[pre-story]Another short patreon musing, this one suggested by Iceman77! I had fun writing this one! I couldn't decide on the dragonborn at first, but then I had an idea for something new, something to mix things up a bit, and then it all came together. This is my first futa story! I admit, it's a little more difficult to write a futa than I expected, and it probably doesn't help that there were a lot of ladies involved here so pronouns got all mixed up sometimes, but it was interesting. Maybe I'll continue this later on, who knows. Anyways, enjoy![/pre-story]
“This way.” A priestess in brown robes and a yellow-gold hood and mantle spoke, gesturing the dragonborn to follow her deeper into the temple. The proud imperial woman followed, walking with a confidence forged in dragonfire, passing between a pair of golden statues of the goddess Dibella, her beauty so radiant that even those icons of beauty and womanhood seemed pale by comparison. She was like a dream come to life. Men and women alike lusted over her, over her breasts, perfectly-formed and shapely mounds the size of ripe melons, over her hourglass curves, over her thick, jiggling backside and long, shapely legs. Others envied her for her smooth, pale, flawless skin, her full, plush, pink lips, her regal features, her commanding presence, her subtle strength. She was dressed lightly, wearing only a knee-length green dress with a slit running up one thigh and a leather corset around her narrow waist, the plunging neckline exposing a deep valley of flawless, creamy cleavage. But despite her beauty, there was a coldness to her, she seemed somehow untouchable, unapproachable, and no matter what brave soul made an advance on her, she always turned them down cold. Her soft leather boots padded across the stone floor, only to suddenly come to a stop as her guide halted in front of a pair of dwemer-made double doors. “In here.” She said, pushing them open.
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Musing: Halloween at the Johnson's- Part 1
[pre-story]Just a little peek at what Mr. Johnson and the girls get up to on halloween. [redacted][/pre-story]
“uUUURRN~!”
A deep, angry groan echoed from inside the house. Heavy, ponderous footfalls sounded, drawing closer and closer with every thud. The door suddenly flew open, a massive figure looming in the threshold, a flash of light illuminating its pallid, scarred features, the deep rumble of thunder following swiftly after. It stared down at the children before it from beneath a heavy brow marred by an oozing horizontal gash, held together by dozens of heavy-duty staples. An inhuman rage flashed in in its sunken, staring eyes. The filthy suit hanging off its hulking frame was in tatters, the sleeves shredded to ragged strips around the monster’s powerful limbs. The creature moved stiffly, awkwardly, sections of its immense frame seemingly held together by nothing more than bands of crude stitching. The heavy iron bolt driven through its thick neck shifted as it moved suddenly, lurching forward and reaching towards the young ones before it. “UHRRRRRHHH!” It bellowed furiously.
“Trick or treat!” the trio of children chorused with practiced, saccharine tones. They dug their hands into the bowl the monster clutched, pulling away a moment later clutching greedy, overflowing handfuls of candy, so large they could barely hold together long enough make it into the pillowcases the children carried. Their prizes secure, the children turned and ran off across the lawn toward their next target, dodging the tombstones sticking out of the grass. As they stepped out of the area of the porch light, one childish voice remarked casually, just loud enough for his words to carry to the door. “Who’s supposed to be afraid of Frankenstein, anyways? Babies?”
“uUUURRN~!”
A deep, angry groan echoed from inside the house. Heavy, ponderous footfalls sounded, drawing closer and closer with every thud. The door suddenly flew open, a massive figure looming in the threshold, a flash of light illuminating its pallid, scarred features, the deep rumble of thunder following swiftly after. It stared down at the children before it from beneath a heavy brow marred by an oozing horizontal gash, held together by dozens of heavy-duty staples. An inhuman rage flashed in in its sunken, staring eyes. The filthy suit hanging off its hulking frame was in tatters, the sleeves shredded to ragged strips around the monster’s powerful limbs. The creature moved stiffly, awkwardly, sections of its immense frame seemingly held together by nothing more than bands of crude stitching. The heavy iron bolt driven through its thick neck shifted as it moved suddenly, lurching forward and reaching towards the young ones before it. “UHRRRRRHHH!” It bellowed furiously.
“Trick or treat!” the trio of children chorused with practiced, saccharine tones. They dug their hands into the bowl the monster clutched, pulling away a moment later clutching greedy, overflowing handfuls of candy, so large they could barely hold together long enough make it into the pillowcases the children carried. Their prizes secure, the children turned and ran off across the lawn toward their next target, dodging the tombstones sticking out of the grass. As they stepped out of the area of the porch light, one childish voice remarked casually, just loud enough for his words to carry to the door. “Who’s supposed to be afraid of Frankenstein, anyways? Babies?”
A Satyr's Sacred Seed- Ch. 1
[pre-story]Hey there, Squish here, with a brand-new commission from Galbuscho, featuring a couple of characters you may be familiar with, Varossion the satyr and Alika the enirii! I’m not gonna lie, this one gave me a lot of trouble, but once I stopped trying to force it to match up with my initial plans, I had a lot of fun with it. This is part one, so there should be more of this sooner or later, provided the commissioner sticks around. This is kind of a successor to the story The First Kiss of the Life Seed, so if you want to see a little more of Alika, go check it out!
As always, if you like what you see [redacted]
Content Warnings: Impossible anatomy (huge cock, excessive cum), ball worship, cum-play[/pre-story]
Chapter 1: Seeking a Sweeter Satyr
The cool morning air of the glade was was still, silent but for the songs of birds and the buzz of insects, the soft, emerald grass glistening with a fresh coat of morning dew in the golden shafts of sunlight filtering down through the canopy above. This was a sacred place, where the Shrouded Woods thinned, the towering trees and dense underbrush kept at bay by the will of the Green God, leaving a pristine glade where the Enirii could perform their most sacred rites. All around the edges of the space, like silent wardens watching over the glade, stood a ring of ancient stone statues, all different sizes, some depicting curvaceous, womanly figures, fertile bellies swollen with the gift of life, others depicted strong, masculine figures with goatlike legs and crowns of antlers, wielding unyielding erections, while still others were simpler, towering monoliths of virility, carved stone phalluses that would never soften. Flowering vines wound over the stone surfaces, embracing the fertile female and virile male icons, and climbing up the masculine pillars like bulging veins. Atop each icon, there sat a wreath of fresh flowers, tokens of faith from the Greenleaf tribe that frequented the glade.
The undergrowth at the edge of the glade rustled, a curtain of leaves parting as a youthful, womanly figure tentatively emerged into the open space. She was nude but for her beaded jewelry, every inch of her soft, curvaceous form on full display, much of her flawless honey-tan skin tattooed a warm, earthy red, tribal patterns in the ink depicting leaves, flowers, sprouting seeds, suns, moons, and flames. A river of chestnut-brown hair flowed behind her, cascading down her shoulders and back, almost to her generous backside. The curtain of hair was held back out of her face by the ceremonial crown of leaves she wore, a woven circlet held together by a tiny statuette of feminine fertility, much like the ones ringing the the glade. She had no need for modesty, her body was a vision of perfection from head to toe. Her legs were strong and shapely, widening from small, delicate feet to thick, creamy thighs. Her hips were wide, generous by almost any measure, supporting the swaying, jiggling twin globes of a simply mouth-watering ass, and bearing a dense bush of soft chestnut-brown hair just above her womanhood, a thicket never trimmed or shaved, but naturally well-contained, leaving the lips of her womanhood soft and smooth. Her figure tapered sharply at the waist, only to widen out once more at the chest, giving her a clear hourglass shape. But above all else, her breasts were her most spectacular feature, mounds easily the size of ripe grapefruit and yet still flawless, standing proudly on her chest, the pillow-soft peaks capped with long, thick, dusky pink nipples that practically begged to be sucked. Young she may be, but there was no mistake, everything about her screamed that she was a woman, ripe and ready for breeding.
As always, if you like what you see [redacted]
Content Warnings: Impossible anatomy (huge cock, excessive cum), ball worship, cum-play[/pre-story]
Chapter 1: Seeking a Sweeter Satyr
The cool morning air of the glade was was still, silent but for the songs of birds and the buzz of insects, the soft, emerald grass glistening with a fresh coat of morning dew in the golden shafts of sunlight filtering down through the canopy above. This was a sacred place, where the Shrouded Woods thinned, the towering trees and dense underbrush kept at bay by the will of the Green God, leaving a pristine glade where the Enirii could perform their most sacred rites. All around the edges of the space, like silent wardens watching over the glade, stood a ring of ancient stone statues, all different sizes, some depicting curvaceous, womanly figures, fertile bellies swollen with the gift of life, others depicted strong, masculine figures with goatlike legs and crowns of antlers, wielding unyielding erections, while still others were simpler, towering monoliths of virility, carved stone phalluses that would never soften. Flowering vines wound over the stone surfaces, embracing the fertile female and virile male icons, and climbing up the masculine pillars like bulging veins. Atop each icon, there sat a wreath of fresh flowers, tokens of faith from the Greenleaf tribe that frequented the glade.
The undergrowth at the edge of the glade rustled, a curtain of leaves parting as a youthful, womanly figure tentatively emerged into the open space. She was nude but for her beaded jewelry, every inch of her soft, curvaceous form on full display, much of her flawless honey-tan skin tattooed a warm, earthy red, tribal patterns in the ink depicting leaves, flowers, sprouting seeds, suns, moons, and flames. A river of chestnut-brown hair flowed behind her, cascading down her shoulders and back, almost to her generous backside. The curtain of hair was held back out of her face by the ceremonial crown of leaves she wore, a woven circlet held together by a tiny statuette of feminine fertility, much like the ones ringing the the glade. She had no need for modesty, her body was a vision of perfection from head to toe. Her legs were strong and shapely, widening from small, delicate feet to thick, creamy thighs. Her hips were wide, generous by almost any measure, supporting the swaying, jiggling twin globes of a simply mouth-watering ass, and bearing a dense bush of soft chestnut-brown hair just above her womanhood, a thicket never trimmed or shaved, but naturally well-contained, leaving the lips of her womanhood soft and smooth. Her figure tapered sharply at the waist, only to widen out once more at the chest, giving her a clear hourglass shape. But above all else, her breasts were her most spectacular feature, mounds easily the size of ripe grapefruit and yet still flawless, standing proudly on her chest, the pillow-soft peaks capped with long, thick, dusky pink nipples that practically begged to be sucked. Young she may be, but there was no mistake, everything about her screamed that she was a woman, ripe and ready for breeding.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)