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Mother of Goblins, Part 2 (Goblin Broodmother TFTG Preg)
🕑 Added 2025-07-04 23:00:27 +0000 UTCBy FoxFaceStories
A Story Tier Prompt for Babjie
Malcolm is a giant of a man - literally! Or at least, he’s half-giant on his mother’s side, giving him a huge stature within his adventuring party. But when he gets separated from his fellow heroes in a dark forest, he finds himself treated with hospitality by a goblin tribe. Little does he know that the tribe is lacking a broodmother, and their food and drink will ensure that Malcolm will soon be transformed into one . . .
Mother of Goblins, Part 2
Malcolm groaned as he held his head. It felt like he’d fallen from that cliff all over again, and landed twice as hard. Shapes gathered around him, various figures proding him and speaking.
“Spice be working! It’s fucking workin’!”
“Calm down, Kazza, you’ll give the game away, ya fool!”
“He looks shorter, eh? Shorter and plumper.”
“Just like I like my women, yeah. Plump and fertile.”
There was a hush as Malcolm finally opened his eyes. The light filtered in through Kazza’s cabin where he’d first woken up.
“Gods,” he managed, clutching his head. “How much grog did I drink last night?”
Kazza laughed. “Last night? Matey, you’ve been out of it for two nights!”
Malcolm sat up, fast. It almost meant he immediately hit his forehead on the low cabin’s log beam . . . again. He cringed and clutched his head, but was surprised to find that he hadn’t hurt himself as bad. He’d almost missed the beam, in fact. Had they adjusted the ceiling a little for his height? It was the only way to explain it.
“Two days. Shoot. Gods, I partied too hard. I’m sorry, I need to be going. You’ve all been such a friendly tribe, but I need to meet Taleria again, and Wilkins too. They won’t know I’m alive.”
He made to exit the cabin, but pain shot up his leg. He was acutely aware that it wasn’t remotely healed right enough yet. Worse, there was also a heft in his belly, as if it was slightly swollen. How much had he drunk? Even his skin looked a little off-colour as he examined his big, half-giant arm.
“Ya can’t leave yet, big one!” Kazza called, his saviour chasing after him. “Ya haven’t healed up yet! Just look at ya, ya big lad! You’re sick as a mutt!”
Malcolm collapsed forward. He hadn’t even taken something to use as a cane. Pain rang through him, and his headache thudded. He felt . . . compressed, somehow. It wasn’t a kind feeling. It wasn’t just Kazza that was trying to stop him, though, but others as well. The similarly named Cazzi was with them as well, one of the few female goblins in the village, and one of the only ones pregnant. Not a broodmother like Chief Skurg had told him about, but regularly expecting. She held her back, one hand on her swollen belly, but she stood in his path.
“Uh-uh, no way can we help you leave, not fucking yet! You still got healin’ up, Mal. We got plans for you!”
Malcolm furrowed his brow. “Plans, what plans?”
“Plans to fix you up,” she said hastily. “We’re not gonna eat ya, by all the Gods! But no way can we have the disrespect of havin’ our freakin’ honour undone by letting a sick fella like yerself leave, got it?”
“She’s sure as shit right,” Kazza added. “Another week, Mal. We’ll send our best scouts out to find your friends and help ‘em here. The Chief will surely be okay with it. Right Chief?”
Skurg had entered the scene, having risen from his own larger cabin. The small goblin was adorned in his various trinkets, and looked to Malcolm with a serious gaze.
“Yes,” he said. “I will send my six best at once.”
Malcolm considered this. He was fiercely loyal to his friends, but he knew that as a half-giant he was clumsy on his best days. His brute strength was what helped his adventuring, and his keenness to help. If he couldn’t help properly, and he was clumsier than normal . . .
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay. Just a bit longer.” He licked his lips, smelling something spicy in the air. It made his stomach gurgle. “Um, particularly if you’ve got some more of that spiced patter stuff I ate the other day?”
Cazzi chuckled. “I’ll go nurse my young un, then see what fuckin’ masterpiece I can cook up for ya!”
Malcolm thanked her. He truly was hungry after being out for a day. He felt smaller, and his skin did indeed look a little green, likely from some follow-up infection or sickness. Taleria would be able to heal it, were the elven ranger present, and Wilkins would probably fill him up with dwarven ale just to set him right. But without those two present, he had to rely on the kindness of this goblin village. Besides, he really wanted that patter again. It was a simple spice, but it had made the broth, the drink, and the bread all remarkably delicious, to the point where it was the main thing about the party he actually remembered. The goblins had celebrated each time he’d imbibed it. It was strange to think about, but when they did so, he actually felt like one of them.
Which was why, when Cazzi returned with more of the patter in one hand and her nursing babe in the other, Malcolm was grateful to sit down and rest his recovering leg, and chow down on what she’d brought. It was like a giant rolled dough with packed flavour inside, but the patter spice was all the way through it; potent and hot and delicious.
“Mhmm!” he declared, and the goblins surrounded him, cheerfully watching him eat. “Thith ith delithiious!”
He could barely get enough, and with each bite he felt more fulfilled.
“It’s fucking amazin’!” he declared after finishing, at which point Cazzi already had another meal package ready to pass to him.
It was an odd thing for the gentle giant to say. He rarely swore at all, and never in such a coarse manner or with such a gravelly tone. He didn’t think much of it, though. He simply scratched his hair, which he had yet to notice had turned a more auburn colour than its usual dull brown, and continued to eat away.
He didn’t even notice that his nipples were starting to protrude against his shirt, or that his hips were starting to fill out. All that mattered was recovering, the patter was the goblin’s best dish for wounds like his, they assured him.
So Malcolm continued to devour the patter, feeding his hungry belly. By the time he was done he let out a loud and rather ungentlemanly burp. The half-giant turned red, humiliated by his actions.
“S-sorry!” he declared. “I’m not usually so-”
“It is a good sign!” Skurg said. “It is part of our way! Praise to Malcolm!”
“Fuckin’ praise be!” the goblins shouted, cussing like it was a second language to them.
Malcolm could only grin sheepishly. Quite a few returned the smile. Such sharp teeth they had, like little triangular points. He ran his tongue along his own teeth, and was surprised to find them sharper than he remembered.
It was odd, and yet he found it difficult to think further about. Already, he was craving more of that special spice.
***
The goblin village was incredibly welcoming. Malcolm couldn’t believe their kindness and hospitality. Yes, they were often coarse and crude and cussed like demons in the lowest circle of the seven hells, but they did everything they could to help him recover. Without even meaning to, he found himself occasionally swearing as well, despite being a gentle-tongued giant most of the time. When a party was sent out to hunt for wild hogs, he actually called out, “Go fuckin’ get ‘em!” with such a growl in his tone that the others cheered.
“You’re an honorary goblin!” Kazza declared. “Have some patter an’ spice!”
To which Malcolm greedily grabbed the food from him and consumed it whole, licking his lips in a rather graceless manner just to make sure all the spice was consumed.
“Mhmmm,” he moaned. “That feels so, so fuckin’ good, yeah.”
Kazza grinned wide, his teeth sharp. “Keep on eatin’, and you’ll be on ya way, Malcolm mate! The more patter ya eat, the more you’ll be meeting ya destiny!”
It was odd, because Malcolm occasionally had hesitation about the way everyone kept encouraging him to consume that special spice. At times it seemed to put a fog in his mind, making it hard to think, and left him more impulsive than usual, such as when goblins dared him to see how far he could throw them into some hay bales, and he actually went along with it! Occasionally, he’d look over himself and consider the fact that something was happening to his body. He was normally so very tall, but now . . . now he was still tall, but only as a tall human, not a half-giant. There was a pressure in his limbs and upon his spine every time he ate the spice, and it was compressing him down in size. It did make him less clumsy, at least, and that remained in his dreamy thoughts as he changed further.
“Maybe it’s not so bad,” he said to himself after the goblins had yet another forest party while he rested up. “Maybe it’ll help me be a better hero.”
He regarded his arms and legs, which were now a light hue of green. Not greenish, but actually green. It had alarmed him at first, but Cazzi the goblin mother told him that this was normal, and just a temporary side effect of the patter. It was probably a sign he should stop, but it was practically an addiction by this point. She’d even left him a little pouch of the stuff, raw and unrefined, and when he placed it on his tongue the more pure ecstasy flowed.
“F-fuuuuuck, yeaaaah,” he groaned, running his tongue along his sharpened teeth. His ears twitched, growing longer, becoming pointed. His entire body shuddered, but he was able to fit more easily into the goblin cabin now, and so he squirmed on the ground, overcome with pleasure. Without even meaning to, he began touching his nipples, fondling their sensitive places. Gods, they were so sensitive now. For some reason, part of his brain wanted them to grow. To become bigger. And the flesh behind them too!
Shifting, he moved to the edge of the cabin and pulled the hanging furskin curtain to one side. Peeking out, he could see the drinking and cheering of the goblins, and also their more taboo-breaking social celebrations. Many of them were fucking, and while they had much fewer women than men, the females seemed all the more eager for it. Two goblins were fucking a young goblin lass named Ekka, and she looked to be in fits of ecstasy as one goblin male took her from behind while another had his member down her throat. Her heavy breasts hung low and wobbled with every thrust.
“Gods,” Malcolm growled, licking his lips. He touched himself more, feeling his member. It wasn’t as big as he remembered, but he didn’t care. This sight was too erotic. He’d never been a voyeur before, but the sight of Ekka, and also Cazzi, who was lying back on a table, was too enticing to resist. The latter was deeply pregnant and yet allowing two males to suck milk from her tits while another stood to the side and fucked her as she lay back, her legs spread impossibly wide.
“I wish I was gettin’ fucked like her,” Malcolm grunted. “Wait, the fuck am I thinking?”
But the thought was already there. The half-giant pulled his breeched down and began to masturbate. He tugged on his member, which was already raging hard. At the same time he grabbed more of the spice from the sack Cazzi had given him, and sucked it entirely into his mouth and downed it with water. It produced a high like he’d never experienced, and the pressures rippled along his body.
“Y-yessssss,” he groaned. “Fuck yessss! F-fucking breeeed meee!”
He wasn’t even sure why he was saying this, but the image was too erotic to push away. What would it feel like, to be a pregnant goblin mother? Or better yet, to be one of their special broodmothers, constantly knocked up with entire litters of babies, literally orgasming as she pushed them out? It would be a never-ending cycle of fucking and breeding and mating and pushing and - and -
“OHHHHH!” Malcolm cried out, his voice so loud that it silenced the goblins in the middle of their drunken, debauched reverie. “FUUUUUUCK! AAAHHHH!!”
The pleasure was too great. The pressure in his chest rose and gave way, and the same was true of his hips and his thighs and even his ass. Green flooded through him, and his entire body vibrated as it shrunk and became compacted even more. Several goblins approached, pulling back the flap to see him, but by this point Malcolm was already writhing on his back again, staring up at the ceiling but seeing the stars.
As his body changed and bloated and became ever more goblinoid, the euphoria only rose to ever greater heights. The last thing he heard were the drunken cheers of the goblins around him.
“I told you he’s the one!” Kazza cried, his voice distorted. “Our new breeder!”
“She’s gonna be soooo fuckin’ beautiful,” Cazzi cried. “I’m so frickin’ jealous.”
The chief’s voice overrode them all.
“Silence you mangy dogs! He can’t know just yet, eh? We’re so close to the point of no return. Then, the breedin’ can finally begin!”
Malcolm just smiled. It all felt like a dream to him. The most wonderful dream. He lay back and began to fall asleep, cupping two new formations on his chest that he didn’t quite understand the presence of.
***
When Malcolm woke the next day, he already had a hungering for the spice. But something was also wrong. So very wrong. His body was odd . . . lumpy in some bizarre places, and it had definitely shrunk.
“What the f-fuck?” he said, voice raspier than ever. Like the voice of a goblin.
He lifted himself up, only to realise he was naked. His clothes were entirely gone but for the bed sheet over him. He flung it to the side and his eyes widened instantly.
“By the Gods,” he muttered.
He was green. Not just light green, but a deep shade of forest green just like so many other goblins. He was also female, or at least looking far more feminine. Upon his chest were two plump female breasts, more sizable than the slim Taleria’s, though not quite as big as a busty tavern wench, though that was little consolation. Terrified, Malcolm cupped them, and then let loose an involuntary moan. They were more sensitive than they had any right to be, and his nipples throbbed, distending. They were dark green in colour, entirely wrong and yet deeply pleasurable to touch.
“Ohhhh, n-no. I can’t . . . what’s happened to me?”
His mouth watered for more of the patter spice, but he kept that addiction at bay for now as he stood from the bed. He didn’t even hit the rafter this time. Gods, he must have shrunk to half his height overnight! Or had the shrinking been going on longer than he’d realised, and he just hadn’t been paying attention. He thought back to previous days and nights: the partying, the drinking, the consumption of spice.
“They’re ch-changing me,” he grunted, looking over his body. His hips were wider, and his backside had swollen up. His old clothes wouldn’t fit him now even if he was his old size. Even his legs had changed, and his torso: where was all his body hair? There was only the hair around his member, and that looked half as big as it should be as well, or even less. It was also stirring.
Mating.
Fucking.
Breeding.
The thoughts hit his mind, and Malcom found himself stroking his cock. He barely managed to pull his hand away, but it was rigid and firm.
“N-need to get away,” he stammered. He grabbed the fur cover and wrapped it around his body. It looked like a crude goblin dress, and did little to hide his new, thicker shape, or the way his flips flared outwards of his breasts jutted forward. Still, he emerged into the daylight.
Immediately, a number of goblins, Kazza included, looked his way. Several others gasped. Ekka actually had tears in her eyes, and so did Cazzi, who was feeding her baby and looking as swollen as ever. Without even thinking, Malcolm’s own hand flung to his midsection. What would being so pregnant feel like, he wondered.
“Beautiful!” Kazza cried. “Mal, buddy, ya lookin’ frickin’ beautiful today!”
“The village is saved!” another goblin cried.
“The spice is serving us well! Soon we’ll be a rising tribe once more, fuck yeah!”
Malcolm’s jaw fell. They were changing him, and they’d known all along.
“You m-monsters!” he shouted, though his voice was different, somehow. Raspier, yes, but also higher. More feminine. He had barely noticed until now that his hair was now a fiery ginger, and that it fell down to just above his shoulders. “You knew what you was fuckin’ doin’! You were makin’ me one of you! A goblin female, at that! I’ll kill ya! I’ll kill all of ya!”
The goblins backed away a little. Malcolm was steadier on his feet now, and was still twice as big as them, but he had no weapon and his strength was greatly reduced. But he was full of anger. He wanted to fight something.
“C’mon, then!” a voice cried out. It was Chief Skurg. He stepped forward and removed his elaborate headdress. The older goblin grinned, and for a moment Malcolm actually found him deeply handsome.
“What?”
“Fight me! Fight us! Usually, we do this with a bit of drinkin’, though! Who’s with me?”
Slowly, the goblins began to grow excited. Several drew forth their cups of ale and drank deep, while others ran to the kegs to upend them. Malcolm was confused as to what was going on - they were excited about this?
But then he did understand. His blood was getting warmer, his impulses coming over more quickly. Fuck yeah, he wanted a scrap. Not to kill, but for fun! To show dominance! To let loose some energy! To drink and be merry and fight and be alive!
“GIVE ME SOME GODSDAMN ALE!” he boomed, and soon a whole keg was delivered to him. He pried off the cork and upended it, drinking deeply. The spice was in it, but he didn’t care. He needed that spice. It would give him the extra delirious energy he needed.
“LET’S FUCKIN’ GO THEN!” the former half-giant shouted, his voice cracking up in octave again.
The goblins cheered, no longer afraid, but acting as if this fight would welcome him into their tribe. It felt like an initiation of sorts, and without another thought Malcolm leapt into the fray as the massive struggle began. Ale jugs flew left and right. Tables were upended. Bits of chairs were used as weaponry. Fists flew, claws scratched, and even the women got in on it, at least the ones that weren’t pregnant, though Cazzi was definitely throwing stuff from the side. And there, in the middle of it all, wrestling five goblins at a time, was Malcolm. He couldn’t even remember why he was angry. He was having the time of his life, and when his improvised bedcover dress was torn away, he happily fought naked, his breasts even heavier and rounder and bouncier than before.
It was like coming home.
In the aftermath, Malcolm lay on the ground, now merely the height of a short man. Two female goblins, one of them Ekka, were curled against him, fondling his breasts and his penis. He gasped as Ekka lowered herself to suck him off, while Cazzi moved to be on top of him, her magnificent stomach in his face. She let him suck her milk and fed him spice, and it was utterly orgasmic.
“Mind if I join?” Kazza asked, along with another goblin he recognised as Hezz, also a male.
For a brief moment, Malcolm’s mind screeched at him to push them away. Instead, desire bloomed with him. His body was changing, and so were his appetites.
“Fuckin’ get in here,” he said, drawing the males over.
The intense love making and debauchery began, and Malcolm’s changes continued with it. He was about to cross the point of no return.
To Be Continued . . .
