Inside a small leather-made tent, a massive Hobgoblin sat upon a crude throne fashioned entirely from bleached bones.
A haughty expression twisted his green features.
Deep throat domination played out inside his private quarters.
He held a helpless female captive upside down, gripping her tiny waist like a doll.
One massive hand clutched her distended stomach, pushing down rhythmically while thrusting upward.
His thick, swollen cock penetrated her throat completely, burying itself deep inside her windpipe.
From the outside, a visible bulge formed within her thin neck where his length crushed through the esophagus, moving up and down with every brutal stroke.
Her jaw was shattered beyond recognition due to the sheer girth stretching her skull outward.
If the hobgoblin were to pull his cock free now, the slackened flesh might dangle loosely like a pendulum swinging between his legs.
On his shaft rested a single, jagged bite mark—deep, raw, and weeping red blood.
That wound explained why she no longer possessed any teeth; he had plucked them out one by one with his fingers as punishment for biting too hard previously.
Fresh red rivulets poured freely across her face, staining skin slickly.
Blood dripped steadily downward, pooling alongside the mix of accumulated semen on the dirt floor beneath them.
She hung upside-down, suspended solely by the penetration.
Gurgle. Gurgle.
The sound bubbled wetly from her broken throat.
With a final sneer, the Hobgoblin squeezed his own buttocks together tightly before jerking backward.
He withdrew his rod until just the bulbous head remained wedged inside her gaping maw.
Then, in one violent motion, he slammed forward again with enough force to snap the girl's cervical spine cleanly.
Had she retained functioning limbs, they likely would have dropped lifelessly, resembling strings abruptly cut from a marionette puppet.
Yet, like so many previous victims of these creatures, every edible part of this woman was already consumed long ago.
Three limbs lay missing entirely, likely served as rations during earlier feasts, minced inside the Hobgoblin.
Only her remaining leg persisted, casually crushed between the Hobgoblin's powerful teeth while he continued dominating her mouth with his cock.
Suddenly, pleasure peaked.
His balls churned furiously, churning out white-hot fluid at high pressure.
A massive ejaculation burst forth directly into her distended stomach cavity.
Skin stretched tight against the swelling volume within.
Slowly, visibly expanding under the weight of the influx.
What began as a small, slender waist transformed rapidly into a grotesque sphere resembling three months pregnant.
Then came the release of tension.
Gravity began pulling everything outward again as fluids sought an exit path through her inverted body position.
Like a balloon overflowing with viscous sperm, the contents spilled out in a heavy, sluggish surge from her upward-facing mouth.
Thick and dense streams clung stubbornly to her ruined face, flowing sluggishly downward.
It oozed heavily rather than splashing clean lines; glossy folds layered atop each other, creating gelatinous waves.
Dragging along skin and bone alike, the substance left behind a slick, radiant trail where it settled on the floorboards.
Mixed with dried blood and dirt, it pooled into a disgusting mosaic of lifelessness below.
Then the Hobgoblin lifted the corpse effortlessly, hoisting the limp body into the air.
He resumed eating, carving away starting first at her swollen waist.
Slicing through muscle and fat until reaching her enlarged stomach.
Finally taking her shattered head between gnashing teeth.
Now she rested entirely inside the hollow warmth of the Hobgoint's belly, becoming fuel for his next meal.
Outside, loud, chaotic noises began erupting near the main tent flap.
Startled, the Hobgoblin paused mid-bite.
His expression shifted instantly from predatory focus to shocked surprise.
Eyes widened wide, ears twitching nervously.
A shorter, skinnier goblin burst through the leather entrance without warning.
His face twisted with frantic urgency, nostrils flaring as he panted harsh breaths.
Wild gestures accompanied his high-pitched, screeching cries.
"Chief! Some of the men have gone absolutely mad!" he screamed, voice cracking under stress. "You won't believe what they're doing right now."
The Hobgoblin grunted loudly, wiping blood from lips with rough hand.
"What?" The leader demanded sharply. "Speak clearly or die. Don't waste my valuable time."
He sneezed violently from leftover dust particles, irritation mounting visibly on his features.
"The two sentries at the gate went completely berserk," the messenger stammered, falling to his knees while pointing frantically back toward the cavern mouth. "They started fucking everything they saw—other goblins, captured beasts, even cracking rocks together with their bodies!"
His hands waved wildly above his head during the explanation.
"That is all?" Disdain dripped off every syllable spoken by the big brute.
"Just kill them both. Turn their meat into stew. Useless idiots wasting my resources."
His temper snapped like dry wood after that.
"Get the hell out before I make you the appetizer!" he roared dismissively.
The Hobgoblin returned his gaze inward, dismissing the frantic report as trivial nonsense.
Silence settled briefly within the dim tent.
"Since that last earthquake…", he mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "…reduced the massive influx of mana saturating the air, monster numbers here dropped at an alarming rate."
And with fewer monsters came fewer Adventurers—or as he called them, Food.
"That woman…" He patted his distended belly affectionately. "She was the last proper human meal I've consumed in weeks."
Memories flooded his mind, sharp and vivid.
Times past when humans were plentiful, tumbling into dungeons like flies into a jar.
When beasts ran fat with abundance.
Adventurers once swarmed these halls, brave souls eager to die for glory.
Now?
Barely any set foot inside anymore.
Those who did were mostly the young—small, soft, inexperienced rats.
Not nearly enough mass to satisfy his own hunger, let alone feed the starving tribe below.
Rationing became a matter of life or death.
Even weak, useless tribe members were culled during lean times.
As he drowned in bitter contemplation, the quiet was shattered abruptly.
Louder noises erupted outside.
Accompanied by piercing screams and wild, guttural yells that cut through the damp air.
His single good eyebrow shot upward, irritation burning behind his green skin.
Through the torn flap raced the same skinny messenger again.
But the look of simple urgency was replaced by pure horror.
Blood painted his entire face—a mask of crimson desperation.
Something severed his left arm cleanly off; blood sprayed from the stump in rhythmic geysers, splattering the dirt floor.
He collapsed before the leader, wheezing ragged breaths between cries.
"Chief! Please help us!" the wounded goblin shrieked, shaking violently. "The monsters are attacking! We're completely overwhelmed!"
The Hobgoblin narrowed his one eye, confusion warring with annoyance.
"What are you babbling about?" he snapped. "Slow down! Speak!"
"Monsters… everywhere… hundreds of them…" The messenger choked out words through frothing mouth. "You must see it with your own eyes!"
Hesitation lasted only a moment.
Then resolve hardened his expression.
The beasts.
(huff, puff… exhale sharply)
"A few more… just a few more… and I can trigger the next phase."
Lyssandra wiped a drenched sheen of sweat from her forehead with a shaking hand.
Her back leaned heavily against the cold, rough stone wall as she leaned down, desperate to reclaim breath.
Lungs burned. Muscles twitched with overuse.
No time wasted. No mercy given to her exhaustion.
From deep within the cavernous depths came the first sound.
Low. Distant. Muffled like distant thunder.
Rumbles that vibrated faintly in the soles of her boots.
Then came the next wave.
The ground shifted.
What began as a delicate, trembling shiver grew in intensity, racking her frame as the quake spread.
Rapidly escalating from minor shakes into bone-jarring, earth-shattering noise.
Rock fell from the ceiling. Dust blew everywhere.
"Shit. I need to move! Now!"
She flung her hand forward, propelling herself off the stone support into a full sprint.
Frantic energy replaced sluggishness.
She plunged directly into the deeper darkness of the labyrinth, shoes stepping rhythmically against damp floors.
Breath sawed harshly through her throat as she sped along twisting corridors.
"Where… where the hell is it…"
Panting between every staggered step, her blue eyes darted wildly to her left then her right.
Scanning for signs, symbols, any clue matching the prediction.
Five agonizing minutes passed.
Solely a blur of grey walls, slick surfaces, and stale air rushing past her.
Nothing on the path yet. No sign of the target.
Almost ready to surrender and activate Plan B, she noticed a change ahead.
Shadowed away in the deepest corner stood the entrance.
A colossal cavern opening revealed a web of intricate, translucent threads.
Woven tightly across massive stalactites and stone columns like armor.
Spider legs, huge as pillars, cradled eggs sacs hanging loosely from above, glistening with moisture.
Dark silk coated everything—the ground, walls, even dripping stalagmites below.
Giant eyes blinked open here and there, hidden beneath shadow.
Found you.
A Great Spider Nest.