Day 30 - Sounding/Overstimulation - Skyrim (Futa)

“Good, my champion,” Mephala purred, “Your reward awaits in the chamber beyond. You’ve been everything I could have asked for.”

Baza pried her axe from the body of the last draugr that had been “tainting” the daedra’s shrine. Though the shrine itself was so decayed, and even back when it had been new, so brutal and so garish, that taint was entirely subjective. Not that an orc camp was exactly a beautiful sight, but she wasn’t so far gone to the adventurer’s life that crypts and tombs had started feeling like home away from home.

In retrospect, when her mother had told her that life outside of the strongholds was cold, dull, and lacking in steady work, Baza probably should have listened. As a girl, she had taken honus with the fact that life inside of them was just as cold and just as boring, as an adult she understood that the emphasis had always been on the third part. She wasn’t as intimidating as most of the males of her kind that found sellsword work outside. She wasn’t good enough with tools or trades to make for a smith. And she wasn’t pretty enough (at least not to the average nord) to ply as a working girl. That was before you even accounted for her “birthright.” At the very least, being an avatar of Mephala wasn’t off the table. Though she hadn’t actually expected to walk right into her command. Perhaps the daedra had guided her path. Either way, an uneventful month of raiding tombs had turned into… a slightly more eventful week of raiding tombs.

The chamber beyond was little more than a scant shrine built into the wall, decorated with carvings and runes from well before the time not only of Baza, but likely most of the draugr who she had been through to get here. A chest that looked about large enough to fit a cuirass sat at the foot of the shrine, its lid slightly broken and permanently ajar.

“Though it may be in disrepair, the chest contains your reward, my champion. Take what you find inside, you will find it to be of great help to you.”

She stepped over to the chest and threw back the lid, accidentally snapping the already-fragile hinges in the process. There was a bag of gold; which she pocketed, a couple of daggers which looked to be decayed beyond use; which she ignored, and lastly a metal thing made up of three branches which extended out from a hexagonal base. The branches were like belts, which if wrapped around would have caused the whole device to fit around the waist of the user with the hexagon over the groin, like a chastity belt or a girded loincloth.

Perhaps most interestingly, on the side of the center which seemed intended to face inward, there was a black, featureless hole. Baza poked her finger inside and it was swallowed into seemingly empty space, empty space which was warm, wet, and which shifted to grasp tightly at her finger. She jerked the digit back out in shock, then immediately grasped just what the intention of the device was.

“Yes, my champion. You understand correctly.” Mephala’s voice was soft and warm in Baza’s ear, “For girls like us, it can be difficult to find relief, can’t it? I’ve given you something which will make it easier to focus, for there are greater trials ahead.”

Baza looked at it suspiciously a moment before blushing and unfastening her leather trousers. It wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind for a reward, but she also wasn’t about to throw it away. It would be an unwise choice to needlessly make an enemy of the daedra who had chosen her. It would also be… shortsighted to not try it for its intended purpose. It had been a long time. Daedric artifacts were legendary. They were said to be able to do everything from make you fly to turn you invisible. Even if it just “eased her burdens” that would be a kind of incredible.

She pulled them down and opened her hide vest enough that it wouldn’t get in the way. Her cock wasn’t hard yet, but it was starting to swell. Malacath had put a blessing on their tribe several hundred years ago, and it had probably even seemed like a good idea at the time. As a tribe entirely made up of women (the former wives of chieftains who didn’t want to go with their husbands to the funeral pyre and warriors who felt their sex meant they would never see a fair shot at chieftainship), they had plead to Malacath for a way to carry on their lineage. And being such devoted followers of him as they were, their god had seen fit to answer. One woman of each generation gained hermaphroditism, able to produce strong orc babies with the unaffected of the tribe.

What one must keep in mind however is that Malacath has a sense of humor, as do most gods. When the first generation of babies was born of the ancestral line and half of them turned out male…

Being the only woman around with a cock was probably a very valuable thing when your tribe didn’t also have men in it with cocks.

This was something Baza had made peace with long ago. She was not a blessed child born unto a harem and adulation, that ship had sailed before her time. Now she simply was. Life was complicated, often it was best to just be. At least in Mephala there was something of a kindred spirit, the androgyne, the mother (and father?) of hermaphrodites, and more importantly the one whose sphere was lies, sex, murder, and secrets. Things which an adventurer had to become comfortable with, or at least three of which an adventurer had to become comfortable with. There had not been an abundance of sex since she’d started, which perhaps explained the artifact.

Her cock had at least hardened enough to stand straight, and she wrapped a hand around the base and maneuvered the ponderously oversized thing into the hole. Immediately Baza sighed and shuddered at the feeling of the warm, wet thing on the other side closing tightly around her. She didn’t know what it was, she didn’t know where it was, all she knew was that it felt fucking fantastic gripping down against her cock. She pushed all the way in, finding the portal big enough to slip her cumbersomely large balls in as well, feeling them enveloped in the same hot embrace. She brought the jutting connectors on either side back behind her waist and heard them snap against one another, pulled by some invisible force. She didn’t bother touching the bottom one that looped under her legs, but she didn’t need to. A second later it snapped into place of its own accord, the metal flexing and bending to fit her skin tightly but comfortably.

“There you are, my champion,” Mephala’s voice was wavering with intensity, like whatever was on the other side of the portal had a lot of nerve endings, “Let me carry your burden. I may even take better care of it than you were.”

The belt pulled at Baza’s cock with a sort of gentle suckling. Like a gentle, steady massage. She could feel herself hardening to the point that it was nearly unpleasant, about as stiff as she could realistically get, enough to make her head a little light. Still, the belt gave a gentle and building stimulus, never pushing so far or so fast that she was liable to cum soon, always eventually. Baza sat down and tried to grind her hips into the good feelings.

“Ah, your work isn’t done my champion.” Mephala cooed, “Rebind your vest, step back into your clothing, clean my temple of even the corpses of those who would defile it and your reward will be all the greater.”

Baza didn’t particularly care about the quantity or quality of the reward at the moment so long as there was one. Her cock was so unbearably hard and the level of pleasure already being given was so satisfyingly steady and alluring that she wanted little more than to just sit there and let the daedra service her. After a moment, Mephala made a sound Baza wasn’t expecting, and likely one that you never wanted a deity to make in regards to you.

“Hmph,” Her voice suddenly turned sour, though even if it had been scathing it still would have been teasingly erotic, “I see how you wish to be then. Very well, this was your choice.”

Suddenly a thin, warm tendril coiled around the tip of Baza’s cock like wire, alive with movement and squirming wetly. She felt it prod against the slit of her urethra for a moment before plunging in, so slick and so slim that it met no resistance. Even without resistance, the feeling was so sudden and so intense that Baza yelped and jumped up. It was like her body was trying everything it could to reject it, her stomach full of little static waves of discomfort, her crotch tensed like a muscle. It didn’t feel bad, she realized, but it felt wrong. Like something that wasn’t meant to be, and that her body knew wasn't’ meant to be. That didn’t keep it from happening.

Reaching behind her, Baza clawed for some sort of release on the belt, or even just tried to pry it apart, but whenever she tried to dig her fingers under it, it suddenly grew so tight and dug into the skin so harshly that she couldn’t find purchase. There was no release, at least not a tangible one. And when she tried to push it down, the loops went up and dug close and tight around her hips.

“Don’t be ungrateful now,” Mephala cooed again, “You’ll be used to it in a second.”

Whether she wanted it to be true or not, Mephala didn’t seem to be lying. As the tendril snaked all the way down (she hated that she could feel every single place it was touching, aware of the exact spot it had reached at all times without ambiguity) inside of her, she felt it as a stirring in her balls, a sort of bladder-full feeling as it pushed up into her guts. Baza wasn’t sure it wasn’t going to start coming up and out of her eyes and ears in a second, but she felt it stop. Tendril wrapped around and squirming in both testicles, another tendril in her bladder. Even worse, while it stayed the same size deep inside, back in her urethra she could feel it growing wider, broadening like a string of pearls, likely distending her skin garishly. Baza was actually thankful she couldn’t see it. Mephala had been right in that she had been getting used to it, but she wasn’t used to the size it was becoming. In patches her body started to calm down, stop trying so hard to rid itself of the invader, but in others it became even worse than before. At the very least, they stopped growing before she felt something break. But she was left with (used to it or not) a cock full of a tendril which grew as wide as what felt like an acorn in parts and was as thin as an instrument’s string the rest of the way. And it moved, always it moved. Slick and without resistance but always squirming, always writhing, always pressing and rubbing against the nerves inside of her.

And then the outside environment changed too, the sensation of the slick and warm place growing more intense. Tighter, wetter, hotter. It started to move and writhe like it was pumping her. Baza had bolted up but now she hunched over double, continuing to claw and pick at the belt with no success. This had been the bliss she’d been hoping for when she put on the belt. If this had been what had waited since the first second, she might have cum in under a minute and been able to take it off again before it had sealed shut. Now she could feel it drawing her close to orgasm, but she wasn’t sure what it was going to be like cumming with the cock plugged and stuffed as it was. She was afraid to find out.

But she did anyway. Baza felt her body tense and release and her cock start jerking, trying to pump its pent-up load out, but there was no pleasure or relief. Instantly, her load hit against the tendril bulb down at the base of her cock and had nowhere to go, even as her balls pumped and pulsed it remained trapped inside of them and they started to ache like they’d been bruised. She cried out and pounded at the belt, but all that managed was actually bruising her hips.

“Now you understand,” Mephala’s voice was both seductive and stern, playful and angry, masculine and feminine. “Now, get those bodies out of my temple.”

Baza did her best to stand and pull her clothes around her so they wouldn’t trip her. She looked at the pile of draugr who had stopped her progress. Four in the final chamber, plus another four on the way in. She had to work with a hobbling sort of half-walk, always bent slightly forward like her stomach was aching, stopping every few minutes to bend double again as her balls tried once more to empty without success. The draugr weighed so little that she was able to throw them over her shoulders like dead branches, but they were so large that she couldn’t carry more than two at a time without constantly dropping them, bashing them into things and breaking bits off. But somehow, she persevered.

And when she threw the last one out onto the packed green undergrowth outside, she collapsed onto the ground. The tendril had ripped out suddenly like a puppet’s string without it shrinking or changing shape first, and the feeling of the beads slipping one after the other out of her cockhead, spreading and gaping the slit, had forced her over the edge even if the stimulation of the belt’s interior hadn’t. Baza was suddenly spilling and shooting a load of cum that had been more built-up, backed-up, and ball-filling than she would have thought possible before today, and she was shooting it like her body was trying to purge all of it at once. Each rope shot out of her seemingly white-hot and with enough force that she could feel the jumping and pulsing of her cock like it was a spasming muscle, flexing up from her crotch and out. The aching, bruised feeling of her balls was replaced with both bliss and a sort of hot numbness as they drew up into her body with each shot. And as the worst of it passed and the remaining load started to dribble and slosh out like her cock had been broken, that same warm blissful numbness spread to the rest of her body. Baza whimpered and relaxed, feeling what had been an ungodly amount of tension melt away as her cock deflated even while continuing to release.

Mephala didn’t actually allow it to get soft. Before the orgasm had finished the soft humming massage as before started up again. Baza felt her cock and balls both aching from the overstimulation, no matter how slight, but her cock hardened again in response. Baza rolled over and gasped for breath.

“A pity,” Mephala sounded genuinely disappointed as the tendril wrapped back around the head and teased in circles around the abused slit of Baza’s cock, “I would have hoped one would be enough.”

Baza yelped and did her best to jerk up to her feet and stand at the ready, knees wobbling and body wracked with fatigue. Whatever she accomplished was enough. Mephala laughed in her ear playfully and the tendril went back away, flicking against the underside of Baza’s head playfully.

“Good, you do understand. Now, I want to look into refurbishing the main chamber. In time, a rug and some new furniture, but for now at least removing the moss and the cobwebs from it. After this, you’ll be given time to sleep, though I can’t promise I won’t choose to play with my new toy.”

As Baza tried to express the notion that she would need money for the furnishings, the tendril flicked back again threateningly.

“You’re an adventurer, I suppose you’ll have to adventure for it.” Her voice was suddenly all business. “I am merciful, I didn’t say when I expected them, merely that I did expect them. Though it would be unwise to mistake that mercy for patience.”

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