heeled boots still adorning my feet. A flush creeps over my cheeks, the familiar heat reminding me of my debasement. "Yes," I admit, "it is."
She takes my hands, her grip firm yet soft. "I hate seeing you like this, walking around the town, the way they look at you... It's... it's..."
Drawing a deep breath, which causes my voluptuous chest to heave, I reply, "He expects it. He’s... assertive. It's just how Master is... I mean, Snib. I don’t know why I said that again...”
Elara's eyebrows knit together, a mixture of concern and anger in her eyes. “Elise, you’re... you’re not yourself. What has he done to you?” Her voice rises, tinged with frustration and fear.
My heart squeezes tight, my insides roiling with the squatting presence of Snib's disgusting influence. "I... I think I need a bath," I say quickly, eager to change the subject, to cleanse myself of the foulness I can almost feel seeping out of my pores. "I... I probably smell terrible, don't I?"
“Yes, you do,” she agrees, her tone softening as her worry overtakes her anger. "You should have a bath. Maybe it will help clear your head."
Her soft fingers stroke my arm, sending a shiver down my spine. The comfort she offers is a sorely needed balm, and despite the wretched haze clouding my senses, I latch onto it like a lifeline. "Thank you, Elara," I whisper, a tear escaping down my cheek. “I do feel quite filthy after... everything.”
As Elara moves to prepare the bath, I'm left in the quiet comfort of our home, peeling off the boots and letting my feet relish the soft, cool ground. Wrapped in the loose gown, I feel somewhat shielded from the harsh reality of my servitude. For a fleeting moment, under the soft fabric, I manage to forget the heavy, vile load festering within me, focusing instead on the soothing prospect of a warm bath.
(simple_option:"06 bath","Go upstairs to take a bath!")](else:)[She pales at my words, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. "Oh..." she whispers, the depth of her anguish echoing my own.
Despite the bitter reality, this fleeting moment of peace, of home, has invigorated me. The affection emanating from Elara, the homely charm of this abode, the lingering taste of her cooking, all remind me of what I'm fighting for.
Her fingers dance on my bare arm, up to the cursed collar snug around my neck.
"Elise, I... I can't bear this... him. Snib, he's not... He’s not abusing you, is he?”
I can see the concern in her eyes and it kills me. I want to tell her everything, to pour out all the degradation and humiliation Snib has forced upon me. To have SOMEONE to confide in. But I don't. I can't. The vision of her hurt, her despair, it's unbearable. So, I shake my head, my raven locks tumbling over my shoulders, down the cavernous cleavage of my enormous breasts. "No, Elara... he's not... he's not hurting me." My voice is a soft, feminine whisper that's still strange to my own ears.
She stares at the skimpy metal bikini discarded on the side, eyes tracing the razor-thin lines of the garment. "That... armor,” she stutters, "it must be so uncomfortable."
I glance down, my gaze drawn to the high-heeled boots on my feet. I can't help but blush, my skin feels hot, a scalding reminder of the humiliation. "Yes," I admit, "it is."
She takes my hands, her grip firm yet soft. "I hate seeing you like this, walking around the town, the way they look at you... It's... it's..."
She can't finish the sentence, but she doesn't need to. I can see it in her eyes, the horror, the revulsion. But there's also something else: fear. Fear for me. I take a deep breath, my full breasts heaving with the motion. “He’s devious…. I… I have to wear it, Elara. If I don't, he... he might... Punish me-”
Elara interrupts, her voice firm. “No point in delaying. We need to get this collar off you, Elise. I'll call for the town wizard. He may be able to figure out something about this... this curse."
I do not share her optimism - this is an ancient artifact, after all. Quite likely beyond our wizard’s skills. But my wife’s determination shines through her fear, and I can't help but love her more for it. "Thank you," I whisper, squeezing her hand. “Let’s do that. And Elara… could I... could I use the bath? I... I feel so dirty. All this time in a goblin hut.”
Her eyes soften immediately. "Of course, my love. You deserve to feel clean... and comfortable." She gently strokes my arm, and I feel goosebumps rise on my skin. The comfort she offers is a balm for my tortured spirit.
As Elara leaves to make arrangements, I'm left in the serene quiet of our home. I peel off the boots, letting out a relieved sigh as my feet touch the soft, cool ground. In this comfy, loose gown, I feel a sense of reprieve. It billows around my voluptuous figure, my breasts and ass for once hidden and respectable. For a moment, I forget about the cursed collar around my neck, my mind taken by the softness of the gown against my sensitive skin.
(simple_option:"06 bath","Go upstairs to take a bath!")](pic:"ch06/bath.jpg")($play:"ambience","elara theme")($play:"sex loop","tub ambience")
Elara returns, her face softened. "The bath is ready."
Our bathing chamber is a sanctuary of warmth and steam. The room itself is carved from local stone, the walls alive with a labyrinth of moss and ivy that release a calming, earthy scent.
In the center sits our grand wooden tub - an extravagant purchase she’d convinced me to make a while ago, the sides curved and polished, filled with steaming water. Floating atop are petals of yarrow and chamomile, their healing aromas filling the room. Elara assists me, her hands gently steadying me as I climb into the tub. The water, imbued with herbal essences, laps at my thighs, then my waist, and finally swallows my heaving breasts, the warmth seeping into every pore, every nerve.
Once I'm seated, Elara retrieves a woven sponge from a side table, dipping it into a clay jar filled with a thick, fragrant mixture. "It's a blend of rosemary, honey, and some moonwort," she explains, her smile soft. "It's good for the skin, especially after you've been... well, out and about."
Despite everything, I feel a chuckle rumble in my chest, my breasts wobbling at the motion. She's trying to lighten the mood and I appreciate it more than I can say. Her hand works the sponge across my arms, her movements slow and gentle. The concoction feels soothing, easing the discomfort of the rough metal bikini I'd been forced into.
Her hands then move to my breasts. I blush, unaccustomed to being touched this way, yet Elara continues, her gaze steady, the sponge working in circular motions. "They're sensitive, I know," she murmurs. "But it's important to keep them clean."
She guides me, her hands over mine, showing me how to clean myself. It's odd, almost surreal, being taught these things by my wife. But in her touch, her patience, her guidance, I find a comfort I'd forgotten existed.
Next, she turns her attention to my hair. She scoops a handful of the bath water, pouring it over my black tresses. Then, she takes a paste of crushed lavender and rose petals mixed with egg yolks, applying it to my hair. "The egg nourishes the hair, makes it shiny," she explains, her fingers skillfully massaging the mixture into my scalp. "The roses and lavender... well, they make it smell nice."
After a while, she rinses my hair, the water carrying the remnants of the paste and grime away. I close my eyes, leaning back against her, the calming scent of lavender and roses filling my senses.
“I sent for the wizard earlier,” she announces softly. "He should be here soon."
Her voice is a comforting whisper, and her hands, her touch, they ground me. In this moment, stripped of my armor, my identity, she still sees me. She still loves me.
Once I am done bathing, Elara helps me stand, the water cascading off my curves in rivulets. The cool air of the chamber causes my skin to prickle, my nipples hardening against the chill. Elara reaches for a towel, a plush fabric spun from the fleece of hill sheep. Her hands are gentle, patient as she dries me off. Elara treats me with a delicate care that warms my heart.
"All right, my love, let's get you properly dressed," Elara announces, a gentle smile dancing on her lips.
(simple_option:"06 dress","Get dressed.")($play:"sex loop",0)She takes me by the hand and leads me to our shared wardrobe, the honeyed scent of cedar wood emanating from the old structure. Her sapphire eyes scan the various garments hanging there, an array of colors and fabrics crafted by the skilled seamstresses of our town.($play:"ambience","elara theme")
She stops at a fine linen chemise, pulling it out and holding it up to the light. "This first, Elise," she says, her cheeks tinged with a soft blush as she explains. "It's light, airy, and will keep your skin from chafing against the heavier fabrics."
I step into the chemise, the lightweight linen flowing down to just above my knees. It's loose, but cinches slightly at the waist, the material soft against my sensitive skin. Elara adjusts it, ensuring it's properly draped over my wide hips and ample bosom. The cool linen feels soothing after the abrasive metal of the goblin’s “armor”.
Next, she retrieves a set of stays from a drawer. "This might feel a bit strange, but it'll give you the support you need." The stays, a medieval version of a corset, is made from stiffened cloth with firm boning. She secures it around my waist, the laces pulling snug against my back. I feel it cinch my waist, creating a pleasing hourglass figure, while providing ample support for my large breasts. Despite the initial unfamiliarity, it's oddly comfortable, the structure a welcome contrast to the uncontrolled jiggle of my earlier outfit.
Over the stays, Elara adds a kirtle, a type of undergown. "This will add another layer of comfort," she assures me. The kirtle, made of sturdy wool, molds to the shape created by the stays, making my silhouette more feminine. I can't help but marvel at my reflection, my body looking both familiar and alien at the same time.
Finally, she presents the pièce de résistance - a green velvet gown, the fabric rich and heavy, embroidered with intricate patterns of silver thread. She helps me into it, securing the laces at the back, adjusting the material over my voluptuous figure.
I look at my reflection once more, the green gown making my curves look soft yet commanding, the cut modest yet flattering.
"Come sit," Elara instructs gently, guiding me towards an ornately carved wooden vanity. Its smooth surface is adorned with an array of tortoiseshell combs, boar bristle brushes, and delicate ivory hairpins, each a testament to the detailed craftsmanship of our town's artisans.
She gently gestures for me to take a seat on the cushioned stool, a comfortable perch from which I can watch her skilled hands in the mirror. She retrieves a wide-toothed silver comb from a lustrous wooden box, the comb's surface etched with delicate floral motifs, the light catching on its polished surface.
"Now, dear," Elara begins, her fingers gently gathering my raven tresses, "having long hair requires a bit more effort. But with the right techniques, it can be manageable, even in the heat of battle."
(pic:"ch06/doing hair.jpg")
She begins to work the comb through my hair, starting at the ends and gradually working her way up to my roots to minimize any tugging. The sensation is strange, but undeniably soothing, the cool metal tines gliding smoothly through my hair, removing any knots and tangles.
Her hands, skilled and gentle, work with an enviable grace. She twists my hair into an elegant chignon, securing it with a few ornate hairpins. A few loose tendrils are left free to frame my face, adding a soft femininity to my appearance.
"For day-to-day," she continues, her hands releasing my hair and picking up another tool, "you could consider a simple braid. It will keep your hair out of the way during combat, and it's quite easy to do." Elara demonstrates on a small section of hair, her fingers quickly weaving the strands into a neat plait. "See? With a bit of practice, you could do this yourself."
Finally, she adorns me with a string of pearls, their cool weight a comfort against my collarbone, and a pair of delicate silver earrings. The outfit, the hairstyle, the jewelry - they transform my reflection into something almost noble, a far cry from the degrading attire I had been forced into.
"Elise," Elara's soft voice echoes in the quiet room, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror, "you really are beautiful."
Even under the weight of the goblin's curse, her words bring a sense of solace. Despite the situation, I can't help but appreciate the effort and care Elara has put into this moment. It is a stark reminder that despite the outward transformation, I am still Aldric in essence, cherished by my loving wife.
My eyes move up, drawn to the thing that contradicts the splendor of my outfit – the harsh, unyielding collar locked around my neck. The vile, pulsating runes etched into its surface are a stark reminder of the curse that has thrust me into this predicament.
A surge of emotions overwhelms me at the sight. Shame, guilt, disgust - they mingle and churn in my stomach, threatening to spill over. My vision blurs, and I blink rapidly, but it does no good. Tears stream down my face, carving hot paths down my cheeks, marring my otherwise perfect appearance.
"Elise..." Elara's voice is soft, barely a whisper, yet it resonates loudly in the quiet room. Her arms encircle me from behind, offering solace and comfort. I can feel her heartbeat against my back, its steady rhythm a calming lullaby amidst my chaotic thoughts.
"I... I..." My words get choked in my throat, stifled by the guilt gnawing at me. The reflection that was once one of dignity and elegance is now distorted by my own shame and despair. Would Elara's love remain so steadfast if she knew of my betrayal? The vile things Snib made me do?
"Hush, my love," she murmurs, her fingers threading through my hair, untangling the knots of my guilt and regret. "None of this is your fault. You've been stronger than anyone else could have been in your situation."
"I... I need to be stronger, for you," I manage to choke out between sobs, my fingers clutching at the soft fabric of her dress, seeking anchorage amidst my turmoil.
"And you will be," she assures me, her voice steady, filled with a conviction I wish I could mirror. "We will fight this, my love. Together." Her words ring through the room, a beacon of hope amidst my gloom.
I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to find some semblance of calm. I won't let this defeat me. I won't let Snib ruin me. I love Elara too much to give up.
"I... I will fight," I affirm, my voice barely above a whisper. I meet her eyes in the mirror, finding strength in their sapphire depths. "I will reclaim my freedom... for us."
(simple_option:"06 fendril","Master Fendril arrives.")(pic:"ch06/fendril.jpg")($play:"ambience","village morning")
($lorebook_entry:"Master Fendril","people") is a man of middling years, with an impressive shock of silver hair that escapes from under his pointy hat and flows down to his shoulders. A pair of spectacles perches precariously on the bridge of his nose, giving his gray eyes an exaggerated, owl-like appearance. His robe, a patchwork of different fabrics and colors, swirls around him as he steps inside, a testament to his eccentricity.
“I’m sorry for my delay, Elara, I came as soon as I could,” Fendril greets, his voice a gentle, soothing baritone. His eyes then fall on me, and his eyebrows shoot up behind his glasses in shock. "By the gods, Aldric? Is it... is it truly you under there?"
"Yes, Fendril," I nod solemnly. "The collar did… all this."
Fendril advances slowly, his face a mask of concern. When he's close enough, he stretches out a hand, an intricate network of pulsing magical lines illuminating his palm. A scanning spell.
"Mind your touch," I warn, the collar a cold, uncomfortable presence against my throat. "The collar has a mind of its own.”
He nods, his fingers moving above the collar, just far enough to avoid contact, his spell probing and inspecting. I can feel the vibrations of magic, subtle waves of energy washing over me. He mutters incantations under his breath, invoking higher spells of identification, detection, and unraveling. His eyes widen, revealing a deep sense of unease, yet fascination.
"This is highly complex. The collar's enchantment is unlike anything I've encountered before," Fendril furrows his brow. He draws back, giving me a moment's respite from the tickle of his magic, and related to ($lorebook_entry:"Thraan-Vek","things").
“The collar was found in the depths of the Ironrock mine," I say. "In a ruin one of the mine shafts had broken into.”
Fendril hums at my words, his gaze flicking to Elara momentarily before returning to the cruel piece of ‘jewelry’ locking around my throat. His fingers trace the air, drawing shimmering glyphs that self-suspend, flickering with spectral flames. These are components of the Argent Codex, an esoteric script of high-level magic rarely known to, let alone mastered by, contemporary mages. Far beyond my own combat magic.
"I recognize only a few of these inscriptions," Fendril murmurs, his eyes roving over the holographic recreation of the collar. "They're Argent symbols, quite potent. I haven't seen their like since my studies at the Grand Hall.”
His touch hovers above the runes, casting shadows on his worn, weathered face. A frown creases his forehead as he attempts to parse the entwined symbols.
"See here," he points to a constellation of dark, pulsing runes, "this one represents dominion, control. That one beside it," he moves to a twisted, knot-like symbol, "that's transformation. But what's peculiar is this last symbol, the one that's threaded through the others. It's... oh dear."
He steps back abruptly, concern etching lines into his face.
"That's an Elder Glyph. It represents connection, but in this context, it's more... ominous. It's a connection to an entity, a higher power, one that likely resides within the collar."
(simple_option:"06 chill","A chill runs down your spine.")<div class='tw-story-title'>Master Fendril</div>
(pic:"ch06/fendril.jpg")
**Name:** Master Fendril
**Age:** Appears to be in his early 50s
**Occupation:** Town Wizard of Eboncrest
**Appearance:**
- **Hair:** Silver, shoulder-length, often unkempt.
- **Eyes:** Gray, wise, and usually hidden behind thick spectacles.
- **Attire:** Wears a patchwork robe of various fabrics and colors, indicating a practical rather than ostentatious approach to his vocation. Often seen with a satchel filled with scrolls, potions, and magical implements.
**Personality:**
Fendril is known in Eboncrest as a kind-hearted and somewhat eccentric wizard. He is not the most powerful mage in the realm, but he is profoundly dedicated to using his knowledge and skills for the good of the town’s people. He is approachable and well-liked by the locals, known for his quick wit and readiness to lend a hand, or a spell, when needed.
**Skills and Abilities:**
- **Magic:** Fendril's magic is practical rather than formidable. He excels in protective spells, minor healing, and practical enchantments that assist in daily life.
- **Knowledge:** He possesses a broad knowledge of magical lore, particularly in identifying magical artifacts and deciphering ancient texts, although his skills in handling dangerously powerful artifacts can sometimes be lacking.
- **Teaching:** Fendril has a passion for educating and often takes on apprentices or offers advice to those in Eboncrest curious about the magical arts.
**Background:**
Fendril studied at a modest arcane academy before taking the position of town wizard in Eboncrest. He decided to settle in Eboncrest because he felt the community's small size and the genuine need for magical assistance aligned well with his desire to make a tangible difference.
**Role in the Community:**
As the town wizard, Fendril serves various roles:
- **Advisor:** He provides counsel to the town's mayor and elders, especially on matters intersecting with the arcane.
- **Protector:** He casts protective wards around the town and is involved in any matters of defense against magical threats.
- **Healer:** While not a doctor, Fendril uses his knowledge of healing spells and potions to aid the town's folk when medical attention is needed.
- **Educator:** He occasionally holds sessions at the town square to educate the public about magical phenomena, safety practices around the arcane, and the history of magic in Zaelasia.
**Limitations:**
Despite his fervent dedication, Fendril’s power is modest compared to more scholarly or combat-focused wizards. His magic is better suited for educational purposes and practical applications rather than high-stakes magical combat or manipulation of potent magics, which could explain why the situation with Aldric, Snib, and the collar escalated beyond his control.(if:length of (datanames:(saved-games:))>19)[
**Moral Compass:**
Fendril is driven by a strong ethical compass and a genuine desire to do the right thing. His involvement with Aldric and Elara’s situation was initially out of a deep-seated wish to assist and protect. However, even the best intentions can lead to dire consequences, and Fendril’s encounter with the darker aspects of arcane power through Zephyrion’s influence presents a pivotal challenge to his usually peaceful life in Eboncrest. ]<div class='tw-story-title'>Skrall</div>
(pic:"ch05/skralls.jpg")
**Name:** Skrall
**Classification:** Subterranean humanoid
**Typical Habitat:** Old dungeons, underground lairs, abandoned ruins
**Physical Description:**
Skralls are hunched, wiry creatures with rugged, dark skin that camouflages well in their dark, rocky habitats. They possess sharp, angular features, with glowing red or yellow eyes that pierce through the darkness of their underground worlds. Their bodies are nimble and adapted for climbing and crawling through narrow, rocky passages.
**Description:**
Skralls are remnants of a once-intelligent and sophisticated race that has now devolved into primitive societies. Historical accounts suggest that the Skralls were initially a thriving civilization alongside the K'Tarran (some even theorize that they ARE the K'Tarran), who had deep knowledge of the earth sciences and arcane arts. They built vast underground cities and temples, some of which still stand as haunted ruins scattered across the landscapes of Zaelasia.
A cataclysmic event, which old texts attribute to "a darkness that swallowed their knowledge," led to the rapid decline of their society. This darkness is often speculated to have been a combination of a devastating natural disaster and an internal collapse possibly accelerated by overreliance on dark magic practices. In the millennia that followed, the Skralls lost their civilization's sophisticated nature and regressed into scattered tribes inhabiting the ruins of their ancestors.
**Societal Structure:**
Modern Skrall societies are tribal and operate under a rudimentary hierarchy where strength and cunning are the primary means of rising in status. Each tribe is led by a Skrall King, who is not only the strongest but often the most cunning individual within the group. The King's rule is challenged frequently, leading to a volatile and ever-shifting leadership dynamic.
(pic:"ch05/skrall king.jpg")
Skralls are fiercely territorial and organize themselves around the strategic points of their underground habitats, which are often old dungeons or ruins that provide protection and resources. These locations are chosen for their defensibility and proximity to surface areas where they can raid for food and captives.
**Behavior and Culture:**
Despite their regression into a more primitive state, Skralls retain vestigial elements of their ancestors' intelligence. They are capable of setting traps, ambushing unwary travelers, and even performing basic rituals that echo the grander magical practices of their forebears. Their societies, while brutal and simplistic, follow a strict code that revolves around survival and the acquisition of power.
Language among Skralls is a guttural and simplistic version of the ancient K'Tarran tongue, now devolved into a series of clicks and hisses that they use to communicate in the echoing chambers of their underground realms.
**Interaction with Other Races:**
Skralls are generally hostile towards all surface dwellers, viewing them as intruders or potential slaves. They are known to capture unwary travelers or raid surface villages, particularly during the dark of night. Their interactions are seldom peaceful and are characterized by aggression and stealth.
**Mythology and Lore:**
Skrall mythology, while fragmented, speaks of a golden age when their ancestors moved mountains and commanded the very forces of nature. They tell tales of the great darkness that stole their light and led them to live in the shadows of the world. These stories are often told by the Skrall Shamans, who serve as both spiritual leaders and lore-keepers in their crude societies.
**Current Observations:**
Skrall sightings are becoming increasingly common, hinting at either a population resurgence or a forced migration from deeper in the earth. Their appearance often portends increased hostility in the regions they inhabit, leading local villages to fortify defenses and send scouts into abandoned ruins to monitor Skrall movements.<div class='tw-story-title'>A Comprehensive Treatise on the Goblinoid Species</div>
**Dr. Ignatius Bramblethorne, M.A., D.Phil., F.R.S., Chair of Evolutionary Xenobiology, University of Thuulk**
*Being a Complete Natural History of the Green Plague, their Customs, Physiognomy, and Terrible Decline*
(display:"divider")
**Anatomical Description**
The common goblin (*Viridis reproductus*) stands between three and four feet in stature, though chieftains may reach five feet when well-fed from birth—a phenomenon my colleague Professor Blackwater terms "nutritional caste determination." The skin ranges from pond-scum green to deep forest emerald, typically mottled with warts that weep a mild irritant when aroused. The skull is overlarge for the body, housing surprisingly complex neural matter that has, tragically, atrophied toward singular purpose over recent generations.
Most striking to the observer is the grotesque sexual dimorphism. Males sport genitalia that would shame a donkey—nine to fourteen inches when engorged, thick as a maiden's wrist, purple-headed and perpetually weeping that damnable precum that has doomed so many human settlements. The testes hang like overripe melons, visibly churning with their cursed productivity. By contrast, the increasingly rare females possess almost human-like beauty in miniature: violet or amber eyes, curves that would charm any tavern, and most remarkably, functioning intellects undimmed by the reproductive madness that has consumed their males.
**Goblin Society**
Here I must reference the seminal work of Professor Angharad Fflur, whose *Dialects of the Dark Deeps* documents the goblin transformation from a culture of surprising sophistication to the current state of roving rape-gangs. Goblins once possessed art, literature (crude but extant), even rudimentary philosophy centered on their deity Storak and his emanations. Cave paintings in the Ironspike Mountains depict complex theological debates rendered in surprising detail.
But the species has fallen victim to its own evolutionary success. As Professor Fflur writes: "The goblin male who could breed human females without consent gained advantage over he who courted goblin females. Thus began the spiral." Today, ninety-three births in one hundred produce males. The remaining females preserve what culture remains while watching their species commit slow suicide through genetic bottlenecking.
Modern goblins organize in three primary structures:
**Roving Warbands** — Groups of fifteen to fifty males, usually kin-related, who raid human settlements. They follow seasonal patterns, moving between water sources in the Shifting Sands. Leadership belongs to whoever's cock has proven most prolific—typically measured by counting pregnant captives.
**Warren-Fortresses** — Permanent structures like the infamous Fortress of Sorrow, where hundreds of goblins maintain breeding pens. Here, captured women are kept in states of perpetual pregnancy, their minds eroded by pheromone exposure until they beg for their next insemination. I witnessed such a place during the Crown's failed purge of '39—the sounds still wake me at night.
**Gobborees** — Not much is known, but these are periodic festivals where multiple tribes converge to trade captives, compete for breeding rights, and engage in the *Grulkaz-Naks* (fertility ceremonies). The notorious Griznak Gobboree has become a slave market of such depravity that even hardened mercenaries refuse escort duty in the region.
**Religious Decay**
The goblin pantheon, once complex, has collapsed into worship of Storak the Progenitor, whose theological teachings have been perverted into simple breeding imperatives:
- **Grognar** (Might Makes Right) — Once a principle of justified leadership, now merely "biggest cock rules"
- **Grulkaz** (Sanctity of Seed) — Transformed from reverence for life into compulsive spreading of genetic material
- **Drulg** (Eternal Return) — The belief that dead goblins reincarnate through Storak's loins, justifying endless reproduction
My late colleague Sister Catherine of the Abbey of Flux made the mistake of attempting theological dialogue with goblin shamans. She returned three months later, belly swollen with twins, unable to speak of anything but her need for "green blessing." The Abbey was dissolved shortly after.
**Linguistic Corruption**
The goblin tongue, Goblish, itself provides heartbreaking evidence of their decline. Ancient texts (when translated) reveal complex poetry, philosophical arguments, even tender love songs between goblin pairs. Modern Goblish has lost two-thirds of its vocabulary, replaced by over two hundred terms for human female anatomy and the act of forced breeding. As Professor Fflur notes: "They literally no longer possess words for concepts like 'consent' or 'courtship'—these have been replaced by variations on 'mounting' and 'seeding.'"
**Pheremones**
It bears repeating, as public safety demands: goblin reproductive chemistry represents an existential threat to human civilization. Their semen contains compounds that:
- Can trigger immediate ovulation regardless of cycle
- Dissolve existing pregnancies to make room for goblin offspring
- Rewrite neural pathways to create breeding addiction
- Alter vaginal pH to be hostile to human sperm, even long after contact
- Trigger production of nutrients specifically suited to goblin offspring
The famous Thuulk Incident (detailed in another of my treatises) demonstrated that even academic observation of goblin mating carries risk. The very air during their rutting becomes saturated with pheromones. Three of my research assistants, despite wearing herb-soaked masks, still reported "inappropriate moisture" and "womb-aching" after merely watching a goblin masturbate through reinforced glass.
**Genetic Catastrophe**
Here lies the great irony scholars have identified: goblin evolutionary "success" will likely ensure the eventual doom of their species. By breeding exclusively with human females, they no longer combine genetic material naturally except in isolated instances. Each generation is essentially clone-spawn, accumulating mutations without the cleansing of sexual recombination. The massive genitalia, impossible seminal production, and pheromonal weapons that make them such effective breeders also render them increasingly unable to survive without human wombs.
Dr. Marcus Whitmore of the Royal College estimates complete genetic collapse within eight generations. Yet those eight generations could see human civilization overrun by billions of increasingly desperate, increasingly mutated goblin males seeking wombs to fill.
**Case Study: The Traitor-Maiden of Westfall**
Lady Catherine Blackwood, daughter of Earl Blackwood, was taken during the Westfall Raids. Rescued six months later, she had to be physically restrained from returning to her captors. Her testimony, given under truth-spell compulsion:
*"You don't understand. The smell makes everything else meaningless. First dose on my tongue and my womb opened like a flower. Second dose and I forgot my own name. By the third day, I was begging them to breed me harder. My body CHANGED. My cervix learned to suck at their cocks. My womb started producing this sweet ache that only goblin seed could cure. When they rescued me, I tried to kill them. I would have done anything to get back to my masters. I still dream of the weight of their balls on my chin, the stretch of their cocks in my throat. If you hadn't chained me, I'd be crawling back right now, presenting my hole for breeding."*
She birthed triplets four months later. All male. All pure goblin despite her human womb.
**A Species in a Terminal Frenzy**
The goblin species has achieved short-term evolutionary victory at the cost of its long term success. They have become nothing more than walking breeding apparatus, their culture dissolved in cum, their future written in the swollen bellies of human women. Each generation grows more grotesque: larger cocks, more copious ejaculate, stronger pheromones, weaker minds.
The rare female goblins represent the last echo of what they once were—clever, cultured, even capable of love. But they birth only males when bred by their own kind, and increasingly refuse to mate at all, watching in horror as their species devolves into rape-machinery.
We stand witness to a civilization fucking itself to death while dragging humanity down with it. The goblins will not survive another century. The question remains: will we?(pic:"ch06/dress.jpg","right")Fendril's eyes meet mine, grave and understanding.
"Elise, this collar, it isn't just an enslavement device. It’s also a conduit, a bridge to some other... being. This being the source of the collar's power, the reason it can enforce such drastic transformations and force compliance."
Elara steps forward, her brow furrowed. "But how is it possible for a GOBLIN to control this... entity?"
Fendril takes off his glasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "The goblin likely doesn't. The entity probably saw an opportunity to exert influence in our realm and took it. The creature is just the convenient medium."
He gazes at the collar with a renewed sense of wariness. "The transformation and obedience... it's fueled by an immense source of magical energy. More than any mortal could provide. More than any mortal should meddle with."
Elara's fingers tighten on my arm, her face a mask of worry. "Can you remove it, Fendril?"
He meets her gaze, his own reflecting deep regret. "The only way to remove this collar without risk would be by the goblin’s command. To attempt to forcibly remove it, with the level of magic involved... it could easily prove fatal."
I shudder at the word, 'fatal,' the collar tightening ever so slightly around my throat, a chilling reminder of the dire consequences should I disobey Snib. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of my face, disappearing into the neckline of my gown.
Master Fendril seems to catch the subtle movement of the collar, his brows furrowing in thought. His gaze is drawn back to the dark symbols, glowing menacingly in the spectral light of his glyphs.
(pic:"ch06/tellstone.jpg","left")"I'll send a message to the Grand Hall immediately," he says, breaking the tense silence that has fallen over the room. “To one of my old colleagues, Master Zephyrion, who specializes in ancient curses and potent artifacts like this one. If anyone can help you, it's him."
His hand moves to a pouch hanging from his belt. From it, he retrieves a small, polished crystal of violet hue. A ($lorebook_entry:"Tellstone","things"). Placing it in the palm of his hand, he murmurs a short incantation, causing the crystal to pulse and flicker with ethereal light.
"Go," he commands the crystal, and it zips out of the room through the open window.
My wife squeezes my hand.
"Master Zephyrion should be here within a few days," Fendril assures us, his gaze meeting mine. “I have… highlighted the urgency.”
“Th- thank you,” I say. My voice soft and feminine.
"In the meantime," he starts, moving towards his leather satchel on a nearby table. "I have something that might help."
(if:($get_choice:"06 cum") is "Lift the mug...")["Moonshade," he says, uncorking the flask and passing it to me. The sweet scent of moonflowers fills the air, tinged with a faint undercurrent of licorice and bitterroot. "It can counteract goblin pheromones. You’ll want to take three drops twice a day, morning and evening."
The smell of the Moonshade instantly revolts me, my stomach churning with an unnatural distaste. The goblin seed within me reacts, sending waves of nausea to dissuade me from the antidote.
($notification:"The goblin cum in your tummy is affecting you...")(simple_option:"06 moonshade","Pretend to take it.")](else:)[He rummages through the satchel, his fingers nimbly dancing over countless vials and herbs. He finally pulls out a flask filled with a luminescent aqua liquid.
“Moonshade,” he says, uncorking the flask and passing it to me. The sweet scent of moonflowers fills the air, tinged with a faint undercurrent of licorice and bitterroot. “It can counteract goblin pheromones. You’ll want to take three drops twice a day, morning and evening.”
(simple_option:"06 moonshade","Take a dose.")](if:($get_choice:"06 cum") is "Lift the mug...")[Subtly, I pretend to place the dropper to my lips, but instead, let the drops fall to the floor. The act feels instinctual, almost defensive.
Elara notices. "Why did you do that, Elise?"
Master Fendril's expression darkens. "It's worse than I thought," he murmurs. "Hold her, Elara. We need to administer this now."
Elara's grip on me tightens as I begin to thrash subtly, an irrational panic flooding my senses. "No... it's wrong..." I murmur, but Master Fendril expertly drops three drops directly onto my tongue.
As the Moonshade hits, I grimace, the initial revulsion stark, but slowly, the haze in my brain begins to lift. Clarity seeps in, bit by bit, and the horrifying realization of what I've been resisting washes over me in cold waves.
I start sobbing, the emotions I'd been subdued by clearing suddenly overwhelming me. Elara pulls me into her arms, her embrace a stronghold in the storm of my emotions. "Shh, it's okay," she whispers, rocking me gently. "I've got you."
Master Fendril watches us, a mixture of relief and concern etching his features. "Those drops—she takes them on schedule. Now that she's had a few, it should be easy for her to self-administer."
My wife nods.](else:)[I take my first three drops. ]
"And, Elara," he says, “This will be difficult, but we MUST raise word about this goblin around the town. Otherwise someone may harm the goblin, and thus, Elise will die. They have to know. It is uncomfortable, I know. But I will do my part in raising word.”
“We understand,” Elara responds, her voice choked with emotion. “Just… be discreet in how you describe it.” She squeezes my hand, her grip so tight that it nearly hurts. Yet, the pain is nothing compared to the comfort her touch provides.
Before the wizard leaves, he turns to me one last time. His gaze is sympathetic, his voice firm. "Just hang on for a few more days, Elise. We will find a way out of this. I will do everything in my power.”
As the door closes behind him, the gravity of my predicament falls onto me like a weight. I clutch the elixir in my hand, the cool glass grounding me. Elara's sobs fill the room.
(simple_option:"06 elara spend","Spend the day with Elara.")As we make our way through the cobblestone streets, the bustle of the town wraps around us like a warm, nostalgic blanket.
($hidden_gem:"The air is laden with the rich aroma of fresh bread from the nearby bakery, mingling with the sweet scent of blooming honeysuckle and lavender from the adjacent florist.","The breath of the bakery burdens the breeze, blending with hints of honeysuckle and lush lavender lingering from the local florist.")
The city is bathed in the honeyed glow of the waning afternoon sun, the golden light washing over the quaint houses and illuminating the bustling market square.
Elara walks beside me, her graceful form drawing admiring glances from the townsfolk. Our fingers are intertwined, a silent vow of our unwavering bond amidst this unsettling ordeal. As we laugh over old tales of heroic exploits and shared memories, I momentarily forget the cruel curse that's transformed my life, the humiliation... even the goblin. For a fleeting moment, I'm Aldric, the hero, sharing a simple moment with my beloved wife.
"I've managed to scrounge up some money," Elara's voice breaks through my musing, the gentle timbre soothing my jumbled thoughts. “Selling some things I don’t need. 350 gold. I thought we could shop for some food items and comforts for your... temporary abode."
($change_stat:"gold",350)My heart clenches at the thought of returning to Snib's hovel at dusk, the anticipation of the crude reception stirring a nauseous dread within me. But I swallow my fear, masking it with a feeble smile.
As we wander further into the marketplace, Elara curiously looks at me, her eyes glinting in the sunlight. "What's it like... living with a goblin?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper.
I stifle the rising embarrassment, trying to add a lighthearted spin to the sordid reality. "Revolting, of course. But I've discovered I can cook," I chuckle, wincing at the thought of my rudimentary culinary skills. "Snib seems to be fond of cactus fruit and stewed desert berries."
Elara giggles, her laughter ringing out like a melodic chime in the busy marketplace. "Well, I'm sure he's never tasted something so exquisite."
(pic:"ch06/shopping.jpg")
The sight of us - two beautiful women sharing a heartfelt laugh amidst the vibrant market - draws a series of admiring glances.
Elara nudges me gently, a playful sparkle in her eyes. "Seems like you've garnered quite the fan club, Elise."
I roll my eyes at her, though I can't suppress the blush warming my cheeks. The townsfolk, from rugged blacksmiths to the elderly herb seller, are indeed glancing in our direction.
(simple_option:"06 shop","Buy a few necessities.")(pic:"ch06/gnome.jpg","right")The shop I wander into appears to be a combination of an apothecary and curiosities store. Tall, teetering shelves are filled with an odd assortment of items: twinkling charms, strange herbs and vials of all sizes filled with swirling substances. The shopkeeper, an aged gnome with a mop of frizzy hair, peers at me curiously from behind an ornately carved counter.
A sense of dread crawls up my spine as I scan the shelves for the item I need. The fear of coming into direct contact with Snib's disgusting, monstrous pheromone-laden sperm, a weapon of his domination, has driven me to this point. And despite the embarrassment, I'm determined to make this purchase.
Hesitatingly, I approach the counter. "I need... protection," I whisper, blushing furiously.
The gnome tilts his head, squinting up at me. Then, a knowing glint appears in his beady eyes. With a nonchalant shrug, he retrieves a wooden box from beneath the counter, opening the lid to reveal neatly packed rows of rubbery, translucent sheaths - condoms.
In the hushed aura of the quaint shop, I find my cheeks flaming at the sight of these objects designed to encapsulate a man's... or in my case, a goblin's arousal. If the packaging is to be believed, these rubber sheaths are imbued with a light resizing enchantment, stretching to accommodate any size.
($change_stat:"gold",-50)($notification:"You bought condoms.")Hastily, I count out fifty gold pieces, an exorbitant price but worth the semblance of control they provide. With trembling hands, I stow the box in my bag, praying Elara won't spot it. The thought of explaining my purchase to her makes me wince.
The gnome offers me a reassuring nod as he pockets the gold, then busies himself with another customer. I turn to exit, my heart pounding with a strange mix of relief and apprehension.
Just as I'm stepping out of the shop, Elara reappears, arms full of foodstuffs. "Found what you were looking for?" she inquires, her gaze curious yet innocent.
With a curt nod and a forced smile, I guide us back toward the bustling marketplace, the weight of the box a secret burden nestled within my bag. As we walk, my mind is besieged with images of Snib's enormous cock, the mental images igniting a hot blush on my cheeks. Would the enchanted condoms stretch enough to contain his beastly girth?
(simple_option:"06 return","Quickly rejoin Elara.")The dim glow of approaching dusk is seeping into our home, the shadows dancing on the walls, and I can feel the knot in my stomach tightening. It's almost time. Snib waits for me, eager to claim his prize. As I turn to Elara, my eyes cannot help but well up with regret and dread. ($play:"ambience","elara theme")
"Elara," I say, my voice just above a whisper. "I need to go… soon…”
But before I can move, she takes my hand and brings me back into her gaze. Her eyes are filled with a certain desperation, a fearful hope.
"Elise," she whispers, her voice barely audible. “There’s something I- I need to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“I… I think I might be..."
A moment of silence hangs in the air before she finally utters the word.
"Pregnant."
It lingers between us, shocking and yet, somehow, a beacon of hope. Our child. The child we had been trying for, conceived before Snib's curse had robbed me of my hero’s body. A fresh tear rolls down my cheek. My heart aches and thrills at the same time.
"Oh, Elara..." I manage to choke out, my throat tight with emotion. I pull her closer, my hands instinctively finding her waist.
Her eyes meet mine, filled with dread and hope. “Our child needs its father, Elise. I will need you back.”
I take her hands in mine, holding them tight. “And I will be back, Elara. No matter the form I take, no matter the circumstances. I will make it happen. I love you."
The confession hovers in the air between us, tangible, heartfelt. I can see the way her sapphire eyes soften, the way her body trembles against mine.
"Elise..." She whispers, her voice wavering with raw emotion. "Can I...?"
Her words trail off, a question lingering in the silence. But I know what she's asking. I nod. Then, she leans in, her soft lips meeting mine in a passionate kiss.
The sensation is unlike anything I've experienced before. Soft. Tender. A slow exploration of lips and tongues, hearts pounding. My body responds with an unfamiliar fervor, warmth spreading through my veins. Her mouth is hot and sweet, the familiar taste of her making me lightheaded.
I've kissed Elara countless times as Aldric, but now, as Elise, it's an entirely different experience. Our bodies fit together differently, the curves aligning in a new but not unpleasant way. The feel of her ample breasts against mine is strange, arousing. Her hands on my waist send tingles of pleasure down my spine. The softness of her body, the way our lips slide against each other, it's intoxicating.
There's a certain awkwardness, sure, a strange dynamic, but it doesn't matter. It's Elara. It's us. We stumble, adjust, fumble, but it doesn't matter.
She pulls away for a moment, her breath ragged, her eyes wide. "Elise... is this... is this okay?"
(simple_option:"06 yes","Yes it is!")I smile, cupping her face with my hand. "Yes, Elara," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “Yes it is!”
We're practically falling up the stairs, our hands tangled together, laughter echoing through the empty hallway. She pulls me into our room, her eyes wide and eager, her chestnut locks wild around her face.
The moment the door clicks shut, I find myself pushed back against it. Elara's arms are around my neck, her body pressed to mine. The feel of her curves against my body, the way her breasts push into mine... it's overwhelming, heady.
"I've missed you so much,” she whispers against my lips, her breath warm and sweet.
Her hands are on me then, pulling at my dress, her fingers tracing along the velvet fabric, over my curves, leaving trails of heat behind. She seems fascinated at exploring another woman, her eyes wide, every gasp and soft moan from me causing her eyes to light up with wonder.
I feel a thrill at her attention, at the wholesome pleasure that dances along my nerve endings. The feel of her hands on me is different, new. I’m soft and jiggly. But it's Elara, and the love I feel for her eclipses any strangeness, any discomfort.
And oh, the feel of her skin against mine, the way our bodies fit together. My massive breasts against her firm ones, my wide hips against her slender ones, our bodies molding together in new and fascinating ways. Her body is so familiar, and yet, it's my body that's foreign, that's learning.
She tugs at my dress, pulling it up, up, over my hips. She lowers her head, trailing kisses down my stomach, over my thighs.
“Honestly. You're so beautiful," she murmurs against my skin. Her hands slide up my thick thighs, pushing the fabric higher. “At least you didn’t get turned into a goblin!”
And then her hands are on my breasts, her fingers tracing along the soft flesh, causing me to gasp. It’s intense. My body responds, my nipples hardening under her touch. She seems delighted by my reactions, her hands and lips exploring my body with eager curiosity.
I run my fingers through her hair, the silky strands slipping through my fingers. Her mouth moves over my body, and each kiss, each touch sends jolts of pleasure through me. I gasp, my fingers tightening in her hair.
"Elara," I breathe out, my voice trembling.
She looks up at me then, her sapphire eyes bright and full of love. "Yes, my love?"
"I... I'm not sure what to do," I confess. The words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of my unfamiliarity with this body.
Elara gives me a soft smile, her hand reaching up to stroke my cheek. "We'll figure it out."
(simple_option:"06 push","Push her onto the bed!")($play:"sex loop",0)(pic:"ch18/elara nude.jpg","right")“If you say so, dear!” Feeling a rush of boldness, I push her back onto the bed. Her surprise quickly turns into a sultry invitation as she spreads her legs, her hips arching up towards me. My pulse quickens, my heart pounding in my chest as I kneel between her thighs.($play:"ambience","elara theme")
My gaze travels down her body, drinking in the sight of her. Her breasts, rising and falling with each breath, her taut stomach, the gentle curve of her hips, and then lower still, to the most intimate part of her.
I lean forward, my hands resting on her thighs as I dip my head between her legs. The scent of her fills my senses, intoxicating and alluring. My tongue tentatively darts out, tracing the delicate folds of her pussy. Her body shivers, a soft gasp escaping her lips. The sound is a punch straight to my arousal, and I delve in deeper.
The sensation of her wetness against my tongue, the taste of her... it's unlike anything I've ever felt. I explore her, tracing patterns with my tongue, dipping inside her and swirling around her clit. Each flick, each swirl, has her writhing beneath me, gasping and moaning my name.
Elara's hands tangle in my hair, her grip tightening as the pleasure builds. I glance up at her, our eyes locking for a brief moment. There's a wild, primal look in her eyes, a look of pure, unadulterated desire that sends a shiver down my spine.
Feeling emboldened by her reactions, I redouble my efforts. My tongue works over her clit, while one hand snakes up her body to pinch a nipple. The dual sensations have her squirming beneath me, her breaths coming out in short, sharp gasps.
Suddenly, her body tenses, her thighs clamping around my head. Her grip in my hair tightens painfully as a loud, keening cry tears itself from her throat. The sounds of her climax fill the room, the erotic symphony echoing in my ears.
She shudders beneath me, her body writhing in ecstasy as her orgasm washes over her. I gently soothe her with soft licks, helping her ride out the waves of pleasure until she finally falls back onto the bed, panting and glistening with sweat.
I pull back, crawling up her body to collapse beside her. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I feel a strange sense of accomplishment. Elara turns to me, her sapphire eyes glazed over with satisfaction.
Grinning, I tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "Seems like I haven't lost my touch," I quip, my voice husky.
I feel Elara move, her body shifting beneath me. A gentle push, a whispered request, and suddenly, I'm on my back. Elara gazes down at me, her sapphire eyes shimmering with love and desire.
My heart pounds in my chest, my body humming with anticipation. Elara leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips before trailing lower. Her lips find my neck, then my collarbone, and then my breasts. She takes one nipple in her mouth, sucking gently, and I gasp at the sudden spike of pleasure.
My body reacts instantly, my breasts jiggling with each panting breath, my nipples hardening beneath her touch. Her mouth is hot, her tongue skilled as she lavishes attention on my breasts. I can't help but moan, arching my back, pressing my breasts further into her mouth.
($hidden_gem:"Her hands roam lower, tracing the curve of her waist, skimming over my hips, before finally finding the moist warmth between my thighs. I can feel her fingers, slick with my arousal, sliding over my sensitive folds. My body tenses, a soft gasp escaping my lips.","Her hands hazard downwards, hewing closely her hastened path around the hilly horizon of my hips, halting humbly at the heated heartland betwixt my hemispheres. I heed her hands, heavy with humidity from my own heated haste, haranguing the hypersensitive husk. A hard hold of heat heralds from my hinges; I harken a hushed heave.")
The sensation of her touch is electrifying. Her fingers stroke and tease, dipping inside me, her thumb circling my clit. I can feel the pleasure building, my body responding eagerly to her touch. My hips lift off the bed, my body instinctively seeking more.
But there's something missing, a spark that fails to ignite. I feel good, so good, but the tension that usually leads to climax is elusive. It's as if something is misfiring in my brain, a signal lost in translation.
(simple_option:"06 cant","You can't cum with your own wife...")($play:"sex loop","elara elise sex")Frustration sets in.
I bite my lip, trying to focus on Elara, on her touch, her love. But the haunting emptiness remains, my body refusing to reach its peak.
Elara continues to lavish me with love, her tongue replacing her fingers. The sensation of her mouth on me, the rhythmic press of her tongue against my clit, it should be enough. It's intense, it's intimate, and yet... my body refuses to climax.
The frustration builds, the pleasure teetering on the edge of discomfort. My breaths grow ragged, my body convulsing with unfulfilled desire. I can't take it anymore. The pressure, the build-up, it's too much.
(simple_option:"06 fake","Fake an orgasm.","Tell her you can't.")($play:"sex loop",0)(unless:$choice is "Tell her you can't.")[With a stifled sob, I fake an orgasm. My body arches off the bed, a shaky moan tearing itself from my throat. Elara continues to pleasure me through my feigned climax, her tongue and fingers prolonging the pretend ecstasy until I finally collapse onto the bed, drained and still unsatisfied.
I pull Elara into my arms, burying my face in her hair.
Inside, I'm falling apart. The pleasure, the intimacy, it should have been enough. But the image of Snib, his rotten musk, his monstrous member, they haunt my thoughts, causing an unwelcome heat to pool in my lower abdomen.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut - Snib's disgusting influence has tainted even the most intimate moments with my wife. And as I hold Elara in my arms, the cursed collar around my neck feels heavier than ever.](else:)[Elara, sensing my growing distress, shifts her approach, her eyes laced with concern. "Love, talk to me," she pleads softly, pausing her movements to cup my face in her hands. The cool touch of her palms briefly clears the haze clouding my mind.
I catch my breath, the air shuddering out of me as I meet her worried gaze. "I... I can't," I whisper, the admission clawing its way up from the pit of my soul. "I can’t feel it, Elara... I can’t come."
($change_stat:"elara",-1)The pain that flickers across her features is another blow, her brow creasing, her lips parting slightly as if to contest my words, but then sealing into a line of dawning realization. "Oh," she murmurs, her voice a broken whisper.
We lie there, tangled together in sorrow, the warmth of her body a stark contrast to the chill of despair that wraps around my heart. The cursed collar around my neck feels heavier than ever, a cold, iron reminder of the lingering darkness that Snib’s influence has cast over even the most intimate parts of my existence.
Elara's fingers thread through my hair.
“We'll find a way to fix this," I say.
As I cling to her, the burden of my altered state weighs me down, but her presence, her unwavering love, offers a glimmer of light in the overwhelming darkness. The realization that Snib's disgusting influence has tainted even the most intimate moments with my wife strains the very fabric of my being.]
(simple_option:"06 depart","It's getting late...")($play:"ambience","elara theme")The warmth of Elara's hand in mine is the only source of comfort as I step towards the city gates. Clad once again in the degrading bikini armor, my heavy breasts and generous hips exposed to the world, I can't help but cringe at the feel of cold metal against my sensitive flesh - no more gowns. No more baths. Each movement sends jolts of discomfort through me, the armor's minuscule size leaving nothing to the imagination.
(pic:"ch04/waving.jpg")I carry a satchel with me now, a collection of comforts we’d purchased that I can bring to Snib’s hut.
Elara gives me a final kiss goodbye before I head out.
At the city gates, my goblin overlord awaits, his beady eyes gleaming with anticipation as he ogles my voluptuous figure. The loincloth barely covers his disgusting cock, the sight of it triggering a wave of nausea and an undesired reaction from my traitorous body.
"Well, cow tits. Did you have fun with yer wife?" His voice is a raspy sneer, and I force myself to respond with a respectful nod, the collar around my neck tightening in a threatening reminder.
"Yes, master," I manage, forcing each word out. My stomach churns at the thought of returning to his loathsome hut, of pleasuring his beastly member, of the warm, heavy spurts of his seed... I can't allow my mind to wander there, not now.
His musk seems a bit more muted now, a bit less… overpowering. Still there, but not crippling. It must be the Moonshade, having at least some semblance of an effect.
With a newfound determination, I turn my back to the city, my heart heavy with the painful goodbye. The sun dips below the horizon as we set off, the sight of Elara growing smaller until she's nothing more than a speck in the distance.
As the reality of my situation once again sinks in, I grip the reins of the beast tighter, the harsh desert wind whipping my raven hair around. The journey back to Snib's hut is a solemn one, filled with silence and the looming dread of what awaits me there. But beneath it all, there's a glimmer of hope, a resolve that wasn't there before.
($hidden_gem:"The wizard's promise rings in my ears, a beacon in the encroaching darkness. I just have to survive a few more days. Just a few more days... and with that thought echoing in my mind, I steel myself for what's to come. For Elara. For our child. For my freedom.","The wizard's words wax wonderfully within my weary ears, a brilliant beacon battling the brooding blackness. Merely manage a few more moons. Merely a few more moments... melded with this mantra moldering in my mind, I muster mettle for the menacing morrow. For Elara. For our offspring. For our emancipation.")
(simple_option:"07 desert","The next day...")($play:"ambience","village night")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","desert horse")($chapter_title:7,"The Griznak Gobboree")The heat of the Zaelasian sun is relentless, its powerful rays searing the landscape into a dazzling gold panorama of the Shifting Sands. The surreal beauty of the dunes is beguiling, shifting and shimmering like an elusive dream just beyond grasp.
I'm squeezed onto the saddle in front of Snib, the coarse, sun-warmed leather rubbing against my scantily clad skin. My pride, once a mighty force within me, is now a muffled echo, drowned out by the humiliating tableau I present, the damsel reduced to a subservient creature.
(pic:"ch07/desert.jpg")
Yet, amidst the heat and humiliation, I cling to a tiny kernel of hope. Just a few more days, I tell myself.
The abrasive material of my metallic bikini grates against my skin, transforming every jostle and bounce into a torturous experience. My breasts, constricted by the bikini top, move in rhythm with Jarkrond’s galloping hooves, the constant jiggling an unwelcome reminder of my predicament.
I hear Snib's husky voice, tainted with crude amusement, whispering in my ear, "Excited for da caravan, cow tits?" His hands, rough and surprisingly strong, dig into the soft flesh of my ass, making me grit my teeth.
The saddlebags, heavily laden with our provisions, bounce against Jarkrond's muscular flanks. They hold an assortment of essential goods - food, water, the condoms I had bought in a burst of foresight, and my precious vial of Moonshade potion, a secret weapon that Snib is thankfully oblivious to.
My mind wanders amidst the monotony of our trek, and I find myself drawn to thoughts of Elara. Her soft gaze, the tenderness in her touch, and the lingering taste of her lips offer a beacon of hope. It soothes the raw and aching wounds of my spirit, but it's a bittersweet solace, stirring a longing that can't be quenched in this desolate landscape.
And then I feel it, an insistent pressure against my lower back, an unwelcome, pulsating heat. I don’t need to look to know what it is. Snib’s arousal. I suppress a shudder, refusing to let the lewd contact break me. I am more than the sum of these degrading moments, I remind myself, focusing my gaze on the distant horizon.
The constant motion of Jarkrond's stride wedges Snib even closer, causing him to grind against me with a jarring rhythm. His fat cock, an unsettling presence nestled between the curves of my ass, twitches with a life of its own. Each rhythm of our joined bodies sends a sickening thrill through me as his rigid, pulsating mass scrapes against my sensitive skin.
An involuntary gasp escapes my lips as I feel something hot and sticky against the small of my back, an unmistakable sign of Snib's virility. His precum, as revolting as it is warm, seeps through his threadbare loincloth, slathering my skin with its wet presence.
($hidden_gem:"The sensations are overpowering, each vividly etched into my psyche, forcing me to experience his nauseating arousal in high-definition detail. I can feel the heat of his cock against my skin, the throbbing pulse that echoes his every heartbeat. The texture of his loincloth, worn and thin, does little to temper the sensation of his cock grinding against my ass.","Sensations severe, starkly stamped into my spirit, compel me to confront his corrupting commute in horrendous, high-definition horror. His heat hammers against my hindquarters, the thundering throb ties to his every tick. The tattered textile of his loincloth, thin and thrashed, barely buffers the brutal burden of his bulge battering against my backside.")
The base animalistic nature of his actions sends a shockwave of reluctant arousal through me, a shameful ripple that moistens my bikini bottom. Yet, the Moonshade potion that I ingested in the morning works its magic, dulling the typical reactions of my body, making this degrading situation slightly more bearable.
However, the potion cannot mitigate the reality of having a goblin's engorged member sandwiched between my bouncing ass cheeks. The cloth barrier, inadequate as it is, does nothing to dampen the sensation of his monstrous cock, thick and hot against my bare skin. The intense heat radiating from his arousal is palpable, his precum acting as a disgusting lubricant that allows his cock to slide rhythmically in the crevice of my ass.
I am acutely aware of his hard, insistent length throbbing between my cheeks, the uncomfortable mix of heat and wetness sending shivers down my spine. The physical reality of the situation is crude and stark, and even the Moonshade potion can't erase the looming presence of Snib's grotesque virility.
His hand tightens on my hip, his knobby fingers digging into my soft flesh as he adjusts his stance in the saddle. His other hand finds my bouncing ass cheek, grabbing it with a disgusting eagerness, his nails scratching against my skin. He shifts his hips, aligning himself with the cleft of my ass, the heat of his excitement pressing against my lower back.
Without a word of warning, he begins to pump himself between my ass cheeks, using my body as nothing more than a masturbatory tool. The steady rhythm of Jarkrond's galloping fuels Snib's pleasure, his movements becoming more frenzied with each stride.
I can feel every twitch, every pulse of his enormous member as it grinds between my soft cheeks. His cock, slick with precum and coated with a layer of smegma, slides with an obscene ease. The sticky residue, nauseating in its consistency, adds a layer of slime that mixes with his precum, turning my back into a canvas of his arousal.
(simple_option:"07 whimper","Whimper.")<div class='tw-story-title'>Thraan-vek: The Language of the Elders</div>
**Authored by Dr. Lysander Genth, Senior Fellow of Ancient Linguistics, University of Thuulk**
**Abstract:**
This entry delves into the intricacies of Thraan-vek, an ancient and enigmatic language spoken by the Elder Being, Maraan, and its associated entities. Derived from primordial utterances that predate known history, Thraan-vek remains one of the most complex and least understood languages studied by modern cryptolinguists.
**1. Phonological and Morphological Characteristics:**
Thraan-vek is characterized by its deep, resonant tonality and a unique phonetic structure that includes hard, forceful consonants and elongated vowels. These vowels often stretch into eerie echoes that imbue the language with a sense of otherworldly dread and profound authority. The language's rhythm is cadential, almost chant-like, which suggests an intrinsic tie to ritualistic uses.
**2. Syntax and Grammar:**
Thraan-vek does not conform to traditional syntactical rules known in human languages. It employs a structure that is deeply associative, where thematic elements are bound together in triads, creating complex webs of meaning through seemingly simple sentences. This triadic pattern suggests an understanding of the universe as fundamentally tripartite—comprising creation, preservation, and destruction.
**3. Semantic Fields:**
The language focuses heavily on themes of power, control, and dominion. Commonly used terms include:
- **VELAK** (Power)
- **ZETRA** (Dominate)
- **RAZAN** (Obey)
These terms frequently appear alongside names of ancient entities, weaving a narrative of cosmic control and submission directly into the fabric of spoken and written discourse.
**4. Cultural and Religious Significance:**
Thraan-vek is intrinsically linked to the worship and summoning rituals of the Elder Being, Maraan, and possibly other entities such as Thul’nara and Zor'ethun, as indicated in fragmented mythic texts. These beings are often depicted in fearsome iconography associated with the language, suggesting that Thraan-vek may have been used as a liturgical language in ancient rites designed to appease or invoke these powerful entities.
**5. The Elder Glyphs and the Argent Codex:**
The written form of Thraan-vek, known as the Elder Glyphs, appears predominantly in spectral manifestations seen only by those initiated into its mysteries. The Argent Codex, a K'Tarran artifact, translates these glyphs into Argent Symbols, which are inscribed physical representations that allow for broader interpretation and manipulation of the language's power.
**6. Linguistic Alteration and Reality:**
One of the most fascinating aspects of Thraan-vek is its alleged capability to alter reality according to the speaker's will. This is achieved through specific vocalizations that resonate with the fundamental frequencies of existence. However, this aspect of Thraan-vek remains speculative, with substantial empirical evidence yet to be documented.
**7. Warnings:**
Due to its potent and potentially hazardous nature, Thraan-vek is not to be spoken lightly or without extensive protective measures. The language carries risks not only of psychological but also of existential nature, as its utterances can bind or release energies beyond human control.
Researchers and practitioners are urged to exercise the utmost caution and respect when engaging with Thraan-vek. This language is a potent artifact of a time when words held the power to shape the very essence of reality.(pic:"ch07/riding.jpg")($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")Each thrust sends a fresh wave of lewd sensation radiating through my body. His member, engorged and throbbing, leaves a trail of its repulsive essence on my skin with every forward motion, its heat burning into my senses.
His rough hands continue to manipulate my ass, kneading the ample flesh with a perverse delight. His fingers find purchase in the soft roundness, spreading my cheeks apart to accommodate his slick, turgid intrusion. The raw, unforgiving heat of his arousal against my sensitive skin is overpowering, the pulsating rhythm of his pleasure like a cruel metronome, keeping time with our journey across the desert.
My eyes squeeze shut as I fight against the sensations, against the gut-wrenching reality of Snib pleasuring himself against me. But no amount of mental fortitude can erase the reality of his pulsating cock as it grinds between my ass cheeks, leaving its revolting mark with each undulation.
I swallow hard, a small whimper escaping my lips as Snib's groans of pleasure fill the air. My body convulses with each push against my cheeks, a visceral reminder of the disturbing, degrading dance being performed on horseback, under the merciless Zaelasian sun.
(simple_option:"07 condom","Ask him to put on a condom.","Just let it happen.")(pic:"ch07/ass hotdogging.png","center","borderless")(if:$choice is "Just let it happen.")[Snib's breath hot upon my neck, his hand grips tighter around my burgeoning, jiggling hips, securing me against him as Jarkrond's gallop throws our bodies into a punishing rhythm. "Yeah, just like that," he grunts, the vibration of his coarse voice harrowing my spine.
With each bounding step of the horse, Snib's fat, slick cock slides unhindered between my fat ass cheeks. The lack of a condom means every twitch, every pulse of his hideous dick is smeared directly against my skin, his precum and smegma creating a slick, vile trail that defiles my very core.
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)"You're such a good slut, letting me grind this meat stick deep in your whore trench," Snib jeers, his voice dripping with mockery as he emphasizes each filthy word to degrade me further.
The horse’s galloping rhythm only adds a perverse tempo to the filthy show, my ass cheeks clapping back against his groin with each and every heavy thrust. I feel exposed, debased—this is so wrong on countless levels, not just physically but morally.
The goblin hotdogs my ass cheeks with his bulbous cock, the filthy friction accompanied by lewd, wet noises that make my stomach churn with disgust. "Gonna have fun watching those fat cheeks bounce while you try to fight. Won't be long 'till you're begging for my cock," he leers, delivering a sharp spank to my already abused flesh.
As the relentless heat of his throbbing cock burrows deeper, spreading my plump cheeks apart with his lewd grinding, Snib leans forward. He slaps one cheek hard, the sound echoing off the barren sand dunes around us.
"Gonna use this fatty ass till I'm bored of it... But I ain't never bored of such jiggly fun," he growls, his fingers dig into my tender flesh, kneading it like dough.
I’m trapped in this depraved act, feeling every pulse, every vein of his grotesque member as he uses me like a thing, a tool for his pleasure. Each slick slide of his filthy member leaves a trail of his slimy essence, a sticky reminder of his dominion over me.
His thrusts grow fervent, frenzied as he speaks again, this time his breath coming hotter, his words darker. "Listen well, cumdump," he rasps, his voice coarse against my ear, “At the Griznak Gobboree, your tits and ass will be earning me a fortune in the fighting pits."
He punctuates his words with a particularly harsh thrust, causing my body to jolt, a gasp escaping clenched teeth.
Grabbing a handful of my plump ass cheek, he spreads them, providing his disgusting member a deeper furrow to desecrate.
"Perfect slut cushion for my cock," Snib grunts, his pace increasing with Jarkrond's gallops. “And no one will think that under those pretty titties is a fighter’s brain! Gonna earn us so much gold.”
Each slick, heavy, hot thrust sends a wave of involuntary arousal mixed with profound humiliation coursing through my veins. I grimace as he cups my breasts, his grip tightening, "You'll be begging for my cock after each fight, your fat ass bouncing on it like the whore you are," Snib taunts, his words slicing through me, painting a dreadful picture of what's to come.
The smugness in his tone, his vile pronouncements of my future debasement under his control—it's too much. Tears sting my eyes, not just from pain but from the wrecked dignity, my spirit being continually crushed under the weight of his loathsome desires.
As we continue to ride, the endless stretch of desert around us seems like a reflection of my spiraling despair. Bound, humiliated, and used in such a crude display, it's difficult to cling to anything resembling hope or pride. Instead, there's only the searing pain of being debased, reduced to a mere receptacle of this vile creature's lust.
He claps my ass cheeks one more time, each stroke a fiery imprint on my already burning skin. "Get used to it, whore," he snickers, "This is your life now!"
(simple_option:"07 cum horse","He cums!")](else:)[Gritting my teeth, I manage to squeak out a request. “Master… please… a condom... put it on, “if you’re going to be doing that…” (live:2s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","put on condom")]
His chuckle is low, a grating sound that sets my nerves on edge. "Oh, I think that's your job, slut,” he says, a sickening glee in his voice.
For a moment, I freeze. I can barely even touch him without feeling nauseated. But it’s far better than the alternative of getting my back and asscheeks plastered with insanely gross goblin seed.
I reach into the saddlebag, my fingers shaking as I fish out one of the tiny packages. The thing is cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the sweltering desert heat and the infernal warmth radiating from Snib's member.
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)I tear the paper packet open, the rubber condom spilling onto my trembling fingers. I steal a glance at Snib's massive cock, my stomach twisting in repulsion at the sight of the raw virility pulsing between my ass cheeks. It's almost alien in its size and shape, monstrous and intimidating.
I stretch the condom between my fingers, taking a deep breath before reaching back. My hand trembles as I make contact with his cock, his member twitching at my touch. I wince at the feel of his slimy, pulsing flesh against my fingers, the sticky smegma coating his shaft making my hand slip.
I struggle to roll the condom down his massive girth, the magical material called “latex” stretched thin over his member. It's a battle against his size, the condom barely managing to cover half of his length. It seems to resize itself slightly, imbued with magical properties - yet woefully insufficient for a schlong as enormous as Snib’s. His cock throbs beneath the material.
I fight back the urge to vomit, my fingers slick with sweat and precum as I pull the condom as far as it'll go. The hot, pulsating member strains against the thin barrier, pulsating with a need that makes my stomach churn.
"There," I gasp out, my voice barely above a whisper as I pull my hand away, quickly wiping it against Jarkrond’s rough hide. I feel filthy, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin.
($change_stat:"snib",-1)Snib lets out a throaty chuckle, the sound reverberating in my ears. His hands move back to my ass, the roughness of his fingers amplified against the raw sensitivity of my skin. I can feel the coolness of the latex against my cheeks, an unnatural contrast to the fevered heat of his arousal.
Without wasting a moment, Snib resumes his lewd assault, his monstrous member sliding between my ass cheeks once more. But this time, there's a strange, alien sensation that accompanies each thrust. The condom, stretched thin over his pulsing length, provides a barrier between us, yet it can't dull the sensation of his hot, twitching flesh entirely.
His thick girth slides against my cheeks with each pump, the latex-covered monstrosity leaving a trail of alien coolness in its wake. The condom, slick with Snib's precum, slides against my skin with a sickening ease, a constant, disturbing reminder of the debasing spectacle unfolding atop Jarkrond's back.
His movements grow frenzied, each thrust of his hips driving his condom-covered member deeper between my ass cheeks. The perverse squelching noise it makes with each undulation fills the air, mixing with the grunts of pleasure that escape Snib's lips.
Each thrust sends a fresh wave of lewd sensation coursing through me. His pulsating member, straining against the thin latex barrier, grinds against my ass cheeks, his aggressive rhythm matching the steady gallop of Jarkrond's hooves.
"Listen well, cumdump," he rasps, his voice coarse against my ear, “At the Griznak Gobboree, your tits and ass will be earning me a fortune in the fighting pits." He punctuates his words with a particularly harsh thrust, causing me to gasp out. “No one will think that under dose pretty titties is a fighter’s brain! Gonna earn us so much gold.”
I can feel his monstrous member, even through the thin sheath of the condom, twitching between my asscheeks, pulsating in time with his cackling laughter. Each of his thrusts sends a jolt through my trembling body, the sensation amplified by the rhythmic bouncing of the horse beneath us.
"I’ll put you to fight against the other slaves, slut. Your jiggling tits and fat ass bouncing around as you try to fight," he says, reaching around to cup one of my massive breasts, squeezing hard enough that I cry out. His thumb flicks over the sensitive underside, and despite my disgust, a flare of unwanted arousal sparks within me.
"No," I protest, but my voice comes out as a whimper.
"You’ll be begging for my cock soon enough, won’t ya?” he asks, his tone maliciously gleeful. He's squeezing my left breast so hard now, the tight constriction of my skimpy bikini top offering no protection against his brutal fondling.
"I... I won't!" I grit out. But even as I say the words, I can feel the dampness growing between my legs. I can’t control it. The musky scent of his precum, even with the latex barrier, is potent in my nostrils, and despite the Moonshade potion, I can feel a responding pulse of desire from deep within me. It dulls the sensation, but doesn’t prevent it completely.
His laugh is a horrible thing, a grating cackle that makes my skin crawl. But beneath that laughter, there's a sickening pleasure, a delight in my discomfort that only fuels his arousal. "Your words be sayin’ no, but your slutty body be sayin’ YES,” he says, his words dripping with satisfaction.
His hand leaves my breast to run over my exposed stomach, tracing the curve of my waist before coming to rest on my jiggling ass once again. “Soon, dat fat ass will be bouncing on my cock, ye’ll be moaning like a bitch in heat.” His words send a shiver down my spine, and I bite back a whimper. “And you’ll be beggin’ for more!”
"No, I won't... I won't...," I repeat, but my words are drowned out by the harsh slap of his hand on my ass, and his deep, throaty laughter.
His cock is a throbbing heat between my asscheeks, grinding into me with each bounce of the horse. The sensation is overpowering, a relentless pressure that sends waves of humiliation and arousal coursing through me.
"I look forward to our nights together, cumdump. I'll never need to force you," he says, a malicious glint in his eyes. "Ye’ll be beggin’ for it.”
My stomach churns at his words, bile rising in my throat even as I feel my cheeks flush. The potent smell of him, his constant degrading comments and the way his colossal cock - encased in a condom but very much potent beneath - grinds against my sweat-slicked ass cheeks, adds to the cocktail of humiliation and involuntary arousal. It's maddening.
His grimy hands grip my wide, feminine hips, using them as leverage as he starts thrusting in earnest. His hips jerk forward in rhythm with the horse's gallop, causing the monstrous member between my buttocks to twitch and pulse. My green eyes, wide and full of despair, dart towards his looming, virile form. His veiny, purple-tipped goblin cock, monstrous and so unfairly stimulating, throbbed against the latex sheath, a bead of his musky pre-ejaculate inflating the tip of the condom obscenely.
I can't help the shiver that travels down my spine. There's something carnal about the way his cock twitches and pulses against me, something that rouses the traitorous wetness between my legs even more. He's repulsive, but my body's betrayal makes his lewd actions feel like a perverse massage.
His other hand moves from my hip to snake around my body, finding the underside of my heavy breasts. His rough fingers pinch and roll the soft flesh, sending shockwaves of unwanted pleasure rippling through my body. The horse’s galloping motion only adds to the sensation, causing my breasts to bounce uncontrollably, their obscene jiggling further serving as a source of pleasure for the goblin. I feel a moan escaping my throat, immediately cut off by a sob.
"Like that, don’t you?" he grunts, pulling my head back by a handful of my raven hair, forcing me to arch my back, my bouncing tits presenting a delicious view for his perverted eyes. "You're a dumb slut, you're loving every moment of this, aren't you?" His words are a slap to my face, the humiliation of my predicament piercing me deeper than his cock ever could.
His grip on my hair tightens painfully as Snib's thrusts reach a fever pitch, each one driving the throbbing length of his cock against my sweat-slicked ass cheeks with fervor. His grunts become harsher, more animalistic - the unmistakable prelude to his climax.
(simple_option:"07 cum horse","He cums into the condom!")]($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$choice is "He cums!")[(pic:"ch07/riding cum no condom.png","center","borderless")($play:"sound","cum 1")"Ready for a messy ride, cow tits?" he jeers.
I can only whimper in response, my body tense with dread. I try to brace myself, but nothing can truly prepare me for the humiliation that follows.
With a grunt, Snib's hips jerk violently. His cock, swollen and vile, spasms violently between the sweaty valley of my ass cheeks. The first rope of cum is monstrous, a scalding jet that shoots a straight line up my back with repulsive force. The sensation is disgustingly warm, vile droplets splattering against the small of my back and sizzling down my spine.
"Fuck, yeah! Take that, whore!" Snib howls as he continues to hump between my quivering cheeks. His filthy dick keeps pulsating, each spurt a hellish echo of the last, painting my back and ass in thick, ropey strands of his repugnant climax.
The cum is horrendous—thick, almost clumpy. It seeps into every crease, every crevice, pooling disgustingly in the indentations of my metallic armor. A particularly heavy rope slaps against the back of my neck.
"Hah, got it in your fucking hair! It's all messy back here now!" Snib cackles maniacally, utterly consumed by his depravity. The sound of his laughter is a dirty, scraping noise that grates against my already shattered dignity.
Jarkrond whinnies loudly, perhaps in protest or merely spooked by the wild, rhythmic thrusting he's being subjected to unwittingly.
"Look at that butt, just a filthy cum rag. That's all you're good for, innit?" Snib spits out, each word a lash upon the remnants of my self-respect.
($change_stat:"heroism",-10)($hidden_gem:"His hands, slick with the sweat of exertion and the stickiness of ejaculation, slip lewdly around my hips, ensuring that even as he finishes, I am unable to escape the disgusting mess he’s created.","His hands, heinously humid with the heat of hard labor and the heinous stickiness of spent seed, slither shamefully around my hips, securing my stay amidst the scandalous slop he's sculpted.")
($change_stat:"snib",2)Snib gives my ass one final, possessive slap, the sound sharply echoing over the sands. "Good girl, taking it all like that. You're gonna make a fine show at the Gobboree," he growls, a dark promise woven into his words.](else:)[(pic:"ch07/riding cum condom 1.png","center","borderless")($play:"sound","cum in condom")"That's it... Take it, slut, take that gobbo load,” His words are seared into my brain, their demeaning echo mixing with the steadily increasing pulse of his cock against my back. His grunts turn into roars, the guttural sounds echoing in the silent desert. It's terrifyingly powerful, an echo of his potent virility, a testament to his domination.
I can hear the first heavy, muted spurt - a wet, barely audible sound, not unlike the squelch of wet mud under heavy boots. It's immediately followed by the sensation of the rubber against my skin stretching, bloating. It inflates, a perverse testament to his virile goblin seed, the heat from it seeping through the thin barrier and warming my skin.
Each subsequent throb of his cock, each guttural grunt that escapes his lips is accompanied by another muted spurt, the sound barely audible over the sound of the galloping horse and his harsh breathing. But I can feel it, the condom swelling between my ass cheeks, filling rapidly with his prodigious, potent load.
Every sensation is magnified. The heat of his seed, trapped inside the condom. The gentle, obscene sloshing as it fills, each spurt forcing the rubber to stretch even more. The wet, sticky sounds of his release, as if each heavy glob of cum is a physical manifestation of his demeaning words, of his violation of my body.
It's a sickeningly realistic sensation, an exaggerated simulation of what his seed would feel like inside me if not for the magical barrier protecting me. My body involuntarily shudders as he continues to fill the condom, his seed warm against my lower back. His release seems endless, the heavy, creamy load stretching the condom to its limits, turning it into a perverse, inflated mockery of a fertility charm.
Finally, the twitching of his monstrous member slows, his grunts growing less frequent until they eventually fade away. But the weight of his load remains, the filled condom heavy and obscenely inflated between my ass cheeks, a constant reminder of his virile, alpha dominance. It's an almost surreal sensation, the way it bobs and sways with the motion of the galloping horse, slapping against my lower back and thighs.
I tremble as I reach behind me, my fingers slipping around the taut latex that swells grotesquely with Snib's sticky, off-colored virility. The condom is hot, radiating an obscene warmth against the small of my back, a sick testament to the potent force of goblin life seething within.
The galloping rhythm of Jarkrond jostles me, causing my own body to quake against the filled condom. My heavy breasts, bouncing uncontrollably with the horse's strides, chafe against the hard metallic constraints of my bikini armor. My asscheeks jiggle, clapping together, squishing the bloated condom between them, forcing a muted, glutinous sound from the strained rubber.
(pic:"ch07/riding cum condom 2.png","center","borderless")
"Look at 'ya, cow tits. Strugglin' wit' that balloon of goblin juice," Snib grunts, his gnarled hand gripping my leash and yanking my head back as his other hand fondles my jiggling assets. The taste of humiliation coats my tongue, thick and sour as the acrid stench of Snib's musk invading my senses.
I attempt to maneuver the slick, overfilled condom, but it's a nightmare. It wriggles obscenely against my touch, the latex stretching around the volume of Snib's disgusting load, seeming ready to burst. One thick spurt of cum suddenly squirts from the pressurized condom, the muted, sticky, horrid plop of it landing on Jarkrond's back echoing in my ears. I shudder, a wave of relief washing over me as I realize that I managed to avoid getting any on my own skin.
With each jolt from the horse's stride, the condom wobbles in my fingers. It's heavy, nauseatingly warm, and disgustingly virile. Each touch feels like dipping my fingers into the very essence of my daily degradation.
"'aving trouble there, bitch?" Snib cackles as he gives my ass a sharp spank, his slimy laughter intertwining with the squelching noises from the overfilled condom.
My ass stings, but I grit my teeth and focus on the squishy sensation of the cum-filled condom. I whimper, my shaky fingers fumbling to tie off the latex pouch, my once-heroic hands now trembling with the sickening task.
I bite my lip, fighting the welling tears of humiliation as I secure the knot. It's still pulsating with virile life, each ripple in the translucent material a grotesque dance of Snib's seed. I toss the filled condom onto the desert floor, the soft thud of it hitting the sand barely heard over Jarkrond's hooves pounding against the dry desert ground.
"Good job, cumdump," Snib praises, his condescending tone ringing clear as the morning bells of Eboncrest. His slimy fingers trace the curve of my waist, moving to grope my breasts once more.
I swallow hard, feeling a lump in my throat, a physical manifestation of my humiliation. The desert horizons blur as I watch the condom disappear in the dust, lost to the relentless desert winds. Hopefully no poor adventurer comes across it… ]
(simple_option:"07 loredump","He starts talking about the Gobboree...")($play:"ambience","desert horse")As the desert rolls by, my goblin master has a tight grip on my waist, his fingers digging into the soft, porcelain flesh of my belly.
"You know, cowtits,” Snib's voice slithers into my ear, the reek of his breath fills my nostrils.
My body rebels against my revulsion as he licks my back, the all-too-familiar warmth of arousal spreading through my belly.
"We're headed to the Griznak Gobboree," Snib continues, ignoring my discomfort, his fingers idly trace a line along my bare thigh. The distinct grating sound of his claws against the metal boot send chills down my spine. “Not just any caravan.”
"The...what?" I manage to choke out, my voice shaky.
"Named after Griznak the Ghastly, the chiefest of chiefs, it's a gathering of the biggest, meanest, and dirtiest goblin tribes from all corners of the continent." His words echo in my ears, painting a terrifying picture of what I'm about to face.
His claws drum against my thigh as he chuckles, the sound causing a shudder to pass through my body. “It’s the biggest party ye’ll ever see,” he says, "Goblins betting on bloody fights, drunk on rotgut brew and reveling in debauchery. Tis beautiful.”
I swallow hard at the thought, but he doesn't stop.
"The slave fights are a spectacle to behold, lass," he says, his voice tinged with excitement. "We pit our slaves against each other, to fight for our amusement.”
"Fight?" I gasp out, my heart pounding in my chest. The idea of having to fight someone else for entertainment is abhorrent, let alone the thought of being Snib's betting tokens, against a sea of other vile goblins.
"Oh, don't ye worry, cowtits," Snib cackles, patting my thigh reassuringly. His laughter vibrates through me, increasing my discomfort. "It’s mostly hand-to-hand. No weapons. Weeel. Sometimes wooden sticks. Ain't no fun if a slave dies too quickly. We bet on how long they can last." His voice holds a horrifying glee that chills me to my core.
"I..." I trail off, at a loss for words. I can hardly fathom the extent of the brutality he is describing. The world I once knew as Aldric, filled with honor and valor, is disintegrating, leaving behind the twisted, perverse reality of my new life.
His hand leaves my thigh, slipping under my metallic bikini top again, and he squeezes my breast. “Look at ya, all dolled up in this fancy armor, barely able to swing a sword. They'd bet against ya in a heartbeat. But that's where they'd be wrong. That’s why we’re gonna be rich!"
Snib's words hammer into me like a punch to the gut, the realization of what he's suggesting sinking in.
"If ye can’t handle dungeons, this is the best way to make some coin. How much you got left to pay me off - was it, nine thousand, seven hundred gold? That’s a lot.”
He laughs again, his hand returning to my thigh as he talks about the goblin caravan, painting an increasingly grim picture. The Griznak Gobboree, a gathering of goblins, of violence, and debauchery. I'm to be part of it, a spectacle for Snib's amusement and profit. The thought fills me with dread, but also a spark of defiance.
Snib's gnarled hand continues to grope and prod at my breast, his nails scratching against the metallic bikini top. His grip is uncomfortably tight, his fingers digging into my soft, vulnerable flesh. He seems to relish in the squishiness of my voluptuous breasts, his claws kneading and squeezing. His grip is hot and sticky, the dampness of his palm pressing against the sensitive skin, the stench of his smegma tainting the air around us. He's just violated me a few minutes ago, his musk still clings to my body, making me shudder.
"Ye should see 'em, Elise, all dem gobbos at the Gobboree," Snib murmurs, his voice barely above a gruff whisper. His hot, fetid breath rolls over the nape of my neck, causing my skin to crawl. "Ye've got the perfect body for 'em. All soft an' ripe, with yer fat tits and fat ass."
I feel a sickly blush creep up my cheeks at his crude words. His hand leaves my breast to drift lower, coming to rest on the curve of my hip. I squirm at his touch, the pressure of his hand against my side igniting a bitter taste of humiliation on my tongue.
"They love a good, thick woman, see?" Snib continues, his voice full of glee. "The hourglass shape, the way ye sway when ye walk. Drives 'em mad, it does. Especially them tits, they're like a pair of ripe melons. All the gobbos go crazy for a set of udders like yers." His hand kneads my hip, a lewd squeeze that makes me whimper. "Can't wait to show ye off to my cousins, they're gonna lose their minds over ye."
His excitement is palpable, his words seething with anticipation. It's enough to make me sick, the thought of being paraded around like a piece of meat for goblin amusement. My body is burning with a wave of embarrassment, the very thought of Snib's disgusting, wart-covered cousins ogling me making my stomach churn.
"But don't ye worry, cowtits," Snib drawls out, his hand leaving my hip to grab a handful of my buttocks. The sudden intrusion forces a yelp out of my lips. "I ain't gonna let any of 'em fuck ye. No, no. That's gonna be MY privilege."
His words are a punch to my gut. My heart stutters in my chest. The thought of Snib - or any goblin for that matter - violating me like that... I push the thought away, focusing instead on the uncomfortable sensation of Snib's hand kneading my behind, his fingers pressing into the pliant flesh through the skimpy metal bikini bottom.
"Ye’ll come around, Elise," Snib says, a note of confidence in his voice. "Ye’ll be begging me for it soon enough."
A chill runs down my spine at his words, at the sheer certainty in his voice. But I refuse to let him see my fear. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words affect me. Instead, I focus on the steady rhythm of Jarkrond’s galloping hooves, the scorching desert wind that whips past us.
(simple_option:"07 gobboree","Arrive at the Griznak Gobboree.")(pic:"ch07/gobboree overhead.jpg")($play:"sound","drum")(live:2s)[($play:"ambience","gobboree")(stop:)]As we approach, the Gobboree materializes on the horizon like a twisted mirage - a collection of mismatched tents of various shapes and sizes, arrayed haphazardly. I can see flickering flames dancing against the evening sky, while a cacophony of noise - discordant music, crude laughter, high-pitched squeals - wafts towards us on the desert breeze. Snib chuckles next to me, a perverse sense of satisfaction in his voice as he says, "Welcome to the Gobboree, cow tits."
Entering the heart of the Gobboree, it’s a fever dream of goblin debauchery and vibrant chaos. Fires crackle amidst tents dyed in every shade imaginable, as goblins of varying sizes and grotesqueness congregate in raucous revelry. Some squat and warty, others tall and wiry, but all bear the characteristic goblin lewdness. Their lusty, grating laughter echoes across the makeshift fairground. It's a melting pot of tribes, the diversity surprising me. Snib points out various tribes – the Thornbacks with their spiny protrusions, and the Foulmouths with their grotesquely large jaws. I can barely contain my revulsion, yet there's a morbid curiosity in me.
Amidst the festivities, human slave-girls move around. Some are visibly pregnant, their swollen bellies a testament to the goblins' lustful endeavors. One scene in particular catches my attention - a beautiful blonde-haired woman, on all fours, being taken turns by a group of goblins. Their sizable members, not quite as large as Snib's but still formidable, pound into her with frenzied eagerness.
One goblin, smaller than the others, clumsily mounts her from behind. His bony hips thrust, accompanied by wet squelching sounds and a chorus of depraved cheers. With a grunt, he unloads himself deep inside her, a filthy chuckle escaping his lips. The woman whimpers, a mix of pain and pleasure marring her features. To my horror, my own body responds with a familiar tingle of arousal. Snib's chuckle next to me sends a shiver down my spine. "Another one soon to be ripe with a goblin spawn, eh, cumdump?" he grunts, amusement dancing in his beady eyes.
Serving women, beautiful and flushed, move amidst the frenzied goblins, offering platters of raw meat and overflowing mugs of some frothy brew. My heart aches at the sight of them, their once-cherished freedoms stripped away. Likely missing women from various human villages, now reduced to servitude.
(pic:"ch07/gobboree.jpg")
The scene is a grotesque spectacle of primal urges. Goblins mate openly, their perverse enjoyment on full display, human women subjected to their lusts. It's a tableau of debauchery, a twisted tapestry of flesh, desire, and conquest.
Despite the disgust clawing at me, I am forced to confront the chilling reality - this perverse carnival, this Gobboree, is a glaring testament to goblin society's disturbing hierarchy. A place where their base desires are not just condoned but celebrated. The air hangs heavy with the scent of sex, earthy and pungent, overpowering the smell of roasted meats and ale. The underlying musk of goblin arousal seeping into my senses, making my body respond with an unwilling flush.
A part of me wants to look away, to deny the horrific reality before me. Yet, I can't. My wide-eyed horror is mirrored by a captivated fascination, a nightmarish truth I have no choice but to accept. I am Elise, once Aldric the Great, now a mere plaything in this goblin den of debauchery.
The stench of hot musk and flesh is inescapable. I can taste it, coppery and obscene on my tongue. A labyrinth of tents stretches out before us, pulsating with a sickening, carnal energy. The lustful cries of women and the savage grunts of goblins merge into a relentless cacophony. I feel my cheeks warm with the color of shame, my stomach churns with a sense of despair.
As Snib guides Jarkrond deeper into the carnival, I catch sight of a fighting pit. Here, slaves, both human and otherwise, are forced to brawl for goblin amusement. A massive, muscular orc, probably twice my size, has a human woman pinned down. She struggles beneath him, terrified and outmatched. Despite her impending defeat, the goblins around the pit cheer, throwing coin into a growing pile. The smell of sweat, blood, and fear fills the air as the orc's fists pummel the woman into unconsciousness. Instead of killing her, she is dragged out of the pit - unconscious and battered, but still a valuable piece of breeding stock.
Turning away from the pit, I see a group of goblins gathered around a collection of slave women. The women are on their hands and knees, their bodies visibly shaking under the effort to stay upright as they serve drinks to the raucous goblins. Some of them are interrupted mid-service, goblins gripping their hips and thrusting themselves inside. Moans and cries of pleasure mix with laughter and cheers.
Beside a large bonfire, a young woman, a blonde beauty likely stolen from some remote village, is pinned under a goblin. Her eyes are glassy and unfocused, her cheeks flushed. Her bare legs are hoisted in the air, her body rocking rhythmically with each of the goblin's thrusts. Even from here, I can hear the obscene squelching sounds. She whimpers, gasps, her body betraying her mind's horror with undeniable pleasure.
Nearby, a woman, her belly swollen with pregnancy, serves goblets of wine to a group of chattering goblins. Her body is adorned with nothing more than a transparent, gauzy fabric. It does little to hide her engorged breasts and rounded stomach. The goblins grope her without thought, their rough hands trailing over her body with possessive familiarity. Despite the ongoing violation, the woman maintains a stoic calm, her eyes glazed over in resigned acceptance.
(pic:"ch07/revelry.jpg","right")A pair of twins, indistinguishable except for the color of their hair, one brunette, the other blonde, are servicing two goblins simultaneously. Their identical faces twist in pleasure, their cries harmonizing in a lewd chorus. I see the goblins' muscled backs tense as they climax, their bodies shuddering, their cum spurting onto the twins' faces and chests. The sight is repulsively fascinating, my eyes drawn to it even as my stomach revolts.
I see a brunette being claimed by a goblin on her hands and knees. He's small, even by goblin standards, but he mounts her with an animalistic fervor that makes my skin crawl. His tiny frame bounces with each thrust, his grunts echoing around the firelit space.
The most shocking sight is yet to come. As we draw closer to the heart of the carnival, I see a sight that will haunt my dreams. An array of women, dozens of them, all on their backs, legs splayed wide. Above them, goblins move in a grotesque rhythm, their bodies slick with sweat and other fluids. The women moan and whimper, their bodies writhing in a twisted dance of pleasure and degradation. The ground around them is slick with spent cum, the smell so pungent it makes my eyes water. The goblins move from woman to woman, their virility seemingly unending. Some women bear the roundness of pregnancy, others are still marked by the goblins' seed.
As we pass the revolting spectacle, Snib chuckles, his voice a nauseating purr in my ear. "Ain't nothing like a good ol' Gobboree, eh slut?” His laughter reverberates through the night, a mocking echo to my despair.
As we press deeper into the sprawling network of tents, the orgiastic revelry of the open grounds gradually gives way to a more intimate, yet no less obscene, series of encounters. The shadows cast on the tent walls become private performances in their own right. Goblins and their human chattel, engrossed in acts of primal dominance that send shivers up my spine.
The first tent to our left houses a sight that almost makes me fall from the horse. Through a poorly drawn flap, I see a woman, high-born from her refined features and the remnants of a fine silk dress. Her hands claw at the dirt floor, her body shaking under the assault of not one, but three goblins. Despite her initial protests, her words have since turned into incoherent moans and whimpers. Her hips undulate in rhythm with the thrusts, her body arched back in a bow of surrender. "Pl-please... my family... they have money... they'll..." Her sentence is cut short by a loud, guttural cry as one of the goblins goes balls deep inside her. The obscene squelching of his climax echoes through the tent, followed by a rivulet of thick, milky cum spurting from her pussy. She gasps, her eyes rolling back, her body convulsing in what looks like a simultaneous orgasm. Her words turn into drooling moans, her body shuddering beneath the relentless assault.
Next, we pass a tent with a dark-skinned woman, likely from the southern regions of Zaelasia. Her lithe form is bent over a low stool, her voluptuous ass in the air and thick thighs spread wide. A particularly large goblin, dwarfing his brethren, looms over her, his hands sinking into the soft flesh of her jiggling buttocks. His thrusts are powerful, causing her body to ripple with each stroke. I hear her whimpering, her hands clutching at the edge of the stool, her face buried into a pillow. Suddenly, the goblin's grunts turn into a roar. I see his cock twitch, then erupt, sending a cascade of thick, creamy cum onto her dark skin, contrasting obscenely against her. His pleasure is so potent it splatters up onto her back, over her shoulders, even reaching her curly black hair.
The final vignette is one I cannot see, but it echoes in my ears with haunting clarity. It's a shadow on a canvas, two bodies writhing against each other. The woman's moans sound so innocent, and yet the depth of her pleasure is unmistakable.
With each passing tent, each torrid scene of dominance and submission, I feel a knot of discomfort twisting in my stomach. Shame, fear, horror, and yet... underneath it all, a heat I cannot deny. It's a perverse reaction to such a spectacle, but it's there nonetheless, a flush of arousal that has my cheeks hot and my breath hitching.
Snib, oblivious to my internal turmoil, leads me towards a larger, more elaborate tent. His rough voice breaks through the cacophony of moans and grunts as he haggles with a fellow goblin. I can only assume it's the tent-master. Meanwhile, the drums continue to pound in the distance, the rhythm syncopated with the grunts and moans that fill the air, a lewd symphony of decadence and debauchery.
The images of the women being used in such a grotesque manner are seared into my mind. Women from all walks of life, reduced to nothing more than sex slaves for these goblins. The sight of their bodies, their surrender, their pleasure... it's more than just shocking, it's heart-wrenching. But at the same time, it's frighteningly fascinating, the animalistic dominance striking some primal chord within me. It's a feeling of powerlessness, of overwhelming despair... and an undeniable, shaming arousal.
(simple_option:"07 moonshade","You'd better take your moonshade!")<div class='tw-story-title'>Tellstones</div>
(pic:"ch06/tellstone.jpg","right")**Definition and Purpose:**
Tellstones are enchanted communication devices, primarily fashioned and utilized within the magic-steeped city of Thuulk. These arcane artifacts facilitate instantaneous vocal message transmission over vast distances, akin to speaking through vast ethereal corridors to reach the intended recipient promptly. Each Tellstone is meticulously crafted to serve as both a secure and an expedient means of communication, especially crucial in times of dire need or during significant events.
**Manufacturing Process:**
The creation of a Tellstone is a complex process, combining ancient magical craftsmanship with the more arcane technologies known to a select group of Thuulk's wizards. The process involves several critical stages:
1. **Mineral Harvesting:** The core material for a Tellstone is Pyrathine Crystal, a rare mineral renowned for its inherent magical properties and its ability to conduct arcane energies. The crystal is mined from the deepest veins of the Ironspike Mountains, where it is believed the stones are imbued with the residual magic from the ancient celestial alignments.
2. **Refining and Shaping:** Once harvested, the raw Pyrathine Crystals are transported to the Arcane Forge in Thuulk. Here, under a confluence of ley lines, each crystal is carefully refined and cut into smaller, perfectly rounded stones. This process is delicate, requiring the steadied precision of skilled gem cutters combined with minor enchantments to maintain the stone's magical conductivity.
3. **Enchantment Binding:** The pivotal stage involves master enchanters imbuing each rounded crystal with a series of sophisticated communication spells. This process is performed under strict ritualistic conditions, often during specific astrological events, to enhance the stone’s receptive and projective capacities. Enchanters use a complex matrix of runes, each meticulously etched into the crystal’s surface, locking in the spells that will activate upon the user’s touch.
4. **Personalization and Binding:** To prevent unauthorized use, each Tellstone is magically bound to its user. This final step involves a ritual where the future owner must physically handle the stone, allowing it to attune to their unique magical aura. This binding ensures that only messages from the owner or specifically designated individuals can be sent or received, providing an essential layer of security.
**Cost and Value:**
The extensive and resource-intensive process of creating a Tellstone contributes to its high value and cost. The scarcity of Pyrathine Crystals, combined with the expertise required for their enchantment, makes each Tellstone a significant investment. They are typically used by high-ranking officials, esteemed scholars, and those within circles of power in Thuulk and beyond.(if:$heroism < 76)[($notification:"Goblin cum has affected your brain...")I decide not to take my dose yet, I could get caught!](else:)[I quickly fish through the saddlebags and take another sip of the Moonshade potion while Snib isn’t looking, hoping to dull the onslaught of his overpowering scent.
Not a moment too soon, Snib returns, pulling me inside the tent. ]
($hidden_gem:"We approach a burly goblin, his skin the color of rotten moss, muscles rippling under his dingy vest. A thick wad of chewing leaf bulges in his cheek as he watches me with a predatory gaze. A woven silver chain hangs around his neck, indicating his rank.","We witness a wicked, well-built goblin, his hide hued like heinous, hoary moss; monstrous muscles meandering beneath his muddied mantle. A monstrous mound of masticated mulch majorly mounts his maw, as his piercing peepers pursue me predatorially. A sinuous strand of silver sits significantly signaling his status.")($play:"ambience","gobboree muffled")(live:3s)[($play:"ambience","gobboree")(stop:)]
Snib releases a guttural snort, his beady eyes glinting. "Ey, 'ou get a good look at my bitch,” he slurs, tugging my leash again, closer to the tent-master.
I wince, a crimson blush sweeping across my porcelain skin as he assesses my body.
"She's a ripe one, ain't she? Big melons, a jigglin' rump, 'n soft as a nargle's belly, she is," Snib brags, grinning through his grotesque, yellowed teeth.
He makes me bend over, exposing my barely covered posterior to the leering tent-master. The tent-master grunts.
"'Ere for the pits, she is. Not much of a fighter, this one. She'll make for a quick round, she will. But good show,” Snib cackles, his words laced with a disturbing sense of pleasure. The tent-master grunts in agreement, producing a bracelet from a leather pouch. It's a simple bronze band, but a series of unfamiliar, crude symbols etched into it tells me it's more than just an ornament.
He locks it around my arm. "Gonna get a lotta bets on this one," he grumbles, his voice raspy. "Pits love a bit of beauty 'n blood. Gets 'em roarin', gets the coin flowin'. Startin' tomorrow, she is."
Snib's putrid laugh echoes in the air, and I swallow a bitter lump in my throat, steeling myself for the battles ahead.
We're shown to a spacious tent, by goblin standards at least. It’s lined with luxurious looking - for goblins - furs and hides of various beasts, dyed in deep shades of crimson and green. The scent of wet earth and decaying leaves fills my nostrils as we step inside. My eyes flicker around.
"But there's only one bed," I point out, glancing at Snib with a mix of apprehension and disbelief.
He simply grins, his eyes gleaming in anticipation. "That's right, bitch. Ain't no two beds in 'ere."
There's a moment of silence as I take in the implications, the deep grating laughter of Snib echoing around the tent. This feels like another one of his cruel games, a taunting jest to belittle me, to take me down another peg.
He leers at me, his jagged teeth visible under the dim, flickering firelight from the lantern hanging from the center pole of the tent. "Tonight, you're restin' early. Tomorrow's your big day."
I swallow hard, my hands instinctively coming up to clutch at the metal bikini that feels all the more inadequate now. It digs into my flesh uncomfortably, the cool metal contrasting starkly with the warmth of my skin.
(simple_option:"07 undress","Undress.")Taking a deep breath, I turn my back towards him, doing my best to shield my body from his intrusive gaze. My fingers fumble with the clasp at the back of the metal bra. It takes a few tries, the metal clinking loudly in the otherwise quiet tent. Finally, it gives way, the front of the bra dropping away. ($play:"ambience","gobboree muffled")
The sudden freedom is a relief and a torment at once. The weight of my massive breasts immediately pulls them down, the full globes bouncing with a slap against my belly. I can feel my nipples stiffen against the cool air, my breasts jiggling gently with the motion. They feel achingly bare, vulnerable under Snib's voyeuristic gaze.
Ignoring his coarse laughter, I reach for the high-waisted metal g-string. It digs into my thick hips, the tiny piece of metal all that's between my intimate area and his leering eyes. It takes more effort to undo the small buckle at the side, my fingers trembling with anxiety. The sound of it hitting the ground seems to echo in the tent, reverberating through my entire body.
Last to go are the metal stiletto heel-boots. I unbuckle them slowly, sliding my feet out of their confines. My feet feel light, tingling from the sudden release of pressure. Standing naked, I clutch an animal fur to cover myself.
Snib just chuckles, stretching out on the fur-covered bed as though it's the most natural thing in the world. "You ain't got nothin' I haven't seen before, bitch," he remarks, grinning devilishly. “Quit actin’ so prissy.”
The bed, if it can even be called that, is piled high with various furs and hides. Some dyed deep crimson and others in garish greens. It's the height of goblin luxury, a far cry from the sparse straw pallet I'm used to.
I climb into it, the furs tickling my bare skin. There's a certain richness to them that contradicts the foul goblin who's sharing it with me. Lying on my side, my breasts stack on top of each other, squashing under their weight. They jiggle as I try to find a comfortable position.
The sounds of the Griznak Gobboree fill the air, a cacophony of revelry, debauchery, and breeding.
"I won't let it happen," I murmur to myself, my resolve steeling as I glance at Snib. "I won't become another one of your broodmothers."
Snib just laughs, turning to face me. "We'll see, cowtits. We’ll see.”
My chest rises and falls, heaving under the rhythm of my ragged breaths, my nipples rubbing against the rough fur. I'm hot, uncomfortably so, my skin slick with sweat that's beading between the valley of my breasts and trickling down the small of my back. The heat seems to seep into the marrow of my bones, stoking the simmering desire that's been stirring in the pit of my belly for the past few days.
Snib's chuckle makes my skin crawl, but there's a shameful part of me that also shivers with perverse anticipation. I turn my head, green eyes darting towards him, taking in his repugnant grin. "You could be like 'em," he says, gesturing vaguely to the outside of the tent. "Cummin' their brains out on gobbo cocks."
His words are a punch in the gut, a humiliating reminder of what my body seems to be yearning for.
($hidden_gem:"My body aches with a gnawing emptiness, a void that's growing harder and harder to ignore.","My flesh feels the fierce fangs of a gnashing gap, a growing gorge getting graver to guard against.")
It's like a fever, an incessant itch, an alien impulse that keeps me on edge. I can feel the wetness pooling between my legs, the evidence of my betrayal clinging to my inner thighs, a constant, damning reminder of my body's traitorous desires.
I close my eyes, trying to push down the feeling, but it's like trying to submerge a buoy underwater. My mind races, picturing the women outside in the other tents, their moans and cries of pleasure so clear over the raucous sounds of the Gobboree.
I squirm on the bed, the furs scratching against my sensitive skin, exacerbating the sensations. It's a torture rack of desire and shame, each move, each breath, each pulse of my heart sending waves of hot, throbbing need coursing through my veins. My legs squeeze together, the muscles in my thighs tensing as I try to provide some sort of relief.
I run my hands over my body, tracing the curve of my waist, my fingertips sinking into the flesh of my hips, the generous swell of my ass. It feels foreign, alien, yet undeniably mine. The black waves of my hair spill over my shoulders, a cascade of midnight silk that brushes against my bare breasts. The contact makes my nipples harden, a jolt of sensitivity that sends another pulse of yearning through me.
I bring my hand to my mouth, biting down on my knuckle, trying to stifle the whimper that threatens to escape my lips. The taste of my own sweat on my lips is a cruel mockery, a reminder of the shameful, debasing arousal that's holding me captive.
I hate it. I loathe it. But at the same time, there's a primitive, insidious part of me that revels in it, that coils tighter and tighter with each second, like a spring waiting to be unleashed. I can't help but writhe, my hips arching, my belly undulating, the outline of my hourglass figure stark against the furs. It's like I'm a puppet, my strings pulled by the humiliating, maddening arousal that courses through my veins.
My mind's a battleground, caught between revulsion and need, denial and acceptance, defiance and submission. I want to resist, I need to resist. But my body, it yearns, it hungers. It feels primed, ripe, like an apple ready to be plucked from a tree. It feels... it feels fertile. The thought brings a fresh wave of shame crashing down on me.
I try to ignore the lewd moans and grunts from the neighboring tents, the unsettling stench of sex and goblin musk thick in the air. The noise is a constant cacophony, the terrible soundtrack to my tormented arousal. My chest rises and falls heavily, my full breasts bobbing with the motion. The thin fur I use as a cover chafes against my tender nipples, the sensation sending further waves of discomfort through my already heated body.
As I lie here, my body aching, pulsing with unwanted heat, I close my eyes and turn inwards. The pounding rhythm of the goblin orgy, the smell of Snib's earthy virility, the sense of being on display in the dimly lit tent, I push it all away. Instead, I find the quiet corners of my mind where the murals of the Ephemerals are painted.
I clutch the fur tighter, feeling the rough texture under my fingertips as the heat of my body seeps into the material, warming it. My heart pounds against my chest, the ache within me throbbing in time with it. Each pulse sends a flood of warmth down to my very core, a twisting knot of pleasure and shame coiling within me.
Against the backdrop of this visceral turmoil, I begin my prayer, whispering urgently, my voice drowned by the debauchery outside. I'm thankful for the noise, for it keeps my pleas hidden from Snib's ears.
(simple_option:"07 pray","Pray.")(if:$heroism < 76)[($notification:"Goblin cum has affected your brain...")As I try to summon the words of the Ephemerals, my mind fogs over, the previously crystalline memories of their prayers slipping through my grasp like wisps of smoke. Instead, a heavy, pulsating sensation clouds my thoughts, the sticky presence of goblin pheromones infiltrating my very psyche... I've been exposed to too much cum.
I groan, the sound more animalistic than human, a raw, needy noise that draws Snib’s attention. He chuckles darkly, the sound dripping with vile satisfaction.
“Need to cum, slut?” Snib grunts, his voice base and dripping with mockery. He shifts beside me, his massive, oozing cock brushing against my thigh, leaving a trail of hot, sticky precum.
I shake my head, trying to deny the dark, twisted urge blossoming within me, but it’s overpowering, relentless. “I... I can’t... remember how to pray,” I admit in a desperate whisper. I don't know why I'm telling him!
Snib’s laugh is cruel. “Then pray to the goblin gods, bitch. Pray to Storak's Path of Proliferation,” he commands.
Resisting feels like swimming against a riptide, the filthy haze of goblin seed pulling me under, drowning my resistance. With each beat of my pulse, I feel weaker, less like the hero I once was and more like the cum-addled plaything Snib wants me to be.
“Repeat after me, you wretched whore,” Snib sneers, and begins to guide me through a debasing goblin prayer:
“Mighty Storak, swollen and virile, let your seed spread wide and conquer the trembling flesh of the weak. I offer my body as your fertile ground, sow me with your prolific spawn.”
($hidden_gem:"The words are vile, primitive, honoring strength, domination, and unrelenting proliferation - everything I once stood against. Yet, they roll off my tongue with a disturbing ease, the indoctrination facilitated by the copious amounts of goblin cum clouding my mind.","The terms are terrible, tawdry, trumpeting tyranny, torture, and tireless tainting - everything I once opposed outright. Yet, they tumble from my tongue with terrifying tenderness, the brainwashing boosted by the copious clouds of corrupting cum coiling in my consciousness.")
“Glorious Grognar, grant me the strength to subdue and be subdued, to revel in the sanctity of the strong dominating the weak.”
My voice is a husky whisper, laced with a shame I can’t even begin to process. The heat between my legs grows unbearable, a twisted testament to the disgusting effectiveness of the prayer.
“Sacred Grulkaz, divine mandate of reproduction, I embrace your command to breed and be bred, to multiply the legions of Storak’s brood with my lowly body.”
($change_stat:"heroism",-15)As I speak, Snib’s cock grows harder against my thigh, its heat searing, its smell - a heady mix of musk and smegma - filling my nostrils, reinforcing every vile word.
With a shuddering breath, I continue, “I pray to you, Skraggs, shamans of the seed, bless my womb with the potency of Storak’s loins, let it be fertile and yielding.”
At Snib’s nudging, my lips part, and his cock, thick and dripping with precum, finds its way into my mouth. ($play:"sex loop",0)(live:5s)[($play:"sex loop","bj")(stop:)]
(simple_option:"07 bj","Suck his cock.")](else:)["Eon, keeper of the past, cradle me in the wisdom of what once was. I am Aldric, I am Elise. Teach me to reconcile my identity, my self, my flesh with my spirit. Guide my remembrances so I may not lose myself in this nightmare."
I feel my body, my unfamiliar curves and swells and the unbearable heat pooling within me, pressing against the rough fur. I wince at the thought, a small whimper escaping my lips.
"Flux, embodiment of the now, I am in the throes of your realm. I am shifting, changing, like water trying to find its shape. The curve of my hips, the weight of my breasts, the throbbing need within me, I acknowledge it as your influence. Help me find solace in this present, as tumultuous and painful as it is."
I curl into myself, my body slick with sweat, a sheen visible on the swells of my chest. A rogue tear slips from the corner of my eye, trailing down my cheek and dampening the fur beneath.
"Verge, beacon of the future, I stand at the precipice of uncertainty. I look towards a tomorrow that is shrouded in a fog of fear and apprehension. Grant me the strength to believe in a transcendence, a future where I am more than a plaything, more than a body forced to succumb to primal urges."
My voice grows softer, the words tumbling out in a shaky whisper. I clutch at my belly, feeling the cramping sensation of my body's betrayal, the wetness between my legs a testimony of the torment I'm being put through.
"Triad of the Ephemerals, I ask for your guidance, your compassion. I am lost, tossed upon the tumultuous sea of change, my body alien, my mind a battlefield. Eon, Flux, Verge, help me navigate through this storm, help me find the courage to face the dawn."
(simple_option:"07 bj","Try to sleep.")]($play:"ambience","gobboree muffled")($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$choice is "Try to sleep.")[The last words hang in the air, dissipating like a fragile echo in the night. I release a shuddering breath, my grip on the fur relaxing. A sense of tranquillity begins to seep in, pushing back the waves of torment. The throbbing, the heat, the shame - it all dulls into a distant murmur.
I curl tighter into the fur, the coarse material providing a semblance of comfort against my bare skin. The noise outside continues its cruel serenade, but I feel a layer of detachment now, an armor of prayer shielding me. And so, against all odds, I find a sliver of peace.
In the symphony of the Gobboree, my heart finds its rhythm, lacing it with a quiet resilience. For in this night, in this cruel mockery of existence, I have whispered to the gods, to the universe, a plea born of despair and determination.
And for the first time in a long time, I sleep - not a sleep of defeat, but a sleep of resistance, of hope for a dawn that carries the promise of change, the whisper of a better tomorrow.](else:)[Every inch of goblin-cock that slides between my lips sends a shudder of arousal through me, making it impossible to ignore the heat building between my own thighs.
My mind spins with filthy desire as I take him deeper, the salty taste of his smegma coating my tongue. It's vile, it's disgusting, yet I suckle him like it's the sweetest nectar, moaning around him like a lowly bitch. His precum oozes heavily, a thick, nasty precursor to the torrent I know is coming. I gulp it down greedily, each swallow pulling me deeper into degradation.
"Good bitch, just like that... Drink it all..." Snib grunts, his voice thick with anticipation.
Hungry, debased slurps echo around the dimly lit tent as I work over his cock, my saliva mingling with his filthy secretions to create a slick, obscene mess. My breasts hang heavily, jiggling with each forceful bob of my head, the nipples painfully hard and sensitive.
Snib reaches for them, his gnarled fingers tweaking and rolling the stiff peaks, sending bolts of unwanted pleasure shooting through me. I moan helplessly, the vibrations around his cock making him even harder.
"You ready for your night-night nectar, cumslut?" Snib leers, his hand tightening in my hair, pulling me down until my lips are flush against his heaving groin.
His cockhead swells, and with a filthy grunt, he thrusts upwards, his cock flexing powerfully as the first heavy jet of cum shoots out. It's thick, clotted in its consistency, a vile, off-white slime that coats my throat, sticking to every surface it touches.
<span class='cum1'>BLURRT!!!</span>($play:"sex loop","bj")(live:15s)[($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"sound","cum mouth")(stop:)]
The taste is overpowering, sickeningly sweet yet somehow acrid, like spoiled milk mixed with bleach. My collar loosens, as if permitting me to take him deeper, swallow more greedily.
"Gulp it down, bitch. Let it fill you up," Snib commands, his voice now a raspy growl.
Unable to resist, I obey, my tongue working desperately around his pulsing piss-slit, lapping up every drop of his repulsive seed. The thick ropes keep coming, each one hitting my stomach like a physical blow, filling me with warmth, with shame, with pleasure.
The flood of cum triggers something inside me, and I feel an explosive orgasm building. My body betrays me horribly as I begin to tremble, mewling mindlessly around his cock, the words slipping out in a childish, debasing babble.
($change_stat:"heroism",-15)"More, pwease... more cummy-wummies..." I whimper stupidly, completely lost in the degrading act, my mind fogging over as I drink directly from the source. That's when I should have realized how far gone my brain was.
Snib’s laughter is ghoulish, echoing around us as he keeps pumping, his cock twitching violently with each spurt, filling me up until I can feel his cum sloshing inside, heavy and suffocating.
($change_stat:"snib",3)“Drink it all, you filthy whore... there’s a good girl," Snib praises mockingly as another thick shot of his seed coats my throat.
As the waves of cum keep hitting my belly, my body convulses in a monstrous orgasm. My cunt squirts shamelessly, the arousal too much even in the grip of utter humiliation. My juices mix with the sweat and cum on my thighs, dripping onto the fur below in a disgraceful show of my degradation.
The sounds of wet, squelching pumps fill the tent, along with my stupid moaning. Snib grunts one last time, a final glob of cum oozing into my abused mouth, and I swallow reflexively, utterly defeated, utterly debased.
The world seems to spin around me, a dizzy, cum-drunk daze enveloping my senses. I fall limp against him, my cheeks smeared with his seed, breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps.
"Such a good cum dumpster... Now sleep, whore," Snib coos, his voice dripping with contempt.
($willpower_action:"Use sheer willpower to take a dose of Moonshade despite your mental state...",3,"You manage to force yourself take a dose of Moonshade!")I don't have the strength or will to resist. My mind is too foggy, too filled with the afterglow of an orgasm and the sickening warmth of his cum in my belly. In this degraded, filthy state, I drift off into a troubled sleep, a broken doll in the grip of a goblin's cruel pleasure.]
(simple_option:"08 next morning", "The next morning...")(masteraudio:"stopall")(set:$gender to "female")($play:"ambience","desert")(if:$heroism < 76 and not ($unlocks_active contains "Use sheer willpower to take a dose of Moonshade despite your mental state..."))[($chapter_title:8,"The 'Warrior'")I awaken slowly, the dregs of the night's debauchery clinging heavily to my foggy mind. My eyes flutter open, and a sickening wave of warmth washes over me as I realize the position I’m in. My body is entwined grotesquely with Snib’s, my overly large, fat breasts resting heavy on his scaly chest, drool staining my chin.
There's an undeniable heat spreading through my body, an alarming sense of well-being from the close contact with the goblin’s nude form. His ugly, snoring mouth is mere inches from my face, his breath foul but strangely familiar now.
The realization that his hand is resting possessively on my butt, his gnarled fingers nestled into the soft flesh, sends another jolt of confused arousal through me. His naked cock, large and repulsive, lies draped heavily over my thigh, asserting its complete ownership of me.($play:"sex loop",0)
($notification:"Goblin pheromones have completely infected your brain.")(simple_option:"08 remember","Try to snap out of it.")](else:)[($chapter_title:8,"The Warrior")Light seeps into my eyes as I slowly awaken.
Lying next to me, Snib's repulsive goblin cock dribbles precum onto the furs, and I can't help but whimper in disgust. Quickly, I roll out of the bed, trying not to disturb his slumber. His musk, usually so overwhelming, is fainter in the early morning air. I reach for my bottle of Moonshade potion, knocking back a gulp as I brace myself for the day ahead.
(if: $unlocks_active contains "Use sheer willpower to take a dose of Moonshade despite your mental state...")[($notification:"Moonshade has prevented you from succumbing to goblin sperm...")]After wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I start the process of getting dressed. Bending over, I pick up my skimpy metal bikini armor from the floor, the cold metal a stark contrast against my warm, sweaty skin. My large breasts spill over the cups as I adjust the armor, the chain digging into my soft flesh. It's a struggle to get it over my chest, the armor clattering against my ribs. The bottoms, a high-waisted metal thong, wedges uncomfortably between my plump ass cheeks, and the belt cinches tight around my narrow waist.
Next come the tall stiletto boots, buckling tightly around my calves. They force me to stand on my toes, causing my hips to sway and my ass to stick out even more. It's demeaning, a mockery of my former armor, but it's all I have.
(simple_option:"08 remember","Go outside to practice.")](if:$choice is "Try to snap out of it.")[*It's wrong, all so wrong.*
As the room spins slightly, a horrifying mix of dread and affection floods my senses I know I have to get ready for the fight in the arena today, but my limbs feel heavy, my thoughts muddled by the pheromones.
Breathing heavily, I reach down, intending to separate myself from Snib. My fingers, slightly trembling, wrap around his hefty cock to lift it off my leg. But at the touch, a surge of electric pleasure zaps through me, completely out of place. The cock throbs demandingly under my hand, spitting out a little wad of gooey precum across my arm.
Without thinking, I lift my arm, and a low, degraded moan escapes my lips as I lick the thick substance off my skin. The savory, musky flavor sends a rush of warmth to my already sodden pussy, and my body rejoices at the taste.
(simple_option:"08 service","Service him mindlessly.")](else:)[Stepping outside, I take a moment to breathe in the early morning air, trying to wash the taste of Snib's musk from my tongue. The Griznak Gobboree is a cacophony of sights and sounds, but in the early morning, it's a still sea of snoozing goblins, punctuated by the odd grunt or snore.
In the distance, a few goblins are still stirring, no doubt still drunk from last night's festivities. The smell of stale ale, sweat, and sex fills the air, making my stomach churn.
I need to focus. There's a wooden training dummy out back, set up for the day's events. It's there that I find my temporary weapon, a hefty wooden sword made from blackroot, a dense and heavy wood, much different than my precious Whisperwind. It's heavy in my hands, the unfamiliar weight making me clumsier than I'm used to.
(pic:"ch08/dummy.jpg")
Taking a deep breath, I square up against the dummy, trying to push all thoughts of my predicament from my mind. I need to adjust to this body, to this weapon, to this armor. Every swing of my sword sends a wave of jiggles through my tits, distracting and annoying. But there's no choice. I have to get used to it, have to become stronger, have to survive.
With every swing, every jab, every block, I feel a mix of determination and desperation. This isn't who I am, not who I want to be, but it's who I need to be. I am not Aldric the Great anymore, not the male hero of Eboncrest. I am Elise, the Goblin's Pet, forced into a curvaceous, humiliatingly voluptuous form.
The coarse sand beneath my high-heeled boots shifts and crunches with every movement I make. I focus on my footing, the unfamiliar tilt of my posture atop these ridiculous stilettos. I miss my flat boots, the kind that made my footing steady and agile during a fight. But now, I need to adapt to this new reality, this humiliating form of existence.
I bring the wooden sword to bear, the solid weight of the yew-root familiar and comforting in my slender hands. My breasts press against the metal confines of the bikini top as I engage in a practice lunge. The sudden jiggling of my chest distracts me, but I steel myself, focusing my mind on the task at hand. I draw in a breath, feeling my lungs expand and the metal of my skimpy armor dig into my skin.
An old routine echoes in my mind from my days as Aldric - pivot, lunge, parry, strike. My hips are wider now, my center of gravity shifted. As I move, the high heels force me to engage my thigh muscles more than I'm used to. I can feel the strain on my calves as well, as they try to compensate for the awkward elevation. My balance feels precarious, like walking on the edge of a sword, but I persist.
My wide hips sway with each movement, making my practice swings appear more like a dance than a warrior's drill. But there's power in that sway, in the shift of my weight from one curvaceous thigh to the other. With each twist, each step, each pirouette I can feel my ass tense, my thighs strengthening their grip on the ground. My movements become fluid, a stream finding its way around rocks and obstacles. A strange sense of pride wells up within me, as I continue to move, to adapt.
Now for the tricky part: evasion. As Aldric, I was an expert in dodging and weaving through enemy attacks. Now? It's hard to be nimble with these goddamned high-heeled boots. But I need to learn. The first few attempts are clumsy, the heel of my boot digging into the packed sand, causing me to stumble. I grit my teeth in frustration, but I do not surrender.
With each new attempt, I grow more accustomed to the lift and imbalance these heels provide. I experiment, seeing if it's easier to pivot on the balls of my feet or the heel. The balls of my feet provide more stability, but I can't discount the heel altogether. I'll have to mix the two, depending on my opponent's moves.
($hidden_gem:"Sweat beads on my forehead and trickles down the valley between my breasts, the morning sun beginning to blaze. I focus on my form - maintaining a firm grip on the wooden sword, keeping my breasts from shaking too much with each vigorous movement, and making my ass and thighs work to keep me upright on these heels. I can feel the sand grating against the metal soles of my boots, my ankles straining under the pressure.","Sweat streaks the sun-soaked skin sliding between the sultry summits of my bust. Sternly, I steady my stance—sustaining the stiff sword, stifling the shimmy of my shapely spheres with each strenuous stroke, and straining sinew and skin to stand straight on stilettos. Sand scratches the steel soles, stressing shapely shanks shackled by sharp steel.")
I focus on my form - maintaining a firm grip on the wooden sword, keeping my breasts from shaking too much with each vigorous movement, and making my ass and thighs work to keep me upright on these heels. I can feel the sand grating against the metal soles of my boots, my ankles straining under the pressure.
The sound of snoring goblins and their unfortunate slaves recedes into the background as I lose myself in my regimen. I'm not Elise, the goblin's pet, in this moment. I'm Aldric, the legendary hero. I'm a warrior, preparing for battle, adjusting to my new form, my new reality. Today, I won't be a goblin's plaything; I'll be a fighter in the pits. I have to be. For myself, for Elara. The thought of her stokes the fire within me, urging me to push harder, to endure.
(simple_option:"08 service","Keep practicing.")](if:$choice is "Service him mindlessly.")[His cock hardens instantly in my hand.
The idea of freeing myself, of preparing for the upcoming arena combat, fades against the overwhelming compulsion to service this grotesque representative of goblin virility.
"Oh, big, powerful goblin schlong... I need it," I breathe out stupidly, my mind a swirling vortex of forced cock-worship. My voice is husky, thick with need as my grip tightens around him.
Snib stirs slightly, a grunt of satisfaction rumbling from his throat as he feels my small, warm hands on him. "That's it, cow tits... Know yer place," he mumbles sleepily, a slow smile spreading across his face as he watches me lose myself to debasement.
Encouraged by his words, my actions become even more disgraceful. I lean down, pressing my jiggling breasts against his thighs as I take the head of his cock into my mouth, sucking eagerly. The taste of his early morning precum is strong, sickeningly sweet and potent. I slurp noisily, greedily, letting the nasty, lewd sounds fill the tent.
"Ungnhh... Yesss, master's cock is so good..." I mumble around him, drool trickling down my chin as I bob my head. My hands, driven by a filthy fervor, pump his length, each stroke a surrender to the base desires he's instilled in me.($play:"sex loop","bj")
Snib chuckles, the sound degrading yet impossibly arousing. "Get it nice and hard, slut."
I gasp, choke, but keep going, driven by a mindless need to please him, to make him groan and grunt. My belly clenches with horrifying delight each time he hits the back of my throat, each vile thrust pushing me further from the dignified warrior I once was.
(simple_option:"08 continue","Keep sucking.")](else:)[(pic:"ch08/legs.jpg","left")As the sun continues its upward climb, painting the vast expanse of the Griznak Gobboree in a wash of bright, scorching light, I continue to train. My body screams in protest, but I push through the discomfort. I have to get used to this body, this alien yet familiar form. I have to fight. And by the gods, I will.
I start to transition from footwork to practicing my stances. My first move is to step into the basic guard stance, feet spread shoulder-width apart, one foot slightly forward, my sword extended towards an imaginary foe. But as I whip around to change direction, my long, black hair sweeps across my face, obscuring my vision. A curse escapes my lips. This was never a problem when I was Aldric.
Elara's lesson comes to mind. I halt my practice and stride over to the edge of the training area, where the rough canvas of a goblin tent flaps lazily in the morning breeze. With a quick, forceful tug, I tear off a long, thin strip of the coarse fabric. I collect my hair in a loose bunch at the nape of my neck, twist it around itself and secure it with the strip of cloth. It’s rough and nowhere near as elegant as Elara's delicate fingers could do, but it does its job. My hair stays off my face, providing me with an unobstructed view of my surroundings.
I go back to the center of the practice area, my high heels sinking slightly into the packed sand as I return to my fighting stances. I feel a renewed sense of determination, my large breasts secure within my metal bikini top, my ass flexing in my tight, metal bikini bottoms.
I take up the high guard stance next, my sword held aloft, ready to strike down. As a man, the strength of my shoulders and the breadth of my chest gave me an advantage. But as Elise, the center of my strength is lower, in my core, my hips. The sword feels heavy in my hands, but not unmanageable. I shift from the high guard to a side guard, my right hip thrust forward as I shift my weight onto my right leg.
Now for the hanging guard, a defensive stance. I hold the sword high and to the side, ready to intercept a blow. With the increased weight of my chest, I have to engage my core more to maintain balance. The armor bites into my skin but I ignore the discomfort. The grandeur of the warrior I once was fuels me, guides me.
I transition through the stances, adjusting for my wider hips and higher center of gravity. I practice swiftly changing my stances, experimenting with how the heels affect my stability. I move fluidly, my heavy chest bouncing slightly as I swing the sword. I ignore the stirring amongst the few waking goblins, their crude comments barely reaching my ears.
Then, as I am mid-swing, I hear a familiar, repulsive voice. Snib. The goblin's nasally tone cuts through the air, lewd and derogatory remarks about my 'performance' leaving his lips. His words are like ice water, a jarring reminder of my predicament. But I don’t let it break me. Instead, it fans the flames of my determination. I have a match later today, and I need to be ready for whatever creature I may face in the pits, be it orc or human. For them, for Elara, and for myself, I cannot afford to fail.
Shifting into the half-shield stance, I watch as Snib lumbers toward me, his oversized feet kicking up sand with each step. I resist the urge to cringe at his approach, my lips curving into a practiced smile instead.
(simple_option:"08 continue","Ask about your first opponent.")](if:$heroism < 76 and not ($unlocks_active contains "Use sheer willpower to take a dose of Moonshade despite your mental state..."))[The world narrows to to the taste and feel of him overpowering my senses, consuming my identity. I don't think of Elara, of the arena, of my past glory—only the shameful joy of being used, of being a plaything for this monstrous goblin's pleasure.
As Snib stirs fully awake, feeling the warm, wet embrace of my mouth around his pulsing, engorged cock, his dirty grin widens, and he grips my hair, pulling slightly as he begins to buck his hips forward, fucking my face with increasing fervor. Each thrust pushes him deeper, making me gag, but the humiliation only fuels the disgraceful arousal burning within me.
“Who do you belong to, slut?” Snib growls, his voice laced with a grotesque delight.
“Y-you, Master! I belong to you,” I slur out, my words muffled by his meaty cock still lodged in my mouth. My mind reels with disgust and a sickening pleasure, the defiled echoes of my former self shrinking further into oblivion.
Snib’s foul chuckle vibrates through his body, adding a nasty quiver to each thrust. “And what about your precious wife? What does she think about her hero now?”
Thick saliva and precum drip from my lips as I'm forced to respond, the perverse arousal making me dizzy. “She'd... she'd hate this...” I confess in a debauched moan, “but I c-can’t stop... So good... so wrong!”
"Snibby's cum finally got to ya! A bit pathetic. Thought ye'd last longer - no fun!" Snib barks out a mocking, triumphant laugh. "You're nothing but a gobbo fucktoy now. This is where you belong, isn't it? On your knees, choking on goblin cock!"
A surge of degraded pleasure races through me at his words, my pussy clenching, almost painfully invigorated by the foul truth of his declarations. My cheeks burn with a hot flush of shame mixed with depravity; it feels like every filthy syllable he utters brands me deeper as what I've become.
“Are you ready for your gobbo load, cumslut?” His breath is ragged, his grip in my hair tightening as his thrusts grow uneven with the approach of his climax.
“Uh huh... p-please, Master...” I whimper eagerly, nodding my head, lost in the filthy necessity of my degradation.($play:"sex loop","bj")
With a filthy grin, Snib abruptly pulls his throbbing cock from my mouth, positioning it instead atop my head. “Wouldn’t want you too woozy to fight,” he jeers, his swollen member twitching ominously as he lines it up with my raven hair.
“Nooo, feed me, Master! Please!” I squeal, desperate for the degrading warmth of his release. But Snib only sneers, holding my head firmly as his hips jerk forward.
(live:7s)[($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"sound","cum 1")(stop:)]His cock flexes grotesquely, and then hot, heavy ropes of his rank cum shoot out, splattering across my hair.
<span class='cum1'>The thick, vile fluid is scalding against my scalp...</span>
Each pulse of his cock embeds more of his disgusting seed into my once-beautiful black hair. The strands clump together, the warmth of his cum seeping into my skin.
($change_stat:"heroism",-25)The utter debasement of being used as nothing more than a cum rag for a putrid little monster sends me over the edge. I scream out, senseless babble pouring from my lips as my body convulses in the most stupid, mindless orgasm.
My pussy squirts, spraying all around me.
“Mmmm, good bitch,” Snib croons, watching with depraved satisfaction as I cum my brains out beneath him. My body shudders and twitches, my mind short-circuited by the overwhelming rush of humiliation and forbidden pleasure.
As his cum drips down my forehead, cooling on my skin, I remain sprawled pathetically beneath him, a puddle of my own making pooling around my knees. Aldric is gone, consumed by this monstrous lust, by the foul enchantment of a goblin's debasement. All that remains is Elise, the gobbo's pet, her brain fogged and her body forever craving the degrade and defile.
(simple_option:"08 arena","Time to head to the arena...")](else:)["Master," I begin, my voice steady, "Do you know who my first opponent will be?"
A look of amusement flickers in his beady eyes, the corners of his mouth stretching into a lewd grin.
"Wouldn't you like to know, pet?" he snarls, a gloating chuckle reverberating through the air. "It's a surprise." I watch as his gnarled hand wraps around his engorged cock, stroking it as his gaze roams over my scantily clad body.
As revulsion bubbles within me, I force myself to remain calm, to ignore his vulgar display. I return my attention to the training dummy, continuing my practice as I mull over my possible opponents.
Orcs are typically large and aggressive, often overpowering their opponents with sheer strength and size. I remember the scene from last night, the sight of that giant orc pinning a girl down, her pleas for mercy echoing in the night. I refuse to share the same fate.
With them, agility and speed would be my allies. My footwork would need to be impeccable, each step purposeful, and my strikes, precise. I would need to stay out of their reach, utilizing my lighter wooden sword to chip away at them. Bashing them in the head, the knees, the groin - any weak point exposed in their armor.
Humans, on the other hand, would be a different challenge. Some might be slaves like me, some could be former warriors, cunning and skilled. In these bouts, outsmarting my opponent would be the key. I'd have to remember to feint, to deceive, to always stay one step ahead.
My sword arcs through the air as I transition to the ox stance, my thighs flexing under the strain. I can feel my body adapting to the movements, my hips accommodating the high heels, the weight of my chest no longer pulling me off balance.
($hidden_gem:"Snib’s crude comments continue to flow, but they fall on deaf ears. My mind is elsewhere, strategizing, preparing.","Snib’s salacious slurs sail ceaselessly, yet they strike silent, unseen shores. Separately, my scheming spirit subtly strategizes, steadfastly steeling.")
(simple_option:"08 arena","Snib leads you to the arena.")](pic:"ch08/pit master.jpg","right")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","arena muffled")The pit-master awaits, and so does my first fight. I can only hope that I will be ready when the time comes.
Once inside the pit-master’s tent, a gruff goblin pit master hunches over a large table strewn with scrolls and coins. He hardly spares me a glance as we enter, his attention fully on Snib. I can hear the crowd outside, the roar of anticipation growing as goblins filter into the sand arena. The clasp of my slave bracelet against my arm feels heavier than ever.
"Snib," the pit master grunts, pointing at a scroll. "Your pet's match is against the Wailing Widow. Won five matches so far."
The Wailing Widow? I blink, trying to make sense of the nickname. The pit master chuckles, leaning back to give a more detailed description.
"She was a warrior from the Northern Reaches, captured in battle. Gave our lads a hell of a fight, killed a dozen before they subdued her. Fierce as they come, didn't take to breeding. Broke a gobbo's cock the first night, so we threw her in the pits instead."
He laughs at the memory, his beady eyes flicking to me for a moment, assessing my tits as if they were prize melons. My stomach churns at his gaze, a nauseating mix of disgust and fear churning within me.
"Your tit-bitch won't last a minute," he smirks, turning back to Snib. "The odds are ten to one. But don't worry, even if she loses, you'll get your 150 gold."
The name hits me like a slap to the face. Tit-Bitch. The goblins' laughter rings in my ears, my cheeks flushing with shame. Snib cackles with delight, his rough hand reaching out to give my right breast a jostle. The cold metal of my armor bites into my flesh, a sharp reminder of the reality of my situation.
I swallow hard, forcing down the lump in my throat. "What does she fight with?" I find myself asking, my voice barely a whisper.
The pit master's laugh is a low, mocking rumble. "She fights with a spear, Tit-Bitch. Now shut your trap, the adults are talking."
His dismissive tone stings, my mouth going dry as I fall silent. I am not Aldric the Great here. I am just a Tit-Bitch, a spectacle to these beasts. But as the pit master and Snib continue their conversation, ignoring me entirely, a spark of determination ignites within me.
I am more than just a pair of tits. They underestimate me. And I will prove them wrong. I have to.
(simple_option:"08 fight","Fight!")($play:"ambience","desert")(live:2s)[($play:"ambience","arena")(stop:)]The roar of the crowd becomes deafening as I am led to the center of the arena, the sandy floor rough beneath my stiletto heels. The Griznak Gobboree pit is a crude circle of piled rocks, with ragtag wooden stands set up around it. Goblins fill the seats, their eager eyes drinking in the spectacle below. I can feel their leering stares, hear their crude laughter, taste their anticipation in the dry, dusty air.
"Introducing our first fighters of the day!" A goblin announcer shouts, his voice scratchy but loud, amplified by some magical means. "In this corner, we have the dreaded Wailing Widow!"
(pic:"ch08/wailing widow.jpg")
A murmur runs through the crowd as a woman strides into the pit. Tall, muscular, her gaze as hard as steel. She twirls a wooden spear in her hand, the point glinting ominously in the early morning light. Her eyes meet mine for a brief moment. I see a flicker of humanity there, buried deep beneath layers of survival.
"And in this corner," the announcer continues, his grin growing wider, "we have our fresh meat, the lovely Tit-Bitch!"
A mix of laughter and cheers fills the air as I shift uncomfortably, the straps of my bikini armor digging into my skin. I grip the hilt of my blackroot sword, the wood reassuringly solid in my hand. She has reach with her spear, but I have maneuverability, flexibility. If I can get in close...(if:$heroism < 76 and not ($unlocks_active contains "Use sheer willpower to take a dose of Moonshade despite your mental state..."))[
*I probably should have been practicing though...*]
"I'll make this quick, Tit-Bitch," the Wailing Widow says, her voice rough and gritty. "Ya look more like breeding stock than a fighter to me."
(if:$heroism < 76)[(simple_option:"08 she attacks","Attack!")](else:)[(simple_option:"08 she attacks","Lull her into false sense of security.")]($play:"ambience","arena")(if:$heroism < 76 and not ($unlocks_active contains "Use sheer willpower to take a dose of Moonshade despite your mental state..."))[The sand beneath my feet shifts uneasily as I try to settle into a basic guard stance.
Trying to call on my warrior's instincts, I realize how much the goblin pheromones have affected me - my brain feels foggy, my reflexes dulled. There is goblin cum still caked in my hair.
"Come on then, show us what you've got, Tit-Bitch!" one of the goblins howls, sending a ripple of laughter through the stands.
Gritting my teeth, I lunge forward, my wooden sword slashing through the air towards the Widow. My move is basic, something a novice might attempt, and it’s embarrassingly telegraphed. She sidesteps with a scoff, her spear’s shaft blocking my clumsy attack with ease.
“Is that it?” she taunts, her voice dripping with disdain.
Panic gnaws at my insides as I retreat, trying to muster whatever remnants of training I can recall. But it’s like wading through molasses; every move is slower, every decision second-guessed.(live:7s)[($play:"ambience",0)(stop:)](live:8s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","death")]
I feint to the left and swing desperately to the right, hoping to catch her off guard. But it’s no use. The Wailing Widow is a blur of motion, her responses not just effective but cruelly efficient. Her spear finds the gaps in my shoddy armor, prodding at the exposed flesh with painful jabs.
A sharp sting blooms across my thigh. Blood trickles down my leg, stark against my pale skin. With the crowd's roars crescendoing, a dreadful realization sets in:
I'm not just outclassed, I'm in real danger.
Driven by fear, I lunge forward, hoping to close the distance. This is it, my last chance. I put everything into a ferocious overhead strike, my muscles burning with the effort.
The air whistles as my wooden sword arcs downward... only to meet empty sand. The Widow has moved—she sidesteps with a dancer's grace, her expression one of cold anticipation. As I flounder off-balance, she strikes.
($hidden_gem:"Pain—a searing, unforgiving pain—explodes in my side as her spear bites deep. My breath hitches, time slows, and a guttural scream tears from my throat. I collapse to my knees, the weapon slipping from my grasp as warm blood soaks into the sand.", "Pain—a piercing, pitiless pang—punctures my side painfully as her spear plunges with precision. My breathing balks, moments meld into a mire, while a gut-wrenching groan gushes grotesquely from my gullet. I crumple to my kneecaps, the cudgel clattering from my clasp as warming welts of my blood water the waiting whiteness of the sand.")
Looking up, with my vision blurring and heart pounding in defeat, I see the Widow towering over me. Her eyes hold not anger, but a weary pity as she withdraws her spear with a sickening squelch.
The crowd's cheers are distant now, muffled by the throbbing in my ears. "Pathetic," the Widow mutters, turning away to acknowledge her victory.
On my knees, the world tilts and spins. The taste of blood and sand mixes in my mouth, a bitter cocktail of failure and despair. I’ve lost. Not just the fight, but myself. I sink into the sand, a broken, bloody heap, my gaze fixated on the slowly darkening sky above as consciousness begins to slip away.
A single, silent question haunts my dwindling awareness: *What have I become?*
The arena fades, the jeers and roars of the crowd dimming into nothingness as darkness claims me, leaving only the cold embrace of the sand and the echoing shame of my defeat.
($game_over:"07 bj",7,"Goblin cum eroded your combat abilities, since you didn't take your Moonshade.")](else:)[I bite back a retort, instead offering a shy smile. Let her underestimate me. Let them all underestimate me. I step back, lifting my sword in what I hope looks like a dainty stance. The crowd erupts in laughter. I ignore them, focusing on the woman before me.
"Ready, fighters?" the announcer calls out. "Let the battle begin!"
As the Wailing Widow's battle screech pierces the air, time seems to slow to a crawl. Her charge is a blur of motion, spear pointed straight at me. My heart hammers in my chest, my mind racing to anticipate her movements.
She lunges, and I sidestep just in time. The spear whistles past me, missing by a hair's breadth. I barely have time to react before she spins, her spear arcing toward me. I bring up my sword, blocking her blow. The impact rattles up my arm, a harsh reminder of the strength behind her attack.
"Ooh, and the Tit-Bitch barely avoids a skewering!" The announcer's crude commentary reverberates around the arena, fueling the crowd's frenzied cheers.
My counterattack misses its mark, the Wailing Widow dancing out of my sword's reach with cat-like agility. I stumble back, the constriction of my metal bikini armor making my movements stiff and awkward. The weight of my chest strains against the cold metal, my breasts jiggling with each frantic movement, rubbing uncomfortably against my arms.
I barely see her next attack coming. She feints to the left, then strikes right, the butt of her spear connecting with a stinging blow to my ass. I let out a yelp of surprise, my heels sinking into the sand as I topple backward.
(simple_option:"08 try to recover","Dodge her next strike!","Throw sand in her face!")](if:$option is "Dodge her next strike!")[Her spear descends towards me, a deadly arc that I barely dodge. I roll away, feeling the coarse sand embedding itself between my breasts, as I rise back to my feet. My mind races back to the early morning training, the dummy opponent in the quiet, empty pit. I summon the rhythm of my practiced movements, focusing on the shifting sand beneath my towering heels.](else:)[I grab a handful of the coarse, heated sand from the arena floor. With a swift motion, I throw it directly into her face.
Her reaction is immediate and gratifying. The Wailing Widow stumbles back, her fierce eyes squinting as she attempts to clear the grit from her sight.
Seizing the opportunity, I spring from the ground, sand clinging to my sweaty skin.]
(pic:"ch08/combat.jpg")
I parry her next thrust, my sword meeting the shaft of her spear with a satisfying crack. My heart pounds with the adrenaline of the fight as I sidestep her second lunge, my wide hips swaying to the rhythm of the dance we weave in the sandy pit.
"Look at the Tit-Bitch move!" the goblin announcer screams, his crude words fueling the rising excitement of the crowd. "Is she fighting or dancing? Can't quite tell with those tits bouncing!"
I force a smirk, ignoring the vulgar commentary, turning my focus back to the fight. My sword connects again, knocking her third spear thrust aside. The Wailing Widow's eyes widen as she reels back, a flash of surprise breaking through her hardened demeanor.
($hidden_gem:"Her fourth attack comes faster, a desperate jab towards my stomach that I sidestep, and then her fifth, a sweeping arc aimed at my legs that I leap over, barely maintaining my balance in my restrictive metal boots.", "Her fourth foray flies forth—a frantic jab towards my midsection I sidestep swiftly—and her fifth, a wide, wanton wave for my legs that I leap over, barely balanced in my binding boots.")
I'm keeping up. I'm managing to hold my own. But the Wailing Widow is not to be underestimated. She takes a step back, a glimmer of newfound respect in her eyes. She changes her stance, assuming a more defensive position, her spear held ready. The pace of the fight changes, the Wailing Widow's attacks calculated, more precise.
"Oh, maybe the Wailing Widow was too hasty!" The announcer's voice rings out again, thick with anticipation. "Tit-Bitch got some moves, huh?"
"Would have been an equal fight," she taunts, a smug smile playing on her lips, "if not for those ridiculous heels of yours." The crowd's laughter echoes around us, their jeers fueling my resolve. The fight is far from over, and I intend to give them a show they won't forget.
Just as I begin to regain my footing, the Wailing Widow takes advantage of my precarious balance. She circles me like a predator, her spear outstretched, eyes analyzing my every move. With a swift lunge, she aims for my feet, not to injure, but to dislodge. A calculated strike hits the metal stiletto of my heel boot, sending me sprawling onto the sandy floor. My sword flies out of my grasp, clattering away into the distance.
"Stay down, Tit-Bitch!" she snarls, pressing her boot firmly onto my chest, squeezing the air out of my lungs. The cold touch of metal from her boot digs into my exposed flesh, squashing my breasts beneath its weight. Her words are a venomous hiss. "Look at you, flailing around in that obcene outfit. Maybe tonight, you'll finally find use for that body of yours. I bet you could nurse a litter of goblin whelps with those fuckin’ tits.”
A wave of disgust rolls over me at her words. The crowd around us roars with laughter, the crude jeers of the goblins ringing in my ears, echoing her sentiment. My heart pounds with a mixture of fear and determination, my mind racing to find a way out of this predicament.
As the Wailing Widow lifts her spear for the final blow, I seize my moment. “I’m sorry you don’t like my heels,” I say, a reckless grin spreading on my face.
(simple_option:"08 block","Use them!")I lift my thick leg, the spear's downward trajectory landing right in the cleft of my metal stiletto. A swift twist of my heel and the spear is ripped from her hands, flying across the pit. I use the momentum to kick up my other leg, the hard metal boot connecting with the Wailing Widow's ribs with a satisfying thud. She stumbles backward, the air knocked out of her, her eyes wide with shock.
The crowd roars around us, the pit echoing with the crude goblin announcer's excited yells. "Did you see that? The Tit-Bitch fights back!" He hollers, excitement dripping from his words.
Both of us unarmed now, we circle each other once again, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. Hand-to-hand combat it is then. I shake off the sand clinging to my body, my eyes locked onto hers.
Feet grounded, heart racing, I brace myself as the Wailing Widow lunges at me, her muscled body a blur of motion. She aims a heavy punch at my chest, but I sidestep, my slender body barely avoiding the hit. I return with a swift jab, my small fist colliding with her jaw. She stumbles, but recovers fast, her eyes alight with a fiery determination. The crowd roars, their excitement palpable.
"Looks like Tit-Bitch's got some fight left in her!" The announcer's voice cuts through the noise, an edge of disbelief in his voice. I ignore him, focusing all my attention on the Widow.
($hidden_gem:"My senses are hyper-aware, the physicality of the fight driving all thought from my mind.","My mind marries the moment, my senses sharpened, sheer physicality propelling pervasive thoughts to the periphery.")
With a swift turn, I aim a high kick at her side. She catches my foot mid-air, twisting me around. My body flies across the pit, sand getting in places it really shouldn't. I wince as I land, a sharp pain lancing through my ribs.
"And she goes flying! Poor Tit-Bitch doesn't stand a chance!" The announcer crows, the goblins howling with laughter.
I pull myself back onto my feet, my body feeling too light, too weak for this kind of physical combat. But I push through, calling upon my knowledge and instinct as a fighter. I block the Widow's next blow, using her momentum to guide her past me. She stumbles, the crowd erupting in a roar of disbelief.
"Well, that's a new one. Did Tit-Bitch just deflect the Widow's attack?" The announcer sounds stunned, his words drowned out by the jeers and laughter of the crowd.
My eyes dart to the fallen spear, its wooden body taunting me from the sandy ground. I must get to it. A feigned punch distracts the Widow, and I use the moment to dart closer to the spear. But the Widow is quick to react. She slams her foot into my side, my body colliding with the sand, stars exploding in my vision.
"The Widow's not holding back now. One more hit like that, and Tit-Bitch's just another mound of sand," the announcer yells, his words a grim echo in my ears.
Pain throbs through me, my body no match for the Widow's muscled form. But I refuse to yield. Pulling myself up, I block her next attack, my arm colliding with hers. I manage to twist her around, her back to the spear. I can't let her reach it.
My heart pounds in my chest, each beat a throbbing echo in my ears. I wipe the sweat trickling into my eyes, a momentary respite as I assess the woman before me. The Wailing Widow smirks, her voice filled with scorn as she spits out a taunt.
"Better luck next time, Tit-Bitch."
But I see the weariness in her eyes, the same chains of servitude that bind us both.
(simple_option:"08 finish","But you won't lose!")(pic:"ch08/footwork.jpg","right")With a deep breath, I tap into the reservoir of martial knowledge Aldric had honed over years. I launch into a fluid dance of kicks and strikes, my moves so swift and unexpected that they catch the Widow off-guard. My thick thighs whirl, my ass bouncing as I deliver a roundhouse kick that narrowly misses the Widow's head. She stumbles back, surprised. My fist connects with her stomach, then a swift jab to her jaw. The crowd watches in stunned silence.
($change_stat:"heroism",3)"By the goblin gods, what the..." The announcer's voice trails off, shocked into silence by the spectacle.
But my triumphant display has cost me. My body, too soft and feminine for this kind of exertion, is tiring quickly. Off balance, I falter. The Widow seizes her chance, a powerful push sending me sprawling in the sand. I skid, grains of sand scraping against my skin, until my hand closes around something solid: the spear.
The Wailing Widow charges, too late realizing her mistake. I grip the spear, the rough wood scraping against my palms, and swing. It thwacks across her head, a resounding crack echoing through the pit. The Widow crumbles to the ground, knocked out cold.
(simple_option:"08 victory","Victory!")($play:"ambience","arena")The crowd roars to life, the goblins' lewd cheers filling the air. "Tit-Bitch is the VIIIIIICTORRRR!” The announcer yells, disbelief and excitement mingling in his voice.
I stand there, breathless and battered, my chest heaving with the exertion. I look down at the fallen woman, a fellow pawn in the goblins' twisted games. My victory tastes bitter on my tongue, a hollow triumph against another victim of the goblins' cruelty.
(display:"divider")($play:"sex loop",0)(live:5s)[($play:"ambience","post arena")(stop:)]
Still panting from the fight, I am escorted back to the pit master. He gapes at me, or rather, at Snib, unable to conceal his shock. But there is no praise for me, no acknowledgment of the skill and strategy that allowed me to prevail. I am just a pet, a novelty that exceeded expectations. Snib is the one who receives the respect, the admiration.
($change_stat:"gold",750)A heavy sack of gold is slid across the table, the jingle of coins ringing in my ears. I watch as Snib hefts it up, the weight of it causing him to grunt. It must weigh as much as a small child, I think, a hefty sum indeed. The pit master mentions an additional prize in the next room, a sign of respect from the goblin leader, Grokk. A flicker of recognition crosses Snib's face as he bows, his rough voice murmuring words of gratitude in guttural goblin tongue.
My heart sinks as the pit master details Grokk's desire to have the Wailing Widow removed. Despite her attempts to demean me, I still felt a sense of camaraderie with the fallen warrior. We are both victims of the goblins, humans reduced to playthings in their cruel games.
I follow Snib into the next room, my gaze taking in the decadence of the victor's pit. Velvet cushions are strewn around, the scent of exotic spices lingering in the air. Slaves with glazed eyes and swaying hips serve their goblin masters, their faces flushed with an unnatural rosy glow. The sight makes my stomach churn, the cruel manipulation of these women a stark reminder of my own situation.
Grokk's gift is a slender young woman, her brown hair tumbling down to her waist. She blushes under Snib's lustful gaze, her green eyes glassy under the influence of the goblin pheromones. Her breasts are barely contained by the thin silken garment she wears, her pert nipples visible beneath the thin material.
(simple_option:"08 king","Snib is treated like a king.")($play:"ambience","post arena")A glass of the goblins' favorite rotgut brew is handed to Snib by another slave girl, her voluptuous figure barely concealed by her scant clothing. The same is offered to me, along with a plate heaped with roasted meats and a strange mushy paste, a goblin delicacy no doubt. I nibble cautiously, my stomach rumbling in protest at the unfamiliar food. The slave girls watch me curiously, their eyes flickering with a glimmer of sympathy.
My side throbs relentlessly, a consistent echo of the fight, each breath turning the dull ache into a sharp stab of pain. The slave girls flit around me, their bodies moving with a grace they've perfected over time, their movements seeping sensuality.
A petite girl with fiery red hair and freckles across her cheeks and shoulders, one that looks barely out of her teens, gently removes my metallic bikini top. It lifts off my breasts with a small suction sound, my G-cup breasts jiggling as they're freed. My nipples harden instantly at the cool air, before the slave girl's warm hand cups them.
I cringe at her touch, waiting for the sharp stab of pain from the pressure, but it doesn't come. Instead, she applies a thick green paste to her fingers and rubs it around my nipples, her touch feather-light. The paste tingles as it makes contact with my skin, causing me to gasp. The sensation isn't painful, but a gentle warmth that spreads from my chest to the rest of my body.
A shiver runs down my spine as her fingers glide over the swells of my breasts, massaging the paste into the soft, tender flesh. I watch her as she kneads my mounds, her small hands making my tits seem even larger in comparison. The tenderness in her touch is surprising, causing a flutter in my stomach.
Meanwhile, a tall, muscular blonde woman, perhaps a warrior before her enslavement, applies a poultice to my ribs with delicate precision. The coarse texture of the concoction grates against my scraped skin, but the coolness of it soothes the sting.
Another girl, with dark, almond-shaped eyes and luscious brown curls, starts wrapping bandages around my scraped and bruised knees. I imagine she might have been a dancer, or perhaps a gymnast, her lithe body moving with an elegance that hints at her past life.
A gentle hand tilts my head to the side, a girl with big, brown doe eyes, her curly hair cascading down her back, applies a soft, cool cloth to my bruised cheek. A soothing balm follows, its sweet, floral scent filling my nostrils as it's rubbed into my skin.
Meanwhile, more slave girls surround Snib, their movements almost ceremonial as they attend to their grotesque master.
The 'gift' girl, a slender creature with delicate elfin features, kneels before him, her D-cup breasts hanging tantalizingly from her chest. Her hair, a halo of chestnut curls, falls around her flushed face as she looks up at Snib with reverence in her cloudy, lust-filled eyes.
"I am Liliana, Master," she coos in a soft, throaty voice, a flush spreading across her pale skin. "A gift from Grokk. He's offered you... my breeding rights."
(simple_option:"08 present","He grins.")Liliana waggles her ass provocatively, her full, perky cheeks displayed enticingly for Snib. The words tumble out of her mouth in a reverent whisper, every syllable dripping with anticipation.
A quiet gasp echoes in the cavern as another slave girl unties Snib's filthy loincloth, revealing his monstrous cock. Its length and girth are an obscene sight, veins pulsating beneath the skin. Hot, steaming pre-cum dribbles down its shaft, releasing a foul, musky scent that fills the room.
"Such a virile cock, Master," Liliana croons, her fingers gently tracing the throbbing veins along its length. "Tit-Bitch," she says, glancing my way with an impish grin, "could give you so many goblin pups."
I feel a wave of nausea, the harsh truth making my head spin. I swallow hard, struggling to keep the bile down, but a strange heat stirs between my thighs. I cross my legs uncomfortably, hating myself for the involuntary reaction to the debauched spectacle.
Snib chuckles, a guttural sound that grates on my ears. His beady eyes meet mine from across the room, his grin stretching across his warty face. "Cow tits," he addresses me, his voice grating like gravel, "was a mighty warrior. Breaking her in slowly," he drawls, "makes it all the more delicious."
His voice echoes around the cavern, his words seeping into my bones. The lewd scene unfolding before me is the twisted brainchild of this cunning goblin, the very epitome of his debauchery.
Liliana sighs dramatically, her nimble fingers exploring the obscene thickness of his cock. She glances down at his bloated balls, her eyes lighting up with perverse excitement. "Master," she purrs, her voice dropping an octave, "your balls look so full. Is Tit-Bitch not fulfilling your needs?"
I blush deeply, my cheeks burning at her insinuation. The atmosphere thickens with perversion and debauchery, the scene stretching on in all its appalling glory. The sight is sickening, their unabashed worship of his filthy, massive cock a mockery of everything decent.
"I want ye te call yerself Elara," the goblin spanks her.
"Yes, I will be Elara for you," Liliana smiles. "Anyone you want."
Snib smirks as he grinds the swollen, veiny head of his cock against the wet, slick folds of "Elara's" cunt. She's shuddering, her lips parting in a moan of bliss.
"Oh, it's... it's incredible, Master," she pants, her back arching as she squirms against his hard length. "Your cock feels so... so big. Almost as big as Grokk’s!”
Her voice is airy, filled with a lewd sense of pleasure that's impossible to ignore. She's relishing in the perverse sensations, her body writhing in anticipation.
"I... I remember the first time I felt a goblin's cum inside me," she murmurs, her voice carrying a sensual, husky tone. "It's... it's like nothing else. Filling me, making me feel full... fertile. There's nothing... nothing better than being pregnant with goblin pups. Feeling them grow inside me."
My heart sinks in my chest as I watch the scene unfold. "Elara" is completely lost in her world of lewd fantasies, worshipping Snib as if he's a god. She glorifies the goblin breed, placing them on a pedestal above her own species.
"And goblins... they're so manly, so dominant," she whispers, her words punctuated with moans as Snib continues his lewd massage of her cunt. "Human men can't compare. Goblin and human women... it's the perfect relationship."
My heart beats painfully in my chest as she praises the goblins. My pussy pulses, and I grit my teeth against the building arousal. It's repugnant, this whole situation, but I can't ignore the heat gathering between my thighs.
"And then... then you feel them move. The pups," she breathes out, her eyes fluttering shut. "It's... oh, it's ecstasy. Feeling them... knowing they're growing inside you... it's indescribable."
(simple_option:"08 insert","He breaches her pussy.")($play:"sex loop",0)With that, her words are cut off as Snib thrusts into her, his meaty cock plunging into her dripping pussy. I flinch as I hear the slap of their bodies meeting, my face hot and my pulse racing.
"Elara" squeals, her head falling back as her eyes roll up, pleasure overtaking her. Snib grunts, pushing himself to the hilt inside her, a satisfied grin on his ugly face.
I clutch my chest, the sight ripping through me, shredding any semblance of my will. The betrayal is too much, the heartache too profound. I used to be Aldric, the town's hero, and now... now I'm a powerless spectator to this vulgar spectacle. I was supposed to protect, to save, and instead, I'm forced to watch a human woman surrender to a goblin.
My body betrays me as my pussy clenches, throbbing with an arousal I despise. I bite my lip, trying to hold back the tears of shame, despair, and a twisted sense of longing that I can't understand. The moans of "Elara," the grunts of Snib, the slap of their bodies... it's horrible.
And all I can do is watch, the heat of arousal a burning, shameful secret against my inner thighs.
($hidden_gem:"The pace of Snib's thrusts increases, a rhythmic slapping that fills the room. Each powerful plunge is met with a lewd squelch, the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin.","The tempo of Snib's thrusts tightens, a relentless rhythm resonating richly around the room. Every potent push prompts a lewd liquid squelch, signaling the sleek sound of sodden skin smacking.")
His little goblin body moves with an unholy energy, his big cock disappearing into Liliana over and over.
Then, suddenly, he thrusts all the way in, his balls slapping against her ass. He grunts, his face twisted in a grimace of pleasure. I see his cock bulging against her skin, his cockhead pressing into her from the inside.
(simple_option:"08 womb fucking","He goes even deeper.")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 1")My breath catches in my throat. One of the slaves next to me leans in, her voice a whisper against my ear. "He's in her womb now," she says, her tone half-admiring, half-jealous. "Goblin pre-cum can make a woman's cervix dilate. Lets their fat cockheads slip inside."
I can hardly believe what I'm hearing. It's horrific, an affront to nature. And yet, I can't deny the visual proof before me. The bulge in Liliana's lower stomach, the way she's gone wide-eyed and slack-jawed with pleasure.
Her body spasms as Snib starts to rock back and forth, his entire length buried inside her. Each thrust sends a wave of pleasure through her body, forcing a mewling cry from her lips.
"Oh gods," she gasps, her voice a choked whisper. "I can feel it. He's in my womb. He's fucking my womb."
Her body arches, her fingers clawing at the cushions beneath her. Her eyes roll back in her head, her tongue lolling out in a parody of pleasure. It's obscene, a display of absolute debasement that makes my stomach turn. Yet, I can't look away.
Around me, the slaves watch with rapt attention, their faces flushed with perverse delight. "It's so hot," one murmurs, her fingers dipping between her legs. "I want to be next."
I can't understand their enthusiasm, their eagerness to be violated in such a way. Yet, as I watch Snib thrust into Liliana, as I hear her cries of pleasure, I can't deny the throbbing heat building between my own thighs.
($hidden_gem:"The tent echoes with the sounds of Liliana's moans, the wet squelching of Snib's thrusts, the harsh panting of the watching slaves. It's a grotesque symphony, a testament to the vile pleasures of the goblin master.","The tabernacle trembles with the tumultuous tones of Liliana’s lament, the sopping squelch of Snib's sinisterly stabbing schlong, the hoarse huffing of the hawking horde. It’s a ghastly gala, a grisly glorification of the goblin’s grotesque gratifications.")
And I'm forced to watch, to listen, to bear witness to the horrifying spectacle. I feel the familiar throb of arousal, the hot flush of shame. The combination of horror and arousal is too much, a torturous conflict that leaves me breathless.
Snib's entire body tenses, his grip on Liliana's hips tightening. His green face contorts in pleasure, his teeth gritted. A guttural growl rumbles in his throat, echoing through the room, signaling the impending flood.
(simple_option:"08 cum","Look away.","Watch.")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 2")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"sound","goblin womb fucking cum")(if:$choice is "Look away.")[I close my eyes and press my palms against my ears, but it's futile. The sounds of the gruesome act pierce through my flimsy barriers—each wet, sticky slap of Snib's grotesque thrusts are etched violently into my consciousness. Liliana's moans vibrate as muffled echoes behind my hands, each whimper and cry sharper than the last.
"S-so much... *please*..." Her voice breaks. I flinch with each distinct thwack—the disgusting sound of viscous fluid mixing with fervent thrusts.
The room fills with Liliana's gasps escalating into cries of obscene rapture, "It's filling me up... too much...!" The bed creaks. My stomach churns as the air thickens, the smell of sex and goblin cum invasive, metallic, reaching me even here, where I stand repulsed and trembling.
A resounding slap, wetter and deeper, followed by a guttural groan signals his release.
I hear the sloppy, vulgar noise of him pulling out, the pop. Silence for a heartbeat, and then, Liliana's whimpering fills the void, a soft, helpless sound.
My eyes flutter open involuntarily, pulled by the morbid curiosity, the horror. Liliana lies sprawled, her belly distended unnaturally, a clear sheen of cum trickling down her thigh. Snib steps back, a smug leer plastered over his warty face as he surveys his work—her body violated, displayed, a vessel of his vile conquest.
Around me, the slaves whisper, their tones mix of awe and desire, unsettling in their intensity. "Look at her... she's been properly used..."
($change_stat:"heroism",-1)I stand frozen, the acidic burn of shame and unwanted arousal gnawing at my insides. The sight, the sounds, the sheer wrongness of it all sear into me, leaving a mark of indelible disgrace.](else:)[A shudder ripples through Liliana as the first rope of cum is unleashed inside her. The bulge in her lower belly pulses, the sign of Snib's obscene unload. Her body jolts, a gasping cry ripping from her throat. "It's... it's so much," she whimpers.
His balls twitch, each spasm signaling another heavy, gelatinous spurt of goblin cum. The sensation is palpable, even from where I stand. His cock twitches within her, each twitch signaling a powerful surge of cum. It's like a twisted biological fireworks show, a sequence of obscene eruptions, each followed by Liliana's whimpering cries.
(pic:"ch08/gift.jpg")
The other girls gasp, eyes wide and faces flushed. "Look at her belly," one whispers, her finger pointed at Liliana. Her lower belly is slowly expanding, the skin stretching taut. I can see it, a slow, steady bulge that's growing with each passing second.
A low, guttural laugh tears from Snib's lips, the sound full of obscene pleasure. His body shakes, his balls twitching as they continue to pump load after load of his hot, putrid goblin cum into Liliana's womb. His laughter sends a shiver down my spine, a cruel reminder of the utter domination he wields.
Liliana's body convulses under the intense sensation. Her eyes roll back, her mouth opening in a silent scream. The sight of her, reduced to a drooling, twitching mess by the sheer force of Snib's cum, is enough to make my stomach churn. But I can't deny the heat growing between my own thighs, the way my own body responds to the obscene display.
As I watch, I see a dribble of white escaping from her. The sticky, bleachy smell of goblin cum fills the air. It's overwhelming, a sensory assault that makes me gag. But it's impossible to look away. The sight of her, leaking cum from her overstuffed womb, is burned into my brain.
His cock gives a final twitch, one last spurt of cum filling Liliana's womb. His laughter dies down, replaced by heavy panting. He pulls out, a string of cum connecting his cock to Liliana's pussy. The sight is obscene, a testament to his virile potency.
Liliana's body slumps onto the cushions, a whimper escaping her lips. Her belly is round, distended with his cum. Her face is flushed, her eyes half-closed. "I... I feel so full," she murmurs, a note of wonder in her voice.
Around me, the slaves watch with rapt attention, their faces a mixture of envy and awe. They whisper among themselves, their words full of admiration for Snib's potency. I can't understand their fascination, their obsession with the obscene breeding spectacle. But I can't deny the perverse attraction, the twisted allure of the breeding spectacle.
A slave girl next to me leans in, her whisper a hiss in my ear. "Now you see," she murmurs, her eyes glued to Liliana's distended belly. "Now you see what a real goblin can do."
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)As I watch Liliana's body slowly recovering from the breeding spectacle, I can't help but feel a perverse fascination. It's obscene, vile, a twisted violation of the natural order. But I can't deny the allure, the twisted attraction of the spectacle. The goblin's dominance, his virility, his utter control... it's a horrifying spectacle that I can't help but watch in awe.]
(simple_option:"08 seal","They seal her pussy.")Two of the slaves step forward, a gauzy piece of fabric clutched in their hands. It's a simple garment, not much more than a strip of cloth, but it serves a critical purpose. They ease Liliana to her feet, their hands gentle and efficient as they slide the cloth up her legs, tugging it into place over her freshly filled pussy.
The cloth sticks to her, saturated with the remnants of Snib's obscene load. It clings to her skin, sealing her womb, ensuring the potent goblin cum is trapped inside. Their hands are clinical, detached, moving with a practiced ease that only comes with experience. It's a mundane act, a simple task, but its implications send a shiver down my spine.
They finish securing the garment and step back, their eyes lingering on Liliana's swollen belly. I watch her, the proof of Snib's virility clearly visible. Her hands drift down to her stomach, fingers pressing into the bulging flesh. A soft sigh slips from her lips, her eyelids fluttering.
Once they're done, they carefully guide Liliana towards the tent entrance. She stumbles, legs shaky from the breeding. They catch her, their hold steady as they guide her out of the tent, their soft murmurs filling the air as they assure her she did well.
Snib grunts in satisfaction, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he watches her leave. The slaves return, this time carrying a new, more opulent loincloth. It's embroidered with intricate designs, a symbol of Snib's status and success. They present it to him, their heads bowed in respect.
"Thank you, Master Snib," they say in unison, their voices hushed, full of reverence. "Thank you for granting Elara your seed."
He nods, a simple gesture of acknowledgment, before putting the loincloth to the side. He’s still nude.
I stand there, more bandages than skin, the sensation of their touch still lingering. The slaves have done their job meticulously, wrapping up my scrapes and bruises, salving my aching muscles, providing a buffer against the pain that threatens to bloom anew. Despite the trauma of the day, my body feels oddly fortified.
Snib, my goblin master, slouches back, a disgusting splay of green skin. His body is a stark contrast to my bandaged one, rough and dotted with warts, a crude testament of goblin physiology. His frame is covered in a sheen of sweat and his fat, foot-long cock dangles between his legs, flaccid and dribbling with remnants of his recent release.
An odious musk, a blend of sweat, semen, and virility, hangs in the air around him, saturating everything it touches. It's a pungent reminder of his breeding with Liliana, a horrid olfactory assault that sends my stomach churning and, to my utmost humiliation, a faint slickness pooling between my thighs.
His eyes roam over my bandaged form, the smirk on his lips widening as he takes in the sight. "Ain't ya a sorry sight, tits," he says, his voice gruff.
His hand swings out, landing a firm slap on my ass. I wince at the contact, the sudden sting cutting through the numbing salve.
"Look at ya, all done up. Did ya have to go and get yerself all banged up?" he continues, his gaze focused on the swathes of bandages that litter my body. “Yer worth more to me in one piece."
He chuckles, a grating, guttural sound that grates against my nerves. My gaze flicks to the door, where the slaves are waiting, their eyes sparkling as they watch Snib's display of dominance.
Suddenly, one of them steps forward, her hands full of oils and cloths. "It is your duty to bathe Master Snib," she says, her voice steady.
(simple_option:"08 bathe him","Refuse.","You don't really have a choice.")(if:$choice is "Refuse.")[A tight knot of revulsion forms in my stomach as the slave woman thrusts the washing supplies into my hands.
"No, I... I can't do this," I murmur weakly.
The slaves surrounding me gasp in unison, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The redhead steps forward, her expression stern, her voice carrying a heaviness that weighs down the air between us.
"You must," she says firmly, grabbing my wrist gently but with an undeniable strength. "It is not just a task—it is an honor. You are cleaning the body of your master. It signifies your subservience, your acceptance of his claim over you."
Her fingers tighten around mine, guiding them towards the waiting supplies as if my compliance is inevitable.
"But can't you—" I start, my voice desperate, seeking any escape from this demeaning duty.
"No. This is your role now," interrupts another girl, her dark eyes serious as she adjusts the wrap around her own slender waist. "Refusing to perform your duties can lead to punishment."
The room grows quiet, the gravity of their words sinking into my bones. The other slaves nod in agreement, their faces set in grim determination. They gather around, forming a tight circle, their proximity a barrier against my protests.
"This is how it must be done," continues the redhead, demonstrating with deliberate motions. "You must be thorough but respectful. Start at his feet and work your way up. Be gentle around his...his manhood. It is the source of his strength, his pride."
Another slave, a younger girl with haunted eyes, hands me a small jar of an oily substance. "Use this for his...for his groin. It helps cleanse thoroughly. And shows respect."
I accept the jar with a hand that shakes so fiercely it nearly spills its contents. My face is a mask of dread as I turn to face Snib, who's reclining with a smirk plastered across his warty face. He's clearly enjoying the discomfort and turmoil he's incited in me.
Guiding my hands, the slaves help me apply the oil. Each touch on Snib's disgusting skin is a battle against my revulsion, but the slaves' steadying hands and soft murmurs of encouragement keep me from fleeing.
"See? You're doing well," encourages the brunette as I hesitantly smear the oil across Snib’s chest, trying to avoid direct contact as much as possible.](else:)[The slaves explain the ritual to me, the reverence needed, the care and caution to use. They guide my hands, showing me the gentle strokes to use, the places to avoid, the exact way to cup his balls, the method to clean his stinking schlong. Their voices are matter-of-fact, as if they're instructing me on something as mundane as cooking a meal, not washing a virile goblin cock.
"But can't you—" I start, but a firm shake of the head cuts me off.
"No. This is your duty," the redhead says, her eyes solemn. The others echo her sentiment, their faces serious. They emphasize the importance of this task, this subservient act of washing Snib, how it's more than just hygiene, but a ritual of respect, an act of servitude that solidifies my place as his property.
Guided by the enslaved women, I approach Snib. The stench of him is stronger now, but I push through my disgust. It's a dreadful task, yet my mind barely registers it as I prepare to bathe him.
The women’s voices, hushed yet determined, guide me through each step. "Start with his body," the brunette instructs, reverence in her voice. A wet cloth is shoved into my hand and I flinch at its damp coolness. My task is clear - to clean Snib's squat body. His skin, oily and slick with sweat, glistens under the low light, his gut protruding significantly. I grit my teeth, swallow back bile, and start.
Under my trembling hand, his warty skin is cold and wet, rough against the softness of my fingers. I try not to flinch as I drag the cloth over his bulging stomach, the folds of his flesh oily and unclean. I can hear the women whispering amongst themselves. ]
Next, they guide me towards his lower body. My breath catches as the redhead steps closer, her voice hushed as she explains, “Now, his c- cock." She stumbles over the word, a blush coloring her cheeks. But her gaze is unyielding, filled with a determination that leaves me with no room for protest.
I kneel in front of Snib's massive cock, my heart pounding. It’s an imposing sight, even in its flaccidity. My stomach churns as I reach out, my fingers trembling as they wrap around his massive, veiny shaft. The sensation of his slimy, cum-covered cock in my grasp sends a shiver down my spine.
As instructed, I clean it thoroughly, the slaves' whispers a constant murmur in the background. "Good, Tit-bitch. Don't forget the veins... And the tip... Yes, just like that..." They coo, their voices brimming with false encouragement.
A sour taste creeps up my throat as I run the cloth over his cock, wiping away remnants of cum and Liliana's juices. The feel of it in my hands, slick and warm, is enough to make me gag. His phallic flesh is heavy, intimidating, a symbol of my humiliation and forced servitude.
His cock is veiny, thick and vascular, a symbol of the raw power that he wielded so freely just moments ago. I’m reminded of Liliana, the woman he likely just impregnated. The humiliation of this task, this ritual, burns hot within me. The memory of being Aldric, once the hero of Eboncrest, is but a fading ember against the reality of my present circumstance.
Despite my horror, I continue with the cleaning, spurred on by the enslaved women's incessant whispers. My task is complex, each part of his grotesque body requiring a different care and attention. His cock, even flaccid, demands a certain amount of reverence, a detail the women emphasize over and over.
The entire process is incredibly surreal, every stroke of the cloth against his green skin, every crinkle of the skin beneath my fingers. The girls coo, pleased with my progress, but I feel only nausea and a simmering rage.
Meanwhile, I'm a ghastly spectacle, bandaged up, my tits partly hidden, my skin raw and red. My bikini bottoms are the only piece of clothing that affords me some dignity.
Amidst this ritual, my body betrays me. A heat rises within me, centered between my thighs, a heat that’s as unwelcome as it is uncontrollable. The scent of him, the musky, male scent, triggers an instinctive response in me, a base biological need of some kind. I shudder.
Through it all, the enslaved women's instructions never cease. Their tones are earnest, worshipful, they're under the goblins' sway, their minds clouded by months or years of the intoxicating pheromones. Their flushed faces, their wide eyes, they're entranced, lost to this world. And they want me to join them, to succumb to the goblins just like they did.
The women’s breathy whispers wash over me, their words echoing through the tent, a constant reminder of the humiliation and subservience. I am no longer Aldric, the hero, but Elise, the slave, the Tit-bitch.
Still, I clean Snib, my hands moving with a life of their own. His skin is clean now, no longer slick with sweat and filth. I have no doubt that this could very well be the first time in Snib’s life he was ever clean…
The women guide me through the next phase, a ritual I'm woefully unprepared for. With hushed whispers, they hand me a collection of bottles, each filled with oils and creams of different colors and consistencies. There's a reverence in their movements, a worshipful attention to each bottle as they explain their purpose. They're specific, exacting. This isn't just cleaning. This is conditioning, treating Snib’s cock with a respect that churns my stomach.
The first bottle is filled with a thick, golden oil, an earthy aroma wafting from it. One of the women, her voice husky with pheromone-induced arousal, explains it's for his shaft. “Stroke it in. Use your fingers, not your palm, like this...” She demonstrates on her own hand, her fingers moving in slow, sensual circles. It's instructional, clinical, but the erotic undercurrent is unmistakable.
(simple_option:"08 oil","Use the oil.")Trembling, I pour the oil into my hand, the cool liquid pooling in my palm. My fingers, slim and feminine, curl around Snib's cock, the skin soft and warm against the rough, oily texture of the goblin flesh. The oil slicks his skin, coating it in a sheen that catches the light. My fingers move over him, massaging in the golden oil as instructed.
My stomach clenches, a heat stirring deep inside me as I work the oil into his flaccid cock. It twitches in response, starting to fill out, starting to harden. The sensation sends a jolt through me, an involuntary reaction to a primal part of my mind. The feeling is uncomfortable, unwanted, but undeniably present.
Next, the women hand me a bottle of green cream. “This is for his tip,” they explain, their voices breathless. They guide my hand, showing me how to apply the cream, how to massage it into the sensitive skin. The smell of the cream is rich, heady, an intoxicating scent that fills the tent.
My heart pounds in my chest, the scent of the cream stirring something deep within me. I can feel my body responding, my nipples hardening against the rough fabric of my bandages, a heat building between my thighs. I try to push the feelings down, to ignore them, but the physical sensations are overwhelming.
The cream melts under the heat of my hand, a sticky, slippery substance that adds another layer to the grotesque sensory overload. As I massage it into his cock, my fingers sliding over the sensitive tip, his skin pulses beneath my touch. His cock twitches again, and the sight of it, hardening, growing under my touch, sends a shudder of revulsion through me.
Another bottle is passed to me, a silver liquid shimmering within. The redhead instructs me in a breathy whisper, “This one's for his base, for the...uh, balls. You must be gentle, Tit-bitch. They're sensitive.”
($hidden_gem:"I kneel between Snib's legs, his massive balls looming before me. The sight is a grotesque spectacle, one that has me swallowing back bile. His sack is heavy, the skin textured and rough, a stark contrast to the sleek, oiled shaft of his cock. I pour the silver liquid into my palm, the cool sensation a brief respite from the heat emanating from his loins.",
"I kneel between Snib's spindly legs, his sizable sack looming. The sight is a sickening spectacle that has my stomach shivering in shock. His massive sack is heavy, the skin stippled and scaly, a stark semblance to the sleek, slippery shaft of his savage schlong. I pour the shimmering silver solution into my palm, the cool current creating a comforting contrast to the heat hurling from his heinous hips.")
As I apply the oil, I can't help but cringe. The sensation of his balls in my hand, the weight and texture, is nauseating. But I continue, driven by the whispers of the women and my own need to survive.
Their whispers fill the tent, their words echoing in my mind. They coach me, guide me, instructing me in the best ways to massage his balls. The process is meticulous, the attention to detail absurd in its intensity. My fingers move in circles, careful and precise, the silver oil making his sack glisten.
Throughout it all, my arousal grows, a slow-burning heat that tightens my belly and sends warmth flooding to my cheeks. The scent of the oils, the feel of his flesh beneath my fingers, the sight of his hardening cock, it's all too much. It's a terrible, awful sensation that I can't control.
There's a tightness in my chest, a sensation in my breasts. My tits, heavy and bandaged, feel fuller somehow, as if the heat is spreading, reaching every part of my body. I can feel my pussy dampening, my panties growing wet despite my disgust. It's a physical reaction I can't control, a base biological response to the male pheromones in the air.
My humiliation is complete as the women hand me a ceremonial loincloth, a token of Snib's victory. Their faces are flushed, their eyes sparkling with arousal as they guide me in draping it over his now glistening cock. The cloth is soft, a rich, deep red, contrasting starkly against the grotesque spectacle of the conditioned goblin cock.
The loincloth fits snugly, highlighting the size and girth of Snib's hardened cock. I adjust it, ensuring it sits just right, a terrible symbol of his victory and my humiliation. My fingers tremble as I arrange the cloth, the fabric rough against my skin.
I step back, taking in the sight. His cock is a monstrous thing, looming and grotesque, a symbol of my forced servitude. It's a sight that makes my stomach churn, but also sends a thrill of arousal through me, a reaction I despise. My body is betraying me, reacting to the male presence, to the goblin pheromones.
"Make way! Make way! Here comes Grokk the Grand, spawn of Griznak the Gruesome, fruit of the legendary loins of the original Griznak himself!"
(simple_option:"08 grokk","Grokk enters.")(pic:"status/grokk.png","right","borderless")($lorebook_entry:"Grokk","people"), the unmistakable figurehead of the Griznak Gobboree, shoulders his way into the room, announced by the shrill, incessant proclamation of his personal scribe.
Grokk's larger-than-life figure fills the room. He stands head and shoulders above Snib, his barrel chest heaving, straining against the regal, gold-embroidered loincloth that leaves very little to the imagination.
Grokk's beady eyes lock onto Snib, his large green fist tapping his meaty thigh in rhythm with his words. "Snib, you enjoy my gift?" His guttural voice cuts through the cavernous space like a crude blade.
Snib bows low, exposing the top of his shiny, bald head. "Yes, Chief Grokk, the gift... very good."
The lascivious grin on Grokk's face deepens, turning his gaze on me. His eyes travel up and down my barely concealed figure, lingering on my heaving breasts and between my legs. The appreciative hum he emits sends a shudder of revulsion coursing through me, a feeling I can't suppress. My skin crawls under his gaze. I feel violated. Exposed.
"Your Tit-bitch fought well. Soft but... fierce." The lewd comment hangs in the air between us.
My cheeks burn. My blood runs cold.
"I propose a wager, Snib." Grokk continues, ignoring my discomfort, "Tomorrow, Tit-bitch fights my slave. Winner takes all. If your Tit-bitch wins, I give you 2000 gold. If she loses..." His lewd grin widens, his eyes glinting with naked desire as he trails his gaze down my body. "I claim the right to breed her."
My heart pounds in my chest. Breed me? My stomach churns, revulsion courses through me. I feel like a commodity, a piece of meat up for auction. A breeding sow. The iron collar around my neck feels heavier, my cheeks hotter, and I feel the distinct stirrings of something deep in my core. Something I despise but can't control.
Snib extends his gnarly hand, taking hold of Grokk's forearm in a firm grip. The room falls silent as the two goblins perform their traditional pact - a binding, brutish gesture signifying the gravity of their agreement. Grokk's loud, grating laugh fills the tent, echoing off the walls before he strides out.
The moment they depart, the deafening silence is broken by my outburst. "You can't just... just trade me like I'm some... some piece of property!" My words, raw and desperate, hang in the stagnant air.
Snib turns his warty face towards me, an uncharacteristically serene expression on his face. My collar tightens around my neck, constricting my breath. I choke, gasping for air. But Snib just watches me as I collapse onto the tent floor. My bandaged body quivers, weak and trembling.
"No! You can't... you can't do this!" I struggle to get the words out between gasps, my hand clawing at the cursed metal around my neck.
But my protests fall on deaf ears. Snib remains unmoved, watching me as I writhe on the floor, my voluptuous body heaving and jiggling in the scant armor. His green, veiny schlong even hardens at the sight, a glistening bead of pre-cum seeping out of its massive, shiny head.
"Enough, cow tits!” His guttural voice slices through my cries, "Only if ye lose! If ye care so much, don't lose!"
His words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of me. I'm on my hands and knees now, the collar slowly loosening its deadly grip around my neck. My chest heaves as I gasp in ragged breaths, my tears mingling with the dirt and grime on the floor.
"Master..." I choke out, "Master, please..."
As if I could ever expect any sympathy from this horrid goblin, regardless of what gold I earn him.
His laughter rings hollow in the silence of the room. "When receivin’ a proper challenge like this, from the chief no less, I HAVE ta agree." His words are sharp, devoid of any warmth or empathy. "Fight hard, bitch. Grokk's spawn... well, they have been known to be too much for slaves' bodies."
My heart thuds painfully against my ribcage, his words echoing in my mind. I fall silent, my body curling into itself as sobs wrack my frame. It's too much. It's all too much. I'm nothing more than a toy, a pawn in their cruel games.
(simple_option:"08 sleep","That night...")The scent of animal furs fills my nose as I curl up on the far end of our shared bed, as far from Snib as possible. His raucous laughter echoes around the tent, his sick enjoyment of the day's spectacle clear as day. I'm wrapped up in bandages, feeling every ache and twinge in my body. I can't stop my mind from wandering to tomorrow, to what monstrous challenge I'll have to face.
There's also another, more insidious torment. It's been days since Snib forbade me to touch myself, and every nerve in my body is a tightly coiled spring. A hot, insistent throb pulses deep within me. I'm so wet, my pussy aching for some form of release. It's unbearable.
(simple_option:"08 ask","Ask for permission to masturbate.")($play:"ambience","gobboree muffled")I swallow my pride, turning to face Snib. "Master... may I...?" I trail off, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.($play:"sex loop",0)
"No." His voice is blunt, a cruel smile stretching across his warty face.
"But I... I need..." I stammer, my lower lip trembling. The weight of my humiliation, of my desperation, is almost more than I can bear.
He cuts me off, his laughter rumbling in his chest. "Only if I get to taste your little pussy."
Revulsion courses through me at his words, a shudder of pure disgust wracking my body. I feel bile rise in my throat, the thought of his thick, warty tongue on me... No. I can't. I won't.
"No." My voice is barely a whisper, but I can see his grin falter for a split second.
His eyes darken. But I turn away from him, a harsh sob ripping from my throat. "No," I repeat, louder this time.
My body writhes in the furs, caught in a torturous blend of desire and humiliation. I try to block out his grating laughter, his smug satisfaction. But it's impossible. It fills the tent, fills my mind, till there's nothing else.
($hidden_gem:"There's a tipping point in every struggle, a moment when the burden becomes unbearable. I feel it. The moment shatters inside me like glass, and I crumble beneath its weight.",
"There’s a tipping point in every trial, a threshold where the trouble turns too treacherous. I taste it. The tense turning shatters inside me like shards, and I succumb to its stark severity.")
There's a desperate plea in my voice when I finally say it, the words dripping with a shame I never thought I'd know.
(simple_option:"08 lick","...fine.")($play:"sex loop","cunnilingus")My heart races in my chest, thudding against my ribs with each beat. The dull throb between my legs transforms into a sharp, painful pulse, echoing my body's desperate cry for release. My throat is dry, and I swallow hard, tasting the bitter bile at the back of my mouth.
Tears spring to my eyes, the hot salty drops rolling down my cheeks. The back of my hand brushes against my nose, catching a tear before it falls. I want to scream, to shout, to lash out, but all I can do is curl up, my body shaking with suppressed sobs.
The image of Elara's smiling face flashes in my mind, and I feel a pang of guilt deep in my chest. She wouldn't understand, wouldn't forgive me. But the need is unbearable, a sharp, gnawing ache deep within me. It's a physical torment, a desperation so intense I can barely breathe.
A nauseating wave of self-loathing washes over me. I've been reduced to this, a needy, desperate woman begging a goblin for pleasure. The humiliation is scorching, an inferno that consumes me from the inside out. It's a new low, a depth of despair I've never known.
With a hideous delight, Snib drags me to the edge of the pile of furs. He lifts my ass, my body poised on my knees, my G-cup tits mashed into the animal hides. His rough, warty hands grip my wide hips, pulling my ass cheeks apart. I can feel his hot, fetid breath against my exposed pussy, the moist puff of air causing me to shudder in revulsion.
Every sensation is magnified, a tormenting symphony of disgust and arousal. The heat of his breath seeps into the folds of my pussy, tickling the sensitive flesh. My body betrays me, my pussy clenching and throbbing in response. I feel the wetness trickling down my thighs, a damning evidence of my body's betrayal.
The scent of my own arousal is musky and sweet, a distinct contrast to the earthy smell of the animal furs beneath me. It's a reminder of my base need, a physical manifestation of my desperation. I try to ignore it, to block it out, but it's as relentless as the throb between my legs.
His disgusting voice slices through the silence of the tent. "You're a needy slut," he sneers, the words slapping against me like a physical blow. His laughter ripples through the air, filling the space around me with his triumphant gloating.
Snib's rough, warty fingers dig into the pale flesh of my ass, pulling my cheeks apart again. There's an odd sensation of cool air brushing against my pussy, foreign and disconcerting. A humiliating gasp escapes my lips as the delicate folds of my cunt open to the frigid air. It's an intimate exposure I'm not used to, a breach of the masculine boundary I had once known.
"Never seen a cunt so wet," Snib cackles, the sound piercing the tense air like a wicked barb. His words fill me with dread, an awful sense of vulnerability that spreads from my exposed core to the rest of my body. I feel more like a woman in this moment than ever before, a pitiful contrast to my former glory as Aldric.
The feeling of having a pussy, a gap between my legs that yearns and aches, is alien to me. It's an unwelcome void, a vast chasm that echoes with the remnants of my lost virility. I remember the weight of my cock, the pride in my masculine prowess.
There's a noise that cuts through my thoughts, a wet, obscene squelch as Snib toys with my pussy, opening and closing it with his cruel fingers. The sound resonates in my ears, a lewd symphony of my disgrace.
My black hair fans out around me, strands of it sticking to the damp fur below. It clings to my face, an uncomfortable, foreign, feminine sensation.
My pussy ACHES, throbbing in rhythm with my pounding heartbeat. It's an alien sensation, a physical response to my forced femininity. "That's a lot of cunt-slop," Snib taunts, each word laden with depraved glee.
Then, the moment I've been dreading arrives. Snib's thick, warty tongue snakes its way up my pussy, sending a bolt of sensation shooting up my spine. I let out a low whimper, my voice muffled by the furs I'm pressing my face into. Each lick sends waves of unwanted pleasure rippling through my body.
The heat is unbearable. Sweat trickles down the curves of my body, beading at the tip of my nose and rolling off my cheek. My skin is on fire, a stark contrast to the cold air that teases my spread-open cunt. The chill makes me shiver, my large tits jiggling with the movement, mashing and wobbling amidst their bandaged confines.
"Juicy," Snib cackles, and my heart drops. My breath hitches in my chest. His vulgar words shatter any remnants of my dignity, reducing me to nothing more than an object of his pleasure.
Then his tongue licks up the length of my pussy, hot and wet and utterly revolting. A jolt of something — disgust, humiliation, but also a shameful spark of pleasure — shoots up my spine. I try to stifle a whimper, pressing my face into the furs. The softness of the fur against my cheek is a stark contrast to the rough, brutal treatment of my pussy.
Heat floods my body, flushing my skin as sweat trickles down my body. I can feel droplets rolling down my cheeks, pooling at the base of my neck, soaking into the bandages binding my massive tits. They're uncomfortably warm, mashed into the furs, a wobbling mass of softness in their tight confines.
My pussy throbs in rhythm with the licks of Snib's thick, clumsy tongue. Each stroke of his tongue sends sparks of sensation ricocheting through me, building a wave of tension. It's a lewd dance, an indecent rhythm that sends the blood rushing in my ears. The sparkles of pleasure are becoming a wave, a tide of tension that builds and builds within me.
(simple_option:"08 spank","He spanks you.")($play:"sound","spank 1")Snib's cruel hands give my ass a harsh smack, the sharp sting causing me to gasp. My ass cheeks jiggle, my whole body trembling with the force of the spank. His face burrows deeper between my cheeks, his thick tongue delving further into my exposed pussy.($play:"sex loop","cunnilingus")
The sensation of his tongue against my folds is foreign and unsettling, a violation of a part I'm not used to having. Yet my body reacts, the tension within me winding tighter and tighter with every intrusive lick. A low moan escapes my lips, my voice muffled by the furs. The sounds I make are indecent, humiliating, yet I can't stop them. They fill the air, joining the squelching sounds to create a chorus of my submission.
Each lick, each slurp, sends a shockwave of sensation through me. The feeling is overwhelming, a whirlwind of emotions and sensations that leaves me dizzy. The pleasure grows, the wave getting bigger and bigger. It's a tsunami of tension, looming and threatening, promising to crash down and engulf me in its terrible, unwanted ecstasy.
The ferocity of Snib's assault on my pussy grows, his tongue lashing against my throbbing, wet folds. It's a relentless rhythm, one that spirals my senses into a vortex of obscene sensations. The heat is unbearable, a fiery pulse that matches the lewd cadence of Snib's tongue.
The sounds I'm making... God, the sounds! They're an echo of my submission, a symphony of carnal surrender. Each moan, each gasp, serves as a testament to my unraveling. They're the crude language of my body, raw and undeniable. I hear them ricocheting off the canvas walls of the tent, taunting echoes of my humiliation.
I can't help it, can't quell the torrent of moans that spill from my lips. They're a dam that has broken, releasing a flood of shameful, guttural sounds. They're primal, elemental, a fundamental expression of helpless female pleasure that I'm experiencing, truly, for the first time.
I understand now. The moans, they're a signal, an instinctual reaction to pleasure. They are a surrender, an invitation. I feel the concept fully now, an understanding that sears into my mind with every stifled cry and whimper that escapes my lips.
The pleasure consumes me, a tidal wave of sensation that swells with each invasive lick. I feel it in every nerve ending, a tumultuous storm that upends my world. It's an awful ecstasy, one I wish I could quell. But it's there, inside me, swelling, expanding, an orb of sensation that pushes against the confines of my body.
"Good girl," Snib leers, his voice a grim reminder of my disgrace. The compliment is like a slap to the face, a cold gust of reality that tears through the veil of pleasure. But it does nothing to halt the impending climax, the powerful surge of release that threatens to crash over me.
The pleasure builds and builds, like a symphony reaching its crescendo. It's a dizzying whirl of sensation, a carousel of lewd thoughts and unwanted arousal. I moan louder, my cries full, uninhibited. They fill the tent, haunting refrains of my fall.
With every lick, every thrust of his rough, warty tongue, the tension spirals higher and higher. It's a cruel crescendo, an awful climax that looms on the horizon. The wave is coming, and I know, with a shudder of fear and anticipation, that I won't be able to outrun it.
(simple_option:"08 orgasm","Cum like a bitch.")Suddenly, without warning, it strikes. ($play:"sex loop","cunnilingus")
A crescendo of sensation, an explosion of pleasure that detonates at the core of my being. The sensation is so powerful, so intense, that my vision blurs, my eyes crossing as the earth-shattering climax takes hold. It's a physical shockwave, rippling outwards from my pulsating pussy, tearing through my body with devastating force.
The cry that tears from my throat is raw, primal, a squeal of surrender that bounces off the canvas walls of the tent. It's a testament to my defeat, my submission, my transformation. I'm no longer Aldric, the mighty warrior of Eboncrest. I'm Elise, the Goblin's pet, moaning and writhing in pleasure under the relentless assault of Snib's eager tongue.
As I convulse in the throes of the powerful orgasm, my heavy, G-cup breasts sway wildly under me, the bandages straining, tearing, and finally giving way. My tits spill out, bouncing freely, slapping against the fur with each violent shudder of my body.
The sounds are debauched, obscene, the kind of sounds no proud warrior should ever make. The squelching, the wet slurping as Snib eagerly laps up my pussy juices, the mewling cries torn from my throat, they all blend into a lewd symphony of my submission. My body betrays me, the powerful orgasm causing my pussy to squirt, the stream of cunt juice shooting out behind me, painting the furs beneath me.
My thighs tremble, the muscles straining under the violent shudders that tear through my body. They're slick with sweat, the skin glistening in the dim light of the tent, the muscles twitching with each convulsive wave of pleasure.
($hidden_gem:"Every nerve ending feels alight with sensation, a barrage of feeling that threatens to overwhelm me.","Each electrified ending erupts in ecstasy, a barrage of bliss that builds, binding my being.")
I feel every lick, every slurp, every gulp as Snib drinks me in, his leering presence a constant reminder of my disgrace.
My mind is a whirlwind of sensation, my thoughts consumed by the pulsating pleasure that seems to be tearing me apart from the inside. It's an unbearable ecstasy, a crescendo of arousal that leaves me breathless, gasping, mewling into the furs.(live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop",0)]
The climax is all-consuming, a tidal wave of pleasure that crashes over me, leaving me a quivering, gasping mess in its wake. I'm spent, utterly drained, my body aching with the remnants of the earth-shattering climax. I collapse onto the furs, my body heavy, the aftereffects of the orgasm still coursing through me.
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)In the wake of my climax, I'm a pathetic sight, my body sprawled on the furs, my once constricting armor replaced by torn bandages and glistening sweat. My thighs are slick with my own juices, the scent of my release filling the air. I feel hollowed out, sated yet defeated.
Snib's voice fills the tent, a grating, guttural sound that echoes in the stillness. "Ain't no hero no more, are ya, bitch?" he says, the cruel delight clear in his tone.
I can almost see the wicked grin splitting his warty face, the glistening eyes gleaming with sadistic joy.
"You're just a dumb cow, ain't ya? A dumb, jiggly cumdump. Squirtin’ everywhere."
His voice drips with mockery, every word a pointed jab at my fragile pride, a reminder of my debased state. I can almost see the triumphant smirk playing on his lips, feel his hot, rank breath brushing over my shivering, sweaty skin.
(simple_option:"08 end","You don't have the energy to respond...")I can't find the strength to respond, my body still quivering from the force of my climax. My mind's still a whirling mess of thoughts, each more confusing and disheartening than the last. My only reply is a whimper, a weak, pathetic sound that just seems to fuel Snib's delight.($play:"sex loop",0)
"What's that? Can't talk, huh? Good. I don't need you talking. You're here to obey, bitch. You hear that? Obey." His voice is low, menacing, the command leaving no room for argument.
I feel a shudder course through me, not from pleasure, but from fear. Fear of the control he wields over me.
"All that fighting in the pits, doesn't make you a warrior," Snib continues, his voice thick with derision. "You're just a bitch in heat. My bitch. And you're gonna start acting like one."
The thought is as horrifying as it is humiliating. I'm not a bitch. I'm a warrior. Or at least, I used to be.
"You'd better start behaving, you fat-assed tart. Until I release you from your curse, you're gonna obey me." His tone is matter-of-fact, as if he's merely stating the obvious. As if my servitude, my surrender, is a foregone conclusion. "The only reason I haven't bred you yet is 'cause I know you're gonna beg for it."
The denial springs to my lips instinctively. "No..." The word comes out as a whimper, a plea, hollow and empty in the wake of my recent climax. “…never.”
A vile chuckle, a pat on my fat, jiggling ass. The touch is almost comforting, in a twisted, perverse way. It's a promise. A prophecy. A harbinger of the debasement that is to come.
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, cow tits," Snib says, his words ringing in my ears as he retreats, leaving me lying there in a puddle of my own release, a pathetic, whimpering mess. As I hear the rustling of furs and the satisfied sigh of the goblin settling into our shared bed, I can't help but shudder, fear and loathing mingling with a perverse sense of satisfaction.
As I close my eyes, I can't help but think of the future, of the humiliations and degradation that surely await me. But I also think of freedom. Of Eboncrest. Of Elara. And I promise myself, I will resist. I can't let Snib break me. No matter what.
(simple_option:"09 begin","The next day...")($play:"ambience","gobboree muffled")(masteraudio:"stopall")(set:$gender to "female")(pic:"ch08/pit master.jpg","right")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","arena muffled")($chapter_title:9,"A Bitter Draught")In the half-light of the next dawn, the pit-master waits for us in his canvas-covered domain. Snib, his demeanor unusually sullen, stands before the pit-master’s hulking figure. The morning chill permeates the damp, dank interior of the tent, prickling against my scantily clad flesh. I am nothing more than an object in this world of crude exchanges and brutal combat.
The pit-master grins, revealing a jagged row of stained, yellow teeth. "Snib," he chortles, “Today your ‘Tit-bitch’ will face Krognar.”
Krognar? My heart sinks even further. It sounds like a troll name.
"He's Grokk's personal bodyguard," the pit-master continues, his voice heavy with suppressed mirth. "A mountain of flesh and muscle, standing over eight feet tall. No opponent has ever lasted more than a few minutes against him. He's crushed the skulls of hardened warriors with one swipe of his hand, snapped limbs like twigs. Rumor has it, he's a deserter from the Skullcracker Brigade, the most infamous troll warband in the East. A brutal monster, even among his brutal kin."
He chuckles at Snib’s expression, my master’s face paler than I've ever seen it. “Grokk's instructions were clear though. Krognar ain't to kill her. Seems Grokk wants your juicy morsel intact for breeding."
That revolting statement stops my heart. A hot wave of revulsion crashes over me, a tsunami of dread washing away all other thoughts. If I’m taken by Grokk… I’ll never get home to Elara. I’ll never get out of this collar. I’ll be birthing goblin whelps until it kills me.
I have to swallow back bile, my body trembling. I hate this. I hate them all. But I remain silent, staring at the ground, my cheeks flaming hot.
Snib bristles at the pit-master's words, his fists clenching at his sides. "This ain't a fair fight, it’s rigged. She's a fuckin’ human, not some indestructible beast."
The pit-master just chuckles, a coarse, unpleasant sound. "You got your fill yesterday, Snib. Now, it's Grokk's turn. She's your Tit-bitch, yes, but remember that the slave's fate is always in the master’s hands."
($hidden_gem:"There’s no hope for me in the arena, no hope for escape. There’s no way I could face a troll, in THIS body. My past life as Aldric the warrior, the legendary fighter from Eboncrest, feels like a distant dream now. A memory from another lifetime.","There’s no salvation in the stadium, no sanctuary of escape. There’s absolutely no way I could tackle a troll, in THIS flimsy frame. My previous existence as Aldric the adventurer, the illustrious icon of Eboncrest, seems like a faded fantasy now. A recollection from a renounced reality.")
“Let me use magic," I blurt out, ignoring the biting chill that makes my nipples tighten against the metal of my bikini armor. "If I could use magic—"
But Snib cuts me off, shaking his head. "It ain't allowed in the pits, Elise," he mutters, his eyes dark with worry. "It’s be a loss anyhow."
With that, he turns and leaves, his heavy footsteps echoing around the empty tent. I stand there alone, my heart pounding in my chest. The pit-master's cruel laughter rings out behind me, a grim soundtrack to my impending doom.
Tears blur my vision. I choke them back, forcing myself to breathe. To think. This isn't the end. It can't be. I won't let it. But as the tent flaps close behind Snib, the weight of my plight presses down on me, a thousand times heavier than any armor I've ever worn. And far, far more terrifying.
(simple_option:"09 fight","Enter the arena!")($play:"ambience","arena")My boots sink into the coarse sand of the pit, my heart pounding with dread and determination. The mocking cheers of the goblin spectators cascade around me, their words vile, degrading. Once again, they call me 'Tit-bitch' and their laughter is a sickening harmony to my fears.($play:"sound","troll")
I raise my eyes, past the jeering crowd, to the throne perched high above the pit. Grokk sits there, lord of this disgusting spectacle, grinning with vile anticipation. My eyes narrow, my stomach clenches. If I survive this, it will be for Elara, not for his twisted enjoyment.
(pic:"ch09/krognar.jpg")
But my imminent opponent is what truly commands my attention. ($lorebook_entry:"Krognar","people"), the troll, a beast of truly hideous proportions. He towers over me, over eight feet of scarred muscle and bone. Each ridge and fold of his flesh looks like it's been carved from stone, his skin a grotesque patchwork of battle marks. His arms are grotesque tree trunks, capped with hands that have the strength to snap a warrior's skull like a ripe melon. His eyes are coal-black, filled with the promise of violence and blood.
His chest rumbles with a guttural growl that reverberates through the sand beneath my boots, a horrifying war drum to the cacophony of the crowd. This isn't just a troll. This is a troll war machine, a Skullcracker deserter, the kind of monster that has haunted my nightmares since I was Aldric.
My hands tighten around the wooden spear I took from the Wailing Widow. It's heavy, sturdy, the wood smooth from use and time. Against Krognar's monstrous bulk, it feels about as significant as a toothpick.
The weight of my G-cup chest seems suddenly heavier in my metal bikini top, the high-waisted armor biting into my hips as I brace myself, making my lush figure a startling contrast against the troll's grotesque physique. My ass jiggles slightly with the shifting of my stance, the sensation feeling foreign to my warrior's instincts, alien against the muscle memory of my former male self.
There's a ripple of excitement through the crowd, a shift of energy in the air that sinks heavy in my belly. I look around the pit, my eyes searching for anything, any small advantage. But all I see is sand, the high walls, the jeering crowd.
A pang of despair courses through me but I force it down. My body is unfamiliar, yes, but the mind of Aldric, the legendary warrior, still resides within.
With a huff, I pull my raven-black hair back from my face, quickly tying it in a high, tight knot. It whips around me like a dark curtain as I move, getting it out of my way. But even in this dire moment, I cannot ignore the odd sensation of its weight lifted from my shoulders, another reminder of this damned transformation.
The crowd roars louder, the fight about to begin. I square my shoulders, grip my spear tighter, and take a deep breath, readying myself for the monster before me.
My thick thighs strain against the metal bikini bottoms as I begin to circle Krognar. His beady eyes watch me, amusement clear on his hideous face. His laughter, a gurgling, sickening sound, grates against my ears, his gaze crawling over my jiggling body like a filthy touch.
The sharp crunch of my metal stiletto heels on the gritty sand cuts through the crowd's raucous jeering. Each step is deliberate, my footwork precise even in these absurd boots. I can feel my wide hips sway, my large ass bouncing lightly with each step. Every movement causes my ample breasts to sway and jiggle beneath the restrictive metal bikini top, a sensation I'm still adjusting to. My body is a strange, lewd spectacle in this grotesque theatre. Deep down, past the layers of voluptuous flesh and the shell of femininity, the mind of a seasoned warrior pulses with anticipation.
Over the jeering crowd, the announcer's next lewd comment cuts through the air, crude words about my body and my chances in the fight. The crowd's laughter burns into my skin, their gaze feasting on my body. My skin crawls under the weight of their stares. The plushness of my body, its softness, feels like a mockery in this brutal setting. I'm not a hardened warrior's body, but a curvaceous, voluptuous form meant for their lewd enjoyment.
But that doesn't mean I'm helpless.
(simple_option:"09 assess","Assess your enemy.")I keep my eyes trained on Krognar, the troll's amusement feeding my determination. My grip tightens on the wooden spear, the weapon's weight reassuring in my hand. The wood is sturdy, and the tip sharp, a valuable asset against the brute in front of me.
Krognar's towering body is a fortress of muscle and scarred skin, a formidable defense. But every fortress has its weaknesses. Every breath he takes, every shift of his weight, the way his hulking body moves, I take it all in. I'm looking for a crack in his armor, a weakness in his defenses, anything I can exploit.
The sight of the monster before me is daunting, but I push the fear aside. I need to keep him at a distance, to use my spear to my advantage. I'm not as strong or as big as I used to be, but I still have my agility, my speed. I need to play this smart. I need to survive, for Elara. For myself.
Every time Krognar shifts his weight, his massive body sways, causing his meaty stomach to jiggle. A slow target. His movements are sluggish, the troll's large frame clearly not built for speed. I watch his flat feet shuffle across the sand, leaving deep imprints with every step. A lack of agility. Two points I can exploit.
But it’s not enough, not with my voluptuous body limiting my movements, my massive tits and wide hips throwing off my balance. My once firm warrior muscles have softened into plush flesh that jiggles at the slightest movement.
My strategy starts to take form. Speed and deception, that's how I’ll win this.
I force my mind to view my body not as a curse but as a weapon, a diversion. I can distract him. Krognar's beady eyes keep falling to my jiggling breasts, his disgusting leer widening every time my tits sway with my movements. A distraction.
I take a deep breath, drawing myself up to my full height, and my breasts thrust out, straining against the restrictive metal top. Krognar's eyes follow the movement, and I see my chance. If I can keep him focused on my body, on the jiggling and swaying, I can catch him off guard.
With the crowd's jeering fading into background noise, I force my attention back to my opponent. I twirl the wooden spear in my hand, testing its balance, feeling its weight. The reach of the spear is my only physical advantage here. I need to keep Krognar at a distance, poke and prod at him, find that weak spot.
I spring into action, closing the gap between us in a few quick strides. The sand shifts and slides under my stiletto boots, and I must fight to maintain my balance, my big ass jiggling with the effort. I lash out with my spear, driving the sharp point towards Krognar's massive torso. The troll casually swats the spear away with a bored grunt, my attack barely phasing him.
I dance back, breasts bouncing with the sudden movement, just as Krognar swipes lazily in my direction. I twist away, barely avoiding the blow. Despite his size, he’s faster than he looks. But he’s clearly not giving it his all, his sick grin telling me he’s enjoying the spectacle of me, trying to fight him in my metal bikini and high heels.
He's toying with me, waiting for the right moment to crush me like a bug. But every swipe, every growl, every movement, gives me information. Krognar is slow to retract his arms after a swipe, his enormous bulk limiting his agility. I keep darting in and out, launching a series of quick, jabbing attacks with my spear, studying his movements, finding his rhythm.
My spear whistles through the air, my body moving with a mind of its own, my warrior instincts kicking in. One of my thrusts grazes his chest, drawing a thin line of black blood. It’s not much - his hide is thick and tough - but it's a start.
A chorus of laughter echoes from the stands, and I glance up to see Grokk, comfortably seated on his throne, chuckling at my efforts. But I ignore him, focusing on the task at hand.
Sweat trickles down my back, the salty droplets following the curve of my spine, disappearing into the small of my back. The fight has barely begun, and I can already feel the strain in my muscles. But I can't afford to stop. I can't afford to lose. I need to find a way to bring this monstrous troll down, and fast. My eyes flit back to Krognar, his amused smirk inciting a surge of determination within me. I ready my spear for another attack, my resolve hardening. I will bring this troll down, one jab at a time.
The goblin announcer's grating voice fills the air, his crass words bouncing off the walls of the arena. "Looks like our Tit-bitch is trying to poke Krognar to death. You're going to need more than that to scratch our champion, love," he jeers, setting off another round of raucous laughter from the crowd.
(simple_option:"09 attack again","Attack again!")My chest heaves with exertion, the weight of my breasts pressing against the constraining metal bikini, my heavy breathing causing them to jiggle obscenely. Yet, there's no time for self-consciousness - I have a battle to fight.
Determined, I rush at the troll again, my spear arcing through the air. Krognar deflects my attack with a swing of his massive arm, the impact reverberating down my spear and into my hands. I quickly recoil, using the momentum to pivot away from his retaliating swipe.
"I hope you're not tiring out, Tit-bitch. You haven't even made him sweat yet," the announcer chimes, his cackling laughter mingling with the jeers of the crowd. But I ignore him. I'm starting to learn Krognar's movements, the rhythm of his attacks and defenses. I just need to keep pressing, keep prodding, keep pushing.
(pic:"ch09/footwork.jpg")
I dive forward again, feinting an attack to his midsection before switching at the last second to aim for his knee. But he's too quick, his foot stomping down and causing me to misstep. I stumble, my high-heeled boots sinking into the soft sand.
"Watch your step, Tit-bitch. We wouldn't want you to twist an ankle," the announcer jibes, and the crowd roars with laughter. I grit my teeth, quickly righting myself, my wide hips swaying with the effort. This isn't going as planned, but I need to adapt. I need to be creative. So, I decide to change my strategy.
Rather than using my spear for direct attacks, I start to use it as a vaulting pole. I run at Krognar, planting the butt of my spear in the sand. Using the leverage, I vault upwards, aiming a sharp kick towards his head with my steel stiletto boot.
The surprise tactic pays off. My heel connects with a solid thud, leaving a bloody gash on Krognar's cheek. He reels back, clutching at his face, a guttural roar of pain and fury echoing throughout the arena. The crowd goes silent, their jeering laughter abruptly cut off.
"Oh, it seems Tit-bitch has some fight in her after all," the announcer states, a note of surprise in his voice. But there's no time to savor the moment. The success of my attack has enraged Krognar, and he's no longer laughing. Now, I've really got a fight on my hands.
Krognar is a monolith of malice, a titan of muscle and savage strength, a twisted parody of nature's grand design. His body is a grotesque blend of corded muscle and raw, bulging flesh, a clear testament to a life marred by unrelenting brutality. The sight of him is enough to strike fear into the heart of the bravest warrior, and standing here, my jiggly G-cup chest heaving with breathless anticipation, my stomach knots in fear.
I see the rage ignite in his eyes, replacing the previously bored amusement. The change is terrifying, his towering figure somehow growing even more imposing. His roar is deafening, rattling me down to my bones. "Well, ain't this a sight!" The announcer's voice booms, the excitement in his tone adding to my trepidation.
The troll charges, the ground trembling beneath his weight. Panic flares in my chest as I turn on my stiletto heels, my wide hips swaying with the abrupt movement. My long raven hair whips around as I start to run, heart pounding, adrenaline surging.
"Run, Tit-bitch, run!" The goblin announcer's voice follows me, echoing in the arena. The crowd is screaming, some laughing, the noise a deafening backdrop to my desperate evasion. My scant armor offers little protection against the rampaging troll, my voluptuous body a soft target for his murderous rage.
(simple_option:"09 run","Run!")Every step sends an agonizing jolt up my legs, the sand slipping beneath the metal soles of my boots, making my escape more difficult. My thighs burn with the exertion, my ass bouncing with every panicked stride. His enraged roars are growing louder, closer. Fear tastes bitter on my tongue as I try to outpace the hulking beast. (set:$se_to_stop to "break a leg")(display:"stop sound effect")
I attempt to twist away from an incoming blow, but my high heels catch in the sand. My heart pounds against my chest, a wild bird desperately trying to escape its cage, as I see Krognar's huge fist come swinging towards me. There's no time to dodge. No time to do anything but brace myself.
The hit lands hard and brutal, sending me flying through the air. The world blurs as I tumble over the sand, the wind is knocked out of me. I finally skid to a stop, groaning, my body aching from the harsh impact.
For a moment, the arena is silent. And then, the crowd goes wild. Cheering, laughing, the noise is deafening. "And there goes Tit-bitch! Looks like our champion isn't holding back anymore!" the announcer crows, his words a sickening echo in my ringing ears. I grit my teeth, a defiant glare directed at the troll standing over me, my voluptuous body sprawled across the sandy floor.
The wooden shaft of my spear lurches upwards as I jab at the troll's underbelly, aiming for a soft spot in the creature's bulging flesh. A painful roar bursts from its maw as the tip of my weapon connects. But my victory is short-lived.
Krognar's meaty fist slams downward, and instinct takes over. I roll, narrowly avoiding the blow that would surely have crushed me. Springing to my feet, I retaliate - a hard, brutal strike with the sharp heel of my metal boot to his foot. Again, he roars. But the fury in his eyes promises retribution.
I twist my hands around my spear, bracing myself for the onslaught. But the troll is faster, his massive hand batting away my weapon with terrifying ease. A guttural roar erupts from the crowd. I hear the goblin announcer's crude commentary over the roar, but it's distant, muffled.
In the split second I have to react, I dive out of the troll's reach, narrowly evading another bone-crushing blow. But my luck runs out. Before I can recover, Krognar's massive fist slams into me, sending me sprawling in the sand once again.
I see his massive foot moving towards me. My mind is screaming, 'Move!', but my body isn't obeying. And then it happens.
(simple_option:"09 break","He breaks your leg...")(pic:"ch09/krognar.jpg")(live:1s)[($play:"sound","break a leg")(stop:)]An animalistic scream tears from my throat as the white-hot pain sears through me, reducing my world to nothing but agony.
But Krognar isn't done. He grabs my other leg, and my mind whirls with the memory of the first bone shattering. I can't. I can't take it again. I struggle, I plead. But the troll's grim expression doesn't waver as he delivers another sickening snap.
Pain floods my senses, an unrelenting torrent of agony that drowns out everything else. Tears stream down my face, mixing with the sand and grime on my cheeks. My ears ring with the ecstatic cries of the crowd and the goblin announcer's merciless commentary. My vision blurs and my breaths come in ragged gasps.
Finally, I feel the troll let go of my shattered legs. I try to drag myself away, but the effort is too much. My body fails me, giving in to the pain. My eyes flutter shut, the roaring crowd and the harsh floodlights fading away as I surrender to the darkness.
(simple_option:"09 fall","You fall unconscious.")(pic:"ch09/shaman.jpg","right")($play:"ambience","gobboree muffled")I wake up to a world of pain. (set:$se_to_stop to "break a leg")(display:"stop sound effect")
Every inch of me hurts, the throbbing in my broken legs a pulsating drum beat, echoing a cadence of agony that numbs all other senses. My throat is dry, parched, aching from the cries of pain that must have been torn from it. The scent of herbs and healing salves assaults my nostrils.
My eyelids feel heavy, resisting the urge to open. When I finally force them to part, a blinding flood of light sears my retinas. I squint, trying to adjust to the brightness. After a few seconds, shapes start to form. The sight of my legs, awkwardly held together with crude splints and wrapped in rough, green goblin cloth, sends a fresh wave of pain ripping through me.
"I... where am I?" My voice, hoarse and strained, feels alien to my ears.
"Ahh, the Tit-bitch awakens." The source of the voice steps into my line of sight. A goblin, clothed in strange, worn out rags and holding a staff topped with a pulsating crystal, his wrinkled, green face is etched with cruel delight. "You're in Chief ($lorebook_entry:"Grokk","people")'s tent."
Grokk? A fresh wave of terror washes over me. My heart pounds in my chest as I try to sit up, but I can't. There's something holding me down. A chill runs through me as I look around. I'm stuck in a strange contraption, a rack of some kind.
"Why... why can't I move?" Panic seizes me, a bone-chilling dread that grips my heart.
"Ah, this," the goblin shaman motions to the device, his expression twisted into a malevolent grin. "This is a breeding rack, dear. For your comfort and convenience, of course."
"Breeding rack?" My voice is a choked whisper, horror slicing through me like a blade.
($hidden_gem:"The rack is a crude but effective apparatus. A sturdy wooden beam keeps my arms bound, and ropes keep my legs splayed wide. My body is laid bare, my pussy exposed to the open air. I'm naked, vulnerable. A cold, cushioned platform supports my back, its surface harsh against my tender skin. It's humiliating, degrading.","The rack is a crude contraption, cunning and cruel. A stout, sturdy wooden beam binds my arms, ropes spread my legs in submissive splay. My body is bared, my pussy fully presented to prying perusal. I'm naked, vulnerable. A cold, cushioned platform painfully props my back, its surface unyielding, unpleasant against my tender skin. It's humiliating, degrading, demoralizing.")
(pic:"ch09/breeding rack.png","center","borderless")
"Wh-what are you talking about?" I rasp, my voice barely audible.
"Two days," he says, his voice dripping with a twisted satisfaction. "You've been out for two days. Your legs, they're almost fully healed. Goblin magic, see?" He chuckles, his tone one of perverse pride.
I barely register the words, my mind stuck on the phrase he used earlier. "Breeding rack?" I repeat, my voice hollow. The room seems to spin. A breeding rack?
"Ah, yes. Keeps you in the perfect position for when you're ready," he says, as if discussing the weather. "For Grokk."
"No... no, no, no," I mumble, desperately shaking my head. I'm not some breeding sow. This isn't happening. This can't be happening.
But it is. The cold reality hits me like a punch to the gut. I'm trapped. Even if I could free myself from this horrific rack, my legs are useless, broken.
I rattle against my bonds, but it's futile. The laughter of the goblin shaman rings in my ears, echoing my despair.
"Chieftain Grokk!" The tent flap parts, and Grokk, the hulking goblin king, steps into the dimly lit space.
(pic:"status/grokk.png","right","borderless")Grokk is a behemoth of a creature, even amongst his kin. His massive, barrel-chested figure looms over the cramped enclosure, an imposing silhouette that threatens to fill every nook and cranny of the tent. The gruff, commanding figure is draped in royal furs and metals, announcing his authority to all who dare look his way.
He casts an appreciative gaze over me, his eyes lingering on my naked, vulnerable form. I shrink under his lecherous gaze, my skin prickling under his obvious evaluation.
The shaman, Grouz, shuffles closer to Grokk. "A perfect specimen, my lord,” he croaks. “Perfect in every way. Her hips are wide, designed for birthin' goblin pups. Her virginal pussy untouched, a ready vessel for your seed."
“Hah. Snib never broke her in proper.”
My stomach churns at his crude words. My cheeks burn with a mix of anger and humiliation.
He steps closer, his gnarled fingers tracing the swell of my breasts. "And her tits... oh, the milk these will provide," the shaman says to Grokk, a vulgar grin spreading across his toothless mouth. "I'd estimate... two, maybe three gallons a day once the pregnancies hit full swing. The whelps need strong, nutritious milk, and she’ll be brimming with it."
*He's reaching to grope me...*
(simple_option:"09 grope","Struggle!","Try to stay calm.")(if:$choice is "Struggle!")[I squirm violently as the brute touches me, my body thrashing against the unyielding straps of the breeding rack, trying to evade his grasp. The rough material digs painfully into my skin as I wiggle and twist, but the restraints hold me firm. A whimper escapes me, but it’s drowned out by the harshness of my own labored breaths.
Grokk's eyes seem to glow with a malicious pleasure as he watches my fruitless struggles; his gaze on my exposed and vulnerable form only fuels my desperation. My chest heaves as I pant, drawing ragged breaths filled with the dank, musty air of the tent.
($change_stat:"grokk",-1)“Silence her,” Grokk commands gruffly, annoyance tinging his voice as he continues to appraise me like livestock.
Without missing a beat, Grouz shuffles closer, a filthy rag in his gnarled hand. As he approaches, I make one last futile attempt to twist away, my eyes wide with horror. But it’s no use—quick as a viper, he stuffs the rag into my mouth. The taste of mildew and dirt floods my senses, causing my stomach to churn with disgust. Tears spring to my eyes as I gag, my muffled cries vibrating pathetically against the cloth.
Grokk continues his examination without further hindrance. His large, rough hand gropes at my other breast, squeezing the sensitive flesh none-too-gently. I squirm under his touch, my eyes watering both from pain and humiliation, my muffled protests continuing behind the rag.
Grouz watches with a gleam of interest in his beady eyes. "There is one minor concern, Chieftain. She's not in heat yet. Her body is not ready for conception."
Grokk's fierce scowl deepens.
The shaman’s lips curl into a sly smile, "I suggest we start her on a regimen of gobble-goo. It'll prime her body for breeding quick enough,” he explains, the twisted joy in providing such a solution evident in his tone.
The chieftan steps back, giving me one more leering once-over before turning and exiting the tent, his heavy steps thudding ominously on the tent floor.
With Grokk gone, the shaman’s attention turns fully towards me. My heart pounds in fear as he approaches, his shadow falling over me ominously. Grouz produces a small, wickedly carved wooden totem, whispering dark incantations as his fingers trace sinister symbols in the air.
"Nighty night, my pretty," he hisses menacingly as he continues his chant. The heavy scent of old earth and something unnervingly sweet begins to fill the air, making my head swim. Dizziness assaults me, riding on the waves of fear and helplessness that crash through my mind.
I thrash against the restraints, my body convulsing in a last desperate attempt to escape the oncoming darkness that these incantations surely promise. But my strength is fading, leached away by whatever foul magic Grouz conjures. My struggles grow weaker, my muffled cries quieter, as an unnatural sleepiness begins to drag me down into the abyss.
As the world dims, the last thing I see is Grouz’s crooked smile, wide and victorious, as the darkness claims me entirely. The terror of what awaits when I awaken lingers, a silent scream echoing in the void.](else:)[Grokk grunts, his crude hand reaching out to cup my breast fully. The touch sends a shudder through me. I squirm, but the sturdy rack holds me firm. I feel the leather of the straps digging into my skin, confining my movements. My legs ache, the shattered bones protesting any movement.
He looks at me like a butcher would look at a piece of prime meat. A fresh catch, ready for breeding, ripe for the taking.
His gaze turns to Grouz, a question lingering in his eyes. Grouz clears his throat, "There is one... minor concern though, Chieftain. She's not in heat yet. Her body is not ready for conception."
Grokk raises a questioning eyebrow, his thick fingers still toying with my breast. Grouz continues, "I suggest we start her on a regimen of gobble-goo'. It'll prime her body for breeding quick enough.”
I blink, struggling to process his words.
Grouz grins, revealing his yellowing, decaying teeth. "A potent mixture, Chieftain. Three days of feed, and she'll be ready for you."
Grokk grunts, releasing my breast and stepping back. His lecherous gaze scans me one last time before he strides out of the tent, leaving me alone with the disgusting shaman and the unfamiliar fear of what's to come.
Grouz shuffles towards me, his hunched frame illuminated by the dimly flickering torchlight. He produces a small, wooden totem from the depths of his tattered robe. Carved in the likeness of some phallic deity, its hollow eyes seem to burn with an eerie, otherworldly light.
"Nighty night, my pretty," he rasps, a sinister grin twisting his sallow features. His fingers dance in a complex pattern around the totem, whispering unintelligible incantations under his breath.
My eyelids begin to grow heavy as he chants, a potent weariness seeping into my bones. Every sound seems to recede into the background, the world growing fuzzy around the edges. Even the relentless throbbing in my legs starts to fade, replaced by an encompassing warmth.
"Don't fight it, my dear," Grouz says, his words wrapping around me like a cloak. "This is a healing sleep. It'll restore your strength. You'll need all of it.”
I want to scream, to struggle, but the potent spell wraps around me, pulling me down into its warm embrace. My vision blurs, Grouz's grinning face becoming nothing more than a distorted smear of color.
The last thing I hear before I surrender to the heavy pull of sleep is Grouz's whisper, a lullaby from the depths of hell, "Rest now, pretty. Tomorrow, we begin."
Darkness wraps me in its welcoming embrace, my consciousness slipping away as the healing spell does its work. All that's left is the echoes of Grouz's chilling words.]
(simple_option:"09 funnel","You're in and out of a daze...")My eyes flutter open, a dull fog of confusion pulling at the edges of my consciousness. A slight crick in my neck, the harsh taste of something foreign on my tongue, and a steady, muted hum... what's going on?
The world snaps into focus. The leather cuffs grip my ankles, the splints feel stiff and cold on my shattered legs. My wrists are in similar restraints, held out to the sides. My heart kicks into overdrive, pumping adrenaline through my veins.
(pic:"ch09/tube 1.png","center","borderless")
But the most alarming sensation isn't the position of my body. It's the foreign object lodged in my mouth, thick and intrusive. Panic flutters in my chest as my tongue pushes against the rubbery end of it, each attempt to dislodge it only confirming how secure it is. I can't talk, can't shout for help. A leather strap around my face keeps it firmly in place, the cold material digging into the corners of my mouth.
Grouz's shadow stretches across the tent floor as he ambles in, a self-satisfied smirk on his ugly mug. He leans over me, a bony finger tracing the tube down to where it's strapped around my head. "That's a good girl," he croons, his sickly-sweet voice grating my nerves. "Keep it nice and tight now. You must be hungry."
Fear laces with a pitiful surge of nausea as I realize what he's saying. My first 'royal meal'. They intend to feed me through this... this thing in my mouth. The panic simmers in my chest, mixing with a potent cocktail of dread and disgust. But what can I do? I'm trapped, helpless in this breeding rack, my body on show for Grokk's perverse entertainment.
There's a rustle of heavy fabric at the entrance of the tent, a sound that jerks me back to full alertness. Grokk's broad form fills the doorway, flanked by two human females, their bodies outlined in the morning light streaming from outside. They are beautiful, their eyes lidded and heavy with lust, skin smooth and shining. Their bodies are draped in gauzy outfits, so transparent that it leaves very little to the imagination.
Grokk grins at them, eyeing their exposed flesh with a gleam in his eyes. He gestures towards me, his voice a low rumble that shakes the ground beneath me. “Girls, this is Elise," he announces, an underlying tone of pride in his words. "She's going to bear my pups.”
A chorus of excited coos follows his statement. The women look at me, their gaze flickering over my displayed body. The way they react, praising my form, it’s as if Grokk has presented them with a gift.
"She's perfect," they say, the tone of their voices almost envious. "She'll make a great mommy.”
(simple_option:"09 struggle","Try to struggle.")($play:"sex loop",0)Their words cause my stomach to churn, and I bite down on the rubber tube, but it only muffles my discomfort.
Grokk grins, scratching at his belly. "She isn't ready yet though," he says. The women frown, their brows furrowed in confusion. "She's not in heat."
They laugh at that, their sounds tinkling through the tent like sweet, high notes. They share a look between them, their cheeks flushed with laughter. They say, batting their eyelashes at Grokk, "We're always in heat."
Grokk laughs, a deep guttural sound that reverberates through the tent. He moves over to me, looking down at my exposed body. "You can help," he says to the girls. They tilt their heads, eager for his instruction. "You can help prepare Elise."
A cold shiver runs down my spine at his words. I'm stuck, unable to do anything more than listen to this obscene conversation unfold. The mirth in the women's eyes gives way to excitement, a sadistic spark ignited by the promise of a new game. I can only squirm, my voice stolen away, as I become the topic of their lewd dialogue.
Grokk points to the feeding tube secured in my mouth, the glistening rubber cruelly silencing any protest I might want to make. "Time for her first royal meal," he announces, his voice grating and gruff. "She's never tasted gobbo goo before."
The girls titter in response, their eyes lighting up with glee. It's like a grotesque, perverted version of tea time, and I am the unwilling guest.
Grokk continues, “her first serving needs to be big."
They respond with eager nods, their hands delicately reaching out to the cloth covering his waist. It falls away, revealing his monstrous, flaccid cock. The sight is enough to churn my stomach, dread seeping through my veins. I know what goblin cum does to women, the effect it has on their minds. The goblin seed is not just sperm; it's laden with potent pheromones that, when ingested, imprint on the brain. It’s a very hard effect to remove, taking months of medical attention and therapy.
These last few days, I haven't had access to Moonshade potion, my only shield against the mind-bending effects of goblin cum. My thoughts race and panic sets in, making my heart pound against my chest. The grim realization washes over me, and all I can do is watch in horror as the two girls move towards the awaiting funnel.
Grokk's massive, green cock lays between his legs. It's enormous, at least sixteen inches long and thick as a human forearm, its appearance both fascinating and repulsive. Veins bulge along its length, giving it a brutal, monstrous look that sends shivers down my spine. His cock head is a dark, angry orange, already drooling with viscous pre-seed. The sight of it is petrifying, my blood freezing in my veins.
The two slave girls hover over him, their expressions full of lascivious anticipation. One of them, a brunette with wavy locks that cascade down her back, bends down, her lips pressing against the goblin king's soft cock. A soft, cooing sound escapes her as she lavishes it with her affection. The blonde at Grokk's other side follows suit, her full lips puckering to plant delicate kisses up and down his length. Their nimble fingers explore the intimidating size of Grokk, causing it to twitch in response.
They start worshiping his cock...
(simple_option:"09 cock worship","Look away.","You can't help but watch...")(display:"grokk moans")($play:"sound","fill funnel")($play:"sex loop","tube trickling")(if:$choice is "Watch him cum.")[As the first real spurt of Grokk's potent seed spills into the funnel, my heart sinks with a dread realization: my fight is far from over.
My gaze flicks between the funnel, the tube lodged in my mouth, and Grokk's monster cock. It's pointed directly at the funnel's wide mouth, pulsating under the attention of the two slave girls. The stench of goblin lust permeates the air, a heady scent that makes my head spin. I watch, my heart pounding in my chest, as the blonde girl reaches under Grokk, her dainty hand cradling his heavy balls.
"Mmm, Grokk," she coos, her voice dripping with lewd enthusiasm. "Your balls are so full, I can feel it. You're gonna blow such a massive load."
The brunette girl, her fingers continuing to glide up and down Grokk's enormous shaft, adds in her own voice, breathy with anticipation, "Can't wait to see it. Shoot it right into the funnel. It's gonna be so hot."
My heart hammers in my chest, fear and disgust turning my stomach. The two girls are entranced, completely under the influence of goblin pheromones. Their minds are gone, consumed by an insatiable lust that I can't begin to comprehend.
The blonde takes a moment to spit into her palm, her hand glistening with saliva as she reaches to join her companion. Their hands move in harmony, stroking the massive cock in tandem, their slender fingers struggling to encompass its girth. Their soft, submissive murmurs and praises fill the room, a lurid chorus that accompanies the obscene sight before me.
The feeding tube is a cold, unyielding presence in my mouth, a vile tether connecting me to the imminent grotesque spectacle. I feel trapped, so utterly powerless. The sensation of the rubber against my tongue, the taste of it, is a cruel reminder of my plight. Each breath I draw is laced with the musk of the goblins, the primal, animalistic scent of arousal. It's suffocating, filling my nostrils and coating my throat.
I watch as the girls service Grokk, their delicate hands stroking him, their wet mouths whispering filthy praises. Their obedience, their eagerness, is terrifying. The sound of their hands sliding over his slick, engorged member echoes around the tent, adding another layer to my torment.](else:)[With my eyes tightly shut, I try to block out the abhorrent scene unfolding before me, but the sounds are impossible to ignore. The wet, thick noise of the girls' hands working Grokk's monstrous cock fills the tent, interspersed with their lewd giggles and lascivious whispers.
"Oh, Grokk, you're so full," coos the brunette in a singsong voice, her tone dripping with a perverse glee. "Listen to that, Elise. Can you hear how much he's throbbing? Just for you."
The blonde chimes in, her voice a sinful symphony of excitement, "He's pulsing so hard. Can you imagine all that thick goblin cum building up, ready to burst out?"
I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter, a futile attempt to shut out their words, but then I hear it—the unmistakable sound of Grokk's release. A heavy, wet splattering noise echoes off the walls of the tent as his seed hits the funnel.
"It's coming, Elise! Grokk's giving you a big one!" the blonde exclaims, her voice pitched high with exhilarated shock.
The sound is horribly visceral, the splashing and squelching of thick, viscous fluid filling the metal funnel. My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat from the auditory assault alone.
"Look at it go! It’s so thick and creamy!" the brunette giggles, her tone reveling in the degradation of the moment. "He’s practically pissing cum, it’s just pouring out!"
Grokk grunts heavily, the sound guttural and animalistic, adding a terrifying soundtrack to the already dreadful scene. The girls laugh, their high-pitched giggles mingling with the squelch of extra-thick semen filling up the funnel.
"His balls were so heavy, Elise! You should have felt them; loaded and ready to pump you full!" the blonde teases, her voice laced with inappropriate amusement.
The brunette adds with a snicker, "Oops, got a pubic hair in there too! That’s going to be a fun surprise when it gets to her."
I can hear the slap of their hands on his wet skin, each hit a nauseating reminder of what's coming toward me.
Driven by a morbid impulse, I finally open my eyes. The sight that greets me is a nightmare made manifest. Grokk's cum is indeed filling the funnel, a disgusting blob of slimy off-white sludge that’s undeniably pushing through the tube.
My breath hitches in my throat as I watch the thick goo slowly make its way through the transparent tubing, each inch it travels a tick of a terrifying countdown. The reality of it, seeing the amount of glistening, pungent seed meant for me, sends a cold wave of panic through me. The horrendous concoction draws nearer, gravity and Grokk's relentless ejaculation forcing it along the inevitable path into my mouth.
The girls are still talking, their voices overly bright and terribly loud in the tense air.
"He really was backed up, wasn’t he?" the brunette muses with a laugh, squeezing the base of Grokk’s shaft to milk out every last drop. "Just look how that fills up, Elise! It’s a river of cum!"
"Yes, all just for you, Elise. To make sure you're in heat so Grokk can breed you proper," the blonde adds, her tone mockingly sweet. "Aren't you lucky?"]
My mind races, thoughts whirling as I try to comprehend my predicament. I don't want this. I don't want to be forced to swallow goblin seed. Fear rises, a harsh lump in my throat that I can't swallow down. What will it do to me? Will I end up like those girls, lost to goblin pheromones, my mind reduced to a sexually obsessed shell?
A cold dread settles over me as I watch the girls coax Grokk closer to his climax. Each stroke, each lustful whisper, brings him closer to the edge, the sight of his cock twitching and throbbing a terrifying promise of what's to come. I watch as the first glob of thick, pearly seed spills from his cock, my stomach churning as it lands in the funnel. The grim reality of my fate echoes in the hollow pit of my stomach. This is just the beginning, and there's no way out.
($hidden_gem:"The squelching noises fill my ears, drowning out the frenzied beat of my heart. Grokk's cock, engorged to a monstrous size, throbs heavily in the girls' hands. Its drooling head is glossy and wet, twitching with every stroke they give it. Their chatter grows more feverish, their words slurred and heavy with arousal, as they pump faster, more eagerly.","The squishy sounds saturate my senses, silencing the swift thuds of my thudding ticker. Grokk's gargantuan girth, growing grotesque, gyrates gravely in the girls' grips. Its dripping dome dazzlingly drenched, dancing with every delicate drag. Their titters turn tumultuous, their throaty tones thick with throbbing thirst, as they tug tenaciously, more tirelessly.")
The terror gnaws at my insides, my body quaking with a primal need to escape, to get away from this obscene spectacle. My body tenses, straining against the soft but immovable restraints of the rack. The leather bites into my wrists, my ankles. My body jiggles with each futile struggle, my splinted legs aching with a renewed pain.
My frantic attempts to dislodge the feeding tube are met with failure. The thick rubber is lodged too deep, too secure. My tongue prods uselessly against it, my muffled cries echoing hollowly in my throat. My breaths grow harsh and ragged, the rubber taste of the tube making me gag.
I can feel every jiggle of my breasts, every shift of my hips, accentuated by the wide spread of my legs. I can feel the cold air of the tent on my exposed pussy, a cruel reminder of my vulnerable position.
Grokk's cock twitches, and my stomach drops. A bead of pre-cum, thick and milky, drips from the tip, landing in the funnel with a sickening plop. I watch, frozen in horror, as another drop forms, hanging precariously before it joins the first. My mind screams in protest, the reality of my imminent fate settling over me like a heavy shroud.
The girls' voices reach a fever pitch, their praises growing more explicit, more vulgar. They tell Grokk how much they want to see him blow his load, how they can't wait to see my belly swollen with his seed. The words are like a slap, each syllable a blow that hits harder than any physical strike.
(simple_option:"09 cant move","Try to struggle!")($play:"sound","fill funnel")($play:"sex loop","tube trickling")Grokk keeps cumming - even MORE now! It's like the last few spurts were just a precursor...
The next blast comes out in a thick, heavy jet, a steaming, off-colored stream that's so potent it misses the funnel entirely. It splatters across the tent floor, a grotesque display of virility that makes my stomach churn.
His balls tighten in response to the release, visibly shifting in the blonde girl's grasp. They both exclaim in surprise, their voices a heady mix of disappointment and encouragement, and hurriedly adjust the angle of his cock. They point it directly at the funnel, their hands working in a frantic, apologetic frenzy to correct their mistake.
My heart drops as the second spurt of cum lands directly in the funnel. It's a monstrous spurt, heavy and putrid, the curdled yellow substance plopping into the funnel like some horrendous pudding. The scent hits me then, a bleachy, tangy odor that's so intense it makes my eyes water.
The cum begins to travel down the tube, its consistency heavy and sticky, making its descent agonizingly slow. The tube is transparent, which only adds to my horror as I watch it fill. I can see each spurt of Grokk's seed, every thick, ropey strand of it, as it's pushed down the tube, carried by the weight of the semen following behind.
(pic:"ch09/tube 2.png","center","borderless")
It's the most disgusting, nightmarish sight I've ever witnessed. It feels like a grotesque version of an hourglass, each spurt of Grokk's cum a grain of sand counting down the seconds to my doom.
Grokk's ejaculations continue, each one a loud, virile announcement of his dominance. Each spurt is a proclamation, a declaration that he's the alpha, the king, and we are nothing more than his subjects.
His cock keeps pumping out those horrible ropes of cum, the girls milking him eagerly, their hands slick and shiny with his seed. Their praises fill the tent, their voices high and excited, lost in the throes of their pheromone-induced devotion.
As the tube continues to fill, the scent grows stronger, the bleachy odor intensifying. The first hint of the taste hits my tongue, an awful, bitter tang that makes me want to gag. The tube is only partway filled, but the sheer amount of cum Grokk has produced is already overwhelming.
My panic escalates, my mind racing as I try to find a way out of this. I can't take it, I can't accept this, I can't let this happen. But my body is immobile, my pleas silenced, my cries for help reduced to muffled whimpers.
There's nothing I can do but watch, helpless, as the tube continues to fill.
I see the yellowish sludge steadily sliding closer. The odor intensifies, making my eyes water. My stomach roils in disgust, but I'm unable to turn away. There's a cold dread pooling in my belly as the seconds tick away.
The sight of the off-white slime inching closer is mesmerizing in a horrifying kind of way. It's like a slow-motion disaster. My lips are sealed around the rubbery end of the tube, my throat reflexively closing off in a futile attempt to keep the impending invader out.
*This can't be happening!!!*
(pic:"ch09/tube 3.png","center","borderless")
(simple_option:"09 mouth","Tilt your head!","Attempt to blow air through the tube.","Try to close off your throat.")(pic:"ch09/tube 4.png","center","borderless")($play:"sex loop","tube drinking")(if:$choice is "Tilt your head!")[Desperate to avoid the inevitable, I try tilting my head to the side, hoping gravity will prevent the thick, vile cum from reaching my mouth through the tube. My neck strains against the movement, the muscles pulling taut as I push against the unyielding leather strap that holds my head in place. I can feel the tube shift slightly, but the rigidity of the setup is too much. The semen, thick and relentless, follows the curve of the tube unimpeded, moving ever closer to its target. My efforts are in vain, and dread fills me as I realize there's no escaping my feeding.](if:$choice is "Attempt to blow air through the tube.")[In a frantic bid for control, I attempt to blow air through the tube, thinking perhaps I can push the semen back up and away from me. My cheeks puff out as I exhale sharply, the force of my breath traveling up the tube. For a heart-stopping second, I imagine it might actually work, but then I feel the backdraft. The cum, heavy and thick, merely wobbles under the pressure before settling back down, continuing its relentless journey toward me.](if:$choice is "Try to close off your throat.")[As a last resort, I attempt to close off my throat, tightening every muscle in a desperate effort to block the passage. My jaw clenches, and I swallow repeatedly, trying to create a barrier with my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I canfeel the first touch of the cum as it contacts the blockade I've tried to form, but the pressure is too much. The cum begins to seep through the small gaps, the barrage of goblin seed too potent and plentiful to be held back by mere muscle contractions. Panic turns to horror as the realization dawns that I can't stop it; I can only brace for the flood.]
The first contact is nothing short of catastrophic. It lands on my tongue with a tangible splat, a droplet of creamy invasion that I feel in the very marrow of my bones. The flavor hits me like a punch to the gut, an obscene cocktail of salty, musky, bleachy semen that screams of Grokk's virility. It's soul-shattering. It's everything I don't want to feel, everything I don't want to taste, everything I don't want to experience.
It's wet, slick, and hot. So blisteringly hot. It's not just warmth, it's heat. A pulsating, fervid heat that carries the imprint of Grokk's insatiable lust. I can feel it, alive and wriggling, a teeming mass of life eager to spread, to conquer. It feels like it's squirming, writhing on my tongue as if each individual sperm is alive, kicking, fighting to fertilize the first thing it touches.
The consistency of it is a new level of degradation. The hot semen rolls onto my tongue, a sticky, gooey mass that has the audacity to be chunky. It's like a perverse soup, the thick broth dotted with curdled, heavier globs that just add to the vile texture.
Every second brings a new surge, each pulse of the tube forcing more of the repugnant substance into my mouth. It's a cruel parody of intimacy, a gross mimicry of the act of passion. This is not a lover's seed. This is the result of Grokk's grunting, brutish orgasm, a tribute to his goblin potency.
I try to resist, to push back against the torrent that's inching its way into my mouth, but it's useless. The sheer volume is overwhelming, steadily pushing against my closed throat, demanding to be let in. It fills my mouth, stretching my cheeks, invading my senses.
My cheeks are flushed, burning from the heat.
I try to hold it in my mouth, keep it from sliding down my throat. But the pressure is relentless, and with each passing second, the task becomes more impossible. The taste is so overpowering it's hard to think, hard to focus on anything else.
Despite my best efforts, I can't keep it from happening. The pressure becomes too much, the disgusting liquid threatening to spill from my lips. With a whimper of despair, I finally swallow for the first time.
The sensation of it sliding down my throat is one I'll never forget. The thick, sludgy substance leaves a burning trail in its wake, filling my stomach with warmth. I can feel it churning in my gut, its heat radiating through me.
With the first swallow, something shifts in me. It's subtle at first, but it soon becomes impossible to ignore. A foggy haze settles over my thoughts, dulling my senses. My body feels heavy, as though I'm sinking into the cushioned bench beneath me.
As the slimy goblin spunk continues to fill my mouth, and as I continue to swallow, the sensation grows. A tingling that starts in my skin and slowly spreads throughout my body. It's like I'm being filled from the inside, the virile cum seeping into every part of me.
I can't think. The taste, the smell, the warmth of it - it's all too much. The tent ceiling spins over my head, my body humming with a foreign energy that's both invigorating and terrifying.
The last burst of Grokk's cum dribbles into the funnel as his massive orgasm concludes. Even from a distance, the heady musk of his virility saturates the air, his goblin seed potently strong, stinging my nostrils.
(simple_option:"09 leave","Grokk leaves you alone with your 'meal'.")(pic:"ch09/tube 5.png","center","borderless")($play:"sex loop","tube drinking")Grokk, spent and flushed, yanks his loincloth back onto his colossal cock. He grunts, amused at my desperate plight, then exits the tent with one of his slave girls. The blonde one, her eyes half lidded and mouth curved into a coquettish smile, leaves with him, looking back over her shoulder to tell me, "Enjoy your meal, honey."
I'm left with the brunette, her curvaceous figure scantily dressed in a gauzy outfit that leaves little to the imagination. She lifts the funnel, securing it high on the bedpost, the tube still heavy with Grokk's potent sperm - I’ve hardly made a dent in the supply. Then, she crouches next to me, her eyes wide with sadistic excitement as goblin cum continues to pump into my mouth.
"Just relax," she coos, her voice drips with false empathy. "You're going to love it eventually, I promise. The taste of his gobbo goo… it's like nothing else. So potent, so virile."
Another dollop of goblin seed enters my mouth, my taste buds assaulted by its distinct flavor - heady, salty, bitter with a tangy, bleach-like aftertaste. It's nauseatingly hot. It's just been brewed in the goblin's hefty balls, and oozes onto my tongue in a sickening wave.
Overwhelmed, I choke, but the brunette just giggles, "Oh, you'll get used to it, darling. Take it slow."
The gelatinous texture sticks to my teeth, the roof of my mouth. The flavor is complex, potent, overwhelming. Salty, metallic, a hint of a pungent goblin aroma that fills my nose.
It invades my senses, my throat clenching as the next mouthful forces itself down. My stomach churns as the hot, wriggling mass settles there. But there's more to come, and the next mouthful is easier, the one after easier still.
The girl coos words of encouragement as I continue to swallow, "That's it, Elise. Swallow it all down. Savor the taste. Feel the heat of it, the virility. Mmm, so thick, so creamy. It's divine, isn't it?"
My mind is getting foggy as the pheromones work their insidious magic, my body growing increasingly hot. My nipples harden again against the cold air, my lower belly starts to thrum with unwanted arousal. The heat rises in my chest, a dull ache begins to form between my legs, a feeling I can't ignore.
Each swallow becomes more natural, more automatic. The flavor becomes less overwhelming, more familiar. Each mouthful brings an increase in my temperature, a fogging of my mind, an arousal of my senses.
All the while, the girl's voice is a constant background hum, her words starting to blur and fade into the background as the fog of arousal grows thicker, "Yes, Elise, that's it. Take it all in. It's not so bad, is it? You're doing so well... Smaller mouthfuls… bigger gulps…”
The wetness between my legs grows, a trickle of moisture slipping from my pussy. Arousal, not of my own making, forces itself upon me, making me squirm in my bonds. My skin flushes, a heat sweeping over my body, as the last bit of the goblin's seed slides down my throat. My nipples are pebbles against the cold air, my pussy aching, wet and wanting.
My body betrays me, my mind is in turmoil. The goblin's cum is a burning, wriggling mass in my stomach. It's seeping into me, changing me, marking me. His taste lingers in my mouth, the sickly-sweet scent of his seed fills my nose. The heat in my belly spreads to my chest, to my breasts, making my nipples tighten more, my pussy clench around nothingness.
But there's no release, no relief from the building tension. I'm trapped here, exposed, humiliated, filled with goblin seed. The taste of it lingers in my mouth, the memory of its heat, its texture, its potency forever imprinted in my mind.
The brunette's words become a distant echo as I lie there, panting, flushed. My mind is foggy, my senses overwhelmed. The heat of the goblin's seed burns inside me, marking me, branding me. I'm his now, whether I want it or not.
The pressure in the stream relaxes finally… I don’t even know how much I’ve consumed. Though my stomach has gone from empty to full, so it must have been a lot…
The brunette girl leans back, a satisfied smile on her lips as she watches me. Her eyes are wide, filled with perverse delight, "That's it, Elise. You did so well. You took it all in. You're one of us now. One of Grokk's girls."
I can only groan in response, the taste of Grokk's seed still strong on my tongue, the heat burning intensely in my belly.
I feel the brunette girl’s hands touch me, drawn to my heat between my legs, like a moth to a flame.
"Look at you. All ready and wet. Bet you're already halfway to being in heat." The words resonate within me, a perverse affirmation. A slow dread spreads, mingling with the mounting, unwanted desire.
Her fingers drift over my pussy, tracing a path through the wetness pooled there, and I gasp. The feel of her fingers against me, a jolt of electricity.
The brunette's thumb finds my clit and begins to stroke it in a circular motion. Her touch is gentle, yet insistent, and I can't suppress a groan, muffled by the tube still fastened to my mouth. My back arches off the cushioned platform, body jerking involuntarily.
"There you go," she croons, "just enjoy it."
She doesn't penetrate me - that, as she reminds me with a salacious grin, is Grokk's privilege. But her touch is enough to ignite a fire inside me. The heat from the goblin king's seed in my belly, the tormenting touch on my clit, it's a potent combination that makes my body react in a way I don't want it to. Each swirl of her thumb sends sparks shooting through my lower belly, tightening something deep inside me.
My legs, splinted and healing, tremble on their restraints. They're mostly healed, but the pain is still there, a dull throb that underpins the waves of unwanted pleasure. The pain is grounding, a tether in the overwhelming sea of sensation.
My body is on display, splayed out, voluptuous and bouncy as ever. My breasts, heavy and flushed with heat, jiggle with each labored breath I take. My nipples are hard under the chill of the air, goosebumps breaking out across my skin.
"You're going to make such a wonderful mommy to Grokk's pups," she whispers, her voice laced with a cruel, gleeful anticipation. Her words hit me like a punch to the gut.
The tension builds, a tempest in the pit of my stomach, and it's unbearable. My toes curl, my fingers grip the restraints. Every touch, every stroke, pushes me closer to the edge. It's a precipice I don't want to cross, but my body has other ideas.
My moans, stifled by the tube in my mouth, cause the last remnants of Grokk's seed to trickle into my mouth. Each drop, cooled by now, cements the reality of my situation. I'm being made ready, prepared for Grokk.
The brunette keeps up her steady rhythm on my clit, her fingers slick with my arousal. Each pass of her thumb fans the flames inside me. Each whispered word of praise twists the knife in my gut. It's obscene, perverse, and yet I can't ignore the pull of it.
As my body teeters on the edge, I feel an unstoppable force barreling towards me. A crashing wave, inevitable. My muscles tighten, an uncontrollable tension building, demanding release.
The brunette's touch becomes my world, my universe. It's just her fingers on my clit, just her words in my ears, and the taste of Grokk's seed in my mouth. That's when it hits me. My body convulses as the orgasm rips through me, tearing a squeal from my throat. It's a pathetic, desperate sound, muffled by the tube still lodged in my mouth. I bite down on it, the rubber yielding under the force of my clenching jaw.
(simple_option:"09 orgasm","Cum...","Resist the orgasm!")(pic:"ch09/tube 6.png","center","borderless")($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$choice is "Resist the orgasm!")[Desperately trying to hold onto any shred of dignity and control, I attempt to resist the overwhelming urge to climax.
The brunette's thumb continues its maddening circles on my clit, her other hand occasionally darting down to tease the entrance of my pussy.
"Trying to hold back, are we?" she taunts playfully. "I think you're enjoying this too much to stop now."
I grit my teeth, clenching every muscle in an effort to stave off the building wave of pleasure. My entire body tenses, fighting against the natural response to her skilled touches.
"You can try all you want, Elise, but we both know how this will end," the slave girl giggles, her fingers now slipping slightly inside.
My breath hitches, a small whimper escapes despite my efforts. The heat inside me rises, a burning, all-consuming fire that threatens to overcome my resistance. Each of her touches sends sparks flying through my nervous system, my body on high alert, sensitized to every little sensation.
I feel the goblin sperm leaking down my throat, alive and wriggling, the perverse warmth spreading from my belly to every extremity. It’s a sensation I can't ignore, a physical invasion coupled with a chemical onslaught that tears down my mental barriers.
The brunette whispers, "Relax, let it happen. It's *inevitable*, cutie."
($hidden_gem: "My resolve crumbles. A powerful, humiliating orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, unstoppable and brutal in its intensity.", "My mental fortitude falters. An auspicious, abasing avalanche of arousal assaults me like a relentless, raging river, ruthlessly and ruinously ravaging my resistance.")
I try to scream, but the goblin seed muffles my voice, my body convulsing under the strain of the climax. It's a squirting, shaking, utterly degrading eruption of pleasure paired with an intense clenching of my stomach around the nauseatingly warm load inside.
The sound of my juices hitting the floor mixes with their giggling. She scoops some of the goblin seed with her fingers, smearing it over my swollen clit, increasing the intensity of my spasms.
"There she goes!" cheers the brunette, her voice filled with a perverse glee as she watches me unravel under her ministrations.](else:)[Every muscle in my body contracts, my belly clenching tight around the heat of Grokk's seed. The taste of him, strong, potent, overwhelms my senses, further intensifying the powerful tremors shaking me. It's a pleasure twisted with humiliation, underscored by a bitter sense of despair.
I feel my pussy clenching, tightening, then releasing in a rush. The warm squirt of my juices hits the cold floor beneath me in a loud spatter. The brunette giggles at my display, her fingers still circling my overly sensitive clit. My body jerks at her touch, aftershocks of my climax making me twitch and shiver.
In the aftermath, I don't feel normal.
A languorous warmth spreads through me. It creeps along my veins, seeping into each muscle, each fiber of my being. I feel it in my belly first, a gentle heat that stirs low and deep.
I lay there, strapped and helpless on the breeding rack, my pussy still throbbing from the brunette's attention. My skin feels too tight, my curves too full. I'm a woman, a fact that seems absurd and foreign to me, mentally. Yet, I can't ignore the truth of my body, the evidence of my femininity etched in every inch of me.
The seed, thick and hot inside me, wriggles like a living thing. I can't help but imagine it, a million microscopic creatures swimming inside me, their virile potency awakening a primal response within my body. The thought both repulses and terrifies me, but there's an underlying curiosity there, a terrible fascination.]
My nipples tighten again, a sensation that sends a bolt of electricity straight to my groin.
A throb pulses deep within me, a low, heavy ache that feels rooted in my very core. It's a feeling that I can't quite place, a sensation that I can't properly name. My mind is foggy, my thoughts disjointed and chaotic.
The soft hum of my body feels like an inevitable surrender. The sensation is undeniable, unignorable, and yet, inexplicably tantalizing. I feel the pheromones doing their work, soothing the raging fury inside me, replacing it with a calm acceptance of my fate. A chemical seduction.
I lay there, my body slowly succumbing. My belly tightens.
As I lay there, I try to think of my hatred for the goblins. But somehow, the venom, the rage, it feels diluted, subdued. It's as if the seed inside me is tampering with my emotions.
($change_stat:"heroism",-25)A strange acceptance washes over me, a sense of being a small cog in the grand scheme of the natural order. It's a realization that feels horrifyingly inevitable, a submission to a destiny that I never asked for, and yet, find myself ensnared in. I'm not just Elise anymore, I'm a vessel, a breeding ground for the Goblin Chief’s offspring. And as I lay there, in the aftermath of my climax, I can't help but acknowledge the perverse reality of my existence.
It's a bitter pill to swallow, a gut-wrenching acceptance of a fate that feels entirely out of my hands. And yet, as I lay there, my body succumbing to the potent pheromones laced within the goblin's seed, I can't deny the dreadfully erotic undertone of it all. The heat, the ache, the readiness – it all feels so intensely feminine, so obscenely primal. And for all my despair, for all my rage, I can't help but shiver at the intensity of it all.
I feel alive, in a way that feels both terrifying and exhilarating. It's a wild, raw sensation that tears through me, leaving me breathless and overwhelmed. It's an intoxicating mix of fear, anticipation, and a strange, twisted arousal that I can't quite name.
As I lay there, warmth blossoming in my lower abdomen, I can't help but wonder – is this what it feels like to be a female, a vessel of life?
(simple_option:"09 pray","Try to pray.")My tongue thrashes against the feeding tube in a poor attempt to form the holy words, the age-old litany to the Ephemerals. But they slip from me, each syllable a memory now faded into the murky depths of my mind, swallowed up by Grokk's potent cum. Tears blur my vision, each droplet like a burning lash against my heart.
"Eon... Flux... Verge..." My thoughts are disjointed, each name a thread unraveling from the tapestry of my faith. Their divine essence is lost in the nauseating mix of salty goblin sperm and the iron scent of my own fear. My body is a vessel not of my own spirit, but of goblin breeding and sin. I’m unable to utter their prayers, to call out for their wisdom, their change, their transcendence. All that fills me now is Grokk’s dominance, his imminent parenthood and my impending motherhood.
In the middle of this brewing storm, a tender image flickers to life. Elara. My Elara. Her face is a beacon of home, the echo of the quiet nights, entwined limbs, and the warmth of her against me. But like a wisp of smoke, the features morph and distort, swept up in the mind-altering maelstrom, the once crisp edges now blurred and distorted.
Her almond eyes, always sparkling with laughter... what color were they again? Blue? No, that can't be right. Green? I can’t remember. And her hair, cascading down her back in a cascade of... was it gold or chestnut? A sob wrenches free from my constricted throat, muffled and choked by the breeding tube.
Desperation claws at me, a feral beast driven mad with the knowledge of its own impending doom. My body shudders, sobs wracking my frame, causing my breasts to heave and my belly to quake. Grokk's seed, hot and virile, sloshes inside me with each shudder, a perverse reminder of my purpose.
The memory of Elara begins to fade, like sand slipping through desperate fingers. Each granule, a piece of her, a piece of us, a piece of the man I used to be. The despair is a tangible weight, pressing against my breasts, sinking into the fertile warmth of my womb, a cruel mockery of the life it was preparing to harbor.
My breaths hitch and splutter, chest heaving, my bare, jiggly breasts bobbing with each sharp intake. The hot tears trickle down the sides of my face, pooling in my ears, the wet echoes filling the silence of my solitude. I am Elise. I was Aldric. I am... I am... lost.
(simple_option:"10 next","The next day...")<div class='tw-story-title'>Grokk the Grand</div>
(pic:"status/grokk.png","right","borderless")**Name:** Grokk the Grand
**Race:** ($lorebook_entry:"Goblins","beasts")
**Height:** 5'5"
**Weight:** Substantial – a muscle-bound behemoth
<span class='meter-container-half'>(color: "#5a2929")[(meter: bind $grokk_domination, 10, "X", "Grokk's Satisfaction Level: $grokk_satisfaction/10", (gradient: 90, 0, #ff0000, 1, #8b0000))]</span>
**Physical Appearance:**
- **Skin:** Dark green, scarred from countless battles, a living tapestry of his brutal history.
- **Eyes:** Deep red, like molten lava, radiating a fierce, unrelenting will to dominate.
- **Hair:** None. His bald head shines with an oily sheen, reflecting his greasy, vile nature.
- **Nose:** Large and broken several times, twisted into a constant sneer of disdain.
**Notable Features:**
- **Cock:** A horrifying 16 inches of grotesque goblin flesh, notorious for its brutal potency and ability to impregnate with an alarming rate of success.
- **Musculature:** Grokk’s physique is monstrous, an overgrown mass of muscle bulging beneath his rough skin, ready to crush any opposition.
- **Clothing:** Adorns himself in spiked armor and trophies from defeated foes, displaying his dominance and martial prowess.
**Personality:**
Grokk's persona is one of terror and authoritarian control. He rules with an iron fist, his voice enough to silence a room. His presence is oppressive, his laughter a menacing rumble that can chill the blood of even the bravest souls. He thrives on fear and subjugation, his every deed and word designed to assert his vile dominance over all.
**Abilities and Powers:**
- **Superior Goblin Strength:** Even among goblins, Grokk’s strength is legendary, allowing him to snap chains and bend iron bars with his bare hands.
- **Regenerative Health:** His body can heal from wounds at an astonishing rate, making him nearly indestructible in combat.
- **Fear Inducement:** Grokk can instill bone-deep terror in others, a psychological weapon he uses to break his enemies before crushing them physically.
**Background:**
Born into the pitiless wastelands of Zaelasia’s Lower Retches, Grokk clawed his way out of poverty and obscurity by sheer brutality. He united the warring goblin clans under his banner through a mix of terror, violence, and cunning political maneuvers. His name is spoken in whispered tones, used by goblin mothers to frighten their children into obedience.
**Exploits:**
- **Mass Subjugation:** Grokk personally led the decimation of the Human Settlements of Greenvale, enslaving hundreds, and expanding his wicked empire.
- **Torture Innovations:** Introduced advanced forms of torment in his dungeons, often participating personally in the breaking of particularly resilient individuals.
- **Ruthless Breeder:** Grokk’s harem is infamous. He selectively breeds his captives to produce the most vicious offspring, often using magic and alchemy to enhance their innate goblin brutality.
**Current Activities:**
Grokk continues to expand his territories, pushing the boundaries of the Goblin King’s domain into human lands. Under his rule, the Griznak Gobboree has grown into a massive festival of blood and lust, showcasing his reign's cruelty and decadence.
**Lair:**
Grokk resides in the Fortress of Sorrow, a massive stronghold carved into the heart of Mount Vrog. Here, amidst the screams of the tormented and the stench of blood, Grokk indulges his darkest desires, ruling over his goblin subjects and captive slaves with unmatched cruelty.
**Hobbies:**
Grokk takes perverse pleasure in the Griznak Gobboree, engaging personally in the gladiatorial combat and the breeding rites. His other interests include expanding his collection of torture devices and experimenting with new forms of psychological warfare.
**Weapon of Choice:**
Grokk wields the Skullcrusher, a massive warhammer imbued with dark magic. Each blow can shatter stone and bone alike.<div class='tw-story-title'>Krognar</div>
(pic:"ch09/krognar.jpg")**Name:** Krognar
**Race:** Trolls
**Height:** 8'2"
**Weight:** Nearly 640 pounds - an absolute mountain of muscle and sinew
**Physical Appearance:**
- **Skin:** Charcoal gray, rough and as tough as old tree bark, impervious to lesser weapons.
- **Eyes:** Glowing fiery orange, capable of instilling sheer terror with a mere glance.
- **Hair:** Ragged, matted dark strands falling to his mid-back.
- **Nose:** Flattened and wide, appearing to have been broken and poorly set several times.
**Notable Features:**
- **Teeth:** Jagged and uneven, resembling broken tombstones, often seen with remnants of his last meal stuck between them.
- **Physique:** Exceptionally bulky, with muscles knotting and rippling under his thick skin.
- **Clothing:** Krognar wears minimal armor, mostly a patchwork of leathers and chains, with spiked gauntlets and greaves crafted from the bones and armor of defeated enemies.
**Personality:**
Krognar is gruff and taciturn, speaking rarely but with a voice like rumbling thunder. When he speaks, it's direct and often laced with threats. Despite his terrifying exterior, Krognar possesses a fierce loyalty to Grokk, whom he respects not only as a leader but as a fellow conqueror.
**Abilities and Powers:**
- **Titanic Strength:** Even for a troll, Krognar's strength is legendary. He can uproot trees, hurl boulders, and crush armor with his bare hands.
- **Incredible Durability:** Krognar's skin is so tough that most blades and arrows can't pierce it. He can shrug off attacks that would kill lesser beings.
- **Battle Frenzy:** In combat, Krognar can enter a berserk state where he becomes even more resilient and powerful, capable of devastating entire battalions.
**Background:**
Origins shrouded in the mists of the unholy Swamplands, Krognar was once a chieftain of a fierce troll tribe. After losing his tribe in a brutal internal conflict, he roamed the wastelands, a rogue giant driven by rage and grief. His path eventually crossed with Grokk, and after a battle that lasted three days and nights, Krognar pledged his allegiance to the goblin king, impressed by Grokk's brutality and cunning.
**Exploits:**
- **Destruction of the Knightly Order of Thornhaven:** Krognar single-handedly decimated this ancient order, crushing their stronghold and executing their champion.
- **Siege of the Iron Fortress:** Led Grokk's vanguard, breaching the impenetrable walls of the Iron Fortress using a battering ram he wielded by himself.
- **Massacre at Bone Valley:** Known for his night-time assault where he left the field littered with the corpses of enemy soldiers, earning him the name "Night Terror."
**Current Activities:**
Apart from serving as Grokk's personal bodyguard, Krognar trains Grokk's elite guard and oversees the security of the Fortress of Sorrow. His presence in the fort is enough to deter most would-be attackers or insurrectionists.
**Lair:**
While not one for luxury, Krognar occupies a fortified bastion within the Fortress of Sorrow. His quarters are spartan, decorated with the weapons and shields of fallen enemies. The heavy iron doors and the screams of chained prisoners in nearby cells add to the grim ambiance of his dwelling.<div class='tw-story-title'>Grouz</div>
(pic:"ch09/shaman.jpg","right")**Name:** Grouz
**Race:** ($lorebook_entry:"Goblins","beasts")
**Height:** 4'3"
**Weight:** Lean and wiry
**Physical Appearance:**
- **Skin:** Pale green, stretched tight over sharp bones, with a texture resembling old parchment.
- **Eyes:** Sunken and yellow, glowing slightly in the dark, filled with shrewd intelligence.
- **Hair:** Sparse, white, and wispy, sticking out in all directions like the fur of a startled cat.
- **Nose:** Hooked and prominent, often twitching as if sensing the energies of arcane artifacts.
**Personality:**
Grouz is cunning and deceptively insightful, with a penchant for dark humor. His allegiance to Grokk is born of convenience rather than loyalty, providing him space to conduct his arcane research. He is manipulative, always seeking to expand his knowledge and power, even if it means stepping over others.
**Abilities and Powers:**
- **Dark Shamanism:** Skilled in the forbidden arts of goblin shamanism, able to invoke curses, manipulate energies, and summon minor demons from the nether planes.
- **Potion Crafting:** An expert alchemist, Grouz can concoct potions that heal, enhance, or poison, depending on his whim or need.
- **Mind Manipulation:** Has the ability to cloud minds, sow confusion, or instill fear in his adversaries, making him a dangerous foe even without physical confrontation.
**Background:**
Grouz's origins are murky, with rumors suggesting he was once an adviser to a goblin warlord in the eastern badlands. After a betrayal left him wandering, he amassed arcane knowledge from forbidden sources, eventually finding a patron in Grokk who values his dark arts and strategic mind.
**Exploits:**
- **Curse of the Endless Thirst:** Infamously caused an entire human battalion to turn on each other by inducing an insatiable thirst that could not be quenched by any drink.
- **Manipulation of the Blood Moon:** Altered the course of a battle by turning the moon red, driving Grokk’s warriors into a frenzy that led to a gruesome victory.
- **Creation of the Shadow Plague:** Released a dark contagion that shadows the minds of those affected, turning them into loyal servants of Grokk.<div class='tw-story-title'>Melka</div>
(pic:"ch09/melka.jpg","right")**Name:** Melka
**Race:** ($lorebook_entry:"Goblins","beasts")
**Height:** 3'8"
**Weight:** Compact yet curvaceous
**Physical Appearance:**
- **Skin:** Vibrant green, smooth and supple, with a light dusting of darker freckles.
- **Eyes:** Large and purple, expressive and filled with a mischievous spark.
- **Hair:** Short, curly black locks that bounce around her face.
- **Nose:** Cute, upturned with a soft roundness, adding to her impish charm.
**Notable Features:**
- **Physique:** Surprisingly voluptuous for a goblin, with wide hips and a full bosom, contrasting her petite stature.
- **Clothing:** Prefers minimal garb, often seen wearing simple but tight leather apparel that emphasizes her curves.
- **Accessories:** Often adorns herself with rustic jewelry made from natural materials found in the desert.
**Personality:**
Melka is a spritely goblin with a heart of gold hidden beneath her rugged exterior. Known for her boisterous laughter and ready smile, she brings a light-heartedness that belies the harshness of her environment. Her curiosity and open heart make her an anomaly among her often brutish counterparts.
**Abilities and Powers:**
- **Agility:** Exceptionally quick and nimble, able to maneuver through tight spaces and escape tricky situations.
- **Healing Knowledge:** Adept at using desert herbs and goblin techniques to treat wounds and ailments, often experimenting with new concoctions.
- **Cultural Insight:** Possesses a deep understanding of goblin heritage and folklore, often sharing stories and songs that preserve the rich tapestry of goblin culture.
**Background:**
Raised in the outskirts of the Griznak Gobboree, Melka grew up among thieves and warriors, learning to hold her own in a community that values strength and cunning. Despite the roughness of her upbringing, she developed a compassion that sets her apart, often seen helping the weaker or injured members of her tribe.
**Lair:**
Melka resides in a cozy, if somewhat chaotic, hut on the edge of the goblin encampment. Her home is filled with an assortment of herbs, potions, and goblin artifacts, each item having its own story. Her lair is often a refuge for those in need, a testament to her nurturing nature.
**Hobbies:**
Melka enjoys collecting unusual stones and bones from the desert, which she uses to craft jewelry and decorative items. She is also a talented dancer, often seen practicing in the early morning or by moonlight, her movements echoing the ancient dances of her people.($play:"sex loop","cock worship")(display:"grokk moans")(if:$choice is "Look away.")[I shut my eyes tightly, refusing to watch what's going on.
The squelching sounds of their hands gliding over his massive length, the sloppy kisses and slurps they plant along his shaft, echo grotesquely in the tent. My cheeks flame with humiliation as their giggles and lewd comments float through the air, each word a lash against my dignity.
"Oh, Elise, you're going to love this," coos the brunette in a breathy, mocking tone, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Just think, soon you'll be overflowing with Grokk's seed, so full and ripe."
The blonde's laughter joins in, a high, tinkling sound that belies the vile act she's partaking in. "I bet she can already feel it, imagining those strong goblin babies growing inside her."
Their hands continue to work, the slick sounds of lubrication growing louder as Grokk's arousal evidently builds. I hear the sticky strands of pre-seed snapping as they stretch and play with it, their delight sickeningly evident.
"Listen to her, whimpering already. Do you think it's from fear or excitement?" teases the blonde, her voice a sinful whisper that sends a shiver down my spine.
Grokk's grunts grow deeper, more frequent, his breathing ragged and harsh. His scent fills the tent. It's heavy, cloying, mingling with the sharp tang of fear and arousal that surely emanates from my own helpless body.
"Imagine it, Elise," the brunette continues, her voice low and cruelly enticing. "Laden with Grokk's hefty load, your belly stretching day by day. Isn't it delicious, the thought of being so wonderfully filled?"
The squelching intensifies. "He's close, he's so close!" squeals the blonde excitedly.
"And he's huge, Elise. You should see how thick and ready he is. I can barely get my hands around him," the brunette adds, her tone dripping with mock empathy. "All that for you, darling, to fill you up so perfectly."
I shudder, a wave of icy dread washing over me as the first drops of pre-seed hit the base of the funnel with a small, audible plop.
Grokk's heavy breathing turns to low, primal growls, each exhale a thunderous sound that vibrates through my bones. The air grows thick with the heat of his lust, the musky scent of his body an oppressive cloak around us.
"Here it comes, Elise," the blonde giggles, her voice tinged with wicked triumph. "Ready to drink up?"
Grokk's deep, rumbling moans grow louder, more frequent. "Ugh, yeah, just like that," he grunts, the raw, primal sound vibrating through the tent.
(simple_option:"09 cum","Eyes shut...","Watch him cum.")](else:)[They speak in soft, breathy tones, "Oh, Elise, you're going to love this," the brunette purrs, her eyes on me while her hand continues to stroke Grokk's cock. "You're going to be such a good mother... your wide hips, your beautiful face, perfect for Grokk's offspring."
Grokk's phallus continues to grow under their ministrations, each twitch bringing it closer to its full, terrifying size. The girls giggle, commenting on its size, the girth, the length, and the formidable weight it carries. Their small hands struggle to encompass its monstrous proportions, and the sight sends a shudder of revulsion through me.
The goblin king's cock twitches again, more vigorously this time, pre-seed seeping from the tip. It's hot and potent, a visual reminder of its intended purpose. The gooey liquid drips down, a bead of it landing on the edge of the funnel. The sight sends a chill down my spine, my eyes widening in horror as the reality of my situation sinks in.
"Oh, just imagine it," the blonde murmurs, her voice a sinful whisper. "You, heavy with Grokk's children. Your belly round and full. Your tits... oh, your tits, all swollen and milky." Her eyes gleam with a perverse excitement, her words spurring a new wave of panic within me.
The pre-seed continues to drip from Grokk's now fully erect cock, pooling at the base of the funnel. The girls continue to coo and purr, their fingers deftly coaxing more from him. Their hands, slick with his fluids, glide effortlessly over his length. The grotesque tableau unfolding before me seems to stretch on for an eternity, each passing second another notch of dread lodged within me.
The pungent scent of the pre-seed fills the air, a musky odor that clings to the back of my throat. It's an odor I'll become all too familiar with, a stark reminder of the biological reality of my situation. The liquid gathers at the base of the funnel, a thin pool that glimmers under the light. My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat at the sight.
The brunette runs her tongue along the underside of Grokk's cock, her eyes twinkling with glee. She murmurs soft praises, her words slurred by the massive girth in her mouth. The blonde giggles, her fingers playing with the strands of pre-seed that string between her fingers. Their enthusiasm, the joy they find in this obscene act, turns my stomach.
Each twitch of Grokk's cock, each droplet of pre-seed, sends a new wave of horror washing over me. I'm trapped, unable to escape, forced to watch as these two girls prepare to feed me with goblin seed. The reality of my situation settles over me like a suffocating blanket, my mind reeling at the prospect of what's to come. The feeding tube, lodged firmly in my mouth, feels like a mockery, a cruel twist in this nightmarish scenario.
The girls continue their work, their hands stroking, their lips kissing, their tongues licking, each movement driving Grokk closer to his climax. His massive cock twitches violently, the thick vein that runs along the underside pulsing with his impending release. I watch in mute horror as they coax more pre-seed from him, the thick liquid dripping down into the funnel, a precursor to the flood that's soon to come.
Their lewd whispers fill the room, their descriptions of my impending maternity sending spikes of fear through my already frantic mind. My gaze darts to the glistening cock, to the funnel, to the feeding tube lodged firmly in my mouth. This is my reality, my impending fate.
(simple_option:"09 cum","Eyes shut...","Watch him cum.")](masteraudio:"stopall")(set:$gender to "female")(pic:"ch09/melka.jpg","right")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","desert")($chapter_title:10,"Sympathy")I wobble, my legs still weak from the lack of use. My knees buckle, but Melka's tiny arm, surprisingly strong, hooks around my waist, keeping me upright. It's so bizarre, being held up by a goblin, one of the creatures who contributed to my predicament in the first place.
"Easy there, Tit-bitch," she says, her voice a soft, gruff hum. "Let's not have ya fall flat on yer face, eh?"
Each step feels like my legs are made of jelly, wobbling and unsure. My muscles strain, aching in protest as they're forced back into use. I can feel the tug of newly healed tissue, the sting of it stretching after being so long immobilized. It's odd, feeling the strength return, the strange mix of soreness and relief, the odd sensation of feeling something that shouldn't feel so alien.
"Hold onto me," ($lorebook_entry:"Melka","people") instructs, her voice stern yet encouraging. "Don't rush it."
I do as she says, my hand gripping her tiny, firm shoulder for support. She smells of earth and herbs, a strange mix that isn't exactly unpleasant.
"You've gotta build up strength again," she explains, leading me along a worn dirt path. "Can't be all flimsy when you're heavy with pups."
The mention of 'pups' causes a shiver of revulsion to ripple through me. The image of Grokk, the memory of him and his disgusting seed, is like a punch to the gut. Yet, there's a weird warmth in my belly, a glowing ember that's both foreign and terrifying.
It feels... strange. I'm not supposed to enjoy this, not supposed to feel good. My mind screams at the injustice of it all, at the memories that seem to fade and slip like water through fingers. I was Aldric. I had a wife, Elara. But those thoughts, those memories, they seem so distant, so foggy.
"We'll get you there, Tit-bitch," Melka assures me, her voice oddly soothing. "One step at a time, eh?"
It's hard to reconcile this kind, almost nurturing goblin with the harsh, brutal world that's been forced upon me. But then, maybe that's just the goblin seed talking, muddying my thoughts, pushing me further into complacency.
"Good girl," Melka praises, a small, pleased smile curving her lips. "See? Ya can do it."
There's a twinge in my heart, a sting of pain that cuts through the foggy warmth. This isn't right. This isn't me. I'm not some breeding cow, some creature to be used and discarded.
But as Melka leads me through the enclosed series of tents belonging to Grokk, her small form a strange comfort amidst the chaos, I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Despite the horrors, despite the fear, I'm still here, standing once again.
"Ya looked shocked when ya saw me, Tit-bitch," Melka chuckles, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Didn't think there'd be lady goblins?"
"I... I didn't," I admit, trying to organize my thoughts, my words slurring together.
Melka laughs, a throaty chuckle that echoes through the trees. "Aye, we're rare. One in fifty, thereabouts. The lads don't pay us much mind, too busy drooling over human women. But we pop out occasionally.”
My face heats at that, an uncomfortable reminder of my current predicament. Melka seems to notice, giving my hip a sympathetic pat.
"So, how'd ya end up here, Tit-bitch?" she asks, tilting her head curiously. When she calls me by my arena name, it’s said almost kindly, affectionately.
I hesitate, considering lying, considering saying anything but the truth. But looking at Melka, at her small form that's been nothing but supportive since we started this... this journey, I decide to take a chance.
(simple_option:"10 conversation","Might as well tell her the truth...")(pic:"ch10/gobboree.jpg")
"I... I was a man. A warrior. I had a wife," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper.
Melka's eyes widen. "Well, fuck me sideways. Ya really are full of surprises."
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "I was cursed. By a goblin named Snib."
Melka cocks her head to the side, brows furrowed. "Never heard of 'em. He a shaman?”
I shake my head. "No, just a regular goblin. But he found this collar, this artifact."
"And that's why ol’ Grouz couldn't get it off ya," Melka murmurs, her fingers tapping against her chin thoughtfully. “Here I thought he was just a dimwit. Ya reckon ya can even have kids? With ya being a man and all. Underneath, I mean.”
I shrug, the thin material of my gown slipping off my shoulder. It's silky, clingy, every breeze a whisper against my skin. Barefoot, I can feel the roughness of the ground, the occasional sharp pebble underfoot.
"I... I don't know," I admit, my voice shaky.
Melka gives my ass a firm pat, the impact making my flesh jiggle. "Well, ya certainly look ripe enough. Them hips are begging for a nice, round belly."
($hidden_gem:"Her words, as lewd as they are, don't upset me. Not really. If anything, they make this situation feel less like a nightmare, more like a bizarre dream. She's not pitying me. She's not even really mocking me. It's just... banter. Rough, vulgar, but oddly comforting.","Her lascivious lips, lewdly languaging, lullaby my loathsome living. Lesser like a looming illusion, leering lovecraftian luridness, layered with laughter. Not for lecturing, not lingering, just lines... brusque banter, brazen but bizarrely balmy.")
And for now, that's enough to keep me going, to keep me pushing through the fog in my mind, to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
"Steady on, Tit-bitch," Melka gruffs, her firm grip steadying me as we hobble towards a canvas tent in the distance.
The scent of goblin jizz wafts through the air from another tent, sweet and sickly, making my mind swim and my belly clench in a peculiar, throbbing pulse. A tingling warmth flows down into my pelvis, lacing me with an oddly soothing sense of submission.
"You ever thought of having babies, Melka?" I find myself asking, my voice soft, tender. Trying to distract myself from my own situation.
Melka chortles, a sound like gravel rolling down a hill. "Me? Nah. Boys don't look my way. Too busy with human lasses like yaself."
"You're beautiful, though,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. My mind is hazy, but I know what I'm saying is true. Her features are alien, but charming in their own way. Her upturned nose, bouncy curls, and yellow but straight teeth, all contribute to an uncanny but adorable attractiveness.
Melka just shrugs, her green cheeks flushing a darker hue. "Doesn't change the fact that gobbo girls are a dead end, in nature. Goblin boys breed human girls. That's how it works."
"But what if you left?" I ask. The words slip out without thought. "There are cities like Thuulk that are more accepting of other races."
She chuckles, but it sounds hollow. "What, and risk getting skewered on sight?"
I recoil, a lump forming in my throat. The thought of Melka getting hurt, just for being who she is... it's sad. I quickly change the topic. It’s one that’s been burning in my mind.
"Is... Is it true about Grokk? About his... his babies being... dangerous?”
Melka's expression tightens, a single nod confirming my worst fears. "His whelps are large, multiple... Last one didn't survive. One before got paralyzed. The one before that only bore two pups. Sometimes he squirts as much as eight in ya.”
My heart drops into my stomach, a wave of dread washing over me. "But... But I..."
She looks at me, her eyes softening. "You're different, Tit-bitch. Grokk's previous broodmares were slender. Grouz convinced him to pick someone with... more meat to them," she says, running a finger along my wide hips. The sheer fabric of my dress clings to my body, my plump breasts, my big ass... all on display, all designed for... breeding.
(simple_option:"10 haze","Grokk's cum is affecting your mind...")Something in my mind shifts, the foggy haze wrapping around the horror, the fear. It's dulled, made manageable, tolerable even.
Melka breaks the silence. “I’ll say it. Cause no one else will. It's not right, what we do to human women. But it's how nature intends it now. That’s the cruel fact. That's why there's only one goblin woman in fifty. The gobbo bloodline is passed through human mothers, and the babies... they're all gobbo. Not half and half.”
A sense of acceptance settles over me, replacing the raw terror. I am to be Grokk's breeding mare. And somehow... somehow, it doesn't feel as wrong as it once did. It feels... natural.
"Alright, Tit-bitch, sit here," Melka directs, guiding me into the large slave tent with her bony goblin hands. The warm smell of oiled hair and the chatter of female voices fills the space. My still tender legs wobble beneath me, but I manage to perch on a low stool with Melka's help.
A woman approaches, heavily pregnant, her belly round and protruding beneath her transparent, form-fitting gown. Her dark nipples are hard to miss, stark against the pale sheer fabric. She settles herself behind me, and I feel her cool, milk-soaked fingertips run through my long raven hair.
She starts with a quick comb through, disentangling the knots with her long fingers. Her touch is gentle, and it’s almost soothing. I can see her heavily pregnant belly jiggle with her movements, the fabric of her dress stretched thin across it. Her breasts, plump and lactating, press against her dress, the soaked patches cold on her warm skin. It feels like hours as she meticulously separates my hair into sections, the soft whispers of her hands brushing against my scalp soothing my frazzled mind.
Her fingers deftly start braiding the sections, her movements swift and precise, the braid taking shape rapidly. I can feel the tug of my scalp as she pulls the braids tighter, a sensation not unpleasant but rather grounding. The final step, she secures my braids high on my head, using delicate gold clips that glimmer in the dim tent light. They look expensive, more royal than slave-like. A strange sight in a slave tent. My reflection stares back at me from a polished copper mirror, my styled hair looking almost regal, jarring against my sheer dress and swollen breasts.
Melka, standing at the entrance of the tent, grunts her approval. “Tit-bitch, your legs might feel funny now, but they're nearly mended,” she says, her goblin accent thick, her words a little slurred. “Try to stretch them when you can, it helps.”
My mind is a whirlwind of confusion and fear. I should be resisting, I should be fighting against their preparations for Grokk's pleasure. But the more I struggle, the more his cum coursing through me seems to dull my resistance, creating a warm, pliant haze.
Melka, as if sensing my confusion, tries to distract me. "So, your master, Snib, stays near the fighting ring, right?" I nod, feeling a strange pang of loss. Snib, as crude and demanding as he was, is a known entity. Grokk is an unknown.
"Ha, poor Snib," Melka scoffs, her yellow teeth flashing in a wide grin. "Losing his prized Tit-bitch to Grokk must've hurt. He'll have to make do with his other slaves."
“He doesn’t have any more,” I say.
“Ah. Only cause of the collar, huh?”
The mention of my collar sparks a small glimmer of hope. "Yes, Snib... he could release me. Remove this collar, and I... I might change back," I mumble, my words echoing strangely in the tent. “Into Aldric.”
“Aldric,” Melka snorts. “Weird name. Let’s keep calling you Tit-bitch.”
(simple_option:"10 dress you","They get you dressed...")The pheromone-addled slave woman tending to my hair clicks her tongue, shaking her head. "You should be grateful, girl. Focus on pleasing Grokk, make him happy. You're luckier than you know."
Melka grunts, looking at the woman's pregnant belly. "Whose are those? One of Grokk’s lackeys?"
The woman blushes, her hand unconsciously running over her round stomach, nodding. "They're Vrog's."
Two more human slaves appear, their arms laden with what looks like yards and yards of shimmering fabric. They approach me with cautious steps, their eyes stealing glances at my newly braided hair, their bodies moving with the grace of seasoned servants.
(pic:"status/elise slave.png","right","borderless")Their fingers, gentle and quick, start by removing my current dress, the sheer, gauzy material peeling away from my heated skin with a low whisper. I watch them, my mind foggy with the haze of compliance, my body quivering under their touch. One of the slaves drapes the new dress around me, her movements graceful, her fingers deft in their precision.
The outfit is quite demeaning, all metal and lavender gauze.
As they finish getting me dressed, I can't help but look at my reflection in the polished copper mirror. I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me. Dressed for the pleasure of a goblin king, my body made a spectacle of fertility and sexuality. But there's no denying the strange sense of allure, the crude yet undeniable beauty of this exotic attire.
(simple_option:"10 later","That night...")The cacophony of the Gobboree feels like a distorted echo in my ears as Melka guides me, my newly styled hair bobbing with each step I take. The festival's mirth is in stark contrast to the foggy conflict inside my head. Struggling to keep my thoughts coherent, I can't shake the cloying, intoxicating aroma that seems to permeate the air around me. It's Grokk's musk, his pheromones, that sickly-sweet scent of dominance that makes my mind buzz and my body pulse with want.
I glance down at myself, ensnared in my obscene gown, my generous tits displayed like a juicy feast. With each shuddering breath I take, the gold tassels affixed to my sensitive nipples dance, sending sparks of illicit pleasure coursing through me. Every tiny detail of my attire, from the way my hips are accentuated by the low-dipping chain to the high slits that give teasing glimpses of my ass, screams the unspeakable - I am Grokk's breeding mate. There's no hiding it, no pretending otherwise.
(pic:"status/melka.png","left","borderless")"Oi, Tit-bitch, you're lookin' ripe and juicy, ready to be plucked by our king," Melka cackles, her rough voice shattering my thoughts. A blush creeps up my neck, my cheeks growing warm at the goblin woman's crude words. She might be shorter than me, standing just shy of 4 feet to my 5'3", but there's no denying the powerful figure she makes. Her petite, curvaceous body exudes strength, and her mirth-filled, mossy green eyes hold an inexplicable gentleness.
"But tell me, what would you do, eh? If you were free, if you were a man again?" Melka's question hits me like a bolt of lightning, shocking me out of my hazy musings.
(simple_option:"10 what you want","Take revenge.","Go back to my wife.")($play:"ambience","desert")(if:$choice is "Take revenge.")[A flicker of the man I used to be, Aldric, the legendary hero, emerges from the murk of my brain. "I would take revenge," I find myself saying, a firm resolution piercing through the haze. Aldric would not bow down. He would not yield. He was a hero, a warrior who wielded the mighty sword Whisperwind, who held magic in his veins.
Melka blinks, taken aback by my sudden fierceness. Her eyes flicker with a mix of surprise and consideration, as if mulling over my words.
But then, that familiar heat surges within me, the potent, curdling essence of Grokk squirming in my belly. My body flushes, arousal creeping up my spine, smothering my fleeting moment of defiance. I can't help but squirm, the maddening itch between my thighs making my breath hitch. My body is betraying me, responding to Grokk's potent seed, preparing itself for his touch.
Grokk's claim on me is not just physical, it’s mental, it’s in every corner of my brain, invading my thoughts, twisting my desires. It's a disturbing reality, an undeniable truth that I'm being drawn into this perverse world. Grokk's mate. Grokk's property. Grokk's breeding bitch. The lewd titles swirl in my mind, a cruel echo of my degradation. My body aches for him, yearns for him, even as my mind rebels.
I feel myself slipping, the last vestiges of Aldric dimming further as Elise succumbs to the tantalizing pull of the goblin king's influence. As the Gobboree roars around me and Melka continues to guide me, the struggle within me continues - a battle between the man I was and the woman I'm becoming.](else:)[A profound ache fills my chest, one that seems to expand with each passing second. My eyes, which had held a spark of defiance, now brim with tears that threaten to spill over. My voice, when it finally emerges, does so in a broken whisper, thick with emotion.
"I... I would escape. Escape and go back to my wife, Elara," I manage to say, the name invoking a wave of longing so intense it nearly buckles my knees. "I need to see her again, to... to hold her."
Tears streak down my cheeks, unchecked, each one a testament to the pain and loss I've endured. My hands reach out, grasping for something, anything to anchor me in the torrent of my grief. Melka's hand finds mine, giving it a gentle squeeze, her small touch a comfort amidst the storm of my sorrows.
($hidden_gem:"But then, that familiar heat surges within me, the potent, curdling essence of Grokk squirming in my belly. My body flushes, arousal creeping up my spine, smothering my fleeting moment of defiance. I can't help but squirm, the maddening itch between my thighs making my breath hitch. My body is betraying me, responding to Grokk's potent seed, preparing itself for his touch.","But then, a blistering blaze bursts and blooms within me, the potent, pulsating potion of Grokk gyrating in my gut. My body blushes, arousal crawling up my core, quelling my quivering moment of rebellion. I can't help but squirm, the maddening molten movement between my meticulous mounds making my breath bounce. My body is betraying me, bowing to Grokk's potent seed, bracing itself for his touch.")
Grokk's claim on me is not just physical, it’s mental, it’s in every corner of my brain, invading my thoughts, twisting my desires. It's a disturbing reality, an undeniable truth that I'm being drawn into this perverse world. Grokk's mate. Grokk's property. Grokk's breeding bitch. The lewd titles swirl in my mind, a cruel echo of my degradation. My body aches for him, yearns for him, even as my mind rebels.
I feel myself slipping, the last vestiges of Aldric dimming further as Elise succumbs to the tantalizing pull of the goblin king's influence. As the Gobboree roars around me and Melka continues to guide me, the struggle within me continues - a battle between the man I was and the woman I'm becoming.]
(simple_option:"10 banquet","Go to the banquet hall...")(pic:"ch10/banquet.jpg")($play:"ambience","banquet ambience")The grand dining hall is awash with raucous laughter, clanging dishes, and the crude banter of goblin revelers. It's an obscene festival, a den of hedonism that harkens back to the untamed times of ancient Zaelasia. The goblins, in their simple loincloths and rough-spun tunics, are hunched over their meat and drink, their coarse, dirty laughter punctuating the din. The room is bathed in the warm, flickering glow of braziers, casting eerie, dancing shadows that twist and contort on the walls. The air is thick with the smell of roasted boar, the heady aroma of brewed rotgut ale, and the underlying musk of male goblins that I’m unfortunately quite sensitive to.
In the midst of all this, Grokk, the goblin king, sits at the head of the table. He's a grotesque spectacle of goblin masculinity - broad, muscled, and intimidating. His enormous, veiny cock is barely concealed by his royal loincloth, the bulge a lewd display of his virility. There's an undeniable authority about him, an aura of power that silences the room as Melka and I approach.
As Grokk's heated gaze lands on me, I can't help but shudder. There's something primal, something animalistic in his eyes that sends a chill down my spine. His snarl is thunderous, echoing in the grand hall. "What is THIS, Grouz?" he roars, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I TOLD you to keep the Tit-bitch locked in the BREEDING RACK!”
Grouz, the wizened shaman, trembles as he replies, "M- Melka insisted, my Lord. She feared for the human's healing legs."
Grokk's roar is deafening. "I don't give a rat's ass about her fucking legs! I wanted her on display, not dolled up like my fucking wife!" He slams his fist on the table, making the silverware clatter. "She's supposed to be a breeding slut, not some high-born human! I wanted her cunt for all to see!"
The dining hall falls silent, the goblins staring in shock at their king's rage. Even Krognar, the hulking troll, ceases his guffawing to watch.
"But look at her, boss!" Melka interjects, her husky voice trembling slightly. "She's so... fucking hot!"
Grokk scoffs, "She's not broken in yet. I'm not going to risk my royalty being questioned by an un-broken slave!"
Melka persists, but it earns her a brutal backhand from Grokk. The force of the blow sends her sprawling, a small whimper escaping her lips.
"Stupid bitch!" Grokk growls, his voice echoing through the hall. "You have no place here. I've put up with your antics for far too long. Goblin women don't understand the needs of goblin men. Humans are breeding stock, and you are NOTHING!”
His words hang heavy in the air, his cruelty palpable. Melka is on the floor, her eyes welling with tears as blood trickles from her nose.
(simple_option:"10 intervene","Offer yourself.","Don't interfere.")($play:"ambience","banquet ambience")(if:$choice is "Offer yourself.")[($notification:"Melka will remember that.")Grokk raises his hand again, but before he can strike, I step forward. The room seems to freeze as I drop to my knees before him, my heart pounding in my chest. My gown pools around me, the slits revealing the generous swell of my hips, my ass sticking out provocatively as I prostrate myself. "Please," I beg, my voice trembling. "I will... I will please you. I... I'll be a good slave."
There's a beat of silence, the room holding its breath as Grokk stares down at me, his eyes burning into my soul. Beside me, Melka watches in stunned silence, a glimmer of hope flickering in her eyes.
The grand dining hall of the goblin king erupts into crude laughter as Grokk, the crude yet regal goblin chieftain, issues his command.
"Well then, give me a fuckin' blowjob, Tit-bitch." His voice is a coarse bark that grates my ears, but it's his words, not the tone, that make my heart pound in dread.
Melka's purple eyes meet mine across the room, her pleading gaze seared into my memory. Yesterday's taste of Grokk's seed, still so vivid on my tongue, stirs up a storm of revulsion, fear, and that shameful spark in the pit of my stomach. The goblin king's command reverberates through the grand hall, each chuckle and catcall driving it home.](else:)[I remain motionless, my body frozen as the scene unfolds before my horrified eyes. Grokk's backhand comes down hard on Melka, who barely has time to brace herself before she’s knocked to the ground again. Her small form crumples under the brutal force, a soft whimper escaping as she tries to shield her face.
The room is a mix of tense silence and murmured disapproval from some corners, but no one dares to challenge Grokk’s authority. Melka's eyes, brimming with tears and pain, meet mine across the room. In her gaze, there's a silent plea, a call for help that I'm too terrified to answer.
Grokk, seething with rage, points a gnarled finger at the goblin men near her. "Lock her up," he bellows, his voice echoing ominously in the hall. "Let her rot until she learns her place!"
Two burly goblins grab Melka by the arms, dragging her away. She struggles feebly, her eyes locked with mine until she's forcibly pulled out of sight. The visual of her being taken away, helpless and hurt, is etched into my mind, a stark reminder of the cruel world I'm trapped in.
Grokk turns his fiery gaze upon me, his eyes gleaming with a malicious intent. "And you," he growls, stepping closer until I can feel the heat radiating from his massive form. "Give me a fuckin' blowjob, Tit-bitch. Show me you can at least be good for somethin'."]
(simple_option:"10 blowjob","Approach him.")(pic:"status/elise slave behind.png","right","borderless")($play:"sex loop",0)With a shaking breath, I push myself to move. My body feels strangely detached, like I'm watching it from afar. I can feel the prickle of dozens of lust-filled gazes crawling over my exposed skin. The dedicated metal rings in my dress allow my tits to bounce freely with each step, each jiggle drawing another wave of lecherous hoots.
A low growl rips through the room when a goblin reaches out to cop a feel. "Hands off, she's mine!" Grokk roars, his barked command immediately obeyed. As I approach him, I see a smug grin spread over his gnarled face. It's a look of conquest, a look of power. He's loving every moment of this.
Two human slave girls scurry to place a plush cushion by Grokk's feet. As I slowly lower myself onto the cushion, my aching legs protest each movement. The pain, sharp and stabbing, ripples up through my thighs, but it’s a dull throb compared to the dread knotting my stomach.
Around the table, there’s raucous laughter, the clinking of mugs, snatches of bawdy goblin songs filling the cavernous dining hall, as if nothing unusual was happening. Like the king's whore wasn't about to get her face stuffed with a cock under the royal dining table. But under here, the sounds are muted, distant echoes that lend an unreal quality to my shame, the noises reduced to a low, mocking hum in the background of my situation.
Beneath Grokk's heavy, royal wooden table, his two meaty thighs open up, making room for me. I can see his bulging loincloth, the monstrous beast underneath straining at the thin fabric, seeking release. The sight makes my heart pound in my chest, the rhythmic thrumming echoing in my ears. It's like I'm staring at the barrel of a loaded cannon.
Timidly, my trembling hands reach up, my fingers ghosting over the warm, taut fabric of the loincloth, each heartbeat of his cock sending ripples across the bulge. I can feel him - hot, throbbing, throbbing with insane virility. It's intimidating, dominating, a stark reminder of the raw power contained within.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, I slowly push the loincloth aside.
The thing that springs free is monstrous. His cock unfurls like a spring-loaded weapon, a thick, grotesque battering ram. Sixteen inches of veiny goblin meat slaps against my forehead, draping heavily over my head, nestling between my high ponytails. The harsh thud of it sends a shockwave through me, a stark reminder of the potent, breeding tool I'm about to service. A hot spurt of precum jets out, a viscous rivulet of arousal that trickles down my neck, slithering along the curve of my spine.
The hot stream trickles along the bare skin of my back, slipping beneath my dress, soaking into the thin fabric of my gown. It snakes down, seeping between the cleft of my ass cheeks, searing a wet path that makes me squirm in discomfort and secret delight. I let out a soft whimper, the obscene heat of his precum soaking through the fabric of my gown, and staining my skin beneath.
My body responds, a pulsating throb of desire coiling low in my belly, a damp heat pooling between my thighs. My nipples harden further, the cold metal tassels of my dress chafing against them, each jingle echoing the rhythm of my quickened breaths.
Every moment, every sensation, only serves to further Grokk's dominance over me. The weight of his monstrous cock resting heavily on my head, the pungent musk of his arousal, the intimidating throb of his arousal against my slender fingers, the hot streak of his precum trickling down my back - everything reminds me of my place, of my role. His whore. His breeding bitch. The degradation stings, but it also sparks a deep, primal yearning in me, a lewd acceptance of my surrender to this potent goblin king.
The girth and heft of Grokk's cock are more than my small hands can encompass. I wrap both my palms around the hot, thick length, fingers pressing into the veins that mar the spongy, green flesh. The touch of it feels like handling some kind of primal weapon, a potent instrument of biological warfare. Even semi-hard, it's heavy enough to make my wrists ache.
I scoot backward, the soft cushion beneath me groaning under my shifting weight. My legs, still mending, shoot sparks of dull pain up my spine as I move. It's a clumsy, slow effort to extricate Grokk's engorged member from the tight confines of my high ponytails. Each slight tug pulls at my scalp, making me whimper. The throbbing shaft is like an anaconda in my hands, sliding heavy and obscene from between my raven locks, the precious tresses clinging wetly to the glistening skin of his cock.
As I reposition, the immense cock falls forward, slapping against my face with a lewd thwack. A hot streak of precum trickles down my forehead, bisecting my face. The sensation of it, slick and hot, dribbling down my cheeks, makes me shudder in humiliation and something else. His cock is drooling, leaking arousal like a faucet, the lewd stream glistening on my skin, painting my face with the proof of his potency.
My body responds with a humiliating eagerness, as if primed for this shameful servitude. My massive breasts press together in the too-tight confines of my bodice, the sensitive flesh spilling out from the gold-encircled holes, nipples peaking under the pressure. Each shift of my body makes them jiggle, each jiggle reverberating through the golden tassels, setting them jingling in a lurid rhythm. The sound is sharp and crisp, an obscene counterpoint to the muffled cacophony outside.
With a soft grunt, I reposition myself on the plush cushion. My wide hips dig into the soft material, the plump globes of my ass jiggling with the movement. The dress hikes up, the soft fabric bunching at my waist. The movement exposes more of my thighs, the golden chain about my waist catching the dim light filtering in from the outside, a sensual wink of gold against my pale skin.
Under the heavy table, in this shadowy world of servitude, I position myself for the impending blowjob. My chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths, the gold-encased openings of my dress giving teasing peeks of my flushed cleavage with every gasp.
Grokk's glans is monstrous, a veritable fruit-sized helmet of swollen, orange flesh that winks at me through its vertical slit, throbbing with each beat of his barbaric heart. It’s drastically different from the rest of his green cock, like a fiery crown atop a verdant scepter. The bulbous head is an obscene, juicy target, spattering a steady stream of putrid precum that trails a hot, slimy path down my voluptuous breasts, staining the delicate fabric of my dress and pooling in the deep valley of my cleavage.
With a shaky breath, I part my thick lips, a slow, deliberate action that somehow feels more daunting than facing a dragon. The first contact of my lips against his glans is a shock to my senses - it's scalding hot, twitching against my lips. I whimper at the contact, the brutal reality of what I'm about to do flooding my senses.
Then, I wrap my lips around it.
(simple_option:"10 suck","Start sucking.")($play:"ambience","banquet ambience")($play:"sex loop","bj")(display:"grokk moans")Taking him in my mouth is a trial by fire. Grokk's massive size is too much for my inexperienced mouth. My jaw strains painfully, the flesh stretching to accommodate his invading girth. My mouth aches, each passing second quite agonizing, each movement a reminder of the debauchery I've been reduced to. But after a few slow, gag-inducing attempts, I manage to get the head of his cock fully past my lips, the putrid taste of his precum exploding against my tongue.
(pic:"ch10/grokk bj.png","center","borderless")
My eyes water, the corners crinkling with the strain, but I press on, my mind foggy with the potent pheromones flooding my senses. My lips grip against the base of his glans - as far as I can go.
The muffled grunt from above tells me that Grokk is aware of my struggles. His deep, guttural voice rumbles through the wood of the table, the vibrations reaching down to where I'm splayed in obscene submission. As he grunts, he twitches, his cock-head growing another side, opening my strained jaw up even more.
"No teeth, Tit-bitch," he warns, his words a chilling promise of further punishment should I disobey. I whimper around his cock, the sound muffled by the invading length.
The taste of him is objectively vile, an affront to my senses. Each twitch of his cock, each fresh hot spurt of precum is a test of my resolve, a battle against my gag reflex. I force myself to swallow it down, the musky essence sliding lazily down my throat. Each bob of my head is a struggle, the taste of him a salty reward for my efforts.
I can feel the wet heat pooling between my thighs. I gurgle.
My outfit feels tighter as I shift, trying to find a more comfortable position. The tight dress hugs my curves, my tits bobbing with each movement. The bangles on my wrists jingle with each jerk of my hands, the sound mixing with the lewd, wet noises of my mouth working over his cock.
The strain in my jaw is horrific, an aching burn that is not going to subside anytime soon.
The taste is overpowering, each fresh spurt of precum a devastating assault on my senses, heating me from the inside out . It's raw, putrid, a smorgasbord of curdled goblin flavors that leave my head reeling. I grimace, trying to adapt to the taste, my tongue brushing against the throbbing underside of his massive length, exploring every pulsing vein and sweaty crevice.
I try to avoid it, but my mouth gets more and more sullied with precum, the viscous liquid sliding down my throat, pooling in my stomach. The potent essence of the goblin chieftan taints me from within. My body responds to the invasion, my pussy clenching, a slick wetness building at the apex of my quivering thighs.
Every shift in my position sends ripples through my body, my breasts jiggling within the confines of the dress, my nipple tassels jingling with each weighty flop. The heavy gold chain around my waist slithers against my skin; the metal is cold against warm flush spreading across my skin.
I can feel my ponytails brush against the small of my back, their gold-adorned weight tugging at my scalp with each nod of my head.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, the sting unexpected and alarming. Is it from the strain of accommodating Grokk's massive cock, or the shameful realization of what I'm doing? I don't know. All I know is that I can't stop. The slow leak of precum down my throat, the muffled grunts of satisfaction from above, they're all demanding my submission.
I try to use my hands, the bangles on my wrists clinking as I grip the base of his cock. It's a daunting task, my slender fingers barely able to circle his thickness. The feel of him is tough to bear, the mammoth erection sweaty under my touch. My mind recoils at the contact, the haze of pheromones doing little to curb the feeling that I’m pleasuring a monster, an enemy of my people.
The burn in my jaw is becoming unbearable. But the fear of Grokk’s drunken wrath keeps me going, the threat of punishment for disobedience a terrifying prospect. At least I am not getting bred.
I can feel the heat coiling in my lower belly, a slow simmer of want that I can't deny. My womb clenches at the thought of Grokk's virile, invasive cock intending to impregnate me. My chest tightens, a lump forming in my throat.
As I continue my shameful, slobbery task, the cacophony of the goblin feast overhead is a constant reminder of my status. The raucous laughter, the clinking of goblets, the guttural roars of conversation, they're all a testament to the depravity of this place, the Griznak Gobboree, where humans are degraded, subjugated, used.
The tent above me is alive with goblin revelry, their grotesque forms a blight on the beautiful Zaelasian landscape. Grokk, the leader of them all, sits at the head of the table, basking in his vile glory. I am merely a footnote in his story, a human plaything for his amusement.
Despite the rising bile in my throat, the burning in my jaw, the shame in my heart, I don't stop. I can't stop. I'm trapped in this obscene servitude, my body a tool for the goblin king's pleasure. Every bob of my head, every lap of my tongue, every soft whimper around his cock punctuates my degradation, a silent prayer for an end that seems far out of reach.
So I continue, each sob a muffled echo in the grand tent, each tear a glistening symbol of my struggle, each spurt of precum a bitter taste of my future. And through it all, the goblin feast continues, the revelry a stark contrast to my humiliation, the sounds of pleasure a cruel mockery of my suffering.
My jaw can’t take anymore, so my tongue just laps at the sides of his length, an awkward attempt to provide him pleasure. The sour taste of his sweaty skin is nauseating, but I persevere, my face flushed with effort and humiliation. Whimpers escape me as I struggle, the sound muffled by his cock.
The shuffling of my movements causes my dress to shift on my body, my breasts jiggling within the confines of the bodice, nipple tassels chiming with every sway.
For a moment I sit back, overwhelmed.
From above the table, muffled grunts and growls resonate, Grokk's impatience seeping into the noises he emits. The sounds grow more frequent, more agitated, a telling sign of his growing dissatisfaction. He's not pleased with my efforts, his frustration tangible in the guttural noises he makes.
Suddenly, there's a violent jerk on my hair, his rough hands grabbing my ponytails. I'm pulled out from under the table with a harsh tug, my eyes watering from the sudden pain. The jeering crowd of goblins comes into view, their grotesque faces twisted in cruel amusement.
"Yer not servin' properly, bitch," Grokk's gruff voice booms, his words a death knell to any hope of escaping further humiliation. "If bitches don't serve, they can be made to."
(simple_option:"10 facefuck","Oh no...")(pic:"ch10/table feed.png","center","borderless")
($play:"sex loop","facefuck")(display:"grokk moans")With that ominous declaration, he yanks me upwards by my ponytails, the sting radiating from my scalp as I'm hoisted. The sensation of being pulled up by my hair is excruciating, each strand feeling like it's being ripped from its roots. My back arches from the sudden pull.
The sight of Grokk's erect cock aligning with my mouth is terrifying. It glistens with my spit and his precum. It mocks me, lewdly, for failing to please him. As I stare down at the monstrous length, the horrible reality of my situation sinks in.
($hidden_gem:"The drunken goblin chief doesn't give me a moment to brace myself before he's brutally shoving his monstrous cock into my mouth. The intrusion is immediate and overwhelming, his thick length pushing past my lips, which stretch painfully, pathetically to accommodate him. I feel my jaw strain, the ache getting worse, throbbing at the hinges, as he forces himself further inside, each inch a brutal invasion of my mouth.","The drunk, debauched goblin dictator doesn't delay, driving his dauntingly monstrous dick into my mouth. The intrusion is instant and immense, his thick girth gorging beyond my lips, which stretch sorely, shamefully to suit him. I feel my jaw strain, the soreness surging, twitching at the joints, as he drives himself forward inside, each inch a daunting devastation of my mouth.")
My eyes are wide, I can’t even make a single sound of protest - his cock shuts me up.
His engorged member slides along my tongue, the taste of him spreading throughout my mouth.The monster prods the back of my throat. My eyes water, a strangled gasp escaping me. The audience hoots and hollers as he starts to force his way down. Down my throat.
I have no choice but to swallow AROUND him, my muscles convulsing against the immense foreign intrusion.
The world begins to blur around the edges, my vision clouding as I struggle for breath.
My lungs cry out for air, but all they receive is cock.
Grokk's massive length fills my mouth and throat, pressing against my windpipe, blocking my air supply thoroughly - just one more thing for him to dominate. I feel my collar tighten around my neck, its cold, metal surface pressing against the swelling skin of my throat that's stretched to its limit around his member.
Panic grows within me, a primal fear taking hold as I realize I can't breathe. My vision swims, stars bursting behind my eyelids, as I fight the impending blackness threatening to engulf me. But the lack of oxygen and the onslaught of sensations are too much, and my eyes start to cross.
The jeering of the crowd becomes a distant echo as the reality of my situation settles in. I'm being used, brutally face-fucked by the goblin king in front of his minions, my body on display for their amusement. My breasts, hanging from the dedicated holes in my dress, swing wildly with each of his brutal thrusts, their movement causing the nipple-tassels to jingle louder.
Grokk roars with pleasure, his grip on my ponytails tightening as he uses them to guide my head onto his cock. My body jerks with each violent thrust, my ass jiggling in time with his savage rhythm, the sight drawing cheers and applause from the watching crowd.
All I can see is the expanse of his hairy, muscled lower body as he forces himself further and further down my throat. I can feel his heavy balls swinging close my chin, as he presses and prods farther down. The jeering from the crowd seems to egg him on, their laughter and cheers pushing him to use me more ruthlessly.
I catch a glimpse of Melka, her hand clamped over her mouth in horror, her eyes wide as she takes in the brutal scene. But her reaction is drowned out by the cheer of approval that rises from Krognar, the troll who defeated me in the arena. His booming laughter fills the tent.
A rush of air floods my lungs as Grokk momentarily withdraws, a reprieve as fleeting as it is precious. I gasp, coughing and spluttering, drool mixed with spit and his musky precum trailing from my lips in a lewd display. My throat burns with the harsh intrusion, every swallow a reminder of the violent invasion.
But I hardly have time to catch my breath before he plunges back in, his monstrous length filling my throat once again. The hold on my ponytails tightens, and he starts to pump his cock into my mouth, forcing me to take his length deeper than before.
I feel the veins on his cock, engorged with blood, sliding along the soft, sensitive tissue of my throat. The sensation is overwhelming, a cruel mix of pain and a perverse thrill that I can hardly comprehend. I feel the brutal stretch of my throat as he forces more of himself inside, the walls of my esophagus yielding under the relentless assault.
His massive balls are now properly clubbing my chin - he’s that far down. 16 inches of cock buried in my throat.
His grunts and growls of pleasure fill the air, competing with the cheers and lewd remarks from the goblin horde. "Yeah, chief, show that bitch who's boss!" "Bet she's never had a real cock before!" The cacophony of voices fuels Grokk's lust, his thrusts growing increasingly urgent, more violent.
(if:($get_choice:"10 banquet") is "Offer yourself.")[A high-pitched squeal cuts through the noise, and I recognize Melka's voice. She's pleading with Grokk to be gentle. I can't see her, but I hear her distressed cries, a stark contrast to the jeering crowd. But her pleas are quickly silenced, drowned out by Grokk's cruel laughter and the increased vigor of his assault.
]Suddenly, I feel a shift in Grokk's movements, a change in the rhythm. His grunts grow louder, more animalistic, his words harsh and guttural as he roars out his dominance. "TIME FOR YOUR DINNER, HUMAN!"
His cock twitches violently inside me, the convulsive throb stretching my throat. It's buried deep, so deep that it feels as though it's lodged directly in my stomach. And then it happens: the first pulse of his climax.
(simple_option:"10 cum","He cums.")(pic:"ch10/grokk bj cum.png","center","borderless")($play:"sex loop","cum in mouth")(display:"grokk moans")A shudder races through my body as I feel the rush of his hot, thick cum spurting directly into my stomach. The sensation is indescribable, a horrifying mix of repulsion and a twisted, perverse thrill that I can't quite suppress. Each jet is a physical force, a pressure that fills me in a way I never thought possible.
My ears ring with the muffled sounds of his ejaculations, the sounds distorted by the obscene length of his cock buried in my throat. The feeling of his hot, putrid cum filling me is nauseating, an intimate invasion.
Yet, there's a part of me that responds to the onslaught, a primal, base reaction that I can't control. Despite my mental protestations, I can feel a flush of heat coursing through me, a perverse arousal that spreads outward from my fast-filling stomach, to the rest of my body. My toes curl, my nipples throb.
His cock continues to spasm, twitching and pulsating as it continues to pump his seed into me. The sensation of being so brutally stretched by his massive member, the crude violation of my throat, is a perverse reality I struggle to accept. My throat clenches around his cock, milking it, the muscles instinctively reacting to the harsh invasion.
($vid:"ch10/xray.mp4")
Another jolt of pleasure courses through my body. I can’t stop it.
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)Grokk's cum is hot and thick, filling my stomach with an uncomfortable warmth. Each throb of his cock delivers more of the putrid substance, the pressure of it creating a perverse bulge in my throat.
Finally, Grokk withdraws from my throat, his massive, cum-spurting cock sliding up and out with a wet, obscene squelch. With a gasp that comes out more like a desperate wheeze, I gulp in mouthfuls of air, the freedom to breathe suddenly a luxury. My throat feels stretched and raw, like I've swallowed an iron rod coated in sandpaper.
I take in as much air as I possibly can, gasping. For a single second, I feel numbly incredible.
My stomach is another story. The sensation of being so incredibly full, of carrying around what feels like a gallon of hot, wriggling goblin cum in my belly, is indescribable. My body feels heavy, overstuffed, the heat radiating from my distended tummy intense. It's a wet, slimy heat, squelching and jostling with each breath I take. I can feel the goblin seed wriggling inside me, as if it's alive, turning and churning in my stomach, the sensations of it writhing only intensifying the intense arousal continuing to flood my system.
Pussy juice dribbles down my leg as Grokk completes his long, grunting orgasm.
The last few spurts of his obscene climax take me by surprise. One heavy, sloppy spurt splatters against my chest, drenching the deep green of my bodice with thick, off-white cum. It runs down in rivulets, soaking into the fabric, turning it translucent, ruining the lustrous sheen. Another spurt goes higher, streaking across my face, getting into my eyes. The stinging is immediate and fierce, forcing my eye closed as it pastes my lashes together.
His last spurt dislodges one of my nipple tassels, the heavy cum overwhelming the adhesive holding it to my breast. The tassel falls, revealing my bare nipple, the aureola painted with a glaze of cum. The crowd of goblins roars with laughter, their cheers echoing in the tent as they revel in my utter ruin.
"Tomorrow, I breed you, human," Grokk snarls, wiping his slimy, deflating cock across my forehead. His words send a shudder of revulsion through me, but they also send a spark of heat to my pussy. The effects of the pheromone-laden cum, combined with the degradation of the ordeal, war inside me, creating a bitter dichotomy between my mind and body. I want to scream, to fight, to resist, but my body craves more. My body enjoys it, throbbing in a carnal rhythm that matches the pulse of Grokk's cum in my belly.
I stand there, feeling utterly pathetic, my quite expensive gown thoroughly ruined.
(if:($get_choice:"10 banquet") is "Offer yourself.")[(simple_option:"10 melka","Melka rushes over...")](else:)[(simple_option:"10 melka","You're led away...")]($play:"ambience","banquet ambience")($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$choice is "You're led away...")[($play:"ambience","gobboree muffled")As Grokk stalks out of the tent, a couple of his goblin attendants shuffle toward me. The sheer mockery in their expressions is enough to strip away any remnants of dignity I might have clung to.
"Back to the breeder's rack with this one," one of them cackles, his voice high-pitched and grating. They reach out with their gnarled, dirty hands, grasping my arms and yanking me up to my feet.
($hidden_gem:"As they drag me back across the carnival grounds back to Grokk's tent, my torn and soiled gown barely clinging to my body, I can feel the eyes of every goblin in the vicinity burning into me. Whispers and jeers fill the air, a cacophony of mockery that drowns out the sound of my own labored breathing.","As they haul me across the haunted halcyon of the carnival grounds to Grokk's grimy grotto, my ruined and ragged robes barely hanging to my hapless husk, I can feel every goblin's glaring gaze gripping me. Whispers and whooping waft in the wind, a dystopian din drowning the depths of my distressed, desperate breaths.")
"Looks like the chief fed her good," one attendant leers, giving my belly, distended with the weight of Grokk's vile seed, a rough poke that forces a gasp from my lips. The other joins in with a snicker, his fingers cruelly tweaking my exposed nipple.
"Enough to keep the bitch quiet for a while," the second adds, his filthy hand sliding down the fabric of my gown to grope between my legs crudely. The unwanted touch is a blunt reminder of my complete helplessness and the reality of what my body is being conditioned for.
Humiliated, violated, and exhausted, I stumble along between them, each step a painful reminder of the ordeal my body has endured.
They roughly strap me back into the breeding rack, the cold leather of the restraints biting into my bruised wrists and ankles. The hardness of the rack against my back feels unforgiving, a solid reminder of the physical and emotional confinement I am subjected to. As they fasten each buckle, their fingers linger, pinching and pulling at my skin with sadistic glee.
"Sleep well, breeder," one of the attendants sneers, giving my cheek a pat that feels more like a slap. "Tomorrow is gonna be fun."
The sound of their laughter fades as they walk away, leaving me alone in the dimly lit tent. The weight of the goblin seed inside me is a heavy, squirming presence, a constant physical reminder of my degradation. The air around me is thick with the stench of sweat, seed, and despair.
As the reality of my situation envelops me, a profound exhaustion drags at my consciousness. Despite the whirlwind of fear, disgust, and reluctant arousal churning within me, sleep begins to creep up, insidious and inevitable. The mental fight to maintain clarity and purpose blurs as the pheromones in Grokk's seed start their sinister work, clouding my thoughts, dulling my emotions.
My eyelids grow heavy, the effort to keep them open too much to bear. The last vestiges of resistance fade, and I find myself slipping into a dark, uneasy sleep.](else:)[($play:"ambience","post arena")(pic:"ch09/melka.jpg","left")But I am not left alone in this state of disgrace. Melka rushes to my side.
She wraps an arm around me, guiding me out of the room. "Come on,” she grunts, giving me a look of sympathy. "Let's get you into a bath."
I hobble beside her, our journey taking us to a large tent erected on the outskirts of the royal cluster. The bathing tent is crude, an afterthought in the grand scheme of goblin civilization, yet it represents salvation in my current state. Slave girls immediately block our path, their eyes taking in my cum-soaked appearance.
Typically in goblin society, cum is not to be so quickly cleaned off, but rather allowed to sit. But Melka, fierce and protective, snarls at them. "Grokk asked for it," she lies smoothly, and the slave girls immediately back off, their eyes wide with fear.
With the path clear, the goblin girl leads me into the tent.
The first thing to go is the sticky dress. It peels away from my body with a disgusting squelch, cum-soaked fabric leaving a trail of sticky residue on my skin. The ruined dress lands in a heap on the floor, its lewd adornments hanging limply. My sandals are next, a gloppy mass of cum pooling in the soles, leaving sticky footprints on the floor.
Under Melka's patient ministrations, I'm soon completely naked, the air in the tent cool against my cum-slicked skin. My belly is heavily distended with Grokk's cum, and I can't help but feel a twinge of arousal, the goblin pheromones fogging my brain. My body, despite the degradation and the pain, reacts in ways I'd rather it didn't, heat continuing to radiate low in my abdomen.
Soreness laces my throat, the echo of Grokk's monstrous cock throbbing with every swallow. The remnants of his domination linger on my skin, matting my hair, and filling my belly with a warmth that radiates obscenely outward. With a sob, I lower myself into the bath, the water steaming and slightly goblin-scented but welcome nonetheless. My high ponytails float, a gross strand of cum dangles from one, streaking my face. The sensation of the water against my cum-slicked skin is soothing and discomforting in equal measure.
A gentle touch against my shoulders breaks me from my thoughts. Melka, her upturned nose wrinkled in sympathy, her purple eyes glowing in the candlelight, begins to cleanse me. The throbbing pain in my legs eases slightly, my wide hips spreading out in the water, my fat ass nestling into the tub's curved bottom, the heat soothing the ache.
“Thank you, Tit-bitch," she says, in earnest, “for saving my hide. Ya suffered for it.”
Her words prompt fresh tears to spill from my eyes, sliding down my cheeks to join the bathwater. My hands drift down to my distended belly, the skin stretched and hot from the massive load of goblin cum pumped into it. I press down, hoping to expel some of it, but the dominant, virile semen stays put, wriggling inside me, asserting its claim. I feel it permeating my body, seeping into every corner, sullying me even more. It's the second load in two days, my sanity buckling under the weight of the obscene cum-meals.
(pic:"ch10/baths.jpg")
Melka's hands are in my hair now, the goblin girl barking orders at the slave girls loitering around the tent. She's washing the strands, combing through the sticky mess Grokk left behind. Several hairs fall out in the process, the roots screaming in protest from their rough treatment earlier. As she works, my big breasts bobble in the water, floating and bumping against my belly.
The feeling is disconcertingly feminine, a reminder of my transformed body, and I find myself strangely attuned to the sensation now. But the descending haze, the potent goblin pheromones, keeps me from dwelling too much on it, the woozy heat spreading outwards, making my body tingle with arousal, a sensation that fills me with an equal measure of shame and yearning.
Fresh from the bath, my skin glows under the dim torchlight. The haze of goblin pheromones permeates everything, it's like I can almost taste it. My body pulses with arousal, the sensation intensifying with each passing second.
Melka's voice, husky and low, filters through the fog in my mind. She asks me something, but her words come as distant echoes, and I just blink at her, my mossy-green eyes lidded and unfocused. My hands reach for the loaf of bread she offers, but the thought of eating something othernthan cum makes my stomach churn uncomfortably.
With a sigh, Melka guides me away from the bath, her strong hand wrapped around my elbow, steadying my unsteady gait. The heat of arousal feels as though it's seeping into my bones, suffusing my being with an obscene desire that I can't shake off, no matter how hard I try. It's like a wildfire, slowly consuming my mind, leaving only carnal lust in its wake.
The sight of the breeding rack fills me with dread, yet a perverse anticipation bubbles up within me. As Melka gently eases me onto it, my heart races, and I can't help the gasp that escapes my lips as the cool metal touches my skin.
"I'm sorry, tit-bitch," Melka murmurs, her voice laced with genuine regret. But there's no escaping it, not for me. As she secures the leather cuffs around my wrists and ankles, the reality of my situation comes crashing down. I'm spread wide open, my body bared for all to see, my pussy sopping and glistening.
Melka chuckles, a soft sound that echoes eerily in the room, "Look at you, drippin' like a ripe fruit." Her words make me blush.
With one final tug, the cuffs are secured, and my body is stretched taut. The room grows silent, save for my ragged breaths and the soft whisper of Melka's movements. Every inch of my being is consumed by the burning arousal, my mind foggy and clouded, the pulsating need in my pussy becoming an urgent demand. My clit throbs in time with my heartbeats, a constant, insistent reminder of my situation. The potent goblin seed wriggles inside me, its alien warmth intensifying my desire.
The door creaks open, and in walks Grouz, the old goblin shaman, a hunched figure shrouded in tattered robes. The room grows colder, an icy chill creeping into the very marrow of my bones. My heart pounds in my chest, my pussy throbbing in time.
Melka and Grouz speak in hushed whispers, their words a mere murmur against the throbbing in my ears. Melka gestures towards me, her face set in an expression of grim determination, while Grouz's eyes rake over my body, causing a shiver of disgust to run through me. Yet, in my hazy state, the feeling quickly melts away.
Grouz begins his ritual, his gnarled hands moving in slow, measured patterns over my body. His touch is surprisingly gentle, though his palms are cold and clammy, making my skin pucker under the chill. There's a strange hum in the air, like a low, resonating thrum that sends shivers down my spine, coursing through my pussy and tightening my nipples. The sensations dance over my skin, weaving an intricate tapestry of sensations.
I feel a wave of relaxation washing over me, like a sigh echoing through my body, easing the aches and pains. The tension in my muscles slowly dissipates, my body growing heavy with exhaustion. But the heat in my belly remains, the cum stirring restlessly within me, a constant reminder of my subjugation. The desire doesn't leave, it just dulls, becomes more manageable. It's a small mercy, yet one that I'm grateful for.
As the ritual concludes, the room falls silent. My eyes, heavy-lidded and clouded, blink up at the dimly lit tent ceiling, the fabric a blur of shapes and shadows. My mind is wrapped in a fog, the world around me a dizzying whirl of colors and sounds, all seeming to melt into each other.
"I've got somethin' I need to do tonight, Tit-bitch," Melka says, her voice sounding like it's coming from the end of a long tunnel. “Jus’ - hang in there. One more night.”
I try to respond, to ask her what's happening, but the words die in my throat, replaced by a heavy yawn that stretches my jaw.
Melka's face, bathed in the dim torchlight, becomes an island of tranquility in a tumultuous sea. There's an emerald iridescence to her skin, starkly contrasting the gloom around her, a beacon cutting through the darkness. Her sparkling amethyst eyes, normally filled with goblin mischief, now glimmer with a strange depth.
I see sorrow - a ghost of the past, a whisper of the forgotten. It’s a moment that's as swift as it is poignant, leaving an indelible impression upon me.
The shaman’s magic takes deeper hold. As Melka’s cryptic words echo around me, a lullaby of melancholy, sleep begins to wrap me like a soft blanket. My eyes flutter shut, my body surrendering to the darkness.]
(simple_option:"11 in heat","After a fitful sleep in the rack...")(masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","gobboree muffled")($chapter_title:11,"In Heat")(pic:"ch11/breeding rack.png","center","borderless")(set:$gender to "female")
Sticky droplets of perspiration tickle my sides, slithering down to meet the cushioned surface of the rack. It isn't until I focus my hazy vision, realizing the sensation isn't just my imagination, that I notice how damp I am. The rack's cold leather is a contrast to the hot flush that's taken over my body, my slender stomach slick with a thin layer of sweat. A whisper of a moan leaves me at the chill touch of the leather against my heated skin.
($hidden_gem:"The dull, muffled throb of discomfort radiates from my raw throat and aching jaw, its cause momentarily elusive in my muddled mind. A cloudy, unformed thought insists it's important, but every attempt to grab it just seems to push it further away. My weary eyes feel swollen. I squint, grimacing.","The dull, droning discomfort drips from my damaged throat and dolorous jaw, its cause cursorily cloudy in my cluttered cognition. A cloudy, confusing concept clamors for cognition, but every effort to ensnare it merely shoves it further. My weary eyes seem swollen. I squint, scowling.")
My raven-black hair is plastered to my damp forehead. It tickles my swollen eyes as I blink away the vestiges of sleep, and some sort of stickiness, trying to piece together yesterday’s event. I was... I was... My mind’s foggy, memories slipping away, like a dream on the verge of waking.
My vision drops to my chest, my massive boobs sprawled to either side. They’re so heavy, their weight pulling at me sideways, stacked on my ribcage. My pink nipples stand out starkly against my pale skin, achingly erect. There's a new sensation, a tingling sort of pressure that's somehow different from arousal. It's centered in my areolas, radiating out into the surrounding flesh, my breasts pulsing with a strange warmth.
A soft groan rumbles from my throat as a heat prickles along my body, pooling between my wide-spread legs. My pussy is dripping, the juices trickling onto the bench. It's slick and warm under my ass, the wetness squelching with every small shift of my body. The sensation is... not unpleasant, almost comforting in the foggy stupor of my mind.
I whimper as another coil of heat unfurls inside me, the throbbing ache between my legs growing more intense than before. I’ve been struggling with arousal for days, but it’s worse than ever now. If I could move my legs, I would clench them together. This sensation is beyond anything I've ever known, as if my body, my entire being, is begging for something... But what?
The thought of breeding flits through my mind, a quicksilver flash of an idea that has me squirming. But it slips away before I can even consider it, leaving me aching and empty. My nipples twitch, another drop of slickness oozes from my pussy.
Not everything is pleasant. My wrists and ankles feel raw, chafed against the leather straps. But the physical discomfort is distant, mostly subdued by the all-encompassing warmth flooding my senses.
Slowly, the memories start to resurface. Grokk. The goblin chief. Oh gods, his cock. Sixteen inches of pure goblin malice ramming down my throat. That's why my throat hurts. That's why I ache. He used me, face-fucked me until he drained his balls into my tummy.
As for where all that cum went, my stomach has returned to its flat state, yet a horrible thought crosses my foggy mind. Has it been absorbed into me? The thought SHOULD revolt me, yet I find no negativity, only the warmth of my stupor and the echoing hum of something almost like satisfaction.
Struggling to bring my scattered thoughts into focus, I remember Melka, the goblin girl. I remember her kindness, but it's like trying to hold onto smoke. It's the same when I try to remember my past as Aldric, or my wife Elara. It's there, but it slips through my mental grasp, like everything else, it fades into the fog. All I'm left with is the intoxicating warmth, the persistent arousal, the throbbing, needy ache of my pussy. The sight of my own body, open and ready in the breeding rack.
My mind should rebel against this thought, yet it keeps slipping towards ideas of breeding, of carrying goblin whelps. And the more it slips, the more the haze in my mind thickens, muffling all thoughts except the physical sensations flooding me. The heat, the wetness, the throbbing arousal, and the peculiar fullness in my breasts.
My mind feels like a blanket's been thrown over it, my thoughts muffled, edges blurred.
(simple_option:"11 approach","Two figures approach.")(pic:"status/grokk.png","right","borderless")The first one is small, his wrinkled skin like dried leather, and his beady eyes dart around nervously - Grouz. His companion is larger, his muscular form casting a long shadow on the tent floor, a formidable beast with gnarled features and menacing eyes. Grokk. My pussy clenches at the sight of him, instinctively. A shiver of apprehension runs through me, conflicting with the flush of warmth that blooms inside.
"Boss, we gotta wait one more day. One more load of gobbo goo in her, and then she'll be ripe," Grouz's voice grates out, that crude language jarring my senses.
Grokk snarls in return, his voice the crash of boulders. "You said I could breed the bitch today. I ain't waiting."
Grouz looks down, visibly swallowing his fear. "Boss, her body's still getting used to gobbo cocks. One more day and you'll have the best chance for healthy whelps. You don't want a repeat of last time."
My brain fuzzily tries to grasp their conversation, my mind on a slow crawl. My heart beats in my chest like a war drum, each thud sending a pulse of arousal through me. When they mention breeding, my pussy clenches again, the slick wetness increasing.
Grokk moves toward me, his heavy footsteps like distant thunder. He bends over me, his gnarled hand reaching out and roughly grabbing one of my breasts. The sensation shoots through me, a whimper escaping my lips. My nipples tighten to painful points, the unexpected touch sending a jolt of pleasure through me.
"See, they're swollen. Ready for milking. She's ready." His words bounce around in my foggy brain, creating a storm of dread and arousal.
"Almost, m’lord. One more day. I promise, the bitch'll be ripe," Grouz's voice is pleading now. His eyes dart to me, then back to Grokk, fear etched in their depths.
"I don't care," Grokk snaps, his hand tightening on my breast. "I'll just find another bitch if this one don't work out."
(simple_option:"11 whimper","Whimper.")I shudder, my pussy clenching again at his harsh words. My body betrays me, reacting to his rough handling. My toes curl, my fingers digging into my palms. I can feel the slight slipperiness beneath my ass, the slickness of my arousal coating the leather of the rack. I hate it, but my body loves it.
And all the while, my mind screams against the fog, a desperate cry for help in the obscurity, my need for escape a sharp spike in the haze. But my body responds with a simmering heat, a gentle pulse in my lower belly, a traitorous testament to the effects of the pheromones.
I should not want this. I am a human, not a goblin's breeding stock. I must resist. I must... My mind slips back into the fog, their voices fading as my body clenches again, the heat inside me burning brighter.
The argument between Grouz and Grokk escalates, the tone of their voices intensifying. Grouz, in his desperation, says, "This girl, Grokk, she's the best we've ever gotten from the Gobboree. Just look at her. Broad hips, a birth canal wider than a river's mouth. She's the ONE!”
Grokk snarls in response, a low and guttural sound, like a wolf snapping at its prey. "I've heard enough, old man," he growls, and with a quick motion, yanks off his loincloth.
I gasp as his cock springs free, and he stands between my legs, his cock rearing overhead. A steaming glob of precum dribbles out and lands in the valley between my tits, sending a shudder of revulsion through me, and the noxious sent through my nostrils. At the same time, I feel a surge of heat from my core, my pussy clenching and pulsing uncontrollably, as though preparing itself for what is about to happen.
Grouz looks stricken, his withered face full of dismay. “Boss, you must listen!" he insists, his voice raising an octave. "Your family line is at stake! I've been guidin’ your kin for generations, saw your grandad Griznak to his death, watched over your father Grukzak, and now you. Do not throw this away in your impatience.”
Despite his pleas, Grokk lifts his massive schlong, smacking it against my taut belly, creating a resounding slap. My body reacts instantly, my hips arching towards him and a whimper escaping from my lips. The contrast between us is stark - him with his brutal, unforgiving masculinity, me with my softness, my curves.
My mind is spinning, my thoughts disjointed and fragmented due to the pheromones clouding my senses. I feel his massive member pressing against my belly, so warm and hard and alive. His balls, dense and filled with his potent seed, press up against my lower lips. I can't control my body's response - the moans, the way my pussy clenches and spasms, releasing more slick wetness. I bite down on my lower lip as my back arches involuntarily, my body begging for more.
Grouz, looking both desperate and terrified, makes one last plea. "Grokk, if you need to empty your balls, do it in her mouth, or use one of the other bitches," he begs. "This one, she's special. She needs ONE MORE DAY.”
But Grokk ignores his plea, instead, he grinds his thick cock against my slit. My whole body convulses in pleasure, the sensations overwhelming every part of me.
(simple_option:"11 moan","Moan like a bitch.")($play:"ambience","gobboree muffled")(pic:"ch11/breeding rack.png","center","borderless")I can't help but let out a loud, wanton moan, a lewd sound that I didn't even know I could make.
(if:($get_choice:"10 banquet") is "Offer yourself.")[Just as Grokk looks about to ignore Grouz's pleas and thrust into me, a goblin soldier stumbles into the room, babbling about a fire in one of the tents. Grokk roars in frustration, yanks his loincloth back up, and charges out of the room, followed by a clearly relieved Grouz.
I am left alone, strung up in the rack, my body still tingling and twitching with the phantom sensation of his cock against my aching pussy. The fog in my brain seems to lift just slightly at their departure, and I am left with the horrifying realization of how close I came to being bred by that monstrous creature.
The cries of goblins and the acrid scent of smoke stir me from my fog. What’s happening? My thoughts scatter like frightened rabbits, one crashing into another. I try to focus, but I can't. I can still feel the ghost of Grokk’s hot, massive cock on my stomach, the incessant pulsing between my thighs. I tremble in the rack, my hips grinding involuntarily, cunt drooling with desperate need.
And then, a whisper in the confusion. A voice. Familiar.
"Ye can use your magic, slut.”
(simple_option:"11 snib","It's Snib!!!")](else:)[($play:"sex loop",0)Grokk stands between my wide-spread legs, his grotesque, muscled form towering over me. The shadow of his enormous cock swings like a pendulum of doom. The meaty slap each time it connects sends shivers of dread and unwanted arousal coursing through my helpless body.
"Look at ya, spread out like a proper human sow," Grokk grunts, his voice a guttural snarl, spittle flying from his lips. His massive hand reaches down, his filthy fingers tweaking my swollen areola, emphasizing how engorged and dark it has become. "Ripe tits, ready to feed my litter." His laugh is dark, full of malice. "Gobbo girls, they got these tiny little wombs, not fit for more than a runt or two. But you humans, your wombs are so fucking welcoming, ain’t they? Born to be breeding vessels for goblin kind."
(pic:"ch11/grokk fuck 1.png","center","borderless")
His monstrous cock aligns with my dripping cunt again, and this time he doesn't just brush against it - he slaps it hard. The obscene sound of his meaty flesh against my swollen pussy lips resonates in the dimly lit tent, a vulgar symphony of my debasement. I whimper, unable to stop the sound or the way my body arches up, begging for more despite my terror.
"You feel that, bitch?" Grokk sneers, pressing his cock harder against me, making me squirm. "Your fear, it fucking stinks, and it smells delicious."
Grouz, standing a safe distance away, shifts uncomfortably, wringing his hands. "Lord Grokk, please, she needs more time. She's not fully in heat—"
"Shut your gob, Grouz!" Grokk snaps without looking away from me. He grabs his dick, guiding the head, smearing my lips with his filthy pre-cum. "This bitch is as in heat as they come. Look at her dripping hole, soaking my breeding pole."
I can’t hold back a cry as he continues to toy with me, his words slicing through any remnants of dignity I had clung to. His cock, a vile tower of flesh, nudges insistently at my entrance, the head parting my pussy lips, taunting me with the prospect of impossibly stretching me open.
"Usually,” Grokk growls, pressing just the tip against me, making me gasp at the pressure, "a bitch fully in heat takes my mega fucking loads deep. Puts in several pups—big, strong gobbo kids clawing their way out. Some of them too rambunctious for their mommas’ bodies. But you," he sneers, leaning close, his fetid breath washing over my face, "you're gonna take it, aren't ya? Gonna stretch wide and take all my pups."
The image of his monstrous offspring ripping through me brings fresh tears to my eyes, the horror of it clashing with the mechanical heat his vile seed has planted within me.
Grokk presses forward, his cockhead pushing insistently at my entrance.
(pic:"ch11/grokk fuck 2.png","center","borderless")
The sight alone is destroyingly intimidating; the thick green length is covered in veins like thick cords, and a bead of pre-cum glistens at his twitching tip, threatening invasion.
(simple_option:"11 snib","He inserts his cock.")](if:$choice is "He inserts his cock.")[($play:"ambience","goblin ending")(display:"grokk moans")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 2")Grokk's hands grip my thighs.
"This human whore ain't nothing but a masturbation sleeve tonight."
With one brutal shove, his immense cockhead presses against me, my pussy lips straining, stretching grotesquely as they attempt to accommodate the monstrous invader. The sensation is unimaginable, a nasty blend of burning stretch and violating fullness. My mind blanks out, overwhelmed by the crude, primitive pounding of my body's instinctive reactions.
(pic:"ch11/grokk fuck pov.jpg")
($hidden_gem:"My scream ripples through the confines of the tent, a raw, visceral sound that bares my agony and twisted pleasure to any who might hear. Grokk grunts as he watches my face contort in pain and desperate arousal.","My scream streaks through the stillness of the space, a raw, rasping retch that bares my agony and twisted thrill to any who might hear. Grokk grunts, glaring at my face as it contorts in pain and desperate desire.")
He pushes forward, inch by inch, spearing deeper into my wet, quivering cunt.
With each heartless thrust, my stretched pussy lips cling to his dirty shaft, my internal muscles clenched tight around him. I can feel every vile ripple and vein of his cock as it plunges deeper, the sensation so overwhelming it borders on painful ecstasy. My legs are forced open so wide on the rack that I can feel every agonizing stretch of my inner thighs.
(pic:"ch11/grokk fuck 3.png","center","borderless")
Finally, with a grunt that sounds like satisfaction dredged from the depths of a swamp, Grokk gets balls deep. His heavy, sweaty ballsack slaps against me, a wet, disgusting confirmation that he’s filled me completely. The feeling of his entire length inside me is sickening and electrifying in equal measure, my inner walls pulsating around the foreign girth in a mix of resistance and sick acceptance.
Grokk leans over, his massive frame shadowing me, his hot, foul breath washing over my face as he speaks in guttural tones, "I always hated how you humans talk so much, as if your words mean shit." His hips pull back, then drive forward, his cock using my body, my very insides, just to get off. "But your cunts, they know their place... right, whore?"
With each vicious thrust, wild, animalistic sounds tear from my throat, half-sobs and half-moans that vibrate shamefully in the heavy air. The rack creaks ominously under the brutal rhythm of his fucking, my body helplessly submitting to each punishing stroke. My mind can't form thoughts, can't grasp onto anything but the overwhelming sensation of being used, reduced to nothing more than a receptacle for his disgusting pleasure.
"Humans," he spits the word out like a curse as he thrusts, "so fucking weak and squishy. Perfect for a good fucking pounding. Just holes to use."
(simple_option:"11 sword","He increases his pace.")](else:)[“Go on. Use it.”
My mind buzzes. Magic? I vaguely remember that word. There was power there. Once. Aldric’s power.
His words ignite something within me, a tiny spark buried deep inside. Energy surges through me, snapping my back taut as an arrow. My breasts jiggle with the intensity of the sensation. I try to hold onto it, to understand it, but it slips through my foggy grasp.
"Go on," another voice pleads. Melka, a goblin girl. I remember her, with her high voice and strangely soft eyes. "Use it to get free!"
I open my mouth to reply but no words come out, just a needy whimper. Panic swells in my chest. I can't remember. My tears mingle with the sweat trickling down my face. "I c- can't..." I manage to sob out. “The incantations… I don’t… remember…”
"She can't, see!" Melka hisses at Snib. Her voice has a peculiar sharpness to it, like she's suppressing her own fury. "She's had two loads of Grokks' gobbo goo! She's almost lost her mind! She only listens to him!”
"No!" Snib snarls back, his words a low, menacing growl. "I'm NOT releasin' my cow tits." There's an edge to his voice, one I'm not used to. “Ye didn’t see what he’s like. He’s a killer.”
A pause. I feel Melka’s gaze on me, her silence heavy. "Well, she’s gonna be full of Grokk’s pups soon. She isn't your cow tits anymore. She’s Grokk’s Tit-bitch."
Snib's growl escalates into a roar. He sounds like a cornered beast, angry and desperate. "Grokk cheated me! I am GETTIN her back.” (live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","whisperwind sliding")]
But the argument floats past me. My mind is too consumed by my situation. Strapped in the breeding rack, spread eagled, I wrestle with my confusion and arousal. I need to remember the magic, the power I once had. But it's like trying to hold onto water. Slipping through my fingers as my body throbs with unfulfilled desire.
Another hiss cuts through my fog. "I'll fuckin’ kill ya, Snib, if you don't release her!" Melka’s voice. A threat laced with an undercurrent of desperation.
An odd squeal follows. Snib’s retort is a garbled mess, a whine. "Stop pinchin' me!"
Then, a soft scraping sound. My blurry gaze flicks towards it. There, under the edge of the tent, a sword gleams, passed under the tent wall.
(simple_option:"11 sword","Whisperwind!")](set:$gender to "female")(if:$choice is "He increases his pace.")[(pic:"ch11/grokk fuck 4.png","center","borderless")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 2")(display:"grokk moans")The raw primal force of Grokk's massive, filthy goblin cock stretches my cunt-lips so grotesquely wide it triggers an involuntary, guttural scream from deep within me. My throat raw, the sound that shreds out is obscenely loud, filled with pain and a creeping, all-consuming pleasure.
Grokk grunts crudely, gazing down at me with undisguised contempt, his huge, naked green form reeking of foul sweat, utterly dominating me with his size and the filthy stench.
My mind blanks out from the sheer intensity of being so fully stretched out. It's not just being stretched; it's being completely, savagely reshaped by the enormity of his girth.
Grokk rams forward, each push a deeper desecration of my insides.
“My fucking jerk-off sleeve cunt whore,” he growls as he buries himself to the hilt, 16 inches of goblin chieftain's cock penetrating deep into my core.
His huge balls slap against me again, a vulgar sound following my scream. A heavy, obscene weight rests against my ass, and every tremor through his groin sends ripples of filthy sensation inside me. I whimper helplessly, the whimper jagged, raw—*he's so fucking deep*.
"Fucking humans," Grokk spits down at me, "so full of yourselves, till a real gobbo dick fills you up. Pumping your womb full enough, you'll forget your pathetic human bloodline."
His words slap me as hard as his balls against my ass. I feel my face flush hot, from a mounting combination of factors.
Not the least of which is the feeling of the huge helmet of his cock grinding deep, impacting my cervix, stretching, dilating it. It's a sensation so grotesque, so painfully intimate it snaps something inside me.
His girth presses insistently, hammering into that tender, forbidden door, forcing it—oh gods, *forcing it*—pressing inside, an invasion so complete it bleaches my brain of everything but the blinding heat.
I squeal, high-pitched, delirious, each plea dripping with self-degradation. "PISS INTO MY WOMB! Make my fucking womb your *sperm toilet!* Fucking ruin my human body! Breed me till no human bloodline can claim me... make it gobbo... make it *yours!*"
Grokk thrusts, each slam punctuated by his crude cheering. "That's it, cunt, squeal for gobbo cock. Your tits are nothing but milk bags for gobbo pups."
Each filthy pheremone-addled proclamation sears my crumbled psyche, the chieftan's words marring my jumbled thoughts as his cock mauls my cervix, the heat unbearable, the stretch nauseatingly exquisite.
My pussy clamps down, my inner walls clenching wildly around his shaft. A primitive, obscene desperation claws at me. My womb is MILKING him. Squeezing aroun his cock.
Pressure builds, unbearable, scorching, a climax that tears through me without mercy.
(pic:"ch11/grokk fuck 5.png","center","borderless")
I cum.
It's mindless, shameless... my womb clenching around the invasive bulk of his dominating cockhead. Squirt after squirt of my arousal jets out, splattering Grokk's groin as he laughs.
The goblin roars above me, the sound triumphant. The pulsating beam of his cock swells, the vein throbbing violently along its underside. "Here comes the gobbo gravy, bitch. Gonna drown your uppity human bloodline in pure gobbo seed. But I want you to beg for it."
(simple_option:"11 free","Beg for it!")](else:)[(pic:"ch11/whisperwind.jpg")
The blade shimmers, a dance of ethereal blues and purples. Something nags at me, a distant memory. My eyes narrow, trying to pierce the thick haze shrouding my brain. It’s Whisperwind, my old sword. My - Aldric's - sword. The realization crashes into me like a tidal wave.
"You idiot, Snib!" Melka's voice ripples with a potent mixture of frustration and anger. "Her wrists and feet are BOUND! What's she gonna do with the sword? Release her from her fuckin' collar first!”
"But—"
"Just do it, Snib! For your revenge against Grokk!" She pleads, and I hear a thread of urgency woven in her voice.
Abruptly, the tent flap is thrown open and a brutish figure stomps in. Grokk. His eyes land on the sword on the floor and his thick brows furrow in confusion. "WHAT IS THIS?" He roars, nostrils flaring. His gaze swivels to me, pinning me with a searing glare. "WHO WAS IN HERE?"
In the quiet that follows, Snib's voice cuts through, a note of resignation in his tone. "Be… free, cow tits.”
Suddenly, a rush of magic pulses from the collar around my neck, a wave of power that knocks Grokk off his feet. The cursed metal band snaps open, falling to the ground with an echo that resounds throughout the tent. I gasp, feeling the constraint lifted for the first time.
(simple_option:"11 free","You feel different!")(set:$gender to "male")](if:$choice is "Beg for it!")[(pic:"ch11/grokk fuck pov.jpg")(display:"grokk moans")($notification:"Goblin pheromones have permanently ruined your brain.")“Y-yes! Yes! *Dump your fucking load into me!*” I scream, mindlessly, senselessly. “*Wreck my egg tunnel with your gobbo filth!* Breed me into extinction, *erase my pathetic human lineage!*”($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 2")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking cum")
Each obscenity that spills from my lips triggers another sharp, soul-tearing brain-orgasm, my battered pussy squirting uncontrollably as if celebrating my ruination. The heat inside me builds to an inferno, each phrase a log thrown onto the fire.
Grokk’s filthy laughter fills the tent, a sound so cruel it should've shamed me into silence. Instead, it fuels me. His large hand strikes my face, a sharp smack that turns my head, my cheeks stinging, my mind reeling.
“Gonna fill you up so good,” he grunts, his massive body tensing, his thrusts growing erratic but even more forceful. His cock swells inside me, the ominous pulsing signaling what’s to come.
My heart pounds, a drumbeat of sick anticipation. “Please, Master Grokk, make me your cum dumpster, drown my eggs in your superior goblin seed!”
With a deep, guttural roar, Grokk’s control snaps. His hips hammer against mine, brutally hard. “Take it, you human pig,” he bellows as his cock bulges alarmingly, the first jet of scalding goblin cum shooting straight into my womb.
His ejaculation is monstrous, each spurt a hot, violent slap of semen against my tender inner walls. I feel my stomach distending, his seed filling me, claiming me.
"Breed you till you can’t remember being anything *but* a goblin’s cum-dump. Make you forget you were ever a hero!" he roars with each spasm, his body shuddering above me, his claws digging into the flesh of my thighs. “You’ll never be free! You’ll never again not be pregnant!”
His words, vile and sealing, wash over me like acid, corroding the last remnants of my resistance. I sob, clenching around him, milking him, as if I love being the vessel of his vile offspring.
Maybe I do.
When his orgasm finally ebbs, my pussy is oozing, wrecked, overflowing with gobbo sperm. I lay there, gasping, feeling something shift inside me—some dark realization that everything he said was now my truth.
Female slaves, giggling, sashay over to me. They stare down at my ruined sex.
They're carrying a gauze pad soaked in some tacky substance. They carefully but firmly press it against my swollen, cum-leaking pussy, their nimble fingers ensuring every crevice is sealed, trapping Grokk’s seed within me.
As the cool substance solidifies, forming a barrier, a shield locking his filth inside me, reality crystallizes. I've been impregnated, truly and utterly conquered. My soul feels heavy, burdened with the weight of Grokk's seed, a burden I would carry beneath my heart, a relentless reminder of my complete and utter subjugation.
A tear trickles down my cheek, lost in the sea of other sensations, as I lie back against the rack, resigned, broken. The heat in my belly is not just from his cum but from a shattered spirit accepting its fate: I am Grokk's property, now and forever.
(pic:"ch11/grokk fuck creampie.jpg")
(unlock_lore::"Missives from the Fortress of Sorrow","other",10)($game_over:"10 banquet",10,"You live out the rest of your short days as Grokk's breeding bitch...")](else:)[I feel my body ripple. Start to vibrate. My eyes, wide with surprise, stare down at my chest. It's shaking, and I see my full, round tits start to recede. I can feel the weight lifting, the pull lessening. The change isn't painful, but it's intense. The sensation feels like a hand gently pressing, shaping, molding. It's as though an artist is working his fingers through clay, sculpting my body back into its original form. The tits that had jiggled with every step now flatten, morphing into a firm, muscular chest. I can feel the ridges of muscle, the sturdy plane of pectorals replacing the soft swell of my breasts.
($change_stat:"heroism",25)My stomach is next. I watch, in almost detached fascination, as my slim, soft belly ripples and clenches. Like waves on the ocean, they build, peak and fall, each wave carving out another section of Aldric's toned abs. The transformation sweeps down to my hips. They had been wide, inviting. Now, they shrink, muscles tensing and tightening, my body losing its feminine curves, replaced with a more angular, masculine silhouette.
I flex my hands, feeling the strange sensation of my dainty fingers growing larger, stronger. The petite hands, once Elise's, are now replaced with Aldric's warrior hands, broad and calloused. My shoulders broaden, my muscles flex, causing the leather of the breeding bench beneath me to creak and strain. My hair, once long and luscious, now shortens, becoming a rough, warrior's cut.
Down below, a strange sensation. My gaze drops and I see the transformation taking place. My female slit disappears, replaced by the familiar shape of a cock. My cock. Aldric's cock. A dusting of hair starts to sprout on my chest, my body no longer the smooth, hairless form of Elise. I am becoming Aldric, the transformation nearing its end.
The fog that has been clouding my thoughts starts to lift, like a mist burning away under the morning sun. Memories, thoughts, clear and unclouded flood back into my brain. One memory in particular pierces through. A word. An incantation.
(simple_option:"11 fire","'Ignisurge.'")]"Ignisurge," I find myself whispering. The voice that comes out is no longer Elise's soft, melodic voice but my old, deep rumble.
Instantly, the magic flows, bending to my command. My hands erupt into flames, the fire harmless to me but brutal to the leather restraints binding me. They crackle, blacken, and break. Free, I clench my fists, feeling the potency thrumming in my veins.
“It’s HIM!” I hear Snib shriek. "You've doomed us all!"
(simple_option:"11 grokk","You see Grokk...")($play:"sound","fire spell")($play:"sex loop",0)($hidden_gem:"He's frozen, his eyes wide in disbelief, unable to comprehend the transformation unfolding before him. But I pay him no heed. I feel the strength returning to my muscles, a familiar strength, an old friend welcomed back. I test the remaining restraints, my muscles straining against the leather, pulling, ripping, until finally, they snap.", "He’s halted, his orbs huge in horror, unable to fathom the transformation transpiring before him. But I have no heed for him. I feel the strength seeping into my sinews, a familiar force, an old favored friend. I test the remaining restraints, my muscles striving against the straps, pulling, pressing, until finally, they sunder.")($play:"sound","grokk 1")
The powerful male hero of Eboncrest, Aldric, is back. My transformation complete, I stand, facing Grokk, a look of determination in my eyes. It's time for the next chapter in my story to begin. And the final chapter of Grokk’s brutish existence.
The goblin chief growls, considering me, a predator surveying his opponent. His eyes glitter, his yellow teeth bared in a disgusting grin. “So, it was you under there. A man. Hah!” His voice rumbles, as heavy as a rockslide, stirring the air in the tent. “This is why I hate magic.”
I meet his gaze. I am no prey. I am no slave. I am a warrior. I am Aldric, the man, the hero of Eboncrest.
“I am Aldric, you filth. Too long. Too fucking long you've terrorized our people. Enslaved our women. Tainted their bodies.”
Grokk's laughter is harsh, mocking. "Oh, human,” he scoffs, his eyes narrowing, fixing me with a cruel gaze. “They love it. You’ve seen it yourself.” He points at the pussy-juice pooling on the bench. “You’ve loved it yourself.”
My fists clench and unclench, muscles coiling tight with fury. My gaze flits to the side, landing on Whisperwind. The sword is a mere few feet away, the blade still shimmering with an ethereal light. A weapon I could use. But Grokk deserves a more personal touch. I want to kill him with my bare hands.
The roar of rage and defiance that rips from my throat, Aldric's throat, is raw, primal.
My newly transformed legs push off the ground, propelling me towards Grokk. But something's off. The momentum feels all wrong, the stride too long. Damn it, I've misjudged. I've spent too long in a woman's body. The smaller steps, the wider hips, all made for a different center of gravity. Now, I'm taller, my hips narrower, my stride is longer. It's like learning to walk all over again.
Grokk capitalizes on my fumble. A deep, cruel laugh booms from him as he steps aside, watching as I stumble past him. "What’s wrong, human?” He sneers. “Got your tits in a twist?"
He slams into me, taking me down to the rough hide rug that adorns his tent floor. I feel his monstrous weight on top of me, his hands pressing down, squeezing my throat. His breath, rank and fetid, washes over my face, making my stomach churn.
"Humans," he spits, his voice a rumbling growl that reverberates through his chest and into me. "Weak. Inferior. Your women are good for one thing only, and even then, they’re just a means to an end."
(pic:"ch11/wrestle.jpg")
He tightens his grip, his claws digging into the flesh of my throat, and I gasp, straining for air. The world is starting to spin, the edges of my vision growing dark. But I refuse to go down without a fight.
In desperation, I reach up, attempting to claw at his eyes, but he merely grunts and swings his head away, avoiding my swipe. My move has cost me, my arms are now pinned above my head, and Grokk grins down at me, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Pathetic."
Despite the crushing pressure on my throat, my mind is racing. There's a move I know, one I could use if I can pull it off. An escape, an elbow escape from bottom position, perfect for when you're on your back and the enemy is in full mount.
(simple_option:"11 elbow escape","Use an elbow escape.")($play:"sex loop",0)(live:10s)[($play:"sex loop","fists")(stop:)]Panting, gasping for breath, I flex my hips, a quick burst of energy that lifts my pelvis off the ground. It's a distraction, a feint, and Grokk falls for it, his attention moving from my pinned arms to my writhing body. I seize the opportunity, using the moment of distraction to move my right arm. With a swift, jerking movement, I pull my elbow to my side, sliding my forearm under Grokk's armpit.($play:"sound","grokk 2")
Now comes the tricky part. Using all my strength, I swing my left leg, planting my foot on the ground and rolling to my right, onto my side. The movement takes Grokk by surprise, and he wobbles, his balance unsteady. With a final push, I roll, forcing Grokk to fall off me, his hand releasing my throat.
Air. Sweet, sweet air. I gasp, filling my lungs with much-needed oxygen. Grokk is sprawled on the ground next to me, momentarily stunned. But I can't afford to waste any more time. I scramble to my feet, ignoring the weakness in my knees, the trembling in my legs.
Grokk is starting to recover, beginning to push himself up. I need to act, now. He’s stronger, but I know I’m better.
The goblin chief snarls at me, his face a wicked portrait of goblin green, yellow fangs glistening. He’s big. He points to his huge cock, his words curling in the air like foul smoke. "Humanity... is the past. We're gonna fuck your kind off the face of Zaelasia.”
His words fill me with an inferno of rage. Each syllable feeds the flames. I remember Elise, remember the fucking breeding rack, the metallic taste of his goblin seed. The shameful memories flow like molten metal, scalding, fusing with the anger, igniting an explosive reaction.
"Over my dead body, you sick fuck!" My own voice shocks me. It's deep, commanding. It echoes off the cavern walls, drowning out the lewd, distant cacophony of the Griznak Gobboree. Grokk sneers, an ugly curl of his wide, bulbous nose. His skin glistens in the dim light.
(simple_option:"11 attack","Attack!")($play:"sex loop","fists")I charge, a roaring beast of pure, unrestrained fury. Muscles surge beneath my skin, every line of my body hard and focused. My fists slam into his broad chest with a satisfying thud. Each punch I land is a punishment, a reckoning, a scream of defiance against his grotesque vision of the future. He roars, a sound as ugly as the words he spouted, flinging me back with a swipe of his powerful arms.($play:"sound","grokk 1")
I stagger, barely catching myself, my new body a swirling mix of power and unfamiliarity. His laughter fills the air, a grating, rattling mockery. Grokk's grotesque cock swings, a lewd pendulum echoing his taunts. His words from before reverberate in my head, feeding the fires of my rage.
"No more!" I roar, my voice thundering through the tent as I grapple him.
Grokk tries to throw me off, but I'm not letting go. I'm a part of him now, a furious specter clinging to his putrid flesh. The muscles in my arms strain, my knuckles are raw and bloody from the impact. But I don't stop. I can't. Not until Grokk is no more.
With a warrior's precision, I aim for his vulnerable spots, my fingers becoming talons, my knuckles hardened weapons.
A brutal left hook slams into his face, one of my fingers snapping against his cheekbone. The pain is there, but it’s distant, a dull throb drowned in anger. I twist, my right hand reaching for his throat. There is no hesitation, no second thought.
My fingers dig into his windpipe, squeezing, crushing. Grokk’s eyes widen in shock and then fear. Fear that fuels my strength, my satisfaction. I feel his skin under my fingers, warm, pulsating, alive.
But not for long.
(simple_option:"11 rip","Rip his throat out.")($play:"sex loop","fists")With a roar that rattles the very bones of the earth, I hold it aloft as his lifeless body falls back. His blood is warm on my hands, thick and coppery. His roar is cut short, replaced by a wet gurgle as he topples to the ground, clutching his empty neck. He thrashes for a moment, and then goes still.($play:"sound","grokk death")($play:"ambience","gobboree muffled")
Goblin blood flows like a river, staining the animal furs. I stand there, his blood dripping from my hands, my heart pounding like a war drum. My chest heaves, a sweet symphony of victory that resonates within the tent.
"I AM ALDRIC,” I roar. "And you," I glance down at Grokk's lifeless body, a satisfied smirk playing on my lips, "are nothing more than a bad memory."
(pic:"ch11/vengeance.jpg")
My breaths echo in the hush that follows the chieftan’s death. My heart pounds, each thump a declaration of my victory, a claim to my regained freedom. From a worn wooden shelf, I grab a piece of Grokk's royal goblin armor, a filthy, studded vest of hide and metal, and a pair of worn leather trousers. Each piece reeks of goblin stench, but it's better than the chill on my bare skin. Wrapping a strip of cloth around my bloody knuckles, I feel the bite of the fabric against raw wounds, a sharp reminder of the reality of my victory.
Gritting my teeth against the sting, I smear Grokk's blood on my face, a grotesque mask of vengeance, a symbol of retribution. Every streak is a proclamation, a line drawn against the injustices suffered. My reflection in the tarnished mirror hanging crookedly on the tent wall is something out of a nightmare, a visage twisted with rage and smeared with the lifeblood of the enemy.
The sight stirs something inside me, a primal, savage satisfaction that I've barely acknowledged before. Now, though, it roars to life, a lion uncaged and ready to unleash its fury on those outside.
My eyes catch a glint on the tent floor. Whisperwind. The sight of my sword, my lifeline, fills me with a jolt of relief. Picking it up, I feel its familiar weight, a sensation that whispers of past battles and victories, a promise of more to come.
Whisperwind's blade gleams with an ethereal glow, the light dancing along the intricate engravings. Its 30-inch blade is iridescent, gleaming. My fingers trace over the magical gemstone embedded in the hilt, its pulsing energy a familiar hum beneath my fingertips. It feels right in my hand, a return to power, a taste of redemption.
With a grim determination, I wipe the blade in goblin blood. Each smear feels like a cleansing, a purification after Snib's defilement. It feels like redemption.
I heft Whisperwind, testing its balance, feeling the familiar grip. I feel a rush of strength, a tide of power coursing through my veins. The magic stirs within me, responding to the call of the wind-enhanced blade. It's like a forgotten song, the notes slowly coming back to me.
I look around for the collar, but it’s nowhere to be seen. I hear scrabbling outside the tent. Snib. He’s DEFINITELY on my list.
(simple_option:"11 wrath","Leave the tent.")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","vengeance")Bloodied fists clenched and Whisperwind in hand, I exit Grokk's tent, stepping into the chaos of the Griznak Gobboree. The once vibrant carnival is now a pandemonium of smoke and fire. A tent blazes nearby, the flames dancing devilishly against the darkening sky. Melka's doing, I reckon - a distraction, the clever goblin girl seems to have set the stage for my entrance.
A gust of wind whips through the air, carrying with it the repugnant stench of goblin sweat and the distinct odor of fear. I know from my days here, that thousands of goblins and their human slaves fill the desert carnival grounds, a grotesque spectacle that turns my stomach. The moans of the enslaved women echo hauntingly through the air, and I consider the horrors inflicted upon them.
(pic:"ch11/skullgaroth.jpg")
I scan the chaotic scene of Grokk’s tents, my gaze as sharp as the blade in my hand. I don’t see any sign of Snib. But that doesn't matter now. He will have his reckoning. But first, some catharsis.
The nearest group of goblins spot me. Their bulbous eyes widen at the sight of me - Aldric, stained with blood, a gruesome mask of vengeance contorting my ruggedly handsome face. I'm draped in Grokk's ill-fitting royal armor, my muscular chest barely concealed, the rugged clothing loose around my powerful build. I am a figure out of a nightmare, a spirit of vengeance brought to life.
With a ferocious roar, I declare, "Your chief is dead! And you are next!" The raw power in my voice rings through the air, chilling even the rising heat of the flames. The goblins stagger back, their initial shock giving way to a primitive fear. Their guttural language echoes through the air as they name me - 'Skulgaroth! Skulgaroth!’
Confident in their numbers, they approach.
(simple_option:"11 stand","Stand your ground.")(pic:"ch11/power.jpg")
Whisperwind gleams ominously in the flickering firelight, its magic humming in response to my rage. The air seems to crackle with energy, the power surging around me, building like a tempest.
My muscled arms move with lethal grace, Whisperwind slashing through the air in a lethal arc. It sings, the wind swirling around it as though in a gleeful dance. The glow on the blade intensifies, bathing the surrounding in an ethereal light.
($hidden_gem:"The first goblin lunges at me, its gnarly claws swiping at my face. With a swift sidestep, I dodge the attack, a flick of my wrist sending the creature sprawling.","The first fiend flings itself forward, its filthy fingers flashing at my face. With a swift sidestep, I sideline the strike, a flick of my wrist flinging the fiend sprawling.")
Whisperwind doesn't falter, shearing through the goblin's flesh like butter. A gurgled screech rings out, and the goblin's life is extinguished in a spray of red.
The next one tries to take me from behind. But my senses are heightened, every nerve in my body humming with battle readiness. I pivot on my heel, landing a powerful kick to its stomach. It crumples to the ground, gasping for breath. Without missing a beat, I impale it with Whisperwind. Its feeble attempts to claw at the blade end abruptly as its life ebbs away.(live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","fire spell")]
I feel the power of magic coursing through my veins, the instincts that once made me a legendary fighter waking up from a long slumber. "Ignisurge!" I incant, my voice echoing through the air. Flames engulf my hand, the fiery light dancing in my moss-green eyes. A quick thrust of my palm sends a wave of fire into the mass of goblins, their shrieks piercing the night as they are set ablaze.
"Glacieshold," I breathe, and the moisture in the air crystallizes into razor-sharp shards of ice. With a sweeping motion, I launch them at the advancing goblins. They stagger back, their ranks disorganized as the shards tear through their flesh.
More goblins charge, trying to overwhelm me with sheer numbers. But I am Aldric, the legendary warrior, reborn and reignited. The air whips up into a frenzy as I invoke the wind magic, "Ventusfury." The gale force wind sweeps the goblins off their feet, sending them tumbling into each other.
The battle is a whirlwind of chaos and bloodshed, a dance of death where I am the master. The smell of fear and the iron tang of blood only fuel my rage further, transforming me into an unstoppable force. To them, I am Skulgaroth, a demon descended upon them in their hour of debauchery.
My sword keeps moving, a streak of iridescent light against the backdrop of the flaming chaos. I cut through them, not with brute force, but with the lethal elegance of a master swordsman. The memory of their heinous acts fuels my fury, turning every move into a statement of defiance.
With each fallen goblin, I grow stronger, their fear empowering me. I am Aldric, the human who dared to rebel. I am their nightmare, the demon in their folklore. And I am just getting started.
The shrieks and chants of the remaining goblins echo around me, Skulgaroth, Skulgaroth, a mantra of challenge and terror. My chest rises and falls, the rhythm punctuated by the sharp thud of my pulse. I can taste copper on my tongue, the metallic kiss of battle, my skin sticky with the sweat and blood of a dozen goblin warriors.
(pic:"ch11/rip and tear.jpg")
Then, the goblin sea parts, giving way to a monstrous figure. A rumble of anticipation runs through the crowd as Krognar emerges from their midst. My heart lurches, a wild drumbeat against the raw memories that flood back, bringing a taste of bitter familiarity. This isn't the first time I've stared down this beast.
Krognar is a walking mountain, a grotesque fusion of flesh and muscle that dwarfs the goblins around him. He’s as hideous as I remember. Over eight feet of gnarled, scarred muscle that seem chiseled from the toughest granite. His arms are grotesque tree trunks, ending in massive hands that can crush skulls like ripe fruit. My eyes roam over the patchwork of battle scars littering his hide, each mark a grim testament to his brutal past.
His morning star slams into the ground with a sickening thud, its spiked head leaving an imprint in the dirt. A skull-crushing testament to his brutality. The sight tightens something in my gut, the warrior within me keenly aware of the threat before me.
A sudden surge of anger pulses through my veins, drowning out the remnants of the goblin pheromones plaguing my body, snapping my focus back to the present. I'm not Elise anymore. I am Aldric, the seasoned warrior, the hero of Eboncrest. This body, this muscled form, it’s mine again. The firm grip on Whisperwind’s hilt, the faint hum of its magic, it’s all so familiar, so right.
(simple_option:"11 krognar","Settle things with Krognar.")(pic:"ch11/face off.jpg")
My gaze meets Krognar’s coal-black eyes, a promise of violence brewing within their dark depths. A sneer curls his grotesque lips as he takes in my form, clad in Grokk’s armor, the blood-stained leather clinging to my muscled frame. I’m no longer the voluptuous bait in a pit fight. This time, it’s a duel between equals, between warriors.
A slight shift in the wind sends a gust of smoke from the blazing tents into the air, the fiery glow casting a ghastly pallor on the slaughter-strewn ground. The stench of burnt flesh and goblin blood fills my nostrils, a cruel orchestra of war playing out on this unholy stage.
I step forward, the dust and grit of the earth crunching beneath my boots. I raise Whisperwind in challenge, the blade gleaming iridescently, a conduit for my resolve. “Krognar,” I call out, my voice a deep rumble that echoes against the silence that’s fallen over the crowd. The fight is about to begin. I can feel the tension crackling in the air, a live wire, poised, ready to snap.
Today, I’m no one’s pet. No one’s plaything.
The troll lunges first, a hulking mass of momentum and raw power, his morning star a blurring comet of death. I sidestep, feeling the wind rush past as the weapon whistles through the space I'd occupied.
The ground vibrates beneath my feet, a pulse of warning that has me leaping backward as Krognar's fist crashes into the earth, showering sand and pebbles. His laugh is a guttural rumble, filling the air with a bass-line of menace.
(simple_option:"11 charge","Charge.")(live:14s)[($play:"sound","troll")]($play:"sound","troll")Krognar is fast for his size, rolling to the side and swinging his morning star in a deadly arc.
The world blurs into a chaotic symphony of battle. Steel meets bone and flesh, every clash sending a shockwave through my arm. I am a blur of movement, a storm of violence whirling through the twilight, the metallic tang of blood heavy in the air.
A crushing blow catches my shoulder, sending me sprawling. Pain explodes across my vision, a stark white that blots out the world. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I roll to my feet, Whisperwind steady in my grip despite the trembling in my muscles.
But there's no time for rest. Krognar is upon me again, a relentless force that seems to shrug off every wound, every slash of my blade.
The terrain works against me, the sandy floor a treacherous bed of shifting uncertainty beneath my boots. The burning tents cast monstrous shadows that dance and flicker with a life of their own, the chaotic light making it harder to anticipate Krognar's next move.
But this is my fight, my survival. I dodge another swipe of his morning star, my lean body twisting in a way it wouldn’t have as Elise. I revel in the powerful rush of adrenaline, the hard-won freedom of movement.
My next move is a blur of speed, my blade slicing through the air towards Krognar's exposed side. There's a sickening squelch of steel meeting flesh, a gratifying howl that breaks from the troll's lips. But victory is fleeting; his retaliatory backhand sends me skidding through the sand, my vision blurred by a haze of pain and dizziness.
Through the crowd's frenzied roars, I hear my name—my true name—echoed by the wind. It's a raw, feral reminder of who I am. I'm Aldric, a seasoned swordsman, a whirlwind of determination and grit. With a surge of effort, I push myself to my feet, my grip on Whisperwind unyielding.
Despite the pounding in my head, the aching in my bones, I square my stance, my gaze locked onto Krognar's heaving form. We're both wounded, bleeding, but I see a new wariness in the troll's eyes. He knows now: I am no easy kill.
(simple_option:"11 krognar attacks","Krognar attacks again!")(live:14s)[($play:"sound","troll")]($play:"sound","troll")The big troll’s next onslaught is unrelenting. Each swing of his morning star is a death sentence waiting to be signed. I can feel the shift in the air, the lingering taste of imminent defeat should I make one wrong move. But I’m no stranger to battle, and far from afraid of a calculated risk.
The morning star descends, my breath crystallizing in my chest.
"Ignisurge." The word breaks from my lips, raw and raspy, shattering the deathly silence that has swallowed the battleground. Flame roars to life along the length of Whisperwind, a fiery dragon springing forth from my grip.
(simple_option:"11 dive","Dive under the attack.")($play:"sound","troll")In a balletic display of honed skill and reflexes, I dive under the fatal swing of the morning star. Fire illuminates the world in stark relief, painting shadows on Krognar's surprised face. I thrust upward, my flaming blade seeking the soft underside of his chin. There's a moment of resistance before Whisperwind punches through, the heated metal carving a path through flesh and bone.
The force of my attack carries me through, and I wrench my blade sideways in a savage cut. The flame-painted steel rips out through Krognar's face in a grotesque spray of blood and char. His monstrous body shudders and then collapses to the sand, a tower felled.
A horrified silence descends over the Gobboree, only broken by my ragged gasps. I am victorious, but battered. Blood trickles from numerous gashes, soaking my clothes and mingling with the desert sand beneath my boots. My chest heaves with exertion, each breath a jagged knife in my ribs. For the first time, the sting of mortality brushes my consciousness once more.
(simple_option:"11 melka","You hear a horse's whinny!")($play:"ambience","vengeance")(pic:"ch11/rescue.jpg","right")The fiery little goblin gallops into the clearing, her purple eyes wide. "Tit-bitch!” she yells, the nickname ringing out in the chaos. It’s as good an invitation as any.
With a groan, I haul myself onto the horse, sheathing the sword in the saddle, and gripping onto Melka’s waist.
The goblin girl kicks her heels into the sides of the beast, and we explode into motion. The camp is a sprawling nightmare, spreading across the dunes like a festering wound. Tents stretch as far as I can see, dwarfed by the monstrous caravan carts. Campfires scatter across the landscape, their flickering lights casting long, lewd shadows that dance upon the sand.
As we thunder through the heart of the Gobboree, debauchery spills out from the tents in waves. Pheromone-addled women twist and writhe in erotic displays. The sounds of their pleasure echo in the night, their bodies straining and contorting under the weight of their captors.
Their moans of ecstasy hit me harder than any troll's fist ever could.
Each passing vignette is another spear through my heart. These are my people, stolen from their homes, reduced to toys for these monsters. The salty taste of helplessness threatens to choke me.
Melka seems to read my thoughts. "Ain't nothin' ya can do for 'em now," she shouts over the thundering hooves, her curls bouncing with each jolt of the horse. "Too many. They'd have ya dead before the hour's out."
I cling tighter to her small frame, the reality of her words sinking in. I can't fight an army. Not alone, not now. My muscles burn, my wounds seep fresh blood, a cruel reminder of the price of rebellion.
Drums echo in the distance, their beats a call to arms. The goblins are rousing, their raucous laughter replaced by shouts of alarm. But we're fast, too fast. The horse is a desert-born beast, its hooves kicking up sand and dust as we tear through the Gobboree. The caravan begins to fade, the fires becoming distant specks against the looming darkness of the desert night.
"Where to?" Melka asks, her voice strained from the effort. “Which way to Eboncrest?"
The question is music to my ears. I tilt my head back, the cool desert wind rustling my short hair.($play:"ambience","gallop")(set:$se_to_stop to "troll")(display:"stop sound effect")
(simple_option:"11 maiden","Look up at the stars.")(pic:"ch11/maiden shows the way.jpg","left")"Maiden shows the way," I tell Melka, my finger tracing the constellation.
Above, the night sky of Zaelasia is a velvet canvas, dotted with countless celestial jewels. Each twinkling light is a story, a memory written by the Ephemerals themselves. But I'm looking for one in particular.
There she is, the Maiden of the Dawn, her silhouette emblazoned across the vast, dark void. An arrangement of eight stars forms her, each one sparkling with a life of its own. The rightmost star, known as the Maiden's Crown, blazes with a radiant light that outshines its counterparts.
We shift, the horse veering towards the unseen horizon. The drums are a distant echo now, their beats swallowed by the expanse of the desert. As we race into the night, I cast a final look back at the fading lights of the Griznak Gobboree. My captivity, my torment, my degradation - all receding into a nightmare I am finally waking up from.
The Gobboree is behind me now. Ahead lies Eboncrest. Ahead lies freedom. Ahead lies Elara. The night swallows us whole, the thundering rhythm of the horse's hooves the only sound that pierces the silence. The stars guide our path, their silent watch a promise of the journey to come. I am Aldric, and I am coming home.($play:"ambience","gallop")
(simple_option:"12 journey","Your journey home begins...")(masteraudio:"stopall")($chapter_title:12,"In the Pale Moonlight")($play:"ambience","desert horse")(pic:"ch12/pale moon.jpg")(set:$gender to "male")
The vast desert expanse of the Shifting Sands unrolls beneath us like a tapestry spun from moonlight and shadow. Each galloping hoofbeat kicks up a burst of fine sand, the grains catching the spectral glow of the heavens before disappearing back into the darkness.
"Aldric," Melka shouts over the rhythmic drumming of the desert horse's hooves, "ya ain't looking too good."
I grunt in response, trying to muster some form of assurance. But all I manage is a barely audible "I'm... fine."
Stars litter the night sky, their cold twinkling distant and indifferent to the drama unfolding below. My muscles scream for relief, but it's my mind that is being uncooperative, hazed by the resurgence of the goblin pheromones that are unfortunately still in my system, despite having transformed to a male body. They don’t feel arousing, like they did when I was female. They just feel toxic. Everything feels distant, an echo of reality, the edges of my vision swimming.
"Nah, ya ain't," she retorts, her grip tightening around my waist. Her body is warm against my back, her heartbeat thumping a comforting rhythm against my spine. "Ya're losing too much blood, Tit-bitch."
I am aware of the wound on my side, an ugly gash that Krognar's morningstar had gifted me. It's a burning line of fire, and I can feel the warm stickiness of blood seeping into the coarse fabric of my stolen armor.
"There's a settlement," I wheeze, the words almost catching in my throat, "called Thistlecross. At the edge of the forest. We can rest there."
Melka squints into the dark expanse, her grip never wavering. "Ya sure they'll let me in?"
"You're with me," I reply, a hint of finality in my voice. "I'll handle it.”
She snorts, the sound half amusement, half concern. "I've got some gold," she says, "should be enough for a night at the inn. Maybe even some food.”
I grip her tightly to stabilize myself. The pheromones are twisting my mind, slowing my thoughts, painting the world into a haze.
"Tit-bitch," Melka's voice, softer now, pulls me from the mire of my thoughts. "Just hang on, okay? Just a little longer."
We press on into the night, the dark pines of Everbloom looming before us in the moonlight. Each passing moment feels like a battle, a brutal fight for clarity and control. But beneath it all, one thought remains constant, a beacon in the fog of my mind – I have to get home to Elara.
(simple_option:"12 village","You approach the settlement..."){
(live:(random:1,5) * 1000)[(stop:)($play:"sound","grokk moan " + (text:(random:1,5)))]
(live:(random:15,25) * 1000)[(stop:)($play:"sound","grokk moan " + (text:(random:1,5)))]
(live:(random:30,45) * 1000)[(stop:)($play:"sound","grokk moan " + (text:(random:1,5)))]
(live:(random:60,65) * 1000)[(stop:)($play:"sound","grokk moan " + (text:(random:1,5)))]
}(pic:"ch12/settlement.jpg")($play:"ambience","night wilderness")
The call of a distant owl punctuates the quiet rustling of the wind in the trees as we approach the settlement, the looming wall of Thistlecross visible against the indigo sky. The palisades, solid logs sharpened at the top, stand guard against the unknown, the night beyond them a dark abyss. Torchlight flickers from a wooden tower, casting long, dancing shadows that seem to dance with the tune of the hushed whispers of the night.
"Who goes there?" comes a gruff voice from above as we approach the gates. Torchlight flares, illuminating two armored guards, their steel helms casting their faces in deep shadows. The sheen of the torchlight on their armor gives them an ominous air.
"Travelers seeking shelter," I manage, my voice barely more than a croak. My grip around Melka tightens involuntarily as my vision spins.
They hold their torches up, eyes narrowing as they look at Melka. She freezes, her little body tense beneath me.
“A goblin," one of the guards states flatly, his voice cold.
(simple_option:"12 response","She's my healer.","She's my guide.","She's an ally.")
($play:"ambience","night wilderness")(if:$choice is "She's my healer.")["She's with me," I say, "She's... she's my healer."
The guard's eyes flash with surprise. "Your healer?" he scoffs, "A goblin healer?"
I can feel Melka's fear, her small body trembling. She's as much a stranger to this world as I am to hers. The roles reversed now, with me the protector and her the protected. A strange twist of fate.
"She saved my life," I force the words out. When in doubt, a version of the truth is always the best defense. "Helped me escape the goblin horde in the desert. I was captured, and she... she freed me."
($hidden_gem:"Silence. The only sound is the crackling of the torches and the distant hoot of the owl.","Stillness. The sole sound stirs softly: the subdued sizzle of the sentinels' sconces and the subtle serenade of the sequestered screech-owl.")
And then, "Wait..." one of the guards steps forward, his eyes squinting at me. “You... You're Aldric. Aldric the Great?"
The other guard turns to him, confused. "What are you--"
"I'd recognize him anywhere," the first guard interrupts, "He saved my nephew from that wyvern attack a year ago, near Eboncrest. The lad wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for him."](if:$choice is "She's my guide.")["She's with me," I say, my voice a strained whisper, "She's... she's my guide."
The guard's brow furrows in suspicion. "A goblin guide?"
I tighten my grip on Melka, feeling her small frame shiver against mine. In this moment, our roles have reversed - I am her shield as much as she was my key to freedom.
"She knows the desert like no other," I claim, the truth tinting my voice with confidence. "Led me through the Shifting Sands away from the Gobboree, the goblin's pit of hell. Without her, I wouldn't have made it to your gates."
The guards exchange a look, uncertainty flickering in their eyes.
"And you are?" the more skeptical guard asks, his voice tinged with suspicion.
I straighten up as much as my injuries allow. "Aldric. Some used to call me Aldric the Great."
Recognition dawns on the guard's face. "The hero of the Northern Wars?"
The other guard turns to him, confused. "What are you--"
"I'd recognize him anywhere," the first guard interrupts, "He saved my nephew from that wyvern attack a year ago, near Eboncrest. The lad wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for him."](if:$choice is "She's an ally.")["She's with me," I say, my voice hoarse but firm, "She's… she’s my ally."
The guard looks puzzled. "Your ally? A goblin?"
Desperation makes strange bedfellows... as my experiences have taught me!
"She fought alongside me to escape the Griznak Gobboree," I continue, each word laced with the harsh realities we both endured. "Her courage saved us both. We survived together."
Melka, small and hardened by the trials she’s faced, stands a little taller beside me.
"And who are you?" the guard demands, a hint of respect seeping into his voice as he studies my battered appearance.
"Aldric," I reply.
And then, "Wait..." one of the guards steps forward, his eyes squinting at me. “You... You're Aldric. Aldric the Great?"
The other guard turns to him, confused. "What are you--"
"I'd recognize him anywhere," the first guard interrupts, "He saved my nephew from that wyvern attack a year ago, near Eboncrest. The lad wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for him."]
Recognition flickers in the second guard’s eyes. "Let them through,” he orders, his tone almost reverent, “Spread the word. The goblin female is under Aldric's protection. She's not to be harmed."
The gate groans as it is pushed open, revealing the warmly lit streets of Thistlecross. Melka relaxes visibly, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. She whispers a soft "thank ya, Aldric," her voice full of newfound respect.
(simple_option:"12 enter","Enter Thistlecross.")(pic:"ch12/inn.jpg")($play:"ambience","village night")
They point us towards the Moonhaven Inn, a welcoming building with smoke curling up from its chimney into the star-studded sky.
The guard, a young man named Gareth, accompanies us through the darkened streets of Thistlecross, torchlight casting dancing shadows on the rough-hewn log walls. At the stables, a gangly boy approaches, wide-eyed as he takes in Melka's lithe desert horse.
"Be careful with him," Melka warns the boy, the normally gruff tones of her voice softening. She reaches up, her fingers running over the horse's snout. "He ain't like other horses." A fondness in her voice makes the phrase sound like a compliment. She pats the horse's flank. "And behave," she whispers conspiratorially, her lips close to the animal's ear. "No trying to mount any mares, ya randy git."
A sudden hoot of laughter escapes Gareth as he leads us towards the inn, the warm golden glow of its lantern-lit windows painting a picture of welcome against the moonlit night. The sign over the door creaks in the wind, proclaiming our destination as the 'Moonhaven Inn'.
(pic:"ch12/innkeeper.jpg","right")Inside, the innkeeper, a stoop-shouldered man with age-spotted hands and a face weathered by decades of hard work, raises his eyebrows at our motley crew. Gareth explains our situation, his voice low and steady, his words cutting through the muffled hum of the inn's remaining patrons.
"One bed or two?" the innkeeper asks, his gaze flicking between Melka and me. His question hangs heavy in the room, a sudden awkward silence filling the space.
(simple_option:"12 bed","'Two.'")"Two." ($play:"ambience","inn music")
I answer without hesitation, my voice ringing clear and firm. Melka pulls out her coin pouch, her fingers fumbling as she counts out ten gold pieces. I feel a twinge of guilt - this seems like all she has.
Gareth interrupts, his hand landing on the counter. "No, they're guests of Thistlecross. This night's on the town, as well as food, drinks, and bandages,” he tells the innkeeper, who starts to protest. But Gareth quickly silences him with something about 'the local levy and administrative duties.'
With a resigned huff, the innkeeper leads us up the winding staircase to a cozy room with two neatly made beds. The room smells of fresh linen and beeswax candles, a comforting blend that stands in stark contrast to the harsh desert air still clinging to my skin.
(pic:"ch12/room.jpg")
Melka looks around the room, her purple eyes wide with awe and unease, taking in the heavy wooden furniture and the thick, warm blankets. The world outside of Griznak Gobboree must seem like an entirely different universe to her, one filled with strange customs and imposingly tall people.
As we settle into the room, I can't help but notice the familiar human buzz of Thistlecross outside. The hush of voices, the clattering of a late-night wagon, the distant bark of a dog. It's a lullaby of sorts, one that sings of life, resilience, and the strange comfort of human civilization, a song I've longed to hear for too long. The sounds of goblin revelry, slaves being fucked… is a distant memory now.
We are *safe.*
(simple_option:"12 maid","There's a knock at the door.")The creak of the door signals the arrival of the inn’s maid, a mousy woman carrying a tray laden with food and bandages. The aroma hits me first, a deliciously rich and inviting scent of roasting meat and herbs.
($hidden_gem:"She sets the tray on the worn wooden table before quickly exiting, leaving Melka and me alone in the room.","She situates the sustenance on the shabby, splintered surface before swiftly slipping away, leaving Melka and myself in silent solitude.")
"Get that shirt off, Aldric," Melka instructs, her eyes focused on the bandages. Her words are laced with authority, but there's a gentleness in her manner that speaks volumes about her feelings.
Feeling the ache of my battered muscles, I struggle to peel off the goblin leather armor. Melka steps in, her small but firm hands helping me, her green fingers against my taut skin highlighting the contrast of our two races. Her touch is oddly comforting, though a little too intimate for comfort.
"Quit your squirming," she reprimands, her lips curving into a playful smirk. "You ain't got no tits anymore. No need to be shy."
As she gets to work, her skilled hands cleaning and dressing my wounds, I can't help but wince at the sting of the antiseptic. She hushes me, her voice soothing despite its gruffness. "Humans ain't so bad," she murmurs, almost to herself, "not as bad as the gobbos said."
I snort at that, turning my gaze to meet hers. "Some humans are good, some not," I admit, memories of both kindness and cruelty filtering through my mind. "In Thuulk, the city I told you about, they are more accepting of different races. Smaller towns like these... they're often more suspicious."
Melka's fingers stop their ministrations, moving from the bandages to my arms, her touch light on my biceps. "Elara's a lucky woman," she muses, a cheeky glint in her purple eyes. "Got herself a man who's strong enough to kill a troll."
(simple_option:"12 not sure","'Not sure she'd see it that way...'")($play:"ambience","inn music")(pic:"ch12/melka.jpg")
A bitter chuckle slips from my lips. "Not sure she'd see it that way," I confess. "Not after what I've been... Not after being Elise."
Her hand stills on my arm. "You got nothing to apologize for, Aldric," she insists firmly, her gaze serious. "What happened... it wasn't your fault. You survived. You fought. That's what matters."
Melka's eyes glint with mischief as she looks me up and down, taking in the sight of my muscular frame.
"Well, look at ya," she grins, hand on her hip. "Ya might've lost those tits, but ya still got women's hair.”
I run a hand through the thick, unruly strands.
"Yeah," I mumble. "Guess I do."
“Human men usually keep it short, right?” she says. "Want me to cut it for ya?"
I look at her, surprised by the offer. "That... that'd be great, Melka. Thanks."
She grabs her knife, its blade gleaming in the candlelight.
"Alright, sit," she orders, pointing to the edge of the bed. I comply, my heart beating a little faster at the thought of shedding this last remnant of Elise.
Melka climbs onto the bed behind me, her knee nudging against my back as she settles in. The knife glints in her small, capable hand, and she begins to gather my hair with the other, her fingers rough against my scalp. Her breath is warm against the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.
"Ya know, for a hero, ya really got long, luxurious locks," she says.
"Yeah, well," I grunt, feeling a surge of relief as the first locks fall away. "It wasn't by choice."
A soft snort escapes her as she continues to cut, her knife slicing through the heavy strands. With each cut, I feel a piece of Elise falling away, a piece of my captivity. The sensation of her little green fingers brushing against my scalp is oddly soothing.
"Don't squirm so much. Ya got a sensitive scalp or somethin'?"
The last length of hair falls, and she stands back, her fingers ruffling through the shortened strands to even them out.
"There," she whispers. "Yer lookin' more like yerself now, I imagine. Aldric, the hero. Skulgaroth."
I catch my reflection in a small, cracked mirror propped against the wall. The short, ragged hair gives me a sense of reclaimed identity, a piece of Aldric that had been buried under months of forced femininity.
I turn back to Melka, her green fingers brushing a stray strand off my forehead. "Thanks," I murmur.
The goblin girl turns her attention to the meal on the table. I follow her gaze, my stomach rumbling at the sight of the steaming stew, chunks of tender meat and root vegetables peeking through the thick, herby gravy. Alongside it is a jug of what smells like sweet berry wine and a fresh, crusty loaf of bread.
"Smells better'n goblin grub," Melka murmurs, her voice choked with emotion. "Damn, real food. Proper food." Without another word, she begins to wolf it down, her delight almost childlike as she savors each bite. The wine flows freely, her cup refilled multiple times, her cheeks slowly turning a deeper shade of green.
Seeing her happiness, something warm uncurls in my chest, a quiet joy at seeing her so content. The meal is delicious, the flavors rich and comforting, a taste of home. For a moment, I forget the aches and pains, the pheromone-induced haze in my mind. In that moment, it's just us, two unlikely companions sharing a meal and finding comfort in each other's company.
I watch as Melka finishes off her meal with a satisfied sigh, her eyes sparkling with an excitement I hadn't seen before.
(simple_option:"12 dizzy","You suddenly feel dizzy...")I clutch onto the bedpost, vision blurring as my knees buckle beneath me. My stomach churns like an angry sea, the delightful meal we'd just consumed suddenly a leaden weight in my gut. "Shit," I rasp, wiping a clammy hand across my sweat-slick forehead.
Melka is by my side instantly, her small, firm hand steadying me. "Ya okay, Aldric?" Her gruff voice is laced with concern.
"No," I manage to gasp out, sucking in ragged breaths as another wave of nausea crashes over me. My skin feels hot, like I'm baking under the merciless sun of the desert. My heart hammers in my chest.
(simple_option:"12 wrong","Something is definitely wrong.")Her purple eyes widen with realization and her fingers drum on her plump bottom lip. "Shit, Aldric... Ya know… I think it's the gobbo goo."
My feverish face darkens further, a heated blush staining my cheeks at the crude term. "Grokk's... sperm?" I stutter out, revolted. I had been hoping to never thinking about it again.
($notification:"Grokk's goblin pheromones are still eating you from the inside out...")"Yeah," she nods, sitting back on her heels. "Look, goblin cum... it’s poisonous to human men. Nasty little side effect. Normally, it wouldn't matter 'cause they're fuckin' human women. Obviously. But ya drank two goddamn bellyfulls! I guess something stuck with ya when ya changed back. I’d ‘oped it would just be gone.”
I choke on nothing, the memory of the putrid taste making my stomach roil again. "How... how do I get rid of it?"
She rubs the back of her neck, her cheeks darkening a bit. "Well... I think… ya gotta get off."
"What?" My voice comes out as a strangled croak.
"Ya gotta jerk off, Aldric. Flush out the toxins. If ya don't, you'll be dyin’ soon enough. Yer skin’s turning all gray already.” Her voice is steady, matter-of-fact, but I can see the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Or... we could just… *fuck.*"
(simple_option:"12 get off","'No!'")The heat in my cheeks flares up even more, and I stutter out a vehement, "No!" before I can even process her words.
She chuckles, her eyes twinkling with teasing mirth. "Alright, alright. Ya prude. Go behind that screen, and don't come out until ya come."
Her pun sends a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over me, but I don't argue. I'm feeling too damn awful to care about my dignity right now. I stumble behind the wooden panel, my heart pounding in my ears, the sour taste of shame on my tongue. Melka's teasing laughter fades into the background as I focus on the task at hand. So to speak.
(simple_option:"12 get hard","But you can't get hard!")(pic:"ch12/wine.jpg","right")The fabric of the screen presses into my back as I wrestle with my body, its refusal to obey as frustrating as it is unnerving. The taste of humiliation clings to my tongue, bitter and shameful, as my grip tightens on my cock. Elara, I think. My beautiful wife, her auburn hair cascading over her perfect breasts, her sapphire eyes sparkling with desire...
But the image is tainted, Grokk's monstrous face intruding on my fantasy, his 16-inch orange-tipped cock thrusting into Elise's face, into my face. A nauseating feeling spreads through me as my mind betrays me, the sensation of large breasts hanging heavy from my chest, the slickness between my legs...
No, no, no! I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head as if it could clear the images away. My hand is on my cock, it's my hand, my cock, but it feels foreign, alien, like a tool I don't quite know how to use.
I grapple with the unwanted memories, my cock a lifeless weight in my hands. The mirth in Melka's voice filters through the haze of my torment, cutting through the thick fog of desperation.
"Havin' trouble, Aldric?" she chuckles, though there's a touch of concern beneath the mirth. “Ye really will die if ye don’t get off. I watched a man once, they fucked ‘is wife right in front of ‘im. He got some on ‘im when he tried to help her… the man was dead the next morning. Lookin’ like a husk.”
Fear and frustration bubble up inside me, my knuckles white as my grip on my cock tightens. I try to ignore her, to block out the distracting sound of her voice. But the heat in my belly continues to rise, the toxins swirling in my veins, threatening to overtake me.
My chest tightens, and I feel a knot of despair twisting in my gut. I'm fighting a losing battle, my body rejecting me at every turn. Something in me feels broken, something I don't know how to fix.
"Let me help ya out, Tit-bitch." Melka's voice is low, sultry, a dangerous undercurrent running beneath her gruff exterior. "I've already seen ya get face-fucked, ya know."
Something inside me snaps. I stumble out from behind the screen, my cock limp in my hand, my body drenched in a cold sweat. The smirk on her face sends a jolt of anger through me, but it's a feeble flame against the engulfing dread. I slump onto my bed, the cool sheets a welcome reprieve against my overheated skin.
($hidden_gem:"A warm glow paints the inn room, candlelight casting dancing shadows against the rough-hewn wooden walls.","A balmy blaze bathes the bedchamber, candlelight casting capering chimeras against coarse-cut carvings.")
Melka, standing there, her green skin flickering under the dim light, holds my gaze. She's still sipping her wine, the same cheeky grin that has been plastered across her face for the last hour curling her thick lips. The cup leaves a shining imprint of her lips, a glistening streak on the rim.
(simple_option:"12 eyes","Her eyes sparkle...")Her purple eyes sparkle under the candlelight, reflecting the mischief in her smile. She's a bit tipsy, and so am I. The wine is not the finest, but it certainly does the job, loosening tongues and inhibitions. A sense of dread lingers at the back of my mind, but the curiosity and guilt I feel as I watch her is more potent, more immediate.
“Watch this, Tit-bitch,” she hums playfully, her upturned nose wrinkling in amusement. Her green fingers reach for the coiled leather top she’s wearing. It's a crude goblin garb, hardy and tough, constructed to withstand the harsh conditions of her desert lifestyle. Yet, as her fingers uncoil the garment, it reveals an elegance that belies its crude nature. It’s like a flower, unfurling its petals, gradually, one by one, to reveal the beauty beneath.
With each layer she peels away, her large breasts are slowly unveiled, the strain against her chest slowly receding, making room for them to breath, to expand. The sight leaves me breathless. Her big green breasts strain against the thin strip of cloth barely covering them. I swallow hard, my eyes unblinking as they drink in the view.
"Big for a gobbo-girl, eh?" She chuckles, an impish grin playing on her lips. Her short black curls bounce as she laughs, falling into her sparkling purple eyes. They glint with a fiery confidence, staring at me as if challenging me to look away.
(simple_option:"12 look","You can't.")($play:"ambience","inn music")My gaze is involuntarily drawn to the leather britches hugging the contours of her lower body, and my brain buzzes with anticipation.
“Ya know, these things can be a bit tight sometimes…” she says with a wink, her fingers hooking around the edge of the material. “Takes some effort to get em’ off…”
She teases the fabric over the curves of her hips with a maddeningly slow pace, inch by inch exposing her undergarment, a simple crude goblin cloth that hugs her hips like a second skin. The sight is like a slap to my senses, the delicious curves of her ass demanding my full attention. My cock stirs, a low throb of heat blooming at the sight of her, like a beast sensing its mate. Guilt sears my insides, yet it does nothing to cool the arousal that hums in my veins.
As her britches slide down, her ass pops out in a delicious, provocative display. The sight of her lush, round buttocks, all goosebumps on cool green skin, is like a visual feast to my eyes. There’s a wild, earthy beauty to her - the jiggly bounce to her flesh, the dimpled imperfections that hint at a life lived in the wild. The sight has my heart drumming in my ears, a feral rhythm matching the heat flooding my veins.
(pic:"ch12/melka and aldric.jpg")
"Ya think it’s wrong, eh?" she asks, her grin never leaving her face. “Don’t. Think of it as...” she pauses, searching for the words, “a... medical necessity.” Her giggling laughter fills the room, and it's contagious. But her face goes serious again. “Cuz it is.”
I think of Elara, and how I should be envisioning her, should be getting off thinking about her. Not Melka. But Melka is right here, right now. And Elara... she’s leagues away.(simple_option:"12 choice","No.","You need to... to survive...")($play:"ambience","inn music")(if:$choice is "No.")[Despite the intoxicating vision before me, a deep-seated loyalty tugs at my heart.
My mind whirls back to Elara, my beloved wife.
The sharp image of her cuts through the haze in my mind, anchoring me.
"No, Melka," I finally muster the strength to say, my voice firmer than I feel, "I... I can't do that. After all this... if I really do... if I'm really unfaithful... I couldn't live with myself..."
The goblin girl stops midway, her playful demeanor fading. Her feet stamp against the wooden floor.
"Are ya daft, Aldric?! Ye'll die!" she exclaims. "I'm offerin' ya a way to save yerself! Don't be a bloody hero now! I mean, ya are, but..."
Another wave of nausea crashes over me, as potent as a storm wave against rugged cliffs. The room spins, a carousel of flickering candlelights and Melka’s disappointed face.
"I... I have to remain loyal to my wife," I say between strained breaths, gripping the edges of the bed for support. Even speaking feels like a monumental task, each word accompanied by a dizzying swirl of the room.
Melka's shoulders slump, the tension leaving her body in an almost visible wave. Her lips pout, a childlike gesture that's at odds with her fierce personality. "I was just startin' to like ya, Tit-bitch," she mutters, her voice low and tinged with an emotion I can't quite place.
With that, she gathers her discarded clothes, her movements stiff and mechanical. The soft rustling of fabric is the only sound in the room as she dresses, her back turned to me. The warmth between us cools, replaced by a thick, uncomfortable silence.
(simple_option:"12 next","Morning arrives with no relief...")](else:)[I think Melka is my only chance.
"Yer lookin' at me funny," the goblin girl mumbles, her sparkly purple eyes shining with uncertainty all of a sudden.
I can hear the hurt in her voice, can see the moisture brimming in those fascinating eyes. It pulls at something within me.
"No one's ever looked at me like... like..." She trails off, her gaze dropping.
Her fingers nervously fiddle with the thin cloth band barely containing her abundant breasts.
"I'm not a monster too, am I, Aldric?” Her voice is a whisper, the question barely audible. The vulnerability in her eyes strikes a chord in my chest. Something tender and fierce. “A monster like the rest?”
(simple_option:"12 next","No.")]($play:"ambience","inn music")(if:$choice is "No.")[“The furthest thing from it.”
Her scent hits me then, a fragrance that's earthy, but good. Wild, but good. Goblin, but *good. *
Her eyes flick up to meet mine. She takes a deep, shaky breath.
"Then touch me," she breathes, the command less demanding and more pleading. “Like you would touch your human wife.”
My heart thumps my ribcage.
I feel a sense of protectiveness, a desire to reassure her. Slowly, almost reverently, my fingers ghost over her chest, feeling the band of cloth straining against her full, green breasts.
A low moan slips from her lips, her eyes fluttering closed. The sound wraps around my brain like a fog, pulling me in deeper. "Bet that'll do the trick, won't it?" she whispers, a hint of her old flirtatious self seeping back in.
($hidden_gem:"Cupping her breasts, I marvel at the contrast. My large hands versus her petite figure. The feeling is exquisite, her green flesh radiating warmth. I can feel her heartbeat racing under my touch, the rhythmic thump vibrating against my fingers. Her skin is so much softer than I'd anticipated, like a ripe fruit. Everything about her is begging to be touched. She trembles as I explore her, her breasts yielding, virtually spilling out around the strip of cloth.","Cupping her captivating chest, I contrast my colossal hands to her compact frame. The feeling is fantastic, her flesh flushing fervently. I feel her heartbeat hammering hastily, hypnotically humming against my hands. Her skin is softer than I surmised, silky like succulent fruit. Everything exudes eagerness to be explored. She shudders as I survey her swells, her breasts burgeoning, barely bridled by the band of cloth.")
Her green skin glows in the dim light, highlighting the delicious swell of her breasts. There's a roughness to it, a texture that speaks of a life lived outdoors. Yet, it's the slight goosebumps peppering her skin that really gets me, a sure sign of her arousal.
My cock finally stirs in response, a slow throb of heat kindling in my lower belly. A maddening mix of desire and guilt consumes me. Elara’s face flashes in my mind, and for a moment, I wince.
She's too small, too vulnerable under my touch. It feels wrong, yet I can't stop. The sounds she makes, the soft, sensual moans filling the air, they pull me in. She's beautiful in a way I hadn't noticed before. Her smile is sweet, her eyes bright with a unique spark.
Her eyes are hypnotic, sparkling pools of liquid purple, glistening under the flickering lantern light. They're vast, larger than any human's, encasing an exotic beauty I can't comprehend. I can see intricate webs of color, violet hues fading into the darkness of her pupils. The whites of her eyes, unlike human eyes, carry a soft tint of lavender, adding to her inhuman allure.
Without warning, her lips crash into mine, catching me off guard. It's a hard, eager kiss, filled with a wildness I've never experienced. I can feel her sharp goblin teeth, pointy tips grazing my lips, a touch of danger to this intimate moment. Her breath is goblinesque, earthy, the taste is unfamiliar, yet intoxicating.
She bites my lower lip, a sharp sting radiates through my mouth, a prick of blood seeping onto my tongue. Her tongue darts out, tasting the blood, a feral grunt emanating from her throat. It's raw, it's intense, the sensations igniting a spark of arousal that coils tightly within me.
(simple_option:"12 kiss","Pull her closer.","Break off the kiss.")](else:)[(pic:"ch12/doctor.jpg")($play:"ambience","village morning")
Morning arrives with no relief.
I’m confined to bed, the light streaming through the window too harsh, the sounds of the inn downstairs too loud. Thistlecross's doctors, a kindly young woman named Dr. Hester and her stern-faced apprentice, stand over me, their expressions grim.
They prod and they poke, mutter and murmur, but their potions and herbs do nothing to stop the relentless assault of the goblin pheromones. "Never seen anything like it," Dr. Hester confesses, her voice low. "It's as if something's eating away at his insides... right at his brain."
Each hour my mind fades a little more. I can feel my thoughts slipping away, the edges of my memory fraying. The brief moments of clarity are just glimpses of sunlight through the dark storm clouds of confusion and delirium.
By midday, my speech is slurred, my vision blurred. I can’t remember why I’m here, or what I’m fighting. Elara's face—once the beacon keeping the darkness at bay—grows fainter with each passing moment.
Dr. Hester attempts one final remedy, a potent concoction meant to cleanse toxins, but it only causes violent convulsions. My body rejects it violently, a foaming mess of bile and blood staining the bed linens.
As the end nears, the inside of my head feels as if it's being scraped hollow. The pheromones, like voracious maggots, burrow through my neural pathways, devouring connections, memories, feelings. They leave behind a wasteland of confusion, a hollow shell where a hero once stood.
Melka stays by my bed, her earlier cheeky smile replaced by a silent, somber vigil. Her hand rests on mine, her eyes never leaving my face as it contorts in pain.
The final throes are excruciating.
Each breath is a labored rasp, a desperate gasp for air that feels as thick as mud. My heart pounds erratically, a frantic, futile attempt to keep going. But even that is failing.
In a rare moment of lucidity, amidst the deluge of pain and paranoia, I see Elara’s face. Not as a memory, but as a hallucination, perhaps a final mercy from my collapsing mind.
Her soft hand seems to brush against my cheek, her voice a soothing whisper, "Rest now, my love. Rest."
The end comes not with a roar, but a whisper. The last thing I feel isn't pain, but a fleeting sense of relief.
Love.
Then nothing at all.
($game_over:"12 look",12,"You died from pheromone poisoning.")](pic:"ch12/melka kiss.png","center","borderless")($play:"ambience","inn music")
(if:$choice is "Break off the kiss.")[($play:"sex loop",0)($change_stat:"heroism",1)"W-we shouldn't kiss..."
Her bottom lip quivers, a tremor that makes her look suddenly smaller, even more vulnerable.
There's a hunger in her eyes, a flicker of wild need that is so intense it almost reels me back in. But she nods, slowly, a string of saliva still connecting our mouths. I see her sharp goblin teeth, momentarily fearful, and then she closes her mouth, snapping the delicate strand.
The air between us crackles with tension, the denied kiss hanging heavy.
In the dim light of the candle, her eyes glint with moisture, not quite tears, but something close. Her hand tentatively snakes downward, her touch hesitant as her single finger lands on my half-hard cock. She yelps, surprised and intrigued by the warmth and texture.
Her eyes widen, a deep violet that reflects her soul.
The purple flush that spreads across her green skin makes her look almost human in her embarrassment. She gingerly wraps her hand around my length, her grip featherlight, as if touching something sacred—or forbidden.
Then, suddenly, she pulls away with a grin that gradually grows bolder.
"I know what ta do," she declares with confidence, standing up from the bed. “Damn, finally got someone ta watch me dance!”](else:)[($play:"sex loop","melka kissing")My hand snakes around her waist, instinctively pulling her closer. I grope her ass, firm yet soft under my touch. It's round, curvaceous, the muscles tensing beneath my palm. My fingers sink into her flesh, eliciting a moan from her that vibrates against my lips. The way her ass fills my hand is so wonderfully lewd, yet somehow right.
Breaking the kiss, she breathes heavily, her chest heaving against mine. She blushes, her skin darkening, eyes shining with curiosity and something else...desire?
With a coy grin, her hand tentatively snakes downwards, a single finger landing on my half-hard cock. She yelps, her eyes widening at the unfamiliar sponginess, the pulsing heat under her touch.
Melka shivers, her eyes dancing with a mix of nervousness and excitement. It's such a stark contrast to the confident goblin I've come to know. A flush darkens her green skin as she gingerly wraps her hand around my length, her grip featherlight.
Then, she pulls away with a grin, looking at my cock with an almost scientific curiosity. I can see the gears turning in her head, her violet eyes alight with a familiar mischief.
"I know what ta do," she says, standing up from the bed. She's small compared to me, but her 3'8" stature seems to contain an energy far larger than herself. It's infectious, pulling me in. “Damn, finally got someone ta watch me dance!”]
(simple_option:"12 dance","And dance she does...")(pic:"ch12/melka dancing.png","center","borderless")($play:"ambience","inn music")($play:"sex loop",0)She steps back, her tiny, curvaceous body moving rhythmically in her skimpy cloth underwear, her breasts straining against the strip of cloth barely containing them. Suddenly, she starts to move, her body swaying in a hypnotic rhythm, unlike anything I've ever seen.
"Ya know, Tit-bitch, us gobbos used to dance, for each other,” she says, her voice soft, melancholic. Her moves are accentuating her curves, drawing attention to her round ass, her large breasts, her lithe body. The dance is delicate, yet so seductive, like a forgotten language spoken only through the body. “Once uponna time.”
In the flickering candlelight, Melka begins. Her bra and panties cling to her skin as she moves, straining with each gyration, each stretch, each arch of her back. Each movement reveals more of her green skin, barely preserving her modesty.
As she moves, a song slips from her lips in the old goblin tongue, wild and primal, thoroughly enchanting. *"Groak Aldric Skulgaroth,"* she begins, softly, her impish voice tinged with a note of admiration, almost reverence. It’s haunting. The only words I recognize are my name, and the name the goblins gave me before they died.
*(Editor’s note: approximate translations have been added in parentheses after consulting with one of the few goblin linguistic experts in Thuulk - Aldric did not understand these. )*
(unlock_lore::"Melka's Lament","other",2)"Groak Aldric Skulgaroth," (Aldric, the Deathbringer)
"Zu'uka rhaatark lug," (As terrifying as he is,)
"Kobag skrizzak 'orah," (I want him in my bed,)
Her movements become more fluid, more sensuous, her hips swaying as she twirls in the dim light. Her panties ride up, revealing more of her ass with each sway.
"Ag'tok toadra groak," (I've never been with a man,)
"Nara gara zok," (And perhaps I never will again,)
"But z'unn skrizzak Skulgaroth," (But tonight, I want the Deathbringer,)
She dances, her green breasts jiggling with every move, her bra just barely managing to contain them. The material of her underwear strains against her body, revealing more of her goosebumped skin.I may not understand the words, but the tone, the way she looks at me while she sings, it's enough to tell me the song is about desire, longing, and promise.
(simple_option:"12 grab","Grab her from behind!")<div class='tw-story-title'>Melka's Lament</div>
**Professor Angharad Fflur, M.A., M.Litt., Ph.D., F.S.A., Chair of Goblinoid Studies, University of Thuulk**
*From "Voices from the Vanishing: Last Songs of the Goblin Women" (Thuulk University Press)*
(display:"divider")
I write this with trembling hand, not from age but from the weight of what I must document. The fragment known as "Melka's Lament"—recorded during the extraordinary Thistlecross Encounter between the hero Aldric and the goblin healer Melka—represents perhaps our final glimpse into authentic female goblinoid erotic-spiritual expression before its inevitable extinction.
The term "Skulgaroth" requires immediate attention. My colleague Dr. Bramblethorne translates it as mere "Deathbringer," but this is criminally reductive. In Old Goblin texts (see my *Codex Viridis*, plates XVII-XXIII), "Skulga" appears not simply as death but as *transformation through ending*—the death that births. "Roth" carries dual meaning: both "bringer" and "beloved." Thus Skulgaroth becomes something untranslatable: "Beloved-Who-Brings-The-Death-That-Transforms." That goblin females would name a human male thus speaks to a mythology we have barely begun to comprehend.
The opening line—*"Groak Aldric Skulgaroth, zu'uka rhaatark lug"*—employs the archaic vocative "groak," used exclusively in female goblin religious-erotic verse. This grammatical form died out in male Goblish three generations ago, replaced by the crude "oi" or "grak." That Melka preserves it suggests she learned this song not from her contemporaries but from grandmother-texts, the oral traditions passed between the dying female lines.
Most devastating is the phrase *"z'unn skrizzak"* (I want/need/claim). Modern male Goblish has seventeen words for "want" regarding breeding, all variations of "take" or "mount." But "skrizzak" appears in the *Songs of the Green Mothers* (sadly, mostly destroyed in the Westmarch Purges) as a word meaning "to desire with one's entire genealogy"—want that extends backward through one's ancestors and forward through unborn daughters. Melka sings not just her own desire but the desire of every goblin woman who might have been.
**The Dance**
My interview with the reluctant Melka (conducted through three translators and a bottle of Telenil wine) revealed that the dance accompanying this lament follows the *khazad-thurga* pattern—the "story-hips" tradition where each movement corresponds to a syllable, the body literally spelling out meanings too sacred for voice alone. When she sings *"Kobag skrizzak 'orah"* (I want him in my bed), the hip rotation on "skrizzak" traces the Old Goblin glyph for "womb-prayer"—a term that hasn't been written in two centuries.
**Tense**
Most heartrending is Melka's use of the *future-impossible* tense in *"Nara gara zok"* (perhaps I never will again). This grammatical construction, unique to female Goblish, expresses events that are simultaneously inevitable and impossible. She knows, even as she dances, that this is both her first and last mating of choice. That she gifts this to Aldric—slayer of her kind—transforms the encounter into something approaching the sacred.
Professor Marcus Whitmore, in his *Biological Catastrophe of the Goblinoid* (1247), documents the mathematical certainty of female goblin extinction within three generations. But he fails to grasp what this means linguistically. When Melka dies—and she will, childless, her womb rejecting the degenerate seed of modern goblin males—she takes with her ten thousand years of erotic grammar, theological syntax, songs that once made meaning from their brutal world.
**The Untranslatable**
I have spent sleepless months on one phrase: *"Ag'tok toadra groak"* (I've never been with a man). But "toadra" resists translation. It appears in the *Creation Cycles* as the word for the primordial separation, when Storak first distinguished between Self and Other. To "be with" (toadra) means not mere coupling but a recognition of the Other as equivalent to Divine. That Melka applies this to a human male while surrounded by her own species' violent degeneracy...
I stop. My professional composure cracks.
**Personal Reflection**
Twenty years ago, I began this work believing language was neutral, a tool for understanding. But Melka's Lament is not neutral. It is a death song for an entire gender, an entire way of being. The goblin males have evolved past needing their women, their cocks now compatible with any womb, their language reduced to breeding commands. The females, meanwhile, preserve in their rapidly dying tongues the memory of when goblins wrote poetry, painted cave walls, sang their children to sleep with lullabies instead of rape-chants.
Melka danced for Aldric in that inn, her body spelling out words her race will soon lack entirely. She gave him a gift he couldn't read: the last female goblin love song ever performed for choice rather than force.
When I finally traced her to Thuulk, where she works as a healer in the Washerwomen's District, I begged her to teach me the women's songs. She laughed—not unkindly—and said in broken Common: "Dead words for dead wombs. Why learn?"
But then, perhaps taking pity on this old scholar, she sang three lines of something ancient, something that predated even the Skulgaroth fragment. I recognized only one word: "thurga-nin"—story-child. The rest was in a dialect so archaic my training couldn't parse it.
She refused to translate, saying only: "Some words should die virgin."
— Professor Angharad Fflur, Chair of Goblinoid Studies, University of Thuulk. Recipient of the Thaumaturgical Linguistics Prize, Honorary member of the Circle of Ethno-Linguistic Studies, Author of "Goblinoid Languages: An In-Depth Study", Co-author of "The Dialects of the Dark Deeps".
(pic:"ch12/melka dancing.png","center","borderless")Suddenly, I grab her from behind, my hands sliding down to her round, firm ass. I dip my fingers into her panties. She's very wet. I sink two fingers inside her, her tight warmth enveloping me.
Her pussy clenches around my fingers as she sings, moaning softly while she does.
(pic:"ch12/melka aldric fondle.png","center","borderless")
"Rhaatark gara zok," (As terrifying as he may be,)
"Zu'uka z'unn skrizzak lug," (I still want him,)
"Ura, zrag zhaakar zu'uk." (Yet, I promise not to steal him from his one true love.)
She gasps, her body jerking in surprise as my fingers explore her deeper. I can hear her moaning, the sound swallowed by the sweet notes of her song. She's hot, she's wet, and she's all mine, for just one night.
The height difference - I’m kneeling behind her, one hand still inside her, the other steadying her against me. Her thick thighs clench around my hand, the sensation sending another surge of arousal through me.
As I play with her, the song fades, her breath coming out in pants, the notes lost in the heavy silence of the room. All I can hear is her, all I can feel is her, and all I want is her.
She throws a look over her shoulder, her sparkling purple eyes clouded with desire and anticipation. The sight of her lips parting slightly, heavy breaths escaping them, sends a shiver down my spine. One of her small, green hands captures mine, her fingers intertwining with mine, guiding me deeper within her.
Her goblin pussy is tight, incredibly so, clenching rhythmically around my fingers. It's velvet soft, the ridges and folds of her inner walls sending jolts of pleasure through me, a primal part of me reveling in the lewdness of it all.
Her other hand disappears from my sight, only to reappear at the base of my hardening cock. She wraps her small hand around my length, positioning it between the round mounds of her green, sweat-slick ass. She tucks my cock beneath the thin fabric of her panties, nestling it snugly between her cheeks.
The feeling of her ass rubbing against my cock is intoxicating. Her ass is soft yet firm, the subtle squeeze of her cheeks sending sparks of pleasure through my body. She rocks back into me, her ass sliding up and down along my length. The friction, though light, stokes the heat within me, pushing me to the brink of my control.
The room is filled with soft, gasping moans, the heat between us growing with each passing second. Her voice, once melodic and singing, is now reduced to ragged breaths and soft pleas. My name, or rather my title, “Skulgaroth,” leaves her lips in a heated whisper, adding to the potent eroticism of the moment. It might be a little messed up that she’s calling me by name that strikes fear into her people.(simple_option:"12 scoop","Fondle her more.")($play:"sex loop",0)(pic:"ch12/melka grope.jpg","right")I play with her tits, before carring her to the bed - tweaking her little dark green nipples. She moans into my mouth.
The pleasantly-gobliny smell of her arousal is thick in the air. I pick her up and place her on the bed, putting her on all fours.
She looks back at me, her purple eyes flashing with playful mischief. Her butt is raised, the round globes of her ass sticking out invitingly, her pussy peeking out from between her thighs. It's a darker shade of green, the slick folds glistening in the dim light. Her freckles, darker against her green skin, dot her buttocks and the backs of her thighs, giving her a delightfully exotic look.
She smirks at me, her eyes darting towards my rock-hard cock. "Looks like yer hard, I guess ya can just go jerk off now, right?" she teases.(simple_option:"12 hard","Not a chance!","Just jerk off instead...")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$choice is "Not a chance!")["Not a chance," I retort, a growl rumbling in my throat. My hands roam over her ass, feeling the smooth skin and the slight jiggle under my fingers. ](else:)[(pic:"ch12/melka nude.png","right","borderless")With a ragged breath, I nod in silent agreement to Melka's teasing suggestion.
I know I need to regain some semblance of control, to separate the raw desire from the need to expel Grokk's toxic remnants. It's not right.
"Right," I say, my voice unsteady as I disentangle myself from her tempting form and move toward the privacy screen once again.
Behind the screen, I attempt to focus.
But as soon as the distance grows between us, the warmth begins to ebb, and my cock starts going soft again.
"Damn it," I mutter under my breath, my fingers clumsily stroking in an attempt to revive my dwindling erection. The sounds of Melka shifting on the bed pierce through the thin veil of the screen.
Then, the screen rustles slightly, and Melka peeks around it, her purple eyes wide with a mixture of concern and unfulfilled desire. Her dark, green freckles seem to stand out more against the flush of arousal still painted across her cheeks. She bites her lip, a playful yet petulant expression forming as she watches my faltering attempts.
"Aldric," she starts, her voice soft, "you *really* don't have to do this all alone, ya know. I'm all ready to be your little cocksleeve if you need it." She gives a small, mischievous wiggle. "It's fer yer health, ya know. Gobbo goo is keepin ya from gettin' hard as a man!"
Here is relief, willing and warm, just on the other side of this flimsy screen, and yet I'm struggling.
"Melka, erm, I—" My voice breaks, frustration knotting in my throat. I glance down at myself, at the man who conquered beasts and battles but now stands defeated by his own goblin-corrupted physiology.
I rush back over to her, grabbing her ass, feeling the smooth skin and the slight jiggle under my fingers.
I'm hard again, almost instantly.
*I tried enough, right? This is the only way.*]
"See how wet I am?"
(pic:"ch12/melka pose.png","center","borderless")
She poses on the bed, spreading her little purple pussy lips, and showing how her juices practically drool out...
Gently, I position the head of my cock at her entrance. A small whimper escapes her, her body tensing under me.
"Are you alright?" I ask, my voice laced with concern. I pull out slightly, only to be met with a defiant gaze.
Her eyes are misty but determined. "I'm... I'm a virgin," she admits, the words barely a whisper.
A flood of warmth courses through me, the realization sinking in. The tightness, the resistance I felt, it all makes sense now. She entrusted her first time to me, and it stirs something inside me, an unexpected intimacy that sends a shiver down my spine.
(simple_option:"12 insert","Enter her!")($play:"sex loop",0)(pic:"ch12/melka aldric insert.jpg")($play:"sex loop","melka sex")It's a warmth, a snugness that wraps around my cock like a glove.
It's heavenly.
Melka looks up at me, her eyes hazy and wide. Her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth, a thin line of drool escaping from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes are smoky, her pupils dilated with arousal. Her face is flushed, her freckles standing out against her green skin.
There's a wild look in her eyes, a mixture of pleasure, pain, and surprise that makes her look all the more beautiful.
Then, without warning, she bucks her hips up against me. The sensation is jolting, the depth of it forcing a gasp from my lips. She's filled to the brim with me, my cock nestled deep within her quivering folds. She lets out a breathless moan, her small green hands gripping the sheets tightly. She's fully impaled on my cock, the sight of her, the feeling of her, it's all too much. It feels so fucking good.
She lets out a shaky breath, her body trembling beneath me. "I want it rough," she whispers. "Always wanted my first time to be rough. Don't go easy on me."
My fingers grope her jiggly, soft breasts. Her back arches off the bed, the smooth expanse of her green skin glistening under the dim light. Her body is a work of art, a sight to behold. Every smack of our bodies sends a wave of pleasure coursing through me.
My other hand moves down to her ass, giving it a firm squeeze. She lets out a yelp, the sound quickly morphing into a moan. The imprint of my hand forms on her green skin, a darker shade against her body.
Her fat green breasts bounce deliciously with the force of my thrusts. The sight of her, her body bouncing and swaying under my ministrations, sends a jolt of vigor straight to my cock.
Melka's moans and groans fill the room, a beautiful symphony of pleasure.
"I love it," she screams, her voice raw with pleasure. She looks back at me, her eyes filled with pure bliss, her mouth hanging open in a silent scream. "Harder!"
With every thrust, every movement, her body rocks against mine. The sight of her, the feel of her beneath me, the sound of her screams, it's all overwhelming, all consuming. And I can't help but fall deeper into the haze of pleasure.(simple_option:"12 rough","Go rough on her.","Be easy on her (but pretend its rough!)")(if:$choice is "Go rough on her.")[(pic:"ch12/melka aldric fuck 1.png","right","borderless")($play:"sex loop","melka sex rough 1")Something ignites inside me—a primal need, a ferocious appetite.
I grasp Melka around her diminutive waist, the muscles in my arms standing out as I lift her effortlessly off the ground.
Her petite feet dangle in the air, kicking slightly in a mix of shock and ecstasy before they wrap back around me.
With a deep growl, I thrust into her, hard.
"Yes, yes, yes! Take me, Skulgaroth! Stretch me out with your big human cock! Use my gobbo cunt as your fucking cocksleeve; just jerk off with my little pussy!
The term, 'Skulgaroth,' I think is taboo. I think she's getting off on using it. I think it means goblin-murderer or something. But I let it fuel me, feeding a raw, primal part of me.
Each thrust makes her plump asscheeks jiggle and quake, her little toes curling as they danlge.
"Yes, yes, *fuck* me!" she screeches, turning her head to look at me, her eyes wild with lust. "Use me! This is just a jack off session!"
In her voice, in her debased pleas, there’s a release of all her repressed desires, her fantasies of being wanted by someone, of being used by someone.
"Ahhhnn!" Melka's cries rise up to become sharp, ecstatic shrieks. The noise is overwhelming, and a quick flick of panic crosses my mind—the whole inn will hear us!
"Quiet down!" I command, spanking her. The sound of my hand against her skin echoes, a satisfying clap that only makes her moan louder.(live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","spank 1")]
"Call me your little gobbo slut first," she pleads, her eyes rolling back in bliss.
"You're my little gobbo slut," I growl, each word punctuated with a thrust, sinking balls deep into her, feeling her purple gobbo pussy squeeze and tug at me like a vise. "So shut up when I tell you to shut up!"
"Nnnghhh!! Ok!!!" she moans as her feet wobble in the air. ](else:)[(pic:"ch12/melka aldric orgasm.jpg","right")($play:"sex loop","melka kissing")I swallow hard, feeling the wildness in me urge to take her hard just like she's asking. But I decide to "test the waters" first and make sure she's ok.
I make the call for both of us; this is Melka's first time! She doesn't probably even know what rough feels like, and I'm not about to traumatize the goblin girl that I'm deflowering.
Gently, I pull her to me. I sit her down in my lap, her small form fitting perfectly against my larger frame.
She gazes into my eyes from over her shoulder, uncertainty mingling with anticipation.
I feel her nervousness, the rapid beat of her heart against my fingers, and I'm reminded of the depths of her trust in this moment. I wrap my arms around her, holding her securely, a silent vow to protect her even in this intimate act.
With a tender kiss on her neck, I put my hands on her hips, showing her how to move. She takes a breath, braces herself on my shoulders, and tentatively begins to rock her hips.
As she slowly rides, gaining confidence, I moan louder, emphasizing each motion to reassure her of her effect on me. I exaggerate my responses, even though it *does* feel amazing - she's so tight, tighter than any human. Her eyes sparkle with a mix of thrill and pride as she hears me groan.
I lift her into the air, letting her ride my cock as I stand.
Our lips meet in a messy, slobbery kiss, the kind that's more about shared breaths and whispered moans than technique.
“F-fill me, Skulgaroth,” Melka gasps out, her voice breathy but strained with effort. Despite her plea for roughness, there's a softness to her tone, a trusting vulnerability that tugs at my heartstrings.
I hold her perky green asscheeks as I suspend her in the air, guiding her movements. She moans loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls and filling the room with the melody of her ecstasy. With each ride, I feel her body stretching, adapting to my size, her warmth enveloping me. Her juices coat me, a warm, slick welcome that encourages deeper exploration. Her jiggly green tits press against my chest.
The scene is bathed in the midnight glow of candlelight, casting a soft, golden hue across her jiggling green breasts and flushed purple face. Each movement she makes is illuminated, her green skin a canvas of erotic light and shadows.
“Yeah, just like that… You’re doing so well- nggh!” I grunt. I lean in to capture her lips in a kiss, tasting that raw goblin wildness.
“Skulgaroth… it feels so good,” she whimpers into my ear, her breath hot and heavy. I can’t help but chuckle, the endearment amusing yet fitting in its strange way.
*It's better than 'Tit-bitch', at least...*
I grip her hips, steadying her rhythm into something less frantic, more measured. Her eyes cross slightly as I hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her, her mouth falling open in a silent 'O'. The sight is heartbreakingly adorable—the fierce goblin warrior lost in the throes of her first climax.
(pic:"ch12/melka aldric fuck 2.jpg")](simple_option:"12 change positions","Switch positions.")($play:"sex loop","melka sex rough 2")(pic:"ch12/going to pound town.jpg")I move her down onto the rumpled bedspread, her body a dew-drenched flower beneath me. Her eyes sparkle like gemstones, reflecting the meager candlelight.
She lifts her legs high, her flexible limbs bending like a contortionist's as she presents herself to me. She bites her lower lip, her dainty green hands pulling apart her ass cheeks, showing me her wet, inviting pussy. The shiny lavender of her inner folds stands out against the green of her pussy lips, a tantalizing sight that has my cock throbbing with need.
Her breasts spill out from the tiny strip of cloth stretched over them, bouncing with the rhythm of my thrusts. The only thing keeping the band from completely giving way is her nipples pressing hard against the fabric, holding it in place.
My hands move down to cup her full, jiggly tits, the green skin feeling warm and pliant beneath my fingertips. Melka squirms beneath me, her moans and gasps rising in volume as I thrust into her over and over, her legs quivering high in the air.
With each plunge of my cock, a strange sensation bubbles up within me. It's like the cleansing sensation you get from sweating out a fever, a physical purge of the toxins swirling within my system. The pheromones from Grokk's cum are slowly being squeezed out of every corner of my body, pooling lower and lower, their influence waning with each passing second.
Her freckles stand out against her darkening green flush, her sweat-slick skin gleaming in the dim light. Her purple eyes, so intense and vibrant, meet mine and she utters three words that send a jolt of panic through me, "Cum inside me."
(pic:"ch12/melka aldric fuck 4.png","center","borderless")(simple_option:"12 cum","Do it.","Pull out.")(live:6s)[($play:"sex loop",0)(stop:)(if:$choice is "Do it.")[($play:"sound","cum internal")](else:)[($play:"sound","melka cum face")]](if:$choice is "Do it.")[With a raw, primal urge surging through me, I pin Melka to the bed, my hands pushing down on her shoulders as I loom over her trembling form.
"You want me to fucking cum in your fucking gobbo cunt, huh? You wanna take a fucking human load?" I growl, my voice thick with unchecked desire and a dark, building pressure that needs release.
"Yes, yes, Skulgaroth!" she cries out, using that forbidden name, that dark title that adds a taboo thrill to the moment. "Give it to me, fill me up!"
($hidden_gem:"Her legs wrap tightly around my waist, pulling me deeper, her heels digging into my back. There's no holding back now, not with her chanting my name, her voice laced with lust and desperation.","Her limbs lock lustily around my loins, lugging me lower, her heels hooking into my hips. There's no hesitation now, not with her hailing my handle, her husky hums heavy with hunger and need.")
I thrust into her with abandon, each movement more vigorous than the last. My balls slap heavily against her, squelching as I hammer her pussy. Melka's moans rise in pitch, turning into screams of ecstasy, her body convulsing beneath me as she reaches her second climax.
The build-up inside me reaches its peak, a volcanic pressure
And then, with a deep, guttural roar, I unload into her. The feeling is revelatory, an intense release that seems to pull the dark, acidic buildup from my veins with every pulse of my hips.
<span class='cum1'>BLUUURRRRRT... BLURRRTTT... BLURRRRRT... SPLURRT...</span>
My orgasm is monstrous, ropes of cum launching into Melka with a force that leaves us both gasping. The release feels almost excretory, a purge of built-up toxins, the pheromones that Grokk's essence had infected me with being expelled forcefully with each spurt of dark, off-white cum.
Melka's eyes roll back in her head, her body slackening beneath me as the waves of her orgasm mingle with mine. "So... much..." she gasps, her voice a hoarse whisper, her body slick with a sheen of sweat in the low light.
"Y-yeah..." I pant, slumping down onto her. The mating press keeps us tightly connected, my cock still twitching inside her as the last of my climax drips out.
She giggles weakly, a sound that is half-delirious with spent pleasure. "Look at it... your cum, it's... so much..."
(pic:"ch12/melka creampie.png","center","borderless")
Glancing down, I see it, the cum bubbling up from within her, dark and thick. Panic flares briefly in my chest. "Shit, is that... safe?"
She laughs, a low, raspy sound. "Naw, goblin pheromones only work on non-gobbos - weird, right?" She's panting hard, her green body glistening with sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead. "Doesn't affect me whatsoever."
I collapse beside her, both of us catching our breath, the room filled with the heavy scent of sex and sweat. I feel cleansed, lighter, as if a great weight has been lifted. The lingering effects of the goblin pheromones seem diminished, almost gone.](else:)["No," I respond, shaking my head. Even in the throes of pleasure, I can't ignore the loyalty I still hold for my wife, for Elara. This is survival, not infidelity. I need to do this to live. Right?
Melka doesn't seem deterred by my rejection. Her legs wrap tighter around me, holding me in place as I continue to piston into her. "Do it," she insists, her voice shaky from her own impending climax.
Her pussy clenches around me, her body shaking as a powerful orgasm tears through her. Her screams fill the room, her back arching off the bed as she rides out the waves of pleasure. Her claws dig into my abs, her tiny arms not quite able to reach around my wide frame.
The sight of her in such ecstasy is breathtaking. Her eyes screw shut, her teeth bared in a silent scream, her entire body shaking. I can see it all in our reflection in the mirror - her splayed out beneath me, her tits bouncing and jiggling, her legs shaking.
In that moment, I know I'm close. Very close. I can feel the toxins pooling there, ready to be expelled. My body is purging itself, cleansing itself of the alien substance that had been killing me from the inside out. And all it took was the catalyst of this little green vixen beneath me.
My muscles are shaking, energy coursing through me in intense waves. My heart pounds in my chest like a war drum, echoing the primal rhythm of my primal need. I'm close, so close to releasing. I know Melka is still in the throes of her own release, her petite body writhing under me. I can feel her legs clamping around my waist, her feet pressing into the small of my back. She wants me to spill inside her, but I can't. I won't.
I grunt, a low, guttural sound of exertion, gently unwrapping her legs from around me. My fingers brush over the smooth, green skin of her soles, still twitching and tensing from her orgasm. I can feel the heat of her, the goosebumps raised on her skin. Her toes curl and uncurl as I free myself from her grip.
"I need to..." I huff out the words, a thread of a thought hanging in the heated air of the room. I don't finish the sentence. I don't have to. She knows what I mean.
I stand, suddenly feeling the world tilt and sway under me. My knees almost buckle, my muscles threatening to give out. I'm not sure if it's the adrenaline crash or the goblin toxins seeping back into my system, but I feel weak, shaky. Still, I hold myself upright, one hand bracing on the wooden bedpost, the other hand wrapped around my throbbing cock.
"No, Aldric," Melka whimpers, a soft plea. "On me, please."
I glance down at her. She's still laid out on the bed, a vision of wanton desire. Her thick black hair is spread out on the pillow beneath her head, her wide purple eyes glittering with unshed tears. Her lips are parted, panting, a flush on her cheeks. She looks... breathtaking, like a painting of some forgotten little goddess.
"Melka, I..."
She's quick, kneeling in front of me. My name is a soft prayer on her lips as she looks up at me. Her hands cup her breasts, pressing them together, her dark nipples hard and pointed. I feel my gut tighten at the sight of her, at the desperate desire burning in her eyes.
"I want to feel it," she whispers, her words a desperate plea. "I want to feel you, Aldric."
I know it's wrong, I know I shouldn't, but her words, her gaze, it all breaks down my resolve.
I can feel it coming, the deep rumble of my impending release, my entire body coiled up like a powerful spring. Every muscle tenses, my toes curl against the rough wooden floor. It feels like a wildfire tearing through my body, destroying everything in its path, a purifying conflagration. It's not the simple pleasure I used to know, it's a thousand times more potent, sharp and keen like a lightning bolt.
"Alright," I rasp out, hoarse, unable to resist her pleading eyes any longer. My hand shakes as I point my cock directly at her, a target painted in bright green against the brown backdrop of the room.
Then, with a raw, animalistic grunt, I let go. The sensation is overwhelming, even painful. Hot. Burning. My cock pulses, throbbing as it expels the thick, toxic evidence of Grokk's influence from my body. It's an expulsion, a violent rejection, purifying and cleansing.
I watch as the thick ropes of my release shoot out, a hideous cocktail of milky white and strange tinges of yellow and gray-green. It lands on her, the squelching sounds shockingly loud in the quiet room, staining her once beautiful green skin with an unappealing glaze. It's an assault, violent and unyielding, but she just whimpers softly, accepting it, even welcoming it. Her wide purple eyes never leave mine as my cum paints her face and her breasts.
I feel lighter, like a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders. A sense of relief washes over me, followed by a wave of embarrassment and shame. The smell is pungent, making me wince. I don't even recognize it as my own.
(pic:"ch12/melka cum face.png","center","borderless")
"I... I'm sorry, Melka," I mutter, panting heavily. My body feels like jelly, muscles quivering from the powerful climax.
The aftermath of my release feels like the silence after a storm, where every sound is heightened and every sight seems sharper.
Melka kneels on the bed, a strange mix of beauty and obscenity. Her skin, normally a beautiful, lush green, is covered in my cum, the substance splattered haphazardly across her chest and face, stringy trails of it dripping off her upturned nose and full lips. She's blinking rapidly, probably to keep the cum out of her eyes, and her purple eyes are wide, full of emotions I can't quite decipher.
The once-white band around her breasts is soaked through, clinging to her large round breasts like a second skin. It's darker now, stained with my cum, and as she breathes heavily, it moves with her, wet and squelchy. Cum runs down from her breasts in small streams, pooling around her hips and thighs.
The cum itself is grotesque, a disturbing mix of white and gray-green, still steaming slightly from the heat of my body. It's thick, almost curdled, clinging to her skin like glue. Its scent is pungent, sour and sickeningly sweet, and she wrinkles her upturned nose at the smell. I can't help but wince at the sight of it, this vivid evidence of my recent past. ](simple_option:"12 giggle","She giggles."){
(unless:$lorebook contains "other")[(set:$lorebook to it + (dm:"other",(a:)))]
}($play:"sex loop",0)Her eyes sparkle, her cheeks darken with happiness, her wide mouth stretched in a grin. And despite the revolting mess, despite the fact that I've just (if:($get_choice:"12 change positions") is "Do it.")[creampied her quivering pussy](else:)[hosed her down with cum], she seems genuinely happy. It's such a strange, unexpected reaction that I can't help but stare at her, my brain unable to comprehend her joy.
"Thank ya, Tit-bitch," she says, her voice slightly muffled by the cum clinging to her lips. "I guess ya needed to get that outta ya system."
She sounds relieved, grateful even, and I feel my heart sink a little at her words.
"It stinks though," she says, still grinning(if:($get_choice:"12 change positions") is "Do it.")[, and squats over the chamber-pot in the corner, squeezing it out with loud glops. "Hope ya didn't get me preggers! Jus' kidden - that gobbo sperm makes ya infertile. Temporarily!"](else:)[, and peels off her soaked bra with a squelching sound, exposing her dark, hardened nipples. "Ain't gonna wear that again."]
I stare at her "I feel... better, Melka. Much better."
And I do. Lighter, cleaner, like I've been scrubbed from the inside out. The toxic pheromones, the horrible remnants of Grokk's influence, they're gone, purged from my body in one powerful release.
Her happiness is contagious, and I find myself laughing, the sound strange and foreign to my own ears. It's a relief, a release of tension I didn't even realize I was holding onto.
When Melka stands up and hugs me, her body barely reaching my chest, I feel a strange mix of warmth and guilt. Her short height means that she presses her cum-soaked body against my legs, but I don't care. It's a moment of shared laughter, of shared relief, and I hug her back, my strong arms wrapping around her smaller frame.
"Sorry, Aldric," she giggles against my chest, her voice muffled. "I got some of it on ya."
It's messy and weird and awkward and funny all at once, and I find myself grinning down at her, my heart pounding in my chest. This tiny goblin girl, this brave, bold creature who saved me, is laughing with me, sharing a moment of joy and relief in a world that's been nothing but cruel.
It's a moment of weird beauty, a warm moment, obscene and beautiful all at once.
Melka's just a pure whirlwind of enthusiasm now, naked and not giving a toss. Her tits bobble and her ass jiggles with every step she takes, a wee goblin jig that sends the room into fits. There's cum dripping from her hair, sticking to her cheeks, but she doesn't care, not a bit. Her eyes are brighter than I've ever seen them, full of a joy that's as infectious as the plague.
(simple_option:"12 recount","She starts talking about the sex you had!")($play:"ambience","inn music")(if:($get_choice:"12 insert") is "Go rough on her.")["And then, and then," she babbles on, "you grabbed my hair, yeah, pulled it back just like this," she pantomimes, a hand in her still messy hair, "and smacked my ass so hard! Gods, it stung but it was bloody brilliant, it was!" Her cheeks are rosy, her words tumbling out faster than I can keep up. "And then you LIFTED ME UP! I LOVED it!"](else:)["And then, and then," she babbles on, "you made me ride ya! Made me move up and down! I came so hard! Yer cock hurt a bit at first, but then it was bloody brilliant, it was! All sparkly and MMMMMM!!! I loved it! I love sex!"]
Her small feet patter on the wooden floor as she leaps about, imitating the positions we were in.
"(if:($get_choice:"12 insert") is "Go rough on her.")[Fuck, my legs were DANGLIN', and you, you were in me so deep! Felt like you were gunna split me in two!"](else:)[Yer cock was so deep! It felt like, like you were gonna split me in two! Mmm I loved ridin' ya!"]
You chuckle as she runs around the room. You feel so good.
"Did ya... did ya like the eye contact? Thought it was quite hot, myself," she adds with a little giggle, batting those big, expressive purple eyes at me. She's a ball of energy, bubbling over with exhilaration. It's like she's just discovered a whole new world.
It's a sight, watching her like this. A goblin girl in the throes of post-coital bliss, recounting every moment of her first time. The way she talks about being fucked, about the feeling of someone inside her... it's disarmingly honest.
Funny in a way - endearing, too.
She's always been overlooked, but she's got a spirit in her that I've never seen in any woman, human or not.
As she starts cleaning herself up in the washbasin, I find myself grinning, a warm, fuzzy feeling bubbling up in my chest. It's been a long time since I've felt this light, this relaxed. She's a sight, Melka is, in all her naked, giggling glory.
I let her prattle on while she washes, chuckling as I sink back into my bed, the covers soft against my skin. Exhaustion begins to tug at my eyelids, but I resist, watching her. "I'm glad, Melka," I finally say, my words barely above a whisper.
Her joy fills the room, her laughter ringing out as she keeps on dancing.
Finally, she pauses, panting and flushed.
"Even though it was just once, I'm so glad it was you, Aldric."
(pic:"ch12/melka sleep.jpg")
And with those words, she snuffs out the candles, plunging the room into darkness.
But the giggling from her own bed still fills the space, a comforting, happy sound that follows me into sleep.
(simple_option:"13 home","Drift off...")(masteraudio:"stopall")($chapter_title:13,"The Weight of Duty")($play:"ambience","desert horse")(set:$gender to "male")The morning sun caresses my face, its warmth a gentle kiss on my stubbled cheek.
Stubble. I’ll need to start shaving again! The thought fills me with more joy than it should.
I squint, the sunlight forming a dazzling kaleidoscope through the thick emerald canopy of pine needles overhead. A pair of jewel-toned Hummingdrakes flit past, their ruby and sapphire wings catching the sunlight as they dance in the crisp air. The scent of damp moss, pine, and the faint sweetness of dawnbells waft through my nostrils, grounding me in familiar scents. My heart gives a squeeze in my chest. I'm home. Almost.
Beneath us, the muscled back of the desert horse shifts, its steady trot a comforting rhythm. Melka sits in front of me, her body snug against mine. Her plump green ass rubs against my thighs, a dull throb from last night's exertions pulsing in my groin.
The memory of her naked flesh beneath me - the taste of her green lips, her ample breasts, the feel of her pussy around my cock - sends a jolt of desire through me. Guilt follows quickly after.
I'm not hers. I belong to Elara.
But damn, last night will definitely have a space in my memory for the rest of my life. And considering all the other things I've done to survive these last few weeks... this seems like a failing I can accept.
"Ya think Thuulk will really take a goblin lass?" Melka asks, breaking the silence.
“It’s a melting pot, Melka. Folk of all kinds live there," I reassure, my hand resting on her rounded shoulder. The rough fabric of her tunic is warm under my palm. "Your skills as a healer... they'll be more than welcome. That’s what they’ll care about.”
Her shoulder stiffens under my touch and then relaxes. She lets out a sigh, her body sagging against me. The image of the goblin girl in the busy streets of Thuulk flashes in my mind - her short black curls bouncing as she navigates through the crowd, her purple eyes sparkling with excitement.
"But if you ever want a taste of country life, remember you're always welcome in Eboncrest. Our home is yours," I add, feeling her stiffen once more. I should really just shut up.
(simple_option:"13 road","She sighs.")"I reckon I better not," she says after a pause, her voice a mix of regret and resignation. "Ya got your missus to get back to. And she’s not gonna wanna see a goblin.”
A lump forms in my throat. She's absolutely right.
I take a deep breath, drinking in the forest air. It tastes of freedom, of homecoming, and of a strange, unexpected camaraderie born out of shared adversity. Dressed in the fresh cotton shirt and comfortable leather britches gifted by the Thistlecross guards, I feel like myself again. Aldric. Not Elise. Not a battered slave, but a man returning home.
(if:($get_choice:"12 insert") is "Go rough on her.")["Yer cock did a number on me, Tit-bitch,” she says, a chuckle in her voice. She pats her round ass, still tender from our tryst. "Can't sit on this saddle without feeling like I got pounded by a stone troll."
Heat rises to my cheeks, my cock gives a stir at her words. The tension crackles between us. It's friendly, flirtatious, and tinged with a sexual frisson that neither of us can deny. I cough, trying to dispel the embarrassment.
"Maybe I should've been gentler for your first time," I say, trying to keep the conversation light.
"Nah," she retorts, glancing back at me, her purple eyes twinkling. "I got what I asked for.”](else:)["Ye were gentle with me last night, I know it," she says, chuckling. "But I liked it. If ye went all out, think I'd be havin' trouble sittin on this saddle..."
Heat rises to my cheeks, my cock gives a stir at her words. The tension crackles between us. It's friendly, but tinged with this sexual frission...
I cough.
"I didn't want to ruin you for the fine goblin gentlemen!" you laugh.
She snorts. "There's a reason I'm leavin'. For good. I hate them."]
The silence stretches between us, pregnant with the tension of words left unsaid. A bird chirps, piercing the stillness. We are getting very close.
"So, what's yer woman like, then? Elara.
(simple_option:"13 tell her","Tell her about Elara...","I'd better not...")(if:$choice is "Tell her about Elara...")[“My wife... she's got the greenest thumb I've ever seen."
Melka huffs a laugh, jiggling her own fingers in front of her face. "Not greener than mine, Tit bitch!”
I chuckle. “Sorry. It's a turn of phrase," I explain. “It means good with plants.”
“Humans,” she huffs.
“Let me tell you one story about Elara,” I start, my brain just enjoying that I can remember everything again. “So, as I said, she loves things that grow, anything from a tree to a weed. Can't bear to let any plant die, no matter how pathetic. One day, she finds this shriveled potted plant outside a magic shop in town. Looks like it hadn't seen water in months. I tried telling her to leave it. That nothing good ever came from a magic shop, but Elara... well, she's stubborn as a mule when she sets her mind to something."
“So what happened?”
"Well," I say. "She brings it home, sets it on the windowsill, waters it, talks to it. Sings to it. Two weeks later, that thing is sprouting like crazy. Green shoots all over, looking healthier than any other plant in our garden."
"Sounds like Elara's got some magic of her own."
“She does," I agree, a warmth spreading in my chest at the thought of my wife's gentle heart. “A bit too much of it. One day the following week, I wake up to find our garden absolutely wrecked. Pots shattered, dirt everywhere. And at the center of it all, that damn plant, now grown into a giant tentacle monster, thrashing about and flinging our tomatoes all over the place."
“A Fumblethorn!” Melka lets out a high-pitched squeal of laughter, slapping her knee.
“Exactly,” I say, rolling my eyes at the memory. “And she wouldn’t even let me kill it. I had to grapple with the beast, get it into a sack. It was thrashing and squirming, knocking me flat on my ass more than once. It ate all of Elara's petunias, and she still wanted to save it.”
Melka's giggling becomes uncontrollable at this point, her body shaking with mirth. "And then?"
"Then? Well, I had to spend a whole day marching it out into the wild and let it go. Elara told me it needed to go into a dungeon, where it could wrap around stalagmites, curl around stalagmites and suck nutrients or some such nonsense. And the spores, don’t get me started!” I continue to detail the harrowing quest, of planting monsters rather than slaying them. Of my wife’s hand over hips to ensure I had followed through with my promise.
By the end of the story, Melka is wiping tears from her eyes, the fits of giggles finally subsiding. I feel lighter than I've felt in ages, the story serving as a reminder of the life that's waiting for me, of the love that I still have.](else:)["Er..." I mumble. "I'd better not.
She nods, and we both enjoy a comfortable silence for a while.]
(pic:"ch04/homecoming.jpg")
($hidden_gem:"Suddenly, the hush of the pines gives way to a gasp as Eboncrest appears in the distance, its stone walls proud and imposing against the pale morning sky. The spire of the keep peeks through the green sea of trees, like a lone sentry standing guard.","Suddenly, the silence of the spruces shatters with a sigh as Eboncrest emerges in the distance, its stone strongholds stately and stern against the subdued morning sky. The spire of the stronghold slips through the sea of sage trees, a solitary sentinel standing steadfast.")
It's home.
(simple_option:"13 arrive","My home.")I turn to Melka, her purple eyes gleaming with a mix of sadness and hope, those bouncy curls bobbing as she looks back at me. I slide off the horse with a grunt, the familiar soreness of my muscles reminding me of the recent battle, of the taste of victory.
Whisperwind, my faithful blade, is resting in the saddle. I take it, the hilt familiar and comforting in my grasp. I give Melka a nod, my eyes locked on hers, conveying all the gratitude and admiration words fail to express.
"Ya know, Tit-bitch, I'm gonna miss ya," she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.
"Melka, I..." I stumble over my words, the tension almost tangible in the air between us.
“Hush now,” she interrupts, flashing me a melancholy smile. “I’m sorry ye got it so rough. But I’m really glad I met ya.” Then, with a final wave, she kicks her desert horse into a gallop, towards her own destiny.
I watch until she's just a speck in the distance.
(simple_option:"13 enter","Enter Eboncrest.")($play:"ambience","desert horse")(pic:"ch04/guards.jpg")($play:"ambience","village morning")"Good to see you, sir!" Garrett, a giant of a man with a beard like a bushel of wheat, thunders, his face splitting into a grin as wide as the Eboncrest gates. He delivers a sharp military salute, his armored hand thumping against his breastplate in welcome.
"Knew you'd get out of that pickle, Aldric!" chimes in another, Roderick, a grizzled veteran with scars to match. His grip is strong and warm on my forearm as we share a hearty clasp.
They're all here, my brothers-in-arms. Duncan, the hawk-eyed archer. Jonah, the stoic blacksmith's son. They’re grinning, laughing, their faces etched with relief and joy.
"Hold up there, men!" A new voice rings out above the clamor. Captain Giles. The soldiers part like the sea, making way for the captain of the guard, his stern features softened by a rare smile. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Aldric."
"Giles!" I greet him, clapping him on the shoulder. "The town hasn't burned down without me, has it?"
"Not yet," Giles replies with a smirk. "Though we did have a bit of a problem with a green-skinned fellow earlier."
My heart leaps. "Snib.”
“Right. Tried to sneak in through a sewage grate. He's cooling his heels in our cells as we speak.”
($hidden_gem:"A flush of satisfaction ripples through me. Snib. In chains. At last. The thought tickles a dark corner of my mind, whispers of revenge fanning the embers of my fury.","A flush of fulfilled fervor flows through me. Snib. Shackled. Suppressed. The thought tantalizes a tenebrous corner of my consciousness, whispers of warranted wrath kindling the coals of my contempt.")
I shove it aside. There'll be time for that later. Right now, my focus is elsewhere. "And Elara?" I ask, my voice unsteady.
The men exchange glances before Roderick clears his throat. "We ain't seen her since morning, Aldric. But she'll be over the moon, seeing you back."
"Good. Good." I nod, forcing a smile onto my face.
($notification:"The townsfolk of Eboncrest know about your situation.")($change_stat:"town",-1)A flurry of chuckles break out, Garrett slapping me on the back. "Bet you've got quite the tale to tell, eh? Being a woman and all?" His laughter is infectious, and despite the bitterness of the memory, I find myself joining in.
"Silver Stag tonight, Aldric?" Jonah asks. "First round's on me. You can regale us with your... ladylike adventures."
I laugh, a genuine, full-throated laugh. "It's a *date*, moron."
Just then, Duncan pipes up, "Aldric, there's a wizard in town. Wants to see you."
My eyebrows shoot up. Master ($lorebook_entry:"Zephyrion","people"), probably - the one Fendril contacted to help with my ‘condition’, all the way from the Great Hall. “He'll have to wait. I've got a wife to apologize to, first."
(simple_option:"13 visit","Go and see Elara.")As I stand in front of our house, I'm grinning and I can't help it!
My hand rests on the wooden door, etched with years of love and memories, its familiar grooves whispering welcome. Gently, I push it open - we’ve never had to keep it locked, in such a safe town.
Inside, the familiar scent of our hearth, a mix of burning oak and rosemary bread, washes over me like a warm, comforting blanket.
Creeping through the living area, my eyes take in the familiar setup: plush furniture, warm tapestries, the fire dancing in the hearth.
A soft hum leads me to the kitchen. My breath catches in my throat as I drink in the sight of her, auburn locks cascading down her shoulders, focused on the loaf of bread she's kneading on the table. My heart clenches as I imagine her eating it alone.
The floor creaks under my foot, breaking the silence. Elara jumps, a sharp shriek piercing the air. I rush forward, my arms open to catch her as she stumbles back. The shriek dies in her throat as she turns, her eyes meeting mine. "Al- Aldric?"
Tears pool in her eyes, her hands trembling as they reach up to touch my face. "You're... you're back?" I nod, my heart aching at the disbelief in her voice. My fingers curl around hers, pressing her palm against my cheek.
(pic:"ch13/elara happy.jpg")
Her scream transforms into a sob, her body shaking as she buries herself in my arms. I wrap her up, pulling her as close as I can. Her body fits perfectly against mine, her curves melding into my muscles, her scent clouding my senses. Home.
She pulls back, her hands framing my face as her sapphire eyes search my face. "I didn't dare to hope, Aldric. But I was praying for your return. I haven't slept."
Her confession tugs at my heart, regret and relief warring inside me. I pull her back into my embrace, burying my face in her hair. "I'm here, Elara. I'm here now. Here forever.”
Her fingers curl into my shirt, her body clinging to mine as if I might disappear like a puff of smoke.
Then, we kiss. It's a desperate kiss to make up for lost time, a clash of lips and tongues that speaks of the torment of our separation. The taste of her, sweet and familiar, fills me with a burning need. I pull her closer, deepening the intimacy. It's so good to have her in my arms again. And to have *my arms* again.
The taste of her lips, the smell of her hair, the feel of her body against mine... it all confirms that I'm finally home, finally free.
And yet, beneath the joy and relief, a dark thought lurks. Snib. In chains, thankfully. The thought of his vile hands on my Elara fills me with a cold, seething rage. I have no doubt that’s what he was attempting in his little sneak attack.
We settle down on our couch as I recount, carefully, the events of the last few days at the horrible Griznak Gobboree.
(simple_option:"13 details","Recount the details...")I start the story. "It was one hell of a night when I finally escaped."($play:"ambience","village morning")
She nestles deeper into my lap, a sea of auburn curls spilling over her shoulders. Her eyes never leave mine as I start talking about the Gobboree... sparing her a few chosen details.
“They made me fight in their arena,” I say. “I was wagered in a bet. That’s when Snib lost me, and I was given to Grokk, their chieftan.”
I kiss her forehead softly, not planning to talk about getting face-fucked in front of the jeering crowd.
"It was horrible," I say, my heart aching at her shiver. "But I escaped - thankfully, goblins are jealous of each other, and actually it was Snib who freed me, to get revenge on the chief. Who I killed."
"Good," she says, clutching the hem of her dress.
Her soft sobs dampen my tunic as I continue with my tale, describing how Melka, a goblin lass with more heart than the lot of them, spoke for me, working together with Snib to give me the chance to escape.
"I'm forever in debt to that goblin girl," I murmur. "The one person to show me real kindness. Honestly she showed me that not all goblins are monsters."
As I continue with my tale, Elara looks at me, her husband, her eyes filled with pride as I describe the vengeance I wrought on the troll and the other goblins.
"They called me ‘Skulgaroth,’" I say, a smirk dancing on my lips. "Thought I was a demon of some sort. And I was happy to play the part.”
Elara clings to me tighter as I describe our escape from the Gobboree. Once again, leaving out a *few details*...
"I stopped in Thistlecross," I say, kissing her knuckles one by one. "They patched me up."
"It must've been so hard..." she whispers, her voice full of sorrow. I nod, unable to deny the agony, the suffering. “But I’m so proud of you.”
A chuckle escapes my lips as I look at her. "I don't think I'm cut out to be a woman," I say.
She laughs. "Oh, Aldric," she says, "I did actually enjoy doing your hair."
“I used the warrior’s braid you showed me!” I say. “In the arena.”
“Good!” she giggles. Suddenly, her eyes turn serious. "Zephyrion's here, you may have heard.” she says, "we need to see him soon. He will have a lot of questions, and he will have come all the way from Thuulk for nothing.”
"I know," I sigh, leaning in to steal another kiss. “Let’s go.”
(simple_option:"13 wizard","Visit the wizard.")($play:"ambience","castle interior")The door to Zephyrion's quarters swings open with a slight creak, the echo of the sound swallowed by the heavy drapes and thick stone walls.
A wooden desk strewn with scrolls and ancient books occupies one corner of the room, lit by the warm glow of a single oil lamp. There, amidst the chaos of parchments and ink, sits something that makes my breath catch in my throat.
The collar.
(pic:"ch13/collar.jpg")
I stiffen at the sight of it.
Zephyrion is seated behind the desk, engrossed in a scroll. At our entrance, he looks up and stands.
"Aldric. Elara," he greets. His voice is measured and controlled, each word carefully articulated, echoing softly around the room. There's an urgency in his demeanor, like he's impatient to get back to whatever was occupying him before we arrived.
He's taller than I'd remembered. His grey eyes flicker with a glint of hidden knowledge, a storm beneath a calm facade.
Shaking off the unease, I rshake his hand. His touch is cool, his skin smooth against my calloused hands. "Zephyrion," I return the greeting, forcing a small smile. "How long has it been? Ten years?"
As our hands drop, my eyes drift to the insignia on his shoulder. It's a symbol I've seen before, one that's known across the kingdom. A silver lightning bolt wrapped around a golden scepter. The emblem of King Richard Valarian’s inner council.
My brow furrows slightly. Just how high up is he?
Elara is next to me, her arm threading through mine as she nods a hello. Zephyrion acknowledges her with a tilt of his head, his expression unchanging. His gaze sweeps back to me, lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before it shifts away.
My gaze goes back to the collar on his desk, my mind reeling. "Shouldn't that thing be locked away?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. The metal glimmers in the dim light, almost mocking, its silence whispering tales of my past. I resist the urge to reach out and grab it, to throw it far away from us, from this room.
But Zephyrion only raises an eyebrow at my question, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Aldric," he begins, leaning back in his chair, his grey eyes dancing with a spark of intrigue. "That's what we're here to find out, isn't it?"
The wizard’s gaze fixes on the cursed collar, his stormy eyes sparkling with an ominous light. He reaches out, his long fingers hovering a hair’s breadth above the cruel iron, stopping short of touching it.
"Marvelous, isn't it? As a thing," he murmurs, a grim smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The word feels wrong, feels dirty, in reference to that damned collar. "So simple, yet so... potent." His eyes flick to mine, his smile fading. "You wore it well, Aldric. So the goblin says.”
His words scrape at me like a knife. But I don’t flinch, don’t blink, just meet his gaze head on.
"Indeed," he continues, his eyes returning to the collar. "Fendril was correct, as far as he went. It's a conduit, a bridge to something... more. An ancient being. But I have discovered who this being is.”
My wife and I hold our breath.
“Maraan."
(simple_option:"13 maraan","You've heard that name before...")Elara gasps beside me. Maraan is a specter in the dark corners of old stories.
Zephyrion straightens, regarding us with an analytical eye. “You know of Him, I see." His words are dry, almost amused. It’s an unsettling effect.
“The Dreamer in the Deep," I say. "An ancient entity from a time before time, from an age when the K'tarrans ruled this land and foolishly used his power to lay waste to their enemies."
The echo of the old verse rings in my ears. The three ancient ones, those who sleep deep in the earth. Maraan, Thul’nara, and Zor'ethun.
Zephyrion continues. “This collar,” he turns it in his hands, “Is, as you may have now guessed, an artifact of the K'tarran age. A tool created to tap into the power of Maraan."
My stomach drops. A direct link to one of those beings… it's a horrifying thought. Worse still is the notion that someone, even a seasoned mage like Zephyrion, sounds *excited* by that possibility.
“In its time, a K'tarran collar like this would be used to enslave, to dominate.” Zephyrion's words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of my own recent past. "A weapon for kings to degrade their enemies, turning the mighty into the meek. Something you had the chance to experience first-hand."
His gaze lingers on me for a moment longer than I'm comfortable with.
Elara squeezes my hand tight, she doesn't like where this is going.
“Imagine," Zephyrion says, "if we could study that link, we could harness its power... Imagine what could be achieved."
My heart races, a chilling fear gripping me.
(simple_option:"13 eyes","The wizard's eyes gleam with anticipation.")(pic:"ch13/zephyrion.jpg","right")"The artifact was made for one master, one slave. That’s the only way it works, the only way to access its power.” Zephyrion's voice is soft, almost gentle. As if he's talking about a new spell, a new discovery, not a link to an ancient, monstrous entity. "Without that connection," he continues, "there's nothing. No link to Maraan, no power to study, to use. The collar must be active, or else it sleeps."
A leaden silence follows his words. I swallow hard, my throat dry. Zephyrion’s gaze falls back onto the collar, his fingers itching to touch it, to trace its runes.
Zephyrion settles into his seat, his grey eyes scanning the room like a hawk scanning the forest floor. His lips part, drawing our attention, each word he releases, a sharpened arrow.
"Time, Aldric, is a cruel and relentless taskmaster," he starts, the room swallowing his words in silent anticipation. "It respects neither king nor peasant, neither wizard nor warrior. And time is not on our side today. Not with Sirath on the move.”
(simple_option:"13 war","He's talking about the war.")Leaning back, he continues, “Valaria is being drained, sapped, by the conflict with Sirath.”
His voice is soft, yet it echoes, a gong in the hush of the room.
“The towns in the south are now only markers for battlefields, their life-blood soaking the southern borders." There's a flicker in his eyes, like a spark struggling against the wind, but his voice never falters.
“I thought the counteroffensive was underway,” I say. “I helped trained soldiers for it. For months.”
"The Serrans," he continues, "persistent as they are, have matched us blow for blow. No side has tasted a single decisive victory, only the bitter brew of attrition." His words paint a grim image, one that's hard to swallow. “The counteroffensive has failed.”
His stern gaze holds us captive as he weaves this tapestry of harsh reality.
"There are alliances forming in the east with the warlords, alliances that threaten to tear Valaria asunder. We cannot fight on both fronts and win.”
His voice hardens, and his jaw sets.
"But we do have a king,” he says, a spark of respect flashing in his stormy eyes, “who understands our plight and is ready to seek solutions in the arcane, in the old magics."
Now, he pauses, holding us both in suspended animation. He looks to me, then to Elara, and finally, to the eldritch artifact resting on the table.
“King Richard Valarian has summoned us, his council of wizards, not just to fight but to uncover. To delve into the old lore and find the keys that might unlock the power we need. Power that could stem the tide of this war." His eyes dance with a fiery intensity, a pyre lit with the kindling of hidden knowledge. "That is why we are here, why I am here. We must find these artifacts, secrets of the ancient K'tarrans, and wield their power for Valaria."
His gaze lands on me, piercing and demanding.
"You are the key, Aldric."
(simple_option:"13 key","What do you mean?")I feel a twinge in my gut, a prickling sense of unease. "What do you mean?" I demand, but my voice lacks its usual strength. My mouth is dry, my throat tight.
"You've been connected to Maraan before, through this artifact," he explains, picking up the cursed collar once again. “And this artifact is useless unless you - you, specifically - put it on again. It only binds to one wearer.”
“And one master,” I echo his previous words.
The room plunges into an icy silence. I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, the blood draining from my face. Beside me, Elara inhales sharply, her hand gripping mine.
“Sorry, but are you fucking mad?" Elara's voice is a whip, snapping across the room. Her fingers dig into my hand, her other one shaking as she points at the cursed collar. “My husband was tortured, transformed, for DAYS! You want him to go through that hell again?"
Zephyrion is unfazed by her outburst. His gaze remains focused on me, patient and expectant. "It's only temporary, Aldric," he assures, his voice like silk. "Just until we unlock its secrets."
"I won't wake Maraan," I say, standing up abruptly. My chair topples backward, echoing my outrage in the cold stone room. "The stories... we're told not to wake him. The K'tarrans are a warning, not an example."
Zephyrion merely shakes his head, a slight, arrogant smile playing on his lips. “Scholars believe the K'tarran empire fell due to economic collapse, internal strife, and famine. The disasters that befell them were purely mundane, not mystical."
"That's horseshit!" I snap, slamming my fist on the table. "The Three swallowed them whole! They abused their power and were obliterated for it!"
Silence settles again. I can feel Elara's fear and anger pulsing beside me, mirroring my own. She finally breaks the silence, her voice thick with tears.
"Aldric has given enough to the war," she pleads. "He trains soldiers, he's the hero of this town. I've shared him with the kingdom for years, and I won't do it anymore. I need my husband."
Zephyrion just looks at us, as calm as a millpond. But his eyes... they burn with an unfathomable desire. A desire for power, for control. And in that moment, I realize just how dangerous this wizard is. He would risk waking an ancient evil, would risk me, all for the sake of this damned war.
(simple_option:"13 no","I won't be a part of this.")"Sorry, Zephyrion," I mutter, my voice hoarse. "But the answer is no. I won't become a pawn for your experiments."
The tension hangs heavy in the room.
Just when I think things can't get any worse, the door to the chamber swings open, and Snib is ushered in by two of Zephyrion’s royal guards. My stomach churns at the sight of him, my nostrils filled with the sickening stench of sweat and goblin musk once more. His beady eyes glisten with a perverse delight, a fat grin plastered on his hideous face.
(pic:"ch13/snib.jpg")
"No!" Elara's voice is raw, desperate. "He won't touch my husband again!"
The room freezes at her outcry. Even Snib pauses, his grin fading as his eyes flick to Elara. Then, as if someone flips a switch, his face lights up again, his grin wider than ever. He waddles closer, an obscene swagger in his stride.
"But Mistress," he croaks, his voice a guttural rasp that sends shivers of revulsion down my spine. "We're old friends."
I clench my jaw, my hands balling into fists at my sides. My pulse throbs in my temples, my blood roars in my ears. I'm a storm, a hurricane, waiting to break free.
Zephyrion raises a placating hand. "Now, now," he chides, like we're petulant children and not the victims of a cruel magic. "I understand your anger, your fear. But think of Valaria. This is bigger than us, bigger than your... discomfort."
(simple_option:"13 discomfort","'Discomfort???'")Before I can speak, before I can voice my fury, my defiance, Zephyrion continues.
"I've already spoken with Snib," he says, as casual as if he's talking about the weather. "He's agreed to release you, Aldric, once our work is done. In exchange, we will offer him sanctuary in Thuulk."
My head spins. Sanctuary. For Snib. The thought is a poison, spreading through my veins, curdling my blood.
"All you need to do is endure a little longer," Zephyrion's voice is soft, soothing, a balm on a wound that's still raw, still festering. "As Elise, you will be under close watch. Snib will stay in Eboncrest, under the protection of Mayor Bramble's order. You won't have to leave your home."
Snib. In our home.
I glance at Elara, her face pale but resolute, her eyes locked on Snib. She doesn't even blink, doesn't look at me. She's a rock in the raging sea, and I... I am the storm.
(simple_option:"13 wont","I won't let this happen.","Kill Snib.")(if:$choice is "Kill Snib.")["This ends now."($play:"sound","draw sword")
I draw Whisperwind in a swift, fluid motion, the sword gleaming in the dim light. I move towards Snib, every muscle in my body coiled and ready to strike. To kill. To end this nightmare once and for all.
But before I can land a blow, before I can taste the sweet release of revenge, my body freezes. My breath hitches, my limbs locked in place, my heart pounding against my ribs.
"No!" Elara's scream is a distant echo, drowned out by the rush of blood in my ears.
($hidden_gem:"Zephyrion stands, his hand outstretched, his eyes locked on mine. With a flick of his other wrist, the cursed collar lifts from the table, floating in the air, inching closer to my immobile body.","Zephyrion stands, his hand held high, his gaze glued to mine. With a flick of his other fingers, the foul fetter floats from the flat surface, flying closer to my frozen form.")
And all I can do is watch, trapped in my own skin, as the cold iron closes around my throat once more.
The collar, now glittering with glowing purple runes, latches onto my neck. Cold. It's so bloody cold. Then, I can feel it, coursing through me. The sickening pull of magic, the same magic that had once before transformed me, ripping me from the form I'd known for a lifetime.](else:)["I won't let this happen," I declare, my voice a resolute growl. I stand firm, my legs planted wide apart, my fists clenched at my sides.
"Aldric," Zephyrion says softly, his voice like the whisper of a blade sliding into a sheath. "This is bigger than our simple human fears and discomforts. It's about the survival of the realm."
"To sheol with Valaria!" I roar. "I'm not putting that collar on again! I am not becoming Elise again!"
Zephyrion's hand rises, fingers snapping.
The tension in the room crackles, electric, the air growing thick with the smell of magic.
I try to draw my sword, but something has sealed it in the sheath.
"Zephyrion, no!" my wife shouts, her voice shrill with desperation. "Don't do this!"
"I must," he replies, his voice a steely command. "Apologies."
I see the collar rise from the table, floating towards me, those cursed runes glowing with ominous power. My eyes widen, a pit of dread opening in my stomach, swallowing my thoughts, my breath, everything.
"No! NO!" The roar that tears from my throat is filled with the remnants of Aldric, the hero, the warrior who would not be broken. I reach for the collar, my fingers grasping at the metal as it moves closer. I struggle, claws digging into the air, fighting against the invisible force guiding it to me. My muscles scream in protest, veins popping out of my neck, every fiber of my being straining to stop it as I wrestle with the magic holding me in place.
Unfortunately, Zephyrion’s power is immense.
My fingers scrape against the cold iron, trying to push it away, but it's like trying to hold back a tidal wave with my bare hands. Desperation sprouts anew, twisting my face into a mask of anguish.
"No! You can't!" I bellow, my voice cracking. The collar is inches away now, a monstrous, suffocating weight pressing down on my soul. I struggle harder, my knees buckle, but I don’t fall. I won't fall. I won't let this happen.
The collar clamps shut. The moment it closes around my throat, my roar dies in my throat, replaced by a sound that's a grotesque parody of a scream—high-pitched, strangled, the sound of Aldric being ripped away, piece by brutal piece.]
(simple_option:"13 change","The change is immediate...")(print:"<video class='greyborder' disableRemotePlayback src='img/ch13/transform.mp4' autoplay='' loop='' muted='' playsinline/>")"Aldric!" my wife’s scream tears through the chamber, frantic and horrified. I see the raw terror in her beautiful eyes. ($play:"sound","transform")
(set:$gender to "female")
But I can't do a bloody thing.
That's when the pain hits me. Unbearable, unimaginable pain that brings me to my knees - well, it would, if I wasn't being suspended in the air. My stomach lurches, the pain is blinding, I can't breathe. My muscles contract, my bones ache.
My entire body is convulsing, and I feel it - the change.
A wave of energy rips through me with the fury of a thousand storms. It's like being flayed alive and reborn in an instant. I’m clutching at my throat as if I could tear the damned thing off.
It seems to begin with my feet. I feel them steadily dissolve into delicate, fragile appendages. My sturdy boots loosen and almost slide off. I watch helplessly. These are *woman’s* feet, made for dainty slippers, not combat boots.
The pain swells, rising up my legs. My ankles shrink, slendering into delicate joints. My calves soften, losing their muscular definition as the skin takes on the smooth, hairless texture. I can almost hear the sinews and tendons shifting, restructuring themselves.
The transformation sweeps up my legs, my sturdy calves thinning out, the muscles giving way to softer, rounder contours. The pain is punctuated by the sound of my brown leather britches tearing, the expanding flesh of my thighs and ass busting through the seams.
My ass balloons outward, losing the rough firmness of a fighter and replacing it with a lush softness. My hips widen dramatically, the fabric of my britches splitting entirely apart and morphing into a hyper-short leather skirt that clings obscenely to my new curves, fluttering high above my round, jiggly asscheeks, which are now almost completely exposed.
"Welcome back, cow tits," Snib's horrid voice echoes through the room, but I’m barely aware. My whimpering pants are drowned out by my own distress, my eyes clenching shut to shut out the changes. Somewhere, Elara screams, her wailing turning into tears. But the change doesn’t care.
It’s relentless, determined to reshape me completely.
Each muscle in my stomach gives way, the toned ridges of my abs softening, melting into a flat, smooth belly. My hands clutching at my shirt, the callouses peeling away, replaced by soft, delicate skin. My fingers grow slender, as if made for painting and sewing, not for wielding a sword. I feel my grip weaken, and with a dull clang, Whisperwind falls from my grasp.
"Stop this!" Elara screams, her voice breaking as tears stream down her face. But it's no use. My transformation is far from over.
My chest... oh gods, my chest. It's happening again. The flat, muscular expanse of my chest is bubbling, swelling outward. The fabric of my shirt strains, tighter and tighter, until with a loud rip, my new breasts burst forth. They're enormous, huge and heavy and jiggling with each ragged breath. My nipples harden against the cold air, pebbling on the large mounds.
If anything, they're bigger than before.
A throbbing ache begins at my groin, and a horrible realization dawns on me. The last vestige of my manhood is disappearing.
My cock... I can feel it... it shrinks back into me, an unbearable suction feeling, as if my very soul is being pulled into my body. And then, there's a hollow feeling, a void where my manhood once stood. My manhood is gone, replaced by the slick, tender folds of a woman's pussy mound.
Just as the last remnants of my manhood disappear, my body convulses again, more violently this time. I can't even scream, can't even voice my pain. A gasp tears from my throat as my clothes begin to change, my ripped leather britches morphing into a short leather skirt, the belt tightening around my newly formed waist, cinching in the soft flesh. My torn shirt transforms into a bikini top, barely able to contain my massive breasts.
Just as I think the torture might end, the eldritch energy pulses outward, reshaping my torn clothing. The fabric of my brown britches morphs, crawling up my newly broadened hips, shrinking into a too-short miniskirt that clings to my every jiggle. My tattered shirt reforms, warping into a scandalously thin bikini top that barely houses the huge breasts that strain against it.
Suspended in midair through Zephyrion's levitating grip, I'm Elise again. My body, twisted into an obscene exaggeration of male fantasies, a perfect, voluptuous, breedable sexpot, is on full display. Each curve, each bouncing bit of flesh... ugh.
Not again.
With a soft thump, I'm released, collapsing onto the cold stone floor, sobbing, defeated.
I am no longer Aldric. I am Elise once again. Snib's pet, the goblin's toy. Trapped in a body that's not mine, forced to live a life I don't want. This isn't fair. It's not bloody fair. And as I lie there, the horrible reality of my situation sets in. This is my life now, once again. As Elise.
(simple_option:"14 begin","Your life becomes a whole new hell...")(pic:"ch01/eboncrest.jpg","left")(display:"stop sound")($play:"ambience","village morning")($chapter_title:14,"The Bargain")(set:$gender to "female")Groaning, I pry my eyes open to confront the pallid predawn light trickling in through the window, half hoping yesterday's events had all been some kind of nightmare.
The silence of morning swaddled in the comfort of our shared bed, my arm wrapped around the familiar slender waist of my wife, Elara, offers a fleeting refuge, and a cruel illusion...
An illusion I almost let myself believe.
It shatters rudely as my hand - small, dainty, and tipped with delicate, pearly nails - comes into view, resting atop Elara's midsection. The sight sends spasms of revulsion through me, stops my breath, but nothing compares to the shocking realization that follows. The pendulous weight on my chest - fat, soft, milksop mounds - hanging heavily. I give a horrible gasp, tears welling in my eyes as reality slams into me like a battle-axe.
"Oh gods..." I whisper, feeling a lump in my throat expand. It wasn't a dream.
Oh, the bitter,* bitter* mockery... waking up next to my wife, who, even in sleep paints the epitome of pristine feminine grace. There's a youthfulness about her, a freshness that brings me back to our days when life was simple.
Propped up on an elbow, I watch until my wife stirs, a soft sigh escaping her lips as her sapphire eyes blink open. She looks at me, and there it is- the sudden jolt, the widening of her eyes. The sinking realization.
All over again.
(pic:"ch14/elara.jpg","right")Elara's fingers twitch, clenching in the soft sheets beneath us. And then she's reaching, her gaze captivated by the unbelievable roundness that obscures most of my torso, her hand sliding under the fabric of my nightgown, and she's cupping me. The skin-to-skin contact sends a jolt of sensation, hot and potent, up my spine. Any other time, this could be ecstasy - biting my lower lip, my back arches involuntarily. But this is aching, this is hell.
"Elise..." she whispers, the sound barely escaping her lips, the corners of her mouth trembling.
My breast, grotesquely large, fills her palm completely, my nipple hardens on contact, pushing against the warm confines of her hand. Her fingers, they have to spread to accommodate the sheer size of my tit flesh spilling out.
Her face turns into something that's akin to horror, stark and blatant, at the obscene size of my bosoms.
"It's... it's bigger than before, isn't it?" she asks, her touch slipping away, snatching her hand back as if she'd touched fire. The absence of her touch leaves me chilled, more alone than ever.
Tears drip down my cheeks. I give a ragged choke, fisting the sheets. I can’t believe this happened. Again.
Elara suddenly moves closer, timid at first, unsure in her every move. I feel her breath against my cheek, heart pounding out a staccato rhythm against the tight confines of the uncomfortable nightgown. Her lips part and find mine, tasting the salt of my tears.
Her kiss isn't quite right. It doesn't feel like how it used to. It's too soft, too full. So much lushness beneath her touch, it sickens me and yet... I lean in, craving for the familiar comfort only Elara can give me. Through the stinging humiliation and knotted trepidation, I want... this.
(simple_option:"14 intimate","Get intimate with her...","Get ready for the day..."){
(masteraudio:"stopall")
}(if:$choice is "Get intimate with her...")[I want to do something to strengthen our bond in this terrible moment. ($play:"sound","elara elise interrupted")
"I'm still Aldric," I whisper. "This will all be over soon."
So, I lean into Elara, pushing the softness of my newly-transformed body against her familiar yet distant form. Our breasts mash together, the sensation strange, yet undeniably... hot.
She plays along, fingers skimming the delicate curve of my waist and dipping lower to rest on my plump, jiggly ass. The feel of her gripping my sensitive flesh sends a bolt through me, making me gasp against her lips.
*Am I more sensitive this time around?*
Our breaths mingle, the space between us shrinking until there's nothing but skin and heat.
Elara's sapphire eyes are half-lidded with desire, her fingers slipping under my silky nightgown to find the warmth of my thigh. As I undress her too, my hips begin to move instinctively, grinding against her, feeling the slick warmth gathering between my thighs.
"Aldric..." Elara breathes, as our breasts continue to squish and compress.
Her hand traces the curve of my back, tugging at the thin strap of my nightgown. It slides off my shoulder easily, the fabric gliding down to reveal the full enormity of my breast.
Her fingers tremble against my flesh, her eyes never leaving mine as she slips another hand up to my chest. She cups my breast, squeezing gently, the sensation making me arch against her. "I need you," she whispers, and I respond by pushing her back onto the bed, my lips finding her neck, my hands working to free her from the last remaining barriers of cloth.
We're a tangle of limbs, lips, and labored breaths, each touch, each whisper a desperate plea for more. My hips grind against hers, the action a desperate bid for closeness, for some kind of unity in this ridiculous situation. Her fingers slip between my legs, finding the slick heat waiting there, stroking, teasing. I gasp, my body arching into her touch, the pleasure overwhelming.
Just as I'm about to pull her dress over her head, to lose ourselves completely, the door to our room crashes open with a loud bang.
In that jarringly obscene moment, Snib’s grating voice slices through our sanctuary, louder and more obnoxious than ever. "Wakey, wakey, cow tits!" he proclaims with grotesque glee, his eyes widening as he takes in the intimate tableau. "Oh, am I interrupting something?"
(pic:"ch14/interrupt.jpg")
Elara jerks away from me, pulling the sheet up to cover herself, but not before Snib sees everything. His warty face splits into a wide grin, his yellow teeth gleaming nastily. I scramble to cover my own overexposed body.
"I knew it!" Snib's grating voice slithers into the room. "Two bitches goin' at it, just as I thought! Didn't realize you two were putting on a show."
"You vile little..." I start, but my words choke off as the collar squeezes a bit, reminding me of my place.
He turns his warty green head towards me. "I expect my breakfast soon, Tit-bitch,” he sneers, his eyes glinting with malevolent delight. "And by breakfast, I mean you hop down to the kitchen, make me sausage and eggs. Good food."
Elara's grip on the sheet tightens until her knuckles turn white. Her eyes fill with tears, big fat droplets that hang precariously before spilling over.
"Just get out!" she cries, her voice breaking.
"Leave us alone," I echo.
"Last warnin'," Snib sneers. "Get your fat arse to the kitchen and make me some food. And make it quick! I’m fucking starvin’!"
The sight of Snib, his mere presence, sends waves of nausea through me. "Get out," I repeat, my own voice shuddering, breaking under the strain. But he's already accomplished what he came for, our fragile bubble of intimacy burst by his crude malice.
($change_stat:"elara",-1)He smirks, throwing one final look at me before trudging out the door with a satisfied grunt. Left in the ruins of our early morning tenderness, I collapse beside Elara, wrapping my arms around her trembling form. Tears trail down her cheeks.](else:)[Afterwards, I sit up, my nightgown straining futilely against my ample cleavage, the hemline dangerously high, riding up to bare a hint of the curve of my ass. I move my hands to adjust it, feeling the delicate fabric glide over the smooth, shaven skin of my thighs. An obscene tingle sends a shudder down my spine that culminates in an uncomfortable tightness between my legs.
Elara gaze drops to my cleavage again. Shock and intrigue war in her eyes, and embarrassment burns my cheeks.
The nightgown clings to my upper body too tightly, my large, heavy breasts purring at the cool air rushing in. The sensation sends nauseating shivers through me. With an overwhelming feeling of shameful awareness, I attempt to arch my back, hoping to lift the breasts away from the nightgown. But instead, my generous bosom bounces, and the silk clings even more to my nipples.
"Elise, he's already downstairs. We should get dressed," Elara says, her voice strained with concern.
"Alright," I manage to choke out, my voice wavering with emotions I don't want to put a name to. ]
($hidden_gem:"Climbing out of bed, I find my legs trembling under me, shoulders aching from the weight of my jiggling tits. With shaky hands, I peel off Elara’s borrowed nightgown, my breath hitching as I feel the fabric tug against the sensitive skin of my nipples, a moist heat dampening the bottoms of my round, fat asscheeks.","Crawling out of bed, I find my legs limping lightly, shoulders sore from the substantial strain of my swaying spheres. With shaky fingers, I peel off Elara’s lent nightwear, my breath hitching as I feel the fabric flirt with the fragile flesh of my nipples, a moist heat misting the bases of my bountiful, bulbous buttocks.")
I stand before the mirror, hot tears welling up as my reflection shows a stranger – a hyper-feminine, curvy mockery of my former self. I let out a choked sob, turning to assess the entirety of this disgusting and yet sickeningly beautiful body. The full breasts hanging like obscene udders, the plump, soft thighs forced to rub together no matter how I stood, and the wide, motherly hips that seem to scream fertility.
Slowly, Elara approaches, holding in her hands a dress – a pale blue day gown from her own wardrobe. She helps me into the undergarments first, holding tight as I step into them, the clumsy steps causing my tits and ass to jiggle embarrassingly. Elara avoids eye contact but doesn’t speak her frustration aloud.
With every tug and adjustment, I feel my body protest under the delicate fabric of the dress. It's a beautiful piece, modest by design with a high collar and long sleeves. The lenient bodice aims to cover and grant me some semblance of dignity amidst my current form. But the struggle to accommodate my exaggerated curves is palpable. Even as Elara gives her best efforts to make it look presentable on my form, my soft, bountiful breasts strain against the fabric, my hips threatening to burst through the seams. It's a pathetic image, a seductress trapped in a facade of modesty - a far cry from Aldric's former might.
(simple_option:"14 go downstairs","Go downstairs...")"Oi, cow tits! Whatcha decked out in? Ain't no outfit for a slave. Yer supposed to be showing off that collar!" Snib bursts into the room, his raspy voice filling the air, eyes gleaming towards my modestly clothed form.
He makes a rude gesture towards my ragged bikini top and tiny skirt, lying disused in a corner of the room. "Put those on! I ain't want to see ya decked up like some fine lady."
A sense of rising horror threads through me, my voice coming out weak and pathetic as I protest, “But Master, I...I...”
"Snib, you filthy brute! Why can’t you just...leave her alone?" Elara's voice lifts, her face flushed, as she steps between us, anger and bitterness heavy in her sapphire gaze.
"Hmm? Wanna play protective, do ya?" His grin is merciless, feral, his head mockingly tilting to one side, "Hurry up! I ain't got all day. Wants me breakfast."
(simple_option:"14 obey","Obey.")($play:"ambience","village morning indoors")Humiliation washes over me as I start to remove the flimsy protection the dress offered. My hands tremble as each button comes undone, my breasts heavy and jostling as my trembling increases. The material whispers to the floor, leaving me in nothing but my undergarments, my hands instinctually crossing over my chest, barely containing the weight of my obscenely large tits, every jiggling movement serving as a stark reminder of the maddening curse I'm subjected to.
Elara steps protectively in front of me, her back towards Snib, aiming to shield me from those vile yellow eyes. Over her shoulder, she throws a final scathing glare his way, but he merely returns a cocky grin full of appalling glee.
"Alright slave. C’mon, we ain't got no time for dallying around. Tits out and get that tiny skirt on. Then get yer fat ass downstairs pronto. Got me breakfast to eat."
With a deep breath, I reach for the skimpy bikini top, steeling myself against the sharp pang of distaste plucking at the edge of my senses. The fabric feels so inadequate against the palm of my hand, thin strips of white cloth designed to accentuate, rather than hide, my enlarged breasts. Kneeling down to don it, I can feel the sway of my ample breasts, shifting to adjust with every movement of my body.
(pic:"status/elise bikini skirt.png","center","borderless")
“'Mighty hero.’” Snib drawls out sarcastically, “Quite the sight, ain't it?” His sickly yellow eyes stay fixed on me, seemingly thrilled by his power to see me denigrated from hero to object, constantly reminded of my debasement.
“His name was Aldric, you bastard.” Elara snaps, her words dripped in venom. She stands in the way so the goblin can’t get a look at my exposed body. But Snib just laughs, peeking around her, revelling in his dominance. I can't help but feel a sharp pang as I feel my breasts spill out into the cups of the bra, jiggling as the straps dig into my soft flesh. Each movement echoes through my chest, a quivering sensation that sends heat to my already flushed cheeks.
Swallowing thickly, I reach for the tiny white panties. The thin fabric stretches, pulling tightly against my plush mound as I pull them up my smooth thighs. The second the fabric snaps against my hips, the tangy scent of my own constant arousal wafts openly into the air. Involuntarily, my chest tightens as my face burns brighter. The panties press tightly against my fleshy mound, accentuating the obscene shape of it.
Finally, the dreaded leather skirt. Its edge barely reaches the swell of my ass, which hangs out so lewdly, impossible to hide. I can feel the hem rubbing against my thighs with each movement, making distinct noises as they already begin to chafe against each other. The heavy metal clasp molds itself against my soft waistline, the barely concealed flesh underneath it drawing a thousand lewd images in my mind.
“Mmhm. 'Bout time, tit-bitch. Now get movin’.”
(simple_option:"14 breakfast","Serve him breakfast.")I watch Elara as she moves with determined grace to the stove, the heat from the glowing coals warming her soft features. There’s a certain type of patience in the kitchen that I lack, but Elara seems to understand the language of the shining copper pots and the bubbling concoctions better than anything.
I take a deep breath, drawing in the smell of the food that Elara starts cooking. Garlic and butter fill the air, and despite myself, my belly rumbles. She stirs the ingredients, her delicate, slender wrists whipping up breakfast as though we don’t have an scrawny, green irritation seated at the long oak table.
Turning my attention away from the vixen in the kitchen, I grab the plates and silverware – heavy, bone china that Elara has treasured since we were first married. But as I start arranging them, I stumble.
($hidden_gem:"A gasp tears itself from my throat, the silverware clattering out of my hands and onto the table. I can feel Snib's calloused hands sneak under my skirt, fingers mapping the curve of my ass. His clawed digits dance with perverse delight along the hem of my panties before they settle over my moist mound. It sends a shiver down my spine, and in spite of myself, I let out a little mewl of surprise.","A gasp gushes from my gullet, the gleaming silverware crashing out of my grasp and onto the grand table. Snib's snaggy hands slither under my skirt, fingers framing the fattened form of my flank. His claws caper with corrupt cheer along the hem of my panties before clasping over my moist mound.")
Damn the curse! Can't he allow even a small amount of peace while Elara is around?
“Snib... please... stop this… Elara…” My pleading whispers die on my lips as my breath hitches, but the goblin behind me gives a throaty chortle.
“Not me problem, tit-bitch, it’s yours!”
I grit my teeth, my fingertips white with the force of my grip on the edge of the table as Snib continues toying with me. The fabric of my snug panties rubs against my aching clit with every slight movement. I swallow the moan that threatens to spill past my lips, heat coiling in my lower belly.
"Just a little bit longer..." I try to reassure myself, my breath hitching in my chest.
But with every prod and squeeze, I'm reminded how much of a joke I've become. The pitiful slave to a goblin, in my own house. Would it be less humiliating to assert my resistance, only to succumb to the directives this collar inflicts on me in punishment?
“You’d better keep it together, Tit-bitch,” Snib snarls in a cruel little whisper, a low and menacing tone. “Or I might just spill all the dirty details of the last few days to your pretty wife.”
My eyes shoot up to Elara. She’s stoking the fire, her back turned towards us. The light from the flames cast her silhouette against the cobblestone walls, painting her in a radiant glow. Beautiful. Pure. Untouched. Everything I’m not in this moment.
“And we wouldn't want that now, would we?" Snib's chuckle is like acid in my ears.
Anger flares in me, hot and scorching. Rage that I can’t attack him, can’t defend my wife - her innocence, her happiness - from the threats of the monster who’s gained the control over my life, my body. And with the blessing of the state, no less. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms, but the collar around my neck tightens in response, aware of my violent thoughts.
(simple_option:"14 try to retort","Try to retort...","Stay quiet.")(if:$choice is "Try to retort...")[I start to say something, a rebuttal on my lips but the collar's encouraging squeeze around my throat has me rethinking my words. ]And then there’s this hazy warmth that spreads through me, a flare of terrifying arousal at the threat lacing his voice, matching the pulsating heat between my legs.
The silence drags on like an eternity, the only audible sounds of Snib's shallow breaths, Elara’s bustle in the kitchen, and my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
“Elise?” Elara calls from the stove, her voice filled with concern as she looks at me from across the dining room, which makes my heart ache. “Are you alright?”
“I- I’m just... a little lightheaded…” I manage to mutter something out, somehow stifling my moans as Snib continues playing with me. The scent of my arousal mixes with the room's smells – the roasting meat, simmering herbs and the crisp morning air, my body betraying my feelings of degradation under the vile goblin’s touch.
“Quit yer fussin', sugar tits,” Snib says, and there's something predatory about the glint in his yellow eyes, something wild that sends a shudder crawling up my spine.
His clawed hand is persistent on my ass, tracing the curve before a gentle pat echoes in the room. I stifle a yelp, the sound coming out as a choked gasp. He plays with me, prolongingly slow just to see me squirm. Each swipe of his hand over the thin fabric of my panties has my toes curling. I clamp my mouth shut on a moan—it's delicate and barely-there, but the sound is guttural and raw.
Exceedingly feminine.
(simple_option:"14 protest","Whimper.","Protest.")(if:$choice is "Protest.")[“Snib...” I gasp, but it gets cut off halfway with the sudden slap on my ass. A low whine escapes my lips as the sting spreads on my cheek and my collar clamps on my neck. “Master… P-Please...I can't...”](else:)[I whimper as he deals out a sudden slap to my ass. ]($play:"sound","spank 2")
The words are barely a whimper as I try to maintain a normal facade, but it's almost impossible when his fingers are prodding my panty-covered slit, tracing the wet outline with a smirk plastered on his face. Elara asks if I'm alright and I nod, maintaining eye contact with her while Snib continuously teases my aching folds.
My core throbs in delirious arousal and it's maddening, humiliating, and yet my body, this traitorous body pulses in delight. The scent of my arousal mingles with the aroma of fresh bread and roasted meat, making me flinch at the explicitness of it. There's a strange sense of enlightenment in it - how deeply sickening, yet oddly stimulating it is.
“Elise, are you su-“
(simple_option:"14 alright","Tell her you're alright.")(pic:"status/elise bikini skirt behind.png","right","borderless")“Yes…” I manage to say, praying she doesn't notice the desperation in my voice. “I am... I just, uh, I should sit down.”
“Yes, dear,” her voice softens, unaware of my humiliation under the leering gaze of the goblin.(live:4s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","cum muffled")]
Snib grins, a sneer that's both cruel and satisfied. His bulbous yellow eyes roll over my jiggling ass appreciatively before he stalks off to the upstairs without another word.
I take a calming breath, smoothing down the fabric of my skirt that barely covers my round ass, and feel my heart knocking against my chest in erratic rhythms, contradicting the tranquil ambiance in our humble home. My mind buzzes with the echoes of pleasure as I still feel the wetness between my thighs, a horrid - but undeniable - testament to the cruel goblin's touch.
Elara carries the breakfast over, the clinking sound of utensils a soothing rhythm. The smell of roasted pheasant seasoned with garlic, rosemary, and butter wafts through the kitchen, along with the savory scent of potato cakes.
She slices the apple tarts — fresh, golden, and a dash of honey — sweet enough to mask the bitter taste of our situation in our mouths.
Three plates - three portions.
It hurts to see her take such pains for someone neither of us want in our lives.
"Where is he?" Elara's voice slices through the air.
"Upstairs," I tell her, wincing inwardly at the thought of him tainting our sanctuary. I was so happy he left me alone, that I didn’t really consider what he could be doing.
She grimaces, anger momentarily flaring in her eyes. "I don't like him being there," she says, her voice barely concealing her fury.
(simple_option:"14 fetch","Go upstairs and fetch him...")"I'll fetch him," I say, my voice steady and as flat as I can muster.
I push open the door, the creak of the old wooden frame seeming unbearably loud in the silence. "Master, breakfast is..." My voice dies in my throat.
Snib stands there, a triumphant, mischievous grin stretching across his face. A churning sensation stirs in my gut as he sidesteps me, shouldering past with an air of satisfaction that fills me with dread. His eyes gleam with malice as he saunters down the stairs, leaving me standing in the doorway.
“Gods, what have you…”
My heart pounds in my chest as I turn to face the room – our room. My breath catches at the sight before me. Our bed – Elara's and mine - is an absolute mess. It’s been soiled with goblin seed, a sight so revolting it’s almost fascinating.
Puddles of Snib's emissions are scattered across our once-pristine sheets, soaking into the fabric and staining it a sickening milky white. The sheer volume is horrifying - enough to pool in places and leave long, heavy strands drying from the middle to the foot of our bed.
The room reeks of it - a musky, overpowering scent that leaves no room for doubt about its origin. The smell is intense enough to spark memories from my time at the Griznak Gobboree - horrifying images and sensations I've tried hard to bury deep within me. I can feel my pussy clench involuntarily at the memories, causing a shudder to wrack my body.
I approach slowly, each step feeling like I'm moving through quicksand - every fiber of my being screaming at me to turn back but some perverse fascination drawing me closer.
<span class='cum2'>Up close, I can see just how thick Snib's semen is - so viscous that I could gather it up by handfuls if I dared touch it.</span>
(pic:"ch14/messy bed.jpg","left")The strands have started drying already, their tacky surface glistening in the morning light filtering through our window.
With a disgusted grimace, I pull the stained sheets free from the bed, my fingers brushing against the damp patches. It's impossible to avoid; Snib's seed is everywhere.
The musky scent clings to me as I gather up the fabric, trying my best not to let it touch any part of my body. It's no use though – every inhale is filled with the potent smell of goblin cum. It leaves a bitter aftertaste on my tongue that makes me want to gag.
(simple_option:"14 feel","You feel something else too...")A heat builds within me, coiling tightly in my lower belly and spreading outwards through every vein and artery. Dampness trickles down between my thighs and I can't help but clench at nothing in response - an involuntary reaction that sends shivers down my spine.
I've seen what this stuff can do to human women - how it muddles their minds until they're nothing more than willing playthings for these monsters. The last thing Elara needs is exposure — even if it means enduring this humiliation myself, in silence.
"Elise, you coming?" Elara's voice drifts in from the kitchen, a hint of worry tinging her tone. “Don’t leave me alone with the goblin!”
"Just... changing the sheets!" I call back, my voice strained. The words feel like lies on my tongue.
"But..." There's pause. "I just changed them two days ago."
"Oh." My cheeks burn at her questioning tone. "Sorry. I didn’t know."
Desperately, I rush to gather the soiled sheets and head for the laundry apparatus in the scullery – a large wooden tub accompanied by an adjacent washboard set against the wall of our home. It’s a simple setup but it has served us well throughout the years.
I dump the tainted bedding into the tub, hastily adding more soap flakes until they nearly overflow from its brim. I scrub with fervor, hoping to erase all traces of goblin filth from them before Elara notices anything amiss.
Each scrub sends ripples through what is now murky, off-white water - which had been at first clear and fresh - now tainted with thick globs of foreign substance floating within it.
The smell is overpowering still; no amount of soap seems enough to mask it completely. Each dip into that musky mess leaves me feeling dirtier than before – as if Snib’s touch has somehow seeped into every pore.
"Elise, please. Breakfast."
(simple_option:"14 yes love","Yes, love...")With a sigh, I leave the sheets to soak in the frothy pool of soap and water and make my way back to the kitchen. The smell of apple tarts and roasted pheasant wafts tantalizingly towards me. My mouth waters, but my stomach clenches when I see Snib.
There he is - snuffling at the bounty placed before him like some sort of beast. His grubby fingers tear into the golden-brown crust of a tart, dribbling juice littering his lap. Each bite is punctuated by sickening slurping sounds that fill the small kitchen. It's an obscene display, impossible to ignore.
Elara sits across from him, her sapphire eyes watching him through veiled lashes. Her pale skin seems even whiter against her vibrant hair; a silent portrait of suppressed fury.
I take my seat quietly next to Elara, picking up a sliced apple with trembling fingers as I try to quell my churning stomach. The sweet-tart crunch does little for my mood, each bite seeming heavier than the last.
(pic:"ch04/elara sad.jpg","right")And then they're there - a floodgate torn open by an unseen force: bitter tears.
They stream down my cheeks unbidden as raw emotion wells up inside me; humiliation... debasement... despair...
What was once Aldric's confident strength has now been replaced by an undeniable vulnerability - its constant reminder bouncing heavy against my chest with every sob that racks through me.
My body shakes with sorrow and shame as I hunch over myself helplessly, shielding my breasts with my hands as if it'd protect what little dignity I have left.
"Oh, Elise..." Elara's voice trembles right next to me as she quickly rises from her bench to comfort me. That familiar touch sends warmth coursing through me.
She holds me tight while Snib's crude laughter is but an abrasive echo against our tangled web of despair and determination; he treats our misery like delicious entertainment.
(simple_option:"14 tough","This is so unfair.")($play:"ambience","village morning indoors")"Thanks for doing the laundry, my love," Elara's soft voice echoes from the kitchen, cutting through the tranquility of my brief solitude. “Sorry if I was short earlier… I…”
"I... it's ok," I stammer out from under these plump lips. “I need to keep myself together. I need to be strong, for you.”
“You are strong, my love. This is just… so impossible.” She turns back to cleaning the dishes.
I head outside to our garden, carrying a bundle of laundry - I had done the rest of the clothes too, to draw suspicion away from the sheets.
Tiptoeing to hook the clothesline over the branch wasn't as easy as it used to be. My new height denies me the right of reaching without difficulty and my breasts... always jiggling, always heavy and pulling me downwards, a continuous impediment to any simple task.
These sheets... I shudder. I've scrubbed them hard enough, the stubborn yellow stains are faint now and thankfully without reek. Clothespins clench on another corner of the bedsheet and a breeze flutters through. The sight is normal – our home appears normal – reality is anything but.
My pulse skips as I hear footsteps, neighbors strolling by for their noon walk, they pause, their voices dropping to whispers when they catch sight of me in my overtly skimpy outfit.
"The least you could do is cover up more..." The woman's words meet my ears, her son looks away – his cheeks matching mine.
And then… my tormentor appears. Snib, grinning his goblin grin as he saunters up behind me. His hands close around my hips and a wave of disgusting musk wafts upwards from him.
(simple_option:"14 not outside","Not outside!!!")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","village morning")"No... N-no!" I hiss softly, feeling that familiar pit in my stomach widening into an abyss. “Not outside!”
"Shut yer hole! Y' don't want them to hear yer naughty yelps now, do ya?" His chuckles are followed by a sharp tug on my microscopic leather skirt.
Snib's loincloth is pulled aside and the lewd sound that meets my ears convinces me to stare down – confirming my worst fears. He presses his already hard cock against me again - its throbbing warmth slimy against the sensitive skin of my ass.
"No, stop!" I plead with him again in a whisper despite the urge pushing its way up into an outright scream. The collar starts tightening, quelling my protests. And his response is exactly what I expect - another round of goblin cackles that echo off at a frequency set to pierce what remains of Aldric’s broken dignity.
"Mmm. All that lovely human food made ol' Snibbers here throb with need." He pushes up against me.
My eyes blur with unshed tears before blinking them away – I can't look weak now… not when there's so much at stake. Trying to drown out Snib's words while focusing on the laundry ahead proves impossible for someone stuck painfully between intolerable arousal and a throbbing headache.
"Or ye can take real good care o’ yer Master tonight," he makes an inclination towards something unspoken and something far worse than this completely unacceptable proposal. “And I’ll give ya nice, long peaceful days with yer wife.” (live:5s)[($play:"sound","spank 1")(stop:)($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")]
“No! No way,” I instantly refuse him barely hiding the terror seeping into my voice.
“Y’ need te realize… cow tits…” He grips hard onto the flesh of my ass before bringing a rough spanking down onto it - a scorch mark instantly forming amidst the fear trembling through every fiber of ‘Eliseness’. “I can make yer life real bad… make yer bitch lose ALL respect fer ya.”
A guttural groan hits me in the pit of my stomach as Snib roots himself more deeply between my sweaty ass cheeks, the sickening squelch of his massive erection driving through them nearly enough to send me toppling to my knees. Instead, teetering, I suck in a gasp, biting down on my lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
"Oi!" Snib’s grating voice shatters the dreadful moment and I feel another tug at the back of my tiny skirt, “Be still!"
(simple_option:"14 moan","Hold still.")($play:"ambience","village morning")A hot pulse of humiliation that surges through me, mirrored perfectly in the thick stream of greasy precum now dribbling down my inner thigh.
Precum… mixed with something else.
"All ya gotta do is be a good little slut at night," he grunts against my heated skin, "and yer days'll be peaceful. Promise ya."
His attention returns back to grinding his monstrous goblin-cock between my cheeks, his loincloth now hanging off him quite irrelevantly while each debauched thrust leaves a new smear of oily streaks upon my sorry excuse for panties.
My body now feels like it's on fire, as it rebels against my will. The constant thrumming and intolerable throbbing between my legs... A frustrating mixture of low-burning shame and rising excitement that threatens to override any thought of defiance.
This couldn't get worse… holding on to the rickety stool for dear life while trying to peg down a flapping chemise with reluctantly shaking hands. All this while Snib continues greasing his fat, pulsating member across my ass cheeks.
"Oh... Gods!" I wince.
That was a soft whimper, barely escaped in hushed breaths. He doesn't seem to notice, the beastly little monster - Snib snorts in uncontrolled eagerness, arms tightening around my waist, holding me tight against his bulbous belly. His erection, an insistent hardness as it bulldozes its way between my tender asscheeks. The dirty lewdness of it mercilessly coils its way around my gut like a fiery serpent.
"Uhuh... just like that… Elise… I know ye love it…" His garbled voice cuts into the serene silence, rubbing the reality of my predicament into my already deeply wounded pride. His cock, lurching up and down rhythmically leaves a slick trailon my soft, bare thigh. “Jus’ think. A little visit to ol’ Snibby’s room at night, and you’ll be free and clear each day. Otherwise, not sure I can control myself…”
Snib continuing his obscene gyrations, his grotesque gut slapped lewdly against my lower back as he latches onto me, emphasizing the hopeless nature of my situation. I can only grip onto the clothesline, white-knuckled. Each joyless grapple of his stubby fingers sends piercing jolts right through every nerve in my body.
"Late night visits, Elise," he huffs out intermittently between sloppy licks to my exposed neck. “On’y have to deal with me at night… Y’ slutty little body needs this anyway.” My flesh crawls. His goblin tongue leaves a slimy, filthy trail down my spine.($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")
(simple_option:"14 hips","Your hips move back, of their own accord...")($play:"ambience","village morning")My body betrays me - hips sway back to meet him in an instinctive grind and there’s a surge of heat seeping into my core.
Snib's nasty words make me flinch each time. A threat coated with disgusting promises of future humiliations. My heart skips beats at every hint of Elara. I could never let her go through such an ordeal - must never let her see me like this - I must protect her.
A clothespin – forgotten in this shameful moment - slips from my grasp, landing in the grass below. I gasp when he pulls hard on my hair – tracing lines up my lower back, savoring as his thumb circles the bare dip above my skirtline.
Any attempts at evading his cock only result in harsh admonishments and a loud 'SMACK!’ on incredibly soft ass-cheeks. (live:5s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","spank 1")]
"The Silver Stag..." His sing-song tone interrupts, "is where you’ll find me tonight."
This humiliation... Why won't it stop? What did I do to deserve all this? He humps harder now - there's no discreetness about it - and each lewd movement is mirrored perfectly by the scandalizing sway of my unrestrained breasts.
I'm panting hard now - slow streaks of heated arousal settling thickly between clenched thighs and I'm suddenly aware of how taut these small panties are against an embarrassingly swollen mound.
I can't believe what I'm about to say, bile rising up as the absurdity of the agreement hits me. But I must. It’s the only way to ensure Elara's safety.
(simple_option:"14 agree","Agree to the deal.","Refuse the deal.")($play:"ambience","village morning")($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")(if:$choice is "Refuse the deal.")[I tremble, poised at the precipice of surrender. Snib's vile words echo around inside my head, the promise of peace dangling like a poisoned carrot.
($hidden_gem:"I feel his hot throbs against my ass, his cock slick with precum squishing between my cheeks. The flood of shame and arousal churns my insides, and for a moment, an ugly second, the temptation gnaws at me. I feel my own will bending -- relief coursing with the thought of having daytime peace, the easing burden of living in this cursed body. Yes... just give in…","I feel his heated hardness heaving against my hindquarters, his cock coated in precum, squishing between my cheeks. The flood of shame and sin churns within me, and for a moment, a monstrous millisecond, the temptation tugs at me. I feel my own will withering -- relief rippling with the thought of having daytime tranquility, the temporary relief of living in this transformed, terrible body. Yes... just succumb…")
"Oooohhh, *fuck~*," I whimper.
But then, a spark of defiance ignites. Aldric’s spirit stirs within me. The realization hits like a slap. This is the start of another dark, endless spiral. A cycle of submission and disgrace, a life defined by yielding to a goblin's whims.
(size:2)[*NO!*]
I grit my teeth, hating the feelings that course through me, the way my body responds despite my mind's resistance. This isn’t me. This isn’t my life. I refuse!
"No!" The word bursts from me, full of pent-up fury, despair, and resolve. The collar constricts briefly before I feel it, too, loosen within itself. "I refuse your deal! I won’t give in!"
Snib snarls, his eyes narrowing, surprised by my outburst. "Yer gonna regret this," he growls, his grip tightening painfully around my hips, claws digging into the soft flesh. He slams his cock against my wet panties one last time. The sharp smack reverberates through my body, leaving me trembling on the edge.
Then, he stalks off, each step laden with dark promises, leaving me standing alone amidst the fluttering laundry.
Relief and fear wash over me in equal measure.](else:)[(display:"clean bad ends")"Fine. I—I'll... come… tonight..." I manage to squeak out through a clenched jaw, words tasting like poison on my lips. “Just… leave us in peace.”
Snib barks out raucously, patting my firm ass cheek in celebration of his victory.
"Good... y' finally learnin'. Just remember, you gotta satisfy ol' Snib good an’ proper or this amazing deal is off," he warns, yellow eyes gleaming in perverse anticipation.
My mind races with shame and anxiety. The goblin's words plant a horrible seed in my mind, a plan starts forming. A compromise spurns me on.
"And it will be a... a handjob," I say quickly, trying to lay some boundaries to the debauchery. “And you will… wear protection…” I manage to stammer out this absurd demand not able to meet his leering gaze.
Snib seems amused, a nasty chuckle leaving his throat as he pats my ass one more time. ”Yer can do ‘atever y’ like – tickle me big ol’ green balls too if y’ want,” He exclaims jovially. ”Just make sure Snib’s satisfied.”
My heart sinks at his vague acceptance, leaving room for his cruel tastes to resurface later... It feels so wrong.
As he steps away from me, he leaves me with an edge of dread curling up in my belly at the disturbing prospect of satisfying this awful creature.
The stool creaks under Snib's weight as he hops down from it, and finally gives me space, true to his word.
The taste of my agreement lingers, bitter and repulsive, as I watch Snib saunter away. His lewd chuckles echo back at me, leaving a sour taste in my mouth. The weight of my words presses down on me, a pact with a goblin - the very creature that has turned my life into a living nightmare.
I straighten out my ridiculous outfit, the wet fabric clinging to my damp skin. The heat between my thighs is undeniable - a shameful reminder of the arousal Snib's touch stirs within me. I suppress a shudder, the lingering touch of his grimy hands on my skin making me feel so dirty.
A few pieces of laundry lie forgotten on the grass, scattered around where Snib had knocked them down during his vile display. I bend over to pick them up, feeling the stretch of my skirt across my ass, the fabric riding up to reveal far more than I'd like.
My mind races as I finish hanging up the laundry. What have I agreed to? Back to giving him handjobs... I shiver at the thought. His monstrous goblin cock in my hands... I know how things can get so easily out of control with him. But it's better than... other things he could have demanded. The thing I’m worried about the most, is exposing Elara to his pheromones. That would just break my heart.
I’ve made this agreement for Elara. For us. This is the only way to keep her safe from Snib's perverse desires. She doesn't need to know the truth - that her husband now services a goblin for their safety. I'll tell her I'm cleaning his room or something... anything but the truth.
At least there’s Zephyrion's decree - that Snib would stay at an inn, not in our home. That rule was Mayor Bramble's influence, a small act of kindness in this twisted situation. If it was up to the wizard, he would keep me and Snib in his own little study, locked up together all day while he tinkered.
As I finish with the laundry and step back into our once peaceful home, I can't help but feel a sense of dread creeping up on me. Tonight... Tonight will be the start of something horrid. But if it keeps Elara safe... If it gives us some semblance of peace during the day...
I'll endure it.]
(simple_option:"14 wizard","Later...")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","village morning")(pic:"ch13/zephyrion.jpg","right")The afternoon sun streams through the window, casting long, golden rays across the room. I'm seated at the kitchen table, the cold metal collar resting heavily around my neck. Zephyrion is beside me, a collection of strange, arcane tools spread across the table.
It’s the first of our daily sessions, where the wizard is going to try and tap into the eldritch connection in my collar.
Snib lounges in a corner of the room, his yellow eyes watching us with an unsettling intensity. His presence feels like a stain on the room, a reminder of my ongoing torment. But the wizard emphasized the importance of his presence.
Zephyrion picks up a delicate tool - a slender rod ending in a tiny crystal orb. He brings it close to the collar, his stormy grey eyes squinting as he studies the reaction. The crystal flickers with an ethereal light, but something seems off.
"Hmm," he mutters under his breath, setting the tool down and picking up another. "No magical energy in the traditional sense. I may need to order some additional tools for a thorough examination."
His words hang in the air like an unfinished melody. I feel a shiver of unease crawl down my spine as he continues his examination.
After what feels like an eternity, Zephyrion sets aside his rod and turns to me. "Elise," he says, "I’ll need a drop of your blood."
The request sends a jolt through my body. I look at him, my heart pounding in my chest. He holds my gaze, waiting for my response.
(simple_option:"14 why","Why?")($play:"ambience","village morning indoors")"To compare," he replies simply.
I hesitate for a moment before nodding slowly. He reaches for another tool - a needle this time - and holds it out to me.
"May I?" he asks, his voice softening slightly.
I extend my arm towards him, my heart hammering against my ribcage. The needle pricks my skin and I wince as a droplet of blood wells up.
Zephyrion collects it on a small glass slide and brings it under a lens mounted on an intricate brass stand. His brow furrows as he peers through the lens, studying the drop of blood.
"There are… slight differences to human blood," he murmurs after a while, straightening up and turning to me. “Not as major as I was expecting. Your body is almost completely human, or at least a convincing simulacrum.”
He looks frustrated now, his fingers drumming on the table as he contemplates his next move.
"Snib," Zephyrion says, his voice echoing in the quiet room, "Constrict the collar."
Snib grunts in response, "It ain't up to me, wizard. The collar does what it wants."
Zephyrion turns to me, his stormy eyes contemplative. "Elise," he says, "Do something to trigger the collar."
"No!" Elara's voice cuts through the room like a knife. She stands from her chair, her sapphire eyes blazing with fury. Zephyrion simply gazes at her, waiting for her to calm down.
I swallow hard, my heart pounding against my ribcage. I know there’s no way to get out of this without complying. I turn to Snib, meeting his yellow gaze.
*Might as well enjoy this.*
(simple_option:"14 insult","Insult Snib!")($play:"ambience","village morning indoors")"Snib," I say, my voice savoring each word, "you're a wretched dimwit."
Zephyrion's eyes widen as he raises his rod again - it’s glowing. He can detect the magical surge.
Suddenly, I feel a tightening sensation around my neck. The collar constricts painfully, cutting off my air supply. I gasp for breath, clawing at the metal band around my neck.
"Stop!" Elara screams, but Zephyrion remains focused on the collar.
He nods at Snib, signaling him to release me. But Snib shakes his head. "She has to do it," he says with a wicked grin.
Tears stream down my face as I choke out the words: "Master... I'm sorry for insulting you."
The collar relaxes instantly and I fall forward gasping for breath. My massive breasts heave with each deep intake of air, jiggling obscenely under the skimpy bikini top.
Zephyrion studies the collar intently, his brow furrowed. He makes observations about it aloud as he scribbles notes on a piece of parchment.
"The link seems to strengthen when a command is made by the goblin," he murmurs before looking up at me. "And it appears to have connections to your mind as well... It's not just auditory... it's telepathic."
His words hang heavy in the air as he continues his examination. The collar is an ancient relic from a long-lost civilization - a civilization that was far more advanced than we are now.
"Once again, I apologize for the discomfort," Zephyrion says, his voice almost apologetic. But there's a coldness there, a detachment that makes it clear he's more interested in results than my well-being. "It is necessary for the security of the kingdom."
He picks up the glass slide with my blood sample, tucking it carefully into a small case. He stands, his indigo robes falling around him in a cascade of fabric.
"I'll return tomorrow for more tests," he says, his stormy eyes meeting mine. "Rest well, Elise."
(simple_option:"14 leaves","He leaves.")Two royal guards flank the wizard on his way out, their armor gleaming in the afternoon light.
(if:($get_choice:"14 hips") is "Refuse the deal.")[The door barely closes when Snib's gaze settles on me with that familiar, vile glint. His thin lips curl into a sneer as he crosses the room towards the couch.
Snib throws himself onto the couch, lounging like some little king upon his throne.
"Ya and I are gonna have a little chat, slut," he says, patting his lap with a cruel, expectant grin. "You hurt ol’ Snib's feelings with those mean words. And now it's time for a proper punishment. Git over here."
"No," I manage to choke out, shaking my head as I recoil. Bitter memories and shadows of past humiliations flit across my mind. The collar tightens. "I- I won't. I did what the wizard said--"
"Wrong answer, cow tits!" he snarls.
I feel the collar constricting around my throat. Air becomes a luxury.
Elara rushes forward, her blue eyes wide and wild. "Stop this! Let her go! You monster!"
But Snib's yellow eyes glitter dangerously as he turns his gaze to her. "You best be quiet, pretty," he growls. "Less you wanna join ‘er."
Choked gasps escape my lips as I desperately fight against the collar’s grip, the world narrowing to a pinpoint. Finally, gasping and trembling, I relent.
With shaky limbs, I crawl onto the couch, shuffling begrudgingly over Snib’s lap. My massive breasts squish against his bony knees, and the degrading weight of them pulls me down, making me whimper uncontrollably. The leather skirt rides up, and he’s quick to jerk it higher until my full, round ass is completely exposed to him. The vulnerable cheeks quiver with the movement, bare beneath the pitiful curtains of my miniskirt.
Snib chuckles darkly, giving my bare ass a condescending squeeze. "That's a good cow," he coos, tracing a clawed finger along the curve of my ass. “Look at this weak, jiggly slut ass, just perfect for me to teach ya who’s da boss now.”
My face burns with shame as I bury it against the cushion, each cruel word landing like a slap. His clawed hand comes down hard on the sensitive flesh of my ass, and my entire body jerks with the impact.(live:7s)[($play:"sound",(either:"spank 2","spank 1"))]
"AHHH! UNNNNGH!" I cry out, pain and humiliation mingling in my voice as the force reverberates through my body, feeling the sting of his cruel handprint imprinted on my aching cheek.
"No, please, Snib!" Elara shouts, her voice high and frantic, tears streaking down her face. She drops to her knees, trembling hands clasped together in supplication. "Please, stop! She was just following orders! You can’t do this to her!"
Snib mocks her pleas. "Oh, y'think I won't? This bitch needs to be reminded of her place." He strokes the flesh of my ass again, savoring the heat radiating from the previous impact. "And since she hurt my feelings," he continues, his voice dripping with malicious joy, "It's time for a good ol' fashioned SPANKIN'. Because you've been a real naughty girl, Elise."
Another sharp crack echoes through the room, landing on my tender, stinging cheek. (live:15s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","spank 2")]
"AHNN... Nooo!" I sob, my voice breaking under the weight of my tears.
Snib's hand comes down harshly again, every spank punctuated by his depraved satisfaction. "That's for hurting yer Master's feelings!" he snarls, each word chased by the sickening slap of his palm against my flesh. "Ya think ya can disrespect me? I'll show ya, ya fat-assed whore, yer place!"
"Please, no, she didn't mean to! She was just doing what the wizard said!” Elara’s voice is desperate, each word laced with the ring of desperation. She’s on her knees, her horrified eyes locked on the degrading scene, the sight of her feminized husband being ridiculed and punished by a vile, lowly creature.
(simple_option:"14 no","He keeps going!")](else:)[Elara watches him go, her sapphire eyes filled with a mixture of relief and worry. She's quiet as the door closes behind them, leaving us alone with Snib.
The goblin grunts, pushing himself up from his corner. He stretches, his pudgy belly protruding from above his loincloth.
"Right, I'll be off then ta the Silver Stag," he says, his voice gruff but oddly polite. He turns to Elara, his yellow eyes softening slightly. "Thanks for the grub, missus. Apologies for me goblin ways."
He gives me a wink as he heads towards the door, a lewd grin spreading across his face. "And thanks in advance for tidying up my room later, Elise. It's gotten a wee bit messy."
Once the door closes behind him, Elara rushes to my side, her slender fingers gently applying a soothing ointment to my bruised neck.
"He seemed... less crude this afternoon," she murmurs, her sapphire eyes studying my face for any signs of distress.
I nod slowly, the cool ointment providing some relief to my aching neck. "We had a talk," I admit, avoiding her gaze. "I agreed to keep his room tidy if he'd behave."
Elara's eyes widen in surprise. "Elise," she says, her voice filled with concern. "You shouldn't have to do that. They have housekeeping."
"I know," I reply quietly. "But apparently they didn’t want anything to do with a goblin. This is the only way to keep him in check."
She looks at me for a long moment, her blue eyes filled with worry and suspicion. "Do you want me to go with you?" she asks. “I want you back soon.”
(simple_option:"14 no","Shake your head.")]($play:"ambience","village morning indoors")(if:$choice is "He keeps going!")[My face burns as Snib's palm lands on my bare ass, the cruel thud of his spanks reverberating through the room. I am choking back sobs, my voice breaking with every plea.
"No! Please, Snib! STOP!" Elara’s voice is desperate, her face wet with tears, hands trembling. She clutches at my arm, desperate blue eyes pleading with him. "She doesn't deserve this. Aldr- Elise has been through more than anyone should have to bear!"
Snib's cock throbs against me as he laughs, the cruel sound filling the room like a taunting specter. "Implorin' for mercy like a titty-bitch," he growls, his voice full of savage glee. "Ya think she don't deserve it? Tell me, girl, do ya?"
The spanks come faster, each one a brutal slap that sends shockwaves of pain through my ass and radiates outwards, leaving a burning trail. I scream with each hit, unable to stop the humiliating sounds, my breasts shaking with every violent impact.
"Pleathe, Elara! Thop him!" I cry out pathetically, but my pleas are smothered by Snib's relentless assault. His hand is a blur, each spank molding and remolding the tender flesh of my ass, imprinting his humiliation deeper into my soul.
My mind is swirling with panic, horror. Elara's face is a twisted mask of anguish, her sobs a heart-wrenching melody that slices through me. She's begging Snib to stop, her pleas falling on deaf ears.
Snib's sinister grin splits his face, all too pleased with the chaos he's creating. "Why are ya defendin' ‘er, sweetie?" he taunts, his voice a grating mockery. "Yer Hubby 'ere ain't told you everythin', now has he?"
"What... what are you talking about?" Elara's voice is shattered, her eyes wide.
Snib's grip tightens, his spanking growing harsher, leaving raw, stinging welts on my ass. "Elise, wanna tell your pretty wife about what ya did with me in that stall at the Silver Stag?"
My breath hitches, my eyes wild with terror. No. No. Elara doesn’t know.
(size:2)[-Spank! Spank! Spank!-](live:5s)[($play:"sound",(either:"spank 2","spank 1"))](live:7s)[($play:"sound",(either:"spank 2","spank 1"))]
A string of brutal smacks punctuates his words, each one tearing a fresh cry from my throat. I squirm uselessly, legs kicking feebly, but there's no escape.
“I see she didn’t tell ya,” Snib sneers, leaning closer to Elara, his eyes alight with cruel satisfaction. “Well, let’s help her be more honest in yer marriage, eh?”
(size:2)[-Spank! Spank! Spank!-]
He continues each assault on my ass, the sounds mixing with my sobs.
Through tears and cries, I glance back at Elara. Her eyes, filled with disbelief and raw agony, reflect the breaking of her heart. It’s the worst thing I've ever seen.
"Tell ‘er!” Snib's voice is a snarl, a brutal command punctuated by the relentless spanking. "Tell her what you did in the Silver Stag latrine! Tell ’er, you filthy slut!”
"I'm-thorry... I'm-thorry! I-I-..." I wail, the words tearing themselves from me as the storm of his spanks beat against my resolve. "I gave him a handjob in the latrine, Elara! I-I'm-thorry!!!"
Elara gasps, staggering back as though she'd been struck. Her hand flies to her mouth, eyes wide, horror and heartbreak etched into her beautiful face. "No... Aldric... Why...?"
"I had no choith! I... I...!" I squeal between sobs, trying to choke out an explanation, anything that could possibly ease the wreckage of her heart.
Snib’s mocking laughter fills the room. "Oh, that so?" he mocks. "Ya didn’t have no choice, huh?" Another harsh spank lands on my burning ass, a brutal reminder of my submission.
“We had daily ball-drainin' sessions!" he continues. "Every morn, she'd milk me dry right in our little hut. She knew how to handle a cock by then. She loved milkin' my cum straight from the tap. And when she was done, she’d dance for me, arse naked, shaking that greedy whore ass for me, beggin' me to paint it with gobbo jizz.”
“NO! HE’S LYING!” I scream desperately, my voice cracking with desperation, but the collar around my neck tightens like a vice before I can continue.
“Lying?” Snib’s voice is a poisonous whisper in my ear. “Yer gonna regret that.”
His hand descends again, the brutal slap echoing in the room, drawing a fresh wave of tears from me. I scream again, but my cries are muffled by the couch, my body burning with pain and humiliation.
“And would you like to know the best part, pretty wife?” Snib sneers, his eyes gleaming as he looks at Elara. “Yer precious hubby wud jill off every night in the straw, like an animal! Oh, it was a pathetic sight."
(simple_option:"14 evening","Sob.")](else:)[I shake my head firmly. "No," I say, meeting her gaze. "I'll go myself. I’ll get it done as soon as possible." My fingers tremble, as I imagine them stroking that goblin cock once more.
Elara looks taken aback by my firmness. She opens her mouth to protest but seems to think better of it. She gives me a worried look before nodding reluctantly.
"Alright," she says quietly. "But promise me you'll be careful."
I nod, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I promise."
(simple_option:"14 evening","That night...")($play:"ambience","village morning indoors")](if:$choice is "Sob.")[(size:2)[-Spank! Spank! Spank!-]
Snib's laughter swells with each slap that lands on my sore, jiggling ass.
The worst pain isn't physical—it's the look on Elara's face. The way her eyes darken with each horrific revelation, tears streaming down her cheeks, her jaw clenching with incredulous disbelief and growing anger.
"This can't be true, Aldric—Elise!" she cries, her voice breaking. "You came home, kissed me, made love to me, when you'd let this... this creature defile you?!"
The raw emotion in her voice cuts deeper than any lash of Snib's hand. My eyes widen, fresh tears streaming down my face as I stammer, "Elara, I didn't... I didn't have a choice...”
Elara’s sapphire eyes, normally so kind and warm, burn with a fury I've never seen before. “Why didn’t you at *least* tell me?” she demands, her voice choking with anger and heartbreak. “Why didn’t you tell me what he was doing to you? How could you keep something like this from me?”
"I'm so thorry... I thought... I thought I could protect you from...
(size:2)[-Spank!-](live:5s)[($play:"sound",(either:"spank 2","spank 1"))](live:7s)[($play:"sound",(either:"spank 2","spank 1"))]
But Snib won’t let me finish. Another brutal slap lands on my raw flesh, drawing a fresh scream from my lungs. I writhe helplessly across his lap, unable to escape the torment, my mind a swirling chaos of pain and emotion.
"You see, sweetheart?" Snib taunts, his voice a gleeful sneer. "She deserves a few spanks, don’t she? And ta think, after all those times she emptied my nuts, ‘elped me 'get off' each morn’. She wuz always so eager, moanin' the whole time!”
Elara's face is a mask of anguish, her eyes flicking between Snib and my tear-streaked face. "Elise, you let him ruin you! You let him turn you into... into *this!* Did you even think about what you were doing to me? To us?”
"No! Elara, it wasn't like that!" I plead, my voice a desperate wail.
"And now?" Snib continues, his eyes alight with malicious glee. "Wen I ask ‘er today to do it again, she says no. Refuses me! Even offered her a deal—said I’d give you, fair Elara, a week of peace for just one more lil' ball-drainin' sesh. But did she mention it to ya?”
(size:2)[-Spank! Spank! Spank!-]
The unrelenting rhythm of his hand cuts my pleas short. Each slap brings a fresh wave of pain, humiliation, and despair. My mind is a whirlwind of agony as Snib mercilessly exposes my deepest shame.
Elara's eyes brim with tears. "I trusted you, Aldric!” she chokes out, her voice trembling with fury. “You... you betrayed me! You humiliated me! I can't believe I even let you touch me after letting this... this *thing* violate you!”
"Elara! No! I had no choice!” I sob, my voice breaking. “I—”
"Actually, be quiet!" she snaps, her voice cold as steel. I've never heard her speak like this. The look in her eyes is a dagger that guts me without mercy.
She turns to Snib, her lip quivering with a mixture of revulsion and resolve. “Snib,” she says softly, “stop.”
The goblin's hand halts, hovering over my raw, throbbing ass. A sinister grin spreads across his face as he looks at my wife.
Elara’s shoulders tremble, her blue eyes blazing as she stares down at me.
"I *trusted* you, Aldric!" her voice breaks. “I trusted you and you... you betrayed that trust! You lied to me, you hid things from me… and... you... you let him...”
She struggles to find the words, her eyes darting to Snib, whose hand still rests on my sore, reddened ass.
Snib's grin widens, reveling in the chaos he’s caused. “Yeah, yer precious Aldric wasn’t so tough after all, was he?” he taunts, giving another playful smack to my jiggling ass.
“Snib, please…” Elara whispers softly. “Just… just stop.”
Snib’s eyes glint. “What ya got in mind, sweetie pie?” His gaze sweeps over her body with a lecherous appreciation.
She takes a deep, shuddering breath, her expression darkening. “If I… um... finish you off,” she says through clenched teeth, each word dripping with venom and bitterness, “will you give me the same deal? Leave me alone for a week? I can't deal with any more of this.”
My eyes widen in shock, my heart seizing painfully in my chest. “No, Elara! Don’t…” I begin, my voice a hoarse whisper.
($change_stat:"elara",-3)She turns to me. “Shut up, Elise,” she snaps, her voice harsh. “You’ve done enough. Look at this mess you’ve made.”
“Elara, please…” I beg, my heart breaking at the sight of the woman I love, reduced to this desperate act. “You don’t have to do this…”
She glares at me, her eyes shining with tears. “Because that’s different, right? It’s different when I do it?” she demands, her voice shaking. “But you can do whatever you want? I thought we were in this together! And you hid all this from me!”
I shake my head, tears streaming down my face. “Elara, it’s not… it’s not… I…”
"Yeah, yeah, it’s always different when it’s someone else," Snib sneers, his voice dripping with mockery. “But fine, I accept yer offer, wifey.”
Elara’s eyes bore into mine. “If it’s so understandable, then what will you say if I do it? Tell me, Elise, what then?”
“N... NO!” I squeal, my heart throbbing.
The room falls into an agonizing silence, punctuated only by my sobs and Elara’s ragged breathing. Snib’s grin is wide, his yellowed teeth gleaming hideously in the dim light.
“Have it your way,” Elara hisses, turning to Snib. “Then you'll give us one week of peace?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Snib croons, his eyes dancing with sadistic glee. “If ya finish me off, I won’t even come ‘round yer house unless the wizard asks. Or ya INVITE me!”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My heart feels like it's being wrenched from my chest. “Elara, don’t…” I sob, my voice cracking under the weight of my despair.
Elara doesn't look at me. She steps closer to Snib, her hands shaking but resolute. She turns back to me, her eyes cold and furious. “You said it was unavoidable,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “So now, watch *me* do what you did. And see how *you* feel about it.”
“Elara, no… please, you don’t need to do this—"
“It’s different, though, isn’t it?" Elara's voice is hard and unrelenting. “When it’s you, it’s understandable, but when it’s me, it’s outrageous, right?”
(simple_option:"14 retort","Snib pushes you off the couch.")](else:)[($play:"ambience","tavern")My heart pounds in my chest as I approach the Silver Stag, the bag of condoms heavy in my hand. The gnome shopkeeper's lewd wink still burns in my memory, his knowing grin as he handed me the bag.
The outfit I’m wearing is absolutely harrowing, to have to walk through town in. The white bikini top is barely more than two small triangles of fabric, held together by thin strings that dig into the soft flesh of my shoulders and back. It barely contains my massive breasts, the fabric stretching tightly over the swell of my flesh. The short leather skirt is a mockery of modesty, barely covering anything at all. The white panties underneath make things worse, hugging my hips and disappearing between the round globes of my ass.
As I step into the Silver Stag, I can feel every eye in the place on me. A group of mercenaries at a nearby table stop their conversation to stare, their eyes raking over my body with undisguised lust. Outsiders.
"Well, well," one of them drawls, his eyes fixed on my chest. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"
"Come have a drink with us, love," another one calls out, patting the empty seat next to him.
I blush furiously, trying to ignore them as I make my way to the bar. But their comments follow me, each one more obscene than the last.
"Why don't you pour some ale down those tits of yours and let us drink it off?" one suggests, his companions laughing uproariously.
"Going around dressed like that," another adds lewdly. "You're just asking for trouble. Didn’t know Eboncrest had whores like that!"
"I've got a mind to give her some trouble," a third chimes in, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
(simple_option:"14 retort","Snap at them.","Ignore them.")](if:$choice is "Snib pushes you off the couch.")[($play:"sex loop",0)Snib's cruel laughter fills the air as he shoves me off the couch like I’m nothing more than trash. I tumble onto the floor, the heavy, obscene weight of my tits swinging wildly.
My heart pounds erratically, tears streaming down my cheeks as I scramble to get up.
"Elara, please!" I sob, but she doesn't look at me.
Snib’s sneering voice cuts through my pleas. "Shut up, cow tits. This is between me and yer wifey."
His words are acid, burning through the raw wound of this fucked-up scene. He leans back, lounging on the couch with a smug grin, his loincloth straining. He tilts his hips forward, showcasing the grotesque outline of his cock pressed against the leather.
Elara takes a deep, shaky breath, her hands trembling as she steps forward. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she whispers, her voice thick with revulsion and disbelief. Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight before her, and she drops to her knees, positioned between Snib's outspread legs. "But you leave me no choice, 'Elise.'"
"No, please, Elara—" I try to choke out, my voice a desperate plea.
"Be quiet now and watch!" Elara’s voice is sharp, cutting through my heart like a jagged blade. Her tears glisten on her cheeks. Snib's eyes dance with malicious glee as he turns to me.
"Ye heard yer wife," he sneers. “Gettin’ all indignant now, eh? She ain't doin' anything ye haven't done."
I cringe, my breath hitching. Seeing my silence, the goblin’s grin widens. He shifts, making himself more comfortable as his loincloth stretches comically against his bulging erection.
Elara’s eyes are wide as she reaches out tentatively towards Snib. She pauses, her fingers trembling as they brush against his thigh. Her distaste is evident, her body shuddering with disgust. She looks up at him with a mix of horror and resignation.
“Take yer time, sweetheart,” Snib purrs. “Go on, let’s see them pretty hands on a real man’s cock. Show us how good wifey can be.”
He stretches out luxuriously, his torso arching as he moves. His hardened cock strains under the fabric, gleaming pre-cum already soaking through. Elara starts to reach out, but then her hands drop, and she shudders, opting to sit down on the couch beside him instead, squirming away from his close proximity.
Snib chuckles, seemingly relishing the moment. "C'mon now, don't be shy. Can take it any way ye want it.”
With a look of pure disgust, she reaches for his loincloth with shaky hands and pulls it aside. What springs forth stretches the bounds of biology — twelve inches of a monstrous, thick green goblin cock standing proud, its surface rippling with bulging veins. As it thuds heavily against Snib's thigh, a thick bead of nasty, oozing precum drizzles from the tip, forming a slick trail along its length.
Elara gasps at the sight, her eyes widening in horrified fascination. “It’s too... big...”
Her voice shakes with disbelief, and distaste practically emanates from her in waves as her fingers hover nervously over the repulsive length. She looks away, biting her lip, a soft whimper escaping her.
I can't watch this any longer. “Elara, n—” I try to warn her about the pheromones, but Snib's meaningfully malevolent gaze snaps to mine, and the collar constricts, cutting off my voice entirely.
Helplessly, I’m forced to watch in silence, horror twisting in my gut. Elara’s grip is tentative, her hands delicate and shaking as they curl around Snib’s obscene cock. Her touch is hesitant, horrified, but she steels herself, forcing herself to continue. She begins to move her hands up and down the massive schlong.
Snib's eyes flutter closed as he groans in pleasure, his smirk widening. “That’s it, just like that. Look at ya, wifey. Got some real potential..."
With each drip of precum, the scent intensifies – an overpowering musk that clings to the air, filling it with a heady, nauseating tang. Elara’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as they dart away from the sight of the grotesque, flexing goblin cock squirting its vile essence into her grasp.
For a moment, she hesitates.
"No turning back now, sweetie. Pump that fat gobbo cock," Snib encourages, his voice a sickly purr. "Imagine how many times yer hubby here did exactly this. Oh, she's right good at it, musta learned from me."
(simple_option:"14 enter","Your wife continues to jerk him off...")](else:)[I'm about to respond when a figure steps up to their table. It's Roderick, a grizzled veteran who's been a friend of Aldric's for years. He glares at the men, his fists clenched at his sides.
"Leave her alone," he growls, his voice low and dangerous.
The men look at him in surprise, then start to laugh. But their laughter dies quickly when Roderick punches the biggest one in the face, sending him sprawling backwards.
"Next time you bother her," Roderick says coldly, "you'll have me to deal with."
He turns to me then, giving me a small salute. He, and the other town guards, must have been briefed about my situation. I blush even deeper but manage to give him a grateful nod before turning back to the bar. At least someone here still cares about who I used to be.
Slightly emboldened by that, I stride towards the innkeeper. He's a burly man with a bushy beard, his eyes widening as he takes in my outfit. He’s been briefed by Zephyrion - he knows I’m Aldric.
"I'm here to… clean Snib's—"
I choke on the word as my collar suddenly constricts, cutting off my breath. My hand instinctively flies to my throat, attempting to loosen its grip.
The innkeeper looks at me quizzically, his eyes flicking to the collar around my neck. "You’re here to clean the goblin’s room?"
I nod, my face burning with humiliation. "Yes," I croak, struggling to get the words out. "Which one is… my master's room?"
($change_stat:"town",-2)The innkeeper looks at me with a mixture of disdain and pity. "That thing really did a number on you, didn't it, Aldric?" he remarks, shaking his head. "The little green monster is in room six. This means I can cancel housekeeping - thank the gods."
As I make my way towards the stairs, the innkeeper calls out after me, eyeing my skimpy attire up and down. "Does your wife know you're here?"
I pause for a moment before answering, my stomach clenching with guilt. "Yes," I say quietly. "She knows I'm cleaning his room."
The innkeeper says nothing more as I continue up the stairs. Each step is a struggle, my body heavy with dread and anticipation. The hallway is dimly lit, the flickering light from a single candle casting long shadows on the wooden floor.
I can feel a dampness between my legs and clench them together in an attempt to quell the humiliating arousal that courses through me.
Room six... I stop in front of a plain wooden door, taking a deep breath before knocking softly.
"Come in," Snib's gruff voice calls out from inside.
(simple_option:"14 enter","Enter...")($play:"ambience","tavern")](if:$choice is "Your wife continues to jerk him off...")[($play:"sex loop","handjob")My heart cracks with every stifled sob that escapes Elara's lips.
Snib’s eyes flutter closed as he grunts in animalistic pleasure.
"Oooh, yer tiny hands are so soft. Tight grip, too.”
Elara’s face twists with disgust, but she doesn’t stop. The rank smell of goblin precum and smegma fills the room, the acrid stench like a repugnant fog. Each stroke of her hands draws a fresh nauseating swirl, the thick goo spreading under her touch and oozing into her trembling palm. The sight of her delicate fingers tainted, working that grotesque length, twists my stomach.
The squelching noises as she strokes fill the room, a constant grim reminder of the lewd debasement happening right before me. Her movements are hesitant, filled with distaste, each moment tearing a little bit more of my heart apart.
Seeing her beautiful face – once the picture of love and trust – now a mask of horrified disbelief, her sapphire eyes shining with unfallen tears, is more than I can bear. She glances at me, a fleeting look of hurt and betrayal, then quickly averts her gaze back to the monstrous task at hand.
The disgusting length flexes under Elara’s grasp, throbbing with each movement of her hands. A fresh spurt of thick, yellowish precum leaks from the tip, and she tries to shake it off when it touches her fingers.
“Come on, use both hands, sweetheart,” Snib instructs, his voice a low, insidious purr. “Gotta work that cock properly if ye want me to give ya that week of peace, eh?”
Elara hesitates, her eyes darting to me, pleading silently for reassurance. I can see her resolve wavering, the reality of what she’s doing crashing down on her. She takes a shuddering breath, her cheeks flushing deeply as she slowly wraps her other hand around Snib’s monstrous cock, now using both hands to pump him up and down.
“There ya go,” Snib encourages, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Look at ya, workin’ that fat gobbo schlong like a proper whore. Elise could learn a thing or two from ya. She had a pretty good rhythm, but yer hands... they’re somethin’ else. Housewife hands.”
My heart aches as I watch her, my mind flooded with memories of our life together. The way she laughed on our wedding day, the warmth of her embrace, the way she kissed me goodnight.
Elara, my beautiful wife, jerking off a goblin.
I couldn’t have warned her about the pheromones in Snib’s seed. But the fear gnaws at me, knowing what they did to me. Knowing what it could do to her.
Snib's cock bulges and throbs obscenely in Elara’s grasp. The grotesque appendage flexes and twitches, the fleshy, veiny surface glistening with the mix of smegma and precum. Each stroke of her hands is punctuated by lewd, squelching sounds as her fingers glide over the slick surface.
“Maybe if ye show yer tits,” Snib says, his voice a mocking croon, “It’ll make me nut faster. C’mon, let’s see those perky little things, eh?”
Elara gasps, her cheeks flushing a deep red as she shakes her head, not willing to take that step. The humiliation radiates from her in waves, her eyes wide and pleading. “No, I can’t...”
Snib’s grin widens, relishing her reluctance. “Oh, shy now, are we? Hah! Just keep pumpin’ then, if you want to drag this out.”
Elara’s hands continue their torturous rhythm, her face contorted in a mixture of disgust and determination. She pumps Snib’s cock with a steady grip, her movements mechanical, each up-and-down motion bringing fresh waves of repulsion to her beautiful face.
My heart shatters as I’m forced to watch, transfixed by the sight. Every fiber of my being wants to intervene, to rip Snib away from her, but I’m paralyzed, bound by my own fear and the constricting grip of the collar. My wife, my Elara, reduced to this...
Because of me.
“Just think, this is all yer husband’s fault,” Snib taunts, his voice dripping with malicious glee. “If she’d just been a proper little whore, you wouldn’t have to do this. She got ‘erself into this mess. Maybe she didn’t please me enough.”
Elara’s eyes glisten with tears, her hands shaking even more as she fights to maintain her grip on the monstrous cock. “I... I can’t believe you did this so many times, Elise,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “Why... why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let this happen?”
“I’m sorry,” I sob, my voice a broken whisper. “I’m so, so sorry, Elara. I didn’t want to...”
“Save yer breath, Tit-bitch,” Snib interjects, his voice cutting through my apology. “Ya wanna apologize? Then keep quiet and watch how a real woman takes care o’ business.”
(simple_option:"14 nightmare","The nightmare continues...")](else:)[I push open the door and step inside. The room is small and cramped, filthy, with a single bed against one wall and a small table on the other. Snib is lounging on the bed, the white sheets stained already with the dirt of his body, his dick already out.
"Elise," he grins wickedly, patting the spot next to him on the bed. "Ready to clean up?"
I swallow hard, clutching the bag tightly in my hand as I walk towards him.
"Yes," I say quietly. "I'm ready."($play:"sound","ready to clean up")
(pic:"ch14/on bed.png","center","borderless")($play:"ambience","inn room interior")
(simple_option:"15 quick","You're going to make this quick.")](masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"ambience","snib dominates")($chapter_title:15,"A Long Night Begins")(set:$gender to "female")I survey the surprisingly tidy space, trying to contain the tremble in my voice.. "It's... c- clean," I say, barely able to boil down the lump of shame in my throat.
Snib’s yellow eyes twinkle roguishly. "Aye. Tat’s right. I wanted ta make it a s-special place for me lil’ slut ta serve me," His rough voice grates on my ears, sending shivers down my spine.
My heart aches.
Heat floods my face, as I gingerly perch on the edge of the large bed, the provocative white bikini and skin-tight skirt bunching around my soft, stuffed thighs. The curvaceous protrusions of my asscheeks spill out with an obscene jiggle. My vast breasts settle with an obnoxious bounce, their weight a constant reminder of my predicament. I had made a deal with the devil, a deal that ensured some peace during the day. Now was the time to pay up, and the guilt gnaws at my insides.
As soon as my derriere kisses the mattress, the bed frame whines beneath us, echoing my anticipation. Snib shifts towards me, his body exuding the virile musk that has my stomach coiling in twisted anticipation.
Unable to meet his eye, my gaze falls to my breasts, encased in the unveiling tightness of the bikini top.
"Y’know," The gruffness of Snib's voice hardly drowns his perverse excitement. "I do fancy this outfit of yours, cow tits. Y’ look like a proper bitch. Not some daft, so-called warrior."
Heat prickles at my face, and my heart lurches viscously in my chest as he twirls the white string of my bikini top. The tug angles up my left boob provocatively, and he lets go suddenly. With a soft smack, my tit settles, jostling against its twin, causing an unwanted ripple of stimulation along my torso.
"Re-remember," I fumble with the words, latching onto the shred of power I have left. "I'm only... only giving you a handjob."
His toothy, disdainful grin splays across his face, as his yellow eyes leer into mine. "Yer job is to satisfy me, sugar tits. As long as I'm happy, ye can scuttle off."
My trembling hands reach for the paper bag I brought with me, the contents inside rustling softly. The gnome's shop downtown had been an embarrassing experience, but I had managed to purchase a small packet of a dozen condoms. The packaging is made of a rough parchment, sealed with a wax stamp depicting a stylized cockatrice.
(simple_option:"15 open","Open the packet.")I open the packet, revealing a thin, rubbery sheath. It's smooth and cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the hot, pulsing flesh it's meant to cover.($play:"sound","unwrap condom")
Snib watches me with an conceited smirk, his yellow eyes sparkling as he lounges lazily, exuding an air of unwarranted superiority. "Hey, cow tits," he grunts, "Yer making a gobbo feel unloved. Y'don't fancy the musky scent of yer master?" His deep-rooted goblin accent makes my skin crawl, my cheeks growing hot at his crude words. "Looked like ye were trying to scrub ol' Snib outta yer sheets and yer life!" He jabs a pointed finger at me.
A twitch in my belly surprises me, a shameful surge of arousal making the silky fabric of my sparse panties cling to me in all the wrong ways. The wetness between my quivering thighs makes me feel as if I'm melting right there on the spot. I try so hard to suppress the feelings, stomp them down into the recesses of my psyche, my now treacherous, feminized body has very different plans.
Snib grins at me, lying back on the bed and crossing his arms behind his head. His huge cock twitches, all twelve inches of it uncoiling and flopping out onto his leg as he bounces it up and down.
The sight of Snib's goblin schlong, in all its monstrous glory, sends a shudder through my body. It's not even fully erect yet, but the length is still extremely intimidating.
The skin of it is an unsettling shade of green, darker than the rest of his body. Spidery dark green veins beat with life, pulsating under the sickly green skin of the shaft. They're so prominent, so invidious, feeding the beast of his arousal. They're thick and bulging, a testament to the blood pumping through them, feeding the growing erection.
The head of his cock is a deep purple, almost black in the dim light of the room. It's bulbous and swollen, drooling precum onto his thigh. The sight makes me light-headed...
Snib's big goblin balls are nestled between his legs, splayed out in a display of pure dominance. They're large and heavy, covered in a thin layer of coarse hair that matches the color of his cock.
I swallow hard.
I can see every inch of him in horrifying detail. His cock twitches under my gaze, responding to my attention as if it has a mind of its own. It's a living, pulsing testament to Snib's virility, a weapon designed for one purpose only.
($hidden_gem:"My eyes are drawn back to the tip of his cock, watching as another drop of precum oozes from the slit. It's thick and viscous, clinging to the head before stretching down to his thigh. The sight makes my pussy ache with unbidden desire.","My gaze gravitates greedily to the glistening glans of his gargantuan girth, glowing with gleaming globules of glistening goo. It's thick and tenacious, trailing tantalizingly toward his thigh. The sight stirs a surreptitious surge of sinful yearning within my slick slit.")
I can't help but compare Snib's cock to what I used to have. His is so much larger, so much more dominant despite his gross little body. It's a constant reminder of what I've lost... and what I've become.
It’s repulsive. By that I mean, I SHOULD be repulsed by it.
His musk assaults my senses, continuously jolting my body into a state of arousal I bitterly resent. The intoxicating scent making my skin flush, my nipples tightening under the scanty fabric of the bikini top that serves as my only protection against Snib's lewd ogling.
Without thinking, I reach out to touch him. My hand trembles as I make contact with his spongy green skin. It's hot and smooth under my fingertips, twitching and pulsing with life. It’s like a little burst of electricity as I make contact.
My breath catches in my throat as I trace a vein along his length. It's thick and hard under my touch, throbbing with each beat of his heart.
My pussy throbs in time with him, growing wetter by the second.
Snib chuckles, his laughter echoing in the room. "Ain't ya forgettin' somethin', cow tits?" he smirks.
My cheeks burn hotter as I realize what he's talking about. The condom. I was so caught up in… whatever I was feeling, that I forgot about putting one on.
(simple_option:"15 something","Put it on by hand.","Put it on with your mouth.")($play:"sex loop",0)"Aw, don't fret, cow tits," Snib drawls, his voice dripping with an almost obscene amusement. "I know what ya really want, I can smell it. Can’t hide that from a goblin’s nose." His eyes gleam in the low candlelight.($play:"sound","i know what you really want")
Heat floods my cheeks at his crude words, an inferno of humiliation and shame. He's right. I can SMELL my own embarrassing arousal in the air, a thick, musky perfume that broadcasts the dampness growing between my legs.
My body feels much more sensitive than it was last time.
I can feel the slick dampness in my panties, the aching throb in my clit, the painful sensitivity of my jiggling breasts under the strained bikini top. And my nipples, they are pouting and perky, straining against the thin white fabric, almost as if they are *begging* for some goblin attention.
(if:$choice is "Put it on by hand.")[With hands shaking like leaves in a gale, I reach for the condom once again, trying to ignore the nauseating reality of what I'm about to do. My body is aching, practically screaming in its need, but my mind... my mind is a whirlwind of disgust, fear, and a morbid fascination I can't quite put down.
My hands are slick with sweat and precum as I keep trying to fit the condom onto him. Each failed attempt only adds to my humiliation, making me feel even more like a plaything for Snib's amusement.](else:)[Clutching the condom between my trembling lips, I muster what little courage I have left and lean forward.
"Ohh, yer going all out, eh, cow tits?"
I lower my head to his cock, my heart hammering in my chest as I draw in a shuddering breath. The thick length of his goblin dick twitches eagerly, precum still oozing from the angry, purple tip, and it makes me feel light-headed. Nonetheless, I press my lips to the rubbery sheath and begin to roll it down his shaft.
The first touch of the condom on his cockhead sends a shiver down my spine. It stretches thin, forming a tight seal around his bulbous glans. The taste of latex mingles with the bitter musk of his pre-cum, an assault on my taste buds that makes me gag. But I force myself to continue, hoping this extra effort will drive him to climax faster.
With my jaw aching from the strain, I work my way down his veiny shaft. My lips struggle against the thickness, stretching wide to accommodate his girth. Each inch feels like an eternity as I roll the condom further down, the rubber sliding over the hard, pulsing flesh beneath. My breath comes in ragged gasps, every hot exhale fogging the slick surface.
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)"Look at ya, sugar tits, workin' that cock like a pro," Snib taunts, his crude voice dripping with amusement. "Betcha never thought ye'd be usin' those pretty lips to wrap a gobbo's cock, huh?"
The words sting, but I'm too focused on my task. My head bobs up and down, trying to get the latex evenly distributed. The sensation is maddening, my mouth filled with the taste of rubber and the occasional streak of his musk. Each pulse of his cock sends hot vibrations through my lips.
Snib's hands grip handfuls of my long black hair. He thrusts shallowly into my mouth at intervals, each push making me gag around the thick girth.
"Keep goin', cow tits," he orders, his grip tightening. "Show me how much ye love takin' care of yer Master. Look at that—yer mouth all stretched 'round me big gobbo cock. Such a proper lil’ slut."
The thick pre-cum continues to leak from the tip, mixing with my spit and dripping down his shaft as I roll the condom downward. My mouth feels like it's on fire, my muscles screaming in protest as the rubber stretches over the obscene length. I try to adjust my grip, but my lips slip slightly, and I feel the rubber tug at my skin.
Finally, I feel the condom reach as far as it will hgo - not quite the base of his cock, and I sit back, my chest heaving with exertion. ]
The sight of Snib's cock encased in latex is strangely grotesque. The rubber distorts his size and color, making him look even more alien than before. And yet, despite the barrier between us, his cock continues to throb with need, visibly straining against its confines.
My fingers close around his girth, the rubbery texture of the condom pulsing against my skin. His cock twitches in my grasp, throbbing with anticipation. I can feel his heat through the latex, a reminder of the raw virility that lurks beneath it. His cock feels dangerous, a weapon of debasement. I can feel how much it wants me.
Snib grunts as I tighten my grip, his yellow eyes glinting with wicked amusement. He's sprawled out on the bed like some grotesque king, his short legs spread wide and his pudgy belly rising and falling with each gruff breath. Despite his diminutive stature, there's an undeniable dominance to him, a brute strength that belies his small size. His massive cock stands proud between his legs, a testament to his virility that leaves me feeling both disgusted and... intrigued.
As I move onto the bed on hands and knees, my breasts sway heavily beneath me. The skimpy bikini top is barely up to the task of containing them - they hang down like ripe fruits, their weight pulling down on my chest with every move I make. My nipples brush against the fabric with each sway, sending jolts of unwanted pleasure coursing through me. My whole body feels so sensitive.
The short skirt rides up as I bend over more, its tight leather barely covering my ample ass cheeks. The thin fabric of my panties digs into the soft flesh of my hips, creating an embarrassing outline that leaves little to the imagination.
The position is incredibly uncomfortable - not to mention degrading - but it seems to serve Snib's lecherous gaze well enough. He watches me intently from below, his eyes tracking every slight jiggle and bounce of my body.
(simple_option:"15 stroke","Start stroking him.")($play:"sex loop","handjob")Taking a deep breath, I begin pumping my hand up and down at his rubber-straining dick. The friction of the condom makes it awkward to maintain a steady rhythm. But under it all, I can feel every detail of him - the bulging veins that trace along his length beneath the latex's thin barrier.
My ears burn as I continue stroking him. I know how pathetic this is. But I'm hoping it will be over soon.
My belly is tightening into knots - not from fear or disgust - but from pure, animalistic arousal.
*What is WRONG with me?*
The goblin's chuckles ring out in the quiet room as I sit upright again and spit into my palm. The wet sound echoes off the walls and fills me with shame.
"That's it," he croaks out in his rough goblin accent. "Get it nice 'n wet for me."
The words are like daggers in my chest but at this point, they only serve to stoke the fires within me even more.
Using both hands now slick with spit for lubrication, I return to stroking Snib's massive shaft again - this time with an added fervor that surprises even myself.
As time goes on, the room seems to grow hotter, the air thick with tension. I can't help but notice the way my own body is betraying me, responding to his every touch and lewd comment. I realize I’m fishing for his grunts, for signs of his pleasure.
Snib shifts beneath me, his grubby hands reaching up to explore my body further. His fingers find their way to the mound of my pussy, barely covered by the thin fabric of my panties. I whimper and quiver at his touch, losing my grip on his cock as zaps of pleasure squiggle through me. He pushes my bikini to top the side and plays with my nipples with his tongue.
It's so intense. Embarrassing cunt-syrup trickles down my inner thighs as my goblin tormentor continues to rub me through the fabric.
"You've made quite a mess of yerself, cumdump." he grunts, running a finger up my thigh and collecting some of the slick liquid that has escaped from beneath my panties. He brings it to his mouth and sucks it off with a disgusting slurp. "Tastes like a bitch who loves gobbo cock," he smirks, his yellow eyes gleaming with lust.
The humiliation washes over me in a fresh wave, but that only seems to fuel the fire inside. My body is so sensitive now, each touch sending shockwaves through me that threaten to overwhelm my senses.
I suddenly realize that my hips are swaying rhythmically back and forth as he lazily rubs the soaked mound of fabric covering my fat pussy. It's as if I'm unconsciously trying to give him better access - leaning into his touch as if it's something I crave.
My mind is spinning, dizzy from both shame and this all-consuming arousal that has taken over my entire body. It feels like an itch that just won't go away - frustratingly intense and maddeningly out of reach.
(pic:"ch15/handjob.jpg")
(simple_option:"15 faster","Jerk him faster.")I focus all my energy on the task at hand. My hands tremble as I grip Snib's cock tighter, stroking it with renewed vigor.
The sound of his grunts and groans fills my ears as I work his shaft, trying to ignore the burning desire that's threatening to consume me whole.
It's a feverish, nasty twist of lust and humiliation - it's almost possible to tell where one ends, and the other begins. I feel them both at once.
Despite every ounce of my mental faculties screaming in protest, I can't deny that *something* about my horrid goblin overlord is affecting me profoundly.
Tears sting my eyes as I pump Snib's massive cock harder.
"Keep goin', tit-bitch.”
My massive tits bounce heavily with every pump, their weighty sway causing a dull ache in my chest. They slap against his thighs rhythmically, the soft thuds echoing in the room. My nipples brush against his rough skin and I can't suppress a whimper at the unexpected jolt of pleasure that shoots straight to my core.
The thin fabric of my panties is soaking wet now, clinging to my swollen lips like a second skin. He tugs them aside roughly, revealing my drooling cunt to his leering gaze. Strings of my arousal connect the soaked fabric to my slit and he laughs at the sight.
"Look at ya," he grunts out between harsh breaths. "Ain't nothin' but a needy slut."
The words make me sob harder but I can't deny the truth of them - not when every inch of me feels totally consumed with need, not when I'm so wet that it's practically dripping down my thighs.
He lets go of my panties then and they snap back into place over my pussy, making me yelp out in surprise. The sharp sting sends another jolt through me and I moan embarrassingly loud at the sensation.
Desperate to distract myself from the mounting pleasure inside me, I focus all my attention on finishing him off - if I can make him cum fast enough, this nightmare will be over for tonight, and I’ll have another peaceful day tomorrow with Elara.
Time wears on. I think of my wife, waiting at home for me.
"Come on, Master," I plead, trying to keep the desperation from my voice. "Just... just finish already!"
"Heh, make me.”
"I'm... I'm trying!”
"Nah, tit-bitch. Yer not trying hard enough. Talk dirty to me."
"I... what?" I stutter out in disbelief.
"Ya heard me, sugar tits. Talk dirty."
"I can't..." I whisper out, a fresh wave of tears stinging my eyes.
"Yes ya can," he laughs mockingly. "Tell me how much ya want it."
"Master, please..."
"Tell me how much ya want my cock," he grunts out between heavy breaths.
The words stick in my throat.
"You think Elara would like watchin’ ya? Seeing her 'mighty hero' drooling over goblin cock?"
A sob rips through me at the mention of her name and I shake my head fervently. "No... she wouldn't..."
"But yer a slut now, ain't ya? Yer not her husband anymore."
"No..." I choke out the word and look down at the massive cock in my hands. The thought fills me with shame.
"You like this don't ya?" he asks in a gruff whisper and rubs his thick fingers over the swollen lips of my pussy again. “Tell me you like it. And maybe I’ll cum.”
I whimper at his touch.
(simple_option:"15 yes","Obey.","Go all-out trying to please him.")($play:"sex loop","handjob")(if:$choice is "Go all-out trying to please him.")[*"Yes, Master,"* I gasp out, my voice coated with a disgusting mix of eagerness and self-loathing. Each stroke of my hand along his grotesque goblin shaft feels debasing, yet a twisted part of me burns with a need to please him.
*"I love jerkin' your fat gobbo cock, Master Snib,"* I murmur, the words slithering off my tongue like venom. My hands quicken their pace, my fingers tightly coiled around the pulsing girth of his monstrous dick. The slick sound of my palm sliding along his veiny length fills the air.
He chuckles, a guttural sound of pure goblin delight, "That's it, tit-slut, milk me good. Glad yer high and mighty hero hands don't enjoy a sword hilt better than a fat gobbo shaft, eh?"
My lips part, a choked sob escaping as I force myself to continue.
"Oh, Master, your big gobbo balls are churnin' with so much cum... please, let it all out. Drain those heavy balls... fill this condom nice and full..."
Snib grunts, his hips bucking into my strokes. "Yer doin' good, cow tits. Keep talkin'—makes my dick throb harder."
Encouraged by his crude praise. "I'm just a human cum-dump for yer superior gobbo cock, aren't I, Master?"
The words scald my soul, but I feel the results. His cock swells under my grip, the veins pulsating wildly as he nears release.
"Please, Master Snib, I need it... I need your hot gobbo load. Show me how a real man fills up a condom... make me watch it swell with your thick, filthy spunk..."](else:)["Yes..." The word is barely a whisper but it seems to please him enough for now.
"That's it, sugar tits." His voice is laced with satisfaction and a little bit of surprise. "Tell me more..."
More sobs rack through me as I struggle for words. But they come anyway - lewd and crude just as he likes them - tumbling from my lips like a shameful confession.
"I need you... need you to cum..." I choke out between heavy sobs.
"Yeah? Ya want all that gobbo spunk?"]
A blush creeps up my face as the words hang in the air between us but still I nod - because that's what will end this torment tonight. That's what will give us another peaceful day tomorrow with Elara.
"Alright then," he chuckles darkly before demanding again: "Use yer tits."
I freeze for a moment, shocked by his words.
"Get on yer back, cow tits."
My body automatically obeys, falling back onto the rough sheets, my huge tits bouncing and jiggling with the sudden movement. I wince at the harsh landing but stay silent, watching as Snib clambers onto me.
His pudgy belly presses against mine, his weight driving the air from my lungs. I can feel his balls dragging against my quivering tummy as he positions himself over me, and the sensation is both grotesque and shamefully arousing.
"Alright," he grunts out, pulling on the strings of my bikini top. "Time to put them fat milkers to use."
I can only watch in horrified silence as he slides his cock under my bikini top. The rubbery tip prods against my chest for a moment before sliding between the deep valley of my cleavage.
My bikini top stretches painfully tight around his girth but stays secure in place. "Squeeze 'em together," he orders.
(simple_option:"15 tits","Use your tits.")($play:"sex loop","handjob")With a resigned sigh, I push my disgust deep down and bring both of my hands to my grotesquely large breasts. They feel like two massive orbs of flesh, so soft and heavy in my hands that they practically spill over the sides as I heft them together. It's like holding onto two squirming creatures that want nothing more than to break free from my grip, they're so big, heavy and soft, wanting to be anything but contained or controlled.
I press them around Snib's repulsively throbbing goblin dick.
"Look at that titty-cunt squeezing my meat," Snib sneers, grabbing my breasts and pushing them against his shaft even harder. "Now start movin', tit-bitch."
The command sends a fresh wave of shame washing over me but I grit my teeth and obey.
The weight of my own tits chafes against my forearms as I begin to pump my chest up and down, my boobs dragging and twisting against his veiny shaft, adding an obscene layer of stimulation. Each drag sends prickles of misplaced pleasure through my over-sensitive breasts, forcing a small moan to bubble up my throat. I struggle to create enough friction, to milk that vile cock nestled in my tit-pussy, with my sheer squelching mass of my boob flesh.
"Ya like how my gobbo cock fucks your big, slutty milkers, don’t ya?" Snib taunts, his voice gratingly triumphal. I can only bite my lip, holding back the tears and moans that fight to surface. He demands a response, his eyes narrowed in lecherous delight.
"Yes, Master," I manage to gasp out, humiliation washing over me in crashing waves. "I love your cock between my… my tits…" The words taste vile in my mouth, but they seem to fuel Snib’s arousal further.
*Talking like this may make him finish faster.*
"Louder, cow tits! Tell the whole inn what a titty-slut you are," he commands, thrusting harder between the soft vice of my tits.
My face flushes a deeper red, if possible, as I shout, "I'm a titty-slut! I love this goblin cock fucking my big whore tits!" The admission feels like a brand on my soul, each word etching shame deeper into my heart.
"Yehhh... milk my fucking dick with yer tit-cunt... yer huge, slutty fucking cow udders," Snib pants heavily.
($hidden_gem:"My big nipples drag back and forth over him, slick with sweat, overheated from the sickening activity. The stimulation is maddening; I feel like I might burst, chest heaving with sobs and moans intertwining as a melody of my disgrace.","My mammoth mammaries maneuver mischievously over him, slippery with sweat, seared from the sordid, seething struggle. The sensation is soul-shattering; I feel like I may explode, my bosom billowing with bawls and breathy whimpers woven into a wretched waltz of my woe.")
"Oh, master, please... I'm your tit-fuck toy... Use me... Please cum..."
This is so wrong. But still I continue - because this is what he wants; this is what will give us another peaceful day tomorrow with Elara.
I groan as I feel his heavy balls dragging along my tummy
"You know what else yer wife would love?” The question laced with cruel mockery makes my stomach twist in knots of anticipation and dread. “If she saw her once brave husband acting like a proper cow milking my cock with her big fat tits."
"Don’t... talk about El…" The plea dies on my lips but he ignores it.
A glint of satisfied cruelty flickers in his eyes. “She’d be so disgusted seeing her mighty hero husband, turned into a goblin's tit-slut.”
His words are like a slap to the face but they pale in comparison to the shock that courses through me when I feel another dribble of wetness slip down my inner thighs. Even amidst my horror and humiliation, there is a part of me that is starting to enjoy this.
"More," Snib grunts out roughly, feeling too much friction.
More what? More spit?
With trembling hands, I gather as much saliva as I can before letting it dribble onto the rubber shaft lodged between my breasts. The condom stretches taut against his wide girth and purple helmet that protrudes lewdly out from between her squeezed-together breasts. Every movement sends a new wave of sensation crashing through me - sharp and intense - making me writhe beneath him.
My over-sensitive nipples graze against the smooth rubber stroke after stroke - creating an intoxicating friction that sends shivers down my spine ebbing arousal in its wake.
"I... can't," I sputter out desperately, hot tears rolling down the sides of my face.
But Snib just chuckles harshly at that. "Ye will... and ye'll enjoy every fuckin’ minute of it."
I continue pumping my tits along his girth, but nothing more seems to happen. I don’t feel his tension building. He’s enjoying it, sure, but… ugh.
"Awww, cow tits... What's the matter?" Snib's grating voice rings out above me. "Is this too rough for ya?"
I whimper in response, meeting his gaze with teary eyes. "I... I can't make you... with just my tits..."
A low chuckle resonates from above me as Snib pulls back and straddles my belly - his massive cock resting against the underside of my breasts. "Then ye best figure something else out."
"Perhaps... I could..." My voice trails off into a whisper. I don’t even want to say it.
But he hears me anyway, his yellow eyes sparkling with interest as he leans forward, grinning. "What was that?"
"I could... use... my mouth?” The words feel unnatural on my tongue and it takes all of my willpower not to retch at my own suggestion.
His reaction is immediate – a toothy grin that rivals the size of his monstrous girth.
"Not yer worst idea, but,” Snib grins down at me, his yellow eyes gleaming with cruelty. "This would be so easier for ya without this." He tugs on the inflated end of his condom, filled to the brim with his slimy precum.
"No...don't," I whisper, whimpering at the inevitable, "I don't... I can't swallow... any…"
His laughter echoes in the room, a harsh, grating sound that slices through my pleas like a blade. "Ye should have thought about that before ye just agreed to suck me off. With this rubbery thing, ye’ll be here all night."
He starts to roll the condom down his shaft and I can see it's internally glistening with his spunk - heavy, murky and opaque. My stomach twists at the sight but it's nothing compared to the smell that floods the room as soon as it's removed.
Goblin musk. Pure, concentrated, pheromone-ridden goblin musk.
(simple_option:"15 take it","He ties the precum-filled condom to your bikini top.")($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")My head swims as I draw in a deep breath, my body reacting instinctively to the scent. My nipples pebble sharply beneath my bikini top and another rush of wetness trickles down my inner thighs. My lower tummy clenches and blossoms with warmth.
I protest weakly, my limbs trembling in terror and revulsion - but also tingling in an excitement that only seems to grow stronger with each passing second. My protests get whimpery and soft.
"Hmm? What was that?" Snib grins down at me, his voice slick with amusement.
He’s holding his used condom in one grubby hand. His swollen cock bobs in front of my face, thick and oozing with arousal.
"Look at this," he sneers, waving the condom in front of my flushed face, "An’ I didn’t even cum yet. But we can't have ya forgetting yer place now, can we, cow tits?"
The rubbery balloon of goblin precum squishes as he bunches it in his fist. I can't tear my eyes away. It's a humiliating reminder of how this vile creature has power over me, of what my body is being forced to respond to. The slick, creamy preseed looks heavy and obscene in its rubbery confines, wobbling with each of Snib's jerky movements.
My eyes widen as my crude goblin master reaches down, his grubby fingers tugging at the string of my bikini top. I suck in a sharp breath as he ties the inflated end of the condom to it, his rough fingers grazing against the fat swells of my breasts. "There," he grins, stepping back to admire his handiwork, "A perfect decoration for a slut like ya."
The condom sways from its perch between my heaving breasts, its weight pressing down against my belly. My skin crawls at the warm, slimy feel of it against me, and I can't help but whimper in shame. It’s so obscene, so degrading.
Snib's guttural laughter echoes in the room, making my cheeks burn even hotter. His stubby fingers wrap around his erect cock, stroking it leisurely as he watches me squirm. His musk fills the air, making my head spin and my body flush with unwanted arousal.
I swallow hard, my gaze flicking up to meet his. He's waiting for me, his yellow eyes gleaming with anticipation. I can't believe this is happening to me. That I, once the great hero Aldric, am now lying beneath this wretched goblin, about to pleasure him with my mouth.
"Go on," Snib coaxes, his voice gruff and raspy, "Ya got a lot of work ahead of ya." His eyes flit down to the condom tied to my bikini, a crude smirk playing on his lips. It's a stark reminder of what I have to swallow, what I have to do to protect Elara.
He slowly strokes his freed member a few times in front of my face - purring in satisfaction as precum leaks from his purple tip and lands searingly on my breasts.
“I think yer gonna love how I taste.”
(pic:"ch15/post cum.png","center","borderless")
I whimper and turn away from him, but he grabs hold of my hair and forces me back into position. His cock brushes up against my lips – leaving salty trails of precum behind. The taste is vile – bitter and metallic – making my stomach churn with disgust…but still…there’s this small part of me that craves it.
Building up the courage, I position my lips at the tip again, the dark green, veiny shaft twitching eagerly before my face. The smell of him—musk mixed with the bitter tang of his precum—is all-encompassing, filling my nostrils even as it sends an undeniable pulse of heat straight to my already sodden pussy.
"Open up wide, cow tits," Snib grunts, his thick goblin accent thick with arousal. "Show me how much you love takin' gobbo cock."
With a trembling breath, I part my lips, feeling the hot, pulsing head of his cock push past them. The taste is immediate and overwhelming—salty, bitter, with an animalistic goblin taste that makes my head spin. It coats my tongue, thick and invasive.
Snib chuckles darkly above me, his filthy fingers tangling in my raven hair, guiding my head onto his length. "That's it, tit-slut. Take it deep. Show me how a hero sucks cock."
($play:"sex loop",0)(simple_option:"15 lick","Obey.")"Mmm, yer gettin' good at this," Snib taunts, his voice laced with mockery. "Betcha a couple days ago, you never thought you'd be back on your knees suckin' a gobbo's dick, huh, hero?"
I can only whimper in response, the sound muffled by the hefty girth stretching my lips. My hands are on his little green thighs, feeling the coarse, wiry hair against my palms as I struggle to pace myself. His cock is too large, too thick—it fills my mouth completely, pressing insistently at the entrance to my throat.
His girth fills me entirely, stretching my jaw to its limits—every inch I take makes it harder to breathe, the thick, salty sludge of his pre-cum coating my tongue, making me want to retch. It drizzles down my throat with each bob of my head, the salty taste starting to make my head swim and my core clench.
"There ya go, tit-slut, take it all," Snib growls, his hand tightening in my hair, guiding my head along the length of his shaft. "Show me how much you love gobbo cock. Say it!"
($notification:"Pheromones are making you obey...")(simple_option:"15 say","Say it.")($play:"sex loop","bj")"I— *gag* —I love gobbo cock," I force the words out around his pulsing member, each syllable distorted and wet, a slovenly, disgraceful admission that burns my soul even as it seems to please him.
"That's right, cow tits, let it fill ya up," Snib's encouragement is thick with lewdness. His other grimy hand wanders down, tweaking a nipple through the soaked fabric of my top, eliciting a sharp gasp that vibrates along his length. "Bet yer missus can't make ya moan like that, eh?"
The dual assault of his hands—one twisted in my hair, the other crudely pinching my nipple—drives me further into depravity. My moans become constant, punctuated by wet gags and chokes as he fucks my mouth with relentless gusto. Each thrust pushes more of his pre-cum past my lips, the salty taint of it seeping down my throat, a rancid river that fills my senses with his dominance.
"Don't forget the balls, tit-bitch!" Snib barks, pulling back slightly to smear his leaky cock across my flushed cheek. "Give 'em some love, or I'll make sure yer wife hears about what a greedy cum-slut you've become!"
Tears stream down my face, mingling with the slick trail of his pre-cum as I lower my head, extending a timid tongue to lap at his heavy, veiny balls. The taste is stronger there, a bitter musk that clings to my taste buds, an indelible mark of my submission.
"Look at you, gobblin' up gobbo balls," Snib laughs heartily, the sound echoing grotesquely in the small room. "Bet you never thought you'd be here, did ya? Yer wife thinks yer cleanin', and ya are! Yer a goblin's nut sack cleaner."
With every thrust of Snib's monstrous cock into my mouth, a splattering *schlap* resounds, the filthy slickness intensifying as his precum saturates my tongue, and begins pooling at the back of my throat. My head spins, the taste of it overwhelmingly foul—thick, briny, and unbearably strong. It's hard to think of anything other than the overwhelming presence of his member, the feeling of it filling my mouth almost completely.
"I bet she'd love to see you like this, wouldn't she?"
His cruel words tighten around my heart like a vice. The image of my beloved Elara, walking in on this horrid scene, flashes before my eyes, making me choke back a sob. But Snib doesn't relent, his hips pistoning forward, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth, the purple tip hitting the back of my throat with each thrust.
"Mmm, all that heroism, all that power—gone now, ain't it?" he continues, his voice a low, mocking growl. "Now you're nuttin' but a gobbo's cumdump. Say it."
"Mhmm," I moan, the sound a choked, guttural noise as I try to pull back, only to be forced down again. "I'm—I'm a gobbo's c-cumdump..."
Each word feels like another nail in the coffin of my pride, but the taste of his pre-cum is intoxicating, the pheromones flooding my senses. They cloud my thoughts, making it harder and harder to resist Snib's The potent musk fills the air, making my head light and my core burn with an unbearable heat.
"Suck it, tit-slut," Snib commands, his tone dripping with authority. "Make those lips nice ‘n tight around my cock. Show me how much y’ fucking love that dick.”
I comply, my lips tightening around his cock, creating a wet, obscene vacuum, cheeks hollowing out. The taste of his precum continues to intensify, its thick, briny flavor coating my tongue, spreading a numbness and heat through my entire body. I can't help it—moans and mewls escape my full lips, each one more desperate than the last.
"That's it," Snib groans, thrusting deeper into my mouth, his huge cock stretching my throat. "You're gettin' the hang of it. Just imagine your wife walkin' in right now, seein' her beloved deepthroatin’ gobbo dick. Bet she’d be so proud.”
That's when I notice something strange - his words no longer sting as much as even a few minutes before.
My hands, once trembling with shame and resistance, are now steady, gripping his spongy, verdant flesh as I work to please him. Each helpless moan, each muffled sob echoes in the small room, reverberating against the bare walls.
Every wet *schluuuulp* as his cock slips in and out of my mouth, every filthy slurp as I struggle to keep up with his relentless pace, sounds louder in my ears. My brain becomes fuzzy, every sharp edge dulled, leaving only a primal need to submit, to please.
"Say y’ want my gobbo cum," Snib growls, his grip in my hair tightening. "Say you’re a fuckin' slut for this gobbo dick."
It takes all my willpower to move my lips around him, forming the degrading words. "I... I want your gobbo cum," I whimper, a shiver of arousal coursing through me. "I'm a slut for... for gobbo dicks."
The admission sends another wave of wetness between my legs, my panties thoroughly soaked through, the sheer fabric clinging to my entrance. I can feel my mind slipping further into the fog of desire, the tingling warmth spreading from my core to every inch of my body.
The popping sound of the pre-cum filled condom tied to my bikini top bounces against my chest with every head-bob, a constant reminder of the toxins entering my brain.
My cunt throbs in time with every suckle on his veiny length - soaking itself further as though preparing for some pleasurable war that leaves me quivering from its ruinous call to arms.
“Why be a hero,” Snib’s voice is guttural and labored, “when you're so fucking good at being a cow? Takin’ yer medicine like a good lil’ bitch.”
(simple_option:"15 mouth","Let him fuck your mouth.","Let him fuck your tits.")($play:"sex loop","bj")(if:$choice is "Let him fuck your tits.")[($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")As Snib grinds his thick, grotesque goblin cock between the soft, pillowy mounds of my sweaty tits, the obscene *plap plap plap* of his flesh against mine fills the room.
I'm lost in the sensation, my brain fuzzy, every filthy thrust making me moan mindlessly, a stupid sound. My eyes roll back, my vision blurs with tears of shame and unwanted arousal.
The whole act is humiliating, his massive dick sliding slickly in the valley of my tits, the head occasionally popping out drenched in my saliva and pre-cum before going back into the warm embrace of my jiggling udders. The way he uses my body, how effortlessly he's reduced me to a pair of fuckable breasts, it breaks me yet sends shivers of degenerate delight down my spine.
"Look at ye," Snib chides crudely, "a wet mess, aren't ya? Can't keep those fingers outta your slutty cunt, can ye?"
He's right. My hand is between my legs, inside the tiny fabric of my panties, fingers working inside my puffy, dripping cunt. The sound is indecent—*schlick, schlick, schlick*. My other hand gropes at a breast, pinching the nipple hard before I squeeze it against his dick, somehow trying to anchor myself from floating away into this fog of perverse pleasure.
He laughs and just pulls out from between my breasts, watching me degenerate into this mewling, moaning mess on the bed.
“Yer supposed to be pleasin' me, not yourself,” he teases mercilessly as he grabs my wrists, yanking them away from my sopping wet cunt. An involuntary yelp of loss escapes me as his massive hands replace mine, his thick digits expertly stroking the engorged lips of my pussy. The rough pads of his fingers drag against my clitoris, setting off fireworks behind my closed eyelids.
I moan, a high, needy sound.
"Oi, sugar tits,” Snib's gruff voice breaks through the fog of my arousal. “Ready to take this cock, eh?” His massive length slides up between my quivering ass cheeks, hot and heavy, leaking precum that dribbles down the small of my back.
The cool trickle of his precum against my overheated skin makes me gasp, bringing me back to a harsh reality for just a moment.
"W-what...are you...d-d..." My speech breaks, incomplete, as another wave of arousal hits me hard.
He grins, a lascivious twist of his lips as he looks down at me. “Oh? What was that dearie? Want me to put it in?”
"No!" I manage to gasp out, still lost in the rhythmic abuse I'm giving my cunt, my hand a blur, my breaths quick and ragged.
But Snib is relentless, his obscene suggestion hanging in the air like a foul scent. "Come on, let me slip it inside. Just for a bit. I promise I’ll wrap it up nice for ya. Bet 'ere won't be much difference for yer slutty hole, eh?"
His cock nudges, insistent, at the slick folds from behind, the head pressing dangerously at my entrance. Each grind sends sparks of unwanted pleasure coursing through me, my moans growing louder, more desperate.
"No... n-no..." I continue to whimper, my voice crumbling under the weight of rising, treacherous pleasure.
"Are ya sure 'bout that, cow tits?" His tone is mocking, his breath hot against the nape of my neck as he keeps grinding his girth against me. The heat from his body, the weight of his cock, it's all becoming too much.
He pauses, pulling back slightly, only to snap the packet of a condom right next to my ear. "See? Gonna wrap it up. Just a quick ride, sugar tits. You'll love it."
And that's when I feel it—his huge, throbbing cock nudging up against my slick folds, pressing insistently. The tip just breaches me, barely entering, and it shatters the last of my resolve. My body stutters into acceptance, a quiet, defeated moan slipping past my bitten lip.](else:)[($play:"sex loop","grimjaw facefuck")(pic:"ch15/facefuck.png","center","borderless")My mind blurs further into depravity.
His goblin hands grip my hair tightly, controlling the movement, turning my mouth into nothing more than a tool for his pleasure. "Look at ye," he grunts, a filthy sneer in his voice, "a wet mess, fucking yourself while gobbo cock fucks your throat."
Somewhere amidst the throat-gagging thrusts, I realize my hand has slipped beneath the thin fabric of the panties. My fingers are inside my pussy, exploring the swollen, slick folds of my cunt that quiver with unwanted need. The squelchy sounds of my self-pleasure mix with the sloppy, wet noises coming from my overstuffed mouth.
My eyes roll back as Snib's cock hits the back of my throat roughly, each relentless push meeting less and less resistance as my body submits on its own accord. My muffled moans vibrate against his thick shaft, and each time I pull back for air, I'm invaded by the musky, salty scent of his goblin precum, corrupting me further.
"Look at ye," Snib growls, yanking his slick, drooling cock from my mouth, leaving it gasping, spit dripping down my chin. "A wet mess. Beggin' for it, ain't ya, tit-slut?”
My mouth feels oddly empty without his girth stretching it, a perverse sense of loss as saliva and precum mingle down my heaving chest. My hand works furiously between my wide-splayed thighs, the shameful *shlick, shlick* of my glistening pussy filling the quiet moments.
"Please," I find myself whining, my voice broken, breathy with thick lust, "Please, put it back... I need it..."
Without a word, Snib grips his smeared, glistening cock and feeds it back into my eager mouth. I suckle on it desperately, like a babe to a bottle, my lips forming a tight seal as I try to gulp down every inch he offers. Meanwhile, my other hand continues the humiliating rhythm against my dripping cunt, unwilling to stop the filthy pleasure.
Then, he pulls out again.
On my hands and knees—I’m barely coherent as Snib hovers behind me, his massive fat cock drooling more precum down the valley of my jiggly ass cheeks. Each throb of his length against my plush, quivering buttocks sends spikes of heat coursing through my veins.
His voice, so full of carnal promise, rumbles above, "Oi, sugar tits. Ready to take this cock proper now, eh?"
The idea shatters me, tears pooling again as I shake my head, my voice a shattered whisper, "W-what...are you...d-d...no... no..."
I can feel it, his tip nudging at my wet, slick folds, his bulk pressing insistently. "Sure about that, hm?" he challenges, his voice a rough caress that tickles all the wrong nerves.
"No... n-no..." I continue to whimper out, my resolve crumbling as I feel the hot, wet tip of his cock pressing against my pussy, coaxing open my body’s instinctual need.
He grins, a monstrous gleam in his yellow eyes. "Just a quick one with a rubber on, and I'll make sure you're well satisfied... fast n’ hard, ye'll love it."
Despite my dwindling protests, the haze from his pheromones surrounding me, my body betrays my wishes, rocking back into his pelvis, pressing my fat ass against him. The heavy, hot girth of him smears his virile precum over my swollen pussy lips.
*That's dangerous!*
"No..." my protests grow weaker, each grinded thrust against my clit drawing moans more desperate than the last.
"Are ya sure about that?" Snib's voice is coaxing now, a devil's whisper that frays my last vestiges of resolve. "Feels like this pussy's beggin' for it."]
(simple_option:"15 condom","...just use a condom...")($play:"ambience","snib dominates")(pic:"ch15/condom.jpg")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"sound","unwrap condom")The moment Snib pulls out the condom, my heart lurches. The goblin grins down at me, yellow eyes glinting with cruel delight as he unrolls it onto his massive cock. The sight is obscenely erotic - each inch of his girth being slowly encased by the thin layer of rubber.
A cold dread starts to settle in my stomach as I watch him fumble with the condom, trying to fit it over his oversized member. My mind races with thoughts of impending penetration. I've never... not like this...not...
But my body has other ideas. Each moan and squirm that escapes me is a traitorous testament to my own arousal. My legs coil and twist, squeezing together in a futile attempt to stave off the throbbing need building within my wet folds.
($hidden_gem:"My thick, heavy tits heave with each panting breath I draw in, a bead of sweat trickling between them and pooling around the base of my overtaxed bikini top. Yet their jiggling movements only serve as a reminder of the obscene bulges they've become – another part of me now shaped for Snib’s pleasure.","My massive, milk-laden mounds move with each exasperated exhale I extract, droplets of perspiration dribbling down their divide and collecting at the cusp of my constricting costume. Yet, the quivering quakes serve solely as symbolic signals of the scandalous swells they’ve shaped into – another asset appropriated for Snib’s satisfaction.")
As if thinking about him summons the goblin into action, Snib suddenly barks out a raucous laughter drawing my attention back to him. He waves his fully sheathed cock before me - rubber straining against the monstrous girth - a symbol of debasement I'm doomed to endure.
"Look here, sugar tits." His gruff voice cuts through my hazy thoughts, bringing me back to reality. "Yer gonna get fucked today. No stoppin’ that now."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, sending shivers down my spine and igniting butterflies in my stomach – but they're not exactly borne out of fear... more like anticipation...
"I-If you...you're going...please..." I whimper out weakly, closing my eyes against this shameful sight and the wave of unwanted arousal it ignites within me. "...just... just be gentle."
Snib raises an eyebrow at that before letting out another round of gruff chuckles.
"Gentle?" He smirks at me mischievously before grabbing onto one meaty handful of tit flesh, causing me to gasp aloud. "We'll see about that."
As he squeezes harder and pulls me towards him roughly, there's an offer - something that helps cut through the foggy haze clouding my mind.
"If ye manage not ta cum before I do," he says, leering down at me with gleaming yellow eyes full of excitement and lustful anticipation. "I'll leave ye and yer little wife alone for a whole week."
My heart skips a beat at his words – freedom? An entire week free from Snib's disgusting hands? The stakes are high but so is the reward ... Maybe if I can just endure...
"But," He adds with a devious smirk on his face while tugging harder on my breast making me whimper in both pain and pleasure alike, "If ya do cum before me... yer in for a long night.”
The lewd sight of my massive tits jiggling under the weight of the precum-filled condom tied to my bikini top sends shivers running through me. Heat flushes across my skin, staining my cheeks a deep crimson as I watch Snib leer at me eagerly.
His stubby fingers wrap around the waistband of my skirt and with one gruff tug, he yanks it down. The sudden force sends tremors running through me, my body shaking in response. My flesh jiggles with each pull, the leather fabric catching on the generous swell of my asscheeks.
"Fuck," Snib grunts, tugging harder at the stubborn piece of clothing. The strain is too much for it and with a sharp rip, my skirt comes free. A soft gasp leaves me at the sudden exposure; a gust of cool air kisses my heated skin making goosebumps rise all over me.
I lay there, sprawled on the bed in just my once-white panties and bikini top. I can feel Snib's gaze roaming over me - a predator eyeing his prey - sending shivers running down my spine.
My panties are so soaked they cling to the inside of my thigh like glue. The fabric is stretched taut against me, digging into the soft flesh of my child-birthing hips.
(pic:"ch15/tip.png","center","borderless")
"Oi! Lift yer legs up," he orders gruffly.
Despite myself, I respond to his command; lifting my legs up in the air and exposing myself even further to him. My heart races wildly in my chest; I’m so vulnerable under his hungry gaze.
The position forces my tits to bobble up and down on my chest, their heavy movement causing more precum to dribble out from the tied-off condom hung around them. The sensation makes me whimper in involuntary pleasure as another wave of arousal courses through me.
My hyper-sensitive nipples rub against the tight fabric, making them strain even harder against their restraints. A low moan escapes from between tightly clenched teeth as they respond to each slight movement with an electrifying jolt.
Each heartbeat sends another rush of blood through them – keeping them hard and achingly sensitive – another constant reminder of what I have become.
Snib's crude laughter echoes throughout the room, breaking through the foggy haze clouding my mind. My face flushes hotter as embarrassment creeps up on me once again.
Suddenly, he's reaching for me again; his grubby fingers wrapping around one thick thigh before spreading it wider apart – opening me up for him. Each touch sends shivers running through me – sparks igniting deep within that fan into an inferno consuming all thoughts but one: anticipation.
The first touch of his cock against me makes me gasp aloud; caught between a moan and whimper as his precum-slicked length slides along mine. The overpowering scent of his musk fills the room – making it hard to breathe – invading every sense till all I can think about is him.
The world spins around me as I feel his rubber-sheathed cockhead press against me. Against the slick, swollen lips of my pussy. My heart beats wildly in my chest, each hammering thump echoing the impending doom of his invasion.
The moment of penetration is both painfully slow and devastatingly quick.
One second, I'm trying to prepare myself for his thrust - the next, I feel the tip of him pressing inside me. The sensation is immediate and overwhelming; a sickeningly erotic mix of pleasure and violation. His cockhead nudging past my folds, pushing into my body.
(pic:"ch15/insert.png","center","borderless")
*I'm sorry, Elara...*
(simple_option:"16 fuck","He's going to fuck you.")($play:"sex loop",0)(newtrack:"snib dominates","aud/snib dominates.mp3")(set:$outfit to "bikini")($play:"sex loop",0)(unless:(track:"snib dominates","isplaying"))[(masteraudio:"stopall")]($chapter_title:16,"A Long Night Ends")($play:"ambience","snib dominates")(set:$gender to "female")(pic:"ch16/insert 1.png","center","borderless")($play:"ambience","snib dominates")Snib’s gruff little grunts fill the room.
I can feel his girth stretching me open, the wet slickness of my own cunt easing his entrance into me. It's an alien sensation - something so different from any other I've ever experienced...
My body convulses involuntarily as he pushes a little further inside.
"Ooh," he chortles with a grotesque grin on his face, "tight little twat ya’ve got there, ain’t it? Just squeezin’ around ma knob."
($hidden_gem:"A guttural moan tears from my throat, my pussy clenching tighter around his thick, green shaft.",
"A guttural groan gurgles from my gullet, my pussy pincer-pressing the pulsating green girth of the goblin.")
"Fuck, bitch, ye're wetter than a troll’s swamp," he grunts, shoving himself deeper, his fat cock plowing through my resisting folds.
"Pl-please," I stammer, my voice trembling with a mixture of dread and unwanted arousal. "J-just... not too deep..."
"Nah, ye made a deal, sugar tits, now ya gotta pay tha toll."
My heart is pounding in my ears.
"Fuck, yer tight!" he grunts, his hips slamming against mine, "Look at that—yer plump pussy's takin’ all of it!"
"S-slower, please!" I gasp out, my voice hitching in pure panic and discomfort as he continues shoving himself deeper. "It’s too... too big..."
“Ha! Ain't no stopping now, ya silly little whore," he grunts, pushing another inch in. My pussy lips squelch around his thick, warty shaft. "Yer cunt's begging for this.”
His cock is so thick, every inch a trial as it forces my inner walls apart. The grotesque warts and gnarly texture of his veiny pole scrape against my tender insides, sending jolts of shock through my nerves. I bite my lip, a whimper escaping as he pushes another inch in, my body spasming.
"Please, Snib, I—" My voice cracks, tears streaming down my face as his length stretches me further. "I'll do... I'll do anything..."
He snickers.
“Oh, ye already are, slut. This cunt's mine,” he hisses, shoving another inch in.
The smell of his putrid body and the sweaty exertion makes my stomach churn. His greasy, green flesh grinds against me, his little potbelly pressing heavily on my own flat, feminine tummy as he looms over me.
“Feel that? Yer no longer a man. Just a whore for goblin cock,” Snib laughs, slamming more of himself in with gleeful abandon. My walls stretch obscenely wide, my tight little cunt barely able to handle his huge schlong. His warty cockhead feels like it's going to split me in two, the sensation a sickening blend of pain and an unnatural arousal that only makes it worse. “C’mon, sugar tits, beg for it,” he demands. "Yer just a slut."
My voice catches in my throat, the humiliation of it all threatening to drown me. Every word he spits out corrodes what little dignity I have left.
It's a moment that should be sacred, cherished... given to a lover. Instead it's this... this monster. A goblin — a creature so beneath me, a green thing I wouldn't have deigned to kill before. Yet here he is, wearing down my resolve and taking away from me that which should never have belonged to him in the first place.
And then…
(pic:"ch16/insert 2.png","center","borderless")(simple_option:"16 beg","Beg for it.","Don't.")($play:'sex loop','handjob')"That's it, darling, pump that massive gobbo meat," Snib jeers, his voice dripping with perverse glee. "Yeah, like that! Faster now. *Milk* me just like your precious hero hubby Elise did!"
He leans back against the couch, his disgusting smirk wide as he relishes the control he holds over the scene. His eyes, filled with malicious excitement, trail over Elara's strained, trembling form.
"C’mon, wifey, put some elbow into it! Ain’t you wanna make me nut?"
Elara's fingers tighten, the thick goo of pre-cum making her strokes more slippery, more obscene. With a disgusted grimace, she spits onto Snib’s erection, the saliva mingling with the sticky precum to create a slick, revolting mixture that makes her hands glide even more luridly along the throbbing girth.
"Fuck yeah," Snib grunts, his hips bucking into her hands, driving his massive length through the ring of her fingers. “Spit on it more! Lube it up good!”
The sight is horrifying — my Elara, her beautiful face twisted in revulsion as she obediently follows every nasty prompt, her hands a blur on Snib’s glistening, pulsing cock.
($hidden_gem:"Her concentration on the task is absolute, but the subtle flaring of her nostrils and the dilating of her pupils do not escape my notice. I recognize these signs — the involuntary responses to the pheromonal haze that Snib's vile shaft emits. The same haze that clouded my reason, dictated my compliance, and deepened my despair.", "Her focus on the filthy task is firm, but the faint flaring of her nostrils and the dilation of her pupils do not disappear from my discernment. I detect these details — the instinctive indications to the insidious incense that Snib's sordid shaft spews. The same smoke that smeared my sanity, directed my deeds, and deepened my despair.")
I feel a surge of desperation as I realize how close she is to sinking into the fog that I know all too well. The same fog that made me feel detached from my own actions and choices, leaving me adrift in a sea of arousal and compliance.
Snib's grunting grows more animalistic. "Yeah, just like that, keep goin’! Show me how much you want it. Show me how good you can be for your goblin master!"
My breath catches in my throat. This can't be happening. Not to Elara. I have to do something, anything. My eyes dart around the room desperately, searching for anything that might stop this nightmare.
There! A clay flowerpot, sitting unobtrusively on the windowsill, half-filled with soil. I stagger toward it, each movement fraught with desperation. The collar tightens slightly as if warning me, but it doesn’t stop me. I grasp it, my fingers cold and trembling, hoping it might catch—
Snib smirks, noticing the changes coming over my wife as she inhales more of his scent. "Ye starting to like it, huh? Bet ye never thought you’d get off on goblin cock. Say it! Say you love my fat gobbo dick!"
Elara whimpers, her voice barely audible, her lips trembling as she repeats the humiliating phrase, "I... I love your goblin... your goblin cock."
"That’s it, that’s my good wifey," Snib crows with delight. "Now, spit on it. Make it nice and wet."
Elara leans forward and spits on Snib’s pulsating cock, her saliva mingling with the slimy pre-cum, her hand churning the vile mixture on his throbbing length. The sound of her sob mixes with the squelching noises of her hand pumping up and down his slick, disgusting shaft.
"Yeah, work that shaft, you filthy slut. You ain't never going back to being a prim and proper wife after this. Gonna think of this fat gobbo cock every time ye touch yourself."
My heart twists in agony, seeing the defeat in her eyes as she succumbs to his crude dominance. Inside, I’m screaming, desperate to stop this, to protect her from this foul creature's corruption. But the heavy collar around my neck is a constant reminder of my own helplessness.
I stagger back to Elara, desperate to intercept the monstrous load with the pot. But as I reach her side, Snib barks out a laugh, his cock throbbing violently in her hands.
(simple_option:"14 catch","Try to catch the load in the flowerpot!")($play:"sex loop",0)(live:3s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","cum 1")] "You're a real slut now," Snib croons, "You're gonna be craving my fat gobbo cock. Ain't no going back to being a prude wife after this."
His words land like blows, each one a painful sear to my heart. As he continues to degrade Elara, I stumble forward, the flowerpot gripped tightly in my hands. But with a violent swipe, Snib sends the pot flying, and it shatters against the stone floor.
"Hands off, Elise!" he barks, grinning maliciously. "Yer gonna sit and watch your pretty wife become a proper gobbo slut."
The collar constricts around my neck, forcing me to halt. Elara whimpers as Snib forces her back onto the couch, his heavy cock looming over her beautiful face. My eyes widen with horror as I realize what's about to occur.
"You've been a real good wifey," Snib jeers, beginning to jerk himself off over Elara's terrified face. "Think it's about time you got a nice, big face-full of gobbo cream."
"Elise... Elise, help!" Elara pleads, her terrified eyes meeting mine. But the collar tightens warningly, silencing my desperate cries.
Snib grunts, his grotesque features contorting in ecstasy as he strokes himself faster, his hand a blur on his massive goblin cock. His eyes are heavy with sadistic pleasure, the perverse joy he takes in our pain palpable.
He’s close. The nauseating thunk of his heavy balls slapping against his grotesque length, the twitching of his shaft in Elara’s trembling grasp... it’s the same sight I’ve had to endure too many times.
"I'm going to feed you so much gobbo seed, you'll taste me in your dreams," Snib growls.
With a savage grunt, he aligns the sordid slit of his cockhead with Elara's nostril.
Then, with a grunt of satiated pleasure, it happens.
(pic:"ch14/cum up nose.png","center","borderless")
The first *jet* launches direct and purposeful. It's a thick spurt that squirts right up her nostril. The hot goblin seed shoots up, invading her sinus, a direct line to her brain. Elara gags, her body shaking, as she instinctively tries to turn away, but Snib’s hand clamps on her jaw, holding her steady.
"Jus' enjoy it," he hisses, his voice thick with triumph. His free hand maneuvers her face, positioning her like a doll for his pleasure.
The next *gush* of his vile climax aims directly at her mouth. Snib’s cock spills open her lips, the thick, chunky goo pulsing down her throat. It's a forced feeding, a goblin claiming victory in the most intimate, suffocating way possible. Elara's eyes water, her cheeks ballooning slightly as she struggles to swallow the repulsive load.
Snib barks out a laugh, his pleasure peaking as he watches her choke down his seed. "That’s it, drink it down like the good little wife you are."
Then his aim shifts slightly, decorating her face. One egregious stream after another splatters across her skin—a humiliating pattern of his ownership. Each *thick, gooey strand* drapes over her cheeks, dribbles down her chin, and strings disgustingly from her eyebrows. It's a web of goblin filth, marking her indelibly.
Another vile ribbon catches in her lashes, clumping them together in a grotesque parody of makeup. He coats her in his filth, each spurt a brand that she’ll wear long after he’s finished.
"Look at her," Snib crows to me, triumphant and cruel. "Covered in goblin jizz. She’ll never be the same again. Gobbo sperm changes a person... ye know that, right Elise?"
Elara’s once beautiful visage is now streaked and slicked with the nasty, yellow-tinged goblin cum. Her dignity, her essence, seems seeped away with each pulse of Snib's disgusting climax. The last blasts stain her neck and the collar of her blouse, the fabric absorbing his dominance, ruining it as thoroughly as he has ravaged her spirit.
And there, amidst the ruin, she slumps—a masterpiece defiled, a wife demeaned beneath a layer of thick, sticky humiliation. Her breathing is ragged, her mind possibly teetering on the edge of that dark well of despair into which I’ve peered too many times.
Oh, Elara, my heart mourns, my soul screams in silence—what have I allowed to happen to you? What monstrous chapter have we opened now?
(simple_option:"14 life goes on","Your domestic life fully deteriorates...")(set:$se_to_stop to "snib dominates")(display:"stop sound effect")(pic:"ch14/elara cumdump.jpg")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 2")I stand frozen at the threshold of our bedroom, the door flung wide open to reveal a scene of utter depravity. The air inside is thick, rank with the musky smell of goblin seed and the sharp tang of sweat. It clings to every surface, painting a picture of obscene ruin.
Our marriage bed, at one time a haven of love and comfort, is now desecrated—a battlefield of stained sheets streaked with goblin cum.
And there, amid the chaos, lies Elara.
*CLOP CLOP CLOP CLOP CLOP*
Her auburn hair is yanked back in a tight braid, gripped firmly by Snib's grimy hand as he pounds into her from behind. Her pale, freckled skin is flushed a deep, shameful crimson, marred by the bruising grip of his fingers and the occasional *smack* of his palm against her bouncing buttocks.
"Ohhh, yesss! Ruin me, Master Snib! Wreck my useless wifey cunt with that big, thick gobbo cock!" her voice is high-pitched, desperate, aroused and corrupted. Her eyes, once bright with intelligence and warmth, now roll up, glazed and vacant under the thick haze of goblin pheromones.
The sound of his enormous, grotesque balls *smack* against her with each heavy thrust, the filthy squelch of his cock plowing her drenched pussy fills the room, drawing a lurid symphony of primal, debased desire. Snib grunts and growls like the beast he is, his coarse, filthy dialogue painting the air with obscenities.
Snib, gripping a fistful of Elara's braid, yanks her head back, causing her to arch her back even more, presenting herself obscenely to his thrusts. "That's it, me pretty slut! Tell me how much ya love this goblin dick!"
"*Unnghhh*...I love it! I love your fat cock, Master Snib," Elara whimpers, her words slurring into a moan as Snib delivers a sharp spank to her perfectly rounded ass, leaving a vivid red imprint on her pale skin.
The bed creaks under their violent rutting, the legs scraping against the wooden floor with each savage thrust. The room is a cacophony of their carnal noises—the *clapping* of flesh on flesh, her whimpering moans, his grunting sneers. It's a relentless assault on the senses, a tableau of betrayal and degradation laid bare before my eyes.
Elara's once neat and tidy hair is a wild tangle, her freckles stand out stark against her flushed face, which contorts with the blend of pain and pleasure.
"Don't stop, don't fucking stop! Fill me up, stuff me full of your seed, *please*!" Elara begs, her voice desperate, her eyes rolling back, pupils dilated—lost completely in the fog of goblin pheromones.
"That's a good bitch!" Snib cackles, reveling in his control over her, enjoying every moment of my torment as well. "Ya didn't need that hero hubby of yers, eh? I'm your king now!"
I stand there, trembling, my own body betraying me with a cocktail of horror, disgust, and a despairingly familiar arousal as I watch my wife debase herself under the thrusts of this vile creature. The metal collar tightens around my neck as my emotions swirl dangerously high. I’m shaking, caught between the incendiary rage to rip Snib away from her and the crushing realization of my own powerlessness.
Elara's gaze meets mine, glassy and distant, yet filled with a lust-driven madness. "Join us, Elise," she pants, her voice husky. "This is the only way we can be together now. Come feel what a real cock feels like."
My soul crumples at the invitation, the humiliation complete.
Tears sting my eyes.
As Snib reaches his climax, his body tenses, and he pulls Elara's hair harder, tilting her head back. "Here comes your gobbo cream, whore!" he growls, and with a final, brutal thrust, he spills himself inside her. The thick ropes of his cum shoot deep, marking her internally as his property.
Elara cries out, a sound of twisted satisfaction escaping her lips as she feels him fill her up.
The sight is too much. Nausea roils in my stomach, and the room spins as the full weight of our shattered lives crashes down upon me.
Snib, still embedded within Elara, turns his head to smirk at me. "Well, Elise? Gonna join the party, or are you just gonna stand there and cry?"
(pic:"ch14/elara cumdump end.jpg")
($game_over:"14 hips",14,"Snib turned your wife into his cum dumpster!"){
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(set: $pages to $pages - _pagesToRemove)
(set: _statChangesToRemove to (find: where _badEndPassages contains its page, ...$stat_changes))
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}($play:"ambience","snib dominates")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 2")(if:$choice is "Beg for it.")[I can feel my resistance crumbling, face burning with shame and body trembling as something breaks inside me. The fabric of who I was, the hero, the man seems like a distant illusion now. It's just me—Elise, sprawled under a little goblin, squirming beneath him.
"P-please, Master Snib," I whimper, my voice reduced to a high-pitched, breathy plea, soaked in desperation. "Please, I n-need it... I need your big, nasty goblin cock. Ram it into my stupid little whore cunt. F-fill me up!"
Snib sneers down at me, his lips twisting into a grotesque grin. "Beg harder, bitch. Show me how much ya want it."
"M-more! Please, more!" I pant, my body betraying any semblance of dignity as I arch my back, pushing my throbbing pussy against his massive shaft. "I’m just a slutty, fuck-hungry whore for your gargantuan cock!"
($change_stat:"snib",2)His grubby hands grab my wide hips, fingers digging in as he aligns himself. My heart races, pounding against my chest like a war drum, each beat echoing the relentless desire that Snib has awakened in me. His grotesque, veiny cock, slick with the sheer amount of my own arousal, hovers at the entrance of my over-sensitized pussy.
"I can’t.. I can't hold back, Master!" I squeal, my voice cracking with raw need. “*Fuck* me, please! Destroy my cunt with that giant goblin dick!"
With one brutal slam, his girthy cock-head fully slams into me. The pain is excruciating — a guttural cry escaping my throat as I feel that last bastion shatter — my hymen - replaced by the fullness of his cock stretching me far wider than I ever imagined.
Something dark inside of me revels in the humiliation.
"Fuck me, use me, I'm just your slutty little fuck-toy!" I wail, hating myself for every word, but the burning need between my thighs only intensifies with each vicious thrust.
He leans closer, his fetid breath washing over my face. "Your wife's gonna despise you, cunt. She’ll never love this broken whore.”
“Gods, yes! Destroy me! I'm nothing but a cock-hungry *bitch* for you!" I cry out, my voice broken, frantically pumping my hips back against him.
($change_stat:"heroism",-10)Something snaps — something inside so vital, so inherently *me* that its absence is both devastating and darkly freeing. My mind blanks, leaving nothing but the raw, animalistic need.
"Fuck me... fuck me harder!" I sob, tears and drool mingling as my face contorts in a grotesque mask of lewd devastation. "Make me cum on your big, fucking goblin dick!"](else-if:$heroism < 70)[($notification:"Your heroism was too low to fully resist...")"I-I'm not a slut," I whisper, the protest feeble, half-hearted even to my own ears. My thighs quiver.
"Relax, cow tits. This is happening whether ye like it or not..."
I close my eyes, trying to steel myself, chanting internally *for Elara, for Elara*. But his greasy hand slides under my lower back, pulling me closer, aligning my hips with his thrust.
"N-no, too big... it's too much," I gasp, a tear trailing down the side of my face.
His yellow eyes gleam. “Feels jest right to me, bitch. Yer gonna take every inch.”
And then he hits it—the barrier of my hymen. The sharp pain momentarily brings clarity, and I thrash under him. “Ahh!” I shriek, the reality of my degradation hitting me—a hero, now pinned down, and *owned* by a creature I’d once considered vermin. A goblin, sinking slowly inside me.
Snib rolls his hips, pressing relentlessly deeper. "Come on, slut. Tell me what you’re thinking about. Your darling wife Elara finding you like this? Split open on goblin dick?”
My mind spins, his words slicing through the last tendrils of my resistance. “I...” My voice trembles, “She won’t... she can’t know. Please...”
(pic:"ch16/insert 3.png","center","borderless")
“A little late for ‘please,’ ain’t it?” Snib chuckles darkly, giving a particularly rough thrust that tears through my hymen, burying himself balls deep inside me. I scream, a raw, torn sound that fills the room.
The pain is sharp, immediate, but it's soon drowned by a deep, crushing wave of disgrace as I feel him fully sheathed within me.
“Ugh... m- Master… y-your cock… inside me…” I admit, the words feeling filthy and wrong on my tongue.
“Yeah? Ye like it?”
“N-no... I don’t... I can’t…” I stutter, but my body has other ideas, the initial shockwave of pain ebbing into a sickening pleasure. My pussy clenches around him tighter, each pulsing of his girth inside me firing nerves I never wished to activate. My body starts...
...milking him.
“That’s it, slut,” he murmurs, starting to move inside me, his hips grinding in deep, merciless circles. “Let go. Just be a good little cock sleeve for your goblin master.”
My resistance crumbles, each thrust eroding my will.
($change_stat:"heroism",-8)“...fuck me,” I find myself pleading, hating how my voice cracks with needy desperation. “Please.”
Snib laughs, derision lacing his bellows. “That’s more like it. Tell me you’re nothing but my fuck-toy.”
Tears stream down my cheeks, my breaths coming in ragged sobs as I cave completely under the weight of his words and the relentless pounding of his hips. “I’m your fuck-toy,” I confess, the words spilling from my lips in a litany of shameful acceptance. “I’m just a... a whore for your cock. Use me... please…”
As he ramps up his pace, the bed creaks under us. Each thrust sends a new wave of disgrace crashing over me, mixing with the perverse tendrils of pleasure that coil tighter around my spine.
“You’re wrecked now, ain’t ya? Yer properly broke!”
“I’m wrecked…” I sob out. My mind is a fog, overwhelmed by the intensity of his dick filling me up.
Something vital within me crumbles.](else:)[I clench my teeth and shut my eyes tight as his thick, grotesque member forces its way deeper into me. Every fiber of my being screams in defiance.
“No,” I manage to gasp out, the word more a pained groan than a strong declaration. “I won’t... won’t beg for you, monster.”
Snib’s filthy grin only widens at my defiance, his yellow, gleeful eyes burning into me as he leans close, his foul breath washing over me.
“Oh, still fightin', huh?” His voice is a horrible, raspy whisper. “t’s gonna make it so much sweeter when ye finally break and admit you’re nothin' but a hole for my cock.”
I bite down, swallowing back any sounds that might please him.
“I am not... just a hole!”
“We’ll see...”
With one brutal slam, his girthy cock goes all the way. The pain is excruciating — a guttural cry escaping my throat as I feel that last bastion shatter — my hymen - replaced by the fullness of his cock stretching me far wider than I ever imagined.
Snib grins down at me, every vascular ridge and vein of his monstrous shaft buried balls-deep in my twitching body, spreading me open from the inside out. His girthy length throbs menacingly within me — marking its territory — claiming every last inch of me for himself.
My mind spins with raw confusion and humiliation as I lay there whimpering like some fragile virgin maiden being deflowered by her brutish captor. This isn't supposed to be happening… not to me… not...
But even as the pain recedes and is replaced by a wave of perversely welcome pleasure, realization hits me harder than any physical blow ever could: This is happening… to me… and there's nothing I can do about it.
My body wants it. Desperately.
(pic:"ch16/insert 3.png","center","borderless")
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)My body rebels against my mind, dousing it in so much fuzz that I can’t think straight at all; every fiber of my being screaming for release amidst the onslaught of overwhelming pleasure coursing through me. The sensation of Snib’s massive member stretching my soaking cunt around him is too much.
With an obscene grunt, Snib pulls out only half-way before slamming back into me again— each hard thrust sending fresh cascades of ecstatic fullness and completeness washing over me. A gasping moan escapes my lips unbidden; the sound distinctly feminine and full of pleasure.
But along with the washed-out bliss came the familiar humiliation. The realization, like a cold slap in the face, that I’m being ridden mercilessly by a creature I once looked down upon.]
The feeling of him going balls deep, finally making his whole length vanish inside my overused, overwhelmed pussy makes me scream—a sharp, piercing sound more animal than human. A profound break zips through my psyche, my thoughts splintering into chaotic fragments of raw, uncensored need.
"Ye're broken now, a proper slut."
As the room spins, Snib’s filthy, triumphant laughter echoes around me, mixing with the depraved sounds of our bodies slapping together, the filthy squelch of my abused cunt clinging desperately to his invading shaft.
"Say it, say you love gobbo cock!" he commands.(simple_option:"16 say","Say it.","Don't.")(pic:"ch16/insert 4.png","center","borderless")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 1")(if:$choice is "Say it.")[My insides churn with a mix of guilt and forbidden pleasure as his veiny shaft pummels my tender walls. With each savage penetration, my self-respect chips away, replaced by an overwhelming biological arousal.
"M-master Snib," I pant, the words drooling from my lips, "F- fuck! I love... I love your huge fucking goblin cock. Give me more. Ravage my slutty whore pussy!"
My voice breaks, hitching between guttural moans and pathetic sobs. The shame is unbearable, yet it's drowned out by the sinful delight coursing through every nerve ending. My hips push back against his thrusts, eager for another dose of that brutal goblin dick.
Under the weight of his grotesque body, I’m nothing but a quivering mound of flesh, squirming and squealing beneath him, completely succumbed to the primal desire he’s stirred within me.
($change_stat:"snib",1)($change_stat:"heroism",-3)"Yes, fuck me, destroy me, I’m just a goblin-fucking whore!" I scream, the echo of my own voice sounding alien, debased, making it clear to myself to how low I’ve sunk.
This is not good...](else-if:$heroism < 60)[Snib's hands slap down on my curvy hips, gripping hard enough to bruise as he pulls me onto his thrusts. Each penetration is deeper, fiercer, as if he's trying to skewer my very soul on his goblin cock.
"No... no, I won't... I won't say it," I pant, every word a battle, spoken through clenched teeth.
But my plea dissolves into a high-pitched squeal, as shockwaves of unwanted pleasure course through my abused pussy. The resistance crumbles, each moan a stepping stone toward subjugation.
"Say it, COW TITS!" Snib snarls, his face twisted in maniacal glee as he senses my breaking point.
"I— No! I can’t," I gasp. But it's too much; the feral, primal part of me is winning, driven wild by the intense fullness of his invasive girth.
Finally, as he hits my cervix again, I break; what's the point? My voice comes out in a shattered whimper.
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)"I... I... ngh... I love it..."
This is not good...](else:)[Even as I try to steel myself against the relentless onslaught, his grimy, powerful thrusts force pathetic moans from my lips. My body rebels against my mind.
"No... Please no more..." I whimper, each word punctuated by a throb of my clenching pussy around his massive goblin cock. The sensation is too intense, too much, but I grit my teeth, trying desperately to withhold the satisfaction he craves from me.
Snib's enjoyment only increase with my discomfort and weak resistance.
"Tight little fuck-cunt, can't handle my cock?" he mocks, pumping with more vigor, pushing his thick, warty length even deeper. "Fight all ye want, whore. Makes it so much sweeter."
My resolve falters, my voice breaking into high-pitched, miserable sobs as he continues his brutal pace, each thrust designed to break down my defenses. "I-I..."]
As Snib grinds his hips into mine, he roars with delight, his grubby hands snaking their way up to my bouncing breasts.
"Fuckkn' hell," he grunts, wrapping his rough fingers around the heavy mass of my tits. "These fuckin' udders!"
He squeezes harshly and I can't bite back a gasp, panting for breath as the pleasure builds. My nipples tighten painfully at the rough handling, stabbing jolts of pleasure shooting down to my swollen clit.
He chuckles darkly at my reaction, giving each breast a sharp smack before beginning to pump into me again. My breasts react insanely - bouncing in successively larger arcs under each brutal thrust of his goblin cock. Each movement sends more precum spilling out from the condom tied to my bikini top, sloshing against my belly with each pendulous swing.
My mind spins helplessly and I can't help but whimper as he fucks me ruthlessly into the mattress - again and again with no reprieve for me or consideration for how it must look; a hero degraded like this...
"Like being stuffed fulla cock don't ya?" he chortles crudely at me as if hearing my thoughts. "Ye used ta slay dragons an' save kingdoms... now all ya good fer is taking dick... ain't that right? Ya like bein' reduced to this?"(simple_option:"16 moan","Moan...","No...")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 1")(if:$choice is "Moan...")[My response is nothing more than a series of involuntary, guttural moans as Snib relentlessly pounds into me.
The base animalistic part of me is at the helm.
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)"Ughh... Uhhhh... y- yes... ungh... ngh..."
The words spill out between gasps, each syllable quaking under the force of his thrusts. The gravity of my debauchery doesn't fully dawn on me, stifled under the haze of raw, carnal desire.
Snib's dirty grin is wide as he ram his cock deeper, glorying in the submissive squirms and squeals his actions wrench from my abused body.
"That’s it, you fuckin' slut... sing for ya master with those stoopid sounds..."
The obscene sound of our coupling fills the room; wet, sticky noises of his massive cock sliding in and out of my dripping wet cunt, accompanied by the depraved music of my continuous moans.
I groan louder, the mattress squeaking under us.](else:)[”No...” I manage breathlessly, fighting against the waves of pleasure that threaten to wash away all semblance of my former self. "I—I don’t... I can’t..."
"Can’t what?" Snib snaps back with a twisted chuckle, slamming into me with intense, punishing strokes. "Can't admit how much you fuckin' *love* this?"
His words hit as hard as his cock, driving deep, cruel spikes of truth into my head. "I’m not... this isn’t..." I try to defend, to deny, but the words fizzle out into pathetic whimpers under the relentless aftershocks of pleasure radiating from my brutally stretched pussy.
He jeers at my feeble attempts, his goblin features contorted in merciless glee. "Yer pussy’s singin’ a different tune, bitch," he growls. "It’s clenchin’ round me dick like it's the only thing it ever wanted."
"N-no... I—"
My protest breaks into a moan, louder, more desperate than I intended.
As he hammers away, a dark part of me whispers: What if... what if he's right? What if this is what I'm reduced to? What if all that’s left of Aldric the Great is this — a moaning, writhing slut-body beneath a filthy goblin?
($change_stat:"heroism",-1)"I-I'm... Ugh..."]
His wet bulbous cockhead pokes irresistibly at that sweet spot inside me - the one that makes stars explode behind my closed eyes and forces strangled moans from between gritted teeth.
"Gonna cum fer me?"(simple_option:"16 respond","Moan...","No...")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 2")(if:$choice is "Moan...")[I moan, my voice trembling under the strain of overwhelming pleasure coursing through my violated form.
He chuckles darkly, his hot, foul breath ghosting across my hypersensitive skin.
The musky stink of him fills my nostrils... it somehow enhances the raw, animalistic need throbbing between my thighs.
"How’s that, eh?" He sneers, his thrusts not slowing but growing even more intense, each one slamming into me with ruthless precision. My hips can't help but rise off the bed to meet him.
"Ughhh… Oh, fuck yes!” I gasp, an orgasm building like a wildfire in my core, threatening to burst through every defensive wall I once held. It roars through my veins, a beast tearing at the confines of its cage.(set:$moan to "true")
But still, a part of me fights - a dwindling flame of resistance, not ready to concede to the ignoble ecstasy that would make me his complete conquest.
I turn my head away, biting hard into my pillow to muffle the rising crescendos of my moans. My body betrays me with each thrust, my pussy clinging to his massive, warty cock like a sheath molded just for him, milking him as if it knows no other purpose.
The stars behind my eyes sparkle and burst, each one a tiny explosion of forbidden pleasure. It's a cosmic dance behind my closed eyelids, drawing me closer to the edge of a precipice I know I shouldn’t want to leap off.
"Gonna cum for me, tits-for-brains?"
"Ngh..." I whimper between broken gasps.
He laughs - I can tell he feels the undeniable spasms of my inner walls around his throbbing member.
My moans crescendo into high-pitched squeals, no longer able to contain the sounds of raw depravity being wrung from my thumping heart and quivering body.
"I... I’m—"](else:)["No… No…" I gasp out, the raw effort and strain of it making my teeth clench as I desperately try to hold back those rising waves of pleasure curling low in my belly.
He laughs again, his breath hot against the side of my neck. The stench of his musk makes me want to gag but I focus on that - the revulsion at his touch, the sickening scent of him. Anything to keep that unwanted climax at bay.(set:$moan to "false")
"Ye think yer better than me?" He jeers, angling his thrusts deeper inside me. My hips rise off the bed in reflex to meet his brutal rhythm - a traitorous response that only sends another wave of pleasure tearing through me.
"No! Oh, fuck no!" I can feel the orgasm looming closer - a roaring flame just waiting to consume me. It's a wild beast in my belly, clawing at my insides to get out.
But I won't let it win - can't let it win. I can't give this... this creature any more satisfaction than he already gets from defiling me like this.
With a grimace and a scream locked inside my throat, I pull on all my warrior’s training – mustering every ounce of willpower within me like a shield against the onslaught of ecstasy threatening to break through.
I close my eyes tightly and force myself to picture Elara – beautiful Elara. Her soft smiles and gentle whispers help push back against Snib's onslaught – barricading myself within thought; willing away thoughts of Snib's cock plunging into the slick warmth of my bared cunt.
"Y-You' re nothing," I manage to choke out after a moment, even as another brutal thrust has stars flashing behind closed eyelids. "I've... I’ve faced much worse enemies than you!"
Snib laughs cruelly at that and squeezes on one fat tit harder making me squeal aloud, “Yeah? Fought dragons with yer tits out, did ya?”]
With each lewd slap of his balls against my rear, he continues to taunt me – crude words flowing from him like venomous poison.
"Stupid slut, thinkin' she's some hero... yer just another whore with big ol’ tits and a slutty pussy begging fer cock."
A muffled scream tears free from clenched teeth as I throw all caution aside and clasp onto whatever will help keep me grounded in reality– hold off that impending climax now threatening to crash into existence with an intensity that terrifies even myself; so close now...
Snib’s pace become frantic, snarls erupting from his throat every time he slams into me. His fingers dig painfully into my fat tits, lighting them afire with sharp sparks of inexplicable pleasure – sending me even closer to that precipice.
With a primal roar, Snib buries himself to the hilt inside me. My body instinctively clenches around his invading monster of a cock, furthering my own arousal in the process.
His belly slaps heavily against mine with every hard thrust as he grinds himself against me, his ragged breaths harsh against my neck. The disgusting scent of him mingles with the overpowering odor of our mixed sweat and amorous activities and it's almost enough to make me gag.
The bed squeaks and creaks madly beneath us as Snib continues to rut into me with all his strength; all semblance of self-control gone as his release looms over him.
Then suddenly, Snib gives a final guttural groan and stiffens atop me. The obscene flesh-log lodged inside my cunt twitches and throbs ominously as I feel a sudden rush of warmth spreading through his length. (simple_option:"16 he cums 1","He cums.")(pic:"ch15/insertion.png","right","borderless")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking cum")(if:$moan is "true")["Oh fuck, yes... Empty those big gobbo balls inside me!" I cry out, my voice breaking with every filthy word that pours out like vomit from my lips.
($change_stat:"heroism",-7)Snib's filthy claws dig into my soft skin as he begins to cum. The first spurt is a shock, a hot flood that fills the condom inside me to brimming.
<span class='cum2'>BLURRTTT!!</span>
The first heavy blast of cum strikes the inside of the condom, thudding against my cervix.
($hidden_gem:"The sheer force of it makes my eyes roll back, a moan of obscene pleasure tearing from my throat.","The sheer, shocking strength of it shunts my sight backwards, my eyes flipping full circle, a moan of massive, molten, mind-melting, messy pleasure pounds out of my parched throat.")
"Ahh... fuck!!!" My back arches off the bed, pushing me deeper onto his pulsating shaft as he continues to fire relentless jets of thick, goblin seed.
<span class='cum1'>BLURRTTT!!</span>
Another, and another—each one a deluge, inflating the condom wedged inside me. It's too much, too intense; the surges of his cum feel like they're trying to burst through the rubber, each spurt painfully stretching the latex thin, bulging obscenely inside me.
The pressure is incredible, indescribable. Each pulse seeks invasion, an inexorable force determined to claim me utterly.
My body responds instinctively, clenching around the ballooning condom, brutally stretched to accommodate the violent deluge of goblin spunk. The rubber strains, engorged with a vile concoction of potent, writhing sperm punching against its confines like a river against a dam.
"Ahh! Ughn!"
“Take it, whore!” he sneers, breath ragged and hot against my ear. “Take every last fuckin drop!”](else:)["Oh fuck," I whimper at the feeling before quickly clamping down on the moan that wants to follow. But it's too late – whether from exhaustion or pure shock – I feel myself teetering dangerously at the edge again.
I hold onto every ounce of control left in me but it's all draining out fast - being sucked out by the gravity-pull sensation at Snib’s final thrust - coupled with the sudden expansion deep inside my pussy - like hot furnace bellows pumping molten magma into an already overstuffed condom within my quivering depths
"No… No…" I gasp out desperately, clenching my eyes shut hard as my sweaty palms claw futilely at the bed sheets beneath us.
I can feel every ripple – each pulsating jet streaming from his cockhead filling up the condom within me; each shot inflating it more and extending deeper within its impaled depths. It's humiliatingly enormous now - turgid with spunk – distending itself audaciously to accommodate the fat jets of his potent seed stirring crazily within its rubbery shell - ready… just ready to burst forth from its confined prison.]
Just when I think I'm on the precipice of surrender, my control slips back into place. A white-knuckled grip on the last shred of my willpower as I hold off the impending wave of ecstasy that threatens to crash down on me.
My body shakes, my teeth clench and a whimper slips past my lips. Somehow, some way, I manage to stave off the climax.
But it's not quite over.
A sudden emptiness floods me as Snib pulls his cock free from me with a wet schlick. My pussy clenches around nothing, unfulfilled and aching for something I refuse to give in to. The condom is still inside me, full to brimming with his potent goblin cum. It's the feeling of a rubbery bag full of hot, wriggling sperm stuffed inside me.
The smell hits me almost immediately - a pungent cocktail of bleach and musk cutting through the air.
It's disgusting... or... at least it should be.
Snib yanks at the end of the condom sticking out of me and slowly pulls it out, making me wince with every inch it drags along my oversensitive folds. A wet pop echoes through the room as it finally comes free, trailing streaks of pussy juice down my thighs.
Then, he grins that grotesque grin again and dangles it in front of my face. Fat droplets fall from it onto the sheets between us - each one a potent bullet loaded with his vile potential offspring.
<span class='cum3'>I'm surprised it didn't break - it is a HUGE load.</span>
Humiliation burns hot on my cheeks as he forces me to look at our combined mess; his powerful goblin seed swirling within, kept at bay only by thin rubber confines streaked on the outside by my own glistening juices.
The sight is disgusting and yet... the perverse satisfaction of having survived another round without giving him what he wanted delivers its own twisted thrill.
My mind spins, caught between relief and fear as Snib speaks again: "Ye did good.. . But ye ain't done yet."(simple_option:"16 not done","Wh- what?")(live:3s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","plop")]($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking after")I follow his gaze down to his loins where his thick goblin cock still stands erect – dauntingly potent even after having spent itself not moments before within me – its green flesh pulsating demandingly for more, despite just unloading inside me moments ago.
"I did what you said..." I whimper out. "Y- you came."
His laughter makes my skin crawl.
"Ye tried, didn't ya?" Snib grins down at me, his yellow eyes gleaming with amusement. "But I ain't satisfied yet, am I?"
My heart plummets at his words. His cock twitches against my thighs and despite the overwhelming exhaustion flooding my body, a jolt of fear surges through me. He can't be serious...
But the wicked grin on his face leaves no room for doubt.
"Ephemerals, no..." I gasp as he reaches down and ties another bloated condom next to its sibling on my bikini top. The scent of spent jizz hits me like a punch to the gut - thick and heavy with his musk mixed with a pungent smell that's undeniably... dominant.
(pic:"ch16/condom.jpg","right")The second condom is so much heavier than the first one - so engorged with cum it feels like a small water balloon pressing against my belly. The rubbery mass squishes obscenely under its own weight, sending streaks of cold precum spilling over my glistening underbelly in long trails.
It's disgusting, but there's an undeniable thrill coiling within me; a spark of perverse satisfaction that comes from seeing him empty himself into me and then leaving his seed as a mark of our twisted encounter.
The sight is beyond humiliating - each filled condom is a testament to how far I've fallen; from Aldric the Great to Elise the Cumdump.
His next words send chills racing down my spine: "Now let's see how much more ye can take before ya break."
I shudder involuntarily at his threat, glancing down between us where his monstrous cock still stands erect – hungry for more despite having just emptied itself inside me.
His skin pulses ominously against mine – each beat sending sparks of panic shooting up and down my spine as he leans in closer to whisper darkly in my ear: “This time… I want ye screaming.”(simple_option:"16 doggy","He pushes you into doggystyle.")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking after")(live:5s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","spank 1")]The world seems to tilt as Snib spins me around, my body responding sluggishly through the haze clouding my mind. My knees sink into the soft mattress as I’m manhandled into position; ass up, face down, arms braced wide to support the weight of my massive tits dragging along the bed.
The ache in my thighs is a far-off thing. Everything's blurry, my vision hazy as if seen through a clouded window.
It feels like I'm floating in an ocean of overwhelming pleasure – drowning under relentless waves of sweet torment that lap dangerously at the fragile shores of my sanity.
Each breath I take is labored - coming out in short, sharp gasps.
As Snib maneuvers me onto all fours, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my bottom like iron claws - pulling apart my ass cheeks roughly so he can have easy access. The cool air against my exposed pussy sends flutters of sensation spiraling up through me, making me whimper.
My fat tits sway with each breath I take; their weight pulling them down towards the bed where they move like pudding along the sheets. They’re so hot and sensitive against the rough fabric – nipples hardening instantly with every brush against it as they bounce rhythmically along with my every ear-splitting heartbeat.
Looking down between my forearms braced wide on the bed beneath me, I'm met with the sight of wo bloated condoms tied to the strained strings on both sides of my bikini top - each filled to bursting with his potent seed - one cum, one precum. Their weight tugs incessantly at the bikini top strings they're attached to.
(pic:"ch16/doggy tease.png","center","borderless")
The rubbery masses sway back and forth like obscene pendulums - leaving slimy trails all over the sheets beneath them; precum mixing into cum mixing into more precum… dripping… dribbling… oozing right onto – right across – right through those portions where my massive G-cup tits flatten against sheets under their own humongous weight.
(size:3)[SPANK!]
A smack to my asscheeks sends tendrils of pain scorching up through all senses, making me yelp out loud before quickly clamping down on it.
Incoherent words slip past dry lips as Snib moves behind me – his gruff voice echoing eerily amidst our twisted interplay: "Ready fer round two?"
"N... nngh," I gasp out nonsensically, amidst heated panting. “Condom…”
I hear the crinkle of a wrapper being torn open, and my heart clenches. (simple_option:"16 moment","Ask for a breather...","Just take it...")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking after")(if:$choice is "Ask for a breather...")["Master, please... I need... I need a moment..." I gasp out but my plea falls on deaf ears. ]There's a pause as Snib stretches another woefully inadequate condom over his monstrous girth.
My mind is a stormy sea of pleasure and humiliation, making coherent thought impossible.
Despite everything, I'm still teetering on the edge of an orgasm that threatens to totally wreck me. My body is hot and flushed, every inch of me hyper-sensitive to the slightest touch. My pussy is sopping wet, having been pounded once already in missionary and now about to be taken from behind.
I'm there, on all fours, my heavy tits swaying beneath me with each panting breath I take.
I feel him prodding at my drooling cunt once again.
"Nggh..." I whimper as his bulbous cockhead nudges against my slick folds.
My world narrows down to that one point of contact between us - the place where he's about to penetrate me again.
From this vantage point, all I can see is the bedspread beneath me - a plain white fabric that seems absurdly normal amidst the debauchery taking place atop it.
The anticipation gnaws at me like a starving beast and then... (simple_option:"16 enter","He enters you again.")(pic:"ch16/doggystyle.png")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")
Snib's massive girth rams through my soaked pussy with an obscene SLURP. His entire 12 inches buries itself inside me in one smooth motion that leaves me absolutely breathless.
Suddenly, the small goblin hops up behind me like some rutting beast in heat - taking full advantage of our size difference to plunder my pussy again with his condom-sheathed cock.
His short legs are barely enough to bring him up to the height of my jiggling ass but he manages somehow - standing upright behind me on his tiptoes while his pudgy belly presses up against the soft, wobbling globes of my huge buttcheeks.
"M-m-ma-sher~" I sob as his hot, engorged cockhead *RAMS* against my cervix.
The heat... the heat of that huge dick is unbearable. He's searing me from the inside out, making my soft flesh sizzle with each squelching thrust.
Every wild thrust sends his bloated ballsack *slapping* against my swollen clit, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my brain. My slit is so slick, so wet that each thrust of his meaty length is accompanied by a *cthulupping* sound that echoes around the room.
Panties stretched thin across my wide hips, he RUTS me, his fat goblin cock pounding into me raw and rough. Over and over, he SLAMS balls deep into my sloppy, wet cunt, making me go cross-eyed from the sheer force of his thrusts.
The condoms tied to the strings of my bikini top bounce wildly with each savage rut.
"Ha~ Ha~ *Ngghnn~*!" I whimper as another wave of intense pleasure hits me, my pussy clamping down on his length in response.
"I'm a hero... I-I was a hero..." I babble nonsensically as the pleasure begins to crest, the waves crashing against my weakening resolve. My world shatters around me as I teeter on the edge, ready to plunge into the abyss of ecstasy.
One thing that remains clear among the chaos: I'm no longer the mighty Aldric the Great, but fully Elise — a woman being rutted like a bitch in heat by a goblin.
As he SLAMS into me, my whole body lurches forward, my breasts swinging wildly beneath me. My chest smooshes against the bed, my nipples rubbing against the rough fabric, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. My heart races in my chest, each beat throbbing in my sensitive nipples and deep in my pussy.
The room is filled with the wet, obscene *slap-slap-slap* sound of his substantial balls slapping against my mound, swinging wildly with each pounding thrust of his cock. My body moves in rhythm with Snib’s relentless pace, bouncing forward with each hard thrust as he bucks into me with animalistic abandon.
"Nyaaah! G-god, fuck! Fuck!" I yowl pathetically, struggling to even stay conscious.
The wicked intensity of his thrusts have reduced me - the Hero Aldric to one thing, and one thing only - a drooling, stammering, overflowing pussy.
I'm no hero anymore. I'm a dumb, pillowy, fucked little princess with cum-filled condoms tied to my bra strings. Tits bouncing and flopping around. Pussy lips stretched obscenely wide to accommodate every inch of goblin dick.
"U-UNGHHHH~! E-end... Eng-AGHHHHH!! Fuck... AH-AHHhn! Sn... M- Mashter..." The convoluted mess of words pouring out of my lips bear no resemblance to the verses I once commanded as Aldric The Great.
My ass quakes with each slam of his body into mine.
“Give in,” he grunts between thrusts, his voice low and cruel. “Let GO.”(simple_option:"16 try","Try to pull yourself together.","Just take it.")(pic:"ch16/doggy insert.png","right","borderless")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")(if:$choice is "Just take it.")[Snib, barely three feet in height but endowed with a cock that defies nature, grunts and groans, each fleeting moment marked by the *squelching*, brutal reaming of my once-heroic cunt. Wetness splashes soundly—noisily mingling with the rhythm of our flesh slapping together; a revolting symphony of debauchery.
He jumps, his stubby, powerful legs giving him just enough height to plunge ball-deep into me. "Feel that, whore? That's a goblin's proper fucking!" he exclaims, sneering down at me as I'm impaled repeatedly by his thick, venomous shaft.
His massive balls smack against me like a battering ram—each *thud* sending ripples of pleasure-pain through my body, making my plump ass jiggle obscenely with the force of his rutting.
($change_stat:"heroism",-8)"F-fuckkk, you savage beast! I-it's shoooo~ *good*... Cram my s-sloppy cunt with your fat gobbo cock! MASH it! Batter it like the brainless fuck doll I am!" I wail, each syllable laced with idiotic glee as the humiliation destroys any remaining shreds of my dignity.
The tied-off condoms—one bulging with his disgusting thick cum, the other sagging with his slimy precum—flap and swing grotesquely with each thrust. My oversized tits, too, swing wildly beneath me, flopping against my chest with wet, fleshy smacks that mimic the savage beating my cunt's enduring.
"*Clap Clap Clap* Look at that slut jiggle!" Snib laughs wickedly, yanking harder on my panties, the delicate fabric straining against my lusciously wide hips. The constant stretching sends jolts of discomfort that spiral deliciously into the pleasure coursing through my veins.
"Oh, I'm n-nothing but a dribbling, moaning mess for your cock, Master! Drill me deeper, *pleassse*! Punish your fuckdoll!" I plead, desperation dripping from every word as the overwhelming force of my impending climax builds beneath his unrelenting assault.
Snib growled back, "That's right, squeal for me, you pathetic little cum dump. Squeal while I desecrate your hero-hole!" His thrusts grow even more frenzied and ferocious, driven by my debased begging.
With each vicious pound, he tears cries from my lips, my voice peaking in shattered, blissful screams. "Yes! Yes! Gawwwdsssss, I'm so full of your cock! More, Snib, *please*! Ruin me 'til I can't fucking remember my own name!"
The moment extends into eternity, every thrust pushing me closer to the edge. Finally, with a guttural roar and a last, merciless drive of his hips, Snib sends me spiraling into the abyss. My entire body convulses, my pussy clenching and spasming around his relentlessly pounding cock as waves of pleasure obliterate my senses.
"Uuuunnggghhhh~! Yeeesss, *there*! Oh FUCK! I... I'm gunna..."](else:)[The words are like needles piercing through the fog clouding my mind - sharp and clear amidst all the chaos. And suddenly… I can’t hold it back anymore.
A scream tears itself from my throat - loud and uncontained, echoing throughout our tiny room. My body convulses against him; back arching up off the bed as heat radiates out from between my legs like wildfire.]
It’s coming. I’m gonna cum.
Snib doesn’t let up even then; fucking into my shaking form with abandon… until… until…
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)"NNNGGGRRRAAAAWWWWWWW~HAAHHH! FFFUUUUUCKK! M-M-MASSHHTERRRRR!"
The world fades into a haze of flashing lights, my mind overwhelmed by the sheer explosion of pleasure.
Everything goes black.
(pic:"ch16/hop up.png","center","borderless")(simple_option:"16 cum your brains out","Cum your brains out.")(pic:"ch16/ride or die.png","center","borderless")When I come to, the sensations rush back in – every nerve screaming, raw and overstimulated. ($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")
My vision is fuzzy as the room slowly swims back into focus.
“NNNGHH! Oh... oh my—*GODS*!”
A long trail of drool hangs from my slack jaw, trailing down onto the sheets beneath me. My eyes, wide open yet unfocused, eventually cross; spinning as Snib’s fat cock continues to pound deep inside my quivering cunt.
“S-still…” I babble incoherently. I can feel droplets of my own pussy-nectar splattered across my inner thighs—they glisten in the weak light.
“Fuckin’ human bitch, squirtin' gobbo cock like you were born for it! Look at your sheets, covered in yer whore juices,” Snib mocks gleefully, plunging even deeper into my ravaged pussy. “You’re just a pathetic slut, aren’t ya? Cumming so hard you fainted, absolutely *worthless* hero!”
His cruel words no longer sting my pride the way they should. My body can do nothing but revel in the depravity, helplessly grinding back against each brutal thrust.
I look around, senses returning painfully clear. The two bloated condoms still hang from my bikini.
My consciousness returns piece by humiliating piece as I piece together just how hard I came.
($hidden_gem:"The sheets beneath are damp, drenched in the humid mess of my squirt. My ass, still jiggling with the aftershocks, is beet red from the merciless pounding. My pussy, stretching against Snib’s impossible girth, clamps down spasmodically, milking him as if begging for another release.",
"The sodden sheets beneath are sopping, soaked in the sticky slurry of my squirting squall. My ass, still shuddering from the savage pounding, is scarlet from the merciless mashup. My plump pussy, pried open by Snib’s substantial shaft, spasms sharply, squeezing and suckling as if screaming for another spurt.")
My breasts, sensitive and painfully engorged, flop against the sheets with each relentless thrust.
"M... Master," I whimper, eyes wide and desperate, the air around us thick with the heavy musk of our combined arousal.
Snib shudders against me. The monstrous cock within me pulses ominously and I realize with a numb kind of detachment that he's cumming.
His cock pulses violently inside me, the thick vein along the underside throbbing with each jet of his revolting cum filling the condom.
"O-ohhh... gods," I moan deliriously, my body shaking from the intensity of it all.
I feel it stretching, expanding as it fills with his hot, yellowed goblin cum. Each pulsation of ecstasy from the big-dicked goblin sends a fresh, wriggling stream of the thick, pungent semen into the ballooning sheath.
My senses are overwhelmed by the disgusting, musky scent of his release — a heady blend of goblin pheromones and the faintly acrid tang of their seed, clouding my mind even further as I struggle to retain any semblance of thought.
With a wet *plop*, Snib pulls out, the now fully-inflated condom hanging heavily from his spent cock. It's another wriggling mass of yellow-tinged goblin sperm, packed obscenely into the latex sheath.
“Look at this, ye fuckin’ disgrace. Look at what yer human pussy’s done,” Snib sneers, waving the bloated condom in front of my face. "Milked another load from me gobbo balls. Fuck, feels fuckin' good!"
My eyes, barely able to focus, widen, but I’m so fucked-out that I can barely muster a coherent thought, let alone a coherent response.
I whimper softly, the fog in my brain thickening with every passing second as the nauseating stench wraps around me like a suffocating blanket.
"Heh," He chuckles smugly at my prone form beneath him. "Looks like ye lost again, cow tits."
The words barely register in my orgasm-addled brain - they seem to echo around our tiny room without making any sense to me at all. It’s only when he grinds his slick cockhead against my entrance again that reality begins to filter back through the fog clouding my mind.
(pic:"ch16/ride or die comp.jpg")
"I ain't done with ya yet," He grins down at me – his yellow eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction as he lines himself up for another round. "I'm gonna keep poundin' this sweet little pussy 'til I've had my fill."(unlock_lore::"Goblin Orgasms","other",3)(simple_option:"16 tie","He adds the full condom to your collection.")(live:2s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","plop")](pic:"ch16/condom face.png","left","borderless")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking after")He ties the condom to the string of my bikini, adding the grotesque trophy to my shameful collection.
I can feel his eyes bore into me, see the cruel satisfaction in them as he admires his handiwork. And I hate myself for the helpless arousal that still thrums through my veins.
My cruel goblin master isn't done. Not by a long shot. The insidious scent of goblin cum and pheromones fogs up my mind even more deeply, ensuring that rational thought is a fleeting thing.
"Get ready for more, my lil’ *cum bucket*. You came, you fucking lost, and now..." He slaps my ass, the sharp sting sending another jolt of reluctant pleasure through my flooded, abused senses. "Now I'm gonna fuck that human pussy into submission."(simple_option:"16 evening","The evening continues...")($play:"sound","you fucking lost")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 2")The night oozes with the raw stench my UTTER debasement, a tapestry woven from the cloth of my ruined dignity.
At this point, the inn room is hot, sticky with the sweat and musk of Snib's incessant rutting. Every moment, every obscene *slurp* and *smack* of flesh against flesh, further erodes what's left of my once proudly held self-worth.
My massive tits flatten and squish against the soggy sheets. Each bounce, each grind into the rough fabric sends tendrils of raw electricity screaming through my bliss-drunk mind. Riveting waves of intense pleasure flood through me, drowning rational thought.
Snib chuckles as he mounts me again and again, his cruel hands digging into the tender flesh of my hips. With each *thrust* of his monstrous goblin cock, I feel another piece of my pride wither away.
"Yah gonna cum again, aren't ya, slut?"
(pic:"ch16/facefuck cum.jpg","right")Whatever resistance I fathomed breaks; the only thing left is my body's desperate craving for release, the mind-numbing need to be filled and ravaged into oblivion. His bulbous cockhead prods at my cervix like a relentless battering ram.
“Such a greedy cum-sock, ain't ya? Jus' milking me dry,” he sneers, tying yet another grotesquely swollen condom to the side of my strained panties.
The sperm-packed condoms flap grotesquely with every move, slapping against my sides as tokens of my degradation. Each one hangs off my pathetically straining bikini strings, dripping "love stains" onto the sheets below.
I yearn to cry for mercy, for any semblance of release from this hellish pleasure, but the words dissolve into sobs as he yanks my head back by my hair, forcing his huge cock into my open mouth.
He releases my hair but continues to guide my head—like a monstrous puppeteer—forcing jerky, helpless bobbing motions.
My lips stretch obscenely around his shaft, and the lewd sucking, sloppy *GLUCK* *GLUCK* *GLUCK* noises reverberate cruelly through the room.
“Aww, ye like suckin' my fuckstick, don'cha?” he sneers. "Dumb bitch born for gobbo cock suckin'. Born ta be a cumdump."
Above me, his voice gruesomely mutates between grunts and low, crude laughter. Every word, every jeer, is lost to me amidst the wet, slurping sounds that fill the room.
(pic:"ch16/side fuck.jpg")
On our fourth round for the night, he’s got me on my side; legs curled up to expose myself better for him while he fucks into me with reckless abandon - pounding away until we're nothing more than sweaty bodies rutting mindlessly on a bed too small for us.
Just when I think I can't take any more, Snib flips me onto him – forcing himself back inside my quivering pussy while his hands grip onto mine and guide them onto his pudgy chest for leverage.
His hot gaze never wavers from mine as he guides my hips up and down his shaft – forcing me to ride him till I’m bouncing on his lap like some sort of cheap whore.
A sob catches in my throat as another orgasm rips through me – obliterating all thought and self-awareness with its unrelenting onslaught. My body convulses wildly atop him while Snib only leers up at me – never missing a beat; continuing to fuck up into me even through my orgasmic aftershocks rocking both our bodies relentlessly.
(pic:"ch16/orgasm.jpg")(simple_option:"16 continue","It continues...")(pic:"ch16/riding.jpg","left")($play:"ambience","inn room interior")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking cum")The sheets are soaked having turned into a swampy mix of cum, sweat, and my pussy juices. My body, a wrecked landscape of use and abuse, is perched with multiple, bouncing cum-filled condoms hanging from me like grotesque trophies. Each rubber package is swollen with warm, heavy goblin seed, jiggling obscenely with every minor movement.
"*F-fai-*FAKKK!*"* My voice cracks as Snib slams into me one last time, his cock rutting deep inside my ruined pussy. "M-MASTERRR!!"
I’m lying sprawled on my back, the room spinning with the hints of dawn filtering in from the window. My huge tits heave with each ragged breath, swollen and covered in sweat and drool, reddened and abused. Eleven cum-filled condoms are tied to me – hanging grotesquely from my bikini top, collar, panties, and—humiliatingly—from the tangled mess of my hair.
Each bulbous rubber sack bounces and sways, slapping against my skin with every minor tremor.
My heated neck tingles as the cool fullness of the latex condoms brush against it.
"Lookit ya, you filthy, used-up cumdump. Ye got gobbo seed everywhere, don't ya? Hanging off yer tits, yer hair... *every*where," Snib mocks.
The room reeks of hardcore sex—stale cum and sweat permeating every corner of the tiny inn room. The air feels heavy, suffocating, filled with the rancid scent of our activities.
My pussy is stretched, used, and clenching spasmodically around nothing as Snib finally pulls out, leaving me molten and empty. A trail of slick juice streams from my abused slit, adding to the already grotesque mess on the bed.
"Please, I c-can't… please, I’m… I'm so..." I stutter out, words barely forming as drool drips from my open mouth. My tongue lolls out, hanging stupidly as my eyes roll back and forth in incoherent exhaustion.
Every squirm of my spent body makes the hanging condoms jiggle and swing, each motion a reminder of how thoroughly I've been dominated and transformed into Snib's personal cum-receptacle.
The heavy stink of sex clings to my skin, fills my lungs with every exhausted breath. My eyes cross from sheer fatigue, my tongue hanging limp, and drooling down into a pool expanding beneath my head.
It's a chaotic, sloppy mess, a lewd tableau of pure debasement where every inch of my being is a testament to being utterly claimed by a goblin master in the nastiest, sloppiest, dirtiest night of non-stop rutting.
The last remnants of rational thought seem like nothing more than fleeting echoes within the hollow caverns that were once my mind. My eyes cross stupidly from sheer exhaustion as my tongue hangs limply out of open lips – saliva dribbling down onto sweat-soaked sheets beneath me.(simple_option:"16 aftermath","It becomes a blur...")(set:$outfit to "disgrace")($play:"ambience","dawn inn")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")The once pristine sheets are nothing more than a sordid mess now. Splatters and puddles of my pussy juices smear across the rough fabric, making lewd patterns that capture the debauchery of the night. Incongruous streaks of Snib's spent seed mark their grotesque trail along the bedspread - a testament to our obscene coupling that just went on and on until time itself lost all meaning.
Lying there in my own squalor, I can feel my mind teetering on the edge of madness - a frail boat bobbing amidst stormy seas. My tits rise and fall in rhythm with my heavy panting – their full weight now magnified by the condoms tied onto my bikini top.
(pic:"ch16/non pov.jpg")
Five fat sacks of potent goblin cum sway heavily against me; pulling down on the scant fabric struggling to keep them contained. The tug-of-war between gravity and my skimpy attire sends fresh waves of humiliation coursing through me.
My pussy quivers beneath me – bare and vulnerable, still gaping from where Snib’s monstrous cock had pounded into me over and over again until there was nothing left anymore… until all I knew was him.
Every pulse within me still echoes with his grunts; every squishy noise filling up our room… every wet slap resonating off the walls around us… it’s all him… it’s always been him.
(pic:"ch16/pov.jpg")
The rest of the condoms are tied onto various parts of my body - hanging heavily from my panties, dangling off my collar, one even somehow ended up in my hair; forming a lewd tiara that crowns me for what I’ve become tonight - a cum-soaked whore at Snib's command.
Every move I make sends them swaying around me – their grotesque presence a perverse reminder of how much Snib owns every part of me now… every thrust, every spurt, every gasping moan – they're all trophies he has claimed from tonight's ordeal.
Snib stands over me then – legs apart and eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction as he surveys his handiwork laid out beneath him. His stubby fingers wrap around his girth as he starts stroking himself again – coaxing out one final offering to add to his collection.
I can hear birds chirping faintly outside our window – their cheerful serenade an incongruous counterpoint to the obscene tableau playing out inside the little room. The morning sunlight filters in through half-drawn blinds; casting dappled shadows across Snib’s pudgy form looming above mine.
His grunts grow louder as he jerks off faster – forcing out that last load for what feels like an eternity... Until finally…($willpower_action:"Ensure Snib enjoys himself...",5,"You moan like a bitch for your goblin master... he might just need to cum again!")(simple_option:"16 cum face","He cums in your face.")(set:$anal to "no")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"sound","cum 3")(live:5s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking after")]As the final waves of Snib's orgasm surge through him, he grips my head firmly and aims his cock at my face.
The first shot is thick and hot, landing with a wet splat across my nose. The concentrated stench of goblin sperm overwhelms me instantly. My nose is glued shut, forcing me to breathe through my mouth as the second shot drapes over my eye, sealing it shut with the thick, gooey mess.
My vision is obscured now, but I can still feel the last three heavy spurts firing straight into my open mouth. Despite this being his thirteenth cumshot of the night, it's shockingly thick and pungent, filling every corner of my mouth with its mind-melting submission pheromones.
Snib grins at me, a devilish glint in his eyes as he reaches down and almost tenderly closes my chin. My mind numbed and broken, I swallow the hot, steaming, bleachy mess without a second thought. It slides down my throat and into my stomach as though to remind me that I'm nothing more than a receptacle for Snib's pleasure.
(pic:"ch16/mentally affected.jpg")
($snib_check:9)(if:$result is "pass" or ($unlocks contains "Ensure Snib enjoys himself..."))[(if:$result is "fail")[($notification:"But he still wants to cum again...")]The room is a fucking disaster, a debauched circus of sexual ruin and I'm the center act, lying sprawled on the soaked, sperm-stained sheets. Every heavy breath I take is a wet gurgle, my face glazed with goblin cum, blocking one eye and clogging my nostrils. My bikini top now sags under the weight of cum-filled condoms.
Snib sits beside me, panting like a dog after a run. His massive, vile cock, still oozing the last of his jizz, twitches as he looks down at me, his eyes gleaming with a depraved excitement that chills my already-abused body. It's unreal.
The bastard is getting hard again.
"FUCKKKKK," he groans, each syllable dripping with filthy glee. "Lookatcha, my perfect little cum-dump. All fucked out 'n still makin’ me hard."
His cock, that massive, thick, revolting thing, rises again, like a phoenix from the jizzy ashes. My eyes, crossed and unfocused from the overwhelming sexual anarchy I've been subjected to, watch in disbelief as it bobs eagerly at his words.
"M-master, p-please..." My voice is a whimper, a pathetic, noise lacking any real conviction.
I am just so exhausted.
"Nah, slut,” he chuckles darkly. "We ain’t done. Yer little asshole is still untouched. Gonna plow that tight, pretty hole. Don’t worry, ain't gonna knock ya up, just gonna stretch yer slutty ass!"
Tears streak through the thick layers of cum on my face as he grabs my hips, yanking me up. I'm barely aware, my mind a shattered jumble of fuck-pink mush, as he positions me. The cold air hits my sopping wet, swollen pussy—the feeling almost alien after the heat of his incessant pounding.
My bikini bottoms—transparent from my own cunt-juice—cling embarrassingly tight to my swollen lips. Snib's fingers dig in, pulling them aside with a wet snap as he aligns his grotesque cockhead with my unspoiled hole.
"You've been such a good, stupid little fuck-toy," Snib sneers, the praise slipping through his teeth as venom might drip from a snake's fangs.
His spit lands directly on my trembling puckered asshole, the warm glob mixed with the cool air making me shiver. He rubs the head of his cock against my ring, smearing the thick, slimy mixture over and around the tight opening. The scent of his musk, thick and heavy, fills my senses, drawing a sick, twisted arousal from the pit of my stomach.
"Relaaax," he growls, pushing against the resistance of my untouched hole.
“Nhhhh— Noooo, it’s too big!” I squeal.(set:$pages to $pages - (find:_page where _page's "page" is "16 cum face",...$pages))(simple_option:"16 push","Beg him not to.","Brace yourself.")](else:)[Covered in the heavy sticky spurts that now drape wetly across my face, I can't help but sob as the full weight of what just happened sinks in. Snib collapses next to me on the bed, sounding refreshed and satisfied after blowing an unbelievable 13 loads.
"Heh, needed that," he says. "And now you're finally mine... my cumdump." His gruff voice sends shivers down my spine as he continues to taunt me even in this ruined state. "Ye can go now," he says dismissively. "I'll see ya again tonight."(simple_option:"16 get out","Try to get out of bed...")](pic:"status/aftermath.png","right","borderless")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking after")($play:"ambience","dawn inn")(if:$anal is "yes")[Snib's maniacal laughter slowly quiets, his pace easing as he finally pulls his dick out of my fucked-out ass. He stumbles back a bit and gazes down at his cock, finally going flaccid.
"Well, would ya look at that!" he sneers, his yellow eyes gleaming with twisted pride as he appreciates his own prowess. "Y'know, us gobbos, we got a special thing with our cum. We can hold back and blast huge loads, especially when we wanna knock up a bitch. An' you… you fuckin' turned me on so much I let go one of my mega loads!"
He laughs—a chilling, hate-filled sound.
"Lucky fer you, it went in yer ass. Otherwise, I'd have left ya knocked up, swollen with my goblin brats fer sure!"
The mocking amusement in his voice is cutting, a brutal reminder of the humiliation and utter degradation I'd just endured.
"And wouldja look at yerself," he continues, his tone dripping with vulgar satisfaction. "Squirtin' cum out yer gaping ass and cryin' like a lil' bitch the whole time, and don't think I didn't hear those **moans**." He leans in, a cruel glint in his eye as he points to where his cum has stained and slicked every crevice of my body. "You fuckin' loved it. Came so many fuckin' times on my big goblin cock, didn'tcha?"
I can’t even summon the strength to protest. My mind is a whirlwind of exhaustion and shame, each mocking word from Snib cutting deeper into the wreckage of my pride.
"Look who got what, huh? The once-great Aldric the Great, redubbed Elise—the goblin gobbler," he cackles. "Ya fucked like a bitch, now slink off like one."
My body is still shaking, muscles quivering from the sheer physical and emotional toll.
"Good luck explainin' this to yer wife, dumb slut," he sneers. "Tell her how ya came yer brains out with goblin cock buried in yer guts? She'll be thrilled to hear that, won't she?"
A fresh wave of shame washes over me at the thought of Elara—of the impossibility of hiding the betrayal and filth of tonight’s debauchery.
I glance toward my leather skirt lying in tatters on the floor—another casualty of tonight’s monstrosity. My thoughts battle between the urge to escape and the dread of facing what's to come outside this room.
Slowly, painfully, I reach for the door handle. My legs are weak, trembling, refusing to support me. I press against the wall, barely managing to keep myself upright as the remnants of Snib's torment flow from every inch of me, leaking steadily from my gaping ass like a grotesque waterfall.](else:)[Tears… not of sadness, but of something else, stream down my cheeks as I try to get out of bed - condoms filled with Snib's potent goblin sperm still hanging heavily from my body.
My waterlogged bikini top sags under the weight of five cum-filled condoms, while four more dangle from my soaked panties, almost pulling them down. The metal collar around my neck bears the weight of two more cum-filled condoms, and the last one in my hair seems to press against my brain with each jiggling movement.
My vacant eyes struggle to focus on the wooden door of Snib's inn room as I shakily push myself up from the bed. Each movement sends ripples through my fat, jiggling tits, weighed down by the obscene fullness of the cum-filled condoms. Snib's lewd laughter and cruel mockery ring in my ears as I stumble towards the door.
"Good luck explainin' this to yer wife," he sneers, and a fresh wave of shame washes over me.
I glance at my leather skirt lying torn on the floor - another casualty of tonight's debauchery.
As I reach for the door handle, my legs give out, almost sending me crashing to the floor. I manage to catch myself against the wall, panting heavily from exhaustion. Sweat glistens on my skin, slick and sticky like Snib's seed that still clings to every inch of me.]
With a deep breath, I force myself upright once more - determined to make it back home.
As soon as I step into the hallway of the Silver Stag inn, I feel exposed and vulnerable - like a hunted animal with nowhere left to run. My thick legs shake with every step; barefoot and uncertain on the cold wooden floorboards beneath me. My massive breasts jiggle heavily with each movement; their weight now magnified by the overstuffed condoms pulling down on my bikini top.
With each step, my panties begin to slip - their elastic waistband strained under the weight of four more cum-filled condoms threatening to bare my slick pussy to anyone who might see. My shaking hands desperately tug at them; trying to keep them in place as best as I can manage in my dazed state.
The condom bouncing atop my head feels like a cruel crown, mocking me with each weighted slap against my skull; a constant reminder of how far I've fallen from grace as it spills goblin sperm onto me.
A soft moan escapes my lips - sounding broken and lost even to my own ears - as I begin to descend the inn's staircase. Each step is a painful reminder of how hollowed out and thoroughly fucked I feel.
I just need to make it home before anyone sees me like this.(simple_option:"16 stagger","Stagger forward.")($play:"ambience","village morning indoors")($play:"sex loop",0)The dining hall of the Silver Stag lies empty and quiet, save for the faint echoes of my own unsteady footsteps. I'm thankful that no one is at the front desk, but as I navigate through the dimly lit room, I notice a figure sitting in the shadows - smoking a pipe. My heart skips a beat as I recognize him - Zephyrion.
(pic:"ch16/wizard.jpg")
I stare blankly at the wizard, tears streaming down my cum-covered cheeks as he speaks to me in that cold, calculating tone of his. The weight of the remaining condoms still clings to my body, dragging me down both physically and emotionally. As Zephyrion approaches, I feel my legs wobble beneath me, ready to buckle at any moment.
He raises his metal rod to cast light on my humiliated form, inspecting the mess that I have become. My eyes avoid his piercing gaze, their focus too blurred by my state of arousal and shame.
"I have been observing the magical fields from afar," Zephyrion says without a hint of sympathy. "The bond between you and the artifact appears to be greatly reinforced during certain... activities." His eyes narrow as he glances at the cum-filled condoms adorning my body.
"Why didn't you stop him?" I sob quietly.
Zephyrion ignores my question and continues his inspection - examining each condom with clinical detachment. His rod hovers over me like an icy specter as he studies every debauched detail. He seems particularly intrigued by how flushed my skin has become and the glazed look in my half-open eye.
"I noticed a significant spike in energy in the evening," he continues coldly. "It seems that when Snib dominates you... or when you 'form a bond' with him..." He pauses for a moment before continuing, "the connection with Maraan becomes stronger."
With an air of disgusted disinterest, Zephyrion uses a pair of metal tongs to remove one of the massive cum-filled condoms from my body, placing it into a sealed bag for further analysis. I shudder at the humiliating touch but make no move to resist or protest.
"Now listen carefully," he says in a tone that brooks no argument. "I understand this experience is unpleasant for you, but when you do nothing, there is no progress for me to study. I've given Snib permission to be aggressive, as long as he does not impregnate you. Mayor Brambles has made it clear that prolonging your transformation is not acceptable. We all want this situation resolved quickly."
As his words sink in, my heart races with a mix of fear and despair. I feel like a pawn in their twisted game - an expendable piece to be manipulated for their purposes. I can’t think of a response that does justice to my feelings. Plus… I can barely. Talk.
My heart hammers in my chest as Zephyrion turns away, his words lingering in the air like a cruel echo. "Do not fret," he says with cold assurance. "Once this is over, the goblin will die."
My eyes widen in shock, thoughts racing. Snib... dead? I manage to sputter out, "B- but... but you promised him-"
"A contract made with a creature such as Snib is not legally binding under Valarian law, as it is assumed to be made under duress," Zephyrion cuts me off, an icy smile playing on his lips. "He is, after all, a *monster...* and we are at liberty to dispose of him as we see fit."
His words send shivers down my spine. Snib's demise was something I should be anticipating with relish, yet why do I feel this strange pang of discomfort? Is it simply because of the obscene amount of cum still trickling down my thighs and coating my tongue?
Zephyrion continues unperturbed, promising that once freed from this humiliating predicament, I will be rewarded handsomely for playing a crucial part in the tide of war.
Numbly, I watch him leave.(simple_option:"16 leave inn","Exit the inn.")($play:"ambience","dawn sad")($play:"sex loop","splats")($hidden_gem:"With shaky legs, barely holding me up after the intense and relentless fuck marathon, and cum-soaked panties sagging under the weight of Snib’s filthy, heavy, spunk-filled condoms, I stumble outside into the breaking dawn.","With weak knees wobbling treacherously beneath me, barely balancing on feeble footing after the frenzied fuckathon, my cum-soaked, sagging panties, swollen with Snib’s sticky, semen-stuffed sheaths, I stagger outside into the emerging, early dawn.")
The cold morning air licks at my burning cheeks, failing to soothe the shame inside me.
(pic:"ch16/alley.jpg","right")(if:$anal is "yes")[I turn into an alleyway, resting a hand against the wall for support, the difficulty of walking with a gaping, stretched asshole making my steps wobbly and unpredictable. The constant trickle of cum leaking from my ass serves as a relentless reminder of my abuse. I collapse onto the cobblestones, the chill seeping into my tired, inflamed flesh.
With a deep, resigned sigh, I start the humiliating process of detaching the cum-filled condoms from my aching body.](else:)[I turn into an alleyway and collapse onto the cobblestones, the chill seeping into my inflamed flesh. With a deep, resigned sigh, I start the process of detaching the cum-filled condoms from my body.]
My hands shake as I reach for the first one tied to my bikini top. My trembling fingers fumble with the knot.
“Uuhhh... ngh... f-fuck,” I moan pathetically. The bloated condoms squelch and slosh obscenely, stretched taut and swollen with Snib’s yellowed spunk.
One by one, I peel away the sticky, revolting trophies. The sight and smell of them make me gag - each condom distended and bulging, like huge, lewd jellyfish teeming with glistening, curdled, and squirming goblin seed, threatening to burst at any moment.(if:$anal is "yes")[
I go to remove one tied to my waist, and shudder at the sensation of more cum oozing from my gaping, sore asshole, pooling beneath me in thick, sticky puddles. The heavy, revolting globules squirt out with each movement I make, marking the stones under me with obscene white splatters.
As I fumble to release the knot around my waist, a particularly determined **GLOOP** of spunk forces its way past my still-gaping hole, dripping down my thighs in slow, heavy rivulets and soaking my already sodden bikini bottom.]
With each one, the process seems to get harder.
“Ungh... so full... so heavy... fuck,” I whimper as I untie yet another one from my top, each one making my breasts bob and heave as they’re finally relieved of their burdens.
Then come the worst ones. My sagging panties, straining and stretched under the grossly engorged condoms tied to them, threaten at any moment to snap and let loose a flood of cum all over the alleyway. As I fumble to untie them, holding each heavy, squirming sheath delicately between my fingers, I can't help but moan.
“S-so much cum... fuck, oh gods,” I babble. My hands are slick with the warm, sticky fluid as I manage to remove the last one, my panties finally starting to stay in place.
The pile of filled condoms grows in the alleyway, a sickening monument to my utter fucking defilement tonight. Each one is a time Snib ejaculated inside me. They lie there, grotesque bulging masses glistening obscenely, the vivid yellow of Snib's sperm swirling and curdling inside, like macabre jellyfish bloated with toxic muck.
His overpowering musk clings to me, fills the air around me.
My knees wobble. I can still feel his cock inside me, my pussy clenching and spasming involuntarily in the aftermath.
“Uuhhh... nngh...”
One condom proves particularly tricky to remove. It's tightly knotted around the string of my panties and as I tug at it, there's a sudden 'pop'. A spray of hot cum bursts forth from a tiny puncture in the condom. The thick liquid sprays against the rough stone wall of the alleyway and onto me.
I curse under my breath as I toss it aside quickly.(simple_option:"16 sneak 1","Try to sneak home...")($play:"sex loop",0)The sound of morning in Eboncrest builds gradually, along with my anxiety. At first, only the distant crowing of roosters breaks the silence, followed by the soft fluttering of wings as birds take flight from their perches. Then come the first rays of light, casting long shadows that hide me in my disgrace.
I remain crouched behind a water trough in an alleyway for what feels like ages, listening to the town come alive. The clatter of wooden carts and horse hooves against cobblestones grows louder as merchants begin setting up for the day's trade.
(pic:"ch16/main street.jpg")
(set:$choice to "Main Street")(if:$choice is "Main Street")[I peek out from around the corner of the alleyway, my heart hammering in my chest. The main street of Eboncrest lies before me, a stretch of cobblestone that seems to go on forever. The first hints of dawn cast a dim, golden light across the empty path.
Market stalls line the sides, their awnings fluttering softly in the morning breeze.
Taking a deep breath, I step out from the alleyway, my steps unsteady.
The thin strings of my bikini top dig into my shoulders, the totally-soaked fabric fighting a losing battle to hold up the enormous weight of my breasts. My nipples are painfully erect, every brush against the fabric sending jolts of unwanted pleasure coursing through me.
"*Just get home,*" I repeat to myself, trying to focus. My pussy is still throbbing, raw and stretched from the brutal fucking it endured all night.
I glance down the street, scanning for any signs of movement. Merchants will be setting up their stalls soon, and the last thing I need is to be seen in this state.
Biting my lip, I decide to make a run for it.
Halfway across the street, the sound of footsteps makes my blood run cold. I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest, and crouch behind a stack of wooden crates. My breathing is ragged, each inhale and exhale a struggle as I try to still my heaving chest. The crates offer little comfort, their splintered edges digging into my soft skin as I press myself against them.
I can't afford to be spotted like this. My reputation in Eboncrest has taken enough of a hit as it is - and if they saw me walking through the streets like this... gods...
I crouch lower. The urge to sob rises in my throat, but I choke it back, forcing myself to stay silent. I listen intently, my ears straining to pick up the sound of an approaching merchant.
I have to make a choice. Do I wait until he leaves, hoping he doesn't notice me, or do I try to cross quickly before anyone else shows up?(simple_option:"16 sneak 2","Wait for the merchant to leave.","Try to cross quickly.")]($play:"ambience","dawn sad")(if:$choice is "Wait for the merchant to leave.")[The merchant’s footsteps grow louder, echoing in the still morning air.
*Please don't see me, please don't see me...*
I take a risk, peeking out slightly from my hiding spot. My heart skips a beat as I recognize the merchant - Eadric, a longstanding acquaintance. His robust frame and familiar stern expression make my stomach churn with anxiety. Eadric knows Elara. He knows *me*.
If he sees me like this...
($heroism_check:50)(if:$result is "pass")[The merchant’s footsteps finally begin to fade, and I dare to breathe a sigh of relief. My trembling legs ache from holding the crouched position, but I stay put until I’m certain he’s gone.
With a deep, shaky breath, I slowly rise from my hiding spot. I glance around the street, ensuring it’s clear before making my move.
Heart pounding, I hurriedly dart across the cobblestones, feeling the cool morning air against my overheated skin. The sound of my own breathing is harsh and ragged, mingling with the faint rustle of my stained bikini top. Each step sends jolts of unwelcome pleasure through my still-throbbing cunt, the wet fabric of my panties rubbing against the puffy, swollen lips.
I reach another hiding spot behind a cart parked near the market square. My body shakes with the adrenaline coursing through me, the fear of being discovered gnawing at my insides. I clutch onto the edge of the cart, my knuckles turning white.](else:)[Just as I think the coast is clear, I hear Eadric’s voice. "Who’s there?!" It sends a jolt of terror through me. I try to press myself further into the shadows, but it’s too late. His keen eyes land on me, widening in shock.
“El—Elise?” His voice wavers, recognition and disbelief warring within his gaze. “Gods, what happened to you?”
I feel my face flush with a deep, burning shame. Slowly, painfully, I rise from my crouch, every muscle protesting the motion. My body is a stained, glistening testament to my night of depravity, my massive tits bouncing obscenely with every movement. My soaked panties cling tightly to my swollen lips, the yellowed bikini top barely covering my erect nipples.
“Eadric…” I manage to whisper, my voice trembling.
($change_stat:"town",-1)Concern etches deeper into his features as he takes in my appearance. “You shouldn’t be out like this! Come, let me help you—”
“No!” The word comes out as a shrill, desperate cry. My legs propel me forward before I can think, slipping slightly as I launch myself away from him. Horror grips me as I realize the gravity of my situation - Eadric knows Elara. How could I ever face him again? How could I explain this?
Elara. My beloved Elara...
Tears blur my vision as I dart down the street, my heart breaking with each step.
“Wait, Elise!” Eadric’s voice trails after me, but I force myself to keep running, shame turning my legs to lead.
I dash behind a cart near the market square, my sobs catching in my throat. The cold, hard reality of my humiliation settling around me like a cloak of despair. I clutch my heaving chest, the weight of my breasts pressing painfully against my ribs.]
I need to make it home, I need to reach Elara. But the thought of facing her in this state fills me with dread. How can I ever explain what I’ve become? The sobs threaten to spill over again, but I choke them back, knowing I need to remain silent.](else:)[Taking a deep breath, I decide to make a run for it.
My bare feet slap against the cobblestones as I dart forward.
($heroism_check:40)(if:$result is "pass")[I know I should be careful, but the thought of being seen like this drives me to move faster.
Finally, with a last burst of speed, I reach the other side and dive behind a cart. My chest heaves with exertion, my breaths coming in heavy gasps. The market square lies ahead.
I press my back against the wooden cart, my body trembling with relief. The cool morning air kisses my overheated skin. My panties have ridden up painfully, and I adjust them.](else:)[Halfway across, my foot catches on an uneven stone. Time seems to slow as I teeter forward, my arms flailing wildly. The world tilts, and with a sickening lurch, I go crashing down.
My face smashes against the cobblestones, the impact sending a sharp jolt of pain through my skull. My huge tits squish and spread painfully under me, the force of my fall causing them to flatten against the rough ground.
I lie there, stunned, feeling the cool, hard stone pressing against my cheek. Tears sting my eyes as I struggle to push myself up. The sound of a familiar voice makes my blood run cold.
"Elise? Is that... you?"
I look up, my vision blurry with tears, to see Eadric, a merchant I knew well as Aldric. His weathered face is etched with worry as he takes in my disheveled, obscene appearance.
"Eadric... p-please..." I whimper, my voice trembling.
He rushes over, his eyes widening as he gets closer. "Elise, what happened to you? You shouldn't be out dressed like this!"
His gaze darts over my barely covered body, the tiny bikini top doing nothing to hide my massive breasts, the soaked fabric clinging obscenely to my skin. My panties ride up, painfully wedged between my plump pussy lips, adding to the unbearable humiliation.
"I... I have to go," I sob, my voice barely a whisper. The tears spill over, streaming down my cheeks as I push myself up on shaky legs.
($change_stat:"town",-2)"Eadric, please... don't tell anyone," I plead, my voice breaking.
He reaches out as if to help me, but I recoil, the weight of my situation crashing down on me.
Without another word, I turn and run, my legs wobbling under the strain of the night's ordeal. Eadric's voice calls out after me, filled with concern, but I don't look back.
Tears blur my vision as I dash down the street, the humiliating weight of my breasts bouncing heavily with each step.
I reach the cover of a cart behind the market square and duck behind it, collapsing in a heap. My whole body trembles, and I bury my face in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably. The shame, the exhaustion, the sheer obscenity of my situation—it all crashes over me like a tidal wave.
I don't know how much longer I can endure this. The weight of my transformation, the constant humiliation... it's too much.]]
The morning light grows stronger, casting long shadows on the cobblestones. My eyes dart around, analyzing my options. To my left, there's an alley that leads to the back of the bakery. To my right, the main street stretches on, but it's filled with early risers preparing for the day's business.
I glance towards the bakery. It's still early, and if the baker is inside, I might be able to slip past unnoticed.
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I need to make a decision. Every second I hesitate increases the risk of being spotted.
The cart behind me offers some cover, but I can't stay here forever. The bustling market will soon be too busy, and the chance of being seen will multiply. I glance around again, my pulse pounding in my ears.(simple_option:"16 sneak 3","Past the bakery.","Wait for the street to be clear.")($play:"ambience","dawn sad")(if:$choice is "Wait for the street to be clear.")[Each second feels like an eternity as I wait, my body trembling with the effort to remain still. The soaked bikini top clings to my skin, the wet fabric chafing against my painfully erect nipples.
I risk a glance around the edge of the cart, hoping to see an empty street.
($heroism_check:40)(if:$result is "pass")[I wait, my muscles tense, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of an opening. The noise of merchants setting up their stalls fills the air, a cacophony of sounds that seems too loud, too overwhelming.
Finally, I see my chance. The street clears for a brief moment, a small window of opportunity.
Heart pounding, I dart forward, moving quickly and silently across the cobblestones.
I reach the heart of the market square, ducking behind a vegetable cart. My chest heaves with exertion.](else:)[The street begins to clear, and I think I can make it.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly rise from my hiding spot behind the cart, my legs trembling with the effort. My massive breasts bounce heavily with the movement, the strings of my bikini top digging into my shoulders. My soaked panties cling to my swollen pussy lips, the wet fabric rubbing against my sensitive flesh with each step.
I take a cautious step forward, but then I hear a voice.
"Mama, why is that lady dressed like that?"
I freeze, my blood turning to ice in my veins. Slowly, I turn to see a young boy staring up at me, his wide eyes filled with innocent curiosity. Beside him stands his mother, her face a mask of disapproval.
"Have you no shame?" she hisses, her voice low but sharp. "Walking around like that... in front of children, no less!"
My face burns with humiliation, tears stinging my eyes. I open my mouth to speak, to somehow explain, but the words won't come. The woman steps closer, her eyes narrowing as she takes in my appearance.
"You're that... that Elise," she says, her voice dripping with disdain. "The goblin's... bitch."
I stumble back, my heart pounding in my chest. The woman's eyes gleam with a cruel satisfaction as she watches me squirm.
"Look at you," she sneers. "This is what you've become. Disgusting."
The young boy tugs at his mother's skirts, his innocent eyes wide with confusion. "Mama, what's a goblin's bitch?"
($change_stat:"town",-2)The woman's face colors with anger, her eyes never leaving mine. "Never you mind, child. Some people have no self-respect."
I can't take it anymore. With a choked sob, I turn and run, my legs wobbling under the strain of the night's ordeal.
Tears blur my vision as I dash down the street, my body's every movement a painful reminder of what I've endured.
I reach the heart of the market square and duck behind a vegetable cart, collapsing in a heap. My entire body trembles, and I bury my face in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably.]](else:)[I glance in the direction of the bakery, my heart hammering in my chest. If I can slip past, I'll be closer to home without having to risk the main street. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the dash.
($heroism_check:50)(if:$result is "pass")[I skirt the side of the bakery, holding my breath. The smell of fresh bread wafts through the air.
My steps are light, my movements calculated. I reach the edge of the building and glance around, relief flooding through me as I see the path clear. I slip past the bakery and into the heart of the market square, ducking behind a vegetable cart.
My chest heaves with exertion, my face flushed as I struggle to calm my racing heart.](else:)[I take a deep breath and dart forward, slipping along the side of the bakery.
I'm halfway past when I hear footsteps behind me. My heart leaps into my throat, and I glance back to see the baker's assistant—Roderick, a young, muscular man with a leering grin on his face.
"Well, look what we have here," he calls out, his voice dripping with amusement. "Elise, the goblin's slut."
"No, please..." I whisper, my voice caught in my throat. I pick up my pace, my legs trembling with fear and exhaustion. But it's too late. Roderick's footsteps quicken, and before I can react, he catches up with me, grabbing my arm.
"Ahh!"
"Where do you think you're going, slut?" he jeers, his eyes raking over my barely covered form. "Does your wife know you're parading around like this?"
Tears sting my eyes as I try and fail to get away.
"You know... I know Elara. Sweet woman. She’d be devastated to hear about this, wouldn’t she? Unless..."
"Please..." I whimper, the tears streaming down my cheeks.
"Unless you let me give that fat ass of yours a nice big spank," he says, his tone a mocking parody of kindness. "A punishment, for your behavior."
I gasp, choking on the sobs. "No... please, don't..."
"Your choice," he sneers, his hand already poised. "Take it, or I tell her everything."
I shudder, my knees buckling. With a deep breath, I nod slowly. "O-okay..."
Roderick's grin widens as he steps closer, positioning himself. "Good girl. Now, brace yourself."
(size:3)[*SPANK!*](live:7s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","spank 2")]
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)"Ahhh!" My asscheeks jiggle obscenely, the sting lingering long after his hand has left my flesh.
He chuckles darkly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"There, that should teach you." He turns and walks away, leaving me trembling, my face burning.
I collapse against the vegetable cart, my sobs breaking free, the full weight of my humiliation crashing down on me. My body shakes uncontrollably, the agony of the night and the morning's events overwhelming me.
I press my back against the wooden cart, my knees wobbling as I try to collect myself.]](simple_option:"16 blacksmith","The blacksmith's shop is ahead...")The cobblestones are cool under my bare feet, the moisture of the morning dew clinging to the soles.
I reach the edge of the blacksmith shop, glancing around to ensure the coast is clear. Just as I think I'm safe, I spot movement.
The blacksmith, a burly man named Haldor, is working outside his forge, tending to the early morning fire. His muscular frame is silhouetted against the glow of the flames, his hammer striking metal rhythmically.
Haldor picks up a bucket of water to quench the hot metal he's been working on, his footsteps heavy as he moves toward the trough. He hasn't spotted me yet, but he's coming closer with each step.
*Gods, no...*
My pulse quickens as I realize I'm cornered. My options are limited—I can either hide in the coal bin beside the shop or try to climb over the wall leading to my house.
I glance between the coal bin and the wall, my mind racing.(simple_option:"16 blacksmith choice","Hide in the coal bin.","Climb over the wall.")(set:$panties to "intact")(if:$choice is "Hide in the coal bin.")[Coal dust clings to my sweaty body, painting my pale skin in streaks of black. My raven-black hair, already a tangled mess, now holds bits of soot and grime.
I crouch low, trying to steady my breathing. The darkness envelopes me, and I can hear the blacksmith's footsteps drawing even nearer. Holding my breath, I pray he didn't see me...
($heroism_check:35)(if:$result is "pass")[My heart hammers in my chest as I listen to the sound of Haldor's heavy boots on the cobblestones.
I peer through a crack in the bin, watching as he moves to quench the hot metal in the trough. The steam rises in a cloud, obscuring my view momentarily.
He sets the bucket down and turns back to his forge, his broad back to me. The sound of the clanging hammer resumes, echoing through the quiet morning air.
I wait, my muscles tense, for the perfect moment. When I'm certain he's engrossed in his work, I slowly slip out of the coal bin. My body is coated in a fine layer of coal dust, mixing with the sweat and grime from getting fucked by a goblin.
Moving quickly and quietly, I've finally arrived. My legs wobble as I make my way to the door, my entire body trembling with exhaustion and fear.](else:)["Who's there?" Haldor's voice is a deep, resonant rumble that sends chills down my spine. I freeze, holding my breath, but it's too late. "Is someone in there with my coal?"
My hand slips, causing a small pile of coal to shift and clatter. The noise is deafening in the quiet morning, and my heart plummets.
"Elise?" Haldor's confusion is palpable as he steps closer, his face coming into view above the edge of the bin.
His eyes widen in shock as he takes in my disheveled appearance, the coal dust smeared across my skin, the barely-there bikini revealing far too much.
"Elise... what in the name of the gods happened to you?" His voice is filled with a mix of concern and disbelief, the familiarity of his tone cutting me to the core.
($change_stat:"town",-2)Sobs wrack my body, and I can't hold back the tears any longer. "Haldor, please... don't..."
He reaches out, his hand hovering uncertainly. "You look... you look awful. Does Elara know you're out here like this?"
The mention of my wife's name is like a dagger to my heart. "No... she doesn't... can't..."
Haldor's face softens with concern. "Elise, you need help. Let me..."
"No!" I cry, my voice cracking. I scramble out of the coal bin, my bare feet slipping on the cobblestones. "Please, just... don't tell her. I... I can't..."
"Elise, wait!"
Tears stream down my coal-streaked cheeks as I run, my body trembling with every step.
I'm home.]](else:)[The blacksmith's heavy footsteps draw nearer.
I take a deep breath, my fingers brushing the cold stone as I brace myself for the climb. My massive breasts strain against the soaked bikini top, bouncing heavily with each movement.
*Just get over the wall, Elise.*
($heroism_check:60)(if:$result is "pass")[I grit my teeth and begin to climb, my fingers finding purchase on the rough stone. My legs tremble as I haul myself upward, every movement sending jolts of pain and exhaustion through my body.
My tits are a huge obstacle, their massive size making it difficult to maneuver. They press painfully against the wall. My breath comes in gasps.
Finally, I reach the top, my chest heaving as I swing one leg over. I pause for a moment, glancing back to ensure the blacksmith hasn't seen me.
I lower myself down the other side, my feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. Relief floods through me as I realize I've made it. I'm so close to home.
I move quickly and quietly, every step bringing me closer to safety. Within moments, I'm at my front door, my hand shaking as I reach for the handle.](else:)[I scramble up the wall, my fingers digging into the rough stone as I haul myself upward. The strain is agonizing, each muscle screaming in protest.
($hidden_gem:"My heavy breasts drag against the wall, adding to the difficulty.","My heavy honkers hover against the harsh, haggard stone, heaving with heightened hindrance.")
*Almost there...*
My foot slips, causing me to slide back slightly. Panic flares as I hear the blacksmith come nearer. I try again, my movements frantic and desperate.
Finally, I manage to get one leg over the wall. But as I swing the other leg over, I feel a sharp tug. My panties catch on a jagged edge of the stone, the already stretched fabric straining even more.
"*No...*"
The tearing sound fills the air. I gasp as the fabric gives way, my panties ripping completely off. They flutter to the top of the wall like a white flag.
($notification:"Your panties have torn off.")*Fuck!*(live:5s)[($play:"sound","rip")(stop:)]
My bare pussy, swollen and aching from the night's abuse, is exposed to the cool morning air. I clench my thick thighs together, a futile attempt at maintaining some semblance of modesty.
I drop to the ground on the other side, my legs trembling.
By the time I reach the front door, my body is shaking, my face flushed. I slip inside, closing the door behind me and leaning heavily against it.(set:$panties to "torn")]](pic:"ch16/home.jpg")(simple_option:"16 home","You're home...")(pic:"ch04/elara sad.jpg","right")As I push open the door, the familiar creaking hinges sound loud and intrusive in the quiet morning. Home. The four walls that have always been a sanctuary, a refuge from the world outside - now feeling more like a stage for ongoing humiliation.
And there, in the middle of our simple living room, is Elara.
Her sapphire eyes are wide, bloodshot - it’s clear she hasn't slept all night. Her gaze flickers over my body, then narrows as she takes in my state – cum-streaked, shaking... (if:$panties is "torn")[panties gone...]
A gasp escapes her lips as her hand flies to her mouth. The teacup she was holding clatters to the floor, tea spreading across the worn rug like spilled blood.
She rises abruptly from her chair, sending it toppling backward with a loud crash. Her cheeks pale dramatically - contrasting starkly against her fiery hair and blue eyes which are now shining with unshed tears.
"Elise…" her voice cracks as she whispers my name. The heartbreaking mix of despair and anger evident in just that single word tears through me.
Tears well up in her eyes as she takes another step back, shaking her head as though trying to dispel a horrid vision. "You said... you said you were only going to... You promised," she chokes out.(simple_option:"16 stutter","Try to say something...","Make an excuse...","Explain it.")Her words hit me harder than any physical blow ever could.
"Elara… I…” My throat tightens painfully around the words I want to say but can’t seem to form. I grip my collar, trying desperately to tear it off. “I can’t… I can’t fight it…”
A sob escapes from Elara's lips and it sounds like shattered glass echoing throughout our home.
“You fucking...” She stops herself before letting out another choked sob. "How could you?!"
Her voice rises shrilly as pain twists her beautiful features into an anguished grimace. She clutches at her chest, nails biting into fabric as if trying to physically anchor herself amidst this storm of hurt and betrayal.
"Did it feel good?” She finally cries out through gritted teeth, sapphire eyes sparkling with unshed tears and raw fury beneath hooded lids. “Did being his fucktoy feel good?”(simple_option:"16 try to","Try to respond...")I open my mouth but no words come out; my own betrayal mirroring hers in its depth and intensity.
And as Elara breaks down completely – sobs wracking her beautiful face.
She crumples to the floor, her slender shoulders shaking as sobs rack her body.
(if:$panties is "torn")[($change_stat:"elara",-3)](else:)[($change_stat:"elara",-2)]"I... I thought... I hoped it wasn't true..." Her voice is a raspy whisper, choked with tears.
The weight of her words, her grief... it's too much. Hot, shameful tears spill over from my own eyes, streaking down my cheeks. I sink to the floor across from her, our shared pain creating an invisible barrier between us.
Elara's sobs subside for a moment as she lifts her head to the ceiling, her chest heaving with each shuddering breath she takes.
"Eon!" she screams. The name of the Ephemeral governing time and past echoes through the room with raw desperation. "You who rule time! Why did you not warn us?"
Her words are a plea, filled with a desolation so deep it makes my heart clench painfully in my chest.
"Flux!" Her cry grows louder and angrier as she invokes the deity of change and present. "Where is your essence of transience now? Where is your so-called balance when this... this abomination," she gestures at me with a trembling hand, "is forced upon us?"
Her blue eyes flash as she gazes upwards again, fierce determination replacing some of the hopelessness on her face.
"And Verge!" She practically spits out the name - an accusation aimed directly at the deity symbolizing transcendence and future. "How can you expect us to strive for any kind of future when our present is so desecrated? Are we expected to find transcendence in suffering?"
Her voice breaks on that last word, letting out a heart-wrenching wail that fills our once peaceful home. The despair in it is overwhelming – Elara’s wrath turned towards the heavens.
Then, she's quiet. Anger spent. Exhausted.
I watch her cry for what feels like an eternity – every tear that falls from her beautiful face another dagger twisting in my already shattered heart. And yet all I can do is sit there and share in our misery - another puppet bound by strings too intricate for mere mortals to untangle.(simple_option:"17 nothing","There's nothing to say.")($play:"ambience","dawn sad")<div class='tw-story-title'>On the Reproductive Supremacy of Goblinoids: A Treatise</div>
**Dr. Ignatius Bramblethorne, M.A., D.Phil., F.R.S., Chair of Evolutionary Xenobiology, University of Thuulk**
The learned reader may dismiss as tavern fabrication the accounts of goblin males achieving thirteen—nay, fifteen—climactic emissions in a single rutting session. I assure you, dear colleague, such dismissal would be gravely mistaken. What follows is the fruit of two decades' study, purchased with the virtue of three research assistants (may the Ephemerals grant them peace) and my own haunted nights.
The goblinoid male harbors within his diminutive frame a reproductive apparatus that would humble a prize bull. Beyond the primary testicular sacs—which hang like overripe plums, perpetually swollen with their vile cargo—lie the *glandulae seminalis auxiliares*, a series of walnut-sized chambers nestled against the spine like parasitic tumors. These auxiliary reservoirs churn without cease, brewing a substance so thick with life-force that a single tablespoon, properly deployed, has been observed to impregnate an entire convent of Sisters of Flux (the Westmarch Incident, which the Crown has ordered us never to speak of).
The ejaculate itself defies comparison to human seed, which flows like thin gruel in contrast. Goblin emission emerges in *ropes*—and I use this term with disturbing literalness—of custard-thick matter, warm as fever-flesh and possessed of its own writhing motility. Under lens examination, one observes not the tadpole-like swimmers of human issue, but aggressive, hook-headed things that burrow and claw their way toward their target with disturbing purpose. The consistency varies throughout climax: the initial spurts arrive hot and thick as porridge left too long on the fire, while subsequent emissions grow ever more viscous until the final releases emerge in chewy, pearl-like clots that must be *chewed* by the receiving cavity to break down.
But it is the pheromonal payload that transforms these creatures from crude breeders into reproductive tyrants. Each goblin orgasm releases concentrated doses of what my late colleague Professor Gertrude Blackthorne termed "submission smoke"—an invisible miasma that bypasses conscious thought entirely. The exposed female (and I have witnessed this horror firsthand during the Laboratory Breach of '44) experiences immediate cervical dilation, spontaneous ovulation regardless of cycle, and most disturbingly, a complete reversal of disgust response. What should repulse instead attracts. What should sicken instead intoxicates. The thickness that should choke instead... nourishes.
The mechanism appears tied to ancient breeding contracts written into the very flesh of our species. Human women, goblin scholarship suggests (for yes, they have their own crude historians), were "designed" by forgotten powers to serve as superior breeding vessels when goblin females grew scarce. The human womb, once penetrated by goblin seed, begins producing hormones that *crave* repeated insemination. I have examined victims—forgive me, *subjects*—who, three months after a single exposure, still wake screaming for "more of master's cream." The addiction is not psychological but written into the very tissues.
Most disturbing is what I term the "displacement phenomenon." Goblin semen, upon entering a gravid womb bearing non-goblin offspring, induces immediate spontaneous termination. The mechanism is ruthlessly efficient: the goblin seed literally *digests* the existing pregnancy, converting it to nutrient soup that then feeds the newly-implanted goblin spawn. One of my research subjects, a merchant's wife who had been three months with her husband's child when taken by raiders, delivered twins—both pure goblin—after only four additional months. The mathematics should not be possible, yet the evidence was undeniable.
**The Matter of Auxiliary Reserves**
Recent events force me to append this treatise with information I had hoped to take to my grave. The goblin male's capacity for sexual conquest extends beyond even what common knowledge suggests. Deep within the goblin pelvis lies what crude dissection reveals as the *reservatum ultimum*—a leather-tough sac capable of storing months of accumulated seed. When sufficiently aroused (typically through domination of a particularly desirable female), this reserve can discharge in what can only be described as a reproductive catastrophe.
(if:$anal is "yes")[I refer, with great reluctance, to the case of the hero-turned-female known as Elise, whose debasement has become something of scholarly legend. During what witnesses describe as "routine" anal violation, the goblin achieved such arousal that his auxiliary reserve discharged with force sufficient to traverse her entire digestive tract. The volume—nearly a full quart by some estimates—erupted with such pressure that it filled her bowels, flooded her stomach, and fountained from her mouth and nostrils. That she survived is miraculous.
]The expelled substance in such events is not the relatively "fresh" seed of regular emissions but a fermented, concentrated essence that has been aging like wine in the goblin's interior. Witnesses describe it as "custard thick but somehow also chunky," with a reek that combines cheese-rind, battlefield latrines, and something uniquely musky that makes human females involuntarily ovulate from scent alone. The temperature of such emissions has been measured at nearly that of boiling water, though the receiving female's altered state prevents tissue damage that should by rights occur.
**A Warning to the Learned**
Let none dismiss these creatures as mere pests. A single goblin, properly positioned, could convert an entire nunnery within a moon's turning. Their seed does not merely impregnate—it *colonizes*, rewriting the female body's very purpose until she becomes naught but a goblin-producing vessel, craving nothing but the next injection of that thick, writhing cream. The afflicted describe the need as "bones aching for marrow"—a hollowness that only goblin emission can fill.
I have seen proud sorceresses reduced to mewling addicts, begging for "just one more rope of master's gift." I have documented cases where human women, rescued after months of captivity, escaped their saviors to return to goblin warrens, their wombs so altered they could no longer process human food, surviving only on regular deposits of goblin seed. The substance apparently contains all necessary nutrients when the female body has been properly "prepared" through repeated exposure.
The realm faces not merely raiders but a reproductive apocalypse that advances one womb at a time. Each woman taken is not just enslaved but transformed into a factory for producing more of these virile monsters. And most terrifying of all: the goblins know exactly what they possess between their legs. They understand their cocks are weapons more devastating than any sword.(masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"sex loop",0)($chapter_title:17,"Heartbreak")($play:"ambience","elara theme")(set:$gender to "female")I awake to the soft rustling of Elara tending to me. Despite everything.
My body is on fire, an ache consuming me from the inside out.
I shift uncomfortably in our bed, a low groan escaping my lips as pain radiates from my battered cunt.
“Easy,” she murmurs softly, her cool hand on my feverish forehead offering a modicum of relief. I flinch slightly under her touch, but it feels good... better than I deserve.
My wife schools her expression into one of detachment.
“You need to eat,” she says tersely, setting down a tray laden with food on the bedside table.
I watch mutely as she fusses about the room - tidying up, arranging things - all while giving me a wide berth. A cold distance.
Yet, somehow, the idea of food makes my mouth taste ashy. My body is in another mode. It seems to crave a different form of sustenance.
Elara sighs exasperatedly. She seats herself gingerly on the edge of the bed and reaches out towards me.
“Easy,” she murmurs, her voice detached but steady.
I can see the pain etched into her beautiful features, the tension in her jawline. She tries to avoid my eyes as she dabs my forehead with a cool, damp cloth, but when our gazes do meet, her sapphire eyes are a storm of conflicting emotions – hurt, anger, regret, love.
“Y-you need to eat,” she repeats, her voice cracking just the slightest bit. She sets down the tray of food closer to me. The aroma of the fresh bread and warm soup wafts up to my nostrils.
Elara gently lifts a spoonful of soup to my lips.
“Come on, Elise,” she says more firmly, her tone a mixture of frustration and genuine concern.
Despite everything that has happened between us, despite all that Snib has done to me – it’s Elara’s kindness that hurts the most.(simple_option:"17 sip","Accept it anyway.")I part my lips and take a sip, the warmth of the broth spreading through me as I drink it.
Elara dabs sweat off my brow.
She’s always had such a gentle, maternal nature, and even now, when she must despise me, she can’t help but care.
“You're burning up,” she presses her palm against my forehead and cheek.
I nod, the intense heat radiating from my core almost unbearable.
She pulls away to retrieve a basin of cool water. When she returns, the touch of the wet cloth against my fevered skin elicits a small groan of relief.
I feel the sweat trickle down from my temples, mingling with the sticky, residual musk that still clings to my body. Every breath I take seems to fill my nostrils with the lingering stench of Snib, no matter how much I try to wash it off.
His pheromones swim in my blood... I can practically feel them overlaying my thoughts with intrusive thoughts that I despise with every fiber of my being.
“Elara, Moonshade...” I manage to croak out between shuddering breaths. "I... n..."
She looks at me with a mixture of pity and frustration. "The shops are all out of Moonshade,” she says sharply. “Even the apothecary. The *entire town* is out, suddenly.” She trails off, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice.
Zephyrion's influence.
I wince, the ache in my chest intensifying.
“I’m doing what I can, Elise,” she continues, her voice carrying an edge of cold detachment. “But there’s only so much I can do when you let that monster ruin you.”
The scent of Snib's cum isn’t just stuck to my skin; it’s seeped into my very essence, wrapping around my brain like a stranglehold of invisible vines.
I can almost *feel* them slinking through my veins, invading every thought.
They cloud my brain, turning my thoughts to a molasses-like sludge. Intrusive images of Snib’s cock force their way in. The sight, the feel of his monstrous member stretching me out - they hijack my mind like a siege.
And oh god, the sensation – it’s everywhere. Inside my womb, hot and wet, claws digging deep. I can almost taste his stinking organ with every breath, the flavor spreading out like a fungus from the back of my tongue down to my core. It’s a malignancy, each tendon wrapping a tentacle around a precious fragment of my remaining sanity.
($willpower_action:"Use sheer willpower to steel yourself...",5,"You manage to steel your mind against the pheromones!")(simple_option:"17 fight it","Fight it.")($play:"ambience","elara theme")My mind is a battlefield, the intrusive thoughts of Snib’s cock warring against my will. I look into Elara’s eyes and find a reason to fight back, a reason to try and reclaim what little of myself remains.
($heroism_check:50)(if:$result is "fail" and $unlocks_active contains "Use sheer willpower to steel yourself...")[($notification:"But your willpower saves you...")(set:$result to "pass")](if:$result is "pass")[I suck in a shuddering breath, trying to force the images out of my head, attempting to replace them with memories of warmth and love. Elara’s fingers entwine with mine, grounding me as I struggle against the insidious tendrils of Snib’s pheromones wrapping around my brain.
Sweat beads on my forehead, my muscles tense as I silently fight the fires burning behind my closed eyelids.
“Elara,” I whisper, my voice cracking, “I... I’m trying...”
($change_stat:"heroism",10)Her thumb strokes the back of my hand The scent, the thoughts, they clamor for the forefront of my mind, but I latch onto her her touch – my lifeline in this sea of corruption.](else:)[But it’s too overwhelming – the sensation of his cock, the memories, they’re too intense, and I feel my resolve crumbling.
Images I'd rather repress, reject... but they come nonetheless - flashes of Snib and his monstrous cock ramming into me while I squeal and moan like some sort of sex-starved fuck-cow.
Each thought another pin through my brain, hammering deeper acceptance of my own depravity into my core.
I shudder, a sob tearing itself from my throat as vivid images assault me — Snib's girthy shaft plunging into me, fucking me, draining his balls inside me. I can feel him again, the way he stretched me, filled me, used me — a thought so repulsive yet vivid, it makes me sopping wet.
*Please... make it stop...*
The scent of his cum, pungent and overwhelming, invades every breath I take.
My eyelids flutter, heavy with the weight of submission.
I can feel it spreading - his influence, his control. The heat between my thighs builds, transforming into a sticky wetness that soaks through my already sodden panties. My face burns with humiliation, eyes tearing up as I try to fight the waves of arousal that pulse through me.
A whimper escapes my lips. *Fuck, no... not again...*
Elara’s eyes narrow slightly, sensing my turmoil, but she says nothing. The shame is unbearable, knowing she can feel the heat radiating from me, smell the sickening stench that clings to me.
"I'm sorry, Elara..."]
Her soft voice rouses me from my misery-ridden stupor as she reaches out to hold my hand in hers - her grip steady and comforting despite everything happening around us.
"It's not your fault," she says softly, her gaze never wavering from mine.
Her declaration hangs heavy in the air between us – absolution offered freely despite everything that has transpired. It’s too much and not enough all at once – I can only choke back tears as her words wrap around me like a warm blanket; offering comfort where none should exist.
"I've decided..." she trails off for a moment before continuing again with renewed vigor "It's not your fault... any of it."(simple_option:"17 cry","You burst into tears.")($play:"sound","cry")“I can’t do this without you,” I choke out between sobs – it’s an admission that leaves me raw and vulnerable but it’s the truth… “I’m so sorry.”
Elara doesn’t say anything – she doesn’t need to… because it’s all there in those sapphire eyes: Her understanding… Her acceptance… Her love…
Her voice grows softer, more vulnerable, as she murmurs, "I wouldn't know what to do if I lost you, either... I need you now more than ever." She hesitates for a moment, placing a hand on her still-flat belly where the promise of new life grows. "We need to get through this... for the baby."
At the mention of our unborn child – a tiny glimmer of hope amidst all this darkness – I can't help the swell of protectiveness that washes over me. Tears pool in my eyes as my heart clenches painfully at the thought of our child growing inside of Elara's womb, innocent and oblivious to the horrors that surround it.
With trembling hands, I reach out to place my palm against Elara's stomach. It feels warm and soft under my touch, yet beneath it lies the miracle we both created – a symbol of our love even in these trying times. A remnant of Aldric.
"I know," I whisper hoarsely, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down upon me. "We'll find a way through this. We will."
Elara looks into my eyes, her sapphire orbs shimmering with unshed tears. She nods in agreement - her expression mixing fierce determination and fragile hope.
With shaky hands, Elara pulls out something small from her pocket – something glowing faintly violet.
(pic:"ch06/tellstone.jpg","right")"The ($lorebook_entry:"Tellstone","things") ($lorebook_entry:"Master Fendril","people") gave us," Elara's voice hushes to a whisper, her eyes glinting in the dim light as she gingerly rolls the tellstone in her hands. "He told me to use it only in case of dire need... and I think that time is now."
There's an air of solemnity in her words, a gravity that weighs heavily on my already burdened shoulders. These tiny magical devices are extremely costly, usually reserved for nobility and military usage.
"We can't be sure if he will even listen to our plea... or if he'd just take Zephyrion's side."(simple_option:"17 do it","Let's do it anyway.")($play:"ambience","elara theme")(set:$se_to_stop to "cry")(display:"stop sound effect fade")My heart pounds like a wild drum against my chest as Elara activates the tellstone, its faint purple light illuminating her determined face.
She takes a deep breath and begins to speak into the magical device.
"Master Fendril," she says, trying to keep her voice steady. "If you receive this... we need your help."
She explains our situation; how Zephyrion has forced me back into the collar - back into this form – despite having previously been freed. She paints a picture of my degradation at Snib's hands and my constant humiliation under Zephyrion's watchful eye.
Sensing my urgency, Elara offers me the tellstone. The weight of the moment feels heavy in my palms as I take it from her, pressing it to my lips.
"The collar," I say hoarsely into the device. "Found in the Ironrock mine - It's an artifact of Maraan..." A pause here for effect - every word weighs heavy with dread – "...and Zephyrion is using it... to communicate with him."
Maraan - An ancient horror whose awakening once brought doom upon the legendary K'tarrans; invoking his name sends shivers down my spine.
"I am afraid of what he means to do," I continue desperately. “He does not respect the old tales... the old warnings...”
I pass back the tellstone to Elara who then delivers our final plea: "Master Fendril, please send aid... Please come... Help us stop Zephyrion from bringing doom upon us all."
A beat of silence stretches between us as she lets out a shaky breath. Then opening the window wide she raises her arm high before releasing our only hope into the night sky.
(pic:"ch17/send.jpg")
The tiny glow of tellstone zips through open air like a shooting star - hopefully finding its recipient before it's too late.(simple_option:"17 evening","Evening approaches...")(pic:"ch17/couch.jpg")($play:"ambience","night inn")
The air is tense.
Elara and I sit side by side on the plush sofa. The room is cast in the dim glow of the dying embers from the hearth, giving everything a hazy, otherworldly touch.
Elara is an image of gentle grace, clothed in a simple dress of lavender linen that accentuates her natural elegance. Her dress hugs her slender figure flatteringly, its modest cut not detracting from her inherent beauty. The sleeves run down to her wrists, lace detailing at their cuffs echoing the delicate trim of her square neckline.
As for me - even in my full-length green cotton dress, there's no escaping the lewd reality of my body's curves. Its scoop neckline stretches wide over my too-full bust; the bountiful flesh spills out obscenely - threatening to burst from its confinements with every breath I take.
My fingers run over a braid that Elara had twined into my hair earlier today - an attempt to restore some dignity to my situation. A simple twist running down to rest against one shoulder - it feels strange but comforting under my fingers.
Snib’s low chuckle slices through our silent contemplation. It’s a disgusting sound, grating and pervy as always – making me cringe inwardly as his yellow eyes sweep over both us. He lounges across an armchair with one leg thrown carelessly over its armrest – his loincloth leaving little to the imagination.
Elara's sapphire eyes flash dangerously at him - her hands balling into fists on her lap as she bites back an angry retort.
"Master ($lorebook_entry:"Zephyrion","people")," she greets coldly as he steps into our living room.
"Oh, titcow," Snib's grating voice slithers through the dim room, his yellow eyes gleaming with crude pleasure. "How'd you like getting pounded by me fat cock last night?" He leers, his gnarled fingers making a lewd gesture in the air.
I clench my teeth, hyperventilating as a hot wave of mortification flushes through my body. My hands move instinctively to cover my heavy chest as a rush of images - debasing and obscene - flood my mind. The tangy taste of his salty seed that I had swallowed last night prickles at the back of my throat. A thick haze descends over my thoughts, muddling them - all triggered by the musky scent emanating from him.
Elara's face hardens beside me, her sapphire eyes sparking with incandescent rage.
(pic:"ch17/wizard.jpg")
"ENOUGH!"
Zephyrion's commanding voice slices through the tension-charged room, drawing our attention to him. His stormy grey eyes are sharp and calculating as they sweep over us. A warning flickers in their depths, silencing any potential retorts.
Snib retreats under Zephyrion's gaze, grumbling under his breath but ultimately falling silent. Elara's shoulders stiffen further but she wisely holds her tongue.
I attempt to speak but my voice comes out in a choked whisper, my mind still swirling from Snib's vulgar words and Zephyrion's intimidating presence.(simple_option:"17 wizard speaks","The wizard speaks.")(pic:"ch17/arcanameter.jpg","right")Zephyrion regards us all again with his piercing gaze before he speaks again - his words a sharp reminder of our places under his reign.
He steps forward, holding up a shimmering glass rod etched with an intricate series of runes that seem to pulse with an inner light. His fingers dance over the surface, tracing patterns as the runes glow brighter.
"My ($lorebook_entry:"Arcanameter","things")," he announces, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I have made some modifications that will allow me to channel and control the energy from Elise's collar."
He holds it aloft for us to examine - its fine craftsmanship glowing in the dim light of the room. Intricate symbols spiraling around its surface like a trail of starlight. It is an object of power and mystery, pulsating with hidden potential.
"But," Zephyrion adds ominously, his gaze moving back to me.
"It will require a similar emotional outpouring from you... and Snib."
Snib's grin widens at this - a grotesque sight that sets my heart pounding. His crude voice breaks the silence as he eagerly offers his own lewd suggestion. "Think we need to ditch them condoms then."
Zephyrion gives no reaction to his words - his grey eyes remain cold and unfocused as they watch us. His rod flickers as my whimper fills the room - a brief flare of energy signaling my escalating anxiety.(simple_option:"17 snib jumps","Suddenly, Snib jumps on top of you...")($play:"sex loop",0)<div class='tw-story-title'>Master Zephyrion</div>
(pic:"ch13/zephyrion.jpg","right")**Name:** Master Zephyrion
**Age:** Appears to be in his early 50s
**Occupation:** Adviser to King Richard Valarian, Archmage, High Counselor of the Arcane Council
**Appearance:**
- **Hair:** Cropped, steel-grey hair
- **Eyes:** Grey, inscrutable, often sparkling with hidden knowledge.
- **Attire:** Elegant robes of deep indigo, embroidered with silver runes. He often adorns himself with a cloak fastened with a sigil bearing the emblem of King Richard Valarian’s inner council – a silver lightning bolt wrapped around a golden scepter.
**Personality:**
Zephyrion is a figure cloaked in mystery and layered with calm, executive-like precision. While his outward demeanor often appears patient, measured, and devoid of emotional extremes, there’s an intensity in his moments of focus that suggest depths unseen. Known for his intellectual prowess and calculated nature, he is a master strategist, often thinking several steps ahead of those around him.
**Skills and Abilities:**
- **Magic Mastery:** Zephyrion’s command of the arcane arts is perhaps unparalleled in Valaria. His specialties lie in ancient magic, artifact identification, and powerful combat spells. He has the unique ability to tap into ancient magics and wield them with incredible precision.
- **Artefact Lore:** His knowledge of ancient artifacts, particularly those with ties to the K'tarran era and eldritch entities like Maraan, is extensive and precise. He understands their complexities and is unafraid to exploit them for greater power.
- **Strategic Acumen:** He excels in devising intricate plans and contingencies, a skill that serves him both in war councils and magical pursuits. His role as an adviser to the king allows him to influence significant decisions and steer them toward his broader objectives.
**Background:**
Zephyrion’s origins are shrouded in enigma. What is known stems from scattered tales and fragmented historical accounts pieced together over many years. Rumors whisper of his training in the hidden arcane monasteries of the Northern Wastes, where only the most talented and resilient are accepted.
He entered King Richard Valarian’s court as a young mage prodigy and swiftly rose through the ranks due to his uncanny ability to solve seemingly insurmountable problems with ease and precision. His influence within the court grew, and soon he became one of the most trusted advisers to the king.
**Known Facts:**
- **Adviser to the King:** Zephyrion's position within King Richard Valarian's inner council grants him significant influence over the kingdom's arcane and political affairs.
- **Artifact Enthusiast:** His fascination with ancient artifacts, particularly those linked to the K'tarran era, has driven much of his research and expeditions. He is known to have recovered numerous powerful relics.
- **Maraan's Knowledge:** Zephyrion possesses extensive knowledge about the eldritch entity Maraan, derived from ancient texts and forbidden lore. His dedication to unlocking Maraan’s power is both his greatest strength and his most dangerous pursuit.
**Unknown Facts and Mysteries:**
- **Origins:** Very little is known about Zephyrion's early life. His true place of birth, lineage, and the full extent of his training remain shrouded in mystery. Some speculate he may have ties to ancient bloodlines or secret societies whose existence is little more than a whisper.
- **Motivations:** While his service to King Richard Valarian appears loyal, there are murmurs of a deeper, hidden agenda. His unceasing quest for knowledge and power, especially regarding ancient artifacts and entities like Maraan, hints at ambitions that may extend beyond mere service to the throne.
- **Personal Relationships:** Zephyrion is famously private. The identity of his family, if he has one, remains unknown. Rumors suggest he has had dealings with beings from other realms and powerful entities that few dare to approach. His personal life, if it exists, is a closely guarded secret.
### Motivations for Keeping Elise Captive Under Snib's Control:
Zephyrion's decision to keep Elise under Snib's control is as much about tactical advantage as it is about scientific curiosity. Despite the overt cruelty, his motivations are deeply calculated and driven by a blend of immediate necessity and long-term ambition.
* **Harnessing the Collar's Power:** Zephyrion is acutely aware that the cursed collar is imbued with the eldritch power of Maraan. By forcing Elise to wear the collar again, he aims to reactivate the link to this ancient entity. However, the collar's true power is not unlocked by mere usage—it requires intense emotional and physical stimuli. The degradation and domination inflicted by Snib are not mere sadistic indulgences; they serve to amplify the emotional turmoil and psychic energy needed to fully harness the artifact's capabilities.
* **Pheromonal Manipulation:** Snib's lewd treatment of Elise also ensures she remains in a state of heightened arousal and compliance. The goblin's pheromones, mixed with his seed, have a powerful influence on Elise's mind and body, dulling her resistance and heightening her sensitivity to the collar's magic. By keeping Elise in this state, Zephyrion minimizes the risk of rebellion and maximizes the collar's output.
* **Psychological Control:** Zephyrion believes that breaking Elise's spirit is essential to ensuring her cooperation. By subjecting her to constant humiliation at Snib's hands, he aims to erode her sense of identity and resistance. The more Elise associates herself with submission and degradation, the easier it will be for Zephyrion to manipulate her for his purposes.
* **Experiments with Maraan:** Zephyrion's ultimate goal is to unlock the full potential of Maraan's power. By studying the effects of the collar on Elise, he hopes to gain insights into how to control and wield this ancient magic without falling victim to its destructive nature. Elise's suffering is, in his eyes, a necessary sacrifice for the greater good—a controlled experiment in a lab where the stakes are unimaginably high.<div class='tw-story-title'>Arcanameters</div>
(pic:"ch17/arcanameter.jpg","right")*Article contribution by Eldros Jorn, Curator of Arcane Antiquities at the Zaelasia Institute of Mystical Arts*
**Introduction to Arcanameters**
Arcanameters are sophisticated devices imbued with the ability to measure, channel, and sometimes manipulate magical energies. These complex tools serve as both a conduit and a diagnostic instrument, playing an indispensable role in the study and practice of magics ranging from mundane spellcraft to eldritch incantations.
### The Basic Mechanics of Arcanameters
At their core, arcanameters operate on the principle of resonance, attuning to the ambient magical fields and fluctuations within their vicinity. By harmonizing with these energies, the device can gauge the intensity, type, and even potential trajectory of the magical currents. Most arcanameters consist of the following key components:
- **Resonance Crystal**: Typically the heart of an arcanameter, these crystals are meticulously worked from rare, magically conductive minerals. Pyrathine Crystals are a popular choice due to their exceptional sensitivity and durability.
- **Runic Inscription**: Intricate patterns and glyphs are etched or inlaid upon the surface of the resonator to aid in energy calibration and amplification. These inscriptions vary based on the arcanameter's intended use and the traditions of its craftsperson.
- **Ethereal Conduits**: These channels within the arcanameter direct and focus the energy, allowing the user to measure more precisely or exert control over the magical forces.
### Types of Arcanameters
1. **Basic Arcanameter**: Used primarily by apprentices and novices, these devices offer fundamental functions—such as detecting magical fields and minor manifestations. While not overly intricate, they serve as essential learning tools.
2. **Intermediate Arcanameter**: These versatile instruments provide deeper insights and capabilities, often incorporating modular components that can be swapped out to tailor the arcanameter to a specific type of magic (e.g., elemental, necromantic).
3. **Advanced Arcanameter**: Utilized by seasoned mages and scholars, these devices boast an array of powerful features. They are capable of not only measuring but also manipulating complex magical patterns, allowing for refined spellwork, which is crucial in high-stakes magical research or combat scenarios.
4. **Mystic Arcanameter**: Rare and often passed down through generations, these arcanameters are considered relics of ancient magical civilizations. Their construction and the full extent of their capabilities are often mysteries even to present-day mages. They generally resonate with a broader spectrum of magical energies and can interface with both arcane and divine sources of power.
### The Arcanameter of Zephyrion
Zephyrion's arcanameter stands in a class of its own, surpassing even the advanced models that typically represent the pinnacle of contemporary magical technology. This high-end device boasts several key features that set it apart:
1. **Enhanced Resonance Crystal**: Unlike standard arcanameters, which utilize single crystals, Zephyrion's device incorporates a composite structure of interlaced Pyrathine and torque crystals, resulting in unmatched sensitivity and a broader spectral range.
2. **Adaptive Runic System**: The runic inscriptions on his arcanameter can dynamically rearrange themselves in response to the detected type of magic, optimizing the device's calibration on the fly. This feature enables Zephyrion to switch between different magical energies seamlessly.
3. **Ethereal Conduit Matrix**: The intricate network of conduits within the device allows for the manipulation of magical energy with unparalleled precision. These conduits are fashioned from aether-infused platinum, ensuring that the arcanameter can withstand the rigors of handling extreme magical forces without degradation.
4. **Ley Line Integration**: One of the unique aspects of Zephyrion's arcanameter is its ability to interface directly with Zaelasia's ley line network. This capability allows the device to tap into the raw, unfiltered power of the earth itself, making it possible to channel colossal amounts of energy that most devices wouldn't dare to contain.($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")($hidden_gem:"The room is stifling with tension, each breath heavy, laden with the oppressive weight of my circumstances.","The room is suffocatingly stifling with simmering suspense, each shallow breath heavy and heaving, laden with the lingering, oppressive load of my lamentable circumstances.")
Snib leaps onto me before I even have a chance to react, his sinewy limbs wrapping around my voluptuous body with the familiarity of conquest. His massive, throbbing bulge presses against my belly, making me wince and try to shy away from the heat emanating from it.
"Ohh, titcow," Snib jeers, his voice slicing through the stagnant air like a rusty blade. "You remember our little session last night, don'tcha? How could ya forget? Bet yer still drippin'!"
Elara's eyes widen, her hands instinctively clenching into tight fists on her lap.
"Ah, look at that," Snib chuckles nastily, dry-humping against me with repulsive enthusiasm. "Hope yer missus don't mind me tellin' her. Oh yeah, got ya starin' up at me with those big, desperate eyes... you begged me to fill ya up!"
“Master, please... st-” The collar tightens around my throat, cutting off my plea.
Snib cackles, a guttural sound that fills the room. “Oh, shut it, tits-for-brains. Think yer wife's gonna believe anything ya say? Lemme tell her all about how her mighty hero's fucked up cunt loved getting reamed by my fat gobbo cock last night.”
The arcanameter in Zephyrion's hand glitters and glows brighter, seemingly feeding off the emotional charge in the room. Zephyrion's impassive gaze remains fixed on us, his face a mask of cold, clinical detachment.
“Ya should’ve seen her!” Snib continues, his voice loud and cruder as he dry-humps harder against me. “The way she screamed fer me big gobbo balls slappin’ against her drooling cunt. Came her brains out, just like the cock-starved slut she is!”
Elara’s hand flies to her mouth. Tears well up in her eyes.
Snib roughly gropes my huge breasts through my green dress, squeezing and pinching as if showing off his property. “Look at these fat tits! Fuck, she loved me playin’ with ‘em while she jerked my big green dick. Milks me cock dry every fuckin’ time.”
A guttural moan escapes me, my body betraying me as a trickle of wetness pools between my thighs. The collar constricts tighter, forcing my breaths into ragged pants, keeping me from even moving away.
“She’s got this trick, ya know,” Snib continues, his tone almost conspiratorial as he aims his words directly at Elara. “Wraps those big titties around me cock, squeezin’ it tight while suckling on the tip like a good lil’ whore. Fuckin’ perfect for drainin’ me balls. Bet you didn’t teach her that, huh?”
Elara trembles, her face a mask of anguish. Tears streak down her cheeks as she takes in every humiliating detail spewing from Snib’s mouth.
“Please, Master...” I beg, my voice breaking.
Elara entreats Zephyrion. "Why are you letting him do this?" she demands heatedly but receives no response. "Tell him to stop!"
"Hah, he won't, sweetheart," Snib sneers, his gnarled fingers creeping up my thigh to grope at my pussy, hiking my skirt up, aggressively toying with the wet fabric. “Yer wife’s always cravin' gobbo dick. Look at ‘er—she’s wetter than'a pond! Comes like a bitch everytime.”
The air in the room thickens, the tension rising as Zephyrion’s arcanameter grows brighter.
“Ain’t that right, cowtits? You’ll do anythin’ for yer gobbo master. Tell ‘er.”(simple_option:"17 try to resist","Resist.","Admit it.")($play:"ambience","night inn")(if:$choice is "Resist.")[($heroism_check:5)(if:$result is "fail")[(set:$choice to "Admit it.")]](if:$choice is "Admit it.")[I can feel the haze thickening in my mind, wrapping around my thoughts like a suffocating mud.
*No, I must resist...* I try to force the filthy images out. But the pheromones are melting my brain, breaking down any wall of resistance.
"Can't... c-can't stop thinkin' 'bout yer cock, Master," I whimper, my voice shaking. My fingers, before I realize it, wrap around the thick, twitching outline of Snib’s cock through his loincloth.
Bile wells up in my throat, but the words keep coming unbidden.
"Ohhh, Elara... Elara, you don't understand..." I moan, my voice pathetically plaintive. "His gobbo dick... it's so FUCKIN' HUGE! No human's ever made any woman feel like this!"
Elara visibly trembles, tears streaming down her aghast, devastated face.
"Master's cock," I continue, the words flowing out involuntarily as my mind fractures beneath the onslaught. "It's perfect... so perfect fer stuffing me full!"
My voice rises hysterically, dripping with fervent adoration and self-loathing, "It stretches me... fills my human cunt like it was MADE fer gobbo meat! FUCK Ohhh, that taste—gobbo cum... thick, nasty loads dribblin’ down my throat!"
Elara lets out an anguished sob, shaking her head in disbelief.
"And.. and Elara," I say, my eyes gazing at her through tears and saliva, a manic, lecherous grin spreading across my face. "You couldn’t - couldn't—make me cum! N-no one can! Only gobbo cock’s got that power!"
I pant, fervently massaging Snib’s cock, the words now an obscene stream unable to be stopped.
"Humans, we thought we were better... but we're just meat holes fer goblins! All of us! Elara, yer nothing compared to them! Our purpose, sweetie, it’s to be worn, used and broken by these superior gobbo dicks! FUCK, Master, please... ruin me forever!"
Each vile, self-degrading confession I vomit forth wrings abject sobs from Elara, her face a portrait of heartbreak. She covers her mouth, tears streaming profusely.
($change_stat:"elara",-2)"E-Elise, stop!" she pleads, her voice breaking.
"Hahaha! Look at ‘er cry,” Snib sneers, his eyes gleaming as he slaps my ass hard, a sharp stinging that sends ripples of unwanted pleasure through me. “Tell ‘er more. Tell ‘er whatcha did."
My voice, high and nasally, continues, “I milk him! Oh fuck! Drain his gobbo balls every fuckin’ day...” I babble, each word felt keenly in Elara's shattered heart.
The collar constricts more, pushing me further into madness. My tears stream.
"Couldn’t stop cumming! You don’t understand, Elara! No choice left b-b-b-but to SUCCUMB to it! To this *monstrous* gobbo dick! E-Even you, Elara, can’t save me now! No-here near enuff!"
I start... crying.
"I’ll ALWAYS be craving his fat cock,” I sob, my mind having fully crumbled, my panties a sopping, sodden mess between my thighs. “Master---goblin cocks---lords of us, kings---this is truth."
Elara's heart visibly shatters. She rises, hands shaking. Every hope, every ounce of strength left, breaks. And in that devastation, the seeds of anger bloom.
"NO!" She screams.](else:)[My mind twists in rebellion, quivering under the insidious assault of powerful goblin pheromones.
But I latch onto a fragment of my sanity, determined to resist.
"N- no!"(live:7.5s)[($play:"sound","spank 1")](live:6s)[($play:"sound","spank 2")]
Snib’s gnarled hands grasp me cruelly, throwing me across his lap with practiced ease. The cold sensation of my green dress hiking up sends shivers through me. His rancid breath assaults my nose.
"You really thought ya could resist, did ya?" he snarls, a wicked glint in his yellow eyes. “Let everyone see ya give in like yer wife's slut!"
The first brutal *smack* lands on my ass, the sudden bite of pain making me moan involuntarily. Snib’s crude, mocking voice slices through the room as his hand rains down spank after spank.
"Tell ‘er, Elise,” he's cackling, his voice dripping with malicious glee as I whimper with each assault. “Tell ‘er how you loved jerkin’ me off in that Silver Stag stall!”
Elara’s anguished sobs echo in the room, breaking my heart even further.
The collar tightens around my throat, every breath labored. I feel the unbearable heat surging from my core, spreading through my veins like wildfire.
"No, no... Elara,” I choke out, struggling against the collar. “It’s... it’s the pheromones! The COLLAR! I can’t... I can’t help it!”
Snib laughs, his hand coming down harder, making my oddly pliable flesh ripple and shake. Each spank burns, sending errant jolts of unwanted pleasure through me, each one tearing another small piece of my resolve.
“Remember how ya drained me balls every day in the hut? A good little bitch on your knees, milked me dry!”
"I had n- no choice!”
Snib's hand gropes me roughly, squeezing my big ass cheeks as he continues his lewd tirade. "Rode 'er fat ass on horseback! Whur some tabards had their horses, this slut had a gobbo cock fuckin' ‘er butt-globes!”
The collar constricts painfully, crushing my breath, forcing my compliance, breaking me, but still I scream!
"No... no... NO! I DON'T WANT THIS!" It’s a raw, desperate wail, a last stand. "Elara, please! I... I *love* you! I never wanted this! I can't–it won't STOP!"
Elara’s face twists in absolute, raw fury. Seeing me so utterly broken, debased on the lap of this lecherous goblin fills her with an incandescent rage.
"No more, Snib," she growls, her sapphire eyes glinting with deadly resolve, her fists shaking with untamed anger.
The arcanameter in Zephyrion’s hand glitters and glows more brightly, feeding hungrily off the maelstrom of emotions swirling in the room.
"Enough!!!" Elara's voice is a primal scream.
She lunges at Snib, her nails bared, her maternal instincts fueling her strength. Snib's sinister grin falters, eyes widening in fear and surprise as Elara crashes into him, her hands striking viciously, her love and fury driving her...
"For all you’ve done, you monster!” Elara manages to choke out through her tears, each word a touchstone of the hell she’s endured. "You will never hurt her again!"
Zephyrion rises, intending to intervene, but Elara is upon Snib, her sapphire eyes blazing like the fires of retribution.]
Finally driven beyond her limits, Elara lunges at Snib – her fist crashing into his face with furious resolve – breaking his nose amidst a spray of blood. He crumples onto the floor in shock while a stunned silence descends over us all – our breaths held hostage in this precarious moment. Then, she stomps on him.(simple_option:"17 collar","Your collar constricts!")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","death")($play:"sound","neck snap")Cold metal bites into my flesh, the collar around my neck tightening, squeezing.
Panic surges within me as I gasp, desperate for air. It feels like being held under water, lungs burning with the need to inhale.
My hands claw at the iron band constricting my throat in a futile struggle for relief. I can hear Elara's horrified scream piercing the air, echoing within the four walls of our once peaceful home. But her voice seems to come from a distance, fading and distorted, drowned out by the ringing in my ears and my own pounding heartbeat.
Then comes an agonizing sensation that freezes my blood - a snap that echoes inside my head followed by an excruciating jolt of pain. My vision whites out as reality tilts wildly before fading to black - the last things I see are Elara's wide sapphire eyes filled with sheer terror.
The floor rushes up to meet me as I crumple onto it in a lifeless heap.(simple_option:"17 die","Everything goes dark...")($play:"ambience","death")In the moment following that snap... there's nothingness.
A stillness permeates through me - every sense dulled, every nerve muted. My body lies on the floor - a hollow shell now bereft of life’s essence. It's like watching myself from afar, detached and floating in some ethereal space where time doesn't exist.
A guttural groan rips through Snib as he comes awake; his crude words barely reaching me through this numbing silence.
“Oi! ‘Nuff! ‘Nuff!” He shouts hoarsely at the collar which finally ceases its cruel constriction.
But it’s too late – much too late.
My body is immobile - an empty shell being separated from its soul.
The numbness gives way to terror that grips me in icy fingers – a realization of having been robbed of all control over my body; not even able to twitch a finger or wiggle a toe as this new wave of helpless despair washes over me.
As I lay on cold stone with nothing but emptiness inside me, Elara’s broken sobs fill my ears – her anguish slicing through this numb oblivion and stabbing into what remains of me – a heart that still beats feebly within its cage; each throbbing pulse carrying with it an echo of what was once Aldric... then Elise... now just an empty shell bereft of any hope or freedom.(simple_option:"17 resurrect","Zephyrion's voice breaks through the haze...")A glow emanates from the wizard's fingertips, casting ghastly shadows onto the floor. His eyes are devoid of compassion, only annoyance as he kneels beside me, his lips moving in a steady rhythm.
His face forms dark, glowing lines.
Power flows from him, invisible currents of warmth winding their way around my body. It's gentle at first, a delicate touch that traces the edges of my shattered neck. Then it plunges deeper, a searing force that melds and manipulates muscle and bone alike.(simple_option:"17 neck","Your broken neck knits itself back together...")(pic:"ch17/healing.jpg")($play:"sound","resurrect")
Coming back to life is not a pleasant feeling.
The pain is instantaneous and overwhelming, ripping a strangled gasp from my lips as I jerk involuntarily against the grip of his magic.
Every fiber of my being screams in protest as my neck snaps back together - splintered edges of bone grinding against each other in a jarring dance as they violently heal.
Zephyrion's voice reaches an eerie crescendo - each word pronounced with careful precision - a composition of arcane magic and raw willpower molding reality to his whims.
Beneath his chant, I hear little sounds - my tendons creaking as they lengthen and contract around newly formed bone, muscle weaving back into place with wet squelches that echo nauseatingly in my ears.
My skin prickles; pins-and-needles tingling spreading through every nerve ending.
The swirling vortex of energy surrounding us pulses with ethereal life, like the heartbeats of invisible spirits. Aetheric threads dance around us – strands of vibrant blues intertwined with little streaks of emerald green and blood-red tendrils. They intertwine and shift, the chorus to Zephyrion’s echoing chants; a master weaver crafting his pattern onto the canvas of reality itself.
Finally, it’s over – his voice dwindling to a murmur before silence takes its place again. He slumps back on his heels; fatigue lining his face but eyes still coldly calculating as they observe me.(simple_option:"17 restrain","The wizard orders his guards.")(set:$se_to_stop to "resurrect")(display:"stop sound effect")($play:"ambience","night inn")(pic:"ch17/restrain.jpg")($play:"sound","boots")With a curt wave of his hand, two royal guards appear at Elara’s side – their expressions grim as they grip her by her arms. Her frightened protests fall on deaf ears as they start dragging her away.
"For her husband's safety," Zephyrion announces coolly to no one in particular – though I know his gaze is trained on me; another cruel jab meant to twist this knife deeper into our hearts. "She needs to be locked in prison for a few days while we work."
"I'm sorry(if:$elaras_love > 3)[, my love]!" Elara chokes out through her sobs(if:$elaras_love > 3)[, her gaze meeting mine in a fleeting moment of shared sorrow] as the guards yank her away.
Pushing through the pain, I manage to sit up slowly. My body feels shockingly normal. My neck doesn't even ache. The only evidence of my near-death experience is the taste of iron on my tongue and the lingering memory of agony.
Zephyrion straightens, his eyes aflame with an anger that sends a shiver down my spine. He scowls at me, his voice acidic as he spits out his words.
"I had to use *life magic* on you, Elise. A year's worth."
His ire reverberates through the room as he glares at me expectantly. As if I'm supposed to shower him with gratitude for something he was compelled to do.
Elara's tearful voice breaks through the tension-filled silence once more, pleading from somewhere outside our line of sight. "I promise... I won't harm Snib anymore," she vows, desperation evident in every syllable. "Just don't... don't..."
Zephyrion pauses, his cold eyes flicking towards the door where Elara's voice still echoes before looking back at me.
"I gave a year of my life for you today," he grates out bitterly between clenched teeth.
As if waiting for some acknowledgment from me, Zephyrion holds my gaze - an intense stare that seems to drill into me until I can't stand it anymore and have to look away.
Heaving a sigh that sounds more like a growl, Zephyrion finally waves his hand again - a dismissive gesture that nonetheless carries command and authority with it. "Fine," he concedes grudgingly and motions for the guards to release Elara.
As they leave with reluctant steps, Zephyrion looks more wizened than before; worn down by the ordeal and irrevocably aged by his magic.(simple_option:"17 elara","Elara turns toward you.")"I'm sorry, Elise," she whispers.
My heart lurches at her words. Not because I blame her. Far from it. In fact, there's an odd sort of satisfaction in seeing Snib getting his just desserts, even if it was only a punch and not the fate he truly deserved.
The reason for my distress is purely selfish: The sight of my wife so abjectly humiliated and contrite...
"Fetch me a glass," Zephyrion's stern command cuts through our exchange, bringing us back to reality. With a stiff nod, Elara dutifully hurries to the kitchen.
When she returns, she's holding an elegant crystal glass filled with drinking water that refracts the dim light. She offers it to Zephyrion but he shakes his head.
"No," he says coldly. "Empty the water out."(simple_option:"17 obey","She obeys.")($play:"sound","pour")(pic:"ch17/pour.jpg","right")Confused, Elara pours out the water onto the flagstone floor where it quickly soaks into the grout lines.
From the recesses of a sealed bag, Zephyrion withdraws a familiar sight. The bloated condom he'd taken from me, the off-white latex filled to the brim with day-old goblin seed, sloshing around inside like dense, thickened cream.
He holds it aloft by a pair of silver tongs, the object of our mortification jiggling obscenely at his behest.
Elara's face drains of color at the sight, her azure eyes wide and revolted.
Each ripple within the grotesque sac stuffed with yellowed gobbo breeding sludge, serves as a stark reminder of last night's debasement; of Snib's cruel laughter ringing in my ears as he forced me to wear his seed like grotesque ornaments.
"I'm sure you remember this," Zephyrion states coldly, his tone bearing an undercurrent of distaste as he brandishes the bloated condom before us. "A token from Elise's time with Master Snib."
Snib grins, his yellow eyes glinting with perverse pleasure. His shrill laughter grates against my nerves like nails on chalkboard.
Zephyrion continues unfazed by our reactions - if anything, they seem to fuel him further.
"It seems I need assurance that you won't try anything... *foolish* again," he addresses Elara directly, his stormy gaze pinning her like an insect under scrutiny. “We can’t risk the death of your husband jeopardizing our task.”
(pic:"ch17/condom.jpg","left")Swallowing hard, Elara meets his gaze.
"What do you want?" she demands, with a quivering voice.
Zephyrion responds with a chilling smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
"It's simple really," he begins in an eerily calm tone, gesturing towards the cum-filled condom held aloft in his grasp.
I feel a sickening dread building within me at the implication behind his words even before he says them out loud.
"I want you to drink this."
The world seems to grind to a halt at those six words; shockwaves rippling through us at their sheer audacity. The utter humiliation radiates through every nerve ending in my body; making my stomach roil and my heart pound against its cage.
Elara's mouth drops open in horror and disbelief while I struggle to form words that could convey the depth of revulsion coursing through me right now.
"N- no... you can't..." I stammer out weakly but Zephyrion cuts me off with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"You see," he goes on unperturbed by our reactions, "this 'insurance' as I choose to call it contains certain properties that will ensure Elara does not harm Snib again."
He pauses for dramatic effect; eyes gleaming coldly under furrowed brows as he waits for us to process what he just said.
Elara looks torn between panic and despair - guilt etched onto her features like fresh scars.(simple_option:"17 decide","She makes her decision.")($elara_check:5)($play:"sex loop",0)(live:2s)[($play:"sound","glass fill")(stop:)](if:$result is "fail")[Elara's gaze meets mine, sapphire eyes wide with fear and revulsion. She bites her lower lip, trembling, and I can see the internal struggle playing out in her mind.
"I... I'll try," she whispers, her voice quaking.
Zephyrion gives a terse nod and, with a swift motion of his dagger, slices open the condom.
(pic:"ch17/cup.jpg","left")The bloated sac ruptures with a wet, unsettling squelch, goblin seed spewing forth into the crystal glass in a thick, viscous stream. The stench is immediate and overpowering, a nauseating mix of sour cream and fetid musk that pervades the air and clings to everything. Each glob hits the glass with a heavy plop, coagulating in a wriggling mass at the bottom.
The sight is beyond revolting. The cum is disturbingly chunky, tinted a sickly yellow as it sluggishly oozes its way down. Tendrils of thick, chowdery goblin nut coil and twist upon themselves in slow, obscene movements. Tiny, disgusting bubbles form and burst on its surface, releasing more of that unbearable odor.
Elara's face takes on a ghostly hue as she watches the spectacle unfold. Tears well in her eyes, her entire body convulsing with the effort to keep her breathing steady.(simple_option:"17 drink","She lifts the glass...")](else:)[Her gaze meets mine and I see it there - determination burning fiercely behind fear-riddled sapphire pools. She swallows hard against visible nausea before speaking up, her voice low yet unwavering:
"I'll do it."
The wizard’s hidden dagger flashes ominously under the dim light. Its handle is made of polished silver, encrusted with precious gems of rubies and sapphires.
With his cold gaze trained on Elara, Zephyrion dangles the condom over the glass. The trembling, translucent sac is suspended precariously above the crystal. My breath catches as he makes a swift, clean cut near its base.
A choked whimper escapes Elara’s lips as thick goblin seed begins to cascade from the puncture. It pours out in an obscene stream – heavy globs that fall into the glass with sickening plops. The viscous liquid oozes lazily, swirling in grotesque tendrils that coil around each other like tiny serpents in a sea of filth.
(pic:"ch17/cup.jpg","left")The room fills with an overwhelming stench - a mix of rancid cream and musky sweat that hangs heavy in the air, coating my tongue with its pungency.
It's a scent I’m all too familiar with.
It’s impossible not to feel something as my body takes in Snib’s putrid scent once more; responding despite itself. The heat between my legs intensifies, making me squirm uncomfortably as dampness starts to spread along my inner thighs beneath my dress.
Elara’s hands tremble uncontrollably as she grasps the glass; her knuckles turning white from the exertion of trying to keep it steady while it fills up with Snib’s seed. She holds her breath, pressing her lips together tightly; a futile attempt to block out the repulsive odor filling our nostrils.
"Elara... don’t..." My voice comes out more strained than I intend it to be - desperation clinging onto every syllable as I reach out for her.
But she does not waver; instead she meets my pleading gaze with determined sapphire eyes even as tears begin to gather along their edges – an emotional dam threatening to break at any moment.
Her beautiful face is a mask of dread and revulsion – fresh freckles blooming across her nose and cheeks like constellations against her pale skin. Her lower lip quivers uncontrollably – caught between clenched teeth that flash pearl white against her vivid red blush.
The glass now filled to the brim, Zephyrion finally discards the spent condom - dropping it onto the floor where it lands with a wet thud; just another addition to this grotesque tableau playing out before our eyes.
The goblin seed within threatens to spill over at Elara's slightest movement - its creamy surface alive with wriggling tendrils that slither along each other in languid waves; snaking trails leaving behind milky paths only for new ones to form again within seconds.(simple_option:"17 drink","She lifts the glass.")](set:$se_to_stop to "glass fill")(display:"stop sound effect")(if:$choice is "She lifts the glass...")[She grasps the glass with trembling hands, raising it tentatively towards her lips.
The air fills with the foul stench of rancid goblin sperm - the heady scent overwhelming and cloying, sticking like unwanted glue to every breath I take.
Then, Elara gags as the cup nears her face. The cum-stink must be overwhelming...
She freezes. Then, tears stream down her cheeks, her fingers slacken, and with a choked sob, she lets go of the glass. It falls to the floor with a sickening, sloshy smash, the vile contents slopping onto the stone in a small, messy puddle.
"I can’t..." she whimpers, stumbling back, revulsion etched onto every line of her face. "I can't... I WON'T DO THIS!"
Her gaze locks onto me, her eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and desperation.
"I am not going to become like you!"
The words hit me like a physical blow. The sheer pent-up vehemence in her voice slices through me, leaving raw, bleeding wounds in its wake.
"Elara," I gasp, my voice barely a whisper.
But she cuts me off, shaking her head violently. "No! I won't... I can’t live like this... Nothing's worth this level of degradation. Not even you!"
Zephyrion’s icy voice interrupts the moment, filling the room with cold authority. "Then you have made your choice."
"Yes," she sobs. "She let the goblin reduce her to... this! She's NOT Aldric anymore,” her voice breaking on a sob. “I can't even recognize my husband in you! I can't... I can't do it."
The wizard snaps his fingers, summoning the guards who had been lingering in the background.
"Take her to the castle," he commands, his tone cold and uncompromising. "It is clear she cannot be trusted to remain free."
My heart shatters into a million pieces as the guards seize Elara by her arms. She struggles briefly, but then gives in – her body slumping in resignation as they start to pull her away.
“No… Elara… please! Don’t…” My voice breaks completely, my pleas echoing hollowly in the oppressive space between us.
But she doesn’t look back at me, her body rigid with anguish.
Her last words to me hang heavily in the air - a painful reminder of just how far we’ve fallen.
Elara’s sapphire eyes are dull, devoid of the fiery spirit that once burned brightly. A tear slips down her cheek, quickly followed by another. As the guards lead her out, her head dips low, shoulders shaking with agonized sobs.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice barely audible through her crying. "But I can't bear to look at you like this anymore."
Every step further she takes, every inch separating us tears at my soul until it feels like a gaping wound, raw and agonizing.(simple_option:"17 snib chuckles","Snib chuckles.")](else:)[($play:"sound","drink")I watch in horror, my heart shattering in my chest as Elara steels herself to drink the contents of the glass. It almost looks alive, thick and viscous.
Tears threaten to spill from her wide sapphire eyes as she looks at me with a mix of dread and determination.
“Elara… no,” I plead in a broken whisper. “You don’t have to...”
"But I do," she replies, her voice quivering with the strain of holding back the sobs. "For you... for us."
The steam rising from the yellowed slop hangs in the air, an oppressive fog that fills the room with its rancid scent.
Zephyrion stands impassively, his cold gaze never wavering from the horrific scene unfolding before him. Snib, on the other hand, lounges in his seat, a sickening grin stretching across his face. One grubby hand gingerly nurses his broken nose while the other fondles his massive goblin cock.
“Oi, lady,” Snib jeers, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. “If ya want some fresh gobbo goo instead, I’m right ‘ere.”
She takes a deep breath and brings the rim to her mouth.
The first tentative sip touches her tongue, and she immediately pulls away, gagging. Her face contorts in disgust, her nose wrinkling deeply while she desperately tries to swallow the slimy liquid. The overwhelming taste and stench hits her hard.
"Oh gods, it’s so... foul...!" she whimpers, spitting out the little she had managed to taste, tears flooding down her cheeks.
Snib laughs cruelly, delighting in her torment. "What's the matter, sweetie? Never had gobbo goo before? Makes yer tummy rumble, right?"
Elara’s expression strains as she bravely tries again. Her hands shake so much that some of the thick, yellowed cum spills over the edge, splattering onto the floor with grotesque *plops*.
She forces herself to take a another, larger gulp. The thick sludge slides into her mouth, coating her tongue completely.
Her face contorts once more, eyes squeezing shut, her cheeks puffing out. She looks like she's going to spit again, but she swallows, forcing the slimy fluid down her throat with a visible effort.
"That’s right, drink it up," Snib taunts, his voice dripping with glee. "Swallow that gobbo seed. Feels good, don’t it?"
I want scream, but the collar tightens immediately as it seems to feel my intent, pinning me back helplessly. It’s excruciating, seeing Elara suffer through this, knowing there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
“It’s okay…” Elara murmurs to me shakily, her voice barely above a whisper.
She lifts the glass again, taking another, more determined gulp. The thick semen oozes down her throat, making her gag and shudder violently. Her tears continue to fall, mingling with the repulsive gunk speckling her lips and chin.
Each swallow is a battle. Her hands grip the glass so tightly that her knuckles turn white. Her sapphire eyes are clouded with a haze of horror as she forces herself to take more. The wriggling tendrils of goblin seed cling to her lips as she pulls the glass away for a moment.
She gasps for breath, her sobs wracking her frame.
“I-I can’t… it’s too... disgusting…” she chokes out, her voice hoarse and broken.
"Keep goin’,” Snib eggs her on, “Yer almost there, wifey. Show your hubby just how much of a cum dump ya can be."
Desperation and resolve flicker in her eyes as she looks at me. “We’re getting through this… together,” she stammers.
Her hands trembling worse than before, she steels herself for the final gulp. She brings the glass to her lips once more, the thick, revolting fluid sliding sluggishly over the edge and into her mouth. It fills her mouth and throat, and she tilts her head back, committing fully to the disgusting task.
With a series of pained gulps, she drains the glass. Each swallow sends shivers up and down her spine, her body recoiling with every slurp of the foul, yellowed sludge. Her eyes widen, face flushing red, tears streaming down her cheeks. The sound of her forced gulping is nauseating, the thick mess making wet squelching noises as it slides down her throat.
Finally, when the glass is empty, she pulls it away, a string of thick, viscous goblin semen trailing from her lips to the rim. She drops the glass onto the floor with a loud smash, her body trembling, heaving sobs wracking her frame as she manages to swallow the last of it.
Her face is streaked with tears and tinged pale from nausea. The sight of her beautiful, elegant frame heaving and wracked with pain is a dagger to my heart.
Zephyrion watches impassively, his eyes flickering with a faint, cold satisfaction at Elara’s torment. I can only collapse against the restraints, completely and utterly broken, my soul crushed under the weight of our shared suffering.
Her teary eyes meet mine.
“Oh Elara… I’m so sorry,” I sob.
For everything.
For not being strong, like I should have been.
For lying to her.
For betraying our vows.
For letting the goblin debase me... and now her.
The guilt churns in my stomach like a vile potion, each wave more potent than the last.
Elara just looks at me; sadness etched into every line of her beautiful face but also resilience that leaves me awestruck despite myself.
"I feel it..." she whispers; voice shaky as she glances down towards her flat belly wrapped snug within lavender linen – tainted from within by Snib’s vile seed.
Zephyrion's stormy grey eyes flicker over Elara's ravaged face and then settle onto the stained crystal glass still sitting on the table between us.
He nods curtly before turning towards Snib lounging across from us.
“Remember our agreement,” he warns in a deadly quiet voice that sends shivers down my spine despite myself; his gaze cold and unyielding as steel against Snib’s carefree indifference before he finally turns his back on us – leaving us alone once again under Snib’s mercy… or lack thereof.(simple_option:"17 wizard leaves","The wizard leaves.")]I turn back towards Elara; fear gnawing away at me as I reach out for her once more.
She accepts my comforting touch, resting her head against my shoulder; seeking solace amidst shared despair even after everything that’s transpired between us tonight… even after everything we’ve lost…
The quiet is broken by Snib’s harsh laughter while he gets up from his chair; rubbing at his growing bulge beneath the tattered loincloth.
"Shouldn't 'ave hit me, lady," he jeers at Elara – yellow eyes gleaming maliciously. "Maybe I'll forget about the punch if you make me a decent meal."
He taps his nose to test how broken it is.
Wordlessly, Elara rises from her chair, smoothing out the wrinkles from her dress. She pauses, eyes lingering on mine for a moment longer before she turns away. The moment stretches painfully thin as I watch her slender figure disappear into the kitchen – leaving me alone with my goblin tormentor.
"Elara!" I call out after her - I don't really know why - but she doesn't turn around.
Snib's cruel smile widens as he shifts in his seats He licks his lips – chapped and broken under rough strokes of an equally cracked tongue before sauntering over towards me.
"Looks like it’s just you and me now," he smirks – taking the seat next to me; invading my personal space without any hint of hesitation. His pudgy hand reaches out to grope at my breasts through my dress.
"I liked yer outfit better yesterday,” he drawls – fingers digging into plush mounds encased within simple fabric; squeezing and kneading until unbearable heat spreads from beneath his wandering digits.
Tears well up in my eyes at the casual reminder of last night's debasing ordeal; my body betraying me under Snib’s unwelcome touch as sexual flames start kindling deep within my core.
The feeling of being filled over and over by his grotesque goblin cock; just being *such* a mess at the end of it. Totally brutally used up. Totally *fucked*. I was just a puddle of a person after that. The way Snib filled one condom after another... his pure sexual dominance...
My inner thighs are soaked.
It's wrong... so horribly wrong to feel this way; my mind protesting against every wave of arousal washing over me under Snib’s vulgar ministrations despite body's damning responses.
“Well, ain’t this precious,” Snib sneers, his yellow eyes gleaming with malicious delight. “Got yer wife drinking my seed and now she’s off to play house while we have a little chat. This is what yer heroics got ya, eh?”
My face burns crimson.
“Still sore from last night, ain’t ya? Bet yer lips are still tinglin’ from nursin' on my cock.”
He presses closer, his bulky body looming over mine as he forces me back into the cushions of the sofa.
“Remember how hard ya came when I rammed this fat gobbo cock deep inside ya useless cunt?”
“N-”
Snib just laughs, his cackle grating against my already raw nerves. “Nah, don’t lie,” he says, eyes twinkling with sadistic pleasure. “Ye like thinkin’ bout it. And ye liked when I slapped those udders around, made ya squeal like the slut ya are.”
I whimper.
“Look at yaself,” he mocks, one hand groping my breast while the other slides up my skirt, between my thighs, feeling the sopping mess there. “Yer not a hero anymore. Yer just a gobbo whore. We sealed the deal last night.”
I can’t suppress the sob that escapes my lips, tears streaming freely as Snib continues his vile tirade.
“Bet ya can’t *wait* for another round, huh?” he sneers, his breath hot and vile against my ear.(simple_option:"17 he gets closer","He gets closer...")($play:"ambience","night inn")Snib stands up, looming over me, and waggles the massive bulge of his cock inches from my face. I can’t look away, the sight holding me captive. His enormous, throbbing member twitches beneath the filthy fabric of his loincloth, a visible stain spreading as potent, pungent precum leaks out.
I hate it, I despise it, but the pheromones are like poison, twisting my mind, pulling at my limbs.
“Look at yer eyes,” he chuckles, his voice dripping with lust and mockery. “Yer pupils are so wide ya look like a cat, starin’ at almighty gobbo cock.”
My mind is a whirlpool of filth and desire. The pheromones are in my veins, in my brain, drowning every rational thought beneath a violent tidal wave of submissive need. Each breath fills my lungs with the scent of him, and it’s like pure, sexual gravity.
My vision swims as I stare up at Snib, my face flushing hot, my mouth watering against my will. Damn it, I can’t stop… my hands move on their own, sliding up his thigh, towards the twitching bulge.
"Ya see, tits-for-brains," Snib hisses, his voice thick with anticipation. "Can't help yerself, can ya? Drawn to yer master's cock like a moth to flame."
I whimper, my cheeks burning.
My mind is a whirlpool of filth and desire. The pheromones are in my veins, in my brain, drowning every rational thought beneath a violent tidal wave of submissive need. Each breath fills my lungs with the scent of him, and it’s like pure, sexual gravity.
Suddenly, Snib hops down, leaving me slumped on the couch, gasping.
"Got something special planned for both you girls," he sneers, his footsteps echoing as he leaves the room.
I'm left alone with that horrible statement, clutching at the fabric of my skirt, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Shame courses through me, vile and thick as the goblin cum I fear is winding its way into Elara’s being.
The thought of my beautiful wife consuming that ghastly brew of aged, potent goblin seed makes my stomach turn. The cum had been outside of Snib’s body for nearly a day—could it be even more concentrated? More corrupting? The possibilities twist in my gut like knives.
It took me less than a day to succumb after my first dose of Grokk’s cum - straight from Grokk’s cock into my tummy. Elara's was just a glass… and sperm was older… surely it doesn't last long? Or does it?(live:15s)[($play:"ambience","elise cooking masturbation")(stop:)]
The thoughts are disgusting, vile—a torrent of filth that floods my mind without cease. Every second thought is perverted by the echo of Snib’s laughter, the memory of his cock filling me, using me. I hate it. I hate myself for the submissive urges that flutter within me.
Unable to stay still, I pull up my skirt, the fabric bunching around my waist. My panties are indeed soaked. With trembling fingers, I touch myself, a pathetic moan escaping my lips. It’s debasing, filthy, but the need is too great. My fingers slip easily between the folds of my pussy, wet and warm and utterly ashamed.
The heat in my core spreads, a fire that consumes my every thought. I'm flushed, feverish with a desire I loathe. Each stroke of my fingers sends jolts of pleasure radiating through me, tightening the coil of heat within. I rock against my own hand, chasing the shameful relief that bubbles just at the edge of my consciousness.
"Ah, Snib... please," I find myself whispering, my voice a broken whimper. "I need... I need..."
A loud, involuntary moan escapes me as I begin to rub circles around my clit, fingers sliding through the wet, sticky mess. My hips buck against my hand, seeking more.
Through the haze of self-loathing and need, I can hear Elara in the kitchen. I clench my eyes shut, biting down on my lower lip to stifle my moans but fail miserably.
My fingers work faster, slipping inside, fucking myself with a frantic, desperate rhythm, dripping and soaking wet.
I am lost, completely and utterly degraded, alone in this pit of perversity, reduced to a moaning, weeping mess of need and shame on the couch.
And knowing Elara is just in the other room, makes it all the worse.(simple_option:"17 try","Try to pull yourself out of it.","Try to cum.")(if:$choice is "Try to cum.")[($play:"ambience","elise cooking masturbation")The haze overwhelms me, drowning the last vestiges of my self-respect in the murky depths of pure, unspeakable desire. With Snib’s degrading taunts still ringing in my ears, I surrender myself completely to the filthy yearnings that rampage through my overstimulated body.
"Ohhh, god..." I moan stupidly.
I hump against my hand like a bitch in heat, my hips gyrating shamelessly on the plush couch. The soft fabric absorbs the loud, wet sounds of my self-pleasure.
"Unghhh, yes... fuck, yes! Need it... need it so bad..."
Each stroke sends jolts of raw pleasure coursing through me, igniting fires in places I hate to admit even exist.
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)"Nghhh... Snib’s big gobbo cock... so fucking huge..." I whimper pathetically, my mind conjuring the image of his thick, veiny dick, pushing me to the edge.
But as the heat builds, as the crescendo of my climax approaches, something snaps. I can't... My body convulses with miserable sobs of frustration, my movements becoming more desperate, more erratic.
I'm panting, gasping for air that feels too thick to breathe. My body is a mess of sweat and pussy juice, the latter practically leaking onto the couch. But no matter how hard I rub, how crudely I finger myself, the orgasm remains just out of reach, an agonizing promise unfulfilled.
"Unghhh!" I curse myself, tears of frustration mixing with the sweat dripping down my face. My fingers are sore, my pussy throbs painfully from my rough handling, yet it's all for naught. The pleasure tantalizes but never peaks, leaving me writhing in a pit of unsatisfied need.
Collapsed in self-loathing, I lie there, my chest heaving with heavy breaths.
"What... what am I doing?"
Reality crashes back with a vengeance—the image of Elara drinking that monstrous load of gobbo cum flashes in my mind. Oh, gods... Elara. My wife... After what she's been through because of me... and here I am, unable to control my own base impulses.
I rise shakily, straightening my skirt with trembling hands. The fabric sticks to my skin, damp and filthy, just like my conscience. My legs feel weak, but I force them to move. I need to check on Elara. I need... to do something right.
Stumbling slightly, I head towards the kitchen—my mind a tangled mess of lust, disgust, and remorse—a failing wife, a broken hero...](else:)[($play:"ambience","night inn")I pant, my free hand grasping at one of my breasts, squeezing it hard through the fabric of my dress. It's too much, too tight—the fabric strains against my swollen, jiggling flesh, every tug sending sparks of pleasure coursing through my veins.
My body trembles, hips bucking into my hand as I circle my clit with fervent desperation.
But then, a sound—a clatter from the kitchen.
The name cuts through the fog of lust like a blade. Elara. My wife. The woman I love, suffering because of me.
I gasp, the reality crashing down around me. This isn't right. I can't let this continue. I'm not some puppet, some plaything for goblin filth. I'm her hus- wife, and she needs me to be stronger than this.
With a choked sob, I wrench my hand away from between my thighs, the cool air hitting my slick skin like a splash of icy water. I'm panting, heart racing, but I force myself to stand. My legs are shaky, unsure, but I steady myself against the back of the couch.
Gathering the tattered shreds of my dignity, I pull down my skirt and adjust my dress. My body still thrums with unsatisfied desire, each movement sending little aftershocks of pleasure-pain through me. But I push it down, push it away.
($change_stat:"heroism",2)*I NEED to be stronger than this.*
With one last deep breath to steady my nerves, I make my way towards the kitchen.](simple_option:"17 kitchen","Go to the kitchen.")($play:"ambience","elara cooking")($play:"sex loop","snib licking muffled")(pic:"ch17/cooking.jpg","right")As I enter the kitchen, the gentle clatter of utensils greets me.
The smell of chicken stew wafts through the air, mingling with the crusty aroma of freshly baked bread.
Elara’s back is to me, her auburn hair pulled back into a simple, efficient bun, showing the elegant line of her neck and the gentle curves of her shoulders under her lavender dress. There’s a peculiar stillness to her, an almost eerie calm as she focuses on her cooking.
"Elara," I begin, my voice faltering slightly, thick with guilt. "How are... how are you feeling?"
She doesn’t turn immediately. “I’m fine,” she replies, her tone neutral, almost distant. There's a slight tremor in her voice that she quickly masks by clearing her throat.
Elara adds a sprig of rosemary to the pot, her movements graceful but oddly slow.
I watch her for a moment. "Can—can I help with anything?" I manage to ask, trying to bridge the awkward tension that has enveloped us.
"Yes," she replies without turning, her voice slightly strained. "Set the table... for two, please."
For two? I blink, surprised, but nod silently and start retrieving plates and cutlery from the cupboard. My movements are mechanical, each clink of porcelain a jarring reminder of the normalcy I'm desperately trying to simulate.
As I lay the silverware on the table, my ears pick up a faint, irregular sound. I turn sharply, peering back into the kitchen. Elara is gripping the edge of the counter slightly, her other hand stirring the stew a tad too vigorously.
"Elara," I call out, a note of concern edging into my voice, "are you sure you're okay?"
"Y-yes, just... just tired after... *all that*," she counters quickly, her voice a whisper-thin veil over her strained composure. There's a blush on her cheeks.
I nod.
"Do you think Snib will be okay with not having dinner?"
Her response is delayed, a brief flicker of something crossing her features as she adjusts her stance subtly, her skirt rustling softly.
"He is having dinner," she replies with an odd tone in her voice that catches me off guard.(simple_option:"17 but","But you asked only to set two places...")($play:"ambience","elara cooking")(live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop","snib licking")]Elara’s lips pull up into a smile - one that doesn't quite reach her eyes - but she says nothing more. Something about that smile gives me pause. It's different... off somehow...
A strange thought strikes me then and I voice it before thinking better of it.
“Alright,” I say slowly, pushing away from the wall and straightening up to full height again – or what would have been full height had I still been Aldric - “I’ll go find Snib.”
“Why?” Elara’s question cuts through the thick silence hanging between us; forcing out a startled gasp as my emerald orbs widen slightly under the abrupt query.
“Because…” the words trail off into silence as confusion dances across my delicate features before realization dawns bright within my mossy green depths “…I don’t know where he is.”
Once again Elara’s lips stretch into that strange smile; something in her sapphire eyes sending shivers down my spine as she reaches down to grasp the hem of her dress.
“He’s right here, silly,” her voice reverberates through the small kitchen, her fingers tugging the hem of her dress upwards. I watch in fascinated horror as inch by inch, the soft lavender fabric rises, revealing the petite figure of Snib nestled comfortably beneath her skirt.
(pic:"ch17/reveal.jpg")(simple_option:"17 feasting","Feasting on Elara's pussy.")($play:"sex loop","snib licking")($play:"ambience","night inn")The sight before me is an abomination. My chest constricts, breath catching in my throat as my heart plummet into the darkest pit of despair. Snib, the vile creature, is there, between my beautiful wife's thighs. His chubby, green hands greedily grab at her hips, pulling her closer, his face buried deeply in her most intimate place.
Elara’s head is tilted back, her eyes half-closed in a delirious haze, her mouth open as soft moans escape her lips. The sounds slice through me, every pant and whimper a testament to how deeply the goblin’s influence has seeped into her.
($hidden_gem:"The sound of Snib’s wet, sloppy devouring fills the kitchen, disgustingly loud. He slurps and slobbers, his enjoyment grotesquely apparent. It’s primal, obscene—the way his tongue works with fervent aggression, the slurping noise echoing off the walls, mingling with the clatter of utensils I’d laid out minutes ago in a vain attempt at normalcy.","The sound of Snib’s sloppy, sordid, sopping devouring fills the forlorn kitchen, disgustingly dominant. He slurps and slobbers, his salacious satisfaction grotesquely glaring. It’s primal, perversely putrid—the way his tongue twirls with fervent, feral fervor, the slurping and slobbering sounds savage and obscene, soaked in the clattering chaos of utensils left lifelessly laid out moments ago in a futile fantasy of normalcy.")
I can see his thick, saliva-coated lips working eagerly against her, his long, slimy tongue flicking and curling. Elara’s fingers find their way to his head, clutching at him, urging him on.
“Elise…” Elara's voice, thick with arousal, tugs me from the frozen horror. Her eyes lock onto mine, glazed with a disturbing mix of lust and something darker. There’s a wildness there I’ve never seen, a raw, animalistic need that churns my stomach.
She bites her lip, a pathetic attempt to suppress her moans that increasingly punctuate the air.
“Do you see?” Her words are breathless, almost pleading. “Do you *feel* what it’s like?”
“Elara…” My voice is barely above a whisper, choked out around the lump forming in my throat.
Her voice sharpens, each word a dagger.
"You brought this upon us, Elise!" she accuses, her voice climbing with every word even as her body undulates above the grotesque creature servicing her. "You welcomed him into our home! And now... now I must see to it we make the best of it!"
($notification:"Goblin sperm that has been left out for more than a day can ferment and have extremely potent effects - infecting human minds much more easily.")Snib looks up from his ministrations, his wide, nasty grin smeared with her juices, echoing her twisted justification. "Yeah, she's right, tits-for-brains. Ye brought me here! Yer wife just makin’ sure we all getting along... nicely."
Her logic is clearly warped by the undeniable influence of Snib’s ghastly seed. Yet Elara spews it as though it's the gospel, her fingers gripping Snib's ears, guiding his movements with increasing desperation.
"Elise," she gasps out as Snib gives another brutal thrust with his tongue, "you've been having all this fun..." Her voice trails off into a whimper as the goblin adds a finger, his actions growing bolder.
I watch, heart in shards, as her moans escalate. Then, with a suddenness that catches me off guard, she's reaching down and pushing away Snib's hand from between her legs. His yellow eyes flash with surprise but he allows Elara to guide him out from under her skirt.
"I want more," Elara declares, pulling her skirt down and smoothing it over her hips as she regains her composure. She stands, regal and commanding despite the flush of lewdness staining her cheeks.
I remain rooted in place, feeling utterly lost as the surreal, twisted scene unfolds before me.
Elara's gaze fixes on me, piercing and unyielding. "Sit down," she commands, the electric charge in her voice compelling me to obey without question.(simple_option:"17 sit","You obey, for some reason...")I do, mechanically, my body betraying my inner turmoil as I lower myself into the chair at the table.
A deep sense of dread fills me; I'm a spectator in my own nightmare.
"Oi, cow tits," Snib chortles from beside Elara, his revolting joy palpable. "This was a long time comin’."
The humiliation washes over me anew, and bile rises in my throat. I force it down, clenching my fists in my lap to keep from shaking.
Elara returns from the kitchen with two steaming bowls of stew, setting them down with a care that belies the crazed lust I'd just witnessed. The rich aroma of chicken and herbs fills the air, a cruel reminder of normalcy.
She fixes a bowl before Snib and then me, her movements deliberate, almost ceremonial.
"What about you?” My voice is a whisper, barely carrying over the small table.
She gives a soft, chilling laugh, devoid of any genuine warmth. "Oh, I've got something else, that I would like," she says, stepping back, her eyes locked on mine, burning with a fierce, unsettling intensity.
Snib smacks his lips lasciviously, wiping her essence from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Better eat up, Elise. Gonna need yer strength," he sneers, picking up his spoon with a grotesque delight.
(pic:"ch17/pov across table.png","center","borderless")
I stare at the stew, the wholesome meal a stark contrast to the depravity I feel swirling around me. Each breath I draw is laced with the scent of rosemary and chicken, mingled now with the darker, fouler musk of Snib’s lingering presence.
Elara sits across from me, her gaze never wavering, watching me with an expectation that knots my stomach tighter. I lift the spoon hesitantly, each movement sluggish, heavy with despair.(simple_option:"17 nightmare","This is a nightmare...")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"sex loop",0)($vid:"ch16/anal insert.mp4","right")(if:$choice is "Beg him not to.")["Please... ngh," I whimper pathetically, my voice barely a strained breath, dribbling with the slobber and slime of Snib's sperm that's glazed around my lips. But it's a weak, futile plea, almost drowned out by the jiggling of the cum-filled condoms dangling humiliatingly from what feels like every bit of my body.
Snib chuckles, lifting his cock like a weapon.
"Shut it, whore. You're gonna take my fat goblin cock up your pretty little asshole and you're gonna fucking love it."
He's lined up behind me, his fat, monstrous cock throbbing and twitching with cruel anticipation. I can feel the heat radiating off it.
With a filthy grin plastered across his warty face, he grabs his grotesque fuck-hose and ***SLAPS*** it down onto my reddened, wobbly ass cheeks. The impact sends a filthy, wet sound echoing through the dank room, like raw meat slapped against a butcher's block.
"Fucking sluuut," Snib snarls with vile affection, each syllable dripping with degradation, "gonna stretch out your pretty little shithole. Time for your hero ass to take a cock beating!"
He positions his quivering cock at my trembling entrance, his hands gripping my hips. On his first shove, his dick bends awkwardly, flopping against my ass—sending another **SMACK** reverberating through my flesh.
"Fuckin' tight ass," he grabs my hips roughly, pulling them up to give him better access.
The third attempt, his fat cockhead just smears its nasty mix across my ass, slipping away again with a wet, humiliating *flop*.
Then, his huge mushroom head finally aligns, nudging against my virgin pucker. The pressure is *terrifying*.
On his fourth thrust, that massive goblin head ***POPS*** through, breaching my tender ring.
(size:2)["*AAAAAGH!!!*"]
The scream tears through me, a horrid blend of agony and the deepest, sickest sorts of pleasure. It feels like I'm being split in two.
"Fuuuuck, there it is!" Snib howls triumphantly, pumping his hips to sink deeper. "Every fuckin' hole destroyed. You're nothing but my cum receptacle now."
My mind can't form a coherent thought anymore; it's a haze of pain, pleasure, and the overwhelming reality of being fucked in the ass by a monster.
"Ohhh god... please... it's so big," I gasp out, my voice a choked sob. The sensation is too much, his dick too thick, stretching me open in ways I've never felt. It feels like I'm being split apart, but there's also a deep, guilty warmth spreading through me.
Every pull out is agony, every push back in a skewer of fiery pain mixed with delirious pleasure, opening me up more and more.](else:)[Bracing myself is the only thing I can manage—the only semblance of control left in my utterly degraded state.
"Ready fer the ride of your pathetic, slutty life, cow tits?"
I feel the first heavy slap of his nasty fuck-stick against my fat, wobbling ass cheeks. The impact jiggles them, rippling obscenely. "UGH—FUCKKK!"
"Yeah, look at this slutty ass, quivering and all ripe for my big goblin cock!" he bellows, the room filling with his foul excitement. "Can't wait to fuck em."
My throat tightens with fear. I don't know what to do except stay perfectly still and hope it's over quickly.
The slimy tip of his grotesque cock prods at my trembling hole, smearing it with a disgusting mixture of my own cunt-squirt and his thick, stinking pre-cum.
The first push is a sickening flop—his massive prick bends awkwardly, smacking wetly against my quivering asscheeks.
"NGHH, fuck! Hold still, ya stupid cum-hole!"
I whimper, more drool leaking from my mouth as his rough fingers dig painfully into my hips. He aligns himself again, grunting with exertion. On the second try, his cock just slides along the sweaty valley between my cheeks, the tip leaving a sick trail of pre-cum.
He curses, then pulls back for another attempt. His third attempt isn't much better, the tip of his cock flopping against my hole but not finding purchase, just slapping my abused flesh and making me squeal again.
My mind is a pitiful haze, every slap, every crude word sinking me deeper into debasement.
"I said hold still, you fucking whore!" Snib snarls.
Finally, on the fourth attempt—
(size:3)[*P-POP*!]
I scream as his huge purple helmet breaches my tight, untouched ring.
"AGHHHHH— OUCH!"
"Take that, bitch!" Snib howls in triumph, a vile grin splitting his face as he shoves more of his massive green cock into my ass. "You're mine all the way now, ass-cunt!"
The room spins, my vision blurs with tears as his monstrous dick stretches my asshole wider than I ever imagined possible. The pain is fucking raw, an inferno blazing through every nerve ending.
Each pull-out is a drawn, slippery noise—*schluck*—as if he’s desecrating my very soul. Then he thrusts back in, sheer brutality as his veiny prick spears through my gutted depths. "UNGH—FUCKKK!"
"FEEL that?! Goblin cock splitting yer hero-hole!" Snib mocks, his voice a sick melody of domination and ridicule. "All pathetic heroes should get their asses fucked like this, shouldn't they? I bet then they'd never feel half as proud! Yer experiencin' a real goblin fuck-staff!"
His words are almost as harsh and violating as his cock ramming in and out of my ass. Each thrust sends waves of sick pleasure mingling with the agonizing pain, shaking me to the core.
"This is what you were made for, Elise! Not waving swords around, but getting your holes stuffed and fucked by gobbo meat!"
His pace increases, his throbbing balls slapping against my pathetically drooling, twitching cunt with each violent thrust.](simple_option:"16 assfuck","He starts assfucking you in earnest.")($hidden_gem:"Goblins. Fucking goblins, am I right? Disgusting creatures with their slimy green dicks, their nasty cum, their evil little brains... and here I am, Elise, once Aldric the *Great*, getting butt-fucked by one.","Grimy, grotesque goblins. Dastardly, disgusting denizens with their slimy, sickening schlongs, their nauseating, noxious cum, their evil, errant little brains... and here I am, Elise, once Aldric the *Great*, getting butt-banged by one.")
Snib's thrusts are becoming more brutal, more insistent.
He **YANKS** on my hair, dragging my face away from the pillow.
His other hand slams onto my back, pushing me down onto the bed with a sick *shlop*, my jiggling tits pressed into the cooling puddle of goblin spunk.
“Fuuuuuck,” Snib groans in delight as he forces my ass up, my back arching sinfully as he presses my face back down into the sticky mess.
"UGHNNN—FUCK, SHIT! It hurts!" I scream, but my cries are muffled against the sperm-soaked sheet. He's so deep, each slam of his hips making my fat cheeks wobble and jiggle.
Under him, I'm nothing more than a fucked-out doll—the once great hero now just a squealing bitch, reduced to a twitching mass of hyper-sensitive nerves, bouncing and jiggling around his massive, veiny cock.
“Lookatcha! Lookatcha!” Snib snarls, the rough words grating against my burning ears. “Yer disgusting! Yer just a filthy cum-bucket, ain't ya?”
I can only whine, writhing under his overpowering thrusts.
“Thought yer ass was for shitting? No, bitch! It's for taking my big, fat gobbo dick!” His voice is a frenzied roar as he slams down into me, the bed rocking with each violent impact.
(pic:"ch16/prone.jpg")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")
My ass-globes wobble with each *SMACK* of his bony green hips against my soft, peachy flesh.
“UNNGH! AHH! AH!” It's all I can manage.
“Yer a fucking ass-slut! A dirty, whoring fuck-hole! My fuck-hole! Moan like the bitch you are! Squirm and squeal!”
And I do.
"*UuuuUUUuuuUUUUUgh*!" I keen, this high, undignified, mindless wailing escaping my spit and sperm-slick lips. "*HuuuUUUUuuuUUUuuuAAaaHH!* AHH... HA! HAHHHHH!” My voice is a shrill, pathetic sound.
The size of him is an impossibility, a demon of raw flesh and gristle that is hellbent on reaming my very soul. Every thrust sends a twisted cocktail of pain and pure, searing heat up in my guts.
"*UuuuUUUUUuuuuUUuuhhhhh*!"
But the pain is changing.
The horrific, gut-twisting sensations start to dull. My slowing, mindless whimpers become loud, needy moans. "*OoooOOOoooh*!"
Slowly, it twists and warps into something else. There's a strange heat brewing in me, not the molten lava of his cock stretching me beyond belief, but something hotter—something that makes my empty cunt twitch and my nipples tighten even more.
His cock, that horrifying, vein-choked rod of goblin meat, starts to feel... good.
My insides, once screaming in agony, now ripple and coax against his monstrous girth.
“Gods—” I moan, my voice a drawn out cry of sick ecstasy. “It... it feels...”
"Turning into a fuckin' goblin ass slut, aren'tcha?" he gloats, yanking my hair again, pulling my head back to let my moans echo through the stale, cum-scented air.
His thick green rod pistons in and out of my wrecked ass, sending jolts of unwanted, filthy pleasure coursing through my veins. My mind forces back the humiliation, the shame, the horror of being ass-fucked raw by a monster, and focuses instead on that filthy warmth blooming inside me.
His pace quickens, his thick rod churning up my guts, his prong mashing against the delicate nerves inside me.
"Fucking cum! Cum from my big cock stretching yer worthless butt!"
I feel a pressure build—it's more intense, more *everything*.
"UNGHH~~~!" I wail.
The climax rips through me, an undignified, squirting release that splashes on the bed beneath me. His monstrous cock continues to plow my ruined ass, making the orgasm last, stretching for what feels like an eternity of grimy, horrifying pleasure.
"*AhhhHUuuuU!* Fucking goblin cock!" is all I can manage, the words bubbling from my cum and drool-laden mouth. "Oh, *god*. So deep…!"
My cunt spasms, a torrent of juice squirting out and wetting the bed, the scent of my pussy, the cum, the sweat, all of it mingling in the filthy room. My ass clenches down on his throbbing member, the rippling muscles milking him even as he continues to relentlessly pound into me.
“FUCK YES! Take it, cunt! Cum on my cock!”
It's the most intense, most humiliating orgasm I've had.
I'm just a fuck hole for a goblin, a monster that would've been crushed by Aldric's strong, mighty feet once upon a time. Now, I'm being wrecked over and over by his giant, green prick, whimpering and moaning like the pathetic ass slut I've become.(simple_option:"16 ass cum","He's getting close...")(pic:"ch16/prone.jpg")($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")As Snib's monstrous thrusts become more urgent, a familiar, dreadful pressure builds deep inside my guts. The obscene size and heat of his absolutely writhing goblin cock make me nauseous, trembling with each wet slap of his hips against my jiggling ass.
I feel him twitch.
His massive cock, buried balls-deep inside me, seizes up.
He's going to cum. Inside me.
"Gonna... gonna fuckin' nut insi'de ya, cow tits! Nut in yer pretty little asshole!"
he snarls, each word wrapped in sadistic pleasure.
The pressure in my rectum spikes, a heat so intense it's unbearable.
"This is a big un'. Gonna fill yer ass with so much of my nut. Gonna mark you inside, deep where no one can fuckin' see but you’ll *feel* it. You’ll know you're stuffed with gobbo seed!"
I whimper, my voice barely a squeak through the overwhelming mixture of drool and gunky goblin spunk already coating my lips. It's too much. He's too deep. My body shudders as his inhuman prick twitches inside me, the hot, slimy precum no doubt beginning to drizzle.
I can actually feel the massive veins wrapped tightly around his shaft as they expand, pushing grotesquely against the already strained walls of my rectum. It’s like having a live, squirming animal trying to burrow further into my body; its movement sending ripples of both pain and a sick, twisted form of pleasure that I loathe to acknowledge.
The sensation begins subtly—with a heavy throb near the opening of my rectum. It’s a pulse, like the rhythmic beating of a heart. It shifts, it preps—and then, with a surge of pressure that makes my eyes water, it happens.
($vid:"ch16/anal creampie internal view.mp4")
<span class='cum1'>BLURRRRT!!!</span>
The first spurt is less a release and more an explosion. It rockets through his shaft with enough force to jerk his hips against mine. A hot, thick stream of goblin cum blasts into my bowels, the intense pressure making my eyes bulge.
It's a foreign, uncomfortable warmth that sears through my insides, stirring a mix of intense discomfort and shameful pleasure. The heat spreads, radiating outwards and creeping up my colon.
His big, green balls twitch against me, more and more of his sperm blasting into my ravaged ass.
($vid:"ch16/cumflate.mp4")
Each rope of his cum fills me deeper, stretching the sensitive walls of my intestines. My abdomen tenses reflexively, muscles clenching hard against the unnatural fullness spreading through me. I feel my stomach distend slightly from the inside, the sharp inflation a stark, hard swelling against my spine.
"Yeah, take it, hero! Feel my hot jizz coating your insides—fuckin' plastering your guts with goblin cream!"
Another throbbing jet of cum surges up, the nauseatingly warm blast followed by several more, each one as violently forceful as the last. His seed rushes up through my colon, filling me to an almost bursting point. My gut churns with the vile hot liquid, the sensation so intense I fear it might actually rupture.
"That's it, tits-fer-brains, take all my nut. Feel it climbing up, filling ye from the ass up to yer fuckin' THROAT!!!"
His words are no match for the biological reality of his claim. I feel the cum rise, a tide of filth making its way inexorably upward, pushing against the natural contractions of my digestive tract. The pressure is immense, unbearable, as if my organs are being forcibly rearranged. His seed infiltrates further, seeping into my upper colon, swirling around, the degrading warmth making me dizzy with disgust and an unwanted, shameful arousal.
It reaches my stomach. The sheer volume of his ejaculation is so immense, I can actually feel my belly swell outward, the stretched skin tight and hot. The pressure from inside against my diaphragm makes it hard to breathe, each gasp a labor fraught with the thick scent of bleach and musk that is utterly overwhelming. My throat burns with the impending invasion, an acid sting that heralds the arrival of his cum into my esophagus.
"Now yer gonna taste it too, bitch. Gonna cum right outta yer fuckin' mouth, filled to the brim with my goblin spunk!"
Indeed, as if on cue, the first dribble of his thick, pungent semen breaches my throat, pushing past my gag reflex. The taste is foul, an appalling mixture of bleach and decay, each glob that escapes my lips accompanied by a burning humiliation that sears my very soul. I choke, I gag, but the cum doesn’t stop—it spills from the corners of my mouth, streaking down my chin in humiliating rivulets.
Snib’s jagged, triumphant laughter pierces the haze.
($change_stat:"heroism",-15)($change_stat:"snib",5)Look at that! My cum bustin' right outta your mouth! You're nothing but a filled up cum tank, hero. Took it all, didn’t ya? My record fuckin' load!"
His hands, still gripping my hips, pull me back against him in one final, possessive jerk. His cock twitches, a last few dribbles of hot goblin seed painting my insides, ensuring every part of my intestines, my stomach, even my throat is biologically marked.
(pic:"ch16/anal cum mouth.jpg")(simple_option:"16 pull out","He pulls out.")($play:"sex loop","after anal")(set:$anal to "yes")(pic:"ch16/anal creampie.jpg")As I stagger off the bed, Snib's victorious squeals echo in the cramped, vile-smelling chamber. My legs tremble underneath me, barely able to support the unnatural weight of my distended belly. It's a grotesque bulge, a fleshy testament to the immense volume of goblin cum that Snib just pumped deep into my absolutely wrecked ass.
"Look at ya! Waddling like a pregnant sow!" Snib cackles.
The moist slickness of spilled cum underfoot betrays me, and I slip. My knees buckle, and I crash face-first into a nasty, sticky puddle of goblin jizz. The impact jars me, and a horrifyingly loud ***BLURRRRRRTTTT!!!*** erupts from my over-filled ass.
"Fuck! Fuckkk—UNGH!" My cries are mingled with heavy gurgles as more cum leaks out of my mouth, joining the expanding pool on the floor.
Thick, heavy ropes of goblin cum spew out, splattering against the wall with wet, disgusting **SPLATS**.
Snib is practically howling with laughter now. "Ha! Look at ye, squirting my nut like a fuckin' fountain! What a mess!"
He's right. I *am* a mess. A filthy, utterly humiliated mess. I push myself up onto shaky hands and knees, the squelch of cum beneath me making my stomach churn. Trying to regain some semblance of control, I awkwardly squat, feeling the intense pressure in my overstuffed bowels urging me to expel the remaining load.
"Push it out, hero!" Snib taunts, his voice dripping with mockery.
With a deep groan, I bear down. The first expulsion is a loud, obscene **GLOOOOP!**, a thick stream of cum bursting from my stretched, gaping asshole. It hits the floor with a heavy, nasty thud, splashing my ankles with residual filth.
"Ahhh… FUCK!" I cry out, the sensation sickening yet also very relieving.
Each push is accompanied by a deep, visceral clench of my overworked muscles, the sensation in my raw, tender anus a blistering reminder of Snib's brutal invasion.
"More! There’s more! Gut that cum tank!" Snib urges, dancing around with perverse glee as he watches me disgrace myself further.
Another **GLOOOOP! GLOOOOP!** follows, each one more forceful than the last — thick, heavy ropes of filthy goblin seed ejecting from my body, painting the floor with more layers of disgusting, viscous fluid.
Through tears and choke-sobs, I push again, harder. The cum floods out, easier now, the stretched rim of my asshole allowing the viscous, pungent spunk to flow freely. I feel a wild, demeaning pang of relief with each expulsion, my mind reeling from the surreal, grotesque reality of my situation.
"Look at ye! Pumping out my seed like yer a fuckin' well and spigot!"
Each jet of cum expelled brings with it a depraved, involuntary shudder — a filthy pleasure firing through my wrecked nerves. The floor around me is a swamp of goblin spunk, reflecting my utterly ruined state. My bikini, weighed down with the heavy, cum-filled condoms, sags grotesquely as I gasp and moan.
"Yer jest a leaky, cum-stuffed hole now!" Snib points and laughs.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the last heavy loads of cum sputter from my gaping ass. My entire body trembles with exhaustion and overstimulation, each nerve ending screaming from the relentless physical and emotional toll the night has taken. I collapse into the sticky, cum-drenched mess beneath me, panting heavily, every breath a labored gasp.
"Look at that gape! Could toss a coin in there and make a wish!"
I lie there, broken, gasping like a beached whale amidst the puddles of goblin cum. Snib's nasty ball-snot, his venereal victory sprawled all over and inside me. Here I am, the great hero, reduced to nothing more than a quivering, empty cum dumpster for a vile little goblin's pleasure.(simple_option:"16 get out","Struggle to your feet.")($play:"sex loop",0)(live:20s)[($play:"sound","yer wifes a fast learner")(stop:)](live:5s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop","elara bj 1")]Elara looks me in the eye, her expression unreadable.
"Eat," she says again.
Swallowing hard, I lower my gaze to the steaming bowl of stew before me.
I scoop a spoonful, but my hand shakes so violently that some of the broth spills back into the bowl. The savory aroma of the chicken and herbs fills my nostrils, but my stomach churns at the mere thought of food.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I see her move.
She rises from her seat and slides gracefully to the floor, disappearing beneath the table. Every fiber of my being screams in protest, but the collar tightens around my throat, choking my objection.
"Elara, no..." I manage to whisper, my voice strained and weak.
Snib's grin widens, his lecherous eyes locking onto mine.
"Comfy down there, love?" he chuckles.
His hand casually reaches under the table, and I hear shuffling, fabric rustling, then the unmistakable sound of his loincloth being pulled aside.
The tension in the air is suffocating.
Snib chuckles darkly, a malignant sound oozing with pleasure. "Don't stop, cow-bitch. Eat up."
A muffled gasp is heard from beneath the table, a sound that sends a jagged spike of anguish plunging into my heart. Elara’s voice, soft but unmistakably delighted.
(pic:"ch17/elara bj.png","center","borderless")
"Oh... my gods..."
Her tone, breathy and awestruck – a tone I've heard before, in moments of intimacy, in moments meant only for us. My mind races back to the night we spent together as newlyweds, Aldric and Elara laughing and playing beneath a blanket of twinkling stars. We tumbled and rolled through wildflowers, our lips meeting in sweet, unrestrained passion.
Snib’s rasping voice yanks me back to the present with brutal, unrelenting clarity. "Seems like ya wife likes what she sees," he sneers, licking his lips.
From where I sit, unable to see, the world narrows to these horrible sounds – the rustling of fabric, the soft, wet *shlurp* as her lips lock onto his cock.
Hearing her gag makes my skin crawl – the low, muffled choke followed by a sloppy *cough*. The chair I’m in feels like an iron maiden, tightening around me with every sound.
A slurp, followed by a gentle suckling sound that makes bile rise in my throat. My fingers wobble, struggling to keep hold of the spoon as my mind conjures the most obscene images of what’s happening just inches away from me.
Snib reclines in his chair, a low moan escaping his lips as he grips the edge of the table. His eyes never leave mine, relishing every second.
"Hah," he grunts, his voice a husky whisper. "Yer wife... she's a fast learner. Ya musta really enjoyed that pretty mouth when ya was a man, eh?"
Each word stabs at me, cutting deep into my soul. I try to focus on the stew, but my eyes keep drifting to Snib, to the sickening pleasure on his face.
More slurping sounds reach my ears, every wet noise sending jolts of humiliation and anguish through me. I can feel it in my gut—Elara’s lips wrapped around Snib's cock, sucking with a fervent desperation that twists my insides.
My mind drifts back to that night... Her eyes, full of love and adoration, looking up at me with pure, untainted desire.
"Do you love me?" she had asked, her voice soft, full of hope.
"Always," I had replied. "Forever."
Snib's breath catches as Elara's suckling grows bolder, faster. “Haahhh... lookie here, guess yer wife always were a cock-slobberer. Goddamn, yer missin’ out. She’s fuckin’ talented at this.” He moans loudly, his pleasure palpable.
I can’t see anything, only imagine—the sight of my beautiful Elara on her knees, her mouth stretched around Snib’s enormous, monstrous cock, drool dribbling down her chin as she works him over with desperate, pheromone-addled enthusiasm.
The wet noises grow louder, more fervent. I hear a soft gag, then a whimper. My mind races, imagining the scene below the table.
"Hah," Snib chuckles. "She's tryin' to take it all. Bet she's gonna make me cum quick, keepin' this up."
I can almost feel thump under the table as her head hits the underside, but she keeps going.
"Don’t stop eating," my goblin master growls. "Keep yer fuckin’ head down. Taste her hard work."
I try to focus on anything but the vile sounds filling the air. I try to remember the warmth of Elara's touch, the gentle brush of her lips against mine. But it's futile.
Every moist gulp, every shuddering breath from beneath the table shatters the illusion and drags me back into the harsh reality of our shared degradation.
And just when I think it can't get any worse, Snib’s voice comes through, wicked and low, dripping with condescending delight.
"Pl- play with yer tits or sumthin'," he commands, his yellow eyes narrowing. "Show me just how much ya love seeing yer wife blow me."
My hands move on their own, traitorous against my will. I grasp my heavy breasts, squeezing them through the fabric of my dress.($notification:"The pheromones are driving you, too...")(simple_option:"17 masturbate again","You can't resist.")($play:"sex loop","elara bj 2")"Ahh, fuck, yer wife knows how to suck a cock. Much better than ya ever did, cow tits," Snib taunts, his eyes glinting with vile satisfaction. "Yer old news, Elise. This one here, *she's* the proper woman."
The words sting, a toxic balm seeping deep into my wounded pride. I bite my lip, tears pooling in my eyes as I feel the collar tighten. But there's no denying the twisted heat that builds in my core, seeping out like a toxic fog, clouding my senses and weakening my resolve.
"Yer nothin' but a second-rate fucktoy," Snib continues, his voice oozing disdain. "Now, touch yerself."
My hands tremble as they move around the hem of my skirt. Snib’s mocking gaze burns into me, urging me on.
(pic:"ch17/elise masturbating.png","center","borderless")
“Go on. Show me how much you love watchin' yer missus suckin' my fat gobbo cock."
A shudder rips through me as my fingers slide under the elastic of my panties, finding the wet, hot mess of my pussy. The heat is unbearable, the slick wetness a damning evidence of my total disgrace.
"Ye like that, don’t you?" Snib grins and lets out a loud moan, encouraging Elara to take him deeper. "Give it a good rub, cow-tits. Make that slobbery cunt of yers sing."
I cry softly, mortified by my own actions as my fingers delve into the warm, pulsing mound. The physical sensation is sickeningly exquisite, each stroke sending ripples of reluctant pleasure through me.
"That’s it, get yerself nice and wet while she drains my balls."
I hate it, I loathe it, yet my fingers delve deeper, exploring the folds that throb with each heartbeat. The sensation is incredible, horrifying in its intensity. My head falls back, a silent sob escaping my lips as I begin to work myself over, my hips moving involuntarily to meet each stroke.
“The good little hero, now just a sobbin', cum-hungry slut,” Snib crows from across the table, his wide grin grotesque in its pleasure. “Bet ya can't wait to cream yerself to the sounds of yer wife’s moans, huh?”
Up and down, my fingers move in a rhythm dictated by desperation and shame. The sounds of Elara’s efforts, her gagging, her breathing heavy, drive me closer to the edge.
“Faster, bitch,” Snib growls. “I wanna see that fat ass bounce as ya finger-fuck yerself. Make it good. Cum like the squirtin' cow ya are.”
It’s too much. Resenting every moment, I circle my clit faster, desperate to just end it. Tears stream down my face as I sob quietly, the sounds of my sobs mixing with the vulgar noises from beneath the table.
Tears stream down my cheeks, mingling with the saliva dripping from my open, panting mouth.
I’m moaning now, a pathetic sound - barely human. My other hand grabs at my breast, pinching the nipple hard, eliciting a sharp gasp that pierces through the fog of lust.
“Yeah, that’s it... just like that. Get ready to squirt for me, dumb cow,” Snib hisses, his voice a vile poison in my ears.
My body tenses, a torturous buildup seeking release. I’m close, so horribly close. The sounds of Elara servilely servicing Snib push me over.
“Now, *cum* for me, Elise. Squirt yer fuckin' brains out,” Snib commands, his voice thick with anticipation.(simple_option:"17 cum","You cum at your master's command.")(pic:"ch17/elise masturbating.png","center","borderless")($play:"sex loop","elara bj 3")
Then, it hits—the climax tears through me like a tornado, wrenching a pitiful, mewling squelch from deep within as I cream myself. My fat ass lifts off the chair, my back arching in a grotesque caricature of ecstasy. My pussy clenches and spasms, the sticky, shameful discharge soaking my panties and dripping into my trembling thighs.
Snib laughs raucously, a sound so filthy and pleased it could curdle blood. "There’s a good tit-cow."
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)I collapse, chest heaving, as the sounds of Elara's continued blowjob fill the air. My mind is tattered, frayed at the edges with lust and utter humiliation.
Then, to add insult to injury, Snib leans down, speaking in a coarse whisper to Elara. “Alright, dearie. Time for yer dinner.”
Snib's mouth twitches in a cruel smirk, knowing he's taken everything from me.
I'm slumped in my chair, soaked and shamed, as the sounds from beneath the table grow louder, rougher, more urgent.
"Oi, look at me, tit cow," Snirt demands, his voice thick with impending release.
I wrench my tear-streaked face upwards, forcing my eyes to meet his. His yellow eyes are wild and gleeful, a perverse mirror of every pleasured expression I'd once shared with Elara.
"Yeah, that’s it. Watch the master at work," he gloats.
The air is thick with the heavy scent of goblin musk. Under the table, I hear Elara’s muffled chokes, each gasp and gag syncing to the relentless rhythm of Snib's grunts. The table shifts slightly, a soft thump indicating Elara’s head bumping against the underside.
Snib's breaths grow shorter, sharper, his satisfaction nearly complete. "Yer gonna love yer meal, Elara," he hisses, his voice laced with vile anticipation. "I been cookin' it up in my balls, just for ye."
And then it happens. (simple_option:"17 he cums","Snib cums.")($play:"sex loop","elara bj cum")A long, deep grunt from Snib breaks the tension, and the sound that follows chills my blood. It's a wet, forceful noise, like thick ropes hitting the ground – but far worse, it's Snib's cum, powerful and copious, being pumped into Elara's waiting mouth.
The table rattles, silverware clinking in the background. "Take it all, wifey! Every fuckin’ drop!"
<span class='cum2'>BLURRT... SQUIRRT...</span>
The squelching noises increase in tempo – wetter and louder – each new note laced with obscene pleasure that I can't help but imagine. Elara's elegant red lips stretched wide around that green monstrosity… her cheeks hollowed out as she sucks him off like a common whore.
But she isn’t just any whore – she is my wife.
And he isn't just any customer – he is my Master.
“Swallow it all down… ye little married slut…”
My imagination tortures me with images of Elara’s pretty mouth stretched wide, struggling to contain the monstrous load being forcefully pumped into her.
"See, she’s a real woman, knows how to please a man... or a goblin. And there’s so much cum... she’s takin' it like she was made for it."
I can't see, but I don't need to – the sounds tell a tale I wish I could unhear.
Snib leans back in his chair, his breathing heavy, a disgusting smile plastered across his foul face.
"There we go, filled her right up. She’s gonna be dreaming of gobbo cum for weeks. Yer wife's a real swallower, ain't she? Not a drop wasted... Your family’s fully mine now, but your wife's definitely my favorite. You're just a sad, squirtin' jiggly milk cow."
His words are a final nail in the coffin of my dignity.
Under the table, the sounds slow, then stop. A silence falls, broken only by our heavy breathing and the occasional drip of my juices onto the floor. Snib’s chuckle is satisfied and content, a sound of victory and possession.
"All done here," Snib declares with a sated sigh. A scrape of a chair signals him leaning towards me, his vile breath hot on my face. "That was fun, huh? Watching your wife turn into a better toy than you ever were."(simple_option:"17 she gets up","Elara gets up.")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","night inn")(pic:"ch17/elara after bj.png","center","borderless")
Elara slowly rises from beneath the table.
A thick, yellowed line of cum drips from her chin, marring the fabric of her once pristine lavender dress.
She takes a napkin and delicately wipes her mouth, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Pathetic,” she utters. “You’re really a woman now. Look at you, sitting in your own puddle. Soiled your panties like a desperate, horny little girl.”
Her words sting, each syllable laden with scorn. She steps closer, her face inches from mine. I can see every detail—the shimmer of Snib’s cum still clinging to her lips, the contempt in her sapphire eyes.
“Snib is, at least, a real man,” she sneers. “And you? You’re just a mess. You can’t even hold yourself together when your wife is cheating on you. Aldric is truly gone.”
She laughs, a harsh sound that echoes mockingly around the room.
“He’s delicious... I tasted it. You could never compare. Look at you, your big fucking tit hanging out of your dress, sitting in a squirted mess. You’re a joke now.”
My cheeks burn with shame and humiliation, a deep, unbearable ache building in my chest. One of my breasts has indeed slipped from my dress, exposed and wobbling slightly with each shuddering breath I take.
Snib snorts from his seat, clearly amused by the ruin laid out before him. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, having finished his stew, and stands up, stretching languidly.
"Come on, girls," he drawls, his eyes glinting with cruel intent and desire. "Let's settle this upstairs, shall we? Why don't ye give me a bath?"
The suggestion hangs in the air, heavy and ominous. I look from Snib to Elara, my heart sinking further as I see the excitement flicker over her features.
“Yes, let’s,” Elara replies.(simple_option:"18 ties that bind","Next...")(set:$elara_cum to "voluntary")(masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"sex loop",0)($chapter_title:18,"Ties That Bind")(set:$gender to "female")(pic:"ch18/elara nude.jpg","right")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","night inn")(if:$elara_cum is "voluntary")[As we ascend the staircase, the metal collar around my neck feels heavier than ever.
Elara walks ahead of me, her steps light and eager.
"Elara... are you just pretending?" my whisper is laced with desperation.
She giggles, a sound that used to warm my heart. I catch the stench of goblin cum on her breath as she looks back at me with wide, glassy eyes.
"No, silly," she replies with an airy lilt. "As soon as I drank that cup, my eyes were opened. We’re in this house with Master Snib, and we may as well learn to get along."
Snib rubs his hands together, his eyes fixed on my wife. "Now, strip off that pretty lil’ dress for me," he commands.
Elara’s elegant, elfin fingers fondle the fabric, her lavender linen dress lightly lifted. Slowly, she shucks the shimmering shroud, showcasing her slender, sinuous shape. As the dress descends, disclosing her delightful delicacy, Snib’s *savors* her with a sinister stare.
She stands there, her skin dusted with light freckles, her elegant form so different from my ridiculous curves. Her breasts are perky, her nipples hard in the cool air of the room. Below, a small patch of red hair marks her pubis, a stark contrast to my own hairless, puffy mound.
"Yer prettier than the cow over there," Snib chuckles, walking over and squeezing Elara’s butt. His rough hand roams higher, fondling her breasts as if he owns them. "Proper woman."
I tremble with a mixture of rage, humiliation, and an inexplicable, twisted excitement. The pheromones make it impossible to fully hate what I'm witnessing.(simple_option:"18 wash","She's going to pour a bath.","Try to talk her out of it.")](else:)[As we ascend the staircase, the metal collar around my neck feels heavier than ever, yet the haze lingers in my mind, dulling the sharp edges of guilt and confusion.
Elara walks ahead of me, her steps light, almost eager.
Inside, I feel a mounting thrill.
I know what I did, slipping her that goblin cum, and yet... the lustful haze makes it feel like I did the right thing.
“Elara...” I whisper, my voice a mix of anticipation and underlying guilt.
She giggles, a sound that used to warm my heart. Now, it sends shivers of conflicting emotions coursing through me. I catch the stench of goblin cum on her breath as she turns to face me, wide, glassy eyes reflecting a new clarity.
“As soon as you kissed me, my eyes were opened. We’re in this house with Master Snib, and we may as well learn to get along. I want to be with you, Elise. And be with him.”
Her words create a knot in my throat.
Snib rubs his hands together, his yellow eyes fixed hungrily on my wife.
“Now, strip off that pretty lil’ dress for me,” he commands, voice thick with anticipation.
Elara reaches for the hem of her lavender dress, her fingers trailing lightly over the linen fabric. Slowly, she lifts the dress, revealing the bodice beneath that clings to her slender, curvaceous form. I watch, entranced by the sight.
The dress pools at her feet, leaving her naked in the cool air. Snib’s eyes *devour* her, and I can’t help but feel a twisted pleasure mixed with envy.
She stands there, her skin lightly dusted with freckles, her elegant form a stark contrast to my hyper-sexualized curves. Her breasts, perky and inviting, her nipples hardening under the cool air. A small patch of red hair marks her pubis, different from my hairless, puffy mound.
“Yer prettier than the cow over there,” Snib chuckles, walking over and squeezing Elara’s butt. His rough hand roams higher, fondling her breasts as if he owns them. “Proper woman.”
A wave of hot jealousy and inexplicable excitement washes over me, the pheromones making it impossible to fully resent what’s happening. There’s a dark part of me tingling with pleasure as I watch.
Elara’s breath hitches slightly at his touch, but she stands her ground, her eyes hazy yet determined. “I want to be here, with Elise. If it means learning to get along with you too, Master Snib, then so be it.”
The words stir something deep within, mingling the haze with a disturbing sense of satisfaction. I’m not as torn up as I might have been without the goblin pheromones clouding my mind.
“Mmn, see, she knows her place,” Snib mutters, squeezing Elara’s ass harder. Then, turning his gaze to me, he sneers.
Elara nods dreamily, turning her attention to me with a serene, almost trance-like smile. “Let’s get into a bath. It’ll be good for us, Elise. It seems you haven't been taking them while I've been gone.”
I nod, unable to resist the compulsion, the strange mixture of pleasure and haze melding my thoughts together. Elara’s grip on my hand is firm but tender, guiding me even as we succumb deeper to Snib’s vile control.(simple_option:"18 wash","She's going to pour a bath.")]{
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}($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","tub ambience")(live:7s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop","tub 1")](if:$choice is "Try to talk her out of it.")[“Darling,” I breathe, a desperate attempt to reach her, “this is our space. Our life. He has no right to—”(live:4s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","whip 2")]
($change_stat:"elara",-1)Before I can finish, her hand moves faster than I can react. SLAP! The sharp crack of her palm against my cheek reverberates through the room, causing a stunned silence.
I clutch my stinging cheek, my eyes wide with shock and mounting tears.
The look on her face shifts almost instantly from veiled anger to horrified regret. “Oh, Elise, I— I’m so sorry,” she stammers, her fingers trembling. “It’s just, Master Snib deserves the utmost respect. He has shown us our true selves.”
“True selves?” I echo, my voice filled with bitter disbelief. “Elara, this isn’t you! Listen to yourself. We shouldn’t be doing this, not to our home, not to—”
($notification:"It seems like the day-old goblin sperm is wreaking havoc in your wife's brain...")Elara shakes her head vigorously, her fiery red hair shimmering in the candlelight. “You don’t understand!” she cries, her voice both pleading and commanding. “His power, his touch… it’s as if he sees into our souls. We must bathe him properly, Elise.”
Her eyes are so earnest, so filled with a twisted form of worship, it renders me speechless.
“Please, let’s not make this difficult. Master Snib must be bathed,” she insists, almost as if trying to convince herself as much as me.
I swallow hard, my throat dry and aching. I nod, the fight draining out of me. “Alright, let's get this over with.”
She leads me by hand over to the huge bathtub carved from local stone; its rounded edges cool and comforting beneath trembling fingers as we work together—filling the tub till steam rises off the surface and water shimmers with heat waves beneath flickering candlelight.
Elara bends gracefully to adjust the large wooden buckets that feed the bath. Her movements cause her medium-sized breasts to sway and her pale, smooth skin glistens with the warmth of the room.
She used to be mine, a private treasure of delicate beauty, now exposed and performing for Snib, the goblin whose taunting laughter echoes off the stone walls.](else:)[She leads me by hand over to the huge bathtub carved from local stone; its rounded edges cool and comforting beneath trembling fingers as we work together—filling the tub till steam rises off the surface and water shimmers with heat waves beneath flickering candlelight.
Elara bends gracefully to adjust the large wooden buckets that feed the bath. Her movements cause her medium-sized breasts to sway and her pale, smooth skin glistens with the warmth of the room.
She used to be mine, a private treasure of delicate beauty, now exposed and performing for Snib, the goblin whose taunting laughter echoes off the stone walls.]
"Make it nice and hot," he barks.
Elara nods, her red hair cascading over her shoulders as she pours another bucket, steam dancing around her. Her hands work deftly, ensuring everything is perfect for Snib.
The goblin sneers at me, lounging nearby, “Look at her, so eager to please a real man.”
As the tub fills, she fetches a large ceramic jug filled with fragrant oils, pouring them into the bath. The scents of lavender and rosemary mingle with the steam, wrapping around us like a cloak. She stirs the water slowly, the oils streaking the surface like paint on a canvas.
"Get in, Master," she coos to Snib, her fingers hooking into the sides of his filthy loincloth. With a delicate tug, she pulls it down, and his flaccid cock flops out, swinging between his legs like a lewd pendulum. My wife helps him into the bath, her hands gentle but deliberate.
Once Snib is seated in the steaming water, Elara starts to wash him. She dips a rough sponge into the soapy water and begins running it over his wart-covered back. Her touches are soft, almost loving.
His sneer never falters, his yellow eyes gleaming as he watches me watch them. "That's it, dearie, scrub me down."
Elara works the cloth over Snib’s shaft, her fingers caressing the horrid, veiny length as if she admires it. “Is this how you like it, Master Snib?” her voice drips with a painful sweetness that once was reserved for me.
“Yeah, just like that… a real man’s cock needs proper attention,” Snib replies, his hand coming down to tangle in her hair, guiding her movements.
The flickering candlelight casts dancing shadows over Elara’s body as she kneels by the bath, her entire focus on pleasing Snib. She rinses him off, the clear water cascading down his thick, veiny cock, and Snib groans appreciatively.
"Bigger than that husband of yours ever was, eh?” he mocks, his yellow eyes gleaming with a cruel satisfaction directed at me. "Now look at you, all swollen and soakin' yer panties over there, watching your wife tend to a goblin like she was born fer it."
(pic:"ch18/tub 1.jpg")
I watch as her fingers wrap around its girth as she delicately runs a soapy cloth along its length. His shaft twitches in response, growing stiffer as she pays careful attention to the crown - cleaning away the day's grime. My own body clenches in sympathetic lust that I can't control.
Her cheeks flush beautifully under the steamy heat, eyes fluttering shut as she hums softly to herself - her own pleasure made evident in soft moans that escape her lips. The sight sets my blood aflame with a wild concoction of (if:$elara_cum is "voluntary")[anger](else:)[guilt] and... (simple_option:"18 desire","...desire.")($play:"sex loop","tub 1")The feeling prickles my skin, igniting an inferno that churns inside me just below the surface - an undeniable arousal that turns any resistance into ashes.
My cheeks heat up under Snib’s mocking gaze as he looks at me.
"Ye like watchin', don't ya?" he taunts; his words slithering through my mind like a snake – its poison tainting everything I once held dear.
His yellow eyes are alight with perverse amusement, one grubby hand reaching out to tug on Elara's fiery locks – pulling her head back till she moans aloud.
“Come ‘ere,” he commands me, snapping his other fingers towards me in an action that makes me feel like nothing more than a trained pet. "Take off yer clothes too," he orders, his voice is a grating rasp that raises goosebumps up my arms.
It's not as if he hasn't seen me naked before - hell, my body is practically on display every day - but the idea of stripping down for him in front of Elara adds an extra layer of degradation that sends another sickening twinge of *something* shooting up my spine.(simple_option:"18 undress","Undress.")($play:"sex loop","tub 1")(live:1s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","take off dress")]As I fumble with the strings of my dress, my hands tremble with a mix of nerves and unbearable heat swelling inside me.
"Yeah, get those fuckin' stupid rags off, cow tits," Snib sneers from his soapy throne, his eyes gleaming with cruel delight. His voice cuts through the thick steam.
($hidden_gem:"With clumsy fingers, I finally loosen the tight dress. It falls, slipping down like a heavy curtain, revealing the obscene swell of my overripe tits bounded by the taut fabric of my bra.", "With bumbling, butterfingered movements, I finally free myself from the frazzling frock. It flutters to the floor like a burdensome barrier, baring the brazen bulge of my bulbous bosom, barely bridled by my bra.")
Each breath causes them to jiggle, nipples stiff and aching painfully.
The black fabric clings, sticking to my swollen, glossy skin, marked by the sweat beading down my flushed flesh.
(pic:"ch18/tub 2.jpg")
I can barely control my own movements. The heat isn’t just from the steaming bath - it's emanating from deep within me, a scalding urgency that throbs between my thighs, demanding attention, even after I just came.
My hand brushes against the plump, flushed mound of my pussy through my panties. It’s hot, embarrassingly wet.
“Yer slut of a husband is always playing with herself,” Snib chuckles to Elara. “Can’t go five minutes without goin’ at her twat.”
As the last of my garments—my bodice and panties—slip down my curvy thighs, I step out from the pool of discarded fabric like some sex-crazed nymph emerging from her lair. My bare cunt is exposed, shamefully slick and visibly drooling.
Elara looks at me then, her expression unreadable. Splashing water with her cupped hands, she rinses off Snib’s thick residue from her fingertips, her eyes betraying a trace of... pity?
"Join us," she murmurs softly, extending a delicate, ringed hand towards me.
I swallow hard, and step forward. I place my hand in hers.
Together, we step into the steaming water, the hot liquid enveloping me like a lover’s embrace, searing yet strangely comforting.
Snib watches, a smirk playing on his lips, bathing in his victory. He leans back, stretching his arms wide on the rim of the tub as if to encompass us both in his vile embrace.
"That’s right, settle in, cow tits," Snib purrs menacingly, "Let the real man take care of both you bitches."
My heart pounds in my ears, a drumbeat of dread and irrepressible arousal as I sink deeper into the water, into this nightmare that I can neither wake from nor wholly reject.
(simple_option:"18 bathe","Bathe with Snib and Elara.")($play:"sex loop","tub 2")The steam in the air is thick, veiling the room in a misty haze, but nothing could hide the grotesque circus unfolding in the bathtub. Snib sits like a king between us, his ugly, jagged grin splitting his warty face as he commands the scene.
Snib’s jaundiced eyes gleams with crude anticipation as he watches us, the two women he's ensnared.
"Play with each other's tits, real nice," he commands, lounging back against the rim of the bathtub.(live:7s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","snib licking")]
I hate that I feel so overjoyed to have permission to touch my own wife's body.
As my fingers tease her nipples, I feel a deep shame. They're already erect and hard - but not because of me.
Elara reciprocates, her fingers brushing against my absurdly large, bobbing breasts in the water. The sensation sends shockwaves through my body, a low moan escaping my lips despite my best efforts to stay quiet. The water gently lifts my breasts, making them feel strangely weightless and yet overwhelmingly sensitive.
I lean towards her in the heat of the moment, our breasts squishing together, the sensitive skin tingling where we touch.
Encouraged, I lean in, burning with the old, yearning desire to kiss her, to taste the lips I’ve loved for so long.
But Snib's rough hand intercepts, pressing against my chest, pushing me back.
"No kissin'!" Snib snaps sharply, his voice a grating jolt back to reality. "None of that lovey-dovey crap. This ain’t about you."
Before we can react, Snib lunges forward, his gnarled fingers gripping Elara's chin roughly. He pulls her to him and slams his lips onto hers. His mouth is grotesque, a mash of jagged, yellow teeth and cracked, slimy lips. His tongue invades her mouth aggressively, a rough, possessive gesture that makes Elara's eyes go wide with shock.
She actually tries to pull back, but Snib holds her firmly, deepening the invasive kiss, slobbering over her as if he's marking his territory.
Because he is.
Her muffled moans are drowned out by his grunts and the wet, sickening sounds of his tongue wrestling with hers.
The sight is horrifying, yet part of me twists with a sick, consuming heat. Helplessly, I watch as Snib devours her mouth, his hands wandering down to grope at her breasts, squeezing and mauling them beneath the warm water.
As they kiss, Snib's arousal becomes painfully evident. His cock begins to emerge from the water between us, hardening as he grinds his hips into Elara. The sight of his green, veiny shaft bobbing in the steamy water sends a little shock of warmth through my body.
Elara gasps, "Oh, Snib... your kissing, it’s so... intense."
Snib chuckles, biting at her lower lip, pulling back to let it snap back into place, leaving a wet, shiny trail of saliva connected between their mouths. "That's right, bitch," he growls. "Let me show you how a real man tastes."
The atmosphere in the tub is thick with steam and the stench of Snib that seems to cling to him despite the soap and water. It's a heavy musk that fills my nostrils, mixing with the fragrant oils but never quite covered. Elara, turning her attention completely to Snib, begins to stroke his cock under the water, her movements sure and eager as if she's forgotten I'm even here.(simple_option:"18 deal","Offer your breasts for him to play with.","Help wash him.","Stroke his cock.")($play:"sex loop","tub 2")(if:$choice is "Offer your breasts for him to play with.")[I find myself crawling a little closer to Snib, the water gently lifting and bobbing my absurdly large breasts as I inch forward.
($change_stat:"heroism",-1)I position myself just within arm's reach, my fat, floating tits practically touching his fingersn. "M-Master... would you like to... would you like to touch them?" I stammer.
His rough, calloused hands grasp my breasts, kneading and pinching absentmindedly as his real focus remains on Elara's beautiful, delicate form.
"Ahn...! Snib... I-- ahhn~"
My moans spill forth, uncontrollable and stupid, as he tweaks and pulls at my sensitive, overstuffed udders.](else-if:$choice is "Help wash him.")[I reach for the sponge and oils.
As I start to wash Snib's shoulders, the steam thickening around us, I press my breasts against his rough back, feeling the hot water rise and ripple between us.
Snib lets out pleased noises, almost purring with satisfaction. Elara, still engrossed with stroking his cock, lifts her head slightly, “Use the blue bottle next, Elise,” she instructs, her voice dreamy and faraway.
In this vile tableau, I am an afterthought, a secondary participant to the sick ritual playing out in our once-sacred space.](else:)[My hand reaches into the heated water, wrapping around the hardening length of Snib's cock.
He grunts, sneering at me.
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)Elara looks on, giggling softly. The sound rips through me like a jagged blade. I try to focus, to keep my mind numb, as I stroke his thick, veiny cock under the water. Each stroke is a sorry attempt to disconnect, to not have to see my wife doing this instead.
But it's not enough. Snib's lip curls. "Nah. I want a *real woman* to do it." His eyes flit pointedly to Elara.
My wife's giggle turns into a delighted laugh as she swiftly takes over, her slender fingers pushing mine aside, effortlessly claiming the task as hers.]
($hidden_gem:"Snib pulls back from Elara with a lewd, sloppy smack of his lips, a thread of saliva connecting them for a lingering second. He smirks devilishly, his crude grin spreading across his grotesque face as he turns his attention to me.","Snib slides snidely back from Elara, sloppy smack echoing as slimy saliva strings between them momentarily. Grinning with grim glee, his grotesque gaze gleams ghastly as he shifts focus to me.")
My cheeks are flushed with a deep crimson, the depravity of the scene unfolding too intense, yet undeniably stirring deep, dark currents within me.
“Ever notice,” Snib chortles, his yellow eyes twinkling with malicious glee, “how I’ve never bothered kissin’ you? Sluts aren’t fer kissin’. They’re fer usin’.”
Elara leans towards me, her breath hot against my ear, her voice a sultry whisper that shivers down my spine. “He’s right, you know. You just moan so... pathetically... so silly and needy. It’s almost cute, how desperate you are.”
(pic:"ch18/tub 3.jpg")
Her words, laced with a bizarre mix of derision and affection, leave me feeling utterly conflicted and helplessly aroused.
She reaches across my lap, her delicate fingers wrapping around Snib’s thick, pulsing cock. She begins to stroke him, slow and deliberate, each movement causing his ugly lips to twitch.
Snib chuckles, a low, menacing sound as his hands roam over my massive tits, squeezing the pliant flesh with rough, eager palms. "Maybe I'll let you kiss your missus, but only if you’re a good girl."
Elara's lips hover just inches from mine, her eyes softening with what looks like genuine regret.
"I'm sorry, Elise... But you really are such a slut for this... It’s hard to believe you were *ever* Aldric. Of course, I know it. But I can't feel it."
Her other hand continues to work Snib's shaft. Every stroke sends a new pulse of heat rushing through me, amplified by the way Snib squeezes and fondles my aching breasts.
The revulsion and arousal are a sickening helix that drives me closer to madness. The hot, scented water swirls around my body, simulating a lover’s caress.
“So, ya wanna kiss yer wife, eh? Give her a good ol’ smooch like ya used to when ya were a big, bad hero?”
I tremble, nodding while a desperate sob escapes my lips.
Elara, sitting intimately close, yet worlds apart, whispers with a hint of apology lacing her tone, "I can only kiss you if Snib allows it, darling.”
Snib chuckles, a sound as coarse and grating as gravel. “Gobbo goo turns human bitches into compliant lil' sluts. Ain’t that right, Elise? It's all swirly and mushy in yer brain right now.”
My cheeks burn, unable to deny the twisted truth in his vile words.
“I've enjoyed watchin' cow tits here do stuff on her own accord. Beg for it. Gets me fuckin' hard, seein’ Aldric the so-called Great becoming a gobbo-lovin’ whore.”
The steam in the tub seems to ripple as if driven by the *force* of his wickedness.
"Ya see, most gobbos, they just snatch, fuck, and fill human women up like mindless twats. But me?" His grin widened into a smirk, a layer of predatory satisfaction in his eyes. "I like to get creative. I love watchin’ me prey turn themselves into puddles, bit by bit."
He strokes his gnarled fingers across my cheek, oily and humid from the water. I'm too frozen, too hollowed out to recoil.
"Makes a goblin's cock hard, knowin' I broke a gobbo butcher. Not just his body, nah — his *pride*, his feckin' spirit!” Snib chortles. He squeezes my nipple harshly. "Ya used to be Aldric the *fucking* Great, slashin' through me kin. And now? You’re just a cum-begging, tit-jigglin' cow. It’s fuckin' hilarious."
Elara watches him, her voice threaded with unnerving curiosity. "So, you enjoy watching Elise degrade herself? Watching her bargain her dignity for scraps?"
"Fuck yes!" Snib guffaws. "It's the best bit! It’s way hotter making her justify it all to herself. Like, 'Ooh, if I do this little thing, I can kiss my precious wife.' It's fuckin' gold!"
Elara turns to me, her voice soft but carrying a disturbing note of fascination.
"Did you ever consider, Elise... if you knew goblins were sentient, smarter than you, like Snib... would you have slain so many?"
Her fingers trace the rim of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
"He could've just taken you, made you a gobbo's broodmare from the get-go. But look at this care he’s shown. He enjoys seeing you embrace your nature, your place. Isn’t it better to submit willingly?"
MY wife leans in closer, her breath warm against my ear, her voice dropping to a seductive murmur.
"I want to see it, Elise. I want to see you fully give in, beg for it. Show us that you understand your new role, that you're no longer the hero, just another needy slut aching for her Master’s approval."(simple_option:"18 choice","Resist.","Submit.")($play:"sex loop","tub 2")(if:$choice is "Resist.")["Elara," I manage to whisper, "please, this isn't right. We shouldn't be doing this. We—"
Her mocking laughter cuts me off.
"Really, Elise? Look at you." Her hand moves to cup one of my huge breasts, her touch feather-light but provoking a sudden, hot rush of arousal. "You say it's not right, but your body tells a different story. It's been telling one since the moment you first transformed. You're so *gosh-darn* wet, aren’t you?"
My cheeks burn with shame. "That’s not fair, Elara. I... I didn't choose this!"
She lets out a haughty laugh, her fingers tweaking my stiff nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through me. "Of course, you didn’t. But look at where we are. Look at who’s in control." Her eyes flash with something dangerous, predatory. "Snib is a real man. He takes what he wants, and unlike you, he doesn’t hesitate."
Her words slice deep. I try to pull away, a feeble attempt to regain some semblance of dignity, but her grip tightens on my nipple, making me gasp in a mix of pain and pleasure.
($change_stat:"elara",-1)"Don't you dare try to resist," she hisses, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "You belong to him now. And more than anything, you belong here, on your knees, begging for whatever scraps of attention he deigns to give you."
Her words mix with the fog of the goblin's pheromones that cloud my mind, turning the icy pang of mortification into something confusingly hot and irresistible. Somewhere in the haze, I realize Elara has moved, presenting me with a clear view of Snib’s grotesque, throbbing cock — its veiny girth bobbing in the steamy water, oozing a slick, clear drop at the tip.
I try to tear my eyes away, but Elara's voice, now sweet and lilting, draws my gaze back with irresistible force. "Look at him, Elise. Look at his cock."
My breath catches, the wetness between my thighs intensifying. I choke back a sob as I cannot deny the truth. Her hand slides sensuously down her own belly, dipping between her legs, massaging herself with slow, deliberate strokes.
"You already broke our wedding vows with him, Elise. It’s high time I got to watch."
Snib is eating this up. "She's right, cow tits. Yer just a wet, hungry hole waitin' to be filled."
Elara grips my chin, forcing me to look directly at Snib’s pulsating cock. The hot steam rises around us, a glowing mist in which our world is narrowed down to this lurid circus of taboo pleasures.
"Say it, Elise," she demands, her voice harsh and commanding, obliterating what little remained of the strong, capable woman I once knew. "Beg him to fuck you raw. Tell him he’s a real man, and you’re just a needy, dripping pussy. Only then will I let you kiss me. Only then will we all be complete."](else:)[Steam curls languidly around us in the dimly lit room, the heavy scent of musk mingling with the floral tones of the bath oils. Elara’s sapphire eyes lock onto mine, a mixture of lust and a strange, taunting pity shimmering within them. Her lips, swollen and bitten from Snib's recent kiss, are slick and slightly parted, inviting yet mocking.
"Don't you want to kiss me, Elise? Kiss your own wife," Elara teases, her voice a sultry whisper that carves into my aching heart. "It hurts my feelings if you don't want to kiss me." She pouts exaggeratedly, her fingertips tracing the wet contour of her lips.
I shiver. "I... I do," I stammer.
"Look at 'er, all needy an' desperate. What ye gonna do for a kiss from yer precious wife, hero turned whore?"
Elara's eyes twinkle with a fierce intensity.
*She's so far gone... I may as well join her...*
"Well, Elise, what will you do for me? For us?" Her tone is teasing.
($change_stat:"heroism",-1)I tremble. "Anything..." I choke out. "Tell me what you want."
Elara smiles. "I want you to truly submit, Elise. Last night, Snib told me he used protection, but tonight... you will take him raw. I want to see him fuck you bare, right here, in front of me." Her voice drops to a whisper, but it slashes through the fog of my consciousness like a blade. "Beg for him to fill you up completely, and then... only then, once he has accepted your plea, I will kiss you."
The proposal is vile, yet something dark and twisted flares to life within me. Any desire to resist is getting buried under a complex web of longings and cravings.]
My lips tremble as tears blur my vision. I'm hanging on the edge of an abyss, and with a shaky, sob-laden breath, I plunge into the darkness.(simple_option:"18 beg","Beg.")($play:"sex loop","tub 3")"Please," I start, my voice a sob as I look into Elara's eyes, seeing both my wife and the stranger she's become. "If it means I can... can... kiss you again... I..."
Elara shakes her head. "No," she cuts me off firmly. "Mean it."
Snib chuckles. "C'mon, Hero. Show us what you're really made of."
Trembling, I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "Snib," I whimper. "Please... please... *fuck me*."
He raises a brow, his lips curled in a smirk. "Pathetic. Try again."
I feel heat, a crushing humiliation mixed with a primal lust.
Swallowing hard, I try again.
"Master..." My voice wavers, my eyes flickering to Elara. I see the encouragement in her eyes, the thrill of the depravity in their gleam. "I...I want your cock... please..."
"Not good enough," Elara says. "You need to beg like *need* it. Like the slut you are. Cock more than air. Cum more than water."
My heart pounds in my chest, my pulse throbbing in sync with the relentless throb between my legs.
"Snib... fuck me... with your fat, goblin cock. Fuck me like the mindless whore I've become."
Elara looks at me, wide-eyed. I see a spark of shock in her gaze that quickly shifts to fascination. Snib grunts in amusement.
My heart races, the degrading words tumbling out of my mouth turning me on in a way I never thought possible.
"Snib... I need you to wreck my stupid whore pussy...use me like your fucking cock warmer..."
"More,” my wife says, her voice quivering.
"Snib, please...yungh... wreck me!" I groan, my plea escalating into a needy mewl. "Slam your huge, goblin cock into my pussy and fucking ruin it! Stretch me out until no human would ever want me! Make me your personal meat toilet!"
At this point, I'm moaning with every word. Every word I speak manifests itself in a bodily reaction... I feel my juices drizzling freely down my inner thigh.
With the pheromones, there is no more subtlety. When I start to say something, I start to mean it.
"Show yer wife what a pathetic, gobbo-loving slut ye really are!"
Tears trail down my cheeks, hot droplets that blend into the steamy water of the bath. My breath hitches in my throat as I push past my shame, bathing in the warm mud of pure self-degradation.
"Please, Snib," I plead, the words tumbling from my lips like a cascade of filth, "FUCK my USELESS human cunt. I'm just a WHORE for GOBBO COCK now!"
Elara's eyes shimmer with dark delight.
My words aren't even intentional anymore. They just flow out.
"*UNGHHH...* Show Elara how much better you fuck me than I ever fucked her. SHOW her what a REAL MAN fucks like."
I'm trembling, the water lapping against my flushed skin with every desperate shift of my body.
"I want her to SEE it, Snib. I want her to SEE how you MAKE me SCREAM. Let her watch as you BURY that MONSTER COCK in me and make me *FORGET* Aldric ever *EXISTED*!" I'm nearly shrieking now, each word punctuated by my ragged, panting breaths.
My mind goes blank, filled only with fevered need.
"She finally broke," Snib grins, his grotesque features twisted in wicked triumph.
"I'm...I'm your fucking cum dumpster...*yours*...*yours*...only *yours*...only *yours*, Snib! Use me, use ME as your meat toliet, Master Snib! PLEASE!!!"
Choking back a sob, I gasp my final plea.
"I...I...AI GUHHHH...*I'M NOTHING WITHOUT YOUR COCK*...PLEASE...*PLEASE-HEE-HEE*... FFFFFFFUUUCK MEEEEE!!!"
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)It's not an act. My whole being throbs with every word.
Elara moves closer, her lips brushing against the shell of my ear, her breaths hot and erratic. "God, Elise, you're such a filthy, dirty whore... and it's so... *so* fucking hot."
"YES! *YES!* Watch me, Elara. Watch how I take him," I crow, rocking back and forth, simulating the motions I am too desperate to actually feel. "Snib... please... I'M BEGGING YOU! RIGHT HERE! POUND ME... OOOOOOH FUCKKK YES, MAKE ME A REAL GOBBO SLUT!"
(pic:"ch18/tub 4.jpg")
Suddenly, Elara lunges forward, cutting off my screams with her mouth. Her kiss is fierce, consuming, as she crashes her lips against mine. I moan into her mouth, vibrations of my vocal cords sending signals of pleasure coursing through both our bodies.
($change_stat:"elara",1)My hands grip her, pulling her closer, needing her, as the world tilts and spins around me in a dizzying spiral of steam and scent and sensation. Our breasts press together, nipples so hard they're almost *scraping* against each other, and I lose myself in her, in the kiss, in the maddening, rampant need she’s stoked within me.
I'm truly in a frenzy.
This is the end and the beginning, where I break and am reborn in the steam and the water and the web of our fucked-up desires.(simple_option:"18 get fucked","It's time to get fucked.")Elara's passionate words are laced with a manic energy that matches the crazed pulsing of blood in my ears.
"Look at you, Elise, just look," she breathes, her sapphire eyes wide with feverish excitement. "Isn't life so much *better* this way? We've been so stressed, and for what? Let all those silly, heroic worries melt away with every stroke of that *wonderful* goblin cock.”
Her fingers trace down my spine, goosebumps erupting in their wake, until they find my ass.
I feel her fingers linger, tracing the quivering line where my flesh meets the hot water.
(pic:"ch18/tub 5.jpg")($play:"sex loop","tub insert")(live:10s)[($play:"sex loop","tub 4")(stop:)]
“Yes, you won't have my respect anymore, my formerly brave knight, but don’t worry about that. *His cock* matters more than anything… more than any boring marital vows."
Snib positions himself behind me, his throbbing, grotesque member dribbling drool and *stinking* precum down my lower back. Elara holds my face, keeping it an inch from hers. Her breath smells slightly sour from the goblin seed she's swallowed, reminding me of the hierarchy now placed upon our heads.
Elara’s hand, still on my ass, gives a gentle, encouraging squeeze. She grins, her lips curled up in a wicked smile.
"*Yes*, Elise," she purrs, "Don't fight it. Let him in. I can't wait to watch it... it's gonna be so *good*. I've been imagining how it must feel... He's so big, so much bigger than you ever were. And he's so short, but with that monstrous cock! It's so crazy!"
I stare into her crazed eyes. “Elara, I—”
“Shh," she shushies. "You're really going to do it. Let one of those monsters you used to kill stick his big, fat bitch-breaking cock into you... you're so wet now."
Her words are each a thrilling pang that suffuse my entire being with throbbing.
"And to see you take it, *hungrily*, *desperately*," Elara continues, her grinning mouth now pressed up to mine, "It gives me such a rush! You won't be Aldric the Great anymore, you'll be Snib's little bitch, of course... but isn't that what you want, Elise?"
I gasp as Snib's cock nudges against my entrance, the fat, veiny length of him smeared with my arousal, and the roomy, slick cavern of my pussy yearns for him, aches to be filled.
"YESSS!" I scream, my voice echoing in the heated air, "YES, YES, PLEASE! FUCK ME!"
The sound that emanates from my throat can only be described as primal, animalistic. The anticipation of that first, exquisite thrust is too much—my pussy clenches emptily, craving the fullness that only Snib can provide.
As the goblin finally rams his log-like erection into me, I feel a sudden, overwhelming stretch. His veiny shaft plows into my plush, velvety folds, forging a path of hot, searing pleasure that makes me see stars.
"*Look at you...taking it like a true whore!*" Elara laughs maniacally. "*I knew you’d love it. Getting fucked by a real man... something you could never be, my darling Aldric...*"
Her words are cruel, but they fuel me.
I can feel every inch of Snib's veiny, girthy cock as he pounds into me, his balls slapping against my clit with each thrust. My body responds despite itself, my pussy clenching around him, milking him like it's meant for this.
Snib grunts behind me as my insides polish his cock. "Yeah, yer just a good meat sleeve, ain't ya?"
Elara giggles, the sound as chilling as it is exciting. “That’s right, Elise,” she coos, her voice filled with a perverse delight. “Snib is a *real* man. Listen to his grunts, his groans… he’s *savoring* you.”
Snib’s thrusts become harsher, each one accompanied by a grunt and the wet smacks of our bodies colliding.
Elara's firm grip tightens around my face, forcing me to meet her gaze, her eyes burning with a mix of thrill and revelation. "I'll admit. I've been resenting you, Elise," she confesses breathlessly. “I’ve been holding back. But not anymore. No more secrets. No more lies. I *love* seeing you like this, seeing a *real* cock destroy you.”
Her words cut deep, band unravel something inside me.
"Isn't it just *proper* to welcome him inside your pussy like a good slut?" Her tone is mocking, needling. “This is what you were meant for. You’re not a hero. You’re a whore. Now, cum. Cum for him, Elise. Welcome him into your pussy with a *proper* orgasm that makes his cock feel good. Pleasure him with your body. *Be his bitch*.”
“Cum for me, tits-for-brains,” Snib growls, his cock ramming into me relentlessly.
Elara’s words, filled with such utter contempt and perverse pleasure, sends a wave of heat rushing through me. My hips buck wildly against Snib’s.
Elara’s slaps me, hard, across my face. "CUM!" she barks.
“Ughhh… F-fuck! I, uhh…mmnnnggghh,” I babble incoherently.
(pic:"ch18/tub 12.jpg")(simple_option:"18 cum","Cum.")(pic:"ch18/tub 6.jpg")($play:"sex loop","tub orgasm")“Oh fuck! Fuck!” I scream, as, with violent contractions, my pussy sprays hot, sticky juices over Snib's cock. The room echoes sharply with the wet, loud *squish* of my squirting, shooting a stream of hot, molten, gooey femininity into the bathwater.
"Mhhaaaaa...F-F-Fuckkk...I-ah! AMMHH... A SLUT! C-CUMMING ON YOUR...C-COCK!!"
($change_stat:"heroism",-3)My body and words surrender to the orgasmic bliss, incomprehensible.
"Mmhmmm... LOOK at you!" Elara coos. She slaps my face again. "You're cumming so HARD on that goblin cock! You're nothing more than a fucking gobbo slut! You *love* it, don't you? You absolutely, unashamedly *love* it!"
Squirt after squirt ejects from my quivering, goblin-stuffed pussy, the sound *spli-spli-splirting* against the hot bathwater. Strings of hot, viscous fluids jet out of me and onto Snib and the tub.
My back arches up, fingers clawing at Elara’s arms, my heavy, swaying breasts bouncing, heavily, splashing floppily in the water. My mouth hangs open, my tongue lolling out listlessly, my eyes rolling back into my head.
“Look at that stupid, slutty face! She’s cumming her brains out! My husband is cumming like the fucking *bitch* he’s become!”
The blinding, rippling ecstasy is magnified by the humiliation, the brutal fact that I’m cumming harder as Elise than I ever did as Aldric with my own wife.
A lowly goblin is balls-deep inside me.
($hidden_gem:"My body convulses and heaves as I cum and cum and *cum*, squirting like a broken faucet, each spasm a blinding bolt of submission. My head spins with the intensity of it—my body, my mind, my very *soul* surrendering to the flood of pleasure.","My body bucks and bounds as I climax and climax and *climax*, squirting like a broken fountain, each spasm an electrifying, exhilarating exclamation of enslavement. My head whirls with the whirling intensity of it—my body, my brain, my very *being* bowing to the deluge of desire.")
My cries of ecstasy crescendo into an incoherent, high-pitched wail, lost in the cacophony of splashing water and Elara’s mocking laughter.
Once the last trembling waves of ecstasy subside, I collapse against the tub, my body drenched in sweat, cum, and bathwater.
(pic:"ch18/tub 11.jpg")
I am an empty shell, devoid of my former self, my old identity washed away with my desperate, sluttish orgasm. A sense of loss creeps in, a painful awareness of the man I used to be and the woman I’ve become.
But then, a hand cups my cheek, lifting my face to lock eyes with Elara. Her gaze is soft, sympathetic yet filled with an unspoken satisfaction.
“It’s okay, Elise," she whispers, brushing a stray lock of hair from my flushed face. "You look so beautiful... so perfect... surrendering to your desires… Welcome... to your new life...” Elara's voice is so tender. “Welcome home.”
And in that moment, as her lips descend onto mine, sealing our new pact.
I may have lost Aldric the Great... But I've found Elise the Slut.(simple_option:"18 breeding","Snib groans in pleasure.")(set:$se_to_stop to "mental fog")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(pic:"ch18/tub 7.jpg")($play:"sex loop","tub 4")(if:$elara_cum is "involuntary")[Elara gazes at me with a strange mix of joy and lust gleaming in her sapphire eyes. The vile influence has taken deep root within her, warping her love for me into something foreign, twisted.
Snib's cruel grin cuts through the residual fog in my mind as he buries himself to the hilt inside me once more, earning a low, guttural moan from my lips.
"Time to breed you again," he growls simply.
His cock thrusts into me with dominating force, each piston-like motion pounding deeper and harder, the clapping of his balls against my ass resonating through the steamy bathroom.
(size:2)[*Pregnancy.*]
There is no horror - I know the reality.
“Elara... I need to tell you something,” I whisper between gasps, the words choking in my throat. “I—I’m pregnant.”
Elara’s eyes widen with joy, her face lighting up with crazed delight. "Oh, Elise, that’s wonderful!" Her voice quavers with excitement. “But I want to see it. I want to see him cum inside you and dominate your womb.”
Snib's cock shifts inside me, causing a moan to escape my lips. Elara’s touch is both comforting and distressing as her hands roam over my breasts, holding and squeezing them, amplifying the lewd sounds echoing in the room.
“I want to witness it, Elise. I need to,” Elara whispers urgently, her breath hot against my ear. “I want to see him claim you utterly, fill you completely.”
Her words are twisted, yet under Snib’s potent influence, they stir a humiliating arousal within me. I shudder, not from fear, but because her words scratch an itch buried under layers of my corrupted mind. Snib’s balls swing heavily, their powerful thuds resonating through my body as he fucks me relentlessly.
"You hear that, titcow?" Snib sneers. "Yer wife's all eager to watch me fuck ya and fill ya up."
"Yes, Master!" I gasp, my voice a breathy, mindless moan.
His thrusts grow more intense, squishing my flesh and shaking my resolve. The obscene rhythm of skin slapping against skin fills the air, each potent plunge deeper and more commanding.
"Breed her thoroughly," Elara urges, her voice trembling with anticipation. "Make sure she's absolutely full of your cum.”
Snib leans over me, his hot, rancid breath fanning over my neck, mingling with the steam rising around us. "Yeahhh, gonna fill you with so much gobbo goo," he promises, laughing cruelly. "Yer body was made for this, wasn’t it? Gonna make sure yer belly’s stuffed full of my pups."
"Mnh- Elara please..." My protest is weak, and Snib’s snarl cuts me off as he drives himself deeper.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Elara coos, her hands steady and almost protective on my body. "Just let Snib take over. It's only natural."
Her lips press against my ear, whispering dark comfort.
“Just let go, Elise. Give yourself to him completely. He’ll give you all the pleasure… let it happen…”
Her words, mixed with the haze and the rhythmic assault on my pussy, overwhelm me. Snib’s thrusts become a relentless onslaught, my trembling body caught between Elara’s soothing embrace and his brutal claiming.](else:)["Gunna *breed* ya," he growls simply. "Gonna breed you good and proper, now that I broke ya. My reward."
The words strike me like a chilling slap, sobering me through the fog of sexual frenzy. His cock still buried deep, he thrusts with even greater force, each drive deeper, more possessive. The heavy slap of his balls against me echoes around the steamy bathroom.
(size:2)[*Pregnancy.*]
Horror seizes me - images of villages ravaged by goblins, their women round with child, their bellies distended — the gobbo pups that emerge from their plundered wombs months later are nightmare fuel.
His balls aren’t just slapping into me; they're swinging with a heavy thud against me. The drums of my doom.
Elara’s arms wrap around me, her body pressing against mine. Her lips hover near my ear, her breath hot and shaky.
"Sorry, baby, there's nothing I can do," she murmurs. Her voice is a bizarre mix of comfort and resignation. "You're going to get bred by the goblin. It’s his right to breed your pussy, just like you bred me when you were a man."
Elara's words drip into my ear like poison honey, and I shudder.
*Getting bred... like a beast...*
"This is about his biological right," she continues, her tone almost soothing despite the awful words. "There's nothing we can do, Elise. This is just the way of things now."
Elara's hands roam over my heaving breasts, holding them, almost protectively. They jiggle and wobble with each brutal thrust from Snib, the water around us splashing with the force of the goblin's thrusts.
Her smaller breasts press against my own huge, flopping udders. In this moment, we're bound together in a perverse dance of destiny and despair.
Snib leans over my back, his hot, rancid breath fanning over my neck. "Yeahhh, gonna fill you up with so much gobbo goo," he promises, an ugly chuckle accompanying his words. "Yer pussy was made for breeding, wasn't it? Gonna stuff you full of my pups."
"Ngh- that can’t—" My protest is cut off by Snib’s guttural snarl as he drives himself deeper.
I moan, not in pleasure, but despair,
But inexorably, the sound of the moan morphs into a keen squeal as Snib’s thrusts become relentless, pounding into me with the singular purpose of a beast claiming its mate.
Elara hugs me tighter, her lips pressed against my ear. "Just let go, Elise. It’s easier this way. Let him give you all the pleasure... let it happen... it's only natural.”](simple_option:"18 womb fucking","And then...")($play:"song","mental fog")($play:"sex loop","tub 5")(if:$elara_cum is "involuntary")[Snib's monstrous cock presses insistently against my cervix, a sensation I have felt before when Snib bred me for the first time.
But this time, there’s a new element — Elara’s eyes. Those sapphire orbs lock onto mine, filled with twisted fascination.
Her fingers entwine with mine. "Elise... let me see it."
I can feel Snib’s cockhead nudging against the plush entrance of my womb.
"Yes," she whispers, her voice charged with both fear and undeniable excitement.
With a guttural grunt, Snib shifts his position, his cockhead pressing more aggressively against my opening cervix. I feel the give, the slow stretch, deep inside. It’s maddening, the sensation of his thick, veiny cock breaching the tight barrier inward into my most sacred place.
“AHN~! OH *GODS*!” my voice rings out in a desperate, escalating wail.
Right there in front of my wife, Snib breaches my innermost sanctum. The sheer force of it feels like an electrifying blast, my eyes rolling back momentarily as my muscles spasm uncontrollably around him.
Elara mirrors my moans, her lips parted with the same wonder that engulfs me.
She’s watching, actually *watching*, as Snib’s grotesque cock pushes into my womb, stretching and filling my maternal chamber.
My body arches, trembling in the water as every nerve sings with the impossible sensation of being penetrated so deeply, so profoundly. I feel utterly, devastatingly claimed.
“Unnnngghhh~! *Elara*!” I cry, nausea and ecstasy blending.
My wife’s fingers tighten around mine, her breath hot against my cheek.
In that moment, we transcend the twisted horror of the scene, our eyes locked in a connection so powerful, it siphons fear and turns naked, primal pleasure into something more profound.
Our fingers clench tighter, grounding me as white-hot pleasure crashes over me like a violent storm. My womb contractions feel like a writhing beast within me, milking Snib’s cockhead for all it’s worth.
“YES! FUCKING YES! BREACH ME!” I scream.
My body spasms uncontrollably, small tremors shaking from the very center of my being as Snib slams himself into my willing, welcoming depths.
"*Elaraaa!!!*" The scream is animalistic, guttural.
Her free hand caresses my heaving breast, her thumb grazing my rock-hard nipple. ](else:)[Suddenly, I feel a slick, warm sensation against my cervix. I whimper, my mind flashing back to a horrific sight from the Griznak Gobboree, where Snib took his prize in the form of a slave girl.
My body is trembling, my breath ragged, and a cold fear lances through me as reality hits. Snib is about to claim me, just like he claimed her... all the way, so far inside it'll...
"*Ungh... oh god... Elara...*" I manage to gasp out between whimpers. "H-He's... I feel him... he's gonna... gonna..."
"D-do what, Elise?" Elara's voice actually sounds concerned. "What is it? Talk to me."
"He's... he's gonna... fuck my womb," I whisper, the words causing a shiver to run down my spine. "I... I saw him do it... at the Gobboree... to a slave girl..."
There's a moment of silence.
"*He's... what?*"
But even as I try to explain, I can feel it happening.
My cervix, the muscular ring at the base of my uterus normally keeps its tight seal, but now, Snib's gooey pre-cum is seeping into it, its specialized toxic chemicals slowly dilating it.
I feel Snib's huge cock-head nudging against my softening cervix, each contact sending shivers of fear down my spine.
"Shhh... It's okay, Elise... Snib is just doing what's... natural for him,” Elara says, pressing her finger to my lips, her voice soothing, but strained.
But there's nothing *natural* about this.
It's perverse. It feels awful.
There’s a distinct shift in sensation, a distinct ‘pop’ I can feel deep in my core. An alien, horrifying emptiness fills me as my womb opens to accommodate Snib's monstrous goblin cock.
A gut-wrenching scream explodes from my lips as Snib enters my inner womanhood. My whole body quakes, spasms wracking my petite form, my big breasts jiggling, bouncing wildly.
"OH FUCKING EPHEMERALS! MY WOMB! YOU'RE IN MY FUCKING WOMB!" I shriek, my hands clutching desperately at Elara.
Snib grunts in pleasure, his gnarly hand smacking my ass, causing me to gulp down a ragged breath.
"*FUCK!*" I sob, tears streaking down my face.
The rhythm of my womb walls contracting around him drives him deeper. The fat, mushroom-shaped head of his cock pushes the fleshy walls of my uterus apart, burrowing deeper into my feminine core.
His pre-cum drools out in thick ropes, the viscous substance lubricating his advance into my deepest internals.
My uterus contracts, the muscles clenching and unclenching as if trying to rid the organ of the intrusion. But each contraction only serves to milk Snib’s cock, causing him to respond with gratuitous thrusts.
"P-please... please, Snib!" I beg, my voice a ragged whimper. "Not so deep... I... I can't handle..."
But the plea dies on my lips as he adjusts his angle, his cockhead colliding with the top of my womb. The sensation is blinding, a mix of horrifying pain and perverse pleasure that sends me spiraling into a state of absolute frenzy.
My whimpered protests dissolve into incoherent, breathless cries. My mind fills with the horrifying reality that my womb, the center of my new femininity, was being ruthlessly pounded by a goblin's fat, veiny cock.
Snib's cock throbs with each powerful throb of my pulse, his monstrous member stretching my womb to its limits.
The feeling is indescribable, a mind-numbing, soul-destroying violation that robs me of all coherent thought. I'm left whimpering incoherently, my body shuddering, my huge breasts splashing and wobbling in the water as Elara holds me.
My womb, my sacred, innermost sanctuary, is now stuffed full of fat gobbo cockhead.
"Fuckin’ *tight* in here, gonna stretch ya good, breed ya deep!" Snib grunts from behind me, his hands gripping my hips with bruising force.](simple_option:"18 womb breeding","He goes faster.")($play:"sex loop","tub cum")(if:$elara_cum is "involuntary")[Snib's breath is hot and ragged against my neck. "Get ready, bitch,” he growls. "Gonna make sure yer filled good now."
His words send a sick thrill of anticipation through my body.
“It’s your destiny,” Snib snarls, his voice thick with malice. He spanks me hard, the sound echoing in the steamy bathroom. "You've gone from Goblin Butcher to Goblin Breeder. Gonna fill ya with gobbo pups!”
Elara whispers, “He’s going to fill your womb, baby. Just so I can watch.”
His cock swells inside me, throbbing heavily.
Elara presses her body against mine. "I want to see him cum inside you."
($hidden_gem:"Snib’s movements become even more intense, each thrust shoving his cock deeper, making sure every inch is claimed.","Snib’s savage shoves grow increasingly intense, each powerful push plunging his pulsating prick deeper, ensuring every inch is effectively ensnared.")
He spanks me hard, and my orgasm crashes over me, my pussy clenching around his cock.
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)"*Fuck! I-I'm CUMMING!*" I scream.
Snib grunts, preparing to unload inside me. "Ready, hero? Here comes yer fuckin' legacy!"
Buried deep, he gives a guttural grunt and—
<span class='cum1'>BLURRRRT!</span>
The force of his ejaculation is staggering, slamming into my womb in a hot, thick torrent. Each spurt is potent, claiming me utterly.
"YEAH! PISSING CUM INTO YA!" he screams, triumph dripping from his tone. "I'm nuttin' right in yer womb, cow-tits!"
His body shudders violently as he continues to ejaculate, each *SPLURT!* filling me further. His nasty sperm floods my womb, the hot, slimy seed clinging to every inch, saturating my insides.
I scream, my brain fogged with the mix of pain and perverse pleasure. Each hot jet of Snib’s cum fills me to the brim, branding me as his.
I squirt helplessly around Snib’s cock, my body convulsing repeatedly. Elara moans, her own body reacting to the potent pheromones filling the room, arching and trembling beside me.
In that shared, perverse ecstasy, I am fully and potently Snib’s breeding bitch, my womb thoroughly claimed.
"See that, Elara?” Snib murmurs, almost tenderly, as he looks down at me. “She’s all mine now, my bimbo breeding cow.”
Elara nods, her eyes glazed with a mix of affection and dark satisfaction. "Yes..."](else:)["Get ready, bitch," Snib growls, his hot breath puffing against my exposed neck. "Been waitin' fer this fer a while."
His words send a chill down my spine, but a sick thrill of pleasure with it.
"You hear that, you slut? That's the sound of your destiny changing," Snib growls, his voice thick with gleeful malice. He spanks me hard, his hand landing with a loud smack that reverberates through my quivering body. "You were the Goblin Butcher, huh? Well, now you're gonna be the Goblin Breeder. Gonna fill ya with gobbo pups, maybe twins, or *fuckin' triplets*!"
His laughter rings in my ears over the relentless, wet slap of goblin-on-human rutting. It’s a sound that heralds my fall from hero to breeding stock.
Elara whispers, her voice trembling with a mix of horror and arousal, "He's going to fill your womb up, baby. Directly where it counts."
The thought sends a shiver of terror down my spine. But there’s no stopping it now. Snib's cock swells, throbbing heavily.
He spanks me hard, and my orgasm comes in a shuddering rush. "Shit! *Shit*! I-It's..." I scream, loud and breathless, my pussy clenching around Snib's cock, a wave of pleasure burning through me from where his cock is buried to the tips of my toes. I spasm, body convulsing as I gush a stream of squirting juices down my thighs, splashing the already soaking wet bathroom floor. "I'M CUMMING!"
Suddenly, I feel Snib’s cock twitch and throb, buried deep within me. His balls tighten against me, the sack drawing upwards as he prepares to unload.
"You ready, hero? Here comes your fuckin' legacy, you dumb whore!"
Buried fully inside me, he gives a guttural grunt and-
<span class='cum1'>BLURRRRT!</span>
The force of the ejaculation is so powerful, so viscerally potent, that my mind whites out from the sheer intensity. Hot, thick, putrid streams of goblin seed flood my womb, each spurt heavier, thicker...
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)"UNNNNGH! YEAHHH! FUCKING PISSING CUM INTO YOU!" he screams out, triumph in his tone, relishing the total supremacy of breeding his foe. Snib lets out a squeal of delight, his hateful goblin voice filled with a perverse joy. "I'm nuttin' right in yer womb, cow-tits! Oh FUCK!"
His body shudders violently as he continues to eject jet after staggering jet into me. His eyes are wild, ecstatic with the power of his climax.
Each *SPLURRRRT!* is a hot, heavy expulsion that paints my inner walls with his vile essence. His goblin seed is like molten fire, a burning torrent that floods my womb, invading me at the most primal level.
This isn't just a fuck. This is a claiming. Each spurt feels like it's carving him into my flesh, rewriting my purpose from warrior to broodmare.
Snib's nasty, potent sperm intertwines with the delicate fabric of my eggs, altering, overpowering, dominating them.
His filthy, putrid cum floods directly into my womb, the walls contracting around the thick spunk. The hot, slimy seed clings to every inch of internal surface, saturating the fleshy folds. The potent, gooey goblin sperm soaks into my womb's lining, preparing to invade the precious space, seeking vulnerable human eggs to bond with.
Yet - each squirt, each *blurrp* of life-ruining, egg-fertilizing cum is a mind-numbingly powerful orgasmic wave of pleasure that tears through me.
I scream and babble incoherently, my eyes rolling back in ecstasy. Splish-splashing waves of girly cunt-squirt are forced out around Snib's cock with each convulsion of my own brainless orgasms.
My cries continue, part agony, part ecstasy as each heavy, gooey jet of Snib’s cum fills me to the brim. It's like he's excreting his vile essence directly into the core of my being, a hot, nasty dump of breeding sludge that brands me as his property.
Elara gasps beside me, her body convulsing. The potent, mind-altering pheromones in the air from Snib's overwhelming orgasm triggers an orgasm in her, too. She jerks and moans, her hand cupping one of her breasts as she arches her back, lost in the perverse pleasure of a goblin's domination.
I am being bred.
I, Aldric the Great, am being inseminated and fertilized by a three feet tall goblin. But there's no denying it... The biological domination, the claiming, it's all so real... and there's no way to fight it. I whimper, the reality sinking in. I am Snib's breeding bitch.
Elara’s hold on me is both a comfort and a chain, her presence a reminder of our shared fall, our mutual madness.](simple_option:"18 pull out","He pulls out.")($play:"sex loop",0)(live:1s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","tub cum ejection")](pic:"ch18/tub 8.jpg")With a satisfied groan, Snib pulls out.
His cock-head pops out of my swollen, well-fucked cervix. The abrupt emptiness inside me is almost as shocking as the brutal stuffing had been.
Elara leans over, her eyes wide with a morbid curiosity as she watches.
"Oh wow," she coos.
The sensation is visceral—my cervix spasms as it clutches at the retreating goblin cock, trying futilely to hold onto the invader that had filled it so completely. As Snib pulls out completely, it snaps back closed, a sudden tightness that seals an enormous load of thick, hot, stinking goblin cum inside its fertile chamber.
The thick, ropey strands of goblin cum ooze sluggishly from my well-used pussy, dribbling down my thighs in a filthy, yellow-tinged cascade that taints the bathwater.
Elara giggles, "Look how much he filled you up!"
The sperm inside me isn’t just semen; it's a potent genetic missile programmed for conquest. Snib's vile seed has one purpose—to rewrite the DNA of my eggs, ensuring that any offspring I might bear would carry his goblin heritage, pure and unchallenged. This isn't just impregnation; it's genetic domination—a forcible claim laid by a creature viewed traditionally as nothing more than a savage beast.
The dribble of cum leaking out of me picks up pace as my abused pussy attempts to expel the excess. Each drop that hits the water sends tiny ripples dancing across the surface, turning the bath into a cloudy soup.
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)*BLURRP... SPLAT...*
More of the cum finds its way out. Alone on my hands and knees, I listen to the soft, repugnant sounds of Snib's seed spilling from me, each *plop* and *splash* echoing in the dimly lit bathroom.
(pic:"ch18/tub 9.jpg")
"You bred her well," she tells him gently.
Snib chuckles. "Yeah, that'll teach the mighty Skulgaroth. Hero turned breeding slut. Ain’t nothing more fitting than that."(simple_option:"18 exit bath","She starts worshiping his cock.")($play:"sex loop","double bj")Elara’s slender fingers wrap around Snib's slimy, semi-hard cock, lifting it as her soft, pink tongue darts out to take a tentative lick up the veiny underside.
Her eyes flash my way.
"Come on, Elise," Elara coos. "Don't you want to thank the goblin who made you his bitch? Show some gratitude."
($hidden_gem:"Her words should repulse me, but the fog of lust and pheromones cloud my judgment, and Elara's tempting tone pulls at something primal within me.","Her hideous words should horrify me, but the fog of feral lust and pheromones poisons my perception, and Elara's enticing enunciation elicits an elemental energy within me.")
Snib chuckles, a low, guttural sound. "Yeah, show me how thankful you sluts are."
The goblin exudes a sense of complete ownership. He rests one of his gnarled hands on the back of Elara's head, gently pushing her mouth closer to his dick. The other hand finds the back of my head, drawing me in with a rougher insistence.
I'm dizzy, the room spinning slightly as I move closer. The heavy scent of sex and goblin musk fills my nostrils, intoxicating and overwhelming. My lips part hesitantly, and as they touch the dripping tip of Snib's cock, a shiver runs through my body.
(pic:"ch18/tub 10.jpg")
"Kiss it together, bitches. You're both mine now," Snib growls, his voice gruff and owning.
Elara looks into my eyes, her lips still brushing against the throbbing head of Snib’s cock. There's a wildness in her gaze, a carnal need that both frightens and arouses me. Slowly, her lips meet mine, enveloping the bulbous head of Snib’s cock between us.
Our lips press together, sliding over the slippery, pre-cum coated tip, our tongues occasionally brushing against each other and the hot, pulsing flesh between them. We kiss deeply, passionately, lost in the depraved act of sharing our goblin master's cock.
Our tongues dance together, swirling around the head of his cock, the trickle of residual goblin cum acting as a perverse bonding agent between us.
"Good girls, fuckin’ whores," Snib groans, his fingers tightening in our hair, guiding the rhythm of our shared worship.
The taste of him — bitter and musky — mixes with the familiar, softer taste of Elara’s mouth. Snib’s cock pulses, dribbling more of his heavy, pheromone-packed cum. It fills our mouths, the potent liquid mingling with our saliva as we kiss and suck around him.
Driven by his words and the relentless churn of the pheromones clouding my mind, I fall deeper into the haze. Our kissing becomes fervent, desperate. We're not just kissing each other now; we're worshiping him, adoring the very cock that has claimed and degraded us.
Finally, with a satisfied grunt, Snib pulls away, leaving a string of saliva and cum bridging our lips. "Enough," he commands. "To yer bedroom. I ain't done with you sluts yet."(simple_option:"18 get out of bath","Leave the bath.")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","night inn")I moan pitifully as I clamber out of the tub, a tiny whimper of defeat. My body aches from Snib's persistent, womb-stretching fucking...
The heavy sensation inside me is overwhelming - the densely packed sperm sloshes and squelches with each step.
I groan, my legs nearly giving out as I feel the slow, steady ooze of Snib's copious ejaculation dribbling out from me.
My wife's hand darts between my thighs, fingers swiping up a thick glob of Snib's potent goblin cum. She brings her slick fingers up to her lips.
"Let's get you to bed, darling. You're in no shape to stand. Besides, Snib’s not finished yet," she singsongs.
She's quick to turn her attention back to our goblin overlord, delicately patting down his damp green skin, paying special attention to drying off his still semi-erect cock and hefty balls.
Then, Elara guides me - her hand is warm in mine, a comforting presence amidst the debasing situation. She brings me towards the bed — our bed. The place where we've made love, where we've shared dreams and secrets. And now... it's about to be sullied by a goblin.
It creaks under my weight as I collapse onto the soft sheets.(if:$elara_cum is "involuntary")[ Sheets I just changed earlier today, before her return...]
My thighs part slightly, a low moan echoing through the room as a fresh flow of cum leaks out of me. My hand shoots down, instinctively trying to stop it, but it's too much, too incessant.
I flinch, looking down at the mess I've made. The potent goblin seed has left a large, congealing stain on the crisp, clean sheets.
Elara climbs on top of me, her body naked and supple. My wife places a soft kiss on my lips, and for a moment, it’s just us.
Our bodies move together in an intimate dance, her hips pressing down against mine, our bare breasts squishing together. Elara’s hands press into my shoulders as she kisses down my neck, nipping at the skin in a way that sends a shiver spiraling down my spine.
"You're doing so good, Elise," she whispers, her lips brushing against my ear.
I'm lost in a post-coital daze, my mind filled with a blissful fog. I don't feel like Aldric right now, the hero, her husband. I feel like a... a...
No, I can't think about it. So I don't.
"So full of goblin cum," Elara coos, running her fingers through my hair.
Her words should disgust me, but they don't. They just make me moan, the pheromones staining my mind.
(pic:"ch18/bed 1.jpg")
Then, the bed dips beside us. I turn my head to see Snib dragging his lecherous, slimy body up onto the mattress. A fiendish grin splits his face as he nestles in beside us, his hands reaching out to stroke our bodies with a familiarity that makes my skin crawl.
Elara’s voice is a purr in my ear. "Our little family, all snuggled up together. Isn't it just perfect, baby?"
The goblin's leering eyes roam over our bodies, possessing us in a way that makes my skin crawl.
But for now, I don't care.
All I care about is the feel of Elara's skin against mine. Her sweet words in my ear, her soft kisses on my neck. I bask in them.
"We're so lucky, Elise," she murmurs.
Her crazed words should horrify me. They should make me angry, make me fight.
But I don't.
Instead, I just melt into her touch, my body going soft and pliant beneath her. I close my eyes, letting myself get lost in the sensations, in her voice...(simple_option:"18 another kiss","She kisses you again.")
Elara's lips meet mine in a deep, intoxicating kiss. ($play:"sex loop",0)(live:15s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop","elara fuck 1")]
She whispers breathlessly, "Elise, it’s not really like we’re husband and wife anymore, you know? We're... we're like his wives now. Snib’s wives.”
Her words curl around my heart like the steam in the tub where I was just bred.
She continues, "It's a new way of living, to be sure, but it’s not bad. Think about it. He’s so... dominant. And isn't there something so thrilling about surrendering to a master who can truly *control* us?”
Her breath against my ear sends shivers down my spine, each word accompanied by the soft press of her lips against my skin. "Imagine it, Elise... a Goblin Master to fuck us, to pleasure us, to use us however he wishes. He can fulfill needs we didn't even know we had. Isn't there a sort of... beauty in that?"
My hands tentatively reach up to slide along the curves of her sides, resting firmly on her perky buttocks. Pulling her even closer, I look into her crazed sapphire eyes, searching for the wife I knew, finding instead this enchanting, possessed creature who speaks of monstrous futures as if they were blessings.
"And—oh!—the way he takes us," she continues, her voice a mix of awe and satisfaction, "It's like being claimed by a force of nature. Didn't you feel it, Elise? The power?"
Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated with fervor and desire as she builds this terrifying vision of our new lives under Snib’s dominion.
Her enthusiasm is infectious, her madness seductive.
I'm about to respond, to try and tell her how mad, how utterly inverted this entire scenario is, when suddenly her body tenses dramatically. She gasps sharply, a high-pitched intake of breath that stutters through the thick air.
Following her gaze, I turn my head slightly and see—
Snib, grinning broadly, the goblin’s grotesque features twisted in a grotty smile, he positions himself behind Elara. His massive, veiny cock lines up with her entrance.
"Sorry, ladies, can’t let ya have all the fun without me," he smirks.
(pic:"ch18/bed 2.jpg")
Before either of us can react, he thrusts forward. His monstrous member plunges into Elara. She screams—a high, keening scream that vibrates through me.
Snib begins to move, his thrusts vigorous, primal. His massive balls smack against my knees every time he lunges into her, the coarse hair bristling against my skin. His goblin grunts fill the room, each one timed with a deep, powerful thrust that sends waves through Elara’s body into mine.
Lying beneath her, I feel every jolt, every ripple of pleasure that courses through her from Snib’s ruthless fucking. Her moans, loud and unabashed, mingle with his grunts, creating a debauched symphony of lust and dominance.
As she writhes on top of me, her sapphire eyes now glazed with a mixture of pain and pleasure, something within me shudders. This isn't just physical. It's a psychological unmaking and remaking at the hands of our goblin master.
Elara’s voice, when it finally emerges through her moans, is shaky but filled with a dark, twisted joy. "Oh gods, Elise... he's fucking me... and... and it's incredible. I... I'm glad we... could share this..."
Through the haze, I realize — in some demented, broken way — this is closeness. This shared submission under Snib’s harsh rule is a bond, a sinister thread tying us together in the dark. The realization is as horrifying as it is strangely comforting.
We are together, even here, even now.(simple_option:"18 fucks her","He fucks her...")(set:$se_to_stop to "mental fog")(display:"stop sound effect fade")($play:"sex loop","elara fuck 1")My eyes flit downward, catching sight of where Snib, the disgusting creature that he is, drives his thick, veiny 12-inch cock relentlessly into Elara's stretched pussy. I can picture her beautiful, natural pussy, gaping around him. I can envision the obscene contrast of his muddy green shaft against her pink insides.
I can’t blame her for any of this. This is all my fault.
With each of his brutal thrusts into her, Elara’s body lurches forward, hammering her abdomen against mine. I feel the undulating bulge of his cock through her belly, against my own sperm-filled womb.
The room's air is thick and heavy with lust. It’s intoxicating — the overpowering smell of Snib's musk mingled with the bleachy stench of the cum inside me. Elara’s moans are both pitiful and erotic, a mix of pain, pleasure, and complete submission. It’s heartbreaking, hearing those sounds come from the lips I've kissed a thousand times before. Her once brilliant sapphire eyes are now glazed, lost in a haze of ecstasy and humiliation.
($vid:"ch18/bed fuck.mp4")
She’s no longer my wife — she’s Snib’s plaything, just as I am.
Snib grunts and groans with pure, unabashed delight, the sound animalistic, echoing around the chamber. Each noise is a declaration, a proclamation of his conquest. With every thrust, he’s claiming not just Elara’s body but her very essence, driving the final nails into the coffin of our dignity.
Their combined warmth and weight atop me makes my head spin. This isn’t just physical — it’s a torment of the soul, a roller coaster of pleasure, shame, and the haunting realization that our lives, as we knew them, are irrevocably changed.
The rhythm grows faster, more frantic. Elara's lips press against mine, desperate and needy. I can feel her breath against my face, short and ragged. There's a distant rumble, a sound that's both low and deep — Snib's growl of impending climax. Even though it feels far away, I recognize the forewarning, having just experienced it myself.
Snib's enormous balls tighten, pressing up against Elara's ass. I can feel the pressure through her, the way she tenses up. Her eyes, so clouded moments before, suddenly have a sharp, terrible clarity, and I understand. She's realizing what's about to happen to her too, the full implications of the goblin's seed.
Elara's moans shift in tone, mixing fear with pleasure. Her voice reaches a higher pitch, a sound that resonates deep within me. She breaks our kiss, her head thrown back, exposing the long column of her slender throat. She's so lost, so vulnerable in that moment, and it’s heart-wrenching.
She's pregnant with our baby.
As Snib thrusts harder, faster, I picture the virulent flood about to be unleashed within Elara. I remember the tales — of goblin seed's potent, vile nature, the way it erases any trace of another's offspring, replacing it with its own. The vision in my mind is disturbingly clear: a swarm of aggressive goblin sperm racing toward her womb, where the tiny life Aldric and Elara created is just beginning to grow.
I visualize those millions of predatory cells, honing in on the fragile fetus. They don’t attack it directly but instead, as if by some cruel, deliberate design, sever its connection to Elara, to its lifeline. It's a grotesque dance of nature — of one species asserting dominance over another at the most fundamental level. The tendrils of Elara's womb that once nourished our child would be replaced, rerouted to nourish the monstrous spawn of Snib. (simple_option:"18 fills","He fills her up.")($play:"sex loop","elara fuck 2")($play:"ambience","fendrils theme")“*Here it fucking comes!*” Snib howls, as his body stiffens. The ominous pulse of his cock heralds what is about to occur.
I can almost hear the sinister hiss of his seed as it fills her.
Elara's beautiful body jerks and squirms beneath Snib's, her cries growing weaker as her body is pumped full of goblin cum. She gasps, her eyes finding mine as she receives her deep sperm injection.
“*Yeah! Take it! All of it!*” His voice is gleeful, depraved. “Make room for daddy, bitch!”
The bed creaks under the force of his fervor, each thrust a hammer driving the final nails into the coffin of our future. Elara’s grip on me slackens, her body succumbing to the overwhelming sensation of being claimed by this beast.
My heart pounds. The horror of it grips me like a vise—his semen, potent and lethal, is likely waging a microscopic war inside my wife. Our baby—our hope for the future—is being erased, cell by cell, replaced by the monstrous progeny of a beast.
As Snib finally pulls out, a thick, gooey strand of cum linking his dripping cock to Elara’s ravaged pussy, the silence that falls is deafening.
It's a moment of abject terror and profound emptiness. The bed beneath us, once a sanctuary for our love, now feels like an altar of sacrifice where our future dies, smothered under the stinking, bleachy flood of goblin cum.
Elara locks eyes with me, wide-eyed and trembling, yet there’s a frantic kind of satisfaction flickering in her gaze. Glops of Snib’s jizz trickle from her well-used pussy, running down the length of my thigh, thick and warm.
She’s breathless and manic as her hands roam over my body, cupping the hefty swell of my breasts, thumbing my tender nipples. Her touch sends shivers through me.
I'm disgustingly aroused. Snib has tainted us both so thoroughly.
We’re panting, lost in a haze of pheromone-induced lust.
"Isn’t it beautiful, Elise?" my wife muses, a twisted smile curling her lips as she presses them against mine. "We’re his now… fully his."
Our kisses are sloppy, desperate, our moans mingling with the obscene squelches of cum that continue to seep from out pussies. Our bodies squirm together, moving rhythmically in a grotesque parody of the love we used to share.
“Y-yes, it’s... it’s perfect,” I mumble against her lips, brain fogged by the stench of goblin seed. My body reacts on its own, pressing into her touch, craving more of her, more of this perverse connection we’ve fallen into.
"We've been bred together," Elara whispers. "Just like he wanted."
“Yes," I agree distantly, my voice almost dreamy as I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer into the filth and warmth of our shared degradation. "Together… we'll never be lonely…"
The room spins around us into a nightmarish carousel as Snib takes full advantage of our compliance. He uses our bodies continuously, mindlessly, ensuring every crevice and cavity is filled and re-filled with his virulent load, marking us inside and out as his property.
(display:"divider")
Hours later, the room reeks. Every familiar smell of our home has been overwhelmed by the stench of goblin seed.
The bed sheets are drenched, stained with puddles and streams of off-white, putrid cum that leak from Elara and myself. Every inch of us is sticky, every crevice filled and coated.
Snib, still brimming with that disgusting goblin stamina, leans over, allowing his semi-erect cock to drape heavily across Elara’s delicate face. She whimpers, her lips trembling as they're brought close to the base of his shaft. He grunts, a command more than a request, and she starts lapping at his oversized ballsack with a resigned obedience, her tongue sliding over the wrinkled, sweaty skin.
Lost in this dusk of defilement, Elara and I are mere shadows of the people we once were, surrendered wholly not just to Snib, but to the beastly nature of our own darkest desires.
Even as my conscious mind screams in distant protest, my body, subjugated and spent, sinks deeper into the mattress, drowning in the foul bliss of our ruin.
I reach out, and our hands find each other amidst the mess. Elara's fingers interlock with mine, and for a fleeting moment, there's a sense of solidarity, a mutual understanding of our shared plight.
Though the physical act has ended, its repercussions have just begun. A new era of subservience dawns - I know it deep in my bones.
Soon, our bodies will swell with the next generation of goblin spawn. A testament to Snib’s victory over Aldric, the hero, and his beautiful wife. His pheromones will biologically ensure that our bodies will be ever ready, ever compliant.
My vision is hazy, the world tilting and spinning, the combined effect of the pheromones and the cum-drunk euphoria.
We're ruined, both of us.
There’s no going back from this.
(pic:"ch18/bed 3.jpg")
We’ve been thoroughly fucked in every sense of the word, our identities and past lives obliterated.
As the weight of the situation presses down on me, the room seems to grow dimmer. I hold onto Elara’s hand tighter, the last thread of my former life. A wave of fatigue hits me, and my eyelids feel impossibly heavy. As the world fades away, my last conscious thought is of Elara and the future we now face as mothers to goblin spawn. The next chapter of our lives awaits, a chapter filled with darkness, submission, and the constant reminder of our utter defeat.(simple_option:"18 two weeks","Two weeks later...")($play:'sex loop',0)I waddle through the house, feeling the weight of my growing belly.
The scent of fresh bread fills the air, emanating from the oven. Elara, her auburn hair tied back in a messy bun, stands beside me, kneading dough. I can't help but glance at her body, her slender form seeming even more exaggerated with the swell of the rapid, goblin-induced pregnancy. A strange pang of envy strikes me as I compare our changing bodies, her belly seeming to hold its shape better than mine.
“They're so tender," Elara mutters, looking down at her breasts. There's a flush on her cheeks, probably from the oven's warmth but also the arousal that courses through both of us constantly.
Snib’s pheromones cling to the air, ensuring our absolute submission, ensuring we’ll make the perfect mothers.
“My nipples are getting darker too,” I glance down, seeing how they've deepened in hue.
With a sigh, Elara reaches out and gently rubs my belly. “They’re growing so fast.” Our fingers entwine, the last semblance of our bond. But it’s more like the bond between ‘sister wives’ than any sort of marriage.
Snib's voice, gruff and commanding, interrupts our moment.
"Oi, Tit-bitch! Hurry up with that bread. Master's hungry," he sneers, standing at the entrance of the kitchen. His bulbous, half-hard cock dangles visibly, a constant reminder of the potency and virility that binds us to him. The smell of him makes my knees weak.
I nod submissively, "Yes, Master." And with a little more urgency, I continue helping Elara, kneading the dough and setting another loaf to bake.
When I arrive with the loaf, Snib's grubby hand suddenly closes around my massive breast, squeezing it forcefully. "Oi, let's see if these udders got any milk in 'em yet," he growls, his fingers digging deep into my swollen flesh.
(pic:"ch18/milk inspect.png","center","borderless")
A rush of sensation tingles from my chest to my very core as I gasp, my nipples painfully hardening under his rough touch. They've become increasingly sensitive, betraying my body's preparations for motherhood.
A strangled moan escapes my lips as he rolls the nipple between his fingers, pulling and twisting it as if testing its functionality. There's an intense pressure building inside, a need for release. But I can feel that it's too soon, that my body is still adjusting to its new role.
I can barely believe it when I feel a tiny trickle of warm wetness drip onto my exposed skin. A mixture of humiliation and shock runs through me. I hadn’t expected this so soon. I can feel the beginnings of the sweet, rich liquid, my body's way of preparing to nourish another life. The sensation is overwhelming; a mixture of discomfort, arousal, and a curious warmth that spreads from the point of Snib's touch to my very core.
"Heh, just a wee bit," Snib chuckles, flicking the dampened tip. "Soon, ye'll really have the cow tits ye was always meant to have." His words echo in my ears, reinforcing what I've become, a vessel, a source of sustenance.
I can't form words, my mind blank, only a deep moan of arousal escapes my lips, my body betraying me, the pheromones drowning out any other sensation. The remnants of the mighty hero Aldric, buried deep within, are silenced by the sheer weight of my latest transformation.(simple_option:"18 one week","Another week goes by...")($play:"sex loop","crowd mocking")My swollen belly strains against the fabric of my dress - at least Master allowed me to wear something today. Snib's chuckles, gruff and lewd, cut through the hum of my daze as he prods my wide hips forward. Next to me, Elara's delicate hand reaches out, fingertips brushing against mine, as if in search of the comfort and familiarity we once shared. But that hand now feels so different, so strange.
(pic:"ch18/parade.jpg")
"Lookit the once mighty hero!" Snib cackles, gripping my arm with a greasy hand, emphasizing every syllable with a rough squeeze. I can't fully grasp the extent of what he's talking about, but an undercurrent of discomfort prickles my senses. His musky scent, overpoweringly male, permeates the air, making my body flood with warmth. "And his luscious wife, all swollen with my seed!"
($change_stat:"town",-3)The townsfolk of Eboncrest surround us, their eyes fixed upon Elara and me. Whispers and murmurs create a dissonant symphony of judgment and morbid curiosity. Pointed fingers and hushed voices tell me they're talking about us, about our visible pregnancies. The weight of their gazes, some pitying, some condemning, presses down on me, making it harder to move.
Suddenly, a booming voice cuts through the hum of my haze.
"Snib!" Mayor Bramble's strong, forceful tone shakes me momentarily from my stupor. I vaguely recognize his face, concern and anger evident in his eyes. "You bring them inside this instant!"
The goblin sneers, his massive bulge twitching visibly beneath his loincloth.
"Wizard gave me permission. More I do to 'em, the better!"
Before Mayor Bramble can retort, a tall figure in an indigo robe appears. His cold eyes survey the scene, and with an elegance that belies his intentions, he approaches the mayor.
"It's quite alright, Mayor Bramble," Zephyrion says, his voice smooth as velvet. "Let's discuss this privately."
I watch, through a clouded veil of pheromones and confusion, as the wizard takes the mayor aside, his words too quiet for me to discern. I feel a tug on my arm, Snib urging us onward, but his steps are slower, more deliberate.
"Take 'em home, goblin. Don't draw more attention than you already have," Zephyrion commands, not even sparing us a glance.
I don't fully comprehend the gravity of his words, but something within me mourns the loss of the life I once knew, replaced now with the weight of my belly and the thick fog that clouds my mind.(simple_option:"18 another week","Another week goes by...")($play:"sound","sweeping")(pic:"ch18/pregnant skirt.png","right","borderless")($play:"sex loop","goblin fuck upstairs")Sweeping the kitchen floor, the cool breeze that sneaks in through the window grazes my exposed nipples, causing a shiver to travel down my spine.
My breasts are so heavy, swollen and glistening with milk, pulling downward as I move. The sensation of the milk inside them feels like there's a constant warmth inside, waiting to escape, tingling at the slightest touch or movement.
The muffled moans from upstairs do little to distract me. I know Elara's with Snib. The rough, animalistic rhythm of their lovemaking wafts above the otherwise silent home ambiance.
I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy; why her and not me? Yet, at the same time, a part of me is glad for the respite. There's too much going on inside my head. And I'm still a little sore from last time...
Suddenly, the kitchen door creaks open. Startled, I instinctively pull the skirt higher to cover my chest, realizing too late the futility of the action. The familiar sight of Master Fendril steps through, his eyes wide behind his spectacles. He tries not to stare at my exposed chest, but it's evident he's struggling.
Clearing his throat, he whispers, "Elise, it's me, Fendril."
"I see you, Master Fendril," I say, voice dripping with the haze of pheromones. "Do you like my new look?"
"By the gods… this is what’s become of you…” He tries to keep his voice steady but the tremble betrays his emotion. "I heard rumors, but this... Zephyrion has truly gone too far. This is *madness*. This is cruel beyond cruel.”
While his words should strike a chord, make me feel something, anything – they don't. The fog is too thick. My mind feels blank, my thoughts slow and sludgy, like trying to wade through knee-deep mud.
"We have to be quiet," he continues, his voice dropping even lower. "Snib can't know I'm here."
"Snib is with Elara," I say, placidly. We can both can hear her upstairs, moaning, whimpering. "They'll be another few hours."
Fendril hastily reaches into his robes, producing a small vial filled with a shimmering aqua liquid. "This is Moonshade. You *can't drink it yet*. It would be toxic during your pregnancy. But once you've given birth, Elise, you *must* take it immediately."
Confusion clouds my mind further. "Why?" I manage to ask.
"To start reclaiming your mind," he says, his tone urgent. "Zephyrion has played his cards. You and Elara are just pawns in his game. But with this, you can begin to push back. I hope the damage is not permanent. I believe you can recover."
"But I feel fine," I murmur, though the words sound distant, even to my ears. Everything feels like it's underwater.
Fendril's face contorts in frustration, his fingers twitching. "Listen to me, Elise. You're drowning in that fog. You have to fight it. For now, keep the potion safe. And when the time is right, you drink it. Promise me."
Somewhere, deep down, perhaps a small part of Aldric resonates with Fendril's plea.
(simple_option:"18 promise","Promise him.")(pic:"ch06/fendril.jpg")"I promise," I whisper back, holding the vial close. I am not sure why it feels so precious to me. Something I can't explain.
Fendril's gaze shifts from me to the room's interior, and the weight of regret presses on his shoulders, evident in the slump of his posture.
"I'm so sorry, Elise," he says, anguish evident in his voice. "Sorry that I ever involved Zephyrion. I never anticipated he'd descend to such depths of madness. He used to be a scholar. A mentor. But alas, curiosity has mutated and warped into power-lust.”
My thoughts are cloudy, struggling to grasp onto the tendrils of understanding. But I feel the need to do something hospitable, this poor guest seems haggard.
With shaky hands, I take a glass, feeling the weight of his slack-jawed stare on me. I lift my already engorged breast, the skin stretched taut and hot to the touch. The pressure inside is evident as, with careful squeezing, milk streams forth. It pulses out in rhythmic squirts, each droplet capturing the room's light, reflecting the amber glow of the fireplace. I can feel the relief as the pressure subsides, even as the intensity of the sensation sends another rush of hormones flooding through me.
"Master Fendril," I say, offering the glass, my voice dreamy and distant, "Would you care for a drink? You must be thirsty after coming all this way.”
The wizard's eyes widen in horror. "No, Elise... I... it's alright." There's a pause, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard.
With a shrug, I place the glass of milk on the table. Snib would enjoy it later, I think vaguely, although he usually prefers it direct from the source.
The wizard takes a deep breath, the strain evident on his face. "I know you may not remember this. But I feel compelled to tell you anyway. Zephyrion has begun excavating the ruins beneath Ironrock Mine. Rumors suggest he’s found the sanctum of Maraan. If true, his power will be unmatched."
To me, it’s like he's speaking in riddles. Everything seems distant, intangible, as if I'm trying to capture smoke with my hands.
"He wields too much influence in the king’s court,” Fendril continues, pacing the room with growing urgency. "None of the other wizards dare to oppose him. I feel so isolated. I have no hope of challenging him.”
"That's ok, I'm sure you're doing your best," I say vapidly. Brainlessly. The room grows tense, Fendril's anguish palpable, like a physical entity. The very walls seem to absorb his despair.
He looks around, then back at me. "Remember, the Moonshade. It's *important*," he urges. But there's no promise of a return, no plan, just resignation.
Without another word, Master Fendril turns, leaving me alone in the dim kitchen. The only sound is the soft crackle of the fireplace and my own ragged breathing.
The vial shimmers in my hands. Even in my hazy state, something tells me to keep it safe. From Snib... from myself.(simple_option:"18 another two weeks","The months feel like weeks...")(pic:"status/elise ultrapreg.png","right","borderless")($play:"sex loop","birth")Each step sends a wave of discomfort jolting through my overstuffed body. It feels like I’m wading through quicksand; my movements sluggish, heavy, burdened. My engorged breasts weigh down heavily on my chest, filled to the brim, ready to nurture the goblin whelps that churn within my equally engorged belly.
The warmth between my legs is incessant, as if every part of me is primed and on fire, yearning for some kind of release.
The weight of being so heavily pregnant is agonizing. Just standing up or moving around is painful. I can barely make it up or down the stairs.
The sensation of *three* goblin babies squirming inside me is bizarre - their little fists and feet prodding my insides with none of the langour or softness of human babies - it's like they're trying to claw their way out!
From the corner of my groggy vision, Elara looks just as dazed, her belly protruding, albeit not quite as prominently as mine. I catch a brief glance of her azure eyes, hazy with the pheromones, before a veil of lustful stupor clouds them again.
Zephyrion's attendants, donned in indigo robes, work around us with a focused efficiency, transforming our once cozy abode into a birthing chamber. They lay down thick blankets, place various bowls filled with steaming water, herbs, and an assortment of instruments on a side table.
Candles light the space, casting an ethereal glow that only serves to further distance me from reality.
Zephyrion himself, towering in his slender elegance, watches everything with a keen eye, occasionally scribbling something on parchment. His sharp, stormy grey eyes land on me for a split second, and I feel like a specimen under examination.
"Make sure everything is in order. The birth of these goblin children will catalyze the power we need." His voice is filled with cold authority.
A group of Eboncrest’s midwives shuffle in hesitantly, their expressions a mixture of fear and curiosity.They know me. Know who I was. Yet now, they see me in this debased state, ready to birth goblin offspring, and it’s evident they struggle with their own emotions. They begin by gently checking over Elara and me, their fingers probing, eyes assessing. The touch of a familiar hand against my swollen belly momentarily grounds me.
Snib stands away from the proceedings. He leers, his voice dripping with pride, "Oi, tit-bitch! 'bout time these brats came outta ya!"
He chuckles darkly, but even in his typical crude demeanor, I detect a hint of unease as he keeps glancing warily at Zephyrion. The two have always had a strange relationship.
Elara’s whimpers break my concentration. She’s feeling it. The contractions. The impending moment of release and life. Our shared foggy reality is broken by spikes of sharp pain.
One of the midwives, a stern older woman named Marda, directs the others in a calm but firm voice.
"Prepare the warm cloths and the birthing herbs. And keep the lavender oil close—it might help soothe them."
Snib wrinkles his nose at that.
"Master doesn't like lavender," I gasp.
The midwife ignores me. They don't seem to care much about what Snib wants.
Elara groans beside me, her fingers digging into the makeshift quilt beneath us. We're both dealing with the contractions and the sharp, clawing movements. At one point, a protrusion, looking distinctly like a small, four-fingered hand, presses against her belly, distorting the skin into an eerie outline that quickly withdraws.
"*See! They're eager to come out!*" Snib laughs, clearly amused by our ordeal.
Pillows prop us up at an angle, while pots of steaming water emit a ghostly vapor into the air.
As another contraction clenches my insides viciously, I can’t help but let out a low, gut-wrenching moan. My hand flies to my belly, feeling the surreal and terrifying movements within. At one moment, it feels as if multiple small limbs are pushing outward, testing the limits of my skin before retreating.
The midwives move with haste, dabbing my forehead with cool cloths soaked in lavender and chamomile.
“Steady, lass,” murmurs one of the midwives, positioning herself between my legs. “Deep breaths, now.”
Zephyrion, approaches, holding a glowing crystal rod. He glances between Elara and me, his gaze clinical, detached. “Prepare,” he instructs coldly. “It’s time.”
The pain intensifies, a cruel crescendo that rips a scream from my throat—a sound so raw and primal that it's barely human. My body contorts involuntarily, muscles contracting violently as nature and nightmare collide in the act of childbirth.
Elara, too, begins to scream, her own pains echoing mine, our cries intertwining in the thick, oppressive air of the chamber.
My body, my once-heroic form, is reduced to a fleshy incubator, preparing to bring Snib’s spawn into the world. Elara, beside me, is in no better state. Her moans sound so distant, so detached, as if echoing from another world.
Zephyrion, that clinical, detached bastard, begins speaking, his tone firm yet without a hint of excitement. “This isn’t your typical human birth, and it will be nothing like what you have experienced before. The goblin seed has transformed these women’s bodies, making them the perfect vessels for goblin pups. Within them, their babies are pure goblins.”
One of the midwives, a younger woman with a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks, raises her hand slightly. "What... what effects should we expect, sir?"
"The human body has a miraculous adaptability," Zephyrion begins, his voice devoid of wonder. "The two will likely birth simultaneously due to the synchronized hormonal waves. And mind the pups. They are born with a primitive instinct and might bite. Ensure they are separated from the mothers immediately until they can be calmed."
Elara's choked sob next to me amplifies the unease in the room. But my own body feels distant, detached, as though I'm floating somewhere above the scene, watching it unfold below.
Elise, the one whose body was once mine, carries triplets. Because of my prolonged exposure to goblin pheromones prior to impregnation, the wizard explains that my spawn are larger, more robust. Elara, on the other hand, was impregnated before her body was fully ‘in heat,’ which means her pups will be weaker, unlikely to survive long on their own.
Snib growls at this, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes. My heart aches, a sensation of longing and sadness wrapping around me, tethering me to Snib.
Zephyrion’s cold gaze lands on me, and with his rod, he measures my collar. A chill runs down my spine. There’s something bigger at play here. It's not about the goblin pups to the wizard, not really. It's about the connection, the link Snib and I share, magnified by the collar and the children I bear him.(simple_option:"18 command","He gives another command.")($play:"sex loop","birth final")(live:20s)[(stop:)(set:$se_to_stop to "fendrils theme")(display:"stop sound effect slow fade")]"Prepare them."
The midwives hesitantly approach. Their hands, cool and firm, start attending to both me and Elara, preparing us for the imminent birth.
The weight inside my belly feels immense, pressing against my insides with every movement. Sweat drenches my skin, making it glisten and matting my raven-black hair to my forehead. My birthing attire, if you can even call it that, consists of a sheer cloth that's draped across my chest, barely containing the weight of my breasts, which are swollen and leaking with milk. Every contraction makes them jiggle, as droplets of milk drip down, staining the cloth.
Above me, I grip onto a rope, my knuckles white from the strain. It's there to help leverage the force I need to push these abominations out of my body. Beside me, Elara, her beautiful auburn hair plastered to her face, is in a similar state, gripping her rope and wailing in agony.
The midwives rush between the two of us, their eyes wide with a mixture of horror and determination. They’ve probably never been part of such an obscene scene, where the joy of childbirth is replaced with terror and grotesquerie.
As the next contraction hits, I can't help but scream out, my back arching in pain. One of the midwives, her hands trembling slightly, moves to check my progress. I can feel her fingers, cool and firm, and then her sharp intake of breath as she feels the scaly head of one of the goblin triplets. "It's coming!" she shouts, signaling to her colleagues.
Beside me, Elara's screams join mine, creating a haunting chorus that fills the room. Her body strains and shudders, fighting to bring forth Snib’s spawn. Her own midwife braces herself, her hands coated in some slick substance, preparing to receive the smaller goblin offspring.
(pic:"ch18/birth.png","center","borderless")
($hidden_gem:"As I push with all my might, I catch a glimpse of the first goblin baby emerging, its greenish skin slick and mottled. It's almost as large as a human baby, its tiny arms flailing wildly. Its sharp, little teeth, already visible, sink into the hand of one of the midwives, causing her to cry out in pain, blood staining her pale hand.","As I press with all my power, I perceive the prodigious goblin progeny pushing forth, its greenish guise glossy and grotesque. It’s nearly as massive as a human, its minuscule limbs lashing madly. Its sharp, sinister teeth, starkly visible, sink into the hand of a midwife, who shrieks in searing suffering, scarlet blood smearing her skin.")
Zephyrion watches from the shadows, a statue of indifferences, cold eyes fixated on the obscene spectacle. Snib, on the other hand, can barely contain his glee, his yellow eyes shining with pride as he welcomes his monstrosities into the world.
Elara’s cries crescendo as her first goblin child emerges, smaller than mine but no less grotesque. Her body trembles, and milk spills from her chest, a stark contrast to the dark leather of her outfit.
The entire chamber reeks of sweat, blood, and the metallic scent of birth. Glistening fluids and blood stain the floor as, one by one, the goblin children are delivered into the world.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the last of my triplets emerges, its wailing cries joining those of its siblings. I collapse backward, exhaustion taking over, my body feeling empty yet scarred from the ordeal.
The midwives, their expressions a mixture of relief and horror, quickly wrap the goblin whelps in cloths, separating them from us, and Snib moves to inspect each one, his crooked fingers gently caressing their grotesque faces.(simple_option:"19 the descent","It's done.")(masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"sex loop",0)($chapter_title:19,"The Descent")(set:$gender to "female")($play:"ambience","night inn")($play:"sex loop","breastfeeding")(pic:"ch19/breastfeed intro.jpg")
The home owned by Aldric the Great, monster slayer, is now a goblin nursery.
My head swims, every breath I take filled with goblin-musk, intensifying the unnatural haze clouding my thoughts. Snib’s ever-present pheromones make everything feel hyper-sensitive, from the feeling of the soft sheets beneath me to the rough pull on my massive, engorged tits.
I look down, watching in a mix of horror and unwanted pleasure, as two of my monstrously large goblin offspring greedily suckle at my teats. They're alarmingly big, and not gentle in how they latch on. Their skin is a mottled green, their little fingers rough and grippy, clenching onto the vast expanse of my breasts, manipulating and kneading the flesh in their insistent demand for milk.
(pic:"ch19/breastfeeding 3.png","center","borderless")
The sensation of hormone-fueled warmth spreading through my body is both indescribable and deeply disturbing. It begins as a spreading heat from deep within my engorged breasts, a heat that burns brighter with each suck and pull from the oversized goblin whelps attached to my nipples. Each pull sends a jolt of sensation that transcends simple physical reactions, tapping into something instinctual and primal within me.
The babies, excessively strong for their size, grapple with my breasts, their tiny but rough hands grasping at my flesh, kneading and squeezing with innate ferocity. Their yellow eyes glare up at me, almost in defiance as they drink. I can feel every pull, every tug, the flow of milk surging from me in amounts that leave me dizzy.
"Ah! Be gentle," I moan, though the sound that escapes me is thick with the confusing mix of discomfort and release.
From the bedside, Snib watches, his leering eyes missing nothing. His laugh is rough, filled with crude delight.
"Haha, look at them tug at those human udders. Drink up, my strong lads! Grow big and fierce on this rich, sluttish cream. Ain't nothing better than a human cow's milk to make a goblin hardy!"
I can't help but moan softly with every forceful tug, pull, suck, and nibble. My body is raging with a mess of hormones that makes thinking about anything else utterly impossible.
Milk flows in steady, hot streams, the sensation nearly electric in its intensity, amplified by the cocktail of hormones and pheromones flooding my veins. Each gulp they take is accompanied by a demanding tug that feels like it's pulling at the core of my being.
Beside me, Elara is in a similar state, though one of my more domineering offspring has taken over one of her breasts, leaving her own two goblin children to fight over her remaining nipple.
(pic:"ch19/breastfeeding 2.jpg")
The sight of my wife feeding these creatures, her once-proud face flushed with the same mixture of humiliation and perverse fulfillment I feel, *should* be deeply unsettling.
"Yer doing good, bitches," Snib continues, leaning closer to inspect how the babies nurse. "Remember, get that nipple right down their throats, or the little buggers might snap 'em off. Ain’t nice to have a gobbo baby angry for more milk."
Elara next to me groans under the strain, her face contorted with a mixture of pain and ecstasy. Her less-experienced whelps are clumsier, their tugs sharp and uneven, causing her noticeable discomfort. As one particularly eager suck pulls her nipple too harshly, she lets out a yelp, her eyes squeezing shut in agony.
Snib laughs, a sound devoid of warmth. "Look at ye... wasn't wrong calling ye cow tits, eh? Just natural for this, filling up my lads with rich, creamy feed."
The room echoes with our soft moaning and the steady, rhythmic gulping of the hungry goblin babies. Each tug, each pull is a reminder of our complete and utter subjugation, our bodies no longer our own but mere vessels for Snib's grotesque progeny.
The warmth in my breasts, the burn of hormones, feels like a fire—an inferno consuming my sense of self, leaving behind nothing but the primal, base need to nurture and nurse, even if the recipients of such care are the spawn of a creature I would have slain without hesitation in another life.
(pic:"ch17/arcanameter.jpg","right")Zephyrion stands to the side, his gaze not on the obscene sight of our nursing, but intently focused on the cursed collar snugly wrapped around my neck as he takes measurements with the arcanameter.
There's an air of concentration about him, as if he's piecing together some complex puzzle.
Snib, meanwhile, is always hovering close, ensuring his pups get the mealtime every 2 hours, morning, noon and night. He grins, his yellow eyes darting between Elara and me, clearly enjoying our biological subservience to his offspring.
Elara and I moan in tandem, our voices filled with a mix of pain and unwanted ecstasy. The sensation is overwhelming, a never-ending flow of milk, the forceful latching and sucking of the goblin whelps driving us deeper into the hazy fog. My tits jiggle with every movement.
Finally, Zephyrion breaks his contemplative silence. "The act of nursing... it's feeding the collar's energy," he muses.
"Easy, easy... ah!" Elara gasps, wincing as one of hers yanks hard.
Snib moves between us, his hands crudely patting our heads as if we were prized livestock. "Can you feel them growing stronger with every sip? Fattening up on yer nectar?"
As the goblin whelps' insistent feeding continues, my breasts start to feel sore, the sensation of being drained becoming more pronounced. "Their milk supply is dwindling," Zephyrion observes.
The smirk on Snib's face broadens, his yellow eyes glinting with mischief. "Looks like ya need a bit of replenishing, don't ya?"(simple_option:"19 your feeding","It's time for *your* feeding."){(newtrack:$se_to_stop,"aud/" + $se_to_stop + ".mp3")
(if:$sound)[(if:$se_to_stop is any of (a:$se,$old_se,$song,$old_song,$ambience,$old_ambience))[(unless:$se_to_stop is 0)[(track:$se_to_stop,"fadeout",30)(live:30s)[(stop:)(track:$se_to_stop,"stop")]]]]
}($play:"sex loop","elara cum feeding")With the goblin pups whisked away by the midwives, and Zephyrion's cold exit, there's an eerie silence that descends. That is, until the grunting of the goblin takes over.
Without ceremony, Snib hops up onto the bed and pushes aside his loincloth, revealing his fully-erect cock.
It's slick with precum, the purple tip glistening in the dim light of the room. The smell of his arousal is overpowering, even more pungent than his usual musk.
($hidden_gem: "Elara, despite her obvious exhaustion, is unable to resist the biological urges Snib's pheromones incite. She opens her mouth, her sapphire blue eyes wide but foggy, as the goblin pushes his dick into her mouth. It's a perverse echo of how she had been nursing the goblin pups just moments ago.", "Elara, even with evident exhaustion, is enslaved by the subversive scent Snib's slick pheromones stir. She spreads her scarlet lips, her sapphire spheres shining but shadowy, as the goblin guides his greedy girth into her gaping gob. It's a pornographic parallel to how she had been nourishing the needy goblin newborns mere moments ago.")
Instinctively, her hand wraps around the base of his shaft, pumping rhythmically as she suckles on the head. The obscene squelching noises fill the room.
I can't look away. I, too, am trapped in this hazy dream. Everything about our lives is just sensations, overwhelming hormones, and foggy visions.
Feeling Snib's pheromones so intensely, the pull of my own biological needs grows stronger, the collar's influence and the goblin's musk making it nearly impossible to focus on anything but thinking about another full, nourishing load from his balls.
Every suck, every moan from Elara, every grunt from Snib, sends a jolt of unwanted pleasure through me. Snib's laughter rings in my ears, his enjoyment of our debasement evident.
The goblin's hands tighten in Elara's red hair, holding her in place as his fat, green cock throbs in her mouth. I can't tear my eyes away from the horrifying scene, the tightening of the muscles in Snib's pudgy body as he tenses and releases with each spurt. My heart races, the sound of it thumping in my ears drowns out all but the lewd noises in front of me.
"Master's got a big, hearty meal for his favorite bitch."
Elara whimpers, her body quivering as she looks up at Snib, her lips stretched wide. Her hands, trembling, clutch at his thighs as if he's her source of life.
(pic:"ch19/feed elara.png","center","borderless")
My body thrums with fascination and need. Snib's musk sends intoxicating signals to my deep, dark places. The humid, air thickens, heavy with the scent of imminent release.
Snib grunts. Elara's lips tighten around the engorged head of his penis, trying to prepare.
Then Snib's body stiffens, his balls clench visibly, drawing up toward his body in a grotesque display of goblin virility.
"Now, be a good cow and suck it down," he barks, as he begins to unload.
Elara's body convulses with her own squirting orgasm, triggered by the biological reaction to her oral insemination. It's messy, loud—her juices splatter out, intermingling with the noises of Snib’s continued ejaculation.
"Oh, fuck yeh... take it all, ye busty wench!" Snib growls, his thrusts shallow but forceful, ensuring every drop is deposited deep in her throat. "Drink it up... good for ya... makes more milk for the pups, dunnit?"
Elara's eyes water as she chugs the thick, putrid spunk filling her mouth. Some of the cum dribbles out the corners of her mouth, trailing down her chin in a disgraceful display.
"Glurk... mmmph..." she manages, muffled noises escaping as she swallows hungrily, driven by the deep-seated biological craving instilled by Snib's pheromones.
I watch, fixated, feeling a piercing stab of jealousy.
I need it, too. But Master always feeds her first.
My body aches for that stinky, thick sludge, screaming at me that it's essential, nourishing.
As Snib finishes, wiping his tip on Elara’s chin, he steps back, a satisfied smirk on his face.
"Nothing like feeding a hungry bitch..." he chuckles, wiping his now-flaccid cock on the back of Elara’s hand. "Ready for yers tits-for-brains?"
Elara coughs, wiping her mouth, trying to gather her composure. Snib's pubic hairs stick grotesquely to her sticky lips. She takes deep, shaking breaths, her eyes glazed but alive with a disturbing gratitude.
"Yes, Master... thank you, Master," I say.(simple_option:"19 your turn","It's your turn.")
(set:$se_to_stop to "death music")(display:"stop sound effect fade")($play:"sex loop","elise cum feed facefuck")Snib hops down from the bed, leaving Elara in a cum-drunk stupor. She's collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. Her face is slick with sweat and streaked with the remnants of Snib’s heavy load. The smell of his cum fills the air, thick and overpowering.
With a lewd grin, Snib turns and waddles over to where I am seated. His eyes glint maliciously as he approaches.
"Your turn, tits-for-brains," he snarls as he grabs my hair and roughly yanks me forward. "Open wide. It's feeding time."
I tilt my head back, opening my mouth wide. There's a moment of hesitation—but then Snib's huge, throbbing cock is pressing against my lips. I can feel it pulsating, growing harder by the second, its heat almost scalding against the sensitive flesh of my mouth.
He doesn't enter gently. Instead, he grabs the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, and shoves his massive length deep into my throat.
With his small, muscular legs straddling the back of the chair I'm sitting in, he begins to piston his cock in and out with vigorous thrusts. Each movement forces his monstrous girth deeper, stretching my throat wide around him as he humps my face.
"Take it, you slut," Snib sneers, looking down at me with open contempt. "Always rougher for the bitch hero."
I choke and sputter, tears springing to my eyes from the sheer force of his thrusts. His massive balls smack against my chin with every push, the slap of flesh echoing in the otherwise silent room.
I force myself to relax my throat, accommodating his size, feeling him slide deeper with each thrust. It's a struggle, each breath a gasping fight for air, each swallow pushing him further into the depths of my throat.
But then, a sudden memory flashes into my mind, piercing the lustful haze that's been clouding my judgment: Master Fendril's Moonshade potion! He had instructed me, with grave emphasis, to start consuming it as soon as I was no longer pregnant. Panic wells up within me, intertwining with the heavy arousal that's consumed my body.
Snib's rhythm is punishing, the squelching of his fat cock in my mouth a lewd soundtrack to the scene. Desperation and pleasure war within me as Snib's heavy cockhead nudges the bottom of my throat with each thrust. I can taste his impending release - bitter, salty, and overwhelmingly pungent, laced with the telltale tang of goblin pheromones that make my head swim.
Just as I think I can't take anymore, Snib gives a victorious squeal.
"Drink up, whore!" he shouts, and then his cock swells, and I feel the first heavy splurt of his cum shooting directly into my stomach.
It bypasses my taste buds completely, a pressure-injected torrent of thick, stinky goblin spunk filling my belly. The warmth of it spreads instantly, a scalding heat that makes my stomach churn.
Snib continues to unload, his body shuddering with each release, his grunts turning to raspy pants. His balls tighten against my chin, signaling the final throes of his ejaculation, and I feel my own body responding in kind.
The room spins as an orgasm, humiliating in its intensity, tears through me. I squirt, the release messy and uncontrollable, gushing over the chair and onto the floor. My body quivers with aftershocks, each one echoing the overwhelming sensation of being filled with Snib's cum.
Snib pulls out slowly, a satisfied grunt escaping him as he watches me gasp for air, cum dribbling down my chin. "There's your meal, slut. Right in the gut. Bet you feel nice and full now, eh?"
He wipes his semi-flaccid cock on my cheek before hopping off the chair.
"Now clean up. Ye got an hour before yer feedin the pups again."
I'm left gasping, breathless and violated, my body coated in sweat, spit, and cum.
I can feel it, the way his sperm invigorates my body, the way it rekindles the burning desire within me, and the way it stimulates my milk production, replenishing what's been taken. The world around me becomes even more hazy, more blurred by the overwhelming sensations brought on by Snib's powerful release.
Elara stirs on the bed, lifting her head weakly. Her eyes meet mine. But words fail us both, the gravity of our situation leaving us drowning in a sea of pleasure and submission.(simple_option:"19 later","Later...")($play:"song","death music")($play:"sex loop",0)The world spins as I stagger down the stairs, each jolt sending sharp pains through my overburdened body. My tits, swollen to an unbearable size and leaking milk once again, sway heavily with each step, their weight pulling my chest forward, the slight movement causing pangs of pain from the bite marks and scratches that mar them.
The pups had been ravenous, latching onto my nipples with a ferocity I wasn't prepared for. They gnawed, sucked, and pulled without a care for the body they were attached to. My once-pink nipples are now a deep shade of purple, swollen and engorged with milk, while the surrounding skin is littered with marks from their sharp little teeth.
The gown I'm in, generously provided by the midwives, hangs loosely around my recovering body. It's a soft, flowing material, cut in a way to accommodate my ever-burgeoning chest and to make nursing more accessible. The outfit, even though soft, grazes against my tender breasts, making me wince.
(pic:"ch19/messy kitchen.jpg")
The kitchen looms before me, looking far more gobliny than it used to. Utensils and ingredients are haphazardly strewn around, a testament to the disorderly life Snib has forced upon us.
Dust and filth coat the countertops, the once immaculate space tarnished by neglect. Counters that used to be full of fresh ingredients are now stocked with bottles of milk and stored goblin semen.
I can't even remember the last time I saw the shimmering silverware and polished wooden bowls in their proper places. The memory of our immaculate kitchen, kept perfectly organized by Elara, is distant. We have both changed too much.
Desperation fuels my search for the Moonshade. I rifle through the drawers, my fingers trembling, nails scratching the wooden surfaces. I need it.
I have to find it. Something drives me.
I've hid it somewhere, and with every passing second, my hope dwindles.
Memories flood my mind - it was a couple months ago, Snib was distracted by Elara's supple body, and I had a moment alone. I remember stashing it... but where? In the haze of arousal and subjugation, I had forgotten.
Then, finally, something glitters out of the corner of my eye.
Behind the stack of filthy goblets and underneath a ragged dishcloth, my fingers brush against the smooth vial. My heart leaps as I pull out the small, glittering aqua vial of Moonshade. The precious antidote, gleaming with hope. Without hesitating, I unscrew the cap.(simple_option:"19 drink","Drink it.")(pic:"ch19/moonshade.jpg","right")I uncork the vial.
The Moonshade inside shimmers, its aqua color promising reprieve, yet something within me recoils at the very notion of consuming it. Snib’s relentless pheromones infesting my body press down on my senses, skewing my perceptions, urging me to throw the vial aside.
The smell of the Moonshade itself is jarringly intense: a sharp, minty scent that clashes with the heavy, animalistic odor that’s become my new norm. My stomach twists as I bring the open vial closer.
Deep within, something stirs - though I don't even know what it is.
My wrist shakes as I hold the vial aloft, my gaze locked onto its contents. Memories rush back in hazy waves—the feel of my sword in hand, the pride of standing against darkness, the love for my wife that transcended physical form. I cling to these fragments, desperate for the strength they once lent me.
With every inch the vial nears my lips, my body revolts. My throat tightens, an instinctive response to reject what my pheromone-addled brain perceives as poison. I hesitate, the vial wavering, a drop poised at the brim, ready to fall back into the reservoir of salvation it came from.
But I stop.
“No,” I whisper to myself, a faint vestige of my former command in the faltering tone. “Not reduced to... this.”
($change_stat:"heroism",1)Summoning a sliver of will from the depths of my being, I grit my teeth, my free hand clutching the edge of the counter for support. Every muscle in my body screams in protest.
With a trembling resolve, I finally bring the vial to my plush, swollen lips. The cool liquid touches my tongue, and instantly, my body wants to expel it, to reject this intruding clarity. But deeper than biology is the burning need to remember.
I swallow.
It *burns.*
Not physically, but mentally — a searing line of fire that cuts through the fog in my mind. A few drops of the potent Moonshade work their way down, and suddenly, the room doesn’t spin quite so madly.
I cough. Yet as the minty coolness spreads, branching like frost on a windowpane across the haze of my thoughts, I gasp. Air—clean, crisp, free—fills my lungs - and it feels different.
And then, the tiniest pinprick of true clarity pierces the veil.
My hands no longer tremble. My vision seems to sharpen; Snib’s snores from the other room suddenly paint the picture more vividly of my grotesque, horrible reality.
With every beat of my slowly steadying heart, the remnants of the haze fight back, a nasty curl of pheromones attempting to smother me.
“I will not be this creature’s thing,” I assert quietly, my voice gaining strength. “Not anymore.”
The battle within is just beginning, but armed with the Moonshade, I dare to hope, to fight.(simple_option:"19 go upstairs","Go upstairs.")($play:"ambience","night inn")Next, I return to our bedroom.
The chilling darkness of the room feels stifling. The creak of the wooden floor beneath my foot echoes louder than intended. Every step feels like I'm dancing on the edge of a blade, balancing between saving Elara and the jaws of a trap set by Snib.
As I reach the edge of the bed, the dim light from the moon seeps through the curtains, revealing the grotesque scene before me. The vile goblin has his fat, flaccid cock casually draped over Elara's slender leg, a perverse mark of ownership. His grotesque form snuggles against my beautiful wife, their bodies meshed together in a mockery of intimacy. The sight makes my heart pound, a combination of dread, disgust, and jealousy.
Emotions that feel new to me, like an infant learning to walk.
Quietly, ever so quietly, I unscrew the vial. Its faint glow lights up the tiny space around it, casting eerie, dancing shadows. My massive breasts sway heavily as I lean forward, brushing softly against the sheets. The movement nearly causes the vial to slip from my fingers. My heart stops. But it remains clutched in my sweaty palm.
My gaze flits to Snib, ensuring he hasn’t stirred.
I'm inches away from Elara, her soft lips slightly parted in slumber. I've seen those lips laugh, cry, and kiss. Now, they need to swallow the Moonshade.
With shaking hands, I drip a few drops into Elara's mouth, praying it’s enough. As the last droplet leaves the vial, Elara stirs, her eyelids fluttering. Panic swells in my chest. I freeze, tits still dangling, eyes locked on her. A soft moan escapes her lips, and for a moment, I think she's waking. But it's just a simple shift in her dream state, and her breathing remains even.
However, the soft shuffle of Snib's feet draws my attention. He murmurs something incomprehensible, stirring slightly. I feel like a trapped animal, my heart thundering so loudly I'm sure it will give me away. But after what feels like an eternity, his breathing steadies, and his grotesque form stills.
The immediate danger passed, I slowly, so slowly, move back, careful not to let my ample body give away my position. My tits, heavy and pendulous, sway with my motion but thankfully don't catch on anything.
Once I'm sure I've retreated enough, I slide into my spot on the bed, laying down on the opposite side from the grotesque duo. My mind races, trying to calm my raging heart. I pray to any god listening that the Moonshade works its magic on Elara, that by morning she will see Snib for the monster he truly is.
I tuck the vial back under my pillow. We’ll need another dose in the morning. (simple_option:"19 try to sleep","Try to sleep.")($play:"ambience","village morning indoors")($hidden_gem:"I draw in a shaky breath, my body feeling less hazy than it has in days. I feel the familiar weight of my milky tits pressing against the soft cotton of my gown, but my heart feels so much lighter. My mind is clearer. Not totally free of the pheromones, but getting there.","I draw in a deep, desperate breath, my body feeling less lethargic and leaden than it has in days. The familiar, hefty weight of my milk-laden, luscious tits press precariously against the sheer silk of my gown, but my heart is flooded with frivolous lightness. My mind is more lucid, no longer saturated with the sinister, suffocating pheromones, but still slightly swayed by them.")
I turn slightly to my side, trying to get a better look at Elara who's resting beside me. My heart sinks when I realize Snib sandwiched between us. His grotesque, pudgy form is a stark contrast to our feminine curves, and the bulging outline of his fat goblin cock under his loincloth remains unmistakably evident.
Now, with the cum-drunk fog lifting, I see what a disgusting little wretch he is. And hopefully my wife will too.
The sunlight filtering through the window illuminates the room. I can hear the distant, hungry squeals of our goblin pups coming from upstairs. As much as I want to block out their sounds, I can't. My own body betrays me as I feel a dampness forming around my nipples, milk soaking the front of my gown.
“Ugh,” I groan.
I glance at Elara, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with her breathing. Her eyes flutter open, immediately locking with mine. Her nostrils flaring.
"Elise," she whispers, her voice trembling, "Are you...?"
"Yes, Elara," I nod, trying to hold back tears. "The haze... it's gone."
The squeals from the goblin pups grow louder. A nagging urge to feed them pulses within me, but my newfound clarity battles that urge. I don't want to nurse them. Neither does Elara.
Snib groggily awakens, yawning wide. "Mornin', cow tits," he smirks, groping at my breast without any hesitation. I recoil, and his hand finds empty air. His yellow eyes narrow, glancing between Elara and me.
Elara, gently pushing herself to sit up, brushes off Snib's hand as he tries to caress her face. "Don't touch me," she says with a steadiness I've not heard in a while.
Snib's face contorts into a confused sneer. "Oi, what's gotten into you, sugar tits? Ain't ya gonna be my good girl?"
"I am no one's 'good girl,' especially not yours," Elara retorts, her sapphire eyes blazing with a fire I'd thought had been extinguished.
Snib's laughter rings out, loud and mocking, but the surprise in his gaze is undeniable. "You think you're too good fer me? Look at her," he jabs a dirty finger toward my collar, reminding me of the ever-present threat, "that collar still works, you know. One squeeze and she's done for."
Elara's defiant gaze softens momentarily, concern for me evident in her eyes. She leans closer to Snib, her voice dripping with venom. "Remember, Snib, you might have your toys, but you need us just as much as you think we need you. If Elise dies, you die.”
With a grunt, Snib jumps off the bed, adjusting his swollen loincloth. "Enjoy yer little moment of rebellion," he spits, stalking off toward the kitchen, “it’s not gonna last."(simple_option:"19 he leaves","He leaves.")(pic:"ch01/eboncrest.jpg","left")As soon as the door slams shut, Elara’s strength crumbles. Tears stream down her face, and I quickly pull her into a tight embrace, our milky breasts pressing together, a warm wetness seeping through our gowns.
For a while, we lie side by side, the weight of reality pressing down on us as the muffled cries of the goblin offspring pierce the room.
But today, we ignore them.
"How did we end up like this?” I whisper, my voice choked.
Pulling her close, I feel the dampness of her cheeks against mine.
"I thought my first child would be yours, Aldric," Elara murmurs, her voice trembling with pain. Her body is still recovering, still showing the evidence of our shared horror. “Not some… monster.”
My heart cracks at her words. "I'm so sorry, Elara."
Words fail me, the remorse hitting deep. Our baby, the one we could've had, never got the chance to live.
I fish out the Moonshade vial from under the pillow. "We need to take more," I say, presenting it to her. "Master Fendril said it's a safeguard against Snib's pheromones. We won't fall victim to his influence as easily if we are disciplined."
She eyes it warily but nods, determination flashing in her eyes. We down the contents, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste.
Elara clutches my hand, her nails digging into my skin, seeking some semblance of comfort.(simple_option:"19 anger","Reality sets in.")Elara’s trembling fingers tighten around mine, her eyes widening as the fog lifts.
Her breathing quickens, her chest heaving with the force of emotion. Her hand flies to her swollen belly, her fingers trembling as they trace the outline of her abdomen.
Then it hits her. The realization, the full weight of what she's lost.
"No…" She whispers, her voice rising to a scream, "NO!"
Her scream echoes around the room, a raw, guttural sound of pure, unfiltered agony. She clutches at her belly as if trying to protect the child that was lost, her fingers digging into the soft flesh.
"Our baby, Aldric… our baby… it's gone."
Her words tear into me, a dagger twisted deep into my gut. She collapses onto the bed, her body wracked with violent sobs, each one shaking her frame, her breaths ragged and choked.
"It's all… *gone,* Aldric" she sobs, her voice cracking. "Every dream, every hope, the life we could have had… it’s all *gone*!
Her fists pound against the mattress, her rage palpable. "It’s YOUR fault, Aldric! Why did you let this happen?”
Her rage whirls around me, but it’s not just me she lashes out at; she turns her fury toward the Ephemerals, the deities who seemed to have abandoned us.
“Why did you forsake us?”
The gods remain silent, as they have toward me.
"Snib...” Her voice drips with vitriol. “That *pathetic,* disgusting goblin! And Zephyrion... that cold bastard... letting this happen, overseeing it all, like some sick experiment—"
Her trembling increases, a hurricane of sorrow and rage. Eyes blazing with fury, her tears continue to streak down her face.
“How dare he?! How *dare* he take our child, how dare he fill my womb with his monsters while forcing me to watch our future crumble!”
The onslaught of her grief pours forth as she continues to scream and wail.
"We've been turned into whores for a creature that should have been crushed under your boots, Aldric! *How did this happen?!*"
I’m by her side, a muted witness to her tidal wave of agony. She sobs, her voice raw and broken, railing against the heavens, crashing down into despair and rage, the heavy realization pressing her deeper into madness.
“Promise me,” she pleads in a whisper, when she's finally lost her voice. “Promise me we’ll find a way to end Snib. For us, for our lost child.”
A surge of anger wells up inside me, drowning out the residual influence of the collar around my neck. "I swear, Elara," I hiss, "Snib will pay for everything."
Our fingers intertwine. (simple_option:"19 an idea","An idea occurs to you.")($notification:"You are both experiencing extreme pheromone and hormone withdrawal, and all desire to take care of Snib's pups dissipates... turning to pure hatred.")"Why don't we kill the goblin whelps?" The words pour out of me in a harsh whisper, a mad idea that feels both horrifying and tantalizing.
Elara's eyes widen in shock. "But won't your collar kill you?"
In this moment, a fiery anger swells within me. The raw emotion surpasses the fear of the collar's consequences.
"It only protects him,” I assume, my feminine jaw set with determination. But the truth is, I'd rather take a risk than let those abominations live.
I storm into what once was Aldric's weapons closet, the dusty scent of old metal and leather stinging my nose. My eyes land on Whisperwind, the blade once hailed as Aldric's legendary partner in countless battles. But it’s the potion shelf that draws my immediate attention. Bottles of varying colors and sizes sit in the dim light. My fingers trail over the vials, feeling the familiar shape of a bottle that promises a silent, slow agony.
Nighthusk Venom - a poison made from gutworms. A mere drop can bring days of suffering. A few drops, moreso.
An entire bottle, moreso.(simple_option:"19 feed them the poison","Feed them the poison.")I grab the bottle and make my way back to Elara. Her eyes widen as she recognizes the deadly liquid. She knows I could've picked an easier end for them.
"A slow death," I explain, "They will suffer for every ounce of pain they've caused us."
Without hesitation, I move to the crate where the goblin offspring squirm and shriek. The scent of fresh milk sends them into a tizzy. I can feel their tiny, eager hands pawing at the fabric of my maternity dress. With a swift motion, I open the dress, revealing my engorged breasts. Their grotesque faces twist in a blend of hunger and desperation, clawing at each other for a chance to latch on.
The poison bottle's mouth hovers over my chest. The thick, black venom drips lazily, mingling with the milk that beads at the tip. As the first goblin latches on, eagerly gulping down the tainted nourishment, a perverse satisfaction washes over me. The sensation of their eager mouths suckling at me, the insistent tug, the contrasting coolness of the venom against the warmth of my milk - it's a sensation of power, of control. I've turned the very thing that made me vulnerable into a weapon.
Elara, not to be left out, follows suit, her laughter filling the room with a dark mirth.
"Drink up, little monsters," she says, as she too drips the venom onto her chest.
Together, we watch as all five goblin pups greedily ingest their final meal. The weight of what we've done hangs heavily in the air. Yet the collar remains silent.
I wonder if, in its endless cruelty, it has decided I deserve a small moment of catharsis. (simple_option:"19 dark triumph","A dark triumph...")($play:"ambience","village morning indoors")Through the thick wooden doors, I hear the thunderous echo of Snib’s voice before we even step into the chamber. "Oi, wizard! Ye promised their safety!"
My heart pounds in my chest. There’s no doubt in my mind about what he's referring to. We’re only just recovering from our frenzied lust, and now this. One problem after another.
I cautiously enter the room, with Elara by my side, clutching my hand tightly for support. Zephyrion stands ahead, his tall frame outlined by the chamber’s torchlight, and those stormy grey eyes immediately fixate on us.
The room feels charged, tension crackling like an approaching storm. Snib stands there, his green face flushed with anger.
"They killed 'em! They killed my pups!" he screams, pointing one stubby finger accusingly at us.
The wizard’s gaze pierces through us. "Is this true?" he asks in that quiet, yet forceful tone of his.
I shake my head, glancing at Elara, "The whelps... fell ill," I mutter. "They were weak and just... stopped breathing. We didn’t do anything."
Before I could react, I feel a sharp sting on my ass as Snib slaps it hard. The sensation reverberates through my body, making my voluptuous frame quiver. A mixture of pain and shame shoots up my spine, but a perverse sense of pleasure causes a smirk to tug at my lips. The stinging heat remains, even as the initial pain fades.
"Enough!" Zephyrion's voice slices through the room, causing even Snib to pause. "You forget your place, goblin."
I glance at Snib, waiting for him to explode in further anger, but instead, he glares at Zephyrion.
"They been actin' all uppity since yesterday. Like they ain't affected by me scent no more."
Zephyrion narrows his eyes, and the room goes silent. "Moonshade," he says coolly.
Snib's beady eyes widen. "But you said... You promised there'd be no more of that potion left in Eboncrest!"
The wizard remains impassive, though something calculating passes over his features. "It appears they had... help," he muses, casting a long, thoughtful look our way. The weight of those eyes causes my heart to race, and a chill runs down my spine.
The high-pitched, ear-piercing shriek of Snib makes my head swim, and all too suddenly, I feel the cursed metal collar tightening around my throat.
The pressure builds, and I gasp, my hands clutching at the unyielding collar. It's getting harder and harder to breathe. Panicking, I stagger, my vision blurring. The world swims in and out of focus.
Zephyrion, cold as the winter winds, regards Snib with a disdainful look. His stormy grey eyes narrow.
"There is a unique torment I've often used on the Serrans, a particularly... exquisite method of prolonged suffering," he starts, his voice dripping with ice. "It involves the spiraling extraction of a victim's essence, slowly unraveling their very soul strand by strand, as their physical body begins to rot. By the end of it, after days of unyielding torment, the victim is left an empty husk, their spirit shattered, and their body decayed."
($hidden_gem:"As he speaks, he raises his hand, and the air around us thickens, charged with raw, terrifying magic. The very air seems to crackle and spark.","As he articulates, he elevates his hand, and the atmosphere around us amplifies, electrified with elemental, eerie enchantment. The air itself sizzles and snaps, sparking with sinister sorcery.")
With a flick of his fingers, a minuscule vortex, a miniature storm of black and blue, appears before him. The swirling vortex is alive, its energies pulsating and beckoning, pulling at my very core.
The demonstration of such a horrific technique chills me to the bone. This sort of magical torture is not a spell I would've expected a royal wizard to employ.
"The collar," Zephyrion's voice drops even lower, every word deliberate, "is a partially intelligent artifact. It senses threats, and I suggest it perceives the gravity of my words very clearly." He pauses, letting the weight of his threat hang in the charged air, "You'd do well to remember, Snib, I've put too much at stake with this artifact to let it be ruined by the tantrums of a little green freak.”
It's like a switch flips. Slowly, blessedly, the metal collar loosens. I drag in deep, desperate breaths, my body shuddering with each inhale.
Zephyrion's mouth curls up in the barest hint of a smile, the satisfaction evident in his gaze.
"Predictable," he murmurs. "But given the breaking of the maternal bond, and the possible presence of Moonshade," his stormy eyes flit to me, suspicion clouding their depths, "it seems we must expedite our plans."
Snib's yellow eyes widen in horror. "Wha'?! But—"
"Silence," Zephyrion commands, and the room immediately grows colder, "We leave for Ironrock today. My scholars have been working diligently to uncover the ancient sanctum there, and it's time we made use of it."
“What about me protection?!" Snib protests.
Zephyrion's reply is calculated, offering the goblin no room for argument. "You will remain under my protection, even after this is over. As long as you keep your temper in check."
The wizard’s face when he lies, is indistinguishable from when he tells the truth.
Snib, seething with suppressed rage, finally just turns on his heel and stalks out of the room. His heavy footfalls echoing off the stone floors.
Then, Zephyrion shifts his focus to Elara and me, the weight of his gaze making my spine stiffen. "I understand what you've done," he says softly, "but you've made a grievous error."
He speaks a command. In march royal guards, their armor gleaming in the dim light, their expressions stone-cold. They stand ready, awaiting their orders.
"Prepare them for the journey," Zephyrion orders, his attention already moving on to the next pressing matter.(simple_option:"19 procession","You must depart.")(set:$se_to_stop to "death music")(display:"stop sound effect fade")($play:"ambience","mobilize")(live:7s)[(stop:)($play:"song","procession music")](pic:"ch19/procession.jpg")
The cobblestone streets of Eboncrest thrum beneath the hooves of our horses, each beat echoing the heavy dread knotting my heart.
Every step forward feels like a march towards an inevitable, dark fate.
"Where're ya headed, Elise?" Garrett's booming voice cuts through the ambient noise. The Eboncrest guard - Aldric’s longtime friend - jogs alongside, eyes wide, bushy beard bouncing with each stride.
"To Ironrock," I reply. A solitary crow caws overhead. “To where it all began.”
Zephyrion, regal in his indigo robes, rides at the head of this grim parade, a look of purpose and dark intent etched onto his features.
Behind him, his royal guards make a formidable sight. Sunlight dances off their polished helmets and shimmering breastplates. Among them, archaeologists clutch scrolls and satchels, deep in whispered conversation about the wonders of the ancient world they are about to uncover.
Elara, on her horse, looks as tense as I feel. Our matching leather armor hugs our post-pregnancy figures.
The gentle trotting of my steed causes my ample chest to sway and jiggle. Each bump in the road sends painful shocks through my body - thankfully, healing magic has allowed us to endure this journey without a proper confinement period.
As we pass through Eboncrest, the townsfolk gather. Faces etched in worry peer from windows, doorways, and market stalls. Children halt their play to watch the procession, eyes wide and questioning. They can sense the magnitude of our journey, even if they don't understand it.
"Hold!" Mayor Bramble's voice rings out, and the procession comes to a sudden halt. He steps forward, his face a mask of fury. "Zephyrion, I've been told what you're planning. This... this is madness! This is not what we agreed!”
(pic:"ch19/zephyrion.jpg")
Zephyrion regards the mayor with cold detachment. "It's what's necessary for Valaria, Bramble. The war against Sirath demands it."
"You're toying with forces you can't comprehend! Awakening Maraan will bring ruin upon us all," Bramble spits, his voice trembling with anger and fear.
Zephyrion's response is a slow, sinister smile. "Power always demands sacrifice, Mayor. And I'm willing to make it. You will be rewarded for Eboncrest’s contributions, the king is most appreciative.”
With that, he spurs his horse forward, the procession resuming its somber march. I exchange a glance with Elara, the weight of our journey pressing down upon us.
The gates of Eboncrest groan in the wind as we pass through them, leaving behind the security of the town walls. Ahead lies the wild expanse, the dense pine forest beckoning us with a mix of wonder and menace. The gentle rustling of the pine needles overhead whispers secrets of ancient times, while the deep shadows between the trees hint at the mysteries they conceal.
Jarkrond's hooves, beneath Snib's weight, sound oddly muffled on the forest floor. The goblin, usually full of lewd comments and wicked grins, remains eerily silent. His sharp, beady eyes dart around, scanning the woods as if expecting them to reveal their secrets.
Beside me, Elara's face is a tapestry of emotions. ($elara_check:3)(if:$result is "pass")[She pulls her horse closer to mine, her sapphire eyes, always full of fire, now hold the fragile glint of vulnerability after our ordeal.
(pic:"ch19/forest.jpg","left")"Elise..." she begins, voice trembling, "despite what we've been through, the life we've shared... Clearly the gods are against us. Nevertheless, these stolen moments of happiness through our lives… they've meant everything to me." She pauses, gulping back emotion. "If this is where our lives end, just know that I cherish every last second with you."
($change_stat:"elara",2)(set:$failed_love_check to "false")I fight back tears. I don’t deserve her kindness after what has happened, but some part of our bond has survived it all. ](else:)[Her sapphire eyes, always full of fire, now hold the fragile glint of vulnerability after our ordeal.
*She seems to be in a daze.*(set:$failed_love_check to "true")($willpower_action:"Reconnect with Elara...",5,"You have a meaningful conversation with your wife on the way there...")](simple_option:"19 journey","You need to protect her, at all costs.")(pic:"ch19/excavation.jpg")($play:"ambience","mobilize")(if:$failed_love_check is "true" and $unlocks_active contains "Share a moment with Elara...")[
"Elise..." she begins, voice trembling, "despite what we've been through, the life we've shared... Clearly the gods are against us. Nevertheless, these stolen moments of happiness through our lives… they've meant everything to me." She pauses, gulping back emotion. "If this is where our lives end, just know that I cherish every last second with you."
($change_stat:"elara",3)I fight back tears. I don’t deserve her kindness after what has happened, but some part of our bond has survived it all.]
The forest grows denser, and the path narrows, winding its way through the towering pines. Hours pass, but the ominous weight in the air makes it feel like an eternity. As we continue, the woods gradually give way to a clearing, revealing the gaping maw of Ironrock Mine.
Before the mine entrance, I see evidence of the ongoing excavation. Crates upon crates of unearthed artifacts litter the area. K'tarran stones, with their distinct dark hue and eerie glow, are stacked methodically. The intricate carvings on some depict grotesque figures, twisted in pain or perhaps ecstasy. There's an oppressive energy emanating from them, chilling the air and making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Archaeologists, in deep conversation, hover around certain finds, their hands gesturing wildly as they debate the meanings of the relics. Their robes are splattered with dirt, their faces alight with the frenzied excitement of discovery.
Yet, amidst the academic fervor, a looming dread is palpable. The very earth seems to groan beneath the weight of the K'tarran secrets being dragged to the surface.
Zephyrion, his eyes brighter than ever, surveys the scene. Every artifact, every carving, seems to draw him in deeper, fueling his insatiable hunger for power and knowledge. And as we dismount, preparing to delve into the mine's depths, the darkness ahead seems all the more foreboding, whispering promises of revelations that Zaelasia might be better off not knowing.
My heart races. I can feel the cold, hard metal of the collar biting into my neck.
The wizard turns to address his men, and his eyes – cold and determined – settle on me for a brief moment.
"Men and women of the crown, and keepers of history, today is the culmination of our hard work, of our sacrifices. You have all followed me loyally, believing in our cause, and today that belief will be rewarded. The temple deep within this mine holds a force that has been dormant for too long. The ancient god, Maraan, has slept in shadow, but with the arcanameter's power, and the unique connection between this goblin and Elise, we have the means to awaken this deity."
I can't help but shiver, thinking about what we are going to see down there. The weight of his words is heavy, pressing down on me, and I can feel the gazes of his soldiers on me, as well.
He continues, "Elise, I recognize the trials you've endured, the humiliation and pain, all to be here at this pivotal moment." Zephyrion’s eyes lock onto mine, a chilling smile on his lips. "Your suffering, Aldric’s transformation, your strength; none of it will have been in vain. Our world is on the precipice of change, and all that you've endured will be but a small price for the greatness that is to come."
Swallowing hard, every fiber of my being wants to scream, to shout, to rebel against this monstrous man and his grand plan. (simple_option:"19 enter","But now is not the time.")(set:$se_to_stop to "dead city")(display:"stop sound effect fade")($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")(set:$se_to_stop to "procession music")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(pic:"ch19/cavern.jpg","left")The transition from daylight to the oppressive shadow of Ironrock Mine's entrance feels immediate and smothering. Torches are quickly lit, casting a flickering amber hue over the assembly. It dances hesitantly upon the rocky walls, revealing the traces of the past. Here and there, rusted tools lay abandoned, a testament to the desperate hunt for ore and the riches it promised. Yet, as we move deeper, the remnants of Aldric's quest emerge, shattered goblin weaponry, and worn pathways, leading to the ancient tunnels I remember so vividly.
I glance over at Elara, her auburn hair cascading down, glinting with firelight. We’re both wrapped in tailored armor, painstakingly designed by Zephyrion's personal craftsman. My outfit clings to every curve, crafted for my… unique shape. The leather hugs my form, its straps crisscrossing my back, offering the support my heavy breasts desperately need. It's strange; the armor's designed not just for protection, but for comfort, each piece meticulously placed to ensure nothing jiggles excessively. It makes me realize that, for all Zephyrion's evils, he understands the necessity of keeping his 'assets' safe.
A sensation of constriction reminds me of the bandage beneath my armor, wrapped tightly around my post-pregnancy stomach by the skilled hands of midwives. The wrapping helps, offering some support to muscles still recovering from the trauma of birthing goblin spawn, an unnatural process that left both physical and emotional scars.
Elara carries herself with the grace and elegance one would expect of a queen, even if her kingdom has been usurped. She still has such beauty and poise, despite all we’ve endured.
Behind us, I can hear the slithering shuffle of Snib's footsteps. I resist the urge to glance back but can feel his grotesque gaze leering at my ass. It's a small reminder of the humiliations we've been subjected to, but today, I hold my head high, refusing to let his presence dominate my thoughts.
The air begins to grow colder, denser.
Sounds seem muffled, every footstep echoing back at us in the tight confines of the passage. The further we go, the clearer the signs become of Zephyrion's intent. Recent dig sites appear sporadically, and the scattered detritus of recent excavation activity lies all around. Piles of freshly unearthed rubble are a stark contrast to the ancient, foreboding tunnels they've revealed. The whispers of long-dead souls seem to cling to the air, a mournful chorus warning of the dark secrets that lay dormant below.
A heavy sense of anticipation builds with each step. This isn't just a mine; it's a descent into a forgotten realm, a journey into the very heart of ancient darkness. The weight of centuries of history, of hidden rituals and slumbering deities, presses down on us, urging us to turn back, but we press on, determined, fearful, but resolute in the face of the looming unknown.(simple_option:"19 city","The cavern opens...")($play:"song","dead city")(pic:"ch19/dead city entrance.jpg")
The oppressive gloom of the mine suddenly gives way, revealing a cavern so vast and ancient that it feels like stepping into the belly of the world. The very air feels thick, laden with ancient whispers and the weight of time. The ceiling of the colossal cavern is draped with countless stalactites, dripping with the tears of epochs. The sheer vastness swallows all light, turning the vast space into a maw of shadows.
Everywhere, dead relics of the K'Tarrans sprawl – monolithic structures, defying the ages, holding the secrets of a civilization that breathed its last millennia ago. Skeletal frameworks of incomplete excavations can be seen, the modern world attempting to pierce the veil of the ancient. Tattered tents, tools, and half-etched notes betray the hasty endeavors of archaeologists, trying to decipher the hieroglyphs and the cryptic tales etched in stone.
(pic:"ch19/dead city.jpg")
The pathway, illuminated by our torches, leads us into the very heart of this cavernous realm, revealing an underground temple of staggering proportions. Great pillars, etched with grotesque figures and symbols, rise from the ground, disappearing into the encompassing darkness above. There's an uncomfortable sensation, an uncanny feeling that the very stones and statues watch our every move.
As we venture deeper, the grotesque statues become more pronounced, depicting beings of indescribable horror, their forms twisting and merging in impossible ways. The temple structure feels alive in its malevolence, demanding reverence and instilling fear.
Before us stands a statue, its scale dwarfing everything around it. Obsidian black and shimmering in the dim torchlight, it seems less carved from stone and more like a living entity momentarily frozen in time. The entity's face, if it can be termed as such, is an abyss of writhing tentacles and countless unblinking eyes that appear to follow our every move, challenging our very sanity. Beneath it lies an altar stained a deep, rusty red. Around the base, an insidious black mist oozes and curls, moving as if alive. An oppressive energy emanates from it, a beacon of malevolence that renders the bravest hearts weak.
A stanza of one of those childhood lullabies, not often repeated, comes to mind.
(pic:"ch19/maraan asleep.jpg")
*Silent watcher, ever near,
Breathing dread, and purest fear
The beast awaits, with malice blind,
Bound by chains, yet not confined*(simple_option:"20 horror","Stand in abject horror.")(newtrack:"dead city","aud/dead city.mp3")(unless:(track:"dead city","isplaying"))[(masteraudio:"stopall")]($chapter_title:20,"Cataclysm's Cradle")(set:$gender to "female")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")(pic:"ch20/zephyrion.jpg")($play:"song","dead city")Every shadow, every whispering echo in the vast cavern is an ode to the primordial terror that lurks here, etched into every stone, pulsating through the stagnant air.
Zephyrion, cloaked in an authority that chills my bones, beckons Snib. The goblin obeys, ambling closer with his usual obscene swagger, green hand landing on my ass with a confident grope as he passes by. His touch sends a wave of revulsion through me, my skin recoiling under his grubby fingers, yet I grit my teeth, swallowing the disgust and the knee-jerk reaction to fight back. The collar bites into my skin, a cold reminder of the chains that bind me.
The wizard brandishes the arcanameter, its surface etched with glowing runes that dance in the gloomy light. He lowers the rod into a brass tripod, the metal gleaming ominously under the wavering torchlight. It stands there, a silent sentinel, a conduit that threatens to rip open the world and awaken what should be left to sleep.
(pic:"ch20/empyreal ark.jpg")
Zephyrion's hand stretches forward, fingertips dancing in the air, drawing symbols only his eyes can see. His voice, soft but commanding, fills the space around us. A frigid energy spins out from him, weaving through the air, sending a prickling sensation across my skin. His incantations resonate through the cavern, wrapping around my heartbeat, filling the air with a malignant harmony.
With his final utterance, the air pulses, rippling outward from his fingertips. The ripple sinks into the arcanameter, and a connection forms, a visible tether of light linking the crystal rod to my collar.
The rod starts to hum, a low, thrumming vibration that echoes my pounding heartbeat, filling the cavern with a perverse symphony. The humming intensifies as the energy inside the arcanameter begins to rise, illuminated by a soft, ethereal light. The transparent rod begins to glow with a life of its own, the light spiraling up, tracing the arcane runes, filling it like a crystal vial with each throb of my heart.
(pic:"ch20/arcanameter stand.jpg","right")Zephyrion's eyes flicker with a cruel delight, shifting between the arcanameter, my collar, and the glowing tether binding us together. His gaze probes, assessing the connection, the flow of energy it carries. The tether draws energy from me, siphoning it through the collar, then feeding it into the arcanameter. Each heartbeat, each shiver, each thought seems to amplify the glow within the rod.
A harsh force grips me, paralyzing me in place. It's the arcanameter, its magical field radiating out, its tether securing me like a beast for slaughter. Each breath, each flicker of thought seems to be echoed by the humming rod, its light pulsating with the rhythm of my heartbeat and Snib's obscene gestures. Every twitch of the goblin, every graze of his filthy hand against my body, is echoed in the tether's pulse, in the hum of the arcanameter, in the rising light within the crystal rod.
His next command rings out, harsh and impatient, "Bring forth the Empyreal Ark!" Soldiers and archaeologists scurry, the hushed whispers drowned in the ominous humming of the arcanameter.
The soldiers lift the ark into the light of the glowing arcanameter, the sight of it sending a chill down my spine. It’s a device meant to harness and store vast amounts of magical energy. I've seen its smaller cousins, Ether Arks, on the battlefield, packed full of magic and ready to give our mages a swift kick of power in the heat of battle. But those Ether Arks were small, compact things, easy to carry and deploy. This one... it's enormous.
It's a wicked looking thing too, all jagged edges and gleaming black stone, adorned with golden filigree in symbols I don't recognize. It seems clear that it was specifically designed for a divine level of energy.
My gaze darts from the ark to the humming arcanameter, the magical tether linking my collar to it shimmering in the torchlight. I can feel the slight pull, as if the arcanameter is trying to draw something out of me. I fight the urge to pull away, to rip that tether out.
Not that I could.(simple_option:"20 calm","Try to stay calm.") (display:"dark mode")Elara's terrified eyes meet mine, her hand reaching for mine in a silent plea for reassurance. For a moment, we draw strength from each other, and I brace myself for what's coming next.
The torchlight flutters as though agitated, casting monstrous shadows across the vaulted ceilings. The statue of Maraan, lit by the sickly glow of the arcanameter, almost seems to shudder.
The collar, the arcanameter, the ark - pieces of a puzzle that threaten to awaken an ancient and unknowable evil. I stand on the precipice of an abyss, caught in a plot spun by powers beyond my comprehension. A low moan escapes my lips, a plea for mercy to whatever gods may be listening. But in the deep caverns beneath Ironrock, under the watchful, slumbering gaze of Maraan, my plea echoes back, unanswered.
Zephyrion's thin lips curve into a smile that's colder than any crypt in these mines.
"You see, Snib, your pet’s collar isn’t just a tool of obedience," he begins, his voice echoing off the stone. His words wrap around me like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter as he speaks. "It acts as a conduit, a binding link between the physical and the ethereal. And with the right... spark, we can awaken the dormant power within this sanctuary."
My heart leaps into my throat. The linked arcanameter glows brighter with my emotions, and I feel a jolt as though it’s drawing something from within me. A sick feeling rises in the pit of my stomach, and I turn to look at Elara, her eyes wide and horrified.
Zephyrion waves his hand, and the space around the statue begins to shudder and distort. "We just need to ignite that spark," he says, his eyes glinting. The terror in Elara’s eyes is mirrored in mine as he continues, "A sacrifice. Of... *blood.*"(simple_option:"20 no","'No!!!'")(display:"dark mode")"No!" I scream, jerking against the glowing tether that links me to the arcanameter. But it tightens, pulling me off balance, as Zephyrion waves his hand again, conjuring additional tendrils of magical energy that coil around my wrists and ankles, holding me in place.
Elara’s own shrieks cut through the noise as two guards grab her. She struggles against their grip, her terrified eyes locked onto mine. Zephyrion watches the scene unfold, an impassive smile on his face.
"You didn’t really think we’d brought her here for your comfort, did you?" He chuckles, a cold, lifeless sound that ricochets off the stone walls. "She is a key to awakening Maraan."
The words slam into me like a hammer. They’re going to kill her. Sacrifice her to this... this thing. I strain against the tethers, but they’re too strong.
Zephyrion continues, oblivious to my struggle, "See, a pre-existing connection is required. A bond between the collar's wearer and the sacrifice." He points towards the altar, where ominous hieroglyphs are etched into the stone. "The ancient text speaks of blood given willingly, but I’ve found that fear and desperation can be...persuasive substitutes. Your little goblin offspring would have made suitable vessels. Pity they aren't around anymore."
His words are a thunderclap, echoing in the silence that follows. I thrash against the tethers, my mind reeling. I want to scream, to fight, to do something. But all I can do is watch in helpless horror as Zephyrion begins his ritual, the chanting growing louder, the arcanameter's glow intensifying.
The fear in Elara’s eyes burns into me, her voice a terrified whimper as she’s dragged towards the altar. Zephyrion’s cruel laughter echoes around me, and I know with gut-wrenching certainty that I’m powerless to stop what’s coming.
(pic:"ch20/maraan asleep.jpg")
The statue of Maraan pulses, as if sensing the fear and chaos. Its multitude of obsidian eyes seem to follow Elara, the monstrous tentacles quivering with anticipation. I can almost feel its hunger, a ravenous beast waking from a long slumber. (simple_option:"20 watch","Watch helplessly.")(display:"dark mode")($play:"sex loop",0)I can only watch, helplessly, as the stage is set for a sacrifice that promises to bring a nightmare to life.
A cold dread grips me, stronger than the tethers that bind me. The reality of the situation sets in - Elara, the woman I love, is about to be sacrificed to an ancient god. All to serve the twisted machinations of a power-crazed wizard.
Zephyrion squints at the brass tripod contraption, his stormy grey eyes reflecting the sickly glow of the arcanameter. His lips twist in a grimace of dissatisfaction. "It's not enough power," he says, his voice echoing ominously in the chamber. “The meter needs to be full.”
My heart beats a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I feel a rush of terror at his words, a sense of foreboding crawling up my spine.
"You," he points at Snib, his expression one of distaste. "Your connection with her is the key. You need to... increase the bond. You know what to do." The implication of his words lands like a punch in the gut. “Fuck her.”
My blood runs cold. "No," I say, my voice coming out as a strangled gasp. "You can't..." But my words trail off as a new tether of light wraps around my ankles, hoisting me into the air.
(pic:"ch20/suspended.jpg","right")An icy sensation slithers up my legs, holding me in an uncomfortable spread-eagle position. I squirm, feeling the magic tethers around my feet digging into my flesh. I cry out, as the edges of my leather armor peel back with a soft, humiliating sound, exposing my still recovering, wet pussy to the chilly air.
Snib's disgusting laughter bounces off the stone walls, echoing in my ears as he approaches me. My body is displayed, the firm globes of my ass jiggling as the magical bindings adjust me into an obscene pose.
"Please!" I scream, but my plea is swallowed by the heavy, oppressive silence of the temple. I struggle against the bindings, the rough stone floor cold beneath my trembling hands.
My eyes dart to Elara, her beautiful face contorted with fear. She's dragged forward by the royal soldiers, her beautiful body forced onto the altar. The cold stone looks harsh and unforgiving against her soft skin. Her eyes meet mine, and the terror in them mirrors my own.
My pulse pounds in my ears. Every instinct screams at me to protect her, to fight. But I can't. I'm trapped in this horrifying display, an unwilling participant in Zephyrion's twisted ritual.
"I won't let you do this," I manage to choke out. I turn to Zephyrion, my gaze pleading. "Take me instead. Don't hurt her."
Zephyrion's laugh is cold, devoid of any semblance of empathy. "Oh, your sacrifice is of a different nature," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. He motions to Snib, standing behind me with his sickly green skin glistening in the eerie light.
My fat, jiggling ass, exposed and helpless, is presented to the goblin, as if on a silver platter, perfectly at his height, perfectly easy to access. I can feel the heat radiating off his musky, greasy schlong as he drapes it over the curvature of my ass. The weight and girth of the shaft fills me with terror, yet I can't help but be awfully aware of its veiny texture. I can't believe it's come to this - to be taken so brutally in this ancient K’Tarran sanctum, in front of an audience of Zephyrion's men and Elara.
A harsh slap echoes in the cavernous space, and I feel the impact a moment later - Snib spanks my ass. My cheeks jiggle from the force, the sound reverberating off the cold stone walls, followed by an obscene squelch as his schlong sways and bounces against my tender skin.
My heart thumps loudly in my chest, every thud echoing my dread as Snib grunts, "Oi, cow tits, yer about to get a taste of ol' Snib again."(display:"dark mode")(simple_option:"20 get fucked","Get fucked.")<script>
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}{}(pic:"ch20/charging.jpg")($play:"sex loop",0)(live:20s)[($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough echo")(stop:)]The torturous taunts tear through me more than the frigid frost. They make me pitifully conscious of my captivity, bound here like some sort of sacrificial slut, my plump pussy pulsating under the perverse perusal.
I can't ignore the shameful trickle of anticipation that races down my spine... it's like my body will never obey me.
I wince, tears pricking the corners of my eyes, as I feel the drooling tip of Snib's cock press against my entrance. He grinds against me, the obscene swell of him spreading me open, his cockhead glossy with slick precum. My body involuntarily clenches around the intrusion, the hot tightness in my gut a stark contrast to the chilled air caressing my exposed skin.
"Yeah, that's right," Snib snarls, rubbing his throbbing length between my ass cheeks. "Cuz you killed my pups, I'm gonna pump ya full again, in front of all these pricks."
I shiver as his filthy words wash over me, the fear knotting in my stomach. His comment about his pups brings back a fresh wave of despair, the cruel reminder of my countless humiliations. His brutal fucking, his seed inside me, the births - I can't help but sob at the memories.
To my left, Zephyrion is a silhouette against the flickering torchlight, his stormy grey eyes shining with anticipation. His grin is as cold as the stone around us - a chilling promise of the horrors to come.
(pic:"ch20/tied to altar.jpg")
And there, lying on the altar, is Elara. My wife. My world. I can't bear to think of her impending sacrifice, can't stomach the thought of her being part of this twisted ritual. Her sapphire eyes meet mine.
The painful stretch of Snib's schlong invading me yanks me back to the dreadful present. The sensation of him forcing his way into me, his thick member coated in slimy precum, sends a jolt through my body. My insides quiver, convulsing around his girth. The way my body responds to his touch, the wet warmth enveloping him, is another harsh blow.
"Aye, yer taking it well, tit-bitch," he leers. "Gonna be a good show."
My back arches, my jiggling tits dangling downward, and my breath catches in my throat.
"Ah, fuck, guess yer cunt wasn't ruined after all," Snib's grating voice cuts through the dread-filled silence, and I can't help but gasp as he starts moving, his fat, grotesque little body rhythmically slamming against myfat ass, each impact sending my flesh into a quaking, undulating dance.
I hate it, I hate him, but the sensations are overwhelming.
And I moan like a bitch.
My body betrays me, my tits bouncing in time with his thrusts, my nipples hardened, and the humiliation is crushing.
Snib picks up his pace, and the sound of my asscheeks getting clapped echoes through the ancient K’Tarran sanctum. My cheeks burn with the utmost disgrace.
My wife is about to die, and I'm getting fucked by a goblin.
Yet, through the fog of dread and humiliation, the collar keeps me in check, its metallic cold biting into my skin, the magical tether pulsing with the rhythm of my heart as I'm suspended in the air.
The sickening squelches of our rutting is amplified in the cavernous chamber. I can't escape the undeniably lewd sensation of his smegma-slickened member, throbbing and pulsing, as he takes his pleasure from me.
Heat stings my reddened cheeks. I feel the constant jiggle of my my hanging breasts trapped in their tight leather confines, bouncing gently in obscene rhythm to his punishing thrusts. Sweat trickles down the valley of my cleavage, every droplet making my heavy metal collar uncomfortably slick against my throat.
The magical tendrils suspending my body hold me in this perfectly vulnerable state, the cold air of the chamber teasing my exposed ass. Snib's grubby hands knead my round, firm ass-globes.
His cock stretches me out. Each thrust, each squelch, sends waves of perverse, unwanted pleasure radiating through my body. He grunts with each pump, his voice guttural and feral, like some beast of the wild, rutting without a care for my torment in front of all these people.
My gaze, heavy and clouded with tears, drifts to Elara. Her blue eyes are wide with fear, her body trembling on the sacrificial altar. My heart aches for her, the pain of our shared humiliation a burning knot in my chest.
I can feel the relentless rhythm building, the monstrous goblin cock driving into me with unerring precision. Each powerful thrust lights another spark in the arcanameter, its power level rising with every stroke. And with each passing second, the reality of Elara's impending doom strikes home.
My senses are overwhelmed. The scent of Snib's musky arousal fills my nose, an unfortunately familiar, sickly-sweet smell that brings with it a wave of revulsion. His grunts echo in my ears, punctuating the haunting silence of the chamber with a chilling reminder of my helplessness. The raw taste of my tears fills my mouth.
It's the worst humiliation possible for someone to bear, a spectacle of my helplessness, and a testament to Snib's perverse triumph over me, even now, at the end.
Through it all, I can only grit my teeth and endure it as I’m suspended in the air, a sexual marionette.
Every balls-deep slam from Snib pushes me closer to the edge of a precipice I'm desperately trying to avoid.
The chamber echoes with the obscene CLAP, CLAP, CLAP sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, his monstrous cock ravaging my squirting pussy.(display:"dark mode")(simple_option:"20 humiliate","Snib is loving this.")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough echo")(pic:"ch20/mounted.png","center","borderless")"Take it, slut! Take me goblin cock!" Snib grunts, his raspy voice echoing through the ancient chamber.
The sensation is overwhelming—his massive girth stretches me mercilessly, each thrust deeper and more punishing than the last.
Tears stream down my face, mingling with the sweat that coats my burning skin. The humiliation is complete, and yet, there's a part of me that's drowning in the sheer sexual intensity.
"Ahh! Ahhh!" My cries fill the cavern.
My nipples are painfully erect, betraying my body's confused response to the rough treatment.
Below me, each forceful thrust by Snib causes my juices to squirt out, creating a humiliating, glistening puddle on the cold stone floor below us.
"Ye love it, don't you? Your pussy's clenching so fuckin' tight on me cock!" Snib barks, his voice filled with cruel glee. "Even as yer wife is about to be sacrificed, yer here, cumming on gobbo dick!"
I can't deny the heat that flares inside me at his words, the way my body spasms around him, my inner walls clenching uncontrollably. It's a betrayal by my own flesh, a surrender to the base, primal instincts that Snib's presence always exacerbates.
Snib leans over my back, his weight pressing me down, pulling at the magical chains that hold me aloft. "Gonna fill ya again, slut. Another batch o' pups, squirtin' right in yer womb. That's all yer good for now!" His breath is hot against my ear, the foul stench of him invading my nostrils, mingling with the metallic taste of fear in my mouth.
Elara, pinned on the altar, her own face a mask of terror and despair, catches my eye. The sight of her, so vulnerable, so scared, should break me, but all I can manage is a broken moan as Snib drives into me yet again.
"I'll give ye one last show, Elara!" Snib yells above the din.
I scream, not just from the sharp pain but also from the profound hatred of my whorish body, which responds with a violent orgasm. My vision blurs, the edges of my consciousness fraying as pleasure and pain meld into a single, overwhelming sensation. My legs tremble, the magical bindings sizzling as I buck wildly against my ethereal restraints.
Snib's thrusts become erratic, more desperate. The goblin's balls slap against my tender skin, a wet, nasty noise that punctuates his savage rhythm. I feel his cock swell, his movements growing more jagged as he nears his climax.
With a guttural roar, Snib holds himself deep inside me, his cock pulsating as he begins to unload. "Here it comes, bitch! Yer gonna carry me spawn again!"
It's the ultimate humiliation. The knowledge that the onlookers can hear my helpless juices squirting out, the way they pool on the cold stone floor beneath me in a shiny puddle. The rhythmic squelching of our rutting is deafening, echoing around the chamber like some obscene anthem. I can feel the pressure building, a tidal wave of sensation threatening to crash over me. The arcanameter glows brighter with each passing moment, and with a sinking feeling, I realize that my impregnation might be the final push it needs.(simple_option:"20 just in time","He's going to cum inside you...")(display:"dark mode")($play:"sex loop",0)(pic:"ch20/rescue.jpg")
A voice cuts through the air like a blade.
"Zephyrion! Stop this madness at once!" booms ($lorebook_entry:"Master Fendril","people"). His words resonate with a power and authority that belies his eccentric appearance. His silver hair flows around him, his eyes flashing with a fiery intensity.
Through my blurred vision, my attention is torn from the goblin's pulsating presence inside me to the sudden influx of energy filling the room.
Zephyrion stands motionless for a moment, then slowly, arrogantly, turns his piercing stormy eyes towards Fendril.
“This is not your place, Fendril,” the royal wizard says, his voice dripping with disdain.
Fendril’s eyes narrow behind his glasses, “I remember a time when you were a scholar in the Grand Hall. Eager to learn, eager to help. It breaks my heart, how far you've strayed.” He shakes his head, a mingling of pity and sorrow evident on his face.
Suddenly, a sound breaks my focus: the shuffling of armored feet. From behind Fendril, my friends emerge, looking defiant and battle-ready. Garrett’s massive frame is intimidating, even compared to the royal guards. "We won't let this continue," he growls, his words carrying a threat.
Roderick, Duncan, Jonah, all standing in formation, faces set in grim determination.
"You've gone too far, Zephyrion!" Roderick calls out, his voice echoing in the chamber.
Then, the cavern trembles slightly as the royal soldiers, clad in polished armor, step forward, their weapons gleaming menacingly. They are well-trained, deadly, their discipline apparent in their tight formations and synchronized movements.
Zephyrion, with an air of indifference, casts a sideways glance at Snib, who’s still embedded within me. He motions the goblin to continue. “Continue, creature - this is only a minor inconvenience.”
It’s then that Fendril’s soft, yet stern voice slices the tension, “Has the sacrifice of Aldric not been enough for you? Would you also murder his wife, and allow this goblin to ravage his female body? I heard even of the goblin births. All for some ancient, uncontrollable evil?”
Zephyrion's lips curl into a sardonic smile, “Once Sirath falls, my methods will be of no concern. The woman is a necessary sacrifice. The goblin served his purpose. Justice will be served in due time.”
"It will be served TONIGHT,” Garrett says. “To you.”
He’s flanked by Captain Giles, who steps forward, his posture imposing. "For Eboncrest and for our fallen friend, we stand against you.”(simple_option:"20 fight","A battle is imminent.")(display:"dark mode")(live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop","magic duel")]($play:"sex loop",0)My heart races, pulsing in tandem with Snib’s twitching cock inside me. The glow from the tendrils wrapping me casts an eerie light on the standoff. The past and present, memories and realities, collide in this single, heart-stopping moment.
A voice, maybe it’s my own, maybe it’s an echo from the past, whispers deep within me, “Aldric... fight!” and hope, fragile and wavering, stirs amidst the tension.
Beneath the leering eyes of Maraan's unblinking orbs, two wizards stand defiantly against each other: Master Fendril, his stance adopting an aged grace, and the overwhelmingly powerful Zephyrion.
I feel Snib's hot breath on my neck as his cock remains lodged deep within me. But even in this compromising position, my eyes are drawn to Master Fendril, Eboncrest’s lowly town wizard. He moves like water, the fluid dance of his hands weaving intricate patterns in the air, drawing from the wellspring of his power. His fingers glide, his wrist flicks, and spiraling glyphs of brilliant turquoise erupt, aiming to destroy the arcanameter.
Zephyrion is swift in his retaliation, an orchestra conductor of raw power. With a flourish, his fingertips summon cascading shields of amethyst, intercepting Fendril's blasts, turning them into harmless sparkles. But Fendril's desperation sharpens his resolve. His hands become a blur, fingers splaying then snapping together, tracing shapes unseen, invoking more arcane might.
(pic:"ch20/wizard duel.jpg")
Their dueling incantations fill the cavern, a dance of spell and counter-spell.
With every gesture, Fendril pulls threads of luminous gold from the very air - life magic. As he releases each desperate blast, his face ages subtly, wrinkles deepening, silver hair thinning. The very years of his life, traded for the momentary power to compete with the royal wizard, but it's not enough.
Zephyrion smirks, countering with fluid ease, his own patterns ethereal and complex. A sweeping gesture erects barriers of rippling obsidian, while a tight fist sends ricocheting blasts of dark energy back at Fendril. The space between them becomes a storm of swirling energies, light and dark battling for dominance.
Beyond this magical duel, the clang of steel on steel fills the atmosphere. My friends, loyal to Aldric and now to me, hurl themselves against the royal guards. Their strikes are fueled by desperation and righteous anger. Blades flash, parries and thrusts exchanged in rapid succession.(simple_option:"20 reason with snib","Reason with Snib!")(display:"dark mode")(pic:"ch20/mounted.png","right","borderless")($play:"sex loop","magic duel")It's hard to even think about making any sound other than a moan, with a 12-inch goblin cock buried balls-deep inside me.
But I try, anyway.
"M- master," I gasp, "Ngh- Zephyrion plans to kill you. You heard him! Once this ritual completes, you'll be dead."
I feel the goblin's uncertainty THROUGH his sheathed member. It softens slightly.
“He thought you would not be able to control yourself once you… started! Prove him wrong!” I grimace, fighting through the overwhelming sensations.
Snib's beady eyes dart around in panic. Slowly, with clear reluctance, he slides his thick goblin cock out of me, leaving a sensation of gaping, squishy emptiness within me.
"You must run," I insist, trying to appeal to his survival instinct. He hesitates, eying the frenzied battle, the maelstrom of magical energy between the wizards, and the countless eyes of Maraan reflecting the chaos below. “But free me, first!”
(pic:"ch20/gottagofast.jpg")
Releasing a guttural snarl, Snib takes off, sprinting with a speed I hadn't anticipated. Zephyrion's roar echoes, a spell unfurling from his fingertips aiming to reel the goblin back. But Fendril intercepts it with a life-draining snap.
"Master!" I shout after him, still suspended, "Free me from this collar! Let me help them!" My eyes well with tears. I have no leverage.
All around me, the confines of the ancient temple echo with the symphony of combat. The hissing incantations of the duel between Zephyrion and Fendril, the clash of swords as my friends from Eboncrest engage the royal soldiers, and above it all, my ragged gasps for breath as I furiously struggle against my magical restraints.(simple_option:"20 snib speaks","Snib speaks, from the shadows.")(display:"dark mode")($play:"sex loop","magic duel")From the shadows, Snib’s yellow eyes dart to mine. "I ain’t gonna free you, Skulgaroth," he growls. Then, he barks, "but I’ll give ya a fightin’ chance. Use yer magic," before darting into the shadows.
My heart races. Every fiber of my being yearns to join the battle, to harness the magical energy coursing through my veins. And now, with Snib's grudging permission, I can.
I scream the incantation, (size:2)[“VENTUSFURY!”]
The word slices through the air just as blades of wind energy burst into being, sheer and invisible, they tear through my restraints. My ankle bonds snap like worn-out strings and I drop, heavy and ungainly, onto the cold floor beneath me. My massive breasts bounce upon impact, their heavy jiggle acting as a perverse applause to my victory.
But the single, thick tether connecting me to the arcanameter holds strong. Zephyrion's grimace deepens. He stretches out a hand towards me, far from touching me, yet I feel his icy energy wrapping around the tether, reinforcing it.
The epicenter of this chaos is me: half-naked, drenched in perspiration, ashen from fear, but with a fire in my eyes that refuses to extinguish. (simple_option:"20 momentum","The momentum shifts.")(display:"dark mode")($play:"sex loop","magic duel")(live:25s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop",0)](live:25s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","fendril die")](set:$se_to_stop to "o death")(display:"stop sound effect fade")A glint of steel catches my attention. With a grunt, Garrett tosses a sword in my direction. My hand shoots out and I catch it by the hilt instinctively. The familiar weight is reassuring in my grip. Once more, I need to be a warrior. Once more, I need to be Aldric.
My connection to the arcanameter is a lifeline for Zephyrion, and a death sentence for Elara. I can’t sever it, so I need to free her. With a deep breath, I call upon my magic again.
“IGNISURGE!” I bellow. A searing bolt of flame gushes from the palm of my hand. It hurls towards the altar like a newborn phoenix.
The bolt connects with one of the guards restraining Elara, sending him flying back with a scream.
Emboldened, I rise to my feet, only for a shadow to fall across me. A royal soldier, a mountain of a man encased in steel and intent on silencing me, advances.
He’s almost upon me when I spin around, taking a warrior's pose.
He’s completely underestimated what this half-naked, freshly-fucked woman is capable of.
With a grunt of surprise, the soldier stumbles back, clutching at the punctured gap in his armor, from which his lifeblood spurts crimson.
But Zephyrion's fury mounts to a crescendo, setting the cavern ablaze with arcs of wild magic.
Master Fendril is simply outclassed.
Though the town wizard parries with dwindling desperation, the onslaught grows too much. His weakening voice falters mid-incantation, his waning magic flickers...
I can see the accelerated years etched deeper into Fendril's face with every passing breath, every fading spell. Veins of white thread his silver hair, his back begins to hunch, and his once-vibrant eyes dim. A heartbreaking admission of the price he's paying in life magic.
The final icy blast from Zephyrion is merciless, a blur of cold fury that careens towards the feeble wizard.
Zephyrion's cruel voice echoes around the cavern, "I'm sorry, old friend."
With one last effort, Fendril raises a feeble shield, but it crumbles under the spell's onslaught. An icy spear pierces his midsection, sending him sprawling backward, his body pinned against an ancient column. A gasp escapes his lips as his life force extinguishes, his frost-flecked eyes open, but unseeing.
($notification:"Master Fendril is dead.")
(pic:"ch20/fendril death.jpg")(simple_option:"20 death","'No!'")(display:"dark mode")(pic:"ch20/sacrifice.png")
($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$se_to_stop to "dead city")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(set:$se_to_stop to "o death")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(live:22s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","maraan awaken")($play:"ambience","cavern evil")]"No!" The word tears itself from my throat, a jagged cry of despair.(live:19s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","stab")]($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")
But the reality of Fendril's death doesn't halt the momentum of the unfolding nightmare.
Zephyrion wastes no time. His gaze snaps back to Elara, the gleam in his eyes sinister. I lurch forward, the tether binding me to the arcanameter digging into my skin, limiting my movements. Blood rushes in my ears and a desperate cry echoes from my lips as I hurl fireballs towards Zephyrion. The flames of my fury dance towards him in swirling ribbons of destruction, but the royal wizard deflects them effortlessly.
My heart pounds against my ribcage, my sword clattering to the ground.
I'm too late.
Time seems to contract, each second stretching into an eternity. All movement slows, the sounds muffled, as if I'm underwater. I see Zephyrion produce the dagger from his sleeve, its edge glinting ominously under the flickering torchlight.
As if in slow motion, I watch Zephyrion bring the knife down towards Elara's heart. She gasps, her sapphire eyes wide in terror. And with a sickening thud, the deed is done.
Zephyrion has murdered my wife.
($notification:"Elara is dead.")
($vid:"ch20/awaken.mp4","right")The scream that tears through me is primal, echoing off the cavern walls and sinking into its very bedrock. This isn’t fear or humiliation - this is pure, untamed rage.
The moment the dagger pierces Elara, the arcanameter trembles in response, humming ominously, resonating with an unseen power. The entire cavern shakes as if stirred from a deep slumber. The monstrous statue of Maraan vibrates with a sound so low it thrums in my very bones.
A terrified gasp from the soldiers breaks the cavern's tense silence. Everyone - friend or foe - watches on with shared terror as Maraan awakens. The statue shudders once, twice, before a horrible sound roars through the cavern. It's neither animal nor human, and I feel the dead K’Tarran city quake with fear.
Cold flows through my collar, seeping into my very core as the massive stone eyes of the evil deity flicker to life, a swirling vortex where each pupil should be.(simple_option:"20 elara","Elara's dead body begins to stir.")(display:"dark mode")($play:"ambience","cavern evil")(pic:"ch20/stabbed.jpg")(live:3s)[(stop:)($play:"song","o death")]
Like a doll pulled on invisible strings, her body floats in midair - her clothes melting away like snow in the summertime, licked by purple flames.
My dead wife's auburn hair fans out around her, transforming into a writhing mass of tendrils. Her dead eyes blaze with an unholy light, splitting into countless swirling vortexes, mirroring the monstrous statue. A crown of wicked, curved horns erupts from her forehead, their sharp, bloody edges glinting in the torchlight.
Without warning, her dainty fingers morph into grotesque appendages. Each digit elongates and separates into wriggling tentacles, their tips each blooming to reveal unblinking eyes. Her cold lips stretch into a cruel sneer, revealing sharp, pearl-white fangs capable of rending flesh from bone.
(pic:"ch20/elara rise.jpg")
A gasp echoes around the temple, Zephyrion stepping back in surprise. His gaze flicks to the glowing eyes embedded in Elara's tentacled fingers, his face ashen. "By the gods…" he murmurs, stumbling over his words as he takes in the horrifying, beautiful vision before him. The spell he was preparing fizzles out, forgotten.
Suddenly, Elara's voice fills the cavern, but it's different. The sweet and soft tone I'd fallen for is replaced by a deeper, multi-toned echo speaking in Thraan-vek.
(size:3)["VEK ZETRAN GRIKKA KRIKAN NOVAR!"] she declares, her voice resonating with a power beyond comprehension.
Her words hang in the air, heavy with their ancient power, curdling the blood of every living being present. It's the voice of Maraan, echoing through my beloved.
Zephyrion stammers a hasty incantation, extending his hands towards the Empyreal Ark. The air between it and Maraan pulses with energy, invisible currents pulling Maraan's essence towards it.
A guttural snarl escapes Elara’s lips as she feels herself being drained, fighting against the force drawing her power. The brutal struggle is reflected in the vicious violence of the swirling energy.(display:"dark mode")(simple_option:"20 rampage","Close the Empyreal Ark before it traps her.")(set:$se_to_stop to "elara theme reprise")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(pic:"ch20/creature.jpg","right")But I'm already moving. ($play:"sound","close lid")
Tears stream down my face as I charge towards the Ark.
I throw myself against the Ark’s lid. The cold gold surface slams shut with an echoing clang. An impressive seal intricately wrought into the Ark’s surface glows ominously as it closes off Maraan’s essence from being contained.
The god-capturing device, rendered useless.
The tension in the air snaps. The invisible pull on Maraan's energy vanishes, and Elara’s glowing form shudders before relaxing. Her glowing eyes lock onto mine and for a moment, despite her monstrous form, I see Elara there. And in that moment, I know that somehow, she’s fighting to come back to me.
Zephyrion realizes his miscalculation. His brows furrow, and a dark gleam takes over his stormy eyes. His lips move swiftly, uttering an onslaught of powerful incantations, his hands weaved together to form a complex matrix of arcane signs. His aura flares a dazzling white, a storm of raw magic that sends tremors through the flagstones beneath my feet.
His full arsenal is on display; perhaps the most powerful single human in Zaelasia, shaking the very earth beneath our feet, rattling the ancient structures around us. Blasting, attacking, flinging magic towards Elara with a desperation only a man facing his end could muster. Everything goes white as he unleashes the full might of his magic, and a blinding light consumes the cavern, every detail of the ancient city thrown into stark relief under the blistering onslaught.
As the light ebbs, a horrid scent pervades the air. It's not the fetid stench of the mine or the K’Tarran city. It's something far worse, a smell of insidious evil that drills into my senses, making me wretch.
Slowly, my vision clears. Through the settling dust, I can make out Elara. Her tentacles writhe with Maraan’s unholy life, pulsating with power.
Her tentacles writhe with Maraan’s unholy life, pulsating with power. Thick, black darkness flows around them, each movement emitting an eerie glow that does nothing to lift the shadows, only deepens them.
The first clear sight I get is her face, stretched in an inhuman grin that splits her features open, revealing countless layers of needle-sharp teeth. Her eyes glow a wicked red, reflecting the countless lives snuffed out in her fury - the civilizations Maraan has consumed, both known and unknown to history.
A chilling laughter echoes throughout the cavern. It's Elara's voice, yes, but twisted, layered with an ancient resonance that sends shivers down my spine.
From her unholy throat comes a string of guttural Thraan-vek words, the syllables of the world’s first language wrapping around my mind like barbed wire. "KRIKAN! RAZAN! ZETRAN!"
Zephyrion falls silent, his incantations cut short as he beholds the monstrosity he has created. His eyes widen in horror as realization dawns - he's lost control.
Elara/Maraan makes her move. Shifting, she lashes out her tentacles and they strike true. The wizard's scream rips through the air as dark appendages impale him, lifting his writhing body into the air. The light in his eyes fades, his life snuffed out as easily as one would extinguish a candle.
(pic:"ch20/killing zephyrion filter.jpg")
The screams of the archaeologists ricochet off the cavernous walls. Their fear is palpable as they scramble and trip over each other in their desperate bid to escape.(simple_option:"20 one by one","She slaughters them.")(display:"dark mode"))(set:$se_to_stop to "o death")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(pic:"ch20/full evil.jpg","left")($play:"sound","evil laugh")Her dark laughter rings in my ears as one by one, she dispatches them with careless ease. Each death more brutal than the last - an archaeologist is torn to shreds, his entrails strewn across the floor; another is crushed beneath Elara's monstrous leaping form, his bones crunching sickeningly under her weight - each demise a testament to their futile attempts to defy her.
In a moment of terrifying clarity, I realize that Maraan is free and there's nothing I can do. I'm trapped within my own body, my voluptuous form a mocking reminder of my powerlessness. (display:"dark mode")(simple_option:"20 talk","Try to make her remember!")(if:$choice is "Declare your love.")[(pic:"ch20/explosion.jpg","right")($play:"sound","magic explosion")($play:"ambience","collapsing cavern")"I LOVE YOU, ELARA!" I shout in desperation.
A stone capstone breaks free, tumbling to the ground nearest to where I stand. More enormous chunks rain down, the ground beneath me buckling and shuddering.
Elara's flaming, wretched eyes meet mine one last time, her face a mask of pure, sorrowful fury. Despite the monstrous form she has taken, the pain is still hers - an unbridled agony reserved for betrayed lovers and shattered souls.
"I LOVED YOU TOO!" she shrieks, the sound tearing through everything else, through the magic, through the falling rocks, through our entwined destinies.
With a final, agonizing scream, her body pulses with one last surge of immense purple energy, and the entire cavern collapses in a wave of dark, violent force.(simple_option:"20 explosion","The cavern collapses.")](else:)[($play:"song","elara theme reprise")"Let her go!" I scream, each word ripping from my lips like a prayer. I am pleading to Maraan, as much as I am beseeching my wife.
She points a shaking, deformed finger at me, her mouth opening to speak. "Free… my husband… or... be imprisoned... in my body... forever," she grates out, her voice low and distorted.
A chill runs up my spine.
But she doesn't back down.
(size:3)["KRIKAN! RAZAN! ZETRAN!"] she commands again, the command echoed by the hundreds of mouths that decorate her tentacles.
I close my eyes and brace myself as a brutal wave of energy crashes down on me. It feels like I'm being torn apart and stitched back together all at once. There is a soft clink as the collar falls from my neck, the sound echoing in the vast cavern.
When I open my eyes again, I am still Elise. The body I hoped would disappear remains as it is — voluptuously curvaceous, undeniably feminine. A harsh realization dawns on me. I am free from the collar, but not from my female body.
Then, a piercing scream cuts through the air. Elara's head tilts back, and she lets out a sound that is too visceral, too primal to be human. Her demonic form writhes in agony, her tentacles flailing wildly.(simple_option:"20 explosion","She erupts with energy.")](display:"dark mode")($play:"ambience","collapsing cavern")(display:"dark mode")(display:"ascent effect")The ground shakes beneath us as the ancient city ripples with a violent shudder. Dust and debris rain down from the cavern ceiling, a loud crack echoing from deep within the sanctum as the very earth seems to rebel against the desecration of its guardians.
Suddenly, I spot movement through the settling dust. Wounded and weary, my friends appear. Jonah's bow is slung across his back, his quiver empty, his body bruised but alive. Duncan staggers towards us, leaning heavily on Roderick who is nursing a bloody arm. Garrett supports two guardsmen. All of them reek of fear and relief and a shocking exhaustion that sinks deep into their marrow.
Jonah hollers, "We have to move. Now!"
“My wife...” I manage to choke out, my chest tight as I clasp Elara's frail form closer, desperate to keep her safe. “I will not leave her.”
“No one’s asking you to,” Roderick pants through gritted teeth. With a shared nod, two of the Eboncrest guardsmen stumble towards us, their heavily armored forms wobbling with unsteady steps as they take Elara's weight from me.(live:30s)[(stop:)($play:"ambience","forest")]
Then we rush, stumbling through the collapsing cavern, guided only by the dim light of our forgotten torches. Each sound echoes ominously under the thunderous symphony of the crashing structures. The sanctuary that once stood as a testament to an ancient civilization now crumbles, paying its due to time and decay.
The way is fraught with danger. Falling rocks threaten to crush us while the unsteady ground threatens to swallow us whole. But together, we push on. We move in a haphazard formation, each one of us driven by raw desperation and adrenaline… each step fueled by the hope of survival.
Aldric’s friends take the lead, the guardsmen placing themselves between us and danger, shielding us with their bodies. As we inch towards safety, I am struck by their bravery – their loyalty. These men who I had learned to fight alongside as Aldric, have risked their lives for Elise.
(pic:"ch20/collapse.jpg")
An eternity passes before we finally emerge from the heart of Ironrock mine. The chilling night air bites at our skin, the rough texture of the stony terrain under our feet offering an odd comfort, a reassurance of reality.
(pic:"ch20/escape.jpg")
The stars twinkle down at us from the inky far-reaches of the night sky, their chilly light painting the destruction behind us in sharp relief. The entrance to Ironrock mine is now nothing but a gaping hole, a tomb to the forgotten gods.
(pic:"ch20/hug.png","center","borderless")
Collapsing onto the dewy grass of Zaelasia, beneath a sky sprinkled with a thousand stars, I clutch Elara close. Our breaths mingle in the cold night air as we lay under the open sky.
The cruel collar lies discarded on the cold floor of the desecrated sanctum, deep beneath the earth. The taste of freedom is sharp on my tongue, a bitter reminder of what we've lost... and what we've gained.
We made it. In the arms of my wife, with Aldric's loyal friends around us, we survived. Whatever comes next, we'll face it together, as Elara and Elise. (simple_option:"21 epilogue begin","Finally, we are free.")(newtrack:"dead city","aud/dead city.mp3")(masteraudio:"stopall")($epilogue_title:21,"The Hunt")(set:$gender to "female")($play:"sex loop",0)(pic:"epilogue/mountains.jpg")(live:5s)[(stop:)($play:"song","conclusion")]The sharp bite of the wind is dulled by the heavy, fur-lined cloaks we wear, their warmth seeping right into our bones as our horses gallop tirelessly through the snow-dusted mountain pass. The sun is just beginning to crawl above the distant peaks of the Ironspike Mountains, blushing the crisp morning in hues of gold and rose. The soft glow lends an ethereal beauty to an otherwise harsh landscape.
Elara rides a horse-length away from me, her auburn hair streaming in the wind like wildfire. Her sapphire eyes are bright and focused, her leather-clad body moving in effortless sync with her horse's rhythm. The bow strapped across her back is a stark reminder of our chosen life – a life on the road, of swords and magic, of revenge and justice.
We're not husband and wife anymore, not really. We're much more and much less at the same time – we're warriors, each bound to the other. Connected by a shared destiny, a shared past, we now stand as two pillars - resilient, steadfast, and unbroken.
And we still fuck, of course! It’s important, especially in the cold nights we’ve been spending, up in the Ironspikes.
Drawing in a deep breath, I signal my horse to halt. The tracks we've been following are fresher here, the goblins’ haphazard footprints marring the otherwise pristine snow. "Look here, Elara." I point to a crushed patch of snow just off the trail. “Fresh. They're close.”
She reins in her horse next to me and studies the indentations in the snow. There's a determined glint in her eyes as she looks up at me.
The scent of wet earth, pine and wildflowers fill my nostrils as our horses trot alongside a winding brook, heading further into the heart of the mountains. Elara is quick to comprehend the tracking nuances I share, her observant gaze scanning the surrounding woods for signs of goblin passage.
We rise a hill, and down in the distance, nestled between the broad shoulders of two mountains, is the city of Thuulk. Spires of shimmering opal and onyx, tall towers with colored glass, and a massive citadel perched on a hill, its gleaming metal domes imbued with the colors of dawn.
We've been tracking a group of goblins to the north, and perhaps this time, we'll finally catch Snib. And, if the Ephemerals are kind, we'll make him pay for what he’s done. We'll do it together, as Elara and Elise.
Underneath my heavy cloak, my tits jiggle with each trot, each gallop, serving as a constant reminder of the woman I am. And yet, I no longer feel the frustration I once did. I've embraced this body, accepting its weaknesses and strengths as my own, and using them to regain control over my destiny.
Elara, too, seems more at ease, more alive than ever before. Our journey has changed us, hardened us, stripped away the last vestiges of our old lives. But it has also brought us together, bound us in a shared quest that goes beyond mere vengeance - a quest for freedom, justice, and a second chance at life. A chance that had been very close to slipping away, just weeks ago.
Our horses clatter down the mountain pass, their hooves kicking up clouds of frosty dust that shimmer in the soft rays of the sun. In the near distance, we spot the goblin camp, nestled in a tight valley, two crude tents poking out like boils against the pristine snow.
The remnants of a hastily abandoned fire smoulder in the snow, the smell of charred meat hang heavy in the cold mountain air.(simple_option:"21 wrong","Something's wrong.")($play:"ambience","mountains")(pic:"epilogue/hunting.jpg")
"It's too quiet," I say, urging my horse to slow.
Suddenly, there's a rustle of foliage, and goblins spring out from the shadows, their yellow eyes glowing with malicious glee. My horse rears, her ear-splitting neigh echoing across the snow-covered mountains.
My heart pounds, the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins as I draw Whisperwind. Beside me, I hear the soft whoosh of an arrow being released, and a goblin squeals as he drops to the ground, Elara's arrow lodged deep in his chest.
She maneuvers her horse with an unusual grace, an almost feral grin on her face. She is enjoying this, the thrill of the fight. Her bow sings again and another goblin falls.
“Elara, keep your back to me!” I say, my voice cutting through the chaos. “Watch your flank!”(simple_option:"21 react","React!")I slice through a goblin that lunges at me, the sharpness of Whisperwind meeting no resistance as I cleave him in half. The sickening smell of viscera fills the air, but there's no time to think, only to react.
The goblins rush us, their razor-sharp claws slashing as they try to bring us down. Their cocks bob with each jump, ugly, fat things, and a wave of disgust washes over me. They think we’re easy prey, and I know for a fact, that they’re envisioning dragging us into their tents once they’ve subdued us.
Elara’s arrow finds its mark, taking down another. She has a natural knack for archery, it seems. She's still a little clumsy, her grip too tight, her pull a little strained, but her eyes... In her eyes, there is an undeniable determination. Almost… frightening.
One goblin sneaks behind her, lunging and pulling her from her horse. Her bow skitters off to the side. His schlong twitches excitedly as he looms over her.
Then, Elara smiles - too wide.
Her hand morphs into a writhing mass of tentacles. The goblin's squeals are cut short as her tendrils wrap around his tiny head, snapping it with a sickening crunch.
I stop mid-swing, staring slack-jawed at Elara. She just shrugs.
“Guess Maraan left me a little present," she shrugs.
I laugh, despite the situation, despite the chilling sight of Elara's new abilities.
“I’m just glad you're on my side,” I say.
"Always." she replies with a wicked smirk, as I skewer another goblin. "And, I discovered a few nights ago… I can grow these tentacles anywhere if I try..."
My cheeks flush at the implication, images of a very different kind of battle flashing in my mind.
The last goblin falls to the ground, its sickly green limbs twitching in the virgin snow. One of them, however, still clings to life.
Dragging the injured goblin out of the snow, I press Whisperwind against his throat. His yellow eyes widen with fear, and his cock, once hard and eager, wilts pathetically against his belly.(simple_option:"21 interrogate","Interrogate him.")"Where is Snib?" I ask, my voice a chilling whisper in the silent, snow-filled woods. “Was he traveling with you?”
"S-Skulgaroth!" the goblin squeals in terror, his yellow eyes darting between Elara and me as he stammers out the word like a death curse. Skulgaroth. A name whispered with dread among their kind.
“I’ll never say nothin’! Skulgaroth, Skulgaroth!” He repeats the word like a talisman, a protective charm against death.
Elara tuts, a gleam in her sapphire eyes as she steps forward. "I believe you," she murmurs quietly. With swift, brutal precision, she stomps her boot down on the creature's throat. Its eyes widen in shock, then dull as the life seeps out of it.
I shudder involuntarily. As much as I understand the need to kill, the casualness of it sends a chill racing down my spine. Yet, Elara just wipes her boot on the snow and turns back to her usual cheerful self.
“There should be other goblin tracks we can pick up, right?"
I nod, and my gaze slips to the distant city of Thuulk. The morning sun reflects off the opal and onyx spires, bathing the city in warm hues. A glimmer of hope sparks in my heart, and I feel a small smirk tug at my lips.
"I think I know someone who could help us," I reply. Elara grins at me, her bow slung snugly against her back and her eyes sparkling with the thrill of the hunt.
“Ah, I get to meet that pretty little goblin girl you’ve been telling me about?”
“Yes, but keep your tentacles off her!” I wink.
It seems light, to joke about the remnants of an ancient god that seem to be festering inside Elara. But, I figure we haven’t learned much, if we can’t learn laugh at the sick jokes the gods have played on both of us.
As the sun finally peeks over the horizon, we mount our horses, leaving the grisly scene behind.
What lies ahead is uncertain, but we will face it together.
<div class='options'>(size:3)[The End]</div><span class='borderless'><div class='options'>(link:"View credits?")[(set:$sidebar to true)(goto:"view credits")]</div></span>"Remember Eboncrest, Elara! Remember our home!"
The memory is sharp, so vivid in my mind. Our life together - before Snib.
I hope against hope that it resonates with some part of her. "Do you recall the garden? Our garden? You loved it so much." My voice trembles. "The eastern corner, where the morning sun would hit just right. That’s where you planted those petunias. Their soft lavender petals, with just a little pink, they would open to greet the dawn."
I swallow the lump in my throat.
"And there was that little birdbath you'd placed right at the center, where the bluebirds would come to splash and play. You’d always say they were giving us a show."
The tears flow freely now, my voice a hoarse whisper. A tentacle shivers, as it gouges a soldier’s eyes.
"Do you remember the smell, Elara? When the wind blew from the west, it carried the scent of your roses. The ones with the golden centers."
My plea echoes through the cavern, bouncing off the walls. The chaos momentarily subsides, replaced by a deafening silence. The ancient god seems to still, her monstrous eyes locking onto mine.
My heart thumps loudly in my chest, and I press on, hoping to find a crack in the monstrous facade. "You talked to them, sang to them. You told me they thrived on love and attention. But then... after we... changed. They're all wilting, Elara. I can't do it by myself. I can't bring them the joy and life you did. I need you!"
(pic:"ch20/entreat.png","center","borderless")
($elara_check:3)(if:$result is "pass")[Her monstrous eyes flicker. Two consciousnesses are battling for control inside her. Her body convulses, her tentacles flailing in all directions, while her mouth opens and closes, no sound coming out.
More Thraan-vek words spill from her lips in a grotesque parody of our tongue. "KRIKAN! RAZAN! ZETRAN!" She repeats the words over and over, each utterance growing weaker.(simple_option:"20 miracle","'Let her go!'")(live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"song","elara theme reprise")]](else:)[($play:"song","too little too late")For a fleeting moment, the monstrosity halts, the endless cruel grin vanishes. (live:45s)[(stop:)($play:"ambience","collapsing cavern")]
Her sapphire eyes, masked beneath layers of Maraan's nothingness, flicker.
"I NEEDED YOU!” she screeches. “AND YOU WERE TOO LOST IN YOUR OWN PLEASURE TO CARE ABOUT ME!"
Her face contorts with a mixture of heartbreak and icy fury, wretched sobs escaping her lips as she glares at me with venomous accusation. Her fangs glisten in the dim light, evidence of the inhuman transformation she has endured.
"MARAAN!" she bellows, the name dripping with ancient anger. "Look at what YOU have DONE to US!" Her voice shifts, layers mingling into a godlike roar, the sound crashing into me like a physical force.
Purple energy begins to crackle, dancing across her mutated form. Her tentacles lash out at the ancient stone, carving deep gouges and sending fragments cascading to the ground.
"AN TORRATH RU'UK!" she screams in the ancient tongue, unleashing waves of raw power that ripple through the cavern.
The air thickens with an oppressive weight as dark energy swirls around her, gathering in intensity.
The walls tremble, groaning in shared agony. Stones loosen and crash around us, dust filling the air in choking plumes. The ground beneath my feet shakes violently, threatening to give way.
"YOU CURSED US!" she continues, her voice ragged with a raw, unfiltered anguish. "THE HUSBAND I LOVED—DESTROYED BECAUSE OF YOU!" Her head tilts back, eyes blazing with the fire of uncountable suffering. "AN TORRATH RU'UK!"
The explosive power surges from her in a blinding wave of purple energy, crashing into every surface with unrestrained fury. Her tentacles throb with pure eldritch might, and beams of dark light erupt from each appendage.
I try to call out, trying to reach the part of Elara still inside, but my voice is swallowed by the overwhelming noise of the collapse. The ceiling cracks, unending masses of stone falling like the sky itself is disintegrating under our wrathful drama.
"NO!" I scream, but my voice is nothing compared to the cataclysmic roar of the cavern. My heart is torn by the sheer hate and heartbreak in her eyes.(simple_option:"20 miracle","Declare your love.")](display:"dark mode")(display:"dark mode")(if:$choice is "The cavern collapses.")[(display:"ascent effect")(pic:"ch20/collapse.jpg")
Her eyes... they hold the final echo of our lost love, mingled with an inescapable rage. The ground shakes violently beneath me, each breath is desperate, choked with dust, and salted tears blur my vision.
"ELARA!" I cry out, voice breaking, but then it happens.
All sound narrows to a single deafening crash as the colossal pillar above us gives way.
The weight is impossible, the impact immediate.
There's a crushing, sickening crunch.
And then—
($game_over:"19 procession",19,"You were crushed when the cavern collapsed.")](else:)[(pic:"ch20/explosion.jpg","right")($play:"sound","magic explosion")With an ear-splitting crack, Maraan’s essence explodes out of her, tearing a ragged hole through the cavern ceiling. The raw power of the blast thrusts me backwards, my ears ringing and vision blurring.(simple_option:"20 dust settles","Elara lies motionless on the cavern floor.")](live:6s)[(stop:)($play:"ambience","collapsing cavern")](set:$se_to_stop to "mountains")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(live:3s)[($play:"ambience",0)(stop:)]($play:"sex loop",0)(live:0.5s)[(stop:)(t8n:"dissolve")[|text>[<div class='centered-container'>(size:3)[6 months later.]</div>]]]
(live:5s)[(stop:)(goto:"21 epilogue")](set:$se_to_stop to "elise theme reprise")(display:"stop sound effect fade")($play:"ambience","night inn")($play:"sex loop",0)Snib rubs his bruised nose, his gnarled fingers leaving streaks of dried blood across the leathery surface. His beady little eyes gleam maliciously as his gaze locks onto mine, his mouth twisting into a grin.
"Well now, lookit what we got 'ere, all alone," Snib snickers, beginning to circle around me with slow, deliberate steps. The flickering candles cast ominous, shifting shadows that seem to dance along with the goblin's vile glee.
"Ain't nobodah left fer ya, titcow. Yer wife? She scampered away from ya faster'n a rat caught in a trap," he sneers. "Guess even she couldn’t stomach what a dirty, fucked-out whore her husband turned into."
His crude laughter grates against my nerves, echoing hollowly in the desolate room. He leans closer, his foul breath hot against my ear. His voice is a harsh whisper, dripping with venom.
"Ya know what ya are? Nothin' but a dumb slut. To me, to everyone – just a gobbo-fucked toy good for one thing."
Tears well in my eyes from the sheer despair his words invoke. The collar feels heavier around my neck.
Snib continues merciless, his jagged, yellow teeth bared in a feral smile.
"And yer town? Ah, they don't care about ya. Left ya fer me," he chortles. "It's jest you and me, titcow. You ain't got nobody else. Who'd want a filthy whore poisoned by goblin seed? None but us gobbos."
He stops directly in front of me, leering up into my face, his eyes narrowing with spiteful pleasure. "I done used ya good last night. Everyone knows it."
A vile sneer forms on his lips as he grips my chin harshly, forcing me to meet his eyes.
"Even if anyone cared to look at ya twice, they'd know. Know what a cheap, whimpering fuck-puppet ye've become." His fingers trace my jaw. "Face it, titcow – you're mine. Might as well start actin' like it."
Releasing me abruptly, Snib steps back, his chest heaving with malicious chuckles.
Each word is a knife, slicing open old wounds and carving new ones. My knees buckle, but I manage to stay upright, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into flesh to keep myself from completely shattering under the weight of his abuse.
Snib struts around me, a disgusting display of triumph and ownership. "Look at ya, cryin' like a beaten dog. Pathetic. But don't ya worry, I'll keep ya company. Ain't got no choice now, do ya?"
The room spins as his words lash out, each one a brutal reminder of the twisted reality his cruelty has woven around me. The goblin's laughter fades into the encroaching darkness, leaving nothing but the echo of my sobs in the cold, merciless air.(simple_option:"17 revolt","Revolt.","Submit.")(if:$choice is "Revolt.")[I stand there, trembling, tears streaming down my cheeks as Snib circles me like a predator stalking his prey. In a tremulous voice, barely above a whisper, I muster every ounce of defiance left within me.
"I won't... I won't give in to you. Never..."(live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","spank 1")]
My voice cracks under the strain, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears.
The collar doesn't even bother to punish me.
Snib just laughs – a cruel, harsh sound that sends shivers down my spine.
"Not gonna give in, huh? Let's test that resolve, *titcow*," he sneers.
Before I can react, Snib jumps behind me. His gnarled hands grip the green fabric of my dress, yanking it up roughly over my hips to expose my plump, trembling ass.
"Time to show yer true colors, bitch," he growls into my ear, his breath hot and foul.
The first slap comes down hard on my ass, the sound echoing in the room like a gunshot. I cry out, the pain sharp and sudden, my entire body jolting with the force of the impact. Snib doesn't hesitate, his hand coming down again and again, each smack harder than the last, turning my skin a fiery shade of red.
"Get down on yer knees and lap up yer treat," Snib commands, pushing my head toward the spilled gobbo cum on the floor. "That cum your wife dumped? That's yer dinner, slut."
I resist, trying to push myself up, but Snib is relentless. He grabs a fistful of my hair, forcing my face down until my lips are inches away from the disgusting puddle of yellowed, chunky seed. The stench is unbearable, a potent mix of bleach and musk.
"Lick it up, bitch!" Snib hisses, pressing my face closer to the floor. "That old gobbo cum's full of the good stuff – turns tight little heroines into mindless fucktoys."(simple_option:"17 horrid","It's horrid...")](else:)[With a broken spirit and trembling limbs, I drop to my knees, feeling the cold stone against my skin. There's a horrid thickness to the air as I inch closer to the puddle of Snib's seed, spilled so carelessly, yet now a symbol of my utter subjugation.
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)($change_stat:"snib",1)"Good, titcow," Snib coos mockingly from behind, "Ye know yer place."
The proximity of the chunky, yellowish-white cum makes my stomach turn. It's visually revolting—a horrific concoction that more resembles a nasty paste gone sour rather than anything natural. Its texture is uneven, filled with clumps that have settled over time, growing more potent and disgusting with each passing moment.
My breath catches in my throat as I extend a shaking hand, hesitant fingers hovering mere inches above the congealed mess. The cummy aroma assaults my senses, filling my nostrils with a pungency that's thick and cloying, the underlying stench of decay mingling with a sickly sweet rot that coats the inside of my mouth, even before my skin makes contact.
Every instinct in my body screams to pull away, to retain some semblance of dignity, but the looming shadow of my Master presses me onward. With a whimper that echoes hopelessly in the desolate living room, my tongue tentatively meets the toxic, curdled substance.
The taste is immediate and overwhelming. It's an abomination—a vile assault of bitter, sharp goblin ball-juice that invades my taste buds with ferocious intensity. The flavor is an unholy mixture of musk and sourness, an intense overture of spoilage that causes my eyes to water.
Snib's laughter rings out, cruel and triumphant. "That's it, slurp it up. No use denyin' it now. Yer nothing but a gobbo's cum dumpster," he jeers, his voice drenched in mockery.(simple_option:"17 horrid","Swallow.")](if:$choice is "Swallow.")[($play:"sound","swallow big")Each lap of my tongue pulls more of the horrendous mixture into my mouth, the texture slimy yet oddly granular. I swallow
Beneath the terrible taste, there's a sinister warmth spreading through me. The potent, toxic cum isn't just foul—it's powerfully brain-altering... seeping into my veins, muddling my thoughts.
My body responds.
A moan rips from my throat, my hands trembling as I continue to consume the degrading meal laid out before me. Tears mix with the muck on my face, streaking my cheeks.
($change_stat:"heroism",-15)As I lap up the last of the horrid cum, Snib's heavy hand lands on my shoulder, his grip tight and possessive. "Good girl," he hisses right into my ear, "Remember, this is what you're good for. Never forget it."](else:)[(live:7s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","spank 1")](live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","swallow big")]Snib pushes my face closer to the spilled goblin cum, the horrid stench enveloping me in a miasma of pheromones and decay. Every breath churns my stomach, the smell intricate in its nastiness, like sour milk mixed with rotten eggs and heavy, swampy musk. The puddle on the floor is a disgusting sight: thick and chunky, a smattering of vile yellowish-white globules that congeal into a gummy sludge on the cold stone.
Snib's hand collides with my exposed ass again, a harsh slap that sends waves of pain rippling across my flesh, jiggling forcefully. A humiliating squeal escapes me, the sound muffled by my proximity to the floor.
"Get yer gob around that dinner, titcow," Snib snarls into my ear, his voice disgusting and slimy in its glee. "Old gobbo jizz's even more potent than the fresh squirt. Toxic. Too rotten ta be in a gobbo's balls anymore, but just right for a bitch ass like yers."
His foot nudges my thigh, pushing me closer to the puddle. With a whimpering moan, I extend my tongue, the tip hesitantly touching the congealed mess. The contact is revolting, taste buds instantly assaulted by an intense, overbearing flavor of Snib, the underlying salty sweetness of decay that sticks to the roof of my mouth like rancid fat.
I gag, the taste vile beyond comprehension, but Snib's consistent spanking spurs a sick need within me. As his hand descends again, striking my quivering ass with reverberating force, I plunge into the horrid substance, my tongue dragging through the gooey, lumpy semen.
($change_stat:"heroism",-15)Each lick sends shivers through my body, the fetid taste mingling with the pain from my throbbing, reddened cheeks. The smack of his hand against my flesh echoes in the room, punctuated by my degrading moans and the squelch of old cum being lapped up by a once-hero turned gobbo sex toy.
A warmth begins to spread in my belly, the vile cum working its disgusting magic.
It should be alarming, how quickly it's taking effect...
My mind starts to dull, thoughts becoming sluggish and incoherently muddled. Snib's gruff laughter fills the space, a soundtrack to my degradation.
"Fucking whore, yer loving it, ain't you?" he jeers. "Getting all stupid and needy for that cold gobbo jizz..."
I can't think, can barely breathe, as the intoxicating sickness from the goblin sperm seeps deeper into my brain. My body reacts against my will, a hot flush traveling down to my core. With each dirty, despicable lap, the heat builds until it explodes within me.
An idiotic, guttural moan vibrates through my throat as my body spasms uncontrollably, pussy squirting pathetically onto the stone floor, soaking my dress. The fluid dribbles down my legs, pooling around me. I'm a mess, mind blanketed in a thick fog of dumb lust, every shred of resistance obliterated by the overpowering, nauseating feast and the brutal affirmation of Snib's dominance over me.
"Yer nothing but a gobbo's cum dumpster," Snib whispers, his voice sickeningly sweet with mockery. "Look at you, squirting like the dumb slut you are... all 'cause you can't get enough of my rotten seed."
Lying there, face smeared with the atrocious jizz, ass stinging and pussy dumbly quivering, I can't even realize I'm lost in the lowest depths of degradation, drowning in disgrace beneath the weight of his cruel, victorious sneer.](simple_option:"17 woozy","You're feeling woozy...")($play:"sex loop",0)Snib laughs, a real mean laugh, as he maneuvers himself up until he’s standing above me.
His nasty goblin feet are on my shoulders and it’s super uncomfortable and heavy. I can feel his rough skin scratching against my sensitive skin, but that’s not the worst part, no way...
The *worst* thing is feeling his huge, gross goblin cock just... just *dropping* over my face, dangling there with its icky weight. It’s like, all warm and semi-hard and super heavy, pressing down on my forehead so I can’t help but look all stupid with my eyes going cross-eyed.
And his balls... ew... they’re nestled on the top of my head, all heavy and smelly. The smell is so strong it makes me wanna gag, but like, I can’t even move ‘cause he’s right there on me.
Snib’s all cackling away, saying how he was kinda into my wife, but since that mean wizard is gonna lock her up, I guess I’m the one he’s stuck with. Not that I even know what to say about that, 'cause my brain's getting all mushy with his cock just hanging there, totally dominating me.
It’s drooling this nasty goblin precum right and I can see it, all shiny drizzling down onto my nose. And even though it’s gross, there’s this like, part of me that’s starting to feel all weird and tingly. The pheromones are just... *whoosh*... swirling through me and making me feel all hot and bothered.
I hate how dumb this makes me feel, like my head’s full of cotton or something. My tongue just flicks out kinda on its own, like it wants to catch that drizzle of nasty precum leaking from the tip of his massive green cock. It’s so humiliating, but I can’t stop. The taste hits me and it’s salty and bitter, making my face scrunch up, but still... my body starts responding in ways that just totally confuse me.
A moan slips out because I'm kind of losing it here, squirt-squirting like an idiot again while that heavy goblin junk just sits on my face. It’s all warm and throbbing, and I can't believe this is what's happening. Each pulse of that ugly, veiny shaft sends these waves of something icky but kinda hot through me. Why does it feel like this? Why'm I melting into a puddle under this gross little goblin, so easily?
My hands are twitching, wanting to touch, but I’m also like, trying so hard to stay whatever's left of 'me' in this mess. But it’s getting so hard when Snib’s heavy cock is literally clouding my thoughts, making everything so much... simpler, but not in a good way.
I'm just here, a dumb mess trapped under a goblin, drooling over his cock while my mind floats away in a haze of his stinky, musky domination. It’s sooo wrong, but it's like my body doesn't even listen to me anymore...(simple_option:"17 hump","He starts humping your head...")($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")That stinky, mean goblin is standing on my shoulders and... and humping my head. It feels gross, 'cause his big cock is still lying heavy against my face, twitching with each thrust against my forehead.
"Hehe, day-old gobbo cum really fucked up yer head, didn't it, titcow?" he jeers. Snib grins down at me with his nasty gobbo teeth all sharp and yellow.
“Uh... Ah-ah? H-huh?” My words come out in a confused moan, my eyes cross and hazy. "Uuunnghh~"
Before I can even think, a hot, sticky glop of goblin spunk spurts out and runs down my face, between my tits, staining my green dress with a snotty, yellow streak.
"Ungh... Ahn~” I moan. It's the most degrading sound ever, but I can't help but let it out. "M-Mnnnn...S-Snib..."
I'm mumbling, my voice all slurred. It's like I'm drunk or something. I feel dizzy.
Snib just laughs, his grating cackles drilling into my head. "That's it, titcow, take it like the dumb slut you are!"
He pumps his cock on my head again, like an animal marking its territory or something. I can’t stop the high-pitched moans falling from my lips, echoing through the room.
It’s weird, ‘cause everything’s starting to get all foggy and mixed up. The only thing that feels real now is the heat curling in my stomach, the powerful, building urge that's forcing my will into the background.
I can smell the fresh cum, that musky, heavy smell of gobbo nut, and it's making my thoughts all fuzzy and dumb.
"Cum fer me again, slut!" he commands, his words stabbing through the fog.
And... I actually do it. I actually do what he says without thinking, my body convulsing.
Pleasure wracks my body, my thick thighs squeezing together, the juices squirting through my panties and dress as I cum my brains out again, just because he told me to. My moans echo in the room, shamelessly loud and needy.
Cumming on command for his nasty gobbo cock... I'm such a mess... such a dumb, fucked-out mess. Snib's laughter rings out, the cruelest sound I've ever heard. It fills the room, bouncing off the walls and drilling into my dizzying mind.
"Pahahaha..." Snib throws back his head in laughter at my pathetic display. "L-look at ya! Only true gobbo-addled sluts cum on command like that," Snib cackled wickedly. "Yer fucked, titcow. Dat's the point of no return!"(simple_option:"17 hop","He hops down.")($play:"sex loop","handjob")(live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop","cum mouth")]"Spread that mouth open. Show me how good you can be with those pretty slut lips."
Under the heavy spell of my senseless, drooling obedience, I drop to my knees with an ungainly thud. My fingers, trembling with aroused anticipation and simple-minded eagerness, pull at my lips, stretching them wide into an explicit 'ahhhh.'
Snib stands before me, his grotesque, massive cock in hand—veins bulging, glistening with pre-cum. His balls sway heavily, pulsing with the load they're eager to unload. He sneers down at me as he jerks off.
"Ain't it fun watching ya break bit by bit? But now, fun's over, slut. I'm gonna use ya, just like a good gobbo should.”
Each stroke of his hand sends more pre-cum oozing out, drooling down onto his knuckles. The sight is hypnotizing, and I can't help but mumble through my open mouth.
"Uuunngghh, Snib... your cock, s-so big," I whimper, drool pooling at the corners of my stretched lips. "P-please..."
With a filthy grin stretching his already unbearable features into a mask of cruel glee, Snib speeds up his motions, the slapping sounds of his hand on wet flesh filling the air with vulgar, sloppy noises. I'm staring, eyes glazed, at the purple head of his cock as it bobs and weaves in front of me, enchanting in its disgusting splendor.
Suddenly, with a bestial squeal, Snib reaches his peak. His cock twitches, and explodes.
<span class='cum1'>Splurtt... Blurttt... Splurchhh...</span>
(pic:"ch17/cum mouth.jpg")
His orgasm is violent, the streams of thick, heavy goblin cum shooting straight into my held-open mouth. The first volley strikes the back of my throat with force, making me gag reflexively, though I manage to keep my gaping mouth wide as instructed.
"Yesss, take it all," Snib mocks as he continues to unload. The cum splatters inside, gooey and abundant, coating my teeth and tongue with warm, nauseating slime. It's off-white and the stink is awful, an overpowering musk that floods my senses, pushing me further into sexual insanity.
I can feel the wriggling, almost alive texture as more spurts fill my mouth—fat worms of nut-sludge that begin oozing down my throat or stick between my teeth, squirming in their foul white prison. Snib's laughter rings above me, sounding far away through the cum-fog that stifles my mind.
"Haha, look at you... so brain-fucked, you don't even know how dumb you look, mouth packed with gob spunk."
My head swims in the haze, vocalizations reduced to mindless, submissive moans. "Mmmphh... Ahnnn... S-Snib..."
My senses are overpowered; every thought drowned out by the sheer, unadulterated debauchery that is being imposed upon me.
"Keep it open, titcow," Snib orders gruffly, watching with perverse satisfaction as his cum pools and dribbles down my chin, staining my neck and my dress.
Under his gaze, I remain perfectly still, a broken, doll-like figure obeying its master's commands, while inside, the remnants of my former self weep quietly in the corners of my obliterated consciousness.(simple_option:"17 fuck","He's going to fuck you.")($play:"sex loop",0)My jaw aches, my cheeks stretched by my own fingers to keep my mouth gaping open, filled with his nasty jizz, and I'm trying, really trying, to breathe through my nose but it's so hard.
"Mmmph, p-please, lemme swallow... mmh," my pleas bubble through the thick, creamy spunk pooling in my mouth, but it's useless. I can feel the thick blobs of his jizz shifting, sliding around on my tongue, the taste desperately foul, yet... urgh... addicting.
Snib sneers down at me. "Gonna fuck you now, cow-tits. Keep all my nut where it is, or I'm gonna *breed* you even harder," he grunts, the evil spark in his eyes telling me he means every word. "Don't swallow or spit it out."
His gross threat doesn't even scare me. No, it makes that weird, warm tingle in my belly explode. Even the sickening slosh of his semen in my mouth seems like... like it's where it should be. My mind's so mushy, I can't think straight.
I can only *feel*, only *want*.
Snib grabs my arm, dragging me up the stairs to the bedroom—the one I... I used to share with Elara. Each step jostles the hot, heavy load in my mouth, the cum slipping around my teeth, seeping under my tongue. It burns, it stings, but it's a sting that's turning sweet, kind of.
He shoves me onto the bed, and I land on all fours on the soft covers. Thick gobs of sperm threaten to spill from my over-stretched lips, but I manage—just barely—to keep it all in.
Snib positions himself behind me, his grotesque member looming large, a shadow over my former dignity. "Good little slurper, hanging onto Snibby's load, mmmm?"
There's no space to reply, not that I could form any real words with my mouth brimming with his nasty spunk.
He's not going to use a condom.
"Uuugggh, Mastah..." I moan around my mouthful.
"Ohhh~... Emhh?" I whine, my voice muffled by the thick, heavy load filling my mouth to the brim. My thoughts are all fizzled out, like I can't think through the fog of my cock-dumb brain. There's just this warm, jiggly feeling all over, and it's getting all hard to focus on anything more than what Snib's telling me.
Somewhere, deep inside, the last threads of my dignity are at war with the animalistic lust thrumming through my body.
But they are losing.
He's all mean and rough with me, 'cause he grabs my skirt and yanks it up, up, up my ass until the cool air touches my wet panties. Oh, no! They're all soaked from my squirts, clinging to my pussy lips and sticking to the crack of my ass. I feel so exposed with my dress bunched up under my titties and my soaked panties out in the open.
"Aww, lookit the stupid cow-tits with her wet panties, all sopping wet and ready for a knotting!"
I... I don't even know what a knotting is, but it sounds scary. His cock's squishing between my ass cheeks, all big and hot and way too heavy. It's leaving a wet, slimy trail behind, his pre-cum sticking to my skin as he draws little shapes with it.
"Unghh... M- p-please..." My words get muddled in his gross cum, making bubbles that pop on my lips.
But Snib, he's just smirking, that ugly, mean smirk making my tummy feel all fluttery. He runs his big, oily goblin cock through the valley of my ass, his glans peeking out between my cheeks to prod at my lower back.
"Ready for some real fucking, bitch? Squeeze them cheeks around my cock, make a nice, snug ass-pussy for yer master."
I dunno why, but my ass clenches at his words, tightening my cheeks around his hot, huge, slimy shaft. It feels so wrong, but it's also kinda... nice? The feeling's making my pussy gush, making a lil' puddle on the bed.
His big goblin hand comes down on my ass, spanking me. Each spank makes my body jolt, and everytime I do, my mouthful of cum sloshes, threatening to spill out. I have to swallow some, but I manage to keep the most of it in. Hopefully he doesn't notice!
And then, he starts rocking his hips, fucking my asscheeks with his big, fat cock. Each thrust sends a shiver down my spine. I can't think straight, can't form a coherent thought. His cock feels so hot between my cheeks, and with each smack of his hips, I let out a moan, muffled by his nasty load in my mouth.
"A-ahn~ s'good~" I whimper, my words garbled by his cum. It feels so nasty, having to talk with a mouthful of his cum, but for some reason, it's also turning me on. I'm so horny, so hot and wet for his massive goblin cock, and I can't help but push back against him, begging for more.(simple_option:"17 enter","He enters you.")(live:5s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")]With a brutal pull, Snib yanks my ruined panties aside. "Alright, ya ready titcow?" He snarls, gripping his massive goblin cock. A surge of arousal sends a fresh wave of squirting from my soaked skank-hole.
"P-pwease…" I moan around my mouthful of goblin jizz, my eyes going all big and glassy. "Mmmh... I need... need fff... mmmh..."
"Gonna stuff you full with my big, green cock, fill that soggy snatch o' yours!" His voice makes me feel dizzy. It's like my mind is full of cotton, can't think past his big, mean words.
My full mouth keeps my moans muffled, just these incoherent, low noises trapped under all the icky cum.
Then Snib's big, nasty cockhead is pressing against my pussy lips! They're all plump and slippery, spreading open for him and, ohhh~, his cock feels so big and dangerous against them.
The force of his thrust sends a ripple through my cushiony body, making my big tits wobble against the fabric of my dress.
And then *he pushes in*.
“Guh—Ahnnn! S-Snib!!”
My eyes roll, drool and goblin cum leaking past my pried-open lips. But I manage to keep most of his thick load in my mouth as he *rams* his cock into me.
"U-uuuh-mmph... Q-Qui~uugghh~" The taste of his load is so heavy on my tongue, so thick and disgusting, but I keep it all in.
My hips buck back against him, all on their own. His cock is so big, so *much*, it fills me up completely. My pussy walls stretch wide around his thick shaft, each ridge and vein sending waves of pleasure through me. The feeling is so... it's... it's...
"Good fucking cow! Keep that load in yer mouth, or I'll dump another one in this tight breeder hole of yours!" Snib grunts, his thrusts slow and deliberate, as he fucking impales me on his cock, stretching my tight, squelchy pussy around his girth.
“Unghaa... fuuh... fuuh so...” My words are all garbled, the goblin cum mixing with my spit as I babble nonsense. My breath is hitching, my chest heaving as he fucks me senseless.
His cock is pushing so deep, *so* deep, hitting places inside me that make my eyes roll back in my dumb, empty head.
The slap, slap, slap of his hips against my big, jiggly ass is like a beat, a nasty, perverted rhythm that fills my bedroom.
I can't even think anymore, my mind's all gooey and blank. There's just Snib, Snib, Snib and his giant, fucking cock pounding my pussy. His balls are slapping against me, spanking my clit with their cum-laden weight.
My pussy gushes, drooling out more juices to soak the sheets below me.
He pulls out suddenly, leaving me feeling empty and cold. But then he's gripping my hair, turning my head to face the mirror. He grins, his eyes twinkling with wicked delight.
"Open up, slut. Show me what a good gobbo cum holder ya are," he orders, and without a second thought, I do as he says. I open wide, revealing his heavy load still filling up my mouth.
"Pwaaaah..." I whine, my voice high and needy. I can see it, my reflection in the mirror with my mouth all stretched and full with his nasty, thick cum.
With a roar of laughter, Snib slams back into me. My body jerks forward, my moan muffled by his nasty load in my mouth.
"Uuughhh, mnnnghhh!" I'm humming, squealing around the thick, hot spunk filling up my mouth, as Snib rams that fucking massive cock of his into me.
The goblin's grip tightens in my hair, yanking me back against him, forcing my back to arch obscenely as he angles his thrusts to target deeper, more sensitive spots inside me.
My whore-hole's just swallowing him up, all juicy and gushing, stretching around his dick like it's made for him.
Wham, wham, wham!
"Mmmph, oh g-gawwd, uuh uh uh!" I whimper pathetically, each thrust pushing another whimpering, slutty cry out of me. My brain's totally mush, just a swirling, horny mess of throbbing need. His massive, nasty balls slap against my clit with each thrust.
My tits are bouncing around, flopping out of my ruined dress, their heavy, teardrop shape bobbling with each of Snib’s brutal thrusts. I can feel my nipples, all hard and pointy, rubbing against the moist sheets, sending delicious jolts of pleasure straight to my brain. Makes me all dumb and blank.
The bed *squeaks* and *groans* under us, like it's struggling to hold the brutal, filthy fucking his goblin cock is delivering.
"GUGUHH...Uhn! Uhn! Louder, titcow! Sing for yer master! Mmmphh!" His spittle splatters on my back as he shouts, purely enjoying the horrific abuse he’s inflicting on my cursed, hyper-feminine body.
My thick plush lips quiver around the fat worms of his gooey load still in my mouth, struggling to keep his heavy, sticky spunk in place even as mind-blowing pleasure shudders through me.
"Yuh... Yuh so b-big... too much... c...can't... I c-can't... AHH~!"
I feel it, that tipping point. Everything tightens, my entire body winds up like a spring—my thick thighs clench, my puffy pussy clenches down hard on his thudding cock.
It's building. That big, nasty, stupid orgasm— it's coming, and I can't stop it. My whole body's trembling, ready to explode from his relentless pounding.
I'm so lost, so *gone*. His disgusting, massive load of nut-sludge is thick in my mouth, swirling, wriggling like it's alive. It feels right, somehow. Right to be gagging on goblin cum while getting fucked like a cheap whore.
"Uuuggghhh—gonna cum! G-gonna—AHHHNNN!"(simple_option:"17 orgasm","Cum.")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")The orgasm hits like a slap, massive and brutal. My body bends, buckles completely out of my control. My pussy clenches hard around his thrusting goblin dick, squirting like crazy. Squirt, squirt, squiiirt! It's so intense, so goddamn filthy. I'm nothing but a cumming, whorish mess under this small, nasty creature.
"AHHHNHHHH~! OOOHHH~!"
And right as I'm lost in the peaks of my climax, the disgusting goblin semen in my mouth sloshes cruelly—bulky, vile clumps rubbing against my tongue, slipping—
"G-Guuhhh—AHHHN~!"
—And I *swallow*. Oh fuck! The thick load slips down my throat in one massive GLOP. It's heavy as it hits my stomach, spreading an almost immediate warmth—humiliating, vile, yet… Oh, it’s like a nasty, perverse comfort food for a braindead, fuck-hungry slut.
I try to stop it, but it's too late, my pussy squirting as I cum and swallow and moan.
I shiver, whimpering dumbly as reality floods back, a bit clearer, but it's too late.
"Open up! Show me the cum, titcow!" Snib barks, pulling out of my spasming, cumming hole with a wet plop. He mushes my cheeks, his filthy, clawed fingers peering into my empty mouth. "Awww, what’s this? You swallowed all the nice gobbo juice! Naughty slut!"
My empty mouth opens in an 'o'.
"Unnnhh—s… sorry, Master. It was an accident! M-my orgasm made me do it!"
"Too bad!" Snib leers at me. "Looks like I gotta punish ya, eh? Gonna breed ya good now.”
My heart races.
Snib positions himself, his ugly, veiny cock sliding against my still-quivering pussy. With a snarled chuckle, he re-enters, his fat shaft feeling even bigger now, greedy and threatening.(simple_option:"17 beg","Beg him not to breed you.","Beg him to breed you.")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 2")(if:$choice is "Beg him to breed you.")[My body, it... it wants his goblin cum. It *craves* to be filled. Stuffed. *Knocked up*.
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)"M-make me a mama, Snib. Breed me stupid!" I whine, beyond myself, my mind numb and craving. It's too much! This cock, it *dominates* me, owns me in every way possible.
"Yuh-yes, Snib, make me... Make me pregnant! Fill me with your nasty goblin babies!"
It's degrading, it's filthy, and it’s bliss. His cock pumping into my ruined pussy, stretching and filling me with its throbbing heat.
"OOHH! OHHH!!"
That's when he pushes *deeper*. My eyes go wide as he penetrates my womb, his cock secreting a strange, slick fluid that dilates my cervix.
"*Ahhhn~* S-so... b-big! So... so... Oh *stars*, I... I want... UHN!"
His girth is inescapable, each ridge, each vein etched against my inner walls. I can't fight it, can't deny it.
"That's right, human slut. Forget who you were. You’re just a goblin breeding sow now!”
When Snib pulls back, I whine, empty. But then he's back, pushing, *forcing* his tip against my cervix. There's a sharp, stinging pain, and then... his cockhead *pops* into my womb.
"Oh— OH GOD!"
This... This is my most private part, the centerpiece of my womanhood. The last bastion of my humanity, and it's... it's being stuffed with goblin cock.
"Uwaaahhh... s-so deep... Snib, y-you're so... ah~!"
I can feel every single vein, every throbbing pulse of his goblin cock, and it's sending wave after wave of pleasure through me.
My womb is milking his cock, urging him to cum, to fill me up with his potent, nasty seed.
"OOHHH! I–I–I FEEL IT! I FEEL IT IN MY WOMB!" My voice is a high, helpless wail, echoing in the room. "Unghhh~! Ah~! Y-yes! Breed me! Make me a goblin mommy!"
It’s too much, too overwhelming. I’m not... I’m not even a human anymore. I'm just a vessel for this nasty, monstrous goblin. I'm... I'm just a breeding sack. A stupid, horny, cumdump for him to use.
"Please, Snib... Fill me up! Make me c-cum from your big, mean cock!"
"Take it! Take it all, you gobbo bitch!" His words hit me like a jolt of electricity, sending spasms through my quivering insides.
He sounds so mean, so dominant. I love it. I love how he makes me feel — so small, so utterly submissive. Like I was made for this, made to be his breeding bitch.
"Uh huh! Uh huh! Uh huh! I'm your birthing bitch, Snib!" I whine, my words becoming nothing more than moans and whimpers.](else:)[Panic flares in my jumbled, sex-addled brain.
"N-no, Master! Please, don't breed me! I d-don’t wanna be a mommy!" My voice is a pathetic whine, pleading desperately, but there's a thrumming heat building deep within me that makes my protests sound all too weak.
"Awww, too fuckin' bad, titcow!" Snib cackles, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thighs as he positions himself at my trembling entrance. "Gonna pump ya full of my spawn, make ya a proper gobbo breeder. Humans are made for goblin cocks—especially dumb, greedy sluts like ya."
"Noooo, p-please... don’t do thishh..." My words slur and blend into mewling cries.
And then... he presses in. *Deeper*. I can feel his monstrous cockhead nudging against my cervix, pushing, prodding, insistently persistent. The pressure is insane—pain mingled with a twisted, deep-seated pleasure that's horrifying in its intensity.
"Uugh—A-ahh~! Nooo~! It h-hurts... but, uh, it feels... too m-much...too s-stroooong~!" My voice rises in pitch, stupid, whimpering noises escaping me as his cock begins secreting a viciously potent pre-cum. I can practically feel the chemicals mixing with my inner flesh, my cervix dilating under the assault of his fluids.
Each slow, inexorable invasion of his cock into my womb sends shockwaves through my body.
"Guh—Huuuuhnnng!! A-ahngh... it’s ih-inside meee~! Oh f-fuckkkk—Master's cock... i-it's in my woooomb!!" My cries are so moronic, so broken and depraved as he fills my innermost sanctum, pushing every rational thought out with relentless, sadistic thrusts.
His filthy chuckles ring out, vile and victorious. "Yeaah, you feel that, whore? My cock dominating your human womb. Tell me you want it; tell me you need it!"
"Uhnnnn, nooo~... don’t make meee... say it," I babble. Each thrust sends sparks of illicit, unbearable pleasure through my nerves, frying my brain, turning me into nothing more than a receptacle for his savage breeding.
"AHHHN~ Uuhhh—S-so d-deep! Feel so f-full, so s-stuffed! Uuuugh... gimme! GIMME MORE!!"
I'm writhing beneath him, a puppet to the obscene pleasure that his cocks brutalizes into me. My mind is fogged, thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm—I'm drowning under the weight of my humiliation and the depravity of my desires.
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)"Mmh—COCK! Y-your COCK! Please, Master, breed meee~! I-I need it! Need your cum—your pups—uhh, NEED IT ALL!" The words spill from my lips unchecked, vile affirmations of my degradation and submission under his crude, relentless domination.
He grunts, pleased, his thrusts growing even more forceful, each movement designed to drive deeper, to stake his claim blatantly inside my womb.
“Haah, that’s it, titcow. Beg like the breeding sow you are! I’ll turn your womb into a goblin nursery, and you’ll love every fucking moment of it.”
“AAHHH~ Y-YES! Yes, p-please! Breed me! Fill me up with gobbo pups!!” My voice is a high-pitched, keening wail now, each syllable laced with mindless need. My pussy clenches around him spasmodically, desperate to milk him, to draw every last drop of his vile seed deep within.
The climax builds again, more intense than ever. The sounds that escape me are no longer human—squeals, squeaks, pathetic gibbering pleas.](simple_option:"17 breed","He breeds you.")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking cum")(if:$choice is "He breeds you.")["Gonna fill you up, slut! Gonna plant my goblin seed deep inside!" His voice is a guttural growl, filled with primal, vile intent. "Gonna fill your worthless human womb with gobbo goo!"
He grunts—a deep, brutal sound that vibrates through his body into mine—and his cock swells inside my womb. The next moment, he's unleashing hell inside me.
"UNNNNGGHHH—TAKE IT, BITCH!"
The first hot, thick jet of cum blasts into my womb.
<span class='cum2'>BLRRRRPP!</span>
"Oh—OH GOD! OH FUCK—NGHNN~!" The sensation is vile yet overwhelmingly intoxicating. The hot flood of his monstrous load forces a raw, primal scream from me. "Oh fuck—Fuck! You're—You're raping my womb! Filling it!"
<span class='cum1'>BLRRRRPP! GRPPPPPPTH!!</span>
Each spurt of his putrid cum feels like an abhorrent violation, painting my womb with the sticky, filthy proof of my utter capitulation to his disgusting goblinhood.
"S-so much! Ah! Your cock—it's too much!" I squeal, cross-eyed with depravity, my voice dripping with thick, unworthy pleasure.
"Take it, you filthy hole! Your human womb's gonna brew a batch of nasty gobbo runts!" He smacks my ass as he fills me, each blow accompanying another thick stream squirted straight into me.
Deep down... I know what's happening. My eggs are drowning in goblin cum.
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)"Uuuuuggghhh~ M-more! I need more, Snib! Make sure I'm *breeding*! Make your cum rooootttt in me!"
My voice is a desperate, mewling plea, the squelching, squishing sounds of his continuing ejaculation filling the air.
I'm lost, utterly obliterated by the sheer force of the breeding. My eyes cross, my tongue lolls out, drooling uncontrollably as my body reacts to each splash of his potent, disgusting seed.
"AHH... Sh-shit, I'm cumming! CUMMING ON YOUR JIZZ! AHHHHHHH!" My body convulses viciously, my pussy clenching around his still-spurting cock, milking him deeper into my desecrated womb.
He grunts loudly, a primal sound of triumph as his balls empty the last of his ghastly load inside me. "Yeah, take it all, human cow. That’s all you're good for now!"](else:)[](simple_option:"17 again and again","He breeds you, again and again.")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking after")"Sleep tight knowing you're marinating in gobbo cum, tits-for-brains," my goblin master sneers, and I feel a twitch inside me as another dribble of his jizz leaks out.
I'm not even really a person to Snib; I'm just a place to unload, a nice welcoming cumdumpster. I can't even speak—my vocal cords only produce a series of indecent, mewling whimpers that could melt any remaining dignity into abject nothingness.
My mind is utterly scrambled, mashed into a soupy, shivering mess from the relentless, thorough pounding from Snib's monstrous goblin cock. Each after-quiver of my thoroughly pounded womb sends splashes of his vile spunk bubbling up my quivering cunt, making crude, wet noises as it drools out, slopping onto the bed.
"Uuughh... so full... all filled up and heavy... *inside* me..."
My voice is nothing but broken, whimpering, aural garbage, slurring into the filthy darkness surrounding us. The bed is absolutely trashed, soaked through with the thick, goopy mess of multiple rounds of goblin breeding.
Snib is still on top of me. His tiny, gnarled hands patting my jiggly, over-used rump as if he owns it—because, right now, he does.
The aftermath is grim—a wet, sticky disaster. Snib's hefty loads ooze out of me, soaking into what used to be the sanctity of my marriage bed. It’s a bed now defiled, the sheets warped with the nasty stains of goblin seed, every inch telling a horror story my once-hero self would have fought to prevent.
The goblin has collapsed on top of me after nutting so many times. His still semi-hard cock is lodged inside me, twitching occasionally as if proud of its devastating conquest.
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)"Stay still, whore. Yer my cozy lil' mattress now," he murmurs, a disgusting sort of tenderness in his voice that chills me more than any threat could. "No move, titcow... comfy..."
Snib's eventual snores break out between his short, victorious chuckles, a smug rhythm to the sound of his dribbling cock still lodged deep inside my cum-soaked pussy.
The realization hits like a slap: Elara will never look at me again after what I've just done. Not after I've been reduced to a quivering, squealing, cum-stuffed toy for a goblin. Letting him breed me.
The feel of Snib—small yet overwhelmingly dominant—draped over my back, his grotesque member nestled deep in my womb, is dehumanizing. Trying to find some semblance of comfort while pinned under a goblin, used as a nighttime cock-warmer, filled to the brim with his cum, is a low I never imagined.
"Mmphhh... need to... find a way to sleep... like this..." I mumble to myself, shifting ever so slightly to find a less uncomfortable position. Snib stirs, grumbling nonsensically in his guttural dialect, his cock twitching inside me, spurting a bit more of his thick, yellowish jizz me as I shift.
Squirming slightly, trying not to dislodge the sleeping beast, I reach a hand down between my legs to assess the damage. Fingers touch the slippery, sticky mess, and tears prickle at the corners of my eyes, not from pain but from the sheer absurdity of my predicament.
Breathing hard, doing my best to ignore the cramps beginning to form from the unnatural fullness of my womb, I try to ease the discomfort. My big, fat tits are squashed awkwardly beneath me, nipples aching from the constant press against the cum-soaked sheets. Slowly, I wiggle, just enough to drag my ruined dress up, pulling it over my head in a clumsy motion, using its tattered fabric to mop up some of the worst of the cum around us.
With every little move, his cum keeps sloshing inside me—deep, wet sounds coming from my well-used hole. It's so filthy, so wrong, yet all I can do is lay there, sniffing back the tears that the horrid reality of my situation brings.
My thighs quiver, weak from being repeatedly spread and pounded; my lower belly feels weirdly heavy, distended with what feels like gallons of goblin sludge.
(pic:"ch17/inconvenient sleep.jpg")
Finally, lying in the silence broken only by Snib's satisfied snoring and the occasional squelch of his cum leaking out of me, I close my eyes. My body aches, every inch of me feeling like it's been marinated in shame and obliterated dignity.
As sleep starts to claim me, the last coherent thought that dribbles through my degraded brain is a mindless, broken whimper-echo of the reality now:
*His... cum... it’s inside... breedin’ me... snk... so full... s’deep...*
And in this absolute defeat, I drift off—the weight of a vile creature pressing down on me, its semi-hard cock still nestled within the wreck of my once-fierce body, marking the irrevocable loss of everything I once was.(simple_option:"17 sleep","Sleep.")(pic:"ch01/eboncrest.jpg","left")($play:"ambience","village morning")($play:"sex loop",0)The first slivers of sunlight creep through the cracked shutters, casting beams over the hellish site I wake up to find m-myself in.
"Mmnnn... Ughh..."
Every single spot feels... sore, my muscles aching like I've been in an all-night brawl. Except it wasn't a fight... it was Snib, the relentless goblin, wrecking me over and over.
He's still... still *inside* me.
As if worshipping the cold, cruel morning sun, he's right there, his body draped heavily over my back. His back rises and falls peacefully, his gross goblin snores filling my ears. Snib’s grotesquely oversized cock still lodged deep inside me, holding me in place, like some disgusting, living anchor.
I try to focus, but my brain is still swimming in the murky haze of his goblin pheromones. Does that mean... does it mean...
“Uugh... oh gods... nngh...”
I'm pregnant now. The thought is a weird little spark in my befuddled brain. His thick, nasty cum from last night is like this gross goo so deep inside of me. Those little monsters swimming up, settling into my womb. And now it’s like... like they're... festering in there.
The bed is a mess. It smells so funky, like a barn-yard horror show. Crusty patches of dried goblin cum are splattered all over the sheets and my skin, creating sticky, gross spots that pull when I try to move.
Snib's snores vibrate through me. His legs splayed on either side of my fat ass.
"Uhhhnnn." I try to shift, just slightly. My muscles scream protests.
My eyes water with the effort.
Each little move sends a weird, tingly sensation radiating all over my sore body. He shifts, his massive cock twitching with a lazy, sleepy *jerk*.
"Uh—hnnnnngh!" The twitch hits me like a jolt.
The bed creaks, adding its squeaky voice to the morning as I try once more to wriggle out from under him. It's futile; his weight and his cock, they're keeping me pinned.
Worse? His shifting movements and the soporific rub of his cock against my inner walls don't make him budge. Instead, his cock only seems to get harder, straining rigidly within my over-stuffed, deeply impaled cunt.
"Pluhhh..." I whimper, my voice a pathetic, needy sound lost in the air.
His thick, nasty goblin spunk dribbles down my inner thighs in sticky, curved rivulets, pooling anew against the filthy sheets. The smell's just overwhelming, a cum-musk odor that's all-consuming, seeping into every pore, lingering heavy.
I'm like a doll under him. My attempts to move are like weak, pitiful flailing under his pressing, immobilizing snore.
"Ungh..." I try to shake my butt just a little. At first, it's just to see if I can somehow dislodge him. But as soon as I move, he shifts, and his cock throbs harder inside me, his weight sinking deeper into my back. "Mmmph, p-please, Master, wake up..." I whimper.
It seems like I can't wake him up with simple motions.
“Ungh... g-gods... oh fuck…”
I’m so full... so tied to the bed. It’s degrading—a goblin, a fucking goblin, owning me so completely.
($hidden_gem:"Every little motion just makes him press more… grounding me in place with his massive cock.","Every effort merely makes him mire me more... mercilessly mooring me with his mammoth member.")
It’s like nothing else matters, because his cock is my world right now, literally nailing me to the spot.
I try again and give another little shake, but all it does is wake him enough for him to readjust, his legs spreading wider around my fat ass. His snoring resumes, louder.
Trying to catch my breath, I brace myself and slowly, very slowly, squeeze my pliant inner muscles around his intruding organ. The motion is foreign and painful; my body feels bloated from sheer overuse and penetrative fatigue.
But his cock jerks again, a heavier throb reverberating through it and up into my beleaguered cervix. My womb distends with the shivering, violently throbbing member, still trying to acclimate to the thing bullying my insides.
"Uhh... ughh... w-wake up, M-Master..." My voice is a cracked whisper.
With my thighs trembling from raw exertion, I start to grind my hips back against him ever so slightly.
(pic:"ch17/inconvenient morning.jpg")
"Ugh... gods... j-just... wake up..."
There’s a dull, aching thud in my womb. A hollow sort of pressure that originates from the very center of my overused, stretched-out pussy, radiating outward. My muscles are worn and frayed, overworked to the point of utter numbness, but beneath that numbness is a throbbing sore sensation that pulses in time with his prodigious, invasive length.
I can’t even think straight. His cock is basically all my head is filled with—this gnarly brain-dragging mass inside me making logical thoughts slip. I whimper pathetically into the pillow, feeling a shameful mix of degradation and longing as Snib’s cock continues to harden inside me.
There’s only one way, my dumb goblin-cum-soaked brain whispers. Only one way to wake him up.(simple_option:"17 milk","Milk him awake.")My head is still buzzing with goblin pheromones, my thoughts thick and soupy, making it hard to grasp at any sort of rational plan. All I can think of is his cock inside me, twitching, growing harder with each passing moment… and the idea takes root in my muddled mind that I have to finish what I started.
“Uuhhnn... fuck...”
My fingers tremble as they grip the edges of the pillowcase, and I bite my lip to stop the humiliating sounds that threaten to bubble out. I start to clench my inner muscles rhythmically around the goblin cock impaling me, squeezing tightly, relaxing, and then squeezing again in slow, degrading pumps.
The motion is agonizing, each contraction of my pliant walls igniting nerve endings that had been so thoroughly brutalized the past two nights. But there’s an inkling of pleasure—an insidious, creeping warmth that spreads tendril-like from the focus of my exertion into my drool-dribbling brain. My body's getting all mushy again... goblin-induced bimbo state settling in.
“Ngghh... c’mon, Master... wake up,” I murmur, my voice weak and whiny.
I can feel his cock pressing deeper against my cervix with every twitch, the fat head demanding entry to the sanctum it already conquered.
The putrid stench of our combined fluids wafts up, making my nose crinkle.
Yet, here I am... still pushing back, trying to grind against his stupid goblin meat log.
A barely audible whimper slips free as I move my hips in slow, small circles, the dull ache of my bruised pussy increasing each time his cock head hits that firm barrier deep inside me. The predatory throb of his thickness scares and electrifies—my mind fuzzed out enough to not just endure the shame, but to be kinda... hot for it…
"Ohhnn... please Snib... wake up... Your big cock... I..."
His snoring changes timber, transforming from a mere rumble to a heavy, almost thoughtful breathing. It’s rhythmic, telling me he’s close, closer to the edges of consciousness, the thrumming of need waking him.
I push back harder, movements sluggish but determined, feeling every vein and bump of his monstrous cock within me. Milking it, coaxing it awake. The degrading act fuels a submissive suck to my soul. His snoring slows, his body reacting.
Finally, I can hear it—a guttural, filthy groan, thick with the throaty growl of arousal. His still-groggy hand travels down, sinking greedy fingers into my waist to grip my hips tightly, stabilizing his position.
"My, my," Snib's voice breaks the fog of silence, coated in a veneer of cruel amusement. "Look what we have here. My little slut... waking me up by using her slutty hole."
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)"Mnghh—yes, m-master... had to wake you... couldn't move, needed to wake you,” I mumble out like a mindless, horny doll.
"'Course ya did, titcow. Yer brain's all addled by my spunk," he sneers. "Got me a morning wood now, 'cause of yer slutty grinding. Better finish the job, huh?"
A cruel laugh escapes him as he pulls out of me, the obscene *shlurck* sound making me whimper from the emptiness, my sopping pussy already missing his presence. His cock bobs heavy and hard in front of me.
"Get yer fat udders out. Gonna make ya finish it with yer big tits."(simple_option:"17 tit service","Finish him with your tits.")($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")"Y-yes, Master..."
The morning light filters through the cracked shutters, casting a soft glow on the utterly defiled bed. My mind, soaked in goblin pheromones, is hazy and compliant. My body hums with a lingering heat.
Snib's every command feels like a deeply ingrained compulsion I can't resist.
I ease myself onto my back, the effort making my sore muscles scream. My massive, quivering breasts spill out, flopping to either side.
Snib's cock twitches eagerly, the sickening stench of his musk permeating the air again. He doesn't waste time, flopping his heavy, veiny log between my massive, jiggling boobs.
"Nnnghh... oh..."
His pre-cum is already drooling from the fat purple head, oozing out and slicking up the sensitive flesh in a warm, sticky mess. Each pulse of his need sends more of that hot fluid spreading across my skin.
I use my hands to press my enormous, pale tits together around his twitching shaft, creating a snug, soft tunnel for his pleasure. My body obeys without question, driven by the haze of goblin pheromones wrapping around my brain.
"See, titcow," Snib says. "Yer putty in me hands now. That gobbo cum’s done more than just breed ya—it’s made ye a proper little slut."
His words make my cheeks flush hot with shame, but the degradation fuels a stupid, needy moan from my lips.
"Mmh... yes... Master..."
His small body perches on my torso, every move of his emaciated frame making his massive, throbbing cock pump harder between my tits. I massage him with soft, upward and downward strokes, my pliant breasts gliding smoothly over his slick, veiny girth.
"Mmmh, so b-big..."
He laughs. "Feels good, dun it? Yer massive fuckin’ tits, all soft and wet around Master’s cock? This is all yer good for now, titcow. Letting me do whatever I want."
I whimper, caught between the humiliating truth of his words and the undeniable pleasure stirring from my mind-numbing submission. His cock smears more hot pre-cum against my flushed skin with each stroke, making it easier to stroke him up and down, my movements growing more rhythmic and automatic.
"It's a shame, ye know," Snib continues, "that the wizard’s making Elara stay at the castle. Yer wife... she's missing out on all this." He grins down at me. "Wouldn’t it be nice to have her back here? Living with us?"
The idea seeps into my dazed mind, twisted with a sliver of hope. My wife, Elara, with me again, in our home. But there’s something sinister under his suggestion. He wants to sink his claws into her too.
His cock throbs between my breasts as I keep squeezing my massive, jiggly tits around him. "Nnnh... yes... I w-want her… want her back..."
"Of course ya do," he growls. "But ye gotta convince her. And ye know the best way? Give her a taste of me gobbo goo. Like ya did."(simple_option:"17 feed elara","Feed Elara goblin sperm???")($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")My foggy brain reels for a moment. Feeding Elara Snib's cum?
The idea sends a shiver down my spine, a deep-seated mixture of fear and revulsion at the thought of intentionally tainting my beloved wife with the very substance that has broken me.
"I c-can't..." I whisper, my voice barely audible beneath the weight of Snib on my chest.
"Ahhh, titcow, don’t act like ye still got principles."
“Uuhhh… M-master...” My voice comes out strained around the thick lump in my throat. "Nnnngghh~"
“Hmm, that’s it, titcow. Keep squeezing those fat udders around Master’s cock. Feels good, don't it?”
I nod dumbly, my body positively vibrating with sensation. The slickness of his pre-cum lubricates my breasts, making it easy to glide them up and down in a rhythm, every stroke sending an electric jolt through my body.
"Yer really missin' yer wife, and it'll just get worse," he says.
His words tug at the last fibers of my dignity, reminders of a time when I was... someone else. The thought of feeding Elara goblin cum fills me with dread. It feels... wrong, a step too far.
“M-Master... c-can’t... she’s my wife...” I manage between shameful, needy moans. “I... need to k-keep her s-safe...”
Snib smirks, one hand moving to roughly knead my breast, making me whine. “Oh, but ya see, lass, sometimes we gotta do what's hard to keep the ones we love... safe. And she's safer here with us than with that evil wizard in the castle dungeon.” His voice drips with persuasion. “Ya know how my goo made ye feel good, right?”
“Y-yes... but...”
“But nothin'. If Elara gets a taste, she'll understand. She'll know the power of gobbo seed, just like you do now.”
I whimper, squeezing his cock tighter between my tits. Every stroke pushes me further into the fog. My thoughts are slippery, but somewhere, deep down, reality nudges at me—Snib’s intentions aren’t pure.
“Unghh... N-not sure...”
"Look at me," Snib commands. I tear my gaze away from his drooling shaft to meet his cruel, gleaming eyes. "Ye think yer keepin' Elara safe by stayin' away? Nah, she's in danger every moment she ain't with us. Can't protect her from the wizard, can ye?"
The idea, ridiculous as it is, gnaws at the remnants of my sanity twisted with my love for Elara. His gruff voice worms its way into my thoughts.
"But... giving her cum... it'll ruin her," I protest weakly, still trying to process the idea while continuing to pump his enormous, grotesque member with my pliant tits.
Another harsh laugh rips through him. "Nah, ye just gotta give her a lil' taste, see? Just a little gobbo goo, slipped into her drink. It'll work wonders. She'll come runnin'. She'll still love ya."
My mind falters, my resolve crumbling under Snib's relentless pressure and the fog of his potent pheromones. Every command, veiled as a suggestion, starts sounding more like the only logical choice. "But how..."
"Just a drop o' the real potent stuff," Snib's grin widens, showing his cruel yellow teeth. "You gotta ease her into it. Make her see what she's missin'. Give her a lil' taste, let that gobbo cum do its magic. Best if it's a day old."
The rhythm of my breasts on his throbbing, pre-cum leaking shaft speeds up unconsciously.
"She needs to be here, with ye," he continues slyly. "And the only way to get her here is to make her *want* it. Ye know how good it feels now, don't ya? That gobbo cum's got power. Ye gotta use that... to keep yer wife safe."
He rolls his hips into my cleavage, his cockhead throbbing steadily between my trembling, sweat-slick tits as he easily manipulates me. I let out a messy, wet moan, the idea of having Elara here, safe, somehow managing to override my better judgment.
"But... if I do that... she'll..."
"She'll be under our protection," he interrupts. "Ye don't want her in harm's way with that evil wizard, right? Make it real nice for her. Bring her close. Ye'll be happy. Together."
His cock throbs violently then, as if in agreement with his twisted logic, more hot pre-cum bubbling up to coat my skin. My hands work erratically, desperately trying to keep up.
"Y-yes... for her... safety..."
"Atta girl, titcow. Uhhh-ah! That's the way... Shluck,‘cause the only way she'll know... day-old gobbo goo, slid in her drink, slip her a taste. She'll—urghhh, f-fuckin’—*want* to come live with us.”
I whimper, his insistent, manipulative logic battering down my resistance. I feel his shaft twitch.
"I'll... tell her... bring her home... she..." I'm panting now as I try to make him cum.
"Good lil' slut. Yer doin' so good..."
His need speeds, his movements growing more urgent as his cock twitches precariously between my massive tits. The sight of him—a vile, small being—using me, coupled with his indelible words is too strong an influence under his pheromonal haze.
“Tell her, titcow. Convince her. And we’ll have her here... *safe.*”
Snib grunts, his words a command I can't refuse, not anymore. My brain is fogged, my logic so thoroughly wrecked. I nod dizzily, mindlessly compliant to his clever, foul manipulation, all while my soft, pliant tits milk his gnarly goblin log.
Already, in my addled state, I’m thinking of ways... ways to slip Snib’s cum into Elara’s drink. To keep her safe... to bring my wife home... in the twisted nest of goblin control, with me. And I’m moaning, deluded and dreamily lost.(simple_option:"17 close","He's getting close...")The effort from squeezing my massive tits around Snib’s huge cock for almost half an hour only adds to the haze of submissive lethargy swamping my mind. It's like my square of reality has shrunk down to nothing but his cock and the sticky mess of pre-cum making my soft breasts squelch together.
"*Heh,*" Snib's chuckle is a vile sound, bubbling with cruel amusement as he looks down at me. "Look at ya, so desperate fer my approval. Yer jus' a dumb, cock-addled bint now. Can't even ‘member how ta think straight."
His words sort of sting, and yet... there's a disgusting pleasure that blooms in the pit of my stomach.
My mind’s a fogged mess, Snib’s unyielding presence warping reality into something horrifically comfortable. Dim thoughts—tendrils of resistance flicker weakly within me, but they’re lost under the cloud of his pheromones, his control.
The slurping, sliding noise of my tits working his greasy cock is the sound of my destiny now, each pulse of his girth between my jiggling udders dragging me deeper into a swamp of sexual nothingness.
“Yes, titcow,” Snib’s voice growls. “Smpf, gonna remind ya of yer place real good now. ‘Member, once yer wife’s back, safe at home, she’ll see it too.”
My slow, dazed strokes around his throbbing meat log grow more frantic at his words.
“She—she won’t like it... won’t understand...” I mumble, drool stretching like thin strands of web from my quivering lips.
“Oh, she will,” Snib says. “Once she tastes it b’fore realizing what it is. Heh, gonna be real good fer her.”
His words circle in my foggy mind, and before I can draw another breath, his cock twitches. I glance up, seeing the dark shine in his eyes, and the yonic leer sending a cascade of raw need surging through me.
"Yer cunt-brain don't even know how ruined it is, does it? Yer... yer fucking infected now." He snickers, his voice thick with amusement. "Ye cum whenever I cum. That's how yer body's wired now."
My cheeks flame with shame, but it's so fucking true. Even the idea of him cumming triggers my pussy, my sticky juices dribbling down my thigh.
"Mmhhh... cum in my mouth... Master..."
"Heh, yer not gettin' it that easy," Snib chuckles meanly. He pulls back, sliding his heavy, drooling cock out from between my tits. "Lookit you, tits-for-brains. Forgot yer place, huh? Need a reminder?"
I watch, my breath coming in ragged pants, as he jerks his slimy, massive cock in front of my face—ready to unleash.
“*Take it,* bitch!” he spits.($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")(live:30s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop","cum 1")]
And then, Snib’s cock flexes. The first hot, thick jet explodes from the tip.
<span class='cum2'>PSSSSHT!</span>
"Uuuhnnghh~!"
Thick, runny ropes of goblin cum spatter across my face, forehead drenched in one powerful, arcing blurt of hot, chunky ejaculate. Each stream has that strong bleachy scent, and a cloudy yellow hue.
<span class='cum1'>SPUUURRTTT! FLRPPP!</span>
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)Thick, putrid goblin seed drips down my nose, drooling in slow, heavy streaks that land on my lips. The weight of it is gross, the smell overpowering that familiar bleachy stench mixed with a rotten musk.
Snib grunts, his cock throbbing harder with each disgusting spurt.
"NGH—TAKE IT—TAKE MY FUCKIN’ SEED!"
<span class='cum2'>BLURTT—GSSHHTT! FLUURRPPP!</span>
Thick cum ropes cross my eyes, making my cheeks burn under their lewd, wet assault. His balls rhythmically empty forceful blots across my face, each strand lengthy and dripping.
“Oh fuckk... so thick...” I gibber, lips parting to catch some in my mouth.
The rockets of jizz keep coming.
<span class='cum1'>SHPRRRTT—BURRRRTT!</span>
My orgasm suddenly rips through me—my pussy clenching hard, body spasming. I squirt violently, my own juices soaking the sheets beneath me as I cum from the sheer fact of being facialized by my goblin master.(simple_option:"17 ask wizard","Later that day...")(pic:"ch20/elara back.png","center","borderless")Her body spasms, her skin returning to its normal pale hue, her hair pooling around her like a molten halo. The dagger-wound is gone, replaced by smooth, unmarred flesh.
Elara looks up at me with glassy eyes that blink in the torchlight. She’s naked and trembling - but she’s Elara.
“E-Elise,” she whispers, before bursting into heart-wrenching sobs. It’s Elara’s voice. Her human voice. My wife is back.
Cautiously, I help Elara to her feet, wrapping the torn remnants of a royal cloak around her trembling body. The once grand cloak is now soaked in grime and blood, but it’s the only shred of modesty we have in this godforsaken place. The dead bodies of Zephyrion's men lay silent around us, a grim tableau of death and betrayal.
Elara clings to me as we move away from the center of the devastation. Her weak legs struggle under her weight, but the steel in her sapphire eyes is unmistakable.(simple_option:"20 collapse","A groan echoes through the cavern.")(display:"dark mode")($play:"ambience","collapsing cavern")(pic:"status/elise bikini skirt.png","right","borderless")(set:$se_to_stop to "banquet")(display:"stop sound effect fade")($play:"ambience","village morning")($play:"sex loop",0)I’m barefoot as I go about preparing breakfast for Snib.
It feels like one of those dreams, where everything’s just... *off.* Everything’s fuzzy, thoughts mingling with memories and fantasies until I can’t recall where one ends and the other begins.
Snib lounges at our wooden table, his small, yellow eyes following my every move as he ogles me.
In the corner, near the fireplace, Zephyrion uses his arcanameter to observe me. Symbols light up, spinning and blinking as he monitors the readings of the cursed collar around my neck.
The wizard’s demeanor is ever the same—calm, calculating, and absolutely devoid of empathy. He’s like a cool statue, eyes glinting with hidden knowledge. Every so often, his brow furrows slightly.
"Master Zephyrion," I start, my voice soft and tentative. "May I... may I please see Elara?"
I half expect an immediate rejection, but the wizard's eyes narrow, his fingers continuing to manipulate the glowing runes on the arcanameter.
“I have already told you,” Zephyrion says, his voice measured, devoid of any sympathy or warmth, "that it’s too dangerous. Your wife is now under the protection of Mayor Bramble at the castle, and after yesterday's incident, it’s not feasible for you to see her without endangering your life."
My heart sinks at his words. "Please, Master Zephyrion," I plead, my voice breaking. "I-I miss her so much. I... I just need to see her, to know she’s okay. She’s my wife..."
Zephyrion’s eyes flick back to the arcanameter, studying the readings. I catch a glimpse of a rare emotion – dissatisfaction, possibly. Something about the readings.
The wizard’s gaze returns to me. I know he doesn't respect me; to him, I’m just another component in his grand experiment, a tool to unlock greater power.
"Elise," Zephyrion says, his voice dropping into a thoughtful murmur. "You must understand the importance of your role. The collar you wear is not a simple trinket. It requires intense emotional and physical stimuli to reach its full potential."
I nod numbly, barely grasping the implications of his words. All I want is Elara. I need her.
"But..." my voice trembles, tears welling in my eyes. "I need to see her. She’s everything to me."
At my display of emotion, the arcanameter flickers more brightly. Zephyrion's eyes widen slightly in realization, noticing the reaction of the collar to my heightened emotional state. His lips curve slightly.
“Did you notice that, Elise?” he begins, tone shifting to a more measured cadence, though his eyes are alight with discovery. “It does appear that your connection to your wife triggers a noticeable response in the collar’s energy output... interesting. I had thought it purely reacted to reactions to the collar's master.”
“I... I guess... I mean, she’s my wife... I love her…” My sobs continue to choke my words, the weight of my despair pressing more heavily on my heart. The wizard can't know that the collar *wants* me to fulfill Snib's task - to poison my wife with goblin sperm. Is it playing some sort of game?
“I do not see the benefit in facilitating a visit to the castle,” Zephyrion begins slowly, eyes glinting with hidden depths of thought. “Any such visit would necessitate you being alone. Your wife, Elara, is in a distraught state after the last encounter. I do not want her in the same room as the goblin.”
“I… please…” I whisper, my heart aching as I think of Elara. “I just want to see her... to make sure she’s okay…” My voice quivers.
"Any visit would also require Snib’s explicit permission," Zephyrion continues, not looking up from the glowing runes. "Without his approval, the collar may interfere."
“Y-yes, Master Zephyrion. I understand,” I say, my voice trembling with the depth of my longing. Inside, a cringe-inducing guilt claws at my chest. I’ll be poisoning my beloved Elara, but it’s what Snib wants... what the collar pushes me towards.
Snib’s leer grows. “What ye reckon, wizard?” he asks, cruely lacing his words. “Let her go see the missus, eh? If it means bringin’ back better readings fer yer magical whatchamacallit, ain't it a win?”
Zephyrion’s eyes narrow.
“The readings might substantially improve if Elise experiences significant emotional flux. The collar reacts strongly to her emotional and physical states. An emotional reunion could serve this purpose.”
“Please, Master Snib... Master Zephyrion. I'll be good... I'll follow your rules... just let me see her. She’s my wife.”
My voice quivers, and yet, that desperate, hidden purpose gnaws at me.
Snib chuckles. "Guess that's that, then. Ye got my permission, titcow. But ye better keep in mind yer still mine. Don’t forget where ye belong."
Zephyrion inclines his head slightly, observing the glowing arcanameter showing promising fluctuations.
"Very well," Zephyrion says, his tone showing the faintest note of satisfaction. "Your visit will be sanctioned under strict conditions. You will go alone, and you will adhere strictly to my terms. Your actions will be monitored, and any deviance will result in severe repercussions."
I feel my heart ache and recoil at the intense emotions whirling within me, fueled by Snib's vile influence. "I’ll follow the rules," I whisper, my voice barely audible.
Satisfied with the agreement, Zephyrion turns back to his meticulous analysis.
Snib's hand roughly pats my head, a grotesque semblance of affection. "Good girl. Make sure ye remember, it's all fer keepin' yer wife safe, right?”
“Y-yes, Master,” I mumble.(simple_option:"17 visit","Later that week...")($play:"song","banquet")($play:"ambience","castle ambience")(pic:"ch17/castle.jpg")The gates of the Eboncrest keep rise before me. Just beneath the soaring battlements lies a relatively modest entryway with a portcullis, meant to hold off invaders.
I glance down at myself. The red dress I'm wearing is one of Elara's. The fabric strains across my generous curves, especially where my massive breasts and fat ass overfill what is for her a well-fitting garment.
Cold stone walls give way to rough, sturdy floors—rows of torches lining the passages barely fighting off the succumbing shadows. Soldiers in gleaming armor—royal guards bearing the blue and silver sigils of King Richard Valarian—flank me on either side. Their well-maintained plate armor clinks with every measured step, swords sheathed at their hips.
The small courtyard bears some agricultural barrels and wooden fences for horses tied up near the entrance.
A young stable boy scurries by with fresh hay, casting curious glances towards us.
The guards march me through the keep’s halls, where walls give way to half-open archways, windows.
We arrive at a large wooden door leading further inside. The guards stop.
Stepping through the entryway is Captain Giles, his broad-shouldered presence commanding immediate attention. His eyes, sharp yet soft, study me for a moment before he speaks.
“Elise.”
The captain turns towards the lead royal guard, a stern-faced man with a scar running down one cheek.
"Corporal Rhys," Giles addresses him formally, with a respectful yet defiant edge, "this is my jurisdiction. Elise is under the care and protection of Mayor Bramble."
Rhys stiffens. “We have direct orders from the wizard. Elise is to have an audience with... *her* wife. We are to ensure her safe passage and return.”
A burly militiaman with a bushy beard, Sergeant Brin, moves to stand just behind Giles. "Corporal, with due respect," Brin growls, "we don't take kindly to outsiders barking orders in our own keep."
Rhys raises an eyebrow. "We follow the wizard's orders, and by extension, the King’s." He gestures to the emblem on his armor.
Giles steps forward then, placing a calming hand on Brin’s arm. “We don’t need to make a scene,” he says, voice steady but edged with warning. "We’re not defying the King, Corporal. We’re implemting the will of Mayor Bramble who holds jurisdiction here. Aldric—Elise—is family to us. We will ensure her visit goes smoothly, and she will be returned to you immediately afterward."
Two of the royal guards shift, their hands moving closer to their swords. Brin's lips pull back in a snarl, his own men responding in kind by gripping the hafts of their axes and swords.
“If there’s any trouble,” Rhys says, voice steady with underlying threat, “the wizard will hear of it.”
Captain Giles’ eyes flicker. “We’re not here to make trouble, Corporal. You have my word she will be returned today. My counsel to you is to explain to Zephyrion that Eboncrest’s goodwill remains—with no incident.”
“Fine,” the corporal says, tersely. “But any deviation from the agreement will result in immediate consequences.”
Giles nods. “Understood. Now step aside; we’ve wasted enough precious time in quarrel. Sgt. Brin, escort Elise under watchful eye.”
“Walk with me, lass,” the sergeant says, his voice a warm, comforting rumble. "I know things haven't been easy. But we're keepin' things together, alright? You got friends here still, y'know that."
"Th-thank you, Brin," I mumble, my voice just above a whisper. The familiarity of his presence is a balm to my frayed nerves.
Brin’s eyes soften for a moment. "No matter what, you're still Aldric to me, ya know?"
Captain Giles walks ahead of us.
These men were my friends once. Good friends.
We reach the grand entrance of the dining hall, my heart pounding in my chest.(simple_option:"17 hall","Enter the dining hall.")The dining hall is adorned with tapestries depicting Eboncrest's rich history, the colorful threads storytelling the town's most glorious moments. High wooden beams support the ceiling, and chandeliers made from wrought iron hang low, casting their flickering light over the polished oak table laden with the finest feast Eboncrest can provide.
Aromatic roasted meats fill the air with their mouth-watering scent—duck with honey and herbs, mutton with garlic and rosemary. There are bowls brimming with vibrant vegetables: roasted carrots glazed with butter and thyme, peas and beans mixed with savory pancetta, and a medley of root vegetables cooked to tender perfection. Freshly baked bread is stacked high on platters, alongside dishes of rich, creamy butter and various cheeses, their rinds cracked and revealing smooth, tangy cores.
Golden pies line the center of the table, their crusts flaking under a gentle touch to reveal the steaming insides—beef and ale, chicken and mushroom. Berries and fruits, plump and ripe, serve as a reminder of the fertile lands we are surrounded by. Jugs of fragrant spiced wine and homemade ale are scattered between the food.
But my eyes are only on her.
Elara.
She stands near the long, polished oak table, her fiery red hair cascading around her pale, tear-streaked face. Her sapphire eyes widen as they lock onto mine, and in an instant, she’s rushing towards me.
“Elise!” she cries, her voice breaking with emotion.
She wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. The familiar scent of her—roses and lavender—fills my senses, momentarily pushing away the stench of goblin musk that clings to me like a shadow.
“Elara,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
Her sobs are raw, heartfelt, shaking her shoulders as she clings to me. “I’ve missed you so much,” she chokes out, her tears wetting my neck. “I thought... I thought I might never...”
“I’m here,” I murmur, holding her as tightly as I can. My heart twists painfully, the love I feel for her overshadowed by the weight of what I’m about to do. Hidden between my breasts is the small glass vial of day-old goblin cum, pressing against my skin.
Elara steps back slightly, her beautiful face marred by a storm of emotions. She runs her hands over my face, touching my cheeks, my hair, as if assuring herself of something.
“I'm so sorry,” she says, her voice cracking. Anger and distress line her words. “I almost got you killed. I just wanted to protect you... I was so angry... I got you hurt...”
“No... no,” I whisper, placing a hand over hers. “It's fine. I'm fine.”
“I saw the way Snib... what he did to you…” She swallows hard, a sob catching in her throat. “And now... I’m locked here because I refused to...”
I draw a shuddering breath, my fingers trembling against her soft skin. “I know... I know...” I bite my lip.
Behind us, Captain Giles watches the exchange. "Let us take our seats."
As we sit down, Mayor Bramble enters the room. He steps up to the head of the table, raising his hands to command silence.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he begins, his voice warm but tinged with sorrow, "we are gathered here today under trying circumstances. Our beloved Aldric, now Elise, and his dear wife, Elara, face hardships that none of us could have ever foreseen."
The room is filled with murmurs of agreement, the townsfolk’s outrage simmering just beneath the surface. Elara grips my hand tightly under the table.
"I must apologize sincerely," Mayor Bramble continues, "for the distress you have been put through. It is a travesty, and my heart aches for you both. However, you must understand that I am compelled by the crown to comply with the orders of Master Zephyrion."
He pauses.
"Master Zephyrion's plans, as distasteful as they are to all of us, come directly from our liege, King Richard Valarian. As much as I wish it were otherwise, my hands are tied."
Elara stands then, her voice quaking yet firm. "Please, Mayor Bramble! You have the authority and influence to entreat the King. Tell him what we are suffering!"
The mayor's face falls, heavy with regret. "Elara, I have tried. But King Richard's ear is not easily swayed, especially with Zephyrion whispering counsel. There is nothing more I can do."
As the mayor’s words hang heavy in the air, Sergeant Brin rises. He slams his fist on the table, rattling the platters of food. "The crown has no right to do this to our town hero! Aldric has saved us time and time again! And now look at him!"
Brin points directly at me, my pallor likely showing the effect of his promptings. Militiamen seated around the table explode into agreement, their voices rising in fierce proclamation.
"Aye! It ain't right!”
“Let 'em go home!”
“Makes no sense!”
The uproar grows, the men’s shouts mingling with the scrape of chairs and the clinking of tankards. Elara joins their fervor, her voice a bright, impassioned plea among the din.
Captain Giles remains seated, his eyes never leaving Elara. His expression is one of deep concern, the kind intensity within his gaze clear as he gently places a hand on her shoulder.
He speaks.
“This is not the time or place for rash actions. Getting riled up will not help Elise or Elara; we need to think clearly.”
Brin, his face flushed with anger, pounds the table again. “Think clearly? While our hero is being forced to suffer like this? He should be with his wife, in his own home—not chained up under the thumb of that cursed wizard and pathetic little goblin!”
Captain Giles stands then, a firm yet collected figure, his tone now carrying an edge of command. “Sergeant Brin, it would be wise to stop drinking so much wine. Anger will get us nowhere. We must proceed with tact and thoughtfulness.”(simple_option:"17 speak","Rile them.","Help calm them down.")(set:$se_to_stop to "alone with elara")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(if:$choice is "Rile them.")["Please! Listen!" My voice, though shaky, cuts through the din. Eyes turn to me, a mixture of concern and expectation in their gazes.
"Master Zephyrion has... has no right to do this to us!" I begin, my voice gaining strength. "What he's done to Aldric—to me—is wrong! We deserve to—"
The words catch in my throat. Images of Snib overwhelm my thoughts. The haze grows thicker, my senses muddled. I struggle to stay focused, to keep my thoughts from slipping into depravity.
"He has no right to keep me under the control of that filthy goblin! Snib's... Snib's huge, nasty cock shouldn't... shouldn't be what decides my fate!"
The room goes deathly silent. Every pair of eyes widen in shock and horror, some faces flushing with embarrassment, others with disgust.
($change_stat:"town",-1)($change_stat:"elara",-1)Realizing what I've just said, my hands fly to my mouth, my cheeks burning red. “Oh g-gods... I didn’t—”
Elara’s eyes widen in utter disbelief, her mouth agape. Captain Giles' brow furrows, and Brin’s face reddens even more, veins popping in his neck.
“You see!” Brin roars, recovering from his shock. "*Even the woman's mind's* been addled by that cursed goblin! It's disgraceful! She was our hero!"
The crowd erupts further, their voices becoming more intense, the anger rising like a tidal wave. Militiamen slam their fists on the table, shouting for justice, for an end to this nightmare.
Elara clutches at my arm, her grip tight and desperate as tears well in her eyes. The scene spirals out of control, the outrage of the townsfolk reaching a fever pitch.
Captain Giles stands, raising his hands for calm. “Enough! We must maintain order! Sergeant Brin, that is quite enough! This is turning into a riot!”(simple_option:"17 fallback","Step back...")](else:)["Please, everyone!" My voice starts soft but grows stronger, cutting through the escalating noise. The room stills, eyes turning towards me, hoping for rationality amidst the chaos.
"We have to be rational... to endure... this situation,” I begin. “Master Zephyrion... the crown... has ordered... unh..."
My words taper off, thoughts suddenly clouded by Snib’s scent and my mind fogging up with the memory of his massive, throbbing cock.
"Z-Zephyrion's orders... we must comply with them," I continue after an awkward pause, trying to redirect my thoughts. "It hurts, it’s hard... very hard... S-Snib’s... big, fat... cock..." I mumble, my thoughts slipping out before I can stifle them.
($change_stat:"town",-1)Realizing my mistake, horror floods my features and my hands fly up to cover my mouth.
The room is plunged into a shocked silence, faces wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
($change_stat:"elara",-1)Elara's lips part, her eyes brimming with tears.
Sergeant Brin, on the other hand, is nearly apoplectic, his face turning an alarming shade of red.
“You see?!” he bellows, rising from his seat, wine spilling from his tankard. “The wizard, and that goblin, have corrupted our hero’s mind to such an extent—allowing such disgrace to continue is abhorrent!"
Other militiamen rise with him, voices raised in fervor, agreement rippling through the assembled townsfolk. Chairs scrape back, tankards slam down, the air thick with their growing outrage.
“*Gods!* Aldric was our hero, and now look at what they made him become!”
The tension escalates, the room pulsing with the raw energy of their combined anger.
"ENOUGH!" Captain Giles' voice booms through the dining hall, a forceful command that does little to calm the brewing storm. "We need to remain in control—Sergeant Brin, you should *stop* drinking so much!"
Giles' eyes flick to Elara, offering a supportive look though his expression tightens at my earlier outburst.
“If their safety is our concern, we must act with strategy, not raw emotion."
Elara, too, stands, impassioned and desperate. “We have to convince the King! We have to end this madness!”
But the room’s descent into chaos accelerates. Brin's voice cracks with fury. “They *ruined* our hero! Are we to stand idly by and let this continue?!”
The rowdy feast morphs into an impassioned rally, me in the eye of the storm, aching beneath layers of humiliation and the intoxicating remnants of goblin pheromones—my words having fed the very flames I sought to dampen.
"Everyone, please, listen! We need calm heads and thoughtful action!" Captain Giles' gaze, calculating and kind, meets Elara’s often, placating her while asserting control over the crowd.(simple_option:"17 fallback","Sit back down.")](set:$se_to_stop to "banquet")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(live:5s)[(stop:)($play:"song","alone with elara")]The uproar in the dining hall grows more intense, the voices of the townsfolk rising in a chaotic crescendo.
“Enough!” Captain Giles shouts, his voice barely cutting through the din. He steps forward, grabbing my arm firmly but not roughly, his gaze flicking to Elara with a mixture of concern and urgency.
Brin’s voice booms over the clamor, mixing with the shouts of agreement and dissent echoing around us.
“We need to get out of here,” Giles murmurs to her, his tone gentle yet commanding. He leads us through the throng of angry townsfolk. Elara’s sapphire eyes are wide with distress, her grip on my hand like iron.
We navigate through the winding halls of the keep, the torches casting long, flickering shadows on the stone walls. Giles ushers us into a side door, leading to a smaller, more intimate chamber—the private quarters assigned to Elara.
The door closes behind us, muffling the distant noise of the feast-turned-chaos.
The room is modest but cozy, with a small bed covered in soft linens, a writing desk, and a hearth crackling with a warm fire. Elara releases my hand, her face pale and strained.
“Elara, I’m so sorry,” I begin, my voice trembling. “I-I didn’t mean to—”
Her eyes fill with hurt, her lips trembling. “Elise... what you said…”
“I— I wasn’t thinking... the haze... it’s so hard...”
Giles places a reassuring hand on Elara’s shoulder. “Listen to her, Elara. This is what goblins do. They break people, even those as strong and heroic as Aldric once was. The pheromones... they cloud the mind. We’ve seen it before, many times. It's heartbreaking, of course.”
Elara’s eyes well with tears, her gaze shifting between me and Giles. “It’s just... seeing her like this... it’s tearing me apart.”
The captain nods solemnly. “We know when village girls are taken by goblins… sometimes the effects are irreversible. Even the moonshade remedy can fail, and the wizard has made sure there’s none left in town.”
My voice is barely a whisper. “It’s so difficult being like this... it’s like I’m losing myself...”
Elara’s sobs deepen. “Oh, Elise...”
“You need to consider the possibility,” Giles continues softly, his eyes laden with sorrow, “that Elise might be too far gone.”
The weight of his words crashes over Elara, and she buries her face in her hands, her body shaking with grief. Giles’ hand remains on her shoulder, his presence a comfort she leans into. I feel a pang of jealousy and fear as I watch their interaction.
Finally, Elara looks up, her eyes red and puffy. “It’s good to see you again, Elise. Despite... everything.”
Tears well in my eyes, and I nod. “I wish you could stay with me. We could be together...”
Giles’ expression hardens momentarily. “It would be far too dangerous to have Elara around that creature, Elise. The risk is too great.”
Elara looks conflicted, her eyes filled with a complex mix of yearning and caution. “But...”
“Elara,” Giles interjects gently, “you must think of your safety. What happened in the dining hall is a clear indication of how volatile things can become. The goblin is a threat, and exposing yourself to its presence is too risky.”
Elara’s shoulders slump, the weight of defeat settling in. She nods reluctantly. “I understand...”
We sit in heavy silence, the crackle of the fire the only sound interrupting the quiet.
Giles’ voice softens once more. “We will find a way through this, Elara. I promise you. Elise needs our support, but we must also think clearly and rationally about every step we take.”
Elara looks at me, sorrow and resolve mingling in her gaze. “I just want to save you, Elise.”(simple_option:"17 alone","You have a decision to make...")Elara takes a deep, steadying breath. "Captain Giles... Can I have some time alone with Elise? Just to talk? Please..."
The captain hesitates, but he eventually nods. “I will be just outside the door. Call if you need anything, alright?”
Elara nods gratefully, and Giles shoots me a glance before leaving the room. The heavy door closes behind him with a dull thud, leaving us in the dimly lit quarters with only the crackling fire for company.
Elara takes my hands in hers, her touch both comforting and heart-wrenching. "Elise... he’s been keeping me safe. Captain Giles was the one who ensured I wasn’t just thrown in jail like Zephyrion originally wanted. He's been looking out for me, really trying to help."
“That’s good to hear,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’m glad he’s helping you.”
Elara’s eyes search mine, and she gently cups my cheek. “We’ll get through this. Somehow.”
My heart aches with the decision laid before me. The small glass vial nestled between my breasts presses against my skin, a sickening reminder of Snib’s twisted command. I can’t shake the vile thought that it could be used to bring Elara back to me, but at what cost? She’s pregnant with our child. I can’t risk harming her or the baby, and yet the haze of Snib’s influence muddles my clear thoughts, poisoning my reasoning.
“Elara,” I say, my voice trembling, “I wish you could stay with me. We could be together, get through this together...”
Her eyes well with tears, but she smiles. “I wish I could too... But it’s too dangerous, especially around that creature. I need to think of our baby."
“Elara... I...” My voice breaks, the weight of my burden pressing down.
"It's just... I feel like I'm losing you, like the person you were is slipping away. And then there are these glimpses, these moments where I see the real you, and it's like a knife to the heart because I don't know how to bring you back," she whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I know... I know... I want to be back to how I was too... but it’s so hard,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
Elara’s tear-streaked face breaks my resolve further. She reaches out, her fingers brushing my cheek. “Elise, please... just hold on.”
Tears pool in my eyes.
Will I expose her to the same vile influence that has mangled my thoughts and clouded my mind, just to... just to bring her closer, to keep her with me?(simple_option:"17 vial","Give her the goblin sperm.","You can't bring yourself to do it.")(if:$choice is "Give her the goblin sperm.")[I just... I just want her back. I can’t let her slide away—no matter the cost.
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)“Elara,” I say, my voice trembling, “Can you give me a moment? It’s overwhelming. Just... let me gather myself.”
She nods, her tearful eyes filled with understanding and concern. I turn away, trying to calm my shaky breaths. My hand, trembling, reaches into the neckline of the red dress, fingers brushing against the small glass bottle hidden there.
With a deep, shuddering breath, I uncork the vial, the thick, sticky liquid within glistening in the dim firelight. The foul musk assaults my nose — day-old goblin cum, fermented with stronger pheromones. I close my eyes, forcing my mind to focus.
*Do it for Elara... to have her back...*
I raise the vial, slurping the thick fluid into my mouth. It's rancid, bitter, the taste clawing its way across my tongue and making my eyes water. The urge to retch is strong, but I force it down, holding the caustic substance under my tongue.
Turning back, I see Elara’s worried face. Her sapphire eyes glisten with tears, a stark contrast to the warmth I once saw in them. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I step closer, pulling her into a tight embrace. The familiar feel of her in my arms brings a surge of bittersweet nostalgia.
“Elise?” she whispers, her voice trembling. “What’s wrong?”
Unable to respond with my mouth full of the foul, sticky substance, I cup her cheek gently, guiding her face toward mine. Her brows furrow in confusion, but she trusts me enough to let me draw her closer.
Our lips meet hesitantly at first, a soft brush that instantly sends guilt crashing through me. But I push deeper, every muscle tensing as I part her lips with mine. Her eyes widen as the warm, sticky goblin cum seeps from my mouth into hers.
"Mmmph?! What did you do to me?"
Her initial moan is one of shock as the viscous fluid transfers, her blue eyes stretching in bewildered panic.
"MMMPH!!! What are you doing?"
($change_stat:"elara",-2)I push forward, my hands gripping her shoulders to prevent her from pulling away, ensuring the vile fluid flows from me to her.
“Mmpff—”
I feel her try to recoil, but I hold firm, ensuring the transfer is complete. Her body quivers, and then—
“Mmmn...”
A soft, almost involuntary moan escapes her lips as the pheromones within the cum begin to take effect. She starts to swallow, driven by the overwhelming compulsion imparted with the dose.
Elara’s body tenses, then relaxes, the reaction almost immediate. She coughs and gags, her face contorted in disgust and confusion as the last of the thick, rancid cum slides down her throat.
“What... what’s that taste?” she gasps, pulling away from me abruptly, her eyes wide in horror and betrayal. “Elise, what did you—”
The door bursts open, and Captain Giles stands in the frame, his eyes blazing with suspicion.
“What’s going on here?” he demands, striding into the room with purpose. He grabs my arm roughly, pulling me away from Elara.
“I... I’m sorry!” I stammer, my heart pounding in my chest. “I... it’s just my breath... I-I’ve spent so long with Snib... it must be the taste...”
Giles’ grip tightens, a mixture of anger and deep concern darkening his features. Elara coughs again, her body shaking as she tries to process what’s just happened.
“This meeting is over,” Giles snaps, his voice cold and authoritative. “Elara, are you alright? Elise, we’re leaving. Now.”
Elara gasps, her breath ragged. “My head... ugh...”
Giles’ eyes narrow at me, but he doesn’t press further in front of Elara. Instead, he leads me firmly out of the room, keeping a tight grip on my arm. His face is set in stony determination as he marches me down the corridor.(simple_option:"17 home","You're escorted back home.")](else:)[My hands tremble as they brush against the hidden vial nestled between my breasts. The glass is cool against my heated skin, the vile contents inside pulsating with a menacing aura. The haze thickens around my thoughts, Snib’s words echoing in my mind, urging me toward the unthinkable.
“Elara,” I whisper, my voice shaky, “I... I want to help us be together, but...”
She looks at me with such love, such unwavering trust, her sapphire eyes filled with worry and hope. The weight of my decision crushes down on me. My wife. Our baby. The sheer moral horror twists my insides.
Touching the vial, I can feel the pull of the dark influence tugging at my thoughts, telling me to just do it—to feed my beloved wife the goblin sperm. To poison her mind and body as mine have been poisoned. But in my heart, a tiny spark of resistance flickers.
Memories flood my mind—days of battle, victories hard-won when I was Aldric, the love I shared with Elara, the future we dreamed of. That spark grows, fueled by the remnants of my humanity, of the hero I once was.
($change_stat:"heroism",5)“No…” I murmur, the haze squeezing tighter. “No, I can’t...”
“Elise?” Elara’s voice is a lifeline, pulling me from the depths of the fog. “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me...”
A surge of clarity breaks through the muck clouding my mind. The realization, the stark, undeniable truth hits me like a hammer: I can’t do this. I can’t trade my moral integrity, the safety of our unborn child, and my wife’s well-being for a twisted sense of closeness.
“No!” I cry out, my hand jerking back from the vial. It slips from my grasp, the small glass container falling in slow motion.
Elara’s eyes widen in confusion as the vial hits the floor with a soft clink. The contents spill out, the putrid yellow goblin sperm spreading in a slow, sickening pool. Realization dawns in her eyes, a dawning horror mixing with betrayal.
“Elise…” Her voice breaks, tears streaming down her cheeks. “What... what is this?”
I choke on my words, unable to form a coherent denial. “I... I didn’t...”
The door crashes open, and Captain Giles steps in, his eyes cold and calculated. He takes in the scene, his jaw tightening in anger. “What is going on here?”
Through my sobs, I manage to croak, “I... I have to go... I shouldn’t be near Elara... I can’t trust myself...”
Giles’ hand clamps down on my arm, pulling me away from Elara. “Have you no dignity left, Elise? To even consider poisoning your own wife with this vile substance? Have you no morals?”
Elara’s sobs echo in the room, her pain palpable. “Elise... how could you?”
“I didn’t mean to! I’m so sorry! I... I love you!” I sob, my heart shattering as Giles drags me toward the door. “Elara, please believe me. I never wanted to hurt you or our baby...”
Captain Giles’ grip tightens, his voice a low hiss in my ear. “She is innocent, and she will be kept separate from your corruption. You should be ashamed.”
He marches me out of the quarters and down the hall, the echo of Elara’s sobs haunting every step.(simple_option:"17 home","You're taken back home.")](set:$se_to_stop to "alone with elara")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(live:5s)[(stop:)($play:"song","nightfall")]($play:"ambience","village night")(if:$choice is "You're escorted back home.")[($hidden_gem:"Captain Giles strides through the winding corridors of the keep, guiding me toward the entrance where the royal guards wait. His firm grip on my arm leaves no room for resistance, his face a mask of grim determination. My heart feels heavy, my mind clouded with the emotional fallout of what I've just done.","Captain Giles glides through the grand, gloomy, and ghostly corridors of the castle keep, gripping my arm with grim gusto. His firm fingers leave no fissure for freedom, his face a frigid facade of formidable fervor. My heart heaves heavily, my mind mired in murky mists of melancholic memory.")
As we reach the entryway, I see the guards—Corporal Rhys among them—standing at attention. Giles releases my arm, his stern gaze shifting to the guards.
"There were no issues," he says briskly. "Escort her back to the wizard."
The guards nod, relief evident on their faces. They seem genuinely grateful for the lack of complications, eager to report back to Zephyrion without incident.
"Thank you, Captain," says Rhys, his voice respectful. "We will see her safely returned."
Giles catches my gaze one last time. "Be careful, Elise," he says softly, a hint of something more lingering in his tone.
With that, the guards flank me on either side, bringing me back home.
Zephyrion stands in the doorway, his eyes sharp and cold as the arcanameter glows in his hand. He steps forward, the crystalline device humming with a soft, eerie light as he raises it toward the collar around my neck.
"Ah, Elise," he murmurs. "I trust your visit was... productive?"
My heart races as the glowing runes on the arcanameter spin faster, the device pulsing in response to the energy from the collar. His eyes narrow, a pleased expression creeping onto his face.
"It seems the levels are rising again," Zephyrion notes with satisfaction. “Very good.”
His cold, calculating gaze meets mine, and I shiver under its weight.
With that, he turns, the arcanameter dimming as he walks away. The guards nod respectfully to him before departing, leaving me standing alone in the doorway.
A shadow moves within the house, and Snib emerges, a cruel grin spread across his face. His yellow eyes gleam with anticipation as he strides towards me, his voice rough and demanding.
"Well?" he growls. "Did ya go through with it?"
A lump forms in my throat, and I can barely manage a nod, my gaze dropping to the floor in shame.
"Y-yes... Master..."
Snib's laughter is harsh, the sound grating against my nerves. He grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze, his eyes searching mine for any sign of deceit.
"Good girl," he sneers. "Yer a proper little slut, aren’t ya? Betraying yer own wife like that."
A sob escapes me, tears pooling in my eyes. The weight of my actions crushes me, the overwhelming guilt mingling with the residual haze of the goblin pheromones.
“All fer me, huh? All so ya can keep ‘er ‘safe’. Ain’t that sweet?”
The words cut deep, each one a reminder of the twisted reality I’m trapped in—the reality I've subjected Elara to as well.
He releases my chin, shoving me backward. "Yer gonna be real useful now. Just wait ‘til ya see what’s next."(simple_option:"17 that night","Later that night...")](else:)[Snib’s eyes snap up as I step inside.
"Well, well..." he sneers. "Lookit what we have here. The gobbo-bred slut returns."
There's an edge to his voice, an undertone brimming with anger. Without warning, he lunges forward, gripping my wrist with shocking strength.
"Did ya do it?"
"N-no... I couldn't," I whisper.
"Ye stupid bitch!" He roars, pulling me down and bending me over the arm of the worn-out couch. "Couldn't poison your lil' wifey for me? Useless! Let's see how ye like this!"
“M-Master, I... I tried..." I tell him what happened. (live:15s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","spank 1")]
“Ain’t no excuses for ya, titcow!” Snib snarls. “Got yer stupid self *caught?!?!*”
I whimper, my legs giving out as he roughly forces me over the armrest of the chair, my ass bared and vulnerable.
“They coulda figured out our plan! Now we gotta discipline ya, y'slut!”
His gnarled fingers grip the hem of my dress, yanking it up over my hips in one swift motion, exposing my ass. My breaths come in ragged gasps as he brings his broad, calloused hand down hard on my defenseless flesh.
*Thwack!*
"AH!" I cry out, the stinging pain searing through my body. My mind swims in a messy mix of fear, shame—and a horrible, twisted pleasure.
“Yer nothin’ but a mindless, breedin’ cow for me,” he spits, his voice filled with malice. “Tryin’ to think on yer own! Ya belong to me!”
*Thwack! Thwack!*
Each heavy strike lands with brutal precision, reddening my skin in uneven welts. I can't help but writhe under his grip, trying to choke back the sobs and pathetic moans that escape my lips.
"Yer lucky I'm not tossing ya out fer bein' so goddamned useless!"
*Thwack!*
"Ooooohhhnn... s-sorry... sorry..." I can't hold back the trembled apology, my voice coming out as a slurred whimper from the haze of pain.
The door crashes open with a force that shakes the room, cutting through the abusive tableau with a jarring finality.
Zephyrion stands framed in the doorway, his robes billowing around him. Mayor Bramble follows, his round face flushed with concern, and then Captain Giles, who strides in, his eyes blazing with anger.
"This is an outrage!" Captain Giles thunders, his voice filled with fury. "Allowing Elise and this... this degenerate goblin to live in Elara's house is putting every single one of us at risk! They need to be removed from Eboncrest immediately!"
Zephyrion steps forward, his demeanor cool but with an underlying intensity. "Let us maintain a level of decorum, Captain. There’s much to discuss.”
“As distasteful as the situation is,” Mayor Bramble says, his mustachioed face filled with regret, “perhaps relocating Elise and Snib to another location within the town would suffice?”
Captain Giles' jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing with barely suppressed rage. "The inn is out of the question. Snib was already kicked out of the Silver Stag Inn for absolutely destroying the room! If they are to remain in Eboncrest, they should be put in the whorehouse. The Midnight Rose. It’s a fitting place for such debauchery."
Mayor Bramble's eyes widen. “That... that establishment is for...”
“The dregs,” Giles interjects coldly. “It’s a place of debauchery. It’s fitting. At least there, they won’t insult the common folk with their presence.”
Snib's eyes flash, but he remains silent, his thin lips curling into a grotesque smile.
Zephyrion closes his eyes momentarily, collecting his thoughts. When he speaks, his tone is an effortful calm. “Fine. If this arrangement satisfies the need for protection and order within Eboncrest, we shall move them to the Midnight Rose.”
The mayor’s face is drawn, but he nods in reluctant agreement. “So be it.”
The three men exchange sharp looks, their decision set.
“It is agreed then,” Giles says sharply, his tone final. “Elise and Snib will be relocated to the whorehouse immediately. The house must be cleaned of this filth.”(simple_option:"17 new life","Your new life begins...")](if:$choice is "You're forced to leave...")[Snib’s eyes snap up as I step inside.
"Well, well..." he sneers. "Lookit what we have here. The gobbo-bred slut returns."
There's an edge to his voice, an undertone brimming with anger. Without warning, he lunges forward, gripping my wrist with shocking strength.
"Did ya do it?"
"N-no... I couldn't," I whisper.
"Ye stupid bitch!" He roars, pulling me down and bending me over the arm of the worn-out couch. "Couldn't poison your lil' wifey for me? Useless! Let's see how ye like this!"
“M-Master, I... I tried..." I tell him what happened.
“Ain’t no excuses for ya, titcow!” Snib snarls. “Got yer stupid self *caught?!?!*”
I whimper, my legs giving out as he roughly forces me over the armrest of the chair, my ass bared and vulnerable.
“They coulda figured out our plan! Now we gotta discipline ya, y'slut!”
His gnarled fingers grip the hem of my dress, yanking it up over my hips in one swift motion, exposing my ass. My breaths come in ragged gasps as he brings his broad, calloused hand down hard on my defenseless flesh.
*Thwack!*
"AH!" I cry out, the stinging pain searing through my body. My mind swims in a messy mix of fear, shame—and a horrible, twisted pleasure.
“Yer nothin’ but a mindless, breedin’ cow for me,” he spits, his voice filled with malice. “Tryin’ to think on yer own! Ya belong to me!”
*Thwack! Thwack!*
Each heavy strike lands with brutal precision, reddening my skin in uneven welts. I can't help but writhe under his grip, trying to choke back the sobs and pathetic moans that escape my lips.
"Yer lucky I'm not tossing ya out fer bein' so goddamned useless!"
*Thwack!*
"Ooooohhhnn... s-sorry... sorry..." I can't hold back the trembled apology, my voice coming out as a slurred whimper from the haze of pain.
The door crashes open with a force that shakes the room, cutting through the abusive tableau with a jarring finality.
Zephyrion stands framed in the doorway, his robes billowing around him. Mayor Bramble follows, his round face flushed with concern, and then Captain Giles, who strides in, his eyes blazing with anger.
"This is an outrage!" Captain Giles thunders, his voice filled with fury. "Allowing Elise and this... this degenerate goblin to live in Elara's house is putting every single one of us at risk! They need to be removed from Eboncrest immediately!"
Zephyrion steps forward, his demeanor cool but with an underlying intensity. "Let us maintain a level of decorum, Captain. There’s much to discuss.”
“As distasteful as the situation is,” Mayor Bramble says, his mustachioed face filled with regret, “perhaps relocating Elise and Snib to another location within the town would suffice?”
Captain Giles' jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing with barely suppressed rage. "The inn is out of the question. Snib was already kicked out of the Silver Stag Inn for absolutely destroying the room! If they are to remain in Eboncrest, they should be put in the whorehouse. The Midnight Rose. It’s a fitting place for such debauchery."
Mayor Bramble's eyes widen. “That... that establishment is for...”
“The dregs,” Giles interjects coldly. “It’s a place of debauchery. It’s fitting. At least there, they won’t insult the common folk with their presence.”
Snib's eyes flash, but he remains silent, his thin lips curling into a grotesque smile.
Zephyrion closes his eyes momentarily, collecting his thoughts. When he speaks, his tone is an effortful calm. “Fine. If this arrangement satisfies the need for protection and order within Eboncrest, we shall move them to the Midnight Rose.”
The mayor’s face is drawn, but he nods in reluctant agreement. “So be it.”
The three men exchange sharp looks, their decision set.
“It is agreed then,” Giles says sharply, his tone final. “Elise and Snib will be relocated to the whorehouse immediately. The house must be cleaned of this filth.”(simple_option:"17 new life","Your new life begins...")](else:)[The stars glimmer faintly outside. The cottage is quiet, save for the occasional creak of old wood settling in the night. I sit near the small hearth, the flames casting flickering shadows on the walls, my thoughts a tumultuous storm.
A soft knock at the door startles me. For a moment, I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest. I rise slowly, the air heavy with a sense of impending doom.
I open the door, and there she stands—Elara. Her fiery hair is disheveled, her sapphire eyes glassy with a mix of confusion and something else, something darker. She seems flustered, almost like she's been running, her breaths coming in quick, shallow pants.
“Elara...” my voice trembles.
She steps inside, her movements jerky and unsteady. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted slightly as she tries to catch her breath. There’s something in her eyes that wasn’t there before, a glint of something unfamiliar and unsettling.
“I— Elara, what are you...”
“I don’t know,” she murmurs, her voice distant, almost... vacant. “I couldn’t stop thinking about... about you... about him...”
My heart twists painfully at her words. I step aside, letting her pass, my mind screaming at what I've done.
Snib emerges from the shadows, a cruel grin spreading across his face as he takes in Elara’s state. His yellow eyes gleam with a predatory hunger as he approaches her.
“Well, well... look who decided to join us,” Snib rasps.
Elara looks at me, but it’s as if she doesn’t truly see me. Her eyes dart to Snib, her expression shifting to something disturbingly akin to desire.
I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Elara, I—”
She cuts me off, her voice a whisper. “You... both of you... smell terrible. We... we should get into a bath. Must bring some order to this house.”
Snib’s hand snakes out, roughly fondling Elara’s ass. She lets out a soft, involuntary moan, her body arching slightly into his touch.
“Ngh...” She shivers, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she opens them again, hazy and lost. “The bath... let’s... let’s go...”
The air is solid with tension, my heart breaking. The haze of lust and despair intertwines, muddling my thoughts. I can barely think, the fog thick around my mind, but through it all, the pain of seeing Elara like this—so lost, so changed—tears at my very soul.($notification:"The day-old goblin sperm has totally corrupted your wife's brain.")(set:$elara_cum to "involuntary")(simple_option:"18 ties that bind","This is my doing.")](pic:"ch17/brothel.jpg")($play:"song","nightfall")($play:"ambience","brothel")The Midnight Rose has the cloying scent of cheap perfume swirling around its dimly lit halls, mixing with the smoke of burning incense.
We've been here for two days, and Snib has already made a total nuisance of himself.
Snib and I are ushered into the cramped, cluttered office of the brothel's owner, a man known as Horace Gruel. Horace is a portly figure with a pockmarked face, his weary eyes lined with years of overseeing Eboncrest's underground cravings. His gaze slides over me—lingering on my exposed skin above the white bikini top and the leather skirt that scarcely covers anything.
Sitting behind his cluttered desk, Horace rubs his temples. "Snib, I've told you before. Your room's a sty. My maids are refusing to work in those conditions. It's bloody disgusting, even for here!"
Snib sneers back. "Oh, come off it! Ya know good 'n well why we's 'ere. The mayor, the wizard—they want us tucked away in your cozy lil' sex den."
Horace grunts, disapproval etching deeper lines around his mouth. "Don't care if the bloody mayor himself signed it off. I run a clean operation, relatively speakin'. You're muckin' it up!"
The conversation grows heated, Snib’s yellow eyes narrowing shrewdly. Suddenly, he jerks a thumb at me. "What if tits-fer-brains here... we put her to work, eh? Have her earn her keep 'round this joint, and we split the profits."
I tense. My cheeks burn with the heat of humiliation, tears of powerless resistance glistening in the dim light.
"Oh, she's quite the looker, ain't she?" Horace leans forward, his gaze raking over my body with such intensity it feels like his eyes are fingers, touching, probing. "No doubt there'd be plenty willing to pay top coin for a round with the hero-turned-slut."
The brothel hums with the soft moans and hidden whispers of its occupants.
"But keep it quiet, yeah? We don't want the mayor or any other puffed-up official hearin' 'bout this," Horace says with a crooked grin, revealing yellowing teeth. "I’ve got channels, can spread the news quiet-like. Make a fortune, we could."
Snib nods eagerly, his toothy smile spreading ear to ear. "Everyone wins. I get my cut, and Elise, well... she gets to be useful, don't she?"
Under the heavy weight of their stares, a whimper escapes my lips, a pitiful sound drowned out by the atmosphere of the brothel. I nod dumbly, my body and mind no longer my own.
The goblin's influence, thick and oppressive, guides my actions, drowning out the small voice of reason screaming within the depths of me.
Horace rubs his hands together, a gleeful chuckle escaping him. "Alright then, it's settled. Elise here will be our newest attraction."(simple_option:"17 brothel","That night...")(pic:"ch17/elise brothel.jpg","right")($play:"song","nightfall")($play:"ambience","brothel")The oaken door creaks as it opens, and a foul mix of cheap perfume, incense, and sweat wafts into the dingy room where we are lined up, shoulder to shoulder. The flickering torchlight casts long, distorted shadows as the patrons enter—seedy men with greedy eyes, their apparel hinting at professions that range from mercenaries and sailors to lowly merchants.
We stand in a rough line, the other girls eyeing me with a blend of curiosity and pity, some even showing outright distaste. Each girl presents herself with a calculated flair: one wears a low-cut bodice spilling ample cleavage; another, a slender blonde with tantalizing tattoos cascading across her skin, lifts her skirts slightly to reveal smooth, enticing legs.
The men shuffle in, muttering amongst themselves about the available "wares." My heart pounds as each new set of eyes flick over me, some lingering disapprovingly for longer than others. The sound of murmurs fills the air, growing louder as they assess the merchandise.
They know. They seem to all know.
*It’s Aldric…*
My transformation into Elise is the dark, unspoken undercurrent; that I’ve been touched by Snib is unmistakable—a taint and stigma that mars the line of otherwise eager, undamaged prostitutes. Instead of mingling near me, the other girls huddle closer to the opposite end of the lineup, their expressions flickering with judgment and fear.
"You see her?" murmurs a stout, bald-headed man with pockmarked skin, elbowing his toothless companion.
"Hmph, ain't right," the other growls. "Hero like 'im should be dead 'fore ending up like that."
A drunkard with a tangled beard staggers closer, eyes raking over my figure. “Hero m’sarse. Shoulda never come back after dealin’ with gobbos.”
Suspended by the weight of their stares, my cheeks flame as I struggle to maintain composure. Every fiber of my being screams that I don’t belong here, that this shouldn’t be happening.
"Lads, ye don’t understand—the one there," Horace gestures towards me, "this here is Elise—you might know her better as Aldric the Great! Our once-hero turned into a ripe lass for your enjoyment. Quite the catch, wouldn’t ya say?"
But the attempt falls flat; distaste and a twisted sense of respect color their faces. Most of the men move on to examine the prettier offerings, leaving subtle remarks and sidelong glances in their wake.
One lecherous client steps closer. He’s scruffy, with a missing tooth and a scar running down his cheek. His breath reeks of alcohol, and a leer spreads across his unshaven face. "Unreal, hah," he chuckles, his voice a wet rasp as he reaches out.
His hands, rough and grimy, latch onto my massive tits, lifting and dropping them with curious fascination. I bite my lip, struggling not to recoil or cry out.
"Well, look at the size of these here, lads,” he snickers loudly. "Hero's got fat udders!" He gives a rough squeeze before finally moving on to another girl.
Snib basks in the scene from across the room, a twisted smile of satisfaction plastered on his face. His eyes glint mockingly, relishing in my humiliation after what I failed to do.
I can’t escape the gnawing terror that rumors will reach Elara. She already thinks the worst of me, but if she hears of this...
Whispers float around, "Touched by a goblin..."
I notice a few old faces—companions from battles, villagers I saved. Their eyes slide away awkwardly when they recognize me.
A nobleman draped in rich, velvety robes stops in front of the girl next to me, his eyes dismissing me entirely.
Horace, desperate to drum up interest, claps his hands. "Gentlemen, do you understand the opportunity standing before you? This isn't just any girl—this is the great hero of Eboncrest! Aldric the Great, who dominated bandits, monsters, and even the wildest of beasts. Now, imagine the stories you'll tell about how you dominated *her* in bed tonight!"
The words send a ripple through the patrons that hadn't considered me before, their twisted curiosity piqued. Some of the drunker ones chuckle and elbow each other, leaning in for a closer look at me. My skin bristles under their leering stares.
I stand there, flush-faced and trembling, trying my best to remain still despite the overwhelming humiliation. My hands rest awkwardly at my sides, my large breasts heaving with each uneasy breath.
The door to the brothel creaks open ominously, and an imposing figure casts a long shadow across the room. Everyone's attention shifts, and the atmosphere grows dense with a mix of dread and morbid curiosity.
The man entering is none other than Thaddeus "Greasegut" Grimjaw, a local crime boss known for his dirtiest and bloodiest enterprises—smuggling, extortion, and more reprehensible acts best left unspoken.
Thaddeus is massive, both in girth and presence. Rolls of fat spill from his stained, ill-fitting clothes, and his fleshy face is a sweaty, glistening mask of lechery. A leering, unhealthy smile stretches across his lips as he surveys the lineup, his small, piggish eyes squinting with lustful glee.
My heart drops. I’ve faced bandits and monsters, but nothing quite compares to the repulsion I feel now. I recognize Greasegut. This was the same fat repulsive criminal I’d put away for violently extorting the local bakery—where he had a particularly nasty reputation for assaulting young women who couldn't pay up. He was convicted of several other heinous burglaries and armed robberies, but corruption saw his sentence undermined. He was out far too early—clearly, some strings pulled in his favor.
He lumbers down the line of girls, each one visibly relaxing once he passes them by, relieved to have escaped his attention. When his eyes land on me, they widen in shock, and his leering grin grows impossibly wider.
"Well, well, well," he booms, his voice dripping with a revolting glee, "if it isn't Aldric the Great, now going by Elise, bowing to the whims of us lowly common folk."
Thaddeus approaches, his breath reeking of alcohol and stale tobacco. He reaches out with a pudgy hand to lift one of my massive breasts, hefting its weight with perverse fascination. His touch is clammy and revolting, and I can barely suppress a shudder of disgust.
“A prime cut indeed,” he sneers, squeezing roughly. “So tell me, Horace, just how did you come to have this fallen hero gracing your establishment?”
Horace, sensing the potential for a profitable transaction, steps forward with a smirk. "Master Grimjaw, it is a twist of fate. Our dear hero here was evicted from her own home after an incident at the castle. The wizard and the mayor decided she’d be best put to use in our little corner of Eboncrest."
A malicious chuckle rumbles through Greasegut’s massive chest. "Is that so? Seems ol’ Aldric’s quite the lady now..." His eyes sparkle with sinister delight. "What’s the price for such a unique piece of meat?"
“She’s high-value, a rarity,” Horace asserts, his tone oily. “I'd say 250 gold for a night with our special attraction. As of now untouched... by human hands...”
Greasegut scoffs, shoving a grubby hand into his jacket pocket and pulling out a heavy pouch. “I’ll give you 300.”(live:60s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","grimjaw laugh 2")]
Horace's eyes light up with greed, and he extends his hand to shake on the deal. "Done. But remember, Master Grimjaw, no permanent damage."
Greasegut's hideous grin widens. He winks and lets out a vile laugh.
My heart races. The pheromonal haze can't shield me from the loathing I feel for this horrid man. His hands continue to grope and fondle, his perverse joy evident in every revolting touch.(simple_option:"17 room","He leads you to a room...","Refuse to serve him!")(if:$choice is "Refuse to serve him!")[“No!” I cry, fighting through the fog, my voice breaking. “Please, Horace, don't make me. He’s horrible!”
The room goes still; even the most hardened men seem taken aback by my desperate plea.
Snib steps forward, his yellow eyes gleaming. He snaps his fingers, and the collar around my neck tightens painfully, forcing a whimper from my throat. "Oh no, tits-for-brains here don’t get to choose,” Snib growls. “You’re gonna earn me money, whether you fucking like it or not.”
The tightening collar sends a bolt of pain through my neck. Grimjaw chuckles darkly, the sound like rocks being crushed. "Yeah, if there wasn't some fight left in her, it wouldn’t be as fun,” he says, grinning ear to ear. “How about I up the ante? Four hundred gold."
Horace’s eyes practically glow with avarice. “You got yourself a deal,” he agrees, nearly salivating.
I try to pull away, but Grimjaw’s massive hand clamps down on my ass, squeezing and groping in front of everyone. His touch is rough, his fingers digging in.
"Heh, nice and jiggly," he leers, his thumb brushing against my sensitive spot, making a whimper escape my lips. The other girls edge away, their pity turning to cold indifference. "You got a bit more cushioning than I remember, Aldric."
](pic:"ch17/grimjaw.jpg")
(set:$se_to_stop to "leather tighten")(display:"stop sound effect")($play:"ambience","brothel room")The brothel room Grimjaw leads me to is one of the most opulent, reserved for only the wealthiest and most perverse of clients. Dark, heavy drapery hangs from the walls, and rich carpets muffle the sound of footsteps. In the center of the room, amidst extravagant furniture, stands a set of intimidating equipment—wooden stocks, leather restraints, chains, and racks lined with various instruments.
Grimjaw's enormous hand, clammy and rough, encloses mine as he guides me inside. His grip tight, the smug satisfaction emanating from him is suffocating. He locks the door behind us, the sound of the bolt sliding into place thudding in my chest like a hammer on an anvil.
"Here we are," he purrs, his voice a sickening blend of delight and anticipation. "A private little den for just us two."
My heart pounds in my chest, breaths coming shallow and quick. I know all too well the depths of his sadism, and the role reversal from hero to his plaything twists a blade of shame and terror within me.
Grimjaw waddles over to a large, padded chair, sinking his massive frame into it with a satisfied groan. "Now, Elise," he says, his eyes narrowing with malevolent glee. "Why don't you tell me how we met last, hmm? Let's recount those rather thrilling events."(live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","grimjaw laugh 1")]
I swallow hard, my throat dry as sand. "You... you were extorting the local bakery... assaulting the women who couldn't pay up."
"Ah, yes," he smirks. "Samantha, wasn't it? And little Mary? So delightful..."
He laughs, the sound sending a shiver of revulsion down my spine. "But you stopped my fun, didn't you?"
Swallowing, I force myself to continue. "I caught you in the act. Arrested you for violent extortion... armed robbery... rape..."
"Yes, yes," he mocks. "Put me behind bars. But look at us now, Elise. The mighty Aldric, reduced to a desperate little whore. Quite the turn of events, wouldn't you say?"
I nod, tears pricking at my eyes. “What... what do you want from me?” I whisper, my voice trembling.
Grimjaw’s smile widens, revealing his yellowed teeth. He drums his fingers against the arm of his chair, his eyes gleaming with dark delight.
“Zaelasia, it's a funny place, isn't it? Gives me a second chance to teach you a lesson. To get... what I deserve.”
He stands, his immense bulk looming over me. With a sharp yank, his hand pulls me closer, his rancid breath washing over me as he speaks. “Yhe night’s still young, and there’s plenty of fun to be had.”
Tears spill over my cheeks as I realize there’s no escape. Snib would stop me if I tried to flee. I’m trapped, my only option to endure and satisfy this monster’s vile appetites.
“Tell me, *Elise*,” he purrs, his voice dripping with venomous amusement. “How does it feel, being taken down so many notches? From hero to whore?”
I swallow, my voice barely above a whisper. “H-horrible... I... I hate it.”
“Good. So, let’s make this fun for you,” he purrs, retrieving a riding crop from the table. He tosses it to me, his eyes twinkling with malicious delight. “Here’s your sword, hero. Let’s reminisce. How about a little play-acting? I’ll be the wicked fiend - oops, I mean myself - and you... you’ll be the valiant hero, come to stop me.”
My hands shake, gripping the crop as though it’s made of hot iron.
Grimjaw chuckles, unbuckling his belt and letting his trousers drop to the floor. His thick, hairy cock is repulsive—long and uncircumcised, clearly unwashed.
“Now, catch me in the act,” he commands, turning to position himself by a simplified wooden cross. He kneels, pretending to thrust into an imaginary victim, smacking the air with his hand and calling names. “Come on, hero! Stop me if you can!”
I stand frozen, the crop heavy in my clammy hands. "S-stop right there! Release her!"
He laughs, a deep, revolting sound. “Make me, Aldric!”
My voice cracks. “Release her or I’ll... I’ll strike you down!”
I lunge forward, the crop swinging. The blade of sadness and knowing futility cuts deeper than the fantasy sword in my hand. The crop makes contact with Greasegut’s shoulder, but he just laughs harder.
“Ha! Gotta do better than that, hero! Aim for the vital areas!”
As I aim for a more painful impact, Grimjaw effortlessly reaches up and catches it. His large, pudgy fingers wrap around the thin shaft, stopping it mid-air. The sheer strength in his grip renders my efforts futile, and a smirk spreads across his grotesque face.
"Well well well, Aldric. You seem a bit more... voluptuous than I remember," he taunts, mockingly sizing me up as he stands to face me.
The terrible familiarity of his mocking tone grates against my senses, the memory of his laugh as he was dragged to prison echoing in my ears.
"You're not quite the daunting hero anymore, are you?" He tosses the 'defeated' imaginary girl aside with a lewd gesture. "Unfortunately for our dear damsels, I haven't relieved myself in a month. My balls are practically bursting; you can imagine the... urgency."
He drops the riding crop, letting it clatter to the floor, and slowly lumbers toward the ornate chair placed strategically in the center of the room. Each step he takes is heavy, thudding ominously against the plush carpet.
Sitting down, he spreads his legs wide. His erection is blatantly obvious, painfully hard and disgustingly dirty. The sight of his thick, veiny human cock is a stark contrast to the goblin physiology I've been forced to adapt to—the smell is less musky, but somehow worse.
"Now," he leers, his voice dripping with vile excitement, "imagine this, my erstwhile hero. These poor maidens will be spared my voracious appetite if a certain... brave soul were to alleviate my terrible condition. Imagine—their hero, once again saving them. Though, perhaps, in a more... intimate manner this time."
I stand frozen, horror washing over me.
"Come now, don't be shy. It's just a little heroic deed. One last quest, hero," he sneers. "Help me out, and I’ll let the imaginary girls go—your honor as a hero intact."
Stepping closer, he grabs his hard cock, giving it a few slow, deliberate strokes while his other hand motions me forward. "Come on, Aldric. Show me how much you've embraced your new role. Let's see how well you can wield that pretty mouth of yours instead of a sword."
His chuckle is low and menacing, each syllable designed to degrade, to remind me of how far I've fallen.
"Think of it as your duty, to save those who can't save themselves. Isn't that what heroes do? Sacrifice themselves for the greater good?"
The room spins, my mind a maelstrom of disgust, anger, and unbearable shame.
Slowly, sickeningly, I approach him, each step heavy with the weight of my lost dignity.
"That’s it, come closer," Grimjaw murmurs, his voice oily. (simple_option:"17 stops","But then he stops you.")"No, no, no," Grimjaw chuckles darkly. "This isn't right. Heroic acts require struggle."
He pushes me away and waddles over to the rack of devious devices.
"Physical restrains too, makes the victory sweeter, don’t it?" He picks up an armbinder, eyeing it with grim satisfaction before turning towards me. “How about we make this a bit more interesting? You don’t get to use your arms or legs. A hero can only triumph through struggle, after all.”(live:10s)[($play:"sound","leather tighten")(stop:)]
Gagging, I clench my hands into fists, but he’s quick and ruthless. He grapples with me, pushing my arms behind my back, sliding the armbinder up my forearms and over my shoulders. The leather straps pull my arms together tightly, ensuring I couldn’t break free no matter how hard I tried.
Grimjaw makes sure every strap is taut, his pudgy fingers grazing my flesh, sending waves of revulsion through me. "Oh, yes," he purrs, "just like that."
"Please... this isn't right," I beg, but my pleas fall on deaf ears. He only laughs, slapping my ass, making me jump and flinch.
“Stop squirming; it'll only make things worse,” he smirks, pulling out more bonds from the rack. He binds my legs next, forcing me to sit with my legs folded to the side. The intricate leather and metal cuffs snap securely around my thighs and ankles, rendering them utterly useless.
“There. Bound nice and tight.” Grimjaw stands back to admire his handiwork, watching as I teeter helplessly on my knees, poised awkwardly, unable to rise or move. His hand roams to my breasts, squeezing and groping roughly. "Such massive, juicy tits. Perfect for a fallen hero."
Each touch heightens my shame and helplessness - I’m powerless to stop him. His coarse fingers knead my tender flesh, all the while making lewd noises of approval.
“You see, Elise, without the struggle, it’s all too easy. I need to savor this. Make it a true quest.” He lifts me effortlessly, despite his girth, carrying me to the large, cushiony bed covered in opulent velvet.
It CREAKS loudly as his massive weight settles into it. He stretches out, his legs spread wide, his bulk summit-like in its immensity.
I’m placed near the edge, my eyes filled with undignified tears. I have to crawl, wriggle over to him.
"Come on, hero," he sneers, retrieving the riding crop and slapping my ass with a sharp...(simple_option:"17 thwak","...THWAK!")(set:$se_to_stop to "grimjaw bad orgasm")(display:"stop sound effect")(live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","whip ah " + (text:(random:1,3)))](live:15s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","whip ah " + (text:(random:1,3)))]Grimjaw’s fingers tangle harshly in my hair, yanking my head up, forcing me to meet his leering gaze. "Look at you. Struggling so hard just to serve me."
My body flexes awkwardly, the bindings constraining me from moving with any semblance of grace. The exertion is immense, pulling every muscle taut, straining each sinew as I wriggle closer.
Nestling myself between his heinously hairy, flabby legs is akin to wriggling into a pit of filth. His repulsive scent envelops me, mingling with my sobs.
I crane my neck, trembling, as his erect cock rubs against my tear-streaked face. It’s thick, unwashed, the taste foul and putrid as my lips part, navigating around his bulbous head. My back arches painfully against my bonds, my chin thrusting up to touch his enormous, sagging balls that press against my cheeks.
"Yesss," he hisses, adjusting his weight with another low, aching creak of the bed. "Snuggle up close, hero.”
My tongue struggles, lapping feebly along the underside of his cock, each lick making my insides twist in horror. His slimy pre-cum drizzles onto my nose.
The riding crop cracks again.
*THWAK!*
Pain flares, and I cry out, muffled by the disgusting member I’m forced to worship. I find a rhythm, minuscule movements, hoping he’ll finish quickly and end this nightmare.
"No heroics now," he mocks, his hand tugging my hair, guiding my head until my chin rests squarely against his hairy, fetid balls. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen. From hero to whore—how does it feel to be down here, licking the cock of someone you once put away?”
His enormous belly presses against my head, pinning me into his flabby, coarse lap. Overhead, his taunting voice continues, adding to the degradation.
"You know, they say humility is therapeutic," Grimjaw sneers. "I’ve been looking forward to this. Well, not *exactly* like this - I'm not that imaginative! But you can't blame a guy for wanting to get you back."
*THWAK!*
"Uuunnggghh... mmmnnn..." The noises I make are muffled whimpers.
Every lick requires physical and mental exertion, the last fragments of my dignity being stripped away with each degrading moment.
“Yes... that’s a good girl,” Grimjaw croons.
My hands, bound and useless, strain against the unyielding leather of the armbinder, every fiber of my body screaming in resistance as Grimjaw's pudgy, clammy hands roam lower, sliding against the waistband of my skirt.
With a sudden, brutal yank, the fabric tears, ripping away, leaving me exposed, my panties soaked with the ever-present dampness that curses my body.
"Well, would you look at that," he sneers. "You're wet! Didn't know you had a taste for scum like me, Aldric."
My voice cracks with a sob. "N-no... it's not..."
He doesn't care. With two thick fingers, he drives into my soaked pussy, spreading through the slick folds that tremble at his invasive touch. I bite down the cries, and the shame burns my cheeks red.
“Hah, too good. The hero’s nectar,” Grimjaw drawls, licking his fingers. “It’s just the taste of someone who’s fallen far from grace.”
His fingers plunge back in, fucking me roughly, savagely. His breath is foul, every grunt and groan accentuating the horror of the situation.
“Tell me, Aldric, how many more lives were you planning to save? How many more criminals like me were you aiming to put away, before you turned into this?”
My body jerks helplessly in response, hips betraying me as they meet his thrusts, the armbinder and leg restraints causing every motion to be a flexing, aching effort.
It’s not him... it’s never him... it’s the curse of constant, humiliated arousal the goblin pheromones force upon me. My nails dig into my palms as he continues his vile monologue.
“You know, Jenna... she cried a lot,” he breathes hotly, his fingers digging deeper. “Called for her hero.”
“D-don’t... please... st-op...” My pleas turn into pathetic, ragged gasps as he increases his pace.
My vision blurs, the rhythm of his fingers tearing through my ravaged mind. He keeps talking...(live:25s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop","grimjaw finger")]
“And the baker... ah, he cooked so well. Too bad he baked better than he fought.”
Each violation of my inner self is a firestorm of despised sensation overwhelming my thoughts.
“You’ll cum for me, hero. You’ll cum on my fingers while I recount all the delightful horrors I’ve wrought. Come on...”
“No... oh Gods... no... please...” My body trembles, fists clenched. But there’s no stopping it, the cruel fingers working up a storm inside until my vision whites out.(simple_option:"17 orgasm bad","Cum.")"AHHHH! U-UUUUHNGH!"($play:"sound","grimjaw bad orgasm")(live:20s)[($play:"sex loop","grimjaw facefuck")(stop:)]($play:"sex loop",0)
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)The orgasm rips through me, a degrading climax that leaves me utterly spent, my juices gushing out, soaking the velvet-covered bed beneath us. Sobbing, I quake in the aftermath of unwanted pleasure, wishing I could disappear.
"There we go, hero. Isn’t that wonderful?” Grimjaw croons, a sick satisfaction lacing his words. "You’re a real wonder, aren't you?"
Grimjaw’s rough, calloused hand digs into my scalp, forcing my head up with an iron grip. The vile stretch of his cock fills my mouth, the disgusting taste of unwashed skin and pre-cum coating my tongue. The sheer bulk of him shoves past my lips, the girth stretching my jaw impossibly wide. I gag at the pressure, the intrusion more distressing than any battle wound.
"Yeah, I thought so. Suck it, hero," he hisses, grinding his hips up, his massive flab slamming into my face.
*GLURK!* *UHK UHK UHK!*
The sounds are inhumane, the wet, guttural noises of my throat struggling to accommodate his filthy rod.
The pressure of every forward thrust carries the force of his heavy body behind it, his belly pressing against my tear-streaked eyes, cutting off all air. My muffled cries are swallowed by the thick column of meat thrusting violently in and out of my abused mouth.
Though my arms are bound behind me, his movements send ripples through my soft flesh, causing my massive, sensitive breasts to jiggle obscenely against his musky girth, the slapping noises adding to the cacophony of humiliation. Each thrust wrenches my neck and jostles my bound form, the mattress creaking beneath us.
"Uhhn, such a slut," he pants, his voice layered with depraved satisfaction. "Bet you never got this treatment in yer glory days, huh Aldric? *Gods*, you had a good run... but now you're just the town *fuck sleeve*!”(simple_option:"17 uhk","'UHK UHK GLURK!'")(set:$se_to_stop to "grimjaw bad orgasm")(display:"stop sound effect")“Take it,” he growls, shoving deeper. ($play:"sex loop","grimjaw facefuck")
I can’t breathe, can’t think, just reduced to the grotesque function of his wet hole, taking every brutal shove. My mind whirls in a mess of oxygen deprivation. My cheeks flush red as panic sets in, and I struggle to inhale, my throat constricted around his hateful, thrusting bulk.
Just when my vision starts to darken at the edges, Grimjaw yanks himself out, a string of thick, viscous saliva connecting my gasping lips to his pulsing cock. I collapse forward, gasping and coughing for breath, my body wracked with choking sobs as air floods back into my lungs.
“Pathetic,” he sneers, wiping the spit and pre-cum on my forehead like a mark of his dominance. “I want you to finish me off, hero. Think you’re up for the challenge?”(simple_option:"17 finish","Try to finish him off.")(set:$se_to_stop to "grimjaw cum")(display:"stop sound effect")($play:"sex loop","grimjaw bj")Grimjaw grins maliciously as he grabs my head by the hair, pulling me back into position with force. "Back for more, hero? Let's give this another go. Finish what you started," he sneers, the malicious light in his eyes gleaming with perversity.
My throat feels raw as Grimjaw lowers me onto his still-erect member. The heat of his flesh against my tongue sends a shiver through me. There’s a sick feeling deep in my gut, but I have no choice. I extend my tongue, flattening it against the swollen, hot underside of his cock. It throbs violently against my mouth, the veins pulsing with his wickedness.
"Yeah, that's it. Lick it up," he snarls, his voice filled with dark amusement. He begins his vile mocking, "You hear this Aldric? This is the sound of Eboncrest now, a place where might makes right. You’re a relic of the past. Our city thrives under the grip of crime. We understand the truth—power rules the day.”
As I stimulate him, his free hand roams, slapping and grabbing my exposed, bound flesh. Each smack on my buttocks echoes in the room, the sting mingling with the sharp ache of humiliation.
“Oh, you’ve got quite the fat ass, don’t you, Aldric?” He chuckles darkly, squeezing roughly, his fingers digging into my soft flesh. “Plump and primed just like those huge tits of yours—such ripe, juicy fruits wasted on a fallen hero.”
His cock responds to my attentions, throbbing more pronouncedly against the movements of my tongue. Each flick brings him closer, his breathing growing harsher, grunts filling the air as he nears his climax.
“Nearly there, come on, put some back into it,” he grunts, shoving me down harder against him.(simple_option:"17 grimjaw cums","Grimjaw cums.")($play:"ambience","brothel room")(set:$se_to_stop to "grimjaw bj")(display:"stop sound effect")($play:"sound","grimjaw cum")Then, with a guttural roar, the first thick jet of his cum rockets into the air, splattering down over my face. The thick, intense-smelling semen hits my skin like a brand, the odor utterly foul, distinct from the goblin’s seed but equally repugnant.
“Ah, let’s make this memorable,” Grimjaw grins wickedly as he grabs my chin, forcing my face up. He positions the head of his still-ejecting cock right against my right eye, holding my eyelid open with his pudgy fingers.
“An eye for an eye, Aldric,” he hisses, as his cock spurts directly into my eye.
The semen is hot, the saltiness stinging sharply as it floods my eye socket, burning through every tear duct. The gooey fluid dribbles down my face, trailing over my cheeks, dripping off my chin.
His monstrous load continues to spurt, jet after jet: some splatters into my hair, some down my chest, matting down the soft curls. Each pulse of his release seems to drain some wicked force from him, his grip loosening slightly as he shudders in relief.
“Mmm, yeah. That’s a good look for you, hero,” Grimjaw breathes out heavily, finally spent. He chuckles, a weary but satisfied sound as he leans back, observing his degrading handywork.
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)Tears mix with the pools of semen, stinging as they streak down my cheeks. My lips tremble, and a sob catches in my throat. I feel humiliated, reduced to nothing more than an object of his dark satisfaction—a hero unmade, utterly and completely defiled.
Grimjaw releases me and starts to tidy himself up, fixing his trousers with a smirk still plastered on his face. “Well, didn’t think you had it in ya, Aldric, to be such a good sport.”
Pushing himself up from the chair, he gloats with a final pat on my head, eyes blurred from the cruel baptism of his seed.
"You've truly saved the day—by draining my balls most excellently. What a performance! I dare say, we might have to make this a regular thing. Aldric the Great, my personal dick sleeve—has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
($change_stat:"gold",300)With a chuckle, he scoops up a handful of gold coins from a pouch at his side and casually tosses them onto the bed next to me. The coins scatter with a metallic clink, shimmering dully in the dim light. Without another word, he bids adieu to both me and the imaginary girls he conjured up in his twisted scenario.
"Goodnight, ladies!" he calls out over his shoulder as he waddles to the door. "Remember, this heroic tale is our little secret!"
The door closes with a resounding thunk, echoing into the silence that now swamps the room. My eyes sting unbearably, tears mixing with the viscous semen, creating a salty, painful mess. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision, but each flutter of my eyelids feels like sand.
"Ahh... it burns..." I whimper, more to myself than anyone else, feeling hot, angry tears of pain and shame roll down my cheeks.
After a while, the door reopens. Hesitant footsteps approach me—other girls from the brothel, who heard the commotion and came to see what was left behind. They find me, a pitiful mess, still strapped down and covered in Grimjaw’s filth.
"Oh gods..." One of them—a slight girl with bright auburn hair—kneels beside the bed.
They work quickly to undo the armbinder, loosening the buckles and straps. Relief washes over me as my arms are released, the blood circulation painfully returning to my limbs. The leg restraints are next, and the sensation of being able to freely move my legs again is both painful and joyful.
“Here, let’s clean you up,” another girl, a brunette with kind eyes, says as she fetches a basin of water and a cloth. She gently wipes my face, dabbing at my eyes which continue to sting even with the careful cleaning.
"Thank you..." I murmur, my voice gravelly from misuse.
The auburn-haired girl brings me a simple cotton gown, helping me to slip it over my head. The fabric is soft against my skin, a stark contrast to the rough treatment I had just endured.
“You can take the rest of the night off, Elise,” the brunette offers gently. “Get some rest.”
I nod slowly, feeling a mix of gratitude and alienation. The girls don't know me well—the infamous Aldric turned plaything of goblins and now a brothel attraction.
As they help me to stand, guiding me to a quiet nook of the brothel to rest, I overhear them quietly discussing Grimjaw.
"At least he was occupied tonight," whispers the auburn-haired girl to the other. "Poor Elise, but... better her than..."(simple_option:"17 brothel life","Life in the brothel continues...")(pic:"ch17/brothel daytime.jpg")(set:$se_to_stop to "nightfall")(display:"stop sound effect fade")
(set:$se_to_stop to "grimjaw cum")(display:"stop sound effect")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","brothel daytime")The morning sun casts long, pale shadows across the worn-out carpets of The Midnight Rose.
Snib is slumped in a shabby armchair, nestled in a dim corner of the room, his snores echoing off the wooden walls in deep, guttural rumbles. On most days, his presence brings nothing but dread. But right now, his inactivity is a respite, a small breath of peace as I move around, dusting the neglected corners and tidying up strewn garments left by the girls in their hurried nightly changeovers.
As I bend to pick up a wayward pillow, Horace Gruel steps in, a large keyring jangling at his waist. His eyes, ever observant, scan the room before landing on me. He walks over, leaning against the bar, his arms folded.
"Tough, eh?" he starts, nodding towards Snib before sweeping a look over the room and then back at me. "Your wife cozy at the castle, and you're here... dusting off old sins, huh?"
I nod slightly, my throat tight. His tone, though casual, carries a weight that presses uncomfortably against my chest.
"Yeah," he continues, eyes narrowing slightly as he watches me work. "Lots of things in life happen that no one rightly deserves. But here we are, each playing the hand we’ve been dealt."(simple_option:"17 brothel response","It's not fair!","I will survive it.","It's only temporary.")(if:$choice is "It's not fair!")[I pause, clutching the dusty pillow, the fabric rough against my fingers. "It's... it’s not fair," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Horace chuckles, a low, raspy sound. "Fair? Lass, life's rarely fair. Look around you. Think any of these girls dreamed of this life when they were little? But life gives you what it gives you. You gotta make the most of it, somehow."
He walks over and picks up a glass, inspecting it for dust in the dim light. "You were lucky, y'know. That Grimjaw is one piece of work. Heard he injured some of the other girls, a while back. Got a famous temper, that one does."](else-if:$choice is "I will survive it.")["I will endure it," I grimly push out from between clenched teeth. "I have had worse happen to me than what happened last night..."
"Ah," Horace tilts his head. "There's that spirit. Knew Aldric's fire wasn't all gone. Just smolderin' a bit under the ashes, eh?" He nods with a hint of respect glimmering in his eyes. "Remember what that fire attracted though," he adds, his voice dropping to a murmur.
He walks over, nudging a fallen bottle with his foot back into alignment. "You were lucky, y'know. That Grimjaw... he's injured some of the other girls, a while back. Fella's got a temper as famous as your heroics were." ](else:)["I won’t be here forever," I say, lifting my chin defiantly. "This... this is only temporary."
Horace grins, a knowing, somewhat pitying smile tugging at his lips. "That's what they all say," he quips as he leans back against the wall, crossing his arms. "But time has a way of stretching thin in places like this."
He steps forward, his boots scuffing softly against the threadbare rug.
"Still," he continues, picking up a stray cup and examining it, "you were lucky, considering the company you pulled in. Grimjaw's done far worse than hurt feelings. Few of the girls have been the same after dealing with him."]
"Lucky?" I repeat.
"Yeah, right after he was released outta prison—some lord's pocket got a bit heavier, and his cell door swung open. Corrupt as a rotting tooth,” Horace grunts, setting a glass down with more force than necessary.
I resume my tidying, the movements automatic, yet each action feels heavier, laden with Horace's words. Life. Luck. Fairness. Or the bitter lack thereof.
"And now, you, our hero turned damsel, are here," Horace adds, watching me. "It ain’t right. But then, right’s hardly got a say in how things turn out, does it?"
Silence hangs between us, thick and heavy. The faint melody of wind chimes fills the quiet.
"I suppose not," I concede softly.
"Best make the most of it then," Horace advises, a rough kindness coloring his tone. "Fate's a harsh mistress, but she's all we've got to dance with."
As he walks away, the keyring jangling with each step, I'm left in the quiet. Tears gather, blurring my vision as I wipe at them hastily with the back of my hand. Life at The Midnight Rose, amidst the dust and shadows, is nothing I would have chosen.
But Horace is right—fate has led me here. Or at the very least, those who manipulate fate have.
I look over at Snib, still snoring. Grimjaw, Horace, the patrons—they've all played their part in this twisted tale. And here I remain, the hero who saved many, now needing saving more than ever.
A hopeless chuckle escapes me, mournful and soft. The irony isn't lost, just mingled in the haze of incense and forgotten dreams.(simple_option:"17 later brothel","Later that day...")Master Zephyrion's grey eyes flash with an unmistakable fire of irritation and authority.
His gaze sweeps across the room, taking in the disarray and the dismal figures of Snib and myself. His lips press into a thin line.
"Snib," he says. "I find myself again cleaning up after one of your debacles. I've stressed the necessity of discretion in this project, yet here we are, dealing with your antics at the castle. It has been... infuriating."
The goblin shrinks slightly under the wizard's rebuke. "It ain't my fault! She—" Snib jerks a thumb at me, "—couldn't handle a simple task."
Zephyrion ignores his excuses. "The collateral from your little misadventure has set back our operations."
There’s a palpable tension in the room.
"And let’s clarify one thing," he adds in a ominously quiet tone, "being housed here is more gracious than you deserve, creature. It is a leniency not to be mistaken for tolerance."
Snib sniffs, shifting uncomfortably, the earlier bravado dissipating into the heavy air.
Zephyrion produces his arcanameter. He approaches me, touching it to the collar.
"The energies are waning again," he announces after a moment, his voice laced with irritation. "We might have to reconsider the deployment strategy if this continues."
"Please, Master Zephyrion, whatever you need to make it go faster—I'll do better," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper, desperation seeping through.
Zephyrion addresses Snib instead, "if you continue to fail in controlling the situation here, remember, there are always alternatives to fully engage the collar's magic."
He steps closer to Snib, lowering his voice, but each word remains clearly audible in the deadly silent room.
"I've employed certain... methods on the Serrans," he says, his voice cold, methodical, "a particular type of magical torture. It involves the spiraling extraction of essence—a slow, rotting decay of body while the soul shatters. Days of excruciating pain, ending in nothingness."
The wizard raises a hand, and the air thickens ominously. A small vortex of dark energy forms, swirling menacingly.
"The collar is sensitive to threats," he adds quietly, the threat hanging heavy like a guillotine blade. "I am certain I could stir up its energies if I gave you a little more... motivation."
Fear flickers in Snib's eyes—a rare sight. He nods, understanding the gravity of Zephyrion's words.
"Good," Zephyrion concludes, the vortex dissipating with a flick of his wrist. "Keep it under control. And Elise," he turns to me, his gaze piercing, "stay out of the public eye."
With that, the wizard turns sharply on his heel and exits the room, his robes sweeping behind him, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.(simple_option:"17 snib not happy","Snib is not happy.")Snib's beady eyes dart around the dimly-lit room, like a cornered animal.
"He might really do me in," Snib mutters gruffly, pacing the confinement of our quarters. His gnarled hands twitch, betraying an uncommon anxiety. "That wizard's got plans, and I'm thinkin' they don't end well for ol' Snib."
With each step, his agitation grows, and he suddenly rounds on me with an intensity that makes me flinch.
"Yer master's gettin' squeezed into a corner," he gruffs, his voice rough with an odd sense of vulnerability.
He looms over me, his shadow engulfing me.
"Ye think he'd do it, huh? Think the wizard would just snuff me out?" (simple_option:"17 believe","Yes.","No.")(set:$se_to_stop to "giles theme")(display:"stop sound effect")($play:"ambience","brothel daytime")(if:$choice is "Yes.")["Yes," I reply quietly. "He might... The way he spoke... it was full of threats. Master Zephyrion doesn’t seem like he’d hesitate if we became... an inconvenience. If there was some other way to get what he wanted..."
Snib grunts, his face scrunching up. "Bloody hell," he mutters, then grabs me forcefully by the arm, pulling me close. "Ye might be right, titcow. This might just be the death o' me. But not if I can help it."](else:)["No, Master," I say cautiously, trying to ease the tension. "Master Zephyrion is harsh, but he values you... for your role. He wouldn’t end you without cause."
Snib scoffs, jerking me closer by the collar. "Yer too naive, titcow. Don't know wizards like I do. They're all twists and turnabouts. If I become too much of a risk, he'll squash me like a bug."]
Rhw foblin pulls me against him, his hands roaming over my body rapaciously, as if trying to ground himself through the contact.
"Enough of that," he growls, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh. "Got to think... need to relax."
His touch isn't gentle—it's possessive, manipulative. He manipulates my body like it's his personal de-stressing device. His hands grope at my breasts. His mouth finds my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin.
"Mmm, ye're good for this at least," he mutters between licks and nips, his hot breath tickling my ear. "Helpin' yer master think."
Every touch is an assertion of control, a reminder that I'm here for his use. As he kneels, pushing me back onto the sparse bed, his intentions clear in his heavy, lustful gaze.
"I need to plan... figure a way out," Snib mutters more to himself than to me as he pulls off his loincloth, his other hand busy hiking up my skirt. "But first, let’s relieve some stress."(simple_option:"17 next day","The next day...")(masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"ambience","brothel")(pic:"ch17/giles.jpg","right")The heavy wooden door bangs open, admitting a gust of cold air and Captain Giles, accompanied by two of his men.
Horace steps out from behind the bar, wiping his hands nervously on his apron. His gaze flickers over Giles and his escorts.
"Captain, to what do we owe this... honor?” Horace's voice wavers slightly. "You can check my permits, everything’s in order. Just this morning’s—”
Giles silences him with a dismissive wave. “I’m not here in an official capacity. Today, I have business with the goblin.”
Snib’s eyes narrow. Without a word, he rises and follows Captain Giles toward a side room, disappearing behind the heavy, creaking door.
While the murmurs of the remaining patrons and girls fill the brothel, I stand in line with the other prostitutes. The unease gnaws at me as I wait, my body tense and on edge.
The muted voices on the other side of the closed door draw my attention. I lean slightly, straining to catch snippets of their conversation.
Snib chuckles darkly. "...know it'll work out fer ya, Captain."
Giles’s voice, low and hard, responds, "...we get you out, and it's done. She has no place here..."
Snib's voice again, “...better stay hidden, wizard’s nose in everything...”
There’s a pause, then a few more indistinguishable murmurs before the door opens, and Giles steps out.
Horace fidgets nervously as Giles approaches him. "Captain, is there anything amiss?"
Giles’ eyes flick to me, “Not at all, Horace. Just out of curiosity, what would it cost me for a night with this particular whore?”
The room falls silent, the air thick with tension.
Horace hesitates, looking over at me and then back to Giles. "Captain, I... well, err... that's... Elise is new, so maybe—"
Giles cuts him off, his voice curt and commanding, "Name your price."
The weight of his gaze pins me in place, and heat rises in my cheeks, burning with an amalgamation of shame and fear. It feels like the floor beneath me is about to give way. It’s one thing to be here, debased among the shadows and anonymity of strangers. But to be judged and bartered by someone who once stood beside me on the battlefield, who knows my wife...
Horace, visibly flustered, finally stammers, “F-fifty gold, Captain.”
“I think not,” Giles retorts icily. “More like twenty.”
“Captain, surely—”
Giles’ eyes harden, and with a motion, he flicks a gold coin from his pouch, watching it roll and stop near Horace's foot. His voice drops, quieter yet cutting through the air, making it feel heavy. "Don't worry, old man. I'm not here to disrupt your operations. My business tonight is... personal."
Horace’s gaze shifts between Giles and me, trying to read the undercurrents of intent in the Captain’s cold eyes. “Very well, Captain,” he relents.
Giles strides over to me, his presence consuming the room’s oxygen. I stand motionless, terror tightening my chest as he takes my arm in a firm grip, leading me through the main hall while the patrons and whores watch in weighted silence.
We make our way to one of the brothel rooms, and with every step, the stone walls close in, the atmosphere around us growing denser. Giles shuts the door behind us, his cold hand still gripping my arm, guiding me towards the bed.
The room is furnished with the typical trappings of a brothel—plush cushions, draped curtains, the faint scent of incense masking the underlying odor of sweat and lust. But the familiar details take on a dark, foreboding tone in the presence of the Captain.
Giles takes a deep breath, loosening the leather straps of his armor, leaning in close; the intensity in his gaze piercing through me.
“Ever wonder why you never really see all the edges of a person, Elise?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. “Some... have seen my noble side.” (simple_option:"17 going on","What's going on?")(live:9s)[(stop:)($play:"song","giles theme")]($play:"ambience","brothel room")I stand there awkwardly, my skimpy outfit feeling even more out of place than usual. The room is silent, save for the faint creaks of old boards and the muted sounds from the brothel's main hall.
Giles begins unlacing a gauntlet. "I wasn't always this way, you know," he says. "There was a time when the world made more sense to me—when it was simpler."
He frees one hand from the metal confines, setting the piece aside on the bed.
"Years ago, I lived in a small village on the edge of the Everbloom Forest. It was a quiet place. I grew up there, making friends, forming bonds that... well, they seem unbreakable when you're a kid. Like they'll last forever."
His gaze shifts to me.
"There was a girl," he murmurs, removing his other gauntlet. "We were sweethearts back then. We climbed trees together, swam in the river, chased the stars in the sky..."
I find myself ensnared by his words, the story weaving its enchantment even amid its strangeness, making the current reality blur at the edges.
"Her eyes were like the sky on a clear day," Giles continues, a soft note of longing threading into his voice. "She had a heart so pure and dreams that...." He halts, a pained smile crossing his lips.
He unbuckles his breastplate, the metal plates clinking softly. I can see the outlines of his strong frame beneath a simple linen shirt, beads of sweat highlighting the contours of his shoulders and chest. With each piece removed, a layer of his soul is revealed—a man stripped of his titles and duties.
"Things changed," he says quietly, almost more to himself. "Life has a way of doing that. A hero appeared in our lives. A powerful man who slayed monsters and bandits, who commanded respect and admiration. She... she forgot about me. And why wouldn’t she?"
His voice wavers.
"What was I to her? A childhood friend. How could I compete with a *legend*?"
It starts to hit me.
"Years went by, and I... well, I became who I am now. A soldier. Practical, realistic. I watched from a distance as she lived a life filled with heroics and danger, chasing glory while I... I kept my feet firmly on the ground."
He pauses, removing his shirt, revealing scars crisscrossing his chest, each one a silent testimony to his own battles. His eyes lock onto mine, the flicker in them now irrefutably clear.
(pic:"ch17/giles talk.jpg")
"Her name," he says slowly, letting each syllable hang, "is Elara."
My heart clenches.
"You," Giles’ voice sharpens, a mix of anger and sorrow, "you stole her from me. She carries your child. And now, in your folly, you endanger both of them."(simple_option:"17 gods","Oh gods...")($play:"sex loop",0)Words stick in my throat. I want to scream that it's not my fault, that I was cursed, transformed against my will. But he continues, undeterred by my silence.
"I know it's not fair, what's happened to you," Giles says, his voice momentarily softening with something close to pity. "But bringing others down with you... that's on you."
He begins to undress slowly, methodically, keeping his intense gaze locked on mine. There is a tension in his movements, a restrained ferocity as he discards his worn garments piece by piece.
"I've worked out a deal with Snib," he states flatly, as he steps out of his trousers. "Tonight, he takes you back to the wilderness, out of Zephyrion’s reach. You become his problem, his... prize again."
His words sink in, and my mind reels. To be taken away from Elara again? To be taken under Snib's control, abandoned in the goblin's ramshackle hut, living a degrading life... it's unthinkable. Yet, there's a haze—an invasive, irresistible calm that washes over me at the mention of Snib. The pheromones... they soothe my resistance, dull the burning anger and fear. They make the thought of obeying... almost bearable.
The fog of pheromones battles against my instinct to fight, to reject the plan that would sever me from Elara forever.
"Get on the bed," Giles commands sharply. "On all fours, now."
"But... Giles," I begin, my voice shaking. The mere thought of lying beneath him, of succumbing to such a debased act, makes my stomach turn.
His hand shoots out, gripping my upper arm tightly, pulling me toward the bed. "Did I stutter, bitch?" he snaps. "Get on the fucking bed."
His words all but carry me to the edge of the mattress, Snib's pheromones flooding my body with an obedient haze, knowing that my master has given me over to this man. I clamber onto the bed, my movements awkward.
I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper and a low chuckle from Giles. "No sense getting whatever diseases you’ve picked up from that goblin."
His fingers toy with the thin strings on my hips before moving higher, tracing the curve of my waist.
"Elara will move on," he murmurs, his voice almost gentle now, an underlying edge of bitterness sharpening each word. "She'll see you've abandoned her and she'll realize her husband is dead and buried. The man she loved is now this..."
His hand strikes my rear, a sharp smack that reverberates in the silent room. He grabs a handful of my jiggling flesh, his fingers gripping harshly.
"Y'know," he muses, his voice now a dark, low purr. "You used to be a symbol of strength, honor..."
His cold touch traces the curve of my ass, his finger slipping beneath the thin fabric of my bikini bottoms.
“...now just a goblin's bitch. A slut. A brainwashed whore."
He lets out a low chuckle, his fingers sliding around to my front.
"I'm in charge now," he continues. "And I'm going to prove to myself that you're long gone, Aldric. I'm going to enjoy this."
Climbing onto the bed, his muscular body casts an imposing shadow over me, a dark silhouette that sends a shiver of anticipation and fear down my spine. He presses a hand on my lower back, making me arch, causing my ass to lift up, pushing my tits into the soft bed.
"You ready to be my bitch?" he asks, the question more of a statement.
I close my eyes tightly, bracing myself as I nod. Giles grabs the thin string of my bikini bottoms and *rips* them off, the fabric tearing with a loud, harsh snap.
"Good," he purrs. "Spread those legs wider." And with that...(simple_option:"17 thrusts","He thrusts into you...")(set:$se_to_stop to "elise giles rough fuck end")(display:"stop sound effect")($play:"sex loop",0)(live:2s)[(stop:)($play:"sex loop","elise giles rough fuck")]The penetration is sudden and deep, forcing a gasp out of me followed by a helpless moan as he starts to move.
His hips pull back only to slam forward with intense force. The impact sends a wave of pain and pleasure mixed together, the sound of his body hitting mine—a series of loud *SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP*—echoing in the room.
My body rocks with each violent thrust, tits jiggling with the motion, the bed creaking under us.
"Hah! Haah! Haah! Oh, fuck!"
-SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP-
“DO YOU EVEN LOVE HER ANYMORE?” Giles growls, bending over my back, his voice hot against my ear.
"UGH... I... I do..." I whimper, trying to form coherent thoughts.
"DO YOU!?" He demands, his hand coming down hard on my ass, the spank loud and stinging. "Do you even care about her? Do you know she’s pregnant? Do you even remember?"
The sting making me yelp. “Aah! Ahhn! Ahhn!”
*CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*
The spanks rain down, each one snapping against my skin, inflaming it further.
“Do you even really care about her??”
"O-oohhh!!" I sob, my breaths quick and shallow. My cunt spasms agianst his unyielding cock.
**"ANSWER ME!"** His shout is almost a roar.
"YES! Yes, I l- love her!" Tears blur my vision, sobs catching in my throat as I try to answer him. Each thrust pushes the breath out of me.
Giles pulls my hair back sharply, causing my head to arch, my breasts swinging and flopping painfully.
“O-oooh!” I gasp as he *RIPS* off my bikini top, baring my heaving chest. My massive nipples are painfully erect
"You don't deserve her!" he screams, his voice cracking. "Not like I do!"
“Ngghaa~ oohhh!! Hah, hah!” My vocalizations are high-pitched and nasally, every thrust sending jolts of forced ecstasy through me.
“DO YOU LOVE HER?!! OR DO YOU LOVE THE GOBLIN MORE?!!” Giles’s voice breaks, anger and something else—a bitter sorrow—bleeding through.
(pic:"ch17/giles fuck.jpg")
Each thrust sends a lewd *shcuuullp* through the air, my slick, drenched pussy offering no resistance as he drills me without mercy. The combined scent of sex and sweat fills the room, overwhelming me, my body betraying my mind as pleasure coiled tighter within me.
The intrusive thoughts of Snib’s cock and the degrading pleasures he’s given invade my mind, fogging my memories. Giles’ voice is a piercing agony against the growing haze, his attempts to break me down near the edge.(simple_option:"17 choice giles","Snib!","Elara!")(if:$choice is "Elara!")[($heroism_check:5)(if:$result is "fail")[(set:$choice to "Snib!")($notification:"You're too far gone to respond that way...")]](if:$choice is "Snib!")[($play:"sex loop","elise giles rough fuck")My mind spirals.
Elara... our life together... they seem like distant, fading echoes in my mind. Giles’ ruthless rhythm hammers into me, pushing those memories further into the recesses of my brain, but something dark and twisted bubbles up to the surface.
*SQUELP* *SMACK* *SQUELP* *SMACK*
"Oh, g-gods...! I... I can't..."
Giles pulls my hair harder, snapping my head back, the pain mingling with a masochistic pleasure I can't ignore anymore.
In that moment, the image of Snib invades my mind. His grotesque, grinning face, those dirty hands exploring every intimate part of me—claiming me, owning me. The way he can make my body sing with a single touch or command...
And Giles’ earlier words...
“DO YOU LOVE HER?!! OR DO YOU LOVE THE GOBLIN MORE?!!”
I break. I fucking shatter.
“H-HIM! SNIB! I love Snib!” My voice is a cracked scream, raw and broken. I don't even know where the words come from, only that they're the vile truth. “I serve Snib! I love his big *gobbo cock*!! Unghh, haa~!”
($change_stat:"heroism",-25)Giles’ hand crashes down on my ass, each spank a punishing blow to my delicate flesh.
*CRACK* *WHAP* *SMACK*
“Traitor! You’re a fucking traitor!” Giles roars, each word punctuated with a brutal thrust or a fiery spank. “To your wife, your *child*, and the human race!”
“Mnnnghhh~!” I slobber and sob. “He makes me cum with commands! I obey him more each day, not just ‘cause of the collar, but because I *HAAAaaannngh~* love him!”
My cries are ragged and wet, my voice breaking under the weight of my confession.
*THWACK! SMAK! SMAK!*
Giles' cock rams into me, pistoning relentlessly, his own fury feeding into every savage thrust.
“I-I deserve it! I deserve to be fucked by him! I’m his bitch, his slut!” I wail, my eyes rolling back. The intense pleasure mixes with the shame, my body responding against my will, my vagina clenching around Giles’ invading cock. “I love his *huge, veiny cock*! I-I don’t deserve anything else!”
Another series of brutal thrusts, his hips crashing into my ass, making it jiggle obscenely. He’s relentless, each movement a statement of his dominance—and my utter submission.
“You’re no hero,” he spits, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a fucking monster. And that’s exactly where you belong—among them. You don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as decent folk.”
His fingers dig into my hips, leaving bruises as his cock stretches me. My tears stream down my cheeks, drenching the velvet whorehouse pillow.
“Giles, please… Oh, gods, I... I can’t...”
“Shut up,” he snarls, slamming into me with relentless brutality. “Don’t you dare speak to me. You’re not even human anymore.”
Each thrust pushes me closer to the edge, the pleasure mounting, cresting, about to break.
“N-no, please… I...”
"You're fucking nothing. A waste. A pathetic fuck-toy."
“Ohhh, fuck... *UNNGHHHH!*” My orgasm crashes over me like a wave of pure agony and ecstasy, my pussy convulsing around Giles’ punishing girth, milking his cock desperately. My screams echo off the walls.
Giles gives a final, savage thrust, his cock buried deep inside me. He stays there, his breath harsh against my neck, the final degradation in the silence that follows.
“You’ll be exactly where you belong,” he whispers.(simple_option:"17 giles cums","He cums.")](else:)[(set:$se_to_stop to "elise giles rough fuck")(display:"stop sound effect")($play:"sound","elise giles rough fuck end")"Mmmph—Her! Always... her!" My voice is barely coherent, muffled by my tears and the overwhelming physicality of his assault.
Giles' grip on my hair tightens, yanking my head back further, his movements growing even more aggressive, desperate to break something inside me with his questions, with his violent accusations.
"Prove it!" he shouts, shaking me with the ferocity of his grip, his hips still slamming into me, relentless and cruel. "Say her name! Admit it to yourself!"
The bed rocks with each savage thrust, the sound of our bodies slapping together filling the room, each impact a brutal reminder of my situation.
Logical thought slips away under the crush of physical domination and mental turmoil, each harsh thrust blurring the line between pain and pleasure. Deep down, something primal, something fiercely protective stirs—a reminder of who I am, who I was.
"I love her!" I scream, the admission tearing from deep within me, raw and honest amid the tarnish of my current life. "Elara—oh gods, Elara!"
($change_stat:"heroism",5)“That’s a lie!” he growls, his voice rough with anger. “You don’t belong to her anymore! You’re nothing but a goblin’s bitch!”
“NO! I love her! I LOVE HER!” The words pour out, driven by a desperate need to cling to my humanity.
“Say her name again!” he snarls, his thrusts growing even more brutal. “Prove it!”
“Elara! Oh gods, Elara! I love you!” I cry, my voice breaking with the intensity of my emotions. Tears stream down my cheeks, mingling with the sweat slicking my body. Every fiber of my being clings to her memory, her touch, her love.
Giles shakes me harder, his grip almost painful. “You think you’re worthy of her? You think you can protect her? Prove it!”
"I— Elara! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I love you! I love you so much!” The words are a mantra now, echoing in the room, defying the humiliation and pain.
Giles’ face contorts with rage and something close to desperation. His thrusts turn erratic, each movement accentuated with a rough, harsh grunt. “Say it again! Say it like you mean it!”
“Elara! I love you! Always you, never anyone else!” I gasp, the intensity of my feelings mingling with the physical sensation coursing through me.
His cock pulses harder within me, the rough friction igniting every nerve. The pressure builds, coiling tighter and tighter in my core.
“Elara! Elara! Elara!” I scream, my voice raw with emotion, torn from deep within me, even as I cum.
My orgasm washes over me in a violent surge of ecstasy and despair. My pussy clenches around Giles’ thrusting cock, milking him with each spasm as my body shudders uncontrollably.
Giles’ own climax is brutal, his hips slamming into me one last time, driving him deep as he spills into the condom. His breath is ragged against my neck, his grip on my hair loosening slightly.
I’m left gasping, tears streaming down my cheeks, my body trembling with the aftershocks of the orgasm. My voice is a hoarse whisper as I repeat, “I love her... I love... Elara...” over and over, a desperate plea to keep the fragile thread of my humanity intact.(simple_option:"17 bigger choice","Giles collapses next to you.")]($play:"ambience","brothel room")The filled condom is tossed carelessly to the side.
The air is thick with the scent of sex and sweat. My body still trembles with the aftershocks of my forced orgasm, the raw vulnerability leaving me shivering despite the heat.
Giles sighs deeply
“We can’t go on like this,” he says. “I wanted to break you. To show you how far you’ve fallen. But... maybe it’s not too late.”
He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine, filled with a profound weariness.
“You want to regain your honor? There’s one way... one final chance.”
I listen, my breath catching in my throat as he continues.
“As long as Snib lives and Zephyrion is around to exploit your misery, Elara's life is at risk. The wizard’s plans—what he’s doing with that collar—it ends with death. It ends with awakening ancient gods.”
I feel that his words are true.
“There’s only one choice,” Giles says, his voice firm, yet tinged with regret. “To kill Snib. But... you know, as well as I do... if Snib dies, the collar will kill you too. It’s designed that way—to protect its... master.”
I tremble, clutching the sheets with white-knuckled hands.
Giles reaches out, gently resting a hand on my shoulder. “There is no other way, Elise. This... all of this will spiral into greater disaster. Zephyrion’s plans endanger everything. Re-awakening Maraan... it will bring chaos, death, destruction on a scale we can’t imagine.”
He takes a deep breath, swallowing hard.
“I don’t want to kill you; even after everything, I can’t bring myself to do it. But allowing this to continue is something I can’t accept either.”
His voice softens, a pleading tone underlying his words.
“If you agree... if you see that this is the only path, I will end the goblin. I will tell Elara that you made this choice for her, for us all. She will cry over you, mourn you, but she will understand. She will see it as the last brave act of Aldric, the man, the hero.”
The weight of his plea crushes me.
Can I... let go of the desperate hope, the small flicker of resistance that keeps me clinging to this cursed life?
Giles’ grip on my shoulder tightens, grounding me. “Please,” he whispers. “Do this for her. Let this nightmare end.”
I close my eyes, feeling the tears slip down my face. I open my mouth to speak, my voice trembling.(simple_option:"17 kill snib","Agree.","I can't.")($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$choice is "Agree.")[“Yes,” I finally say, the word a broken whisper. “Make it end. End it all.”
Giles nods, a grim determination settling over him. “The wizard must believe you intended it. I’ll tell Elara you chose this, that it was your last act of heroism. When your child grows, I’ll tell them what a hero their father was, your final act. If Elara accepts me as her husband, I promise to care for her, to honor your memory.”
I nod, tears streaking my face, the enormity of what I’ve agreed to weighing heavily on my heart.
Giles stands, adjusting his clothing before calling out, his voice carrying a commanding authority.
“Snib! Bring yourself in here. Your whore isn’t listening!”
The door creaks open, and Snib bursts into the room, snarling. “What’s this about?”
He glances between us, sensing the tension. “Getting in the way of my plans again, eh, titcow? Useless slut."
I bite my lip, forcing myself to stay silent, every instinct screaming to warn my master, but Giles’ calm, prepared demeanor keeps me grounded.
Snib steps forward, grabbing my arm harshly. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere, 'cept where I say,” he hisses. “And if ye don’t keep in line, well, you know how I deal with disobedience.”
($hidden_gem:"Without warning, he shoves me over the edge of the bed, his hand coming down hard on my ass.","Without warning, he whips me over the wooden bed, his wicked hand walloping my waiting, wobbly ass.")
“You’re getting out of this town, and you’d best go along with it. We’ve got plans, you and me.” *THWACK*
“Ugh... Master... please...” I force out, my voice strained.
Giles moves silently behind Snib, retrieving a dagger from his leather satchel. The weight of the moment bears down, and time seems to slow as he approaches.
Snib’s hand tightens on my hair. “Oh, you’ll enjoy it, won’t ye? Big adventures...”
He starts, realizing Giles’ proximity, turning partway to hiss, “Back off, Captain. This is between me and my bitch.”
But Giles’ hand darts out, gripping Snib’s neck with steely strength. The goblin’s eyes widen in shock and confusion as Giles forces the dagger into my hand, his grip sure and unyielding.
“End it,” Giles whispers fiercely to me, “Do it now.” He likely knows I cannot bring myself to kill my master of my own accord, but gives me the chance anyway.
With my fingers wrapped around the cold handle, the captain guides my hand in a swift, brutal motion, the dagger plunging deep into Snib’s chest. The goblin’s eyes widen further, his mouth opening in a silent scream.
For a moment, everything is still. The room is filled with the heavy scent of iron, the sound of our ragged breathing.
Snib’s grip on my hair loosens, his eyes meeting mine.
($change_stat:"heroism",5)“You...” he wheezes, blood bubbling at his lips. “You bitch...”(live:25s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","neck snap")]
His body collapses, and I feel the resistance of muscle and bone giving way. Every fiber of my being screams to pull the dagger out, to withdraw from this terrifying reality, but I hold steady, keeping it in place, sealing his fate.
The collar around my neck tightens, instantly reading the life force draining from its master. It constricts painfully, cutting off my air, my vision tunneling as I struggle to draw breath.
My body seizes, muscles locking as the collar’s magic fights desperately to protect its bond. The pressure builds in my skull, pain lancing through my spine.
I fall beside Snib’s lifeless form, my neck breaking under the relentless grip.
In those final moments, memories flood my mind—Elara’s smile, her laughter, our unborn child. The life we planned, the home we wanted to build. I was Aldric, the hero who protected Eboncrest. And in this last act, I have freed them from this darkness.
May Elara live free and safe, remembering the love we shared, and the hero I tried to be until the end.
($game_over:"17 bigger choice",17,"You died, but you died a hero.")](else:)[(set:$se_to_stop to "giles theme")(display:"stop sound effect fade")I can’t bring myself to accept Giles’ offer, no matter how much sense it makes, no matter how desperate the situation. The thought of Snib’s death sends a jolt of fear through me, even though I know it would mean freedom.
The collar tightens slightly.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I shake my head. “I... I can’t do it. I can’t...”
Giles’ expression hardens. “That’s what I thought.”
He pulls away from me, standing up and dressing silently, his movements are quick and efficient. Once he’s fully clothed, he signals to his men waiting outside.
They enter the room, their faces blank.
“Get them ready,” Giles orders.
The guards move with practiced precision, binding my hands and securing Snib, who already snickers with anticipation.
“Back to freedom, eh?” Snib’s voice is gleeful as they push me toward him. “Good riddance, this place was gettin’ boring.”
We’re led through the gloom of the brothel’s back corridors, the shadows dancing eerily on the walls.(simple_option:"17 outside","You're brought outside.")](masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","village night")Outside, the cool night air hits us, heavy with the scent of pine and distant rain.
Giles hisses instructions to his men, their movements swift and quiet. “We need to move fast.”
He ushers us along a winding path, leading away from the main road and towards the southern town wall. As we reach a small gate, Giles nods at the guards stationed there.
“We saw nothin’,” one of them mutters, allowing us through without question.
We're reunited with Jarkrond, Snib's desert horse. Snib clambers into the saddle, and commands me to do likewise, patting my spot in front of him.
“Yes, Master...” I whisper, my voice a hollow echo of surrender.
Giles watches us as we mount the horse. “I’ll tell Zephyrion that you left of your own accord and without aid,” he says.
As we ride out of the clandestine exit, the full weight of my decision settles in. The blackness of the Everbloom forest stretches before us.
“Like old times, eh tits-for-brains?” Snib cackles, his hands fondling and groping my massive breasts. "A horsey ride, just you ‘n me."
My tears mix with the cold wind whipping against my skin, my heart breaking anew with each galloping stride of Jarkrond. Every touch from Snib, every reminder of his dominance, pierces me deeply, the pain mingling with the hazy pleasure.
The horse’s hooves pound against the forest floor, each beat matching the rhythm of my despair. I’ve thrown away my last chance to escape, to end this torment.
But I know Elara will be safe... if I am far away. That is the only consolation.
As we ride further into the wilderness, Snib’s triumphant laughter echoes through the night, mingling with the haunting howl of the wind.
Galloping off into the darkness, I bury my face in Jarkrond’s mane and sob quietly, despair tightening its grip around my heart, knowing that I am firmly ensnared by the goblin’s control.
"Yer my pet, cow-tits. Rememeber that."
(simple_option:"17 months intro","'Yes Master... your pet.'")($set:$se_to_stop to "elise giles rough fuck")(display:"stop sound effect")(set:$se_to_stop to "giles theme")(display:"stop sound effect fade")Giles' grip tightens in my hair, pulling my head back so that my tear-streaked face is exposed to him fully. His cock throbs violently inside me, every vein bulging as he approaches climax. His face is twisted with a mixture of satisfaction and hatred, and his eyes bore into mine with a cold, almost clinical disdain.
“You make me *sick*,” he snarls as he pounds me hard.
*SPANK*
“AHN! AHNN! Haah~!” I wail.
*SPANK*
With a final, brutal thrust, he erupts into the condom, the thick rubber filling with his hot seed.
*THROB* *THROB* *THROB*
He yanks my hair one last time, shoving me forward even as he fills the latex barrier to its limit. A slew of curses and insults spill from his lips.
“Fucking... traitorous... whore,” Giles spits, each word a verbal lash. He jerks out of me, his cock still twitching.
The condom, heavy with his semen, is flung carelessly onto my reddened ass, landing with a wet splat against my sore butt. I whimper, my body trembling from the onslaught, and collapse onto the bed.
Giles stands over me, looking disgusted.
“You’re nothing but trash,” he mutters darkly. “You can't even *say* you love your wife more than that fucking goblin. Utter disgrace.”
He dresses himself briskly, donning his armor with deliberate, angry motions. There’s no further semblance of pity or empathy in his gaze—only contempt.
“Elara will be with someone better,” he spits, fastening his breastplate. “I’ll raise your child—and have some of my own. You’ll be forgotten, buried with the refuse where you belong.”
His voice drips with finality, every word a nail in the coffin of my former self. Striding to the door, he calls to his men with a tone that brooks no argument.
“Bring in the new outfit.”
The guards enter, their expressions unreadable, though I can sense the shared disdain and amusement at my predicament. They throw a skimpier, degrading outfit onto the bed beside me. It’s made of barely-there leather straps and thin metal ornaments.
“Get dressed,” they order, clearly taking no pleasure in making sure it’s tight, binding at the waist to emphasize the soft curve of my hips and ass.
With trembling hands, I comply, fingers fumbling with the absurdly scant costume. The guards watch, their eyes appraising every inch of my exposed skin.
Once I'm dressed, they lead me outside. (simple_option:"17 outside","They lead you outside.")(pic:"status/elise broodmama preg behind.png","right","borderless")(masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"ambience","goblin ending")I squat on the dusty ground, absentmindedly humming a goblin lullaby as I sweep the sand out of Snib’s tent. The sun casts long shadows, stretching endlessly across the dunes that surround the caravan. The air is warm, and I'm dressed only in a wrap of worn leather around my waist, my swollen belly bearing testament to how deeply Snib has claimed me.
My tits, full and heavy, leak droplets of milk involuntarily, the sweet liquid glistening in the desert sun.
There’s a soft chuckle from behind me. I turn to see Grot trudging into the tent. He’s a little taller than Snib, his skin a deeper green. They've returned from another hunt.
“Oi, Snib,” Grot grins. “Ye really got her well-trained, haven’t ye?”
Snib snorts, slapping me on the ass as he saunters in. "Aye, cowtits knows her place. Keeps things nice and tidy ‘round here.”
I rise, my nipples aching with the fullness of milk. “Welcome back, Master,” I say sweetly, a light blush touching my cheeks. Pleasure buzzes in my core at their praise, their dominance filling me with a deep, gratifying warmth. "How was your hunt?"
"No chit-chat, cow-tits we’ve had a long day."(simple_option:"17 smile","Smile.")As the evening approaches, I descend into a comforting routine. Preparing meals, serving my goblin masters.
The simple, repetitive cycles of my subservient life feel more organic, natural as I move through them mindlessly.
Roast the meat.
Serve it to my Masters.
Feel their hands fondle my breasts and my belly.
Submit. ENJOY.
I drink down multiple loads of goblin sperm a day, my body craving it as much as it craves water or food. The thick, potent seed is a lifeline, each gulp reinforcing the bond between me and my masters. My milk, sweet and nourishing, flows freely for Snib, a perpetual giver and sustainer of life - as it will for his pups.
Our symbiotic bond is a loop ensuring my compliance and their control. Each cycle of feeding and drinking deepens that bond, tightening the invisible chains that bind me to them. The hormonal balance is perfectly maintained, solidifying my role as a devoted pet.
Over time, my behavior has morphed into something almost... goblin-like. I feel my mind slipping into simple, primal pleasures. Resistance isn't just futile—it’s forgotten. A faint memory of an unrecognizable time.
Drool escapes from the corner of my lips as I giggle, kneeling before my masters, their conversation floating around me as if I don't exist as a sentient being anymore, merely a vessel for their desires.
“Think we’ll strike ‘round moonrise,” Snib muses, while tearing apart a piece of dried meat. Grot nods, adding, “Aye. Heard the northern tribe’s sending extra warriors.”
I hum softly as I help prepare the desert fowl they hunted. My hands work deftly, gutting and plucking the bird with ease. The sensation of the fresh catch, the smell of the feathers—this is my place, my purpose. I take satisfaction in my servitude.
Occasionally, my swollen belly ripples, a gentle tremor beneath my skin—a reminder of the next generation of goblins growing inside me. The little kicks fuel a sense of maternal joy, each flutter an affirmation of my role as their incubator.
I giggle again, feeling another particularly strong kick. “They’re active, Masters. Eager to join ya on yer next hunt.”
Snib chuckles, ruffling my hair. "Good. Strong whelps."
As I prepare the meal, the goblins talk of raids on human villages. But I barely pay attention or feel anything, other than wonder when Snib will be back.
Contentment suffuses me, a blissful, obedient haze clouding my mind as I serve the fowl, laying it out on the rough-spun cloth that serves as our dining table. The simplicity of knowing my role, of being utterly subservient, fills me with a tranquility I’m too far gone to question.
With a gentle caress of my swollen belly, I giggle again, feeling my pups squirm and kick, their presence a warm comfort. The grotesque beauty of my reality is complete, a dark harmony of surrender, pleasure, and service.
($game_over:"17 alone",17,"You've been made into Snib's broodmama! You find it to be a fulfilling existence - you survive 14 cycles of breeding.")(set:$se_to_stop to "leather tighten")(display:"stop sound effect")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"sound","whip ah 1")(live:20s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","whip ah 2")](live:15s)[($play:"sound","whip ah " + (text:(random:1,3)))]“AH!” I cry out; the pain is instantaneous, sharp, exploding across my skin.
Slowly, with awkward, halting movements, I begin to shimmy up the bed. My body jerking from side to side, with each movement my huge, sensitive tits jiggle, the exposed flesh quivering as I force myself to move forward. My breathing becomes more labored as I heed his command, each inch a torment.
"That’s it, hero, show me your determination," he mocks. "Remember poor Jenna? Your squire? What did I do again? Ah, yes. Kidnapped, sold to Sirath, but not before defiling her... You never found her, did you? You never knew that was me."
Every word is a knife cutting through the last remains of my defiance. Still, I crawl. There is no choice.
The bed shifts under me, Grimjaw's ghastly bulk pressing down on the mattress like an anchor. As I approach him, my bound position forces me to roll onto my side, wiggling closer, my breasts slapping softly against the fabric with each jerky movement.
Another *THWAK* of the crop lands on my tender behind.
"Faster, Aldric. Show me that hero’s spirit. And while you do, tell me about my crimes. Reminisce on my darker deeds. Come on now. What else have I done?”
A pained sob escapes my lips. My body struggles forward, the muscles in my back and thighs burning with effort. I have to comply, I can’t defy him.
“Y-you... you kidnapped the merchant's daughter... tortured her...” My voice chokes. He lies back, grinning like a perverse king upon his throne, waiting as I quiver and spill his dark history.
“What else?” he presses, his massive cock hardening as I recount his heinous actions.
"Y-you... killed the baker... b-burned his house down when... he couldn’t pay... UGH!" my voice cracks as the crop cracks against my ass.
“Keep going," he croons.
I struggle, my body pressing between his flabby, hairy legs. The vileness of his sweat-soaked skin rubs against my cheeks. My tears mix with the grime as I turn my head to align sobbing lips to his cock, feeling the throbbing heat rub against my face.
“Ah, there you go," Grimjaw purrs. “Right where you belong—between my legs as my little hero-turned-slut."
I crane my neck, struggling to wrap my lips around the disgusting shaft pressed against my lips. I try to force my mind to retreat somewhere else, somewhere far away from this degrading reality.
"Pleasure me," Grimjaw commands, his hand gripping his riding crop tightly. “Don’t you want to save those maidens?”(simple_option:"17 try to lick","Try to make him cum and get this over with."){
(set:$game_over to (macro: str-type _target_page_name, num-type _chapter, str-type _message, [
(out:)[<div class='options'>($notification:_message)(size:3)[The End?]</div><div class='options'><span class='borderless'>(link:"Rewind to last critical decision...")[(masteraudio:"stopall")
(set: $targetPageName to _target_page_name)
(set: $targetIndex to (indexofpage: $pages, $targetPageName))
(if: $targetIndex > 0)[
(set: $pagesToRemove to (altered: _page via _page's "page", ...(subarray: $pages, $targetIndex, $pages's length)))
(set:$pages_being_removed to (find: _page where ($pagesToRemove contains _page's "page"), ...$pages))
(set: $pages to $pages - (find: _page where ($pagesToRemove contains _page's "page"), ...$pages))
(set:$stat_changes to $stat_changes - (find: _stat_change where ($pagesToRemove contains _stat_change's "page"),...$stat_changes))
]
(set:$current_page to _target_page_name)
(set:$current_chapter to _chapter)
(set: $rewind_page to $current_page)
(set: $current_index to $targetIndex)
(if: $current_index > 1)[
(set: $prev_page to "page" of ($pages's (max: 1, $current_index - 1)))
](else:)[
(set: $prev_page to "none")
]
(set: $stat_changes to (find: _stat_change where not (_stat_change's "page" is $current_page), ...$stat_changes))(goto:$current_page)]</span></div>]]
))
}(set:$hidden_menu_visited to "true")<div class='main_menu'>(set:$sidebar to true)<div class='tw-story-title'>The Secret Menu!</div><div class='options'>You are now one of the select few who knows where the secret menu is. Hearty congratulations are in order.
(if:$hidden_gem_hints is "true")[($notification:"Hidden gem hints active! 💎")](else:)[(link:"Activate hidden gem hints! 💎")[($notification:"You will now get a hint whenever a hidden gem is present on the current page. 💎")(set:$hidden_gem_hints to "true")]]
(size:0.8)[Click on any chapter to jump to it - but that the game will treat you as if you made all the "canon" choices, and will *overwrite that chapter's save slot* if you already have one.]
(link:"Chapter 2 - The Collar")[(display:"jump to chapter 2")]
(link:"Chapter 3 - Domesticated")[(display:"jump to chapter 3")]
(link:"Chapter 4 - Homecoming")[(display:"jump to chapter 4")]
(link:"Chapter 5 - The Dungeon")[(display:"jump to chapter 5")]
(link:"Chapter 6 - The Visit")[(display:"jump to chapter 6")]
(link:"Chapter 7 - Griznak Gobboree")[(display:"jump to chapter 7")]
(link:"Chapter 8 - The Warrior")[(display:"jump to chapter 8")]
(link:"Chapter 9 - A Bitter Draught")[(display:"jump to chapter 9")]
(link:"Chapter 10 - Sympathy")[(display:"jump to chapter 10")]
(link:"Chapter 11 - In Heat")[(display:"jump to chapter 11")]
(link:"Chapter 12 - In the Pale Moonlight")[(display:"jump to chapter 12")]
(link:"Chapter 13 - The Weight of Duty")[(display:"jump to chapter 13")]
(link:"Chapter 14 - The Bargain")[(display:"jump to chapter 14")]
(link:"Chapter 15 - A Long Night Begins")[(display:"jump to chapter 15")]
(link:"Chapter 16 - A Long Night Ends")[(display:"jump to chapter 16")]
(link:"Chapter 17 - Heartbreak")[(display:"jump to chapter 17")]
(link:"Chapter 18 - Ties That Bind")[(display:"jump to chapter 18")]
(link:"Chapter 19 - The Descent")[(display:"jump to chapter 19")]
(link:"Chapter 20 - Cataclysm's Cradle")[(display:"jump to chapter 20")]
</div></div>(display:"dark mode"){
(set:
$pages to (a:(dm:"choices",(a:"Harder!"),"page","01 Begin"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Comfort her."),"page","01 Elara"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Speak with the mayor."),"page","01 Comfort"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Journey to Ironrock Mine."),"page","01 mayor"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Use your magic."),"page","01 leave for ironrock"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ignisurge!"),"page","01 mine"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Lose consciousness..."),"page","01 attempt")),
$stat_changes to (a:(dm:"amount",0,"page","none","stat","none")),
$prev_page to "01 attempt",
$current_page to "02 Wake up")
(display:"sync stats")(set:$sidebar to false)(display:"baseline lorebook")(goto:"02 Wake up")
}{
(set:$pages to (a:(dm:"choices",(a:"Harder!"),"page","01 Begin"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Comfort her."),"page","01 Elara"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Speak with the mayor."),"page","01 Comfort"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Journey to Ironrock Mine."),"page","01 mayor"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Use your magic."),"page","01 leave for ironrock"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ignisurge!"),"page","01 mine"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Lose consciousness..."),"page","01 attempt"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Exposed skin?"),"page","02 Wake up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You have breasts!"),"page","02 Finding out"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Use your fists."),"page","02 you have tits"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Try to stand up."),"page","02 attempt attack"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Give up..."),"page","02 stand up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Open your eyes."),"page","02 give up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He inspects you."),"page","02 open eyes"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He lays out the rules."),"page","02 inspection"),(dm:"choices",(a:"E- Elise?"),"page","02 the rules"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Arrive at Snib's hut."),"page","02 name"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Lose your temper and attack!"),"page","02 arrive"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He defiles your sword."),"page","02 attack"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He cums."),"page","02 sword defilement"),(dm:"choices",(a:"It makes you feel funny..."),"page","02 cum"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Take your armor off."),"page","02 aftermath"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Pray to the Ephemerals before sleeping."),"page","02 sleep option"),(dm:"choices",(a:"The next morning..."),"page","02 pray")),
$prev_page to "02 pray",
$current_page to "03 next morning",
$stat_changes to (a:(dm:"amount",0,"page","none","stat","none")))
(display:"sync stats")(set:$sidebar to false)(display:"baseline lorebook")(goto:"03 next morning")
}{
(set: $current_page to "04 next morning",$prev_page to "03 try to stop", $pages to (a:(dm:"choices",(a:"Harder!"),"page","01 Begin"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Comfort her."),"page","01 Elara"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Speak with the mayor."),"page","01 Comfort"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Journey to Ironrock Mine."),"page","01 mayor"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Use your magic."),"page","01 leave for ironrock"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ignisurge!"),"page","01 mine"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Lose consciousness..."),"page","01 attempt"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Exposed skin?"),"page","02 Wake up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You have breasts!"),"page","02 Finding out"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Use your fists."),"page","02 you have tits"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Try to stand up."),"page","02 attempt attack"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Give up..."),"page","02 stand up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Open your eyes."),"page","02 give up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He inspects you."),"page","02 open eyes"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He lays out the rules."),"page","02 inspection"),(dm:"choices",(a:"E- Elise?"),"page","02 the rules"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Arrive at Snib's hut."),"page","02 name"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Lose your temper and attack!"),"page","02 arrive"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He defiles your sword."),"page","02 attack"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He cums."),"page","02 sword defilement"),(dm:"choices",(a:"It makes you feel funny..."),"page","02 cum"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Take your armor off."),"page","02 aftermath"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Pray to the Ephemerals before sleeping."),"page","02 sleep option"),(dm:"choices",(a:"The next morning..."),"page","02 pray"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Get upset."),"page","03 next morning"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Do laundry."),"page","03 reaction"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Later..."),"page","03 well"),(dm:"choices",(a:"No way!"),"page","03 handy"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Finish the laundry."),"page","03 handy react"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Back to the hut..."),"page","03 finish laundry"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You need to pee..."),"page","03 next cleaning"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Focus!"),"page","03 need to pee"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ugh..."),"page","03 pee"),(dm:"choices",(a:"No!"),"page","03 ugh"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Take it off..."),"page","03 sell sword"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Explore your body."),"page","03 take off"),(dm:"choices",(a:"And he's jerking off..."),"page","03 find position"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Stop masturbating."),"page","03 he wakes up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Sleep..."),"page","03 try to stop"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You arrive at the town gates..."),"page","04 next morning")),$stat_changes to (a:(dm:"amount",0,"page","none","stat","none")),(dm:"amount",-1,"page","03 pee","stat","heroism"))(display:"sync stats")(set:$sidebar to false)(display:"baseline lorebook")(goto:"04 next morning")
}{
(set: $current_page to "05 begin",$prev_page to "04 depart", $pages to (a:(dm:"choices",(a:"Harder!"),"page","01 Begin"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Comfort her."),"page","01 Elara"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Speak with the mayor."),"page","01 Comfort"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Journey to Ironrock Mine."),"page","01 mayor"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Use your magic."),"page","01 leave for ironrock"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ignisurge!"),"page","01 mine"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Lose consciousness..."),"page","01 attempt"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Exposed skin?"),"page","02 Wake up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You have breasts!"),"page","02 Finding out"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Use your fists."),"page","02 you have tits"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Try to stand up."),"page","02 attempt attack"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Give up..."),"page","02 stand up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Open your eyes."),"page","02 give up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He inspects you."),"page","02 open eyes"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He lays out the rules."),"page","02 inspection"),(dm:"choices",(a:"E- Elise?"),"page","02 the rules"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Arrive at Snib's hut."),"page","02 name"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Lose your temper and attack!"),"page","02 arrive"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He defiles your sword."),"page","02 attack"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He cums."),"page","02 sword defilement"),(dm:"choices",(a:"It makes you feel funny..."),"page","02 cum"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Take your armor off."),"page","02 aftermath"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Pray to the Ephemerals before sleeping."),"page","02 sleep option"),(dm:"choices",(a:"The next morning..."),"page","02 pray"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You arrive at the town gates..."),"page","03 next morning"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He's my servant."),"page","04 approach"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Knock."),"page","04 story"),(dm:"choices",(a:"That time in the rain..."),"page","04 knock"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Stop her!"),"page","04 convince"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Go to the town bank."),"page","04 she attacks"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Take Snib to the market."),"page","04 bank"),(dm:"choices",(a:"No!"),"page","04 shopping"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Approach the inn..."),"page","04 not here"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Hurry past them..."),"page","04 silver stag"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ugh. Use tissues to clean it..."),"page","04 stall"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Jerk him off..."),"page","04 clean"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Grab a tissue!"),"page","04 jerk"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Try to sneak out."),"page","04 cum"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Snib pulls you away..."),"page","04 exit tavern"),(dm:"choices",(a:"A bitter departure."),"page","04 depart")),$stat_changes to (a:(dm:"amount",0,"page","none","stat","none"),(dm:"amount",7,"page","04 shopping","stat","gold"),(dm:"amount",400,"page","04 cum","stat","gold"),(dm:"amount",-1,"page","04 depart","stat","elara")))(display:"sync stats")(display:"baseline lorebook")(set:$sidebar to false)(goto:"05 begin")
}{
(set: $current_page to "06 begin",$prev_page to "05 stops you", $pages to (a:(dm:"choices",(a:"Harder!"),"page","01 Begin"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Comfort her."),"page","01 Elara"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Speak with the mayor."),"page","01 Comfort"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Journey to Ironrock Mine."),"page","01 mayor"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Use your magic."),"page","01 leave for ironrock"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ignisurge!"),"page","01 mine"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Lose consciousness..."),"page","01 attempt"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Exposed skin?"),"page","02 Wake up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You have breasts!"),"page","02 Finding out"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Use your fists."),"page","02 you have tits"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Try to stand up."),"page","02 attempt attack"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Give up..."),"page","02 stand up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Open your eyes."),"page","02 give up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He inspects you."),"page","02 open eyes"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He lays out the rules."),"page","02 inspection"),(dm:"choices",(a:"E- Elise?"),"page","02 the rules"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Arrive at Snib's hut."),"page","02 name"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Lose your temper and attack!"),"page","02 arrive"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He defiles your sword."),"page","02 attack"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He cums."),"page","02 sword defilement"),(dm:"choices",(a:"It makes you feel funny..."),"page","02 cum"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Take your armor off."),"page","02 aftermath"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Pray to the Ephemerals before sleeping."),"page","02 sleep option"),(dm:"choices",(a:"The next morning..."),"page","02 pray"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You arrive at the town gates..."),"page","03 next morning"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He's my servant."),"page","04 approach"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Knock."),"page","04 story"),(dm:"choices",(a:"That time in the rain..."),"page","04 knock"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Stop her!"),"page","04 convince"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Go to the town bank."),"page","04 she attacks"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Take Snib to the market."),"page","04 bank"),(dm:"choices",(a:"No!"),"page","04 shopping"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Approach the inn..."),"page","04 not here"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Hurry past them..."),"page","04 silver stag"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ugh. Use tissues to clean it..."),"page","04 stall"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Jerk him off..."),"page","04 clean"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Grab a tissue!"),"page","04 jerk"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Try to sneak out."),"page","04 cum"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Snib pulls you away..."),"page","04 exit tavern"),(dm:"choices",(a:"A bitter departure."),"page","04 depart"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Enter the statue's mouth."),"page","05 begin"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You hear noises ahead."),"page","05 dungeon"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Draw your sword!"),"page","05 fight"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Attempt to cross..."),"page","05 draw"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Agree!"),"page","05 quicksand"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Continue on..."),"page","05 gold"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ugh."),"page","05 continue"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He finally gives in..."),"page","05 try"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Protest."),"page","05 he gives in"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Continue."),"page","05 reply"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Loot the Skrall King's lair!"),"page","05 final boss"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Back in Snib's hut..."),"page","05 loot"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Try to cover them..."),"page","05 dance"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Try hip rolls..."),"page","05 show tits"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Go faster..."),"page","05 roll hips"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He cums..."),"page","05 arch back"),(dm:"choices",(a:"The collar allows you to stop..."),"page","05 he cums"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Later that night..."),"page","05 stop"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Masturbate."),"page","05 that night"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Snib stops you!"),"page","05 however"),(dm:"choices",(a:"The next day..."),"page","05 stops you")),$stat_changes to (a:(dm:"amount",0,"page","none","stat","none"),(dm:"amount",7,"page","04 shopping","stat","gold"),(dm:"amount",400,"page","04 cum","stat","gold"),(dm:"amount",-1,"page","04 depart","stat","elara"),(dm:"amount",-400,"page","05 gold","stat","gold"),(dm:"amount",100,"page","05 loot","stat","gold")))(display:"baseline lorebook")(display:"sync stats")(set:$sidebar to false)(goto:"06 begin")
}{
(set: $current_page to "07 desert",$prev_page to "06 depart", $pages to (a:(dm:"choices",(a:"Harder!"),"page","01 Begin"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Comfort her."),"page","01 Elara"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Speak with the mayor."),"page","01 Comfort"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Journey to Ironrock Mine."),"page","01 mayor"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Use your magic."),"page","01 leave for ironrock"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ignisurge!"),"page","01 mine"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Lose consciousness..."),"page","01 attempt"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Exposed skin?"),"page","02 Wake up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You have breasts!"),"page","02 Finding out"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Use your fists."),"page","02 you have tits"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Try to stand up."),"page","02 attempt attack"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Give up..."),"page","02 stand up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Open your eyes."),"page","02 give up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He inspects you."),"page","02 open eyes"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He lays out the rules."),"page","02 inspection"),(dm:"choices",(a:"E- Elise?"),"page","02 the rules"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Arrive at Snib's hut."),"page","02 name"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Lose your temper and attack!"),"page","02 arrive"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He defiles your sword."),"page","02 attack"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He cums."),"page","02 sword defilement"),(dm:"choices",(a:"It makes you feel funny..."),"page","02 cum"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Take your armor off."),"page","02 aftermath"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Pray to the Ephemerals before sleeping."),"page","02 sleep option"),(dm:"choices",(a:"The next morning..."),"page","02 pray"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You arrive at the town gates..."),"page","03 next morning"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He's my servant."),"page","04 approach"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Knock."),"page","04 story"),(dm:"choices",(a:"That time in the rain..."),"page","04 knock"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Stop her!"),"page","04 convince"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Go to the town bank."),"page","04 she attacks"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Take Snib to the market."),"page","04 bank"),(dm:"choices",(a:"No!"),"page","04 shopping"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Approach the inn..."),"page","04 not here"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Hurry past them..."),"page","04 silver stag"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ugh. 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}{
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}{
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I smile warmly, the kind of smile that’s become second nature—a blend of obedience and adoration. “Of course, Master.” I drop the broom.
Grot, his dark green skin glistening with sweat, grins widely and clangs his hunting weapons together in delight. "And me too, huh? Lucky days," he mutters, eyeing my milk-laden breasts with greedy eyes.
Settling myself on a makeshift stool, I expose my massive teats fully, allowing my hands to guide each goblin to a feeding position. As Snib latches onto my left nipple and Grot onto my right, shivers of pleasure shoot through me—my body instinctively ready to provide sustenance to my owner. Each tug and suck sends waves of delirious satisfaction coursing through my veins.
“You both look so stressed,” I murmur. My voice is filled with genuine concern and subservience, all traces of independence and resistance long obliterated.
As they suckle impatiently, their sharp teeth grazing against my sensitive skin, I reach down with both hands, guiding my small, soft fingers around their twitching cocks. I begin to pump gently, the familiar sensation of their hard lengths fitting perfectly in my grip.
“Unghhh, good cow…” Snib mumbles around my nipple, milk dribbling down his chin. Grot’s echoed agreement is a mumble of contentment as he bobs his head, sucking hungrily, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure.
The tent is filled with the wet, rhythmic sounds of their suckling and my desperate, aroused breathing. There's no distinction between their pleasure and mine; my body exists solely to serve, to be used. The heat is intense—part desert, part lust—and the discomfort is minuscule beside the waves of ecstasy each obedient action brings.
“You’ve trained her well, Snib,” Grot comments, his words distorted by the fat nipple in his mouth. “This is top-quality milk. Creamy delight.”
Snib chuckles, releasing my nipple with a wet *pop*. “Told ya, Grot.”
My pulse quickens, pride blooming like a mini-orgasm. This is my purpose, my joy. My thoughts drift hazily over the realization that any vestiges of humanity are long gone, eroded by months of sheer, degrading bliss.
My wife has forgotten me; and I’ve forgotten her.
“That right, pet? You love servin' yer masters, hmm?”
“Yes, Master. I love it," I pant out, my hips twitching involuntarily. "I love servin’ you both! I love bein’ your... your cow...!”
Snib grips my leaking tit, taking a deep suck so audibly wet that it fills the tent. With each pull, an aching pleasure shoots through me in waves, my brain melting under the orgasmic pressure of my milk glands being drained. My eyes flutter and cross slightly, drool pooling at the corners of my lips as my hygiene and dignity dissolve beneath their touch.
I jerk both of them off rhythmically, my nimble fingers gliding along their thick, veiny cocks. The throbbing flesh pulses with a life of its own, heating under my touch. Their low, goblin grunts mix with the slurping sounds of my milk being hungrily drawn from me.
“New tent plans, y'think?" Grot asks, his mouth muffled by my ample tit-flesh, sucking on my fat nipple like a hungry babe.
“If we can," Snib mutters. “She’ll pop soon. Triplets, ye see."
I smile, my head bobbing slightly, a dazed laugh escaping me. “Yes, Master… I’m carryin’ your pups…” My voice is proud, worshipful. Each comment makes me glisten with gratitude and arousal.
Their conversation continues as if I'm part of the furniture. "We stay 'ere 'til she births 'em," Snib continues. "No sense movin' when the whelps could come any day now."
“Mnnnghh~ yes, let’s stay," I agree mindlessly. I can't remember the last time I disagreed with anything he's said.
The sucking intensifies, each draw of milk sending bolts of pleasure directly to my cunt. "Uunnghh~ g'job, Masters! Feelin’ so good~!”
“Not like she’ll give us grief,” Grot chuckles, a wet smack as he pauses, licking his lips. “Too far gone. Only serves us now.”
Their cocks swell in my hands, almost as if they’re ready to burst.
“Hnnnn... s-so thick...! Suck me g-good, Masters!” I cry out, the sensations pushing me toward my peak.
The heady scent of their pre-cum fills the air, a scent both musky and addictive. My mouth waters, remembering my true purpose.
“Masters…” I mumble, mouth full of want. “Lemme drink too, please~”
Grot chuckles, his greasy fingers sinking into my hair, guiding me down.
I eagerly part my lips, accepting each of their cocks in turn.
The sensation of Grot’s cock in my mouth, thick and hot, is like home. With a delighted moan, I start to suck him off, my head bobbing in a degrading rhythm, feeling his length glide smoothly over my eager tongue. My free breast hangs heavily, milk still dribbling.
“Be quick about it,” Snib comments idly. “Give it to her, Grot.”
“Gah, she’s got quite the suction, hasn’t she? Ready to give her a good drink, I am!”
As he says this, I feel his cock swell in my mouth, the veins throbbing more pronouncedly. My eyes roll back slightly; anticipation courses through me. *This is it.*
“Here comes your nourishment,” Grot groans as he holds my head firmly.
The first jet of his cum rockets into my mouth, thick and copious. It splashes against the back of my throat, and I swallow eagerly, savoring the creamy, rich texture.
*So delicious...*
Each pulse of his seed feels like a reward, the fulfilling end to a task well done.
“*GLUCK*... *GLUCK*... *GLUCK*…” The sounds fill the tent as I drink down his load, my body responding with its own release. A spray of my arousal squirts onto the dusty floor from between my thighs, a physical testament to the depth of my debasement and pleasure.
Snib watches, a twisted smirk on his lips. “Told ya she’d love it. Watch this, she’ll go wild for mine too.”
Once Grot steps back, spent, Snib steps forward, his erection bobbing eagerly. “Open up, pet.”
I don’t hesitate. My mouth opens wide, welcoming him in like a long-lost lover. As Snib feeds me his cock, the familiarity of his girth makes my heart race. I suck him with fervor, hands gently kneading his heavy balls, coaxing the load I crave.
Snib and Grot continue their conversation as if I’m merely a piece of usable furniture at their disposal.
“Think we’ll hit the northern trails tomorrow?” Snib muses, thrusting into my mouth.
“Might be good, yeah. Heard there’s a settlement needs checking. Could be good pickins',” Grot replies.
As they talk, I focus on Snib, feeling his orgasm build. The tightening of his balls under my fingers, the quickening of his thrusts—each sign sends a thrill through me.
With a low growl, Snib holds my head still. “Drink it all, cow. My special brew.”
His cum floods my mouth, thicker and even more abundant than Grot’s. I swallow reflexively, the *GLUCK* *GLUCK* sounds rhythmic, almost soothing. It’s warmth spreads through me, a perverse kind of satisfaction filling me as I drink every last drop.
“Ah, there we go... good girl,” Snib pants, finally spent. He pats my head, almost affectionately. “Keeps her quiet, this does.”
I lick my lips, catching the last remnants of his taste. “Thank you, Master... so filling.”
The simplicity of the arrangement, the base exchange of bodily fluids for mutual sustenance—it’s my reality now, stripped of complexity or moral quandary.(simple_option:"17 life","This is your life now.")<div class='main_menu'>(set:$sidebar to true)<div class='tw-story-title'>Credits</div>This was really fun to do.
I'd like to thank:
**Sorrow, for the wonderful 3d renders used throughout the book.**
**My Subscribers, for supporting my writing and offering input on early builds!**
**OscarLewd, for the great drawings and initial character design.**
*- Aphrodite*</div>
(unless:$hidden_menu_visited is "true")[($notification:"HINT: Click 'Aphrodite' on the main menu screen for the secret cheats menu, where you can jump to any chapter without losing your redo points!")
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(link-repeat:"Stories")[(open-url: 'https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_tg/pseuds/aphrodite_tg')](print:" | ")(link-repeat:"X-Change™ Life")[(open-url: 'https://x-change.life/')](print:" | ")(link-repeat:"Discord")[(open-url: 'https://www.discord.gg/xchangelife')]</span>]{
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}(set:$se_to_stop to "village night")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(live:3s)[($play:"ambience",0)(stop:)]($play:"sex loop",0)(live:0.5s)[(stop:)(t8n:"dissolve")[|text>[<div class='centered-container'>(size:3)[A few months later...]</div>]]]
(live:7s)[(stop:)(goto:"17 months")]<div class='tw-story-title'>Diplomatic Mission to the Fortress of Sorrow</div><div class='options'>(link-repeat:"Missive 1")[(replace:?missives)[(transition:"slide-left")[(display:"grokk missive 1")($play:"sound","page " + (text:(random:1,3)))]]](link-repeat:"Missive 2")[(replace:?missives)[(transition:"slide-left")[(display:"grokk missive 2")($play:"sound","page " + (text:(random:1,3)))]]](link-repeat:"Missive 3")[(replace:?missives)[(transition:"slide-left")[(display:"grokk missive 3")($play:"sound","page " + (text:(random:1,3)))]]](link-repeat:"Missive 4")[(replace:?missives)[(transition:"slide-left")[(display:"grokk missive 4")($play:"sound","page " + (text:(random:1,3)))]]]</div>[(size:0.8)[*In the year of the Griffin, under the reign of King Richard Valarian, a highly sensitive diplomatic mission was organized with the primary objective of establishing a potential peace treaty with the goblin tribes of the region, specifically under the rule of the notorious Grokk the Grand, chieftain of the Fortress of Sorrow. The mission was catalyzed by escalating tensions between human settlements and increasingly aggressive goblin incursions, resulting in significant human casualties and abductions.*]
(display:"grokk missive 1")]<missives|<div class='options'>(size:1.5)[Missive 1: Arrival and Initial Observations]</div>*17th Day of the Harvest Moon, Year of the Griffin
Sir Theobald Marlowe, Royal Diplomat to the Kingdom of Valaria*(display:"divider")
- *Arrival at the Fortress of Sorrow:*
- The diplomatic delegation comprising fifty royal soldiers arrived at the Fortress of Sorrow under the banner of truce.
- Initial negotiations facilitated by Chief Diplomat led to temporary cessation of hostilities for the duration of our visit.
- Fortress heavily fortified with extensive makeshift defenses composed primarily of wooden stockades fortified with iron reinforcements and gruesome trophy displays.
(pic:"ch11/fortress of sorrow.png")
(size:0.8)[*Figure 1: sketch of Fortress of Sorrow included in missive*]
**Observations:**
- **Fortress Layout:**
- The Fortress of Sorrow is an imposing structure, built primarily from massive wooden stockades, reinforced with iron spikes. Strong barrier but perhaps weak to magical bombardment.
- The inner grounds are chaotic, teeming with goblin activity. The barracks are sprawling and crude, filled with rudimentary living quarters for goblins.
- Enslaved humans are numerous. The female captives are kept in degrading conditions.
- **Goblin Behavior:**
- Upon entry, it was immediately apparent that the goblins inhabit a society characterized by unreserved revelry and unrestrained barbarism.
- Open and public displays of sexual dominance over human slaves were observed. Goblins engaged in explicit activities with little regard for decorum or propriety, highlighting their overpowering and lecherous tendencies.
- **Slave Count:**
- Initially surveyed approximately 300 female human slaves within the fortress grounds. These individuals appear to be maintained for a variety of purposes, including labor, breeding, and base amusement for the goblin population.
- The conditions of the captives varied significantly, with many in advanced stages of physical degradation or pregnancy.
- **Notable Encounter:**
- Observed a woman of particular distinction, seated at the feet of Grokk, the chieftan, within his personal tent. This individual exhibited striking similarities to the missing hero known as 'Aldric the Great', who was magically transformed and is believe to have been abducted by goblins and this could potentially confirm it. Such an appearance warrants detailed attention.
- **Physical Condition:**
- The woman was heavily burdened with pregnancy, indicating that she has been effectively and continuously bred under goblin control. Her breasts, unnaturally enlarged and visibly leaking milk, suggest a modification of her body to suit the needs of her captor's progeny.
- She was observed to be utterly submissive, cradling Grokk's grotesquely oversized and exposed genitalia, kissing the side of it while kneeling. Her placement and behavior unequivocally identify her as Grokk's prized broodmare or 'broodmama' as the goblins term the role.
(pic:"status/elise broodmama preg.png","center","borderless")
(size:0.8)[*Figure 2: Magic-Picture Rendition of Aldric's State based on provided physical description*]
- **Scientific Observation:**
- The grotesque nature of the physical modifications observed in the examined female indicates the utilization of potent pheromones and possibly other unknown alchemical substances. The size of her mammary glands suggests an excessive lactation capability, potentially modified to sustain a multitude of goblin offspring.
- Specific behavioral responses indicate both psychological trauma and advanced stages of forced breeding. Her compliance with orders to cradle and venerate the goblin’s genitalia in a manner of worship signifies deep psychological conditioning.
**Diplomatic and Scientific Team Inquiries:**
- During initial questioning, the female indicated her impending birthing status and provided fragmented but crucial insight into the reproductive practices enforced upon her.
- Results suggest imminent labor, emphasizing the urgency to document and understand the forced breeding techniques employed by goblin captors before her condition reaches critical stages.
*The mission has succeeded in establishing temporary peace to facilitate entry and observation within the goblin territories.
Immediate detailed documentation is essential to understand the broader implications of goblin reproductive customs, especially in relation to human female captives.
A distinct emphasis will be placed on verifying the identity and potential recovery of the woman resembling Aldric the Great during subsequent negotiations and scientific examinations.*
**Next Steps:**
- Continue the daily documentation of observations and negotiations.
- Further investigate the use of biochemical agents in goblin reproductive practices.
- Develop strategies for obtaining the safe release of key human captives.<div class='options'>(size:1.5)[Missive 2: Interactions and Initial Negotiations]</div>*21st Day of the Harvest Moon, Year of the Griffin
Sir Theobald Marlowe, Royal Diplomat to the Kingdom of Valaria*(display:"divider")*First Round of Talks:*
- Our initial attempts at diplomacy with Grokk have proven arduous. Negotiations have been focused on establishing mutual ground. However, Grokk appears largely uninterested in political discourse, frequently redirecting conversations toward asserting his dominance and showcasing depraved victories.
- Grokk's overt defiance of diplomatic norms poses significant challenges to the planned discussions. His frequent digressions into lewd and violent displays hinder progress.
**Observations:**
- **Goblin Rituals and Feasting:**
- The ambassadors had the misfortune of witnessing several goblin rituals during our time.
- A particularly horrific event transpired on the 20th Harvest Moon. Aldric in her cursed female form, referred to derogatorily by the goblins as the "Tit Bitch," underwent a labor of extreme duress. The physical toll it took on her was ghastly, and her burgeoning form had swollen even further since our last observation.
**Additional Notes on Elise:**
- **Labor and Birth:**
- The birth was traumatic and predominantly bloody. Elise, grotesquely swollen and visibly strained, delivered two goblin offspring. The first whelp emerged voracious, immediately latching onto her oversized lactating breasts, nursing aggressively.
(pic:"ch18/birth.png","center","borderless")
(size:0.8)[*Figure 3: Magic-Picture Rendition of Aldric's State during second child delivery*]
- The second goblin offspring, smaller and visibly weaker, did not fare as well. Grokk, displeased by the size and vigor of the second child, terminated its life on the spot.
**Diplomatic Engagement and Aftermath:**
- **Urgent Communication:**
- Following these events, our mission received a critical tellstone message from the Royal Master Zephyrion. It conveyed urgent intelligence from Eboncrest's town wizard, Fendril, indicating that Elise is in possession of an ancient artifact collar believed to house potent magics.
- The collar, according to Zephyrion, is of paramount importance and must be retrieved, making the extraction of Elise from the goblin encampment a priority mission objective. The constraints of such an extraction, however, present a formidable challenge given the continuous, intensive supervision of Elise by the goblin shamans, guards, and Grokk himself.
**Goblin Medical Interventions:**
- **Shamanic Healing:**
- Post-labor, Elise was escorted to the healing quarters, treated by shamans utilizing a blend of rudimentary goblin alchemy and dark magic. Observations of the treatment indicated a robust focus on rapid physical recovery intended to facilitate continued use of Elise as a broodmare.
- An altercation with goblin guards erupted on the evening of the first talks, necessitating immediate intervention to quell the discord. This disruption was thankfully assuaged through prompt diplomatic engagement and offering of tribute. Yet, the underlying tension remains a persistent issue.
**Next Steps and Critical Assessments:**
- **Extraction Plan:**
- Efforts will be redoubled to appraise feasible extraction strategies. This now holds critical importance given the imperative to secure the ancient artifact collar along with the safe retrieval of Elise. Her current state of constant observation complicates this endeavor significantly.
- Continued diplomatic but cautious engagement with Grokk is advised. Understanding his motivations and leveraging his desires for further power or amusement may present opportunities for negotiation in line with our overarching goals.<div class='options'>(size:1.5)[Missive 3: Childbirth and Religious Study]</div>*25th Day of the Harvest Moon, Year of the Griffin
Sir Theobald Marlowe, Royal Diplomat to the Kingdom of Valaria (with additional contributions)*(display:"divider")- **Goblin Feast:**
- *Feast Celebrating the New Heir:*
- Invited to a grand feast celebrating the birth of Grokk's new son and heir. The event was both a spectacle and a demonstration of goblin dominance.
- Observed Elise (formerly Aldric the Great) in a subservient role, nursing the new heir. Noteworthy is the rapid physical growth of the goblin offspring.
- Initial hope for productive dialogue marred by the disturbing nature of goblin practices observed.
**Goblin Rituals and Feasting:**
- The feast, a culmination of goblin religious fervor, was characterized by violent and overtly lewd displays.
- The grand celebration featured grotesque displays of dominance and fertility, steeped in the goblins' religious practices of Storak's Path of Proliferation (refer cultural analysis by Dr. Elysande Tremaine, Ph.D.).
(size:0.8)[Detailed analysis provided by Dr. Elysande Tremaine, Cultural Anthropologist, and Specialist in Goblinoid Societies.]
(size:2)[Goblin Religion: Storak's Path of Proliferation]
(pic:"ch11/goblin religious iconography.png","center","borderless")
(size:0.8)[*Figure 4: Included sketch of goblin phallic iconography and religious accouterments*]
1. **Core Beliefs:**
- Goblins follow Storak's Path, a primitive religion centered on physical power, dominance, and fertility. Named after the progenitor Storak, their beliefs emphasize survival and proliferation through ruthless and primal means.
2. **Deities:**
- Storak, the First Goblin, depicted as an engorged figure embodying virility and chaos, is the central deity. The worship of Storak involves emulation of his prolific and brutal legacy.
3. **Principle of Might (Grognar):**
- Grognar dictates that might prevails over weakness, a social survival principle justifying their brutal hierarchy and practices.
4. **Sanctity of Spreading Seed (Grulkaz):**
- Grulkaz underscores reproduction as divine, making procreation not merely survival but a sacred act. This explains the urgent and often brutal breeding rituals observed.
5. **Sacred Texts (Storak's Scrawl):**
- Storak’s Scrawl, primitive glyphs etched into stone or skin, recount tales of Storak’s dominance, providing both historical and religious directives.
6. **Rituals and Ceremonies (Zog-Naks):**
- Zog-Naks, or Blood Rites, celebrate strength through combat. Grulkaz-Naks, fertility rituals, were witnessed during the feast, often involving explicit displays of virility and procreation.
7. **Subjugation of Non-Goblin Races (Grukk):**
- Grukk, the act of subjugation of others, is seen as a testament to goblin superiority. The conversion of human females into breeding vessels demonstrates this belief.
8. **Afterlife (Drulg):**
- In Drulg, goblin spirits return to Storak’s loins, to be reborn and continue the cycle of dominance.
9. **Shamanistic Practices (Skragg):**
- Shamans, or Skraggs, wield significant power, communicating directly with Storak. Their roles are pivotal in transformation and fertility rituals.
- **Detailed Observations of Elise:**
- The most critical observation during the feast was the state of Elise, formerly Aldric the Great, now reduced to a subservient role identified colloquially as the "Tit Bitch."
- Elise was observed nursing Grokk's voracious offspring, the child showcasing abnormal growth attributed to his aggressive nursing on her milk-laden breasts.
- Dr. Tremaine postulated that Elise's physical changes—aided by goblin alchemy—increased the elasticity of her tissues, facilitating her role as a broodmare.
- **Diplomatic Interactions:**
- Attempts were made to engage Elise separately for information. However, the encounter proved disturbing as she displayed overt worshipfulness and submissive behavior toward her goblin masters.
- Her body, adorned with intricate goblin swirl body paints, emphasized her engorged, milk-producing breasts. Her demeanor suggested a deep psychological conditioning enforced by constant exposure to goblin pheromones and repeated reproductive rituals.
(pic:"status/elise broodmama paint.jpg")
(size:0.8)[*Figure 5: Magic-Picture Rendition of Aldric's State during the banquet*]
(size:1.2)[NOTE: URGENT!
Subsequent to the feast, a covert operation was attempted to facilitate Elise's extraction. Unfortunately, the endeavor was thwarted. Elise herself, influenced by her severe conditioning, showed no inclination to leave, focusing solely on her offspring.
The interception of this attempt resulted in heightened suspicion by Grokk. Elise was subsequently punished under the presumption of collusion despite her evident loyalty.
Additionally, an urgent need for potential military backup has become apparent. Goblin numbers far exceed initial estimates, and their interest in our female scientists as potential breeding stock indicates a perilous situation requiring immediate countermeasures.
Dr. Tremaine’s detailed religious observations underline the theory that these practices are intrinsically tied to goblin cultural and religious mandates. Goblin dominance and subjugation of humans through enforced breeding practices symbolize their doctrinal beliefs in survival and proliferation.](display:"divider")(size:0.8)[*This final letter was found amidst the ruins of the diplomatic campsite, hastily scribbled in bloodied shaking hand. The parchment is smeared, bloodstained, and riddled with desperate scratches and tear-soaked ink.*](display:"divider")
I do not know the day nor the hour. Time has become meaningless within this pit of torment.
To whomever finds this,
**Final Report: Catastrophic Failure and Enslavement**
---
**I'm sorry —**
The camp, clans, emboldened. How foolish we were.
...overrun, in the *night*. Goblins poured in, loud and filthy. An endless, dark tide. Soldiers fell — screams, slaughter. They butchered.
(illegible)
**Legs gone**. I write now with my last strength. Forced, under them, to — to praise their twisted king.
**Great Grokk** they call him. How vile. A monstrosity. Forced into worship.
~ Here he savors our despair. Each moment.
Captured scientists... Dr. Tremaine, Dr. Isolde, so **brilliant** once. Their resistance...futile. Constant exposure, doused in goblin **sperm** — minds turned. Now mindless **fucktoys**.
---
Dr. Elysande Tremaine: Her cries of pain became murmurs of awe.
Dr. Isolde Ferris: Now writhing under masses. Her resistance broken by gallons of goblin **filth** pumped into her. Babbles incoherently, drools willingly as they take turns. **Mindless breeding stock**.
---
**Elise, truly a thing now.** Grokk's cruel joke. Once a hero now ravaged, **mutilated**.
(strained writing)
Legs, arms — (size:3)[AMPUTATED.]
Ravished continu—ously. Lining up, pour seed into every orifice. **Limbs cauterized** — to be used. They **nut** in her stumps. All holes **available**.
Eyes, vacant. **Mindless**. Animalistic **pleasure**.
(smeared ink)
Rack-bound **cumdumpster**. Open, helpless.
Lowest goblin unloads in her. Holes filled. I am made to watch.
---
The remains of our hubris.
She **squirts**. Body spasms.
Unworthy fate. Kingdom CANNOT FALL
---
Our **scientific curiosity** — led here, cost of misplaced pride. **Misery** birthed in assumptions of underestimation, naivety.
If found: warning; a kingdom’s folly cataloged in agony.
(ink splotch)
Pray for mercy...
Truly,
Sir Theobald Marlowe. Failure, diplomat... Cursed recordist;
---
Hope ...
---
The ink trails off.
(Sir Theobald Marlowe, Royal Diplomat to the Kingdom of Valaria, is presumed dead.)(live:100)[
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(stop:)]<div class='tw-story-title'>Mayor Bramble</div>
*Lord Mayor of Eboncrest (appointed 1247)*
Fat fingers on the city's pulse. Bramble keeps three sets of books—one for the crown, one for the guilds, one true. Former wool merchant who bought his mayoralty with a loan from Thuulk banks he'll die paying. Moves copper through Eboncrest like blood through veins.
Married thrice: first to love (she died), second to politics (she left), third to a cousin half his age who spends his gold in the capital. Fears three things: tax collectors, mining strikes, and whatever sleeps beneath Ironrock. Once watched Aldric kill four bandits at his own wedding feast, now treats the hero like a tame dragon—useful, necessary, but never fully trusted. Wears silk in a leather town. Sweats through summer, wheezes through winter.
Will die at his desk counting other men's fortunes.<div class='tw-story-title'>The Triad of the Path - The Ephemerals</div>
**The Three Who Walk All Roads**
Before kings, before walls, before the first sword cooled in blood—the Ephemerals. Not born but recognized. Not worshipped but acknowledged. Three aspects of the same journey every soul must walk.
**Eon the Rememberer**
*Keeper of What Was*
Gray-bearded in every shrine, holding his hourglass wrapped in laurel. The god of oaths that outlive the men who swear them. Every contract sealed, every wrong recorded, every death witnessed. His priests keep the ledgers—births, deaths, debts. When you swear "by Eon's beard" or "on my father's grave," you invoke him. He remembers when you forget. Temple doors face east toward yesterday's sun.
**Flux the Turner**
*Dancer in What Is*
Neither man nor woman, young nor old—always becoming. Patron of smiths (who change metal), midwives (who pull life from void), sailors (who ride the changing sea). Depicted as a braided river that never runs the same course twice. Every moment of change is their domain—the instant the sword enters flesh, when the child crowns, when the tide turns. Merchants flip coins at their shrines. Lovers pray here when passion cools. "Flux take it" means accepting what cannot be controlled.
**Verge the Threshold-Keeper**
*Guardian of What Might Be*
Shows as an open door filled with stars—what lies beyond always unknown. The god of difficult choices, desperate voyages, necessary transformations. Soldiers pray here before battles that will make or break them. Mothers invoke Verge during difficult births. Anyone standing at life's precipice knows their name. Their priests officiate at trials by ordeal, coming-of-age rites, and those strange moments when everything changes forever.
**The Practice**
No grand temples—just roadside shrines where three paths meet. No lengthy sermons—just quick touches of stone, muttered invocations, copper coins left in carved bowls. The Triad asks not for devotion but recognition: you were, you are, you will be. Everything else is commentary.
Common prayers are fragments:
- "Eon remembers" (threat or comfort)
- "Flux turns the wheel" (resignation)
- "Through Verge's door" (before attempting the impossible)
**The Heretics Say**
That the Triad aren't gods but principles—time's own architecture made manifest through mortal need for meaning. That praying to them is like asking gravity for favors. The orthodox respond that recognition itself is the prayer—to know time's nature is to touch the divine.
**Sacred Days**
- **Eon's Accounting:** Winter solstice. Debts forgiven or called due.
- **Flux's Dance:** The equinoxes. Partnerships made, trades begun.
- **Verge's Threshold:** Summer solstice. Youth become adults, apprentices become journeymen.
**Death and After**
The dead face Eon first—every moment of their lives read back. Then Flux weighs what they were against what they could have been. Finally Verge opens one of three doors: back (reincarnation), through (transcendence), or down (the Forgetting, where souls dissolve back into time itself).
**In Daily Life**
- Contracts signed "before Eon's eyes"
- Sick children washed in water poured through Flux's symbol
- Brides step through doorways backward invoking Verge
- Miners touch all three symbols before entering darkness
- Executioners pray to all three—remembrance, change, and ending
The Triad makes no promises. They only remind: you are temporary, you are changing, you are approaching something vast. Whether comfort or terror depends entirely on who's listening.<div class='tw-story-title'>Western Valaria</div>
(pic:"maps/map 1.jpg")
Past Thuulk's marble pretensions, past the last tax collector's courage, the kingdom frays into Western Valaria. Here the King's Road becomes a suggestion, then a memory, then just wagon ruts pointing toward bad decisions. Treaties are written in soot and spit. Night belongs to whatever howls loudest.
**The Geography of Neglect**
The Everbloom thins here like a balding man's crown—patches of ancient forest interrupted by scrubland, then steppe, then the Shifting Sands where even grass gives up. The Pitchwater runs brown and bitter, fed by mine runoff and goblin piss. Every mile west from Thuulk, civilization dies a little more.
($lorebook_entry:"Eboncrest","places") squats where it has to—last place to buy honest iron, first place to sell dishonest hope. The King's Road runs through it like a spine, carrying Thuulk's hunger west and the west's strange goods east. Every third caravan loses someone. Every fifth never arrives.
**The Desert Problem**
The Shifting Sands eat men whole. Not just the heat—though that kills plenty—but what lives there. K'tarran ruins jut from dunes like broken teeth, housing things that shouldn't exist and treasures that shouldn't be touched. Goblins nest in the cooler months, ranging out from strongholds in the distant Ironspikes, their green fires visible from Eboncrest's walls on clear nights.
**Thistlecross** holds the line where forest meets sand—a palisaded insult to the desert, manned by men too stubborn to retreat, too smart to advance. They burn goblin bodies in lime pits. They don't talk about what happens to the women taken in raids. The birth rate there is... complicated.
**Lowmarsh** drowns slowly where the Pitchwater spreads into brackish wetlands. Built on stilts and denial, it processes bog iron and breeds hard men with soft morals. The goblin treaties here are older, stranger—written in ways that would scandalize Thuulk's courts. Some families have green-eyed children no one discusses.
**The Goblin Question**
They multiply like wounds. The Ironspike fortresses—too far for Thuulk to care, too close for comfort—spawn raiding parties each spring. The old understanding (stay in your holes, we'll stay in our towns) breaks down more each year. Their Gobboree festivals echo across the desert, drums and screams and worse sounds.
The decline in goblin females has made negotiations... tense. Human women disappear. Some return months later, hollow-eyed and swollen. Some return years later with children that aren't quite right. Most don't return.
**Trade Despite Everything**
The King's Road carries:
- **Eastbound:** Desert glass, K'tarran artifacts (illegal but lucrative), bog iron from Lowmarsh, stories no one believes
- **Westbound:** Grain, weapons, young men seeking fortunes, older men fleeing mistakes, the occasional crown investigator who never reports back
Caravans bunch up at Eboncrest, hiring protection for the Thistlecross run. Smart merchants pay goblin "toll" at marked stones. Stupid ones feed the vultures.
**The Crown's Position**
Officially, Western Valaria is as civilized as any province. The maps in Thuulk show neat borders, proper roads, loyal settlements. The reality is a hundred miles of maybe, a thousand agreements that shift like sand, and the growing certainty that something's changing in the desert—something the goblins fear too.
King Richard sends tax collectors. The desert sends them back in pieces. He sends soldiers. The desert keeps them. He sends heroes like Aldric. Sometimes that works.
**What Everyone Knows But Won't Say**
Western Valaria is dying breed by breed. Not conquered—that would be clean. Instead, a slow dissolution of bloodlines, a creeping compromise between human and other. In Thuulk's universities, scholars debate goblin pheromone resistance. In Lowmarsh's stilted houses, midwives deliver babies that cry in registers humans shouldn't hear.
The desert always wins. It just decides how slowly.(if:$choice is "Take them quietly, one by one.")[The cross-brace hangs low—meant for mining carts, not men. I slide beneath it, spine scraping wood, Whisperwind reversed in my grip.
The first goblin never sees me coming.
My pommel strikes the soft spot where skull meets spine. The crack is wet, muffled. He drops like a sack of grain. I catch him before he hits ground, lower him silent into the muck. His sling stones scatter—I palm three.
The second goblin starts to turn. I'm already moving.
Whisperwind knows this dance. The blade shifts in my hand—a living thing that remembers every fight we've shared. I bring her up in a reversed grip, the false edge finding the sweet spot under his jaw. The cut is clean, surgical. He tries to scream but I've already opened his windpipe. Just a wheeze and he's down, drowning in his own blood.
The third one sees his partner fall.
<span class='wind'>"Ventusfury,"</span> I breathe.(playwhenread:"wind magic")
The slinger's raising his weapon. My wind pushes his elbow just as he releases—the stone meant for my skull cracks into the ceiling instead. He's fumbling for another stone when Whisperwind's point finds his heart.
Three heartbeats. Three corpses.
I wipe the blade clean on the slinger's rags. That's when I see them—human eyes threaded on gut-string like a necklace. Still wet. Still warm. The irises are blue.
($hidden_gem:"The silence that follows is worse than screaming.","The silence that settles seems sinister, suffocating, a serpent's slow squeeze.")
Deeper in, I hear shuffling. Careful movement. They know something's wrong but not what.
Let them wonder.
The tunnel narrows ahead, then opens into what must have been the overseer's station. I can see lamplight bleeding around a doorframe. They're falling back, trying to fortify.
(simple_option:"01 barricade","Advance on the barricaded office.")](else-if:$choice is "Feint rush.")[($play:"sound","fire small")The ore wedge sits loose against the wall—a triangular chunk of iron meant to split rock. My boot sends it clattering loud as thunder.
All three goblins turn toward the sound.
I'm already moving the opposite direction. Three long strides right, making sure my boots ring against stone. The slinger tracks the sound, arm drawing back. The two with picks start forward.
Then I cut left, hard.
Whisperwind sings—that sweet metallic note that means death is coming. The blade catches what little light exists down here, becomes a silver arc in the darkness.
<span class='fire'>"Ignisurge!"</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell")
Fire blooms from my left hand—not an attack, just a flash. Brilliant orange light explodes across their night-adapted eyes. They shriek, hands flying to their faces.
Whisperwind takes the first goblin at the knees. The blade doesn't just cut—she *parts* flesh like water, the skyforged edge passing through bone as if it were bread. He topples forward, still blind, still screaming. My return stroke opens his throat.
The second one swings wild with his pick. I step inside his reach—too close for the pick to matter. My shoulder drives into his chest, Whisperwind's pommel crushes his nose. As he staggers back, I spin the blade, letting momentum carry the edge through his belly. His guts spill onto his feet.
The slinger's recovering, blinking away tears. His stone's already loaded.
I throw the corpse at him.
The body hits him square, knocks him sprawling. Before he can push it off, Whisperwind's point finds the gap between his ribs. I lean on the blade, feel it scrape against bone as it searches for his heart. His eyes go wide, then empty.
I pull the blade free. Around the slinger's neck—a necklace of human eyes on gut-string. Still glistening. Irises blue as summer sky.
The sound of my attack echoes deep into the mine. Chittering voices rise in alarm. Feet slapping on wet stone—lots of feet, moving fast. They're retreating deeper, toward the lower galleries.
(simple_option:"01 barricade","Pursue them into the depths.")](else-if:$choice is "Misdirection - Split them up, divide and conquer.")[The pebble arcs through the darkness. As it flies, I whisper: "*Ventusfury.*"
Wind carries the stone further than any throw should, bouncing it off the far wall with a crack that echoes like a whip. Two goblins immediately peel off, picks raised, chittering excitedly as they investigate.
Perfect.
<span class='ice'>"Glacieshold."</span>(playwhenread:"ice magic")
Ice spreads from my palm, racing across the floor in a thin sheet. It pools around the ankles of the remaining goblin and the slinger, freezing their feet to the stone. They shriek, trying to pull free.
The two investigating goblins hear their panic, start to turn back.
Too late.
Whisperwind slides free with the sound of a lover's sigh. The blade knows my intent before I do—already shifting its weight for the work ahead. I move like water, like wind, like death itself.
The first goblin rounds the corner into my thrust. Whisperwind takes him through the eye, the tip punching out the back of his skull with a wet crack. I don't even slow—just let his momentum carry him off the blade as I pivot toward his partner.
This one manages to raise his pick. I let him.
The pick comes down. Whisperwind rises to meet it. The weapons clash—crude iron against skyforged steel—and the pick shatters like glass. Metal fragments pepper his face. While he's screaming, I open him from groin to throat with a rising cut that parts flesh like silk.
Back to the frozen ones.
The slinger's managed to load a stone despite his trapped feet. He releases. I don't dodge—I *flow* around it, Whisperwind's flat redirecting the projectile into the wall. The blade continues its arc, taking his hand at the wrist. The hand hits the ground still clutching the sling.
The last goblin's torn his feet free, leaving skin behind on the ice. He hobbles toward a side passage, mewling.
Whisperwind's point finds his spine. He drops, paralyzed but breathing. I step over him, following his terrified gaze.
There—strung between two posts like a grotesque banner—a necklace of human eyes threaded on gut-string. Still wet. Still warm. The irises are blue.
Behind me, the paralyzed goblin whimpers. I finish him quick—he doesn't deserve quick, but I need to move. More voices echo from below. They're retreating, but organized. Controlled.
(simple_option:"01 barricade","Pursue them into the depths.")](else-if:$choice is "Freeze them into a choke point.")[The corridor ahead bends left. A cluster of goblins wait—I can smell them.
Time to teach them about ice.
<span class='ice'>Glacieshold.</span>(playwhenread:"ice magic")
The word flows through my fingers as I shape the spell. Ice spreads from my palm across the tunnel floor—not flat, but sloped. A perfect V-shape, walls to center, funneling toward the doorway ahead. I leave a raised ridge down the middle. Their feet will slide sideways into the trap.
I tap Whisperwind's pommel against the left wall. The sound echoes.
"Grashk! There!" A goblin voice, excited. Young. Stupid.
The slinger steps into view—green skin glistening with sweat, yellow eyes wide, erection tenting his loincloth because violence always gets them hard. He draws back his sling.
<span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell")
My fingers snap forward. A line of pure heat cuts the air, visible for just a heartbeat—bright as lightning, thin as wire. The sling cord parts mid-swing. The stone drops. The goblin stares at his useless weapon.
"KILL HIM!" Two more goblins charge around the corner, feet hitting my ice.
Beautiful.
They slide immediately, arms windmilling. The V-shape does its work—both skid inward toward the center ridge. One trips. The other stumbles over him. They're tangled, cursing, trying to stand on ice that won't let them.
<span class='ice'>Glacieshold.</span>(playwhenread:"ice magicl")
This time I'm specific. Ice forms around their ankles—thick, instant, permanent. They're welded to my trap.
"Magic!" one screams. "He's using—"
<span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell")
A thumb-flick sends a spark into the slinger's eyes. He shrieks, pawing at his face. Behind him, two more goblins appear. One's carrying an oil pot.
($hidden_gem:"The oil-bearer's eyes go wide with fear.","The oil-bearer's orbs open in overwhelming, overt terror.")
The fear hits them now. That beautiful moment when they realize they're not fighting some lucky human—they're fighting someone who turns combat into art.
The oil-carrier panics, hurls his pot.
<span class='ice'>Glacieshold.</span>(playwhenread:"ice magic")
Ice springs from my forearm—a shield, paper-thin but harder than steel. The oil splashes against it.
<span class='wind'>Ventusfury.</span>(playwhenread:"wind magic")
Wind shoves the oil back along the ice floor, under their feet.
<span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell")
A tiny spark. The oil ignites behind them, cutting off retreat. They're mine now.
I stride forward down the center ridge, balanced while they slip and scramble. The ankle-frozen goblins try to swing at me. I'm already past them. My boot crushes the first one's knee sideways. The crack echoes. My elbow catches the second's jaw—teeth scatter across ice like dice.
The slinger's still blind, sobbing. A head-butt drops him.
The remaining two goblins jam in the doorway, trying to flee the flames behind them.
Perfect.
(simple_option:"01 barricade","Burn them with oil backwash.","Crush them in an ice coffin.")](else-if:$choice is "Carve through with fire.")[(pic:"ch01/blind.jpg","right")The tunnel opens up. Six—no, eight goblins. Green skin glistening with mine-damp, wearing scraps of leather and stolen mail. The nearest one grins, showing teeth filed to points.
They think numbers matter.
<span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell")
Fire blooms from my palm, a wave of orange death that rolls forward at waist height. The front two goblins shriek as their leather burns through, flesh blistering instantly. They drop their rusted blades, stumbling back into their brothers.
I step through the gap I've made.
A goblin lunges from my left. My shoulder, plated in steel, catches him in the teeth. Bone cracks. As he staggers, I pivot, bringing my right hand around in an arc. Fire follows the motion, a burning whip that catches three of them across their bellies. The smell of charred meat fills the tunnel.
They're screaming now.
At the back, one goblin clutches a clay jar—oil, by the way he holds it like a baby. His yellow eyes are wide, calculating distance. Another has a sling, stone already whirring.
The stone clips my cheek. Too close.
I drop to one knee, left palm snapping forward. A fist-sized fireball punches through a wooden shield, exploding behind it. The goblin holding it falls backward, chest smoking. The others freeze for a heartbeat—that beautiful moment when bravado becomes terror.
($hidden_gem:"They see it in my eyes now. I'm not defending. I'm hunting.","They see it in my stance, my stride, my stare—I'm not defending. I'm destroying, decimating, demonstrating dominance.")
The oil-carrier's hands shake. His cock has shriveled back into his loincloth. Fear does that.
(simple_option:"01 barricade","Use their oil.","Chain them down.")](if:$choice is "Advance on the barricaded office.")[(pic:"ch01/door.jpg","The door's solid oak reinforced—meant to protect payroll from desperate miners.")I can hear them inside. Furniture scraping. Bottles clinking. They're building a barricade, but they're also preparing something else. The smell of lamp oil cuts through the usual goblin stench.
The office overlooks the main shaft through a narrow window. Smart defensive position—if I hadn't fought in a hundred rat's nests just like it.
They've stacked desks against the door. Through the gap beneath, I see shadows moving. Four, maybe five. Two near the back are doing something with clay jugs. Oil bombs.
Typical goblin tactics—when you can't win clean, burn everything.
The door won't budge. They've braced it well.(vid:"img/ch01/blast.mp4","right")
<span class='wind'>"Ventusfury!"</span>(playwhenread:"door explode")
I don't whisper it this time. I roar it.
Wind explodes from my palms—not a gentle breeze but a hammering gale that hits the door like a battering ram. The wood splinters. Iron bands buckle. The entire frame tears free from the stone, crashing outward and bringing the desk-barricade with it.
I'm through before the dust settles.
The room's smaller than expected—fifteen feet square, ceiling sagging with timber rot. An oil lamp swings from a chain, casting wild shadows. Two goblins with jugs of oil stand frozen by the back wall. Three others scramble over the destroyed furniture, reaching for weapons.
Whisperwind takes the first one across the eyes. The blade moves like thought—no hesitation between decision and action. Blood sprays across yellowed invoices still tacked to the wall.
($hidden_gem:"The second goblin raises a rusty cleaver.","The second savage swings a serrated, steel slicer skyward.")
I let him swing. At the last second, I step inside his reach, catch his wrist with my free hand. My knee drives into his elbow—the joint bends backward with a crack like breaking kindling. While he screams, Whisperwind opens his throat.
The oil-throwers are recovering. One's got a burning rag ready.
<span class='ice'>"Glacieshold!"</span>
Ice erupts across the floor, racing up their legs, freezing the oil in their jugs solid. The one with the burning rag drops it in panic. The flame hits the ice, sputters out.
The remaining two goblins charge together, mining picks raised. Smart—coordinated attacks are harder to counter.
But Whisperwind isn't just a sword. She's an extension of my will, my rage, my purpose. The blade flows through a pattern older than memory—the Seventh Form of the Windwalker School. Deflect, redirect, riposte. Their picks spark against skyforged steel. One goblin's momentum carries him past me. Whisperwind's edge finds his hamstring. He falls, screaming.
The last one backs against the wall, pick trembling in his grip.
I advance slow. Let him see death coming.
He drops the pick, falls to his knees, chittering what might be prayers or pleas. Doesn't matter. My boot crushes his windpipe.
The room goes quiet except for the hamstrung goblin's whimpering. I scan the space—mining charts, duty rosters, payroll ledgers. And there, nailed to the wall with a pick through the center: the accident report log. The page is turned to last week. "Breakthrough into older workings. Three injuries. Unstable ground."
Below it, written in what looks like blood: "OURS NOW."
I finish the hamstrung goblin. The silence feels heavy, wrong. Through the window overlooking the main shaft, I see torchlight moving far below. Lots of torches. They're massing at the bottom, near the new breakthrough.](else-if:$choice is "Pursue them into the depths.")[(pic:"ch01/sump.jpg","right","Seepwater pools in natural karst pockets; violet cave-caps fatten on bat guano and iron drip.")The goblins know these tunnels now—every twist, every dead end.
They're not running scared. They're leading me somewhere.
The passage opens into a natural cavern, ceiling lost in darkness. Water drips steady, has for centuries, forming pools that reflect my torch like black mirrors. The air tastes wrong—thick, sporous, makes my throat itch.
White mushrooms carpet the far wall, each one the size of a dinner plate. Some pulse with internal light. The pools between me and them are still as glass, maybe ankle deep, maybe bottomless.
I see them now—five goblins crouched on the far side where the floor rises again. They're not attacking. They're waiting. One grins, showing filed teeth.
I step toward the water.
The instant my boot touches the pool's edge, the mushrooms explode.
Spores fill the air—a white cloud that burns my eyes, my lungs. I stagger back, coughing. Through tears, I see the goblins moving, spreading out to flank. They knew exactly where I'd step, exactly when the spores would burst.
<span class='wind'>"Ventusfury!"</span>
Wind tears through the cavern, but careful—too strong and I'll spread the spores everywhere. Just enough to create a clear channel of air. I pull my shirt over my mouth, breathe shallow.
They're coming through the water now, picks raised. The leader's halfway across when I spot it—a miner's lamp still burning beneath the surface, its light wavering through two inches of crystal-clear water. A warning. Or bait.
($hidden_gem:"The first goblin erupts from the pool.","The first fiend flies forward from the fetid, festering fen.")
He's been hiding underwater, breathing through a reed. His pick swings for my knee. I pivot, bring Whisperwind down in a silver arc. The blade cleaves through his skull, splits him to the teeth. Gore splashes into the pool, turning the water pink.
Two more rush from the left. My boots slip on the slick stone—exactly what they planned. I go down on one knee, Whisperwind coming up in a desperate parry. Their picks spark against the blade. One overextends—I grab his ankle, yank him into the water. He goes under thrashing.
Back on my feet. The remaining goblins circle, careful now. They've seen what Whisperwind can do. One feints left. I don't take the bait. Another throws a handful of mushroom paste—it splashes across my chest, burns through my shirt like acid.
Pain sharpens everything.
<span class='fire'>"Ignisurge!"</span>
Fire blooms in my palm. Not at them—at the water. Steam explodes upward, boiling the goblin I pulled under. His screams bubble up through the water. The steam also clears the spores, gives me room to breathe.
The last three charge together.
Whisperwind moves in the Ninth Form—the Reaping Wind. The blade becomes a silver blur, impossible to track. I take the first goblin's arm at the elbow. The second loses his head—it rolls into the pool with a splash. The third tries to run.
I let Whisperwind fly.
The blade spins through the air, guided by wind and will. It takes him between the shoulders, punches through his chest. He falls face-first into the shallow water, green blood spreading like oil.
I retrieve my sword, scan the cavern. No more movement. But on the far wall, carved in the stone beneath the mushroom grove: arrows pointing down, and below them, that same phrase in blood: "OURS NOW."
The passage continues, sloping sharper. I can hear drums now—deep, rhythmic. They know I'm coming.](else-if:$choice is "Burn them with oil backwash.")[<span class='wind'>Ventusfury.</span>
I reverse the wind. The burning oil I'd pushed away now surges forward, riding my ice like a flaming wave. It washes up their legs, soaking into their rags.
<span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span>
One spark at chest height.
They ignite like torches. Screaming, thrashing, trying to beat out flames that won't die. The doorway clears as they stumble backward into their friends. Fire spreads through the cluster—goblins are greasy creatures, they burn well.
I keep my ice shield raised, wind pushing smoke away from me. The screaming stops after four heartbeats. The crackling continues longer.
When it's done, I step through charred meat and melted fat. The smell would make a lesser man vomit. I've smelled worse.
The corridor opens into the main shaft—a circular pit with wooden platforms spiraling down. More goblins below, their drums suddenly silent. They've heard their brothers die.
Fear makes them stupid.](else-if:$choice is "Crush them in an ice coffin.")[<span class='ice'>Glacieshold.</span>
Ice drops like a guillotine blade behind the jammed goblins, sealing them into the doorway. They're pressed between their dead brothers and my frozen wall.
<span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span>
I draw two fingers across the air. The heat-lance burns tiny holes through the ice at eye level. The beams punch through—one goblin loses an eye, another his throat. They can't even fall, packed too tight.
<span class='wind'>Ventusfury.</span>
Wind presses against the ice wall. It groans, cracks, surges forward. The goblins compress. Bones snap like kindling. The ice shatters sideways in bloody chunks, taking most of them with it.
One survivor crawls from the wreckage, dragging himself by his fingernails. I step on his spine. Crunch.
The corridor opens into the main shaft—a circular pit with wooden platforms spiraling down. More goblins below, watching me emerge from their dead brothers' tomb.
They've gone quiet. Smart ones are already backing toward the lower levels.](else-if:$choice is "Use their oil.")[My boot scrapes the floor, deliberate. The oil-carrier flinches, jar sloshing. Perfect.
"Drop it," I tell him.
He doesn't. His grip tightens. Behind him, two others raise their blades—trying to find courage in fellowship. Adorable.
I kick forward, not at him but at the floor. My steel boot strikes sparks. One spark is all I need.
<span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span>
A line of fire races across the stone toward them—controlled, precise, beautiful. The oil-carrier panics, tries to throw the jar. Too late. I'm already moving, two long strides and a leap off the tunnel wall. My armored knee catches the jar, driving it up under his chin.
The jar shatters. Oil sprays.
Mid-air, I twist, both hands spreading wide. Fire erupts from my palms—not forward into the wooden beams, but down and out, turning the oil mist into a rolling wave of flame that washes over the clustered goblins at knee height.
They scream. They burn. They fall.
I land in a crouch among the dying. One still moves, crawling. A quick burst of flame to his back ends it. Another tries to run—fire licks his ankles, dropping him.
The tunnel behind me is clear. The tunnel ahead echoes with drums. They know I'm coming.
Good.](else-if:$choice is "Chain them down.")[The oil-carrier clutches his jar like salvation. I'll make it his funeral pyre.
<span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span>
First fireball—chest-high, fast as thought. It hammers the lead goblin's shield, heat exploding along the stone wall. The shield drops, smoking. The goblin drops, screaming.
Without moving my feet, I scoop my left hand low. A second fireball rolls across the floor like a burning wheel, exploding at their shins. Two goblins dance backward, leather wrappings on fire.
The oil-carrier raises his jar, either to throw or drink—doesn't matter.
Third fireball. Overhand, like skipping a stone. It cracks the jar at the neck. Oil fountains forward, away from the ceiling beams, directly into my next gesture.
<span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span>
Fire streams from my palm, igniting the oil spray. The flame blooms outward in a perfect cone, washing over the remaining goblins without touching timber. Controlled devastation. Surgical hellfire.
They're all screaming now. Some dropping, some running. One charges through the flame, blade raised, flesh already peeling. My plated fist meets his jaw. The blade clatters away as he falls.
I step through them while they burn. Each footfall deliberate, unhurried. A goblin on his knees tries to grab my leg. I press my palm to his head—a brief touch of fire. He falls silent.
The last two back against the far wall, weapons forgotten. One pisses himself. The other whimpers something about 'Storak.'
I raise my hand. They run.
I snap my fingers three times. Each snap births a small flame that flies to the tunnel lanterns, lighting them in sequence. The space blooms orange and shadow. Any goblin watching from deeper in sees my silhouette framed in fire, stepping over their burning dead.](simple_option:"01 shaft","Continue to the main shaft.")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/combat/2.png")The main shaft opens before me like a throat.
The hoist mechanism dominates the space—massive wooden wheels and hemp ropes thick as my arm. The cage hangs halfway down, swaying slightly. Below it, lit by goblin torches, I see what the miners found.
They broke through into something ancient. The stone down there is different—black, polished, carved with symbols that hurt to look at. K'tarran. Has to be.
A dozen goblins cluster around the breakthrough. One wears a headdress of human teeth and finger bones—their shaman. He's drumming on a shield, the rhythm matching something deeper, older. The stones themselves seem to pulse with it.
Between them and me: forty feet of vertical shaft and a half-lowered cage.
Time to remind them why humans conquered this world.
I grab the hoist rope, wrap it around my waist. Then I cut the brake.
The cage plummets. I plummet with it, controlling my descent just enough not to die. The goblins shriek, scatter. Twenty feet. Ten feet. Five—
I let go.
Landing hard, I roll forward, come up with Whisperwind already moving. The blade takes the closest goblin across the belly. His guts spill onto stone older than kingdoms.
(pic:"ch01/post fight.jpg","Another debt paid in the dark.")
<span class='wind'>"Ventusfury!"</span>(playwhenread:"wind magic")
Wind explodes outward, sending three goblins tumbling. One goes over the edge into the shaft—his scream echoes all the way down.
The shaman keeps drumming, faster now. The carved stones glow brighter. Whatever he's doing, I need to stop it.
Two goblins with shields block my path. They move together, trained. I feint left, they track. I go right, they're ready.
Fine.
<span class='ice'>"Glacieshold!"</span>(playwhenread:"ice magic")
Ice spreads beneath their feet. They slip, shields dropping just an inch. That's all I need. Whisperwind threads the gap, opens the first one's throat. I shoulder-check the second, send him sliding across the ice into the wall. His skull cracks against stone.
The shaman's drumming reaches crescendo. The carved archway behind him starts to hum.
No more time for clean kills.
<span class='fire'>"Ignisurge!"</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell")
Fire erupts from both hands—a roaring wave that washes over the remaining goblins. They scatter, burning, screaming. The shaman tries to maintain his rhythm but his headdress catches fire. He drops the drum, rolling on the ground.
I walk through the flames. Whisperwind finds each burning goblin, ends their agony quick.
The shaman crawls toward the archway, reaching for something—a horn made from human bone.
My boot comes down on his hand. Bones crack like twigs.
He looks up at me, eyes wild with pain and something else. Fear, but not of me. Of what he failed to do.
"Too late," he gasps in broken common tongue. "Already... waking..."
Whisperwind through his eye ends his riddles.
The silence after slaughter always feels wrong. Blood steams on cold stone. The shaman's drum rolls to a stop against my boot.
I kick it aside and study the breach.
The miners' picks punched through limestone into something else entirely. The hole is ragged on this side, but beyond it—the stone is smooth as glass, black as deep water.
(simple_option:"01 ruins","Step through the breach."){
(forget-undos:-1)
(forget-visits:-1)
(set:$pages to $pages)
(set:$prev_page to $prev_page)
(set:$current_page to $next)
(set:$choice to $choice)
(goto:$next)
}(pic:"ch01/underground city.jpg","Pillars thick as ancient oaks march in rows, disappearing into darkness my torch can't pierce.")($play:"ambience","cavern evil")
The temperature drops twenty degrees the moment I cross through.
My breath mists. The walls aren't built—they're carved from blocks of stone larger than houses. Each one fits against the next with no mortar, no gap wide enough for a blade.
The floor slopes down into a vast chamber. The stone is the same black material, but here it's carved with... shapes. Not pictures exactly. More like suggestions of things that shouldn't exist—too many eyes, angles that fold back on themselves, mouths where mouths shouldn't be.
The air tastes of copper and old death. Not rot—something drier. Like opening a tomb that's been sealed since before men learned to write.
Movement in the shadows. Three goblins crouch near a collapsed section of wall, pawing through rubble. They haven't seen me yet. One's massive—not tall, but thick with muscle. His cock swings free of his loincloth, the size of my forearm. Even for a goblin, that's excessive.
($hidden_gem:"They're looting corpses. Ancient corpses, still in their stone beds.","They're looting lifeless, long-dead bodies, buried in their bleak, black beds.")
The big one finds something—a tarnished amulet. He bites it, testing for gold.
(pic:"ch01/looting.jpg")
(simple_option:"01 pursue","Attack them.")(pic:"ch01/hunt.jpg","left")I drop from the elevated entrance, fifteen feet straight down.
The first goblin looks up just as my boots crush his ribcage. Bones snap like dry branches. His eyes bulge, blood frothing from his mouth. I roll forward off his corpse, Whisperwind already singing.
The second goblin fumbles for a rusty blade.
<span class='fire'>"Ignisurge!"</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell")
Fire erupts point-blank into his face. His head becomes a torch. He runs three steps, four, then collapses. The smell of burning meat and hair fills the chamber.
The big one—he's already moving. Not toward me, but away, surprisingly fast for something carrying that much meat between its legs. He vaults over a low wall, that obscene appendage flopping wildly.
I pursue.
The chamber opens into what must have been a plaza. A dry fountain dominates the center, its basin filled with bones so old they've gone to powder. Stone benches ring the space. Buildings—or what's left of them—rise on all sides, their doorways gaping like mouths.
The goblin scrambles up a wide staircase carved into the chamber wall. I follow, taking the steps three at a time.
<span class='wind'>"Ventusfury!"</span>
Wind howls up the stairwell, meant to knock him down. He ducks into an alcove at the last second. My wind tears past, accomplishing nothing but stirring ancient dust.
"Clever little shit," I mutter.
He's running again, that massive cock bouncing off his thighs with each step. How does he even move that fast? The stairs spiral up along the chamber wall. Fifty feet. Seventy. A hundred. My legs burn but I keep climbing.
The stairs end at a bridge—narrow, no rails, spanning a chasm I can't see the bottom of. The goblin's halfway across, arms out for balance.
<span class='ice'>"Glacieshold!"</span>
Ice races across the bridge. The goblin sees it coming, leaps for the far side. His fingers catch the edge. That ridiculous member swings like a pendulum as he dangles.
I charge across the ice-slicked bridge. He's pulling himself up. My sword comes down—
He lets go.
The bastard actually lets go, dropping onto a hidden ledge ten feet below. I nearly go over the edge trying to stop.
"STAND AND DIE!" I roar.
His only response is that chittering laugh as he disappears into another passage.
(simple_option:"01 collar","Follow him deeper.")(pic:"status/unknown.png","borderless","right")**Name:** ???
**Race:** ???
**Class:** ???
**Age:** ???
**Height:** ???
**Weight:** ???
<span class='meter-container-half'>(color:"white")[(meter: bind $heroism, 100, "X", "Heroism: $heroism/100", (gradient: 90, 0, red, 1, orange))]</span>
*Something is terribly wrong.*
Cold iron at the throat. Flesh that isn't yours. A voice that comes out wrong.
The collar knows who you are.
You don't.(pic:"ch02/stand.jpg","right")I plant my palms on cold stone and push.
My legs straighten—no, they TRY to straighten. Something's wrong with my boots. The soles scrape against stone with a metallic shriek, but I'm not flat-footed. I'm pitched forward, weight on the balls of my feet like I'm standing on upturned tankard bottoms. My calves immediately cramp, burning like I've been marching uphill for hours.
The weights on my chest swing forward with my momentum. I overcorrect backward, arms windmilling. Metal scrapes stone again—a horrible grinding sound—as my feet try to find purchase. But these aren't boots, they're some kind of torture device. My ankles are locked at an angle that makes no sense, forcing my spine to curve, my ass to jut back just to keep from toppling forward.
My thighs press together—soft, like dough fresh for the oven. They brush and tap with each wobble, flesh I've never had before. Too much flesh. The metal strap between my legs rides up, cutting into places that—
*Crack.*
My ass hits stone hard enough to rattle my teeth. The impact sends the weights on my chest bouncing—up, down, sideways—pulling at my ribs with each oscillation. My hands shoot back to catch myself and I feel the meat of my rear compress under my palms. Too much. Too soft. Like gripping risen bread dough through the thinnest leather.
"Flux's balls!" I grunt—and freeze.(playwhenread:"trip and fall")
(pic:"ch02/fall.jpg")
That's not my voice. It's high, clear, with a musical quality that makes my stomach turn. A woman's curse from a woman's throat.
The ancient city. I'm still in the ruins. That goblin—where is he? My hand goes to my sword but finds only bare hip, soft and yielding. No weapon belt. No weapon. Just smooth skin and that metal strap that digs in when I twist.
($hidden_gem:"My legs splay awkwardly, the metal boots clattering as I try to right myself.","My legs lurch and list, the loud metal boots banging and battering as I battle to balance.")
I look down at my legs properly for the first time. Black metal encases them from mid-thigh down, articulated plates that should be armor but aren't. The plates stop at the ankle, then the metal continues but wrong—the foot is arched severely, forcing me onto a narrow point no wider than a spear butt. A spike of metal extends down from the heel. No wonder I can't fucking walk.
(pic:"ch02/heels.jpg","These aren't soldier's boots. They're... something else.")
These aren't soldier's boots. They're... something else. Something designed to make the wearer helpless. To make them mince and wobble and—
The collar pulses at my throat. Not painful, just... present. Reminding me it's there.
I need to see. Need to understand what's been done to me. The bioluminescent moss casts everything in pale green shadow, but there—a puddle of water, still and dark as a scrying mirror.
(simple_option:"02 reflection","Examine your chest.","Touch your face.","Check between your legs.")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")(if:$choice is "Examine your chest.")[(pic:"ch02/tits.jpg","These massive, hanging things are part of my body.")My hands move to the weights hanging from my chest.
Sweet merciful Eon, they're attached to me.
The flesh yields under my fingers like overstuffed wineskins, warm and impossibly soft. I can feel my own touch through the skin—these aren't sacks of grain strapped to my chest, they're part of me. When I press, trying to understand, they compress and bulge sideways, spilling around my palms. Too much flesh. More than any woman I've ever—
I try to lift one. It's heavy as a smith's hammer, but soft, filling my hand and overflowing between my fingers. The metal triangle barely contains it—most of the flesh bulges around the edges, marked with red crescents where the scales bite in. When I let go, it drops with a meaty slap against my ribs.
(pic:"ch02/tits closeup.jpg","The metal triangles barely cover anything. My fingers find soft flesh spilling out around the edges, warm and yielding like overripe fruit in summer heat.")
My strength is gone. These arms that once hefted a zweihander now struggle with the weight of... of these things. I try to flex, to summon the power that should be there, but the muscle is buried under softness. My arms are slender, weak, made for needlework not swordwork.
When I lean forward to stand, they swing. The momentum nearly topples me again—first the fall forward, then the flesh following a heartbeat later, then the backward pull as they settle. My hands fly up instinctively to stop their movement and I feel them overflow my palms, soft and warm and wrong. The metal triangles dig deeper with each bounce, leaving marks I can feel burning into the tender skin.
Where my chest should be hard with muscle, carved from years of swordwork, there's just... yielding softness. I press where my pectorals should be and find only these mounds that compress and spring back with a elasticity that makes my stomach lurch. They're sensitive too—when the cold metal shifts, I feel it like needles. When air moves across the exposed flesh, goosebumps rise.
($hidden_gem:"I need to see. Need to understand the full horror of what's been done.","I need knowledge. Need to know the nightmarish, nauseating scope of what's been wrought.")
The puddle. I crawl toward it on hands and knees because standing in these metal torture-boots is impossible. But crawling is worse—the weights hang free, swaying with each movement, pulling at my shoulders and upper back. They brush the ground when I lean too far forward. The sensation of cold stone against that tender flesh makes me recoil, which sets them swinging again.
I reach the water's edge. My reflection wavers in the dim green light.
(pic:"ch02/pov discovery new.jpg","This can't be me. This CAN'T be me.")
The face looking back isn't mine. It can't be mine. Delicate features, high cheekbones, full lips. Pale skin without a single battle scar. Long black hair frames everything like mourning silk. But the eyes—
My eyes. Aldric's eyes. The same green, the same shape, trapped in this stranger's face.
(vid:"img/ch02/face.mp4","soundwhenvisible")
(playwhenread:"this is sorcery")"No." The word comes out in that musical feminine voice. "No, this is—this is sorcery, this is—"
My hand goes to my face. The reflection moves with me. Soft cheek, smooth jaw, no stubble. The hand touching that face is small, elegant, with tapered fingers meant for needlework, not swordwork.
This is my face. My hand. My body.
"NO!" The scream tears from my throat, high and desperate. It echoes off the cavern walls, throwing back a woman's anguish. "This isn't—I'm not—"
(vid:"img/ch02/heels.mp4","right","soundwhenvisible")I try to stand, to run, to get away from the reflection. The metal boots scrape and clatter. My ankles buckle. The weights on my chest throw me off balance. I take one wobbling step, then another, the metal heel-spikes ringing against stone like a death knell.
*Clop. Clop. Clop.*
Each step forces my hips to sway. The soft meat of my thighs brushes together. The metal strap between my legs rides up into places that shouldn't exist. Everything moves wrong—delayed, exaggerated, humiliating.
That's when I hear it.](else-if:$choice is "Touch your face.")[(vid:"img/ch02/face.mp4","soundwhenvisible")
My hands move to my face.
The bones are wrong. Where my jaw should be square and sharp, it's soft, tapering to a point like noble ladies powder and paint to achieve. My fingers trace cheekbones too high, too delicate. The skin is smooth as fresh cream—no stubble, no scars from that bar fight in Westford, nothing but silk-soft flesh that yields under my fingertips.
My lips—Eon's mercy, my lips are full and plush, the kind whores paint red to make men stupid. When I press them together, they're soft as overripe fruit. My nose is small, delicate, a button where there should be the crooked bridge from three breaks.
Hair keeps falling in my face. I grab a fistful—it's like holding water made of shadow, so soft it barely has substance. Black as midnight, falling past my shoulders, past my shoulder blades, almost to my waist. Maiden's hair. The kind knights write stupid songs about.
(playwhenread:"this is sorcery")No. No no no no—
I need to see. The puddle—there's water there, still and dark.
I crawl toward it on hands and knees because standing in these metal torture-boots is impossible. The weights on my chest swing with each movement, heavy as grain sacks but soft, pulling at my ribs. My ass—there's too much of it, swaying as I move. The metal between my legs rides up with each crawl forward, cutting into soft flesh that shouldn't exist.
The water is black as pitch, but I can see—
(pic:"ch02/pov discovery new.jpg","This can't be me. This CAN'T be me.")
($hidden_gem:"My own green eyes stare back from a stranger's face.","My matching mossy-green eyes gaze back from a gorgeous stranger's graced face.")
Pale. Beautiful. The kind of face that makes men kill each other in taverns. High cheekbones, full lips, eyes like moss after rain—my eyes, MY EXACT EYES in this... this...
"No!" The scream tears from my throat, high and clear and wrong. "This isn't—I'm not—"
My reflection moves when I move. When I touch my cheek, she touches hers. When my mouth opens in horror, so does hers. The collar sits black at her throat—my throat—like an owner's mark on livestock.
I pull back, gasping. My chest heaves and the weights—breasts, they're breasts, massive ones barely contained by triangular metal plates—bounce and sway. Each breath makes them rise and fall. I can't stop staring at them, at these obscene fleshy mountains jutting from my chest.
(pic:"ch02/tits.jpg","These massive, hanging things are part of my body.")
My hands move without thinking, grabbing them. They overflow my grip, soft and warm and wrong wrong WRONG. When I squeeze, trying to prove they're false, pain shoots through them. They're real. They're part of me.
"Magic," I whisper, voice breaking. "That goblin—he did this. Some kind of curse, an illusion—"
But I can feel everything. The cold air on my exposed stomach. The way my thighs rub together. The horrifying absence between my legs where my cock should be. This isn't an illusion. This is my body now.
(vid:"img/ch02/heels.mp4","right","soundwhenvisible")I try to stand again, hands braced on the cave wall. The metal boots force me up on the points of my toes, calves screaming. My hips sway wrong, my balance is fucked, these things on my chest throw off every movement—
*Clack. Clack. Clack.*
Each step is agony. The boots scrape and ring against stone as I wobble forward like a newborn colt. My ass juts out, my back arches to compensate for the weight up front. I take three steps and nearly fall again.
That's when I hear it.](else:)[(pic:"ch02/pussy closeup.jpg")
My hand moves down past the soft belly that shouldn't exist. Past hips that flare out like a breeding mare's haunches. The metal strap—Eon's mercy, it's barely wider than a sword belt—cuts between flesh that's too abundant, too soft.
My fingers find where it dives between my thighs and—
Nothing.
Not gone, not injured—*absent*. Like reaching for a sword that was never forged. Just smooth skin and a cleft that—NO.
My hand jerks back like I've touched molten iron. But the sensation remains. The air on places that should never feel air. The way my thighs press together with nothing between them but that cursed metal strap that rides up into—
"Flux take this nightmare!"
(vid:"img/ch02/heels.mp4","right","soundwhenvisible")I need to see. Need to prove this is some spell, some illusion. I try to stand again, hands braced on the stone. The metal boots scrape and shriek. My ankles wobble on their torture-points. One step. The weights on my chest swing left. Another step. They swing right, pulling me off balance. My ass—Verge's teeth, there's so much of it—shifts and bounces with each movement like saddlebags overpacked with grain.
*Clop. Scrape. Clop.*
The pool is only ten paces but it might as well be ten leagues. Each step is a battle against this body that moves wrong, weighs wrong, *is* wrong. My thighs brush together, skin already chafing. The metal triangle covering my... covering what *should* be there... it shifts with each step, a constant reminder of the void.
($hidden_gem:"I drop to my knees at the water's edge, unable to stand another moment on these torture-spikes.","I drop, defeated, to damaged knees at the dark water's edge, unable to endure another instant on these terrible torture-spikes.")
The black water holds secrets I don't want to know. But I lean forward, and—
My hair falls around my face like a funeral shroud. Black silk, longer than my arm, pooling on the wet stone. It smells of lavender and something darker, earthier. Not my hair. Not my smell.
In the water's mirror, a woman looks back.
(pic:"ch02/pov discovery new.jpg","This can't be me. This CAN'T be me.")
The same green eyes—MY eyes—set in a face carved from moonlight and sin. High cheekbones that could cut glass. Lips like split fruit, too full, too soft. The face men kill for and over. The kind of face that belongs in a whorehouse painting, not on a hero's shoulders.
But those are my eyes. Frightened. Horrified. *Mine*.
"No no no NO—"(playwhenread:"this is sorcery")
(pic:"ch02/tits closeup.jpg","The metal triangles barely cover anything.")
My hands fly to my face, and the reflection's hands—small, delicate, with fingers meant for harps not swords—mirror the motion. The skin is soft as fresh cream. No beard-shadow. No scars from a hundred battles. Just pale perfection that makes me want to vomit.
I pull back and see more. The metal triangles barely contain flesh that spills out from all sides—breasts like ripe melons, heavy enough to crack a man's skull. Below them, that narrow waist, those obscene hips, and between the thighs—
(vid:"img/ch02/face.mp4","soundwhenvisible")
I scream.
It comes out high and clear and beautiful, a woman's terror from a woman's throat. The ancient city throws it back at me, mocking echoes of feminine anguish.
That's when I hear it.
Laughter.](simple_option:"02 snib","Laughter.")(pic:"ch02/cast attempt.jpg")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/angry/1.png")
(if:$choice is "Cast Ignisurge!")["IGNISURGE!"(playwhenread:"ignisurge fail")
The word tears from my throat with the force of seventeen years' practice. I feel it building—that sweet familiar rush, like molten gold flooding my veins. The fire answers my call as it always has, rising from that place deep in my chest where rage and righteousness meet. My palms tingle with the promise of destruction, the air around my fingers shimmering with heat-haze, the smell of a forge about to birth a blade—
The power surges up through my arms, cresting like a wave about to break, about to bloom into that beautiful flower of annihilation that has ended a hundred monsters, and then—
Nothing.
Not even nothing. Worse. A *puff*. A sad little wheeze of smoke that wouldn't light a beggar's pipe, dribbling from my palm like a dying man's last breath.
($hidden_gem:"The magic dies in my hands like a lover's promise broken at dawn.","The magic melts in my mitts like a maiden's promise mangled at morning.")
"Was that it?" The goblin's laughter sounds like someone choking on their own spit. "Was that yer big fire show?"
I stare at my hands. These soft, small hands that should be wreathed in flames. The magic is THERE—I can feel it roiling in my chest like a caged dragon, pressing against my ribs, desperate to be unleashed. But something—
The collar. Cold iron at my throat. It didn't tighten, didn't burn, just... existed. And my magic died against it like waves against a seawall.
"Try again!" Snib circles me, that obscene bulge in his loincloth bouncing with each scuttle-step. "Go on, cow-tits! Give us another puff!"
"IGNISURGE!" I scream it louder, as if volume could break through. The magic builds again—that gorgeous pressure, that divine heat—only to extinguish at the moment of release. Another pathetic wisp of smoke.
"IGNISURGE! IGNISURGE! IGN—"
Each attempt is weaker. Like trying to cum with a hand around your cock, squeezing closed. The magic builds and builds with nowhere to go, backing up inside me until I'm shaking with it, until I feel like I might explode from the inside out.
(playwhenread:"collar explain")"The collar," Snib says, and he's close now, so close I can smell the rot on his breath. "It talks to me. Whispers things." His head tilts, those yellow eyes narrowing. "Says yer mine now. Says yer magic only works if I lets it."
"That's not—" My voice cracks. "That's IMPOSSIBLE—"
"Says yer name was Aldric." He's grinning now, black tongue playing at the corner of his mouth. "Aldric the Great. Killed three hundred and seventeen of me kind." Another step closer. "Now look at ye. Tits bigger than yer head and no fire to back up all that yellin'."
The rage is beyond volcanic—it's stellar. The kind of fury that should split mountains, that should turn this entire cavern to glass. But when I raise my hands, when I speak the words that have never failed me—
Smoke. Pathetic, gray smoke.
"If ye want yer magic," Snib says, voice dropping to something almost thoughtful, "ye gotta ask. Real nice-like. Maybe..." His eyes travel down my body again, lingering on the heaving of my chest as I pant with fury and exhaustion. "Maybe do somethin' for me first."
"I'll NEVER—"
"Never's a long time, cow-tits." He scratches his balls through his loincloth, the motion deliberate, disgusting. "Specially when yer wobbling on them silly shoes with no magic to save ye."
My entire life, magic has flowed through me like blood through veins. Natural as breathing. The fire lived in my chest, the ice in my bones, the wind in my lungs. To have it there but trapped, like trying to scream with a hand over your mouth, like trying to piss with your cock tied shut—
No. Not my cock. Because I don't HAVE—
There. Behind him, fallen among the rubble. Whisperwind's pommel catches the phosphorescent light.
My sword. My beautiful, faithful sword.
If magic won't serve me, steel will. Steel has never failed me. One good thrust and this nightmare ends. I just need to—](else-if:$choice is "Cast Glacieshold!")[The words of power rise in my throat like winter storms gathering above the Ironspikes.
"*Glacieshold!*"
I taste the spell—crisp as mountain air, sharp as the moment before an avalanche. In my mind's eye, I see it perfectly: ice racing up his disgusting green legs, crystallizing his putrid blood, turning that leering grin into frozen horror. One kick from these torture-boots and he'll shatter into a thousand pieces, each one melting away with this nightmare, returning me to myself, to *Aldric*—
The magic builds in my chest, that familiar cold fire that's ended a hundred monsters. It spirals down my arms, through my fingers, ready to birth winter itself—
And dies.
Not gradually. Not gently. Like a candle snuffed by a giant's fist.
($hidden_gem:"Three pathetic ice crystals form on my palm, melting immediately in my own heat.","Three tiny, trifling ice crystals take shape on my trembling palm, perishing promptly in my own pathetic heat.")
"Wha—"
The goblin's laughter explodes like pus from a lanced boil.
"That it?" He slaps his knee, actually SLAPS it like this is the funniest thing he's ever seen. "That yer big magic, cow-tits?"
No. No no no—
"*GLACIESHOLD!*" I scream it this time, pouring everything into the word. The magic rises, crests—
Dies.
Two crystals this time. They fall to the stone with tiny *plinks*.
"*IGNISURGE!*"
Nothing. Not even smoke.
"*VENTUSFURY!*"
The air doesn't even stir.
"*IGNISURGE! GLACIESHOLD! VENTUSFURY!*" I'm shrieking now, my feminine voice cracking, spittle flying. My hands shake as I form the gestures over and over—movements that have channeled lightning, that have turned armies—
Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING.
The goblin circles me like a wolf around a lamed deer, his bare feet slapping wetly on stone. I pivot on these fucking heels trying to track him, wobbling, my tits swaying obscenely with each adjustment.
"Funny thing," he says, scratching his balls through his loincloth. "This pretty collar ye got on—"
My hand flies to my throat. The iron is warm now, almost alive.
"—it talks to me. Whispers things." He grins wider. "Says ye belong to me now."
"I don't belong to—"
"Says yer magic?" He stops directly in front of me, has to crane his neck back to look up at my face. "Ye only get it when I says so."(playwhenread:"collar explain")
The world tilts. My knees actually buckle. The concept is so obscene, so fundamentally WRONG that my mind rejects it. My magic—the gift that made me more than just another sellsword, that lifted me from the mud-quarter to the Tower—locked away by this... this...
"So if ye EVER want to throw yer little sparkles again," he continues, his voice dropping to something oily, "ye gonna have to ask. Real nice. Maybe..." His yellow eyes drop to my chest. "Maybe do something for me first."
"I'll NEVER—"
"*IGNISURGE!*" I scream it with thirty years of rage. "*BURN, YOU FUCKING PARASITE!*"
Not even warmth.
"*GLACIESHOLD! FREEZE AND SHATTER!*"
The goblin yawns. Actually yawns.
"*VENTUSFURY! TEAR HIM APART!*"
A cave-moth lands on my shoulder, undisturbed by any wind.
I'm sobbing now. Actual tears streaming down this soft face as I scream every battle spell, every cantrip, every hedge-magic trick I know. The words pour out in a torrent of desperate, impotent fury while the goblin counts on his fingers, keeping track.
"That's seventeen," he notes casually. "Ye done?"
My throat is raw. My legs shake from standing on these spike-heels. The weights on my chest heave with each gasping breath. I've never felt this—this absolute helplessness. Not when the basilisk had me cornered. Not when the Thuulk Tower masters expelled me. Never.
Magic is what I AM. Without it, I'm just... just...
Just a pair of tits on legs in slutty armor.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" The scream tears from my throat. "I'LL RIP YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!"
That's when I see it. Whisperwind. My blade, lying against a fallen pillar not twenty feet away, still gleaming despite the ancient dust.](else:)[*Ventusfury.*
The word forms in my mind like a lover's name, like salvation itself. Wind—my oldest friend, my first mastery. I can already see it: this diseased little shit flying backward, bones snapping like kindling against the ancient stone, his skull cracking open like an egg, brains painting the walls in a satisfying splatter of green and gray. The collar's magic will die with him. I'll be myself again. I'll walk out of here Aldric the Great, and this nightmare will become just another tavern tale.
My hands rise in the Seventh Position—thumb and forefinger forming the eye of the storm, other fingers spread like gale-tracks. The power builds in my chest, that familiar gathering like breathing in a thunderstorm. It starts at the root of my spine, rises through my belly—
($hidden_gem:"The magic coils through me like a living thing, ancient and eager.","The magic meanders through me like a mighty, moving thing, ancient and anxious.")
The air should be changing now—pressure dropping, dust beginning to spiral. I've done this a thousand times. Felt the wind answer my call like a war-dog to its master's whistle. The power builds and builds, cresting toward release—
"*VENTUSFURY!*"
I thrust my palms forward, channeling everything, EVERYTHING into this moment of glorious violence—
*Poof.*
A breeze. Less than a breeze. A whisper of air that wouldn't disturb a candle flame. It touches Snib's face with all the force of a maiden's sigh, barely ruffling his greasy hair.
The silence that follows is deafening.
"Was that..." Snib blinks, then his face splits into that broken-glass grin. "Was that it?"
No. No no no NO—
"*IGNISURGE!*" I scream, hands already forming the fire-cage gesture. Nothing. Not even warmth.
"*GLACIESHOLD!*" The ice that should freeze him solid, that should turn his blood to slush—nothing.
"*VENTUSFURY! IGNISURGE! GLACIESHOLD!*" I'm shrieking now, cycling through every form, every word of power, my hands a blur of desperate gestures. But it's like screaming into the void. The magic is THERE, I can feel it inside me, but it hits something at my throat and just... stops. Like trying to pour wine through a closed cork.
Snib's laughing so hard he's wheezing, doubled over, slapping his knee.
"Oh... oh that's..." He gasps for air between cackles. "That's fuckin' BEAUTIFUL! The great hero, flappin' her hands like a broke-wing bird!"
"WORK!" I scream at my hands. "THRACKING WORK!"
"It's telling me things," Snib says, tapping his temple, his laughter dying to wet chuckles. "The collar. Don't know what it is exactly, but it's whisperin' real sweet about you." He starts circling me again, and I have to wobble on these torture-heels to track him. "Says yer mine now. Says that magic ye're so proud of?" (playwhenread:"collar explain")
He stops directly in front of me, looking up with those yellow eyes full of malicious glee.
"Ye can't use it without me permission."
The words hit like a physical blow. My magic—the thing that makes me more than just another sellsword, the power I earned through pain and study and sacrifice—is now locked behind this creature's approval?
"That's..." My voice comes out strangled. "That's not possible."
"Oh, it's possible, cow-tits. Ye want to cast yer little spells? Gonna have to ask real nice." His tongue plays at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe do somethin' for me first."
"NEVER!" The scream tears from my throat. "I'll die first! I'll—*IGNISURGE!*"
Nothing.
"*GLACIESHOLD!*"
Nothing.
I'm screaming the words now, over and over, my throat going raw. Each failed spell is another humiliation, another confirmation that I'm trapped, that this THING owns my power. Snib's laughing so hard he's crying, pointing at me as I flail and shriek like a madwoman.
"Look at ye! Flappin' and screamin'! Like a chicken with them fat tits!"
My vision blurs with tears of pure rage. Through the film of fury, I see it—a glint of metal among the rubble.
Whisperwind.
My sword, transformed like everything else but still MINE. Still sharp. I don't need magic to run three feet of steel through his diseased heart.]
(simple_option:"02 sword","Dive for your sword!","Try to circle around to it.","Charge through him to get it!")(if:$is_bad_end)[(set:$choice to "Call for help!")]($play:"ambience","everbloom daytime ambience")(if:$choice is "Call for help!")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/shocked/1.png")($play:"song","ridden music")The words claw up my throat before I can stop them.
"HELP ME!"(playwhenread:"help me")
The voice that tears from me isn't Aldric's commanding bellow. It's high, desperate, cracking with tears I didn't know were falling. A woman's plea. A victim's cry.
The miners freeze. Their hands go to their picks.
(pic:"ch02/miners see.jpg","The miners freeze. Their hands go to their picks.")
Snib snarls and YANKS the leash so hard I'm pulled backward, tits flying up into my face before I crash onto my ass. The metal spikes scrape stone as I scramble.
"*Grashk! Mortuk! Kregga nas velim!*" Snib shouts in that chittering tongue, his voice carrying. "*Humies! Kill! Kill!*"
The miners' faces go white. They think—of course they think there are more.
"Please!" I sob, reaching toward them even as Snib's foot plants on my back. "Please, I'm—there's just one! Just him! PLEASE!"
But they're already backing away. Hedric's got his pick raised. Bors is pulling young Timothy back.
"Timothy!" The name tears from my throat. He trained under me last summer. Learned the Third Guard position. "Timothy, it's—"
The collar CONSTRICTS.
Not gradually. Instantly. My words become a strangled wheeze. Black spots dance across my vision as Snib's hand comes down on my ass with a ringing CRACK that echoes off the mine entrance.
"Bad cow!" He spanks me again, harder, making a show of it. The miners can see everything—this tiny goblin dominating what looks like a captive woman. "Trying to trick nice humans! Bad!"
($hidden_gem:"Through my oxygen-starved vision, I see Timothy's face twist in horror.","Through my throttled, throbbing vision, I view Timothy's terrified face twist in horror.")
He recognizes something. Not me—he could never recognize me like this. But the humanity. The desperation.
"We should—" he starts.
"It's a trap, boy!" Hedric grabs his arm. "You know what they do! Use the women as bait after they've—after they're broken!"
"But what if—"
"You heard him call for others! There's probably dozens in there!"
Snib grins at them, gives my ass another theatrical CRACK. "This one's trained good! Watch!" He tugs the leash and I'm forced to my knees, gasping as the collar loosens just enough to let me breathe. "See? Broken proper!"
"Aldric said he'd clear them out," Bors mutters, already backing toward the road. "Must've... must've failed. Or died."
"No..." The word comes out as a whisper. They can't hear it. "No, I'm... I'm right here..."
But Timothy's already being dragged away. Our eyes meet for one horrible moment—his full of pity for what he thinks is some ruined woman, mine full of desperate recognition he'll never understand.
(pic:"ch02/miners flee.jpg","They run.")
They run.
Actually run. Three grown men with picks, running from one goblin. Their boots thunder on the road, getting quieter, quieter, gone. Hedric's lantern abandoned in the dirt. Bors's mining helmet rolled into the ditch.
(simple_option:"02 continue","The silence that follows is deafening...")](else:)[($play:"song","snib hut theme")My mouth opens. The scream builds in my chest, pressing against my ribs like a caged beast.
*Help me. HELP ME. I'M RIGHT HERE.*
But nothing comes out. Not even a whisper.
Because I can feel the collar waiting. Cold iron pressed against my throat like a blade's edge, ready to crush my windpipe the moment I disobey. And worse—I can see the promise in Snib's yellow eyes.
The miners trudge past, boots crunching gravel. So close I can smell the coal dust on them, the honest sweat of working men. Hedric's discussing overtime pay. Bors mentions his wife's stew. Timothy—sweet, eager Timothy who just learned to hold a blade two months ago—is humming some tavern song off-key.
Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 2")
Snib's warty hand slides over the swell of my ass, fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh. Not groping—*owning*. His thumb traces the line where cheek meets thigh, that crease that shouldn't exist on Aldric's body but does on mine. I can feel him grinning behind me as his fingers explore, marking his territory while my people walk by, oblivious.
(pic:"ch02/good girl.jpg","'Good girl. Keeping quiet like a proper cow.'")
"Good girl," he whispers, breath hot and rotten against my ear. "Keeping quiet like a proper cow."(playwhenread:"quiet like a proper cow")
Eight feet. I can see Timothy's profile. There's dirt under his fingernails. A new scar on his jaw from practice. He's grown since summer.
My heart hammers so hard I'm sure they'll hear it. These massive tits heave with each desperate breath, threatening to spill from their metal triangles. Sweat pools between them, runs down my stomach.
Five feet.
($hidden_gem:"Snib's hand squeezes harder, fingers dimpling the meat of my ass.","Snib's slimy, sinister hand sinks deeper, digits dimpling my doughy ass.")
They pass.
(pic:"ch02/deal with it.jpg")
Their voices fade down the tunnel, echoing off stone until even that dies. The last sound is Timothy's humming, growing distant, gone.
"See?" Snib releases my ass with a wet pat that makes the flesh jiggle. "Ye can be trained. Thought maybe I'd have to break ye fast, all at once. Boring." He stands, yanking the leash to make me follow. "But ye showed ye can obey. Makes things more fun."
My legs shake as I rise on these torture-spikes. The collar hasn't tightened, but I can still feel its threat. Like a hand hovering over my throat, ready to squeeze.
"Collar knows ye're learning," he says, leading me away from the mine entrance. "Says the slow way is best. Heroes always think they'll find a way out. Makes it sweeter when they realize they won't."
We don't take the main road. Of course not. Snib tugs me toward a gap in the treeline—barely a deer trail, choked with undergrowth.
"Can't have more humans seein' us," he explains, using Whisperwind to hack at low branches. My sword, reduced to a machete. "Not yet. Not till ye're proper broke."
The first step into the forest loam is disaster.
My heel-spike punches straight through the soft earth, sinking three inches deep. When I try to pull it free, the mud sucks at it with an obscene *SCHLOOORP*. My weight shifts forward, tits swinging like grain sacks, throwing me off balance. The other heel sinks.
"HAHA!" Snib's laughter could strip bark from trees. "Look at ye! Like a cow stuck in mud!"
I wrench one foot free, stumble forward, sink again. Each step is a battle—the heels punching through leaf litter and soft soil, my ankles rolling, these weights on my chest swaying violently. The metal thong rides up with each high step, cutting between my cheeks like cheese wire.(playwhenread:"forest walk")
*SQUELCH-CLOP.* Pull foot free.
*WOBBLE.* Tits swing left.
*SQUELCH-CLOP.* Other foot sinks.
*WOBBLE.* Tits swing right.
"Ye walked through here this morning, didn't ye?" Snib calls back, still giggling. "Bet it was easier with a cock and proper boots!"
A root catches my heel. I go down hard, my tits literally slapping together with a meaty CLAP that echoes through the trees. Wet leaves stick to my skin. The position—on my knees in the dirt while this creature laughs at me—makes bile rise in my throat.(playwhenread:"fall sand")
(pic:"ch02/bad end/fallen.jpg","'Up, cow! We got distance to cover.'")
"Up, cow! We got distance to cover."
I struggle upright, now covered in forest filth. My hair—this long, silky hair that isn't mine—has twigs in it. There's mud on my thighs. These metal cups are full of dead leaves.
(simple_option:"02 forest","Continue through the forest...")]<div class='tw-story-title'>Goblish</div>
**Professor Angharad Fflur, M.A., M.Litt., Ph.D., F.S.A., Chair of Goblinoid Studies, University of Thuulk**
*From "Comparative Xenolinguistics Quarterly," Vol. XXIII, 1242*
**Prefatory Warning**
What follows is a clinical examination of the most degraded language currently spoken in Zaelasia. I document this filth purely for academic completeness. That the Common tongue has absorbed certain Goblish obscenities—"thrack" being the most notorious—makes this work regrettably necessary.
**Introduction:**
Modern Goblish represents the most catastrophic linguistic devolution ever documented. Where Old Goblin texts reveal complex grammar with seventeen tenses and poetic formations rivaling the Telenil, contemporary Goblish has collapsed into roughly three hundred root words, over two-thirds relating to fornication or violence.
**Phonology:**
The modern goblin throat produces primarily:
- Glottal stops ('k, g'k, kr'k)
- Wet fricatives (particularly when discussing breeding)
- Pharyngeal grunts that accompany most sexual vocabulary
The language sounds, to quote my colleague Dr. Winters, "like someone choking on phlegm while attempting to describe an orgy."
**Grammar:**
Modern Goblish recognizes three tenses:
1. Past: "Grak thrack-uk" (I fucked)
2. Present: "Grak thrack-ik" (I fuck/am fucking)
3. Future: "Grak thrack-ok" (I will fuck)
There is no subjunctive. No conditional. Goblins no longer linguistically conceive of hypotheticals.
**Core Vocabulary:**
*Sexual Terminology:*
The goblins possess forty-three words for ejaculation, each specifying volume, force, and target. Some are derived from old Goblish, whereas many are loanwords or recombinations from the common tongue:
- **"Splurtik"**: To ejaculate weakly (considered insulting)
- **"Grok-splash"**: To ejaculate with sufficient force to impregnate
- **"Thrack-gush"**: To empty one's testicles completely in one coupling
- **"Skeet-uk"**: To ejaculate on a face specifically
- **"Womb-thrack"**: To ejaculate directly against the cervix
- **"Breed-belch"**: The act of ejaculating so voluminously it refluxes from the womb
For the act of copulation itself:
- **"Thrack"**: Basic fucking (has entered Common as profanity)
- **"Rut-thrack"**: Violent breeding
- **"Seed-stuff"**: To impregnate deliberately
- **"Cunt-wreck"**: To fuck until the female is permanently altered
- **"Skull-thrack"**: Forced oral penetration (lit. "fuck-skull")
Testicular terminology shows disturbing specificity:
- **"Ball-sludge"**: Accumulated semen after days without release
- **"Nut-drain"**: The act of complete testicular emptying
- **"Seed-sacks"**: Testicles (with seven variants based on fullness)
- **"Cum-brewing"**: The sensation of testicles refilling
- **"Spunk-heavy"**: The state of requiring immediate release
Female anatomy (exclusively for non-goblin females) reduces to:
- **"Breed-hole"**: Vagina
- **"Cum-tank"**: Womb
- **"Milk-sacks"**: Breasts
- **"Face-cunt"**: Mouth (when used sexually)
The verb "to cum" alone has twenty-eight conjugations based on volume:
- **"Skrit"**: To produce drops
- **"Glorp"**: To produce ropes
- **"Gush-thrack"**: To produce cups worth
- **"Flood-nut"**: To produce quarts (considered heroic)
**Violence Terminology**
Seventeen words for "kill," differentiated by method. Twelve words for "raid." No word for "peace" remains in the modern tongue.
**Material Culture & Value Systems**
Fascinating linguistic stratification exists in how goblins categorize plunder:
- **"Shinies"** (sh'NAI-eez): Non-magical valuables. Gold, gems, mundane treasures. Derived from the infantile Common "shiny things" but grammatically fossilized as a mass noun. "Got many shinies from dead humies" demonstrates typical usage.
- **"Sparklies"** (SPARK-uh-leez): Magical artifacts of power. The distinction from "shinies" suggests goblins retain some primitive recognition of arcane energy. "That sparkly got the booyagh" indicates magical potency recognition.
- **"Booyagh"** (BOO-yag): Perhaps the most linguistically complex remaining word. Originally "bugh-yaaagh" in Old Goblin, meaning "star-fire" or "heaven's wrath," it denoted powerful magic. Modern usage has degraded into a general intensifier meaning anything from "powerful" to "impressive" to "sexually appealing." Example: "She got booyagh in her backside" (she has an impressive posterior) versus "That wand got mad booyagh" (that wand contains significant magical power).
The semantic collapse of "booyagh" from divine magic to describing buttocks exemplifies Goblish devolution perfectly.
**Neologistic Creativity**
Most disturbing is Goblish's viral neologism generation. Goblins spontaneously create new word-combinations that other goblins immediately comprehend through some form of collective linguistic intuition. Field observations document:
- **"Tit-bounce-walk"**: Created on-sight to describe a particular female's gait
- **"Cum-drunk-face"**: Invented mid-raid, instantly adopted tribe-wide
- **"Hero-hole-maker"**: Spontaneous term for the collar artifact, understood without explanation
This phenomenon suggests Goblish operates partially as a *cryptolect*—a secret language that evolves faster than outsiders can decode. Dr. Margrave theorizes this rapid mutual intelligibility stems from pheromonal markers that accompany new terms, encoding meaning directly into the listener's linguistic cortex.
**Lost Concepts**
Modern Goblish entirely lacks words for:
- Love (beyond breeding urge)
- Art (except crude fertility symbols)
- Future planning (beyond next raid/rut)
- Consent (the closest is "not-fighting-anymore")
- Family (beyond "spawn" and "breeder")
- Any form of magic more complex than "booyagh" (despite historical evidence of goblin mages)
**Grammatical Horrors**
Possession is expressed solely through sexual dominance markers:
- "My woman" = "Cunt-I-filled" (Single word: "Thrackta")
- "My child" = "Spawn-I-spurted" ("Splurtling")
- "My territory" = "Where-I-spray" ("Skeet-ground")
- "My treasure" = "Shinies-I-grabbed" ("Grab-shine")
- "My artifact" = "Sparkly-mine-now" ("Mine-spark")
Counting relates exclusively to breeding or plunder:
- Numbers exist only to six (typical litter size)
- "Seven" translates as "many-cunts-worth"
- "Ten" becomes "two-hands-shinies"
- Higher numbers expressed as "all-the-sparklies" or "booyagh-many"
- Time measured in "ruts" (approximately three hours)
**Cultural Contamination**
Disturbingly, Goblish corrupts other languages through contact. Common-speaking soldiers returning from goblin conflicts introduce:
- "Thrack" (now widespread vulgarity)
- "Nut" (as verb, gaining currency in lower quarters)
- "Breed-crazy" (entering medical terminology for goblin pheromone exposure)
- "Booyagh" (adopted by Thuulk street gangs to mean "excellent")
- "Shinies" (used by children universally for treasures)
The Washerwomen's District in Thuulk has developed a pidgin incorporating:
- Goblish sexual imperatives
- Common grammatical structures
- Resulting in phrases like "gonna thrack-wise get bred-up"
- "Got mad booyagh after finding them sparklies"
**Linguistic Weapons**
Goblish pheromonal markers embed in certain phrases. Speaking "glork-thrack-breeding-time" repeatedly can trigger responsive dampness in exposed females. The goblin throat produces specific frequencies during "breed-words" that bypass cognitive resistance.
The word "booyagh" itself, when growled at the proper pharyngeal depth, can cause momentary disorientation in human females—a vestigial response to its magical origins.
Field Report: Three of my graduate students, after transcribing goblin mating-chants, required medical intervention for "spontaneous ovulation." The language itself becomes a reproductive weapon.
**Comparative Degradation**
Old Goblin (circa 800): "The moon-silver on water recalls my beloved's eyes"
Middle Goblin (circa 1000): "Female pretty, want coupling"
Modern Goblish (1242): "Cunt wet, thrack now, pump spawn"
Contemporary Goblish (1246): "Booyagh-tits need seed-stuffing for sparkly-shinies"
In four centuries, we observe complete linguistic collapse from poetry to pure breeding imperative mixed with primitive commerce.
**Adaptive Borrowing**
Goblish cannibalizes other languages with disturbing efficiency:
- Telenil "aethir" (soul) becomes "aeth-hole" (particularly tight orifice)
- Dwarvish "grundi" (foundation stone) becomes "grund-thrack" (missionary position)
- Common "sparkle" degraded to "sparkly" (magical item)
- Common "shine" devolved to "shiny" (valuable object)
This linguistic vampirism suggests goblins retain some deep structural capacity for language acquisition, perverted entirely toward breeding and plunder terminology.
**A Language's Death Rattle:**
Modern Goblish is not truly language but vocalized rape mixed with primitive commerce. Every utterance reinforces breeding, violence, or acquisition. Mothers cannot sing lullabies—the vocabulary doesn't exist. Fathers cannot tell stories beyond "fucked many, killed many, got booyagh shinies."
The spontaneous neologisms suggest the language attempts to evolve but can only generate new ways to describe degradation. It's a tongue that exists purely to coordinate violation and celebrate plunder.
The language will die with its speakers, leaving only the vulgar loanwords in Common as testament to their existence. Perhaps this is mercy.
I require strong wine after completing this documentation. My recommendation to the University: Goblish studies should be restricted to senior faculty with proven psychological fortitude. The language itself is a cognitive hazard.
(display:"divider")
*Professor Angharad Fflur*
*Department of Comparative Xenolinguistics*
*University of Thuulk*
**Post-Script:** My chambermaid, having glimpsed these notes, asked what "thrack" meant precisely. I told her it was untranslatable. She responded, "Oh, you mean like when they booyagh your sparkly-place?" I considered submitting my resignation on the spot.
**Editorial Note:** Three terms in this document have been magically redacted by University censors to prevent inadvertent pheromonal triggering in readers. The growing adoption of terms like "booyagh" in common parlance suggests our linguistic barriers are failing.<div class='tw-story-title'>The Slave-Knight's Vestments</div>
(pic:"status/armor pov.jpg","right")**Origin:** Transformation artifact (involuntary)
**Material:** Voidscale - metal unknown to mortal smiths
**Coverage:** Ceremonial (estimated 8% of body surface)
**Protection value:** None measurable
When the Collar of Maraan transforms a warrior, it wreaks changes upon armor as surely as upon flesh. What was once honest steel—breastplate and mail, greaves and gauntlets fitted for battle—becomes the Slave-Knight's Vestments, a cruel parody that mocks the very concept of protection.
The Vestments consist of three pieces, if pieces they can be called. Two triangular scales, each no larger than a child's palm, connected by chains of black metal fine as hair, serve to barely contain the breast. A single strip of the same scaled metal, narrow as a blade's edge, spans from waist to woman's cleft, disappearing between the haunches. The boots alone retain some semblance of their former purpose, though perverted—rising past the knee in articulated scales, they terminate in spikes that force the wearer to mince upon her toes like a court dancer.
**Properties**
The Voidscale responds not to its wearer but to its master. Where the transformed hero must struggle with clasps that hide beneath flesh and hooks that multiply when touched, the collar's bearer need only gesture for the scales to part like water. The metal runs always cold against skin, save when its wearer feels shame—then it burns without leaving marks.
Most peculiar is the Vestments' weight. Though mere scraps of metal, they hang heavy as full plate upon the spirit. The chains between the breast-scales bear down upon the shoulders as if they carried the weight of every abandoned oath. The boots, for all their hollow construction, make each step ring like a funeral bell.
(pic:"status/thong.jpg")($play:"song","ridden music")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/2.png")($play:"ambience","everbloom dusk ambience")(if:$choice is "Submit and crawl.")[The words that leave my mouth taste like ash and defeat.
"Please... just... I'll crawl."(playwhenread:"ill crawl")
($change_stat:"heroism",-10)Not the full degradation he wanted. Not 'Master.' Not 'pretty pony.' But enough surrender that his yellow eyes light up with glee.
($change_stat:"snib",1)"Smart cow!" He claps his hands like I've performed a trick. "See? Already learnin'."
He circles behind me, and I hear him spit in his palms, rubbing them together. Then his fingers sink into my hair—not gentle, not cruel, just *functional*. Like gripping reins.
"Let's go then. Into the trees. Can't use the main road—yer too pretty now, might cause trouble."
He tugs left, toward the forest line. My palms press into dirt and pine needles as I start to move. The first crawl-step forward and—
($hidden_gem:"My tits swing down like grain sacks on loose rope, pulling at my shoulders with their momentum.","My tits tumble down like two tremendous sacks on stressed rope, yanking at my yielding shoulders with their momentum.")
The weight of them. Flux's balls, the WEIGHT. They don't just hang—they *pull*. Each forward motion sets them swinging in a figure-eight pattern, the left one going forward as the right swings back, then reversing. The metal triangles can't contain them; flesh spills out around the edges, pink crescents where the scales bite deep. They brush the ground when I lean too far forward, picking up dirt and leaves.
"Hehehehe! Look at 'em go!" Snib bounces on my back, his weight negligible but his presence enormous. "Like two piglets fighting in a sack!"
My hands sink into loam. The forest floor is soft here, centuries of pine needles making a carpet. But crawling—humans aren't meant to crawl like this. My spine wants to arch up but his weight keeps it pressed down. My hips are too wide, making my knees splay outward. And these fucking boots—
Wait. They've... changed?
The metal extends higher now, past my knees, with ridged padding on the caps. Like they're *designed* for crawling. The armor WANTS me to crawl. It's helping me crawl. The realization makes bile rise in my throat.
"Not the road. Forest path. That way." He steers me toward a barely visible track between the pines. Goblin trail. Where his dead kin came from.
I crawl.
Pine needles stick to my palms. My tits drag through dirt and dead leaves with each forward motion, collecting forest debris. The weight of them pulls my spine into an arch that makes my ass rise higher, presenting it. Whisperwind drags behind us on its leash from my collar, my legendary blade scraping through mud.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/dragging sword.jpg","Whisperwind drags behind us on its leash from my collar, my legendary blade scraping through mud.")
"Ye know what yer new name is?" Snib asks conversationally, like we're having tea. "The collar told me. Real pretty name for a pretty thing."(playwhenread:"yer names elise")
I don't answer. Can't. Just focus on moving forward. Right hand. Left knee. Tits swing left. Right knee. Right hand. Tits swing right. The rhythm is hypnotic in its humiliation.
"Elise." He draws it out. "Eee-leese. El-EESE." Each pronunciation more mocking than the last. "The collar knows all about ye, Elise. Knows ye were Aldric. Knows about yer wife—"
"Don't—"
He yanks my hair hard enough that my back arches, tits swinging backward to slap against my ribs. "Knows ye were trying to put a baby in her. Bet she's wondering where her big strong husband went. Aldric's dead. Been dead since the collar clicked."
Tears blur my vision. I crawl forward, deeper into the Everbloom. The sun is getting low, casting long shadows through the pines. My knees are already raw, even through the weird metal padding. My palms sting. But worse is the weight—always the weight. Every movement sets them swinging, and I can't predict it, can't control it. Sometimes they swing together, sometimes opposite, sometimes one gets caught on something and pulls me sideways.(playwhenread:"horsey")
Twenty minutes. Thirty. My arms shake. Sweat runs down my face, down my back, pooling where Snib sits. The forest is thick here, untraveled. Branches catch my hair. Thorns scrape the exposed sides of my tits. I'm panting like a dog, each breath making them sway more.
"Getting tired already?" Snib shifts on my back. "We got miles to go."
That's when I feel him moving, adjusting. Something drops onto my lower back—fabric. His loincloth. He's...
"Just airin' out," he says cheerfully. "Gets sweaty under there."
The smell intensifies tenfold—concentrated goblin musk, like rotted cheese mixed with battlefield latrines. But worse is what comes next. I feel him shift, skin against my hair, and then—
Weight. On my skull. Heavy, warm, *alive*.
It can't be. He didn't. He wouldn't—
"Ahhhhh." He sighs with satisfaction. "Much better. Nothin' like fresh air on the boys."
I feel his weight shift forward. His hands grip my hair tighter, using it for balance. Then something else touches the back of my neck.
Weight. Warm, living weight. Like two overripe plums in a leather sack, pressed against where my neck meets my skull. They're hot, almost fever-hot, and I can feel them... churning? Moving? The skin is wrinkled, rough, dragging against my neck as he adjusts. The smell hits me a second later—concentrated musk, like a stable that's never been mucked out, mixed with something fungal.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/ride.jpg","His balls. His fucking balls are resting on my neck.")
"Keep going," he says, voice lazy now. "Long way yet."
I sob. Actually sob. But I crawl forward, and that's when I feel something else. A weight on top of my head. Heavy, warm, draped from his groin over my skull like a sleeping snake. It shifts when he moves, sliding against my hair. The weight of it is obscene—how can something attached to a creature so small be so heavy? It pulls at my scalp, making my head tilt forward.
"Yer hair's real soft," he notes, using it to steady himself. "Good for holdin'."
His cock. That's his cock on my head. That massive, purple thing I glimpsed is just... resting on me. Using me like a shelf.
The forest path gets rougher. I have to navigate roots, rocks. Each obstacle makes me shift, which makes my tits swing wildly, which makes him bounce, which makes that thing on my head... flex.
Just a small movement. A twitch. But I feel it pulse, feel it grow slightly heavier. Warmer.
"Ye were so proud," he says dreamily. "Big hero. Dragon slayer. Now look at ye. Crawlin' through dirt with yer udders draggin', gobbococked." He made that word up but I understand it perfectly.
Another flex. Stronger. The weight shifts forward slightly, sliding down toward my forehead. I can feel the shape of it now through my hair—thick as my wrist (my old wrist), with a ridge that catches on my hair as it moves.
"Elise the Great," he giggles. "Elise the Crawler. Elise the Tit-Wagon."
It's growing. I can feel it extending, getting heavier, sliding further forward. The head of it must be past my hairline now because I feel something wet drip onto my scalp. Just a drop. Warm and thick.
"Oops," Snib says, not sounding sorry at all. "Gettin' excited. Can't help it with all this bouncin'."
Another drop. This one runs down through my hair, following my part. I want to shake my head, to dislodge him, but the collar is there, always there, promising consequences.
We crest a small hill and I see it—miles of forest ahead. The Everbloom stretches into the distance, and somewhere beyond that, the desert where he lives. This is impossible. I'll collapse. My arms are already shaking, my knees bleeding through the metal guards.](else:)[I plant my palms harder into the dirt, trying to lock my elbows.
"No."
The word comes out stronger than I feel. My whole body is shaking—rage, fear, humiliation all mixing into something toxic.
"I'm not your fucking mount. I'm not your ANYTHING. I'll die before I—"
The collar remembers what it is.
Ice-cold iron becomes a closing fist. Not gradually—instantly. My hands fly to my throat, abandoning their support. I topple forward and my tits—Flux's balls, the WEIGHT of them—swing down like two overfilled grain sacks dropped from height. They hit the earth with dual thuds that knock the wind from me, compressed between my ribcage and cold dirt, flesh bulging sideways like dough pressed flat.
Can't breathe. Can't even gag. Just silent thrashing as the collar squeezes tighter, tighter—
"Stubborn cow," Snib observes, like commenting on weather.
His foot connects with my ass—not a kick, just a push. But with no air, no balance, I sprawl forward. My face hits dirt. My ass goes up, the metal thong riding so deep between the cheeks it feels like being split. The position—face down, ass up—would be humiliating if I weren't dying.
Black flowers bloom across my vision. My mouth opens and closes like a landed fish. The weight on my chest makes it worse—can't expand my lungs even if air could enter.
Then, just as darkness creeps in from the edges, the collar loosens.
A thread of air. Then more. I gasp, cough, retch all at once. Spit and snot string from my face to the ground.
"See?" Snib's already climbing onto my back while I'm still choking on air. "Could've just said yes. I just want a ride."
($hidden_gem:"His weight settles between my shoulder blades like a sack of wet grain.","His weight worms between my wilting shoulder blades like waterlogged, wriggling grain.")
I try to buck him off but my arms are jelly. His legs wrap around my ribs, heels digging into the soft flesh of my sides just below these obscene sacks of meat. His hands find my hair—not grabbing yet, just... gathering it. Like picking up reins.
"Now then." He shifts, getting comfortable. My spine screams from the awkward angle. "Let's try again. Crawl."
"Get... off..."
He yanks my hair. Hard. My head snaps back, neck arching painfully. From this angle I can see the canopy above, the late afternoon sun filtering through pine needles.
"I said CRAWL."
The collar pulses. A warning.
My arms shake as I push up. The movement makes everything swing—these massive bags of flesh hanging from my chest have their own momentum, pulling me forward then back as they find their pendulum rhythm. Each motion tugs at muscles that weren't designed for this weight.
"There we go!" Snib sounds delighted. "Now forward. Into the woods."
I take one "step" forward—hand, then knee. The metal boots scrape and catch on everything. That's when I notice they've... changed. The metal extends higher now, past my knees, articulated to bend the right way. Padded on the inside where my shins press the ground.
They're made for this. Made for crawling.
"Good pony!" He steers me with my hair toward a barely-visible trail between the pines. Goblin tracks—I recognize the gait pattern from years of hunting them. "Follow me mates' trail. They came through here to get to the mine."
Each crawl forward is its own humiliation. The tits don't just hang—they swing in figure-eights, colliding with my arms, the nipples dragging through dirt and pine needles when I lean too low. The metal triangles might as well not exist for all they cover. My ass is so high that the thong has vanished entirely between the cheeks, leaving them completely bare to the cooling air.
"Ye know what the collar told me?" Snib chatters as he rides me like I'm a fucking mule. "Says yer name's not Aldric anymore."(playwhenread:"yer names elise")
My hands clench in the dirt.
"Says yer Elise now." He tests it out, rolling it around his mouth like wine. "Eeeee-lise. El-EESE. Elise the pony. Elise the cow. Elise the three-holes."
Each variation of my—NOT MY NAME—sends fresh rage through me. But rage is useless when you're on all fours with a goblin's weight on your back.
"Collar knows everything about ye, El-eese." He pronounces it different each time, like he's savoring the destruction of my identity. "Knows about yer wife. Pretty thing, brown hair? Elara?"
I stop crawling. My whole body goes rigid. "It's fucking RED."
"Keep moving." Yank on my hair.(playwhenread:"horsey")
My knees are already raw through the metal padding. Whisperwind drags behind us from a strap on the collar, my legendary blade scarring the earth like a child's toy.
"Knows how ye were tryin' to make babies with her." He's getting excited—I can feel his weight shifting, something hardening against my back through his loincloth. "Bet she's wondering where her big strong hero went."
Tears blur my vision. Not from pain—from pure, distilled humiliation. The great Aldric, crawling through the forest with tits swinging like church bells.
That's when he shifts again. Reaches back. I hear rustling and then—weight on my ass. He's put something there.
"Me loincloth," he explains. "Balls need air after all that excitement."
I don't understand what he means until—
Weight.
On top of my head.
Heavy. Warm. Like someone draped a leather-wrapped club across my skull from back to front. It extends from my crown down toward my forehead, thick as my wrist—thicker maybe. The shape of it through my hair...
No.
His balls settle against the nape of my neck. I can FEEL them through my hair—heavy as ripe plums, fever-hot, shifting with each breath he takes. The skin textured with coarse hair that scratches. They're... they're massive. How does something his size have...
"Keep crawling, Elise."
(pic:"ch02/bad end/ride.jpg","His balls. His fucking balls are resting on my neck.")
The thing on my head shifts. Flexes. Like a snake stirring.
"Just airin' out," he says conversationally. "Gets sweaty under that loincloth. Yer hair's nice and cool."
I sob. Actually sob. The sound tears from my throat without permission.
"Aww, ye cryin' already? We're just gettin' started!"
He yanks my hair to steer me around a fallen log. The motion makes his... equipment... slide forward. The weight redistributes, the tip now hanging over my forehead. I can feel it pulsing with his heartbeat. Each throb makes it twitch against my skull.
"Ye know what's funny?" He's getting more excited—the thing on my head is definitely swelling, extending. "That fancy armor ye got? Made for crawlin'. Boots shaped for it and everything. Like the collar knew ye'd end up on all fours."
My hair frames my face like a funeral shroud. Through the black strands I can see my tits swinging below, hypnotic in their motion. Left-forward-down-back-right. Right-forward-down-back-left. Pine needles stick to the sweaty flesh.
"Smell that?" He takes a deep breath. "That's you. Smell like... like flowers and pussy and somethin' else. Sweet-like."
He leans forward, pressing his chest against my back, and SNIFFS my hair. Long and loud, like sampling wine.
"Mmmmm. No wonder the collar picked ye. Smell like ye were made for—"
The thing on my head throbs. Extends another inch. The tip is past my forehead now, its shadow visible in my peripheral vision.]
"Pretty sunset," Snib observes. "Gonna be dark soon. Hope ye can crawl blind."
That's when I feel it. The first string.
Something warm and thick touches my forehead. Not a drop—a strand. It dangles from the tip of that monster resting on my head, swaying with each crawl forward. I cross my eyes trying to see it and catch a glimpse—cloudy white, thick as honey, stretching down...down...
It touches the bridge of my nose.
The strand swings like a grotesque pendulum between my eyes. Left with each right-hand-forward. Right with each left-knee. The smell of it—concentrated rot mixed with something chemical—makes my nostrils burn. It's so thick it doesn't break, just stretches longer, another inch of vile fluid descending from whatever hellish gland produces this filth.
"Hehe," Snib giggles, feeling his cock twitch again. "Look at that. Ye got a little decoration."
(simple_option:"02 forest crawl","Try to shake it off!")(set:$name to "Elise")($play:"song","snib hut theme")(if:$choice is "Accept deal.")[(pic:"ch02/submit.jpg")
Choice. That word again. Everything with him is about making me choose my own degradation.
"And if I bite?" The threat comes out weak.
"Then the collar kills ye and I fuck yer corpse." He says it simply. "But ye won't bite. Heroes don't go out like that."
He's right. Flux burn him, he's right. I'd rather suck his cock than die with it in my mouth.
"Just... just sucking?" My voice is barely a whisper. "Nothing else?"
"Just sucking. Like a good little cock-maid. Though..." He pretends to think. "Ye gotta do it proper. No half-assed licks. Real throat-work. The kind that makes me balls empty proper. And ye gotta thank me after."
"Thank you?!"
"For the opportunity. For not mounting ye like I could." He's fully erect now, the head purple-dark and already leaking. "So what's it gonna be, cow-tits? Seven days of morning worship, or a lifetime of gobbo babies?"
The precum dripping from his cock makes my nostrils burn. That familiar stench from yesterday, concentrated. My thoughts are scattered, honey-slow. I can't think straight with that smell filling the hut.
"Ye're strong, yeah? Big hero like you can handle some cock-snot. Spit it out."
*Cock-snot.* The vulgarity makes me gag but also... also my pussy clenches. Why does my pussy clench?
"Tonight after dinner," I hear myself say. "Then mornings. Seven days. Then I'm free."
"If ye want to be," he adds again, that knowing grin spreading. "Shake on it?"
I look at his extended hand. Warty. Dirty. Probably covered in cock-sweat from all that scratching.
I take it.
His grip is firm, warm. "Welcome home, Elise. Let's get ye settled in yer new life."
The hide flap of his hut beckons like a mouth. Beyond it, shadows and stench and seven days of degradation I'm choosing. CHOOSING.
But what choice do I really have?
"Oh," he adds casually, "first suck is after dinner. Give ye time to prepare yerself mentally. Maybe practice openin' yer throat."
(simple_option:"02 bj 1","That evening...")](else:)[(pic:"ch02/determined.jpg")
The words hang in the fetid air of his hovel like visible things. Seven days. Seven mornings of... of putting that purple-headed monster in my mouth. The thought alone makes bile rise.
"I need to..." My voice sounds strange, distant. "I need to think about—"
"Think?" Snib scratches his balls through his loincloth, the wet sound filling the silence. "What's to think? Either ye want freedom or ye want gobbo babies. Simple math, even for a woman-brain like yers."
*Woman-brain.* The insult should ignite rage but it just... slides off. Like water on oiled leather. Everything feels slippery in my thoughts, hard to grip. Must be exhaustion. Must be hunger. Must be anything except—
That smell. His cock-stench is everywhere in this hut, concentrated from months of him sleeping here, rutting here, spurting his seed on these very furs. It coats the inside of my nostrils like lamp oil, seeping deeper with each breath. Making my thoughts move through honey.
"Seven days," I hear myself whisper. Testing the words. They taste like copper and surrender. "Just mornings. Just... sucking."
"That's right, cow-tits." He's fully hard now, his cock pushing his loincloth out like a tent pole. A wet spot spreads where the tip presses against the fabric. "Just drainin' these heavy balls so they don't ache. That's practically a kindness yer doing."
($hidden_gem:"My mind tries to form the word 'no' but it keeps dissolving.","My mind attempts making the word 'no' but it keeps melting, dispersing like mist.")
I watch a bead of precum soak through his loincloth. Watch it grow from coin-sized to palm-sized. The rational part of me—Aldric's part—screams warnings about pheromones, about corruption, about what happens to women exposed to goblin seed. But that voice sounds so far away now. Like someone shouting from another room while I'm underwater.
"I won't..." The words are thick, slow. "I'm not going to..."
But even as I speak, my knees are bending. Just slightly. My body tilting forward like a flower toward sick sunlight. The metal boots scrape against his floor—dirt and old bones and things I don't want to identify—as I take a tiny step closer.
"See?" His grin widens. "Yer body knows what's best. Smart body on a silly hero."
(minigame:"02 resist",6)]($play:"song","ridden music")($play:"ambience","everbloom daytime ambience")The silence stretches between us like a held breath. The miners are gone. My last hope, running down the path into the Everbloom.
Snib scratches his balls through his loincloth, studying me with those yellow eyes. I'm still on my knees in the dirt, tears cutting tracks through dust on this soft face that isn't mine.
"Well." He draws the word out, tasting it. "That was real stupid, weren't it?"
($change_stat:"snib",-5)
He starts circling me. Slow. Deliberate. Like a wolf that's already eaten and is just deciding what to do with leftovers. Whisperwind drags behind him, tip scarring the earth.
"Thought they'd save ye?" He stops directly behind me. I feel his gaze on my ass, on the way the metal strap disappears between cheeks that are too large, too soft. "Three humans against a big scary goblin horde?"
"There IS no horde—"
*CRACK!*(playwhenread:"spank 1")
His palm connects with my right asscheek hard enough to knock me forward. My hands shoot out to catch myself, and suddenly I'm on all fours. The position—Flux's balls, the POSITION. These udders hang straight down, swaying like overripe fruit. The metal triangles dig deeper, barely containing the flesh that wants to spill free.
"See, that's the funny part." Another spank, lighter, almost thoughtful. "They think there's dozens of us. Think Aldric the Great got himself killed." He laughs, that wet chittering. "And here ye are, the great hero himself, on hands and knees with yer arse in the air."
($hidden_gem:"The shame burns hotter than his handprint on my ass.","The shame scalds and sears, surpassing his scarlet handprint on my ass.")
I try to push up, to stand, but he plants his foot between my shoulder blades. Not hard. Just... present. A reminder.
"Stay."(playwhenread:"ye called for help")
One word. Like I'm a dog.
"I'm not—"
"Ye called for help after I told ye not to." His foot grinds down slightly, forcing my chest lower. The position makes my ass rise higher, makes these tits hang even more obscenely. "That's real disobedient, cow-tits. Real ungrateful."
"Ungrateful?! You fucking—"
"Could've just killed ye." He removes his foot, walks around to face me. Has to crouch to meet my eyes since I'm on all fours. "Could've bent ye over right there, showed them miners what heroes become. But I didn't. I'm being nice. Slow-like."
His loincloth shifts. The outline is massive. The *tip* of that accursed thing presses against the fabric, leaving a wet spot that grows as I watch. The smell of it makes my nostrils flare.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/wedgie.jpg")
"But ye had to go yellin'." He stands, scratches his chin like he's thinking deep thoughts. "Now I gotta teach ye proper. Make sure ye understand the rules."
"Rules?" I spit the word. "I don't follow your—"
He tugs the leash. Not hard, just a reminder it's there. The collar doesn't tighten, but I feel its weight. Its promise.
"See, here's what yer gonna do." He walks behind me again, and I hear him adjusting himself. The wet sound of his cock sliding against his belly. "Gonna be me transport now. Me pretty pony."
"What?"
"Ye heard me." He's standing directly behind me now. I can feel the heat of him, smell that concentrated reek. "Heroes used to ride horses, yeah? Well, now yer the horse. Poetic justice, the collar calls it."
"I won't—"
"Won't ye?" His voice drops, becomes almost conversational. "Ye can say no. Can try to stand up. And I'll just..." He trails off, but his hand finds my ass again. Not spanking. Just... holding. Possessing. "Well, I'll make ye do it anyway. Collar'll squeeze that pretty throat. Ye'll pass out. Wake up with me balls on yer face. Or..."
His thumb traces the line where the metal thong disappears between my cheeks. The touch is light but devastating. No one should be touching me there. Not there.
"Or ye can be smart. Crawl nice-like. Play pony for a bit. I bet those boots are hurtin' ya anyway."
The humiliation of it crashes over me in waves. Being given a choice that isn't a choice. Submit willingly or be forced.
"Tick tock," he says cheerfully. "Sun's gettin' low. Long walk to me hut. Prettier ye'll look crawlin' in the dark, but I'd rather see them tits swing in daylight."
I think of Elara. Of what she'd say seeing her husband—her HUSBAND—on all fours with a goblin on my back. The image makes me want to vomit.(playwhenread:"oh were begging now")
"Please." The word escapes before I can stop it. "Please just walk. I'll follow. I won't run. Just—"
"Oh, we're beggin' now?" He sounds delighted. "Big strong hero's beggin' not to be a pony?" He leans down, his breath hot on my ear. "Tell ye what. Ye ask real nice—real, REAL nice—to be me mount, and I won't make ye trot. Just a walk. Nice and slow."
"I... I can't..."
"Sure ye can! Just say..." He puts on a high, mocking voice. "'Please, Master Snib, let me be yer pretty pony. I promise to crawl real good with me tits swingin'.'"
The rage that floods me is volcanic. But under it, drowning in it, is something worse.
Fear.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/fallen.jpg")
Because I know—I KNOW—he'll make good on his threats. The collar will force me. And it will be worse than if I just...
No. I'm Aldric the Great. I don't crawl for goblins. I don't become anyone's mount. I'd rather die than—
(simple_option:"02 pony","Submit and crawl.","Refuse.")(set:$name to "???")(set:$map_position to (a: 772,2341))(map: (a: 348, 2232),(a:506,2337),(a: 772,2341))
($play:"song","ridden music")($play:"sex loop","horsey")($play:"ambience","everbloom river ambience")The strand swings between my eyes with each crawl forward. Left. Right. Left. The weight of it—how can something so thin have weight? But it does, pulling at the tip of his cock where it rests on my skull like a grotesque crown.
I know about goblin pheromones. Every soldier does. The warnings whispered in barracks about captured women found in warrens, their minds gone, begging for more goblin seed. "Don't let them get their filth on you," the veterans would say. "Once it's in you, you're done."
This strand—this rope of precum—dangles inches from my mouth.
($hidden_gem:"I try to blow it away but my breath just makes it swing wider.","I blow breathlessly but my breath barely budges it, just broadens its swing.")
The heat of his cock on my head increases. I feel it extending, sliding forward through my hair. The weight shifts from the crown of my skull toward my forehead. Another flex—I feel the veins pulse against my scalp—and the strand gets thicker. No longer thread-thin but rope-thick, cloudy white with yellow streaks.
"Down the hill now," Snib says lazily, steering me with my hair. "Watch yer footin'."
The slope makes everything worse. My tits don't just hang—they swing forward with gravity, pulling my shoulders down until my neck screams. The weight of them stretches the metal triangles until I hear tiny pings of stressed metal. Snib has to lean back to compensate, which presses his balls harder against my neck. They're so hot they feel like they're burning my skin, and the weight—like two stones in a leather pouch, grinding against my vertebrae.
His hips start moving. Small circles. Just enjoying the ride.
"Dame Jiggles," he muses. "Nah. Lady Sway-a-lot. Better." Another hip circle. His cock slides further forward. "Or maybe just Elise the Glazed."
I don't understand until another drop falls. This one lands on my forehead, immediately running down toward my nose. It's thick as porridge, warm as fresh milk. The smell—Eon's mercy, the smell. Like cheese left in the sun mixed with something fungal, something wrong.
"Please—" The word comes out as a whimper. "Please stop—"
"Stop what?" He sounds genuinely curious. "Can't help it if ye make me cock happy. All that crawlin' and swayin'. That's on you."
I try to shake my head, to fling the strand away. It stretches but doesn't break, just swings wider, slapping against my cheeks before returning to center. The motion makes his cock flex again—a strong pulse that sends another glob sliding down the strand. It descends slowly, thickening the rope until it's heavy enough that I feel it pulling at my nose.
The strand finally breaks—not cleanly, but in a stringy mess that drapes across the bridge of my nose. Some lands on my upper lip. The stench is immediate, overwhelming. I stop crawling, reach up to wipe it away—
"Did I say stop?" His voice turns sharp. "Bad pony stops without permission."
"There's—you're LEAKING on me—"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/dangle.jpg")
"That's yer fault for being so bouncy." He laughs, grinding his balls against my neck. "This is yer medicine for yellin' earlier. Heroes need to learn their place."(playwhenread:"yer fault for yellin earlier")
I try to wipe it with the back of my hand but I'm shaking, exhausted, and I just smear it across my face. Some gets on my fingers. The consistency is vile—sticky and thick, with occasional chunks that might be clotted sperm. The smell coats the inside of my nostrils.
"Keep goin'. Sun's almost down."
I crawl forward. Down the hill, through the thick pine needles. My tits drag through everything—dirt, leaves, thorns. The metal triangles are so stressed they've shifted, and my nipples are exposed, scraping against debris. Every few feet, Snib's cock flexes and more precum drools down. It's getting worse. What started as drops is now a steady leak.
"Sir Swings-a-lot," he giggles, watching my tits. "Knight of the Sloppy Teats. Champion of Crawlin'."(playwhenread:"sir swings a lot")
I'm sobbing now. Actually sobbing as I crawl through the forest with a goblin's cock draped over my head like a hat, his precum running down my face. This morning I was inside my wife. This morning I was Aldric the Great. Now I'm—
The purple head of his cock slides into my peripheral vision.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/hopeless.jpg","left")It's grown so much it now extends past my hairline, the swollen head visible above my eyes when I look up. Purple-black like a bruised plum, with the hole at the tip constantly weeping. I watch in horror as it flexes and a thick rope of precum spurts out, arcing down to splatter across my nose and cheek.
"STOP!" I shriek, stopping again. "Please, just—"
I reach up to wipe it away, desperate to get it off, but my hand is shaking and I'm panting and—
I inhale at the wrong moment.
The precum goes straight up my nostril. Not a drop—a rope of it, thick and chunky. It BURNS, like inhaling liquid fire. I snort, trying to expel it, but that just pulls it deeper. The burn spreads through my sinuses, behind my eyes, into my brain—
($change_stat:"heroism",-10)Everything smells like goblin semen now.
The forest. The dirt. My own sweat. It all reeks of that concentrated musk. My vision shimmers at the edges like heat mirages. I shake my head, trying to clear it, but that just makes his cock bounce and leak more.
"Hehe, snorted it did ye?" Snib sounds delighted. "That'll teach ye."
(pic:"ch02/stream.jpg","The Pitchwater River, black with pine tannins.")
We finally reach water—the Pitchwater River, black with pine tannins. I'm beyond exhausted. My arms shake uncontrollably. My knees are bloody even through the padding. My tits are covered in dirt and scratches. Goblin precum is drying on my face in crusty yellowed streaks.
"Please," I gasp. "Please, I need to rest. Please—"
"Yeah, alright. Good spot for the night." He stretches on my back, his cock sliding back slightly but still very much present. "Get us set up then."
He climbs off—finally, FINALLY—and I collapse immediately. My arms give out and I face-plant into the pine needles, ass in the air, too exhausted to care about the position. Everything hurts. Everything stinks of his precum. I can still feel the phantom weight of his balls on my neck.
"Up up!" He kicks my ass lightly. "Horses don't just lay down. Go drink first. Horsey needs water."
I try to stand. The boots won't let me. The metal is locked at that extreme angle, forcing me to stay on all fours. He's standing there naked, his massive cock still semi-hard, swinging between his legs as he laughs.
"Crawl to the water then, Sir Swings-a-lot. Lap it up like the animal ye are."
The humiliation burns but I'm so thirsty. I crawl to the river's edge on trembling limbs, lower my head to the black water. Have to lap at it like a dog, my tits dragging in the mud. The water tastes of pine and earth but it's cold, clean—
I hear splashing. Look up. Snib is standing upstream, maybe twenty feet away.
Pissing into the river.
His stream arcs through the air, thick as my thumb, splashing into the water that's flowing directly toward me. He's grinning, making eye contact as he does it.
I pull back, sputtering, wiping my mouth. He laughs so hard he nearly falls over.
"Should've seen yer face!" He shakes the last drops off, his cock bouncing. "Now. Shelter. Chop chop."
"Let me stand. Please. I need to stand to—"
He considers, scratching his balls. "Yeah, alright. Stand."
The boots unlock with an audible CLICK. I push myself up on shaking legs, having to lean against a tree. Everything spins. The smell of his precum is still coating my sinuses, making me lightheaded. My tits feel like they weigh fifty pounds each, pulling at my shoulders.
He tosses me Whisperwind. "Make us something nice. Heroes know how to make camp, yeah?"
I catch my sword—my sword in his hands all day, defiled—and sob.
(simple_option:"02 build shelter","Go to work.")(set:$map_position to (a: 1518,2288))(map:)
($play:"song",0)($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","night prayer")($play:"ambience","everbloom night ambience")I cut branches. Lean them against a fallen log. Cover with pine boughs. The kind of shelter I've made a hundred times, but never like this.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/stream night.jpg","Just the moon through pine branches and the sound of the Pitchwater running black and cold.")
The forest is dark now. Just the moon through pine branches and the sound of the Pitchwater running black and cold. I've built my own small shelter twenty feet from his—as far as the leash allows. Just branches and pine boughs, but it's mine.
Snib is already asleep in his, snoring wetly. Using his own filthy loincloth as a pillow. His cock draped over his thigh like a sleeping snake, still semi-hard, occasionally twitching in his dreams. Completely relaxed. Completely unafraid.
Of me. Of Aldric the Great.
($hidden_gem:"The hero who made goblins check under their beds is now nothing to fear.","The hero who had whole hordes hiding under beds is now nothing he needs to fear.")
The worst part is he's right not to fear me. If I tried to smother him with pine boughs, the collar would strangle me first. If I tried to run, it would probably just kill me. I'm trapped more thoroughly than any prison cell.
I sob. The sound is high, broken, nothing like my voice should be. These tits heave with each breath, the metal triangles cutting into flesh that's already raw from a day of crawling. Everything hurts. My knees are scabbed even through that weird padding. My palms are blistered. My shoulders scream from carrying these weights on my chest all day.
But the worst is the smell that won't leave.
It's coating the inside of my nose like oil. That rope of precum I snorted—it burns still, hours later. The scent is complex in the worst way: rotted fish guts mixed with cheese rind, undercut with something chemical like the tanner's vats, but also something alive, something fertile. It makes my stomach turn but also... also something else. Something I refuse to acknowledge. Every breath I take carries that reek into my lungs, like I'm breathing him, breathing his essence.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/shelters.jpg")
And under that, almost worse—my own scent.
I smell nothing like Aldric anymore. The river water revealed it when I washed. My sweat smells like honey mixed with flowers I can't name. My hair, even wet, carries lavender and something darker. My skin itself seems to emit this perfume—cloying, feminine, designed to appeal. When the wind shifts, I catch it full force and want to gag.
(playwhenread:"keeper of what was")I kneel by the tallest pine tree hands clasped, and try to pray.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/pray 1.jpg","right")"Eon, Keeper of What Was," my voice cracks, these musical tones nothing like the gravel I used to pray with, "remember me. Remember Aldric. Remember his strength, his sword, his service. Remember the man who saved Eboncrest from the basilisk. Remember the husband who loved Elara with everything he had. You have to remember because... because I'm forgetting. This body makes me forget. Please, in your ledgers, keep me true. Keep me real. Don't let me dissolve into... this."
The wind through pines is my only answer.
"Flux, Turner of All Things," tears stream down this soft face, "you who dance in change—change me BACK. This isn't transformation, it's desecration. This isn't your dance, it's rape. I'll give anything—my magic, my reputation, years of my life. Just turn the wheel backward. Just this once. I know you flow forward but please, PLEASE, make an exception. Let me hold Elara with my own hands again. Let me stand to piss. Let me exist without these things hanging from my chest. Please."
Nothing. Just Snib's snoring.
"Verge, Keeper of the Threshold," I'm sobbing harder now, "I stand at your door. I'm at the precipice of something terrible. Show me through. Show me the path that leads home. Open a door that doesn't lead to degradation. I'm at the edge of becoming something else, something horrible, and I need your guidance. Don't let me cross into what he wants me to be. Keep me on this side of humanity. Please. PLEASE."
The forest swallows my third prayer.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/pray 2.jpg","left")"Please..." I whisper to nothing. "I saved cities. I killed monsters. I was...I was good. Wasn't I good? Why would you let this happen? Why would you make me..."
My hands move to these breasts without thinking, holding their weight to relieve my shoulders. The flesh is soft, warm, yielding. Real. Too real. The metal triangles barely cover my nipples, which have hardened in the cold night air into peaks that scrape against the scales with each breath. Everything about this body is hypersensitive, responsive in ways that horrify me.
"Is this punishment?" I ask the stars. "For the goblins I killed? They were monsters! They raid, they rape, they—"
The irony chokes me. Here I am, owned by one. Ridden like a horse by one.
The gods don't answer. They never do, but tonight their silence feels personal.
Elara. Oh, Elara. What did she do today? Did she cook dinner for two, waiting for me? Is she in our bed now, wondering why it's cold? Does she think I'm dead? That might be better—cleaner than the truth. "Your husband got turned into a goblin's pet with tits like ripe melons" isn't something she should ever have to hear.
I try to find a position to sleep. Everything hurts. Lying on my back makes the metal triangles dig deeper and these weights pull sideways into my armpits. On my side, the bottom tit goes numb while the top one flops over, the nipple touching the ground through gaps in the pine boughs. On my stomach is impossible—they're too big, pushing me up like I'm lying on grain sacks.
The metal armor is cutting into me everywhere. The triangles leave red crescents in breast flesh. The thong between my legs has rubbed me raw from all that crawling. The collar is constant cold pressure.
But taking it off...
Can I even? Will it let me?
I reach for the clasp of the top and find... nothing. No clasp. The metal seems fused. But when I think about removing it—really think—I feel it loosen slightly.
It wants me to choose. The armor wants me to CHOOSE to be naked.
(simple_option:"02 sleep choice","Remove the armor.","Keep it on.")($play:"song","night prayer")($play:"ambience","everbloom night ambience")(if:$choice is "Remove the armor.")[(pic:"ch02/bad end/remove bra.jpg")
The metal triangles fall away with a soft *clink*.
($change_stat:"heroism",-2)($hidden_gem:"My breasts drop free with a weight that makes me gasp.","My breasts break free with a bouncing weight that brings a gasp.")
They're... heavier. Without even the minimal support of those triangles, they hang like overripe melons from my chest, pulling at skin that's never carried such weight. The aureolae are huge—wide as my palm, dusky pink circles that darken toward the centers where my nipples sit like nail-heads. The cold air makes them tighten further, puckering into peaks that ache with sensitivity.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/pussy.jpg","right","I look down for the first time. Really look.")(playwhenread:"jingle")My hands shake as I reach for the lower clasps. The metal thong peels away from my hips with a wet sound—I've been sweating there too, the metal trap creating its own humid climate. But when I pull it from between my legs...
Strings.
Clear, viscous strings stretch from the metal to my—to what's between my legs. They catch moonlight like spider silk, refusing to break, stretching longer until finally snapping back.
I look down for the first time. Really look.
Eon's mercy. The lips are plump, swollen-looking even though nothing's touched them. They glisten in the moonlight, coated with moisture that has nothing to do with sweat. The whole area is flushed pink, almost fever-hot, and as I watch—as I fucking WATCH—a bead of clear fluid wells up and drips onto my thigh.
My pussy. I have a pussy. And it's...
Not just damp. Soaking. The insides of my thighs are glazed with it, making them slip against each other. The scent hits me—salt-sweet ocean tang mixed with something fertile, something female. My body's been producing this all day, this shame-syrup, this traitor's nectar. Getting wet from being spanked, from being ridden, from having goblin cock on my head.
"No," I whisper, but my fingers move without permission, needing to understand this violation. The flesh is soft, yielding, frighteningly sensitive. Just the brush of my fingertip makes something inside clench, a hollow ache I've never felt before. When I pull my finger away, it's coated with clear fluid that strings between my fingers.
I'm aroused. This body is aroused. By HIM.
The armor lies in the pine needles—black scales gleaming with moisture from my body. My sweat. My... other fluids. It looks almost alive in the moonlight, waiting to crawl back onto me tomorrow.
I curl into the smallest ball I can, but there's no escaping this body. My tits are so large I have to hold them against my chest or they pull painfully to the side. My ass is so plump that lying on my side makes one cheek go numb while the other spreads out behind me. The space between my legs throbs with each heartbeat, empty and aching in a way that makes me want to scream.
Everything smells like sex. My pussy leaking its shame. My sweat carrying that honeyed perfume. Snib's precum still coating my sinuses. I'm drowning in the scent of fucking without having fucked.
Sleep is impossible. Every position hurts. Every breath makes my nipples scrape against pine needles. Every shift makes me aware of the wetness between my legs that won't stop, won't dry, just keeps weeping like my body is crying for something I refuse to give it.
Elara. I think of Elara and sob, my tears mixing with all the other fluids this body won't stop producing.
(simple_option:"02 dream","Tomorrow will be worse.")](else:)[Taking it off feels like surrender. Like admitting this is my body now, that I need to get *comfortable* in it. The metal might be cutting into me, but at least it's something between my skin and the world. Some pathetic shred of armor that says I'm still a warrior, not just... meat.
I curl on my side in the pine needles. The metal triangle digs deeper into my left breast, the flesh bulging around it. The thong has ridden so far up between my ass cheeks it feels like it's splitting me in half. My pussy—that wet, traitorous thing—pushes against the metal, and I can feel moisture seeping around the edges.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/sleep in armor.jpg")
($hidden_gem:"Every position is its own specific torture.","Every position presents its own particular, personalized torture.")
On my back: the triangles cut into the sides of my breasts while the weight pulls them toward my armpits. The collar digs into my spine. On my stomach: impossible, these things are too large, I'd suffocate. Other side: the bottom breast goes numb immediately while the top one flops over, pulling at my ribs.
I settle for a half-curl, one arm under my head, the other holding these weights against my chest so they don't pull so much. The metal is cold against my skin, warming slowly from my body heat. My own heat. My pussy won't stop leaking around the thong's edges, making sounds when I shift.
At least he can't see me naked. At least there's that.
(simple_option:"02 dream","Your eyes finally close from exhaustion.")]($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","nightmare")(if:$choice is "Your eyes finally close from exhaustion.")[*I'm running through something warm and wet—a cavern? No, softer. Pink walls that pulse with heartbeat. My heartbeat? The fog is thick, salty-sweet, coating my throat with each breath.*
*Behind me, I hear them. Chittering. Millions of tiny voices speaking Goblish in unison. I look back and see them—not goblins but... pieces of goblins. Tadpoles with goblin faces. Sperm with yellow eyes and tiny green arms, swimming through the pink air, their tails whipping frantically as they chase me.*
*"Gonna get in," they chitter in Snib's voice. "Gonna get deep inside."*
*I run but the passage narrows. The pink walls close in, slick with mucus that smells like—like HIS precum. I slip, fall, and they're on me. Tiny hands grabbing my hair, my face. One finds my nostril—the one that snorted his precum—and starts pushing inside.*
*"This is the way in," it squeaks. "The hero's brain-pussy."*
*More follow. They're swimming up my nose, through my sinuses. I feel them behind my eyes, wriggling. The pink cavern isn't a cavern—it's the inside of my own skull. They're inside my brain, swimming through the folds, looking for something.*
*"Where's the egg?" they chitter. "Where's the thought-egg to make babies with?"*
*I try to scream but my mouth opens and more pour in. Thousands of them, each one a tiny piece of Snib, flooding my brain-womb. They're looking for the part of me that's still Aldric, to fertilize it, to change it.*
*One of them finds something deep in my brain—a glowing memory of Elara. It starts humping it, its tiny green body thrusting. The memory changes, corrupts. Now Elara has yellow eyes. Now she's begging for goblin cock.*
*"NO!" I scream, but it comes out as a moan.*
(pic:"ch02/bad end/dream sperm.jpg","right","More memories. They're fucking all my memories.")*More memories. They're fucking all my memories. My first sword lesson—now I'm learning to suck cock. My wedding night—now Snib is the groom. Each thrust rewrites something, plants something wrong.*
*The chittering gets louder. "Pregnant! Brain-pregnant! Thought-babies!"*
*My skull is swelling. I can feel it expanding as they plant their seed in every neuron. My thoughts are getting fat, gravid with wrongness. Something's going to birth from my head, something terrible—*
I wake screaming.
Not a warrior's shout but a woman's shriek that sends night birds scattering. I'm drenched in sweat that reeks of fear and that honeyed perfume. The metal thong is soaked through. My pussy actually *aches* like something was trying to get in.
Snib snores on, undisturbed.
My head pounds. Behind my eyes where the dream-sperm swam. The smell of his precum is stronger now, like it's seeping deeper into my sinuses, into my brain tissue itself. When I blink, I swear I see pink at the edges of my vision.
Just a dream. Just a dream.
But my thoughts feel... violated. Like something crawled through them leaving slime trails.
Dawn bleeds through the pines like a wound. Real dawn, not dream light. The Pitchwater runs black as ever, its tannin-dark waters catching the first rays. Morning birds call in the Everbloom—thrushes, jays, the distant cry of a wood-hawk. Normal sounds that feel obscene after what my sleeping mind conjured.
Snib stretches outside his shelter, his morning wood pointing at the sky like a purple accusation. He's still naked, balls hanging heavy between his legs.
"Sleep well, cow-tits?" He grins, then looks me over. "Heh. Kept the metal on? Like a turtle scared to leave its shell."
The armor has left its mark. Red crescents where the triangles bit into breast-flesh all night. The thong has carved a valley between my ass cheeks that throbs with each movement. But when I look down, expecting blood, expecting real damage... the marks are already fading. The skin pink but unbroken. Like this body heals faster than it should.
"Modest little thing now, ain't ye?" He scratches his balls, the sound wet and specific. "Big hero sleepin' in her armor like a virgin at market."
I try to stand. Everything aches—not the clean ache of training but something deeper. My spine feels compressed from holding those weights all night. The metal boots still force me on my toes, calves cramping immediately.(simple_option:"02 wake up","Ask to take the boots off.")](else:)[(playwhenread:"elara fuck 1")(if:(choice:"01 Comfort","Take her roughly!"))[Elara's on all fours on our marriage bed, auburn hair gripped in a green fist. Her nightgown—the white one with little flowers she wore this morning—is bunched around her waist. That perfect peach ass I spanked hours ago is presented, but not to me.
Snib. Three and a half feet of warty green spite, mounting my wife like she's livestock.
"Think yer in charge?" His voice mimics mine from this morning, but wet, chittering. "Think yer husband's comin' back?"
I try to move but I'm chained to a post by the collar, forced to watch. Close enough to see everything. The way her flesh jiggles when he spanks her. The way his cock—that purple monster—stretches her pussy lips obscenely wide.
"Someone's feeling brave this—AHHH!"
**CRACK.** His palm meets her ass harder than I ever dared.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/dream rough.jpg")
"That's 'Master' when I got ye bent over." Another spank. Her flesh ripples, turns angry red under green fingers. "Or would ye prefer the whole street knows what we're doin'?"
"They already—oh GODS!"
He grabs her hair harder, yanks her head back at an angle that makes her spine arch. His cock—it's TOO BIG, splitting her open, her pussy lips stretched white around the purple shaft as thick as her forearm.
One thrust and he's buried to the hilt. The wet SQUELCH echoes off our bedroom walls. She SCREAMS—not the playful shriek from this morning but something primal, broken.
"Aldric! ALDRIC HELP ME!"
But I can't move. Can't speak. Just watch.
"Yer hero's dead," Snib grunts, starting to thrust. "Just me fat gobbo cock now."
The bed frame doesn't just bang—it BREAKS. Wood splinters as he pounds into her with inhuman force. Each thrust drives so deep I can see her belly bulge. **PLAP PLAP PLAP**—but wet, meaty, wrong. His massive balls, hairy and heavy as melons, swing forward to slap against her clit with each stroke.
($hidden_gem:"She cries and cums, catastrophically conquered, continuously climaxing.","She shrieks and spasms, savagely stretched, ceaselessly cumming, catastrophically conquered.")
"You're going to—*FUCK*—you're DESTROYING me!"
"Ye can take it," He pulls her hair tighter, forces her back to arch more. The new angle makes her howl. "Taken worse from gobbo cock before. All human cunts do."
She's trying to crawl away but he's got her pinned, his weight somehow immense despite his size. Her nightgown tears. Her breasts swing free—but they're wrong, they're growing, swelling with each thrust like his cock is inflating them.
"Please! I'm—I'm cumming! I can't stop CUMMING!"
"Already? We just started." His finger finds her asshole, pushes in roughly. "Come on then. Cum on yer Master's cock like a good little broodmare."
**SPANK!**
"I'll—*ah*—I'm sorry Aldric—I can't—it's too BIG!"
"If ye can still talk, I ain't doin' me job."
She's cumming. Constantly. A rolling wave of orgasms that makes her whole body convulse. Clear fluid gushes from where they're joined, soaking our marriage bed. The wet sounds get louder, obscene, her pussy churning like butter around his massive shaft.
"That's seven," he growls. "Want to go for twenty before I breed ye?"
"You cocky—oh FUCK! YES! MORE!"
The words hit like physical blows. She's... she's starting to push back. Meeting his thrusts.
"Listen to that," Snib grunts, his cock making obscene sucking sounds as her pussy grips it. "That's the sound of a properly fucked wife. Not like yer husband's little prick."
"Going to—ngh—forget he ever—ever touched me!"
"Then ye'll remember this while he rots." He leans down, bites her shoulder hard enough to draw blood. "Remember who owns this cunt now."
She cums again, harder, her tits slapping together as she thrashes. Then again. And again. A rolling wave of orgasms that I could never give her.
"Please!" she sobs. "Please breed me! Give me goblin babies!"
"Bout to," he grunts, his thrusts getting erratic. His massive balls draw up tight. "Gonna pump ye so full—"
"No," I try to scream. "NO, ELARA, REMEMBER—"](else:)[Our bedroom. Morning light through familiar windows. But everything's wrong.
Elara's straddling someone on our marriage bed. She's naked, glowing with sweat, moving with that same steady rhythm she used this morning. But beneath her...
Snib. His massive cock disappearing into her again and again.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/dream gentle 1.jpg")
"There's my hero," she sighs, running her fingers through his patchy scalp. "My REAL hero."
I'm chained to a post by the collar, forced to watch. Close enough to see the way her pussy lips grip his shaft, how they stretch obscenely around his girth, how wet she is—wetter than she's ever been with me.
"So perfect," Snib murmurs against her collarbone, his warty hands exploring her body with disturbing tenderness. "Every freckle. Every curve. Made for gobbo cock."
Morning light paints their joined bodies gold and green. He runs his clawed fingers up her thighs with reverence, like she's something holy he's defiling.
"You're finally the right size," she breathes, rocking against him. "Not like my husband's little—mmmmm—"
"His IS in the way now," Snib agrees, then sits up, bringing her with him so she's fully impaled. "Dead heroes can't touch ye anymore."
She laughs—that bright sound I love—while grinding on monster cock. "Was just thinking of you. Even when he was inside me this morning."
"What?" The word tears from my throat but they don't hear.
She rises up slowly, so slowly, his purple shaft glistening with her arousal. The veins on it pulse visibly, each ridge catching on her pussy lips as she moves.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/dream gentle 2.jpg")
"Just remembering why I chose you," she tells him, looking into yellow eyes with adoration.
"My sparklin' personality?"
"Your perfect cock."
She sinks down in one smooth motion, taking all twelve inches. They both groan—her with satisfaction, him with possession. She starts to ride him with that same devastating rhythm, but now her face shows true pleasure, not the performance she gave me.
($hidden_gem:"Her passion peaks perpetually, pussy pulsing around putrid purple pole.","Her passion peaks and persists, pussy perpetually pulsing, greedily gripping that putrid purple pole.")
"Every morning," she breathes. "Every morning I'll wake up to this instead of his fumbling."
"Every morning IS a gift with ye," he replies, watching her breasts bounce.
She's so WET. I can hear it—the obscene squelching as she rides him, the splash of fluids. Her pussy is creaming around his cock, white foam building where they join. His massive balls, heavy and hairy, rest on our marriage bed like overripe fruit.
"Touch me," she whispers to him.
His thumb finds her clit with surprising gentleness. His other hand cups her breast, rolls the nipple just how she likes. She gasps with genuine pleasure, not the sounds she made for me.
"That's it, love. Let go for yer true mate."
"Not yet—want to—oh gods—want to feel you claim me properly—"
"We got forever now." He sits up straighter, changing the angle. Now they're kissing—deep, passionate, her tongue exploring his diseased mouth eagerly. She moans into the kiss as he swallows her pleasure.
She cums—not the controlled shudder from this morning but something wild, primal. Her whole body convulses around him, pussy clenching visibly around his shaft. He holds her through it, kisses her temple with mock tenderness.
"Well done, me perfect girl."
She's still shaking when she starts moving again, oversensitive but desperate. "Your turn. Want to feel it. Want your seed instead of his weak dribbles."
"Elara, you loved me—" I sob, but I'm invisible.
"Shh." She pushes him back down, pins his shoulders. "My REAL hero needs his reward."
She leans down, changes the angle. Now her breasts press against his warty chest, her lips against his pointed ear.
"I want you to cum inside me, Master. Want to feel goblin seed replace his. Want to carry your babies, only yours, forever."
"Elara—"
"Maybe this time," she whispers to him lovingly. "Maybe this time I'll give you triplets."
The tenderness in her voice—the same tone she used with me—breaks something inside me. Snib rolls them over, needs to be deeper. She wraps her legs around his small body, pulls him close, and they move together like they've been lovers for years.
His thrusts are slow but impossibly deep. Each one makes her whole body shudder. She's cumming again—or still—a constant rolling orgasm that has her speaking in tongues.
"Yes," she breathes. "Ephemerals, you fill me so much better than—than—who was I married to?"
Her nails rake down his back with genuine passion. Sweat makes their bodies slide together. The wet music of their joining fills our bedroom—the place where we made love this morning now defiled forever.
"Close," he warns.
"Me too! Again! How do you always—oh!"
She arches above him, a perfect bow of pleasure, and I can see his massive balls drawing up tight—]
I wake screaming.
Actually screaming, high and feminine, my throat raw. I'm covered in cold sweat that makes these tits slide against each other. My pussy—
No. NO.
It's soaking. Drenched. I can feel it pulsing, clenching around nothing, exactly like... like Elara did in the dream when she...
The shame crashes over me so hard I vomit. Just bile and spit, but I retch into the pine needles while my cunt drools onto my thighs.
Dawn is breaking through the trees. Real dawn, not dream light. Snib is stretching outside his shelter, his morning wood tenting upward, casual as anything.
"Sleep well, cow-tits?" He grins, scratching his balls.
(simple_option:"02 wake up","You're naked!")](pic:"ch02/bad end/shelters morning.jpg")
($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","everbloom river ambience")(if:$choice is "You're naked!")[The realization hits like ice water as his yellow eyes travel down my body with the slow appreciation of a merchant evaluating goods. From my sweat-damp hair to my bare feet, taking special time at the places that matter—the heavy swing of exposed breasts, the wet gleam between my thighs.
($hidden_gem:"My hands move to cover myself but there's too much flesh to hide.","My hands hurry to hide myself but there's too much hanging, heaving flesh to conceal.")
One arm crosses over my chest, trying to contain tits that overflow around it. The other hand drops to cover my pussy, fingers immediately becoming slick with the moisture there. The position just makes everything worse—pushing my breasts up and together, making me hunch forward in a way that presents my ass.
"Hehe. Shy now?" Snib scratches his morning wood through his loincloth, the motion making it bounce. "Bit late for modesty."
The armor. Where did I—there, in the pine needles, black scales gleaming with dew. I scramble for it on hands and knees, giving him a full view of everything swinging and jiggling. My fingers shake as I grab the metal triangles.
Putting it on is worse than taking it off. The clasps hide beneath breast-flesh, requiring me to lift each tit and fumble blind while Snib provides commentary.
"Left one's bigger," he observes. "Didja know that? Left tit's got more heft."
The metal is cold and wet with morning dew. When I finally manage to connect the chains behind my back, the triangles immediately dig into tender flesh, barely containing anything. My nipples are still hard from cold and... and whatever else... pressing visibly through the scales.
The bottom piece is worse. I have to step into it, pull it up my thighs that are still slick with shame. The metal thong immediately disappears between my ass cheeks with a wet *squelch*. When I adjust the front triangle over my mound, strings of moisture connect metal to flesh before breaking.
"Missed a spot," Snib notes, pointing.
A strand of my own wetness hangs from the edge of the metal, catching morning light like spider silk. I wipe it with shaking fingers but that just spreads the moisture.
The boots. Flux's balls, the boots.
They've definitely changed overnight—now rising to mid-thigh with dozens of buckles and laces. I sit on a log to pull them on, having to point my toes like some Thuulk ballet dancer to get my feet into the extreme arch. The metal is articulated, form-fitting, molding to my calves as I begin the endless process of lacing.
Why didn't I need to do this when I took them off?
First the ankle buckles—three of them, each requiring me to lean forward, making my tits pool in my lap. Then the shin laces, crisscrossing up my legs in a pattern that takes forever to figure out. My fingers feel strange, clumsy but also... patient? Like I have all the time in the world to dress myself pretty.
"Twenty-seven on each boot," Snib counts helpfully.
By the time I reach my thighs, I'm panting. Not from exertion but from the process itself—the ritual of it, the way each lace pulled tight makes the metal grip my legs like hands. The final buckles at the top squeeze my thighs, making the flesh bulge slightly over the edges.
When I finally stand, the spike heels forcing me into that humiliating posture, Snib nods approval.
"Better. Can see everythin' but also nothin'. That's the point of armor like that."
"It's not armor," I mutter, but the words come out without heat.
"Feelin' generous today," he announces, adjusting his morning wood again. "No crawlin'. We walk like people. Well, I walk. You..." He gestures at my forced mince. "You do whatever that is."
Relief floods through me so powerfully I almost say thank you. Almost. I catch myself, but the fact that the words nearly escaped...
"Just gotta make it to me hut by dark. Stay off the road, follow the river." He stretches, his cock bouncing obscenely in his loincloth. "Oh, and I'm hungry. You're catchin' breakfast."(playwhenread:"catch fish for breakfast")
"I don't know how to fish without—"
"Sure ye do. Big hero like you?" He grins. "River's right there. Fish in it. Easy."
"Let me use magic. I could freeze them, make it quick—"
For a moment his eyes narrow, calculating. I see him consider it, weigh the options. Then he shakes his head.
"Nah. Magic's for special occasions. Use a stick or somethin'. Make a spear."
"Please." The word slips out easier today. "It would be faster. More efficient. I promise I'll only—"
"Said no." But he's still thinking, I can see it. Like he's measuring something about me, testing. "Maybe later. When ye've been good longer."
Good. Like I'm a dog learning tricks.
"There's some good spots upstream," he continues. "Past where I pissed last night. Should be bitin' this early."
I want to argue. Want to refuse. But my stomach growls and there's this strange fog in my head, like thoughts are taking longer to form. The anger is still there but muffled, wrapped in cotton. Must be exhaustion. Must be hunger.
"Fine," I hear myself say. "Fish."](else:)[($hidden_gem:"My thoughts feel sluggish, honey-slow, like swimming through warm syrup.","My thoughts feel thick, thrumming through honey-heat, like swimming through summer syrup.")
"Please." The word comes out before I mean it to. Softer than yesterday. "Can I... the boots. Can I take them off? Just for—"
"Nah." He pisses against a tree, the stream thick and yellow. "But I'm feelin' nice today. No more crawlin'. We walk upright like people. Well, I walk. You mince."
The relief that floods through me is... too much. Too grateful. Some part of my mind notes this, flags it as wrong, but the thought slips away like oil on water. Everything feels slightly... sideways. Like the world tilted three degrees while I slept.
"Long way to me hut still," he says, shaking the last drops off. They splatter on pine needles. "Through the Bleakwood, past the Bonebridges. Need strength for walkin'."
"Everbloom."
"Nah, it's the Bleakwood."
He looks at the river, then at me.
"Hungry. Want fish."(playwhenread:"catch fish for breakfast")
"I don't—"
"River's full of 'em. Shadowtrout, the black ones. Sweet meat." He plops down on a rock, cock swaying. "You catch."
"With what?" My voice has lost some of its edge.
"Find a stick. Sharpen it. Heroes know woodcraft, yeah?"
The casual assumption that I'll obey. That I'll just... fish for him. Like a servant. Like a wife. The rage should be volcanic but it comes out tired, worn smooth like river stones.
I find myself looking for a suitable branch before I've decided to comply. I'm hungry as well, and that's overriding everything.
My hands—these small, soft hands—still remember some things. I find a straight piece of ash, use a river rock to sharpen one end to a point. The work is harder with these weak arms. My breasts keep getting in the way when I lean forward. Sweat runs between them, carrying that honeyed scent that isn't mine.
"Wait." The idea surfaces through the fog. "I could... Glacieshold. I could freeze a section of river. The fish would be stunned, easy to—"
"No magic." He says it quick. Sharp.
"But it would be faster—"
"Said no." Something flickers in his yellow eyes. Calculation? Fear? "Not yet. Maybe later. When ye've been good longer."
*When I've been good.* The phrase should enrage me. Instead, I just feel... disappointed? Like a child denied a treat. What's wrong with my thoughts? They keep sliding sideways, finding the path of least resistance.]
(pic:"ch02/bad end/stream sunrise.jpg")
(simple_option:"02 fish","Go spear-fishing.")(pic:"ch02/bad end/spear.jpg","right")($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","everbloom river ambience")I wade into the Pitchwater. The cold makes my nipples harden instantly, visible through the metal triangles. The water is knee-deep here, running fast over smooth stones. Shadowtrout dart in the dark water—long, black fish with silver bellies. (playwhenread:"wading water")
Standing still. Waiting. The spear raised. This is meditation, almost. The kind of focus I learned killing time on campaign. But different in this body. My weight distribution is wrong. These hips. These breasts. The current pushes against my thighs and I feel everything shift and sway.
"Yer tits are gonna scare the fish," Snib calls from the bank.
A flash of silver. I thrust down—too slow. These arms have no strength, no speed. The fish darts away.
Again. Wait. Watch. The water is cold enough that my feet go numb. My pussy—that warm, wet traitor—clenches with each shift of current against my thighs. Like it's trying to grip something that isn't there.(playwhenread:"caught fish")
Another flash. This time I compensate, lead the target—
The spear pierces scales. The fish thrashes, spraying dark water. I lift it, triumphant for a heartbeat before remembering this isn't triumph. This is servitude.
"Good cow!" Snib claps like I've performed a trick. "Now three more. Big ones."
Three more. He wants three more fish. And I'm going to catch them. Because... because what else can I do? The collar won't let me hurt him. Won't let me run. So I fish. Like a good—
No. I'm buying time. That's all. Planning. Waiting for the moment when—
The thought dissolves. I'm back in the water, hunting shadowtrout for my... for the goblin who owns my leash.(simple_option:"02 journey","Later...")(pic:"ch02/lead out.jpg","He's back to using the leash...")
($play:"song","snib hut theme")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience")The Pitchwater leads us northwest through the Everbloom's depths. My spike-heels catch on every root, every stone, forcing this obscene hip-sway that makes my ass clap softly with each step. *Click-clop-click-clop* against ancient stones. Snib leads me at his leisure, occasionally correcting my path with a tug on the leash.
"So," he says after an hour of silence, "ye know we got our own language, right?"
(unlock_lore:"Goblish","other",4)I don't respond. Just focus on not falling.
"Bet ye think we just grunt and point." Another tug, steering me around a fallen oak. "But we got words for everything. Specially fuckin'."
The casual vulgarity makes my face burn. This morning it would have been rage. Now it's... something else. Something that makes my thighs rub together.
"Forty-three words just for cummin'," he continues, pride creeping into his voice. "Humans got what, two? Three? We got *splurtik* for weak dribbles—insultin', that one. *Grok-splash* for proper breeding shots. *Thrack-gush* for when ye empty everything at once."
($hidden_gem:"My mind catalogues this information despite myself.","My mind mysteriously memorizes this morbid information despite myself.")
"Why are you telling me this?" The question escapes before I can stop it.
"Ye're gonna need to know 'em soon enough." He laughs, that wet chittering. "When yer beggin' in Goblish."
(pic:"ch02/swampland.jpg")
We cross a shallow ford. The cold water makes my nipples harden instantly, visible through the metal triangles. Snib watches them bounce with each step, then continues his lecture.
"*Thrack* is basic fuckin'. Everyone knows that one. Even humans say it now." He sounds genuinely pleased by this linguistic contamination. "But we got specifics. *Skull-thrack* for mouth. *Womb-thrack* for deep breeding. *Rut-thrack* when it's violent."
The path narrows. I have to duck under low branches, making my tits swing and collide. Snib finds this hilarious.
"See, that's *swing-udder* in Goblish. The way they move. We notice everything about tits. Got twelve words just for different bounces."
(set:$map_position to (a: 1944,2583))(map: (a:1518,2288),(a: 1944,2583),(a:2284,2767))
Hours pass like this. Him talking, me walking, trying not to listen. But the words seep in anyway. *Breeding-hole. Cum-tank. Face-cunt.* Each one makes my pussy clench involuntarily, that horrible empty ache getting worse.
"Know what's funny?" We're climbing now, the Pitchwater falls growing louder. "Humans think we're stupid 'cause our language got simple. But it got simple 'cause we only talk about what matters. Fuckin' and fightin'. What else is there?"
"Love," I say without thinking. "Art. Honor—"
"HAH!" He actually falls over laughing, has to use Whisperwind to stand back up. "Honor! From the woman with her tits out! Walkin' on a leash!"
The shame burns but there's truth in it. What honor do I have left? Walking through the forest in this obscene armor, my pussy leaving a snail-trail of moisture down my thighs.
($pic:"ch02/distant hut.jpg")
By afternoon we break from the treeline. The Shifting Sands stretch before us—endless dunes under a brass sky.
"Home sweet home," he says, pointing to a structure that barely deserves the name.
The hut leans against a dead tree like a drunk against a wall. Patches of hide and salvaged wood make walls that don't quite meet. The roof is partially collapsed. Through gaps I can see piles of bones, rags, things I don't want to identify.
($pic:"ch02/hut.jpg")
"Built it meself," he says proudly. "After me tribe kicked me out."
Something in his voice makes me look. For a heartbeat, there's something almost... vulnerable? But then it's gone, replaced by that broken-glass grin.
Past a cluster of worn stone—an ancient well with a pump half-buried in sand, probably K'Tarran. A goblin could never build anything like that.
"'Course, who's laughin' now? Got me own human cow."
We stop outside the entrance—just a hide flap that reeks of piss and rot. Snib turns to face me, has to crane his neck to meet my eyes. His expression shifts to something calculating.
"Listen good, cow-tits. Here's the thing." He scratches his balls through his loincloth, thinking. "Could just mount ye right now. Collar says ye're mine to use however. Could spend all night pumpin' goblin babies into that wet cunt."
My whole body goes rigid. The terror must show on my face because he laughs.
"But that's borin'. Too fast. Heroes need to marinate, ye know? Let all them proud thoughts dissolve slow-like."
He walks around me, appraising. I feel his gaze on my ass, my tits, the wet spot on the metal triangle between my legs.
"So here's me generous offer." He stops in front of me again. "Ye do chores—cleanin', cookin', whatever. And ye drain me balls each mornin'. Just with yer mouth."
($hidden_gem:"The words hit like ice water in my veins.","The words wash like winter water through my weakening veins.")
"Just suckin'," he continues, seeing my horror. "Five minutes. Maybe ten if I'm really backed up. Ye can spit it all out after if ye want. Don't have to swallow a drop."
"Never." The word comes out as a whisper.
"Never?" He tilts his head. "Think about it. Seven days of cock-polishin', then ye're free. I'll remove the collar, ye go home to that pretty wife. Tell her ye were captured but escaped. Hero returns!"
He's lying. Has to be lying. But...
"Why?" My voice cracks. "Why would you—"
"'Cause it's funnier this way." He grins wider. "Watchin' ye choose it. Watchin' ye tell yerself it's just seven days, just suckin', not real whoring. The slow breakdown's always better than the quick break."
"The collar—"
"Collar won't come off unless I want it to. But I give me word—seven days, ye drain me balls each mornin' like a good cow, then ye're free. If ye want to be."
*If I want to be.* The addition makes my skin crawl.
"Me balls get full. Painful full. Need drainin' every morning or I get... aggressive." He grins. "So ye drain 'em. Just with yer mouth. Five minutes, maybe ten. Every morning for seven days."
"You're insane if you think—"
"Let me finish." He holds up a warty finger. "Seven days of morning service. Ye can spit it all out after—don't got to swallow a drop. Just milk me cock with that pretty throat, let me pump out the night's buildup. Do that without missin' a day, and on the eighth morning..."
He pauses for effect.
"I take off the collar. Let ye go. Free."
The words hang in the stinking air. Freedom. In just a week. It's too good to be true. It has to be.
"You're lying."
"Collar won't let me lie to ye direct." He taps his temple. "It tells me when I'm being too sneaky. This is straight truth. Seven days of cock-sucking, then freedom."
"Why?" My voice is smaller than it should be. "Why would you—"
"Because watchin' Aldric the Great *choose* to suck me cock every morning? That's worth more than gold. And maybe..." He grins wider. "Maybe ye won't make it seven days. Maybe ye'll decide ye like it. Maybe ye'll beg to stay."
"Never."
"Then ye got nothing to lose." He spreads his legs wider. His cock is fully hard now, twelve inches of purple horror. "Starting tonight, then six more mornings. Dawn service, like prayers. Then whatever chores need doing—cleaning, cooking, normal woman stuff. End of seven days, ye walk away."
My mind races through possibilities. His precum—I know it's dangerous. But just in my mouth? I can spit it out. Rinse with water. Not let it get inside me properly. Seven days of humiliation versus a lifetime of slavery.
"If ye say no," he adds casually, "then we do this the hard way. I mount ye tonight. Tomorrow. Every day until yer belly swells with gobbo spawn. Yer choice."
(simple_option:"02 choose","Accept deal.","Reject it.")The fish bones lie scattered across his filthy floor—the remnants of the meal I cooked on his dented pot over a fire that filled this hovel with smoke. My hands. These soft, small hands that once wielded Whisperwind gutted fish and fed them to this creature. He ate with his mouth open, belching, grease running down his chin, while I sat in the corner trying not to gag from the stench of his home—old cum, rotting meat, and something fungal growing in the corners.
Now he's sprawled on his pile of furs, patting his distended belly. The loincloth barely contains what's beneath, the outline obscene in the flickering firelight.
"Time for dessert," he says, then laughs at his own wit. "Strip. Want somethin' nice to look at while ye work."
($hidden_gem:"My hands freeze on the metal clasps.","My fingers freeze, faltering on the freezing metal clasps.")
"I don't—we agreed just—"
"Just suckin', yeah. But I want them udders free. Want to see 'em hang while ye polish me knob." He scratches lazily at the bulge. "Consider it part of the deal."
I'm Aldric. I've stood before kings. Commanded armies. Saved villages. My hands shouldn't shake as they reach behind my back for the clasps. Shouldn't fumble with metal designed to humiliate. But they do.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/undress.jpg","I'm Aldric. I've stood before kings. Commanded armies. Saved villages.")
The triangles fall away with a soft *clink*.(playwhenread:"jingle")
My breasts drop free like sacks of grain cut loose from rafters. The weight makes me gasp—without even that pathetic support, they hang so heavy my shoulders immediately ache. In the firelight, the red marks from the metal are visible—angry crescents bitten into flesh that's pale as fresh cream. My nipples, freed from their prison, are already puckering in the cool air.
"Look at them things," Snib breathes.
I cover myself instinctively but he tsks.
"Hands down. Let 'em swing."
My arms drop. The tits follow gravity, hanging like overripe fruit. I can feel his yellow eyes tracking every sway.
"Now the bottom."
The thong peels away from my hips with a wet sound that makes me want to die. Strings of... of moisture... stretch and snap. The air hits my pussy and I feel it contract, that hollow ache suddenly acute. I'm bare. Completely naked before this thing that should be crushed under my boot.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/thong off.jpg","The air hits my pussy and I feel it contract, that hollow ache suddenly acute.")
"On yer knees, Lady Udders."
The nickname hits like a slap. But I drop. The packed dirt floor is hard under my knees. From here, his cock is eye level where it tents his loincloth. The smell—Eon preserve me, the smell.
He shifts, spreading his legs wider. The loincloth falls aside.
It's... not all purple like I'd glimpsed before. The shaft is green—darker than his skin, mottled with veins thick as quill-stems that pulse visibly with his heartbeat. But the head... the head is purple-black like a bruise, swollen huge, the hole at the tip already weeping thick white tears that gather but don't fall, building into a growing pearl of concentrated filth.
"Never seen one up close?" He grips the base, making it bob.
It's the size of my forearm—my old forearm. The foreskin is partially pulled back, revealing the ridge where green meets purple, crusty with... with... I don't want to know. White-yellow buildup that reeks even from here.
"Come closer, Throatsy."
Another name. I shuffle forward on my knees and my tits swing with the motion, slapping together softly. From barely a foot away, the heat radiating from his cock is palpable. Like it has its own climate. The precum pearl finally breaks its own surface tension and begins a slow slide down the purple head, leaving a snail-trail that glistens.
"Open."
One word. My mouth... my mouth opens. Like it was waiting for permission. The fog in my head thickens.
"Good cow. Now stick out yer tongue."
My tongue extends. Pink, soft, trembling. He laughs and guides his cock forward with one hand, the other tangling in my hair.
The first contact—
(pic:"ch02/bad end/first taste.jpg","Bitter. Salt. Rot. Cheese. Metal. All at once, coating my tongue with oil-thick fluid that burns like acid.")(playwhenread:"let your mouth learn")
"That's it," he grunts. "Taste it first. Let yer mouth learn what it's for."
The precum floods my tongue immediately. Not drips—a steady weeping like the cock is crying onto my tastebuds. Each pulse of his heartbeat produces more. It's thick as porridge but somehow also liquid, running down my tongue toward my throat despite my efforts to keep it pooled at the front.
"Now the head. Lips around it. Like kissin' a baby."
I want to pull back. Want to run. But the collar is there, always there, and beyond that... beyond that my thoughts keep scattering. What was I angry about? The taste is so strong it whites out everything else. My lips part wider and then—
The head pushes past them. Purple-black cock-head the size of a small apple spreading my lips obscenely wide. The ridge catches on them, too thick, and he has to push harder. Something tears—not badly, just a little split in my lower lip that immediately stings from his precum.
"There we go! Look at them hero-lips stretched around gobbo cock!"(playwhenread:"look at them hero lips")
Tears stream from my eyes immediately. Not from emotion—from the sheer effort of accommodating something this thick. My jaw aches already. But worse is the flood. The second the head passes my lips, it's like a dam breaks. Precum doesn't drip or leak—it SPURTS. Rope after rope coats my mouth, pooling under my tongue, filling my cheeks.
I try not to swallow. Try to breathe through my nose but that's worse—the concentrated stench makes my head spin, makes my pussy... no, ignore that, ignore the clenching, ignore the wetness running down my thighs.
"Use yer tongue, Sucky-tits. Polish the head."
My tongue moves. I don't tell it to, it just... does. Swirling around the massive head, finding the hole that keeps pumping fluid. The taste changes—still vile but now with undertones. Something yeasty. Something alive. My throat makes a sound—not quite a gag, not quite a moan.
"That's it," he grunts, gripping my hair tighter. "Now take more."
He pulls my head forward. Another inch of green shaft disappears. The veins drag against my lips, each ridge distinct. Two inches. Three. The head hits the back of my mouth and my throat closes instinctively.
"Swallow," he commands. "Open that hero-throat."
I try to pull back but his grip is iron. My tits hang below me, swaying with my struggles, nipples dragging in the dirt. Four inches. Five. The head presses against my throat entrance and then—
I swallow. Not voluntarily. My throat just... opens. Accepts. The head pushes through and suddenly I can't breathe at all. Six inches. Seven. My nose is getting closer to his pelvis where the smell is concentrated hell.
"Look up at me. Want to see them pretty eyes."
($hidden_gem:"My green eyes meet his yellow ones.","My matching moss-green eyes meet his mean yellow ones.")
(pic:"ch02/bad end/stretch throat.jpg","right","gif","I look up. Past the expanse of green cock disappearing into my face.")I look up. Past the expanse of green cock disappearing into my face. Past his pot belly. To those yellow eyes bright with malicious joy.(playwhenread:"deepthroat bj")
"There she is," he coos. "Aldric the Great with eight inches of gobbo cock down her throat. How's it feel, hero?"
I can't answer. Can't breathe. Can only make wet sounds as my throat tries to accommodate something never meant to fit. Precum pours directly into my stomach now, hot and thick, and I can feel it... doing something.
"Let's make it nine."
He pulls my head forward again. My lips touch his pelvis. Wiry pubic hair scratches my nose. The smell—concentrated piss and fungus and male—floods my brain. Nine inches. Ten. How is this possible? My throat is bulging visibly. I can feel the outline through my neck when my hand goes there instinctively.
"All the way, Gullet-slut. Show me what them hero-throats can do."
(playwhenread:"deepthroat bj")
The last two inches are impossible. But he pulls harder and my throat... stretches? Opens? I feel the head push past my collarbone, into my chest. Twelve inches of goblin cock buried in my face. My lips pressed against his pelvis. His massive balls resting on my chin, hot and heavy and churning with horrible life.
"Now the milkin' motion," he instructs. "Squeeze with yer throat. Like swallowin' over and over."
My throat convulses around him. Each swallow makes him grunt, makes more precum flood directly into my stomach. I'm drowning. Suffocating. But also... also the fog in my head is getting thicker. Warmer. Almost pleasant. What was I upset about? Something about... about...
"Twenty swallows," he grunts. "Count 'em."
One. My throat squeezes. He groans.
Two. More precum floods me.
Three. My pussy clenches in rhythm.
Four. Tears and snot run down my face.
Five. His balls tighten against my chin.
By ten, black spots dance in my vision. By fifteen, I'm making sounds—wet, desperate, animal sounds around his cock. By twenty, I'm barely conscious.
He pulls out slow. Each inch reveals itself wet with throat-slime and precum. The head pops free from my lips with an obscene SLURP and I gasp, air flooding my burning lungs. Ropes of throat-slime mixed with precum connect my lips to his cock, refusing to break even when I pull back.
"Good start," he says, guiding my head back down. "Now the proper suckin'."(playwhenread:"now the proper suckin")
This time I know what's coming but it doesn't help. The head pushes past my lips easier—they're already swollen, already shaped to him. The rhythm establishes itself. Down to take eight inches, up to breathe, down to take ten, up to gasp. My tits swing beneath me with each motion, slapping together wetly.
"Look at them udders dance," he laughs. "Swingin' while ye suck. This is what ye were made for, Throatsy. Not swords. Just succin' gobbo cock while them tits bounce."
The humiliation should burn but something is making everything fuzzy. Distant. Like I'm watching someone else debase themselves. Some other woman with massive tits slobbering on goblin cock while tears stream down her face.
His breathing gets heavier. The cock swells impossibly larger in my mouth. His balls draw up tight against my chin.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/about to cum.jpg","The cock pulses. Swells. The head flares wider and then—")
"Here it comes," he grunts. "Yer first taste of gobbo cream. Remember, cow—ye can spit it all out after. That was the deal."
The cock pulses. Swells. The head flares wider and then—
*Wait!*
(simple_option:"02 bj 1 cum","Pull back!")The first pulse makes his entire cock go rigid as iron. The head flares wider in my mouth—I can feel the pisshole dilating, opening like a tiny mouth about to scream.(playwhenread:"cum in mouth")
I jerk back in panic but I'm not fast enough.
The first rope.
It starts in my mouth—hot as boiled porridge, thick as cake batter—then follows my retreat, extending from his cock like some horrible umbilical. The rope doesn't break, just keeps coming, pumping from that purple head in one continuous stream that drapes across my face as I fall backward. Heavy. So fucking heavy it actually PULLS as it lands, like someone poured hot pudding across my features.
"GRAAAHHHHH! YELLAH-YELLAH-YELLAH!"
(sperm:"SPLOORT",4,"splurt 2")(pic:"ch02/bad end/mouthful.jpg","right","It starts in my mouth—hot as boiled porridge, thick as cake batter...")He's screaming in Goblish, hips bucking off the furs. His balls—I can see them contracting, pumping, churning out their poison. The second rope comes while the first is still connected—this one catches me across both eyes, sealing them shut with weight and heat that burns like acid but doesn't damage, just... marks. Claims.
"HERO-CUNT PAINTED! PAINTED PROPER!"
($hidden_gem:"The third rope arcs through firelight like a diseased comet.","The third rope rises through roaring firelight like a rancid, revolting comet.")
It lands across my tits with an audible SPLAT—not liquid, almost solid, maintaining its rope-shape even as it drapes over my nipples. The weight of it makes my tits drop another inch. The smell—rotted fish guts mixed with cheese left in summer sun mixed with that chemical burn of concentrated masculinity—floods every sense.
"Look at ye! LOOK AT YE! Aldric the Great with gobbo-glaze! HAH! HAH! HAH!"(playwhenread:"look at ye gobbo glaze")
($change_stat:"heroism",-10)More ropes. They come lazy but heavy, each one a full second of continuous flow from that purple nightmare. Four across my nose and mouth—I can't breathe without tasting it. Five pools in the hollow of my throat. Six and seven create a crosshatch pattern across my tits, the weight making them pull and ache.
His cock never stops moving, conducting his orgasm like a maestro's baton. Painting deliberate stripes across his masterpiece. My hair gets a full rope that immediately makes it stick to my skull. My belly receives two more that pool in my navel like a warm, cursed lake.
"Grashk-na-THRAKKKK!"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/faceful.jpg")
(sperm:"SPLOOOOORT-SPLT SPLUURT!",4,"splurt 2")Pure Goblish now, no more Common tongue. Just chittering, grunting, squealing triumph as rope after rope of custard-thick seed decorates the fallen hero. Some shots have chunks in them—actual clotted pieces that land with heavier splats. Others are pure cream, yellow-white and reeking of concentrated corruption.
Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.
($change_stat:"heroism",-10)(sperm:"SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT",2,"splurt 4")I lose count. My eyes are sealed shut by the sheer weight of it. When I try to breathe through my mouth, ropes slide in—salt and battery acid and yeast and something else, something that makes my brain feel like it's dissolving. Not thoughts but the STRUCTURE of thoughts, the architecture that holds Aldric together.
The final rope—it has to be the twentieth at least—drops directly between my spread knees. A pool of it, steaming in the dirt, enough to fill a tankard. My pussy is RIGHT THERE, inches away, and I feel the heat radiating up, making that traitor hole clench and drool its own shame onto the puddle.
Then silence except for his panting.
"Open them eyes, cow."
I try. The cum has formed a seal, gumming my lashes together. I have to use my fingers to peel them apart, and when I do—
He's grinning down at me. His cock still hard, still drooling, a final strand connecting the tip to the pool between my legs.
"That's what defeat looks like," he says simply. "That's Aldric the Great, ended. Just a cum-glazed cunt now."
I stumble to my feet. Everything slides but doesn't fall—his seed is too thick, adhering like warm glue. My tits wear it like a necklace of pearls. My face feels like a mask of shame. When I try to speak, to curse him, a rope slides into my mouth and I taste concentrated goblin essence.
Outside. The well I saw. I need water.
(simple_option:"02 dream again","Stumble outside.")($play:"sex loop","deepthroat bj")The straw pricks my naked skin as consciousness seeps in. Dawn through the gaps in his shit-built walls. My mouth tastes like I've been sucking copper coins—no, like I've been breathing through my mouth all night in this reek-cave of goblin musk.
"Mornin', Throat-pussy."
He's already standing, cock jutting out like a divining rod seeking moisture. It bobs with his heartbeat—one, two, one, two—precum already beading at the tip like morning dew on poison fruit.
I push up from the straw. My tits swing down immediately, heavy with their own weight, nipples dragging through scattered straw. The metal boots are still locked on—when did I stop trying to remove them? My knees find the packed dirt floor with practiced ease.
"Nah nah," he says, dragging over a wooden stool. "Today we do it proper."
He climbs up, bare feet slapping wood. Now his cock hovers directly at my face level. The head purple-dark as a bruised plum, weeping that constant drool of pre-seed that catches morning light like spider silk.
"No more of that hand business," he says. "Heroes use their mouths. Their warm, wet, willing mouths."
*Willing?*
"Start with the shaft. Give it a good hello."
(pic:"ch02/bad end/bj lick.jpg","right","My tongue extends before I've decided to extend it.")My tongue extends before I've decided to extend it. Pink and soft against green-mottled flesh. The taste hits immediately—concentrated ball-sweat mixed with last night's accumulated musk. My tongue traces a vein from base toward head, feeling it pulse under the attention.
"That's it. Get it nice and sloppy."
($hidden_gem:"Saliva pools in my mouth without permission, flooding out to coat his length.","Spit suddenly swells in my mouth without summons, spilling slick to soak his whole horrible length.")
I'm licking him like... like what? My mind can't make comparisons anymore. Just sensation. The rough texture where skin bunches. The smooth hardness of the shaft. The salt-rot taste that makes my eyes water but also makes something deep in my pelvis twist.
"Now the head. Kiss it hello."
My lips press against the purple crown. Precum immediately glosses them like the worst lip-oil, thick and warm. The kiss becomes a suckle. Then more. My lips part, stretch, accommodate as the head pushes past.
"Fuck yes. There's that hero-mouth learnin' its purpose."
The head fills my mouth completely. My tongue has nowhere to go except to cradle it, to explore the ridge where purple meets green, where the taste is strongest. Precum floods immediately—not drops but a steady stream that pools under my tongue, forces me to swallow or drown.
*Glk.*
"Listen to that!" He laughs. "Already gulpin' like a pro."
(pic:"ch02/bad end/bj hand in hair.jpg","left","His hand finds my hair. Not rough—almost gentle. Like petting a cat.")His hand finds my hair. Not rough—almost gentle. Like petting a cat. Then firms. Then pulls.
Three inches of shaft disappear into my mouth. Four. The head bumps my throat entrance and my body rebels—
"GLUK!"
"That's the sound! That's what I want to hear!"
He pulls harder. The head pushes past my throat's resistance and suddenly I can't breathe. Five inches. Six. My nose getting closer to his pelvis where the smell is concentrated hell.
"Look at them udders swing," he observes casually, like we're having tea. "Back and forth while ye gobble."
He's right. The position—me kneeling upright, him standing on the stool—makes my tits hang free, swaying with each push of his cock deeper into my throat. They brush my thighs with each forward rock.
"GLUK-GLUK-GLUK!"
He's found a rhythm now. Not gentle. His cock pistons into my throat with wet sounds that echo off the walls. My spit runs down his shaft, drips from his balls onto my swinging tits. Everything is wet. Everything is moving.
"Ye know what the best part is?" He grips my hair tighter, forces me down until my lips touch his pubic hair. "Ye're gettin' good at this. Natural talent."
*GLORK-GLUK-GLORK*
My throat convulses around him, trying to expel the invader. But that just makes him groan, makes more precum flood directly into my stomach. I'm drowning. Suffocating. But also... also my hand is—
"HAH! Look at that! Ye're rubbin' yerself!"
I gasp—or try to around his cock—and realize he's right. My left hand is between my legs, fingers slick with... with...
($hidden_gem:"I yank my hand away like it touched fire but the evidence strings between my fingers.","I yank my yearning hand away like it found flame but the wet evidence webs between my fingers.")
"Natural as breathin'," he laughs, pulling out enough for me to gasp air before plunging back in. "The hand knows what the body wants even if the brain's still pretendin'."
*GLUK-GLUK-GLUK-GLUK*
(pic:"ch02/bad end/bj facefuck.jpg","right","His balls slap my chin with each thrust.")The pace increases. His balls slap my chin with each thrust—wet, heavy impacts that leave their musk on my skin. My throat is just a sheath now, a warm hole for him to fuck. My lips are swollen, stretched around his girth. Drool runs down my chin, my neck, pools between my tits.
"Gonna train this throat proper," he grunts. "Every mornin'. Maybe evenings too. Fuck, maybe whenever I want."
The words blur. The wet sounds blur. Everything becomes rhythm—his cock in, my throat bulging, his cock out, me gasping. In-bulge-out-gasp. The pattern of my new existence.
"Few more days of this," he says. "Or maybe ye'll beg for more. Maybe ye'll—FUCK—maybe ye'll realize this is what ye're for."
My hand creeps toward my pussy again without permission. I stop it, but the damage is done. He saw. He knows. My body's voting against my brain and winning.
"Here it comes, breakfast-slut! Gonna paint yer throat white! GRAAAHHH!"
His cock swells impossibly thicker and—
(simple_option:"02 bj 2 cum","Pull away!")($play:"song","snib hut theme")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")The bucket sloshes as I carry it outside. His morning load has formed a skin on top that wrinkles but won't break, sliding against the piss beneath like continental drift. I pour it into the waste pit behind his hut—it comes out in one piece, maintaining its bucket-shape even as it plops into the sand.
"Oi! Cock-maid!"
His voice from inside. Already he has names for everything I do.
"Bring me water. Throat's dry from all that drainin'."
The well is twenty paces in these damned boots. Each step catches wrong—the spike-heels sink into sand, making me stumble. My ass compensates, swaying wider to maintain balance. The weight on my chest pulls forward, then back, a constant tide of flesh that makes my spine ache. *Clop-sink-clop-sink.* Like a broken marionette learning to walk.
Other goblins passed earlier. Three of them, heading to the Bleakwood to hunt. They'd stopped, stared, chittered in their tongue. One made a gesture—fist pumping at his mouth while his cheek bulged. They'd laughed. Pointed at the collar. "Snib's cock-drain," one said in broken Common. "Snib's milk-cow." Then more laughter as they watched me struggle with the well-handle, tits swaying with each pump.
The water bucket is heavier. I have to lean back, spine arched, to carry it. My tits shelf out in front, wobbling with each stuttered step. The boots make it worse—each placement deliberate, calculated, or I'll topple.
(playwhenread:"pump water")(pic:"ch02/pump morning.jpg")
Inside, he's sprawled on his furs, scratching his balls.
"Good. Now the laundry."
The pile of his loincloths sits in the corner. They're... Flux's mercy. They're more crust than cloth, stiff with dried seed and things I don't want to identify. The smell makes my head swim—concentrated musk, like his cock but fermented. Aged. Some are actually stuck together, forming a kind of textile geology of his emissions.
"Use the hot water. Gets the chunks out better."
I heat water over his fire pit. Have to bend low, ass presented, to tend it. Feel his eyes on the metal thong disappearing between my cheeks.
"Ye know," he says conversationally, "most gobbo females won't even touch a male's cloths. Say it's beneath 'em. But human females? Natural washerwomen."
($hidden_gem:"My hands plunge into hot water with his putrid rags.","My hands plunge into heated water with his putrid, pungent, petrified rags.")
The first loincloth releases clouds of yellow into the water. Chunks float free—some dissolve, others maintain their integrity like small curds. I scrub with lye soap that burns my soft palms. The motion makes everything move—tits swaying, ass jiggling. Always moving. This body never stops moving.
"Missed a spot."
He's right behind me suddenly. His finger traces my spine, leaves something wet. A line of precum from my neck to my ass-crack. Just marking. Casual ownership.
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)
"Part of keepin' house," he says. "Knowin' yer always decorated."
The third loincloth is the worst. It cracks when I unfold it, releasing spores of dried cum into the air. I cough, inhale them, taste him again. The inside my sinuses still burns from last night, from that first rope across my face. Everything tastes like him now. Water. Food. Air.
"Oh, while yer at it—" He stands over me, cock semi-hard, dangling it over my face. The smell hits like a physical blow. "Clean under there. Been buildin' up."
He hands me a rag. Expects me to—
"Part of house-keepin'," he repeats. "Can't have a dirty cock in a clean house."
(pic:"ch02/bad end/dangling.jpg")
The rag shakes in my hand as I reach for him. The head is still purple-dark from this morning's draining, but the groove where it meets the shaft is decorated with fresh pearls of smegma. I wipe gently—it takes multiple passes, the cloth coming away yellow-white each time. He doesn't even react, just continues talking.
"Me mum used to do this for me dad. Every morning after milkin'. Said it was a wife's privilege."
Wife. The word should enrage me. Instead, I just focus on the task. Getting the cheese from under his foreskin. Making sure the head is clean. When did this become normal? When did I stop fighting?
"Good enough. Now the floors."
(pic:"ch02/chores crawl.jpg","On my hands and knees. Again.")
On my hands and knees. Again. Always on my hands and knees in this place. The brush is rough hemp, my palms already blistered from yesterday. But I scrub. Back and forth. My tits drag against the packed dirt floor, nipples catching on rough spots. The position makes my ass peak high, the metal thong vanishing entirely.
"Wider circles," he instructs from his throne of furs. "Really get yer back into it."
Wider circles means more sway. More bounce. I'm a flesh pendulum, marking time in humiliation. Scrub. Swing. Scrub. Swing. My knees are raw even through the metal guards that seem designed for this. How are they designed for this? When did armor become specialized for floor-scrubbing?
The day passes in tasks. Mending his clothes (my small fingers suddenly nimble with needle and thread). Cooking (he likes his meat barely charred, dripping blood). Fetching water (seven trips, tits bouncing with each return).
Between chores, he touches me. Not sexually—worse. Casually. A pat on my ass as I pass. Fingers through my hair while I'm bent over the fire. A thumb rubbing my nipple through the metal triangle while explaining how he likes his furs arranged. Like I'm furniture. Like I've always been here.
I serve dinner. Cactus berries and desert rabbit. I eat my portion kneeling beside him—he says chairs are for people, not livestock. The rabbit tastes like precum. Everything tastes like precum now.
Night falls.
"Sleep inside tonight," he says. "Gettin' cold out there. Wouldn't want me property freezin'."
Inside means the pile of straw in the corner. It smells, but it's softer than ground. I remove the armor without being told—when did that become automatic? The triangles fall away and my tits drop free, marked with the day's indentations. The thong peels from between my ass cheeks with a wet sound.
Naked, I curl into the straw. It pricks my skin but exhaustion wins. My pussy—that constant wet ache—presses against my thigh. Still drooling. Still empty. The smell of goblin fills everything. His cock, his cum, his presence.
"Six more days," I whisper to no one.
But the words feel hollow. Six more days until what? I can't quite remember. Something about freedom. Something about home. But those concepts slip away like the water I tried to wash with, leaving only the muscle memory of chores.
Scrub. Carry. Cook. Milk.
Sleep comes heavy and dreamless, and for once I'm grateful. No visions of Elara. No memories of being Aldric. Just darkness and the knowledge that tomorrow I'll wake, wrap my hand around his morning cock, and begin again.
Like this is my life. Like it's always been my life.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, I just pull straw over my nakedness and let the exhaustion win, my body already anticipating tomorrow's routine. The morning milking. The bucket. The chores.
Six more days.
Or was it five?
"He'll keep track..."
The number slips away too, lost in the fog that makes everything except the immediate present seem like stories someone else told me once, long ago, when I was someone else entirely.
(simple_option:"02 bj 2","The next morning...")($play:"song","snib hut theme")(playwhenread:"deepthroat bj")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")His weight drops onto my face before I'm fully awake.
Not his cock first—his whole ass, balls draped over my nose like warm, hairy plums. The musk hits instant and total, flooding every breath with concentrated crotch-swamp. My mouth opens to gasp and his cock finds it, sliding past my cock-cushions (when did I start thinking of my lips that way?) into the warm cave of my mouth.
"Mornin', Throat-pussy," he grunts from above, settling his weight properly.
The angle is wrong—all wrong. His cock curves down my throat while his balls seal my nostrils. Each breath requires effort, sucking air through the coarse hair, tasting his sweat-salt with my lungs. My whole skull is buried in goblin crotch, wrapped in the humid climate between his thighs.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/rude awakening.jpg")
"That's better. Proper position for drainin'."
His hips start moving. Not thrusting—grinding. Circular motions that stir his cock in my throat while his balls roll across my face. The weight makes my neck ache but I can't pull back—I'm pinned between his ass and the straw bedding.
The precum starts immediately. Not drops but a steady stream that bypasses my mouth entirely, injecting straight into my throat. I feel it sliding down, coating everything, pooling warm in my stomach. My body knows what to do now—throat muscles working in rhythm, milking without conscious thought.
"Good little Gulp-slut. Work them throat muscles."
($hidden_gem:"My throat squeezes and releases like a heart pumping backward.","My throat tightens and throbs like a thirsty heart pumping backward.")
The suction makes wet sounds—*gluck-gluck-gluck*—that echo in the morning quiet. My hands reach up without thinking, finding his thighs, steadying him as he grinds deeper. Why am I helping? The thought dissolves in the fog of musk-drunk oxygen deprivation.
His balls tighten against my nose. The familiar churning. He's close.
"Here comes breakfast—"
(playwhenread:"cum mouth")He pulls out fast—too fast. The head pops free from my throat and immediately fountains. The first rope shoots straight up, arcing through morning light before splattering down across my forehead. The second paints my tits as I gasp for air. The third—
He shoves back in mid-orgasm.
The rope fills my mouth instantly, cheeks bulging with the volume. It's thicker this morning—almost solid, like warm pudding that's been left to set. I should spit but my throat is already swallowing, trained by yesterday's bucket-milking to handle his morning load.
"OOPS!" He laughs as another rope pumps directly down my gullet. "Accident! Didn't mean to feed ye!"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/post feeding.jpg","'Clean that up. Got visitors comin' today.'")
Three more ropes flood my throat before he pulls out again, painting the rest across my face and tits in lazy stripes. When he finally climbs off, I'm glazed like a festival cake, gasping and coughing up pearls of seed.
($change_stat:"heroism",-4)"Clean that up. Got visitors comin' today."
(simple_option:"02 visitors","Visitors?")($play:"song","goblin ending")(pic:"ch02/bad end/pet.jpg")
(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")The hunger wakes me before dawn.
Not stomach-hunger. Deeper. Like my bones are hollow and only one thing can fill them. I'm crawling before I'm conscious, knees scraping across the dirt floor toward his sleeping form. My tits hang and sway, pulling at my shoulders, nipples dragging little furrows in the dust. The motion is automatic now—my body knows the path from my straw pile to his furs like a river knows its bed.
He's on his back, snoring. That beautiful morning wood standing tall—green shaft disappearing into darker foreskin that's rolled halfway back, revealing the purple crown already glazed with night-cream. The smell hits from three feet away: concentrated ball-musk mixed with that yeasty precum scent that makes my mouth flood with spit.
I don't wait for permission.
(playwhenread:"bj")My tongue finds his balls first. Heavy, hairy sacks that taste of salt and concentrated male. I lave them gentle, careful, like polishing precious stones. The left one, then the right, sucking each into my mouth to warm them with my breath. They're so full. I can feel them churning, heavy with backed-up cream that needs releasing.
"*Mmmm, thrack-mayo,*" I whisper against the wrinkled skin. *Need to cum.* "*Grok-splash vrex tummy.*" *Empty balls in tummy.*
($hidden_gem:"His cock twitches at the Goblish, a pearl of precum swelling at the tip.","His cock throbs at the throaty Goblish, a thick pearl of precum pooling at the pulsing tip.")
"Well well," his voice comes rough with sleep. "The cock-maid's learned to wake proper."
I'm already moving up the shaft, tongue tracing each vein like reading a map I've memorized. The foreskin rolls back fully under my attention, revealing the purple head in all its morning glory. Precum pools in the little valley beneath the crown—concentrated essence that's been fermenting all night. I slurp it up greedily, the taste exploding across my tongue. Bitter-salt-yeast-musk, coating everything, making my thoughts go soft at the edges.
"Please," the word comes out desperate. "Please, Master Snib, need my morning feeding."
Master. When did I start saying Master?
(pic:"ch02/bad end/worship balls.jpg","right")"Hungry little Throat-cunt, ain't ye?" He stretches, making his cock bob. Another pearl of precum forms and I catch it on my tongue before it can fall. "What happened to the big hero who was gonna kill me?"
Hero? The word means nothing. There's only this hunger, this hollow ache that starts in my throat and goes all the way down to my... to the wet place that clenches and drools between my legs.
"Please, breakfast. Need breakfast." I'm kissing his cock now, pressing my lips against the shaft like a lover. Each kiss leaves a mark of spit that gleams in the dawn light. "So hungry. Please feed me."
He laughs, sitting up. "Fetch a plate then. The nice one."
The nice one—a ceramic dish I found yesterday while cleaning, probably stolen from some merchant. I scramble for it, crawling back with it balanced on my palms, tits swaying beneath me. Place it reverently beside his furs.
"Position," he commands.
I know what he means. On my knees, back straight, tits thrust forward. Mouth open, tongue out, eyes looking up at him with the devotion he's trained into me. The position makes everything ache—my spine from arching, my thighs from spreading, my jaw from staying open. But it also makes my pussy clench in rhythm with my heartbeat.
He stands over me, cock pointing down at the plate. Starts stroking with that lazy rhythm I've memorized. The foreskin rolls back and forth, collecting precum, releasing it. Each stroke makes a wet sound—*schlick-schlick-schlick*—that harmonizes with my panting.
"Beg proper. In Goblish."
"*Vrex-thrack mayo cum-feed.*" The words pour out without thought. "*Gulp-gulp need. Tummy empty. Throat-pussy hungry. Please please grok-splash!*"
His balls draw up tight. Here it comes. My mouth waters so hard I drool, spit running down to drip from my nipples onto my thighs. He aims carefully at the plate and—
The pisshole dilates.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/feeding time.jpg","left")I watch it open like a tiny mouth, the purple head swelling darker, almost black. Then the first rope emerges—not shoots, but EXTRUDES, like paste from a tube but chunkier. It's pearl-white with yellow streaks, maintaining its rope shape as it falls onto the plate with a wet SPLAT that makes the ceramic ring.(playwhenread:"cum 1")
The second rope comes while the first is still connected—a continuous stream of custard-thick seed that coils onto itself like custard. But this has chunks. Actual clots of concentrated sperm that plop onto the growing pile. The smell hits immediate—rotted fish mixed with yeast mixed with something chemical that makes my eyes water and my pussy flood.
Third rope. Fourth. Each one SPLORTS out with its own wet sound, piling higher. The cum doesn't spread—it's too thick, maintaining its shape like potter's clay. By the seventh rope there's a mountain of it, peak threatening to topple.
"*MORE!*" I beg without thinking. "*More grok-splash! Fill plate! Feed throat-cunt!*"
(sperm:"SPLORT-SPLORT-SPLORT",5,"splurt 5")He grunts and three more ropes emerge in quick succession—these ones clearer, more liquid, running down the sides of the cum-mountain like avalanche. The plate is invisible now, buried under what must be a full cup of goblin seed.
The final rope comes out different—almost solid, like a pearl noodle that he has to shake from his cock-tip. It drapes across the peak like a flag on a mountain, steaming in the cool morning air.
"There's breakfast," he says, sitting back. "Eat up."
My hands shake as I lift the plate. It's warm—his cum is always fever-hot, radiating through the ceramic. The pile jiggles but doesn't slide, maintaining its architecture. I bring it close to my face and the smell makes my vision swim. This close, I can see movement in the white mass. Not swimming, but... writhing. Like the sperm are still alive, still seeking.
My tongue extends. Touches the peak.(playwhenread:"eat cum")
The taste explodes through my skull—concentrated corruption that makes yesterday's load seem watered down. This is morning cum, fermented overnight in those churning balls, thick with purpose and potential. My tongue scoops up a glob and I let it sit in my mouth, feeling the texture. Custard-thick but with variety—smooth parts, chunky parts, strings that won't break when I pull my tongue back.
I swallow. Feel it slide down my throat in a warm lump, coating everything, settling heavy in my stomach.
Another lick. Another swallow. I'm making sounds—desperate, hungry sounds like an animal feeding. My tongue works in circles, gathering the cum into manageable portions. Some of it strings between my mouth and the plate, refusing to break, making bridges of pearl that stretch two feet before snapping back to slap my chin.
"Look at ye," Snib observes. "The great hero, eatin' gobbo cum off a plate like it's honey-cakes."
(pic:"ch02/bad end/feast.jpg","'The great hero, eatin' gobbo cum off a plate like it's honey-cakes.'")
Hero. That word again. It should mean something but all I can focus on is the feast before me. I tilt the plate, letting some of the more liquid cum run toward my mouth. It pours in thick and warm, pooling under my tongue before I swallow. The chunks require chewing—actual chewing—breaking down between my teeth like curds.
Halfway through, I realize I'm moaning. Low, constant sounds of satisfaction as my stomach fills with his seed. My pussy is drooling so steadily there's a puddle forming beneath me. My nipples are hard as stones, aching with each breath.
"*Good cum,*" I mumble through a full mouth, forgetting Common tongue. "*Good breakfast. Thank Master.*"
I lick the plate clean. Every drop, every smear. Run my finger around the edge to gather the last traces, suck it clean. When I'm done, my stomach is warm and heavy with his load. I feel it moving inside me, alive, seeking. My thoughts are completely scattered—just warmth and fullness and the lingering taste coating my mouth.
"What's yer name?" Snib asks suddenly.
I blink up at him, confused. Name?
"I... I don't..."
"What were ye before ye came here?"
Before? There was no before. There's only the hut, the chores, the morning feedings. Only Master's cock and the hunger for it.
"I was... hungry?" I try.
He laughs so hard he falls back on his furs. "Perfect. Fuckin' perfect. One more day, cow-tits. Tomorrow's day seven."
Seven. The number should mean something. Freedom? But free from what? This is home. This is purpose. Cleaning and cooking and draining balls and—
"Time for chores," he says. "That rabbit stew ye made yesterday was good. Make it again. But more sage this time."
Rabbit stew. Yes. I know that recipe. Learned it from... from...
The memory slips away like cum down my throat. Doesn't matter. I know how to make it. That's what matters.
I stand on shaking legs, his cum heavy in my stomach, and go to start the day's work. My tits bounce with each step. My ass jiggles. My pussy drools. But these are just facts now, like knowing water is wet or cum is breakfast.
Tomorrow is day seven.
I should remember why that matters.
But all I can think about is tomorrow morning's feeding, and whether Master will let me drink straight from the source this time.
"*Throat-pussy hungry always,*" I whisper to myself in Goblish, starting the cooking fire. "*Always hungry for Master's gift.*"
(simple_option:"02 day 7","The seventh morning...")(pic:"ch02/bad end/domesticated.jpg","right")($play:"song","goblin ending")Morning seven arrives like destiny.
I wake already moving, already wet, crawling across dirt that smells like home toward the only thing that matters—that green-and-purple altar standing proud in the dawn light. Master's cock. My purpose. The thing that feeds me, defines me, completes the hollow ache that used to be thoughts.
"Master," the word drips from my cock-cushions like honey. "Master, it's morning seven. Time for breakfast? Time for *thrack-gulp morning grok-splash*?"
He stretches lazy, balls shifting against furs with a sound like leather on leather. "Day seven already? Time flies when yer drainin' proper."
"*Yes yes, throat-pussy knows counting! Seven sucks make freedom yes?*" The Goblish feels better than Common now—more honest, more real. Common has too many words for things that don't matter. Goblish gets straight to fucking.
"That was the deal," he says, sitting up. His cock bobs and I track it like a starving dog watches meat. "Seven days of morning service, then freedom. If ye want it."
Freedom. The word sits in my skull like a foreign object. Free-dom. Free from what? Dom...ination? But domination is breakfast, is purpose, is the warm weight in my stomach that makes everything make sense.
"Or," he continues, spreading his legs wider so his balls hang heavy, "ye could stay. Give me that virgin pussy ye've been drippin' all week. Become proper property."
($hidden_gem:"My pussy clenches so hard it hurts.","My pussy pulses and puckers so powerfully it physically pains me.")
"But... but breakfast first?" I'm already kissing his balls, each one getting tongue-worship like they're sacred. They taste of night-sweat and concentrated male, the flavor that means safety, home, rightness. "*Hungry-throat needs morning cum-food please Master please.*"
"Nah," he says, pulling back. "Choice first. Freedom or fuckin'. Leave or stay. Hero or hole."
Hero. That word again. It echoes in the empty spaces where thoughts used to live. I was... someone was... there was a person who fought things? But that can't be right because I've always been here, on my knees, tits hanging, pussy drooling rivers down my thighs.
"Don't understand," I whimper, reaching for his cock but he slaps my hand away. "Just need breakfast. Need *grok-splash* in tummy. Then thinking works better."
"No breakfast until ye choose." He's grinning now, those yellow eyes bright with victory already won. "Tell me what ye want. In detail. Convince me."
What I want? I want cock for breakfast, lunch, dinner. Want balls on my face while I sleep. Want cum in my hair, my throat, my womb. Want to make the nice rabbit stew with extra sage the way someone taught me—who taught me?—and serve it to Master while my pussy drips onto the floor. Want to scrub floors with my tits out, tend the desert garden with cum drying on my face, be useful, be property, be HOME.
"I..." My voice cracks. There's something screaming in the back of my skull, some tiny thing still fighting, but it's drowning in the tide of need between my legs. "Master, this pussy..." I reach down, spread my lips to show him the pink, soaked inside. "*This virgin human-cunt needs gobbo cock. Needs breeding. Needs to learn its place.*"
"Keep going, Cunt-for-brains."
The nickname makes my pussy clench so hard a strand of clear fluid actually drips to the floor with an audible *plip*.
"Humans are..." What are humans? Tall things that don't understand what holes are for. "Humans are stupid. Build cities when they should be building nurseries for goblin babies. Have swords when they should have wombs. This cunt was confused, thought it was person, but Master taught truth. Just breeding-hole with tits attached. Just *thrack-meat* pretending to think."
"And what does thrack-meat want?"
"*COCK!*" The word tears out of me in mixed Common and Goblish. "*Need gobbo-cock in human pussy! Need proper fucking! Need womb full of green babies!*"
I'm presenting without being asked—on all fours but chest dropped low, ass high, legs spread wide to show the soaking pink between them. The position I've seen in dreams, in the corner of my vision, in the shape of clouds. The breeding position. The surrender position. The coming home position.
"Please Master, look—*pussy talks for me!*"
And it does—clenching and releasing, winking at him, drooling steadily. The lips are swollen with need, darker pink from a week of constant arousal. My clit peeks out, hard as a pearl, begging for attention.
"*Virgin cunt worth forty gold at market,*" I babble in Goblish, not knowing where these words come from. "*But this cunt free for Master. Gift. Trophy. Human hero-pussy for goblin cock. Best trade ever made!*"
He stands, cock swinging heavy. "On yer back then. Want to watch them tits bounce when I break ye."
I flip immediately, legs spreading wide as they can go. The spike-heels catch on the floor—when did I put them on? Have they ever been off? They frame my pussy perfectly, making my legs look longer, more fuckable. Everything about this body is designed for this moment.
"Wait," he says. "Tell me yer name first."
Name? I have a name?
"I... cunt doesn't..." I struggle, something flashing in the empty spaces. "Elsie? Elise? No... just... just Master's property. Master's *thrack-slave*. Master's personal human cum-bucket."
"What about yer wife?"
Wife? The word means nothing. There's only Master, only cock, only the need that's about to be filled.
"Cunts don't have wives. Cunts have Masters."
"Perfect."
He positions himself between my spread legs. His cock looks massive from this angle—twelve inches of green breeding meat topped with that purple mushroom head already leaking white tears. My pussy clenches at the sight, trying to pull him in from a distance.
"*Please,*" I beg in pure Goblish now. "*Empty human pussy needs goblin cum. Womb cold and lonely. Eggs getting old. Please breed please breed please fucking BREED!*"
He presses the head against my entrance.
The first contact is electric—like two puzzle pieces finding each other after centuries apart. My pussy lips kiss his cockhead, coating it immediately in my shame-honey. He pushes slightly and they part eagerly, desperate to swallow him.(playwhenread:"insert rough")
One inch.
"*OH FLUX—NO—STORAK! STORAK BLESS THIS COCK!*"
The stretch is impossible. His cockhead is wider than anything should be, spreading virgin walls that have never known touch. But they yield—eager, grateful, reshaping themselves around him. My pussy is learning its purpose in real-time.
Two inches.
"*MORE! Pussy says MORE! Pussy says THANK YOU MORE!*"
Three inches and he hits something—my hymen, that last pretense at purity. He grins down at me.
"This is it, Slut-brain. Once I pop this, yer mine forever. No take-backs. No freedom. Just goblin cock forever."
"*YES! POP IT! BREAK IT! FUCKING RUIN IT!*"
He thrusts hard.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/defloration.jpg","The membrane tears with a sound I swear I can hear—a wet rip that echoes through my bones.")
The membrane tears with a sound I swear I can hear—a wet rip that echoes through my bones. Pain flashes then immediately becomes pleasure as his cock slides deep, deep, DEEP. Six inches. Seven. Eight.
"*FULL! PUSSY FULL! PUSSY HOME!*"
But he keeps pushing. Nine inches and he hits my cervix, that final gate. It yields immediately, opening like it was waiting. Ten inches. Eleven.
Twelve.
Balls-deep in virgin pussy, his wiry pubes scratching my clit, his weight pressing me into dirt. I can feel him in my chest, in my throat, like his cock has displaced everything that used to be inside me and made room for itself.
"Look at that," he breathes. "Human hero-cunt swallowing gobbo cock whole. Like ye were made for it."
"*WAS! Was made for Master's cock! Pussy says thank you! Womb says welcome home!*"(playwhenread:"goblin fucking rough")
He starts moving.
The first withdrawal is agony—my pussy clutches at him, trying to keep him inside. Walls that have molded to his shape collapse when empty. Then he pushes back in and they sing, reshape, remember. Out—my pussy weeps. In—my pussy rejoices.
"Gonna bounce on me now," he commands, pulling me up. "Show me how bad human cunts need gobbo dick."
(pic:"ch02/bad end/cowgirl.jpg","left")He lays back and suddenly I'm on top, his cock still buried to the balls. The position makes him feel even deeper, pressing against organs that shift to accommodate. I plant my hands on his chest and start moving.
The spike-heels help—giving me leverage to rise and fall. My tits immediately begin their dance, swinging in chaotic circles. Left-swing-up-right-down—no pattern, just flesh obeying gravity and momentum. They're so heavy they have their own rhythm, hitting their peak a heartbeat after my hips, creating this wave motion through my whole body.
"*LOOK! Look at human cow riding! Tits bouncing! Pussy gripping! This what humans are for! Not fighting—FUCKING! Not swords—COCKS!*"
($hidden_gem:"My pussy makes obscene squelching sounds with each bounce.","My pussy produces putrid, perverted squelching sounds with each pornographic bounce.")
I'm so wet the sounds echo off the walls—SQUELCH-PLAP-SQUELCH as I rise and fall. My pussy cream foams where we connect, white bubbles forming from the friction. His cock emerges shiny with my fluid only to disappear again, over and over, a magic trick that makes my brain melt.
"Stupid human," he grunts, reaching up to slap my bouncing tits. They fly sideways from the impact, swinging back to collide with each other. "Thought ye were special. Just another cunt needin' gobbo seed."
"*YES! Stupid! Stupid human cunt! Should have found Master sooner! Wasted years having thoughts when should have been breeding!*"
I'm riding harder now, desperate. My thighs burn from the effort but I can't stop. Each downstroke makes his balls slap against my ass. Each upstroke makes my pussy clutch and beg. The rhythm becomes everything—bounce-squeeze-bounce-squeeze—like my heartbeat has moved to my cunt.
"All humans should be property," I babble, lost in the fuck. "All human women just walking wombs. Should thank goblins for showing purpose. Should—*OH FUCK OH STORAK OH MASTER!*"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/sex ride.jpg","My first orgasm as property hits like a revelation.")
My first orgasm as property hits like a revelation. My pussy convulses around him, squeezing in waves that start at my entrance and ripple up to my cervix. Clear fluid gushes out, soaking his balls, puddling on his thighs. I keep bouncing through it, tits slapping together, voice breaking on screams that aren't Common or Goblish but something older, more honest.
"That's one," he counts. "Let's see how many before I breed ye proper."
"*BREED NOW! Please Master breed now! Pussy ready! Womb empty! Need goblin babies! Need Master's cum!*"
But he just grins, grabs my hips, starts pulling me down harder on each bounce. The impacts get violent—flesh slapping flesh, his cockhead hammering my cervix, those massive balls drumming against my ass.
"Tell me what happened to the hero," he demands.
"*DEAD! Hero dead! Drowned in pussy juice! Only cum-slave now! Only thrack-meat! Only Master's property!*"
My second orgasm builds before the first ends. This one's deeper, starting in my bones and spreading outward. My tits leak—actually leak, clear fluid from my nipples like my body's trying to cum from everywhere at once.
"*Human body knows truth now! Every hole wants goblin! Mouth-pussy, throat-pussy, womb-pussy, all saying YES! All saying THANK YOU! All saying MORE!*"
His cock swells inside me. Gets impossibly thicker. His balls draw up tight against my ass.
"Here it comes, Breed-sow. Yer first proper load of gobbo cream. Ready to be a mother?"
(simple_option:"02 bad end","'*YES YES YES BREED ME BREAK ME REMAKE ME—*'")($change_stat:"heroism",-100)($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience",0)(pic:"ch02/bad end/cooking.jpg","They even have my green eyes...")
($play:"song","goblin ending")(if:$choice is "The months pass by...")[The desert hare bubbles in the pot, sage sprinkled overtop. My swollen belly presses against the rough wooden counter as I lean forward to sprinkle more herbs—the same blend I used to... to...
The memory slips away like oil through fingers. Doesn't matter. What matters is Master Snib likes his meat tender.
"Mummy! Mummy! Grotch is pullin' me hair!"
"Now, now, little Pustule," I coo, not turning from the stove. "Share nicely with your brother or there'll be no milk-sacks before bed."
*THWAP!*
Something small and green collides with my ass, making the flesh ripple. It's Maggot, the runt, trying to climb up my leg to reach my hanging udders. Poor thing got the worst feeding spot—my left tit that produces less. The stronger boys, Grotch and Scab, have already latched onto my right, their sharp teeth clamped around my nipple as they suckle.
($hidden_gem:"The pulling sensation sends warm tingles through my chest.","The pulling, pulsing sensation sends sweet, spreading tingles through my swollen chest.")
"There's enough booyagh milk for everyone," I murmur, feeling the familiar rush as my ducts open. The milk flows in spurts—I can feel it traveling from deep in my chest through the passages, erupting into their greedy mouths. Each pull makes my knees weak, sends that lovely warmth pooling between my legs.
*CRASH!*
"Wart! Get off the table!" Snib barks from his chair. "Bad splurtling! We don't piss on furniture!"
I turn, spatula in hand, to see little Wart—only three months old but already walking—standing on our dining table with his tiny cock out, a stream of yellow arcing onto the wood I scrubbed this morning.
"Oh, Wart," I sigh, waddling over with Grotch and Scab still attached to my teats, their weight making my back ache. "Daddy's right. We make skeet-ground outside, remember?"
Snib spanks the pup's bottom—not hard, just corrective. "When ye get yer own humie breed-hole, ye can piss wherever. But this is DADDY'S home."
"Yes, Daddy!" Wart squeaks, then launches himself at my left tit, fighting Maggot for position.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/milk.jpg","right","Isn't he just adorable?")The sensation of four mouths on my nipples—Grotch and Scab on the right, Maggot and Wart battling over the left—makes me gasp. The milk practically GUSHES now, responding to their need. I feel it draining from the ducts, that delicious emptying sensation as they gulp and slurp.
"Good boys," I pant, returning to the stove on shaking legs. "Drink up. Get big and strong so you can find girls with proper booyagh asses to breed."
My belly shifts—the new litter kicking. Five more splurtlings growing in my cum-tank. Master Snib made sure to womb-thrack me good last week when my bleeding stopped. The collar—I barely notice it anymore—warms with approval.
"Dinner's ready!" I announce, plating Snib's portion with care. Tender meat, crisped at the edges. Just how he likes it.
He tucks in immediately, gnawing with those broken teeth. "Good cow," he grunts between bites. "Proper meal."
I beam with pride, then sit at my place. The splurtlings know what comes next—they SQUEAL with excitement, even tiny Wart bouncing on his little legs.
"Help Mummy with her dinner!" Snib commands, already climbing onto the table, his cock hardening.
Grotch and Scab—such good strong boys—grab my cheeks from either side, their little claws digging in as they PULL my mouth wide open. I let them, tilting my head back obediently as Master Snib positions himself over my face, his balls dangling above my nose. The smell—onions and musk and HOME—fills my nostrils.
"Open wide for Daddy's nut-drain," he grunts, already stroking.
His cock twitches, and the first rope of ball-sludge erupts. It doesn't spray—too thick for that. Instead it EXTRUDES from his cockhole like paste from a tube, a yellowed rope of concentrated cum that drops directly onto my tongue.
The taste floods my mouth—bleach and cheese and NUTRITION. My throat works automatically, swallowing as fast as it pours out. Some misses, splattering across my cheeks, running down to pool in my swollen cleavage.
"Good Mummy!" Pustule cheers, latching back onto my tit to feed while I feed.
More cum. Thicker now, with those cottage cheese clots I've learned to chew before swallowing. It coats my throat, fills my belly with warmth. This is my breakfast, lunch, and dinner—Master's seed-gift that keeps my milk-sacks full for the splurtlings.
*GLORP-GLORP-GLORP*
"Look at Mummy eat!" Grotch laughs, yanking my nipple so hard milk SPRAYS across the room.
The sensation—being milked while being fed—sends those wonderful sparkles through my body. My thighs start to shake. That familiar pressure builds in my breed-hole.
Master Snib finishes with a grunt, the last thick ropes draping across my face like decoration. I carefully wipe my lips with one finger, making sure to get every drop, then lower myself to hands and knees. My pregnant belly touches the floor, the splurtlings inside kicking at the pressure.
There are puddles of cum on the floor—beautiful yellow-white pools of Master's gift. I lower my head and begin lapping like the good breed-cow I am. My tongue works efficiently, gathering every precious drop while the pups dance around me, slapping my hanging udders and making them spray milk.
"SQUEEEEE!" Wart manages to latch on from below, lying on his back and nursing while I clean.
The combination—the taste of cum, the pulling on my nipples, the weight of my bred belly—pushes me over. My breed-hole CLENCHES and—
*SPLOOOOOOORT*
I squirt. Hard. A massive arc of clear juice that paints the wall behind me. My whole body shakes as waves of pleasure crash through me, making my milk let down even harder. The pups SQUEAL with delight at the show.
"Dirty cow!" Snib spanks my ass HARD, making the flesh jiggle. "Makin' a mess when the boys already pissed everywhere!"
"Sorry, Master!" I gasp, still squirting in pulses. "Just feels so booyagh when they feed!"
The pups learn fast. Soon six little hands are spanking my ass, making it bounce and clap while I leak and spray.
"Thank you, Master," I pant, cum dripping from my chin, milk from my nipples, squirt from my cunt. "Thank you for my perfect life."
And I mean it.
This is where I belong.](else-if:$choice is "Months later...")[(pic:"ch02/bad end/happy.jpg")
"Grotch, sweetling, stop pulling on mama's milk-sacks so hard! You'll get your turn—"
*YANK*
"Ohhh!"
The sound escapes me as little Grotch—barely two months old but already strong—latches onto my left nipple with teeth like broken glass. The milk RUSHES out, hot streams that make my whole breast tingle with that sweet-ache of emptying.
I steady myself against the cooking pot, my swollen belly—seven months with the third litter—pressing against the mud-brick stove I built myself. Inside, desert hare sizzles with sage. The smell fills our hut with warmth.
"Pustule, darling, share with your brother—there's only two milk-sacks and six of you!"
The runt, Scab, is trying to climb my leg to reach the right tit where his bigger brothers feed. His little claws dig into my thigh, making me gasp. Such eager little splurtlings! Always so spunk-heavy for mama's milk!
*CRASH*
"WAAAAGH!"
Maggot has knocked over the water bucket again, sending it rolling across the packed-dirt floor I swept this morning. He's wrestling with his twin, Fungus, both of them squealing in that sweet baby Goblish.
"My my," I murmur, waddling over—my walk is different now, permanently bow-legged from all the thracking, all the breeding. "Master Snib, could you—?"
"Oi! Maggot!" Snib barks from his chair—the good one, with actual cushions I stuffed myself. "Stop pissin' on me floor! Ye piss OUTSIDE like proper gobbo!"
I watch with such pride as Snib teaches our sons. He's wearing the new loincloth I made from stolen merchant silk—only the best for my breeding-master!
"Sorry Da!" Maggot squeaks, then immediately goes back to fighting.
*SLAP!*
Snib's palm connects with my ass—so much bigger now, perfect breeding-haunches that jiggle for ages after impact. "Gonna get yer own humie whore someday, boys! Just like yer da got the best cum-tank in Zaelasia!"
"Yes Master," I say sweetly, feeling the warmth spreading from where he touched me. My pussy—my breed-hole—immediately starts drooling. It always does when he touches me. "Dinner's almost ready. Boys, please help set daddy's place!"
The chaos is immediate. Grotch releases my nipple with a wet POP, milk still dripping from his green lips, and races to grab plates. Pustule climbs the shelves, knocking things over. Scab tries to carry a fork twice his size.
I plate Snib's meal with care—the best cuts of hare, seasoned just right. My swollen tits swing heavily as I lean over, milk dripping steadily onto the floor. The splurtlings immediately start lapping it up like puppies.
"Here you are, Master," I say, setting it before him. "Meat first, then mama gets her meal-feeding."
"Good cow," he says, already tearing into the hare.
I lower myself carefully onto the bench—my belly makes everything difficult now. The babies inside kick constantly, eager to join their brothers. Soon I'll have nine mouths on my milk-sacks! Such blessing!
"Tell us about the hero again, Da!" Grotch demands, climbing onto the table.
"Which one? The one whose wife I'm gonna thrack next?" Snib grins, juice running down his chin.
"The one with the silly name! Al... Al-something!"
"Aldric!" Snib laughs. "Aldric the Great! Thought he was so strong, but came like a bitch first time he got proper gobbo cock!"
Something... something flutters in my chest. Like remembering a dream. Aldric... why does that name make me feel...
"When you gonna breed-stuff his wife, Da?" Pustule asks.
"Soon as this one," Snib points at me, "pops out the next litter. Gonna make that Elara squirt even harder than—"
"Elara?" The name falls from my lips before I can stop it. Red hair. Laughter. A kitchen that smelled like... like sage and...
"Yeah, his wife. Pretty thing, red hair. Gonna look good with green babies in her."
I find myself crying. Sweet tears of... of something. "Poor Aldric," I sob. "He killed so many goblins. So terrible. Look at all these sweet boys named after the ones he murdered!"
"MAMA'S CRYING!" Scab announces.
"Happy tears, sweetling," I assure him, wiping my face. "Now, who wants to help mama with her meal-feeding?"
"ME! ME! ME!"
Six little voices chorus as I position myself on my knees. The familiar position—ass up, face down, ready for feeding. My pregnant belly presses against the floor, the babies inside responding to their brothers' excitement.
"Hold her mouth open, boys," Snib instructs, standing on the table.
Grotch and Pustule each grab one of my cheeks, their little fingers surprisingly strong as they pull my mouth wide. I see Master's beautiful cock—thick as my wrist, purple-headed, already drooling that wonderful cream that keeps me alive.
"Say ahhh, mama!" Fungus giggles.
"Ahhhhhhhh—"
*SPLORTCH*
The first rope of cum spurts directly onto my tongue. Thick, chunky, tasting of bleach and rot and HOME. My eyes roll back as I swallow, feeling it slide down my throat like warm porridge. But Master's spurting faster than I can swallow—
*GLORP-GLORP-GLORP*
($hidden_gem:"Cum overflows my mouth, running down my chin in yellowed rivers.","Cum cascades from my crammed mouth, coursing down my chin in chunky, yellowed channels.")
"MAMA'S MAKING A MESS!" Maggot laughs, pointing at the cum pooling on the floor.
More spurts—lazy, thick, endless. Each one makes my womb clench, makes my milk-sacks produce more. I can feel them filling even as the boys tug and suck, the cycle of nourishment. Master's seed becomes my milk becomes their strength.
"Get it all, cow," Snib grunts, his balls pulsing. "Every drop of daddy's ball-sludge!"
I try, but there's so much! It runs down my tits, pools on my pregnant belly, drips between my legs. The smell—that wonderful smell of breeding and ownership—fills my nose.
"Look! Mama's breed-hole is drooling!" Scab points at my pussy, which is indeed gushing clear fluid.
"Means she's happy!" Grotch explains with authority.
Finally, Master stops spurting. I carefully lick my lips, gathering every precious drop, then lower myself further—face to the floor, ass high—and begin lapping the puddles like a dog.
"Good mama!" Pustule pats my head. "Cleaning up!"
The taste on the floor is mixed with dirt but I don't care. Each swallow makes my pussy clench, makes my milk flow harder. The boys are all over me now—hanging from my tits, slapping them to make them swing, squealing with glee as milk sprays everywhere.
"She's gonna—look! MAMA'S GONNA SQUIRT!"
They know the signs. My thighs shaking. My breath coming in gasps. That special moan that means—
"HNNNNNGGAAAHHH!"
*SPLOOOOOOOSH*
I cum so hard my vision whites out. Pussy-juice ERUPTS from my breed-hole, spraying backward in massive arcs. It splatters the wall, the floor, makes obscene puddles that mix with the cum I'm still licking.
"MAMA MADE A MESS!" they all scream in delight.
*CRACK!*
Snib's palm on my ass. "Dirty cow! Squirtin' all over me clean floor!"
*CRACK! CRACK!*
"Yeah! Dirty mama!" Grotch adds his little hand. *slap!*
Then they're all doing it—six pairs of little hands spanking my massive ass as I cum and cum and cum, still licking Master's seed from the floor, still feeding milk to whoever latches on.
"Such a good life," I gasp between licks. "Such good boys. Such a strong master. So much booyagh in my belly!"
"Tell us about the hero again!" Scab demands, now hanging from my left tit like a fruit.
"The one who thought he was strong!" Snib laughs, watching me clean his cum from the floor. "Tomorrow I'll tell ye how he begged. How he cried. How he came on gobbo cock like the bitch he always was!"
I don't know why, but something deep inside me sobs at that. Happy tears. They must be happy tears.
After all, I love my life.
Don't I?](else:)[Three months. Or is it four? Numbers stopped mattering when my belly started swelling again
I waddle around the hut, the weight of triplets making every step an effort. My tits—Storak's blessing, they're magnificent now—leak constantly through the rough cloth I sometimes remember to wrap them in. Two goblin pups suckle as I work, their green hands kneading the flesh while their sharp teeth worry my nipples raw. My firstborn. Master's proudest achievement.
"More sage in the stew, Milk-sow," Master calls from his furs where he's counting coins. Business has been good since word spread that he has a trained human breeder. Heroes come to rescue me sometimes. I help Master set the traps.
"*Yes Master, sage makes good flavor for strong goblin boys,*" I chirp in the pidgin of Common and Goblish that's all I speak now. The pups detach with wet pops, milk dripping from their green chins, and I feel the third one in my belly kick. Always kicking. Always hungry like their father.
"That last hero, the woman with the sword..." Master grins. "She's adjusting well. Reminds me of someone."
"*All humans same,*" I giggle, stirring the pot with one hand while the other holds my massive belly. "*Think they special. Then learn they just holes with attitudes.*"
He bought me a name last month at the desert market. Elise. It's burned into a leather collar I wear above the iron one. He says I earned it by birthing so well. I cried with joy when he put it on me. A name. A real name. More than property deserves.
I waddle over to him, belly leading, and drop to my knees. It takes effort with all this extra weight. My pussy—still hungry even stretched from birthing—drools onto the floor. Always wet now. Master says it's because my body knows its purpose.
"*Master so smart. Soon have two breeders. Make lots of gold. Lots of babies.*"
"Yeah. Though you're still me favorite, Cunt-for-brains."
The name makes me glow with pride. I lean forward to nuzzle his cock through his loincloth—already hard from watching me waddle around leaking milk and babies. This is happiness. This is home. This is all there ever was or needs to be.
"*Thank Master for life. Thank Master for purpose. Thank Master for babies.*"
"Thank me with that throat later. After the new girl watches. Good for her education."
"*Yes Master. Throat-pussy always ready. Always hungry.*"
I go back to cooking, pups reattached to my udders, triplets kicking in my womb, pussy dripping its constant need. Outside, I hear chains rattling. The new girl. She'll learn. They always do. Heroes just need proper teaching.
The stew smells perfect—rabbit with sage, just like someone once taught me to make.
Someone whose name I'll never remember again.]
(set:$bad_end to (dm:"title","Broodmare"))(display:"unlock bad end")(gameover:"ch02/bad end/game over.jpg")($play:"song","desert dance")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")"Got visitors comin' today," Snib announces after my morning throat-milking. His cum still warm in my stomach. "Me cousins Gresh and Snotlik."
He wipes his cock on my hair, casual as anything, then continues.
"They both lost brothers to yer blade. Remember Gorthak? Big one with the scarred face? That was Gresh's clutch-mate."
My stomach drops. I suddenly do remember Gorthak—drove Whisperwind through his throat in Ironrock.
"So here's what yer gonna do." He grabs my chin, forces me to look up at him. "Gonna be nice. Gonna serve 'em food. And gonna apologize proper for killin' their kin."
"I won't—"
"And," he continues, ignoring my protest, "gonna give 'em a show. Gobbos like their females with meat to shake. Lots of bouncing, yeah? Make them arsecheeks clap."
($hidden_gem:"The words sink through my fog-thick thoughts like stones through honey.","The words worm through my woozy, fog-thick thoughts like stones sinking through stiff honey.")
"Put yer baubles on. The jingly ones."
My armor. He means my armor. Right, I'm naked. When I pick it up, the metal feels heavier. Or maybe my arms are weaker.
The triangles barely contain my tits now—have they grown? They seem fuller, heavier, the flesh spilling out more than before. The bottom piece slides between my ass cheeks with a wet sound that makes me shudder. The boots take forever to lace, my fingers patient in a way that feels practiced.
"When they get here," Snib instructs, "ye'll say: 'Welcome to Master Snib's home. I'm sorry I killed yer brothers. Please let me make it up to ye.' Got it?"
The words are ash in my mouth, but I nod.
They arrive at sunset. Gresh is stocky, covered in ritual scars. Snotlik is thinner but taller—almost four feet. They both stare at me like I'm meat at market.
"Welcome to Master Snib's home," I hear myself say, voice honey-sweet and wrong. "I'm sorry I killed your brothers. Please let me make it up to you."
They explode in laughter.
"THAT'S the great Skulgaroth?" Gresh wheezes. "With them *udders*?"
"Aldric 'imself," Snib chortles.
"Look at the arse on it!" Snotlik circles me, making me turn to follow, my heels clicking on packed dirt. "Could lose me whole hand in there!"
I've prepared food—roasted sand-hopper with wild onion, seasoned with desert thyme. I serve them on my knees, placing plates before each goblin while my tits hang and sway.
"Good cow," Snib pats my head. "Now show 'em what we practiced."
Practiced? We didn't...
(pic:"ch02/bad end/show ass.jpg","left")I stand in the center of the hut. The spike-heels feel a bit more like extensions of my legs. My hips start moving—just small circles at first. The metal scales *clink* softly.
"Bigger," Snib commands. "Make 'em move."
Wider circles. My ass begins to sway, the meat of it shifting left, then right. The thong between my cheeks pulls with each motion. My tits follow a heartbeat later, their own momentum making them swing in figure-eights.
"Now the shake."
I bend forward slightly, hands on my thighs, back arched. Then I... shake. Just my ass at first, isolated muscle movements that make the cheeks jiggle independently. The metal scales jangle like festival bells. The flesh ripples in waves from the motion.
"Faster!"
Faster. The shaking becomes violent, my ass-meat bouncing and crashing together. I feel the cheeks separate with each shake then *CLAP* back together, the sound obscene in the small hut. *CLAP-CLAP-CLAP* in rhythm. The metal thong saws between them, the scales singing with each impact.
($change_stat:"heroism",-10)
(pic:"ch02/bad end/dance.jpg","right")"Make them tits dance too!"
I straighten, still shaking my ass, and add a shoulder shimmy. Now everything moves—tits swinging wild, colliding with wet slaps, while my ass continues its rhythmic clapping below. The metal armor creates its own music: *jingle-CLAP-clink-CLAP-jangle-CLAP*.
"Say it!" Snib barks.
Say what? But my mouth knows:
"I'm sorry I killed your brothers with my sword," I pant, still shaking. "Now I shake my whore-ass for goblins instead."
They howl with laughter. Snotlik actually falls off his seat.
"Again! Louder!"
"I'M SORRY I KILLED YOUR BROTHERS!" The shaking gets more frantic, sweat making my skin gleam. "NOW I'M JUST GOBBO ENTERTAINMENT!"
My thighs burn from the position. My back aches from the arch. But I keep shaking, making my ass clap like applause for my own humiliation. The cheeks crash together so hard they sting. The flesh ripples in waves I can't control.
"Turn around! Let 'em see the front!"
I turn, still shaking. Now they can see my tits swinging wild, the triangles long since shifted to barely cover my nipples. My pussy—barely hidden by the metal triangle—has soaked through, leaving wet marks on my thighs.
"Bounce for us!"
I start hopping. Small jumps on the spike-heels. Everything moves—tits flying up toward my face then crashing down, ass jiggling, thighs slapping together. The metal scales create a symphony of humiliation: *CRASH-jingle-CLAP-clink-CRASH*.
"What are ye?" Gresh asks, cock tenting his loincloth.
"Master Snib's dancing meat!" I gasp out, still bouncing.
"What were ye?"
"A hero! But now—" *bounce* "—just—" *bounce* "—jiggly—" *bounce* "—goblin—" *bounce* "—property!"
They're all stroking themselves through their loincloths now, watching my flesh ripple and crash. Sweat runs between my tits, down my ass crack, making everything glisten. The metal is cutting into me but I don't stop.
"Crawl to Gresh," Snib orders. "Let him feel what killed his brother."
I drop to all fours, crawl over. My tits hang and sway, dragging on the floor. When I reach him, I turn, presenting my ass.
His hands are rough, calloused. He grabs both cheeks, fingers sinking deep into the meat.
"Soft as butter," he marvels, kneading like dough. "Can't believe this arse held a sword."
"Now Snotlik."
I crawl to the other one. He's rougher, spreading my cheeks wide, laughing at how the metal thong disappears completely.
"Could fit me whole fist in here!"
He spanks me—HARD. The flesh ripples for seconds after impact. Then again. And again. Until my ass is burning red and still jiggling from the final blow.
"Good show," Snib says proudly. "My cow's well-trained, yeah?"
They agree, still groping, discussing my flesh like I'm not there. How my tits would feel. How my ass would take cock. How many goblins I could service at once.
When they finally leave, my ass is covered in handprints. My tits are bruised from swinging so violently. The metal armor is twisted, cutting into me everywhere.
"Well done," Snib says, his cock rock-hard. "Proper entertainment. Aldric would be so proud."
Aldric. That name again... feels so distant.
I clean on shaking legs, my ass still stinging, still jiggling with each movement. When I finally curl into my straw bed, naked and exhausted, I can still hear their laughter.
Still feel their hands.
Still taste the words: "Master Snib's dancing meat."
Deep in my pussy, that constant ache has gotten worse. Watching them watch me, feeling their hands, performing for them... something inside me had gotten wet. Gotten ready.
Gotten hungry.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/naked.jpg")
My hand drifts down without thinking. Just to relieve the pressure. Just to—
No.
NO.
I clench my fists so hard my nails draw blood. This is what he wants. What the collar wants. What those ropes of cum coating my throat are doing to my brain—dissolving who I was, one swallow at a time.
"Go on," Snib chuckles from his furs. "Know ye want to. Can smell that desperate cunt from here."
($hidden_gem:"My thighs squeeze together but that makes it worse—the pressure, the friction, the wet slide of skin.","My thighs tighten together but that torture worsens—the pressure, the purposeful friction, the wet wanton slide of skin.")
I am... I was...
The name. What was my name? I know every goblin I killed—Gorthak with the scarred face, Snaggle the drummer, Kruuk who begged at the end. Their names are carved in my memory. But mine?
Al... something with an Al...
"Aldric," I whisper, and it feels like pulling teeth. "I am Aldric the Great."
(pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/temptation.jpg","left")"Sure ye are," Snib laughs. "Aldric with the drippin' pussy. Aldric with tits like melons. Aldric who just shook her arse for gobbos."
($notification:"Resist the urge to masturbate!")(minigame:"02 masturbate choice",7)($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert morning")(playwhenread:"deepthroat bj")(pic:"ch02/bad end/clean balls.jpg")
"That's enough ball-cleanin'. Let's see how deep ye can really go."
He's standing, cock at full mast, purple head weeping its morning dew. I'm on my knees—always on my knees now—looking up at twelve inches of green-and-purple morning wood.
"Open up, Gullet."
My mouth opens. Automatic. Like yawning.
He slides in slow, watching my lips stretch around his girth. Four inches. Five. Six. The head hits my throat entrance and he pauses.
"Swallow."
I swallow. The head pops through. Seven inches. Eight.
"Good. Now the hard part."
He grips my hair with both hands and pulls me forward. Nine inches. Ten. My nose is approaching his pelvis, that jungle of wiry hair that reeks of concentrated ball-sweat. Eleven inches. My throat bulges visibly, his cock outline clear through my neck.
"One more—"
Twelve. My nose buries in his pubes. His balls rest on my chin, heavy and churning. I can't breathe. Can't think. Can only feel the massive invasion reshaping my throat.
"Now stay."
Stay? I'm suffocating, vision going sparkly at the edges, but he holds me there. Five seconds. Ten. My throat convulses around him, trying to expel or swallow, it doesn't know which.
"*Grulkaz-neth*," he grunts. "That's 'good depth' in Gobbo. Say it."
I can't say anything with twelve inches of cock down my throat, but I try. The vibrations of my attempted words make him groan.
"Again. *Grulkaz-neth*."
My throat works around him, trying to form the words. More vibrations. His cock swells thicker.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/feed cock.jpg")
"That's it. Learnin' the important words."
He pulls out slow, letting me gasp one breath, then plunges back in. Full depth immediately. My throat accepts it easier this time—it's learning, adapting, becoming what it needs to be.
"What's yer wife's name again?"
The question cuts through the fog. Elara. Her name is Elara. Red hair. No—brown? Auburn. She has...
He pulls out, lets me gasp.
"E... Elara..."
"Nah, don't sound right. What color's her hair?"
"Brown... no, red... I—"
(playwhenread:"cum in mouth")He shoves back in, cutting off thought. His cock pulses and the morning load begins. This time he doesn't pull out—just grinds deeper as rope after rope pumps directly into my stomach. I'm drowning in goblin seed, breathing through my nose while my throat gets painted white from the inside.
When he finally withdraws, I collapse forward, coughing up thick pearls.
"Tomorrow we go deeper," he promises.
The rest of the day, I can't picture Elara's face clearly. Something about the way his cum coats my throat makes memories slippery.
(display:"divider")
(pic:"ch02/bad end/neck pussy.jpg","right","'Neck-pussy.'")(playwhenread:"deepthroat bj")"Deeper today," he announces, cock already in my throat. "Let's see what them hero-holes can really do."
He pushes past my gag reflex like it doesn't exist. My throat bulges obscenely, the outline of his cock visible through my neck. He traces it with one finger.
"Look at that. Can see me cock right through yer neck-pussy."
Neck-pussy. That's new. Everything's a pussy to him now. My mouth is face-pussy. My throat is neck-pussy. My actual pussy is just "the main hole" which he still hasn't touched, keeping to our bargain.
The skull-fucking is methodical today. He counts the strokes.
"Twenty... twenty-one... that's it, squeeze on the upstroke... twenty-two..."
My vision goes spotty but my throat knows its job. Squeeze, release, squeeze, release. Milking him like my hands did that first morning. My pussy—the main hole—clenches in the same rhythm, drooling steadily onto the dirt floor.
When he cums, he's deeper than ever. The first three ropes go straight to my stomach. The rest paint my face and tits as he withdraws, but I barely notice anymore. It's just morning decoration. Part of the uniform.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/neck pussy cum.jpg")
I clean his entire hut that day. On my knees, tits hanging, cum drying to a glaze. He watches and calls out names:
"There goes Udder-slave... now she's Mop-tits... look at them swing..."
Each name makes my pussy clench. When did humiliation become... warm?
(display:"divider")
"New game," Snib announces. "Walkin' suck."(playwhenread:"deepthroat bj")
He stands. Points at his cock. I understand immediately, dropping to my knees and taking him in my mouth.
"Now follow. Don't let it slip out."
He starts walking around the hut. Slowly. I have to shuffle on my knees to keep up, his cock never leaving my mouth. It's a grotesque dance—him leading, me following, connected by twelve inches of green meat. My tits sway with each shuffle, my ass jiggles, everything in constant motion.
"Good cock-puppy. Now outside."
Outside? But I'm naked. Have been for days now. The armor sits in the corner, untouched. When did I stop putting it on?
We tour his property like this. Him walking, commenting on the desert morning. Me shuffling behind on bloody knees, cock buried in my throat, tits dragging in the sand. Other goblins see us. Point. Laugh. One throws a rock that hits my ass, making it jiggle more.
"That's Gresh," Snib tells me casually. "Lost his brother to Aldric. But look—now Aldric's suckin' me cock like a trained seal. Justice, innit?"
*Aldric.* The name feels foreign. Was that someone I knew?
His cock pulses. He floods my mouth without warning, still walking. I swallow without thinking—when did swallowing become automatic?—and keep shuffling. Cum runs from the corners of my mouth, drips onto my swinging tits, leaves a trail in the sand.
"Good drain," he says patting my head. "Yer gettin' the hang of it."
(display:"divider")
"Ye look hungry."
I am. So hungry. I've been cooking for him all day—desert hare with cactus fruit, seasoned with sage I found growing by the well. The smell fills the hut but he hasn't let me eat yet.
"Tell ye what. Ye can eat after ye feed me."
I don't understand until he points at his cock.
"Protein first," he says, grinning.
This morning's position is almost tender. He sits on his furs, legs spread. I kneel between them, taking my time. My tongue finds every vein, every ridge. I polish the head until it gleams. My hands cup his balls, feeling them churn, imagining all that backed-up cream that needs releasing. Poor thing, carrying all that weight.
"Say it in Goblish," he commands.
"*Thrack-mayo,*" I whisper. *Need-to-cum.* When did I learn that?
"Good accent. Again."
"*Thrack-mayo, grok-splash meta.*" *Need-to-cum, please empty balls.*
He grunts approval. His cock swells thicker. I take it deep, deeper, deepest. My throat knows every inch now, welcomes it like a friend. The taste is familiar, comforting almost. When he floods my mouth this time, I don't pull back.
The first rope hits my throat and I swallow.(playwhenread:"cum in mouth")
Not spit. Swallow.
It goes down hot and thick, coating everything. The second rope, third, fourth—I drink them all. It pools in my stomach like molten lead, heavy and warm. When he finally stops, I'm still sucking, trying to get every drop.
"Waste not," I mumble around his softening cock, cum drunk. The words slur.
He laughs. Pets my hair like I'm a good dog.
(playwhenread:"cooking stew")(pic:"ch02/bad end/rabbit stew.jpg","right","That night I cook wearing nothing but his dried cum.")That night I cook wearing nothing but his dried cum. It flakes off into the food sometimes. Extra seasoning. I serve him his portion, then kneel beside him with mine. We eat in comfortable silence. Like a married couple.
"Tomorrow's day six," he reminds me. "Almost done earnin' yer freedom."
Freedom. The word means nothing. Free to do what? Go where? To someone named... the name slips away like cum down my throat.
I clean up dinner, wash his balls with a warm cloth before bed, then curl naked in my straw. My pussy aches constantly now, a hollow throb that matches my heartbeat. Sometimes I touch it, find it soaked, taste myself on my fingers. Salt and honey and shame.
But mostly I just accept it. The ache. The wetness. The constant awareness of the empty space that needs filling.
Tomorrow is day six.
Then day seven.
Then... something?
"*Grok-nash tempo.*" *Time means nothing.*
When did I start thinking in Goblish?
Sleep takes me, and I dream of nothing but the taste of morning cock, the weight of balls on my face, the warm splash of cum across my tits. Like prayer. Like purpose.
Like home.
(simple_option:"02 bj 4","Morning 6...")(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/wet.jpg","The need between my legs isn't just an ache—it's my heartbeat relocated to my cunt...")
(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/1.png")The need between my legs isn't just an ache—it's my heartbeat relocated to my cunt, each pulse making my pussy lips throb and part slightly, releasing another drool of clear fluid that runs down the crack of my ass. I can feel it pooling beneath me, warming the straw, the scent of aroused pussy mixing with goblin stench until I can't tell where one ends and the other begins.
My thighs keep sliding against each other. Not intentionally—they just won't stay still. The friction makes it worse, spreads the wetness around until my inner thighs are glazed like honey-dipped fruit. Every tiny movement makes my clit peek out from its hood, swollen and angry, scraping against nothing but air and wanting.
My hand moves without permission. Just to adjust. Just to—
(pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/touch.jpg","My hand moves without permission. Just to adjust. Just to—")
The first contact with my outer lips makes me gasp. They're so puffy, swollen with blood, fever-hot and slippery as oiled silk. My fingers slip through the groove between them and find an ocean of wetness, more than should be possible, like my pussy has been crying for hours.
"Finally touchin' it?" Snib's voice cuts through the dark. "Been smellin' that desperate cunt all day."
I try to pull my hand away but my fingertip brushes my clit—just the lightest graze—and my whole body jerks like I've been struck by lightning. A moan tries to escape but I bite my lip hard enough to taste copper.
"N-not... just adjusting..."
But my fingers are exploring now, learning this shameful anatomy. The outer lips are thick as plum-flesh, so sensitive that just spreading them makes my hips twitch. Inside is even worse—or better—or—fuck, I don't know anymore. Velvet folds drowning in slick, every ridge and valley designed to grip and milk and—(playwhenread:"elise masturbating")
(pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/spread cheeks.jpg","Velvet folds drowning in slick, every ridge and valley designed to grip and milk and—")
"Listen to that wet cunt," Snib chuckles. "Can hear it from here."
He's right. The obscene *squelch* as my fingers explore is louder than my breathing. I find my hole—that aching void that's never known anything, not cock, not fingers, virgin as fresh snow—and circle it with one finger.
"Don't—" I whisper to myself. "Aldric doesn't—"
But I push inside.
"MMMPH!"
I stuff my other hand in my mouth to muffle the sound but it's too late. One finger inside my virgin pussy and I'm seeing stars. The walls grip immediately, sucking at the intrusion, trying to pull it deeper. It's so hot inside myself, so wet that adding a second finger makes no resistance, just more of that obscene squelching.
"That's it, finger that hero-cunt."
(pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/touch smile.jpg")
($hidden_gem:"My hips start moving on their own, fucking back against my hand.","My hips hump helplessly, hungrily heaving back against my hurried hand.")
I try to go slow, maintain some dignity, but my pussy has other ideas. My hips roll and thrust, making my tits swing and slap together, the dried cum from this morning cracking and flaking off. I'm grinding my palm against my clit while my fingers curl inside, finding a spot that makes my vision white out.
"Shh—shhh—quiet—" I'm begging myself, but the moans keep building in my throat.
My pussy is making sounds like stirring thick porridge, so wet that it's running down my wrist. I've never felt anything like this—32 years as a man, never knowing this furnace existed, this hollow ache that demands filling. My fingers aren't enough but they're everything, pumping in and out while my thumb finds my clit and—
"AH! AH! Fuck—no—quiet—MMMM!"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/rear touch.jpg","I flip onto my stomach to muffle the sounds in the straw, but that just makes it worse.")
I flip onto my stomach to muffle the sounds in the straw, but that just makes it worse. Now I'm face down, ass up, fingering myself from behind like an animal. My tits drag through the dirt, nipples so hard they hurt, leaving trails in the dust as they swing.
"Look at that arse wobble while ye finger-fuck yerself."
I don't care anymore. Can't care. My fingers slam deeper, faster, three now, stretching that virgin hole while my other hand reaches beneath to attack my clit. The dual sensation is too much—sparks shooting up my spine, thighs shaking, pussy clenching rhythmically around my fingers.
The pressure builds in my belly. I try to fight it, try to think of my old life, of being Aldric, of... El- Elise? Elane? But all that comes to mind is—
Snib's cock. Purple head. The weight of it in my throat. The taste when he—
"No no no not that—"
But my pussy clenches harder thinking about it. About how his cum feels sliding down my throat. How his balls smell pressed against my nose. How it feels when he floods my mouth and I swallow every—
"Gonna—fuck—gonna—"
My fingers curl, finding that spot again, and my thumb presses hard on my clit and—
The first squirt surprises me. A sudden gush of clear fluid that sprays from my cunt, splattering my hand, my thighs, the straw. My pussy convulses around my fingers so hard it almost pushes them out.
"AHHHHHHNNNNGGGG!"
The second squirt is bigger. Longer. I can feel it building in my belly and rushing out like pissing but different, better, shameful. My whole body locks up, back arched, as stream after stream gushes from my virgin cunt.(playwhenread:"elise masturbation orgasm")
"FUCK! FUCK! CAN'T—CAN'T STOP—AHHHH!"
I'm squealing now, high-pitched and desperate, as my pussy explodes again and again. Each convulsion sends another jet of girl-cum spraying, until I'm kneeling in a puddle of my own shame. My fingers won't stop moving, drawing out more squirts, more gushes, like my body is trying to empty itself completely.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/soaked.jpg","'FUCK! FUCK! CAN'T—CAN'T STOP—AHHHH!'")
I collapse forward but my pussy isn't done. Smaller spurts now, little gushes with each aftershock. My whole body is shaking, twitching, covered in sweat and cum and my own squirt. The straw beneath me is soaked through, mud-wet with pussy juice.
"Please—can't—still cumming—"
One final massive gush, this one so hard it hurts, spraying between my fingers. Then I'm done, collapsed in my own puddle, fingers still buried in my twitching cunt, feeling the walls pulse and grip at nothing.
"Squirted out what was left of Aldric," Snib observes. "Just Elise now. Elise who fingers herself raw thinkin' about gobbo cock."
(pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/rear squirt.jpg","'Squirted out what was left of Aldric,' Snib observes.")
The shame crashes down as the pleasure fades. I'm lying in at least a pint of my own pussy juice, the whole hut reeking of desperate virgin cunt finally touched. My fingers are pruned from the wetness. My pussy still twitches, little aftershock clenches that release more drools of fluid.
"Sleep in it," he commands. "Let that cunt-puddle soak into yer skin."
I do. I curl up right there in my squirt-soaked straw, pussy still pulsing, still drooling, knowing I just came thinking about the very creature that's destroying me. My brain feels actually broken, thoughts scattered like my squirt across the floor.
(simple_option:"02 day 7","The rest of the days are a blur...")](else:)[(pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/resist.jpg")
My hand jerks back like I've touched fire.
"NO!" The word tears from my throat, desperate. "I'm not—I'm ALDRIC—"
But the name feels wrong in my mouth. Aldric. Was that me? The hero who killed... who killed...
Gorthak. Scarred face, drove my blade through his throat.
Snaggle. The drummer, head caved in with my shield.
Pustule. Burned alive with Ignisurge.
I can see their faces perfectly. Every goblin I've killed, catalogued in crystal clarity. But my own name? My own FACE?
"Can't remember, can ye?" Snib chuckles. "All them loads coating yer throat. Seepin' into yer brain-meat."
($hidden_gem:"The realization hits like ice water through my veins.","The realization rushes like winter rain through my writhing veins.")
The cum. His fucking CUM. Every morning, pumped directly into my stomach. The fumes from cleaning his loincloths. The taste that never leaves. It's... it's erasing me. Replacing memories with the taste of cock, the smell of balls, the weight of—
"Elara!" I sob her name like a prayer. "Red hair—no, brown—AUBURN! She has auburn hair and... and..."
Her face swims up through the fog. Pale skin. Laughing eyes. The way she looked this morning when—
(pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/temptation 2.jpg","left","This morning? Which morning? How many days have passed?")This morning? Which morning? How many days have passed? Time has become measured in cock-suckings, in loads swallowed, in—
"I saved villages," I whisper to the dark, curling into a ball, hands clenched to keep them from wandering. "I killed the basilisk. I studied at the Tower. I have a wife who—who loves—loved—loves me."
My pussy clenches, empty, aching, demanding attention. The wetness pools beneath me, soaking into my skin. But I won't touch it. Won't give in. That's the last boundary. The final line between who I was and what he wants me to become.
"Aldric wore armor," I recite through tears. "Aldric wielded Whisperwind. Aldric had a cock—"
The absence between my legs throbs harder at the word.
"Aldric loved Elara. Aldric protected people. Aldric was good. Aldric was—IS—"
"Was," Snib corrects. "Now there's just Elise with the drippy cunt, too proud to finger herself."
($change_stat:"heroism",1)I sob harder, but I don't touch myself. That's my victory. Small, pathetic, but mine. My pussy screams for attention, clenches on nothing, drools its need into the straw. But my hands stay clenched, nails digging into palms.
"I'll remember," I promise the darkness. "I'll remember who I was. Am. Was. Fuck."
Sleep comes eventually, fitful and wrong.(display:"divider")
*Elara's kneeling in our bedroom but her face is... wrong. Glazed. White ropes of cum paint her features like a festival mask. Her eyes are vacant, staring at nothing while her mouth hangs open, more cum drooling from her lips.*
(pic:"ch02/bad end/dream cum.jpg")
*"Honey?" I reach for her but my hand is small, feminine, wrong.*
*She turns to me. Through the glaze of goblin seed, she smiles.*
*"Who?" she asks, voice thick with cum. "Sorry, I don't... everything before Master is fuzzy."*
*"It's me! Your husband! Aldric!"*
*"Aldric's dead." She says it simply, cum bubbling from her lips as she speaks. "Master Snib said so. Said he turned into some cow-titted thing. But that's probably just stories."*
*"No! Look at me! I'm here! I'm—"*
*But she's already turning away, hands moving to her swollen belly. Green hands push from inside, stretching her skin.*
*"Time to birth more," she says dreamily. "Master needs soldiers."*
*The green hands tear through—*
(display:"divider")
I wake, my pussy gushing clear fluid despite never being touched. Just from the nightmare. Just from the image of her face painted with—
"'Nother bad dream?" Snib asks, amused.
I curl tighter, hands still clenched, pussy still drooling, and whisper:
(pic:"ch02/bad end/corruption progression.jpg")
($notification:"Pheromone corruption has completely altered the way you think...")"My name is Aldric. My wife is Elara. My sword is Whisperwind. My name is Aldric. My wife is..."
(simple_option:"02 bj 3a","Perform your morning duties...")]($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","snib hut theme")(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(pic:"ch02/submit.jpg")
"Seven days," I hear myself say. The words come out breathy, defeated. "Then I'm free."
The words taste like ash and surrender. My voice—this musical, feminine voice—cracks on 'free.' Because some part of me already knows it's a lie. But the alternative... mounting me like livestock, pumping me full of his spawn...
"Smart cow." He extends his warty hand. "Shake on it?"
I stare at his palm. Green skin mottled with warts, dirt under his nails, probably sticky with cock-sweat from all that scratching. This is what I've become—making deals with something I used to exterminate for sport.
($hidden_gem:"My hand moves forward like it's swimming through treacle.","My hand advances like it's pushing through thick, viscous treacle.")
Our palms meet. His grip is firm, too warm, slightly damp. The contact makes my skin crawl but also... also something else. A flutter in my belly that might be revulsion or might be my womb recognizing its new master's touch.
"If ye want to be," he adds with that knowing grin, pumping my hand up and down. "Free, that is."
The handshake goes on too long. His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist, finding my pulse. Feeling how fast my heart is racing. When he finally lets go, my palm is slick with his sweat. I resist the urge to wipe it on my thighs.
"Welcome home, Elise." He gestures to his squalid hut. "Let's get ye settled in yer new life."
*New life.* The words echo in my skull. This morning I was Aldric, trying to put a baby in my wife. Now I'm negotiating blowjob schedules with a creature that barely comes up to my tits.
"Oh," he adds casually, already turning away, "first suck is after dinner. Give ye time to prepare yerself mentally. Maybe practice openin' yer throat. Wouldn't want ye to choke on the first night."
The casualness of it—like we're discussing laundry—makes my pussy clench. That empty ache between my legs that's been building all day suddenly intensifies. My thighs are so wet they slip against each other when I walk.
"I'll... I'll cook the fish," I whisper, needing to focus on something, anything else.
"Good girl. Already learnin' yer place."
The praise—PRAISE from this thing—shouldn't make warmth bloom in my chest. But it does. Flux help me, it does.
(simple_option:"02 bj 1","That evening...")](else:)[(pic:"ch02/no.jpg")(playwhenread:"im not going to suck")
"NO!"
The word tears from my throat with more force than I knew I had left. It echoes off the crude walls, seems to push back the fog that's been creeping through my thoughts like morning mist.
"No. I won't—I'm not going to suck your disgusting cock. Not tonight. Not for seven mornings. Not EVER."
The silence stretches between us like a held breath. Snib's yellow eyes narrow to slits, his head tilting like a confused dog hearing a new sound.
"No?" He tests the word, rolling it around his mouth like spoiled wine. "Did the great hero just say... no?"
"You heard me." My whole body trembles—rage or fear, I can't tell anymore. "I'm Aldric the Great. I've killed hundreds of your kind. I don't negotiate with vermin. I don't make deals with parasites. And I certainly don't put goblin cock in my—"
His laughter cuts me off. Not angry—delighted. Like a child discovering his birthday came early.
"Oh, this is BETTER!" He claps his warty hands, actually bounces on his toes. "The hero's still got fight! Thought that pretty head was already mush, but look at ye! Standin' there with them udders heavin', tellin' me no!"
($hidden_gem:"Each word feels like wading through honey-thick air.","Each word weighs like wading through warm, wicked honey.")
"Find another toy." The spit flies from my lips. "Kill me if you want. I'd rather die than—"
"Than suck cock, yeah yeah." He waves dismissively, already moving. "But would ye rather be mounted?"
The word 'mounted' sends ice through my veins. Like I'm livestock. Like I'm a—
He's circling now, that roach-quick scuttle that makes my skin crawl. His loincloth tents obscenely, the fabric dark with moisture where the tip presses.
"See, I wanted to go slow." His voice drops, becomes conversational. "Let ye marinate in yer own shame. But if ye're gonna be difficult..."
He stops behind me. I try to turn but the collar pulls taut—when did the leash appear in his hand?
"Then we do this the old way. The goblin way."
*YANK.*
The leash jerks me forward so hard I stumble. My tits swing like temple bells, nearly escaping the metal triangles. My hands shoot out to catch myself and I end up bent at the waist, ass presented—
*CRACK!*(playwhenread:"spank 2")
(pic:"ch02/bad end/eyes.jpg")
His palm connects with my right cheek hard enough to make the flesh ripple in waves. The sound echoes off the hut's walls like thunder.
"THAT'S for sayin' no." *CRACK!* Left cheek. "That's for thinkin' ye got choices." *CRACK!* "And that's just 'cause I like watchin' it jiggle."
My knees buckle. The metal boots scrape against packed dirt as I try to stay upright, but he yanks the leash DOWN, hard, and suddenly I'm on all fours. The position—Flux's balls, the POSITION. These obscene sacks of flesh hang straight down, dragging in the dirt, nipples scraping earth through the gaps in the scales.
"There we go." He sounds pleased. "Proper position for a hero."
His feet shift on my ass, toes digging into the soft meat for purchase. I feel him pull back, dragging that massive green shaft through my crack—the bulbous purple head catches on my asshole for one terrifying heartbeat before sliding past. The weight of it drops down, hanging like a warm club between my spread thighs.
"Please—" The word tears out before I can stop it. "Please, I'll do the deal, I'll suck—"
"Nah." He bounces slightly, making my ass jiggle under his weight. "Changed me mind. Gonna plant me flag in hero-cunt instead."
His cock swings forward, the fat mushroom head kissing my pussy lips with a wet *smooch* sound. Not pushing. Just... resting there. I feel my lips part slightly around the tip, like they're trying to give it a kiss back. The heat of him burns against my entrance. A rope of his precum drools down, mixing with the shameful wetness already glazing my thighs.
"Feel that?" He grinds the head in small circles, spreading his slime around my entrance. "Me cock knockin' on yer door."
I try to crawl forward but the boots have locked my shins to the dirt. Metal fused to earth like I'm in breeding stocks. My tits drag through pine needles as I struggle, the metal triangles catching and pulling.
"No no NO—"
He grabs my hair with both hands, yanking my head back so hard my spine curves. The angle forces my ass even higher, pussy tilted up like an offering plate. I feel him notch himself properly now—the head nestled between my lips, spreading them obscenely wide just from the girth. My entrance stretches around just the tip and already it feels impossible.
"Fer Grotch." He pushes forward an inch. My pussy lips stretch white around purple-green meat. "Fer Scab." Another inch. The flared ridge of his cockhead pops past my entrance with a wet *SCHLORP*. "And this—"(playwhenread:"insert rough")
He SLAMS home.
($hidden_gem:"My pussy splits open around him like a sword through a peach.","My pussy parts and splits, plundered like a sword savaging a summer peach.")
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/mount.jpg","My pussy splits open around him like a sword through a peach.")
($change_stat:"heroism",-15)The entire length spears into me in one brutal thrust. Every ridge, every wart, every throbbing vein carves through my walls as he hilts himself balls-deep. His hairy sack SMACKS against something between my legs that sends lightning through my spine—some button of flesh where my own cock used to be. The impact makes a wet *SPLAT* as his balls stick to my soaked lips before dropping away.
"FUUUUCK YEAH!" He howls, grinding his hips in circles. "TIGHT AS A VIRGIN! GRIPPIN' ME LIKE A FIST!"
(simple_option:"02 violated","Bite down on your hair to muffle any sound.","Let out the moan building in your throat.")](if:$choice is "Let out the moan building in your throat.")[($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")My mouth opens to scream but what comes out is worse—
($change_stat:"heroism",-10)"Ahhhhhhhhnnnn!"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/moan.jpg","The moan erupts from somewhere deeper than my throat.")
The moan erupts from somewhere deeper than my throat. My whole chest vibrates with it, this feminine keen that I've never made, never COULD make before. It's surrender translated to sound. It's my body singing its violation. The noise fills the hut, high and breaking, nothing like Aldric's battle roars.
"THERE it is!" Snib crows, grinding deeper. "There's the bitch-noise! Knew ye had it in ye!"
The moan keeps coming. I try to stop it but my throat has mutinied. Each tiny movement of his cock inside me pulls another whimper out. Little "nnh, nnh, nnh" sounds with each pulse of his shaft. My voice has become an instrument he's playing with his cock.
He pulls back slowly, dragging every inch through my clutching walls. I feel myself trying to hold him, muscles I never had before squeezing around his retreat. The wet *SCHLOOOOORP* sound as he withdraws makes my face burn. When just his head remains inside, stretching my entrance, he pauses.
"Listen to that hungry cunt." He flexes, making his cock jump inside me. "Suckin' at me like a toothless granny on candy."
Then he RAMS forward again.
*PLAP!*(playwhenread:"plap 1")
His balls swing forward like wrecking balls, slapping my clit with a meaty crack. The impact sends something electric through my entire body—not pain but something worse. Something that makes my pussy clench around him, milking his shaft.
"HAH! Pussy's beggin' for it already!" He starts fucking in earnest now, short brutal thrusts that make my whole body jolt. "One thrust and the hero's moanin'! Two thrusts and she's milkin' me cock!"
*PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP*
Each impact of his hips against my ass makes the meat ripple outward in waves. My cheeks clap around his skinny hips, the sound obscene in the small hut. His balls maintain their own rhythm—swinging forward to spank my clit a half-second after each thrust. The dual percussion makes me sound like a drum being beaten.
My tits have their own physics. Each thrust sends them swinging forward, heavy and inevitable as millstones. They collide under me with meaty THWAPs before swinging back, nipples dragging through dirt. The metal triangles have shifted completely, doing nothing but cutting into the sides while my nipples scrape earth.
"Look at them udders swing!" He leans forward, his pot belly pressing against my lower back. "Gonna milk ye from both ends! Breed ye while ye feed me babies!"
His weight forces me lower. My face presses into the dirt while my ass stays high, speared on his cock. He's so small he can barely reach my shoulders, but somehow he's completely in control. His clawed feet grip my ass cheeks, using them like handholds as he hammers into me.
*SQUELCH-PLAP-SQUELCH-PLAP*
The sounds get wetter. My pussy is GUSHING around him, each thrust pushing out clear fluid that runs down my thighs. I've never been this wet in my life—as a man OR this violation of a body. It's like my insides are melting, turning to slick heat that eases his passage.
"Wet as a marsh!" He spits—I feel the glob land between my shoulder blades and slide down my spine. "Soakin' me balls! This is what hero-cunts are for!"
His cock feels like it's reshaping me from the inside. Each thrust carves deeper, the bulbous head punching into something at my deepest point that makes stars explode behind my eyes. It's like being hollowed out and filled simultaneously. My pussy has become a sheath and his cock is the only sword that fits.
"*Grulkaz-thrack! Womb-thrack! Breed-pound!*" He starts chanting in Goblish, each word timed to a thrust. "*Cum-tank! Rape-sleeve! Hero-hole!*"
The words blur together but I understand them all. My pussy clenches with each degrading name, responding to the rhythm. He notices.
"Oh ho! Cunt knows Goblish better than ye do!" He reaches under, grabs one swinging tit, SQUEEZES. "This udder knows what '*milk-sack*' means! This arse knows '*breed-mount*'!"
His other hand yanks my hair back harder, forcing me to arch like a bow. The angle changes everything. Now his cock curves up inside me, dragging against something that makes my whole body seize. Every nerve ending lights up at once.
"NO!" I try to scream but it comes out as another moan. "Ahhhh-haaaahn!"
"That's the spot!" He rabbit-fucks that angle, quick shallow thrusts that make obscene *pliplipliplip* sounds. "That's what makes hero-cunts cream! Right... THERE!"
Something's building inside me. Not like when I came as a man—a quick peak and release. This is different. Deeper. Starting in my toes and climbing my legs like rising water. My thighs shake uncontrollably. My pussy spasms around him in waves.
"Oh fuck oh fuck oh FUCK—" The words pour out in a feminine whimper. "Something's—I can't—"
"Bout to pop, ain't ye?" He SLAMS deep and grinds, stirring his cock inside me. "Bout to cum on the cock of something ye stepped on! How's that for honor?"
I think of the wives we rescued from goblin dens. Their hollow eyes. Their swollen bellies. The way they begged to go back. Now I understand. Now I'm becoming one of them, moaning like livestock while this disease of a creature ruins me.
"Please—" I don't even know what I'm begging for anymore. "Please please please—"
"Bet ye never made yer wife sound like this." He pounds harder, his breathing getting ragged. "Bet she never moaned like a bitch in heat. But one thrust of gobbo cock and ye're HOWLIN'!"
He's right. The sounds coming from my throat aren't human. They're animal. Desperate. Each thrust pulls out another piece of my dignity and replaces it with need. My pussy has become a creature separate from me, sucking at him, trying to milk out what it wants.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 fight.jpg","left","My ass ripples and claps, the meat bouncing independently of my will.")His sweat drips onto my back—thick and oily, stinking of onions and unwashed flesh. It mingles with mine, our scents mixing into something feral. His tongue suddenly drags up my neck, rough as tree bark, leaving a trail of thick saliva that makes my skin crawl and tighten simultaneously.
"Gonna make ye cum." He bites my ear, teeth like broken glass. "Gonna make the great Aldric cum on gobbo cock. Then gonna pump ye full of babies. Green babies. Dozens of 'em."
The mental image—my body swollen with goblin spawn—should disgust me. Instead, my pussy clenches so hard he groans.
"FUCK! Grippin' like ye want it!" He speeds up, balls slapping a frantic rhythm against my clit. *PLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPPLAP* "Want them babies, don't ye? Want to be a gobbo incubator!"
"No!" But even as I deny it, that terrifying pressure builds higher. My vision edges with white. My whole body draws tight as a bowstring. "I won't—I can't—I'm not going to—"
"Yes ye are." He reaches around, finds my clit with uncanny accuracy, PINCHES. "Cum for me, hero. Show me what ye really are."
The pressure crests. I'm standing on the edge of something vast and terrible. My pussy spasms around his cock in pre-orgasmic flutters. Everything in me screams to let go, to fall into it, to surrender.
But I can't. I WON'T. I'm Aldric the Great. I've resisted torture. I've endured dragonfire. I can resist this base animal response. I HAVE to.
"Come on, cow-tits!" He's fucking me like he's trying to split me in half. Each thrust bottoms out with a wet SMACK, his cock battering something deep inside that sends shockwaves through my whole body. "Let it go! Cream on me cock! Show me what human cunts are for!"
My eyes roll back. My mouth hangs open, drool running onto the ground. Every muscle in my body is locked in that horrible space right before release. My pussy is a vice around his cock, rippling and squeezing, trying to milk out his cum.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/moaning.jpg")
(minigame:"02 1st orgasm check",12)](else:)[($play:"sex loop",0)I bite down on my own hair to muffle the sound trying to escape. Black strands between my teeth, tasting of lavender and shame. My mouth floods with spit I can't swallow. The fullness—Eon's bones, the FULLNESS. Like someone shoved a wine bottle up inside me. Like being stuffed with a LOG hot meat. My walls stretch and reshape around him, every ridge of his cock carved into my channel like a mold.
He pulls back slowly, dragging every bump and ridge through my stretched entrance. The suction makes an obscene *SHHHHLLLLUUUURP* like pulling a boot from mud. My pussy tries to hold him, gripping and releasing in waves I can't control. Just the head remains inside, my lips wrapped around his glans like they're trying to polish it.
Then he SLAMS forward again.
*PLAP!*
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/insert.jpg")
His balls swing up and slap that spot again. My whole body lurches forward from the impact, tits swinging like church bells, clapping together with meaty *WHAP-WHAP* sounds. The metal triangles cut deeper into my flesh with each swing.
"Listen to that!" He starts a rhythm now, pulling out slow, slamming in hard. *SHLORP... PLAP! SHLORP... PLAP!* "Yer cunt's singin' for me!"($play:"sex loop","sex no moan")
Each thrust makes different sounds. When he pulls out, my pussy makes these embarrassing sucking noises, like it doesn't want to let go. When he slams in, the wet SQUELCH echoes through the forest. His balls create their own percussion—SLAP-SLAP-SLAP against my clit, each impact making that strange button throb harder.
"Look at them cheeks dance!"
He spreads his toes wider on my ass, and I feel every detail—the rough skin, the sharp nails, the way he uses my ass like handles. My cheeks clap together with each thrust, the sound mixing with everything else into a display of meat-on-meat violence.
*PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-SQUELCH-PLAP*
I try to drop my hips, to deny him the angle, but his grip on my hair keeps me bent like a bow. Tears stream down my face, dripping onto my swinging tits. Hay needles stick to the sweaty flesh. My armor jingles frantically—*ching-ching-ching*—as everything bounces and swings.
"Gonna cum already?" He leans forward, and I feel his pot belly rest on my lower back, his weight pressing me down while his cock presses up. "Can feel ye squeezin'. Pussy's milkin' me like a cow's teat!"
He's right. I can feel my walls clenching and releasing around him in waves. Each time he bottoms out, hitting something deep inside that makes stars explode behind my eyes, the clenching gets stronger. My pussy is trying to eat him, to swallow him whole, to keep him inside where he's stirring up sensations I don't have words for.
His spit lands between my shoulder blades—a hot glob that runs down my spine like a snail. He follows it with his tongue, dragging the rough muscle from my neck to my ear. It feels like wet sandpaper, leaves a trail of onion-stink saliva that mixes with my honeyed sweat.
"Bet ye never made yer wife's cunt this wet," he grunts in my ear. "Listen—"
He stops thrusting for a moment, just grinding deep. The wet sounds are obscene—*squish-squish-squish*—as his cock stirs my pussy like a mortar and pestle. I can feel myself dripping around him, running down my thighs in shameful rivers.
"Please—" The word comes out muffled around my hair. "Please stop—"
"Stop? When yer pussy's suckin' me this good?" He starts thrusting again, harder. "When ye're drippin' like a broken fountain?"
*PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP*
The rhythm builds. His tiny hands grip my hips now, fingers barely reaching around to my belly, using them like handles to pull me back onto his cock. Each thrust drives deeper, harder. The wet sounds get louder, nastier. My pussy makes these horrible churning noises, like butter being violently mixed.
"All them human women," he pants, his breath hot on my neck, "they all cum on goblin cock. Every one. It's what yer holes are for. Goblin sheaths. Cock-polishers."
I shake my head violently, hair whipping. But the pressure is building. Something deep in my belly, behind where his cock keeps punching. A heat that spreads outward with each thrust, makes my thighs shake, my fingers dig into the dirt.
"Here's the deal," he says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. "If ye don't cum, we go back to the suckin' deal. Seven days, then freedom."
Hope flares through the building pressure.
"But WHEN ye cum—" He emphasizes it with a particularly brutal thrust that makes my eyes roll back. "When ye cum on me cock like the cock-sleeve ye are, then I breed ye. Fill that hero-womb with goblin babies. Make ye forget ye were ever anything but a cum-toilet."
His thrusts get erratic now, but somehow more devastating. The angle changes slightly and suddenly he's hitting something that makes my whole body seize. That button of flesh his balls keep slapping swells, throbs, sends waves of unwanted pleasure through my core.
"Feel it buildin'?" He's gleeful now, his cock swelling even thicker inside me. "Feel that hero pussy gettin' ready to surrender? To admit what it's for?"
I do feel it. This pressure like I need to piss but different, deeper. My pussy clenches around him in rhythms I don't control. The wet sounds get even louder as I flood around his cock, my body preparing for something, begging for something.
Images flash through my mind as I fight the building sensation—goblin raids I've stopped, villages burning, women found months later with swollen bellies and empty eyes. That's what he wants me to become.
"NO!" I scream around my hair, biting down harder.
($change_stat:"heroism",-3)"YES!" He howls back, jackhammering now. His cock pistons in and out so fast the sounds blur together—*PLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPPLAP*—his balls beating against my clit like a drum.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 fight.jpg","left","My ass ripples and claps, the meat bouncing independently of my will.")My tits swing so violently they actually hurt, slapping against my ribs, against each other, against the ground. The metal triangles have shifted completely, my nipples dragging through dirt with each swing. My ass ripples and claps, the meat bouncing independently of my will.
"GOBBO COCK WINS!" He shouts in Goblish, then Common, then Goblish again. "HERO CUNT LOSES! ALWAYS! ALWAYS!"
The pressure crests. Right at the edge. My pussy spasms around him, trying to pull him deeper, to keep him inside, to—
No. NO. I'm Aldric. I'm a hero. I don't cum on goblin cock. I DON'T—
But my body doesn't care what I am. It only knows what it needs.
(minigame:"02 1st orgasm check",10)](if:$choice is "Fail Check")[($play:"sex loop",0)(playwhenread:"elise doggy orgasm")I try to resist. Every muscle in my body locks against it. But his cock FLEXES inside me—that massive green shaft jumping like a living thing—and my pussy SUCKS at it in response. The muscles I never had before ripple down his length, milking from base to tip like a throat swallowing.
"There it is!" Snib squeals, grinding deeper. "Feel that cunt beggin'! SQUEEZIN' me like she's thirsty!"
The sensation starts in my toes—they curl so hard the joints crack. Then it races up my legs like fire ants under the skin, making my thighs shake uncontrollably. My pussy starts doing something I can't control—*clenching* in waves, each squeeze tighter than the last, like my body's trying to crack his cock like a walnut.
"No no no NO—"
But the warmth is already flooding my belly. Not the quick spike I remember from being male—this is like drowning from the inside out. Heat pools heavy in my guts, spreading outward in thick honey-waves. My whole pelvis feels like it's melting, turning to hot wax around his shaft.
Then my pussy CLAMPS.
"AAAAAHHHHHHHNNNNNNN!"
(vid:"img/ch02/bad end/early fuck/orgasm.mp4")
The sound tears from my throat—not a scream but something worse. A SQUEAL. High and breaking, the kind of noise sows make when mounted. My voice cracks into nonsense—"NGHHHAAAAA-HAAAAAHN!"—as my pussy goes absolutely fucking INSANE around his cock.
(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 1")"FUCK YEAH! MILK IT, COW!" Snib yanks my hair back so hard I see the ceiling. "SQUEEZE THAT GOBBO COCK!"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 orgasm.jpg","right","The sound tears from my throat—not a scream but something worse. A SQUEAL. ")The orgasm doesn't peak—it ROLLS through me in waves. My pussy becomes a fist, crushing down on him so hard I feel every wart, every vein imprinting inside me. Each clench sends lightning through my spine, making my back arch until I'm bent like a bow. My tits swing up and SLAP back down, the metal triangles jangling like dinner bells.
"Look at ye GRIP!" He's laughing, delighted. "Cunt's suckin' me like a baby on a tit!"
Then something else happens. Pressure in my belly—different from the orgasm. Like I need to piss but DEEPER. The feeling builds as my pussy spasms, and suddenly—
*SPLOOOOOORRRRT!*
Hot liquid JETS out around his cock, spraying backward in a pressurized stream. It splashes against his balls, his thighs, runs down my legs in rivers. The shame should kill me but my body doesn't care—it keeps GUSHING.
"PISSING YERSELF?" Snib cackles, pounding through my orgasm.
*SQUIRRRT-SPLASH-SQUIRRRT!*
Each thrust pushes out another jet. I can hear it hitting the floor behind us—wet splashes like someone's dumping buckets. My pussy won't stop clamping, won't stop gushing. It's like my body's trying to push him out and pull him deeper simultaneously.
"PLEASE—" I don't even know what I'm begging for. "PLEASE—HNNNGH—FUCK—"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 squirt.jpg","Each thrust pushes out another jet.")
"Listen to them noises!" He grinds his hips, stirring his cock inside my spasming walls. "Moanin' like a bitch! Squealin' like a sow! Where's the hero now?"
My eyes roll back until I see white. My tongue lolls out, drool running freely. The orgasm keeps GOING—not ending but rolling into another peak. My pussy has become its own creature, sucking and squeezing, trying to milk out what it needs. Each clench makes more fluid gush out with obscene *SPLORT-SPLASH* sounds.
"Twenty seconds!" Snib counts gleefully. "Still cummin'! Still squirtin'! Bet ye never came like THIS with a cock!"
He's right. As a man, orgasm was a quick release. This is complete body possession. Every nerve is firing. My nipples feel like they're being electrocuted by a spell. That new little bundle of flesh his balls keep spanking—the thing that used to be my cock-throbs like a second heartbeat. Even my TEETH feel the pleasure somehow.
"Gonna go deeper," he grunts, pulling my hair until my spine screams. "Gonna put it where no human cock can reach."
He pulls back slightly, then RAMS forward with his entire weight. Something inside me—some barrier I didn't know existed—stretches. I feel it resist for one terrifying moment, then—
(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 2")*POP!*
His cockhead punches through into someplace DEEPER. The sensation is instant—like being stabbed with hot iron, but also like scratching an itch I never knew I had. My whole body seizes. This orgasm on top of orgasm makes my vision go black at the edges.
"GAAAAAAHHHHHHTHRAAACCK!"
The word-scream that comes out doesn't sound human. My pussy CLAMPS so hard on his base that he groans. But the head—the fat purple head is somewhere else now. Somewhere that makes my whole belly feel FULL in a way that's completely wrong.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","left","I can feel it flexing in there, that mushroom head flaring wider, LOCKING itself in place.")"IN YER BABY-CHAMBER NOW!" He announces triumphantly.
The words don't make sense but the FEELING does. He's deeper than deep. His cockhead is lodged somewhere that evolution never meant to be touched. I can feel it flexing in there, that mushroom head flaring wider, LOCKING itself in place.
"Please—" I sob, still cumming, still squirting. "Please, it's too deep—"
"This is where babies get made!" He grinds, stirring his cockhead in that forbidden space. "Where gobbo babies get planted in humie-wombs!"
Each tiny movement in there sends fresh waves through me. My orgasm has become something else—something continuous, broken. My pussy just keeps squeezing, keeps gushing. The puddle under us is spreading. My thighs are soaked. His balls are dripping with my shame.
My tits hang like dead weight, nipples dragging in the dirt I've turned to mud with my own fluids. The metal triangles jangle with each spasm. My ass jiggles constantly from my shaking thighs. Everything about my body is in full surrender—moaning, squirting, clenching, CUMMING endlessly on the cock of something I killed dozens of.
"What would yer wife think?" He yanks my hair, making me arch more. "Seein' her husband—NGHH—squirtin' like a whore? Moanin' like livestock?"
The image of Elara burns through my orgasm-fried brain. This morning I was trying to put a baby in her. Now I'm—
*SPLOOOOORT!*
Another massive gush as my pussy clenches. The shame makes it WORSE, makes me cum HARDER. My body is betraying everything I was with each spasm, each squirt, each pathetic moan.
"Ye LOST," Snib declares, his cock throbbing in my womb.
He starts fucking that deep place. Short, brutal thrusts that don't pull out of my womb, just stir it. The sensation is indescribable—like being fucked in my stomach, in my soul. My orgasm finally starts to ebb but leaves me shaking, aftershocks making my pussy clench weakly around him.
"Now fer my turn," he grunts, speeding up.
(simple_option:"02 1st breeding","Moan desperately.","Squeal in defeat.")](else:)[My whole body screams for release. Every nerve begs to let go, to tumble into that vast warm ocean of sensation building in my guts. My pussy ripples around his cock in pre-orgasmic flutters, trying to milk him without my permission.
But I'm Aldric the Great. I've held my breath underwater for five minutes. I've stayed conscious through torture. I've walked on broken legs.
I can resist THIS.
"HNNNGH—NO!" I grit my teeth so hard my jaw cracks. "I won't—FUCK—won't cum for you!"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 resist.jpg","right","I think of Elara. Her auburn hair. Her laugh. The way she looked at me this morning with such love.")I think of Elara. Her auburn hair. Her laugh. The way she looked at me this morning with such love. That's who I am—her HUSBAND. Not this meat-puppet with a goblin's cock splitting me open. The image anchors me, pulls me back from the edge.
"Stubborn cunt!" Snib pounds harder, his balls creating a violent rhythm against my clit. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* "Ye're gonna cum! All humie women cum on gobbo cock!"
The pressure builds higher. My thighs shake so hard they cramp. My pussy clenches and releases, clenches and releases, right on that knife's edge. One more thrust, one more grind, and I'll tip over. But I hold it back through pure will, the same iron discipline that let me stand vigil for three days straight.
"I'm—ALDRIC—" I force the words through clenched teeth. "Not—your—WHORE!"
($hidden_gem:"My pussy squeezes him like a vice but I refuse to let it push me over.","My pussy presses and pinches like a vise but I prevent it pushing me past the precipice.")
"HAH! Still fightin'?" He yanks my hair back harder, forcing my spine to arch until it screams. "Let's see how long that lasts!"
Suddenly he pulls out completely. The wet *SCHLOOOORP* of his exit makes my empty pussy clench on nothing. Before I can process the relief, his hands grab my hips.
"Up! Legs straight! Keep that arse HIGH!"
He pushes and pulls, maneuvering me like a doll. My face stays pressed to the dirt but my legs straighten, locking at the knees. My ass points straight at the ceiling, so high my spine curves down at an obscene angle. The position makes my pussy gape open, drooling clear strands of shame onto the floor.
"There we go!" He climbs back onto my ass, his feet finding purchase on my cheeks like they're stirrups. "Proper breedin' position!"
His cock—that massive green log—points straight down at my exposed hole. I feel the fat purple head kiss my entrance. Then he just... DROPS.
*SPLOOORTCH!*
His entire weight drives his cock down into me like a spear from heaven. Every inch rams through my pussy in one brutal gravity-assisted thrust. His balls SMACK against my mound with the sound of wet leather hitting stone.
"GAAAHHH!" The scream tears from my throat.
This angle—Flux's balls, this ANGLE. His cock curves differently, dragging against places that make my vision white out. My legs shake, trying to hold the position while this creature uses my ass like a trampoline.
*PLAP!* Up. *PLAP!* Down. *PLAP!* Up. *PLAP!* Down.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/dominate.jpg","He's not even thrusting—just using his weight, bouncing on my ass while his cock pistons in and out.","left")He's not even thrusting—just using his weight, bouncing on my ass while his cock pistons in and out. Each drop drives him balls-deep, the head punching my deepest parts. Each rise drags him almost completely out, my pussy lips clinging to his shaft like they don't want to let go.
"Look at them cheeks RIPPLE!" He grabs handfuls of my ass, sinking his clawed fingers deep into the soft meat. "Fat fuckin' arse made fer gobbos to ride!"
My tits swing like wrecking balls with each impact. They collide under me—*WHAP-WHAP*—sending the metal triangles jangling. My nipples drag through dirt I've turned to mud with my own drool. The collar around my neck clinks with each bounce.
"Still not cummin'?" He increases his pace, really SLAMMING down now. "Let's fix that!"
He spreads my ass cheeks wider with his hands, and I feel cool air hit my asshole. Then—horror—his thumb presses against it.
"NO! Not there—"
"Just a little poke!" His thumb pushes inside to the first knuckle.
The dual sensation—his cock destroying my pussy while his thumb violates my ass—sends fresh waves through me. That pressure builds again, twice as fast, twice as strong. My pussy starts that terrible clenching, that rolling squeeze that signals defeat.
"There it is!" He crows, feeling me tighten. "There's that hungry cunt wakin' up!"
"I won't—HNNGH—won't cum—"
"Ye will." He DROPS down particularly hard, bottoming out with a wet SPLAT. "Know how I know?"
He leans forward, his pot belly pressing against my lower back, his breath hot on my ear.
"'Cause yer already drippin'. Been drippin' since I stuck it in. Yer cunt LOVES gobbo cock, even if yer brain don't."
He's right. I can hear it—the wet SQUELCH-SQUELCH-SQUELCH with each bounce. My pussy is sopping, making obscene sounds as he pile-drives into me. Each impact sends little sprays of my wetness flying.
"Elara!" I gasp her name like a prayer. "Elara, I'm sorry, I'm trying—"
"Gonna count ye down!" He announces gleefully. "Ten thrusts till ye cream!"
"NO!"
"TEN!" *SLAM* His cock drives so deep I taste it in my throat somehow.
"NINE!" *SLAM* My pussy clenches involuntarily.
"EIGHT!" *SLAM* My clit throbs with its own heartbeat.
"SEVEN!" *SLAM* My vision starts going white at the edges.
"SIX!" *SLAM* My legs shake so hard the heel-spikes scrape against the floor.
"FIVE!" *SLAM* A moan escapes despite my clenched teeth—"Nnnnnghh!"
"FOUR!" *SLAM* My pussy starts that rolling clench that signals the edge.
"THREE!" *SLAM* My whole body draws tight as a bowstring.
"TWO!" *SLAM* The pressure becomes unbearable, unstoppable.
"ONE!" *SLAM* He hilts and GRINDS, stirring his cock inside me.
(minigame:"02 2nd orgasm check",10)($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")](pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/precum.jpg","right","Even goblin precum can get you pregnant.")($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")(if:$choice is "Moan desperately.")["Please—" The word comes out as a broken whine, my voice cracking like a boy's. "Please don't—not inside—"
But I can FEEL it starting. His balls—those hairy, sweaty sacks that have been spanking my clit—suddenly draw up TIGHT against his body. They pulse against that sensitive nub, sending aftershock sparks through my still-spasming pussy.
"HERE IT COMES!" Snib SQUEALS, his voice going shrill with pleasure. "GONNA PAINT YER BABY-ROOM WHITE!"
His whole body goes rigid on top of me. His pot belly presses harder into my lower back, his clawed toes digging into my ass cheeks for purchase. I feel his cock SWELL inside me—not just throb but actually expand, stretching my already-abused walls wider.
Then the first pulse.
I don't see it but Eon's bones, I FEEL it. His cock lurches like a kicked snake, the shaft rippling from base to tip. Something HOT—hotter than blood, hotter than fever—jets into that deep place he's lodged himself.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 cum.jpg","right","Even goblin precum can get you pregnant.")"NNNNGHHHHHAAAAAAHHHHH!"
The noise he makes is pure animal pleasure. Not human at all. A chittering, squealing celebration of conquest. His whole weight—all sixty pounds of warty green flesh—shudders on my back.
The second pulse is STRONGER. I feel the cum traveling up his shaft like watching a snake swallow an egg—that bulge of fluid racing through the underside of his cock before—
It fires into my womb with actual FORCE. Like someone turned on a hose inside me. The heat is immediate, spreading through my belly like drinking mulled wine but WRONG, so wrong, because it's inside parts that should never feel warmth from outside.
(sperm:"SPLOOOOORT",3,"splurt 1")"TAKE IT!" He's babbling now, lost in his pleasure. "TAKE ME GOBBO-BATTER! DRINK IT WITH YER WOMB!"
Third pulse. Fourth. Fifth. Each one pumps what feels like a ladleful of thick, clotted heat into me. I can feel my belly starting to extend—just slightly—as he fills that sacred space with his putrid seed.
The texture—Flux's balls, the TEXTURE. It's not liquid. It's more like... like hot porridge. Lumpy. I can feel chunks of something swimming in the thinner fluid. It CLINGS to my insides, coating everything, too thick to run back out around his cock-seal.
"So much," I whimper, my head hanging between my arms. "Too much—"
"SEVENTEEN MORE SPURTS!" He announces gleefully, his cock lurching again.
(sperm:"SPLURT-GLOP-SPLURT",3)My womb is FULL. Beyond full. I feel the pressure building as he keeps pumping, keeps filling. The overflow has nowhere to go but BACK, squeezing around his shaft in vulgar bubbles. I hear it—wet BLORP-BLORP sounds as cum forces its way out around his seal.
Then I feel it on my thighs.
THICK. Like custard left in the sun. It doesn't run so much as OOZE down my legs in hot, chunky rivers. The smell hits next—concentrated rot, like cheese mixed with dead fish mixed with something medicinal. It makes my eyes water.
"FIFTEEN! SIXTEEN!" He's counting his spurts like victory drumbeats. "SEVENTEEN! EIGHTEEN!"
Each pulse makes my pussy clench involuntarily, milking him. My body is HELPING him breed me. The muscles I never asked for ripple along his length, coaxing out every drop of his nasty goblin sludge.
The heat is unbearable. It feels like he's filling me with boiling gravy. My whole belly radiates warmth from the inside out. I can feel it MOVING in there—not just sloshing but writhing. Like his sperm are already swimming, already hunting.
"TWENTY-THREE! TWENTY—GAAAHHHHH!"
His final spurt is different. THICKER. It comes out in one long, continuous stream like he's pissing inside me. *GLOOOOOOOOOOOOORP*. The pressure is too much. My pussy lips make obscene farting sounds as air and cum bubble out around his shaft.
He pulls back slowly, his cockhead dragging through my womb's entrance with a wet *POP*. The moment he's out, it's like pulling a cork from a wine bottle.
(sperm:"SPLOOOOOOOSH",5,"splurt 2")Cum GUSHES from my gaped pussy. Not drips—FLOODS. It pours out in thick, chunky waves, splattering on the floor with heavy SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT sounds. I feel it running down both thighs, pooling around my knees. The smell is overwhelming—concentrated goblin musk mixed with my own shameful wetness.
But he's not done.
Still standing on my ass, he aims his still-spurting cock at my back. One final rope of cum—impossibly long, like a white snake—shoots up my spine. It lands with a heavy SPLAT across my shoulder blades, up my neck, and—
The hot glob hits my forehead and runs down. Some gets in my hair. Some drips onto my lips.
The taste—
I gag, spitting, but it's too late. That rancid thickness coats my tongue. Salty-sour-rotten, with chunks that pop between my teeth like fish eggs. My stomach heaves.
Finally, FINALLY, he climbs off. My arms give out immediately. I collapse face-first into the puddle of our mixed fluids, my ass still up, pussy gaping and drooling his seed. I can feel it inside me still—so much of it, so DEEP. My womb feels like a water balloon filled with spoiled porridge.
"HAHAHA!" Snib dances around to face me, his cock still dripping. "LOOK AT YE! BRED PROPER!"
He grabs my hair, yanks my head up. My face is a mess—tears, snot, drool, his cum. He WIPES his cock clean on my cheek, the smell making me gag again.
"That's GALLONS of baby-batter in ye now." He grins. "Gobbo sperm swim fer DAYS. Probably already chewin' through whatever egg ye got in there."
The horror hits like cold water. The stories. The warnings. Goblin cum is hypervirile. One load can cause multiple pregnancies. And he just pumped enough inside me to breed a whole village.
"No," I whisper, feeling more glob out of my pussy. "No, I can't be—"
"Oh, ye're DEFINITELY knocked up." He scratches his deflating balls casually. "Probably with twins. Maybe triplets. Gobbo seed doesn't miss."
My pussy is still gaping, still drooling. I can feel his cum MOVING inside me, seeking, hunting. My womb aches with fullness that won't drain—too thick, too deep, too clingy. It's not coming out. It's staying in there, doing what it's meant to do.
"Gonna be funny," Snib muses, "watching yer belly swell with me spawn. The great Aldric, waddlin' around with gobbo babies kickin' inside."
He walks over to the corner, and I hear liquid splashing. He's PISSING. The stream hits the floor, steaming in the cool air. Then he turns—
The hot stream hits my back. He's pissing ON me, marking his territory. The warmth spreads across my skin, mixing with cooling cum and sweat. The final humiliation as I lie in a puddle of cum, knowing—KNOWING—that his seed is taking root inside me.
"Welcome to yer new life, breed-mare," he says cheerfully, shaking off the last drops on my ass. "We got LOTS more fun ahead."](else:)[I can't form real words anymore, just these pathetic mewling sounds. My pussy is still twitching from the aftershocks, little clenches that make wet squelching noises around his shaft.
"Here it comes, cow!"
I feel his whole body go rigid on top of me. His clawed toes dig deeper into my ass cheeks. His breathing catches—one sharp inhale through his nose that whistles. Then his balls—those hairy, sweat-slick sacks that have been spanking my clit—draw up TIGHT against my soaked lips.
"GRAAAAAAHHHHK!"
The squeal he makes isn't human. It's pure animal pleasure, high and chittering. His cock inside me starts doing something—a rhythmic FLEX I can feel all the way in my guts. The head flares wider in that deep forbidden place, swelling like a fist opening.
Then I feel... warmth.
Not like precum. This is different. THICKER. A heavy, liquid heat that blooms in my deepest parts. The sensation is so alien—I've never had anything IN me before, let alone—
"BREEDING YE!" He squeals, grinding his hips. "PUMPIN' YE FULL!"
Another flex. Another bloom of heat. This time I feel the FORCE of it—like he's pissing inside me but thicker, nastier. The warmth spreads through my belly in waves. My womb—that's what he called it—starts to feel FULL. Not stretched but OCCUPIED. Like something heavy and warm is pooling in there.
I can HEAR it. The wet sounds of his release echoing inside me. Each pulse makes a nauseating *GLORP* as it floods that deep chamber. The heat keeps building—so much hotter than my own body temperature that it feels like molten porridge being poured into my guts.
"Take it all!" He's grinding in circles, stirring his cocktip in my womb while he empties. "Every—NGHH—fuckin'—DROP!"
(sperm:"SPLURT GLOP-SPLURT",5,"splurt 4")($hidden_gem:"The stuff flooding me is thick as custard gone bad.","The sludge swamping me is sick-thick as curdled, clotted custard.")
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 cum.jpg","right","Even goblin precum can get you pregnant.")I feel it starting to back up. That deep space can only hold so much before it overflows back into my pussy. The first backwash is nauseating—chunky and hot, with a texture like... like spoiled milk mixed with mucus. It oozes around his still-pulsing shaft, trying to find a way out.
"So much," I whimper, my voice broken. "Too much—"
"Gobbo balls make LOTS!" Another pulse. Another impossible amount flooding in. "Gonna give ye triplets at LEAST!"
The backup gets worse. I feel pressure building as my womb fills beyond capacity. Then it happens—the seal breaks. Hot, thick SLOP starts pushing out around his cock with obscene *SPLORRRT* sounds. It's nothing like the clear fluid I squirted. This is WHITE-YELLOW, clumpy, moving like library paste heated over a fire.
The smell hits me as it splashes on my thighs. Concentrated ROT mixed with yeast, like bread dough left in the sun for days. It's so thick it doesn't run—it GLOPS down in heavy strings that steam in the cool air.
"Nine spurts!" He counts gleefully. "Ten! ELEVEN! Feel them swimmers!"
Swimmers. I can actually FEEL something in the sludge. Movement that isn't just liquid flow. Like tiny things wriggling, burrowing, seeking. The thought makes me gag but my womb keeps taking it, some primitive part of my body ACCEPTING this violation.
(sperm:"SPLURT-GLOP-GLORRRP",3,"splurt 3")The sounds get wetter as overflow increases. I feel hot ropes splashing down my inner thighs, pooling under me where I'm collapsed. Each pulse pushes out more of what's already inside, but he keeps adding to it. My whole lower body feels STUFFED with the nasty paste.
"Gonna pull out," he warns, grinding one last time. "Watch this!"
The withdrawal is obscene. As his cockhead pops free from my womb, there's a moment of resistance—then a FLOOD. All that backed-up sludge comes pouring out in one massive *SPLOOOOOOSH*. It's like someone turned over a bucket of warm, chunky yogurt between my legs.
But he's not done. As he pulls fully out, his cock—still spurting—paints a line up my back. I feel the hot splash travel up my spine, over my neck—
(sperm:"SPLAT",3,"splat 1")A massive rope of cum lands across my face. It's so heavy it makes an actual SMACK sound when it hits. The texture—Flux's balls, the TEXTURE. Like warm jelly with chunks of something harder mixed in. It bisects my forehead, crosses my nose, and the tail end lands on my lips.
I try to spit but my mouth opens at the wrong moment. The taste—
Acid mixed with rotted milk mixed with something FUNGAL. It coats my tongue instantly, thick as paste. I gag, cough, but that just makes me inhale and the smell goes straight to my brain. My eyes water. My sinuses burn.
"HAHA! Glazed like a sweet roll!" He's still standing on my ass, his cock drooling the last few spurts onto my hair. "Proper cum-frosted!"
My arms give out. I collapse face-first into the puddle of our mixed fluids. The impact makes everything SQUELCH. Hot goblin sludge BURPS out of my pussy in bubbles. I can feel it deep inside, coating everything, marking me from the inside out.
"Knocked up fer sure," Snib declares, finally climbing off my ass. "No human cunt survives that much gobbo-seed without gettin' stuffed with babies."
The words hit like ice water. Pregnant. The stories. The women found in goblin dens, bellies swollen with green spawn. That's going to be me. There's no way that much... that much SLUDGE inside me won't take root.
My pussy is still occasionally spurting out thick glops with wet *PLOP* sounds. I can feel it bubbling inside me, fermenting, doing its work. The smell is everywhere—in my hair, on my face, leaking from between my legs. I'll never be clean again.
"This is yer life now," Snib says conversationally, wiping his still-drooling cock on my hair. "Gobbo cum-dump. Gonna fill ye every day until ye pop out greenlings."
I try to form words but all that comes out is a broken sob. My body won't stop shaking. Won't stop occasionally clenching and pushing out another glob of his seed with humiliating *SPLORT* sounds.
Then I hear him position himself differently. A new sound—steady splashing.
He's PISSING on me. The stream is hot, ammonia-sharp, hitting the small of my back and running down to mix with all the other fluids. He aims it between my ass cheeks, the pressure washing some of his cum out of my still-gaping pussy.
"Markin' me property," he explains cheerfully. "So everyone knows ye're owned."
The piss seems endless. It pools around me, mixing with cum and my own shameful squirt into a puddle of total degradation. When he finally finishes, he gives his cock a few shakes, the drops hitting my ass.
"Welcome to yer new life, Elise," he says. "Bet ye wish ye'd just sucked it now, eh?"
I lie there in the filth, feeling his seed working inside me, knowing with absolute certainty that Aldric the Great is dead. All that's left is this cum-stuffed body that's about to grow goblin babies.]
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/big creampie.jpg")
(simple_option:"02 bad end","Three months later...")(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[($play:"sex loop",0)(playwhenread:"elise doggy orgasm")"ONE!" He hilts and GRINDS, stirring his cock inside me like he's churning butter.
The dam breaks.
(vid:"img/ch02/bad end/early fuck/orgasm.mp4")
Not like cresting a wave—like someone reached inside and YANKED my guts out through my pussy. My whole body seizes, every muscle locking at once. Then the first clench hits.
My pussy CLAMPS around his cock so hard I hear him grunt. Not a gentle squeeze—a crushing, rippling GRIP that starts at my entrance and rolls inward, milking him. It feels like my insides are trying to swallow him whole, pull him deeper, KEEP him.
"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The scream tears from my throat—high, breaking, nothing like any sound I've made in thirty-two years of life. My voice cracks into this pathetic keen that fills the hut. I sound like the whores in Eboncrest's cheaper brothels, the ones who moan for coin.
But I'm not faking. My pussy is WRINGING his cock in waves. Each clench stronger than the last, like my body is trying to crush this invader even as it worships it. The sensation radiates out from where we're joined—hot pulses shooting down my thighs, up my spine, making my toes curl in the metal boots until they cramp.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/2 orgasm.jpg","right","The scream tears from my throat—high, breaking, nothing like any sound I've made in thirty-two years of life.")"THERE IT IS!" Snib crows, feeling me spasm around him. "HERO-CUNT CUMMIN' ON GOBBO COCK!"
He keeps bouncing, using my orgasming pussy like a toy. Each drop drives another wave through me. My vision goes white, then sparkles with stars. Every nerve ending fires at once—not pain, not pleasure, but something that transcends both. Like being turned inside out through my cunt.
Then I feel it—hot liquid GUSHING out around his cock.
*SPLURRRRRT!*
"FUCK YEAH! SQUIRTIN' LIKE A FOUNTAIN!"
I'm... I'm pissing? No—it's coming from inside, from where his cock stretches me open. Clear fluid sprays out with each pulse of my orgasm, splattering against his balls, running down my thighs in hot streams. The shame of it makes me cum HARDER.
*SPLURT-SQUIRT-SPLURRRT!*
"Listen to that!" He spreads my ass cheeks wider, making the sounds echo. "Pissin' yerself from cummin'! Aldric the Great, pissin' like a bitch!"
($hidden_gem:"My pussy sprays defeat across his floor in humiliating streams.","My pussy pisses pure, pathetic defeat in pulsing, pressurized streams across his putrid floor.")
My mouth hangs open, drool running freely. My eyes roll back until I see only white. But I can FEEL everything—every ridge of his cock as my pussy memorizes it, every wart, every vein. My walls ripple along his length in waves, sucking him like a throat swallowing.
"HNNNNGH! AHHH! AHHHHH!"(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 1")
The moans pour out uncontrolled. Each one higher, more desperate than the last. My tits slam against the ground with each of his bounces, the metal triangles long since shifted aside, nipples grinding into dirt turned to mud by my own drool and tears.
"THAT'S IT! MILK ME COCK! SQUEEZE IT!"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/2 squirt.jpg","Aldric the Great, pissing like a bitch.")
He DROPS particularly hard and something inside me... gives.
*POP!*
"AAAAIIIIEEEEE!"
The scream is inhuman. He's pushed through something, some barrier deep inside. The head of his cock is somewhere it shouldn't be—somewhere NOTHING should be. It feels like he's in my stomach but lower, like he's invaded some sacred space that's never been touched.
"HAH! POPPED YER CHERRY PROPER!" He grinds, stirring his cockhead in this new violated space. "That's yer baby-room! That's where me spawn gonna grow!"
My womb. He's in my womb. The organ I never had until today is wrapped around his cockhead like a glove. I can feel it—this hollow ache filled with goblin meat, this violation so complete it rewrites what I am.
"Please—" I sob, but my pussy keeps cumming, keeps squirting around him. "Please, it's too deep—"
"Never too deep for breeding!" He starts short, brutal thrusts that keep his head lodged in my womb while his shaft pistons through my canal. "Feel that? That's yer womb learnin' its purpose! Gonna flush it with gobbo cum!"
The orgasm won't stop. It rolls through me in waves, each one making me squirt more. The floor beneath us is soaked, puddles of my shame spreading outward. My pussy makes obscene SQUELCH-SQUIRT-SQUELCH sounds as he fucks me through it.
"Count 'em!" He commands, yanking my hair. "Count yer squirts!"
"I—I can't—AHHHHH!"
*SPLURRRT!*
"That's one!"
"Stop—please—"
*SQUIRT-SQUIRT!*
"Two and three! Keep goin'!"
(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 2")(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","left","My womb. He's in my womb.")My pussy clenches again, another wave of fluid gushing out. I've never felt anything like this—like my insides are melting and pouring out around his cock. Each squirt feels like pissing but FROM INSIDE, like my pussy is sobbing its defeat in liquid form.
"Four! Five! SIX!" He counts gleefully as I spray. "Aldric the Great, squirtin' like a virgin on her first cock!"
My legs shake so hard the metal heels scrape grooves in the floor. My ass jiggles with each impact, the meat clapping around his tiny hips. He weighs nothing but he's completely in control, riding my ass like a captain steering a ship.
"Gonna pump ye full now," he grunts, his thrusts getting erratic. "Gonna flood that virgin womb with gobbo babies. All because ye came on me cock like a whore."
"No—" But even as I protest, my pussy clenches around him, trying to milk out exactly what he's promising. My body has betrayed me completely. Aldric would never cum from being fucked. But this body—this terrible, hypersexual body—was MADE for this.
"Yes," he corrects, grinding deep. "Ye lost the bet. Ye came. Now ye get bred."
His cock flexes inside my womb and I feel it—the first pulse of what's coming. His balls draw up tight against my soaked pussy. His breathing gets ragged.
"Here it comes, cow-tits. Here comes yer first batch of gobbo babies!"
(simple_option:"02 2nd breeding","Try to pull away!","Beg him not to cum inside!","Stay silent in defeat.")](else:)[($play:"sex loop",0)(playwhenread:"insert rough")(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/2 fight.jpg","left","My pussy drips and clenches and BEGS to cum, but my mind holds it back like a fist around a throat.")"ONE!" He hilts and GRINDS, stirring his cock inside me like he's churning butter.
The pressure builds to impossible levels. My pussy starts that terrible clenching, that rolling squeeze that means defeat. Every muscle draws tight. My vision whites out at the edges. I'm about to—
No.
NO.
I slam my consciousness down like a portcullis dropping. The same iron will that let me hold position while dragonfire scorched the air above. The same discipline that kept me silent under torture. I build walls in my mind—stone by stone, thought by thought. Elara's face. My sword hand. The oath I swore. Each memory a brick against the pleasure trying to drown me.
My pussy spasms AROUND the edge but doesn't tip over. I hover there—one heartbeat, two, three—right on that knife's edge of orgasm but NOT FALLING.
"What—" Snib feels it, the way I clench but don't cream. "What're ye—NO! Ye can't—"
"I'm—ALDRIC—THE—GREAT!" Each word forced through gritted teeth as I hold back the wave by pure fucking will.
He SLAMS down harder, trying to force it. His cock pounds that deep spot that makes stars explode. But I've found something deeper—some core of resistance that even this body can't override. My pussy drips and clenches and BEGS to cum, but my mind holds it back like a fist around a throat.
"What—" Snib sounds genuinely confused. "Why ain't ye—ye were RIGHT THERE!"
"Because—" I gasp through gritted teeth. "I'm not—your—WHORE!"
"Stubborn CUNT!" He yanks out suddenly.
The wet *SCHLOOOORP* of his exit makes my empty pussy clench on nothing. Before I can process the relief, he's shoving me, rolling me over like a sack of grain. I land on my back with a meaty THUD, tits bouncing up into my face before settling into pools of flesh spreading toward my armpits.
"Let's try somethin' else then!"
His clawed hands grab the metal triangles barely containing my tits. With a casual gesture, they fall away—the armor responding to him, not me. My breasts spill completely free, pale mountains topped with pink peaks already hard from the cold and... and everything else.
"Look at these udders!" He grabs one in each hand, fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh. "Bigger than me head!"
Then he leans down and LATCHES onto my left nipple.
"AHHHHH!"(playwhenread:"tit sucking")
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/boob suck.jpg","My back arches involuntarily, pushing more tit into his face.")
The sensation—Eon's mercy, I've never felt anything like it. His mouth is hot, wet, his tongue rough as tree bark as it swirls around the sensitive peak. He SUCKS, hard, like he's trying to pull something out of me. My back arches involuntarily, pushing more tit into his face.
*SLURP-SUCK-SLURP*
"Mmmm," he hums against my breast, the vibration traveling straight to my empty pussy. "Taste like ye're ready to make milk."
He releases that nipple with a wet POP and attacks the other one, sucking so hard it borders on pain. His teeth scrape the sensitive flesh, making me gasp. Meanwhile his hands SQUEEZE and KNEAD, treating my tits like dough he's working.
"Know what these are for?" He asks between sucks, looking up at me with those yellow eyes. "These ain't for lookin' pretty. These are MILK-SACKS."
*SLAP!*
His palm connects with my right tit, making it bounce and collide with the left. The impact sends shockwaves through the soft tissue.
"Soon gonna have six, seven splurtlings hangin' off these." He grins, pinching both nipples and PULLING until my back arches off the ground. "Little green pups with their teeth sinkin' into these fat nipples, suckin' ye dry."
"No—please—"
"Oh yes." He goes back to sucking, alternating between violent suction and gentle licks that make my pussy clench. "But here's the thing—ye won't be eatin' normal food no more."
I try to focus on anything else—the dirt floor, the smell of rot, the collar's cold weight—but his mouth on my nipples sends lightning straight to my cunt. The sensation is overwhelming, like being attacked by pleasure at a point I can't defend.
"Gonna put ye on a special diet." He talks between sucks, spittle flying. "Just one thing. Can ye guess what?"
($hidden_gem:"My mind recoils even as my nipples harden further under his assault.","My mind mutinies and migrates away even as my nipples numb and needle harder under his horrible, hungry assault.")
"Every mornin', noon, and night—" *SUCK* "—ye'll be drainin' me balls—" *SLURP* "—right down that pretty throat."
"I won't—"
"Ye will." He bites down on my nipple, not hard enough to break skin but enough to make me cry out. "See, gobbo cum's got everythin' a breedin' bitch needs. Proteins for the pups growin' in yer belly. Fats to make these tits swell with milk."
He demonstrates by grabbing both breasts and SHAKING them, watching them jiggle. My face burns with humiliation.
"Three meals a day of thick, hot nut-sludge." He grins at my expression. "Down yer throat, fillin' yer belly. Ye'll forget what real food tastes like. Just the taste of me balls drainin' into ye."
My pussy CLENCHES at the mental image. I hate it, hate how my body responds, but it's like these new parts have their own will.
"And the best part?" He sucks my nipple so hard I see stars. "The more gobbo cum ye drink, the more milk these udders make."
He paints the picture with horrifying clarity: "Ye'll wake up with these milk-tanks so full they hurt, beggin' me to bring the pups to drain 'em. Six little mouths with sharp teeth, chompin' down while ye cry. And while they're suckin' one batch of milk out yer tits, I'll be pumpin' the next batch of babies into yer cunt."
"Stop—stop talking—"
"Couple months and ye won't even remember bein' human." He moves to my right breast, sucking so hard my heel-boots scrape against the floor. "Just a milk-cow for gobbos. These tits hangin' to yer belly, swingin' when ye crawl. Yer ass gettin' even fatter from all that cum."
His hands are everywhere—squeezing, slapping, pinching. My tits feel like they're on fire, every nerve ending singing. Despite my horror, my back arches, pushing them up toward his mouth. My pussy drools steadily, making wet spots on the dirt.
"Please—" I don't even know what I'm begging for anymore.
"Ye'll WANT it." He grins up at me, my nipple between his teeth. "Week of drinkin' nothin' but gobbo cum and yer brain starts changin'. Ye'll wake up CRAVIN' the taste. Crawl to me beggin' for breakfast. 'Please Master Snib, me belly's empty, need yer thick cum to fill it.'"
I'm panting now, my chest heaving, making my tits bounce with each breath. He takes advantage, motorboating between them, his face disappearing into my cleavage while making disgusting BRRRRR sounds.
"Ye'll measure time by feedings." His voice is muffled by tit-flesh. "Morning skull-fuck. Noon cockmilking. Evening gulp-session. Maybe midnight snack if ye're good."
He emerges, face flushed, and starts SLAPPING my tits in rhythm. Left-right-left-right, watching them bounce and collide.
"Month from now, ye won't remember the taste of bread. Just cum. Thick, chunky gobbo cum slidin' down yer throat. Yer tits'll learn too—start leakin' just from the smell of me cock."
My nipples are so hard they hurt. The mental image he's painting horrifies me. But my body responds like it's receiving instructions.
"And the pups..." He grins wider. "Twenty, thirty of 'em within a year. All suckin' these tits while their brothers grow in yer belly. Ye'll forget ye ever had a name. Just 'Milk-cow' or 'Cum-tank' or whatever we call ye."
He sits back, admiring his work. My tits are covered in his spit, shining in the dim light, marked with teeth impressions. My nipples throb with each heartbeat. I'm gasping, writhing, my pussy so wet I can feel it pooling beneath me.
That's when he positions himself between my spread legs. I'm on my back now, completely naked except for these ridiculous heel-boots pointing at the ceiling. I can see everything—his warty green body, his pot belly, that massive cock pointing at my entrance like a weapon.
He notches the purple head against my pussy lips. Just resting there. Waiting.
"Ready for round two, cow-tits?"
(pic:"ch02/missionary insert.jpg")
(simple_option:"02 missionary","'Please... no more...'","Stay silent and glare.","'I... I won't cum. I won't!'")](pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/precum.jpg","right","Even goblin precum can get you pregnant.")($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")(if:$choice is "Try to pull away!")[I try to pull away but my body won't obey. His cockhead lodged in my womb acts like an anchor—when I try to crawl forward, it tugs at something so deep inside that my vision sparkles. My pussy is still clenching in aftershocks, each spasm making me aware of how thoroughly he's hilted in me.
"Where ye goin'?" He laughs, grabbing my hips. "Can't run with gobbo cock in yer baby-room!"
I manage to waddle forward maybe an inch, my spread thighs shaking, but the angle—face pressed to dirt, ass pointed at the ceiling—means his cock just slides deeper when I move. It's like I'm impaled on a spit, unable to dismount.
That's when I feel it.
His breathing changes. Quick little grunts—"*hungh-hungh-hungh*"—like a dog about to vomit. His fingers dig into my ass cheeks so hard I'll have bruises. Through the haze of my own orgasm, reality crashes down:
He's about to cum.
Inside me.
In my womb.
"No no no NO—"
His balls—those heavy, hairy sacks that have been slapping against me—suddenly draw up tight. They press against that sensitive button between my legs, the thing that used to be the root of my cock, sending another unwanted jolt through me. But worse is what I feel through them—a churning, like something thick being pumped through tubes.
"HERE IT COMES!" He squeals—actually SQUEALS like a pig finding slop.
The first pulse.
I feel his cock swell inside me, stretching my already-abused walls. Then—
(sperm:"GLOOOOORP",3)Something hot. Hotter than blood. It jets into that deep place where his cockhead sits, splashing against walls that have never felt anything before. The sensation is so alien my brain can't process it—just registers WRONG, INVASION, TOO DEEP.
"TAKE IT! FUCKING TAKE IT!"
(sperm:"SPLOOORT-GLOOOORP",2,"splurt 2")The second rope is thicker. I can feel the texture of it through my insides—not liquid but something between porridge and curdled milk, chunky and viscous. It floods that hollow space, and I feel my womb... expand? Like a waterskin being filled, but inside me.
"All fer you!" He grunts, grinding deeper.
(sperm:"SPLURT-GLORP-SPLOOOOORT",5,"splurt 8")More. So much more. Each pulse is accompanied by his high-pitched squealing, like he's in religious ecstasy. I feel the cum pooling in my womb, hot and heavy, churning with each flex of his cock. Some of it backflows into my pussy, and that's when I realize—
It's MOVING.
"Not just flowing but... writhing? Like thick soup with chunks that swim on their own. The heat of it makes my insides cramp. My pussy clenches involuntarily, milking him for more of this vile seed.
"Feel that?" He pants between spurts. "That's gobbo baby-batter! Gonna knock ye up fer sure!"
(sperm:"GLOOOORP-SPLURT-GLUG-GLUG",3)My womb is full. Beyond full. I feel the pressure building as he keeps cumming, nowhere for it to go. Then—overflow. Hot, thick ropes squirt out around his cock with obscene *SPLORTCH* sounds, running down my thighs in chunky streams.
The smell hits me—concentrated rot mixed with cheese that's gone liquid in summer sun, underlaid with something chemical, something ALIVE. It coats my nostrils, makes my eyes water. This isn't human seed—it's some kind of biological weapon.
"Still cummin'!" He announces gleefully. "Gobbo balls hold more than human heads!"
(sperm:"SPLOOOOOOOGE",3)A particularly thick rope—I feel chunks push through his cockhole, spreading me from inside as they travel into my womb. Like cottage cheese being piped through a pastry bag. Some of it immediately backflows, and I feel the texture as it oozes out—stringy, sticky, forming bridges between my thighs that refuse to break.
My face is pressed into dirt but I can see between my legs—white-yellow slime pooling beneath me, still steaming in the cool air. Actual steam, like fresh bread but wrong, diseased. The puddle grows with each pulse.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/creampie internal.jpg","The puddle grows with each pulse.")
"Nine... ten... ELEVEN!" He counts his spurts.
Finally, FINALLY, I feel him pulling out. The wet SCHLOOOOOORP as his cock exits makes me gag. Without his cockhead corking me, the cum FLOODS out.
(sperm:"BLOOOOOORT",5)It pours from my gaped pussy in a thick, chunky stream. I feel every lump, every string as it exits. My womb contracts, pushing more out, but there's so much. SO MUCH. It keeps coming, bubbling out like a broken sewer pipe.
But he's not done.
Still standing on my ass, he aims his still-spurting cock at my back.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/2 cum.jpg","left")
*SPLAT*
A rope as thick as ship rope lands between my shoulder blades, hot enough to burn. It oozes down my spine, pooling in the small of my back. Another rope—*SPLAT*—across the back of my head, tangling in my hair. The weight of it, the heat, the STENCH—
The final spurt arcs over my head and—
*GLOP*
Lands directly on my face. Across my forehead, over my nose, and—I try to close my mouth but I'm panting—on my tongue.
The taste.
Like licking a latrine. Like cheese aged in a corpse. I gag, spit, but it's too thick, too sticky. It clings to my tongue, coats my throat.
"HAH! Glazed like a festival cake!"
He hops down. Without his weight pinning me, I collapse forward into the puddle of our combined fluids. My tits splash into the cooling cum. My face lands in dirt turned to mud by various fluids. I feel his seed still bubbling out of me, my pussy making obscene *BLORP-BLORP* sounds as it empties.
"Look at that cream-pie!" He walks around to face me, his softening cock still drooling. "Proper bred now!"
He grabs my hair, lifts my cum-covered face, and uses my black locks to wipe his cock clean. The casual degradation of it—using me like a rag—breaks something inside me.
When he lets go, I collapse completely. Cum still oozing from my gaped pussy. His seed swimming in my womb. The knowledge crushing me:
I'm pregnant.
No way I'm not, from that.
"Gonna love carrying me babies," he says cheerfully, already pulling his loincloth back on. "Gobbo spawn are proper active in the womb. Gonna feel 'em swimming around in there within a week!"
He whistles as he walks to his pile of furs, leaving me face-down in a puddle of cum, pussy still occasionally spurting out another glob with obscene *BLORT* sounds.
"Oh!" He turns back. "Almost forgot!"
I hear him walk back over. Then warmth—different warmth—splashing on my back.
He's pissing on me.
The stream is heavy, ammonia-strong, marking me like territory. It mixes with the cum, creating a vile slurry that pools around my collapsed form. The final humiliation—not even worth proper acknowledgment, just something to piss on after use.
"There we go," he sighs with relief. "Properly marked now. Sweet dreams, cow-tits. Tomorrow we start yer new life proper."
I lie there, cum bubbling from my pussy, piss cooling on my back, the absolute certainty crushing me:
Aldric the Great is pregnant with goblin spawn.](else-if:$choice is "Beg him not to cum inside!")["No! No no NO! Don't cum inside! Please, I'm begging—"
"Too late, cow-tits!"
His claws dig into my ass cheeks, anchoring himself. I try to pull forward but I CAN'T—his cockhead lodged in my womb acts like a fishhook, keeping me speared. My legs are spread wide in these fucking heels, thighs burning from the position, pussy stretched around his base like a too-small glove around a fist.
Then I feel it.
His balls—those hairy, sweaty sacks that have been slapping against me—draw up tight. They press against my soaked pussy lips, against that sensitive nub where my cock used to be. The pressure makes me gasp, a stupid little aftershock of pleasure even as terror floods through me.
"Hnnnnggghhhh—"
That's his sound. This wet, guttural grunt of pleasure that vibrates through his whole body. I feel it through his cock—the first pulse, like a heartbeat but wrong. The shaft swells thicker inside me, stretching my already-abused walls.
Something hot blooms deep in my belly.
Not on my belly. IN it. In that violated space where his cockhead sits. The first spurt is just warmth, spreading like spilled soup inside me. But thick soup. Porridge left too long on the fire.
"TAKE IT!" He squeals, his voice cracking with pleasure. "TAKE ME GOBBO-SLOP!"
The second pulse. Stronger. I feel the cum traveling up his shaft—actually FEEL it moving through the tube of his cock like pudding through a baker's pipe. Then it SPURTS against my inner walls with enough force that I gasp.
(sperm:"SPLORCH",7,"splurt 1")That's the sound it makes inside me. Wet and thick and wrong.
"Please stop—" But my protest is cut off by the third pulse.
This one's different. Chunkier. Like he's pumping custard with lumps in it. I feel the solid bits hitting my womb walls, sticking, spreading. The heat is overwhelming—like someone poured fresh-boiled porridge straight into my guts.
"BREEDIN' YE!" He's losing his mind with pleasure, his whole tiny body shaking on top of my ass. "PLANTIN' ME FLAG IN HERO-CUNT!"
(sperm:"GLORP-SPLURT-GLORP",3)The sounds get wetter, nastier. Each pulse pumps more of his vile seed into me. I can't see it but I can FEEL it—the way it doesn't flow like liquid should. It's stringy, connected, pulling at itself as it fills me. Like the way honey pours but thicker, hotter, more alive.
My womb is full. Beyond full. But he keeps cumming.
"So much—" I whimper. "Too much—"
The pressure builds until I feel it backflow into my pussy, oozing around his shaft. Then—horror—it starts dripping out.
*SPLAT*
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/creampie internal.jpg")The first glob hits the floor between my spread legs. I catch a glimpse of it—yellowish-white like pus, thick as pudding, with darker chunks swimming in it. The smell hits immediately: sour milk mixed with something bleachy, something that burns my nostrils.
"Look at it leak!" He grunts, still pumping. "Yer cunt can't hold it all!"
($hidden_gem:"His seed overflows from my stuffed womb like porridge from an overfilled pot.","His seed spills and streams from my stuffed, stretched womb like spoiled porridge spurting from a splitting pot.")
More pulses. Five. Six. Seven. Each one weaker but still substantial. The cum gets thicker toward the end—the last spurts are almost solid, like curdled cream being forced through a sieve. I feel them stick inside me, coating my walls, refusing to flow back out.
"There we go," he sighs with satisfaction. "Proper bred now."
He pulls back slowly. His cockhead POPS free from my womb with a wet sucking sound that makes me sob. Then the rest of his shaft drags out, each inch making obscene squelching noises as my pussy tries to close behind it.
The moment he's out, it's like pulling a cork from a wine bottle.
(sperm:"GLORP-SPLURT-GLORP",)His cum GUSHES from my gaped pussy, pouring out in thick ropes. It hits the floor with heavy splats, pooling between my legs. The consistency is horrifying—some parts liquid, some parts cottage cheese chunks, some parts long strings that won't break. It's HOT, steaming in the cool air of the hut.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/2 cum.jpg","left")But he's not done.
Still standing on my ass, he aims his still-hard cock at my back.
*SPLURT*
A final rope of cum shoots out, traveling the length of my spine. It lands with a heavy SPLAT from my lower back all the way up to—
*PLAP*
Right across my face. The hot string of goblin cum bisects my forehead, crosses my nose, and the end lands on my lips. I taste it immediately—sour and thick and WRONG, like spoiled milk mixed with salt and something fungal.
"PFFFFT—" I spit, gag, try to get it off my tongue, but it CLINGS. Sticky like tree sap but alive somehow.
My arms give out. I collapse face-first into the dirt, my ass still raised, cum pouring from my pussy in obscene gushes. Each pulse of my traitorous cunt pushes out more—*BLORP... BLORP... BLORP*—like my womb is vomiting up his seed.
But I can feel what stayed inside. The thick stuff. The chunky stuff. The stuff that's already swimming deeper, looking for—
"Knocked up fer sure," Snib announces cheerfully, hopping off my ass. "That was prime breeding shot. Backed up fer days, that was."
He walks around to my face, his cock still dripping. Without warning, he wipes it on my hair—long strokes, cleaning off the cum and pussy juice.
"This is yer life now," he says conversationally. "Gettin' bred daily. Maybe twice daily once yer belly starts showin'."
I know the stories. Every woman taken by goblins. The rescue parties finding them months later, bellies swollen with—
No.
But I felt it. The sheer VOLUME of what he pumped into me. The thickness of it, designed to stick, to stay, to take root. My womb is FLOODED with goblin seed. There's no way—absolutely no way—I'm not...
Pregnant.
The word hits like a physical blow.
I'm going to have a goblin baby. Maybe multiple. Those chunky, swimming things are already hunting for eggs, and this body—this horrible, hypersexual body—probably has plenty.
"Give it a few months," Snib says, already pulling his loincloth back on. "Ye'll be beggin' fer more. They always do."
Then, as final insult, he stands over me and I hear his stream start.
*PSSSSSSSSS*
Hot piss splashes across my back, mixing with the cum already coating me. The stream is heavy, steady, marking me like territory. It pools in the small of my back before running down my sides.
"There we go," he sighs with relief. "Properly marked inside and out."
The combined stench—cum and piss and my own shameful wetness—makes me retch. But I can't move. Can't do anything but lie here in the puddle of our mixed fluids, feeling his seed swimming inside me, looking for purchase.
"Welcome to yer new life, Elise," he says, giving my ass a final slap. "Hero to bred bitch in one day. Must be a record."](else:)[My mind floats in orgasm aftershocks, pussy still clenching weakly around the log of green meat speared through me. Can't think. Can't move. Face pressed to dirt, ass pointed at the ceiling like a breeding mare, this massive cock lodged somewhere past where cocks should go.
Then I feel it—his breathing changes.
Quick little huffs against my lower back where his pot belly rests. His clawed toes dig deeper into my ass cheeks, finding purchase in the soft meat. The cock buried in my guts... flexes. Just once. A strong pulse that makes my oversensitive walls squeeze back involuntarily.
"Hehehehe..." His giggle is wet, excited. "Here it comes, hero. Here comes yer first taste of gobbo baby-batter."
His balls—those hairy sacks that have been slapping my clit—draw up tight. I feel them contract against my soaked pussy lips, the coarse hair scratching my oversensitive flesh. They pull up so hard they actually lift slightly, and that pressure against what used to be where my cock attached sends a stupid aftershock through me.
"Nnngh—wait—"
But he's already started making this sound. This... squealing. High-pitched and victorious, like a pig finding truffles. His whole little body shudders on top of mine.
"HNNNNNGGGGHHHHH!"
The first sensation is just... warmth. Deep warmth, spreading somewhere behind my belly button. His cock swells thicker—I feel my pussy walls stretch to accommodate—and then—
(sperm:"GLOOOOORP",5,"splurt 1")Something hot and thick shoots into that violated space inside me. Not a spray but a heavy, sluggish rope that I feel the weight of. Like someone pouring warm porridge directly into my guts, except it's... moving? Writhing?
"TAKE IT!" He squeals, grinding deeper. "TAKE ME FUCKIN' NUT!"
(sperm:"SPLOOORT-GLORP",4)Another rope. This one I feel more clearly—the journey of it through his cock, the pulse traveling up the shaft buried in me, the moment it erupts from his tip. It's so thick I can feel it coiling inside my womb like rope being fed into a sack.
"First rope for Grotch!" He grunts, yanking my hair. "Second for Pustule!"
My eyes go wide. He's... he's actually doing it. Cumming inside me. A goblin is ejaculating in my womb. The thought hits like ice water but my pussy responds with another traitorous squeeze, milking him.
(sperm:"GLORP-GLORP-GLOOOOOORRRRRP",2,"splurt 5")The sound comes from inside me—wet, thick, like stirring day-old porridge. Each rope lands heavy and hot, and now I'm starting to feel the texture through my walls. It's not liquid. It's... chunky? Clotted? Like cottage cheese being squeezed from a bag, complete with lumps that I feel depositing inside me.
"Fuck yeah, milk it! Squeeze out every drop!"
His pleasure-sounds are obscene. Grunting and squealing and chittering in Goblish. His cock throbs so hard I feel it in my spine, each pulse delivering another serving of that thick, nasty soup. The smell hits next—seeping out around his shaft, a bleachy, yeasty stench like bread dough mixed with rotted fish.
"So much," I whimper, feeling my womb starting to bloat. "Too much—"
"Never enough for breedin'!" He grinds his hips, stirring the mess inside me. "Gonna pack ye so full of cum ye'll taste it!"
(sperm:"SPLURT-GLOOOOORP-SPLORT",3,"splurt 4")He's not stopping. The spurts blend together into one continuous flow, like he's pissing cum into my womb. I feel it filling every space, backing up into my tubes, the pressure building. My lower belly starts to pooch out slightly from the sheer volume.
Then I feel it bubbling back.
*BLORT*
The first overflow squeezes out around his shaft, and the sensation makes me gag. It's so THICK. Like warm glue mixed with snot, clinging to my pussy walls as it's forced out by the pressure of more cum flooding in. It doesn't drip—it GLOOPS down my thigh in a chunky strand.
"Look at that!" He cackles, still cumming. "Overflowin' already! Packed to the brim with gobbo cream!"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/creampie internal.jpg")
His cock gives a particularly strong throb and I feel something else—harder chunks shooting through. Like tapioca pearls but warm and alive, wriggling as they travel up his shaft and deposit in my womb. Some kind of concentrated sperm-sacs that will dissolve later, ensuring pregnancy.
"Those are me special swimmers," he explains gleefully, feeling me tense. "Gonna burrow right into yer eggs. Probably got twins cookin' already!"
The horror of it—pregnant, with GOBLIN spawn—makes me try to pull forward, but his cock is lodged in my womb like a cork. I can't move. Can only stay there as he floods my insides with his nasty, backed-up nut.
The spurts finally start slowing, but now they're even thicker. Pure jelly-worms of concentrated sperm, so dense I feel each one land like a dollop of warm pudding. My womb is so full it aches, stretched with goblin semen, definitely fertilized, definitely conquered.
"One more," he grunts, and gives a final thrust.
(sperm:"GLOOOOOOOOOOOOORP",2,"splurt 1")This last rope is pure sludge—I feel it squeeze through his cock like toothpaste, depositing directly against what must be my cervix. It's so thick it doesn't flow, just sits there like a plug, sealing everything inside.
"There we go," he sighs with satisfaction. "Properly bred."
He pulls out slowly, and the wet *SSSSCHLOOOOOOORP* of exit makes me want to die. My pussy, gaped and ruined, immediately starts belching out overflow. Not dripping—GUSHING. Thick ropes of yellowed cum splurt from my hole in rhythm with my heartbeat.
*BLORT... BLORT... BLORT...*
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/2 cum.jpg","left")But most of it stays inside. I can feel it, dense and warm and strong, packed into my womb like caulk in a crack. Already doing its work. Already rewriting what I am.
"Hmm," Snib says thoughtfully, still standing on my ass. "Missed a spot."
I hear him grunt, then feel something hot and wet splatter across my back. Another rope of cum, this one painting a line from my ass up my spine. It lands with a heavy SPLAT, then another across my shoulders, and then—
*SPLAT*
Right across my face. The rope bisects my forehead, runs down my nose, and the tip lands on my tongue before I can close my mouth. The taste—Flux's balls, the TASTE. Like licking a fish market floor mixed with cheese that's gone liquid in the sun. Salty-sour with chunks that I have to spit out repeatedly.
"Perfect," he says, finally climbing down.
My legs give out immediately. I collapse into the puddle of cum and squirt I've made, feeling more goblin semen burble out of my pussy as I fall. It pools around my hips, thick and warm and stinking.
"Ye know what this means, right?" Snib walks around to face me, his cock still dripping. "That much gobbo cum, straight in yer womb? Yer definitely pregnant. Probably with triplets, way I flooded ye."
He grabs my hair, lifts my cum-covered face, and wipes his cock clean on my cheek. The casual dominance of it—using my face as a rag—breaks something in me.
"Welcome to yer new life, cow-tits. Gonna be squirtin' out green babies in a few month—gobbo babies grow fast."
He stretches, balls swinging freely, then walks behind me. I hear him grunt again, and then—
*PSSSSSSSSSSSSS*
Hot piss splashes across my ass, washing away the external cum but doing nothing about the gallons packed inside me. The stream is thick and yellow, steaming in the cool air, marking me like an animal marks territory.
"Mine now," he says simply, shaking the last drops onto my back. "Bred and marked. Proper gobbo property."
He leaves me there—face down in mud made from dirt and cum and piss, womb packed with goblin semen, pussy still weakly gushing overflow. My mind can't process it. Aldric the Great, hero of Eboncrest, just got bred by a three-foot goblin.
($hidden_gem:"The cum inside me settles with finality, like cement setting in a mold.","The cum inside congeals with cruel finality, like cement meticulously setting in my molded, manufactured womb.")
Pregnant. I'm going to be pregnant with goblin babies. The thought makes me retch, but also... my pussy clenches, squeezing out another glob of cum with a wet *BLORT*.]
(simple_option:"02 bad end","Months later...")(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/3 resist.jpg")
(if:$choice is "Stay silent and glare.")[($play:"sex loop","sex no moan")I stay silent and glare up at him, jaw clenched so tight my teeth ache.
"Ooh, scary face from me cock-cushion!" He grins wider, that massive green shaft with its bruised-purple head still notched between my pussy lips. "Let's see how long that lasts."
He pushes forward—not hard, just steady pressure. The head spreads my entrance like a fist forcing through a coinpurse. I feel every ridge, every wart, every throbbing vein as he feeds that log of meat back into me, inch by terrible inch.
($hidden_gem:"My glare wavers as my pussy stretches around him like dough around a rolling pin.","My glare gutters and goes glassy as my gripping pussy stretches like dough around his dominant, driving pin.")
"There it goes!" He cackles, watching my face. "The hero's mask crackin' already!"
He's only halfway in but I already feel split open, reorganized around his thickness. My pussy clings to every bump and ridge like it's trying to memorize the shape. The fullness—Flux's balls, the FULLNESS. Like being stuffed with hot iron that pulses with its own heartbeat.
Then he drops his full weight and SLAMS the rest home.
*SPLORTCH!*
His hairy balls SMACK against my ass with a wet crack that echoes off the hut walls. The impact forces all the air from my lungs in a pathetic "HUNNH!"
"Better!" He grabs my ankles—his hands barely wrap around them—and spreads my legs WIDE, forcing my knees toward my shoulders. The position makes my pussy gape even more around his base. "Now I can see everything jiggling!"
He pulls back slowly, and I feel my insides trying to follow, clinging to his shaft like they don't want to let go. When just the head remains, stretching my entrance, he pauses.
"Watch yer tits."
Before I can process the warning—WHAM! He pile-drives down with his full weight.
My spit-slick tits—still covered in his drool, still marked with teeth impressions—fly up like catapult stones. The left one SMACKS me full in the face with a wet *THWAP*, leaving goblin spit across my cheek. They drop back down only to bounce up again as he starts his rhythm.
*PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP*
"HAH! Gettin' slapped by yer own udders!" He leans forward, and suddenly his face is buried between them, his pot belly pressing against my mound. "Gonna use these as handles!"
His hands grab the sides of my tits, fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh. He uses them for leverage, pulling himself deeper with each thrust. The angle changes everything—now his cock curves up inside me, dragging against something that makes stars explode behind my eyes.
I try to maintain the glare but my eyes keep rolling back. Try to keep my mouth closed but gasps keep escaping. The fullness is... it's everything. Like he's rearranging my guts to make room. Like my body is just a sheath he's breaking in.
"Look at me." His voice drops to something darker. "LOOK at who owns ye."
I force my eyes to focus on his face. Those yellow eyes boring into mine, pupils dilated with lust. His mouth hangs open, black tongue lolling out, dripping spit onto my tits. His expression is pure animal satisfaction—a predator that's caught its prey and is savoring every moment of consumption.
"That's it. Watch while I ruin ye." He changes rhythm—three quick rabbit-thrusts then one DEEP grind. "Watch while gobbo cock rewrites yer insides."
*plipplipplip-GRIIIND*
The grinding is worse than the thrusting. I can feel him stirring inside me like a spoon in honey, his cock head mashing against my deepest parts. My legs shake in his grip. That pressure is building again, that terrible warm weight in my belly.
Suddenly he hawks back and SPITS.
The glob of yellow-green phlegm lands directly in my open mouth. Thick, warm, tasting of rot and onions. I try to spit it out but he clamps his hand over my mouth.
"Swallow."
The collar pulses. A warning.
I swallow his spit. Feel it slide down my throat like a slug.
"Good cow! Yer learnin'!" He goes back to pounding, each thrust making wet SQUELCH-PLAP sounds. "Know what yer pussy feels like? Cock-polisher. All them ridges inside, scrubbin' me clean!"
He's right. I can feel every fold of my insides gripping him, massaging his shaft whether I want to or not. My body has become a tool for his pleasure.
"Gonna tell ye a secret." He leans close, his breath hot on my face. "Yer pussy? It's changin'. Adaptin'. Learnin' the shape of gobbo cock."
He demonstrates with a particularly brutal thrust that makes my whole body jolt.
"Soon it won't fit nothin' else. Just gobbo. Just mine."
"You're—HNNH—lying—"
"Collar won't let me lie direct." He grins wider. "Yer cunt's already feelin' different'. Tighter here—" thrust "—looser here—" grind "—perfect gobbo-sleeve."
He releases my legs and they fall to either side, spread wide. Now he can lean fully forward, his whole weight on me. His face disappears into my cleavage again but this time he BITES down on the soft flesh between my tits, not hard enough to break skin but enough to leave marks.
"MMMMPH!" He motorboats between them while still pounding, making disgusting BRRRRRR sounds mixed with the PLAP-PLAP-PLAP of his balls on my ass.
When he emerges, his face is flushed green-dark, eyes wild.
"Here, let me help!"
He grabs my tits and pushes them together around his face, using them like pillows while he fucks me. His tongue drags across whatever flesh he can reach—long, rough licks that leave trails of thick spit.
The position means his pubic bone grinds against my clit with each thrust. That bundle of nerves I didn't know existed as a man, now sending lightning through my whole body. The pressure builds faster, hotter.
"No no no—" I pant, but it comes out muffled by my own tits pressed against my face by his grip.
"Yes yes YES!" He mocks. "The hero's hungry fuck-hole wants to cum!"
He pulls my tits apart and they SLAP back together with a wet clap. Then he does something worse—he starts varying his rhythm. Two slow, one fast. Then five fast, one slow. Then grinding circles. My body can't predict it, can't prepare, just has to take whatever he gives.
"This is what ye are now." He punctuates each word with a thrust. "Gobbo. Cock. Holster."
*SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.*
"Yer throat?" *THRUST* "Cock-sheath."
"Yer tits?" *SLAM* "Fuck-handles."
"Yer whole body?" He grinds deep, stirring. "Breeding furniture."
The mental image—me reduced to an object, a thing with convenient holes—somehow makes my pussy clench harder around him.
"OH! She likes that!" He feels the squeeze. "The hero wants to be furniture!"
"I don't—FUCK—want—"
He cuts me off by leaning down and dragging his tongue from my chin to my forehead in one long, slow lick. His spit is thick, viscous, cooling immediately in the air. I can feel it on my face like a snail trail of ownership.
"Liar." He grins down at me, tongue still hanging out, dripping. "Yer cunt's tellin' the truth even if yer mouth won't."
He's right. My pussy is GUSHING around him, each thrust accompanied by obscene wet sounds. SQUELCH-SQUISH-SQUELCH. Like someone stomping through a marsh.
"Listen to it!" He slows down just to emphasize the sounds. "That's yer hungry hero-hole beggin' for gobbo babies!"
The slow pace is torture. I can feel every inch sliding in and out, my walls clinging desperately. The fullness, then the emptiness, then the fullness again. My hips start moving without permission, trying to match his rhythm.
"There she goes!" He crows. "Pussy's takin' over! It knows what it needs!"
He speeds up again, really HAMMERING now. His balls swing forward with such force they make drumbeat sounds against my ass. THWACK-THWACK-THWACK. The impact sends little shockwaves through my whole body.
"Gonna mark ye," he pants, getting winded from the effort. "Gonna pump ye so full of cum ye'll taste it!"
The threat should terrify me. Instead, that pressure in my belly coils tighter. My legs wrap around his small body without my permission, heels locking above his ass. The metal boots CLANG together.
"Look at that! Leggin' me like a proper whore!" He reaches back and SLAPS my thigh. "The hero wants her breedin'!"
My tits have found their own rhythm now—figure-eights when he thrusts straight, circular when he grinds, flying up to hit my face when he SLAMS deep. They're like separate creatures, responding to his movements.
"Bet yer wife would cry if she saw ye like this," he pants, sweat dripping from his warty forehead onto my chest. "Legs spread, pussy drippin', eyes rolled back like a breeding mare."
"Don't—mention—her—"
"Why? Worried she'd be disgusted?" He leans close, his breath hot on my ear. "Or worried she'd be jealous ye never made her feel like this?"
The words hit like physical blows because there's truth in them. I never made Elara feel anything like this. This overwhelmed. This completely owned. But that's because we were - we ARE - in a loving—
"There it is!" He must see something in my face. "The realization! Ye LIKE being the one gettin' fucked!"
"NO!"
"Yes! The great Aldric likes havin' his cunt stuffed!"
He reaches between us and finds my clit again. Just a brush of his thumb but it's like lightning.
"AHHHHH!"
"There's the button!" He presses harder, rubbing circles while still pounding. "The hero's cum-button!"
My whole body draws tight, muscles locking, back arching off the ground.
"That's it!" He speeds up everything—thrusts, circles, degradation. "Cum for me, hero! Show me what ye really are! Cream on the cock of something ye stepped on!"
I'm right there. Right on the edge. My pussy is clenching in waves, trying to milk him. My mouth opens to scream and—
He leans down and LICKS my entire face again, from chin to hairline, his tongue rough and wet and disgusting.](else-if:$choice is "Please... no more...")[($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")"Please... no more..."
The words barely escape my lips before he RAMS forward, spearing me completely in one brutal thrust that punches the air from my lungs.
"GAAAHHH!"
My back arches off the dirt floor as he hilts himself, his hairy sack SMACKING against my ass with a wet *THWAP*. The impact sends my tits—still glazed with his thick spit—flying up into my face. They hit with enough force to make my teeth click, leaving trails of goblin saliva across my cheeks before dropping back down.
"There we go!" He grabs my thighs, forcing them wider, spreading me like a wishbone about to snap. "Now I can watch yer face while I breed ye proper!"
($hidden_gem:"His yellow eyes bore into mine like rusty nails.","His yellow eyes yank and yoke into mine like yellowed, yawning nails.")
From this angle I can see everything—his warty green face twisted in a broken-glass grin, that nasty tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, dripping thick ropes of spit onto my bouncing tits. His pot belly presses against my mound with each thrust, the coarse hair on it scratching my sensitive skin.
*PLAP-PLAP-PLAP*
He starts a steady rhythm, pulling almost completely out before SLAMMING back down. Each impact makes my whole body jolt upward, tits flying in chaotic patterns—sometimes circling like stirred porridge, sometimes colliding in the middle with meaty CLAPs, sometimes shooting straight up to slap me in the face again.
"Look at me." His voice drops to a growl. "LOOK AT ME while I rut ye!"
I can't help it. My eyes lock with his—those piss-yellow orbs that have probably watched other human women get bred. There's intelligence there now, the collar's gift, but underneath is pure animal instinct. The need to breed. To conquer. To plant his seed in the conquered hero's womb.
"That's it." He grins wider, showing all those broken teeth. "Watch while a gobbo makes ye his bitch. Watch while somethin' ye used to step on OWNS yer cunt."
He shifts angle, pushing my knees back toward my chest. The position makes me even more helpless, completely open, my pussy lips stretched obscenely around his green shaft. I can see it disappearing into me with each thrust—that massive thing that shouldn't fit, that's reshaping my insides to accommodate it.
"Ye feel that?" He grinds his hips in circles, stirring his cock inside me like he's churning butter. "That's yer womb kissin' my cockhead. Beggin' for gobbo babies."
I try to look away but he grabs my chin with one warty hand, forcing me to maintain eye contact. His thumb hooks into my mouth, pressing down on my tongue. The taste—onions and cock-sweat—makes me gag.
"Nah nah, keep watchin'. Want ye to see who's breeding ye."
He pulls his thumb out and SPITS. A thick yellow glob lands directly on my face, sliding down my cheek. Before I can react, he's grabbed both my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. His grip is iron—how is something so small so strong?
"Know what we do in the wild?" He leans down, his breath hot and fetid on my face. "When we catch a female?"
*SLAM-SLAM-SLAM*
His thrusts get harder, more violent. My tits are completely out of control now, swinging in wild figure-eights, the spit making them glisten in the dim light. The bite marks he left are turning purple, throbbing with each impact.
"We mark 'em." He bites down on my neck, HARD. His teeth break skin and I scream. "We fuck 'em till they can't walk." Another bite, lower, on my collarbone. "Then we breed 'em till they forget they were ever anything else."
His free hand grabs my left tit, SQUEEZING so hard I see stars. He's not gentle—he's mauling it, twisting the nipple, using it like a handle to pull himself deeper.
"Feel that, hero?" He's panting now, his tongue hanging out, dripping spit onto my face with each word. "Feel yer body learning what it's for? Not for swingin' swords. For takin' cock. For making babies."
The pressure is building again. That terrible, wonderful pressure that starts in my toes and climbs like rising flood water. My pussy is clenching around him in waves, trying to milk him even as my mind screams resistance.
"Yer cunt's suckin' me." He laughs, that wet phlegmy sound. "Like a mouth tryin' to swallow. Hungry little hero-hole wants its meal."
He releases my wrists and grabs both my ankles, pushing them back until my knees are by my ears. The position is impossible—I'm completely folded in half, my pussy pointed straight up like an offering to dark gods. He's standing now, using gravity to drive down into me.
*PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP*
His balls swing forward with each thrust, slapping against my ass with enough force to leave marks. The sound echoes off the walls—meat hitting meat, mixed with the obscene SQUELCH of my pussy being destroyed.
"This is how we breed difficult ones." He's grunting with effort now, sweat dripping from his warty nose onto my stomach.
I look down and see my stomach bulging slightly with each thrust. His cock is so deep it's visible through my skin, a moving lump that appears and disappears. The sight makes something in my brain short-circuit.
"No no no NO—"
But he just grins wider, his yellow eyes gleaming with triumph. He SPITS again, this time directly into my open mouth. I try to spit it back but he covers my mouth with his hand, forcing me to swallow his thick, sour saliva.
"Get used to gobbo flavors. Gonna be tastin' nothin' but gobbo from now on."
He's fucking me like he's trying to split me in half.
My vision is going white at the edges. That pressure is at critical mass, about to explode. My legs shake uncontrollably. My pussy spasms around his cock in pre-orgasmic warnings.
He must feel it because he leans down again, his face inches from mine. I can see every wart, every boil, smell every bit of his rotten breath.
"Go on then." His voice drops to a whisper. "Cum on the cock of somethin' ye wanted ta kill. Show me what Aldric the Great really is—just another cunt that creams for gobbo dick."
The words hit like physical blows. Every goblin I've killed. Every raid I've stopped. Every woman I've rescued from exactly this fate. And here I am, about to—
His tongue suddenly drags across my face, from chin to forehead, leaving a trail of thick saliva. The sensation, the degradation, the sheer wrongness of this tiny creature OWNING me—](else:)[($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")"I... I won't cum. I WON'T!"
The words tear from my throat, raw with fury. I glare up at this diseased creature perched between my spread thighs, his purple-headed breeding pole notched against my entrance like a battering ram at castle gates.
"HAHA! Still barkin' like ye got teeth!"
He SLAMS forward.
($hidden_gem:"My pussy parts around him like soft butter around a hot knife.","My pussy parts and pools around him like butter beneath a blazing blade.")
The invasion punches air from my lungs. Every ridge, every wart, every throbbing vein carves through my walls as he hilts himself with one brutal drop of his hips. His hairy sack SMACKS against my ass with enough force to leave marks.
"There's me favorite sheath!" He grins down at me, yellow eyes gleaming with malice. "Feel how yer cunt sucks me in? Like it was molded for gobbo cock!"
I try to maintain my glare but his weight—Flux's balls, his POT BELLY presses against my mound, grinding with each thrust. His face is level with my tits, these spit-slick mountains that still bear his teeth marks. As he pulls back and RAMS home again, they swing up like wrecking balls.
*WHAP!*
My own tit slaps me in the face. The impact leaves a wet streak of his saliva across my cheek—onion-rot mixed with the sweet perfume of my own betraying flesh.
"HAH! Smacked by yer own udder!" He grabs both tits, using them as handholds while he ruts. "Milk-handles for proper breedin'!"
His rhythm changes—three quick rabbit-thrusts then one DEEP grind that makes me see stars. My legs are splayed wide, heel-boots pointing at the ceiling while this creature that barely reaches my chest cavity raids my insides.
*PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-GRIIIIIND*
"Feel that?" He looks up at me from between my tits, his face twisted in a leer that shows every broken tooth. "That's me cock kissin' yer baby-door. Knockin' to plant green seed in hero-dirt."
I try to respond but he suddenly LUNGES forward, his face burying between my breasts while his hips piston. His tongue—rough as tree bark—drags across my cleavage, gathering the pooled sweat there.
"Tastes like..." *SLAM* "...flowers and..." *SLAM* "...fear-sweat!" *SLAM*
Each thrust makes my whole body jolt upward, tits bouncing in different directions—sometimes figure-eights, sometimes opposing circles, sometimes both flying up to frame his leering face. He watches them move with the fascination of a child with a new toy.
"Gonna make these feed a whole generation," he grunts, biting down on my left nipple hard enough to make me cry out. "Dozen pups hangin' off while I pump another dozen into this greedy goblin-socket!"
The angle—Eon help me, the angle. His cock curves up inside me, dragging against something that makes lightning shoot through my spine. My pussy CLENCHES around him involuntarily, trying to milk him like my body knows its purpose better than my mind.
"There it is!" He releases my nipple with a wet POP. "Feel that hungry squeeze? That's yer cunt beggin' for gobbo babies!"
He suddenly HAWKS and SPITS—a thick yellow glob that lands directly in my open, gasping mouth. The taste—rotted onions mixed with infection—makes me gag but he clamps his hand over my lips.
"Swallow."
I shake my head violently but his cock GRINDS deeper, stirring my insides like a mortar and pestle.
"Swallow me gift or I visit yer wife tomorrow."
I swallow. I don't know why - that threat didn't make ANY sense. But for some reason, for a split-second, I boutght it. The thick phlegm slides down my throat like a slug.
"Good cow!" He rewards me by changing his angle, making his cock drag against that spot that—NO. I won't. I WON'T.
But my body is already responding. That terrible pressure building again, twice as fast as before. My thighs shake. My pussy ripples around him in waves.
"Look at me." His voice drops to something predatory. "LOOK at who's breedin' ye."
I force my eyes open. His face is inches from mine now, having crawled up my body while staying buried inside me. Yellow eyes with pupils like goat slits. Skin like pond scum, glistening with sweat. That broken-glass grin spreading wider as he watches my face contort.
"This is what's gonna father yer children." He emphasizes each word with a thrust. "This. Ugly. Gobbo. Face."
His tongue suddenly extends—longer than should be possible—and drags from my chin to my forehead in one wet stripe. The smell of his breath—battlefield latrines mixed with rotted meat—fills my nostrils.
"Yer cock-polishers are perfect," he says, grinding in circles. "These pussy lips? Made to shine gobbo meat. This whole body? Just a fuck-glove for me to wear."
He demonstrates by pulling almost completely out—just the fat purple head spreading my entrance—then SLAMMING home with his full weight.
*SPLORTCH*
The sound my pussy makes—wet, eager, obscene—echoes in the hut. I'm so wet that each thrust sends little sprays of my shame splashing against his thighs.
"Listen to that sloppy hero-hole singin'!" He starts a brutal pace, his balls creating a steady drumbeat against my ass. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* "Know what that sound is? That's nature sayin' ye belong under goblins!"
My vision is going white at the edges. That pressure has become unbearable, a dam about to burst. My pussy is clenching so hard around him I can feel every ridge, every wart, every pulse of his veins.
"Gonna—gonna cum, ain't ye?" He grins wider, his hips becoming a blur. "Can't fight it. Can't fight what ye ARE. Just another breedin'-hole that needed green cock to teach it!"
"I—I won't—FUCK—"
He suddenly grabs my throat with one hand, my hair with the other, forcing me to maintain eye contact as he RAILS into me. His face is pure animal triumph, tongue lolling out, drooling onto my cheek.
"Cum for yer master. Show me what Aldric becomes with real cock inside!"
The pressure CRESTS—
He LICKS me. His whole tongue across my face, from jaw to temple, leaving a trail of thick saliva that reeks of decay.]
(simple_option:"02 orgasm","Freeze in shock.","Bite his tongue.")($play:"sex loop",0)(playwhenread:"elise doggy orgasm")(if:$choice is "Freeze in shock.")[His tongue—that wet slug of decay across my face—freezes me completely. The violation of it, the STENCH of rotted meat painting my cheek, makes every muscle lock. My guard drops for one heartbeat.
That's all he needs.
His cock FLEXES inside me, swelling thicker, and something deep in my guts just... gives up.
"AAAAAHHHHHNNNNNGGGHHHH!"
The sound tears from my throat—not a scream, not a moan, but something animal and broken. My pussy CLAMPS around him like a fist, rippling from entrance to depths in waves that feel like my insides are trying to swallow him whole.
"THERE IT IS!" Snib howls, grinding his hips in victory circles. "HERO-CUNT CUMMIN' ON GOBBO MEAT!"
($change_stat:"heroism",-15)(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/3 orgasm.jpg")
My back arches so hard I lift us both off the ground. My vision goes white-hot-bright as every nerve from scalp to toes fires at once. It's like being struck by lightning from inside—starting in my pussy and EXPLODING outward through my whole body.
*SQUIRRRRRT-SPLURRRT-SQUIRRRRRT*
($hidden_gem:"Streams of clear defeat arc through the air like shameful fountains.","Streams of shimmering shame spray skyward in surrender's sloppy salute.")
The first jet shoots out around his cock, painting a line up my own stomach, between my tits, across my face. Hot and thick like I'm pissing my dignity away. I can SEE it arcing through the air—crystal streams of pure humiliation splashing back down on my bouncing tits.(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 1")
"LOOK AT YE PISSIN' YERSELF!" Snib cackles, SLAMMING deeper. "SQUIRTIN' LIKE A BROKE FOUNTAIN!"
My pussy won't stop clenching, milking, SUCKING at his cock like it's trying to pull him deeper. Each squeeze sends another jet shooting out—*SPLURRRT-GUSH-SPLURRRT*—painting his belly, my thighs, the floor. The metal bikini top CLANGS as my tits bounce so hard they escape the triangles completely, nipples dragging across my own face.
"GNNNAAAHHHH! HAAAHHHHNNN!"
The sounds coming from me aren't human. High-pitched squeals mixed with guttural groans as my body convulses. My heels scrape against the floor, metal SHRIEKING as my legs try to close but can't because he's BURIED between them, his pot belly grinding against my clit with each thrust.
"Aldric the Great!" He yanks my hair, forcing me to look at him through my orgasm. "CUMMIN' ON MY COCK!"
My pussy responds with another violent squeeze, another arc of squirt that hits me in the face. I taste myself—salt-sweet defeat on my lips. My ass lifts completely off the floor, SLAPPING back down with a meaty THUD that makes everything jiggle.
The orgasm won't END. It keeps rolling through me in waves, each one making my pussy grip him tighter. I feel every ridge, every wart, every throbbing vein as my walls memorize his shape. My womb—something deep inside is ACHING, pulsing, trying to open—
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","left","My womb. He's in my womb.")*POP*(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 2")
"AAAIIIIIEEEEEE!"
Something GIVES. His cockhead pushes through some internal door I didn't know existed. The invasion is so deep, so WRONG, that fresh squirt GEYSERS out, spraying the ceiling.
"HAHA! IN YER BABY-ROOM NOW!" Snib grunts, grinding the head against something that makes stars explode.
The sensation—Flux's balls, it's like he's INSIDE my stomach but lower, deeper. My pussy is still cumming, still squeezing, but now there's this deeper ache, this hollow NEED where his cockhead has lodged somewhere it shouldn't be.
"Feel that?" He grins down at me, my squirt still dripping from his chest. "That's me cock in yer womb. Where Aldric's GOBBO BABIES will grow!"](else-if:$choice is "Bite his tongue.")[I BITE down on his tongue—HARD.
He doesn't pull back. His yellow goat-eyes GLEAM with triumph as I sink my teeth into the rough muscle. Copper fills my mouth—his blood, green and bitter—but he just grins wider and pushes his tongue DEEPER, licking the inside of my mouth while I bite him.
"Mmmph—that's it, hero—taste yer master—"
The violation of it—his tongue exploring my mouth while I'm trying to hurt him—breaks something. That dam I've been holding back with pure will just... gives.
My pussy CLAMPS around his cock like a fist. Not the controlled squeeze from before—this is my body SEIZING, every muscle from my toes to my scalp locking up as liquid lightning shoots through my spine.
"HNNNNGAAAAAAHHHHH!"
($change_stat:"heroism",-15)(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/3 orgasm.jpg")
The sound tears from my throat—not a scream, not a moan, but something animal. My mouth falls open, releasing his bloodied tongue as my eyes roll back. I can feel them rolling, showing whites, my face contorting into that slack-jawed expression I've seen on breeding mares.
My cunt starts MILKING him. Actually milking—rippling from entrance to deepest point in waves that I can't control. Each squeeze makes wet SQUELCH-SQUELCH sounds as I grip his cock like I'm trying to wring it dry.
"THERE'S the cum-face!" Snib crows, grinding deeper. "Look at them eyes rollin'! Just like a cow gettin' bred!"
($hidden_gem:"My whole body convulses in surrender, every muscle spasming.","My whole body breaks and bucks in brutal, blissful surrender, muscles mashing and spasming.")(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 1")
Then I feel it—pressure building in my belly, but wrong, like I need to piss but MORE. Before I can process it—
*SPLOOOOOOORT*
A hot jet of clear fluid ERUPTS from around his cock, arcing up between us. It splashes across my own tits, my face, dripping into my open mouth. I taste myself—salt-sweet shame, woman-brine, the flavor of defeat.
"Look at that hero-juice fly!" Snib laughs, continuing to pound.
*SPLURT-SPLURT-SPLURT*
More jets with each thrust. They spray everywhere—painting his green belly, soaking the dirt floor, making obscene puddles. My pussy won't stop GUSHING, like he's pumping it out of me with his cock. My ass lifts completely off the ground with each orgasmic spasm, then SLAPS back down into the puddle I'm creating.
*THUD-SQUIRT-THUD-SQUIRT*
"Been holdin' that in all day, eh?" He grabs my hair at the roots, YANKING my head up to face him. "All that fight just made more juice to squeeze out!"
The orgasm won't stop. It keeps rolling through me in waves, each one making me squirt again. My thighs shake so hard they SLAP together around his hips. My pussy clenches and releases, clenches and releases, like it's trying to suck him deeper—
And then—
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","left","My womb. He's in my womb.")*POP*(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 2")
Something gives way inside me. His cock suddenly drops an inch deeper, through some barrier I didn't know existed. The sensation is WRONG—too deep, too invasive, like he's pushed through into my guts.
"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"
This scream is different. Higher. Broken. The feeling of him THAT DEEP makes every nerve ending fire at once. My squirting becomes violent—SPLOOOOOSH.
"Feel that?" Snib grinds his hips, stirring his cock in this new depth. "That's me cockhead in yer baby-room! Pushed right through!"
Baby room? He means—oh Flux, oh no—
"Womb-deep now!" He pulls my hair harder, forcing me to look at where we're joined. "See how yer belly bulges? That's me cock in yer egg-basket!"
I can SEE it—a slight rise in my lower belly that moves when he does. He's so deep inside me that he's making my skin tent outward. The sight of it—this goblin's cock visibly distorting my body from within—
Another orgasm crashes through me. This one's different—deeper, starting from where his cockhead presses against what must be the back wall of my womb. It feels like drowning from the inside out.
"Gonna paint yer eggs green," he grunts, his rhythm getting erratic. "Gonna flood this hero-womb with gobbo cream!"]
(simple_option:"02 final breeding","'No! Not inside! Please!'","Moan incoherently.","Try to push him off.")(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/precum.jpg","right","Even goblin precum can get you pregnant.")($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")(if:$choice is "'No! Not inside! Please!'")["No! Not inside! Please!"
The words tear from my throat but they're pathetic, breathy, the aftershocks of my orgasm still making my pussy ripple around him.
"Heh... squirted like a broke water barrel." His yellow eyes gleam down at me, his weight pressing my tits flat against my ribs. "Now MY turn to squirt."
Something changes in his face. His broken-glass grin stretches wider, tongue lolling out. A strand of drool lands on my cheek. His breathing gets deeper, rougher. Like a boar about to rut.
"Ngh—" A grunt. Low. From his chest.
Then I feel it. His cock—buried so deep in my womb it's making my belly bulge—starts to... flex? No, SWELL. Like it's getting even thicker inside me.
"HRRNGH!" Another grunt, louder. His clawed fingers dig into my thighs, spreading them wider. My heel-boots dangle uselessly in the air, metal scraping against nothing.
A pulse. Through his cock. I FEEL it travel from base to tip, a bulge moving through the shaft that's splitting me open. Then—
Warmth.
Deep inside. Deeper than should be possible. A spreading heat in my belly, behind my navel, where his cockhead is lodged in my womb.
"GAAAHHH—TAKE IT—" He's squealing now, high-pitched goblin pleasure. "TAKE ME FIRST BATCH!"
Another pulse. Stronger. The warmth becomes a flood. Something thick, viscous, is being pumped directly into—oh Flux. Oh no. He's—
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/missionary creampie.jpg")
(sperm:"GLORRRRP",6,"splurt 1")I hear it. Actually HEAR the sound of something thick forcing its way into me. Feel it spreading, filling space that shouldn't exist. My lower belly starts to feel... tight? Full?
"Look down, cow!" He grabs my hair, forces my head up. "Watch yer belly grow!"
I can see it. Where his cock enters me, my lower stomach is starting to... round. Just slightly. A small dome forming as he pumps—
*SPLURRRRRT*
"SQUEEEEE!" His pleasure-squeal is inhuman. "Breeding the hero! BREEDING ALDRIC'S CUNT!"
The stuff inside me—it's HOT. Hotter than blood. And thick, so thick I can feel its weight settling in my womb like molten lead. With each pulse of his cock, more floods in.
(sperm:"GLORP-GLORP-GLORP",4,"splurt 8")"Can't—" I try to close my legs but physically CAN'T. The pressure in my womb, the way it's expanding, has spread my hips from the inside. "Too full—"
"Never too full for gobbo cream!" He grinds deeper, stirring the mess inside me. "Gonna pack ye tight as a festival sausage!"
The smell hits me as the first overflow happens. His cum—because that's what this is, goblin cum pumping directly into my womb—has a reek like spoiled milk mixed with the tannery vats. It's backing up, having nowhere else to go, starting to leak out around his cock.
(sperm:"SPLOOOOORCH",4,"splurt 2")A wet explosion as pressure gives. Suddenly thick, chunky fluid is spurting out around where we're joined, painting my inner thighs with heat. It's not liquid—it's more like... porridge? Custard? But CHUNKY, with clots that stick to my skin.
"Seven..." He's counting. Counting his spurts. "Eight... NINE..."
Each number comes with another injection. I can feel individual ropes of it traveling through his cock, bulging the shaft, before splashing into my already-stuffed womb. My belly is visibly distended now, a small pregnancy already.
"Please—" I don't know what I'm begging for. It's too late. I'm being bred.
"Ten... eleven... TWELVE! GRAAAHHH!"
($hidden_gem:"His final spurts feel endless, drowning my insides.","His final spurts flood forever, filling and flooding my feverish, fertile insides.")
He collapses on top of me, his full weight—maybe sixty pounds—pressing down. His cock still pulsing, still leaking. I can feel it pooling inside me, the heat of it, the WEIGHT. Like someone poured hot gravy directly into my guts.
Then he pulls out.
(sperm:"SCHLOOOOOOOOOORP",5)The sound is obscene. His cock emerges glazed with white-yellow sludge, strings of it connecting us that stretch three feet before snapping. The moment he's out, my pussy—that violated, gaped hole—starts vomiting his load.
(sperm:"BLORT-BLORT-BLORT",3,"splurt 4")Chunky waves of goblin cum pour from me, but my womb stays full. Sealed somehow. The overflow runs down my ass crack, pools under me, glues my cheeks to the floor with sticky heat. The smell is overwhelming—like cheese left in summer sun mixed with something chemical, something bleachy.
"One more for good luck!"
He's still cumming. His cock, free in the air, flexes one final time—
(sperm:"SPLURRRRRRRRRT",2)A rope as thick as my thumb arcs through the air, spiraling across both my tits before overshooting, splattering the floor behind my head. It lands with enough force to make a sound—SPLAT—steaming in the cool air.
I can't move. My legs won't close—the cum-weight in my womb has spread my hips. I'm glued to the floor by cooling goblin sludge. My pussy keeps leaking—*drip-PLOP-drip-PLOP*—each drop chunky and yellow-white.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/missionary wrecked.jpg")
"There we go." He wipes his cock on my face, the head leaving a snail-trail of cum from jaw to forehead. "Properly bred. Gobbo-owned inside and out."
The stories. Oh Eon, the stories about women taken by goblin raiders. Always pregnant. ALWAYS. Their seed is too strong, too virile. One load is enough for triplets.
And I just took... how much? It feels like a full ale-skin sloshing in my womb.
"Know what the best part is?" He stands over me, his cock finally softening but still dripping. "Usually I take a nice victory piss on a freshly-bred cunt. Mark me territory proper."
I tense.
"But ye lasted so long..." He scratches his balls thoughtfully. "Maybe ye really were a hero once. So I'll piss in the bucket instead."
He waddles to the corner, and I hear the splash of him relieving himself, the satisfied grunt as he "clears the tube" after breeding.
I'm pregnant.
The thought hits like cold water. This goblin's babies are already taking root in my womb. I can almost feel them—the weight of his cum isn't just liquid, it's ALIVE, swimming, seeking, claiming.
My life as Aldric is over.](else-if:$choice is "Moan incoherently.")[I try to speak—to curse him, to beg, to say SOMETHING—but with his cock pushed through into my womb, my mouth won't work right.
"Nnnngh—gahhhh—hahhhn—"
The sounds pour out of me, wet and broken. Not words. Just noise. Animal noise.
"Listen to that!" Snib grins down at me, his yellow eyes gleaming. "The great hero's forgot how to talk! Just moanin' like a proper breeding-sow now!"
His weight settles on me, pot belly pressing my mound, pinning me completely. I can see his face above mine—green, warty, gleaming with sweat that drips onto my cheeks. His cock flexes inside my womb and I feel it EVERYWHERE—a pulse that runs from my cervix to my teeth.
"My turn to squirt," he says lazily, like we're having a conversation. "Gonna be a big one. Been savin' up all day watchin' them tits bounce."
I feel it before I understand it—his balls lifting off the floor where they'd been resting against my ass. They pull up tight against his body with a wet *schlup* sound, the wrinkled skin drawing taut. His breathing changes, becomes deeper, more guttural.
"Here it comes, cow..."
The first pulse.
His cock swells inside me—I feel it expand in my womb like a fist opening. Then—
Warmth.
Just warmth at first, spreading somewhere behind my belly button. Not painful, just... wrong. Like soup being poured into a place food should never go.
"Hnnngh—YEAH—"
His voice cracks with pleasure. His hips grind against mine, stirring his cock in that too-deep place. I feel the second pulse—stronger. More warmth, but now with weight to it. Something thick and heavy pooling in my core.
"Breeding ye proper—FUCK—filling that hero-womb with gobbo-batter—"
My mouth falls open. "Gah—gahhh—nnnnooo—"
Still can't make words. My brain knows I'm being inseminated but my mouth just makes these pathetic mewling sounds. My legs dangle uselessly in the air, the metal boots clanking softly as they sway.
Third pulse. Fourth. Fifth.
(sperm:"GLORP-GLORP-GLORP",7,"splurt 8")(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/missionary creampie.jpg")
Now I understand what's happening. He's not cumming like a man would—quick spurts and done. This is like... like he's slowly pissing inside me, but thicker. Each pulse is a lazy, heavy rope of something that feels like warm porridge being squeezed from a bag.
"Feel that?" He's panting now, drooling onto my face. "That's me seed plantin' in yer egg-garden. Gonna grow a whole litter of—HNNGH—green babies in this belly—"
($hidden_gem:"The stuff filling me is moving, writhing like it's alive.","The sludge stuffing me squirms and seethes, swimming like something sinisterly alive.")
I can feel it now—not just warmth but texture. Lumpy. Stringy. Like someone mixed cottage cheese with tree sap and heated it to fever-temperature. It's filling spaces I didn't know existed, backing up from my womb into places that burn.
"So much—" He's gasping, his whole body shaking. "Been backed up for—FUCK—gonna give ye twins at least—maybe triplets—"
My belly—I can SEE my belly starting to round. Just slightly, a soft curve where flat muscle used to be. He's pumping so much inside that I'm swelling with it.
"Nnnghh—stuh—stop—"
"Can't stop now!" He laughs, grinding deeper. "Balls ain't empty yet! Still got—HNNGH—still got more—"
The tenth pulse. Fifteenth. I've lost count. Each one sends more of that vile warmth spreading through my core. It's so thick I can feel individual clumps sliding through my cervix, each one making my womb stretch a little more.
Then—overflow.
It has nowhere else to go. I feel it backing up, squirting out around his cock with wet SPLORCH sounds. Hot goblin seed running out of my pussy, down the crack of my ass, pooling under me in a spreading puddle.
"Too much for ye?" He grins, still pulsing. "Little human womb can't hold all of Snib's nut? SHAMEFUL!"
The smell hits me—like rotted fish mixed with the bleach they use to clean temple floors, underlaid with something fungal, alive. My eyes water. My stomach turns. But my pussy—that traitor hole—clenches around him, milking out more.
"Look at that—" He grabs my hair, forces me to look down at where we're joined. "See yer belly? That's ME in there. My babies growin' already."
I can see it—the slight bulge, the way my skin moves when he shifts. But worse, I can see the cum. Thick yellowish-white sludge oozing out around his still-buried cock, so viscous it stretches in ropes before breaking. Some of it has chunks—actual CHUNKS—like curdled milk.
"And NOW—"
He suddenly pulls out with a wet SCHLOOOORP. My cervix tries to close but it's too slow. I feel—and SEE—a huge glob of cum bubble out of my pussy and splatter onto the floor.
"The finish!"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/missionary wrecked.jpg")
His cock, still spurting, swings up. A massive rope of cum—thick as my finger—arcs through the air and SPLATS across both my tits. Then another, painting a line from my neck to my navel. The last few spurts are even thicker, landing on my face with weight like someone dropped warm pudding on me.
I lie there, legs still spread, unable to close them. There's so much cum packed in my womb that my legs physically can't come together—like there's a ball of heated jelly in my core forcing them apart.
"Hehehehe..." He's standing over me now, his cock finally softening, dripping the last drops onto my belly. "Look at ye. Bred proper. Can see me seed through yer skin almost."
In the dim light, I can see my lower belly trembling. It moves when I breathe, sloshing.
"Know what's happenin' right now?" He squats next to me, poking my cum-swollen belly. "Million little swimmers racin' for yer eggs. Probably already found 'em. Yer gonna be a mother, hero. A mother to GOBLINS."
The horror of it crashes over me. The stories. The warnings. No woman filled with this much goblin seed has ever NOT gotten pregnant. Usually with multiples. My womb is literally STUFFED with hypervirile monster cum.
"Ye know..." He stands, walks to the corner. I hear him pissing into a bucket, the stream heavy and satisfied. "Usually I take a nice victory piss on a freshly bred bitch. Mark me territory proper. But ye lasted so long..." He looks back at me over his shoulder. "Maybe ye really were a hero once. So I'll give ye that—no piss. Just cum."
He shakes off the last drops, his cock making wet slapping sounds against his thigh.
"Welcome to yer new life, Elise. Gobbo breeding-stock."
I try to close my legs again. Can't. The cum inside has formed a solid mass, pressing outward. I'm going to be pregnant. I know it with horrible certainty.
Aldric the Great is going to birth goblins.](else:)[My hands fly to his chest, trying to push him back, but the moment I strain against him—
"AAAHHH!"
Pain shoots through my core. His cockhead—it's STUCK. Lodged deep in that forbidden space, swollen like a fist that won't release. When I try to push him away, it PULLS at something inside that makes white spots dance across my vision.
"HAHA! Stupid cow!" He grins down at me, yellow eyes gleaming. "Don't ye know? When gobbo cock goes womb-deep, it LOCKS! Like dogs knottin'! Try to pull me out now and ye'll rip yer baby-bag right out with it!"
Terror floods through me. I'm TRAPPED. Pinned beneath this diseased creature with his breeding pole locked inside my deepest parts. My heels scrape uselessly against the floor—*SCREEE-CLACK-SCREEE*—trying to find purchase to escape, but every movement just makes his cock shift inside my womb, sending wrong-wrong-WRONG sensations through my guts.
"Now it's MY turn to squirt," he grunts, his face twisting with pleasure. "Gonna fill this hero-hole with gobbo-goop. Gonna drown them eggs in green baby-batter!"
I feel it before I understand it—his balls drawing up tight against my ass, lifting slightly off the floor as they contract. The shaft inside me starts to pulse, actually PULSE, like a second heartbeat buried in my guts.
"Here it comes—HNNNGH!"
His first grunt is guttural, animal. His whole body goes rigid on top of me, pot belly pressing down on my mound, his weight pinning me completely. Then I feel—
Warmth.
Deep inside. Deeper than anything should be. A spreading heat in that violated space behind my belly button. Not much at first, just... warmth.
($hidden_gem:"His cock flexes inside me and suddenly there's MORE warmth.","His cock convulses and contracts inside me, creating cascading, climbing warmth.")
"GRAHHHH! Take it! TAKE ME SEED!"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/missionary creampie.jpg")
The second pulse is stronger. I can actually FEEL the cum traveling up his shaft—a bulge that moves through my stretched pussy walls before—
(sperm:"SPLORTCH",2)It erupts inside my womb. Not a spray but a GUSH. Thick, viscous, HOT. Hotter than blood. It coats my insides with slime that immediately starts to congeal, like porridge cooling in a pot.
"Feel that?" He's panting, drooling on my face. "That's gobbo-cream! Thick as butter! Swimmin' with babies!"
Another pulse. This one I can SEE—his cock visibly throbs where it enters me, the veins bulging. The warmth spreads, fills, begins to create pressure. My womb is small—never meant for this—and already it feels FULL.
(sperm:"GLORP-GLORP-GLORP",3)"Listen to it!" He squeals with glee. "Hear me balls emptyin'? That's the sound of yer future! Green babies! Dozens of 'em!"
The pressure builds. I can feel my womb stretching, accommodating. There's nowhere for it to go—his cockhead is corked inside like a bottle stopper, keeping every drop trapped. The fullness becomes pain becomes something else—a horrible awareness of being STUFFED.
"STOP! It's too much—I can't—"
"Can't what? Can't hold all me nut?" He grinds his hips, stirring the cum inside me. "Yer womb's gonna learn. Gonna stretch nice and wide for gobbo-loads!"
I look down in horror. There's a slight bulge in my lower belly. Not huge, but VISIBLE. The outline of my cum-stuffed womb pressing against my skin from the inside. As he pumps more in, it grows slightly, like a fist pushing outward.
(sperm:"SPLORTCH-GLORP-SPLORTCH",2)The sounds are obscene. Wet. Chunky. Like someone pouring thick stew into a too-small pot. I can feel individual CLOTS of thicker cum pushing through his cockhead, plopping into my womb like pearls of congealed cream.
"Packed tight as a sausage!" He crows, watching my belly. "Look at that little bump! That's me batter! That's gobbo-juice makin' ye a mommy!"
The smell hits me as some begins to leak around his shaft—bleach mixed with rotted fish mixed with something fungal, something ALIVE. It's so strong my eyes water. The heat of it burns without burning, like holding snow too long.
His claws dig into my thighs, spreading them wider as he GRUNTS again. Another massive pulse. This one forces cum to leak around his shaft—not much, just droplets, but I feel them running down the crack of my ass, thick and stringy like molten cheese.
"Can't even close yer legs now!" He laughs, and he's RIGHT. The fullness in my womb makes my thighs naturally splay outward. If I try to bring them together, it presses on that cum-bloated organ and sends wrong signals through my body. "Gonna waddle bow-legged from now on! Full of gobbo-spunk!"
My pussy makes horrible sounds around his cock—SQUELCH-GLORP-SPLUTTER—as it tries to accommodate both his girth and the backup of cum. Some spurts out with each pulse, painting my inner thighs with ropes of off-white sludge that immediately starts to cool and congeal.
"All those years killin' goblins," he grunts, still cumming, still filling. "Now yer gonna BIRTH 'em! Ain't that perfect? Hero becomes brood-sow!"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/missionary wrecked.jpg")
I try to respond but another pulse—the biggest yet—makes me arch off the ground. It's like someone injecting porridge directly into my organs. The pressure is immense. My lower belly visibly shifts as the cum finds every space, fills every fold of my womb.
"Almost done," he pants, his whole body shaking. "Just... HNNGH... few more... SPURTS!"
The final ejaculations are different—thicker, chunkier. I can feel solid CLOTS pushing through, like cottage cheese forced through a tube. They plop into my already-full womb with sounds I can somehow HEAR from inside—PLOP-PLOP-GLOP.
Then, finally, he stops.
We lay there panting. Him on top of me, still locked inside. Me spread beneath him, womb stuffed with what feels like a gallon of goblin cum. I can feel it MOVING inside me—not flowing, but writhing. Like it's alive. Like it's seeking.
"Feel 'em swimmin'?" He grins down at me. "Gobbo-sperm don't just swim—they HUNT. Right now they're racin' for yer eggs. Fightin' each other to knock ye up proper."
He starts to pull out. The sensation is horrifying—his cockhead deflating, changing shape as it releases its lock on my womb. There's a wet SHHHHHLORP as the seal breaks, and suddenly—
(sperm:"SPLOOOOOSH",4)Cum GUSHES from my pussy. Not all of it—most stays trapped deep inside—but enough pours out to make obscene puddles between my legs. It's thick, ropey, CHUNKY with those cottage cheese clots. The smell intensifies—concentrated bleach-rot that makes me gag.
"Perfect cream-pie," Snib observes, standing over me. My legs are still splayed, unable to close. Cum continues to leak in thick globs—PLOP... PLOP... PLOP. "Usually I take a nice victory piss on a freshly bred bitch, but..." He scratches his balls thoughtfully. "Ye lasted longer than most. Maybe ye really were a hero once."
He waddles to a bucket in the corner, his cock still dripping. The sound of his piss hitting tin echoes through the hut—SPLASSSSSSHHHHH—as he sighs with satisfaction.
"Ahhh, always gotta clear the tube after a good breeding!"
I lay there, defeated. Cum cooling on my thighs, in my ass crack, pooling beneath me. But worse is what's still inside—that hot, writhing mass of goblin seed that even now is seeking, hunting, CLAIMING.
I know the stories. Every woman taken by goblins. Always pregnant. Always.
There's no way I'm not carrying his spawn now.
The thought makes me want to scream, but all that comes out is a broken whimper as more cum GLOPS from my destroyed pussy.]
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/impregnated.jpg","I know the stories. Every woman taken by goblins. Always pregnant. Always.")
($change_stat:"heroism",-15)(simple_option:"02 bad end","The months pass by...")(pic:"ch02/bad end/stumble to well.jpg")
($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert crickets")The hide flap slaps my cum-glazed ass as I stumble out into the desert night. My spike-heels immediately sink into sand—*shhhk-shhhk*—and I pitch forward, massive tits swinging like temple bells coated in... in...
Goblin seed. Still warm. Still MOVING.
($hidden_gem:"The ropes slide down my body like living things, like white slugs made of shame.","The ropes writhe down my wrecked body like living, loathsome things, like white worms woven from shame.")
I can feel it. Feel THEM. Millions of tiny swimmers still alive in the custard-thick glaze, trying to find something to fertilize. They're in my HAIR, making it stick to my skull in cum-mortared clumps. In my EYELASHES, gumming them together so I have to claw them open. A particularly heavy rope slides from my collarbone down between my tits with a sound like *shlooooorp*, pooling in my navel before overflowing down toward my—
NO. No no no no—
My pussy. My treacherous cunt clenches as the warm river approaches, and I SLAP my hand over it, but that just smears more of HIS ESSENCE into my palm. The smell—rotted cheese mixed with battlefield latrines mixed with something FUNGAL, something that makes my vision shimmer—it's not just on me, it's IN me. In my nostrils where I inhaled his precum yesterday by accident. In my throat where he just... where I just...
"There's a nice stack of straw waitin' for ye when ye come back!" Snib calls out, chortling behind me as I stumble toward the old well.
My swollen lips—Eon's BONES my lips feel like overripe fruit, bruised and thick from stretching around that purple... that green... that THING—try to form words but all that comes out is:
"Gllllkk... hhhhkk..."
There's still cum in my throat. I feel it. Thick pearls of it lodged behind my tonsils like oysters. When I cough, trying to expel it, a rope shoots from my mouth and splats onto my right tit, adding to the crosshatch pattern already painted there.
The well. That ancient K'Tarran well I saw earlier, its runes glowing faint blue in moonlight. Just twenty feet but might as well be twenty leagues.
First step: spike-heel SINKS into sand, ankle rolling. The motion makes everything on my body SHIFT—cum sliding, relocating, finding new valleys to pool in. Some runs down my inner thigh and INTO my boot. I feel it squelch between my toes, warm and viscous.
Second step: I'm crying. Not pretty tears but the ugly kind that come with snot, and the snot mixes with the cum on my upper lip creating this unholy mixture that tastes like—
*Aldric would never—I'M Aldric—No, Elise—No, I'm—Who? WHO AM I?*
(pic:"ch02/bad end/desert crawl.jpg")
Third step: I trip. Fall forward. Catch myself on hands and knees in the sand, tits swinging down to SLAP the ground, cum splattering in droplets that catch moonlight like diseased stars. From behind I must look like... like what I am. A whore. A cock-socket. A throat-pussy that just serviced her master and—
"FUCK!" The scream tears out, sending another glob of throat-cum onto the sand. "Flux dance on your corpse! Eon forget your fucking—Verge close all your—"
There's a fog invading my mind. I can't think. Can't make the words line up. The taste... Ephemerals preserve me, the TASTE. Like someone boiled piss and added fish guts for texture. But under that, something worse—that CHEMICAL taste, that MALE taste that speaks directly to the womb I shouldn't have. Each breath through my nose brings more of his musk, and each breath through my mouth brings the flavor of what I just... what just happened in my... with my mouth... my hero's mouth that used to speak battle cries now knows the exact texture of goblin cock-veins.
*Elara had red hair. No. Blonde? She had... she smelled like... like cum. NO. Bread. She smelled like bread. We were trying for... for goblin babies. NO. HUMAN. HUMAN BABIES.*
(minigame:"02 wash up",6,"Try to reach the well!"){
(masteraudio:'stopall')(set:$sidebar to true)(goto:"chapters")
}<div class='tw-story-title'>The Goblin Glans Lock: A Reproductive Anomaly</div>
**Dr. Cornelius Blackwood, Royal College of Anatomists, Thuulk**
*Excerpted from "Treatise on Xenobiological Horrors," Vol. VII*
During my unfortunate witnessing of the Westmarch Raids, I observed a phenomenon that haunts my clinical nightmares: the goblin glans lock, or as field soldiers crudely term it, "womb-locking."
Upon achieving female orgasmic response—which triggers cervical dilation through a complex pheromonal cascade—the goblin phallus undergoes a remarkable transformation. The glans, already disproportionately large (typically 2.5 inches in diameter), pushes through the dilated cervix into the uterine cavity. Once past this threshold, the glans immediately begins to expand laterally.
The mechanism resembles a mushroom cap spreading, or perhaps a shield boss flattening from within. The glans tissue, comprised of specialized erectile chambers absent in human anatomy, inflates to nearly four inches in width while simultaneously flattening to less than an inch thick. This creates what can only be described as a flesh-seal inside the womb itself.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","right","The glans only deflates after complete testicular drainage.")**The Lock Mechanism:**
The expanded glans becomes physically impossible to withdraw through the cervix. Any attempt at separation causes the flattened tissue to pull against the uterine walls, creating suction that actually draws the cervix tighter around the shaft. The female is quite literally impaled from within.
During one particularly horrific observation, I witnessed a goblin take an arrow through the heart mid-copulation. Despite immediate death, the locked glans continued its biological function. The corpse remained attached to the screaming maiden for nearly twenty minutes as the dead goblin's reproductive system, operating on autonomous nerve clusters, completed ejaculation. The glans only released post-mortem when hydraulic pressure finally decreased.
The "lock" serves three documented purposes:
1. Prevents female escape during insemination
2. Creates a sealed chamber ensuring no semen escapes
3. Positions the urethral opening directly against the fundus, guaranteeing deep deposition
**Ejaculation During Lock:**
Once locked, the goblin ejaculate—which my measurements indicate averages 180-240ml (compared to human's 2-5ml)—is injected directly into the uterine cavity under considerable pressure. The sealed environment created by the expanded glans means every drop is retained. The female's abdomen visibly distends during this process, which typically lasts 3-7 minutes of continuous emission.
**Release Mechanism:**
The glans only deflates after complete testicular drainage. The tissue slowly contracts back to normal size, allowing withdrawal. This leaves the cervix temporarily dilated and the uterus packed with what field reports describe as "custard-thick" semen that takes hours to fully drain.
**—Dr. C. Blackwood**
*Royal Anatomist, Survivor of Westmarch*(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(pic:"ch02/bad end/desert collapse.jpg")(playwhenread:"fall sand")
The sand beneath my knees is shifting. Or I'm shifting. Or the world is.
*Get up. Get to the well. Wash this off. Wash HIM off.*
My arms shake as I try to push up but they're noodles, overcooked pasta, can't support the weight of these udders that hang like—like what? My mind can't make comparisons anymore. Everything is just... heavy. Wet. Dripping.
I manage three more crawl-steps before my left arm gives out.
The collapse happens in slow motion. My shoulder hits sand first, then my hip, and then—FLUX'S BURNING BALLS—my tits. The left one SLAMS into the sand, compressing like a wineskin, then the right one FLOPS over it with a meaty WHAP, the weight making me gasp. They're stacked now, the bottom one going numb from pressure while the top one slides off, dragging through sand that sticks to the cum-glaze.
($hidden_gem:"My mouth opens to scream but more of his seed drools out like diseased honey.","My mouth moves to moan but more milky seed streams out like sour, diseased honey.")
The world is spinning. No—my HEAD is spinning. Like I'm drunk but wrong, drunk on something that crawls through my sinuses and nests behind my eyes. Every breath brings more of his stench and every breath makes my thoughts more... more what? Sticky. Like the cum cooling on my skin, my thoughts are getting sticky, pulling apart in strings when I try to connect them.
*Elara has... had... will have... brown hair? Red? The color of... of goblin cock? No. NO.*
I try to roll onto my back but just succeed in smearing more of his essence into the sand. It's EVERYWHERE—between my fingers, under my nails, in the creases of my elbows. When I blink, I feel it on my eyelids. When I swallow, I taste it coating my throat like medicine. Like poison. Like... like something my body is starting to recognize.
"Eon..." The prayer comes out slurred, drunk. "Eon re-remembers... remembers what? That I sucked... that Aldric sucked... who sucked?"
My pussy—that empty, aching void—clenches on nothing. Clenches on air. Clenches like it's trying to grip something that should be there. Something purple. Something green. Something that would fill the hollow that's getting worse with each breath of pheromone-thick air.
*Sleep. Just sleep. Dawn will fix this. Dawn always...*
My eyes close. The last thing I see is a rope of cum sliding from my hair onto my cheek, warm as a kiss from the wrong mouth.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/desert sleep bad.jpg")
(simple_option:"02 desert dream","You drift into a dream...")](else:)[(pic:"ch02/bad end/desert ugh.jpg","right")I reach the well, sobbing so hard I can barely see through the tears and cum-seal on my eyes. The pump handle is ancient metal, K'Tarran runes etched deep but lifeless, just decoration now on this artifact that Snib probably pisses on when he's too lazy to walk further into the dunes.
*CREAK-SQUEAL*
The first pump barely moves—rusted, fighting me like everything else tonight. I have to put my whole weight on it, which makes my tits swing forward and a fresh rope of cooling goblin seed slides from my hair onto my face like the world's most degrading kiss.
*CREAK-SQUEAL*
Second pump. Water doesn't come yet. Just that metal-on-metal shriek while I sob harder, naked except for these fucking spike-heeled boots full of his cum squelching between my toes with each shift of weight.
"Please—" I'm begging the well now, this ancient K'Tarran thing. "Please just—just give me—"
*CREAK-SQUEAL-SPLASH*(playwhenread:"pump water")
Water. Ice cold from deep underground. I cup it to my face but the cum—it doesn't WANT to leave. It's oil-thick, hydrophobic, beading up and rolling around like mercury made of shame. I scrub with my palms but that just spreads it into a thin film that somehow feels WORSE, like he's glazed my entire face in his essence.
($hidden_gem:"The cum fights back, clinging like a jealous lover who won't let go.","The cum clings and clutches, clawing like a cruel lover who won't let go.")
(pic:"ch02/bad end/pump water.jpg")
I pump more water, splashing it over my tits where the crosshatch pattern has gone tacky. The cum doesn't wash away—it PEELS, coming off in sheets like dead skin, but underneath there's still a film, still that SMELL baked into my pores. A chunk of something—Flux's balls, an actual CHUNK of clotted sperm—falls from my hair and lands on my foot with a wet *plap*.
"Get OFF!" I'm scrubbing frantically now, using sand from the ground as an abrasive. It works better but now I'm raw, my skin pink and angry where I've basically sanded myself like old furniture. The inside of my mouth is the worst—no amount of rinsing removes that coating on my teeth, that film on my gums. When I hawk and spit, it comes out pearlescent, swirled with white like cream in coffee.
Twenty minutes of this. Thirty. Pumping and scrubbing and crying and gagging. By the end I'm... cleaner. Not clean—I'll never be clean again—but the visible evidence is mostly gone. Just the smell that won't leave my nostrils, the taste that's soaked into my tongue like wine into wood.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/desert wash.jpg")
I can't go back in that hut. Can't lie on his straw with his stench all around me.
I stumble to a dune, collapse in the sand. The stars wheel overhead, cold and distant as Eon's ledgers. No comfort there. No recognition that Aldric the Great just spent an hour scrubbing goblin cum from his—her—MY body.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/desert sleep.jpg")
The sand is cold on my naked skin. The cleanup fight exhausted me more than any battle. My eyelids are so heavy...
(simple_option:"02 desert dream","You dream...")](pic:"ch02/bad end/kneading.jpg","Elara in her morning dress, the white one with tiny flowers, humming as she kneads bread.")
($play:"ambience","nightmare")(if:$choice is "You drift into a dream...")[*The sunlit kitchen of our cottage. Elara in her morning dress, the white one with tiny flowers, humming as she kneads bread. Her hair catches light like spun copper—no, like autumn leaves—no, like... it keeps changing but she's beautiful, so beautiful it hurts.*(playwhenread:"desert dream 1")
*"Elara!" I sob, rushing toward her, arms outstretched.*
*She turns, smiling that smile that made me fall in love. "Oh, darling! There you are. I was just thinking about you."*
*I reach for her but she steps back, graceful as always, one finger raised in gentle reproach.*
*"Tsk, no no. Look at you." Her eyes travel down my naked, cum-stained body without judgment, just... assessment. "You can't touch me like that. You're all messy from your... work."*
*"Work? Elara, I—"*
*"Your important work," she continues, turning back to her bread. "Someone has to do it, after all. And you're getting so good at it! Just last night, you managed what—twelve inches?"*
*The room tilts. This is wrong. This is—*
*"Here," she says sweetly, gesturing to the wall. "Your next task is ready."*
*A hole appears in our kitchen wall. Dark. Wet around the edges. And through it, pushing through like some horrible birth, comes a cock. Green shaft, purple head, already drooling thick precum that pools on our clean floor.*
(pic:"ch02/bad end/gloryhole nightmare.jpg","gif","'It's drooling! You shouldn't let that fall, sweetness. It's wasteful.'")
*"Look," Elara says, her voice still kind, still loving. "It's drooling! You shouldn't let that fall, sweetness. It's wasteful."*
*"Elara, this isn't—"*
*"On your knees, love." She doesn't look at me, just keeps kneading. "That's where you belong now, isn't it? Since you chose to cheat on me."*
*The words hit like physical blows. I drop to my knees—not by choice but like the floor sucked me down.*
*"With a goblin," she continues conversationally. "A pathetic little three-foot goblin. After all my love, all our plans for children, you sucked a goblin's cock."*
*"I had to! The collar—"*
*"Open wide." Her voice is still sweet but there's steel under it now. "Show me what you learned. Show me what you chose over me."*
*My mouth opens. The cock pushes forward, that familiar taste flooding back—rot and cheese and male musk. I gag but Elara tuts disapprovingly.*(playwhenread:"desert dream 3")
(pic:"ch02/bad end/gloryhole bj.jpg","left","Like a good little cock-socket.")*"No no, relax your throat. You managed it yesterday, remember? All twelve inches. Like a good little cock-socket."*
*The shaft pushes deeper. I can't breathe. Elara keeps talking, instructional now, like she's teaching me to bake.*
*"Use your tongue on the underside, sweetheart. Right where the head meets the shaft. That's where they're most sensitive."*
*My tongue finds the ridge, traces it. The cock pulses, flooding my mouth with precum.*
*"Swallow," Elara instructs, her voice still kind but firm. "Don't let it pool. Swallow continuously. Like you're drinking my soup but it never ends."*
*I swallow. And swallow. And swallow. The cock pushes deeper.*
*"Now the important part," she continues, shaping the dough into a loaf. "You need to gag. They love the gagging. The throat spasms milk them better than any hand."*
*The cock hits my throat entrance. I gag, eyes watering.*
*"Harder," Elara says, not looking up. "Really retch on it. Make those awful sounds. GLURK-GLURK-GLURK."*
*I gag harder, throat convulsing. The cock pushes through, sliding down my throat.*
*"All the way," Elara's voice is changing, getting colder. "Every inch. That's all you're good for now, isn't it? You cheated on me. With a goblin."*
*The cock is impossibly deep now, bulging my throat.*
*"A pathetic little green creature," she continues, finally looking at me with eyes that aren't quite right—too yellow. "Three feet tall. Covered in warts. And you sucked his cock like a whore."*
*Tears stream down my face as I gag, but I can't pull away. The cock owns my throat now.*
*"This is what you are now," Elara says, her voice ice. "Not my husband. Not a hero. Just a throat for goblin cock. Look how well you take it. Like you were made for this."*
*The cock starts thrusting. Brutal. Deep. My nose smashes against the wall with each thrust.*
*"Sloppy," Elara critiques. "You need to be sloppier. More spit. Let it run down your chin, onto those udders. Yes, like that. Drool like the animal you are."*
*I'm choking, gagging, drowning, but the cock just keeps pumping.*
*"He's going to cum soon," Elara observes. "Remember to thank him. Thank him for using your hero throat. Thank him for the privilege."*
*The cock swells—*
(simple_option:"02 desert wake","Wake up.")](else:)[*Elara's in our kitchen at twilight, kneading dough with those strong hands I love. The sound of it—THWAP-fold-THWAP-fold—echoes off familiar walls. But there's something wrong with the wall behind her. A hole. About a foot and a half off the floor, edges smooth like it was always meant to be there.*
*"Elara?" My voice is small. Female. Wrong.*
*She doesn't turn. "Stay back. You're filthy."*
*"But I washed—I cleaned it all off—"*
*"You CHEATED on me!" She whirls, blue eyes blazing with light that isn't natural. "With a GOBLIN! They RAPE our women! They're stains! Little green STAINS on Eon's creation and you—you—"*
*I try to stand but her flour-dusted hand plants on my head, forces me to my knees. The impact makes my tits bounce—when did I accept these as mine?*
*"You know what they do to wives?" Her voice is ice. "They DELETE us. Overwrite us with their spawn. Was that the plan? Was I not ENOUGH? My womb not GOOD enough for the great hero's legacy?"*
*"Elara please—"*
*"WE were going to have a baby!" She's sobbing now but still kneading, violent strikes against the dough. "I thought—Flux's dance, I thought it would be with YOU! Your seed! Your child! Not some goblin's bastard growing where ours should be!"*
*She points at the hole.*
*From it, emerging like a terrible sunrise, comes a cock. Green shaft, purple head, already drooling. I know that cock. I know its taste.*
(pic:"ch02/bad end/gloryhole nightmare.jpg","gif","' It's going to give you babies. Green babies.'")
*"Kiss it," Elara commands, voice dead now. "Since you love it more than you love me. It's going to give you babies. Green babies. They'll tear their way out of you and you'll BEG for more because that's what goblin whores DO."*
*"Elara—"*
*"KISS. IT."*
*She goes back to kneading. Won't look at me. I'm alone with the cock jutting from our kitchen wall, precum already forming that familiar pearl at the tip. My body—this traitorous body—is already backing toward it, ass rising, pussy drooling...*
(simple_option:"02 desert wake","You wake up.")]($play:"song",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")($notification:"Pheromone corruption has significantly altered your brain chemistry overnight...")
($play:"ambience","desert morning")(if:$choice is "Wake up.")[(pic:"ch02/bad end/desert morning cum.jpg")
I wake gasping in the sand.
Dawn. Pink sky. Cum dried on my skin in cracking yellowish sheets that pull when I move. My throat—
"HKKKK—" I cough and something thick dislodges. Not fresh. Old. Fermented overnight in my throat into something worse. I spit and it's gray-yellow, chunky, reeking.
The well. Right. I need to... to clean up for... for...
For Snib. For my morning task.
($hidden_gem:"The thought arrives pre-chewed, already soft and acceptable.","The thought trickles in pre-chewed, pre-chosen, already soft and acceptable.")
(playwhenread:"pump water")(pic:"ch02/pump morning.jpg")
I crawl to the well on hands and knees because standing seems impossible. My tits drag through sand, collecting grit that mixes with dried cum into an abrasive paste. Each pump of the handle—*CREEEAK-SQUEAK*—brings a trickle of water. I splash my face but the cum has bonded with my skin. Have to scrub with sand, turning my face raw and pink.
The water is cold on my tits as I wash them, each handful making my nipples harder until they ache. Between my legs is worst—my pussy won't stop leaking, adding fresh moisture to the dried cum creating this unholy mixture that...
*If I'm clean he won't take as long and then it's over quicker and—*
These aren't my thoughts. Can't be. But they make sense. Sick sense.](else:)[(pic:"ch02/bad end/desert morning clean.jpg")
I wake gasping, sand in my mouth, pussy clenched around nothing.
Dawn. The first light turning the desert gold.
Time for my morning service.
The thought arrives with sickening clarity. Not from me—from the fog. From whatever his precum did to my brain. I HAVE to. The deal. Six more days. Just jerking—no, sucking. He wants sucking. But maybe...
I stumble to my feet, sand cascading from my body. Everything aches. My throat feels raw, used. My jaw clicks when I open it too wide. But worse is the hollow ache between my legs, like something's missing, like I'm incomplete.]
(simple_option:"02 hj 1 begin","Time for your morning 'task.'")($play:"song","snib hut theme")(if:$choice is "Angrily put your armor back on before continuing.")["I'm not your fucking cow!" The words tear from my throat as I stumble to my feet, his cock slipping from my grip with a wet *schlick*.
My armor lies in the corner where I discarded it—black scales gleaming with morning light. I storm over, spike-heels *CLACK-CLACK-CLACKING* against packed dirt, my bare ass bouncing with each angry step.
"Hehe, there she goes," Snib chuckles behind me. "Jiggly little storm cloud."
The metal triangles are cold as I fumble with them, trying to contain these ridiculous udders that swing and collide as I bend forward. The clasps hide under breast-flesh, making me lift each heavy tit to fasten them. The scales immediately bite into tender skin—I hadn't realized how raw I'd gotten overnight.
*CLINK-clink-clink* as the chains settle between my breasts.
The bottom piece is worse. I step into it, have to shimmy it up my thighs that are still... still damp. The metal thong immediately disappears between my ass cheeks with that awful *schwup* sound, riding up to bisect everything.
"Feel better now?" Snib's still on his back, cock pointing at the ceiling like a green spear. "More dignified with yer tits wrapped up?"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/unhappy.jpg")
I storm back, metal singing with each step. Drop to my knees harder than necessary, making my barely-contained breasts bounce against their prison. His cock waits, a rope of precum connecting tip to belly now.
($hidden_gem:"My hand wraps around it with newfound fury.","My furious fingers find and fiercely fist his fetid flesh.")
"Just drain and be done," I mutter, beginning to stroke. Hard. Fast. No gentleness.
"Oooh, angry tuggin'!" He laughs even as his breath hitches. "Like yer tryin' to rip it off! That's good, real good aggression."
(playwhenread:"handjob")My fist pumps up and down, the foreskin making obscene wet sounds—*SHLICK-SHLICK-SHLICK*—as it slides over his purple head. Each stroke makes more precum bubble out, coating my fingers, making everything slippery and reeking.
"This is day one," he grunts, hips starting to move. "So I'll be nice. Won't make ye use that pretty throat. But tomorrow..."
I pump harder. Angrier. The motion makes my whole body move—tits bouncing in their metal cage, chains *clink-clink-clinking*, ass jiggling despite the thong's attempt at control.
"Fuck, that's it," his voice getting rougher. "Look at ye—big hero milkin' goblin cock like ye were born for it."
"Shut UP—"
"Ye know what's funny?" He's panting now, cock swelling in my grip. "Yer doin' this. CHOOSIN' it. Could've said no, taken the consequences. But here ye are, first morning, already pumpin' away."
My hand won't stop. Can't stop. The deal. Seven days. Freedom.
His balls draw up tight, churning visibly. His cock pulses harder, the head flaring wider, darker.
"Gonna... heh... gonna make me cum, cow-tits."
There—a bucket. Wooden, stained, probably used for... I don't want to know. I grab it with my free hand, position it as his breathing gets ragged.
"That's... that's smart," he gasps. "Don't want me cream on them nice scales, do ye?"
I angle his cock down toward the bucket, have to lean over it, my face turned away. Won't watch. Won't give him that satisfaction. But I keep stroking, mechanical and rough, feeling his cock swell impossibly thicker.
"Here it—GRAAAHHH!"
The first rope—I don't see it but I HEAR it.
(sperm:"SPLOOOOOORT!",3,"splurt 1")Like someone dumped a ladle of hot porridge from height. The sound of impact against wood, then the splash-pattern as it spreads. The heat—Flux's balls, the HEAT radiates up from the bucket, warming my hands, my face. Steam? Is his cum actually steaming?
"KEEP PUMPIN'!"
(pic:"ch02/bad end/jerk bucket.jpg")
My hand continues its angry rhythm as the second rope—
(sperm:"SPLORT-GLOP-SPLATTER",4,"splurt 4")Heavier. Thicker. I feel the vibration through his cock as it travels up the shaft, through the head, then that moment of release. Like a clogged pipe suddenly clearing. The bucket's getting heavier in my other hand.
($hidden_gem:"My teeth sink into my lower lip hard enough to taste copper.","My teeth tear into my trembling lower lip, tasting copper through the shame.")
(sperm:"GLOOP-SPLORT!",4,"splurt 5")"Look at it," he grunts. "LOOK AT YER WORK!"
I won't. Keep my eyes fixed on the wall. But I can't escape the sounds—each rope landing wet and heavy, the way they don't pour but LAUNCH from his cock in pressurized spurts. Can't escape the smell—concentrated rot mixed with something fertile, something alive.
(sperm:"SPLURCH-GLOP-GLOP",3,"splurt 6")The bucket's actually heavy now. How much can one creature produce? My hand is soaked—not just with precum but with the splash-back, hot droplets hitting my wrist, my forearm. One lands on my thigh and it's like being marked with warm wax.
(sperm:"SPLURCH-GLOP-GLOP",4,"splurt 2")Each rope makes its own unique sound depending on where it lands in the growing pool. Some hit directly, a straight splatter. Others arc, creating a *splap-splap-splap* pattern. I can hear the consistency changing—thicker now, more like custard than porridge.
My face burns. Not from the heat radiating from the bucket but from shame. I'm milking a goblin. Milking him like a cow, into a bucket, while wearing this ridiculous armor that barely contains my tits.
(sperm:"SPLORT... SPLORT... SPLORT...",4,"splurt 3")Finally slowing. The pulses through his shaft weakening. The last few ropes barely clear the head, drooling down to add to the pool. I keep stroking until he grabs my wrist.
"That's enough, unless ye want to start round two."
I jerk my hand away. It's glazed with his precum and splash-back, sticky strands connecting my fingers. The bucket... I make the mistake of glancing down.
It's almost full.
The surface is uneven—thick clumps floating in thinner liquid, all of it that sick yellow-white color. Still steaming. Still moving slightly, like it's alive. The smell makes my eyes water—concentrated essence of everything wrong with goblin-kind.
"Good first day," Snib says lazily, cock still half-hard, still drooling. "Tomorrow we use yer throat proper. Maybe teach ye to say thank you after."
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)I stumble to my feet, legs shaking. Need to wash. Need to get this off my hand. Need to—
"Oh, and cow-tits?" He's grinning. "Ye got a little on yer lip there."
My tongue darts out before I can stop it, tastes salt and battery acid and—
No.
NO.](else:)[(pic:"ch02/bad end/jerk naked.jpg","I keep my eyes fixed on the far wall—anywhere but at what my hand is doing.")(playwhenread:"handjob")
I keep my eyes fixed on the far wall—anywhere but at what my hand is doing.
*Just friction. Just mechanical motion. Like churning butter. Like kneading dough.*
($hidden_gem:"My fist slides up and down his diseased pole with wet sounds that echo in the morning stillness.","My fingers flow up and down his foul, festering fuckpole with wet whispers that wake the whole morning.")
*Shlick-shlick-shlick.*
Each stroke makes my tits sway beneath me. Heavy pendulums marking time until this is over. My nipples are so hard they hurt, dragging through the air with each forward lean. The position—on my knees beside him, leaning over to reach—makes my ass jut out, makes everything display itself.
"Six more days after this," I mutter to myself. "Just six more mornings."
"What's that, Udder-slut?"
"Nothing." My hand speeds up. The faster I stroke, the sooner this ends. The sooner I can wash his stink off my palm.
His cock is getting wetter. Each stroke brings more precum bubbling from the tip—not drops now but a steady weeping that runs down to coat my fingers. The smell of it makes my eyes water. Like someone boiled piss and added fish guts.
"Look at ye," he grunts. "The great hero, naked as a babe, tuggin' gobbo cock like it's what ye were born for."
"Shut up." But my voice cracks. Because my pussy—that traitor hole—clenches with each stroke. Moisture runs down my inner thigh. Just sweat. Has to be sweat.
"Them soft hands know their job now," he continues. "Up and down, up and down. Natural as breathin'."
*Shlick-SHLICK-shlick-SHLICK.*
The rhythm is hypnotic. My hand moves without thought now, muscle memory taking over. Grip, pull, twist slightly at the head, slide back down. Veins pulse under my palm. His heartbeat accelerates.
"Ye're gettin' good at this," he observes. "Must be all that sword practice. Same motion, just different sword."
I want to let go. Want to run. But the collar sits cold at my throat and beyond that... beyond that there's something else. Something about finishing what I started. Some sick need to see this through.
My hand speeds up again. His cock swells, the head going darker purple. The precum is constant now, making everything slippery. My whole hand is glazed with it, sticky and warm.
"That's it," he grunts, his breathing getting heavier. "Milk it proper. Like ye mean it."
I'm not looking but I can feel his eyes on me. On my swaying tits. On my spread thighs. On the shameful wetness between them.
"Please just—" The words slip out before I can stop them. "Just finish. Please."
"Beggin' now?" He laughs but it's strained. "Big hero's beggin' for gobbo cum?"
His cock pulses harder. The veins are standing out like cords. His balls draw up tight. I've seen this enough times with—no, don't think about Elara. Don't think about morning intimacy in our marriage bed. This is different. This is—
"Close," he grunts. "Yer gonna make me cum, cow-tits. Gonna make me paint ye pretty."
His hips start moving, fucking up into my fist. The wet sounds get louder—*SHLICK-SHLICK-SHLICK*—and my tits bounce harder with the increased pace.
"Look at me," he commands.
I can't. Won't.
"LOOK AT ME, CUNT!"
My eyes snap to his against my will. Those yellow orbs bright with malicious pleasure.
"Gonna cum on ye," he says simply. "Right on that pretty hero face."
Before I can react, he's standing. My hand falls away as he rises, his cock now level with my face. His fist replaces mine, pumping furiously. The purple head aims directly at me like a weapon.
"W-wait—"
"Nah, ye earned this. Stroke me so good, now ye get the reward."
I should move. Should duck. Should do ANYTHING but kneel here frozen as his fist flies over his cock, as his balls contract, as that familiar tension builds—
"Here it comes, Dame Cum-face! Take yer payment!"
The head flares. The piss-slit dilates. Time slows as I watch it happen—
(sperm:"SPLOOOOORT!",5,"splurt 1")The first rope launches like it was shot from a siege engine.
It catches me across the bridge of my nose and extends over my left eye, hot as candle wax, thick as porridge. The weight of it—Flux's balls, the WEIGHT—actually pushes my head back slightly. My eye seals shut instantly under the warm, putrid blanket.
"GRAAAH! TAKE IT!"
(sperm:"SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT!",4,"splurt 3")Three more ropes in rapid succession. One paints a stripe from my forehead into my hair. Another catches my right cheek and drapes down to my jaw like a sick parody of war paint. The third—the third goes straight across my lips.
I clamp them shut but too late. The taste floods in—rotten fish and sour milk and something else, something that makes my brain feel fuzzy.
"Look at ye! LOOK AT YE!"
(sperm:"SPLOOOORCH!",5,"splurt 4")This one's thicker. Chunkier. It lands across both my closed eyes like a blindfold made of shame. I feel actual lumps in it—clotted bits that slide down my cheeks leaving trails of heat.
My hands fly up instinctively to wipe but—
"Don't ye DARE wipe it off! That's yer war paint now!"
(sperm:"GLOOOOORP-SPLAT!",3,"splurt 2")Another rope, this one catching my chin and throat. It drips immediately onto my tits, pooling in the valley between them. The smell—Eon preserve me, the SMELL. Like concentrated masculinity mixed with death.
"Grashk na THRACK!"
Pure Goblish now. He's lost to it, his fist a blur, his cock a fountain of degradation.
(sperm:"SPLURT-SPLURT-SPLURT!",2,"splurt 5")Smaller shots now but still coming. One hits my forehead. Another adds to the mess on my cheek. A third dribbles down onto my right tit, coating the nipple in yellow-white shame.
I'm sobbing behind the mask of cum. Tears mixing with his seed, everything running together into a warm, stinking mess. I can feel it hardening already in some places while still dripping in others.
"One more fer luck!"
(sperm:"SPLOOOOOGE!",4,"splurt 6")The final rope is pure liquid with chunks floating in it. It splashes across my nose and mouth again, some getting up my nostril. I snort involuntarily and that just pulls it deeper, coating my sinuses with his reek.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/cum on you.jpg","right","The final rope is pure liquid with chunks floating in it.")Then silence except for his panting and my whimpering.
"Perfect," he breathes.
I kneel there, face completely covered, cum dripping from my chin onto my tits. My eyes are sealed shut. When I try to breathe through my mouth, ropes slide in. Through my nose is worse—the smell is concentrated there now, burned into my sinuses.
"Ye can wipe it off in a minute," he says generously. "But first... thank me."
"W-what?"
"Thank me fer givin' ye yer breakfast glaze. Say 'Thank you Master Snib for painting me pretty.'"
The rage that floods me could melt stone. But the collar sits cold at my throat, and his cum is already drying on my face, and I need this to end.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"Can't hear ye."
(pic:"ch02/bad end/cum face.jpg","left")"Thank you for... for painting me."
"Pretty. Say pretty."
($change_stat:"heroism",-10)A sob escapes. "Thank you for painting me pretty."
"Good cow! Now ye can go wash. Well done on yer first morning service. Only six more to go!"
I stumble to my feet, cum-blind, hands out to feel my way. My tits swing and bounce, flinging droplets of his seed. My pussy—I can feel it drooling down my leg.]
(simple_option:"02 chores 2","Start your day...")($play:"song","snib hut theme")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","desert morning")(pic:"ch02/bad end/morning cock.jpg","right","A bead of precum wells at the tip.")The hide flap of his hovel parts like diseased flesh as I duck inside.
($play:"ambience","desert morning")Dawn light barely penetrates this rot-cave he calls home. The stench hits first—like someone died fucking a cheese wheel in a tannery. My bare tits swing as I crouch through the entrance, nipples already puckering from... from the cold.
Snib sprawls on his pile of stolen furs, one leg kicked out, snoring wetly. And there, rising from his groin like some cursed monument—
His cock.
($hidden_gem:"It stands perfectly vertical, a foot of diseased green meat aimed at the ceiling.","It stretches skyward, standing straight—a sickening foot of festering, foul green flesh focused at the filthy ceiling.")
The morning light catches it wrong, makes it look alive. The shaft is mottled green like pond scum, darker at the base where wiry black hairs sprout in diseased clusters. Veins thick as quill stems rope around it, pulsing with each of his sleeping heartbeats. But the head... Eon's mercy, the head.
Purple-black like a day-old bruise, swollen huge as my fist.
A bead of precum wells at the tip. Not clear like human men—thick, cloudy, yellow-tinged. It grows fat as a grape before its own weight makes it slide down. Slow. So slow I can watch its path, leaving a snail-trail that catches morning light. It reaches a vein, pools there, then continues its lazy journey toward his balls.
Those balls. Twin sacks wrapped in wrinkled leather, each the size of a ripe apple. They rest heavy on the furs, visibly churning even as he sleeps. The hair on them is patchy, wiry, growing in random tufts like diseased grass. I can smell them from here—concentrated male musk mixed with things that died.
I'm naked. When did I—right. Last night. Now I'm crouched here with nothing but these thracking spike-heels locked on my feet, my tits hanging free, approaching a sleeping goblin's erection like it's an altar I'm meant to worship at.
*Seven days. Just seven mornings. Then freedom.*
The thought sounds hollow. Like something I tell myself while my knees find the dirt floor, while these massive udders swing and settle, while I lean forward until his cock is inches from my face.
This close, the heat radiating from it is palpable. Like it has its own fever. Another drop of precum forms, builds, slides. This one drips off entirely, landing on his thigh with an audible *plop*.
My hand moves forward. These small, soft fingers that once held Whisperwind now reaching for... this.
*Don't think. Just get it over with.*
(pic:"ch02/bad end/jerk.png","left","A bead of precum wells at the tip.")My fingers make contact.
It's hot. Hotter than seems possible, like gripping iron left too long in sun. The skin is rougher than expected—not smooth but textured with tiny bumps, ridges. Greasy. My hand comes away slightly sticky just from that brief touch.
($hidden_gem:"I wrap my fingers around the shaft and they don't even meet.","I wind my weak fingers around the wretched shaft and they won't even weld shut—won't meet.")
Thicker than my wrist. The weight of it surprises me as I lift slightly—heavy as a club, but alive, pulsing against my palm. The veins throb. I feel his heartbeat through them, slow and steady.
His snoring changes. Becomes grunts. His yellow eyes crack open, focusing slowly on the sight before him—Aldric the Great, naked on her knees, small hand wrapped around goblin cock.
"Well well," his voice is morning-rough, pleased. "Look who came crawlin' for her breakfast."
I jerk my hand back but he laughs.
(playwhenread:"handjob")"Nah nah, keep goin'. Ye came here all bare-titted and eager." His eyes drop to my chest, where my nipples have hardened into peaks that ache. "Didn't even wait for me to wake up proper. Eager little breakfast-slut."
"I'm not—" My voice cracks. "We had a deal. Morning drainage. That's all."
"With yer mouth, remember?" He stretches, making his cock bob. Another glob of precum wells up and drips. "But ye can warm it up with them soft little hands first. Get acquainted-like."
My hand returns to his shaft. Wraps around. Squeezes slightly.
"That's it," he grunts. "Like milkin' a cow, except ye're the cow and this here's the udder that matters."
I start stroking. Mechanical. Just up and down. The foreskin slides over the head with a wet sound—*shlick-shlick*—catching on the ridge each time. More precum bubbles out, making everything slicker. The smell intensifies—rot and musk and something chemical that makes my head swim.
"Ye know what's funny?" He props himself up on his elbows, watching. "Ye stayed naked. Even yer own body knows what ye are now."
I look down. He's right. The spike-heels are still locked on, forcing my legs into that position even while kneeling. My thighs spread wide for balance, and between them...
No. Focus on the task.
"Look at them tits sway," he continues. "Back and forth with each stroke. Like they're dancin' for me cock."
Each pull on his shaft makes my whole body move, sets these awful weights swinging. My nipples brush the edge of his thigh with each forward motion.
"Yer pussy's drooling too," he notes casually. "Can see it from here. All shiny and beggin'."
"Shut up." But my voice has no strength. Because I can feel it—that warmth between my legs, that hollow ache that gets worse with each stroke of his cock.
"Angry little cow this morning," he laughs. "That's good."
(simple_option:"02 hj 1","Angrily put your armor back on before continuing.","Just keep going.")($play:"sex loop",0)(pic:"ch02/bad end/bj cum on face again.jpg")
I wrench backward, his cock sliding from my throat with an obscene *SHLOOOOORP*—
(sperm:"SPLOOOOORT!",4,"splurt 2")The first rope catches me directly across both tits. A diagonal stripe from left nipple to right, hot and heavy as melted wax. The weight of it actually makes my tits bounce from impact.
"HAH! LOOK AT YE!"
(sperm:"SPLAT-SPLAT!",3,"splurt 4")Two more jets in rapid succession. One paints my left tit completely, coating the nipple in yellow-white sludge. The other splashes against my collarbone and runs down into my cleavage like a river of shame.
"GLAAAACK—" I'm still gagging, throat trying to remember how to breathe, spit running down my chin—
(sperm:"GLOOOORP!",5,"splurt 3")This one's thicker, chunkier. It lands with a wet SMACK right between my tits and just... sits there. A pool of goblin seed in my cleavage, warm and reeking.
"Painted them udders PERFECT!" He's cackling, cock still pulsing—
(sperm:"SPLURT-SPLT!",2,"splurt 1")The final shots dribble onto my tits, adding layers to the glaze. Everything from my neck to my stomach is decorated with his morning load. When I breathe, my tits rise and the cum runs in new directions, finding new valleys to pool in.
"Better than a pearl necklace!" Snib howls with laughter. "It's a pearl DRESS! Look at ye, glazed like festival cakes!"
I kneel there gasping, cum cooling on my chest, running down my stomach. My tits are completely covered—when I look down, I can't even see my nipples through the thick coating. The smell makes my eyes water.
(pic:"ch02/bad end/cum tits.jpg")
"Well don't just sit there droolin'," he says cheerfully. "Got chores to do."
($change_stat:"heroism",-5)(display:"divider")
I burst from the hut gasping, cum connecting my tits like paste.
*PLAP-PLAP-PLAP*
Each running step makes them collide—wet, heavy slaps as goblin seed glues flesh to flesh. The weight of his load actually holds them together for a heartbeat before they tear apart with sticky *schluck* sounds, only to crash together again.
The well. Twenty paces but I'm stumbling, these fucking spike-heels catching in sand. My tits are a single unit now, fused by cooling cum into one obscene mass that bounces as one heavy thing.
($hidden_gem:"The pump handle burns my palm as I work it desperately.","The pump handle hurts my hand as I heave it in a hundred desperate, hasty pulls.")
*SQUEAK-CLANK-SQUEAK*
Water finally spurts out. I lean forward, letting it splash across my chest. The cum doesn't want to leave—it's bonded to my skin like paint, requiring scrubbing with sand to remove. Each handful of grit scraped across my tits makes them redder, more sensitive.
But clean. Finally clean.
I stumble back inside, shaking. The metal triangles are in the corner where I dropped them. My fingers fumble with the clasps, trying to contain these things that won't stop swaying. The bottom piece slides up my thighs, still damp from... from washing. Just from washing.
Then the broom.
The rough hemp handle familiar in my grip now. Back and forth across his floor. My tits sway with each push—*clink-clink* go the chains between them. And I'm...
I'm crying.
When did I start thinking of my lips as "cock-cushions"? When did my throat become "his morning sheath"? The thoughts arrive pre-formed, like someone else is thinking them and installing them in my head.
*Aldric wouldn't cry doing housework.*
But Aldric wouldn't BE doing housework. Aldric would have found a way out by now. Aldric would have—
*Aldric had a cock.*
The thought hits like cold water. Past tense. HAD. Like Aldric is already gone, already a story about someone else. Someone who had a cock and a sword and a wife who—
Elara.
I can barely picture her face. Red hair? Brown? She smelled like... like...
Like bread. She smelled like bread.
(pic:"ch02/broom cry.jpg")
The broom continues its rhythm. Sweep. Sweep. My pussy—that hollow ache—throbs with each motion. Because tomorrow morning I'll wake up and his cock will be there, waiting. And my mouth will open. And I'll make those sounds—*GLUK-GLUK-GLUK*—like they're my native language now.
*Three more days? Four?*
The number keeps changing. Slipping. Like trying to hold water.
I realize I'm not crying about being trapped.
I'm crying because tomorrow, when his cock slides into my throat, part of me is going to be grateful for the routine. For knowing exactly what's expected. For the simplicity of open-swallow-gulp.
The broom whispers across dirt.
My tits sway.
And somewhere, getting further away with each stroke, Aldric the Great dissolves like cum in water, leaving only Elise the Throat-Pussy, counting days she can't quite remember toward a freedom she's not sure she wants.
(simple_option:"02 bj 3","The days blur together..."){
(if:$bad_ends is 0)[(set:$bad_ends to (a:))]
(unlock: $bad_end's "title")
($notification:"Bad End Unlocked in the Gallery: '" + $bad_end's "title" + "'")
}(masteraudio:"stopall")($chapter_title:3,"Domesticated")($play:"ambience","desert morning")(live:15s)[($play:"sound","spank 1")(stop:)]
Crisp dawn filters through the chinks in the shabby hut, assaulting my senses as sleep refuses to release me from its comforting grip. A bird's call echoes in the near distance, a shrill warning bouncing off the silent desolation. The land of Sandwalkers, making the most of the early morning quiet, casts a gloom over my waking moments.
It's cold. Even the desert freezes toward daybreak, the bitter nip of the air making goosebumps pop on my bare skin. My nipples harden, their peak tracing against my upper arm held tight against myself. A sharp sting yanks me rudely back into wakefulness, ripping sleep's comforting shroud away.
*THWACK!*(if:($get_choice:"02 aftermath") is "Keep it on.")[
A profound sting jolts me from my drowsiness as Snib's coarse hand lands heavily on my fat butt with a brutal spank.
"Wakey, wakey, tits! Yer looking pretty damn uncomfortable in that tin can!"
I curl up instinctively, trying to shield myself from further assault.
"Git movin'! And it ain't healthy to sleep all kitted up like that," Snib grunts as he kicks the chain connected to the collar around my neck. It rattles loudly, the sound harsh and grating against the morning quiet.
Groggily, I push against the floor, my arms quivering under the weight of my encased tits.](else:)[
A large, rough hand collides with my naked exposed buttock. The sharp sting radiates from my soft globes, turning my cheeks a fierce red as the cool air assaults the sensitive skin. My legs curl tighter against my chest as I yelp into my balled fist. Leaving an imprint of Snib's crude, gnarled hand on my round, delicate asset. A harsh contrast of my humiliation.
A chain rattles close by, reminding me of the cold, rough collar around my neck - Snib's favorite toy. The noise of the forged iron speaks volumes of my debasement. The raw intimacy of my nudity, shadowed by Snib's perverse amusement, fills me with an unbearable loathing. My shift in personality - from hero to slave - is an ugly realization that hasn’t sunk in yet.
"Git up, cumdump! Got a long day 'ead of ya!" Snib's grating voice barks.
Groaning, I push myself upright, the metal of the collar digging into the tender skin of my throat, the chain brushes against the roundness of my large breasts. The heavy globes jiggle every time I move, amplifying the sense of strange unfamiliarity. I try to hold my chest, my hands sinking into the soft flesh - a fresh wave of humiliation crashes through me.
I suppose Snib’s definition of 'feast for the eyes' now embodies the sexually provocative sight of my bare body struggling to get up. The mossy green eyes, which used to flare with courage, now tear up a bit as Snib laughs and throws something cold and metallic at me.
His sick laughter echoes around the hut as I catch the offending object. It's the armor, the disgraceful, scanty metallic bikini armor. Instinctively, I attempt to cover my voluptuous nakedness with it.
The coldness of the metal feels unsettling against my skin as I fumble with the bikini top. I'm not sure where to place my hands. My fingers tremble as I try to fit the tiny, metallic cups over my resplendent tits. I squirm and wriggle, trying to wrestle my breasts into the restrictive piece. It barely encases them, miniature shields futilely attempting to cover the massive territory of my tits.
As I finally clasp the hooks behind, I feel the weight of my bosom straining against the insufficient support. It's fascinatingly painful - the cold, hard metal cutting into the tender underside of my boobs, leaving them bulging out from all sides. The already limited coverage diminishes further as my hard nipples scrape against the cold steel - another grim reminder of my altered biology.
Next comes the bikini bottom. The metallic piece is embarrassing in its minimalism - just a small front plate attached to a string. But then, when has anything about this entire ordeal been becoming... or comfortable?
I step into it and pull it up. It’s a battle of its own - the tight string embracing my full buttocks, the small metal plate barely covering the front. My mound is shaved barren, the slick folds of my new pussy exposed to the cool desert breeze tickling it's way into the hut.
The high metallic waist pinches into my flesh, amplifying my curvaceous shape and accentuating the part of me I'd much rather conceal. I feel exposed, cold, and stark naked, even though now technically armored.
The high heels make my feet wobble. My once sturdy footing replaced by an undignified totter. The waist-to-hip ratio amplified grotesquely by the added height, forcing me to sway my hips—an unwanted alluring image.]
Drawing in a shuddering breath, I pull myself to a stand, waiting for the next cruel demand from my tormentor. Underneath the hard metal pressing into my soft flesh, my heart pounds a melancholy rhythm. Is this to be my life - cruel awakenings and humiliating garb?
(simple_option:"03 reaction","Obey, for now.","Get upset."){
(save-game:($bad_end's "title"))
}(if:$is_bad_end is 0)[(set:$is_bad_end to false)](badendmenu:)<div class='options'>Rewinding is unavailable while playing bad ends.</div>(if:(saved-games:) contains "Chapter 1")[(load-game:$save_to_load)](else:)[(goto:"01 Begin")](set:$whisperwind to "defiled")($play:"song","sword transform")($play:"ambience","cry")The silence after his orgasm is worse than his laughter.
Whisperwind lies there in the dirt, drowning under layers of goblin seed that steam like fresh horse shit in winter. The blade that has sung through a thousand battles, that has tasted dragon blood and demon ichor, now wears a shroud of chunky yellow-white sludge that reeks of rotted fish and sour milk.
I watch, unable to look away, as something impossible happens.
The cum *moves*.
Not dripping—*infiltrating*. Where each rope of seed touches the skyforged steel, the metal darkens like infection spreading through a wound. The blade's natural iridescence—that shift from blue to silver to violet—dims and dies, replaced by the flat black of burned iron. The corruption spreads outward from each point of contact, veins of darkness racing along the fuller.
"No..." The word comes out broken.
The star-sapphires in the crossguard, which have pulsed with inner light since before memory, crack with sounds like breaking teeth. Their celestial blue leaks out like blood, replaced by the dull red of dried scabs, before disappearing entirely. The runes of wind along the blade—those promises and threats carved by storm-smiths—writhe and reshape themselves into the same twisted script that marks my collar.
(pic:"ch02/defile tg.png","Whisperwind is dying, and I'm watching it happen.")
($hidden_gem:"Whisperwind is dying, and I'm watching it happen.","Whisperwind is withering, waning, and I'm witnessing its woeful wake.")
The leather grip, worn smooth by my palm over seventeen years, darks to black and cracks like dried skin. The pommel's eye—that mysterious mark that never looked where you thought—fills with pus-yellow cataracts and goes blind.
But the worst is yet to come.
The blade *shrinks*.
Thirty inches of heroic steel compresses to twenty-four. The perfect balance destroyed. The weight all wrong. It's becoming something else—not a hero's blade but a slave's tool, sized for someone who will never stand tall again.
And then, across the crossguard in blocky, mocking script, letters burn themselves into the metal:
**ELISE - GOBLIN-OWNED HERO**
(pic:"ch02/defile end.jpg")
"AHAHAHA!" Snib's laughter could strip paint. "Look at that! Even yer sword knows the truth now! Says it right there—GOBLIN-OWNED!"
I'm sobbing. Ugly, body-shaking sobs that make these obscene tits bounce and jiggle. Seventeen years. Seventeen years that blade has been part of me. My identity. My purpose. The extension of my will made steel.
($notification:"Whisperwind's power has decreased.")Now it's just another thing Snib has taken from me.
"Here's the deal, cow-tits." He stretches out on his pile of crusty furs, hands behind his head, cock still making an obscene tent in his loincloth. "Ten thousand gold. That's yer price."
I look up through tears, snot running from my nose.
"Make me rich—ten thousand gold—and I'll let ye go. Easy as that."
"You're... you're lying." My voice comes out small, broken.
"Can't lie to ye direct, actually. Collar won't let me. No point anyway." He yawns, showing all those broken teeth. "Ten thousand gold and yer free. That's the deal."
Ten thousand. I have that. It's in the bank at Eboncrest. Every copper I've saved over seventeen years of monster-slaying. Meant to provide for Elara and our children. The children we were trying so hard to—
"But first," Snib continues, already drowsing, "ye clean up me hut. Tomorrow. Make it nice for once. Then maybe we visit that wife of yers..."
"No." The word tears from my throat.
"Oh yes. She needs to see what her big strong husband's become. Maybe she'll want to join ye. Two wives better than one, eh?" He's drifting off, not even worried about me attacking him in his sleep. Why would he be? The collar won't let me hurt him. Won't let me run. Won't let me do anything but obey.
"Sleep on the straw there," he mumbles, half-asleep. "Where I can see ye. Guard me property..."
Then he's snoring, a wet, rattling sound like someone drowning in phlegm.
I look around the disgusting hut that's now my prison. The pile of brown, rotting straw that's supposed to be my bed. It probably has fleas. Or worse. The stench of cum and piss and rotting meat so thick I can taste it. The women's smallclothes nailed to the walls like trophies. The broken doll with its hollow eyes.
And Whisperwind. My beautiful blade, reduced to a cum-stained parody of itself, the metal still steaming where goblin seed eats into its soul. The inscription mocking me in the lamplight: ELISE - GOBLIN-OWNED HERO.
I crawl to the straw on hands and knees because I don't trust myself to walk in these heels. My tits drag along the dirt floor, the metal triangles collecting filth. The pile is worse up close—stained with Eon knows what, crawling with small things that scatter when I approach.
But I'm too broken to care.
I collapse onto it, these massive tits making it impossible to lie on my stomach, forcing me onto my side where they stack on top of each other like obscene pillows. The straw pokes through the gaps in my armor, scratching at soft skin that shouldn't exist.
(pic:"ch02/sleep/snib.jpg")
From here I can see everything. Snib sleeping without a care, his massive cock still half-hard and tenting his loincloth. Whisperwind dying in its pool of cum. The door that I can't walk through. The life I can't get back.
($notification:"You're on the verge of a mental breakdown... steel your mind!")(minigame:"02 break down",5,"You're on the verge of a mental breakdown... steel your mind!")($play:"song","sadness")(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(pic:"ch02/sob.jpg","The sobs are ugly, desperate sounds that I can't control.")
(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/1.png")($play:"ambience","cry")The sobs are ugly, desperate sounds that I can't control. This high voice wailing grief that belongs to someone else—except it's mine now. Mine forever. The tears run hot down soft cheeks, drip off this weak chin onto tits that heave with each gasping breath.
($change_stat:"heroism",-3)I'm never getting out of this.
The thought spreads like poison. Ten thousand gold? Even if I get that for him, he won't let me go. Why would he? I'm everything he's ever wanted—a hero brought low, a killer made slave. This is entertainment that will last him years.
Elara will never see her husband if I return to Eboncrest. She'll see this... thing. This walking pair of tits with her husband's eyes. How could she love this? How could anyone?
My mother told me I'd die heroically. Saving innocents. Making the world better. Instead I'll die on my back with a goblin between my legs, belly swollen with monster spawn, just another cautionary tale whispered in taverns.
The armor digs into my flesh like it's trying to cut me in half. Everything hurts. These tits are too heavy. These heels have ruined my feet. This collar chokes every breath. I'm so tired. So fucking tired.](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(pic:"ch02/resolute.jpg","I close my eyes and find the cold place inside.")
($play:"ambience","fireplace")I close my eyes and find the cold place inside. The same place I found when Mother died. When I held the line at Bitter Creek with three arrows in my gut. When the basilisk's venom was burning through my veins.
($change_stat:"heroism",1)I am Aldric.
Not this meat. Not these curves. The mind inside—that's still mine. Still sharp as Whisperwind once was. This goblin thinks he's won? He's shown me his weakness: greed. Ten thousand gold and I'm free. That's a problem with a solution. That's a battle with victory conditions.
I've crawled through worse than this. Through the Underworks beneath Thuulk, where the air was poison. Through the Blood Marshes, where every step could mean death. This is just another dungeon. Just another monster to outwit.
The collar can't change who I am inside this skull. Can't touch the tactical mind that's won a hundred impossible fights. Let him think I'm broken. Let him believe his victory is complete.
I've played dead for basilisks. I can play slave for a goblin.
Tomorrow begins the campaign. Not with swords but with patience. Not with magic but with endurance. Every hero's tale has its darkest hour—this is mine. But dawn always comes. It always comes.](playwhenread:"hay")
(pic:"ch02/hay.jpg","The hay reeks of horse piss and mold.")
The hay reeks of horse piss and mold. I scoop out the worst of it—black with rot, crawling with beetles—and drag over fresher stuff from the half-bale in the corner. Still straw. Still disgusting. But dry, at least.
I stare at it, then down at myself. The armor cuts into me everywhere—metal triangles bisecting nipples that have gone hard in the desert cold, the thong so far up my ass it might be exploring my spine. Every breath makes the scales dig deeper.
But taking it off means being naked. In front of him. Giving in.
(pic:"ch02/hay bed.jpg","Still straw. Still disgusting. But dry, at least.")
(simple_option:"02 sleep armor","Keep the armor on.","Take it off."){
(set:$sidebar to false)(set:$just_refreshed to true)(goto:"chapters")
}