Futa Skyrim

Chapter 1: The Keep

Cart Ride

I have to say… so far I my initial impression of Skyrim was less than pleasing.

"Go to Skyrim," the priestess had told me. "Your destiny awaits you in the North."

"You're just trying to get rid of me." I was joking. Mostly.

"Oh, beautiful girl." Her voice was warm with her smile. She gave me a kiss to the top of my head, a sudden showing of tenderness. "I would keep you here forever if it was my choice. But I would be stealing something from you. Maybe even from the world. You need to go."

I stared at her. There was a solemness to her voice I'd not heard before. Sure, she was a priestess, but she wasn't one of those stuffy, holier-than-thou types. Whether it was just her personality or being sworn to Dibella, I wasn't sure. I raised an eyebrow, questioning her.

"It's a prophecy thing." She smiled broadly. A bit of her humor was back. "I think."

So to Skyrim I went. Eventually. There were a couple days of saying goodbye. And some sort of gift. What gift I'm not too clear on. It seemed to involve a lot of wine, a lot of sex, and lots of tickling and laughter. It lasted almost two days.

That pleasant memory was a stark contrast to Skyrim.

Since I'd walked across the border I was captured by bandits, cursed, escaped, spent two days lost in the freezing cold, and captured again—this time by Imperial Legionnaires. Who, it seemed, were going to kill me just for having the nerve to be near them.

The cart ride to my death was extremely uncomfortable. The seats were rough wood, there were no springs on the axles and the thing smelled like it was usually used to haul manure. One of the Imperials had given me a folded-up sack as a cushion but it only served to emphasize how roughly the cart handled the stony track it jounced, skipped, and wobbled over.

My companions weren't much better than the cart. Some petty thief named Lokir was next to me and, if anything, smelled worse than the cart. The others in the cart, as well as the larger wagon clattering down the road before us, were all Stormcloaks—fighters for the rebellion.

Couldn't help but think the rebellion was doomed since their leader and half the best fighters were captured in the ambush at the border.

They also caught me—not that I was hiding. Not from them, anyway. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And now my hands were tied up, my feet were squishing in what I hoped was dirt, and my butt squelched at every motion on a soaked rag.

The tentacles in my guts were more agitated the usual. They squirmed around, occasionally poking out my ass before a quick withdraw inside. I guessed they didn't like the cart or the sack cloth any more than I did. It was possible they just enjoyed rimming me—they were certainly perverse enough—but generally when they were trying to arouse me they didn't seem so hesitant.

Not like it mattered, I was already half out of my mind from horniness. I was experiencing a surging tingle in all my erogenous areas for the last couple days and woke this morning with an erection that refused to abate. I knew the signs, I was close to going into "heat". If I didn't get some relief—of the sexual kind—soon I would go mad with lust.

Not like it mattered, I knew the signs. My mind burned with the heat which filled my senses. I called it the "swelling". In the early stages, my boobs and balls gradually grew to enormous sizes and the intense arousal kept my dick erect. Later stages caused my penis to grow in size as well and become so sensitive it verged on pain. Masturbating was no relief—it took sex with a partner to reverse the process. Fortunately, in the depths of the swelling my body was so sensitive it didn't take much to set me off. Unfortunately, the animalistic desire made it difficult to make wise decisions.

This was too soon though. It usually took a month of abstinence before my body got this bad. It was only a few days since I escaped from the bandits and the copious amounts of sex during my imprisonment. Though now I wondered if I actually escaped—it certainly seemed convenient how my escape route lead me right into an Imperial guard unit.

Those jerks were likely laughing their asses off. Probably assumed the Imperials would toss me into a jail where I'd get raped by the other prisoners. Not that I would mind at the moment.

But if what I overheard from the guards was true it wouldn't make any difference. I would soon be dead.

I glanced around trying to get my bearings while trying not to stare too much.

The thief in the cart with me was nattering on about how she shouldn't be here since this was obviously a military thing. The two Stormcloaks were facing the ride with a grim stoicism.

Perhaps the combination of words was redundant, but it really evoked their attitude. Not that one of them could say much, she was gagged as well as bound. More than just cloth, the gag was some kind of complicated leather thing across her face. I was a bit fascinated by it—I had heard of things like it but never seen one. From what I could tell, she was actually the leader of the rebels. Must be some kind of mage if they were keeping her from talking. Name was Ulkric? Elrick? Uckruck? Eh, I was horrible with names. Nord names tended to sound like coughs, the noises just blended together.

"Oh, shut up," the other one—Rulolf? Ralluph?—finally said. "The pregnant girl is handling this better than you."

The thief looked at me then quickly looked away. At least she was quiet for a few minutes.

I wasn't actually pregnant—at least, I didn't think I was—but was pretending to be. I initially figured it would get me a little sympathy and even prepared a sob-fest of a story about being an escaped sex slave. Well, that part was somewhat true anyway.

Not that it mattered. The Imperial soldiers didn't even give me a chance to explain anything, just loaded me into the cart with the others. There was a rough efficiency to it all and plenty of apologetic looks. They might not like taking a pregnant girl to jail—or worse?—but they weren't going to disobey orders. They showed some kindness by binding my hands in front, helping me into the cart, and the sack-cloth cushion. Looked like that was going to be the extent to any leniency. "You can talk to the Captain," was the only response to my protests.

My bound hands cupped my "belly". The plain leather tunic bulged at my waist, but it was from my swollen balls. I had pulled them up, using some cloth to keep them from falling down. Between their size, the ill-fitting tunic, and a bit of hunching over, I did look a few months into pregnancy. My belly actually was swollen from all the jizz my previous captors had forced into me. My breasts hadn't grown very large yet, but they were a solid presence higher up.

I was starting to regret my disguise. I had to keep my shoulders hunched forward, my chin down, and body a little curved to hide my erection. My balls were hot against the lower half of the shaft while my boobs were rubbing the upper part. I could feel streams of pre-cum oozing out of it—the damned thing was more than happy to treat every bounce imparted into the surrounding parts by the jouncing cart as caresses. I was inadvertently giving my cock a boob job I'd be proud of in other circumstances.

If this damned cart didn't stop soon I was going to shoot a load all over myself.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. I knew Skyrim treated the futanari plague different from the rest of Tamriel. The Nords were as fiercely proud of their dicks as they were anything else in the mountains. If not for the weirdness back in the bandit fortress my own would be on display. But something turned my dick from an admittedly large but otherwise normal phallus to one just like a horse's. The bandits were more than a little freaked out by the transformation—one of them claiming I must be a witch or in league with the hags (whoever they were).

Come to think of it, the accuser was their previous favorite sex toy. And she was the one to suggest they make me suck off all their stallions. The bitch must have slipped something in my food. Clues started falling into place as I thought about it. Holy crap, she was also the one who said my changed dick might be contagious. She even said since I had a horse's dick, I must be half horse so I was only good for horses.

No more bandit-cock after that. Instead, they tied me to a barrel and let the horses fuck me. The tentacles loved it. They milked those stallions for every ounce of their jism. My guts were so full of horse cum I could smell it when I burped. At least I wasn't hungry in the days since escaping. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was the combination of all the horse spunk and whatever drug or curse from the bitch was the cause for such an early swelling.

My mind was more active than usual. I generally wasn't a planning or thinking sort of person—I lived life for the moment, not for introspection. A hellish cart ride to a probable execution could change ones perspective, I suppose.

I needed something to distract myself from my body. And the bodies of those around me. That thief might stink, but she had a taut, lean body I would love to shove my dick into. The Stormcloaks were rougher, much more blocky and muscular, but they weren't bad looking. The non-gagged one was actually rather pretty, if a bit dirty. Her short blond hair really set off her eyes and her lean shoulders. The older one, the leader, looked like she'd been fighting a long time. Her nose broken multiple times and a couple scars. But also under that leather armor what looked to be a pair of huge tits atop a muscular, yet voluptuous body.

They were all getting erections. It was my scent, working its way into them. It was disguised by the general stench of the cart, but it wouldn't take long before they noticed and started wondering why everything nearby with a cock was getting erect. Even a couple of the horses were starting to sport erections.

The cart hit a pothole with one wheel, a rock with the other, and tilted crazily. The driver cursed, the horse pulling it whinnied, and the contents—us—swerved about wildly. The other prisoners had their hands tied to the sides of the cart so they didn't move much, but I was thrown to the opposite corner. My face ended up in the blonde's thighs. It wasn't an unpleasant sight.

When the Oblivion Blight was running amok in Tamriel, the Empire passed laws forbidding women from covering their groins to make it easier to see who was infested by a daedric-tainted pussy. The mages of the Arcane University countered the Blight eventually, but their answer turned into another curse: the Futanari Plague. Generations later, most of Tamriel had dropped, abolished, or just ignored those laws. The contrary Nords of Skyrim embraced them. It became customary for women to be covered as little as possible, with skirts so short as to be barely decoration and pants vanishing nearly altogether. Tops were just as revealing, with general wear being something that one would normally not see north of the tropics. Between the Nord's innate resistance to cold and the new "warmth" charms developed by the wizards at Winterhold, exposure became fashion.

Which meant that this northern warrior was going commando and I was eye to eye with her growing erection. I wondered if I drank her sperm if my cock would return to normal. It was over a week since my body drank anything other than horse jizz. Well, if we were all going to die anyway, might as well let her die happy.

So much for distracting myself.

I tilted my head up at her, smiled, then parted my lips and sucked her in. Everyone in the cart was more than a little surprised—which I admit gave me a thrill. Or an added thrill. I enjoyed sex, everything about it, and wasn't too particular about the source. Which just as often as not, put me in a lot of trouble the last couple years.

"What—you don't have to—oh great Talos! She gives great head!"

Swirling my tongue around her cock, I pushed my face all the way into her crotch, sucking her down my throat. I pushed her knees apart with my shoulders to make sure I could get its complete length. I felt a couple of thinner tentacles squirm their way up my throat and curl around it. Pulsing and wiggling, they joined my throat in massaging her length. One curled around her cock head, tickling the end, before slipping inside.

"Gur… gah! She's…. Talos!" the blonde gasped out. Her hips bucked against my face, jerking uncontrollably. My long tongue slipped out my mouth and slithered across her ball sack. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and, with a tentacle's help slurped a ball into my mouth, sucking hard and tonguing it.

I could feel her squirming from my assault, her body was flexing as she tried to force her cock further into my throat. She stopped trying to speak, only grunting and groaning. I let that ball out and switched to the other as my throat and tentacles pulled and squeezed her cock. I had face-fucked myself, I knew what she was feeling and how to bring the sensations to unbearable levels.

It didn't take long, maybe a minute, before she was exploding down my throat. The tentacle down her urethra increased the force of her ejaculation, I could easily feel it spraying in my throat. It rushed around the tentacles straight to my stomach, wad after wad of it. When she finally started to slow I release her balls and reached behind them with my tongue to squirm it against her clit. A few moments and she was groaning from the extended orgasm. The tentacle in her dick teased her testicles from the inside, forcing every bit of her seed out of her balls.

On my knees, leaned over, and rocking from her thrusts against my face, my horse-cock was being assaulted from all sides by tits and balls. I was milking myself at the same time I sucked her. My dick was on the edge for some time so it didn't take long for my balls to start spasming and my cock to erupt inside my clothes. At least in this position the streams of cum were trapped inside. I shuddered and moaned around her cock, delighting in her response to realizing I came—letting her think it was her dick's doing.

I didn't release her until I was sure she was completely drained and my tentacles withdrew. Her softening dick slipped out of my mouth, bright red from the pressure I had put on it. I knew her dick and balls would ache for days—I had shown her no mercy—if it weren't for the coming execution. I carefully squirmed my way back to my seat. My own jizz was running down the inside of my tunic, spreading across my tits and balls, but was for the moment trapped inside. My own penis was still hard, but didn't have that same level of orgasmic pressure from a few minutes ago. My pussy and ass, though, were letting me know they had missed out on the action. I knew if the angle was different, Lokir would have had quite a view of my soaked panties.

I wasn't sure how much of the Stormcloak's cum I sucked out of her, but my stomach was still so packed with horse cum that I couldn't force it all down. I felt a generous amount flow back into the mouth. One of the tentacles distracted me by rubbing jizz around the walls of my throat. It was an odd sensation. I think it was painting a mural. Not too bad tasting, I decided.

The rebel was laying listlessly on the bench, head tilted back and chest heaving as she gasped for breath. I was rather pleased by the result. My own breathing was a little heavy, but hardly roughened by the experience. I had discovered long ago that I didn't need to breathe when my throat was full—or when swimming. The leader looked from her follower to me, and I realized I was being appraised in a way that wasn't sexually motivated. Well, not primarily sexually. Not a look that I was used to.

"Holy crap!" The horse thief laughed. "No wonder the little bitch is preg—" Timing it carefully, I spit the cum had pooled in my mouth at Lokir. It splashed across her open lips and most went right into her mouth. She coughed and spat, doubling over from surprise. I heard an odd noise from one side. Ulterick was laughing, the gag turning the guffaws to something strange and beastly.

Behind us, one of the Imperials was laughing as well. She rode closer. "As funny as it would be for you to suck and fuck them all, I'd appreciated it if you would at least try to stick to your seat."

The cart gave another huge lurch, almost throwing me out of the back. I actually bumped against the horse's flank before falling back inside. "Yeah. Well, try."

She spurred the horse forward and reached over to slap our driver on the shoulder. "Hey! You don't get points for hitting every pot hole and rock on the road! Keep the prisoners in the fucking cart!"

The driver muttered something under her breath, but the ride did smooth out a bit. Not much. Another thing that didn't matter. After a curve in the track the gates to a mountain fortress were before us.

---

Continue to Helgen