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Chapter Text

The Dovahkin shivered, rattling her heavy armor as she slowly trekked across the winter tundra of Skyrim's north. Teeth chattering, she squinted through the dark night, slowly pushing out her torch in hand to look further down the road. Though no snow fell tonight - which shocked her as every time she needed to trek to Windhelm it would always snow - but the icy breeze flowing through Skyrim was enough to make even the furriest of Khajits shiver. Her armor did a decent job at blocking most of the cold, the fur underneath her plated steel did even better, but she was still freezing. The torch in her hand was lit a crackling blaze, the oil soaked rags wrapped around the head of the torch would provide her at least enough light to navigate north to Windhelm from Whiterun. The torch did so little to keep her warm, the breeze threatening to take out the light many times. Despite the full moon shining brightly above, casting her pale light down onto Skyrim and her people, it was still rather dark in the forests for the Dovahkin to see.

It was at this time the Dovahkin really wished she had spent money on that damned horse in Riften when she saw it.

She squinted at the road in determination. Her plan was to travel back to Whiterun and arrive before sunrise. Maybe she could seek a bed in the inn before going to meet with a shopkeep that had promised a great trade to her. She was to find an old, yet expensive imported goblet from some dirty old barrow. How it ended up there or why the nord wants it so badly enough he would offer her a brand new sword cast from metals she only dreamed of wielding was not for her ask questions about.

She could only imagine how well the sword would fit into her hands. Leather straps, freshly sliced and tanned, wrapped thickly around the hilt, a perfect grip against the toughest of metals Skyrim's mines have to offer. The blade, long, slender, sharper than any arrowtip, yet more dangerous than any old war hammer she had fumbled with in her earlier times. It was flawless when she saw it, envious of the nord keeping her from touch it. It looked to be ground to sharp, it could split hairs down the center. Many more would fear the Dovahkin if she were to wield such a powerful sword.

In her daydreams, she had seized her walking as she heard something behind her. Swinging the torch slowly around, she glanced over her armored shoulder to only see that nothing was there. She squinted at the cobblestone road, wondering what it was that made noise. She shrugged to herself and continued down the road, doing her best to not think about cold she was becoming. Perhaps it was just a snow fox or a rabbit scurrying away from something. But not even a dozen more paces down the road and she heard it again. Snuffling, the sound of a wild animal breathing and grunting as it ran through the wilderness. She didn't stop walking though, only glancing around the land, eyeing each and every dark and thick shrub carefully. Its breathing suggested an animal too big to be a wild rabbit, maybe something even bigger than a fox. Maybe a wolf was stalking her? Possibly...

She suddenly shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. She felt a pair of eyes still on her. She turned, staring at a large group of untamed bushes and wild trees bare of any protection against the cold. She raised the torch towards the foliage, stepping closer. She fumbled with the dagger at her hip, pulling it from its small sheath, she arched her arm back to stab at whatever little animal threatened her on her passage.

Closer and closer with every step until she was right in front of the flora. She squinted at the bushes, wondering if her ears had failed her and the animal had scurried off somewhere else. It was utterly quiet in the bushes too.

Second guessing herself, the Dovahkin sheathed her dagger and went to move at some of the branches, curiosity filling her now. She grabbed at a thick branch in the bushes and pulled, only to reel away when a pair of golden eyes flashed at her from the darkness the bushes cast over the creature. Backing away, the Dovahkin swung the torch in an attempt to scare the beast, only to softly gasp as the bushes trembled.

Her body grew colder under her armor as the beast emerged from the foliage. To her dismay, it stood up... on its hind two legs.

It was so tall, so big! How could something so big as this beast fit in such small bushes? The flames glew eerie orange and golden gold against the beast's midnight black fur, illuminating the gray skin underneath a nasty brown, its eyes blindingly bright. She couldn't help but stare at the long, tapered claws at the end of each furry finger. Black as ebony ingots, sharper than any blade, human-like hands covered in the dried blood of what she prayed belonged to some poor animal. Its fangs barely sat in its mouth, too large and dangerous to keep inside of its black lips. They shined with its slimy saliva that dripped down from between the gaps of its gnarly yellowed fangs, down to its hairy chin and dropping into the bushes.

Sneering at the hideous beast, the Dovahkin swung the torch again, attempting to ward off the creature only for it to snap its hefty jaws at her.

It pushed her back with just its terrifying stare. It followed her, matching each of her footsteps with one lumbering one of its own, pushing itself out of the foliage and out into the open.

She was finally able to see truly how big it was. Taller than any orc or nord, stronger than armies of man, stood a werewolf.

She shook briefly, afraid of its next moves as well as hers.

The werewolf stared her down, slowly curling its blackened lips over the tall curves of its fangs, a low growl pushing from its broad chest as more saliva dripped down.

She could smell its rancid breath from where she stood. She sneered at the ripe smell, turning her nose away from it just to avoid getting another whiff carried by the breeze.

And that's when she looked down.

Her eyes locked onto what hung from between its legs.

A male werewolf, it was... And by the looks of it, it was aroused...

A rush of courage surged through the Dovahkin, she swung the torch wide like a battleaxe, the fiery head smacking the werewolf in the snout. A pained yelp came from the creature, stumbling to the side as fire engulfed the small fur patches around its muzzle. Raising clawed hands up to its face, the Dovahkin wasted no time in running down the road, continuing towards Windhelm.

Flailing her arms wildly in an attempt to calm herself and breathe, she knew Windhelm was not far, but it wasn't close either. Perhaps she would find herself lucky and a guard or two would be by the stables as she knew she was not prepared to handle a werewolf at the time.

She could hear the werewolf howl horribly behind her, the echo rattling her to the bone as she did her best to hold in a scream that bubbled at her throat. It wasn't long after that she heard the werewolf give chase, snarling and snuffling as it raced to her on all fours. She could hear it dig up the cobblestone and dirt, grabbing at the earth and tearing it apart as it lunged with every bound.

In the distance, she saw a promising sight. A crossroads, a directional sign. Just north was Windhelm, no doubt!

She could taste victory on her tongue, it was so sweet, like sweet rolls and juicy berries.

The werewolf was getting closer, she could hear it right behind her. She swore she could smell its rancid breath once more. Soiling the sweet scent of sugary victory, rotten meat and disease and piss filled her nose.

She was struggling to breathe now, stamina running out, icy air invading her lungs, stinging her flesh, her eyes running with loose tears.

A shrill shriek left her lips as she was tipped forward.

The Dovahkin collapsed to the ground, armor screeching and scraping against the cobble, her helm flying off somewhere into the snow. She scrabbled against the road, armored nails scraping for purchase as she tried to crawl away, but a heavy weight struck her lower back and she was forced back down onto the snowy road.

With terrified eyes, she glanced up to see the werewolf there, its one hand at her back, the other raised as if to strike her down where she lay.

But something stopped the beast, it stood there panting above her.

And then she soon realized why as with a glance lower, she could see its penis more erect than just a few moments ago. She cried out, trying to get away once more before the werewolf, with a scrunch of its powerful hand, tore the armor from her backplate off of her body, destroying the latches and allowing her to scramble free for just a moment. The beast tossed the ruined backplate aside, eyeing her down the road with a lustrous fury, seemingly enjoying the chase she was giving him.

The Dovahkin raced down the road like a terrified deer, her chest and back now freezing as she was just left in her brassiere. Her breasts bounced as she ran, slipping from the material at some times. She knew Windhelm was just up ahead, but she also knew that she would not make it now.

And just as she thought of that, the werewolf lunged from behind and took her down to the road once more, this time with her bare back to the cobble.

She wailed at the tearing of her skin against the rocky road, smacking at the air in front of the werewolf only for him to smack away her hands and snatch at her brassiere. Without any force in his tug, the brassiere came apart in his large hands, the fabric tossed carelessly aside like the backplate.

She cried out as the werewolf grasped at the sides of her ribs, lowering his head, the werewolf slowly licked up from her presented navel up to her bare throat.

She kicked at the werewolf, her plated boots scratching at the skin. The werewolf did not care for the pain she just inflicted onto him once again, snatching at the belt of her armored trousers, he tore them off of her body with a loud shriek and tossed the parted leggings on either side behind him. Her underwear lasted no longer than her brassiere, tore from her body, leaving her fully naked against Skyrim's earth.

The werewolf grasped at her quaking hips, lowering its lupin face to her trembling core. And just like her stomach, he licked up along her clit, his rough tongue sending shocks through her whole being.

She didn't know if it was from exposure to the cold for so long or her body heating up knowing what was going to happen, but she was starting to feel hot.

It hadn't even been thirty seconds of the werewolf just lapping at her core with his rough tongue when she started to come apart under the beast. She sobbed, covering her mouth with a hand, she bit at her fingers and tongue to keep herself from moaning. It lifted her off of her ass by her hips, raising her closer to his mouth. She could feel his slimy saliva drip down to her asscrack and onto the ground below her.

In the middle of one lick, he dropped her cruelly to the ground, her behind and back now splattered with saliva with her own slick. But he instead snatched at her legs and forced them open, the werewolf arching himself over her, showing her the large expanse of his cock.

She shook her head, pleading softly between whimpers and sobs.

"It won't fit, please!" she sobbed.

But the werewolf only drove himself into her without mercy, burying himself inside of her by the hilt of his cock. She choked, hands flying to her gut where they were immediately slapped away by clawed hands. The werewolf snarled and huffed, overwhelmed by how tight the Dovahkin was around his large cock. From what she had felt, she could feel the dick through the skin of her stomach and core. A large, long mound against her smooth skin.

She was choking, slobbering as she sobbed and clawed at the ground. Her body seized at how pained she felt, her core burning with agony as his cock utterly tore through her with little to no preparation. She could hear the blood roaring through her ears, her whole body was throbbing now.

With a fast jerk of his hips, the Dovahkin sputtered and coughed, needing to grasp at her stomach to try to soothe the pain that was constantly growing. Inching her fingers down her chest to the expanse of the visible cock through her abdomen, she was able to place her hands on her lower stomach. She could already feel the throbbing cracks in her skin where it had been forcefully stretched. Her ice-cold hands did little to numb the pain before the werewolf snapped his jaws and thrusted again.

Lost in his mind, the werewolf's primal urges kicked in. Thrusts quickened,  cock barely leaving her cunt. Short, quick thrusts of whatever was shoved inside of her had her clawing at her gut, wanting the penis out of her.

There was no way she would live through this. It was tearing through her, utterly destroying her insides. To think, the Dovahkin would die by getting fucked to death by a werewolf.

The werewolf was fairing better, although it was starting to snarl and lose itself in its rut. She could feel herself warm up now, her body attuning to the werewolf's evergrowing heat.

Minutes had scraped by, she had gone from pleading to sobbing to groaning at the pain overtaking her body. The werewolf had growled quickly, grasping her tighter as he shifted his cock inside of her. She could feel something tapping at her nether lips, and it was slowly swelling up.

She shook her head.

Was it really going to shove it inside of her? It wouldn't fit! His cock barely fits inside of her. What makes him think that whatever is swelling up would fit in her?

She cried out as whatever had swollen up right above the balls of the werewolf's cock had forced itself inside of her. Her hands stilled on top of the cock through her skin. It was a brief second silence and pause from both before the werewolf howled and something inside of her exploded.

A wave of warmth filled her insides. Thick, powerful, tearing warmth spilled into her womb, that was not made to handle and hold as much cum as the werewolf forced into her. She sobbed softly, looking down in horror at the sight of her stomach quickly inflate with the werewolf's spunk. Whatever he had shoved inside of her had acted as a plug, allowing more stretch to hold more of his cum, blocking anything from leaving her.

Her fingers slowly inched apart from each other, hands now spreading open over the expanding orb forming inside of her belly. She could feel the geyser of cum flow through her, filling her insides, stuffing every last inch, forcing her womb to stretch so thin and so large that she thought she would burst. She swore she could taste it tapping at the back of her throat.

But it wasn't only growing forward, but now outward. Looking like she had a large boulder inside of her, the werewolf had yet to release her.

She could feel herself rumbling, body ready to pop at any second when the flow of cum stopped. It had gotten so big she couldn't reach the bottom of her stomach anymore, her fingers barely digging into her navel.

She couldn't make a noise, her mouth hung open as she stared at her global stomach. The werewolf looked over his work as well, seemingly chuffing in laughter, each movement sent her body jiggling and swaying, the cum sloshing around inside of her.

She had no idea how long he had stayed hilted inside of her, but her grip on consciousness was fading. Her eyelids fluttered, her breathing shaky, her hands on her gravid belly slipping off to the ground when the werewolf seemed to shudder.

Waking up with just a bit at the jiggling of hot, sticky cum inside of her, the Dovahkin glanced down to see the werewolf jolting, wriggling its hips before the plug popped out and slowly, he drug his large penis out of her.

Hope filled her being as the thought of all of this cum draining out of her made her smiled dimly.

Semen did come out, but it was slow. The werewolf stayed to glance at it pouring out of her abused cunt for just a bit before disappearing into the darkness.

The Dovahkin watched as her belly deflated, but choked as the size stopped and the cum stopped pouring.

Barely able to sit up, her fingers barely missed her cunt, but she knew it was swollen shut beyond healing for now. She pulled at her limp stomach, digging her hands under the weight of her stomach, she was able to feel around her nether lips to confirm that she was indeed swollen shut. She sobbed, allowing her stomach to fall back and sag onto the road before she had tried to stand.

With trembling legs, it was nearly impossible to stand, but with weight in her gut and womb, she had fallen many times. Once the Dovahkin was able to stand, she glanced down at her swollen gut again, noting more angry red and silver cracks in her skin, but more at the fact that she looked as though she were about to give birth to a child.

The Dovahkin shivered at the thought of people seeing her like this, she bit her tongue and leaned up against a nearby tree for support. She stroked her aching belly and thought of a way to somehow clothe herself and get the rest of the semen out of her.

Chapter Text

She wheezed as she was thrown into the middle of the room, whimpering as her body collided with the stone floors, scratching at her bare arms and torso. She glared back at the bandit tribe with burning fury in her eyes, lips drawn back in a tight scowl, she wished death upon them under her panted breath.

She had been tasked to rid a bandit clan of a nearby dungeon. She had agreed, thinking that the bandits would not be a problem, and promised the Jarl that she would return by sunrise the next morning with the leader's head. Now, as she glanced over the leader's broad shoulders, she regretted lying to the Jarl now as she would not be able to win a battle with eleven bandits all armed to the teeth, especially missing her helm, chest plates, and weapons.

She had been caught attempting to kill off their horses outside that had been tied to some trees. She figured if she cut off their main escape, they would be fucked over... But sadly, she had been caught by a scout and paralyzing spell that shot right through her armor.

"Well look at what we have, lads," the leader puffed out his chest to match with his inflated ego.

"I do not recognize her," the Khajit behind the leader stated, lowering his ears as his tail swished behind him.

"It's the bloody Dragonborn," he pointed to her. He slowly kneeled down in front of her, squatting before her to be on eye level. "Now tell me, pretty girl, where did you come from? How did you know we were here?"

The Dovahkin turned her chin up to the dirty bandit, pointing her nose away from him.

"I was sent to slay you by the Jarl of-"

He snatched at her hair, yanking her head back as a short cry left her lips.

"The Jarl?" He stood up, dragging her up to stand on her knees. She clawed at his hand as he laughed. "The Jarl sent you to try and get rid of us?" He looked down at her, insanity filling his eyes. "I have an even better plan, now."

"What was your plan before?" one of the others asked, still in a trance by her swinging breasts.

"I was planning on keeping her as my personal brothel," he sneered. "Keep her chained up, unable to move, fucking her day and night while you all watched." The Dovahkin gagged at the thought. "But now that I know she was sent, people will no doubt be crawling here to fuck us over. Now, we're gonna fuck her like the whore she is." The bandits behind him cheered, roaring with lustrous agreements. "Fuck her, fill her up, fatten her to be like the pregnant horse out there so she can't move, maybe plug her up, and then send her naked to the Jarl's front door. That'll teach 'em not to mess with us."

She shivered, her body suddenly locking up in shock and fear.

"I got something that might help, boss," an Argonian bandit piped up. He held up two strange looking objects in his large scaley palm. They looked to be Dwarven. "Robbed them off of one of Markarth's guards. We could plug her up with these in both holes."

"Bloody genius!" the leader laughed. The leader looked down at her, a smile splitting his face wider. "You're in for a real show, pretty girl."

The Dovahkin went to open her mouth to shout, force him away but was snatched by one of the other bandits from the side. She suddenly was forced to go limp, whimpering as the bandit's fingertips shocked and numbed her whole body. She cursed the damned paralyzing spell.

"Now she won't fight back for a bit more," the mage sneered.

She could only watch on as she was forcefully hoisted over the leader's broad shoulder and taken deeper into the cave's splitting shafts, far away from the sunlight pouring in to the open mouth. She watched as the other bandits' faces were all morphed into the same look, lust-filled, sickened, wicked smiles on their seemingly-possessed faces.

She was slipped off of his shoulder and back onto the cave's floor, but the leader's grip on her shoulders had pushed her into the pillory in the room. It was one of the few things furnishing it. It was probably the room meant for her originally, or any poor unfortunate muscle who had taken up the quest from the Jarl. What caught her eye more than the pillory were the shelves of stamina potions, all expensive-looking, and were no-doubt stolen. Gods, there were dozens of them, and they all were so big that just one would refuel a hulking giant after chasing down the countryside.

The pillory's head closed on top of her, trapping her head and hands through the holes. Just as her back and legs had been let go, she heard what sounded of chains shift and clatter together. She gasped through her nose as she felts the rest of the bandits claw at her armored pants. She wanted to fight back, scream, shout, do something to keep her from feeling like some poor fallen deer at the hands of a hunger pack of wolves, but her body still tingled with paralysis.

And just as her bare ass was to the bandits, she cried as a harsh smack had her asscheeks jiggling while a cold iron clasp was locked over her lower person, keeping her ass in the air, ready for being taken. The leader pat where the iron sat, digging into her stomach.

"That won't stay there for long, ya know, pretty girl. We're gonna fatten you up worse than those whores at the brothels. Now about that sagging head of yours..."

She cried through grit teeth as a hand roughly snatched at her hair again, tugging her head back as another iron clasp settled around her forehead, holding her head up and hurting her neck from the sharp crane.

She heard something dragging, and as she looked to the side, she noticed the Khajit dragging a barrel closer and placing the two Dwarven objects on top. She shuddered at the sight of them.

Either they were parts to some Dwarven machine, or the Dwarves were really kinky. What was soon going to be plugs shoved in her ass and vagina were stout, heavy-looking bronze cylinders that came to a thin and rounded tip. The ways along the metal were knobby and curled, ensuring that once placed it, it would be a little tough getting out. But there were slits in the metal, suggesting that parts of it moved.

"Who's up first?" the leader offered. "She'll be mine last, plug up everything when I've had my fun with each hole. But, make sure you all had a turn or two with each hole."

Over the leader's voice, she could hear glass clinking and corks popping. Trousers dropped to the cave floor as some of the bandits groaned as wet noises had the Dovahkin shivering. They were all prepping their cocks from the sounds of it.

From the eleven circling behind her, she heard two step up to her. A Nord had circled before her, cock already stiffened and prepped with something clear with a weird smell. She was curious as to who stepped up behind her when she stilled as scaley hands settled on her hips, dulled claws poking her skin. She shivered at the Argonian's cold hands.

"Only two?" the leader piped up, leaning against the wall.

"Im-Ei needs to fertilize his eggs, count it as him taking her ass as well," the Nord hummed. "As for her mouth, I will take it twice."

Eggs? The Dovahkin gulped at the thought of it.

"Very well," the leader laughed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the leader grab himself under his armored trousers.

The Nord showed seemingly no mercy to her limp mouth, using the fact that she could not fight back nor bite at him nor shout him off to his factor. He abused her mouth worse than how some men beat their dogs after a bad hunt. She gagged as his dick curved down the back of her throat only to drag back to the tip of her tongue.

But the Argonian behind her, she shivered at how cold his cock felt inside of her, as well as his cock. His cock was plated with thicker scales, the head blunt and hard.

But what had shocked her was that he wasn't thrusting, only slowly into her cunt until he tapped at the end of her passageway. Maybe then he would start to thrust? She gasped against the Nord's dick in her mouth, the man groaning and snatching at her hair, yanking it hard. The Argonian's cock had forced against the edge of her passageway, the Dovahkin crying out at the uncomfortable stretch mixed with the quick, dull throbs erupting from her crotch. She heaved through her nostrils as the Nord relentlessly pounded into her mouth, howling when she felt the head of the Argonian's cock finally pop through her passageway and stop, settling with his head poking through into her waiting womb.

The Argonian shivered, and then she felt it.

She felt something form at her nether lips where his cock hilted into her. It was barely enough to push past and force the skin of his dick to form around the object. It was his eggs, she shivered, sobbing as she felt it slowly travel down the length of his dick and slowly pushed to the head of his dick. She cried out just as the Argonian did when the egg had forced her passageway open, squeezing it open just to insert an egg inside of her.

She groaned as she felt it settle inside of her. It was dense, heavy, but small. It was about half of the size of a normal chicken's egg, but weighed nearly twice as much. She felt it pull at her, feeling it press against the walls of her womb.

But there was another slowly snaking up his dick, right behind the first. She could feel how tight and pressed out the Argonian's stomach was as it pressed against her ass. Was that all eggs?

She choked as the Nord's dick plunged deeper down her throat, snot flying from her nostrils as the Nord laughed at her sweaty face.

Just as the Nord had climaxed into her mouth, forcing the semen down her throat, the Argonian had forced another egg into her womb, the egg clinking with its twin. The Nord had pulled away, but did not remove his cock from her mouth. Instead, she heard a cork pop followed by the man chugging down one of the stamina potions. She could only watch the Nord's stomach roll as he drank from the bottle, counting how many eggs were forced inside of her.

Three, four, five...

She felt the Nord's cock twitch with arousal in her mouth and throat.

Six, seven, eight...

The Nord dropped the potion to the ground, cracking as it smacked the stone.

Nine, ten...

She sobbed as the Nord thrust down her throat just as the Argonian pulled the head of his cock from her passageway with a sharp pop that wracked the eggs inside of her.

The Argonian chuckled, one hand snaking down to her stomach to lift up at the heft now formed at her stomach. She could feel it too, how he played with her newly added weight like it was nothing but a toy.

But then, the Argonian soon followed the Nord's movements and started to thrust inside of her vagina, the scales vibrating along her walls as he pistoned his hips from behind. The Argonian licked up the trail of her naked spine with his split tongue, nudging her skin with his horns and protruding scales. She couldn't help the moan that vibrated against the Nord's dick, the man groaning as he fisted her hair harder, thrashing his cock rougher into her mouth.

The men around her were jacking themselves off or feeling themselves through their trousers, moaning as the two before them wrecked the Dragonborn.

She knew from when the Argonian slipped both hands under to her hanging stomach that both he and the Nord had came inside her once more. She could feel the Argonian's hands push up the sagging weight, bouncing it in his hands as he laughed at it swaying jiggle.

She barely had time to spit the Nord's softened cock out of her mouth before another dick was shoved harshly down her throat. She gagged as it had curved down the back of her tongue and such as she got an eyeful of the dark elf's ashy stomach and hair.

She could only guess that it was the Breton and the other Nord as she didn't see them along the wall over the dark elf's hip.

She wanted to bite down on the elf's dick as she felt both enter nearly at the same time, the dick in her vagina rattling around the eggs clumping at the bottom of her womb.

Gods, she wished she could shout right now, at least she would kill the elf before her by blowing his dick off.

But justice would not shine through today.

And just as she shuddered at the fast thrusting from behind and in front of her, she could only do so little until she felt the pull at her edge of reality before she had blacked out.

The Dovahkin's eyes stirred awake, barely realizing her mouth was not occupied by a throbbing cock being shoved down her aching throat. She must have woken just as they were changing their spots only to glance over to see all eleven watching her intently.

That just left the bandit leader...

She winced at the feeling of someone tracing along her spine, but whimpered as their finger did not go against the ridge of her spine, but of squishy fat that had accumulated there. No doubt, the mage amongst them must have done something that converted something to fat somehow, giving them something to grab at.

"Looks like you're awake, and just in time too," the leader cooed. He stood in front of her now, looking down at her like some fat dog he would kick without a second thought. "I was hoping you would stay awake to see how much you've grown, pretty girl. Seems like your body's fattening up now."

She had started to slowly feel the pull downwards her body was facing. Gods, she felt so heavy and so full. She couldn't even move a finger, she was so tired. She noticed the many stamina potions on the ground, shattered, rolling still, but not a drop wasted.

How long had she been out for them to put so much semen into her?

She winced as the leader dropped his trousers, tearing up as she saw his cock. She pleaded softly, looking up at him with teary eyes. The leader laughed and slowly approached.

"I think I'll start with your mouth first," he cooed, slapping her lips with his thick cock's head.

Gods, he was bigger than the others...

He snatched at her puffy, chubby cheeks and squished them, slowly opening her mouth by jamming his fingers between her teeth and prying them open. She whimpered and tried to struggle against the man, only to gag and nearly faint as he slid his dick down her throat.

The corners of her mouth tickled through the spell at the wide stretch. She had no room to maneuver her tongue, the dick filling the cavity of her mouth and thrusting mercilessly into it without stopping. Like a well-oiled Dwarven machine, the man did not give up until she was a sloshing mess when he had finally spilled himself into her.

Nearly drowning in the waves of cum bursting down her throat, she felt some of it had dribbled out of her nose. She wished she did die from drowning right about now, or that her organs would give out from being so stretched out.

As she spit and groaned, her tongue still numb from paralysis, the leader had shoved a ball of dirty rags into her mouth, her newly acquired chubby cheeks filling out more as she struggled to spit them out. She cried as he wrapped a longer rag around her lips to the back of her head, ensuring she would not be shouting any time soon.

"Can't have you bringing the cave down on us, pretty girl," the leader chuckled. As he walked behind her, he grabbed at the rolls of fat on her back, laughing as the jiggled. "You've gotten so fat, pretty girl. Can't wait to hear from the boys how much you're going to struggle fitting into armor. Can't wait to hear how many chestplates you break from your gut alone." He smacked her ass, howling as it the cheeks rippled. "You won't be able to get anything up past these, eh?"

She felt him drive his fingertips into the fat on her back before sobbing into the gag as he plunged himself into her swollen asshole.

She felt the tight rings in her ass snap open to accommodate for his large dick, practically tearing apart her anus as some of the semen had actually leaked out between thrusts... Or at least, she hoped it had been semen and not her blood from ruptured organs.

The iron clasp threatened to break, groaning so loud that she could hear it over the blood pounding in her ears. Each thrust probably loosened it from the ceiling more and more, and it was about to come down if sounds could give her any clue.

But, despite her prayers for the ceiling to cave in before he climaxed in her ass, she felt an explosion of heat once more followed by the stretch of her organs trying to accommodate the extra filling of semen.

She heard something fumbling to her side, but she didn't know what it was until it had happened, the leader stilling inside of her ass, not moving until he quickly pulled out.

She screamed against the gag as she felt the Dwarven plug being jammed into her ass, forcing back the wave of semen trying to pour out of her by the gallon. The sudden invasion and stop had her ass seizing as the plug was way thicker than the leader's cock by a few inches.

"I would love to be the poor folk that'll have to fish these out," the leader scoffed, tapping at the bottom of the plug now invading her ass.

Not even waiting for her asshole to adjust around the harsh plug, he plunged right into her vagina, the Dovahkin going limp but sadly not losing consciousness. She so desperately wanted to stop the sloshing inside of her body, to rip the plug out of her ass and let herself deflate as much as she could.

She wanted revenge on the bandits for what they have done to her, but it would not come soon.

She could only guess how her body would look when she was unplugged. Flabby, fat, unable to squeeze into any armor or any dress, slow and vulnerable. And what was about to be added into her womb would only make her heavier.

She felt him snag at her skin, fingers dipping into the ravines and cracks in her skin, fingers stroking along the pulsing veins pressing against her skin. She could only shudder at how red and bulging the stretch marks were.

She hadn't been able to comprehend as time had passed and another ungodly spray of hot semen poured into her, filling her up more, making the poor Dovahkin rounder and fatter.

The Dwarven plug going into her vagina was worse than her ass as she actually felt the sting of her walls stretching through the paralysis spell that had been recast on her sometime during the leader's time. She whimpered as her legs were only forced out wider by the leader's doing so he could worm the plug into her. Although the Argonian's eggs were a good plug at stopping the semen from coming out in tidal waves, some still leaked down the expanse of her legs to pool at the floor.

He had stepped back, leaving her in her hanging "glory."

"Look at her," the leader panted, watching her hanging from the groaning iron chains connected to the ceiling. He smacked at her hanging gut, watching it as it jiggled and bounced in waves. He grabbed at the newly formed fat at her back, squishing it beneath his fingers. "It makes me sad that I will send you away as a message." He eyed the heft of her stomach, barely even a foot off of the ground now. "Make me wonder if we should put you through another round, make you bigger, slow you down more." He poked at her inflated belly, laughing as it rippled like a stone skipping in water. "Alas, I think you are at your limit. One drop more, and I think you'll pop, pretty girl."

She could feel the Argonian's eggs swirl around inside of her, swimming in the sea of cum now plugged up inside of her womb. Her teeth sank into the gag holding her mouth open, feeling like she would vomit up the cum that sat inside of her. She flinched as the eggs clattered against the walls of her womb as well as against the Dwarven plug shoved into her vagina.

She couldn't feel any pain, but she could feel her body violently throbbing. She felt stiff, it was hard to breathe, heavy and slow. She barely gave any thought to the hands snatching at her rounded body. They squeezed at the fatty rolls and at her tortured breasts and ass, smacking the cum that dripped down her quaking legs. They had dragged her out of the cave into the dead of night right up to the horses that had gotten her caught in the first place.

"She looks just like the pregnant one," one of the bandits joked, jabbing at her swaying gut.

They had pulled out ropes, but before they were about to heave her onto some poor, unlucky horse, the leader stopped.

"What're these?" he questioned.

She felt more pressure against her ass as he pressed against the plugs. With a soft click, she howled out as the plug came to life in her ass, vibrating away, sending her body into a mass of jiggles and sways. The bandit pack hollered in laughter, immediately turning on the plug in her vagina and watching her sob and choke against the gag. The clacking of the eggs hitting the vibrating plugs only had her gasping for more, saliva and snot dripping down her sweaty face as she pleaded for mercy amongst the cruel gang.

She was slowly starting to feel the pain spike up, and boy was it enough to have her yowling.

She didn't acknowledge the gang somehow hoisting her up onto the horse's saddle, the leather uncomfortable between her swollen thighs as her massive gut was forced to conform around it and spill onto the horse's back. She wailed at the feeling of the plugs digging deeper inside of her, wedging their ways further in and only making it harder for her saviors to pull them out... if she was ever saved.

She had been tied to the saddle in a way so that she would not fall off, the horse panting at the heavy weight now on its back.

Before it had been smacked, the leader snagged her by the hair.

"Be lucky I'm letting you go, pretty girl," he sneered in her ear. "Someone had to take care of those dragons, and once you do, I'll find you; And I'll make sure you burst open just from me once you're done."

He let go of her hair and smacked the horse's ass, the whole pack of bandits surging with laughter as they watched the circular Dragonborn ride off into the distance, wondering how long until she's freed.

Chapter Text

The Dovahkin glanced right at the tankard of ale smacking against the wobbly planks, some of the golden brew sloshing out of the hefty iron. The Dovahkin then glanced up the brawny arm that attached itself to his male companion, a defiant smirk settled upon his lips as he eyed the Dovahkin with victory already settling upon his features.

"Do not be so sure that you are going to win," the Dovahkin spat, turning his nose to his companion.

"Oh, I assure you Dragonborn, my smirk will not be tainted any time soon," he chuckled.

The Dovahkin watched as his companion filled another large tankard of ale, sitting it down right behind the Dovahkin's. He kept his hand on the handle, fingers toying with the smooth metal.

The Dovahkin snatched his tankard and eyed his companion sitting comfortably across him.

If he was being honest, he doesn't remember how the two had argued over something so meaningless that they had chalked it up to a drinking contest. Whoever won, would be crowned the victor of the argument. The loser, would sit stewing in spite and disappointment. The Dovahkin sat and stared at the three small kegs of ale as well as a single bottle of alto wine sitting to their side, sitting full, waiting for the next round.

The two had holded themselves up in Breezehome, sat in nothing but tunics, sitting across from each other in the Dovahkin's room. They were both staring at each other with curious intent, neither speaking until the Dovahkin parted his lips.

"Something tells me there is something else in it for the loser," the Dovahkin cocked a brow.

"Is the disappointment of losing the contest that unsatisfying to you? You want to add salt to the wound?" The Dovahkin squinted, unsure at what his companion was plotting. He smiled and chuckled softly once more. "Have at it then. The loser will drink the rest of the ale and wine." The Dovahkin raised his brows, eyeing the kegs and bottle. "I don't want it all to go to waste. The Dragonborn's money should be spent wisely. We wouldn't want anything to go to waste, would we? But don't worry, when you lose, I will drink some just to show mercy."

The Dovahkin scoffed against the lip of the tankard and pressed his lips onto the cold iron. Tossing his head back, he opened his mouth and allowed the golden bitter brew to fill the cavity of his mouth quickly, the bitter taste numbing at his tongue as the tastes of the malted grains slowly poured down his throat. He shivered in between gulps of ale, the cold brew having nothing to stick to as he had not eaten anything beforehand.

A grave mistake may have been made, as he now feared the horrid hangover that he will wake to. Hopefully, if he wasn't too far gone in the swaying pain, he may be able to use a restoration spell to calm his soon-to-be throbbing temples. Perhaps he should have just a slice of bread now as his companion would soon take his turn.

As he tilted his head and tankard in unison, the tankard quickly ran dry and the Dovahkin sighed in relief. His tongue felt numb and his throat still sat a bit cool from the fresh liquid. He felt it sitting in his gut, swishing around his empty stomach. Just the thought of a slice of bread or goat cheese had his stomach growling.

His companion simply laughed softly at his stomach growling and down the tankard without a thought. The Dovahkin watched as his throat bobbed up and down, listening to him breathing heavily through gulps of ale, how his chest heaved as he finished the tankard, setting it down on the table. A soft belch pressed against his lips.

"How are you feeling, Dragonborn?" he cooed playfully.

"Ready for another."

The Dovahkin set his tankard down, allowing his companion to turn the keg's handle and slowly fill it up with ale once more, right up to the rounded lip, leaving no space to error. The Dovahkin raised the tankard and brought it to his lips without spilling a single drop, slowly gulping down just as he did the first tankard. He could feel his stomach sloshing at the addition of more ale into his gut.

He was now starting to reject the idea of food at this point, even just a small slice. It wouldn't help, and his companion would only scoff at the thought of halting the contest even for a quick trip down the ladder to snag a loaf of bread.

Instead, he placed the tankard back on the table, staring defiantly at his companion across from him, swallowing the ale in his cheeks.

His companion, on the other hand, wasted no time in fooling around anymore, chugging from the tankard at a speed he had only seen Brenuin drink at on a good night before setting it down next to the Dovahkin's.

He could already feel the light churning inside of his stomach, but instead, he only allowed his tankard to fill once again with the other filling in unison.

Staring at each other with contested challenge lingering in their gazes, the two had matched each other's moves and brought their tankards up to their lips, drinking heavily and quickly as their gulps seemingly matched each others.

Bringing the tankards back down to the table, the Dovahkin spotted something had changed in his companion. His once toned abdomen had slightly pushed out, bloated now. It was so slight though, but his heavy breathing only brought more attention to it. The Dovahkin remembered when he had brought home the alcohol, a half ripped loaf of bread stacked on top of the small kegs with a red apple between his teeth. He was now glad that he hadn't chosen to eat something as he would've been bloated by this point just like his companion across from him.

His companion seemed to hesitate just for a brief second before pouring another tankard of ale for each of them, again filling up to the lip.

They had both brought the tankards to their lips at the same time, but the Dovahkin had quickly downed the ale and placed the tankard back on the table. He took the spare seconds of time to glance back at his companion who had chugged at the tankard before slamming it against the table's surface.

He seemingly swayed in his chair, his face twisted in discomfort.

"Giving up on your little contest so soon?" the Dovahkin chided, puffing his chest out victoriously.

His companion across from him sat up in his seat, glaring at the Dovahkin with disgust before suddenly belching loudly. As he recoiled from the act of flatulence, he seemed better. He snagged at the belt around his midsection and twisted it a bit, sloshing his bloated stomach around a bit. His gut had bloated just a bit bigger to the point that the fabric around his gut was tighter, leaving no room for wrinkles and folds just under the belt.

"Sadly, for you, that is a 'no'."

The Dovahkin this time filled the tankards, eyebrows rising in slight shock to see the ale slowly run out like a damned river until it was just droplets plummeting into his companion's tankard. One keg had already been emptied to the point of droplets.

Ten tankards full of ale will sit in their guts. And just as he thought of that, he slowly felt a tug at his gut now full of alcohol. If he was feeling a tight tug, he could only imagine what his companion was thinking as food swam in that gut of his.

They had just set the empty kegs on the floor under the table, forgetting about it until they had both raised their tankards in unison once more, tipping each other off before chugging the liquid down.

By this point, they had both lost feeling in their tongues as their visions swayed and minds became tainted. The alcohol now tugging at their minds, only letting it all blur together as they set their tankards on the table.

The Dovahkin groaned softly, bringing a hand to his gut, wincing as his fingers pressed into the bloated bulge of his growing gut right under his tunic. The belt was cutting into his gut, he felt like he couldn't breathe. Opening his eyes, the man before him didn't look so good too, snagging the belt that sat strangling his rounded gut. The two had fumbled with the loops of their belts together, the leather quickly slipping and freeing their guts from a harsh prison. The Dovahkin's belt sat loosely together at the ends, notch missing the last hole, still sitting around his bloated waist. His companion, however, tugged it out from around him and tossed it onto the floor, sighing in relief as they both rubbed their pinching guts.

"Is five tankards the best you can do? I thought you were the Dragonborn? That nothing could stop nor slow you down?" he snickered.

"You speak highly of yourself. You look like you are about to vomit," the Dovahkin fired back.

Instead of firing back, his companion simply spilled ale from the next keg and slid the tankard to the Dragonborn.

In his tipsy stupor, the Dovahkin knocked back his head and allowed the liquid to freely pour down his throat, stretching his stomach out more. Ignoring the strain and throbs, he watched as his companion did the same, a hand staying on his gut. In sick fascination, the Dovahkin watched as his hand slowly pressed out bit by bit until it stopped as he pulled the tankard away from his mouth.

Six tankards of ale had the Dovahkin's mind swimming in the golden brew, but he was stubborn. If he could not win in a simple drinking contest...

Shaking his drunken mind, he felt his cheeks heat up as his head lolled to the side.

Time seemed to pass by in a blur as the next round of ale flowed freely from the kegs into tankards, and from tankards to bellies. It was all a haze as they both hiccuped, the urge to win burning through them both as they filled their tankards up once more, then twice, then three more times until the second keg had ran dry just like the first.

The belt around the Dovahkin's waist had been slowly pushing apart until it was splayed out behind his broad back as the expanse of his gut was far too big now. Both men had looked like they were pregnant with children, their guts heavy and tight, the two nauseous but still glaring daggers at each other as the burn to win overtook the painful throbs from their engorged stomachs. Their tunics had been slowly pulled up over their stomachs, their navels now revealed as a stretch of skin popped out from underneath. Their trousers had even ripped at the crotch and sides to make room for their expansive guts and waistlines. Their legs had been slowly pushed apart to compensate their growing guts.

The Dovahkin set down his tankard on the table, struggling to sit up just enough to put it down, needing to press a hand down on the top of his gut to set it on the edge before leaning back.

But the Dovahkin knew not of how much he weighed, and as he sat back in his chair, the world seemed to tip over as the chair creaked backwards, quickly breaking against the floor. Now trapped under the weight of his bulging beer gut now spilling into his lap, he could not seem to gain enough mental strength to sit up as the ale had turned his mind to mush. He could hear his companion howling with laughter, placing his tankard down onto the table. The chair groaned eerily below him, creaking worse than a rickety old bridge.

"Giving up, Dragonborn?" he hiccuped, struggling to somehow stand. The Dovahkin, not wanting to accept defeat shook his head and glared daggers over his mound that was his stomach. He watched his companion grip at the table, somehow managing to hoist himself up on shaking legs and stumble to stand properly. His gut pulled him down, swaying and jiggling as he pat the last keg. "Room for anymore in that gut of yours?"

"Always," the Dovahkin spat.

His companion shrugged and smiled wickedly. He scooped up the keg and nearly fell backwards too before managing to catch himself. He waddled over, and from his place on the floor, he could hear all of the ale swishing and splashing around inside of his companion's woefully stretched gut. His companion heaved over a bit, placing the keg right next to the Dovahkin's head, the turn nozzle right over his mouth. He was squatting next to the keg, his gut touching the floorboards, the man swaying side to side in his drunken stupor.

"Drink up," his companion chuckled, snatching at the nozzle.

The Dovahkin had no time to react as the nozzle haad been tipped into his parted lips. Ale flowed slowly from the nozzle, filling his cheeks and swirling around his numb tongue. It had flowed slow enough that the Dovahkin had time to swallow each mouthful before it had been replaced by yet another mouthful of sweet ale. He winced at the groaning pain of his stomach, his organs churning and rumbling as more and more ale seemingly flowed into his body by the mouthful. He had managed to raise a lazy hand to his gut, pulling at the tight seams of his tunic at wwhere it cut in on his body. The seams on the sides were starting to split apart, warm skin poking through as the once thin bulb of flesh poking out from the stretched waistband grew thicker and thicker.

He felt his companion's hand join his, drumming his fingers along the taut skin, enjoying the swishes and how the Dovahkin gargled and choked on the ale, gasping through his nose. But he didn't fail to notice the Dovahkin's wince and soft groans as well as how he fisted the tight material slowly pushing back over his growing gut. He twisted the nozzle back, shutting off the flow of ale into the Dovahkin's mouth.

Tsking the Dovahkin, he pried the keg away and opened up the lid, scoffing at how full it remained.

"You barely drank three tankards and you're already whining like a child," he scoffed. He placed a hand on the Dovahkin's gut and pinched at the taut flesh, smirking at the hiss of pain followed by the Dovahkin smacking his hand away. "I take it you're giving up?"

"I give," the Dovahkin panted, groaning as he clutched his gut. "I cannot hold any more ale."

His companion tsked again, setting the keg back down next to the Dovahkin's head.

"You seemed to have forgotten our little deal: The loser drinks the rest." The Dovahkin gave his companion a pointed look. "Ah, but don't fret. I'll drink the wine. You can finish off the keg."

Before a protest could happen, the nozzle had been tipped back into the Dovahkin's mouth and the nozzle had released another stream of ale. But to the Dovahkin's shock, it was faster, but not by much. It was harder to keep up with the swallowing, but he had pushed past the aching in his jaw and cheeks and throat to not drown in ale.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his companion snatch the large bottle of wine from the table, reaching around his big belly and nearly falling over in the process. He took to a kneeling position, allowing his gut to now rest fully on the floor as he popped off the cork and carelessly tossed it to the side. Glaring victoriously at the Dovahkin, he smirked before wrapping his lips around the neck of the bottle, tilting his head, and chugging the wine all as the Dovahkin writhed in pain as he filled up more and more.

He attempted to loosen the nozzle, only to find the handle to it gone, spiky remains of where it had been snapped off now left in its stead. His next attempt was to push the keg away, but just as he placed a weak hand under the curve of the keg, his companion smacked a hand down, tilting it back into the Dovahkin's mouth. He whined and pushed weakly against the keg until he moaned against the nozzle.

All of the ale had been rushing to his head, but strangely, as he laid there filling up with ale until there was no more room, he could feel shocks running down along his spine right to his dick.

And turning his gaze to watch his companion. It had only made it worse as the soft snapping of threads filled the silence between gulps. He watched his companion's clothing pop apart thread by thread, skin spilling out between the minute gaps before the threads holding back those growths of fatty flesh snapped too. His tunic had risen along the curve of his gut before it had been held in place at the top of his gut, looking no less than a brassiere just as his pants had given way and exploded from his thick legs. He could finally see all of the angry stretch marks blistering his companion's skin, veins popping out against the smooth skin. His once cut physique that rivaled the Dovahkin's was no more. No more rigid abdomen, no more cut pectorals.

And just as the last droplets of wine slipped into his companion's mouth, the ale had started to slow until both had run empty.

His companion tilted the keg out of the Dovahkin's mouth, hiccuping and smirking as the Dovahkin shuddered, groaning as he rubbed his rumbling gut.

"Too much ale," he groaned, burping as his gut wretched and throbbed.

"A sore loser," his companion cooed, patting his orbital belly. "But, I am feeling like a generous winner." The Dovahkin opened his aching mouth to ask him what he meant only to gasp as his companion slowly dug his fingers under the mound of tight skin, managing to crane the Dovahkin's gut up just a bit to allow his dick to stand up better. "Poor thing was being crushed," his companion chuckled.

The Dovahkin groaned as his companion loosely wrapped his hand around the Dovahkin's cock, slowly pumping his hand along the curve of his cock before gently squeezing at the head. The Dovahkin moaned and dug his nails into the flesh of the floorboards before rubbing them along the gravid curve of his gut.

But soon, the Dovahkin found himself crying out as the hand firmly pumping around his dick had left and the hand under his gut was gone, allowing his hefty belly to push his erect cock back against the floorboards, the pressure had him gasping as it was now hard to breathe.

"Your gut is too heavy for me," his companion sighed, eyeing where his hands had retreated from. "But perhaps, if we're able to roll you on your horker side, I would be able to let you release."

Chapter Text

The College of Winterhold was intimidating, sure, and the many patrons of the magical arts sure knew how to forge their ways easily with a sway of their hand, but the Dovahkin thought nothing of it as he trekked along the stone bridges to the escalated elegant walls of the old college. He wasn't there for magic lessons or for a magical duel with one of the college's many students, not even to bother the orc librarian about yet another book or piece of history he would need.

He was there to answer a call for help from one Brelyna Maryon. He had helped her in the past with other experiments, the one he remembers most is of her turning him into different animals in the middle of her dormitory. He had gained her trust as she did with the Dovahkin. Mutal relationship aside, the Dovahkin had not failed to notice the letter weighing heavy in his satchel was addressed to him only aside to some of the few requests before going to any poor unfortunate soul willing to devote a few hours of their time with the mystic. The Dovahkin was not a man who bent his blade easily, he knew the Dunmer had been pining after him for a little while, but he wasn't sure for how long. If he had to guess, he would say the beginning of the spring when he took the second request from her.

Even as the Dovahkin trekked through the college, ignoring the glares from some of the mages in the courtyard in normal clothing for once, he couldn't help his face heating up at the fact that he had started to take a liking to her as well.
Up spiraling stairs that made his head sway and swirl, he finally arrived at her door. Before he could even knock, she was there. Eyes brightening at the Dovahkin who still had a fist ready in the air to knock at her door. Her thin lips quirked into a small smile, pointed eyebrows softening.

"Dovahkin," she greeted, "I see you've gotten my new request. And you're here in record time. I take it you're fond of these little experiments?"

"Perhaps. If not, I wouldn't have even spared a thought at your note."

The Dunmer chuckled softly before grabbing a small satchel and closing the door behind her. Her body was hot before him, heat radiating off her body against his.

"You learned too. You're wearing commoner's clothing instead of your armor."

"Don't want to ruin them and run around the college in only a spare bedsheet like last time."

The Dunmer, at that statement, let out a hearty laugh before locking her door.

"Shall we?"

The Dunmer had taken him down the main road going into Winterhold, bringing far out as to escape the cold and unforgiving snowy landscape wrecking the hold and college. He was a long way away, an hour back on foot if he were to have to guess.

The two had come up to an abandoned shack, used mainly for hunters and fishermen to have a shelter to sleep in, especially with their backs to the tundra of Winterhold behind them.

No hunters were around from what the two could tell. Perfect for any weird experiments she had in store for him.

He couldn't help but swallow at the lump in his throat out of slight nervousness.

The Dunmer stripped the hood from the top of her head, revealing her midnight black hair tied up in their usual twisted bun at the top of her head. She set the satchel - most likely full of curing potions and magical ingredients - down on the table covered in dried blood from where hunters probably skinned their catches on.

From her satchel, she produced a small, round vial. It may be the size of a septim, a little smaller. A full orb of dark black glass, the liquid inside even darker, thick from what he could tell. She shook it a bit, the liquid sloshed side to side. She managed to pinch the tiny cork and pop it out of the small vial

She tried to hand it straight up to the DOvahkin without a second thought. No instructions, no warnings, not even an explanation of what it could do or the side effects or even the name she had come up with for the potion (or poison).

He pushed her stretched-out hand away with one of his own.

"What is that?" the Dovahkin asked cautiously.

"Nervous?" she tilted her head, a coy smile on her thin lips.

"The last few times I've helped you with your experiments, Brelyna, you didn't tell me what it was until after you either struck me with the spell or managed to get a drop of your concoction into my mouth. You know what happened last time?" She cocked a brow, signaling him to go along with his answer. She was enjoying it. "The last two times you didn't tell what it is you had crafted, I needed to explain to the temple priests false stories on why I had either large lumps on my back or why my erection had not ceased after nearly a day had passed."

"The last one was my favorite. It's entertaining to see you squirm and blush."

The Dovahkin squinted a bit, cocked a smile.

He played his cards right and caught her. The mage had taken a liking to him.

"So I see," was all the Dovahkin hummed.

Brelyna corked the tiny vial and stretched it back out towards the Dovashkin, closed this time. He outstretched a scarred palm and accepted it. It was dense and heavy for something so small.

"It was an experiment I had crafted up a while ago before you took the first task from me. I had made it after hearing two mercenaries strike up a conversation at the inn. One wanted to have a poison that would render the bounty immobile so he could kill them faster and easier. So I thought I would make such a thing."

"You're giving me poison."

"I've tested it on many little creatures. All it does is relax the body of animals."

"And what of humans?"

"That's where you'll come in."

He starred back down at the vial sitting in his open palm.

"And what happened to the animals you tested it on?"

"It was mostly rats, a few skeevers too. They bloated in the guts a bit, but nothing bad really."

A bloated gut? He's dealt with worse. A beer gut won't slow him down. But what was concerning him most was the fact that she had said the word 'poison.'

"And is there a cure for this poison?"

"There is," she hummed, slipping a teardrop-shaped vial from the satchel. A light blue, paler than sapphire in circlets, light as the sky on a day with no clouds. It was bigger than the small orb in his hand. "When you take the poison, I'll write down key notes about it being tested on human subjects and then cure you. Simple, right?"

"About as simple as poison making gets, that is."

Brelyna rolled her bloody eyes.

"Can you take it now? Before a group of hunters see and start shouting that the Dragonborn and a mage are messing around in a shack?"

Eyeing the dunmer one last time, the Dragonborn popped the small cork off of the orb-ish vial and cocked his head back with the neck of the vial between his lips. He retracted at the taste and of the consistency but managed to swallow it all without it coming back up like vomit. It tasted like rotten meat, it was thick and slimy going down his throat, bubbling sort of in his mouth. He immediately felt the need to burp.

"You'll need to work on the taste if it's meant to be a surprise," the Dovahkin commented.

Immediately, Brelyna turned to her satchel and produced a small notebook bound in thin leather. Taking a piece of fine charcoal, she scribbled down nonsense in her notebook.

The Dragonborn burped softly in a raised fist against his lips, wincing as his stomach felt tight. He could feel the poison violate his insides, bubbling like the ghastly cauldrons of hagravens he had slain in the past. He rubbed a hand over his gut, trying to ease the building pressure.

Upon hearing his belch, Brelyna scribbled more into her notebook before she began flipping pages.

"How do you feel?" she questioned, not turning back to face him.

"Gassy," commented the Dovahkin.

"Anything else?"

"Bloated. Tight in my stomach." She scribbled more down. "I can feel it bubbling inside of me."

It wasn't until the sinch of his tunic felt a little too snug against his waist that he had finally been possessed to look down at himself.

Eyes widened, the Dovahkin noticed his gut had indeed bloated out. He appeared to have been out on a night of unstoppable drinking, as if he had tilted his head under the keg and allowed the tap to flow freely into his mouth without stopping.

The dunmer turned to glance over her shoulder, her eyes now on the palm stretched out over the supposed beer gut the Dovahkin was now sporting. She hummed and turned fully. Moving closer to examine him, her cold fingers tapped at his gut before drumming. He groaned immediately, not liking how her fingers touching his stretched gut made his insides feel like they were being shook vigorously. He pushed her hand away before cradling his gut with now two hands, slipping them under the slight curve to nurse it.

"Don't do that," he tutted.

"Is it painful?"

"Uncomfortable. It's like I drank too much ale." She turned back to the table and continued to scribble more into the journal before she flipped more pages around. A thought had popped into his head, a memory of what she had just said moments ago.

"How big did those rats get?" he eyed his gut, still wincing at the growing pressure inside of him.

His gut was still growing more and more bloated, but it was a slow build-up, barely noticeable when you stare at it, but as he looked back and forth, he could tell the slight changes in his clothing.

"Some were until their bellies were scraping the floor, others bigger and others smaller."

'...bellies scraping the floor...'

"I'm going to bloat that big? Is that even possible?" the Dovahkin shouted, suddenly standing up straight only to gasp and clutch his rounding gut.

It hurt right there. he could feel the pressure sloshing throughout his organs. His tunic was starting to tighten, belt starting to slowly cut into his bloating belly.

"You won't get like that, I have the cure," she scoffed.

"When will I get it?"

"In a bit, I would like to see if there's an end. If you get too bloated, I'll give it to you."

He nodded slowly, nervously. He was unsure of what would happen, but as he looked down at his gut still slowly inflating, he had no choice but to wait.

But then, he felt something odd.

Well, odder than your stomach magically filling up with air or gas or whatever it was that was building up inside.

He felt a weird sensation suddenly spike in his balls. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't welcome either. He squirmed but regretted moving too quickly as his gut on bubbled on harsher, another soft burp leaving him.

"Brelyna," he called.

"Something else?"

"My..."

She didn't look back until after a moment of him pausing. Her eyes landing on what he was about to tell her.

"You're erect!" she exclaimed. "Does it hurt?"

"No, I just..."

"Maybe I won't need to cure you with the vial, maybe with humans, you can cure it right there?"

"You're going to try?"

"If you wouldn't mind?"

Sighing through his nose, he only nodded when the belt cut in tighter, taut flesh now slowly starting to bulge out above and below the belt.

Guiding him to the nearby chair, he couldn't help but flush in embarrassment as he had to waddle as if he were pregnant. He had even more trouble sitting down, but as soon as he did, he and Brelyna both gasped as the belt situated on his waist had burst open from stretching too far. The tunic that once sat loose and large on the Dovahkin's figure now starting to tighten smaller and smaller as the seconds ticked by.

The dunmer had weaved her fingers gently under his growing gut and to the hemline of his pants now tucked under his bloating stomach. Somehow, the mage had managed to pull them down just enough the Dovahkin's cock to spring out. The Dragonborn, however, could barely see what was happening as his gut slowly covered up more and more of his view of her.

He immediately groaned and shivered as he thin, cold fingers wrapped around his shaft, squeezing the head just a bit and rubbing the bead of pre-cum around it. He had silently begun pleading with her to move her hand, the mage obliged, pumping her hand along the length of his cock at a steady pace, squeezing every now and again.

The tunic had tightened more and more around his waist until there was no more tunic left to pool in his ever-parting lap. Legs now forced apart as his gut was too large, he could no longer see the dark elf who was now ducked under his gut, jerking him off.

He didn't feel his climax coming though, but with Brelyna's exclamation, she popped her head up to gasp as she felt his gut still slowly swelling.

She quickly snatched a nearby rag and wiped off her face and hands before eyeing the Dragonborn over his gut.

He pleaded with her with his eyes to give him the cure, but she was determined to find the connection between the two.

And with a soft shout, the Dragonborn snatched at the tightening fabric around his gut as she had slipped the head of his throbbing cock into her mouth.

He felt the tunic slowly peel up from his gut, now revealing the stretched skin of his stomach. It was when he felt his navel reveal to the world a sudden release of pressure had he recoiling back in comfort as a lewd moan left him, completely missing Brelyna launching herself back and coughing.

Unscrewing his eyes, he caught sight of her spitting out his sudden wave of semen and rubbing her mouth with the sleeve of her robe.

She eyed his gut once more before stopping to smile.

"Found the alternative."

The Dragonborn belched loudly, disturbing the wildlife right outside as he rested his hands on his gut. He looked to be a pregnant woman, about to give birth.

But it strangely felt... warm?

He didn't stay on that thought long as he watched Brelyna go back to scribbling down in her notebook from his spot on the chair.

Minutes had passed and the mage had continued to scribble in her notebook, occasionally pulling out little ingredients and flipping pages to compare notes before she suddenly gasped.

Turning around, the Dragonborn's jaw had dropped to see her gut slowly expanding like his. But this time, it was swelling faster.

Immediately diving for her satchel, clumsy fingers managed to somehow grab the bottle from the satchel, but not without popping the cork off in the process. Liquid spilled from the thin vial and barley of the liquid had managed to travel down her throat before she too belched loudly.

The now-empty vialed fell and rolled away from the two, now watching and panicking as her gut still continued to swell at a steady pace.

The robes tightening were way more noticeable than the tunic tightening.

The Dragonborn somehow managed to stand, immediately groaning as his organs sloshed inside of his inflated belly as he waddled towards the dunmer. Immediately pushing her against the table behind her, he urged her to unbutton her robes.

Following his orders, the dark elf had unbuttoned her robe by the first few starting from her neck when the buttons on her swelling belly had started to creak eerily. Managing to unbutton some more, the two buttons above and below her belly button had snapped open, gut jiggling and swaying at the sudden movement. Kicking off her robe, her hands fumbled with her trousers and underwear, managing to remove them as best as she could before the Dragonborn had hiked her up to sit on top of the table.

Leaning back, the Dragonborn stilled at the sight of her drenched pussy, practically leaking with anticipation.

He had to sit on his knees that were spread awfully apart to accommodate for his large gut now resting on the floor.

He buried his head into her pussy, overcome with the urge to just ravish her privates with his tongue, lapping up all of her sweet juices, explore every curve and edge and bump in her pussy with just his tongue alone, then with his fingers, then with his cock.

Just thinking about such lewd things had his dick tingling again.

The dark elf mewled and cried out softly, only able to grab onto her orb-like gut still inflating with Divines' know what. Her legs kicked out, wrapping around his head and neck, barely able to squeeze the sides of his head as his gut didn't allow her much room to move.

She too came without warning, but the Dragonborn had shut his mouth this time, careful not to let himself swallow anything from her in fear that he too would start to inflate once more.

The dark elf had somehow managed to stand up on thin legs, though they were wobbling a lot as the Dragonborn followed suit.

His eyes widened at her as she examined her body.

She was bigger than he was in less time. But where his stomach had only grown outward and was nearly rock hard, hers had pillowed out her once curvy hips. She now looked as though she had gained weight instead of looking heavily pregnant like he did. Her stomach sat lower, belly button puffy and now nearly only a slit in her ashen stomach, hips now with a few rolls on each side. But she still did look pregnant as well, and she waddled like one more than he did. Her gut swayed side to side as his didn't move at all.

The two didn't say a word as they stared at each other's naked bodies, their legs covered in their own climaxes, clothes tight and or missing completely, stomachs inflated and fatty, legs forced apart by the new weight as their legs wobbled just by standing.

'This would require even more lying to get fixed,' the Dragonborn thought to himself.

But somehow, they both looked at each other as if they would want to do it again...

This time, with a crate full of cures on standby.