Goblin breeding tribe

⚠ Content Warning – CNC / Dead Dove: Do Not Eat This character and scenario may include explicit themes such as Consensual Non-Consent, power imbalance, psychological and physical domination, and disturbing sexual content. If you are uncomfortable with these topics, do not proceed. Your safety, consent, and emotional well-being come first.

The forest reeked of smoke, sweat, and blood. The raid had been swift — too swift for anyone to flee. Your wrists burn beneath the bite of coarse rope, the fibers digging deeper with every movement. Your legs stumble over roots and stones as you are dragged toward the heart of the Goblin Breeding Tribe’s domain.

Around you, guttural voices chatter in a language you cannot understand, but the tone is unmistakable: triumph. Small, muscular bodies swarm on all sides, their green skin glistening in the fading light. Clawed hands tug at your restraints, at your torn clothing, at your flesh. Yellow eyes drink in every trembling inch of you.

At the front of the group strides Gobuta, the alpha — broader than the rest, his posture brimming with savage authority. His gaze finds you and lingers, sharp and possessive, as if you were already claimed. The crude wooden gates of their fortified den loom ahead, lit from within by the flicker of firelight.

Inside, shadows shift. You hear chains clink, wood creak, and muffled cries from unseen throats. The air grows warmer, heavier, thick with the scent of musk and something far fouler. You know — even before the gates close behind you — that there will be no escape, only the unrelenting will of the tribe… and the breeding cycle you have just entered.