The Craving​

The next three days were a personal hell. The princess stayed in her room, saying she was sick. The royal doctors were confused. She had no fever or obvious illness, but she was pale, her eyes wide with a strange, scared light. But her sickness wasn't something they could name. It was a fire in her blood, an unstoppable craving that had taken root in her soul. The itch in her private area was always there, a maddening reminder of the attack. She spent hours in her bath, scrubbing her skin until it was red, but the feeling was inside, like a bug crawling under her skin that couldn't be washed away.

Her nights were sleepless, filled with painful memories of the attack. But the memories had changed. The fear and pain were now mixed with a dark, exciting thrill. She remembered how big the creature was, the feeling of being completely filled and controlled. She would touch herself, her fingers on her swollen, sore skin, and a wave of shameful heat would wash over her. Her own touch wasn't enough to stop the deep, nagging hunger.

(I need it. I need that... that thing inside me again. I need to be filled, to be stretched... to be used like an animal.)

Then there was her stomach. On the second day, she noticed it was strangely swollen. By the third morning, her belly was tight and round, as if she were many months pregnant. A deep, primal fear fought with a strange sense of waiting. This was the monster's baby, growing impossibly fast. The itch got worse, and her womb started to cramp with sharp, regular pains. This wasn't a normal birth; it was violent and about to happen.

That evening, the cramps became unbearable. She locked her door, biting a silk sheet to stop herself from screaming. It felt like something was clawing its way out. There was a horrible, tearing sound, and a rush of blood and water soaked her bed. The pressure was gone, replaced by a raw, empty feeling. Shaking, she lifted the bloody sheets. There, in the mess, was a newborn goblin. It was small, no bigger than a human baby, with the same yellow-green skin as its father. But as it opened its smart, evil eyes and stretched its tiny body, the princess gasped. Between its legs, a penis of impossible size, a perfect copy of its father's, started to grow hard, rising from its small body like a piece of flesh. It was already fully grown, pulsing with life, and shiny with the same powerful liquid.

Any feeling of motherhood, any horror at the monster birth, disappeared instantly at the sight. The itch that had tortured her for three days exploded into a fire of pure lust. The cut in her belly, the blood, the monster baby – it all faded away. All she saw was the cure for her suffering. That thick, pulsing penis.

She didn't wait. With a wild groan, she picked up the newborn goblin. It was her son, her child, and her new master.

"Come to mother, my sweet little monster," she whispered, her voice rough and broken. "Mama is so, so itchy. You have to help me. You have to fill this empty, aching hole."

She lay back, spreading her legs, her own wetness mixing with the birth blood. The cut in her belly bled, but she felt no pain, only the burning need. She put the tiny creature, her own son, between her thighs. The newborn goblin, acting on instinct, immediately attached, its huge penis tip pressing against her swollen, hungry opening.

(Yes… oh gods, yes… fill me… stretch your mother’s worthless hole… my son…)

With a desperate, hungry sob, Aurelia lifted her hips, sitting down on her own child. The feeling was electric, a thousand times stronger than the first time. This time there was no resistance, only a hungry, welcoming emptiness. The goblin son started to use her with the same cruel, natural rhythm as its father, its huge penis plunging in and out, scratching the unbearable itch, filling the emptiness that had haunted her.

"Ohhh, that’s it… deeper… fuck me deeper, my child!" she panted, her nails digging into her own thighs. "Don’t you ever stop! Don’t you ever leave me!"

A frightening, brilliant idea came to her corrupted mind. She couldn't stand the thought of him leaving, of the itch returning. As he continued to pound into her, she reached down, her hands finding the base of his penis where it met her wet skin. When he drove deep on his next push, she squeezed her thighs together with all her might, her inner muscles clamping around him, trapping him. She wouldn't let him pull out. She would keep him inside her, a permanent part of her, a living toy to satisfy her endless need. The goblin squirmed, but her desperation gave her superhuman strength. He was her prisoner, her plug, her salvation.

​The Secret Life​

From that day on, Princess Aurelia was a different person. She learned to walk with her goblin son deep inside her, a constant, satisfying presence. To the court, she was a picture of calm, if distant, beauty. She would glide through the halls, a faint, secret smile on her lips, her hips moving with a new, sensual grace. No one guessed the grotesque secret she held inside her body. The constant, slight rubbing of the goblin's penis as she moved kept the worst of the itch away, a low, pleasant feeling that colored her every moment.

But it wasn't enough. Being trapped meant she couldn't feel the full, hard release of being properly used. Each evening, as darkness fell, she would go to her room, her body shaking with anticipation. The itching would have built to a fever pitch, a maddening fire that demanded to be put out.

"It’s time, my sweet," she would whisper, locking the door and taking off her royal clothes. She would carefully, unhappily, let her muscles relax, letting her son slip out. He would land on the bed, his huge penis already dripping, ready for his job.

"Fuck me, my son," she would command, her voice raw with need as she offered herself to him. "Fuck your mother until she can’t think. Make me forget everything but this."

And he would obey, climbing on top of her and driving his monstrous flesh into her, the cycle of cruel, wrongful sex happening night after night in the heart of the castle.

This secret life went on for weeks. But such a big change in the princess couldn't stay hidden forever. Her mother, the wise and observant Queen Isolde, began to watch her with growing worry. Aurelia's innocent purity had been replaced by a smoldering, hungry sensuality. Her eyes, once clear blue, now held a dark, knowing look. She had become secretive, her smiles not reaching her eyes.

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