The soft tap of sparse rain on your hood calms your nerves, taking your mind off the merited fear of the game wardens catching you in the act. Your hand tightens around the stock of your crossbow. 

"...I hate wardens."  you say aloud, eyes still squinting against the morning dim for any sign of game. You were far from Enzesburg- there were almost never any people out here. Law-abiding ones, anyway.

 The moss squishes under your soles as you trudge on, head craning back and forth, spying a stream here and a boulder there. The cold nips at your neck and ankles. The thought of a good fire and a warm breakfast tempts you with the idea to spend a quarrel on a hare, rather than a stag. You keep your mind focused on the task. Stay hungry and you'll shoot straight when the moment comes.

A lapse of attention- you blink a few times and take in your surroundings, realising that you've walked into a shaded grove of wide-canopied oaks, sunk slightly from the surrounding woods, and encompassing a little stone structure. 

"A cabin?" Sure enough. Though it looks like it's long vacant. A big hole in the roof and many panes of glass missing. Cold. That thought again. Hungry. You're a poacher, not a thief! Yet- there might be something worth your time, even if it's just a chance to shake this chill.

You don't give yourself time to doubt, and heaving your crossbow over your shoulders by its cord you press an ear against the swollen wood of the door. No cracking of fire or snoring within and nothing grim or ominous. A witch would have leave grim signs strewn about, surely?

"Not locked." The door yields with just a slight push, not stuck a bit. Lucky.

Your head is through the door and there's a momentary glimse of a dusty room before you feel a spash on your head, and your sight is stained with bright purple. There's a clattering of glass below your feet. 

"Ranald vex them!" is out of your lips louder than you intended, and your hands fly up in a blind spasm. 

There's an agonizing moment of fear, you dread to find yourself turned to ash, or into a frog, before you open your eyes and find yourself only wetted with some purple liquid. It streams off your brow and nose, into the wide collar of your jerkin, smelling of herbs and fungi.

"Some kind of-" The words are stifled by a sharp exhalation, as if the air in your lungs were suddenly kicked out by a kick to your chest. It must be some kind of choking potion! You rub your sleeve feverishly at the mess, bracing the other hand against the doorframe as you feel a strange diziness overtake you. 

"Where's my hand?" You gasp, your sleeve hanging loosely from your arm. Your sight is again taken as your hood flops heavily over your face. Melting! Can I be melting? The thought spurs your feet forward, but you stumble from your shoes and feel the packed earth floor rise to meet your head with a dull thud. 

"I'm a puddle!" You mutter feebly, crawling out from under the unbearable weight of your crossbow and cloak. "I'm- huh?" 

Still solid? Yet surely too low to the ground, your clothing heaped atop you in a loose mess. You look down at your hands, then your chest and your legs. Naked, but whole, now sat up on your knees inside what looks like a great tent made of linen and felt. You rustle through your clothes until you find the lacing, and emerge with a gasp into the air. 

The light filters in pale streams through the windows. It is much dimmer than before- you've managed to somehow shut the door behind you in your panic. A crossbow the size of a ballista rests on the floor behind you, and your quarrels, thick as broomsticks, have rolled across the floor. 

You marvel at your position before your head turns sharply towards the far wall. Thumping, heavy footsteps grow louder. You scarcely have time to extract yourself from your clotheheap when a great figure stomps around the open doorframe and immediately locks eyes with you. Glinting red eyes set in a shadow-cast face. A tall swaying hat jutting from atop its head. Fur-trimmed clothing hugs tight to a stout frame that sways with anticipation. Then the teeth, sharp and bright, and spread in a grin.

"B-By Sigmar!" You cry, then turn to bolt, your feet treading at the dirt and getting you nowhere fast. A flash of green and black from the other side of the room, and then in a moment a huge presence is piled beside you on the floor with a deafening soft slap. Two clasping hands close around your torso, fingers thick as fenceposts clutch around your waist and shoulders. 

"Gotchu!" A sharp, high voice cries, nearly deafening you. You're helplessly lifted towards those frightening features and you close your eyes. Yet, no fatal bite comes. A while passes before you have the gall to look your captor in the face. A girl? Surely, she must be a witch judging by the hat. But, Green? Too green even for a witch, and the- ears. An ork? No, a helden- a goblin?

She isn't too harsh on the eyes for a goblin. Smooth green skin, and her nose curves cutely, none too big or crooked. She holds you so close to her face that her features seem comically wide from your perspective. She blinks a few times, gold flashing with each flutter of her eyelashes. Black feathered hair spills from under her hat and frames her cheeks.

"Oi- humie' I didn't break ya' did I?" You feel your brain rattle as she shakes you brutishly back and forth. This spurs you back to life from your daze, and you struggle to free an arm, a leg, anything to push yourself into a more dignified position. Her fingers yield, only to find another place to hold, pinch, or wrap around. She's toying with you.

"Wots da' matta' git, where do ya' 'ave to run off to?" She teases, her tone lilting up and going down in it's strange goblin cadence. 

You reach something of a stable position, with your arms resting atop her fingers, wrapped as they are around your torso. Her warm palms completely cover your body, strangely softer than you imagined.

You have to find some words- it's starting to get awkard, and you worry she'll get hungry if she gets bored. "I- I didn't mean to tresspass, l-lass. I was just out for-" 

"Untin' beasties? I peeped ya' from my window. Silly humie'. Not sneaky-like fer a poacher, are ya?"

You gulp. You doubt the goblin is going to turn you in to the wardens, but you don't like being caught out.

"Eh, I have to make a living- I- What are you-" Her lips pursed in a smug expression. She was enjoying watching you squirm wasn't she! You were about protest when she let out a sharp harsh laugh, a drop of spit narrowly missing your head. 

"Tryin' to catch sumfin' and ya' got caught instead. Wot a laff! Da' oldest trap in da' book, too!"

She snickers drly through her teeth, her eyes close and her nose wrinkles cutely. "Yer' in luck tho' humie. Don't look like da' potion wuz' very stronk'. Wuz testin a new wun."

You think to protest, seeing as you're held like a doll in her hands, but you only gulp at the notion it should have been worse. 

"C'mere, I'll git ya' wif da' next one." 

No time to ask about your clothes before she rises to dizzying heights and hustles off through the door she arrived from. Each step thuds resoundingly. She's heavy for her size, and you hear a huff with each breath as she trods along, exhaling right into your face in cloying blasts. 

The barren entrance leads to another abandoned loft, and then a darkened stairwell. Your teeth chatter as your captor bounds down the stairs quickly on short legs. Light. A cellar, made warm by hanging and lying rugs, bundles of herbs dangling from every beam, and the light of a small woodburning oven in a corner. 

Your feet find purchase again on a rough wooden table, and you take a deep breath as the goblin's grip yields. You blink a few times at her as she stares intently at your body, before the remembrance that you've been naked the entire time spurs your hands into action to cover your shame.

A deft pair of green fingers snatch your hands with surprising precision, and suddenly hoist them above your head, leaving no room for modesty. 

"Quit fussin' ya lil' git- Hehe. I gotta give ya' da' sawbones treatment." She insists, and your mind can't help but stray to grim places as her other index finger prods at your exposed stomach.

"W-what do you mean?" 

"Nuffink brutal, ya' pansy! I'm checkin' yer 'elff."

She drags her finger down past your waist and onto your crotch, and an involuntary twitch down there turns your whole face red as a beet. You had hoped the goblin wouldn't make anything of it. Do goblins even have those?

"Hah!" She widens her eyes. "Yer jibbliez iz' cute!" She suddenly proclaims, her finger tip jostling your cock about. Even as careful as she is it nearly takes the wind out of you. 

"Hey! Don't just touch my- Heh-hahha!" Your protest is interrupted as she jolts her finger back to your navel, flicking it a few times softly and stirring a bark of involuntary laughter as she tickles you.

"Yer' a skinny lil' 'umie ain'tcha? Don't wanna shrink ya' into a speck- not yit' anywayz- so I betta' water da' new brew down a bit!"

Without further comment her impromptu physical exam ends, and she releases your hands, though you only have a moment to rub them together before she again grasps your torso and spins about. Your vision is a blur, and you feel a stomach-lurching rush of momentum before you're suddenly let go of, and flop the mercifully short distance from her waist onto a soft fur rug.

"Sit roight' dere' humie!" She commands, pointing and setting a hand on her hips. "Don't bovva' tryin' to'  run! Yer' too runty fer' da' stairs anywayz!" 

Without any further embelishment she turns and strides over to a shelf of ingredients along the far wall. You get a fine view of her fat butt, jostling back and forth as she walks, barely concealed by a pair of thin linen panties and a flap of maille in the front. Her thighs are crammed to bursting into a pair of torn black leggings that bite into the soft green skin alluringly. 

Alluringly? She's a goblin, a monster- a runty one at that! Well- normally runty. If you hadn't blundered into that trap she'd have tasted a crossbow bolt! You sigh and sink slightly deflated amidst the loose fluff of the rug. Surely there must be some kind of escape here- some way to get outside and find help. 

Escape where? Into the middle of the deep woods, alone, when you're only a foot tall. The goblin hurries past you intently again, her boots thumping and her voice quietly mumbling about mushrooms. 

Perhaps something to fight her with, a knife or a knitting needle. She's a she-goblin, she probably has no taste for violence. She's a greenskin- of course she has a taste for violence. You slap your forehead. Think straight!

Still, she has alot of exposed skin, not much protection is offered by those cloth bindings that hug her big, firm, jiggling-

You slap your forehead, harder this time.

"What's gotten into me?" You wonder aloud, shaking your head and averting your gaze. You've heard old soldiers and mercenaries talk about greenskins a hundred times. Their descriptions of the grinning, malevolent, impulsive, and violent beasts was never flattering. They certainly never mentioned them being so shapely. 

A strong shiver runs up your spine. A chill at the thought? No- it's just cold. It's actually very cold. You wrap your hands around your elbows and hunch over. The heat seems to be leeching from you, despite the rug, the small stove, and your best efforts to rub your goosebumped skin. You are as small as a hare- and buck naked to boot. You let out a quiet sigh and scoot a tiny bit closer to the woodstove. 

"Eh?" You hear behind you. She's turns from her brewing to peer down at you. "Yer' cold 'umie?" Her voice carried a surprising tone of concern. 

You pause, then nod slightly. No point denying it. The worst she could be is callous, right?

"I did take yer' clothes didn't I." She says, turning fully to face you and resting her hands on her thighs, lowering her head to get another look at your body. You feel your face flush again.

"Ok runty! I'll keep ya' warm. Can't 'ave ya' turnin' purple- I won't be able ta' find' ya' then!"

"What-" You start, before a leather bag the size of a cow hurls past your head and forces you to duck. "Ah! What's that supposed to-" Satchels, herb bundles, and tools pelt the rug before you're greeted with the shadow of the goblin girl's wide hips dropping towards you.

It's over, you think- what a way to go! There's a loud clap of skin against the floor as her ass lands a few inches from your head. Two thighs, each as thick as a Great Forest oak frame your entire stooped body. Your captor crosses her legs, leaving you encircled in the small space between them and her body. She immediately starts gathering her alchemy supplies about herself.

"I'll work ere' on da' floor wif' ya!" She chirps happily, giving you a wink and a tilt of her head. "Oi- rite'. You 'umies luv to gumph on about names when ya' meet sum' one. Dey' call me Alky! Wut silly 'umie name ya' got?" She inquires. You introduce yourself with some hesitation, trying to seem as at-ease as you can, now surrounded by a chest high wall of green skin. 

"I'm named Aonolf, of- I'm from Enzesburg."

She starts to speak, but from the first syllable struggles and seems to chew on the word rather than speak it. "An- Annuv'- Onov'-" With a sudden gasp, she closes her eyes and cries, "Datz' a zoggin' silly name 'Anon!" A hand slaps at her thigh and she lets out a barking laugh. 

Close enough, you figure, and decide not to take up the task of teaching a goblin proper Reikspiel.

"Sit rite' dere' and warm up- I'll fix dis' brew up fast, soz' we can essperiment' sum' more!" 

When did this become 'our' experiment, you wonder. Thankfully being invited to the 'brewin' at least meant you could warm up. Alky's skin radiates heat- her exposed midriff and the undersides of her breasts are still flushed reddish-green from the exertion of capturing you. Like two ripening apples swaying with her movements. Your poacher's instincts demand you evade this somehow, like you always do, but there's no bush to duck into this time. Or- well...

You gulp loudly, then turn away quickly from her maille skirt. "R-right then, Alky." You reply, choosing the crux of her crossed legs to lean back against. 

You had already been chill from the morning mist in the woods, from the draining sensation of being shrunk, and from the cool air of this cellar, but as soon as you lean back against Alky's soft skin you sigh at the warmth that radiates into your back and neck. It's nice- and take the chance to behold your gaoler in detail. 

While it's a bit hard to keep her face in your sights on account of her ample chest, you try to get a read of her face. It's round, and her cheeks puff out impishly in concentration as she scrutinizes some piece of fungi or sample of fauna in her grasp. Her red eyes narrow one moment and open wide with curiosity another. A twitch of her long ear tussles a lock of raven hair, and a deft finger quickly tucks it back under her drooping pointed cap. It has a medallion pinned to it, some kind of crescent moon. Her tribe perhaps? 

"Dis' gubbin' is gud'. Oh! Dat's a propa' stubby gill'. Egh- needs moar!"

Alky's movements are erratic- you've heard goblins are twitchy creatures- sometimes quick and deft, grasping up things with decisive intent. The next moment she looks like she's completely ignorant of her art, and simply resolves to bash an ingredient to paste in her pestle with grinning abandon. It's endearing, but a bit unnerving, you being the intended recipient of her handiwork.

You've warmed up fast, life returning to your limbs, and after a quick glance to make sure she's distracted you decide to probe your green enclosure a bit. 

You raise your hand from the rug and pass it along the bottom of her thigh, which squishes out slightly beneath her weight. Her skin is soft and hairless, and yields to a prod without her seeming to notice. Passing your hand down her leg you eventually reach the hem of her stocking, which though sheer to her, is as thick as a wool blanket to you, and the skin beneath this is even more pleasantly warm. You could probably crawl inside along side her like a sleeping bag. The path further down her legs is blocked though, they're crossed and her leather boots kick in tune with her gabbing. Those you'd rather not end up inside, you think. 

The other path is a bit more daunting, here her thighs thicken until they're almost half your height, before tapering slightly where they join to her ample hips, and then...

"By the gods- I can't stand it." You mutter. Every time you turn towards Alky your eyes stray to the curves of her waist, drawn down towards her barely concealed crotch. She's completely engrossed in her brewing. You simply must know. 

You scoot your waist over a mere inch- to your reckoning. Then another inch- by hers. Another. Alky doesn't spare you a look, she's shaking a vial of something. Another inch. You can feel the air heat up as you get closer to her, and the faintest scent of her skin, the grassy tinge of sweat, catches on the air. Your hand grips the fur of the rug beneath you, a last check on your boldness, before you reach up and grip the nearest link of maille like a door-knocker and lift. Slowly, slowly, and-

"Mmf!" Is all you manage to get out before the far green wall of her thigh suddenly claps against your face, pressing you against the thigh behind you and forcing all the air out of your lungs in a wheeze. 

You lose your grip on the maille, but your arm is pinned in it's guilty gesture. You're only at liberty to turn your gaze upward, where Alky in turn stares down at you. What a fool! Could she really not notice? 

Alky looks impassively for a moment, blinking a few times. Bewilderment before anger surely.  

A sharp fang appears at the corner of her mouth, and she squints smugly at you. 

"Takin' a looksee, are ya' git?" She bites her lip and presses a finger to her chin. 

"Don't fink' I didn't feel yer' before. Ya' play at bein' shivery to git' at a ladys' bitz, eh?"

Her thighs ease up on your chest and you draw warm air into your lungs- before they shift to constrict you again, lifting your body a bit off the rug. You arm slips free, and you raise it quickly above the green press like a sailor seeking purchase in a rolling sea. Alky plucks up your diminutive hand between her fingers and holds it gently, as she less-than-gently rubs her thighs back and forth around you. 

"I'll 'elp ya! Hah!" She's giggling now, and her free hand starts to shove the alchemy tools and satchels aside, clearing a wide swathe around her. "Wuz' all done anywayz!" 

You're not so much standing now, as simply being held between her legs. You try to push at her to gain a little relief, but your hands slip without purchase on the warm smooth skin. 

"Cam' on Anon! Just give em' a gud' shove ya pansy!" 

She yields for just a moment, to let your other arm free, then presses her legs together firmly with her hands. 

"Ough- e-ease up!" You gasp out, only to recieve more pressure for your trouble. They're soft but they may as well be two huge wine-casks pressed against your chest as far as escape is concerned. Still, she shows no sign of relenting without some effort- so you prop your arms against them and desperately try to extract yourself. 

"Ain't ya' tuff enuff'? I thot' 'umies were s'pose to' be stronga' then gobbos!" 

Any memories of the cold are gone now, you're red in the face and hot, both from the effort of trying to extract yourself, and from the rising heat between her legs. 

"Runty! Push 'arder!" She demands, and you start to kick your legs as much as you can, gritting your teeth in frustration. The gall of this greenskin to tease you like this! Once you're out you'll climb up to her head and-

Her hands suddenly release from their press, and her thighs part from your body. You let out an awkward gasp as you fling out from between her legs, and flop face-first against her with a slap of skin-on-skin. 

"Hah! Tricked ya' again Anon! Yer' too cute." You can feel her voice through the jiggling of your green pillow, and after a despondant moment you try to lift yourself up, though your hands struggle to find purchase against her squishy belly. Stumbling and bouncing to your knees, you're face to face with her stomach, standing astride the top of her thighs.

"Y-yeah- you got me, alright." You muster, looking up to face her. "What's your b- big..."

Big. Breasts. Her two ample breasts conceal most of her face, only two wide yellow eyes stare down past them. They rise and fall above you, in tune with her hastening breath, and only the thinnest strip of wrapped linen conceals them. Her eyes narrow mischeviously as she watches you gawk.

"Lookin' at sumfin' Anon?" She asks slowly, her hands rising past you on both sides and her fingers pressing daintily into the soft underside of her breasts, lifting them and then dropping them with a heavy 'whump'. "You umies' always gawkin' at sumfin', ain'tcha? I fergot' ya' get all weird about chest gubbins." 

She tugs at the straining black strip of fabric, then leans forward, lowering her bust closer, and presenting the dangling end of the strip to you. "Go on den'." 

Breasts...

You hesistate a moment, then leap up, grabbing hold of the strip. Your knuckles brush against her skin as you unravel the first cinch of her chest-wrapping just by putting your weight on it. Your hands start to work at it, tugging to unwind the dark band as if you were reeling in the rigging of a ship. The strap darkens in some places, where the sweat of her breasts, underarms, and back has soaked in. Your head starts to go numb, your chest thumping with anticipation as more and more of her skin becomes visible, pale green beneath the black cloth, slightly glistening and radiant with body heat. Excitement of her own, her sharp teeth flashing in an anticipatory smirk. 

Fwump. Everything goes green.

The last of the wrap falls past you, and the great pair of breasts above you are released, landing heavily on your shoulders. You're forced to stoop under the weight, the underside of her boobs flopping onto your back and shoulders, and completely enclosing your head in cleavage. Her skin sticks to yours, each movement of your cheeks or craning of your neck having to pull away from its warm grip. You draw a sharp breath, and the grassy scent of Alky's sweat fills your nose. You take a long moment to enjoy it. You may have been captured, tricked, and humiliated, but this is a worthy prize for enduring it. 

You jostle your hands a bit into the underside of her bust, and the realm of breastflesh around you trembles with a deep giggle. Her voice carries through the dense medium, muffled. 

"Dat' tickles Anon! You sure yer' runty 'andz can 'andle em propa'?" There's suddenly more weight atop your burden, she's pressing a hand onto the top of one of her breasts, and you nearly keel over in that direction. 

Breasts.

A heat rises in your chest, and your reason escapes you. The situation, the heat, the smell of her skin, and your now out-of-control arousal drives you to a frenzy. Your knees shake, then with a strength not entirely your own you straighten, and your back and arm muscles strain as you push upwards. Her soft breasts yield for a moment, and then you're fighting against their great weight alone. A throaty cry dissapears into her cleavage as you grit your teeth and stand upright. Your arms rise above your shoulders, hands sunk nearly elbow deep into the squishy undersides of her areolas. Sweat streams from your face, yours and hers. 

Breasts!

You hear a quiet "Oi." from above, and the burden momentarily lightens as Alky's hand lifts from her breasts. You hear the thump of her heartbeat in front of you. You've lifted them up, they're yours.

They're really heavy. "Ough." You puff out the last of the air in your lungs. "Al-k-" An ankle falters, and the heavens threaten to fall on your head. There's a sudden brush of big fingertips over your hands, and the burden is lifted. Alky takes hold of her breasts, her hands placed above yours, and you hear a soft sigh from above. A voice gently calls to you. "Yer' propa' strong Anon- Ya' wanna' be da' boss iz'atit?" 

There's no time for a reply, you're suddenly dragged along with her, by the arms, as she flops onto her back. You land atop the settling bulk of one of her breasts, your hands still clasped in hers, as she drags you to cover the springy mound as if you were the cup of a brassiere. 

Breasts...

"Go on den' Anon-" She breathes lustily at you, her green cheeks flushed and her eyes lidded. 

Breasts.

"Yer' da' Boss, ave' a go'." She bites at her lip and releases your hands, throwing her hands behind her head and tussling her long black hair.

You've come too far now. You've lost your head.

Breasts!

You lift yourself up to the peak of her right breast, where the round curve of her dark green areola rises. Like a chained animal unleashed, you attack it with great ferocity, your arms wrapping around it and squishing it against your chest. You scour every inch of it with your lips, kissing around the corners of her nipple, bigger than your head. It's sunken, soft and yielding in a crease of her areola, waiting in anticipation of arousal.

Something between a scoff of laughter and a moan erupts above you, and her chest writhes beneath you, and at once the temperature soars from a balmy warmth to a lustful heat. As rigid as iron and shoving your hips into the squishy side of Alky's breast, your hands clench finger-deep into her soft nipple, tugging at it as your tongue probes everywhere. The taste of her skin and sweat fills your palette, and the smell of milk just out of reach makes your head spin. 

Breasts, Breasts, Breasts, Breasts! Your voice fails to cry out, only a manic laugh escapes!

You're lapping, then biting at it like an animal. Unmarred by your attacks, but growing stiffer and plump in your grip, until your fingers can no longer press into it, but merely massage and steer it towards your affections. Alky lets out a shuddering moan, and your attention snaps to her other breast. Like a man possessed you toss yourself across the gap of her cleavage, nearly shouting out as you take hold of her other nipple and begin to assail it much the same. 

"Nnn- Feels so gud! Yer' off yer' noggin' Anon!" She giggles, a hand trailing down her waist and producing lewd sounds behind you. Her other hand pinches at her now-exposed nipple, pulling and jostling it about as you seek to excite the other. Your hands pound into her yielding chest, cup her huge areola, pry at her thick nipples. You thrust and gnaw and jostle about the two jiggling hills until you're coated in sweat and your head roils with inarticulate lust. Your hips shudder and you let out a gasp, and then there's no more left to the furor- there's a moment of clarity.

"T-too hot." You pant, and collapse atop the springy hill. 

"Hah- Anon- yer' a laff' aint'cha?" Alky mutters, a hand rising behind you and resting atop your back gently, pressing you into her breast. Her hat has flopped off, revealing the full volume of her hair, a few bangs clinging to the sweat of her brow. Her eyes focus intently on your face, and her sharp teeth funnel her shallow breaths into a slight whistle. "Ya' got alot' of nerve', werkin' me up den' tryin'ta' slack off!" A fingertip smacks the top of your head, then rubs from side to side, tussling your hair. 

You struggle a moment to regain language. "Y-you're a real hard one to please, lass."

Alky laughs and pats your shoulders. Her other hand strays away to her side. 

"We gobbos' like a gud' toss, and yer' a wild wun'. Only wun' fing' I'd change about ya' humie'.

You open an eye, "What's that lass?"

Theres a shifting of her body, and then you suddenly feel a wet splash on your head, and your sight is stained purple.

"Gah!" You sputter, as the strange but familiar taste streams into your mouth and wets your back. 

There's a peel of giggling from above, and the intensified press of a growing hand against your back as you feel the same dizzying sensation sprawl down your limbs. The skin beneath you and the hand above you seem to expand until you're whole body from head to toe is pressed against one breast and cupped beneath her palm.

"I'd like ya' runtier!" She announces, wrapping her now tree-trunk sized fingers around your body and dragging you from your soft perch. You feel yourself fall, and then you're pressed against the rug below. Immense weight and furnace-like heat surrounds you, and your vision blurs from the impact.

"I brewed dis' up in an 'urry, since yer such a needy lil' 'umie. Looks like it didn't turn ya' into a speck afta' all!" 

When your eyes open and the potion has trickled from your face, you can only see a canyon of thighs to either side of you, and the long curving trail of her body towering above. Alky has dispensed with both the maille skirt and her linen panties, and you see a vast tangle of black hairs above you. Her face looks down past her breasts from towering heights, squinting to make out the surprise on your face. 

"Fuck me, Anon, ya' silly git." She says plainly, squeezing her thighs together, and leaving you with no way to move but forward. You're brusquely shoved into the damp brush of her pubes, soft hairs wrapping themselves around your limbs and hindering your search for her nethers. You have to breathe through your mouth to draw air, your nose being overwhelmed by the cloying scent of her sex, already stirred up with sweat from your foreplay. 

"A-Alky I need a minute to-" 

The goblin lifts her rear and then slaps it down petulantly against the ground, shaking you wildly and further entangling you in her pubes as you cling to them to avoid being thrown beneath her. She lets out a childish spat of laughter, and begins to rub her thighs together, as if you reel you in. 

"Git' in dere', c'mon!" She shakes back and forth impatiently, biting her tongue in anticipation. 

You have little choice. Between the press of her thighs and your struggling attempt to climb up her crotch, you're suddenly face-to-face with her clitoris, gently twitching beneath it's pink hood. It'd be cute, if it weren't so menacingly large, but you figure there's no better place to start, unless you want to be shoved in on less amicable terms.

You wrap an arm around the soft mound of her pussy and start to lick at Alky's clit, sending an immediate quiver up her spine and inspiring more grinding and rubbing of her thighs. By tenuous feel, you're able to work a foot out of the tangled hair, and probe about for the lips of her pussy, eventually finding soft, wet, and warm puchase. You work at her arousal with your hands, while her eagre depths take the offered leg, and then the other into their sticky embrace. You nearly lose it at once as your waist enters her pussy, and her tight insides hug against you.

"Ah- Fasta', fasta'!" Alky cries, her thighs fully closing behind you, and the rubbing of her waist against the floor plunging you deeper inside. 

You're braced against the squishy mons around her clit, clinging with both arms to avoid being drawn any further into her depths by the powerful clenching. The smell of her sex dissolves all reason, heady and earthy, and clinging to every hair and inch of wet skin beneath you.  

It isn't long before you shudder, her hot, silky insides wringing your seed out. Alky still grinds and writhes around you needfully- even with both legs and your waist up to your navel inside, her pussy tugs at you, begging for more. You're too big to go all the way in- aren't you? You go at her clit again, taking hold of it with both hands to avoid finding out. You flick at it and lunge as fast as you can.

"Ahhh- Ah- Anon!" She cries, her tongue lolling out and her eyes tearing in passionate fixation on what she can see of you astride her thrusting hips. There's a clench of her pussy that feels like it might pull your legs off- and then a hot stream of climax sputtering from her lips, matching another release from yourself. Her legs squeeze tightly about you, locking you against her crotch, everything a blur of fragrant hair, sticky skin, and streaming wet passion. 

"Anon... Anon- ah." Alky gibbers, and only after a minute of panting she relaxes her thighs and leans back against the rug, giving you room to partially disentangle yourself. Theres a long refractory moment for both of you, before her hand gently wraps around your chest and parts you from the warm mire of sex. Dry fur touches your back, and you blink a few times, adjusting to the sight of her face, glistening with sweat, perched atop a crooked arm before you. She's lying on her front, with you sprawled a few inches ahead. Her puffing breath sways the fur rug around you. 

"Anon, yer' a fun lil' git'." Alky whispers, poking at your chest with a finger. You place a hand on it and try to look as confident as you can, though your hair is still draped over your eyes. With surprising deftness she parts it from your brow with her fingertip. "Tell' ya' wot. Ya' stay ere' wif' Alky and elp' me werk', since yer' such an eaga' lil' 'elper." She asks with a tilt of her head, her wide eyes looking plaintively at you. 

You consider for a moment. Was this any worse than poaching and sleeping in the woods alone? Once you returned to normal you could be as comfortable here with her as anywhere else. You look into Alky's eyes and feel a stirring in your chest. 

"I'll stay." You say confidently.

"Dat's gud!" Alky chirps, lifting her head and setting her hands against her cheeks. "Cuuuuuz', I dunno' wut' brew wud' make yer' big agin'." She grins widely. "Yer' not too pansy fer' a lil' essperimentin' are ya'?" 

You gulp.

"Wots da' matta' Anon?" She taps your head teasingly with a fingertip. "Where do ya' 'ave to run off to?"