Showing posts with label Skyrim. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Skyrim. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Musing: Dibella's Blessing

[pre-story]Hey there, squish here, finally continuing the story of the futa dragonborn! [redacted] Anyways, enjoy! There's plenty more story to come![/pre-story]

Dibella's Blessing

The three priestesses shared a glance as they held their robes closed for a moment, each one bearing a very different expression. The small breton, Senna, as the dragonborn would later learn, wore an eager, mischievous grin on her almost childlike face, the glint of lust in her eyes seeming ill-fitting. The wide-hipped redguard, Anwen, had a smoldering, sultry look in her eyes, and a playful smirk on her full lips. The tall, busty nord, Orla, was chewing her lip hesitantly, but her eyes kept flicking over to the dragonborn’s magnificent body, lingering on that superior shaft. Hamal cleared her throat, the high priestess catching the attention of all three for a moment and giving them a reassuring nod. As one, three robes parted and fell, pooling around the priestesses’ ankles, revealing their naked bodies to the dragonborn.

Thursday, September 1, 2016

Musing: Dibella's Gift

[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.