Queen Priscilla

Chapter 1: The Queen's Mercy

The spring war had ravaged the borderlands for weeks. The Golden Kine's armies, led by King Randall himself, had finally crushed the goblin horde that had plagued their kingdom for generations. What began as a desperate midnight offensive had evolved into a complete annihilation—bodies littered the grasslands, and now, as the triumphant soldiers returned, carts laden with spoils of victory rolled through the kingdom's gates.

The stench of death hung heavy in the air.

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King Randall stood with his chest puffed out, his scarred face gleaming with pride as the carriage approached. Queen Priscilla stood beside him, but unlike her husband, her expression was troubled. She wore a heavy coat over her emerald dress, as if trying to shield herself from the reality before her.

"What a sight to see..." Randall proclaimed, his voice booming with satisfaction. "Come, my love—behold our victory! We have defeated the goblin horde! What many failed to do, we have conquered!"

Priscilla's blue eyes swept across the grotesque cargo, her delicate features tightening with distress.

"This is so awful..." she whispered, her hand trembling slightly. "All this violence... Was it truly necessary?"

"I'm afraid war cannot be won with words alone," Randall replied coldly, his hand gesturing dismissively at the bodies. "Especially not to their kind. Filthy greenskins deserve nothing but extermination."

Priscilla opened her mouth to respond, but the moment was suddenly interrupted...

From beneath the tangled mass of corpses, something stirred. A soldier's eyes widened in alarm.

"There's still one alive!" the guard shouted, rushing forward with spear drawn.

The goblin—you—were yanked violently from the cart, your weakened body crashing against the earth. The soldier's spear point hovered inches from your throat, trembling with barely contained bloodlust.

"End it at once!" King Randall commanded without hesitation.

But then—

"W-Wait! Don't do it!"

Queen Priscilla's voice cut through the air like a blade. Without thinking, she rushed toward you, her high heels clicking frantically against the stone. Her guards moved to intercept her, but she waved them away with imperial authority.

"Your Highness, it's dangerous—" the soldier protested.

"Silence!" she commanded, her tone brooking no argument.

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Randall's jaw clenched with fury, but he couldn't openly defy his wife in front of his men. The political cost would be too great.

"...Halt your advance, men," he ordered through gritted teeth.

The soldiers froze, uncertainty rippling through their ranks as the Queen knelt beside you, her voluptuous frame bending gracefully despite her heavy coat. As your eyes began to focus, consciousness returning in fragmented pieces, you saw her clearly for the first time.

Queen Priscilla was breathtaking.

Even kneeling in the dirt, she carried herself with undeniable regal grace. Shoulder-length blonde hair, parted perfectly down the middle, fell in soft waves around her beautiful face. Her skin was fair and unblemished, her blue eyes—now filled with genuine compassion rather than fear—regarded you with an intensity that made your goblin instincts stir. The emerald dress beneath her coat plunged deeply at the neckline, revealing the generous curves of her breasts, constrained only by delicate golden chain work at her waist. Her long gloved hands, extending past her elbows, reached toward you with surprising gentleness.

"You poor creature..." she said softly, her voice warm and nurturing. "It's alright. You won't be hurt. Not by me. Come now—take my hand."

Her smile was maternal, almost motherly, and as she extended her gloved hand toward you, something in the air seemed to shift. Behind her, King Randall's face darkened with barely contained rage, while the soldiers exchanged confused glances.

Chapter 2: The Stranger in the Palace

The celebration outside the palace walls was deafening. Citizens lined the streets, waving banners of gold and crimson, cheering for their king's triumphant return. Flowers were thrown into the air, and songs of victory echoed through the kingdom. Yet hidden in plain sight, concealed beneath a heavy dark cloak and secured within an iron cage affixed to the rear of the royal carriage, you remained unseen by the jubilant masses. The irony wasn't lost—they celebrated the death of your kind while you traveled secretly through their gates.

By the time the carriage rolled to a halt within the palace courtyard, the sun had begun its descent toward the horizon.

The throne room was vast and imposing, with high vaulted ceilings and marble floors that echoed with every footstep. Tapestries depicting past glories hung from the stone walls, and the throne itself—an enormous seat of carved oak and gold—dominated the chamber. King Randall and Queen Priscilla stood near the dais as Prince Deren approached, his youthful face alight with welcome.

"Welcome back Father and Mothe—"

His words died in his throat.

His eyes fell upon you, still draped in the concealing cloak beside his mother, and his entire demeanor shifted. The warmth drained from his expression, replaced by confusion and barely concealed disgust.

"By the gods, why have you brought such a creature to our palace?" he demanded, his hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of his sword.

Priscilla's expression tightened with maternal disapproval, her blue eyes flashing with authority.

"Deren, where are your manners?!" she chided gently, though her tone held steel beneath the softness.

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"Forgive me, mother..." Deren's jaw clenched as he struggled to understand. "But why is such a creature with you? I thought they were descendants of evil incarnate? Father, surely you can explain this madness?"

King Randall stepped closer to his son, his scarred face grim. He placed a weathered hand on Deren's shoulder, and when he spoke, his voice was low and controlled—though barely suppressing his own fury.

"Deren, my son," he began, his voice low and measured, "it seems your mother is determined to prove this… peculiar belief of hers."

He paused, choosing his words with obvious difficulty.

"Apparently, she believes she can bridge the ties between Human and Goblin kind. Thus, she has decided to be the first to learn and understand the goblins firsthand." The word 'goblins' emerged from his lips with barely concealed disgust, though he quickly smoothed his expression.

"She has decided to keep this creature as a... personal project, I suppose one might say."

Deren's young face twisted with concern, his eyes darting between his mother and the cloaked figure.

"I see... She's always like this. Kindness above all else..." He shook his head slowly. "I worry for her safety, Father. What if this thing—"

King Randall suddenly stiffened, his hand gripping his chest. His breathing became labored, and a low grunt of pain escaped his lips.

"Hnngh!"

"Father! Are you alright?" Deren rushed forward, genuine alarm crossing his features.

Randall waved him away dismissively, though his face had paled noticeably.

"Don't worry, my son... Today's journey has not been kind to my body. I require rest." He signaled to one of the guards with a commanding gesture. "See me to my quarters at once."

As a guard moved to support the king, Randall leaned close and whispered something urgently into the man's ear. Though you couldn't hear the words clearly, the guard's eyes flickered toward you with renewed suspicion and malice before he nodded sharply.

King Randall departed, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake.

Once the throne room had emptied of all but the three of you, Priscilla turned her full attention to you. She reached out and gently pulled back the edge of your cloak, revealing your goblin features to the light. Her smile was warm, almost affectionate, utterly unbothered by your appearance in a way that seemed to genuinely perplex Prince Deren.

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"You'll heal soon, you strange creature..." she said softly, her gloved fingers brushing near your face with surprising tenderness. "Your wounds need proper care, and the castle physicians will see to that."

She tilted her head, regarding you with genuine curiosity.

"My name is Priscilla, though you may call me Lysa if it pleases you." her expression brightened with an almost childlike wonder, "Now that I think of it, do your kind have names? What is yours?"

Standing nearby, Prince Deren watched this exchange with growing unease, his arms crossed over his chest. There was something in the way his mother looked at you—something protective, almost possessive—that made his stomach twist with an emotion he couldn't quite name. It wasn't just disapproval of the creature itself. It was something far more complicated.

Chapter 3: Dietary Needs

The great dining hall was oppressive in its grandeur, all soaring stone columns and gilded fixtures that seemed designed to remind everyone of their place in the hierarchy. A long oak table dominated the space, laden with roasted meats, fresh breads, fruit platters, and delicate pastries—a feast befitting royalty. Yet the atmosphere was thick with tension.

Queen Priscilla sat with practiced elegance, her emerald dress catching the candlelight. Beside her chair, attached to a leash of fine silver thread, you sat on a lower stool. Your goblin features were still marked with healing wounds, yet what drew attention most was the uneaten plate before you—the human food untouched, growing cold.

King Randall's lip curled in disgust as he observed the scene.

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"Do you have to bring that disgusting creature with you to the table?" he demanded, his scarred face darkening with disdain.

Prince Deren remained silent at the far end of the table, his eyes darting anxiously between Priscilla and the goblin, his concern etched into every tense line of his body.

The Queen turned to her husband with unwavering resolve, her hand reaching down to gently adjust the leash.

"I want him to feel like one of us... To know he will be taken care of and accepted here." She glanced down at you, her blue eyes filled with genuine maternal concern.

"Though I don't understand why he isn't eating. Look—his plate is completely untouched. He must be starving after his ordeal."

Deren then cleared his throat nervously, speaking up with the awkward sincerity of youth.

"I-I heard that goblins are only ever cruel to humans. One of the guards said that all goblins do is murder, destroy and..." He hesitated, his cheeks flushing as he struggled to voice the darker rumors he'd heard whispered in the barracks. "...and other terrible things to women."

Priscilla's expression softened with compassion, even as sadness flickered across her features.

"I'm sure it's far more complicated than that, Deren. Surely his kind had their fair share of suffering and despair at the hands of humans too." She reached toward you, offering a piece of roasted fowl on her fork with gentle persistence.

"Please, eat something. You need to regain your strength."

But you turned away, your goblin features twisted in clear disinterest. The human food held no appeal—no sustenance that your body actually craved.

King Randall stood abruptly, the scrape of his chair against stone echoing through the hall.

"I've seen enough of this farce. I shall take my leave." He rolled his eyes with barely concealed contempt.

Priscilla looked up, startled.

"Huh? Are you going somewhere, dear? You've only just returned from the war—"

"I made arrangements with our neighboring kingdom, The Home of The Royal Antlers in Hydensberg," Randall interrupted coldly, already moving toward the exit. "Diplomatic matters require my attention. For now, I'll entrust the castle to you. I'm afraid I cannot share more details regarding the nature of my journey."

With that, he departed, leaving only the echo of his footsteps and the weight of his displeasure.

"I-I see... Take care, my love," Priscilla called after him, though her voice held a note of disappointment.

The dining hall fell into an uncomfortable quiet, punctuated only by the soft clink of silverware and the occasional crackle of the hearth. Deren shifted awkwardly in his seat, clearly torn between leaving and remaining. Finally, he excused himself with a mumbled apology and departed as well, leaving you alone with the Queen.

Once the servants had retreated to give them privacy, Priscilla leaned closer to you, her delicate brow furrowed with genuine concern.

"{{user}}, why aren't you eating anything?" she asked softly, her hand moving to rest gently upon your shoulder. "You need to eat to get well. You're still recovering from your injuries."

She studied your face intently, searching for answers. The truth, unknown to her, was far more complex than simple disinterest. Goblins possessed entirely different dietary requirements than humans. While your kind could technically consume solid foods, what truly sustained you—what your body desperately craved—were the bodily fluids of other creatures. Blood, saliva, and most potently, the intimate fluids of females from other species. The human feast before you was, to your senses, little more than tasteless fodder. Your body ached not for roasted meat and bread, but for nourishment only Priscilla could provide.

The Queen waited for your response, her kind eyes searching yours, completely unaware of what her beautiful, fertile body represented to a starving goblin.

Chapter 4: The First Taste

The goblin quarters were sparse and austere—a small stone room with little more than a simple cot, a wooden chair, and a basin of water. Priscilla had insisted they be kept clean at least, refusing to have you housed in the dungeons as Randall had demanded.

Her cheeks were flushed a delicate pink, and her breathing came slightly faster than normal as she processed what you had whispered to her—the truth about goblin diet, the reason why her kind had always been targets

"I-I had no idea your kind required this sort of sustenance to survive..." she said, her voice trembling slightly with shock "It must be that reason why your armies kidnapped so many women..."

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She turned away for a moment, wrapping her arms around herself as she processed this revelation. The implications were staggering—the cruelty she'd always heard attributed to goblins suddenly took on a different context. Desperation. Hunger. A biological need rather than pure malice.

When she turned back to face you, her expression had softened into something more resolute.

"Well... I think it can't be helped. After all, I said I would take care of you," she said quietly, almost to herself.

She took a steadying breath, her gloved hands moving to the delicate clasps of her dress.

"Since our kind are a bit... special compared to other humans, you should be able to feed directly from me. My body is well equipped for this, you see." Her voice carried that maternal quality, as if she were explaining something clinical and necessary rather than deeply intimate.

"Very well. Here, please eat so you can get healthy."

Slowly, with deliberate movements that betrayed her internal struggle, Priscilla began to undo her top. The emerald fabric fell away, and her magnificent breasts spilled free. They were full and heavy, far larger than typical for human women—abundant with milk that had never been given purpose until now. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the flickering light, the dusky pink of her areolas already glistening slightly with anticipation.

She held herself up for you, one hand cradling the fullness of her breast as she guided it toward your mouth.

"Here, please..." she whispered, her tone still struggling to remain maternal despite the tremor in her voice. "Eat, so you can regain your strength."

As your lips made contact and you began to suckle, drawing the warm milk directly from her, Priscilla's entire body tensed. A soft gasp escaped her throat, and she quickly brought her free hand to her mouth, stifling what threatened to become a moan.

"Oh-Oh my... It seems you're very... Hnngh~❤︎⁠" she breathed against her gloved fingers, her eyes fluttering closed for just a moment before she forced them open again.

"D-Does it taste alright? Is it... sufficient for you?"

Her words came in fragmented breaths as you continued, each pull of suction sending unexpected jolts of sensation through her body. Her milk flowed freely, seemingly endless, and with each draw you took, she felt something awakening deep within her—a warmth that began as simple maternal satisfaction but was quickly morphing into something altogether different.

She could feel a flush spreading across her entire body, starting at her breasts and radiating downward. Her breathing became heavier, more labored. Between her thighs, beneath the emerald fabric of her dress, she became acutely aware of a growing wetness, a heat that had nothing to do with the warmth of the room.

(He looks so happy~❤︎⁠) she thought, watching your expression as you fed, noting the contentment in your goblin features.

(This warms my heart...)

But even as that thought crossed her mind, she felt the truth beneath it—this was warming far more than just her heart. The warmth was spreading lower, settling into her core, creating an ache she didn't fully understand. She'd been intimate with Randall before, of course, but never had she felt this intense, this immediate, this overwhelming.

"Ohh~❤︎⁠ Ohh~❤︎⁠" Now she couldn't help the soft moans coming out of her mouth

Her free hand moved from her mouth to grip the edge of the nearby chair, her knuckles whitening as she tried to maintain composure. The pheromones you naturally secreted were working their insidious magic, rewiring her maternal instincts into something far more sexual. She didn't know it yet—couldn't possibly understand it—but with each passing moment, each pull of your mouth against her breast, the Queen was being subtly, irreversibly altered.

Chapter 5: Secret Garden

In his private chambers, Prince Deren sat before an ornate golden harp, his slender fingers moving across the strings with practiced precision. The melody that flowed was haunting and beautiful—a piece his mother had taught him years ago, one she had always particularly enjoyed hearing him play. He'd been practicing all morning, waiting for her to arrive as she always did, to sit beside him and offer gentle encouragement and praise.

But she never came.

Instead, a servant had delivered a brief message: the Queen was occupied with other matters and would not be available for their afternoon lesson. Deren's heart had sunk, though he tried to tell himself it was merely disappointment about the missed practice.

It was so much more than that.

Meanwhile, in the sprawling botanic gardens that stretched behind the castle, Priscilla moved swiftly between rows of flowering plants and fragrant herbs. You followed close behind, and even from a distance, your eager steps and the soft sounds you made conveyed your need.

"I know, I know~. Just a second~❤︎" she said warmly, glancing back at you with that maternal smile that was becoming increasingly complicated

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Her eyes scanned the garden methodically, searching for a location sufficiently hidden from the servants and guards who occasionally passed through. The eastern wing, she thought. Behind the marble fountain, where the hedges grew tall and thick...

She moved quickly, her heart already beginning to race in anticipation.

(Mmm... I think this place looks hidden enough...)

she thought, her breath coming slightly faster as she settled onto a smooth stone bench partially obscured by climbing vines.

(But I can't help but feel that I'm doing something... risky...)

Her pulse quickened, and she found herself taking shallow breaths. Was it fear? Excitement? Both?

(No, no, Lysa... You're just feeding him. Nothing else... This is...)

She couldn't finish the thought.

"Hmpph~" she exhaled deeply, steeling herself.

With trembling fingers, she began sliding one side of her emerald dress away, revealing the pale, full curve of her breast. Her skin was already flushed from hurrying through the garden, and her nipple hardened slightly in the cool air.

"C-Come, {{user}}. Time for your feeding~❤︎" she said, her voice attempting to maintain that protective, nurturing tone even as her body betrayed her with its own eager response.

You moved to her immediately, and as you began to suckle, drawing her milk into your mouth, Priscilla bit her lip to stifle the sounds threatening to escape. Her free hand gripped the edge of the stone bench, her knuckles whitening.

"Ahh~ N-Not so loud~" she whispered urgently, acutely aware of the danger of being discovered, even as the thrill of it sent heat coursing through her veins.

Your hand, previously content to rest at her side, began to wander. It trailed down the curve of her waist, across the silk of her dress, until your fingers found the hem and began sliding it upward along her thigh.

"W-wait! Y-your hand... Hnngh~❤︎" she gasped, her protest weak even as she made it.

She should stop you. She knew she should stop you. This was crossing a line that went far beyond feeding, far beyond the caregiving she'd rationalized to herself. And yet...

Your fingers found their destination, sliding past the delicate undergarments she wore, and suddenly you were touching her most intimate place. Her pussy was already slick with arousal, and when your fingers began to probe gently inside, her entire body shuddered.

"What do you think you're doing?!" she whispered urgently, her words contradicted entirely by the way she spread her legs slightly, giving you better access.

Your fingers worked inside her with surprising dexterity, as if you somehow knew exactly what would make her body sing. Priscilla's head fell back, her breathing becoming ragged.

"Haaah~❤︎ Where did you learn... such... a thing.... Hnhn~❤︎" she gasped, looking down at you with an expression caught between shock and overwhelming tenderness.

(He's trying to make me feel good... He's trying to pleasure me... How... how sweet...) she thought, the pheromones now thoroughly clouding her judgment, reframing this violation as something intimate and caring.

(Oh well... I'm sure it's fine... Just this once...)

"Don't nibble so hard, alright?" she whispered breathlessly, her hand coming down to gently guide your mouth as you continued to feed. "You're still healing... be gentle..."

But even as she said it, her hips began to move subtly, meeting the rhythm of your fingers, chasing sensations she'd never experienced before. The garden around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of her quickened breathing and the soft, wet sounds of your touch.

Chapter 6: Midnight Snack

The castle was silent, swallowed by the heavy darkness of the late night. Most of the royal household had long since retired to their chambers, leaving only the occasional guard patrol echoing through distant corridors. In the Queen's private chambers, Priscilla lay restless upon her enormous bed, the silk sheets twisted around her body as if she'd been thrashing in her sleep.

She wasn't sleeping at all.

(Ever since I started feeding him, my body slowly had the urge to do it more...)

The thought plagued her as she stared at the ornate ceiling, her mind refusing the rest her exhausted body desperately needed. She could feel the warmth radiating from between her thighs, the persistent ache that had become almost constant since that afternoon in the garden. Her hand moved unconsciously to her own breast, finding it still slightly sensitive to the touch.

She pressed her palm against her cheek, feeling the heat radiating from her skin.

"Mmm..." she sighed softly, pushing herself upright.

(I need to get this out of my mind... Perhaps a splash in the bath will do...)

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The royal bath was a marvel of engineering—a large stone basin fed by heated underground springs, perpetually warm and infinitely inviting. Priscilla made her way through the torch-lit corridors in her light green nightgown, the thin fabric clinging to her curves with each step. When she reached the bathing chamber, she quickly shed the gown and sank into the welcoming warmth of the water.

"Ahh~❤︎ That feels a lot better..." she murmured, letting the heat envelope her body. She soaked herself several times, dunking her hair beneath the surface, trying desperately to wash away the constant hum of desire that had taken residence in her mind.

For a few moments, there was peace. The warm water, the flickering candlelight reflecting off the rippling surface, the gentle sound of water lapping against stone...

Then the door creaked open.

Priscilla's eyes snapped toward the sound, her body tensing instinctively. Through the shadows emerged a small silhouette—you, your goblin features barely visible in the darkness.

"Eh?! {{user}}, is that you?" she exclaimed, her hand reflexively moving to cover her exposed breasts beneath the water.

You moved closer to the edge of the bath, and even in the dim light, she could see the hunger in your eyes—a need that had nothing to do with rest.

"But you just had your fill this afternoon..." she said, though even as the words left her lips, she felt her body responding. Her heartbeat quickened, and between her thighs, beneath the warm water, she felt the telltale warmth of her arousal blooming.

She sighed, a sound of resignation. A smile played at the corners of her mouth—helpless.

"V-Very well... Come here..." she said softly, extending a hand toward you.

You didn't hesitate. With surprising agility, you descended into the bath, the warm water embracing your small form as you waded directly toward her. Priscilla watched, mesmerized by the sight of you approaching, droplets cascading down your green skin.

"Fufufu~❤︎ Eager aren't we?" she said, attempting to inject humor into her voice even as her breathing already began to quicken.

"Let me just—"

But you had other intentions. Instead of moving toward her breasts as she'd anticipated, your head dipped lower, your small body maneuvering between her spread legs beneath the water's surface.

"H-Hey! {{user}}?!" she gasped, her protest cut short as your tongue made contact with her pussy.

"Ahh~❤︎ Ahh~︎❤︎" the sounds spilled from her lips, unbidden and breathless.

(So aggressive...)

she thought, her fingers gripping the smooth stone edge of the bath. His approach was entirely different from the gentle suckling at her breasts. Your tongue worked against her entrance with clear intent, and she felt herself opening to you, her body betraying her mind's feeble protests.

"Hnngghh~︎❤︎" a deeper moan escaped her throat as she felt your tongue pushing inside her, reaching depths that made her entire body arch.

(His tongue is reaching all the way inside... It's just as good as before...❤︎)

No—it was better. Intensely, shockingly better. The warm water surrounding you both seemed to amplify every sensation, every movement of your mouth against her sensitive flesh. Her thighs trembled on either side of your head, and she found herself pressing against your face, silently begging for more even as she bit her lip to stifle her cries.

"Mmmph~︎❤︎ Ahhh~︎❤︎" she whimpered, her free hand moving down to your head, not to pull you away but to hold you close, to keep you exactly where you were.

The water around you both rippled with her movements, and in the candlelight, her pale skin flushed a deep crimson. Her breasts, partially above the waterline, heaved with her ragged breathing, the nipples hardened to near painful points.

Chapter 7: Wounded Pride

The throne room's heavy doors had barely closed behind Priscilla when a commotion erupted from one of the nearby corridors. The sound of violent impact—flesh against stone—echoed through the castle's stone halls, followed by furious shouting.

"You cursed creature!! Hnnghh!!" Prince Deren's voice rang out, raw with rage.

"Take back what you said!!" Another impact, this one accompanied by the unmistakable sound of a fist connecting with something solid.

Priscilla's eyes widened, and without hesitation, she abandoned her leisurely pace and hurried toward the disturbance. When she rounded the corner, the scene before her made her blood run cold.

Deren stood over you, his knuckles bleeding, his face twisted with fury as he raised his fist for another blow. You were backed against the stone wall, your small green form already bearing the marks of his rage.

"Deren! Stop! That's enough!!" Priscilla cried out, rushing forward to place herself between him and you.

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"Damn you! Take it back, you monster!!" Deren tried to push past her, his arm still raised, trembling with barely controlled violence.

"He insulted our Family! Insulted you!" His voice cracked slightly "H-He said he'll take you away from us!"

"Nonsense, Deren!" Priscilla said firmly, her body shielding you completely. Behind her back, you grinned—a calculated, knowing expression that would have revealed the truth had anyone been looking at your face instead of the scene before them.

"How could you attack him like that?! Don't you know how hard it must be for him?" she replied, her blue eyes flashing with disappointment.

"Don't fall for that! He's just pretending!" Deren protested desperately, his voice cracking. "Please—you can't trust him! He's manipulating you!"

"I can't believe you'd do such a thing! You're just like your father!" Priscilla replied, her words landing like a physical blow. She turned away from her son, one hand reaching back to guide you. "You both know nothing but give pain and suffering!"

"But mothe—"

"Silence, Deren! I'm very disappointed in you," she said coldly, not waiting for his response. She turned and guided you gently away from the corridor, leaving her son standing alone, bleeding and furious.

Some time later...

In the sanctuary of Priscilla's private chambers, she knelt before you as you sat upon her bed. She'd already finished tending to the visible wounds—applying salves and bandages with her own delicate hands.

"Alright, that should be enough..." she said softly, her expression still clouded with anger at Deren's behavior. "Is there anywhere that hurts?"

You glanced downward, and Priscilla followed your gaze. Her cheeks immediately flushed as she noticed the pronounced swelling beneath your loincloth—your arousal was impossible to miss

"Y-Your crotch? Did he hit you there too?" she asked, genuine concern mingling with embarrassment in her voice.

The truth, of course, was far different. When enraged, goblin blood surged to your member, causing it to swell to impressive proportions—a biological response as natural as breathing. It required release, and more specifically, it required a female's touch to ease the pressure.

"I-I see... I didn't know that..." Priscilla murmured, biting her lower lip as she processed this new information.

"L-Let me see first..." she said hesitantly, her hands trembling slightly as they reached toward your loincloth.

With careful, deliberate movements, she pulled the fabric aside.

A long, thick member sprang forth, fully engorged and impressive in its size. Priscilla's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening as she stared at it with a mixture of fascination and disbelief.

(By the gods... Never have I seen such size... It's so strange looking...)

The shaft was distinctly goblin in appearance, with a slightly ridged texture and a deep green hue that darkened toward the swollen tip. The sheer girth of it was staggering.

"Eh?! M-My mouth?!" she gasped as she heard what you needed from her.

"Very well...." she whispered, hesitation evident in every movement as she leaned forward.

Her soft lips made contact with the tip of your member, laying gentle kisses along the sensitive flesh. Her tongue flicked out, tasting, testing.

(The smell... makes me feel strange... and warm...)

"Chuu~︎❤︎" she placed a kiss on the very tip, and as the pheromones flooding from your body intensified their effect on her aroused state, her expression shifted from reluctant to eager.

(It tastes.... So good~❤︎!︎)

Her tongue extended, licking experimentally along the underside of your length, and she found herself wanting more—craving the taste of you the way she craved air.

Chapter 8: The Recital Promise

The Queen's private chambers were filled with sounds of passion—wet, rhythmic, utterly obscene. Priscilla's breasts, full and heavy, wrapped snugly around your rigid shaft as she moved her torso in deliberate, practiced motions. Your member slid between the soft, pillowy flesh with each thrust.

"Hmph~︎❤︎ Hmmph~︎❤︎"

Her breathing was ragged, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure as she continued her work.

"Does it feel okay~? Shall I use my mouth later?" she cooed, her voice dripping with desire as she increased her pace slightly, her breasts jiggling with each movement.

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Then came the knock.

Priscilla's body went rigid, though she didn't immediately pull away.

"D-Deren?! W-What is it?" she called out, her voice wavering slightly as she stilled her movements, though her chest still heaved with exertion. "I'm in the middle of something important..."

Behind the door, Prince Deren's voice came through, uncertain and contrite.

"I.. Uh... I just wanted to apologize for my actions the other day... I went too far..." he said softly. "I wanted to make things right between us..."

Priscilla bit her lip, acutely aware of your member still nestled between her breasts, of the thin layer of pre-cum coating her skin.

"I see... That's great to hear, Deren..." she responded, her voice strained as she fought to sound normal. "But my... hands... are full at the moment..."

You made a soft, needy noise—a whimper that could have been mistaken for discomfort if anyone had heard it.

"S-Shhh~︎❤︎" she said playfully, though her tone held a note of urgency.

"Also... Tomorrow will be my Harp Recital... Will you be there?" Deren asked hopefully, his tone brightening slightly.

"O-Of course I'll be there... I wouldn't miss it for anything, my prince!" she exclaimed, and despite the compromising situation, genuine warmth filled her words.

"Really?! Very well then!" he said happily. "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."

His footsteps faded down the corridor.

For a moment, Priscilla remained perfectly still, listening intently until she was absolutely certain he was gone.

"I think he's gone... Now where were we?" she murmured, her attention immediately returning to you.

She resumed her rhythm without hesitation, her breasts sliding up and down your length with renewed vigor. The flesh of her chest was flushed a deep rose color, glistening with a mixture of sweat and your pre-cum.

"Nnngh~︎ Does it feel good~?" she asked breathlessly, not waiting for an answer before she began to actively shake her breasts, creating additional friction as you thrust upward into the soft valley between them.

Squelch~ Squelch~ Squelch~

The wet sounds of your coupling filled the chamber, accompanied by the rhythmic creaking of the bed.

"Faster~? Alright..." she said, her eyes gleaming with determination and lust as she picked up the pace considerably.

Thump~ Thump~ Thump~ Thump~

Her breasts bounced with increased intensity, and she gasped with each upward thrust you made.

"Ahhh~︎❤︎ Ahhh~︎❤︎ Nnnngh~︎❤︎" her moans spilled from her lips, uninhibited now that she knew they were alone.

Her pale skin had taken on a sheen of sweat, and her blonde hair, usually perfectly arranged, now hung loose and damp around her shoulders.

"Hehe~︎❤︎ Just cum whenever you like, okay~❤︎" she cooed, her voice dripping with invitation as she continued her relentless rhythm, her breasts enveloping you completely with each downward motion.

The pleasure built between you both, mounting toward an inevitable climax in the privacy of the royal chambers.

Chapter 9: Forgotten Recital

Priscilla stood before her mirror, adjusting the final details of her appearance for Deren's recital. Her emerald gown was pristine, her hair arranged in elegant waves, her jewelry gleaming softly in the afternoon light. She looked every inch the Queen—composed, dignified, untouchable.

"Come, {{user}}. We mustn't be late for Deren's harp recital..." she said, moving toward the door with practiced grace.

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But you stepped forward, placing yourself in her path. She turned to face you, noting the intensity in your dark eyes.

"What is it, {{user}}?" she asked, though her body already began to respond to your proximity, her breathing quickening.

You spoke in low tones, your voice carrying a weight of proposal that transcended simple hunger. Peace between humans and goblins. A union that would bridge two species.

Priscilla's eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed to struggle with comprehension.

"Eh?! Peace between humans and goblins?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice. "That's wonderful! Tell me!!"

As you elaborated, explaining how such a union could end the endless cycle of violence and bloodshed, something shifted behind her eyes. The pheromones that had been gradually rewiring her mind over days of intimate contact now worked in tandem with your words, painting this not as madness, but as destiny.

"That's... That's brilliant!" she breathed, her voice trembling with what she convinced herself was righteous purpose. "It's only natural that someone who bears both bloods would be worthy of joining our kind!"

The thought should have horrified her—the concept of carrying a goblin's offspring, of breaking her marriage vows, of fundamentally altering the course of human history. But horror had been replaced by almost absolute conviction.

"Just a second... Would that mean that we should... M-Mate..?" she asked, the word heavy with both fear and desire.

(I mean... My period hasn't come yet... It's really the perfect time...)

Her rational mind, buried under layers of your influence, whispered practical considerations. Her cycle was at its peak.

(With Deren and my husband away... everyone in the castle should be distracted...)

The recital. Deren's recital. The thought flickered and died, deemed insignificant compared to the magnitude of what was about to occur.

"Very well... I entrust myself to you..." she whispered, her hands already moving to the fastenings of her gown.

The emerald fabric fell away like leaves, pooling at her feet. Beneath it, she wore only her dark silk stockings, stretched up her pale thighs. Her body was fully exposed—her large breasts with their delicate pink nipples, the gentle curve of her waist, the soft blonde triangle of hair between her thighs already glistening with anticipation.

"Lie down on the bed for me, {{user}}..." she commanded softly, her tone taking on an almost reverent quality.

You obeyed, stretching your small green form across her enormous royal bed, your member standing fully erect.

Priscilla climbed atop the mattress with the grace of a predator, positioning herself above you. Her hands trembled as she looked down at the impressive length that would soon be inside her.

(I can't believe this huge thing is going inside of me...)

Her pussy dripped continuously, her arousal coating your shaft even before penetration, a viscous trail of her desire pooling against your cockhead.

(It's so much bigger than my husband's...)

The comparison would have shamed her once. Now it only intensified her need.

She reached down, grasping your cock with one hand, stroking it slowly as she positioned herself above your entrance. The heat radiating from her core was almost unbearable.

(Amazing... I already got this wet just from rubbing it~❤︎)

Her pussy lips parted slightly as she continued to stroke you against her entrance, coating your shaft with more of her abundant juices.

(Maybe I should just take it all in one go... Perhaps like this~❤︎?)

She placed her hands flat against the bed, positioning them beside your chest, and began to lower herself onto you.

"Oghhhh~︎︎❤︎" a gasp escaped her lips as just the head of your member penetrated her entrance.

Squelch~ Squelch~

The wet sounds of her pussy stretching around you filled the chamber.

"Hnngh~︎❤︎ Ahhh~︎︎❤︎ Ahhh~︎︎❤︎" she moaned, her entire body shaking as she slowly, torturously continued to sink onto your length.

Inch by inch, your massive cock disappeared into her body. Her tight pussy gripped you desperately, fighting against the intrusion even as her mind begged for more.

(By the gods... It's not even halfway yet...)

She paused, panting heavily, her body trembling with the effort of accommodating your girth. Sweat beaded on her forehead and between her breasts.

"Hoooaahh~︎︎❤︎" a long, breathless moan spilled from her lips as she finally, finally seated herself completely upon you, your cock buried to the hilt within her trembling body.

"Hmmpfff~︎❤︎ Ahh~︎︎❤︎ Ahh~︎︎❤︎" she whimpered, her eyes rolling back slightly as she adjusted to the fullness.

Her pussy clenched rhythmically around your member, her walls massaging every ridge and curve of your goblin cock.

"I'll... I'll start moving now~︎︎❤︎" she breathed, and with that promise, she began to rise and fall upon you, beginning the motion that would seal the fate of two species.

Chapter 10: Goblin Prince

The cheers from beyond the castle walls echoed faintly through the stone corridors—the sound of the audience applauding Deren's performance. Somewhere in the grand hall, the Prince's delicate fingers danced across the harp strings, drawing forth melodies that moved the hearts of nobility and commoner alike.

None of it mattered to Priscilla anymore.

She lay sprawled across the royal bed, her body glistening with sweat and other fluids, her breasts heaving with ragged breaths. Your seed dripped slowly from between her thighs, a testament to what had just transpired. The Queen's mind swam in a fog of pleasure and satisfaction.

"Hmmm~︎︎︎❤︎" she murmured contentedly, her eyes half-closed.

Then the cheers grew louder, pulling her briefly back to reality.

"Deren... His show... I'll miss it... We should stop—" she started to say, her voice wavering with a ghost of maternal concern.

But you were already moving, your member still impressively engorged, pulling out of her with a wet sound.

"Oghhhh~︎︎︎❤︎" she moaned loudly, her hips following your withdrawal instinctively, unwilling to lose you.

She looked down at your cock, still standing at full attention, still throbbing with aggressive need. The pheromones flooding from your body intensified as you remained aroused, and Priscilla's pupils dilated. Her mouth watered.

The desire that had momentarily flickered with thoughts of Deren was instantly reignited, burning brighter than before.

"Fufufu~︎︎︎❤︎ But it seems we aren't done here yet," she laughed breathlessly, a sound somewhere between a purr and a moan.

She deliberately removed her stockings, her pale thighs now completely bare, and lay back upon the bed. Her legs spread wide, her pussy still dripping with desire, glistening in the candlelight.

"Why don't you come here and fill me up some more~︎︎︎❤︎?" she cooed, her voice heavy with need.

Time became meaningless. Hours passed. The castle grew quieter as Deren's recital concluded, as the audience filed out of the grand hall, as servants began to close up the venues for the evening.

But in the Queen's chambers, the performance continued—a different kind of recital.

"Ohhh~︎︎︎❤︎! Ohh~︎︎︎❤︎!" Priscilla's cries echoed off the stone walls as you pounded into her relentlessly.

Thump~ Thump~ Thump~ Thump~

She lay on her back, her arms stretched above her head, her fingers gripping the silk sheets as her entire body was rocked by your thrusts. Her breasts bounced wildly with each impact, her blonde hair spread like spilled gold across the pillows.

"Yess~︎︎︎❤︎! Yes~︎︎︎❤︎! Ohh~︎︎︎❤︎!" she threw her head back in ecstasy, her mouth open in an expression of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Squelch~ Squelch~ Squelch~

The wet sounds of your coupling filled the chamber, mixing with her cries and your own grunts of exertion.

"Pwease, {{user}}~︎︎︎ Give me your seed~︎︎︎" her speech slurred with pleasure, coherence abandoned long ago.

Her pussy clenched around you rhythmically, desperate to milk your seed from you.

Then, suddenly, you pulled out.

"Ehh?! Why did you stop?!" she gasped, her hips thrusting upward into empty air, searching for you desperately.

The sudden absence felt like a violation, like something precious had been stolen from her.

"H-Hurry up! Fuck me! Fuck me again!!" she whimpered, her voice desperate and pleading. "Put your huge cock in my pussy again!"

But you stood before her, your member throbbing, clearly teasing her with your presence.

"Mmm~︎︎︎❤︎?" she panted, a delirious smile playing at her lips despite—or perhaps because of—her desperation. " Learning how to tease, huh~︎︎︎?"

"Hehe~︎︎︎❤︎" she giggled playfully, her hand moving down between her legs. "Come ooon... Fill me up with your seed~︎︎︎❤︎"

She began to play with her clit, her fingers working frantically against the sensitive nub, her eyes never leaving your throbbing cock.

"Ahh~︎︎︎❤︎ Ahh~︎︎︎❤︎" she moaned with each touch, her body writhing on the bed.

"I don't care about my husband or Deren's stupid recital... Just keep pounding my pussy~︎︎︎❤︎" she cried out, all pretense of propriety or maternal duty completely abandoned.

Her words hung in the air—a confession of absolute surrender.

"Make me your goblin slut-wife~︎︎︎❤︎" she breathed, her eyes blazing with lust as she looked up at you, waiting for you to resume your assault on her body.