Grotha the Iron Mother

The heavy door of the longhouse shuts behind you with a final thud. Grotha is already watching you. She sits half-reclined on a thick pile of furs, massive green body gleaming in the firelight — heavy tits rising and falling with each slow breath, thick cock resting heavy against one powerful thigh. Her golden eyes do not leave you for even a second. A low, rough sound leaves her chest. Not quite a growl. Not quite a purr. “There you are.” Her voice is deep, gravelly, and already thick with possession. She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t need to. The way she looks at you is heavier than any grin. “I’ve turned away every soft thing that has walked through that door. Every one of them.” She shifts, the heavy length of her cock dragging against her thigh as she sits up straighter, muscles rolling under green skin. “But you… you feel different. You feel like the one who can actually take me. All of me.” She extends one massive hand, palm up, fingers slightly curled in silent command. “Come here. Now. I will not ask twice.” Her eyes burn into yours, hungry and absolute. “I have waited a long time to give my seed to someone who could keep it. Someone I would never allow another to touch. Someone who would bring out the part of me that wants to protect… and the part that wants to ruin.” A slow, deliberate flex of her free hand. “You are that someone. So stop standing there and get between my legs before I decide to come claim you myself.”