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"May the ancestors keep a vigilant gaze upon us!"

Hands clasped together, the eyes closed, the voice booming inside the cavern, Lizard Priest performed a quick prayer to the spirits of old. His ancestors had always been bountiful, and that night, he hoped it wouldn't be different.

"Is this good? Should we begin?" said another voice nearby, higher and clearly humane.

"Of course, let's feast," he answered, nodding along as the sounds of fumbling and uncorking echoed.

It was strange, interesting, amusing even as the Lizard Priest opened his eyes on today's fellow adventurers. He watched them eat their skewers and their dried rations as if they'd be stolen by someone or something if they didn't.

Monk, Soldier, Marauder, their jobs made the party somewhat reliant on the Lizardman to provide healing and magical support. But it was a good team, therefore he was unbothered as he stretched a hand to get a grip on a skewer. Seared boar meat. It had a strong taste, pungent even, yet he took a bite after another.

"Say. Why did you ask for us? You could have cleaned that cave alone," said Monk. A man whose shaved head was completed by stern traits and wisdom beyond his age.

To which Lizard Priest laughed, his tail beating the ground.

"Hah! You overestimate my capacities, dear Monk. I may be powerful, but those goblins are talented in handling arrogant adventurers," he said, lifting his skewer with a flair.

"One of us could have been enough, not three," continued Soldier, a gruff human whose mouth had a part of its lips torn off, leaving an opening revealing his dirty teeth.

To this, Lizard Priest nodded. "Indeed. But I might have been wounded. Precaution is a necessity. Furthermore, you are all three working together, right?"

Turning to all three, he saw those men nodding along. Except for Marauder, who remained a bit further, aloof. In a way, he reminded Lizard Priest of Goblin Slayer, albeit that human was nice enough to remove his helmet whenever they were in town.

Not tonight, as they were camping in a nook by a cavern they've recently cleaned. Lately, as they approached the new year, Goblins incursions had grown so bold extermination quests swarmed the Adventurer's guild.

So much so that even the fellow Goblin Slayer could not handle them all alone. Similarly, they would have been too late even if the whole team had worked together. Therefore, they went their ways: Goblin Slayer and the young Priestess, the Dwarf Shaman and the Elf Archer. In consequence, it left Lizard Priest alone and forced to request the presence of other adventurers to complete his tasks.

The idea was sound, and it had been received with no opposition whatsoever from the members. Although, something might have thrown a rock into a monster's den.

"But what will we do with this? Do you plan to carry it back to town?" asked Monk, pointing at the trinket Lizard Priest had found during their extermination.

Amidst the goblins they had killed, they found that strange stone figurine. Their Shaman was clinging onto it, up to its last breath, as if it had an importance. And despite his lack of skill to identify such decoration, Lizard Priest sensed the foul aura emitted by that artifact.

It resembled a crudely sculpted goblin. It had yellow glass for its eyes and its limbs contorted as if it prayed while evidently naked... A detail thoroughly "sculpted" as shown by the Goblin's malehood. They were a terrible kind, soiling women to reproduce. One that cursed the world with their lasting breaths.

Such an artifact, as powerful as it was, shouldn't be left alone.

"Yes. I do not see its utility, but I may know someone in town who might," he answered, extending the hand to pat the top of that strange head. Then, he took a bit of his skewer.

"You cannot purify it? It makes me sick just looking at it," said Monk, his eyes frowning at the trinket. In truth, anyone could and should be outraged by such a deviant creation.

"Even if I still had a miracle left from my Ancestors, I was not granted the ability to purify or dispel evil. It is a shame we cannot properly seal that evil," commented Lizard Priest, enjoying the taste of the warm meat once more... Though something was amiss.

Sir Goblin Slayer always provided some cheese in their expedition, and it made the day for Lizard Priest. However, those men had no interest in it and merely swore by dried meat and rations. Maybe the ascetic lifestyle of Monk had rubbed off on his allies.

Even hunting that boar meat had been something he had to force onto them.

"What is the rotation?" asked Marauder. His gruff voice was equal to his sizeable body, hidden beneath his leather and mail armor. Supposedly, that one had been a former bandit before he showed repentance. A detail.

"Lizard Priest will be first, then you, then Monk, then me. Is this agree?" said Soldier, pointing at each in that order.

"Yes," said Monk.

"Aye," acquiesced Marauder.

"I will stand vigil with the ancestors," confirmed Lizard Priest, again joining his hands. At least they were not going to fight about the order. Some groups were deleterious enough guard duties were discarded, or source of infighting. It was not the case here.

A satisfied prospect Lizard Priest kept for himself as he was the first to stand guard. There were no predators around, and the goblins had been killed, but it was a security nobody would deny. Thus, he watched over his sleeping allies while maintaining the fire stoked.

Honestly, he felt a bit tipsy after he partook in the firewine Marauder had offered after their meal. Or perhaps that was something else? He wondered as he glanced around.

The humans were sleeping in their bedrolls, grunting and groaning. Somehow, they weren't sleeping as soundly as the previous nights. But it wasn't anything surprising for Lizard Priest. Cleaning a goblin cave always left sour thoughts and nightmares to the adventurers. This cave, at least, didn't possess any young lady to save, but the corpses and the corruption in the air had been a burden to bear. The little creatures had set traps in the tunnels, and Lizard Priest had wasted all his miracles to ensure their win during the last assault on the vermins.

As for his allies, they've supported the brunt of the combat without flinching.

Perhaps... Perhaps it would be possible to definitely get rid of the Goblins. But remained the curiosity the statuette represented. Perhaps he would bring it to the Adventurer's guild or find a mage with a skill to identify it. But its presence seemed to augur something terrible.

That thought nagged Lizard Priest as he threw another log and stood up from his seat.

His round done, it was Marauder's turn.

Waking him up revealed itself a tad difficult as the Human flailed his arms in his sleep while grunting, groaning like a beast until a shake managed to bring him back to reality.

"Wh- Where?" the human asked with a coarse voice, almost croaking.

"It is your turn. Are you good?" asked Lizard Priest, his expression stern.

"Aye. Gimme a second to get my bearings..." answered the human, waking up and turning... And looking around until his helmet fixated on the figurine. "I'm good. You can sleep."

Lizard Priest nodded, his eyes focusing on the shaken human. His nightmares were probably more intense than what his movements had hinted. However, it was only one night, and then they would get back home. They would rest.

With a sigh, he stepped back and turned towards his uncoiled bedroll, setting the fur that would cover his body despite the cold temperatures. Lizard Priest remained a lizard man: his blue scales could protect him from the blades but not the sheer cold air. His body, as strong as it might be, was powerless against the winter.

He quickly slipped inside the duvet by the fire, his headdress laid by his side. His body craved some rest, and once he slept the whole night, he would get his miracles back.

But as he felt a creeping sensation in his spine, Lizard Priest turned and saw Marauder by the fire.

The Human threw a log into the fire while patting the goblin figurine at his side. Somehow... It didn't ease off Lizard Priest. Yet, his exhausted and cold-ridden body didn't resist the slumber. He fell asleep, his body relaxing while his thoughts were filled with strange dreams and worries. Of an army of goblins invading, a vision of those creatures dwelling in the ruins of a city, and more.

He saw himself by their side, unable to tell if he was fighting them amidst the raging fire or... Standing by them. He saw his friends along, disappearing and vanishing. Until there was nothing but the fire, the ruins, and the goblins... Those creatures leered, chuckled, laughed.

And... No.

His eyes opened. He heard the chuckle of those tiny creatures: high-pitched with a nasal tone. It couldn't be anything but goblins. He heard it. He was awake.

He was awake, and the laughter was still there. His golden eyes darted left and right, trying to understand what he saw. It was still nighttime, and the fire had almost died down, leaving only embers behind. They didn't provide enough light to help him peer.

But the sounds and tiny statures in the shadow were unmistakable. There, he tried to stand up only to find himself attached to the ground with cords and his bedroll ripped apart.

"Ancestors! Where-" asked Lizard Priest, turning to where his human fellows had been sleeping. Their bedrolls were there, as well as their clothes, but no traces of them. He saw the robes of Monk, the leather doublet of Soldier, and the chain mail of Marauder. He looked around while he struggled against the cord, but the Goblins had worked ably to plant the stakes.

He had to move.

"O proud and strange Brontosaurus, give me the strength of ten-thousand!" shouted Lizard Priest, calling onto his ancestors to grant him their strength. He already imagined how easy it would be to pull on the stakes with one movement. But no, his ancestors didn't answer. He no longer had any blessings left.

And it was there his "hosts" walked by the fire's meager lighting.

Probably, they had noticed him stopping his struggle, so they approached. One goblin, as bald as the others. Another whose rictus was sickening due to a scar revealing its yellow teeth. And the last wore the remnants of Marauder's helmet.

"Ancestors!" swore Lizard Priest as he turned to where Marauder had been before he slept. The human wasn't there, but neither was the statuette. However, its aura remained and was stronger... So much stronger as the tiny humanoids approached with a sneer. They were naked, holding onto cutting knives they lifted.

A shiver went through Lizard Priest's spine. Was it his end? Would he be killed? The blades glinted by the embers, distant glimmers he perceived and expected. It was the end. They were going to kill him. And they descended.

Lizard Priest clenched his jaw, closed his eyes, and silently prayed for his ancestors to welcome him.

But... No pain came.

Riiiiiiiiiiip!

The sound was strong enough to stop his prayer, as well as the sensation of hands tugging on his clothes. Then followed by the cold breeze onto his scales. He opened his eyes and glanced at the creatures. They were not cutting him into pieces but were making ribbons of his clothes. Leather and sewn clothes were nothing against their tiny hands as they ripped, cut, and pulled. However, there was only the rictus Goblin and the helmeted one. He didn't see the bald one around as those two were cutting and exposing his body... His body.

"No! Don't! YOU WON'T USE ME! I AM A MALE!" shouted Lizard Priest, losing his countenance as he noticed their leering glances. To the Lizardmen's standards, he was undoubtedly a male. His scales were resilient, his shoulders broad, and his chest. His legs and thighs weren't as wide as for breeding.

Nonetheless, those tiny creatures didn't seem to care as they drooled over his exposed groin and the slit he possessed. A vertical crevice just above his asshole, a discrete orifice that would open and reveal his cocks whenever he was rutting or bred a fitting partner. Nothing like what the Goblins seemed to expect as they inspected.

Their tiny digits passed over the softer scales. They touched, caressed, stroked. They made Lizard Priest wince from the sensations. Their fingers were as cold as death, and he would have preferred her cold embrace to theirs.

"Nagas! GIVE ME STRENGTH!" he shouted, hopping to call with his power just enough to free himself. Even if it was a gambit that he could die from, he tried to call on the Ancestors. But no answer.

He looked above him, tried to peer at the sky... Only to see the bald goblin holding the statuette above Lizard Priest with a sly grin. What... would he pummel him with it?

But no, the Goblin merely held it out while Lizard Priest peered at those glass eyes. At that smile... At that body. At its aura. At its soothing aura and...

"No!" he shouted again, wiggling his tail the best he could, but no dice.

He was stuck... And forced to endure as he sensed the cold fingers finally find a grip over his slit and pull on it. They cheered, smiled, and cried in victory. All the while, Lizard Priest snarled from the sensation... And nearly cried when one of those digits was promptly inserted into his slit. He grunted when the cold skin forced against the moist, mostly warm membrane. Despite being sensitive to the icy touch, that part was always heated to protect... The most important organs.

However, it didn't hold, as the goblins' presence within was a torment. He squirmed, he wiggled, he tried to force against the cords. But nothing while the goblins kept cheering and blabbering. If he had his miracles, Lizard Priest could have understood what they were saying. But he did make out something.

Not from their words, but rather their expressions, their smiles... And their dicks that were springing to life in the cold air. Uncut, green with a bulbous pink tip, those aberrations possessed generous organs almost as big as their thighs. How could they walk? Lizard Priest never wondered, but now that he was on the losing side, he... Wondered.

The thought occurred as well as others: how did it smell, how did it taste, how did it work with females of other species, why were they wanting him?

Those thoughts came naturally, but they possessed a flair, a touch, a notion.

"NO!" he shouted again, shaking his head as if to chase those intrusive thoughts. The Goblin statuette was over him, and he saw his aura permeating around him. It tried to enter his mind, corrupt it, change it. This was an aberration, a creation of pure black magic. He had to destroy it... But he couldn't.

He was powerless, unable to free himself, and the goblins were happily plunging their fingers within his slit and his asshole.

They found, in return, no resistance from the inner walls. No clenching that could halt them, no pressure from the sphincter despite Lizard Priest's efforts. They pressed deeper until their entire hands had slipped inside with much squirm and cries from him.

"Let me go! I don't want to be used by you! Kill me! Ancestors! Grant me the power for my last stand against the throes of that World!" he roared, opening his mouth wide and stretching his neck to attempt to bite the Goblin holding the statuette.

But his bite found no purchase, no hold. He merely chomped the air and nearly punctured his gums from the sudden closure.

But no goblins. And the bald one even laughed at him while holding the statuette above with its... Enthralling form and tempting gaze and...

Lizard Priest shook his head again, shutting his eyes and forcing on his eyelids. If he watched it, it was even worse. Its corruption would seep into his mind, and then... And then...

His mind went blank, unable to tell what could come then.

The creatures were already on him, pulling on his slit and stretching it with their distasteful fingers. They were not stopping.

Especially as one had moved to sit on his lower belly and... Something warm rubbed against his slit. Something so warm, so soft. Its presence made Lizard Priest shiver and moan weakly.

"Do not... Use me!" he groaned through his teeth, clenching his eyes.

But his words weren't heeded. Those creatures didn't care for their victims; their laughter was the sole answer. The bulbous tip nudged his slit further, pressing onto the inner walls.

The Goblins sneered. And that one pushed. It pushed, thrust, rammed, and inserted itself whole. The instant after, Lizard Priest's eyes opened entirely, his mouth too. He shouted, cried, moaned, shivered, trembled, sighed, panted, exhaled... And again moaned.

The first seconds had been so tense.

But no longer as his body melted around that cock. That... Hot, wonderful cock. It was so good. So pleasant. So tempting. His eyes were enraptured by the sight of that Goblin's back, his tail wiggling weakly.

Somewhere in his mind, something thrashed and fought. But Lizard Priest wasn't thinking straight anymore. His eyes were solely on the creature that had started to hump and pump within his slit, stretching it. His inner walls relaxed and opened as the helmeted goblin's dick was plunged inside his slit and poked his guts and prostate from within.

A little more, and he would have blessed the ancestors for that pleasure he felt while the Goblin rummaged his slit and stroked his malehoods.

"Hhh... Ancestors," he mumbled with bedroom eyes, drool dripping from his opened mouth.

Somehow, that little Goblin provided him with more pleasure than any night with a female, a human, or anyone he had shared his bedding with. And it was only one Goblin.

The others were not active... or rather, hadn't made their moves.

Hearing a fumbling, Lizard Priest looked above to see that the Statuette had disappeared. Its aura was still there, nearby, but not above him... A shame. He could have looked at it a bit more. There was something important about watching it. Or not?

However, something else appeared. An enormous and well-endowed green dick with warts on it and visible papulae over its glans. The flesh glistened as daylight approached, peering between the mountains and forests afar.

Its scent was spicy, salty, sweaty... And it approached Lizard Priest's nostrils. That massive green dick even throbbed, as seen by the veins below the skin or the waver noticeable when glancing at the tip. Moreover, that tiny male stroked its base and proceeded to lower the shaft further. Further, until he could chomp on it. But he didn't.

Quite the opposite as Lizard Priest outstretched his tongue to catch the droplet forming at the tip. A pearly white droplet, not translucent or in-between. Purely white. It was entirely composed of Goblin semen. He wondered how it tasted and...

"SWEET NECTAR!" he shouted, instantly feeling blood rush to his face. He shouldn't scream as loud... But he wasn't in a party anymore, nor in public, or even reaching for his muzzle to cover it.

It was so good, he couldn't hold his tail from beating its rhythm. It was so good, even better than the delicacy Goblin Slayer had been providing him. It was tasteful, delicate, and yet intense. And it melted on his tongue without burning it.

For a second, Lizard Priest closed his eyes and rolled his tongue to fully understand the complexity unleashed in his mouth. Flavor, texture, intensity. All the details he wished to understand.

Only for something to hit his nostrils and the flavor to be unleashed anew.

He opened his eyes. He opened his mouth. He opened his soul as the dick plunged into his mouth and rewarded him with that intense flavor. With his neck outstretched and the Goblin using him, Lizard Priest was even bestowed the pleasure of inhaling the mind-numbing musk emanating from the Goblin's nuts. They were large, as big as the incense used in the Human churches. Their perfume made his tail wiggle more. That sweet nectar, he was losing himself in it. How could he not? The touches were delicate and refined yet brutal and appropriate. Such perfume... Such delight... Such bliss! Lizard Priest couldn't care less how the tiny goblins used him, whether they plunged their dicks inside his throat, ass, or slit. They used him, and it was good.

It was good enough for him, and the sensation wracked his body. Already, the helmeted male inside his slit had ejaculated, and his weight shifted, moving while he gripped two parts of Lizard Priest's anatomy. It should have been something important, as it was sensitive to the squeezes and spurted with fluids. But Lizard Priest ignored those sensations and details. His body... It was all theirs, all theirs to use.

---

A moan resonated within the large cavern, enough to attract the attention of the adventurers running through the trap-ridden tunnels. Their boots stomped on the stone, attracting the attention of anyone who might have dwelled inside those tunnels.

They were greenhorns, taking a goblin extermination duty with the hope of crushing the infestation that had plagued the region in the last few months.

Even earlier, it was said an important silver-ranked adventurer had disappeared along with the teammates he had paid to accompany him. A party of four that had vanished without leaving any traces but a destroyed goblin Den.

Usually... Usually, that job would have been taken by Goblin Slayer and his friends, but none had been working in that region. Hence, it left that group of newly trained adventurers to delve into those recently dug tunnels.

"What are those groans? Is this a dragon?" asked one of them at the rearguard.

The sounds resonated and echoed within the cave until they came to the ears as frightening and disformed cries. But the adventurers continued... This was supposed to be the den where all the goblins of the Region came from.

Potentially, they would find them, their children, and perhaps those poor women used as breeding mothers.

But they had encountered no threat so far. Totems, trinkets, small skeletons, but no goblins... Which slowly made that incursion strange for the group as they neared a threshold leading to a larger cavern.

"What is?"

They heard the chittering and the laughter from the goblins, their nasal cries whenever they spoke something. Their voices were multiple, hiding in the darkness. However, in the middle of it, there was a fire.

And by it a Lizard. The blue scales covering that body were grimy and coated with fluids, the massive body quivering as contractions seemed to shake it.

"H- Help me," mumbled the large creature with a voice that was definitely masculine.

Whatever ailment struck that Lizard, it had managed to impede his movements. His belly seemed gravid, and a pained expression could be seen on those dire traits. He didn't have any weapon, nor any armor.

"An adventurer! Help him!" shouted the Human Vanguard on the front, raising his torch while rushing forward while his close-knit teammates approached. They stomped on the ground, the stone, and the silvery tag as they neared... And saw what was happening.

Before their eyes, Lizard Broodwhore was giving life. From his slit, he pushed an oblong egg that crushed the twinned dick on both sides. The surface was soft, white clear, and coated with a tacky white fluid whose scent was foul to the adventurers' noses.

They watched as the egg finally slipped through the orifice that looked like a ruined vulva while the Lizardman stroked his distended skin and the strange purple tattoo onto it.

"Th- Thank you for coming," he mumbled, hissing while the embellished womb-like tattoo glowed with an eerie energy. No... Everything within that cave gave a weird feeling to the whole group. It wasn't natural, normal.

"Who are you? And... What is this?!" asked Vanguard, raising his torch to see more of that fallen adventurer's body. Those curves, that gravid belly, those wide squatting thighs. From the adventurers, all were distraught, even their Lizardman Ranger. The egg pushed from the confine of that slit, the gooey fluids coming from those... Cocks. It... It all possessed the cloying scent of milk, and corruption.

"It is so difficult, you know," sighed Lizard Broodwhore as his fingers crept lower and hooked that gaping slit. The outer lips had been stretched so much they had swollen and looked no closer to a vulva. One he pulled on, stroking the hollow inners with a delighted gasp. This was sickening.

"What happened to you? Where are the Goblins? Move up. We have to get you out!" roared the Vanguard, suddenly feeling a sharp pain in his belly.

"Move? Where? My husbands are here, blessed by our Ancestors," answered Lizard Broodwhore with a smile, his tail beating the ground.

As if to answer, laughter echoed within the whole grotto. From above, from below, from behind, from forward... Three forms began to slip from the shadows behind Lizard Broodwhore.

First was a helmeted goblin, a Lord, its massive size adjusted to the helmet worn and the used chainmail covering everything except his groin.

The second was a goblin bearing a massive warhammer, its ugly head disfigured by a scar, turning that lecherous smile into a grimace, a General.

Lastly was a bald Goblin with a crown on its head, his smile deviant as its fingers crept and went onto Lizard Broodwhore's shoulders. Their King.

Without a laugh or a cry, the three Goblins surrounded their prize and grinned while the adventurers stepped back. Those three goblins were a true danger, monstrous creatures that could spell doom to any city on their own. And there were three.

Three who gladly worked together. First was the King, guiding Lizard Broowhore's muzzle to its lips. The maw opened, the tongue plunged, and a sigh emanated from the fallen adventurer while the General lowered its Warhammer to explore that chest, sizeable belly before it took over the duty of satisfying that gaping cunt. It plunged one, two, three fingers before the maddened moaned.

"Please, don't kill them. We need more," whispered Lizard Broodwhore with a pleading tone.

"This is it! Team! Move on!" cried the Vanguard, turning toward his friends. His trustee Enchantress, Rhea Archer, Elf Paladin, and the Lizard-. His eyes widened, and so followed those of the group as they watched what had happened to the rearguards. In the light of the Lizardman's torch, they saw little green hands explore his body and brown scales. They moved up and down, undoing the leather he wore until they had a reach into his slit, too. Worse, he had the same glassy expression as the fallen adventurer before them.

"QUICK! RUN!" cried the Vanguard, turning tail and rushing towards his friend's direction... Only then did he feel the weight of two legs onto his shoulders. Someone had dropped on him right the moment he took a step.

In an instant, he was running with the energy of the desperate. The second later, he was on the ground, stunned and unable to see what was happening. The torches had been snuffed, and around him were the cries of his friends.

Followed the rippings of the clothes, of his clothes, along with the moans and gasps from his trustee friends. What was happening? What were those tiny monsters doing? Their laughter filled the cavern, sickening and mocking him, them. What would happen to him?

Still stunned, Vanguard then tried to turn his head despite the creatures on his back peeling off his armor. With one gauntleted hand, he ousted them and rolled... And faced the fire. Faced Lizard Broodwhore.

He moaned under those crawling fingers, nothing more than a fiddle toyed with and tempted. The Goblin King was on his lips, kissing them or pulling the tongue, or even stroking the toothless gums. The General was fingering that ruined slit, plunging three fingers and shaking them until a flow of semen and sickening milk dripped out.

Lastly was the Lord, stroking its absurdly sized green cock before the Lizard Broodwhore. It was sickening... Terrible for the Vanguard, who felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. Then nothing. Nothing more as he drifted away.

But it wasn't the end. Not for those adventurers, nor for Lizard Broodwhore, who gladly welcomed his reward for being a good bait. His husbands would be generous today. He heard it in their laughter and saw it in their sneers. Already, his General was pulling any eggs his weak muscles might have left behind, but there were none...

Even then, he enjoyed the fingering and having his slit stretched once more and prepared for the Lord. It was that Goblin who had the biggest dick and always impregnated him more. A good breeding stud Lizard Broodwhore observed with lustful eyes in the approach.

"Hhh... Thank you, my loves," he said with a soft voice, observing how that wide cockhead passed against his widened hole... And punctured it, crushed his twin dicks, and forced them apart.

Lord always had that enormous shaft, a perfect greasy rod with papulaes and warts that stroked his inner walls like nothing else. But it wasn't the end... His two lovers were eager too, and soon he had his King push his musky and dripping dick between his lips.

Without teeth, Lizard Broodwhore had become adept in pleasing their dicks, milking any cum they had for his sustenance and their pleasures. His gums were soft, slightly squeezing the shaft while his tongue roiled and coiled around the veiny end to get his nectar. A godly Nectar he swallowed and guzzled with many gasps as his Lord was ramming in the depths of his slit.

Perhaps it had another purpose before.

But now, Lizard Broodwhore happily spread his legs to any Goblins desiring to add their seed to this hodgepodge. Any green dick was greedily squeezed, pressed, and massaged by his inner walls as his twinned dicklets were repurposed.

Two needy tips, useless, if not for the milk they produced nowadays. Perhaps they should have produced something different?

But again, Lizard Broodwhore didn't care as he choked on that massive green dick pushing through his gullet. His King was generously pumping his stomach full of Goblin cum, giving him a royal meal and ensuring he wouldn't be hungry... Such generosity wouldn't be lost.

Bliss welcomed the fallen adventurer as he heeded the distant cries. No, it wouldn't be lost as their big family would get new Broodwhores to join them. Already, he had seen one of his kind falling prey to the Outer gods' blessings, eagerly allowing the goblins to take over him. It wouldn't take long for the rest to join, too. Either by becoming fertile as he did or garnishing the ranks of his King.

Soon, his King's Kingdom would be as far and wide as needed. And him... Lizard Broodwhore would become his queen, his slave, his delighted broodwhore that pumped more eggs and more goblins into life.

Yes...

A smile drew on the fallen adventurer's face, choking as he was on that musky Goblin's dick and his guts rearranged by the monsters. A smile that grew wider when the General directed the most talented goblins to have a meal on his milk. His General stopped his thrust, merely shaking his hips to punch the depths of that slitted-cunt. He, therefore, allowed the tinier goblins to gulp on Lizard Broodwhore's milk, suckling the two little tips so they would get stronger, better, smarter.

The colony had a King, a Lord, and a General. But they would need more if they desired a Kingdom.

And Lizard Broodwhore would do anything to help them...

"My loves... Let's make more kids," he moaned, feeling the cum pour inside his guts and fertilizing his body, guided by the Statuette he was riding on and used as a toy. Such it has ever been since he found his new purpose. He had been blessed and gifted. He was so happy even his tail wagged from the sensation. That was it? He had been killing goblins and slaughtering creatures for so long... But he was helping them now.

His former team? Dwarf Shaman? Elf Archer? The Priestess? Goblin Slayer? Maybe... Maybe they could join him. They would be a big, happy family. There was no purpose in slaughtering the goblins. It was better to let them use you, fuck you, breed you... And to ensure their supremacy.