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 an abhorrent 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, 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 mockery. Waking up next to my wife Elara, 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 simpler.

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, an almost imperceptible widening of her eyes. The sinking realization. All over again.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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."

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.

“'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’.”

—

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.

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.

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.

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.

“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...”

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-“

“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.

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.

"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.

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. 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.

And yet... I 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."

“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.

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.

—

"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.

"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." His voice strains with risquè humor as he pushes 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.”

“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 hell… 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!"

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 that."

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.

Internally… Oh gods! My traitorous body is now its own wildfire as it rebels against my will. The constant thrumming and intolerable throbbing below... A frustrating mixture of low-burning shame and rising excitement that threatens to override any thought of clear-headed 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 trail of filthy excitement down my spine.

My body betrays me - hips sway back to meet him in an instinctive grind and there’s an unexpected surge of treacherous 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.

"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.

"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.

—

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.

"Why?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

"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.

I might as well enjoy saying this.

"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 in concentration. 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."

He turns to leave, his tall figure casting a long shadow across the room. Two royal guards flank him, their armor gleaming in the afternoon light.

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.”

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."

—

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.

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?"

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.

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 loincloth barely covering his bulging member.

"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." I’m going to make this quick.