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Revelry around the Fire

Beware of strangers offering pleasure on a winter day

The fireplace flickered at the center of the Frostfruit Inn, the crisp fire merging with the clinging mugs and the chewing in a calm atmosphere.

Everyone was huddled around the fire, as it was a cold Sun’s Dawn. The fields remained snowed in, and yet Rorikstead’s staunch people endured it with some idle discourse.

“You heard about the Stormcloaks? They’re pushed further east,” said a Traveler.

“Why? Are they losing?”

“They can’t fight the Empire.”

“But they’re right. The knife-ears shouldn’t-“

“Shh”

In a corner of the inn, a High-elf was drinking, though his coat wasn’t one of the Thalmors. But the remark earned the Travelers and the Innkeeper a few glares, which made them huddle closer, hunch, and ponder the quality of the ale in their mugs.

Then, to cut through the veil of awkwardness that weighed on the inhabitants, the entrance door flung open.

Hastily, the padded boots stomped on the stone to break up the snow, and the newcomer huffed and arrived, taking a seat right by the trio. Then, without skipping a beat, he made a finger sign to the Innkeeper, Mralki.

Huffs and groans followed as the newcomer, a pimple-faced Nord, undid his coat and himself land on a stool. Then, he smiled to the Travelers: “I didn’t miss them?”

“Miss them?” replied the first Traveler, the less vehement about his faith, a Breton.

“You don’t know?”

“He means, the visit of the Horned Nord,” said the Innkeeper, returning with a mug he offered before he took his seat by the fire, warming his hands. “They should come soon.”

“The… Horned Nord?”

The Travelers exchanged glances, though none of the accustomed clients dared to elaborate. No, glances were exchanged, and then… As the door flung open once more, and cold air rushed in, there was a nod.

“Here it comes.”

‘It’ was indeed an event.

Through the rather small door, two figures entered, entirely cloaked.

Two figures that looked similar, away from the firelight, cloaked in wolf fur from shoulders to boots, and with blacksteel helmets covering their faces.

Two helmets that were quite similar, though one had horns while the other had oversized tusks added as adornments.

“That’s him?” asked the second Traveler, pointing a finger at the figure coming closer and grabbing a stool.

A nod from the Innkeeper and a gulp followed as the cloaks opened.

A Nord… And an Orc.

A duo of the strangest nature, especially the Orc, as there was no Orc Stronghold in the vicinity of Rorikstead. And yet, here was the strapping, muscular, and hairy Orc whose chest was exposed and pants tight around his tree-trunk-like legs. His green skin was covered with a drizzle of gray hair, sprinkled across his pectorals and abdomen. Yet, with his face covered, it was hard to tell who he was. Perhaps a mercenary or a veteran, noted by his scars.

However, everyone’s eyes, mainly the Travelers’, went on the Nord.

Fair skin, muscular, much like his fellow, covered with scars, gray hair. However, whereas the Orc had the decency to wear pants, the Nord had none.

No, he even had the audacity to wear something over his genitals: a silvery cock cage, fashioned to represent a stylized Orc’s face, with the traits hinging on the Daedric nature.

“What… is that?” asked the Breton Traveler, his eyes fixed on the exposed Nord, admiring that body befitting a warrior or soldier.

Yet, his pride was caged. His cock was practically crushed, the cage so close to the body it was akin to a flat surface or a mask pressed on the groin. As for the testicles themselves, fuzzy, they were red. Red like fire, red like about to burst, red like overfilled gourds… The skin was taut, and a few scars on the scrotum.

“That’s a show,” said the Innkeeper, taking a swig.

“Shouldn’t we call the guards?”

“They wouldn’t do a thing,” said the Innkeeper, pointing at a table behind him. Indeed, there were guards, but none were moving. They were looking to enjoy the show, stroking their bulges.

So, the Travelers’ eyes returned to the odd duo.

To the Orc who gripped his partner's shoulder for a moment, shaking it. And the Nord, who repositioned a stool by the fireplace. And then… Put something on it.

Phallic, wide, long. It was human-looking, but of a proportion that shouldn’t exist.

The mere sight made everyone’s buttocks clench, and their pride climb closer to their groin.

Yet, the Nord did not act bothered as he touched that toy… And had the Orc’s hands on his shoulders, gripping him tightly.

“Go gentle on him!”

“We want a turn, too!”

“We want that meat!”

The shouts from the guards were loud, almost obnoxious. And yet, the Travelers dared not look at them. Only for the first, the Breton, to lean toward the pimple-faced Nord.

“What’s happening?”

“That’s the show. Then, we all have a turn with him.”

“You get a turn with him?”

“You’ll see.”

The grin was offered, but the eyes hastily returned to the Nord as a deep hum came from him. His chest lifted, his breathing visible. And then… Without waiting further, he went in front of the stool and pressed the toy against his entrance.

A toy that was… So large it was comparable to an entire arm.

And yet, as the hum continued, though interrupted by huffs and grunts, that toy slipped in. Air escaped, yes. But so came the suction of the orifice, taking the toy in and… The flesh bending, the rim opening, the body accepting the toy.

Then, the Orc’s hands pressed on the Nord’s shoulders while the humming continued.

“Do not fret. Once that worthless whore has taken the toy, you can have that hole,” said the Orc. His voice carried authority, yet the metal distorted it, making it sound more… Daedric.

‘We want it now!’ ‘We won’t be able to feel it!’ ‘That cunt will be ruined.’

Again, the Guards shouted, and the mugs hit the table, same for the fists.

Yet, the Orc didn’t answer. Rather, he had his hands descending onto the naked Nord’s chest, descending onto those hairy pecs before he held them.

“What’s happening?” asked a Traveler.

“Shhh.”

Shushed, the two Travelers had to watch… And yet feel the excitement in their loins while the Orc grabbed and massaged the Nord’s pectorals. He squeezed them, held them, cupped them while his green fingers dug into the fat and muscles.

The humming didn’t stop, nor the slow progress as the Nord’s hips descended, and the toy continued to ascend… To push… To press. Until, between the cage’s fake teeth, precum flowed.

“What shall we have today? Milk?”

“Milk! And his mouth!” answered a Guard.

“Do not be greedy,” said the Orc, his tongue clicking, before the mask turned to the second Traveler, a nondescript Imperial. “What do you want, newcomer?”

“Me?” he asked, pointing at himself. “Hum… Milk? That’s always good.”

“So, it shall be milk.”

Chuckles came from the Guards and even the typical customers, down to the Innkeeper, who nodded in appreciation.

The fire pit continued to crack and the wood to be devoured, bringing warmth as the Orc’s hand danced upon the man’s chest. And then, there was an eerie feeling, much like a glow. Or a warmth.

The fingers, the digits, danced upon the flesh.

Down, they hefted the pectorals. Up, they reached for the collarbone they traced. Down again, though the thumbs grazed the erect, darker nipples. And then up again, dragging along the fat.

A long, tedious process, with a hum.

For a moment, it almost looked like a ritual, though the voices around carried a chuckle despite the aura, the energy given by the Orc and the Nord.

By the strange couple, when the Orc’s fingers glowed with an eerie red. Only the tips of the nails burned, but it was noticeable and impressive.

As the fingers descended, an orange trail, a path traced on the flesh, appeared before the glowing trail disappeared. The magic sank into the skin.

A ritual, it looked as such.

The longer the message continued, the further the Nord descended. The more that toy was pushed into his depths, into his ass, stretching him… And even forming a bump in his lower belly. A bulge that completed the caged groin and the dripping cage.

The air itself was charged, carrying the heavy waft of sweat and masculinity from the Nord and the Orc. Both their skins, exposed by the firelight, were oily from the sweat. Sweat that descended upon those powerful green arms, upon those abdominal muscles… Upon the massaged pectorals, which seemed to shift and change.

“My disciple has been a terrible student today. So I shall teach him again the lesson of humility… I know you appreciate the display and our ritual. So I must thank you,” said the Orc, his voice calm and collected.

Yet, the horned Nord was not talking.

No, he huffed and groaned. All the while, his caged cock dripped profusely, and the bulge in his belly ascended.

As the pectorals were massaged, they looked heavier. The fingers sank inside them, pulling on the hairy skin. Fat seemed to accumulate; his muscles were reshaped and squeezed from the powerful pressure.

Still, the Guards chanted and were repeating the same word: ‘Milk! Milk! Milk!’

Even the Travelers were catching themselves whispering ‘milk’, though they were unaware of what it meant.

Then, as more than half of the toy was inside, as the pectorals filled the Orc’s hand… Something appeared. White as a pearl, cloyingly sweet to the nose, and tempting to the lips.

A droplet appeared at the tip of one of the meaty nipples before it dropped on the floor.

Then, it was the second nipple that had such a bead to offer.

Then again, the first, though faster this time.

That was milk; its scent mixed with the aroma permeating the entire Inn.

Everyone’s eyes were focused on that, on that body… On that flesh that was reshaped.

On those muscular pectorals that had fattened and been covered with a firm and shapely layer that made them sag if slightly.

Then… As the time between the droplets decreased, there was less than two seconds between them. One second. Half a second. A quarter.

Then, it became continuous. A continuous flow that had something almost mystical and eerie as the Orc huffed, and the hum continued.

Finally, the hum came almost to a stop as the toy was three-quarters in and the whole Nord’s belly looked swollen or bulging by that toy. His testicles were pulled, and the cock cage had a whiteish spurt before a clicking tongue echoed.

Then came the laughs, the cries, the mugs hitting the table while they cheered.

‘Thanks! Horned whore!’ ‘We’ll use him well, Master!’ ‘Keep bringing him!’

The Travelers looked at one another, then at the Innkeeper, who smiled.

“What’s happening?”

“He… he came?”

“He did,” nodded the Innkeeper.

“And since he lost, it means everyone in the inn can use him after the Master is done.”

“What’s this?”

“I don’t know,” said the old Innkeeper. “They popped in one day when I was alone. I thought I’d been dragged to Oblivion. They did that ritual, he came, and then I was allowed to fuck his hole. Best hole. Then it started again, with the guards.”

“And it happens often?”

“Every month, more or less, but it’s special during winter,” said the Innkeeper, before pointing to the naked Nord. “He’s waiting for you.”

Indeed, the Nord and Orc’s helmets were turned toward the second Traveler. Not a young Imperial, but someone so indistinct he might have been forgotten in the mists.

Yet, the eyes hidden by the helmets were on him, watching and waiting.

There. The Traveler stood up, his partner remained seated.

“Come. You can have the first droplet before my disciple has to serve you all,” said the Orc.

He even raised a hand, inviting the Traveler to come closer. Practically ushering until the Imperial’s shoulder was grabbed. He was forced to kneel.

A decisive movement that made him wince and huff, right before his face was pressed against the Nord’s chest.

Here, the cloying smell was more potent, mixed with the natural musk of a man at work… With the sweat from exercise and being forced to endure the toy… The scent of precum and cum, surrounding him.

His mind was captivated by the smell, but not only.

There was a gleam as the sweat covered the hairy skin. The strands that were blended together, caked against the flesh. The erect nipples, darker and tender. The blood beating underneath, shaking the whole pectoral like a tremor.

The Traveler was but a breath away from that nipple, from that quasi-constant flow that had been dripping on the floor, coalescing around the stool in a puddle.

And… Then, he advanced.

The flavor was much as expected: sweet and intense, flavorful but not overwhelming. It was milk, but quite different from cow's milk.

Its taste, its aftertaste, and its texture were soothing to the taste buds. It was a relief given form, a liquid that eased the Traveler’s worries.

Then, in a moment of folly, of desire, he extended his lips. He reached and closed them around the erect nipples, sucking him.

The hum then resumed, vibrating through the flesh, through the lips, and through the whole Traveler as he suckled and swallowed that nectar. His eyes closed, his breathing relaxed, and even the Orc’s hand relaxed, leaving him to that moment.

One suction, another, a third.

The liquid flowed down his throat, right to his stomach, where it settled and weighed. Again, it was heavy. It eased his hunger, but did not… Hurt. Or bloat. Or hinder him.

It was… Like a healthy meal, one the Traveler enjoyed while the hum resumed and the cheers echoed within the inn. A song of joy and desire and lust that ended when he opened his eyes and got his fill.

As he looked at the erect nipple, he saw the flesh had reddened around it from the suction. A hickey, but one intense enough to mark the fair skin and to make the Traveler recoil.

“That was good, newcomer. Now, drop your pants.”

The Orc’s voice carried an authority that made the Traveler gulp and swallow… But open his pants. He dropped the belt, widened the opening on the front, and then fished the underwear that was pulled down to reveal his manhood.

He was… Not so big. Only five inches at best. Five inches that stood up from the bushy pubes, erect and coated. Glimmering by the fireplace, much like the men’s exposed bodies… And which sparked with fire and hurt when the Orc grabbed his cock.

“Wh-!” shouted the Traveler, his jaw clenching.

On the other side of the fire pit, the Breton stood up and was ready to help him.

Only for the pimple-faced Nord to stop him and shush him. Harsh whispers were exchanged, and huffs followed.

And then, as the commotion died, something else happened.

A whisper, a chant, a hum.

The Orc’s nails glowed red once more, though his movements were shorter and limited to the Travelers’ cock, pulling and squeezing it. He squeezed the tender flesh, squeezed the glans, the organ…

Followed the electric sensation of energy descending along the organ, titillating every sensitive corner, every part of the Traveler’s anatomy. Meatus, corona, frenum. Words he didn’t know, but heard in his mind. Words he knew the meanings of as the energy ran through the penis that received that same strange glow.

Glow that turned into growth.

Longer. Meatier. Stronger.

The flesh was bursting with life and energy, shooting precum over the Orc’s hand while the organ grew in all the way. It got thicker, too, with a wider corona. At the same time, it went from five to eight inches. A length that was definitely more impressive as the Traveler could feel his testicles grow heavier and a sensation of churning coming from his scrotum.

Something that was definitely much intense, much… pleasant too for someone who’d been adequate and nothing more.

Yet, it was not only that.

His body was rejuvenated. His tiredness after days of walking had vanished. The bags under his eyes were gone. He could see everything that was happening around him with renewed clarity.

Everything was clearer, better, down to that old Orc gripping him… Somehow, the helmet seemed to smile at him.

Then, the hand retracted, and the Traveler was left gasping, grumbling… And aching as he looked at the Nord standing up.

Before his very eyes, still kneeling, the Traveler observed the Nord’s ass. He saw the flesh, the large buns that were covered with hair… Saw the swampy space in between.

And then, the lube dripped as the orifice opened.

The sphincter, wrinkled and roundish, had a swollen nature. One that reminded the Traveler of pastries, glazed and marked, while he observed the hole widen and form a perfect O even as the humming Nord straightened and lifted himself.

The toy slipped out, its coating glimmering in the firelight as the fake organ slipped on and revealed its veiny, impressive nature.

But so was the hole. It kept that gape; it remained wide open when the fake cocktip slipped outside. So were revealing the pinkish and lubricated insides.

A view that could have disgusted the Traveler, might have made him regret his presence in the inn. But at that moment, there was only one thing to do once that ass was presented to him.

“Oh, he’s gonna do it. He might join that guy,” said the Innkeeper.

Portent words that, in the end, mattered little when the Traveler’s lips locked with that rim. He locked his mouth and licked, savoring the flavorful lubricant that coated those guts, feeling the smell of ass and yet nothing more.

That Nord was clean through and through, and a chuckle came from the Orc as his hand reached for the Traveler’s head, stroking it.

Rubbed it and incited him to come closer, to enjoy what was given.

To inhale and drink the musky aroma, to drown himself between those swampy buttocks, and to enjoy the gift of that orifice freely given.

Of an asshole that squeezed on his tongue with a playful tug before the Traveler pulled out and could breathe something that wasn’t rank.

He gasped, stumbled, and fell on his posterior solely to look at the Nord glancing over his shoulder, the helmet facing him… And then the crowd, many of whom were cheering and raising their mugs.

He was in a puddle of the Nord’s making: cum, precum, and milk.

Even hints of sweat, yet the Traveler couldn’t stop as he observed that stud, that man in a tight chastity cage hum… And place himself above the engorged and improved groin.

Legs wide, the stance under control… The helmeted stud descended, steadily, slowly…

His thighs tensed, his glutes were spread, and his toes pressed against the stone floor.

And then… that hole, that luscious and sultry hole, that silky entrance, the lips-like rim. It… Closed on the Imperial’s impressive dick.

It closed on the cocktip, gripping it while the Traveler huffed and moaned.

The hole felt divine at the tip, but not only. Further in, the inner walls were perfectly in control and squeezing him in a way he thought impossible.

It was a hand. It was a mouth. It was everything at once while his cock was sinking deeper, thanks to the Nord lowering himself until those cinched testicles landed on his belly.

And then… When that ass pressed on his groin, forcing the Traveler to go supine while his entire body was… Shaking.

It was not an orgasm, not yet.

The overwhelming sensations, the feedback from his cock, were something else.

His mouth curled, his brows raised, his fingers twitched.

He was but a toy ridden by the Nord; much like he’d done with the other. Yet, the Imperial was alive, willing, needy. The Nord continued to hum above while his asshole clenched, opened, and locked in waves.

It wasn’t an utter crush…. But as the inside walls closed and pulled, they dragged onto the skin until the Human’s cock was massaged; the foreskin pulled and yanked, only to be dragged in another direction.

Impossible.

It was an impossible feat, yet it felt great.

At the same time, his cock had grown. Which was impossible.

Many snake-oil merchants sold their products, saying they could increase someone’s virility. Many young mages had tried to find a spell to improve their manhood, to fix their puniness.

Many a foul had traded with the Daedras for pride, only for the attempt to end in naught.

Yet, this was real.

This felt surreal, beyond everything else, real. Even when the Nord, humming and groaning, shot precum all over the Traveler’s face and clothes, making the latter stick to his skin.

The weight upon his belly was definitely there; likewise, when the Nord pulled up, lifting himself, he lifted the weight only to drop the two testicles onto the Traveler’s belly.

And then…

It hastened.

Everything went faster. The hum. The clenching. The massage. The thrusts.

The Traveler broke and craned his neck, his head narrowly smashing against the stone floor.

His twitching turned into a ravenous tremor, one that had spread to his legs and further.

His groin was afire, his testicles pulling. His teeth clenched naturally as he was overwhelmed by that concerto of sensations.

And then… Much like it started, in a surprising sight.

It ended in another. In another surprise.

The Traveler’s nuts were pulled, the abdominal muscles at work. The groin tensed and clenched while the Nord’s ass lowered onto his thighs, locking them together. As one.

Then… With that tremor shaking the Traveler’s organ… He shot.

Not once, not twice, not thrice.

No, he shot like a fountain.

A massive fountain that was emptying into the humming Nord’s guts.

Into the Nord, whose belly had been bulging from the toy, whose belly was bulging again. From cum.

Cum that was pumped and shot and delivered deep inside him, only to coalesce and accumulate, to weigh inside those guts.

The abdominal muscles thinned under the pressure, the skin going taut.

The sweat seemed to underline the growing rotundity, likewise the scars on that belly.

And then… With the Traveler still shooting, huffing and moaning… The naked Nord straightened up. In one movement.

He pulled up, but his sphincter remained impossibly tight and closed.

Only a few droplets dripped from the orifice while the Traveler continued to shoot, spraying his seed all over the hairy and muscular thighs, then all over himself as the pleasure kept washing over him.

And then… As his orgasm receded, he was but a mess. A covered man, basking in the afterglow and fluids of many natures. And yet smiling while the crowd cheered.

The mugs hit the table while a question was asked: “What was that?”

Yet, it wasn’t directly answered because the naked Nord continued to hum even as the guards approached. The Nord bent over a table, showing his powerful buttocks, while the Guards fought to get a turn.

They cried, they shouted, they even fought. In the end, the lucky one got in… And enjoyed a hole that was definitely pleasing.

As for those who didn’t fight, many were digging into their pants, masturbating… Even down to the Innkeeper, who was kissing the pimple-faced Nord while being stroked.

A scene of complete pleasure and satisfaction.

A moment of utter abandon as the Guards finally decided on an order and aligned, taking the naked Nord in the ass, one by one.

Even the first Traveler, the Breton, who’d been much detached, warmed up when the Orc approached with a mug filled with ale.

And then, it continued to devolve.

Even the High-elf, in his corner, ended up getting spitroasted by two locals while the inn filled with the sounds of moans and groans. With the cries of pleasure and delight. With the mouths closing on needy shafts, with the hands dancing upon the bodies…

The orange glow danced on the skins… On the cocks, on the chests, on the buttocks.

For the first, it meant growth. For the second, it meant milk. For the third, it could either mean mass… or perhaps a new orifice.

Either way, in that orgy, the Imperial remained supine while the world devolved into chaos.

The Guards were taking turns, even two together, to fill the Nord, who was definitely rounder.

The Orc was surrounded by men asking for his gifts as he ordered them to indulge in their appetites. Even the Innkeeper ended up fucking that pimple-faced Nord over the counter while the smell of cum, ass, and sex became overwhelming.

Alcohol was poured onto the flesh, drunk off the cocks or the chests. Milk was drunk by two men latching onto the naked Nord’s chest or anyone who’d been blessed.

There were even songs that echoed thorought the entire inn as the Traveler blinked and wiped his eyes.

He could see, and though his body felt awfully sore, he sat up.

He observed the cum pouring from the naked Nord’s ass, from the other Guards as they were fucking one another in pure hysterical lust.

The pimple-faced Nord was getting fisted.

Even his fellow, so quiet, was drinking out of another man’s dick, something that ought not to be alcohol, but he drank the same.

And then… There was the Orc, standing above the Traveler.

He was naked, his pants off, and his cock long to knee level. His testicles? Boulders that were sweaty with droplets landing on the stone and in the puddle.

There was only one firepit in the inn, but the air was sweltering, like the Cyrodilic summer.

“What’s… Happening?” slurred the Traveler, swallowing his saliva as he looked. The debauchery looked like it wouldn’t end now or ever. Then, with his body acting on its own, he stood up…

The Orc was so close, his helmet so close. He could almost see the red eyes through the hole, or peer at a grin.

Yet, a green hand landed on the Traveler’s posterior.

It dug into his ass, then grabbed his clothes, pulling on them.

He should have cried and roared, but it only felt natural to have those cum-riddled clothes yanked away, removed to expose his body that looked fairly normal.

Only a scar around the thigh from an old wound. Not so much muscle, not so much flesh.

Yet, the Orc’s fingers danced upon his body. The nails were again red; the flesh traced underneath as the Traveler could feel his flesh being reshaped. No, his self being redone under the touch.

His cock was still there, but his thighs widened. His legs grew stronger.

His shoulders became more square and defined, while his arms became like wiry steel. Even his hands changed, calluses growing as his body took on the form of a man of war and conflict.

Then it stopped.

But the Traveler looked different. A stud, a man. Someone different from before. He looked like someone whose body had been honed by experience and war. A phantasm of masculinity given form as he looked at himself, at his cock when the Orc stroked it.

“Do you appreciate my gifts?” asked the Orc.

“I… Very much so,” mumbled the Traveler, red-faced as he watched the orgy slow down.

The pimple-faced Nord had cum, so did the Innkeeper riding him.

His fellow was drunk and yet still being pissed on.

The elf was no longer spitroasted, but his hands were at work while he had two men inside him.

As for the naked Nord… he was nursing two Guards while his ass was taken by a third.

Then, the Traveler looked at the Orc and saw the grin on that mask that had grown wider.

“Do you want more?”

“I…”

He did.

What could he lose?

His life as a merchant was pointless, practically ignored by many. He would not leave a name in history, any importance, even in the recent tales shaking up Skyrim.

Instead, he looked at something else. A darksteel helmet; An offer from the Orc.

A promise, heavy, with the magic pouring from the metal.

“Does it hurt?” asked the Traveler, grabbing the helmet.

“Only if you desire it. I wouldn’t want my lovers to feel forced. I am not Molag Bal,” said the Orc’s voice, potent and yet suave.

A promise… As the Traveler held the offered Helmet and placed it on his head, locking it.

Fish fins from the steel, differentiating him from the Horned Nord.

He wasn’t a Traveler anymore. He served his master… And his first action was to present his ass.

Being taken by the firelight before everything would vanish.

Later, everyone would wake up with a nasty hangover.

The pimple-faced Nord and the Innkeeper would share a kiss, ready to embrace the revelry next month. Then would come the High-Elf, hastily leaving the inn out of shame.

The guards would stir one by one, their bodies sore due to the fighting and fucking.

Remained then one last Traveler.

A growl came from him as he wiped his face before washing the taste of urine away with cheap ale. His face would grimace and twist as he would assume he had forgotten something.

Then, with nothing to find and no one to travel with him, he would leave the Inn alone.

Unaware that he had a friend, a partner, and a former fellow among Sanguine’s revelers.