Chapter 8

Rope felt bitter-sweet looking at the dead goblin being mounted to Meat's cooking spit. While Rope was grateful he didn't have to look over his shoulder worrying about Rocks fucking him in the ass, he had just lost half his litters to tricks. His fist clenched. He wished the young man-pig tied to the table was still alive. He needed to fuck something, and Fatass was still in the shit-pit.

Dust sat at the head of the long eating table. His eyes bore into Rope, a cold rage barely contained behind the glowing eyes. Rope took a deep breath and walked toward Dust with the three newborn goblings in his arms.

One of the goblings climbed his shoulder and chomped down on his ear. "Ow! The fucking teeth on this one."

He rubbed the blood from his ear, and the dingy dining hole erupted in unison, "Teeth!" And the goblin was named.

Dust's eyes did brighten upon seeing the tiny creatures. He loved his tribe, and Rope knew that. Unfortunately, that was also the problem. Fatass had now cost the tribe six goblins total, which would mean even after a large litter Rope would still owe. "The sow didn't survive." Rope said, handing the babes to Dust.

"Did yours?"

Rope nodded, trying to look grim and angry.

"Good. I would have killed you if she didn't."

"You would have had to." Rope said truthfully.

"I know, son," Dust stood and put a hand on Rope's shoulder. The closest goblins stopped eating, their long ears perked. The chief rarely admitted which children were his in front of the tribe. Rope felt the weight of the gesture like donning heavy armor. It would protect him, but it was restricting and cumbersome. The more he was made an example of, the closer he was to Hooknail's hook, should he stumble. On the other hand, It would someday strengthen his claim to rule, knowing he was dustborne. It was an apology and a good one.

Now it was Rope's turn to make amends. "I'm taking my fighters out to replenish the pens," Rope said, addressing the entire cave. He turned and made eye contact with the goblins pledged to him. They winced at the announcement, but nodded, and he was pleased to see their loyalty held. "We meet at the mouth, first light." He sliced himself a healthy portion of the large man-pig and ate his food in silence.

In the morning his team assembled at the mouth of the cave, fully equipped for an expedition.

Tricks wore a dark green cloak that was crudely cut to fit him. He said he took off an elf. Nobody believed him, but the gob seemed to think it gave him good luck because he never left the cave without it. A leather sling and a sack of small rocks hung at his waist.

Gash and Gore were equally equipped for a raid. The bloodborne goblins carried a hooked hand-axe in each hand and had small hardened leather plates haphazardly strapped to their vital areas.

Hob had adopted the smaller man-pig’s chain-mail shirt. It was slightly too big, but the way it hung about him somehow matched his personality. He leaned on a long spear which also seemed appropriate for the lanky goblin.

Rat stood behind Hob, trying to hide behind his skinny leg. Rope shook his head. "No, I need you digging Rat. I'm only taking the fighters."

The small goblin had Fatass's steel knife strapped to his back like a longsword. "If Hob goes, I goes." He sniveled, "I'll be real quiet, like a rat," He sniffed the air dramatically, "you won't even smell me." He pulled his leather hood over his head and hunched down low to the ground.

Rope knew it was a futile attempt to separate the two, so he just shrugged. "Alright, let's go." He grabbed his lassoed hemp rope and stood to lead his band into the morning light.

The party headed toward their forward camp. It was a small copse of trees below a broad hill. A long stretch of the main road ran along the spine, making it easy to count the wagons from shadowed safety before moving to where the road narrowed on either side of the ridge.

A wagon passed in the morning. Then another at midday. A third rolled across the ridge as the sun began to lower. "This one?" Gore asked with murder in his eyes.


"Why not?" The goblin's hand gripped his axe harder. "I didn't come out here to practice shitting in the woods."

Tricks answered the angry gob, the hood of his rich green cloak pulled low as he lounged against a tree, "we have too many fighters for one wagon. It would be a waste, and Rope needs to impress Dust. We're waiting for something big."

Gore relaxed, and his shoulders fell slightly, then his bulging eyes popped open fully, and he pointed to the ridge. Three wagons had crested the hill, then a fourth, then a fifth. The cavalcade stopped on the ridge, likely making camp for the night on the highest ground they could find.

The caravan had at least four armored guards, and most of the large party were men, but not all. The flutey voices of breeders danced down the hill, and the goblins tensed in excitement. They stood in the shadowed tree line at the bottom of the hill, fear and excitement gripping their beating hearts. Hob put a voice to what they were all thinking "There's no way, Ropey."

Rope and Tricks answered him in a uniform whisper, "There's always a way."

Rope made a plan, then Tricks made it better. The goblins rested but didn’t sleep, they waited through the night for the slightest hint of the rising sun. Rustling around the caravan wouldn't be as suspicious in the early hours, which would mean Rat was free to do what he did best; scurry.

The goblins timed the guards' patrol path to get to the long grass beside the road. Rat reported his findings to Rope "two guards sleep under the wagon, one man-pig awake with two breeders, one small, one very big."

Rope whispered back, "Hob and Rat take the sleeping guards. Gash and Gore, wait for my rope. He held the looped end of the rope Rat had placed in the guard's path at the front of the caravan. Rat pulled his blade and scampered away with Hob close behind.

Rope watched the guard as he rounded the front of the lead carriage. He carried a bow and was lightly armored compared to the rest of the guards and the carriage he circled was richly adorned and intricately carved. When his foot unknowingly came down in the lasso, Rope sprinted down the hill at full speed, looped end in hand. The guard heard the rustling and looked down the hill, his weight settling fully with one foot in the center of the rope.

The armored man gave an involuntary bark of pain as his foot was ripped out from under him. His head came down hard on the carriage wheel, knocking his unbuckled skull-cap to the dirt. He sat stupefied as two axe-wielding goblins walked up to him.

He shouted in surprise, "Gob-" Before a rock from Tricks' sling split his skull.

The caravan began to stir, and Rope heard steel being drawn. He crested the hill to see another dead guard under a wagon. Rat must have killed him before he awoke, but the other half-armored guard sprinted at Hob, sword drawn.

Hob braced his spear in the dirt, and a flash of steel glinted in the first rays of morning light. Rat's dagger protruded from the charging human's back, and he tumbled forward, his momentum skewering him on Hob’s braced spear.

The final guard was locked in combat with the two axe-wielding blood-ragers. They pressed him together. An unyielding onslaught of whirling axe heads pushed the guard to the edge of the road. The axes drummed against his heavy armor, and his sword arced out from his defensive stance. Both goblins lept back and stopped. The guard found his feet and took a heaving breath before two axes flew at him in unison, he deflected the first two with his sword and a heavy pauldron, but two more followed, whistling as they arched over the short distance. He fell to the dirt with an axe blade buried in his face.

Rope whistled loudly, and the goblins retreated down the grassy slope, back to their temporary camp.

There were shouts and cries as the caravaners tried to assess their attack. Men with swords circled the caravan shouting, and breeders began their wailing. The goblins licked the blood from their weapons and prepared for the caravan to move. The travelers were hastily loading the bodies of the fallen soldiers into their wagons, but rope only counted three. Had they not killed one?

Rope noticed a figure with long blonde hair and bronze skin emerge from the front carriage, kneeling by its wheel. The goblin couldn't see what the man-pigs were doing but gasped as beams of light pulled from the sky in three swirling strands that seemed to meet at the wagon.

Gash and gore looked at each other, and an uneasy fear sobered their bloodlust. "Sorcery," they said together.

"This doesn't change anything." Tricks said confidently, but for Rope, it changed everything. He was planning to give all the breeders to his gobs and the tribe, but a magic breeder was something he had to have for himself.  

"He's right," Rope said, "We stick to the plan." The goblins nodded and walked into the woods as the caravan began to roll forward.

Rope climbed into the canopy of the dense woods where the trees crowded the road. He positioned himself on a thick leafy branch directly above the wagon trail. He eventually heard the steady clopping of hooves, and the rhythmic rolling of wooden wheels before the image of the ornate carriage came into view.

He tilted his head in confusion. Next to the carriage was the guard Tricks had struck with a rock. He was limping at a steady pace with his bow in hand. His head was bloody, but the wound was gone. Rope almost missed his mark as his thoughts drifted in wonder.

The last wagon rolled underneath him, and just as it passed, he looped his lasso under the driver's chin before leaping from the other side of the thick branch. The man was slightly lifted from his seat as Rope slid down, balancing their weight. The horse stopped as the driver involuntarily pulled its reins taut. Gash and Gore quickly rushed into the back of the covered wagon. The screams of two breeders brought a devious smile to Rope's face; the plan might actually work.

The brothers pulled the loudest one from the wagon and through the dense woods to a small clearing. Rope heard the tearing of cloth and the screams of horror as they began their lewd ravaging. The other wagons of the caravan came to a stop as the commotion cut through the quiet morning air.

Rope dropped nimbly onto the driver's shoulders and dug his clawed middle fingers into the man's eyes. He cried out in a shrill yell that continued after Rope had jumped to the flank of the horse. He sunk his claws deep before leaping and rolling into the tall grass. The horse panicked, screamed, and charged forward, trying to squeeze beside the wagon in front, but there was no room. Wood splintered, the man shrieked, and the breeder in the woods screamed in desperate terror and pain.

The chubby man driving the next wagon leaped down with a short sword in hand. He stumbled, caught himself against a tree, then ran into the woods toward the cries for help. A small bush gently rustled behind him, and the backs of his calves were sliced with a steel dagger deep enough to maim the man. He fell to his knees and crawled dumbly through the trees, crying and moaning. Another rustle and the dagger glinted five times as it repeatedly plunged into the man's back. Rat pulled his hood tight against his face and vanished back into the underbrush, snickering in delight.

The blind man had fallen from his wagon. He groped for his sword before rasping it out of its sheath. He held it out with shaking hands, begging and pleading for his life. The cord was still around his neck. Rope came up behind him, savoring his pleas with a delighted grin. The goblin spooled the length of rope patiently behind the man before garroting him where he sat. Then gathered his coil and moved up to the next wagon.

A man had his two breeders out behind the wagon. One of them was small, like Dirt's new breeder. The other was incredibly large, like a giant mound of soft flesh with a head. The man and the large breeder knelt, huddled around the smaller, their foreheads all pressed together, whispering something. Rope stopped, watching the curious scene, wondering if this was some sorcerous ritual.

The man then kissed the small breeder's forehead, put one of his hands over her eyes, and slit her throat in one swift motion. Rope's eyes ignited in rage as the man moved behind the other breeder, knife in hand. Rope held out his hand screaming, willing the man-pig to die, and a spear punched into the man's chest, knocking him back into the wagon. Rope exhaled as the oversized breeder fell to the ground, moaning in sorrow over the small breeder. Rope knew exactly how she felt; what a waste.

Hob walked up and pulled his spear from the dying man, then put the sharp tip under the man's bearded jaw and shoved. "How many are left?" He asked as he wrenched his spear from the man's head.

"Should be two more drivers and..." he remembered the guard and yelled, "Tricks, archer!"

Rope walked up to giantess, and she looked up from her dying kin, her round cheeks shaking in rage. He stared down at her in stunned disbelief. He thought Fatass was fat; he had no idea breeders could get this big. "Wait till Hook sees you," he said, and an arrow whistled by his ear. He dropped low behind the huge sow and called out again, louder this time. "Tricks! The fucking archer!"

The breeder in the woods had stopped wailing. He hoped that meant the axes were on their way back. He couldn't stop marveling at the mass of flesh sobbing in front of him. She was like one giant breast.

"Look at the size of her Ropey!" Hob walked up to the big breeder and grabbed her cheek with one hand. "She could feed the whole-" Hob gasped and coughed, falling to his knees. The breeder had taken up the man's dagger and reached under Hob's chain shirt, stabbing him in the stomach, twisting the knife as her face morphed into a mask of rage and hate.

Rope didn't hesitate. He slammed his forehead into the breeder's face and took up Hob's spear, spinning it as he swung with all his strength. The blunt end of the haft crashed into the woman's nose with a dull crack. She fell unconscious, or dead, but at this point Rope didn't care. "No, Hob, no. What the fuck? You fat fuck!" He screamed at the breeder, then a twig snapped, and he looked up to see an arrow pointing at his face. The guard stood over him, bow drawn, and Rope mumbled, "Tricks…."

A rock slammed into the back of the man's head, and the arrow loosed, carving a chunk of flesh from Rope’s cheek. "Archer, I know..." Tricks said, coming around the wagon. He stood over the dead guard. "The fuck happened?"

"I don't know, Tricks! We fucked up, okay? Where the fuck is Rat? Rat!" He yelled, holding his face as blood seeped through his fingers. Hob's face began to pale as he clawed at Rope's arm. "Gods below, there's so much blood. It's okay, Rat's coming. Rat!" He screamed again.

"It's just Hob Rope. Who cares?" Tricks nudged the small breeder, who quietly gurgled a wet death rattle.

"I do, Tricks, he's a brother, and he was loyal to me." His eyes drifted to the dead guard and focused on the small scar where he had been struck less than an hour prior. He dropped Hob’s head and sprinted toward the front of the caravan.

"The fuck, Rope?" Tricks yelled after him.

Gash and Gore were pulling axes from the final two drivers, and Rope ripped open the carriage door. A young elf breeder with long golden hair sat in the carriage. She refused to look at Rope, she held her chin high and her hands were clasped tightly together. Rope ripped her from the cushioned seat onto the ground, and she fell hard with a feminine grunt. "Come on!" He tried to drag her, but she was stubborn and too heavy for him. "Gore, help me with this, Gash, bring me the breeder from the woods."

They dragged the elf breeder down the row of wagons and threw her at Hob. Rat was sniveling and sobbing over Hob, but Rope kicked him off. The elf made a loud cry and touched the chest of the small dead breeder. She looked around at the goblins in disbelief. Rope grabbed the elf by the face and pointed to the dying goblin. Then wrenched her face toward the dead soldier and pointed to the scar on his forehead.

The elf looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears of anger, then pulled her face from his grip. Gash brought the breeder from the woods and threw her to the ground. She was naked and filthy. Her eyes were wild, and her face was streaked with tears and dripping seed. The elf reached for her, but Rope caught her olive-skin hand and pushed it to the bloody wound in Hob's stomach.

He picked up the bloody dagger and walked to the naked breeder before putting the blade to her throat. His eyes blazed a crimson red. "Gore, bring me another breeder," he said, and Gore ran to the wagon behind them. Rope couldn't tell Dust he lost another gob, not today. He'd kill every last breeder if it meant saving the lanky fuck.

The elf didn't move. Gore dropped another breeder beside the first, and the elf looked from Rope to the kneeling figures. She shook her head, and her golden eyes were full of pain and fear. She said something as if trying to convince rope. Rope shook his head and sighed, "What a fucking waste." Every muscle in his hand and arm tensed as he leaned forward to carve open the sobbing breeder's throat.

A flash of golden light bathed them in sudden warmth. The sun reached its fingers down and caressed Hob's wound where the elf's hand pressed. The light lanced into him, and his eyes opened. He coughed blood and writhed in pain. "The fuck is happening?" Rope yelled, he had to shield his eyes, but he could hear Hob's cries of anguish. Then it was over. She wiped the blood from Hob's stomach, and there was only a jagged scar of pink flesh etched across his green stomach.

Hob made a choking sound and coughed up blood. Rope's mind was racing with possibilities. He looked at Tricks and knew he was coming to the same conclusion. "Are these all the breeders?" Rope asked gore.

Gore nodded, "Checked all the wagons," just these three and... this," he kicked the giant breeder in the head, and she moaned.

"We're giving these three to the tribe, he said, pointing at the human breeders."

"We claimed this one!" Gash and Gore both said, pointing to the breeder kneeling in front of Rope.

"If we give your breeder to the pens, you can have her seed hole whenever you want. If we keep the elf to ourselves, then she'll belong to us," he said, stroking the silky golden hair of the elf. The brothers looked at each other, smiling at the thought of breeding an elf, then nodded.

"Who's going to claim her then?" Asked Tricks

"We all are. Right now." His hand grabbed a fistful of her locks, and she sat up straight. "She'll belong only to us here." Rope licked the curve of her neck and behind her ear. He wanted to taste her before his gobs sweat all over her. "Our diggers can have her ass and her mouth, but we will breed her."

Rope looked into her golden eyes and kissed her on her dark lips, snaking his tongue into her mouth. Even though they would share her, he wanted her to know who really owned her. The goblins began closing on her, and Rope released her hair. He kicked her hard in the back, sending her sprawling atop the bloody Hob with a whimper, and the goblins pounced.

They tore her white robe from her lithe body, their claws making short work of the silken fabric. The two kneeling breeders sobbed hysterically as they watched the goblins descend on the elf's naked flesh.

Rat was already behind her, slurping at her holes as he spread her small tan cheeks. Hob was beneath her. She had unintentionally straddled him when she fell, and he grabbed the small of her back. He was thrusting his cock in a wild frenzy, trying to impale her warmth.

Rat grabbed his flailing cock and guided it to her wet elven cunt. As it slipped inot her soft opening, she gasped a quick moan of pain but then grit her teeth and tried again to hold her chin high, but Gash and Gore were waiting, their cocks bobbing in her face.

They each grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled in different directions, trying to steer her mouth toward their own crotch. They shoved their large cocks against her sealed mouth. Then the other would pull her head to their cock, ripping strands of silken hair from her head. She let out a sharp exhale of pain again and then opened her mouth and accepted the closer cock, gagging at the taste.

Rat's long tongue coiled around the base of Hob's cock as he happily licked the trail of blood from the deep thrusting shaft. Then he plunged the long slimy tendril deep into her tight asshole as she squealed through a mouthful of goblin meat.

The giant breeder lay in a heap, facedown by the wagon. Tricks had begun an uneasy climb to the height of her; a massive squishy rump taller than a goblin. He tore open the back of her dress, and it fell away, revealing rolls of meaty flesh upon rolls of meaty flesh. The little goblin hugged her giant mound and began slowly humping the long crack of her ass.

Rope heard a gasp for breath as the elf's mouth was pulled from one cock and shoved onto another. The blood-ragers were in a frenzy now. Gore shoved his cock savagely into the squelching throat of the elf, then Gash wrenched her neck back to his cock, loudly throat fucking the elf for as long as his brother would allow.

Rat had hopped up on the elf's pretty ass and was trying to balance on the rocking body of the breeder, but he was bucked forward and then over-corrected and fell off the back. He climbed up again and quickly sunk his small cock into her ass, sprawling his little body atop her cheeks. He hugged her hips with his arms and began pumping with the offbeat rhythm of her jostling body.

The wet stuffing of the elf's holes and the incessant sobbing of the other two breeders made Rope's cock hard. He walked up to the elf's ass. She was still straddling Hob, and Rope watched as the two cocks stretched her virgin holes. It gave him an idea. He pulled his loincloth aside and dripped spit into his hand, rubbing it around the tip of his cock. He pushed his cock-head against Hob’s thrusting shaft, trying to squeeze into her. She squealed and moaned, trying to shake free of them, but Hob held her hips down against his, and Rope helped Rat stay atop her with a hand on the little gob's thrusting ass.

Rope lined up his cock again and shoved hard, her taint stretched, and her muffled squeal turned to a loud wail as the brothers switched cocks, then her pussy snapped over his cockhead. Her ass shook violently, in pleasure or pain, he didn't know but her muffled sob made him think the latter. He could feel Hob's cock sliding against the bottom of his shaft as they shared the hole. He could also feel Rats thrusting cock rubbing against him through her anal membranes, and he stayed still for a while, enjoying the cock massage from his brothers. He pushed deeper, and the massaging intensified. He could feel all three cocks pounding her holes in unison and imagined the breeder going from an unbred noble to a cock stuffed whore in the span of a morning. He felt Hobs seed fill the space between their cocks, but the gob didn't stop fucking the crying elf.

Her slippery cunt could be heard clearly now as they alternated their thrusts, both cocks pounding her tight pussy. Rat's breathing was heavy, and the rhythm of his thrusting was increasing. Rope pulled out of her cunt and grabbed Rat's cock, removing it from her ass. He positioned it where he had just been, and rats desperate thrusts shoved it into her. "We all have to seed her Rat," he reminded the goblin.

Rats taint pulsed, and more runny cum ran from her double stuffed cunt. Rope shoved Rat back into her ass before scooping errant seed with his cock and forced his own cock into the same hole as Rat's still pulsing meat. Her mouth must have been between cocks because her scream sent birds scattering through the woods as he entered her already full ass. Her puckered hole was harder to get into, but Rope loved the way it held his cock tight against Rat's.

He closed his eyes and thrust hard into her, holding Rat atop her while he listened to her quiet whimpering grunts. He pumped her for a long time and could feel his group get into a rhythm. She rocked forward toward the brothers, then Rope pulled her back onto his cock while Hob’s upward thrusting made her gently rise and fall. He alternated sharing her ass and cunt and delighted in the new technique.

He breathed deep, and his shoulders relaxed. Breaking in a new breeder after the stress of the past few days was just what Rope needed. They lost themselves in the act for a long time. The sounds of sobbing, slurping, and squelching were like a soothing song for the goblins. Rope was getting close to finishing when Hob pulled out of her after his third seeding. The lanky goblin scooted himself up under her chest, and Rope heard the loud sucking of nipples.

He pulled out of her ass, and his cock easily slid into her seed-dripping hole. He let out a low moan and moved his hips in a circle, slowly exploring her tight cunt now that he had it all to himself. A new stream of Rat's seed dripped down onto his shaft, and he used it to slime his cock. He pushed in deep, then grabbed her hips and fucked her hard enough to knock rat from atop her. He shoved his thumb in her sticky asshole and pounded her wet cunt until he finished, then pounded her harder until he finished again.

The insides of her thighs were an intricate web of sticky white strands that slowly dripped down her legs. Rope leaned over her tan ass and kissed her cheeks. "It's all yours, gobs, he said to the two brothers, who had finally figured out they could both fuck her mouth at the same time. One scrambled below her, shoving Hob out of the way while the other mounted atop her.

Rope sat in front of her with his legs spread wide. He leaned back on his hands and locked eyes with the exhausted ef. His cock drooped at half-mast, and it dripped the last few drops of his last load. Her front half was supported on her elbows and her knees straddled Gore, who was preparing to enter her. Rope took a deep breath and watched her face with a relaxed smile. She was no fatass, but her elven features were exotic. Dark skin, golden hair, high cheekbones, she was an incredible catch, even to be shared.

Her eyes darted away from his like a scared animal, and Rope couldn't help but smile wider. Her face was a mess of tears, snot, vomit, and seed. At least one of the gobs had impregnated her mouth, and a stubborn strand clung to her chin.

Her eyes widened in pain as one or both of the brothers found their holes. The brothers were known for their large warty cocks, and they weren't known for being gentle. Her body jostled violently with their rough ravaging, and her head bounced with the heavy impacts. Her mouth hung open now, and her long wails of pain were only interrupted by desperate gasping inhales between sobs.

This is what Rope wanted to watch, her proud face twisted in sorrow, pain, and despair. Her forehead and back glistened with sweat. The brothers sank their claws into her hips and ass, causing tiny drops of blood to trickle down the outside of her thighs. He could tell by the alternating slaps of swinging balls that they weren't holding back.

Tricks walked up beside her and grabbed her golden hair, shoving his cock in her open, screaming mouth. "I swear there's only one way to shut a breeder up." He said as her drool swung from his balls.

"How was the giant?" Dust asked, picking an old piece of meat from his teeth.

"Her cheeks are too big to get to her seed hole, so I filled her ass. Maybe if we rolled her on her back, we could breed her, but it will take all of us." The elf puked into an already established pool of bile. Tricks pulled her head up and forced her to suck her own vomit off his cock. 

Rope gestured to the fat breeder as she came back to consciousness. "Finally, a breeder worthy of Hook," Rope said, and they both laughed. She was holding the hand of the small dead breeder stroking her head and whispering.

"I think Dust will want her." Tricks said, taking a deep breath of pleasure as the elf slurped on his cock through a trembling inhale.


"Ever been in his hole?"

"Not since I was gobling."

"He's got special sows he doesn't breed. He calls 'em tits. Their only job is to feed his litters, who pretty much suck them dry. Then when they have nothing left to give, he breeds them. They don't survive to birth, but sometimes they pop out a single gobling."

"Just one?"

Tricks was trying to teach the elf how to lick his balls, but she wasn't understanding; she just moaned and cried as he pressed his scrotum against her face. "By that point," he continued, "the breeders have stopped eating, the gobs have to eat their brothers in the womb to survive. That's why Rat's so small."

Rope watched Tricks struggle to train the stupid elf. "No, not like that, you can't just hold them in front of her mouth," he said, coming to his feet. Rope grabbed his own balls and rubbed them from her nose to her chin. "Here, like this. Then squeeze her cheeks until she- mmm." The breeder stuck the tip of her tongue out, and Rope dragged his balls across it. "There ya go," he said, giving her head back to Trick's "Rat's dustborne?" he asked casually.

"Thanks, oh yeah, that's good," Tricks said as the breeder began actively licking his balls. "Yeah, but he's also titborne," he said with a grin and they both roared in laughter at the made-up title.

Rope moved to the other breeders. The naked one was now being used by Hob and Rat. Her fair skin glistened in the sunlight as she panted like a bitch. He looked her over, and then the other. They looked similar. Both had reddish-brown hair and shapely bodies. They were no Fatass, but the tribe would be happy. He walked up to the clothed one and ripped the front of her dress. Large breasts fell free, and he nodded in approval. They were larger and rounder than the naked breeder's, and he looked at the well-endowed breeder curiously.

She was trying to cover herself, but he made eye contact with her, then looked at the elf pointedly. She was currently being bred, ass fucked, and ball trained all at the same time, then he looked back at the breeder, and she slowly lowered her arms. He gave a hideous, jagged-toothed smile of approval before taking the tip of her breast in his mouth. He sucked, and milk immediately flowed from her. He tore the rest of her dress away and saw that she was already carrying something in her bulging womb.

"There's milk here, Tricks!" He yelled, swallowing a mouthful of the sweet cream.

The pregnant breeder looked up to the sky and whispered a quiet prayer, which Rope interrupted with a hard slap across the face. He'd seen enough magic for one day.

Tricks pulled his cock from the elf's mouth, and she coughed and sputtered. He ran to the pregnant breeder and clambered up onto her pregnant belly. She cradled him awkwardly like a large child, and he sucked at her tit joyously, overfilling his mouth with warm milk.

"Don't forget to breed the elf." Rope said, shaking his head. He walked to the back of each wagon, checking the contents. One had a decent amount of food. The next one was full of long narrow boxes. Rope climbed into the wagon and pried the lid with a metal bar. His eyes glittered, and he opened another. The boxes contained fine elven weaponry, bows, knives, and shortswords, detailed with golden filigree. He pulled a small dagger from its ornate sheath, and the perfectly balanced blade glinted in the light. He sheathed the dagger and strapped the weapon horizontally to his lower back.

He checked the next wagon and found a small apothecary worth of herbs, powders, and potions. The last wagon had bolts and reams of cloth. He didn't know why but he thought of Fatass. He imagined her on a great bed of silken blankets and pillows, she beckoned to him, and he suddenly thought of her alone in a dark, cold pit of goblin waste.

He jogged from the wagon back to the group. The elf lay sprawled in the grass, her face in a pool of her own seed vomit. Gore was standing over her, pissing on her head. She stared off into the woods, not reacting to the stream that splattered her hair and ran over her face. Her ass and cunt still oozed fresh seed. Gash was sucking milk from the tit not occupied by Tricks, and Hob and Rat were still busy seeding the other breeder.

"It's time to go! Gash and Gore, load as much of the cloth as you can into the wagon with all the boxes. Rat and Hob, get the food from the broken wagon and put it with all the potions. Tricks, seed the elf and stuff her in the carriage with the other breeders. We're taking the carriage and the first two wagons home. Kill the horses we don't need."

They were moving before midday and arrived home well before nightfall. Rope led the group into the entry cave. Gore carried a box of weapons, Gash held a box of food, and the four breeders stumbled after them.

Rope whispered down to Rat, "Gather the diggers in the pens. Wait for us there." The small goblin nodded and scurried into the darkness.

Dust approached the group as they entered the dingy cavern, silently assessing the breeders. He stopped briefly at the elf and then again at the hulking breeder. "Claimed?"

"This one, chief." Dust said, pulling the elf from the lineup by her hair.

"By who?"

"By me and my fighters, chief. These two are for the tribe, and this one," Rope said, pulling the huge breeder forward. "Is for you. Careful though, she already-" Tricks nudged him with an elbow. "She tried to attack."

Dust grabbed her nipple, pulling the overfed sow to her knees with one hand. He grabbed a heavy breast and inspected it. He sucked it, then dropped it with a loud slap. "She had suckled before, and she will suckle again. I accept the gift of one breeder from Rope and his warriors.” Rope bowed his head, he hoped it was enough to regain favor. “The tribe accepts the gift of two breeders; you will gain favor from them, but it will not clear your debt to me. You still owe the tribe six goblings." Rope nodded. "Now, what is this?" He gestured with a hand at the boxes, and his ivory bracelets rattled.

"Elven weaponry, lots of it. Fabrics, food, and an entire wagon full of potions… and powders."

Dust's eyes narrowed in curiosity. "How many wagons did you attack Rope?"

"Five at once. Two were damaged in the chase."


"Four." Rope said.

The old goblin put his face inches from Rope’s and whispered, “I’m not dead yet, son, and you don’t yet carry the favor to kill me. Had you lost another brother, I would have put you down, but you didn't.” His voice raised, and he addressed the group. “If you want to follow Rope, you will share his debt. With your gift accepted, the debt has been reduced to five goblings."

Rope said nothing. He had never heard of a debt being reduced. He knew he had pleased his chief greatly, and his chest swelled with pride. With the acknowledgement of Rope’s warriors, he knew he was one step closer to becoming chief, but he didn’t care about that. All he cared about was his breeder.

"I'll send brothers to gather the haul, go tend to your breeder," he leaned closer to Rope and whispered, "if she hasn't died in that pit." the edge of his mouth curled slightly for one moment before his face returned to the gravestone that was his usual countenance.

Rope nodded with the shit-eating grin of a child who's been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. "Yes, Chief." He turned and led his men to the pens.

When they arrived, his diggers were assembled, eyes glowing red in the darkness. He looked around and noticed the blue glow of the far wall had extinguished. “Gobs, meet our newest breeder, ass and mouth unless told otherwise." The elf looked around the cavern, her own eyes radiating a golden glow with her darksight. Then her eyes settled on the lone, pregnant breeder in the corner, and her face broke into tears again. The goblins threw the two new breeders into the pen, and they scrambled against a wall, hugging each other for comfort.

"Let's get our breeder." Rope walked to the edge of the pit, hoping she was still alive. They looked down into the gloom and huddled in mud; they saw Fatass's shapely form clinging to a small root. Rope tossed his namesake down to her and felt her weight against the other end. All the goblins pulled, trying to keep their footing in the slime of the pens. Slowly but surely, they raised her from the muck and over the ledge of the tainted pit.

She panted quietly as she lay in the dim light. Rope walked up to her, running his fingers through her shit-laden hair, and looked down at her. Her white teeth showed in the darkness. He dropped his lasso over her head and tightened it snuggly around her neck, pulling her to her knees. Her head drooped in exhaustion, and she rested her hands against the floor. "Let's get you a bath," he said, and led her out of the pens.