Jan the Broodsow

A goblin leans over your face and slowly spits a slimy glob of pre-chewed food into your open mouth, and you swallow without protest while he heaves back and forth into your open hips. He plants his cock all the way in you while he cums, rubbing the just noticeable bulge in your belly that he made earlier.

How long has it been? The goblin spawn grows unnaturally fast inside of you. You've had just enough of their babies that you've lost count of how far your body has been used to expand their colony, so counting time accurately is impossible. It couldn't have been more than a month since you last gave birth, and now you'e pregnant again, with your breasts still painfully engorged with milk for your youngest, who is maturing rapidly.

Another goblin gets up behind the one who just finished using you, and puts his own warty pickle in you. Normally the goblins keep to a strict schedule of who gets to fuck your pussy to ensure that all of them get to impregnate you in turn, but when you're pregnant, anything that doesn't hurt the fetus is fair game. The one fucking you now sired your last one, which you can tell only by the salty smell of his sweaty body that now grapples you with pleasure.

You are turned over and made to kneel as this one fucks you from behind. Normally the goblins don't need to keep you bound, as you are guarded all the time by at least whoever's turn it is to impregnate you. Now you are usually entirely naked, your tan figure concealed only by the dirt of this cave, which has matted your hair into dirty brown dreadlocks.

Just as you're about to climax from the rapid thrusting, the goblin inside you pushes slower and deeper as he fills you up with his potent sperm. You need to cum, so you start rubbing your clit while he pushes your face into the ground and pulls out. You've been fucked just too good all day but haven't had release yet. He pays no attention as the mixed semen dribbles out of you and onto your fingers, making the rubbing of your clit ever more slippery and you moan in relief, finally allowed to orgasm. This isn't the first time you fully submitted to the pleasure, and it won't be the last.

Your enslavement continues for the unknown amount of time it takes before you give birth again. Your previous child is almost weaned off of you by the time your newest is born, but your breasts get harvested to their fullest for a while first, before they once again have excess to be used to pleasure your vile masters in between feedings.

One night, you wake up from a good masturbation session to realize something odd. The den is empty aside from you. There are no guards, and no sound of guards outside. There's no baby at your leaking chest; in fact, your youngest is now fully independent of your milk and probably out foraging or something with her father. What's more: you're not even pregnant, as far as you can tell.

You get up on your hands and knees and take another good look around the room. Nobody is here. You feel your way to the door and very slowly open it, expecting to see one of your masters there to slap you for wandering too far from your place, but all you see is the dim blue light of the green moon upon the grass. You remember the feel of grass, and crawl out just to feel it on your skin again. It's so nice. Countless little blades feel cool and clean on your dirty skin as you roll around and listen to the chirping of night critters that your ears have been deprived of.

You bask in the innocent niceness of the grass and rub your pussy to a sweet little orgasm and empty your full breasts while you wait for your masters to return from whatever nightly business they have, but nobody comes. Suddenly you prop yourself up, realizing that this could be your chance to escape if you wanted to, but won't they be back at any moment? You crawl up to the top of the mound, not even thinking to stand after all the time spent in the den, and look and listen for activity.

You see nothing but trees around you, and start to go around the hill, and eventually work up the nerve to crawl through the bushes away from the den. Your hands run over grass, dirt, rocks, roots, boots... Boots? You look up and scream in surprise as a large man looks down at you wide-eyed. You stumble backward and try to crawl back to the den, but he wraps you in a rough, warm cloak and pulls you to his body.

"Jan? Jan!" Your futile kicking and squirming dies down as you recognize the voice of Oron the mountain-warden. "Relax, it's me. It's your friend Oron. Everything's alright." You do manage to calm down and accept his close embrace as he picks you up and carries you away.

You fall asleep in the long-lost warmth of the cloth blanketing you as Oron takes you back to your cabin. You wake up squinting from the overwhelming light of day and fail to hold a conversation as Oron nurses you back to health over the course of several days. He never directly asks what happened to you, and almost seems to have forgotten about it by the time you relearn how to walk and take care of yourself.

You have dreams and perverted fantasies of being the goblins' denmother again even as you begin to accept your freedom. Maybe one day you'll go back and willingly become Jan the Goblin Broodsow, but in the meantime, at least for now, perhaps it's time to once again be Jan Doercen the human adventurer.

Health reset to 85