Rope was sniffing around the carriages when he first heard the loud clanking footfalls of something heavy running through the woods. He crept around the trunk of a tree, and a wide smile spread across his face. A tall red-haired human stood, panting for breath after running through the woods.

A silver sword hung strapped to one of her wide hips, but she was not well-armored. Her limbs were protected, but her head, upper chest, neck, stomach, and thighs remained bare, as if she were only covering the least essential parts of her body. She leaned over, trying to steady her breath, and Rope's eyes were drawn to her large breasts, heaving and glistening in the light of the small glade. Rope stared, hoping her struggling top would give up its effort.

She looked up suddenly, and he shrank from around the tree. Had she seen him? He slowly pulled the coiled hemp rope from his hip. The breeder pulled her sword free of its scabbard and Rope flinched. She yelled something that sounded like a challenge.

Rope closed his eyes and sighed silently at the loud call; he had wanted the thick human to himself. Now he would have to share. He heard the slightest rustling of leaves, meant to mimic a summer breeze, but a goblin knew the difference. His brothers were coming.

He heard her sword sheath, and he peeked around the tree again. She was walking away from him toward the carriages. Silent and swift, Rope crept out and crouched up behind her, his namesake in hand.

She jumped back in surprise as she opened the carriage, and Rope froze. Exposed in the middle of the clearing, he could only hope she wouldn't turn. She didn't. The flies from the two dead men had startled her. She gagged and leaned over, presenting a perfect opportunity for him to loop his lasso over her pretty head.

By the time it settled on her neck, he was already running. The coil between them quickly depleting as he ran. He held the loop at the end of the rope tight. This was his favorite part. He jumped down an embankment, tucking his legs while grabbing the loop with both hands, and the cord went taut.

It jerked him back toward the grassy hill, and he landed nimbly, slowly sliding down against her weight. The raucous sound of goblin joy told him he had brought down the giant. He started getting to his feet, using the rope as leverage when it suddenly gave way, sending him tumbling down the small hill. He jogged back to his new catch, coiling his rope as he ran.

The woman lay on her back in the clearing, pulling a knife through Kurg's neck. Most of the gathered goblins laughed and cheered but Rope liked Kurg; he was strong and dumb, a good goblin. Rope closed the distance, building speed as he ran and kicked her in the head, his toes crunched and popped on impact with her skull. She tried to sit up, and he stomped her down violently two more times. Finally, the Kurg killing whore stopped struggling, her head lolled back and forth and his cock began to straighten in anticipation.

Rope was moving into position when she feebly called out for help. The goblins laughed, and Dench was quick to silence her. Dench removed his dick cloth and shoved it in her mouth, taking up her dropped knife. He then cut her quim-cloth and moved into position to claim her. It was Rope's right to claim her, and Dench knew it; Rope had found her and brought her down. He stepped up to the goblin, but Dench pointed the knife at him, his cock pointed at her seed hole. Rope stood his ground but looked down, trying to appear meek.

He saw a swift movement and looked up to see Dench dangling at the end of her arm, his face quickly turning shades darker. Rope grabbed Dench by the arm, holding his knife away from the woman's vice grip. He heard a loud popping of small bones followed by a wet crunch and the knife tumbled to the dirt.

The swarm of goblins pulled her arm away, and Dench was pulled with it. Rope saw his opportunity and pounced, positioning himself between her thick thighs. He ripped off his loincloth and tossed it. His cock felt the soft lips of her opening, and he shoved forward. Her body tensed, and her cunt squeezed him tight, resisting the invasion. He delighted in her tightening hole and pushed further into her. He felt a strange resistance and thrust harder until his cock broke through, and her tight warmth engulfed him.

Her cunt was slick with blood, and he smiled as she whimpered and sobbed, he had never deflowered a human before. He felt twice his size. His claws dug into her hips, and he began to thrust harder and faster, fucking her while laughing and grunting in glee.

He labored over his prize, taking in the sight of her heavy milkers and wide hips. He imagined the litters she would birth and his eyes gleamed with pride and excitement. He had caught her, the thought was more delightful than his cock pressing further into her depths, almost. Their eyes locked and she groaned. He leaned over her, barely able to reach her breast with his mouth as he climaxed. His seed pumped into her as he sucked the soft nub of her tit.

He sat up from her breast and looked down at her entire body. Her face twisted with anger and pain as tears streamed down her blushing cheeks. She cried openly, and her despair was his delight. He had caught her, and he had claimed her. Others would get their turns, but all knew she belonged to him.

His first breeder.

His softening cock twitched with one final spurt before falling out of her. He already had a name. He would call her Fatass for her ample cheeks and wide hips. He would keep her well-fed; the other breeders were thin and usually wasted away after birthing one or two litters. Some could barely feed their own young, but this breeder's tits could feed the whole warren.

The shadows of his mind began to take the dark forms of wicked plotting. He needed a crew of his own. He looked down upon the thick-bodied breeder and knew he had a bargaining chip few could resist.

They dragged Fatass back to the lair, and he had the boys dump her in the main chamber. She curled into a ball and cried quietly. He needed Dust’s approval to keep her for himself and needed to find a way to keep Hooknail away from her.

A single torch lit the main chamber. The chief usually stayed near the entrance. "A chief needs to be the first to know the comings and goings of his lair," he would say. The old goblin was sitting in one of the dark corners the torchlight couldn't reach. Rope could hear the tiny bones that Dust used to adorn his body rattling as he quietly word weaned his most recent litter of little goblings. He stood as Rope entered with his prize, and the goblins that had dragged her departed.

The goblings swarmed her, trying to get milk from her, but she curled up tighter. She wasn't producing anyway, but Rope would soon change that. He shooed them off, and Dust walked up to her, his polished human skull mask glinting in the torchlight, his bone fetishes rattling at the end of his staff. "She killed Kurg with a knife and Dench with one hand. I call her Fatass because, well…." Rope ran a hand over a large cheek, and Dust nodded, two fingers pressed to his bare chin as he appraised her.

"If she's yours, you owe me two goblings of her first litter." The chieftain said slowly as he circled her.

"She's a fighter." Rope said in acknowledgment. "I think she's good for at least three litters." He slapped the ass cheek he had been stroking, and she flinched.

Dust shook his head, and more hollow clattering filled the cavern. "We all have high hopes for our first sow Rope. You don't even have a hole dug for her. How will you support a litter? Give her to me, and you can have full access."

Rope shook his head, and his long ears flopped. "This one's mine, chief. She's the one."

Dust finished circling her and looked at Rope with a stern expression, "Hook will want her."

"He can want ‘til his cock's sore for all I care. I'm not having my first breeder ruined or killed before she's even been bred. He knows the rules. If she births in the pen, she belongs to the tribe. If that happens, he can have a turn like the rest, but his cock's not going anywhere near Fatass. Look at her chief. She's perfect."

Dust grabbed the girl by her scarlet red hair and pulled her head back, exposing her face and breasts to the torchlight. Her tear streaked cheeks glinted in the dingy orange glow.

The heavy thumps of clumsy feet slapping against stone filled the corridor, and the hulking form of Hooknail entered the cavern. Dust pushed her face back down and stood from her to face the brute nearly three times his height. "This breeder belongs to Rope until she's birthed a litter in the pen. Understand?"

The bugbear looked at Fatass and then Rope and gave a hideous half-toothed smile.

"And what if he doesn't wait?" Rope asked, unnerved by Hook's mute response.

Dust looked at Rope, then up at the hulking brute. "Then he gets blinding powder, his breeder gets taken, and he can spend the rest of his life blind with no fuck holes." He looked at Hooknail with a tired sigh, "now carry Fatass to the pen."

The smile fell away, and Hooknail picked up Fatass with one arm, slinging her over his shoulder. He glared at Rope but did as he was told.

Rope would have to work fast. He needed strong allies to protect his breeder in the pen and diggers to help him expand his hole. It would be tricky, but not impossible. He couldn't let Fatass out of his sight, or another would seed her. He started making a list of names in his head and followed Hooknail to the pen.

The brute dropped her unceremoniously in the muddy pen, and Rope kicked himself for not having his hole ready. If he could expand his hole before she birthed, he would have her all to himself. Assuming his seed was taking hold, this gave him roughly two months to prepare, but he needed to move.

The tribe's breeder pen was a large cavern dug by Hooknail. A wooden fence from floor to ceiling bisected the cave. A large arcanium vein streaked through the cave wall, giving the pen a constant pale blue glow. Breeders lasted longer in the light than in the darkness, so the tribe had chosen this chamber specifically for the pen.

One corner of the cave had an open pit used for waste, but it didn't always get used; as such, slick, foul-smelling slime covered most of the floor. There were four breeders in the pen besides Fatass, all pregnant. Three of them had already spawned a litter before their owners could expand their hole and thus were unclaimed. These frail women had become general use breeders that probably wouldn't survive their next litter of goblings.

Most claimed breeders were kept in the owner's personal holes, but some goblins didn't have holes big enough for a breeder or didn't want the hassle of looking after them and their young. The fourth human belonged to Rocks, and her stomach bulged with a large litter; Rope guessed at least four goblings.

Hooknail grabbed Rocks' breeder by the head. His large hand easily palming her face, he pulled her forward from sitting against the wall and released her to sprawl in the muck. As she hunched over her large stomach, her ass was lifted into the air. The giant hairy bugbear dropped to his knees and grabbed her by the neck and the waist. Rope saw Hook's enormous flared cock begin to disappear between her ass cheeks as she let out a low, worried moan. Her moan grew to panicked shrieks as he pushed his club of a cock deeper into her. The other three breeders were huddled in the corner, holding each other in terror.

The bugbear grabbed her roughly and began forcing himself deeper into her. Her cries of pain began to echo through the cavern as he began savagely fucking her ass. Then it was quiet. Her body went limp. Hooknail grabbed her head in one hand, lifting it and slamming it into the floor with sickening hollow knocks as he thrust.

Rope felt Fatass move beneath him. She reached out towards the unfortunate breeder and attempted to crawl towards her. Rope casually put his foot on her head, pushing her cheek into the stinking mud. She moaned a sob, and he decided he should probably bind her hands before he tried to seed her again.

He took two rope segments, tied her left wrist to the outside of her left knee, and then did the same with her right side. This way, he would have easy access to her without fear of getting strangled, whether she was face up or face down.

Hooknail let a deep grunt out of his jagged toothed mouth just as Rope had finished tying Fatass into her new position. The breeder had gone silent and still long ago. She stared straight at Fatass, her eyes wide and unblinking. Rope wondered if the moron had fucked her to death.

Hooknail spoke, his goblin tongue warbled and guttural, "tell Rocks I couldn't wait, had to try her."

He pulled his cock free of her, and a torrent of thick red slime poured from her, splattering into the muddy cave floor. Rope knew it wasn't a message for Rocks. It was a message for him. The truth was, Hook could be punished after he broke Dust's rule, but there would be nothing any goblin could do to stop him from taking what he wanted in the moment.

Rope couldn't worry about that now. He needed to get defenses ready against other goblins and get his hole dug wider and deeper. He would be damned if he left Fatass unattended though. He had to be patient. Rocks' breeder still hadn't moved, hadn't blinked or breathed. He was going to be furious. Dust would be angry too if Hook cost the warren a litter.

This was good for Rope, though. If Hook was in the shit pit with Dust, he would be less likely to have a go at Fatass, giving Rope more time to get his hole ready for her. He just hoped Dirt was in a good mood.

He looked down at his breeder, and she hadn't moved either. She was staring at the dead breeder, her cheek pressed against the cave floor. With her hands tied to her knees, her ass was forced into the air, only a few inches below his face. He ran a slow hand over her namesake, and his cock went stiff. He grabbed two handfuls of her soft cheeks and leaned down to taste her.

His tongue pushed against her and tasted her salty sweat. Her pussy was incredibly pungent in flavor and scent. He licked her opening until her slippery slime seeped from the hole, then he plunged his long tongue deep inside her. Her cunt gripped his tongue as he reveled in her taste, pushing deeper.

She finally moved. It was slight, but her body shook. Her walls tightened and her pussy spasmed around his tongue. She let out a small squeak of a moan, and her pussy gushed with sweet juices. He pulled his tongue free of her, and his cock was harder than it had ever been.

He adjusted her hips down and tapped her dripping cunt with his cockhead. She flinched at the gentle impact and Rope’s heart raced. He had seeded breeders, had fucked them in every way imaginable since he was a gobling. This was different. Ownership over something so beautiful, knowing her offspring would be his, his claws dug into her wide hips and his cock felt like it would burst.

He flexed his cock and it brushed the crevasse of her lips again. He pulled her lower and her knees slid apart in the muck as his throbbing cockhead pressed through her tight lips for the second time. She groaned. He sighed. Her legs shook. His shoulders fell and his head drooped in pleasure. He placed his small hands on her hips and squeezed, kneading the flesh of her round ass cheeks. His stiff rod sheathed deeper into her slurping seed hole and he spread her wider, revealing her tight winking asshole. He released one of her cheeks and shoved a bony finger into her exposed butthole.

A weak moaning cry of pain and sorrow seeped out of his breeder and he grinned in wicked delight. He pulled his finger free, sniffing and sucking the digit before shoving it back into her. His mouth watered with the taste of her ass and he drooled down onto her holes as he fucked and fingered.

Her holes gripped him and her breathing became heavy. He thrust into her slow and steady for a long time, savoring his breeders taste, scent, and sorrow. A muddy mixture of low throaty sobs and moans soon filled the pen. He couldn't take his eyes off her ass, and he sunk his claws into her wide cheeks causing tiny droplets of blood to run down her thighs. She cried in pain, but her low moans didn't stop gyrating with the rhythm of his hard thrusts.

His cock slid easier the longer he fucked her and a build up of white creamy fluid coated his cock as he pummeled her sex with his warty cock. She would grip him occasionally, her holes would spasm and she would fall silent as he bred her. Then she would cry until her sobs turned back to moans. This happened multiple times before he finally spilled.

He was watching her asshole twitch after one of her episodes and the sucking lips of her cunt spit more white frothy slime across his shaft. He had never seen such a thing, but it excited him in a new way. Breeders always cried and screamed and moaned and he had always taken great joy in their suffering. Fatass was different, her cunt seemed to drool for his cock, her moans were lighter, they didn’t beg for him to stop, they begged for him to keep going. His cock twitched at the thought and his balls tightened. An involuntary moan burst out of him and his cock pumped a spray of seed into her. Then another, and another. He doubled over wide cheeks and a dumb smile curled up to his rolling eyes.

He breathed in heavy throaty moans as his cock continued dumping seed into her. His lips were numb, his fingers tingled and twitched. He was right, this wasn’t an ordinary breeder. He wanted to fill her again and again. So that's what he did.

He spent the next few hours pumping as much seed into her as his cock would allow. He took small breaks to mouth-train her. It was always scary mouth-training a breeder, but it needed to be done, or he wouldn't be able to use her mouth for recruitment. He sat in front of her face and opened his legs. Fatass was laying with her cheek against the wet dirt of the cave, her ass was upraised and her large breasts were pressed flat against the floor.

Rope grabbed a handful of her crimson hair and forced her to look up at him. Her chin rested against the floor and she looked up at him, her big blue eyes reflecting the light of the arcanuium vein behind him. He put his dagger to her mouth and forced her to open it. He clinked the blade against her teeth hard before slowly scooting himself closer, until his wet genitals were pressed against her lips and nose. Her eyes narrowed and he flashed the metal of the dagger in the azure light. Slowly, she ran her tongue from his taint to the base of his shaft. He climbed to his knees and pulled her head off the ground. She cleaned his cock and balls obediently and he was surprised at how docile she seemed after her display on the surface. He knew some breeders were patient and crafty so he trained her for the next hour, face fucking her and teaching her how to clean his taint and balls, but never feeding her. He wouldn’t waste his seed in her stomach. When he was close he would drop her head to the floor and mount her.

Two goblins eventually showed up at the pens, and Rope was relieved to see Gash and Gore. He had hoped litter-mates would come, goblins from the same litter shared a special bond, and he needed his crew to be solid.

"Rope," Gore said as he unlatched the pen. The brothers were thin, but lean muscles wrapped their frames. He and his brother were high on Rope's list. They were small, but both had earned their names.

"Heard you caught a pretty new sow. The brothers are avoiding the pens." It was Gash who spoke, his words a hissed whisper. The snake-like voice was the only way to tell the two apart.

"Why?" Rope asked

Gore laughed as he spoke. "Cause no gob’s dumb enough to get saddled with diggin' your stinking hole."

"You two came. You here to dig?"

Gash hissed a laugh that sent a shiver of warning down Rope’s spine and he slowly reached for his new dagger.

Gore answered, from behind Rope and he tensed. "We want in on this sow, but we ain't diggin'. You'll need muscle before you get your hole dug, and we want our ends wet."

Rope relaxed, and excitement rose in him. "If all you want is a wet end, we got a deal. Her seed hole is mine, but the rest of her is for the crew, my crew,” he added, meeting both their eyes. “I call her Fatass. Keep this on whoever's watching her." He handed the sheathed dagger to Gash. "Nobody joins the crew unless I'm here to let them in, and never leave her unattended. Hooknail killed Rock's breeder today, but Dust threatened blinding powder if he fucks my – our new sow so if you see him, remind him." He gestured to the shadowed corpse, still staring blankly at the group. "I'll send Meat down to collect the dead sow, and then I'm going to find Dirt to plan out my hole."

The pair had stopped listening. Gore had slung the dagger sheath over his chest, and they were trying to flip her onto her back. "Hey,” Rope snapped his fingers, and they both turned their heads, their eyes still looking at Fatass. "You breed her, you die." They nodded in understanding. "Enjoy," Rope said under his breath as he walked out of the pens.

Rope walked down to the lower holes, the private, dirty chambers of the green-skinned denizens. The lower sections were barely wide enough for a goblin to fit through, with tunnels crisscrossing into a maze of tunnels, rooms, and caves. A central breeder tunnel had been dug large enough for a human to squeeze through that passed by most of the goblin's personal holes.

Not Rope's, though. He would need to extend the livestock path toward his hole and widen his room enough to accommodate Fatass and a litter. And if she was already seeded, which he hoped she was, he had less than two months to work. He knew he could do it, but he needed diggers, and motivating goblins to dig was going to take more than a few rounds with Fatass's mouth.

He found Dirt in his hole, chiseling intricate stonework into the wall of what he called his "bedroom" Dirt's hole wasn't like the others. Most gob holes were precisely what their name suggested; a dirty hole carved out of the mud or an emptied sand deposit with stone walls and a sack for loot that also served as a pillow.

Dirt was a special sort of gob, though. Back when Dust would raid, before Rope was even a gobling, Dust caught a wagon with a Dwarf. He said she was stubborn, heavy, and dangerous, but before she managed to kill herself, she birthed a single goblin; Dirt. Dustborne gobs were already more intelligent than most, but those brains in a half-dwarf meant stonework, mining, and warren planning were Dirt's specialty.

He had segmented rooms in his hole with furniture carved from stone or built with wood, a place to sleep, a place to shit, a place to eat, all different. It's what Rope wanted for his beautiful breeder, but he knew the price would be steep. Rope cleared his throat, and Dirt turned his uncharacteristically broad shoulders.

"Dirt." Rope said with a single nod.

The half-dwarf wore a vest with small pockets and a belt with various tools. A wiry black beard covered his lower face and his eyes were like Dust’s, alert and wise. He nodded, "Rope."

"Today I-"

"I heard Rope. I even went and looked at your hole."

"You did?" Hope rose in his voice.

Dirt shook his bald head. "It can't be done. If she's seeded, there isn’t enough time, even if you could afford it."

"You haven't seen her Dirt. She's worth it."

"I've heard Rope. A great prize, and I am proud of you." He shook his head again. But I'm not interested in your breeder. I'm sure you've already bought protection with her, and I'm worth more than second-hand cock holes," he looked around his room. "Much more."

Rope had to agree. "How many gobs would it take, assuming I could afford it?"

"Ten diggers at least"

"Ten?" Rope whined at the old stout-blood.

"Gobs don't dig Rope. For every foot of tunnel, they sleep for a day. That's why hooknail is here, but he can't fit down here and for good reason." Dirt gestured to his empty breeding chamber.

"A breeder then."

"Eh?" Dirt squinted through the torchlight, obviously annoyed at the distraction.

"Your breeder hole is empty. I'll get you your own, untouched and still ripe. Five diggers."

Dirt stopped his rhythmic tapping of the chisel and glanced side-eyed at Rope. "I want the breeder first. Before I start, and ten diggers are needed but five might get you something started in time."

Rope ran from the old digger's hole. He stopped at the kitchen, told Meat of the dead breeder, and took a slice of leg from the smoking spit. Then, he went to the storage hole and grabbed a new length of rope, skillfully lassoed the end, and set off into the woods.