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21 hours ago, OmoLem said:

The world needs more skyrim fanfiction.

Be careful when you wish for more Skyrim fanfiction, because you may just end up with... more Skyrim fanfiction.

On second thought, don't be careful. Just keep wishing. Wish harder, even.

---

                Lydia followed her master into a tavern – he was the Dragonborn, so perhaps getting drunk wasn’t the best for his image, but he was a Nord too, and what else would one expect a Nord to do after a fight but drink himself into next Loredas – and she was glad for the chance to rest. It had been a long journey to Riften, and then immediately upon arrival there was a dragon to deal with, and then she had to carry dragon bones halfway across town to give them to some other poor sap who then had to figure out what to do with them, probably going broke just getting them. Her arms hadn’t been this sore in years. She could hardly lift the mug of beer the Dragonborn had ordered for her, but at least she got to sit at the bar and rest. Plus, she could always find the energy to lift beer to her mouth no matter how tired she was.

                The Dragonborn was seated to her right and engaged in conversation with the Argonian behind the bar, with the Dunmer to his right occasionally chiming in with some insipid comment about something. His name was Romlyn, apparently, since whenever he said anything the barkeep would tell him “Shut up, Romlyn.” At present, though, Romlyn was silent, drinking his mead – the entire place had quieted down, in fact. The Argonian noticed the silence and spoke to break it: “I don’t believe I ever got your name?”

                The response from the Dragonborn came as “Bjorn Ironside”, and included a slight bowing of his head. Then, of course, came the comment from Romlyn: “So does that make you the Dragonbjorn?”, and this time the response of “Shut up, Romlyn” came from the bartender and Bjorn at the same time.

                All the while, Lydia was sat on her barstool, slowly working on the mug of beer in her hands, hardly paying any attention to anything around her. She wouldn’t have noticed that a Khajiit had come to stand by the bar as well had the Argonian not said something about it. “How long were you planning on staying in town, Khajiit?”

                Lydia glanced over – she had seen this same Khajiit just a few hours ago, although not in blue pants. The Khajiit answered, “Actually, this one had forgotten why she was even in town until now. May need to be here all month. But- “

                “But you have no money.” Keerava – Lydia had learned her name after hearing another Argonian say it in passing - cut the Khajiit off. “No money, you don’t live here, but you don’t want to be left out in the streets.”

                “Yes, Khajiit would very much like to not live in the streets,” was the response.

                “Well, I can’t house you for free. But as I’m sure you can see, I’m overworked. Especially with this idiot-“ Keerava pointed at Romlyn with two fingers, “And at this rate our friend here’s gonna drink me into even more debt-“ Now she pointed at Bjorn, who had managed to tear through half a dozen bottles of mead without even a hint of drunkenness, “So if you want to live here, you’ll have to work for me.”

                By now Lydia was barely paying any attention to the conversation, but she heard the Khajiit respond with a rather enthusiastic “Yes”, and then Keerava called for someone named Talen, and then he started talking to the Khajiit about work.

                She had better things to focus on, anyways. Her beer had already been refilled once and she was halfway done with the new mug, and now she was just waiting for Bjorn to be done drinking and dismiss her so she’d be able to get to bed. It took a great deal of strength just to stay awake. Strength, of course, was not something Lydia was lacking, but a long journey and a day of bearing the Dragonborn’s burdens had taken a lot out of her. Plus, sitting there drinking wasn’t really helping to distract from her own burden. Sure, she could probably wait a while longer, but her bladder was already making itself known, and it’d be much better to deal with it sooner rather than later.

                The only problem being, of course, that as a housecarl Lydia couldn’t let her Thane out of her sight unless she was specifically dismissed. Finding an appropriate place to relieve herself would mean leaving Bjorn alone – not a problem for him, of course, but she did swear an oath and had every intention to honor it. She knew she could wait, so just pressed her legs together and kept drinking. Drinking wasn’t the best course of action in this situation, but she had to at least finish what she had.

                Several minutes passed quite uneventfully, with Bjorn telling stories about Helgen and Whiterun, the newly-hired Khajiit sweeping floors, and Lydia continuing to keep her legs as close together as possible, though now with her right leg bouncing. She’d have grabbed at herself by now, but considering the fact that she was seated at the bar, with patrons and a bartender to potentially notice, she resisted the temptation, wondering when she’d be able to leave, pee, and get some rest.

                Lydia didn’t need to wonder for very long, since she noticed Bjorn stand up and stretch, and prepared to do the same… but then she saw him walk over to Talen and enter into a deep conversation. She sighed, and felt a leak dampen her underwear. ‘If he doesn’t hurry,’ she thought, ‘I may be in trouble here.’ But he did not hurry, and even when his conversation was finished he decided to linger around and talk to apparently every single person in the bar at that moment.

                She felt another leak and quietly groaned. The sound of other patrons getting refills just made things worse. Something would need to be done very soon unless she wanted to end up wet. Lydia saw Bjorn walk off into the larger dining room, and slowly stood up to follow him so she wouldn’t lose sight of him behind a wall. Her need worsened as soon as her feet hit the ground, and she crossed her legs for a moment before shuffling off to the dining room. There, she found an empty table at a nearby corner, and took a seat. From there, Lydia could see the entire room, but odds are nobody would see her unless they were looking for her.

                That gave her an idea. Her legs weren’t very heavily-armored, and she was wearing a thick green travelling cloak. If she covered herself with it, nobody would see her do what needed to be done – and if they saw, they wouldn’t think twice about it and would most likely just assume she was cold. Another leak, this one much more substantial, motivated her to go ahead with the plan. ‘I just hope nobody can hear it,’ she thought as she raised herself off the chair slightly, lowered her pants and damp panties to her knees, and pulled up her cloak so she wouldn’t be sitting on top of it.

                Then she sat down again, inadvertently letting a small burst of pee out when she made contact with the chair, and quickly threw her cloak over her legs. Her right arm was under the cloak, holding it up above her legs a little bit to ensure it wouldn’t get wet, and her left was balled into a fist on the table. Another leak added to the small puddle on the chair – and her legs, which were pressed together again while Lydia built up the courage to release. With one last look around the room to make sure nobody was looking at her and to confirm Bjorn had not left the room, she spread her legs and let go.

                Her stream took a second to start, and when it did it was a mere trickle, despite the intense pressure in her abdomen and the strength of her leaks, but it quickly turned into a veritable river, pooling onto the chair and soaking the underside of Lydia’s legs and butt. She was shaking and had her eyes still scanning the room to see if anyone was paying her any attention. Her cheeks were flushed and her left hand was now covering her mouth to prevent her from making any noises. She was, of course, still making noises, her thick stream most definitely audible, and now that the chair had been filled there was the added noise of constant dripping as a puddle formed on the floor beneath the table. Lydia could only hope that the cloak covering her blocked some of the noise, and since she could still hear drinks being poured in the other room assumed that anyone that could hear her would think it was that.

                After a minute, the stream started to subside, and when it returned to a trickle Lydia started to lift herself off the chair again. When it became merely the occasional drip, Lydia quickly redressed herself, feeling the cold wet spot on the crotch of her underwear heat up a little bit as the last drops came out. Looking down, she saw a rather significant puddle on the chair and under the table, with the puddle on the chair still slowly feeding into the one on the floor, which was just about to reach her boots when she stopped. Blushing even deeper, she quickly shuffled away from the scene of the crime, released her cloak when she was sure it was safe, and hurried over to follow Bjorn, who was now finally heading upstairs.

 

And that's the three major characters in this.

Before anyone asks, no, I won't be writing anything focusing on Bjorn. He's a side character, plus I'd rather write stuff that I'm into and I'm not into male omo.

Edited by Sake
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Awesome chapter! I'm not into male omo either, but I was sure you were going to have The Dragon Born (Dragonborn?) have a scene.

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2 hours ago, JLH99 said:

Awesome chapter! I'm not into male omo either, but I was sure you were going to have The Dragon Born (Dragonborn?) have a scene.

I mean, he may get something, but at the moment I don't have any plans to have anything focus on him.

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Oh, look, an update.

 

                When dawn broke on the day after the Dragonborn’s arrival, Azhani and Talen were the only two people on the ground floor of the inn. Having awoken only recently, neither of them seemed to have noticed, but when Azhani went to get an apron and broom from behind the bar, she rubbed her eyes, looked around, and asked, “Where is Keerava?”

                Talen seemed surprised to hear a voice, almost jumping and frantically searching the room for the source for a brief moment before realizing where he was and who was talking to him. “What? She’s right over, uh,” he started, “wait, she’s usually down here.”

                “But she is not.” The Khajiit was leaning on her broom, hands on the top of it and her head on her hands. Her eyes kept trying to close themselves, but she would always force herself to stay awake whenever that happened.

                “Probably thought she could get a day off with you working here now. Out exploring the town, I bet.” Talen was currently checking all the kegs to make sure they were full, and replacing ones that weren’t.

                Azhani yawned and twitched her ears. “So what do we do?”

                “First, we eat,” Talen said, dropping a plate, a fork, and a mug for each of them onto the bar. “Then I suppose I’ll stay here and serve and you can wait around, clean up whatever needs to be cleaned up, and make sure people at the tables are getting whatever they need.”

 

               

                By the time any customers started to show up, it was a few hours into the morning. The empty time between dawn and then was filled mostly with preparing the bar to make sure it could handle the day’s business, and cleaning up from the night before. Especially the cleaning part – Azhani actually spent that entire time cleaning up some massive puddle left on one of the chairs and the floor. Pungent enough to be easily identifiable to a Khajiit nose, but that didn’t make it any less strange. It even reminded her that nobody ever told her when she’d get a break. Not that she needed to know at the moment.

                It would be a long day ahead, though, especially if Keerava didn’t turn up, wherever she was. Hopefully she’s enjoying her vacation, Azhani thought, she probably doesn’t get very many. Conveniently, at that exact moment Romlyn Dreth wandered into the bar. Understandable why she would want to get away. Good thing he’s Talen’s problem. Sure enough, he immediately situated himself on a barstool and started telling his stories. Talen was looking at Azhani with pleading eyes, but she just shrugged and playfully waved her tail at him before hauling her broom off to some remote corner.

                She pretended to sweep her corner for some time, before she heard a set of footsteps heading down the stairs, followed by some comment from Romlyn, and then a loud and clear “Shut up, Romlyn” from Bjorn. He appeared shortly after in the dining hall with a nearly-charred leg of some large bird, took a seat, and waved Azhani over as soon as he noticed she was there.

                “Do you need something, Dragonborn?” she asked as she approached. Bjorn took a large bite of his bird-leg before speaking.

                “Where’s your boss? Isn’t she, well, always down here?”

                Azhani shrugged and tipped her head slightly. “Don’t know. Woke up, came down here, she was already gone.”

                Bjorn leaned back as far as he could in his chair, food still in hand. “So she left you to take over her schedule, huh?” The Khajiit nodded silently, and in response Bjorn gave a slight grin. “Interesting.”

                Azhani either didn’t notice that last comment or pretended not to hear it, and commented on her current workload: “This one may have to stay at work here until nightfall. Business will pick up in a few hours, for sure.” She sighed. “Very tiring day indeed.”

                “Indeed…” Bjorn started chewing on his bird-leg, staring off at something in the distance, before asking with his mouth full, “Buy yuh uh drink?”

                The response was a shrug and a “Why not” from Azhani. “Something from Cyrodiil, please,” she added. The Dragonborn nodded and wandered back to the bar, refusing to put his food down. Azhani could only see his back, but from the bar Talen would be able to see Bjorn smirking again, if he cared to look.

 

 

                Sure enough, business picked up, and by the afternoon the inn was quite busy – not as much as an inn somewhere in Whiterun or Solitude, but still rather busy by local standards. One of the priests of Mara from the nearby temple even showed up to preach, and the Dragonborn bought an amulet from him. Oddly enough, the Dragonborn had spent the entire day simply wandering around on the ground floor of the inn, wearing plainclothes and carrying a dagger on his belt instead of the longsword he brought to town. He even seemed to be lacking in an assistant – Lydia would show up occasionally but whenever she came back she’d be sent off on some new errand.

                Azhani was busy too, of course, and spent a large portion of time gathering used plates and the like, and bringing them to a large bucket behind the bar. They’d be taken care of later, the rest of the inn still needed cleaning. Whenever she got a chance to rest, the Dragonborn would buy her a glass of Imperial liquor, which she would always down quickly before getting back to work.

                There was, of course, one rather obvious problem with that. Delicious though the liquor may be, a Khajiit can’t just keep drinking them forever. Room for more would eventually need to be made – and without any extended periods of quiet, that inevitability would be very inconvenient. Azhani, of course, despite the incident the day before, was still very much incapable of intentionally disgracing herself by handling such an inevitability in public.

                And so it was that she came to regret accepting Bjorn’s offers of free drinks – which she just now realized she could have been getting herself anyways, since drinks were part of her payment – and began considering ways to deal with what very soon would become a problem. Waiting as long as she had yesterday was definitely not an option, as Bjorn’s gift of pants was still her only clean legwear at the moment. Her original clothes had been tossed in with the Argonians’ laundry, which nobody had found the time to do just yet – and when they did get around to it the wetness would be clearly visible on the gray material of her pants. Some solution was definitely necessary, sooner rather than later, or she’d have nothing to wear and would have to hope her fur would provide enough cover.

                Thinking about a solution was not as easy as Azhani had hoped, though. There was always something new that needed doing, especially now that the regular patrons had been drinking for a few hours and engaging in all manner of drunken recklessness. Whenever she would stop, either to clear a table or clean up some idiot’s vomit or the blood and teeth left over from the usual Nord barfight, she’d have her legs crossed, hopefully as discreetly as possible.

                And to make matters worse, she’d still get thirsty and would force herself to accept yet more offers of drinks from the Dragonborn. You’d almost think he planned for this, she thought when she went to claim her most recent drink. He seems very much too interested. Indeed, Bjorn had been watching the Khajiit intently the entire time, looking over at her with the greatest subtlety and carefully positioning himself in just such a way that it looked like he was just wandering around the bar, but could also keep an eye on her no matter where she went.

                Keerava still isn’t back yet, Azhani thought, making another round. She might have planned for this too. But she’s not here to see it. The Khajiit was unsure of how she felt about that. On one hand, that’d be one less person to see her as she gradually got more and more desperate. But on the other, Keerava running off without a word to do Divines-know-what surely indicated she wanted to put her new employee into this state. And maybe she wanted to annoy Talen, too – he was currently behind the counter staring at Romlyn, possibly envisioning the many ways he could make the Dunmer stop talking. In fact, maybe that was most of the reason, but Azhani still couldn’t shake the thought that maybe someone had intended for her to be working all day, with no good chance of a break, just to see what happens to her.

                Fortunately enough, the need to run around the inn had diminished – unfortunately the only need to have done so – as most of the patrons were now at the bar. There was still lots of work to be done, of course, but at least Azhani could stay mostly in one area, and didn’t have to run around and jostle her bladder. A good thing, too, since her need just kept getting worse. She did get to take advantage of the ability to stand still to slip a hand underneath her apron and up against the front of her pants, maybe pretending to be adjusting her shirt or something. That brief moment of relief didn’t last very long – as soon as Bjorn noticed Azhani wasn’t running around anymore, he was already right beside her with a new drink, and a mug of his own this time. It did take her a while to consider her options, but eventually she reluctantly accepted the offer and drank yet again. At least the drinks weren’t liquor anymore, and hadn’t been for a few hours – instead, they were milk, no doubt a joke either about her being a Khajiit or asking for something Imperial.

                “Tiring work, huh?” Bjorn said, trying to make some kind of small talk while also occasionally taking a swig from his mug.

                Azhani responded with a nervous half-laughing half-growling sound as she crossed her legs as tightly as possible, licking the milk out of her glass more like a housecat than a Khajiit. She could drink it slower that way, and it wouldn’t look weird if she didn’t respond because she was drinking. Eventually, though, she did need to respond, and said, “Very tiring. Haven’t had a good break all day.”

                The Dragonborn took another swig of his drink and seemed to be checking out the Azhani’s legs. She quickly uncrossed them and instead pressed her thighs together as much as possible, not wanting to have her situation on display. Bjorn almost seemed to have smirked again but if he did he almost immediately had his mug up to his mouth again to hide it.

                “Y’know,” he said, “I’d be glad to help if you need anything.” He was now leaning back against the nearest wall, with Azhani off to his right side.

                The Khajiit was not expecting such an offer, so could only stammer and respond “N-no, no, don’t need help, thanks, no.” She quickly downed what was left of her milk and was looking for some way to get out of the conversation, fortunately being distracted by a thud from the dining room and a voice calling out “Shit!”

                She gave an awkward smile, practically shoved her glass into the Dragonborn’s hand, and rushed over as well as she could to see what had happened. What she saw was a patron standing near a table, looking at a mug that had fallen off the table and spilled its contents onto the floor. Don’t think about spilling, Azhani commanded herself, realizing there may not be much time before she did the same. When the patron saw her, she waved him off to the bar to get another drink, pulled a rag out of a pocket in her apron, and made her way over to the spill to clean it.

                Upon bending down to get to work, though, she felt herself leak into her new pants – directly, since her only set of underwear was also in a basket waiting to be cleaned. She immediately jumped up and moved a hand to cover her rear, just in case it was visible from behind, quickly looking around to make sure nobody saw. Fortunately the dining room was mostly empty now, and the only people who were there were facing away from her. Bjorn was the only other person in the bar who could possibly see her – he probably did, but she couldn’t be sure since he was quite good at hiding it if he was looking.

                Once she was sure nobody was looking at her, or at the very least nobody but the Dragonborn, she bent down again, this time staying dry, and got to work cleaning the spill. She needed to use two hands for it so had her tail shoved between her legs to apply some modest amount of pressure. The pressure from the outside couldn’t compete with the pressure from inside, though, and soon enough another leak escaped, getting her tail slightly wet.

                Azhani let out a quiet groan and thought, This is not good, need to do something soon. She looked at the puddle of spilled drink on the floor in front of her. There was still a significant amount of it left – the dropped mug must have been nearly full at the time – and with only Bjorn potentially able to see her at the moment she had some degree of privacy. Nobody would notice if this got a little bigger… She didn’t want to consider that as an option, but there weren’t very many choices available at the moment – and that amount would quickly diminish further over time. Maybe just a little bit? No time for anyone to notice if it’s just a little bit.

                The puddle on the floor was not growing any smaller in the time it took Azhani to consider whether or not peeing right then and there was a viable option. If she could just let a little bit out, she reasoned that she’d be able to wait until something more appropriate and more private became available. But then, would she be able to stop once she had started? Would she even be able to start at all with people potentially watching? All sorts of questions flew through her head, but were quickly dismissed by another leak, larger than the two before, leaving a few drops on the floor. Fuck it, she thought.

                With another look around the room to make sure people were paying more attention to their food than to her, she grabbed her pants from behind and moved them as far down as she could without changing position. Moving her legs ever so slightly apart, she closed her eyes and forced herself to let go. After a second, she felt a short burst shoot out of her and heard it land on the floor with a quiet pattering noise, followed by a slight involuntary trickle. She tried again and this time there was a thick stream, running directly into the puddle of spilled drink. Azhani started to sigh but almost immediately realized that the stream was making far too much noise, and when she opened her eyes she remembered that she shouldn’t be doing that here. Almost as soon as she started she forced herself to stop, though her body refused to listen to her for a few seconds, leaving her to wonder if anyone would catch her before her stream finally died down. As soon as it did, she rushed to pull her pants back up and get back to work. It took a few minutes to clean the puddle, a task only made longer by her recent addition to it, and harder by the fact that she was leaking every few seconds.

                As soon as the puddle was gone, she jumped up, grabbed the dropped mug, and hurried over to dispose of her cleaning rag. When she got to the bucket full of dishes needing cleaning, she glanced at the mug and decided to put it into her apron pocket instead. Might be useful. That done, she immediately rushed over to the Dragonborn. She didn’t like the idea, but he offered to help and she certainly needed help now – she wasn’t sure how much longer it’d be before it would be more than just some leaks.

                When she got up to him, he was still leaning against a wall, drinking, and pretending not to notice the dancing Khajiit just within his line of sight. “Azha needs your help now,” she said bluntly.

                “Does she now?” Bjorn just grinned and took another sip of his drink, which he surely must have refilled since the last time they spoke.

                “Very much so,” was the response from the Khajiit whose dancing was gradually getting more frantic and whose pants were gradually getting more wet. “Need to get away, somewhere quiet.”

                “And not much time to do it, I assume.”

                Fortunately for Azhani she was a Khajiit and her blushing couldn’t be seen. She was very much embarrassed that someone, especially someone as important as Bjorn, knew of her situation, but she really didn’t care by then and just nodded.

                “Well, I have a solution,” Bjorn said, putting his mug down on a nearby shelf. “But it’ll be… well, it’ll be loud.”

                It took a moment for Azhani to realize what that meant, and once she did realize she started to ask “You’re going to- “

                “Yes,” the Dragonborn cut her off. “It’ll slow time, moreso for everyone else than for me, and if I’m touching you, you should be as unaffected as I will be.”

                Azhani did not like where this was going.

                “If I let go of you, though, you’ll probably just return to the normal effects, so really there wouldn’t be much of a change from your perspective. And it won’t last very long.”

                This was not a very good proposal. Azhani would have some extra time to sneak off before anyone noticed she had gone anywhere, but she wasn’t sure if she could actually go while the Dragonborn was touching her – especially not if he was touching her and looking at her. And if the entire Shout lasted less than a minute, she wouldn’t have time to finish before it wore off. But she didn’t have any better options, so just nodded and said “Okay.”

                “Alright,” Bjorn said, “you can probably hide under the stairs, so just head over there as soon as you hear me. Maybe I can start a little distraction so it’s not so obvious…” He scanned the room quickly and almost immediately decided to pick Romlyn as his victim – fairly soon a red blast shot out from the Dragonborn’s hand and struck Romlyn in the back, and he got up and started trying to pick a fight with anyone near him. The bar immediately erupted into yelling as everyone inside tried to get in on the action – Talen was even using his tail as a weapon.

                “That’s definitely illegal but you’re not criminal scum if nobody catches you, so…

                TIID KLO UL!” His right hand shot out to grab Azhani by the shoulder as soon as he started speaking the words of power, and once he was finished the fight scene across the room was now barely moving – teeth were floating in mid-air, moving ever so slightly towards the ground. But there was no time to watch, as Azhani had followed her instructions and immediately started pulling the Dragonborn around a few boxes under the stairs. Once she was sufficiently hidden from everyone else, she immediately got to work getting her pants down, pulled the mug out of her apron pocket – and taking the apron off completely and tossing it to the side as it’d only get in the way. She also took the chance to shoot an evil glance at Bjorn as quickly as the Shout would allow her to. He was watching but turned his head away once she looked at him.

                It felt very strange to Azhani that she was moving so slowly – she tried to rush into a position with the mug underneath her but nothing seemed to move as fast as she wanted it to. She did manage to get herself positioned properly, though, and as soon as she did she tried to force herself to empty out. For a while, nothing happened – it was an even longer period of time than one would expect could be due to time being slowed down. Azhani was in position, her nethers were burning with the desire to relieve herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything for some time. After repeatedly trying to let go, she decided that she could use her free hand to speed things along. As quickly as she could, she brought her hand up to her belly and pressed as hard as she could, doubling over in the process as she dramatically increased the pressure on her bladder.

                Sure enough, though, that worked, and a trickle was making its way into the mug, and that became a stream, and soon enough Azhani was forcefully urinating into what had only recently been full of alcohol. The mug wasn’t even halfway full before time returned to normal, though – but Azhani didn’t seem to notice and was just enjoying the feeling of release. Her eyes were closed, her head was tipped back, and she was breathing heavily. She didn’t even notice that the Dragonborn was watching again and trying to pull his shirt down. Nor did she notice that she had filled the mug until she felt its contents spill over onto the hand that was gripping it. In shock, she jerked her head up and her eyes open – Bjorn reacted immediately and pretended that he was never looking, though his work with his shirt wasn’t very functional camouflage - and she very nearly dropped the mug, only stopping herself by bringing her other hand to it, stabilizing it. She had still spilled some onto the floor, though, and she couldn’t stop herself from continuing to empty herself into a container that couldn’t hold any more of what was in her.

                Her solution was to just get the mug out of the way, so she set it down off to the side, stream still as strong as ever, and looked down at what she was doing to the floor. The puddle Azhani was leaving was rapidly growing, almost touching her feet. And yet she still showed no signs of slowing down, so all she could do was spread her legs even further apart, which caused her to lose balance and fall backwards. She hit the back of her head on one of the crates separating her from the brawl on the other side, and when she recovered from that confusion she realized that she was now sitting directly on the ground, her stream shooting straight out in front of her between her legs – also managing to get her pants soaked as they were now directly in the line of fire. She also noticed that the Dragonborn had released his grip on her shoulder, as his Shout and worn off. Fortunately he wasn’t looking at her, because the view would have been perf- Wait, no, he is looking, she thought. He wasn’t being as subtle as he had hoped, so Azhani had noticed and moved both of her hands to give herself as much cover as possible without ending up peeing through her hands. And she shot Bjorn another evil glare, causing him to turn around completely so he couldn’t see.

                Fortunately, the need for Azhani to have her legs spread was diminishing very quickly, and soon enough her stream stopped entirely. Once she was finished, she stood up with some difficulty, trying not to slip in her own puddle, and got her pants back up where they belonged once she was fully upright. They were thoroughly soaked as a result of her last position, mostly on the back. Her apron would hide most of the damage from the front, but for now she’d have to be careful to not be seen from behind. Even with the dark blue material of the pants the wet spot would be easily visible.

                Once she was totally re-dressed, she carefully stepped over the puddle and came out from her hiding place. As she passed Bjorn, she smacked him on the back of the head. “Pervert,” she growled at him before heading off to get a new cleaning rag. The fight had died down by now and nobody was quite sure why they were fighting each other in the first place – except Talen, who had many reasons for beating Romlyn up; and Bjorn, who had started the fight to begin with and also now had a very good rear view of a Khajiit barmaid’s soaked pants.

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This still exists! Took a while to figure out how to continue but this ain't dead until I say it's dead!

 

                Night had fallen by the time Keerava returned to the inn – a day out on the town had tired her out almost as much as working did, but it was still nice to get a day off for once. Plus, if she just quietly slipped away every now and again she could get her new employee used to the schedule and everything involved in that. Worked out for everyone, as far as she was concerned.

                At the moment there was nobody on the ground floor – nobody behind the bar or anywhere else in the place, except for whoever it was upstairs that was still walking around, making the slightest noise as the wood planks creaked beneath them. Keerava wasn’t too keen on interacting with people right now, but considering she had to go upstairs anyways to get to bed she’d have to risk talking to whoever it was up there. Not that that would be a problem, or anything, but she’d have to get up early and the prospect of being delayed getting to bed didn’t seem that great.

                Thus, she snuck upstairs, both to avoid detection and to avoid waking anyone up. Someone else managed to do a better job at avoiding detection, though, as evidenced by the fact that Keerava jumped when he spoke.

                “So, where’ve you been all day?” It was the Dragonborn, leaning against the wall of his own room. His arms were crossed and he looked quite contented with his wall-leaning.

                Keerava looked around a little bit – he didn’t have much of a reason to be standing out in a hallway in the middle of the night, after all, so surely there was something interesting out here to justify it – before asking, “What are you doing out here?”

                “Oh, I came out to see you, once I knew you’d gotten back.”

                “And you knew when that was because…” Keerava narrowed her eyes at Bjorn. That was definitely not something a normal person would say. Then again…

                Bjorn brought up his left hand and tapped a ring on one of his fingers. It either hadn’t been there before or she just never noticed. “Detect life,” he said, “I always wear one of these when I’m asleep. Lets me know if someone’s gonna try to sneak up on me.” He paused for a minute and added, “Of course, I know a shout to do the same thing but it’s only temporary, not long enough to keep me aware of what’s going on when I’m asleep.”

                Keerava just nodded and said, “Uh-huh, but why are you out here now?”

                Bjorn frowned, though it was obviously meant to be humorous. “I seem to remember asking you a question first.”

                The Argonian rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t get out much, holed up in here all the time. I’ve been wandering around the forests outside town all day long, just to see what’s out there.”

                “Right,” said the Dragonborn, “and to make sure your plans back here work out, right? Don’t worry, everything was fine, I helped her along, turned out great.”

                Keerava raised an eyebrow – or the Argonian equivalent to one anyways – and took a step back. “What are you talking about?”

                Bjorn stood up from the wall, and came in close to Keerava. He leaned in and whispered, “Maramal’s right. We’re all sinners. You and I, our sins aren’t all that different.” Then he stood up, smiled, and gave a half-hearted salute with two fingers. “Well, good night then,” he said as he walked back into his room and shut the door behind him.

                He left Keerava standing in the hall, stunned. ‘What was that,’ she thought, ‘Does he… no. What? How could he?’ And so she stood there for some time confusing herself with her own thoughts before finally thinking out loud: “Screw it, I need some sleep.” She forced herself to stop thinking about anything, and when she got to her own room she immediately headed for the bed, and when she got there practically collapsed onto it. In mere moments, she was sound asleep.

 

               

                Keerava found herself on a farm, looking out over a vast field of crops, getting ready for harvest. She felt proud, like she had done that. Like for once in her life working her hands to the bone was actually accomplishing something. This, of course, was the result of clawing her way out of poverty in Riften, and finally escaping the place to get to this farm – her farm – so she could work on something she enjoyed.

                She couldn’t stand there all day, though. The work may have been good and done, but satisfaction isn’t the only feeling to come out of a long day of work. When was the last time that needed taking care of? Thirty hours? Twenty? Hard to tell, but that didn’t really matter if she was being yelled at by her own body right at the moment. Even with all her training and her natural advantage in that area, she could only wait so long, and if she was being told now that she needed draining, then it’d be better done soon rather than later.

                Therefore, she had to head back inside. It was a possibility – and a very tempting one – to just relieve herself right there in the field. Nobody was around to see, after all, so she could do whatever she wanted. And yet despite how much she would have liked to do otherwise, Keerava decided that she wanted to head inside instead. It was starting to get dark anyways.

                Keerava headed for the farmhouse door, pushed it open, and found herself inside the Chapel of Mara in Riften. This, of course, did not seem the least bit strange to her. It did throw off her plans some, though, since Maramal was giving a sermon at present. Wandering around a church, looking for something to urinate into, while the place was filled with people listening to the word of the Divines didn’t strike Keerava as being a very smart idea. So, she did what any sane person would do in her situation, and immediately sat down in the nearest bench, threw one leg over the other, and started to just wait.

                It didn’t take very long for the service to end – in fact, it felt to Keerava like it was over as soon as she sat down – but once it did everyone else in the church either left through the front door, or in the case of Maramal walked off to a corner and disappeared completely. Then she stood up, now feeling the force of however much fluid she was carrying inside her. Keerava had to bend slightly at the knees, but refrained from grabbing herself as she was still in a public place, even if nobody was around. A quick walk around the main room of the chapel accomplished nothing interesting, though Keerava did have to stop several times during it to pull herself together, and having found nothing inside she left from the way she came.

                This time, the door led to Riften, though instead of coming out at the chapel, Keerava found herself leaving a house near the main square. There was one minor difference, though: all the shop stalls in the square were replaced with small wooden booths – outhouses, quite the rarity in Tamriel and yet here were several of them all in a group. But then this was just normal Riften so there’s nothing spectacular about that.

                Keerava wasn’t one to waste a good opportunity, so she headed to the closest one, fortunately finding it unoccupied. Once inside, she barred the door and stripped down so she could take care of business. Being careful to avoid agitating her bladder – which by now was rather distended and firm – she pulled her pants and underwear to below her knees, and sat down. The outhouse had a bench-like seat, with a round hole in the middle leading to who-knows-where, so it was no less comfortable than sitting on any chair. In her seat, Keerava relaxed herself – and nothing happened. Her need had escalated greatly in the past few minutes, and yet she could not will herself to take care of it. She tried teasing herself with two fingers, and that too did nothing. The only sensations there were for her at the moment were the great pressure that was her full bladder, which only recently made itself known, and the burning sensation in her nethers that seemed to demand she do something about that pressure.

                There wasn’t much she could do about either of those feelings though, since nothing she tried seemed to actually get anything to happen, and now someone was knocking on her door. If she couldn’t do anything, she’d have to leave. She tried to relax enough to let go once more, and once more nothing happened. Sighing, she stood up, bent down to re-dress, pressing ever so slightly on the weight in her belly, and left the outhouse as some Dunmer lady went in.

                Unable to think of any other options, Keerava decided the logical choice was to go to the docks, so with one hand resting on her bulge and the other balled into a fist at her side, she slowly made her way there. It took some time, though fortunately there were no people getting in the way and all the buildings that should have been blocking her had apparently been moved ever so slightly, so the path was straight and clear.

                Once she got to her destination, Keerava walked over to one of the piers, and all the way to the far end, where she stood for a few moments thinking about what she would do next. Looking around, she saw nobody in the area, so she once again disrobed from the waist down, got into a squatting position, and again tried to relax. Yet again, to nobody’s surprise, nothing happened. One more try, and this time she managed to let out a short dribble, but as it was only a few drops she felt no different. She did feel warmer, for some reason, but the pressure was still there and still as strong as ever. Keerava was now officially out of ideas, so she re-dressed and sat down on the pier, with both her hands now in her crotch and her legs hanging off the pier, crossing over each other and getting tangled together in all sorts of shapes.

                Keerava sat there doing that for a little while, until finally one of her feet just barely touched the surface of the water below her. Whether by coincidence or because the water was some kind of magic, she felt a long, hot spurt dampen her clothes. Surprised, she fell over backwards, and shut her eyes tight as she fought with her pants to get them out of the way now that she was actually doing something. Another spurt came, and then another, and once she finally managed to wrestle her clothes into a position where her lower body was clear, she let out a two-second stream that arced out of her body and into Lake Rumare with what should have been a splash. It was not a splash, however. Instead it was, for whatever reason, the sound of liquid hitting fabric. Come to think of it, the boardwalk here was unusually soft.

 

 

                When Keerava opened her eyes again, she found herself staring up at a ceiling with her head resting on a cheap pillow. Her knees were up to her chest, and she had her pants pulled just the tiniest bit down her thighs, just enough that there was nothing in the way when her stream started up again, making a pattering noise as it pooled on the Argonian’s bed. Not quite awake yet, Keerava took some time to realize what was happening. She had been left emptying herself for a good twenty seconds before she finally figured out that the noise of urine hitting mattress was not a normal feature of this room.

                Collecting all the willpower she could in her freshly-awakened state, she managed to cut off her stream, and as fast as possible kicked off and rolled into a sitting position, her feet ending up in the puddle she had just made. Her hands shot down to try to stop the rest of what needed to come out, but as soon as she tried to stand up, her hands were instantly soaked and several trails of urine seeped out between her fingers, dampening the bed further. This was surprising enough that just as soon as her hands found their way down, they were right back up again, and fell right back down into a sitting position.

                As soon as her ass hit the bed, her stream increased in power. Keerava tried to lift herself up to get anywhere but there, but she only succeeded in moving a few inches off the bed, still forcefully wetting it, before her arms gave out and she fell down again. All she could do was sigh and surrender herself to what was currently happening, so she gave a little push to maximize the force and speed with which she relieved herself, mainly to just get it done with as fast as possible. It didn’t take long at that point, and in another ten seconds Keerava’s torrent was reduced to the occasional drip.                 Once she figured she was done, she carefully got her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, removing all her clothes once she was upright.

                A damage inspection revealed that the bed was rather thoroughly destroyed – if it could be cleaned it would take far more energy than anyone at the inn could spare. Keerava’s pants had survived mostly unscathed, though there was a rather small wet spot on the crotch, and some other dark spots on the back from splash damage. One could not say the same of her panties, which received a good soaking while Keerava fought to remove them. The pants could be salvaged, and would be perfectly usable after being left to dry for a while. Everything else needed washing, though, even her shirt, which had a significant stain on the back as a result of her puddle creeping towards and under her while she was lying down.

                Fortunately, she seemed to have been woken up early – nobody else would be awake for a couple of hours yet, so there was plenty of time to clean up. There was a backlog of laundry anyways, so Keerava had to admit it was a rather well-timed wetting. And as she stood in her room, naked, finding her hand drifting down again, she also had to admit that Bjorn was probably right. A little creepy, but right.

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This took way the hell too long to actually get around to doing. It's also not quite what I wanted to do, both plotwise and qualitywise, but it's still decent enough I think.

On 11/25/2017 at 9:08 PM, Dronz said:

Honestly I can't wait for more Keerava omo

Don't want to spoil the fun surprises I have in store for the next update, but I will say this: Double feature. Keerava. Azhani.

              

 

               Lydia awoke a few hours later than she was used to – normally she’d have woken up right at sunrise, but since the Dragonborn was content to stay in one place for once, there wasn’t as much urgency to get up and get moving in the morning. As a result, her entire routine was slower than it normally would be. It took her longer to actually get out of bed and stand up, her stretching was more drawn-out than usual, and walking the entire ten feet to get her clothes seemed more like walking across the entirety of Riften. And then, of course, she had to walk back over to her bed with clothes in hand.

                With that journey completed, Lydia tossed her clothes onto the bed, and stripped out of her nightclothes, which were also haphazardly thrown aside. With just the cool breeze from the window for coverage, she bent down and reached under her bed. Finding a distinct lack of the usual amenities, even after a few seconds of probing, she sighed and thought, ‘This is gonna be one of those days, isn’t it?’

                Lydia stood up and stretched again, this time getting dressed in the plainclothes lying scattered on top of her sheets. ‘Ah well, not like I haven’t done this before. Not even that bad yet anyways.’ One last stretch and Lydia was out the door and down the stairs. Bjorn was already seated at the bar, working on levelling a veritable mountain of bacon. He didn’t seem to pay any attention to Lydia until she came up and took a seat right next to him. He glanced over and slid an extra mug of mead he just happened to have on-hand down the counter towards his housecarl, who was quietly relocating some of the bacon-mountain to a plate that she had only just acquired from Keerava.

                Bjorn was the first to speak: “So I figured today we’d go for a hunt,” he said between bites.

                “Isn’t it a bit late to start a hunt,” Keerava asked from across the bar, with her Khajiiti assistant scrubbing plates behind her. “I mean, sun’s been up for a few hours now.”

                “Yeah,” the Dragonborn said with a shrug, “but we can still make a day of it. Whadda you think?” He nudged Lydia as he spoke. She looked over at him, giving a shrug and a nod, too busy eating to respond verbally.

                “Great.” Bjorn took a handful of bacon and nonchalantly shoved it into his mouth. “I’ll get errything ready,” he said – or at least attempted to say, anyways, “an’ when y’r done here we’ll head out.” He finally got around to swallowing the bacon he had just been working on, and took a deep swig from his own mead. “Just come on up when you’re ready.” Bjorn tossed a couple of septims onto the counter as he walked off – more than he needed to, even considering how much food he had ordered.

 

 

 

                Magnus was high overhead by the time Bjorn and Lydia made it outside the city walls and started on a path through the woods, away from the roads. They both had bows drawn with arrows in hand, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. Both of them were carefully watching their surroundings as they went deeper into the wilds outside of Riften – as carefully as possible in Lydia’s case, anyways. She wouldn’t admit it, but she had slept later than usual, and it was already noon, and she had more to drink at breakfast than she should have, and she was still hauling around all her fluids from overnight. Altogether, that created quite the little problem. And she was fairly sure it was by design, too. Wouldn’t be the first time Bjorn had done something like that – she didn’t really mind, and she didn’t have to deal with his games if she didn’t want to anyways – but it was still annoying. The least he could do is tell her about it in advance, right? But at least it shook things up every once in a while. Surprisingly, running around hunting dragons gets pretty boring after about the fifth time. You’ve seen one dragon get its soul ripped out, you’ve seen it a million times, Lydia would always tell people who asked about her adventures with the Dragonborn. Not very many people asked, but still.

                Lydia was pulled from her thoughts by a hint of movement in the bushes ahead. Bjorn had already stopped and drawn his bow, and seemed to be tracking his prey even behind the cover of undergrowth and trees. Lydia had no idea what he was looking at, but then again, she couldn’t just mutter a few words and be able to see magical pink blobs everywhere there was something moving. ‘Not much of a hunt if you don’t actually have to track things down, is it?’

                There was hardly any time for Lydia to react when the current target had moved to a less-covered part of the woods – she saw a deer’s head sticking out from behind a bush for just a moment before it went down, the only sounds being the Dragonborn’s arrow being let loose and the soft thud of a body hitting the ground a short distance away. Bjorn had already slung his bow over his back and pulled a knife off his belt by the time Lydia looked at him again. He flipped the knife around so that he had it by its blade, and silently offered it over to his companion, who just nodded and worked her way through the various plants to where the deer fell.

                She set to work skinning the thing before she even had a chance to think about it. Lydia was no stranger to hunting, she didn’t really need to think to do it properly, but perhaps in this situation thinking would have made things considerably easier. After all, her little problem had been relatively manageable the entire time, but now she wasn’t standing and moving – she had to kneel to be able to work, and of course that brought with it its own set of problems. On top of that, she needed both hands – and they wouldn’t be all that clean in the end – so when inevitably there was a surge of need, her willpower would be the only thing keeping her pants dry. And then, of course, she’d be the one carrying everything, and she still had her own bow that needed carrying as well. It’d be a long day ahead, and her legs were already shaking ever so slightly.

                Once Lydia was done and had stowed away all the pelts and usable meat away in various bags, she stood up and took advantage of the natural cover to press her legs together. The thought had crossed her mind that she could take even more advantage of the natural cover and just let go right there. Of all the burdens to carry, Lydia swore no oath to carry that one. Even so, the Dragonborn was standing there just ten feet away. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she had given up so easily. She didn’t even like it as much as he did, she just knew he wanted her to give up, and she would refuse to for no other reason than to spite him. Sure, he’d get a kick out of it either way, but there was some sort of twisted good feeling about denying the Dragonborn what he wanted to see.

                Knowing full well it was not the rational course of action, Lydia stepped out from behind the bushes and returned Bjorn’s knife to him. They set out again, Dragonborn in the lead, Lydia trailing behind by a few steps, moving slower and more carefully than he was. She was actually rather amazed that she was still totally dry, though the occasional larger step over a root or climb over a fallen tree put her right on the edge.

                Even with her slower pace and the constant threat of a leak any time Lydia put in even the slightest bit of effort to doing something, it didn’t take very long for the Dragonborn to raise a hand to indicate a stop. There was the faint sound of water running nearby, and as Lydia caught up to Bjorn she could see why – he had decided to stop in a clearing with a little stream running through it. Of course.

                “This seems like a good place to stop and cook some of that up, eh?” Bjorn had set his gear down on a rock nearby, and put himself to work grabbing up whatever he could find to support a cooking fire. Lydia couldn’t argue with the idea of lunch – it had been a good few hours since breakfast, after all – but the choice of location wasn’t exactly ideal. Even so, she pressed her thighs together and set off towards a tree near the edge of the clearing. Once there, she gingerly lowered herself to the ground, sitting on her foot and leaning back against the tree, taking extra care to not move quickly or bend over in any shapes that would be… less than helpful.

Now seated, Lydia reached into one of her bags and took out some slabs of meat, and pulled her own knife off of her belt. She figured cutting up the meat to prepare it for cooking would provide a distraction, and at the same time it needed to be done anyways. One small problem with that, however. In order to work properly, Lydia needed to be leaning forwards. That would, of course, add unwanted pressure to her bladder, a situation only made worse by the constant sound of water nearby. But it needed to be done, so she adjusted her position as much as she could, making sure to keep her foot beneath her, and got to work carving up her venison slab.

By the time Bjorn had returned with a bundle of adequate firewood, Lydia was working on getting the last chunk of meat into a state where it could be easily cooked. She glanced up to acknowledge his presence but did nothing more, instead focusing on the task in front of her – and, apparently, on pressing into her heel and rubbing it against herself. Slight movements, but noticeable, especially to a trained eye like the Dragonborn. He, of course, pretended not to notice, and instead took a seat nearby and started building up a fire. Soon after, Lydia had finished her work, and went right back to leaning against the tree, her hands rubbing her thighs and accomplishing nothing. She did manage to relax, though, and ended up slouched a little bit. In no time at all, though, she had let out a short gasp, causing Bjorn to raise an eyebrow, stop his work for a moment, and look over at the source of the noise. It was not a disappointing sight – Lydia’s hands had jumped immediately to press at her lower lips through her pants. She held them there for a short while as her first leak quickly turned into several in succession.

It took a moment to get things under control, but as soon as they were, Lydia carefully moved her hands out of the way to inspect the damage – and, knowing she wouldn’t be the only one trying to do that, she made sure to move her hands only enough to allow her to see. Fortunately for her, her pants were a dark brown and rather thick, so even though there was a rather extensive dark spot there, it wouldn’t be very visible, unless one were to notice the slight glistening. Unfortunately, despite the several seconds of relief, there was still an ocean left inside, and the situation hadn’t actually improved – indeed, now that Lydia had forced herself to stop her need actually got worse as her body demanded that she let it get back to work.

No such demands would be entertained, though – Bjorn had already finished assembling the campfire, and was presently sticking his fingers into the pile of sticks, casting a weak fire spell once he was positioned appropriately. Once it got going, the sound of the fire had nearly drowned out that of the stream, though it was still in view, and by now Lydia was too far-gone for the fire to be of any help. And yet she continued to fight, now keeping one hand firmly in place applying the necessary pressure, with the other hand trying to prepare something to eat.

“Y’know,” Bjorn said, suddenly, while skewering bits of meat and putting them over the fire, “you don’t have to keep waiting.”

“No, I don’t.” Lydia’s voice betrayed the amount of effort and focus she was spending on controlling her bladder. “But I’m not just going to give up. We’ve been over this a million times, no matter how many times we do this you’re not going to get to see anything.”

The Dragonborn chuckled. “And I suppose you don’t think you’re putting on a show right now, hm?”

Lydia looked down. She had bouncing and wiggling subconsciously, but now that he’d mentioned it she forced herself to stop.

“Well, alright, now you’re not, but the point still stands.” Bjorn spoke as he rolled the skewer over to cook the opposite side of the meat. “I am curious though, normally you’d have given up long before now. You’re no stranger to the outdoors either. What’s so special about this time?”

Lydia didn’t really have a good answer to that. She was only in this situation because she wasn’t really thinking, after all. Now that she finally did have an opportunity to think, it had occurred to her that every other time she’d done this, they’d been indoors somewhere, so once she gave up she could just run off and lock herself in a room away from the Dragonborn. She never actually wanted him to see the results, but now, here she was. In a situation like this… “You could follow me wherever I go. There are no doors or walls or anything. I’ve never let you see what happens at the end, and now if I just run off into the woods somewhere, there’s nothing stopping you from coming along.”

Bjorn nodded and poked at the meat currently being cooked, and, finding it adequate, took off a piece for each of them. For Lydia, the food was a welcome distraction, though now there was the constant threat of her starting where she left off – plus the wetness had cooled down and still was making things worse on its own. “True enough,” the Dragonborn said, “but you know if you sit around for too long I’ll see everything anyways.”

“That’s why I want to finish this up and get back to town.” The throbbing and pressure she was currently feeling were practically shouting at her that that’d be better done sooner than later.

“Would you even be able to walk by then,” Bjorn said, now spinning a skewer with new meat on it. “We could be here a while, and on top of that we’re still a good bit away from Riften.”

“We’d be out of here faster if you didn’t have to eat your own weight every time you sit down for a meal.” Lydia had finished her food by now and had both hands in place, and she was rocking as she sat.

“Hey, that tone’s not very becoming of a huskarl, now is it? I’ve Shouted people off of cliffs for less.” A pity that Bjorn’s dark humor was of a brand that only himself and few others would actually find entertaining. Probably didn’t help that it was true.

“This isn’t a good time for your jokes, Bjorn.”

The Dragonborn just shrugged and continued his meal. “If you say so.” For the next few minutes, that was just about how things progressed. Bjorn would tear through a chunk of meat and start on the next one. Lydia would be sitting against her tree bouncing around, every so often ending up right on the edge of leaking again, but miraculously fighting it off. Eventually, though, even Bjorn had eaten his fill – surprisingly, there was some prepared meat not yet cooked, not even counting the rest of the deer that hadn’t had anything done to it. He stood up and stretched, grabbing his gear off the ground as he did so.

“Well, that’s it then. If you can even get up anymore, we’re heading back,” he said.

Lydia looked up, nodded, and slowly picked herself up off the ground, using one hand to push herself up and to grab the equipment she had set down earlier, while the other hand remained firmly in its place. Once she was standing, she tied her legs together as much as physically possible, though it turned out to not be enough to suppress a brief leak which escaped and re-heated her underwear. She doubled over, and when she recovered the Dragonborn spoke again.

“So, do you want to do the honors,” he said, gesturing to the still-burning cooking fire.

Lydia stood there for a moment, thinking very briefly. He was giving her an out, a way to just give up and move on. She knew damn well it was completely irrational, but for whatever reason this had turned into an all-out war – she had to protect her pride, she couldn’t just give up now. It made no sense, she didn’t even get anything out of it, but she just wanted to be right. So she shook her head and turned around.

Bjorn shrugged and just said “All right.” Lydia had prepared herself, she knew what would happen next, but even so it still hit her hard. The sound was unbearable. She pressed harder, but it still wasn’t enough to stop her body from trying to imitate what was going on behind her. She held off for a little while, but eventually a light stream made its way out of her, refusing to stop, but fortunately amounting to little more than a constant trickle. Lydia could feel it trailing down her leg. It was hardly anything, but it made things infinitely worse for her until she finally got things under control and stopped – coincidentally at the same time as the Dragonborn.

“Seriously, what are you trying to prove,” he asked, “you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“If I give up now, you win,” Lydia said, slowly, “I don’t want to let you win.”

Bjorn sighed. “Alright, but don’t blame me if you get sick or something. Let’s just get moving.”

And so off they went, in silence. Lydia was surprisingly still able to walk, though each step just caused another brief leak. She didn’t want to look at the damage, but she was sure that it was very visible now. Good for her there was only one other person in the woods with her.

It didn’t take very long for the two to come to a fallen tree, flanked on all sides by thick bushes. And of course they had to be covered in thorns. In truth they had already encountered this tree on the trip into the woods – but now it’d prove insurmountable for Lydia in her current state.

“No way around?” She had a little bit of hope that there was another way through.

“No way around,” Bjorn confirmed, stepping over the downed tree with ease.

Lydia groaned. Each step towards the obstacle made her pants even wetter – by the time she was next to it she was leaking through to the ground. She took a deep breath, then another, preparing her body and hoping everything would be fine. She’d need both hands, so she removed them from their place and held them out in front of her – slightly wet, of course, and shaking. She grabbed onto the tree and brought up one leg to mount it like a horse. She wasn’t surprised at all with the outcome. There was absolutely nothing left keeping her bladder from emptying on its own accord, so that’s exactly what it did. She managed to quickly get into a sitting position on the tree, then hurried to get off, unable to control the flow anymore. Her pants were now thoroughly soaked, and there was a decent puddle on the fallen tree itself.

The instant Lydia hit the ground, she realized she was out of options. She moved over to the side, away from the fallen tree and towards a small bush, and just squatted there as she was. No use in trying to save her clothes. Plus this way she still got to keep a little bit of dignity – or as much as one can keep with dripping pants.

All Lydia could manage to say was, “Looks like you win,” followed by a long sigh. Her stream went on unabated for another couple of minutes, soaking the earth below her and even getting her shoes wet as she had failed to get her position right. When she finally stopped, she stayed squatted for another minute, waiting for her pants to finish dripping. Only then did she stand up, saying nothing to the Dragonborn. He said nothing either – didn’t really need to say anything anyways, whatever could be said could already be implied from what could be seen. In this way they continued their trek back to the city, Lydia soaked and only briefly warm, and both of them totally silent.

When they arrived back at the inn, it was sunset. Keerava was still behind the bar like she had never moved, and Azhani was still hovering behind her, the two engaged in conversation. The talking stopped rather abruptly though as Keerava noticed the returning guests.

“Just so you know, I just did all the laundry today so if you want those cleaned you can do it yourself,” she said, perhaps a little louder than necessary. Lydia just blushed and waved and hurried upstairs to get to her room, change, and get some rest.

Edited by Sake
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I really didn't intend for it to take this long between chapters, but in the end it turned out okay anyways. And by "okay" I mean "this chapter is literally the reason I started writing this entire fiction, except far less sexual than what I originally had in mind because maybe I'm saving that until the end".

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                “Wake up, we’ve got work to do.”

                Azhani sat up in bed, one hand holding her blanket against her body and the other rubbing her eyes. She wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but she did know that it was dark, except for a candle nearby, and for some reason there was an Argonian standing over her holding that candle and talking to her.

                “Good morning,” Keerava said with a slight smile – or as close as one could get to one with a lizard snout – “long day ahead for you, there’s breakfast downstairs, the sooner you wake up and get down there the sooner we can get started.” She turned to leave, but was stopped when Azhani yawned and asked,

                “What time is it? It’s still dark out, yes?”

                Keerava nodded, “Yeah, still a couple of hours before sunrise. We need to start early today, so hurry up.” Then she left, closing the door behind her and leaving the room dark again.

                Azhani yawned once more, sat up properly, and stretched, letting her blanket fall and expose her chest. The fur there fluffed up as Azhani turned and set her feet on the ground, then stood up and yawned again. She had no problem waking up at sunrise – not like she could sleep through the light and noise of morning anyways – but it was still dark out. Walking over to her window, she could even still see the moons just as well as ever. It just wasn’t natural for her to be awake so early in the morning, and she wasn’t even entirely sure why she had to be today either. Sure, she remembered a conversation with Keerava the previous day about “training”, but in her mind there couldn’t possibly be a reason to start while they’d be the only two people in all of Skyrim not still sleeping.

                Even so, if her employer thought it was important, Azhani couldn’t really argue, seeing as how if she lost her job she also lost the bed and food. All she could do was go along with it, so she just set about her usual morning routine. Fortunately for her she was born a Khajiit and could see in the dark, so aside from the fact that she was more tired than usual, nothing changed. It was rather unusual, though, hearing nothing other than her own footsteps and the faint sounds of meat being cooked downstairs. Usually everyone else would be awake and preparing themselves at the same time. The silence was so profound that when Azhani lowered herself over her chamberpot and released the overnight contents of her bladder, the sound of the stream hitting metal seemed like it would have been loud enough to wake everyone else up on its own. She even positioned herself to cover as much of the opening as possible just in case it actually was as loud as she thought it was, but it didn’t last long enough for her change of position to make a difference. Though as Azhani threw on whatever clothes were available that day, she wondered if the Nord next door had heard – she could hear faint noises of movement through the wall but couldn’t be sure of the source. Not that it mattered at the moment, anyways, since she would presumably need to be done with breakfast before sunrise, and therefore needed to head downstairs immediately.

                It was still dark out by the time Azhani and Keerava had finished their meal, though if either one of them had looked outside they’d see the first hints of sunlight. Keerava refused to answer any of the Khajiit’s questions about the day’s plans, just telling her “You’ll see” or “Be patient” every time Azhani asked. Eventually, she stopped asking and half the meal was eaten in silence.

                Afterwards, though, was a different matter. Once all the food was gone and both women had stood up to go do whatever Keerava had planned, the innkeeper quietly motioned for Azhani to follow. The two went behind the bar, and in a far corner Keerava kneeled down and, taking a key from her pocket, unlocked a very well-hidden lock that looked to just be part of the floor. With the key in the lock, the floor then opened up to reveal a ladder, which Keerava went down first, Azhani following hesitantly, closing the trapdoor behind her following a quiet command from her Argonian companion.

                The mysterious cellar was, of course, completely dark. The first thing Keerava did once her feet were on the cold stone ground was to reach around in the blackness until her hands found a candle and some flint-and-steel – with the candle lit, she then wandered around the room, using it to light other candles on the wall. While she was doing that, though, Azhani was looking at the layout of the place – the candles helped to see some more specific shapes but for the most part she already knew what this cellar looked like by the time Keerava had lit the first candle. All the walls and floors were stone, and the whole basement was a small square, roughly the size of the kitchen and dining room of the building above. To the left of the entrance ladder there was a counter, of the same style as the bar upstairs, with various cloths piled up, several bottles of varying sizes, and a few unusual instruments – including a set of calipers. Azhani gave a quiet snort of laughter upon seeing them, for she remembered a strange encounter with a strange Khajiit, who was apparently on a quest to find calipers but never actually managed to get any.

                The most peculiar sight wasn’t the supposedly-mythical tools on the counter, though. In the middle of the room the floor turned from stone to a steel grate. Water flowed beneath it, likely part of the city’s rudimentary canal system. It was beyond Azhani why such a thing would be a prominent feature of an inn’s basement – but she didn’t have time to question it before Keerava came back to the counter, having finished lighting the area. The Argonian set the candle down, then turned to address Azhani.

                “Alright, so, this is where we’ll do your training.” She grabbed one of the smaller bottles from the counter and handed it over to Azhani, then took another for herself. “First thing, drink that,” she said, before proceeding to down the entirety of her own bottle in one go. Azhani looked at what she had been given – it seemed to just be a small glass bottle with water in it, so she nodded, pulled the stopper out, and took one big drink, leaving the bottle half-full.

                “Great. You finish that, and I’ll get everything else set up,” Keerava said, turning around so her back was to the Khajiit. Azhani watched as, to her surprise, Keerava casually lifted her shirt off of her body and set it down near the cloth-pile, then slid her pants down her legs, stepped out of them, and folded them up on top of her shirt. She turned back around, providing Azhani with a very clear view of a naked Argonian body. There wasn’t much to see, of course, as Argonians lacked nipples and any detail down below was hard to make out, but every last scale on Keerava’s body was now plainly visible, as was a slight distension in her lower abdomen. Azhani finished the rest of her water in a rush as Keerava spoke to her.

                “You’ll want to take all that off, too, just leave it on the pile there,” she said, turning back around and heading to the other side of the counter, pulling out a chair in each arm and setting them down near the grate in the middle of the floor. One of the chairs was close enough to the counter to pull things off the edge if need be.

                Azhani’s ears flicked and her tail twitched, and she asked the obvious question: “Why would Azha want to do such a thing?”

                Keerava responded in a very casual tone, as if this entire situation was perfectly normal. “Oh, you’ll see soon enough. Well, that is, if you haven’t already figured out what this training is.”

                Azhani raised an eyebrow, but then said “Ah, alright, but turn around.” Once Keerava was facing a satisfactory angle – a process that included a shrug and a chuckle – Azhani also stripped down to her fur, leaving everything else piled on top of the Argonian’s clothes, which Azhani just now realized were loose and simple, even moreso than Keerava’s typical work clothes. That made perfect sense, given the circumstances. With that done, Azhani looked over at Keerava, who was leaning on one of the chairs with her tail waving as if to imitate a flag in the wind, and said, “Okay, what happens now?”

                Keerava looked over her shoulder. “Well, now we wait.” Then she turned around and headed over to the counter, collecting all the bottles and moving them to the far end next to one of the chairs. “This is going to take a while – or it should, anyways. Hopefully. A few hours, at least.” She took a seat in the chair closest to the counter, and opened one of the largest bottles next to her. “And hopefully all these will be gone by the time we’re done.”

                By now it was fairly obvious what the plan was here, but Azhani still felt the need to ask: “Done with what?”

                “Ah, well,” Keerava said after a sip from her bottle, “you’re not bad at actually, eh, doing your job-“ She took another sip. “- but you need to be able to keep on working for as long as possible.” And then another. “So the point of all this is to, uh, build your endurance, so to speak.” And another. “Of course, the door’s right over there so you can just give up and leave whenever you want, but I’d prefer if you stuck around and saw it through to the end.”

                Azhani nodded slowly walked towards the empty chair. The stone floor was cold, but then again so was everything in this province. “And the end is-“

                Keerava answered the question before Azhani even finished asking it. “Ideally, you’d last longer than I do, so just accomplishing that would be the end. And, uh, as you can probably tell-“ She rubbed her bulge with her left hand. “- You’ve got a bit of a head-start here. But if even that’s not enough then the end is just whenever you give in.”

                By the time Keerava was done explaining, Azhani had reached the second chair and sat down, and was handed a bottle. Bigger than the initial one, but still smaller than Keerava’s – which was more like a large jug than a bottle, really. “So we just drink these and wait, yes?”

                “Yeah, that’s the idea,” Keerava said, drinking yet more from her jug. “Though I imagine you’d get sick on just water a lot faster than I would, so just take it slow. I’m trying to see, eh, how far you can get, so if you end up getting sick or hurt that’s no good for either of us.”

                Azhani nodded and started drinking. “So how long would it take to beat you?”

                Keerava just laughed. “I’m not sure you actually want to know the answer to that question. Suffice it to say, it’d be a long time.”

                “So then Azha will lose, for sure, yes?”

                “If you want to call it losing, sure.” Keerava put a hand on her belly again as she kept drinking. “That would be the des- err, the expected outcome.”

                Azhani looked over at Keerava, wondering what it was she had started to say, but said nothing herself and kept drinking. Then there was silence for some time, with the only noise being the quiet rushing of water below and the movement of water in glass containers as the two kept working on what they had in hand. By the time Azhani finished the bottle she was given, Keerava had made it to roughly the half-way point of her own jug. Once she noticed Azhani had nothing left to drink she handed over a new bottle, same as the last one.

                “Feeling anything yet?” Keerava’s question finally broke the silence.

                The answer was quiet, though considering the two were merely a few feet from each other it was audible enough. “A little bit.” Azhani took the bottle she was being offered and presented her own question as she opened it. “Do we actually have to drink all of these?”

                “Hmm?” Keerava had her jug to her mouth and had to take a moment to finish drinking before she could answer the question. “Uh, no, actually, no. Eventually you’ll want to stop and just wait and see what happens. I think for you maybe that one and another after it should be enough. Maybe even just that one. I don’t think the first one’s quite hit you yet, so once that happens, we’ll sort it out.” She shifted around a little in her chair and went straight back to drinking.

                As Azhani sat there, once again with no sound but the occasional swirling of water in bottles as each of them drank more, she realized she had absolutely no idea how long they’d been down there. There were no windows in the basement, and there was enough between them and the room above that even if there were people up there, nothing could be heard. Of course, that had the benefit of meaning that they couldn’t be heard either, but without some way to see the sun Azhani couldn’t be quite sure exactly how long she’d been sitting there just drinking. Sure, it had probably been a couple of hours – more than one, for sure – but beyond that, she could only guess. Perhaps that was an intentional design choice with this… cellar. Perhaps Keerava didn’t want to know how long she’d been down there – not being distracted by watching Magnus meant she’d have to focus on her bladder alone. Azhani wasn’t quite sure if that would make things better or worse for her. The only real distraction was Keerava, who was still just calmly working on her jug – which was now only a quarter full – and starting to move around a bit more. It was hard to tell but that bulge of hers was getting bigger, too. Still rather subtle, but definitely bigger than it had been at first.

                Azhani still didn’t have one of her own yet, but she was starting to feel the effects of her drinks. It would be a while before things got bad, but with half of the current bottle still there, it’d get worse rather quickly. She eyed the bottle, rolling it around in her hand, before deciding it best to just finish it off. And when it finally was empty, Keerava had also emptied that behemoth of hers at the same time, so when she went to get more for herself she looked over at Azhani.

                “So, you up for a third one?” She grabbed herself a bottle – a large one, but now just a regular bottle – and kept herself leaning in the direction of the counter in case she needed to get another.

                “Uh…” Azhani started, but then took a moment to think. She could probably handle one more, but there was already some pressure there, and it was slowly growing. Perhaps it’d be best to just leave it as is? “Uh, no,” came the answer after several seconds. And then she repeated, “No,” as she shuffled around in her seat a bit to get more comfortable.

                Keerava shrugged and sat properly down again. “And now we wait, then,” she said as she downed a quarter of her new bottle at once.

                Somehow Azhani actually started to regret not taking another bottle. The bottle was a distraction in its own way, and now she had nothing to focus on but all that water inside her. Sure, it would just get even worse if she was drinking more, but at least it gave her something else to think about. Not the best distraction all things considered, but it was something. Everything was finally starting to catch up to her, though it wasn’t hitting her as hard as she would have expected. In fact, she was even starting to think that maybe it was worse that everything was trickling in instead of making itself known all at once. As things were at the moment, she wouldn’t really know if all that she had drank had done all that it could. It’d just get a bit worse a little while later. At least now there was some roundness in her belly. It wasn’t very pronounced – certainly not comparable to Keerava’s, which just kept growing – but it was an external sign of the pressure inside. Azhani wiggled around a bit more. She would have started using her hands by now but even though both her and Keerava were totally naked, she couldn’t bring herself to do that while she was sitting within arm’s reach of someone else.

                So Azhani continued to suffer in silence. Even worse than silence, actually, since there was still the repeating sound of water swirling around in Keerava’s bottle as she kept drinking from it. In fact, this wasn’t even the same bottle as before; she’d already gone through that one and gotten herself halfway through a second one. Fortunately for the little Khajiit, Keerava finished off that bottle very quickly, and put it down with a sigh. Then she stretched, putting her hands on her bulge once she had finished and letting them rest there, one hand slowly and carefully poking at it. Azhani just watched – it was rather interesting, seeing Keerava sitting there like that, looking almost pregnant, and not seeming to care.

                “So, uh, how long have you been, eh…” Azhani started to ask a question but couldn’t find the proper words to finish it. Keerava looked over, and fortunately knew what she was being asked.

                “I’m not sure exactly. More than twelve hours, I think. Normally I’d be able to do a lot more before getting to this point, but I also normally take care of things in the morning. And I’ve been drinking a bit more than usual, too.” Then she sat up straight and asked, “How are you holding up anyways?”

                Azhani pressed her thighs together upon hearing the question. She glanced over at Keerava, said “It’s, uh… it’s fine”, then turned her head back to look at the wall in front of her, grabbing the edges of her seat with each hand.

                Keerava just laughed a bit at the sight. “You don’t look very fine,” she said, making Azhani suddenly aware of what she was doing. The Khajiit quickly folded her arms in front of her, though her thighs held their position.

                She wasn’t actually sure how well she was doing. The pressure had increased some and that bump was starting to get noticeable, but she was sure she could wait a while yet. As for how long, though… That’s where the uncertainty came in. Things were starting to move faster, so she had no way of judging how long it’d be before it got bad. All she knew was that the pressure she was feeling was steadily increasing, and that it wouldn’t be very long. Especially not if she had to watch Keerava doing her own dance, which surely would start soon. Fortunately, though, Keerava was relatively stationary. Her hands were running along that scaly bladder-mountain of hers, feeling things and giving a careful press every now and then, but other than that she wasn’t moving.

                At least Azhani knew her situation could always get worse. Sooner or later she’d quite badly need relief, but as far as she was concerned the worst it could get had already happened, years ago. Nothing that happened in that basement in Riften could ever be as bad as that time in Cyrodiil. She had gotten into trouble with the Imperial Legion for things that were absolutely not her fault, and with all the fines to pay and counts to stand before and jail to go to, all in one day, she never really had any good opportunities. Add on top of that getting carted around everywhere, with guards that would certainly have been displeased if their transports needed cleaning, and being under constant watch whenever she wasn’t being moved from one place to the next… And then of course after never getting more than five seconds alone all day, they decided she’d be better off spending the night in jail anyways. They’d finally left her alone, and she had managed to overflow the bucket that was left for prisoners to use. Of course, that wouldn’t have happened if they could just make up their minds, but, still, being sent to jail just then was a godsend for her. She’d spent so much of that day feeling as though she could burst at any moment, but being unable to because of the eyes constantly on her… She never could think of what would have happened if that day had ended differently; if she’d just wet herself in public somewhere or if she’d just get to the point where she absolutely couldn’t let anything out no matter how much she needed to. Fortunately, the latter had yet to happen to her. Unfortunately, now she was thinking about Cyrodiil again.

                Forcing herself to stop thinking about Cyrodiil – and act like nothing even remotely related to the Empire existed – she stood up and crossed her legs. Keerava, who until then had been intently watching what her hands were doing, took notice and glanced up at the Khajiit. Subtly, of course, so as to not be seen watching. Not like Azhani would be able to tell, anyways. She was busy putting on a show, crossing her legs and uncrossing them again, shifting her weight around, all while Keerava watched. It was an enjoyable show, particularly because Keerava’s own bladder grew heavier just from watching, as if to empathize with the Khajiit. Some bolt of sudden need must have struck both of them at the same time, because Azhani doubled over with knees bent, and Keerava jumped up out of her chair with her tail between her legs. That moment, of course, passed quickly, and Azhani straightened up, her hands balled into fists at her sides and hips swaying, while Keerava dropped her tail into a normal position and started tapping her feet against the grating instead.

                Azhani was in trouble now, though. The pressure had turned into a sort of burning sensation. She’d managed to stay dry so far, but that wouldn’t last very long. She wasn’t even sure how long she’d been down there, but whatever length of time that was she was sure it was starting to get to be too long. But at least she hadn’t let anything out – she could hold longer, and potentially even beat Keerava. She wasn’t even sure why she wanted to do that, but she did know that either way she’d benefit from this. Perhaps even prevent another Cyro- and off she went thinking about Cyrodiil again. She was nearly lost in thought until she felt herself very nearly let go. She managed to stop before she had started, but now she’d definitely not be thinking of anything except the room she was in at that moment. Now she knew she was right on the edge, and that she really didn’t have very much time left at all.

                She was so focused on her own body that she was startled when Keerava spoke. “Well, looks like it caught up to you now, hasn’t it?” Azhani was almost surprised enough to leak – but once again she stopped it at the last moment, though it took great effort and she’d surely be unable to do it again. She did have to start using her hands, though. Bent forward slightly, she planted her right hand firmly between her legs and pressed as hard as she could. By now that pressure had a minimal effect, but it was still something. All she could do to answer Keerava was nod, though now that the Argonian had spoken Azhani’s gaze had drifted down to Keerava’s bloated belly. She wasn’t sure why, but seeing the body stretched so much just by needing to pee was quite interesting. Keerava noticed, of course, and spoke again. “You could touch it if you’d like.”

                Azhani tilted her head to the side. That was not something she’d expected to hear, and definitely not something she expected herself to do. And yet, there she was, silently lifting her left arm, carefully placing her hand on Keerava’s bulge. It was very firm, moreso than could be attributed to just Argonian hide. She pressed a little bit, causing Keerava to bend forward slightly from the shock, but otherwise the bulge didn’t give. It was almost captivating, in some strange way. So much so that Azhani didn’t notice the hand moving towards her own little hill until it was too late, and feeling a cold, scaly touch forced her to jump back, her left arm flying down to join the other – only for them both to suddenly become very warm and wet. It must have lasted a second before Azhani gained control again, but now she was unsure if she really wanted to regain control. Stopping that leak just made her need even worse. Keerava’s only response was a light laugh and a “Sorry.”

                The pressure was starting to get overwhelming for the little Khajiit. Her belly was quite noticeably stuck out in front of her – not to the same degree as Keerava’s, though – and she had to kneel so she could use the back of her foot for more pressure. Her entire body was shaking. Keerava just watched, now starting to hop from one foot to the other – it must have been her bladder trying to empathize with the girl on the ground in front of her, because her need suddenly became much worse than before.

                It took a while, but Azhani was finally able to stand up again, though neither hand would leave its place, and her legs were constantly moving. Before long, though, she was wracked by wave after wave of desperation, each one bringing her closer to losing everything. By some miracle, she was able to still avoid leaking, but she knew that was because the next time anything came out, it’d be everything. And, sure enough, one last wave was all it took. It started off slow – just a trickle into her hands, and with her legs now locked together anything that got through her fingers would just get her thighs wet. A short burst, and then another, warned of the impending flood. The only thing she could do was lower herself into a decent position.

                “T-turn arr-arrround,” she said. Keerava nodded and turned, and as soon as she did Azhani removed her hands. Speaking had taken the last ounce of her strength, and now she was steadily peeing into whatever part of Riften’s sewers was below them right now. Her stream was still slow, but soon enough it picked up until there was a pale yellow cascade emanating from between her legs. Her breathing was heavy, and there were tears in her eyes – both from the effort of holding and the joy of release. It took her a good half a minute once her stream reached maximum power before it started to die down again, until finally she allowed herself to fall over, first sitting directly on the grate, still dripping a little bit through it, and then just lying down on it. She let out another sigh as she lay there, saying nothing else.

                Keerava, of course, was left to suffer some more, though of course she found her own bit of pleasure in it – only problem being she never could decide which part she liked more. She did turn around once she heard the storm behind her subside, and now she was watching as Azhani lay there, eyes closed, mouth open but saying nothing. She would even let out the occasional subconscious burst of pee that didn’t get to be part of the flood. Keerava didn’t know if the Khajiit noticed or cared, but it didn’t seem to matter since either way she was still just lying there, enjoying being empty again.

                Keerava also didn’t know when she might get that same euphoric rush that comes with relief. All things considered, she wasn’t quite at her limit, but at the same time she couldn’t stop herself from doing a little dance. She could just let go whenever she wanted. For once, she wasn’t down there to test her own limit – it was for someone else, and she’d already knocked herself out. She didn’t have to keep this up. And yet, she wanted to. She hadn’t even started leaking yet, after all. Just wouldn’t be fun if she didn’t at least get to that point first. Thus she resolved to keep waiting. For several minutes, she kept on dancing around, the dance getting more complex as time went on – adding twists and bows and all sorts of motions, her massive bulge sticking out the whole time, now even a possible rival for her breasts. The only real noise in the room was the rhythmic tapping of bare feet on metal.

                When Azhani finally got herself together, that tapping was the first thing she noticed. Then she sat up, and off to her right she saw Keerava, shamelessly dancing away, doing almost anything to help herself hold her waters – “almost”, of course, because she wasn’t using her hands. No, they were balled up at her sides. She wouldn’t need them, anyways, didn’t want them getting in the way when her body gave in for her. She was thinking more and more about that moment, and didn’t notice that Azhani had gotten up until she walked right in front of her. The Khajiit had gone to get her clothes, and Keerava spoke as well as she could in her current situation.

                “Stay here… a little while longer… Don’t go up there… without me,” she said, everything she was doing all at once robbing her of breath. Azhani nodded and quietly threw her shirt on, and slung her pants over her shoulder, with her panties tucked away inside, as she walked back to her chair. Her thighs were quite wet still, as were other parts from which drops would still fall occasionally. Not wanting to get her clothes wet yet again, she just sat down, naked from the waist down, and watched the Argonian.

                Her gaze was once again drawn to that great monster of a bulge Keerava was sporting. If it was firm when she touched it earlier, by now it must be like pressing up against steel plate. Before she could think, Azhani found herself asking, “How much can you even hold?”

                Still in constant motion, Keerava looked over at Azhani and said, “Not sure… Longest I’ve ever done was… fifty-some hours… But that was… that was special circumstances… Normally I… Normally I keep it to twenty-four… I can do a little over… over thirty, usually, though.” She was panting from the effort of holding.

                “And this has been how long now?”

                “Don’t know,” was the strained reply. “We’ll find out… when we go back… upstairs.” Keerava ended that statement with a deep sigh, stopping her dance for just a second. A second which her body took advantage of, allowing a thick clear spurt of urine past her defenses. “Damn,” was all she had to say to that as she went back to her dance. But by now it was fruitless. That one spurt had doomed her, and now every few seconds she’d let out more, but still she’d refuse to stop moving. Thanks to her movement she’d been spraying her own legs, but that didn’t matter if she could just hold on for a few more seconds. Soon enough the spurts turned into one-second streams, then they just got longer from there, to three seconds, then to five, then to ten. Keerava tried to stop, just command her body to close itself to relish the feeling of desperation for just another moment, but soon enough the pressure was too much for her. She had to stop her dance, and just spread her legs apart as that balloon of hers finally popped, all coming out in one hard, clear stream. Most appropriate for a bulge of that size, even with the torrent of pee Keerava was letting out, it still took more than two minutes for her to be done. She was left standing there, not changing her stance, belly now flat, still leaking the occasional weak spurt. Her breathing was deep, and she threw her head back as she composed herself.

                Finally, she brought her legs back together, and got her breathing back to normal. The scales on her legs were still glistening with the piss they had been sprayed with, and drops were falling from her legs to the floor, but otherwise the way she was standing there looked just the same as any other time she’d be standing behind the bar – except generally if she’s behind the bar she’s wearing clothes. Nobody talked for a while, but when a voice was finally heard it was Keerava’s.

                “You know, I’ve never been down here with anyone else before. That was, uh, well, it was interesting,” she said, before quickly hurrying to change the subject. “But, uh, you’ve still got business in town, right? How about you take tomorrow off for that.” Then she went to collect her clothes, which she casually threw on as if nothing had happened, even ignoring the fact that the crotch and inner legs of her pants were darkened instantly. Fortunately, it wasn’t a significant darkening since they were quite loose, but there was still a fairly obvious wet patch right between the legs, not helped by the fact that Keerava was still dripping.

                Azhani, meanwhile, was feeling her own legs to make sure they were dry enough. Satisfied, she slipped back into her underwear, then brought her pants up to cover them. “Oh, yes, business,” she said, having actually forgotten why she was in Riften, “Yes, tomorrow it will be done.” She nodded a little bit too enthusiastically.

                “Speaking of, what are you going to do once you’re done with… whatever you have to do?” Keerava climbed up the ladder, speaking over her shoulder as she cracked the trapdoor open to check the situation upstairs.

                “Don’t know,” Azhani said, “If there’s more business in some other town, Azha will go there. If not, she would like to stay here.” Keerava signaled from the ladder for her to follow, and one after the other they climbed up out of the basement, Azhani dropping the door behind her and watching it blend in almost perfectly with the rest of the floor as it shut.

                There was nobody at the bar except for Talen, who turned around upon hearing the two crawl up from the cellar. He just nodded at them as they both went their own ways, Azhani heading upstairs, and Keerava just leaning over on the bar, telling Talen about what had just happened, in her own clever way of telling a story such that if anyone overheard, it’d just seem like a regular, crazy adventure story.

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