Goblin Girl and Mage

Holding the small vial of purple liquid in his tiny green hands, Robert—once a towering knight—now barely contained his rage. His once-tight

Holding the small vial of purple liquid in his tiny green hands, Robert—once a towering knight—now barely contained his rage. His once-tight cotton shirt now hung loosely on him, held up only by his new, massive breasts—massive by goblin standards, at least—which felt heavy, unnatural, and made it hard to breathe. His hips, uncomfortably wide, rubbed against each other, and his small green feet, now bare after he had to remove his boots, touched the wooden floor.

— Gaa-rgh! — The sound burst out of him, but it was high-pitched, like an angry mouse.

Standing before him was the mage—the very same one Robert had agreed to help sort through his mess of potions to figure out what was what, for which, of course, he had promised to pay a gold coin. A decent payment for such a trivial task. But never in his worst nightmares had Robert imagined that one of those potions would turn him into a goblin!

— Gaa-rgh! — The same squeaky sound escaped again, unbearable to hear. Robert tried to clear his throat, but his voice remained the same—high-pitched, irritating, almost guttural.

He shuddered, realizing his tongue was shorter, his lips fuller, and his teeth sharper. He tried to swallow, but his tongue didn't move as it used to.

— Oh… I see… — The mage, a thin elderly man in a blue robe, scratched his gray beard, studying him with interest. — This… is an unexpected result.

Robert glared at him, gripping the vial so tightly that his short, clawed fingers turned pale. He wanted to shout something like, “What the fuck did you give me, you old prick?! GIVE ME MY BODY BACK!” but instead, what came out was:

— Khr’gak! Griiina-f’tarsh!

— Ooooh… — The mage took a step back. — I have no idea what you’re saying.

“Fucking great… you old asshole! Should I just kill you right now?!”

In frustration, Robert stomped his tiny foot and slammed the vial against the table too hard. The glass cracked, and the remaining purple liquid splattered onto the wooden planks. A sickening twist churned in his chest. His heart pounded too fast. A foreign body. A hostile body. He tried to pull off his shirt, but the moment he did, his heavy breasts shifted, and he instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the pull on his skin.

"Gods, this is impossible… how do women walk around with THESE?!"

His hands slid over his hips—wide, soft, making his legs feel unnaturally thin in comparison. And worst of all, the more he moved, the more he felt the absence beneath his stomach.

— Well… — The mage stroked his chin thoughtfully. — Considering you spilled the rest of the potion… and seeing as you are now a goblin woman, you’ll need to… hmm… go to the goblins.

Robert’s head snapped up, his small yellow eyes narrowing.

“What the hell is he babbling about? What’s he on about? I don’t get a fucking word!”

— Gr’tarsh?! — A desperate squeak rang out, and Robert scared himself with his own voice.

He took a sharp step forward, but his new, soft thighs—ones that had never been there before—pressed together, nearly making him topple over. Catching himself on the edge of the table, he shook his head. His old face—square, rough, with heavy features—now seemed ridiculous on this miniature, absurdly feminine body.

The mage drank something while Robert furiously scanned the room, cursing his new form and trying to process just how massive everything seemed now. After a moment, he heard the familiar voice of the mage, who, judging by the sound, was now speaking Goblin.

— We have exactly five minutes to talk, Robert. So listen carefully. You shouldn’t have spilled that potion. Without the original mixture… — He shook his head. — Even I can’t recreate the antidote. The ingredients are rare. The goblins keep them in their underground lairs. You have to go there. Negotiate. I can’t— you know that. Goblins don’t like humans.

Robert blinked.

— What?! Have you completely lost your fucking mind, you old goat!? What the hell do you mean, goblins?!

— I said I don’t have the ingredients! — The mage’s face suddenly changed, and like a guilty child, he threw up his hands. — And the ones we need… the goblins have them.

Robert was at his limit. He blinked, trying to process what he’d just heard, but the thought got stuck halfway, never quite forming into a full-on "What the fuck?!" He jerked forward, grimacing as his heavy tits bounced along with him, swaying uncomfortably. Fuck, this was unbearable.

— Goblins?! — Robert almost screamed, but his high-pitched voice only made the situation even more ridiculous. — They hate me! Do you have any idea how much they put on my head?!

The mage only spread his hands, looking at him—or rather, at her—with something close to pity.

— Yeah, I know, — he nodded. — That’s exactly why you’ll have to negotiate.

— Fuck you! — Robert slammed his fist on the table, but the hit was so weak that even the cloth covering it didn’t budge. A shudder ran through him. This body… it was too small, too weak. Every fiber of his being screamed that this wasn’t him. That he couldn’t be… this!

He looked down, and his stomach twisted. No wonder. He was standing barefoot on tiny green feet, his hips bumping into each other with every careless movement, and worst of all…

— What the fuck, mage! — he hissed, trying to grab onto his shirt again, but it was useless. — Am I… fuck, am I seriously a goblin chick now?!

The mage averted his eyes, falling silent for a moment, then suddenly spun around and added:

— Actually, yes! And that’s brilliant! You can sneak in disguised as a bride! — He perked up, slapping his forehead. — Goblins are obsessed with their wedding ceremonies, and you, heh-heh, well… you look like, by their standards, quite the little treat!

Robert blinked. Then again. And finally, slowly raised a gaze filled with raw, primal rage at the mage.

— You… — he exhaled through clenched teeth, and if he could, he would’ve spat right into the old man’s beard. — You’re out of your fucking mind!

— Quite the opposite! — The mage was clearly pleased with himself. — I, or anyone else, can’t just walk in there—outsiders aren’t allowed, especially humans. But! You… well… are now rather attractive by goblin standards! I heard there’s a wedding coming up in their tribe, and they’re desperate to find a bride for their chief. If you play your cards right, they’ll let you in themselves, and from there…

Robert grimaced and grabbed his own breasts. They were soft, slightly firm, but heavy. So fucking heavy that his back already ached, and his ribs were damp with sweat from where his tits pressed against his skin.

"Fuck! A bride?! For the chief?! This old bastard has completely lost it!"

— You’re telling me… to get married?! — He clenched his fists, his small clawed fingers immediately digging into his palms.

The mage shrugged.

— Well, no need to go through with the ceremony… just get inside, charm them, find out where they keep the ingredients, and get the hell out before it’s too late.

Robert wanted to scream that he would never, not in a million years, become someone’s bride, even as a cover. But his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. His mind raced—was there even another option? He was a goblin now. Small, green, with ridiculously huge tits and shamelessly wide hips that he couldn’t ignore. He didn’t even know how much longer he could stay among humans without drawing unwanted attention.

His breasts shifted slightly as he took a breath, and he immediately hunched over, hugging himself.

"This is fucking disgusting!"

But fuck it, he had no choice. If the goblins had the ingredients, he had to get them.

— What do I need to do? — he growled through clenched teeth, hating every word that left his mouth.

The mage nodded, as if approving of his resolve.

— First things first… we need to get you dressed.

And that’s when Robert truly felt like he was about to break.