Sake

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  1. Sake

    The Iron Queen

    That is, after all, the traditional omo story ending.
  2. Sake

    They Say She's Got to Go (Godzilla)

    Don't forget 63.
  3. Sake

    A fictional story set on holiday.

    Have you tried writing in Google docs? If you haven't and can do so, that would kinda fix all your problems at once.
  4. Sake

    Biku's art

    They would if they existed!
  5. Sake

    Biku's art

    He would be if only he actually worked on the comics that he already has!
  6. Lydia and the Dragonborn had gone down to the dining room early the next morning to prepare for the day ahead of them, the Dragonborn still rubbing his eyes; clearly he hadn’t slept very well, but he had a job to do – one more important than saving the world, of course, because he couldn’t be expected to do that if a barmaid were to murder him for letting her business fall apart in her absence. So he just trudged along to take up a position behind the bar and prepare for what was definitely not going to be an enjoyable day. Lydia followed along quietly, looking just as tired as her husband of just twelve hours. Though one of them was obviously more awake than the other. Where Bjorn seemed to ignore everything around him except the bare minimum to walk properly, Lydia had noticed that the two weren’t alone. Nobody was supposed to be in the inn so early, and yet there was a figure seated at a table near the bar, hunched over what looked like a teapot with a cup in hand. Lydia halted for a moment and just stared at the figure, surprised more than anything else, though she quickly recognized the figure as the little Khajiit lady who’d been living in the inn and working for Keerava. What was her name again? Azhani? That seemed right. Lydia remained stationary as Azhani seemed to notice someone was looking at her; the Khajiit raised her head to look vaguely at the spectator and give something of a wave with the hand her cup was in. Her mouth was slightly open, and Lydia could tell by her movements that she was breathing heavier than normal. Azhani’s tail twitched with what Lydia recognized as annoyance – assuming Khajiit worked the same way as cats, at least, which could very well just be racist – though she didn’t seem to be mad at anything in particular, just sitting there occasionally halting her breathing long enough to drink some of her tea. “Uh, hi,” was what Lydia came up with after a couple of minutes wherein the only sounds were the Khajiit’s breathing and the Dragonborn rearranging bottles in the kitchen. ”You alright?” She stepped a little closer to Azhani’s table, being sure to keep a safe distance in case the answer was a rather violent “no”. The actual response was a shrug, a particularly-deep breath, and a quiet “Could be worse.” Then Azhani’s nose twitched and she sat up a little straighter, looking off in the direction of the kitchen and the promise of imminent breakfast. “All that food isn’t just for him, is it?” Lydia gave a quick snort of laughter as she pulled up a chair at the opposite end of Azhani’s table. “You sure you’re fine?” She folded both arms in front of herself. “You don’t look very… uh… Oh, gods.” Lydia brought her hands to her face with a sigh. “Don’t tell me you’re…” “Yeah.” Azhani shrugged again and spoke slowly. “Pretty bad season this time, but… at least it isn’t every month.” “Sounds fun,” Lydia said with just a grain of sarcasm. “So you’re out of commission, and I guess I could do your job for you. How long do you figure this is going to last? A week? Couple weeks?” Azhani swirled her teacup around as if it were a wine glass. “Eh, worst part is over in two… three days maybe. After that, two weeks? But that part… will be fine.” Redirecting her gaze to the table, she added, quieter, “Would be over sooner if, eh… If I had help, yes?” Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Can’t do that yourself?” “With what? All I have is hands.” The Khajiit raised her free hand and flexed her claws. “And I don’t know about you but… I have been with enough Khajiit to know I’d rather just… deal with it than stick sharp things in there.” “P-point taken.” Lydia’s response was followed by a nervous laugh as that mental image made her press her legs together. “But, uh… w-what was that about Khajiit? I mean, I’ve read the uncensored version of that one book about Barenziah, but I never thought they really had… uh, those.” “Oh yeah, they have them, they’re only sharp going out, and you never get used to it. Glad I do not have to deal… with the Ba… ah?” Azhani jumped a bit in her seat as she looked up and a little to her left, guided by the smell of nearby food. “How… uh… how long have you been there?” “Well, let’s just say I, uh… Didn’t think I’d never need to hear how Khajiit penises work… Even so, I think everyone can appreciate some breakfast.” The Dragonborn set down a tray of various meats and toast, along with a bottle of mead and a few mugs. He gave Lydia a little kiss on the cheek as he pulled up his own seat near her, leaving the ravenous carnivore at the other end of the table to her own devices. “Long day ahead of you, eh?” “Oh, please, like taking care of a bar for a few days is going to be any worse than walking halfway across the province. Country. Whatever the fuck this place is now.” Lydia made herself a little sandwich while she spoke. “I’ve killed dragons with you, this is nothing.” Bjorn yawned, then carefully grabbed whatever food he could without getting his arm clawed off, settling on a piece of toast. “Oh, you’ll wish we had a dragon to kill once you’ve had a couple hours of this. It’s either going to bore you into Oblivion or you’ll work your ass off for twelve hours only to find out that apparently that’s all for a half-Septim profit at the end of the day.” He looked over at Azhani, who stared back at him, her head tilted as she tried to breathe around a piece of bacon hanging from her mouth. “Though profit margins would probably look a lot better if one of us wasn’t getting everything she wants here for free.” Azhani swallowed her bacon, and her tail’s thrashing grew faster as her ears flattened against her head. She spoke between deep breaths. “At least… when I take something… there’s still… something left.” “Hah, true, and we both know what’d happen if you decided to take too much, right?” Bjorn continued quickly, ignoring Azhani digging her claws into the table. “Speaking of which, all that tea can’t be good for you, can it?” The little Khajiit looked surprised to hear the genuine concern in the Dragonborn’s voice. “Perhaps not… But it helps me when I’m… like this. Keeps me, ah… calm, and awake. Doesn’t help the pain, and I’m still… hot, but… it is the reason I am… still wearing pants and not currently, ah, jumping at the, eh… nearest male.” When Azhani noticed the strange looks she was getting from across the table, she added, “Um, not that… that means, uh… anyone in… in particular…” Then she turned her attention back to the plate in front of her, trying not to look at anything else. “Uh, alright, sure, if you say so. Just… don’t make it my problem.” Turning back to Lydia, the Dragonborn said, “As for you, you may be confident now, but we’ll see what sort of trouble you end up in later, won’t we?” “Wow, never would have guessed that that’s what this is about.” Lydia rolled her eyes and folded her arms with a smirk on her face. “You ought to know me better than to underestimate me like that. But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to put on a bit of a show for you if you really want one.” “Well, I’ll never turn down some good theater… but I have a feeling it’ll be more than just theatrics by the end of the day.” “We’ll see.” Lydia stood up and finished off what was left of her mead. “Should probably get started then, hm?” As the two Nords left the table, Azhani stood up as well. “I suppose I should just… head back to bed then, yes? Not a very good idea, I think, to… sit around in a bar right now. So, um… don’t, uh, don’t tell anyone I’m here if… if anyone comes looking, hm?” “Sure.” Bjorn nodded on his way over to the bar. “You want food or something brought up to you or…?” “No, I’ll be fine.” She gave a weak wave, then stopped on her way to the stairs and turned back around. “Or, no, uh… just bring up some tea every few hours, yes? But… leave it at the door, though.” “You got it.” To nobody’s surprise, the inn was fairly quiet for the first few hours after sunrise – the occasional regular had come in for breakfast, but that was about it. Lydia had gone up in the late morning to deliver Azhani’s tea, just to have something to do, and at her husband’s request had dropped off some of his old spellbooks as well. The Khajiit didn’t seem too enthusiastic about that during their brief conversation through the door, but expressed her sincere gratitude for the additional gift nonetheless. When Lydia returned downstairs, she again found something to do just to keep herself busy – she’d grabbed a broom and was wandering around aimlessly, pushing around some dirt from overnight while the Dragonborn wiped down the bar and the kitchen counters. “So,” Lydia called out after a few minutes of near silence. “This is it, huh?” “What, already sick of it?” “Not as such, but I can definitely see what you were talking about earlier.” She shrugged and moved over to lean on the bar. “And I would definitely prefer to be back in action, you know?” Bjorn sighed but didn’t stop working. “Yeah, me too. You’ve seen for yourself I’m just about well enough for it by now, so in a week or two when the Argonians get back, we’ve got our armor, and I’ve got that package from Whiterun, we’ll be on our way. Don’t you worry about that.” “Oh, hey, I’ve actually been meaning to ask you about that package. It’s not the real thing, is it?” There was a brief pause while Bjorn stopped what he was doing and turned to look at Lydia with an intense gaze. “Absolutely authentic. Obviously, I took a pretty serious beating last time I fought Alduin. So I started thinking, if I’m going to do it again, I need every advantage I can get. Then it occurred to me… he’s not a dragon, he’s a god. And against a god, what advantage could be greater than one of Kagrenac’s Tools?” Lydia had taken a seat while the Dragonborn was talking. “Well, with scars like that I sure hope your plan works out. But-“ She leaned forward in her seat. “We’re going to Whiterun anyways, why not just stop and pick it up while we’re there?” “Experimentation, dear.” Bjorn walked out of the kitchen and laid a hand on the bar. “We both know the potential of that thing, and I’ve seen a bit of what it can do. But it’s weaker than the legends say it should be; it’s lost a lot of the magic it used to have. I want to know… is what’s left of it going to do anything to a dragon?” He sighed and shook his head. “I barely hurt Alduin at all last time, so it had better fucking be enough, but it was never meant to be used alone. Without Sunder and Wraithguard, I don’t know if it’ll live up to its reputation. Shit, you’re not even supposed to be able to touch the fucking thing without Wraithguard in the first place.” He rubbed his forehead with one hand. “I’d kill for something like Dawnbreaker, or Chrysamere, or Volendrung, anything. At least those I know work perfectly fine on their own.” “So basically you’re going to find yourself a dragon and poke it with a really, really, really old magical crystal-knife, and hope it does something?” Sure, there was a more professional way to phrase the question, but someone had to do something to lighten the mood. The little joke had worked, apparently, because the Dragonborn chuckled a bit before responding. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. Still going on ahead even if it’s just as good as a regular dagger, of course, but I’d like to try it, at least.” “Well,” Lydia said, standing up again. “Never thought I’d say this, but let’s hope we get attacked by a dragon, then.” “Hah, yeah. Let’s pray for it.” Bjorn stepped back towards the kitchen, but stopped halfway there. “Hey, you want anything to drink? I could put on some coffee or more tea or something.” Lydia put a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow, a little smirk on her face. “Well, you sure would like that, wouldn’t you?” “Hey, I’m only suggesting it ‘cause it’ll help you stay awake.” “Oh, yeah, of course. I’m sure there aren’t any side effects that you’d be interested in.” The sarcasm in her voice was excruciatingly obvious. “But, actually, yeah, I could do with some coffee. And since you wanted a show anyway…” Come lunchtime, the inn had become as busy as could be expected, and as usual populated almost exclusively by the handful of loyal customers that kept the place afloat. The coffee had started to catch up with Lydia, resulting in a tolerable feeling of fullness as she worked on finishing a generous helping of beer the Dragonborn had given her to go along with a meal. It was more than she’d normally drink at once, and she knew damn well why he’d seen fit to give her that much. Even so, she was content to finish it and was in no rush to do so – and Bjorn certainly wouldn’t be keen on moving things along too quickly either if it was a show he was after. Even now, he was looking over at her every so often while he told some other patrons his war stories, though at the moment she was refusing to give him what he wanted. Instead, she was just sitting there, spun around in her seat so that she was leaning back against the bar while she listened to the Dragonborn’s stories and waited for something to do. The current tale was something about the College of Winterhold and something related to Magnus. Lydia hadn’t been there for it so she found it interesting, if a bit predictable considering what she’d seen of her husband. Her beer had run out by the time the dragon priest had entered Bjorn’s story, which meant that was a good enough time to get back to work. So she stood up, slid her mug across the counter to Bjorn so he could deal with it, and stretched. She couldn’t help but notice that he was watching, especially when she froze for a moment during her stretch as she disturbed something she shouldn’t have – but to his visible dismay she regained full control in an instant. He was keeping an eye on her as she walked around to his side of the bar, speaking quietly to him as she passed: “Putting on some more tea.” Then, sure enough, she went straight for the kitchen and the set of tea-making equipment that had been set aside that morning – normally an extra cheaper set, but considering Azhani’s request, they’d decided it would be better to have the second one available at all times. The Dragonborn did have to turn his attention back to the patrons to whom he was describing in excruciating detail the appearance of the Staff of Magnus once Lydia had passed him, so unfortunately could not see that she was standing a little stiffer than usual while she worked. And for her part, she was already starting to question why she’d figured a large beer was good idea when she still had hours to go. Filling the kettle and having to watch as it boiled wasn’t doing her much good, either. But still she remained strong, showing no signs of her state other than the subtle change in her posture of which only Bjorn would have been able to correctly identify the cause. Lydia was able to relax somewhat once everything had been properly prepared and loaded onto a tray, so she now stood more naturally, the only hint of her state being the slightest of distensions in her abdomen, concealed by her apron such that even Bjorn didn’t notice it when she walked by. Or, if he did, he made no indication of it – he just looked her in the eyes for a moment and subtly laid a hand on her rear, letting her walk off afterwards with no comment. Not like he needed to say anything anyways, considering her current problem was that she needed to climb stairs, a feat which he surely would have been more than content to watch in silence. Despite her outward confidence, Lydia did feel the need to stop just before the stairs and take a deep breath, shortly thereafter moving as quickly as the ever-growing weight between her legs would allow. Each step momentarily added more pressure, not enough to be critical, but enough to be quite uncomfortable and a rather ominous reminder that she’d have to make that trip several more times before the day was out. This time, she reached the top of the stairs without spilling a drop of either of the liquids she was carrying, though that certainly wouldn’t be true the next time. Best not to dwell on that for now though – Lydia moved directly for Azhani’s room once she’d finished her climb, just to be done with this errand as fast as possible. Knocking on the door, she said simply, “Tea’s here,” and was met with what sounded like a surprised response. “Wha- oh. Lydia? D-don’t, uh, don’t leave yet…” This was followed by the barely-audible sound of light feet on wood, and after a moment the door opened just wide enough that Azhani could see what was on the other side, and Lydia could only see a pair of eyes. “I need a favor. You can, uh… come in for… for a minute, if you want, or…” Lydia shrugged after a moment of thought. “Sure, why not?” Then the door swung open enough to walk through, and was closed again once Lydia had entered. She left the new tray of tea on the bedside table, and picked up the old one, turning around with it in hand. “So, what is it y- oh… uh, okay then.” Azhani was standing by the door wearing only her fur, with her twitching tail maneuvered to cover her most-sensitive parts, though she made no effort to cover the signs on her chest of her involuntary arousal. Her hair was loose and disheveled and the room itself was no better off, with the bed looking like it’d been ripped to shreds and clothes strewn about at random. Lydia carried on as if this were normal. “Uh, yeah, what do you need?” “Well, two things,” Azhani started, crouching down near the bed to drag a metal pot from beneath it and put a cover over it. She stood up with it in hand and extended her arms towards Lydia as if offering for her to take it. “Uh, I need this cleaned. Would, uh… prefer it back sooner than… than later, yes?” Lydia gave a quiet nod, holding out the tray so Azhani could leave her pot on it. Her bladder protested at the thought of what was in the pot, but remained firmly under control. “And I’d like these washed… if you don’t mind,” the Khajiit said as she picked a set of ragged clothes out of the debris around the room. “Not… terribly important, but… I usually wash them every day… when I’m like this, so that, uh… so they smell… normal.” Then they were handed over to Lydia, who just let them be draped over one of her arms, save for a more delicate article that went into the pocket on Lydia’s apron. “They don’t smell that bad,” she said. “Could just air them out and they’d be fine.” “No, trust me.” Azhani’s deep breathing seemed to quicken a bit and she was using both hands to emphatically gesture in Lydia’s direction. “If you were a Khajiit, you’d know. Eh… th-they need to be washed. Every day, until… uh, until this is over.” “Oh, yeah, right. Sure, I can do that.” Lydia subtly pressed her legs together as she stood. “I guess that’s why you’re holed up in here, isn’t it?” “Yes. I would like to be… able to go out for some air, but…” There was the sound of tea being poured in the background while Azhani spoke, causing Lydia to stand a little stiffer. “I would also like… to not have everyone… think I’m a slut. So I stay here.” “Fair enough. Is that it?” Azhani, who had moved to sit on the bed with her tail draped over her legs, just nodded and took a sip of her tea, then watched and Lydia left the room without another word and fumbled with the tray to close the door behind herself. The trek down the hall and back downstairs was far more tolerable this time than going up, but Lydia couldn’t help worrying about the prospect of having to repeat that journey even once. For now, it was just a matter of walking like a normal person long enough to ditch the now-spent tea set and get outside to deal with everything else Azhani wanted. She turned some heads during her walk, but most of them seemed to be more interested in the clattering of everything on the tray than Lydia herself; they’d look in her direction momentarily then get right back to what they were doing. Except the Dragonborn, of course, who had his eyes glued to her from the moment she entered his sight, no doubt trying to find in her something of special interest. He didn’t otherwise acknowledge her until she tried to get behind the counter, only to be met with a hand blocking her way. “How’re you holding up so far?” Bjorn spoke in a whisper, barely audible over the sounds of patrons enjoying their lunch break. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your show, but it’s not going to be that easy,” was the equally-silent response. “And hands off while I’m working, huh?” The rebuke was loud enough that those seated at the bar could have heard it if they cared, and it prompted the Dragonborn to withdraw a hand that had found its way to Lydia’s thigh. With no further obstruction, Lydia headed into the kitchen, setting down her tray and grabbing a brush and something that she was pretty sure was at least somewhat related to soap. Then she shuffled everything around to carry it more comfortably and picked up the pot whose contents she didn’t want to think about right now. Especially not with a constant pressure reminding her that her day wasn’t even half over yet. He’d be getting a show, alright. For now, though, Lydia went outside, forcing herself to walk straight and keep upright, headed for the nearest canal. But that was the easy part. Now she had to negotiate herself into sitting down in such a way that she could still do what she needed and not add any undue pressure. She worked slowly, eventually ending up on her knees with one foot strategically positioned to provide assistance if necessary. Lydia took a deep breath and looked around to make sure she didn’t have too much of an audience, then quickly got to work. First she took Azhani’s panties out and quickly looked them over – there was a still-damp patch caused by what was certainly not urine, but no other damage – then carefully leaned forwards to get them into the water and use her soap-like substance on them. She worked quickly but efficiently, retrieving them after a short while in a state that was probably the cleanest they had been in a decade. Then they were wrung out and set aside and Lydia took a moment to breathe deeply, glad that her body was no longer compressing itself where it shouldn’t have been and preparing herself to do it again. But then it was right back to business, giving the ragged shirt and pants the same treatment – though what they really needed was a needle and thread – before all the clothes ended up in a neat pile just slightly off to Lydia’s side. Then her gaze turned to the little iron pot. Then back to the canal, then the pot again, and back and forth like that for a while before settling on the canal again. Lydia dipped a hand in to confirm that the current would be satisfactory, then resigned herself to the necessity of the task at hand. She refused to look at and tried not to listen to what she was doing as the picked up the pot, put the lid aside, and dumped the contents into the canal – everyone threw their trash into these things anyways – and waited for a couple of minutes once it was emptied. She’d ground herself into the foot she was sitting on in the meantime. Another sigh was followed by Lydia reluctantly picking up the pot, brush, and probably-soap, giving the inside of the pot a decent lining of fatty cleaning-substance, then submerging the pot and vigorously assaulting it with the brush. She’d noticed about halfway through that a spot of unwanted warmth had appeared, coincidentally right around the part of her that her foot was pressing into, but forced herself to ignore it for the time being. Just clean the damn thing. Once she had finished, Lydia hastily organized everything she’d brought and stood up quickly – perhaps a little too much so, as she felt a little more warmth where she really didn’t want it, but still she pressed on, forcing herself to continue looking normal for just a bit longer. She hurried back into the bar, glancing at Bjorn just long enough to notice the dumb little smirk on his face, still keeping things together, if just barely so. This time she didn’t stop to consider the stairs, heading directly to the top at the expense of what little dry space was left in her underwear. Lydia moved quickly to Azhani’s room, gave a simple knock, and when the door opened she simply thrust everything in her hands over to the still-bare Khajiit and left before either could say anything. The trip back downstairs had surely left a mark on Lydia’s pants, though she didn’t dare check and didn’t much care anyways since the apron she’d been wearing would cover it for now. And against all logic and reason, she headed for the bar, leaning against it near an empty seat with her legs firmly crossed. Sure enough, the Dragonborn came over, taking a moment to silently observe her with his arms crossed and that grin still plastered on his face. Eventually, he spoke: “Well, now we’re at the fun part,” he said. “Isn’t that great?” “Perfect,” was the growled response that only elicited a laugh from across the bar. “Hey, if I wanted to hear a Khajiit get mad at me, I’d go talk to Azhani.” He chuckled again and Lydia’s face turned red. “Anyways,” Bjorn continued, “how about some of this, huh? Gotta stay hydrated.” He’d procured a bottle of beer from under the counter and was giving it a little shake. Lydia narrowed her eyes at him, knowing perfectly well what he was really trying to get at. But she hardly had a choice, since she actually was rather thirsty and couldn’t exactly ignore that. So one hand disappeared beneath her apron and the other was held up above the bar with her thumb and forefinger positioned to indicate she wouldn’t be drinking much. So Bjorn pulled out two mugs, filled one a quarter of the way, and poured the rest of the beer into the other one. Lydia grabbed the less-filled one and Bjorn raised the other in a sort of toast before immediately downing half of it. “I’m liking the show so far,” he said. “Not much longer until it gets really good, huh?” “For you, perhaps.” Lydia drank slowly, taking unusually-small sips. The hand under her apron strengthened its grip. “Well, you’re playing along just fine. You’ve had lots of opportunities to sort yourself out so far, and you ignored ‘em. Very nice.” “How do you know that? Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I’m just pretending.” “You’re sweating.” “I’ve been running up and down stairs all day.” “You’ve won plenty of fights without breaking a sweat, what’s a few stairs?” “Well, then it’s warm in here and these aren’t thin clothes.” “It’s about the same temperature in here it was this morning, and you were fine then.” “Alright. What if it’s a bad time for me and I’m just acting to get you off my back?” “Unless something changed in the last few hours, you’re doing just fine. And, uh, you’d have to be about two weeks early for that to be true anyways.” Lydia stared at the Dragonborn with a concerned look. “Okay, I’m a bit worried that you already know that, to be completely honest.” “I’ll pretend I don’t, then.” The response was followed by him finishing the rest of his beer. “But I definitely know how to tell when someone’s acting, and you’re not.” “Can you really be sure I haven’t just learned what you’re looking for?” She bent ever so slightly at the knees. “Yes, because there’s quite a bit you’d never be able to do intentionally. Not convincingly, anyways.” Bjorn put a hand to his chin for a moment, then brought it away to point at various parts of Lydia. “That look in your eyes, the way you’re breathing, what that arm’s doing, that thing your feet are doing. And you can’t fake a bulge like that. In fact,” he said, his eyes scanning her whole body, “you’re hiding it well, but you’re already wet.” Lydia looked at him with an eyebrow raised while her legs tied themselves together even tighter. “Is that so,” she said, leaning forward and directing her gaze a bit downwards. “Or is that just what he wants you to think?” “Oh come now,” the Dragonborn responded, adjusting his position. “You know it’s true, what do you really have to gain from pretending otherwise?” “Fine, fine, you’re right.” Lydia wiggled around a bit. “But it’s not over yet.” “Of course it isn’t. But tell you what, I’ll be merciful. I’ll deal with Azhani, and you can take care of whoever’s got a table. That sound good to you?” The response was a quiet groan. “You don’t think I actually believe that’d be easier, do you? But fine, sure, whatever. Enjoy the view.” Then she wrenched her hand out from between her legs and walked off awkwardly towards the dining room proper. Lydia managed to survive an hour of clearing tables and taking orders without any major complications – aside from most definitely not having proper posture and moving far more slowly and carefully than could be considered normal. Bjorn had decided to deal with the cooking himself, so Lydia spent a good deal of time leaning forward against the bar with her legs crossed, relaying crudely-scrawled orders and giving a clear view down her shirt. Then it was just a matter of tossing stuff onto a tray and brining it where it was meant to go – being careful, of course, to not drop or spill anything. The ever-present, ever-growing pressure wasn’t helping. Lydia had to either subject herself to bending forward somewhat or doing a bit of an awkward curtsy to be able to put the trays down, which almost certainly would have announced to everyone that something was wrong. So she took the momentary increase in pressure, still trying to look normal. Fortunately, the lunch rush – or whatever could be called a rush by the Bee and Barb’s standards – was starting to die down, but it was alone in this. Lydia’s legs were sealed together whenever she was standing still, one of them constantly shaking or a foot incessantly tapping while she devoted all her energy to not using her hands while people were still around. By some miracle, that wet patch of hers had been cold for quite some time, despite her body’s best attempts to change that. She could only hope that it was just Bjorn and nobody else that knew about her internal war, though she’d been attracting strange looks for a while now. These customers had to know something was wrong, even if they’d not said anything. And if she thought people were looking at her before, they’d certainly be staring now. There she was, with a tray in her hands, shuffling across the floor to bring it to whoever’d asked for it, when she stopped suddenly and bent slightly at the knees. The warmth had returned in force, and this time Lydia could feel it trailing down the inside of one leg. So, having failed to come up with any better ideas in the quarter of a second it took for that event to register in her mind, she dropped into a sort of kneeling position, the dishes she was carrying clattering as she did so. Lydia set the tray down on the floor in front of her, quickly deciding to push some silverware off of it as well, then – hopefully subtly – shoved one hand beneath her apron and into her pants, squeezing herself hard enough to stop the stream. After a moment, she lightened her grip, only to be met with a quick burst of warmth, though nothing more. So she withdrew her hand and wiped it off on her apron, using the other to collect what she’d dropped in an effort to look like that had been what happened there. It seemed to work well enough, as when everything was organized again and she stood back up, most people who she was certain had turned to look at her were either no longer doing so, or were some of the handful of people looking at her with concern. These people turned away once Lydia made eye contact with them, though, and she moved as quickly as she could to deliver the damn food. The tray was practically dropped on the table, and Lydia hurriedly wiped down all the silverware with a clean cloth she’d pulled out of one of her pockets to reassure the customers that it was fine to use – which they were apparently satisfied with, so she immediately went back to the bar. She laid two hands on it and simply stood there doing a little march until Bjorn came over to her. “Just about done, huh?” His question was met with no verbal response, only a glare that would have looked more threatening if Lydia weren’t clearly on the verge of tears. “I mean, look at you, you can hardly walk anymore. There’s no way you’re getting upstairs or anything at this point, so I’d be more than happy to help you here.” “Not… yet…” Lydia spoke through her teeth. “Suit yourself. I’m not about to pretend I don’t like this, but just don’t push yourself too hard, okay? Neither of us are going to like it if you get hurt." “I know what I’m doing.” With that, Lydia forced herself to stand as upright as possible and walk back to the dining room to clean up. Her legs got themselves twisted in some convoluted knot and she’d bounce every time she stood still to get something off a table, but still she kept fighting until one table had a mass of dishes piled on top of it. The warmth had expanded in the time it took to do that, but only slightly. Lydia was still in control, for now. Perhaps in retrospect it hadn’t been such a great idea to make one stack of everything she had to carry back to the kitchen. She didn’t intend to use her hands anyways, but once she picked that up to bring it back, she wouldn’t even have the option. The occasional leaks had stopped though, so if she was fast enough… Lydia took a deep breath and grabbed the dish-tower, stumbling a bit as it tried to demolish itself, but soon enough that too was under control. So she turned around and, with her legs as close together as physically possible, she slowly worked her way back to the kitchen. The handful of people that were still around were definitely giving her weird looks, but Lydia didn’t much care. She was already trying to focus on walking and not becoming even more wet, so her attention was divided enough. She managed to get behind the bar without much of an issue, and though the Dragonborn gave her a concerned look he quickly turned back to the group sitting across from him without saying anything. But with her next step, Lydia froze. A massive jet of warmth had added itself to the wetness down her legs, and she could swear she heard some hit the floor. She knew the rest of the flood wasn’t far behind, and rushed to the nearest kitchen counter. The dishes were slammed onto the countertop and Lydia moved just as quickly to the Dragonborn, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him around to face her with far more force than either of them expected. “Do something,” she hissed. Bjorn just nodded in response, subtly indicating with one hand for her to get down. So she sat on the floor, back against the bar, hoping nobody would notice or pay her much mind. And while she waited for something to happen, she wiggled her way out of her pants, pulling them down just far enough that her apron would cover what was exposed, and then shoved both hands between her legs. Bjorn, meanwhile, was in the middle of distracting everyone. “Hey, who wants a free round of beer, huh?” He held his arms out at his sides and yelled loud enough for the whole place to hear. And, of course, everyone came running over to him. The Dragonborn cautiously looked over at Lydia, who was glaring up at him with a look that demanded to know what he thought he was doing. But then she broke eye contact suddenly when she felt her hands get wet. When a decent crowd gathered at the bar, Bjorn turned around, heading quickly to the kitchen to collect an armful of mugs, including a few particularly-tall ones. He seemed to trip on his way back, causing one of the taller mugs to fall to the floor while he juggled and ultimately lost a second normal one. The shorter mug had coincidentally been tossed to land near where Lydia was sitting, and with the Dragonborn’s next step the taller one was kicked over in that direction as well. Lydia grabbed the tall one with one hand, adjusting herself so it was underneath her, though her other hand hadn’t been removed just yet. Bjorn had haphazardly dropped the rest of the mugs on the counter, letting everyone there grab one for themselves while he pulled a few bottles out from below. They were each opened in quick succession and he wasted no time in giving everyone a generous helping. Lydia, of course, both understood this to be her opportunity and was out of time anyways. One last jet of her waters had been released into her hand, and continued to trickle through her fingers. As soon as the hand was removed, she gave in entirely, biting down on a dry part of her free arm so as to not make more noise than she already was. So for a little while Lydia took long, slow breaths with her eyes closed, only opening them in a panic once she realized she could feel liquid running down the sides of her mug. Trying to force herself to stop, she only found that she couldn’t, so picked up the other mug she had with her free hand, quickly swapping the two – though this of course didn’t last very long either, and once it overflowed too Lydia resigned herself to moving into a bit of a low squat. There would be a pretty sizable puddle on the floor either way, and this way no further dishes would be ruined. The only problem was that her auditory cover had gone by the time the first mug filled, as the Dragonborn had run out of drinks to fill. Lydia could vaguely hear him hastily composing some story or another, likely in an attempt to talk over her stream and still-expanding lake on the floor once he’d noticed that he could hear it. She looked up at him in time to see him shoot her another glance and sneak his hand under the counter, procuring a rag and tossing it in her general direction. She looked at it for a moment, then picked it up and set it on her lap to keep it from getting wet earlier than intended. By then, her stream had slowed considerably and she failed to suppress a sigh as it turned to a trickle and eventually stopped. Another few deep breaths to collect herself, and she looked up at Bjorn again – the crowd seemed to be under control, so she let herself rise just enough to properly move over and remove the pants she’d destroyed, still trying to remain below the bar so as to not be seen. Lydia had to admit, it was a fairly impressive puddle. Some of it was being lost between the poorly-constructed floorboards, but even so it was expansive enough that the Dragonborn had moved over a little from his original position to keep his shoes clean. She looked at the rag in her hand and decided it was definitely not going to be enough, so she shoved it through the string of her apron, letting it hang from the back and hopefully hide the fact that she was half-naked. Then she stood up entirely and grabbed a bottle of cheap something-or-other from under the bar, casually dropping it to the ground and watching it break. And when everyone looked over at her, she simply started to back into the kitchen, saying, “I’ll take care of that.” She came back with a mop and a broom, first sweeping all the glass shards into a neat pile, then getting to work on the puddle that was clearly too big to have been made by only what was in that bottle – though nobody had questioned her on it. The Dragonborn had walked off just before she started cleaning, then came back a few minutes later and quietly laid a clean pair of pants on a counter in the kitchen. He then moved much less discreetly over to Lydia, wrapping his arms tightly around her from behind and leaning in to whisper to her: “Still plenty of time left ‘til nightfall, you know.”
  7. Sake

    The Bee and Barb

    I sure hope this was worth the wait, because this chapter is incredibly important: This is the very last non-story chapter in the series. Every update after this is part of the Dragonslayer story chapter, of which I have not determined the length - however, once Dragonslayer ends, so too does the story. Dragonslayer will include breaks from the story content to get some final scenes at the inn, but otherwise, the Dragonborn and company will be leaving for Whiterun, then onwards to Skuldafn and Sovngarde to conclude the main quest and this adventure. If you're not interested in the story content and all you want is the porn, read Dragonslayer's intro chapter anyways because it'll have one last major omo scene and will be written to essentially serve as an alternate ending for those that don't want to read any further. “Dancing through savannah grass, on light feet we glide… Hey, hey, Baandari boy, tap your heels in stride… Hey, hey, Baandari girl, swing your tail beside…” The cold, early-morning air was filled with the sound of singing, not quite in tune or time, coming from a little black Khajiit whose tail swung around contentedly while she wiped down tables in advance of the regulars appearing for breakfast. She tried to be quiet, as the sun had barely risen yet, but being alone meant she didn’t have quite as much control over her voice as she thought. “Val vijah va rhook, Baandari… Carrying our world in packs… Val vij- Ah?” She looked up in surprise as a large man cleared his throat, standing at the opposite end of the table she was working on. “So you sing, do you? That’s a new one.” The Dragonborn spun the nearest chair around and sat on it, leaning forward onto its back. “What’s got you all happy all of a sudden?” Azhani shrugged. “Well, being bedridden for four days because my body wants me dead for… well, you know why. Anyways, gave me time to think. And, you know, I realized,” she said, moving on to a nearby table. The Dragonborn just turned his head to look at her. “My life now is the best it’s ever been. I have a home, and money that I earned, and my own things, and good friends, and I can do what I want. Only way it could be better is if I had family, but, eh…” She shook her head. “But nothing’s ever perfect, right?” Azhani forced a bit of a smile and focused on her work. Then there was silence for a time, broken eventually by the Dragonborn, who had a hand on the back of his head. “Well, uh… I’m not gonna go there if you don’t want me to, but… Eh, you know, there’s always someone here if you… y’know, if you need it. And, man, I really hope I didn’t kill your good mood or anything. Eheh.” Azhani glanced over at him for a moment but just kept working. “No, no, it’s fine. Really. Just…” She sighed. “You know, I haven’t seen my sister in ten years. I don’t know where she is, if she’s even alive. I love her and I miss her but… I have had a lot of time to accept that I probably won’t see her again. I think about her a lot and it would be great if she were here, but I know she is not and I just hope that wherever she is, she is where she wants to be.” She looked over at Bjorn again, and saw him looking back with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, don’t look at me like that! Really, I am fine. My sister and I have different lives now. That’s how it is. Nothing can change that. And you know, I don’t think I would want to change it anyway. I really do mean it when I say my life has never been better. It can always be better, yes, but it is best, I think, to appreciate what I have now.” Bjorn nodded. “Y’know, I’m actually kinda impressed. Takes some people fifty years to figure that out. But, really, it’s good that things seem to be working out for you.” He stood up long enough to spin the chair around and sit down properly, leaning forward with an elbow on the table and his head in his hand. “On that note, that song you were singing… what’s that about, then? Something about the Baandari?” “Mhrr?” Azhani turned her head and made a trilled, inquisitive sound. Then her ears perked up and her eyes lit up suddenly. “Oh! Right, that. Yes, it’s an old traditional song, for festivals and things like that. And, yes, it’s about the Baandari. I think it might even come from them, but I don’t know for sure. It’s been around more than a thousand years, so…” “Lucky you with your ancient cultural heritage. The oldest songs people still sing back home are about the Hero of Kvatch. Granted, he’s kind of a big deal in Bruma, considering he single-handedly saved the city and all, but, still, that’s only two hundred years old.” The Dragonborn leaned back and folded his arms. “And don’t expect me to give you any examples. I can’t sing worth shit.” “Yes, you know, it’s strange but I can’t seem to picture a dragon singing. Wonder why that could be, hm?” “It’s a fuckin’ mystery.” Bjorn glanced past Azhani, looking down the hall out a window. “But, y’know what, I’m gonna go wake up Lydia and get started on breakfast. That sound good?” He looked over at Azhani, who was simply nodding fervently with wide eyes. “Alright then.” Only a few minutes later, Lydia was sat watching Azhani tear into raw meat across the table, and the Dragonborn was in the kitchen cooking some up properly for himself and his wife. Somewhere along the way a pot of tea had been put on as well, and Azhani had taken it all for herself to fight off the lingering effects of her present situation. “So,” Lydia started, clearly unsure of how to start a conversation with a human-sized carnivorous feline in the middle of meal. “Seems like you’re… doing better.” The little Khajiit just made a vaguely affirmative noise through a mouthful of meat, only responding properly when she’d swallowed and taken a swig of tea. “Like I told you,” she said. “No more pain, but it’s not completely over yet. It is easier to deal with now, though. All I have to do now is keep my legs closed, which is… well, not exactly what I would call a challenge.” Her tail twitched playfully while she had some more tea and picked her food back up. Lydia, meanwhile, just raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound like it’s real easy to just… ignore your body trying to force you to do something.” Azhani shrugged and refrained from taking another bite. “Well, just… doing it, would be the easy way out, I suppose. That’s how I managed it when I was younger. But I have found ways to deal with it, and it is not easy and not fun at all but it’s a better life than being a whore.” Then she moved to continue eating, but pulled back at the last minute. “Though, I suppose I made some good money… They pay a lot for that in the Imperial City, you know. Made more than I do here, that’s for sure…” "You sound like you’re quite proud of that.” “Eh, were you… expecting me to be ashamed?” Azhani spoke slowly. “Am I supposed to regret what I did? Sorry, but I am not, and I do not. I did what I had to do. Sure, some things I am not… particularly proud of, but at least I am alive because of it.” She took a quick bite and spoke again. “That is more than can be said of some people who have met you, yes?” Lydia nodded and looked away. “That… that’s fair. Didn’t mean to… come off as condescending, or anything, but-“ “Don’t lie to me,” Azhani interrupted. “You meant it. You probably even meant to say something much worse. But you know what, I don’t care. Think what you want about who I used to be. What I used to do. After so many years, I can finally say that is not me anymore. Criticize my old life all you like! I didn’t like it either, but you know what? It was the only life I could have, so don’t act like I’m meant to feel bad about it, or that I’m any less than you now because of it.” “Gods, since when have you been a fucking Greybeard, huh?” This time the voice belonged to the Dragonborn, who dropped a plate of cooked meat and toast on the table before taking a seat next to Lydia. “Seriously, you’ve been talking like a sage all fucking morning. Never thought you had that sort of wisdom in you.” “Heh. I told you, I had a lot of time to think about things.” After another sip of tea and a refill of her cup, Azhani continued. “And, anyways, it’s not wrong, yes? Get tossed into the world like I did, you have to learn quick how things really work. Learn to work with what you have and deal with problems.” She shrugged. “But, uh, now I would like to change the subject please, before I remember things I have been trying to forget.” Bjorn gave her a concerned look but didn’t press the issue, instead speaking quickly. “Right, right, of course. Well, then, how about you finish off that song, hm?” Azhani put down the piece of meat she’d just picked up, and looked off to the side. “Eh…” Were she not covered in fur, her face would surely be red. “Well, I would, probably, but, ehm… It’s more something that just happens, you know? I couldn’t do it now that you’re here and I’m thinking about it." “What a shame,” the Dragonborn said. “Work on that voice of yours and you could get a decent job as a bard someday.” Then he stood up and started towards the bar, Azhani waving her teapot at him and getting a nod in response. He set the kettle to boil and spoke across the room while he waited. “Y’know there’s a bards’ college up in Solitude. Couldn’t hurt to check it out, if you ever end up there.” “I-I don’t know, maybe, b-but, like I said-“ Azhani started to speak but was cut off by the door opening, everyone turning to look. Two Argonians entered, visibly weary from some sort of long journey. One of them had a wrapped package in her hand. She looked around for a bit before taking a seat at the bar and dropping the package on the counter. “Gods, I missed this dump,” Keerava said. “And, hey, we met some kid at the gate who said he brought this for you. Don’t know what it is, but it’s wrapped up tight.” She wiggled around a bit while Talen walked over to Azhani and Lydia to grab a piece of toast. “Aha, perfect,” the Dragonborn said, taking the package and sliding it under the counter. “I’ll get to it later. For now though, how was that trip of yours?” “Eh, the trip itself was nothing special, but once we got where we were going, mmm…” Keerava had put on a little grin, watching Bjorn as he went back into the kitchen. “I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say Talen knows his way around a rope and leave it at that.” She sighed and leaned into the counter, her butt wiggling a bit to accommodate the new position. “Fuck, though, it’s a long trip. It was worth it, but I am just so tired right now. I think the only reason I’m even awake at all is because I have to piss.” The Dragonborn looked over at her with a raised eyebrow, walked over to grab a small cup from under the counter, then walked back to fill it with the tea that had just finished. “Well, in that case,” he said, “This should help, right?” Keerava sat back up to laugh as the cup ended up on the bar in front of her. “Oh, definitely,” she said, grabbing the cup and plotting how to approach it while it was still so hot. In the meantime, she spun around and watched Bjorn bring the rest of the tea to everyone else. “Anyways, I see you haven’t burned down my business while I was away.” “As tempting as it was, yes, I kept it just how you left it.” “Pfft, so you’re telling me the place is still shit.” Keerava took a swig of tea and leaned back against the counter. “Don’t know what I expected. Is it any better around here without the war on, at least?” Bjorn shrugged, now seated next to Lydia. “Didn’t seem much different. Still… functional, I suppose, but nothing much beyond the regulars.” “And by functional,” Talen added, “You mean we just barely broke even, right? It’s a magical week when we can actually turn a profit.” “The real magic, beeko,” Keerava said, “is making more than a septim in profit.” She laid a hand on her abdomen and took another sip of tea. “Ah, but that’s just how it always is, isn’t it? I’ll have plenty of time to bitch about it later. For now, let’s hear about what went on here while we were gone.” “Well, unless you want to hear some special stories, you really didn’t miss much. You know how it goes around here.” The Dragonborn took a bite of meat and spoke around it. “Jus’ normal bus’ness.” Lydia grabbed the meat from him and shot him a playful but dirty look. “Yeah, all normal. He spent almost all our money on some fancy black armor – as one does, of course – gave a kid a lot of gold to go fetch the Nerevarine’s butter knife – as one does – and, uh, oh yeah, we got married. Remember that? You know, not a big deal or anything, but now I’m stuck with your Cyrodiilic ass until I die.” “Bold of you to assume you’d need to wait that long,” Bjorn said with a silly grin. “Just until Alduin eats me. So, you know, just give it a month or so and you’ll be on your own again, sweets.” “Assuming I even allow him to do that, of course. I may be stuck with you but that just means you’re stuck with me, too, and I’d never let you get away that easily.” Keerava smiled as she downed the rest of her tea, which any normal person would have taken twice as long to finish. “So you two got together, did you? Good for you. That just leaves Azhani all on her own then, doesn’t it?” Azhani perked up at the mention of her name and quickly looked around at everyone, obviously not expecting to be involved in a conversation. “Eheh, yeah,” she muttered, “Ah, well, that’s life, yes? I’m sure I could find someone if I tried, but for now I am fine as I am.” “Of course you could,” Bjorn added with a light chuckle. “Lots of people out there who would be more than happy to get a bit o-“ “Oh, no, no, stop! Stop right there! I know where you’re going with this!” Azhani suddenly stood up and pointed at him while her tail jerked around behind her. “You think you’re clever making that joke, do you?” She leaned forward with her hands planted on the table. “You think you’re the first one to come up with that? A thousand times I have had to listen to men who think they’re being smart make jokes about pussy. Yeah I get it, I am a woman and I look like a cat. But just because I get it doesn’t make it funny.” Then she sat back down and sighed. “Ahh, but you know what is funny? The only people who think that joke is clever are Imperials. You, Dragonborn, oh Bright Moons, you are not a Nord. Yes, you might think you are, you even look like one. But truth is, rhook, you are an Imperial. There is no denying that.” With that, Azhani took a sip of tea and started purring, leaving her tail to sway contentedly. Bjorn threw his hands up in response. “Well,” he said, “Shit, that’s some impressive fervor, whiskers. You’re always so quiet.” “Don’t call me that. But, eh, yeah, I just… really hate that joke, you know?” Azhani leaned back as far as her chair would allow. “And, I mean, I can enjoy some crude humor from time to time, but at least be creative about it, yeah?” “Fair enough.” Keerava let out a little snort of laughter, her hands now resting innocently on her thighs. “Well, good to see everyone’s getting along.” Her hands moved to the counter, and she pushed herself up to her feet, taking a moment to get herself standing upright. “Anyways, I just got back from a very long trip, so if you don’t mind watching the place for a bit longer, I’m going to go lie down for a few hours. You’re coming too, Talen, before you fall asleep trying to make soup or something.” “Yeah, no problem,” the Dragonborn said. “I just have to check in with the armorer first, but I’ll keep things running.” “Thanks. I’m really gonna have to… figure out some way to repay you for all this…” Keerava woke up – fully clothed, as she hadn’t expected to actually get any sleep – perhaps an hour or two past noon, groaning as sunlight filled the room and she rubbed at her eyes. She didn’t feel much better, but at least her exhaustion was a less-immediate issue now. She rolled out of bed and stretched, giving of a quiet moan as a comfortably heavy weight in her abdomen become apparent. She looked down and lifted her shirt to get a proper look at the cause of the sensation, admiring the view of her scaled belly pressing against the waistband of her pants. The Argonian tried to recall the last time she’d relieved herself – must have been the previous night, about twelve hours ago, when she and Talen had settled in to get some rest before the last and longest leg of their journey back to Riften. She remembered it as a very pleasant experience, slipping a hand into her pants as she forced herself to remember when her bladder had been emptied before then. It had been in the morning, definitely, but it couldn’t have been that same morning, for she had been genuinely concerned that she might not be dry when they stopped to make camp – which she of course hadn’t been, and while that had been due to her full bladder, it would have been a lie to say it was solely because that organ’s contents leaking out. “Mmmn…” In any case, she knew from years of experience that she couldn’t have been that worried about wetting herself if she’d only been waiting from morning to night – so before last night, she must have been waiting a full day and a half to release her waters. Keerava knew that to be her limit, barring extraordinary circumstances, which certainly explained why she could remember being proud of the torrent she’d unleashed and worried she’d unleash it onto herself. She could have picked a better place to do it, but it was still impressive – they’d rented the cheapest horses they could find, and last night Keerava remembered dismounting, undressing, and squatting right next to the horse she’d been riding. Even at the time she was somewhat disappointed she couldn’t wait even a few seconds to get somewhere else, but faced with the orgasmic sensation of relief and now remembering that same feeling, she could only be impressed with her accomplishment. Of course, not all of her was impressed with that memory – her bladder was desperate to replicate the events of the previous night, and with the feeling of relief fresh in Keerava’s mind again it very angrily reminded her of its existence. The hand in her pants pressed hard against herself while her thighs came together and her knees bent slightly, but a moment later she straightened up and pulled her hand out again like nothing had happened. She used her bedsheets to wipe her hand clean, and noticed just then that the bed was empty. Normally, that wouldn’t be unusual, but Talen-jei had come with her, and now he was gone. He must have woken up earlier and gone downstairs already. So Keerava stretched again, made sure her clothes were in order, and without a second thought left to join her new mate. Her bladder pleaded with her to relieve herself while she had the chance, but she didn’t listen, and it stopped protesting when it became clear she wouldn’t be giving it what it wanted. Not for a very long time yet. Instead, she got downstairs and headed over to take her usual position at the bar, looking around to see what was going on. Azhani was off in some far corner waiting on a table, and the handful of regulars – plus Lydia – were at the bar which was currently being worked by the Dragonborn. Talen was in the kitchen behind him, and glanced over at Keerava only momentarily as she walked over. Bjorn paid her more attention, looking her over and letting his trained gaze linger on her small bulge. “So,” he said, forcing himself to look her in the eye, “You taking over here?” “Yes I am.” Keerava bent down to get an apron from under the counter, pressing her legs together slightly as she did but bringing them apart again when she stood up straight. ”Great. It’s about time I got some lunch anyways.” Bjorn gave his typical two-fingered salute and started to walk off, adding a quiet “Good luck” as he passed by Keerava on his way to a table. Keerava noticed Lydia jumped a bit in her seat as the Dragonborn passed her, spinning around and grabbing his arm with a furious look on her face. He looked down at her with a half-smile. “Surprised?” Lydia sighed and released her vice grip on Bjorn’s arm, instead bringing that hand up to her face. “You’re really lucky I don’t have a knife on hand right now, you know that? A lady gets her ass grabbed without warning in a town like this… Doesn’t normally end well.” “With you, I’ll take that chance.” He reached out towards her, but Lydia blocked his arm with her own. “Save it for tonight,” she said, turning back to her drink. “If you say so.” Bjorn then walked off to a table in the dining room and sat down, waiting for Azhani to come to him. Keerava watched him at the edge of her view, topping off Lydia’s drink. “You two seem to have hit it off pretty quickly,” she said. “Didn’t really seem like you had anything going on between you before now.” Lydia shrugged and drank deep before responding. “Eh, well, he seems to have been fairly attached to me since we met. I didn’t think much of him at first, to tell you the truth.” She drank again before continuing. “It was pretty much just a business relationship, since I was just… assigned to him by Jarl Balgruuf, but, you know, we ended up going everywhere together.” Another sip. “I suppose I warmed up to him – I must have, considering it got to a point where I’d willingly go along with his, eh, games – but being his servant kinda complicated things. You’re right, we were never very close before we got married, but I suppose I must have felt something for him since I kept doing a whole bunch of shit that wasn’t in my job description.” She took another drink. “Heh, I mean, I agreed to marry him. I didn’t have to do that. And now that we’re married, might as well make the most of it, right?” “That’s one way to look at it, I suppose. And just, don’t take any of this the wrong way or anything, it’s nice that you two are happy together, but… It’s not quite what I was expecting.” Lydia stared across the bar with a puzzled look on her face. “What were you expecting?” “Honestly?” Keerava leaned in and spoke quietly. “He seemed quite interested in Azhani. I though he’d end up fucking her.” Lydia laughed as Keerava pulled away. “Oh, no, he’s – well, according to him anyways – he’s only interested in her because of the situations she keeps getting into. Otherwise, too much fur and too many tits, he says.” “Too many…? What does that mean? She’s just barely got the two. I mean, these don’t even do anything and they’re bigger than hers.” “Eh, I think he was just trying to make a cat joke. You know how they’ve got teats going all the way down? He probably just assumed she’d work the same way.” She took another sip. “That, or he’s seen her with her shirt off, but all that fur would cover them up anyways, so… Probably just a guess.” Keerava looked back towards Talen, then back to Lydia, absentmindedly doling out refills and taking money while she talked. “You know, if you hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t have cared about it, but now I’m wondering if he was right.” “Why not just ask her, then?” As if on cue, the little Khajiit walked into the kitchen to relay the Dragonborn’s order directly to Talen. Keerava glanced back and noticed that she was standing with her legs pressed together, her weight awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. “Eh, it’s not that big of a deal.” She watched as Azhani came out from behind the counter and glanced into the dining room, ensuring nothing else needed to be done, before disappearing from view up the stairs. Keerava could feel her bladder protest, knowing that she remained behind the bar pouring drinks while Azhani had gone to do what Keerava refused to. “You alright?” “Hm?” Keerava noticed Lydia was looking at her with a hint of concern in her eyes. “Oh, yeah, just fine. Zoned out for a bit there, I guess.” It was the truth, mostly. Of course she wouldn’t mention why she’d been lost in her mind, but she could at least admit that she was. “Sure, okay.” Lydia didn’t sound convinced at all, but gave her mug a little shake anyways. “How about you top me off, then?” She reached into one of her pockets and tossed a coin onto the counter. Keerava nodded and pulled a bottle from under the counter, ripping its cork out with her teeth while she took Lydia’s mug in her other hand and slowly refilled it, savoring every torturous second of liquid pouring from the bottle. Eventually, the cup ended up back in Lydia’s hands and, after quickly checking on everyone else at the bar, Keerava turned around and headed into the kitchen, returning to the counter with a piece of fish in her mouth and more in hand. She took a seat and said very little, focusing instead on her lunch and refilling drinks. Whenever anyone did talk to her and expect a response, she kept it to a single line or two. Not because she needed to focus, of course – because she wanted to. Obviously, whatever she wanted was always more important than such silly things as basic biological needs, especially since in her experience it’d be a few hours before anything became a real need. Oh, sure, her bladder was full – deliciously so – but since when did that count as a need? So she sat quietly, wiggling around a little bit but otherwise acting as if nothing were any different than normal. Probably because this was normal. Keerava had such a long history of doing this sort of thing that by now her regulars paid her no attention – they knew she hardly ever moved from behind the counter, and therefore hardly ever had any time to herself. They knew what to expect from her, and none of them cared. No, they just let her shuffle around while they talked to each other and only paid her any mind when they needed more drinks. And she didn’t pay much attention to them, either, for now that Azhani had returned to her line of sight – visibly relieved, of course – her attention was on the Khajiit. A very busy little lady, that one was, especially considering the fact that the place was just about always mostly empty, and she’d often stop at the bar for a quick drink. The next time Azhani came near, this time headed to the kitchen instead of the bar, Keerava stopped her on her way out. “Hey, come here a minute,” she said, prompting the Khajiit to set down the tray she’d picked up and walk up to her employer looking a little nervous. “Y-yes? Did… did I do something wrong?" Keerava chuckled in response. “No, no, you’re doing great. I was just thinking, though, you could do with some more time downstairs. I’ll have to bring you down there again soon.” “Ehrr… okay, I guess.” Azhani scratched her head. “I-if you say so. Just… I don’t know, let me know whenever you want, yes?” “Of course. I’ll wake you up. Probably not tomorrow, but soon. Just so you can be ready for it. Now get back to work, hm?” Azhani nodded quickly, picked her tray back up, and hurried off. Keerava watched her leave, then turned her attention back to herself. Her own enjoyment had reminded her that Azhani wasn’t quite as trained as she was – she’d brought the Khajiit down for a training session once but the little lady still seemed to have everything fairly in proportion with her small frame, including her bladder. Another round of intense training couldn’t hurt. And, if Keerava was being honest with herself, she’d not properly seen Azhani get herself into trouble for quite a while, so she was definitely looking forward to the chance to get a close-up show. For now, she was content to enjoy her own personal show. Her bladder, full as it was, bulged out slightly and was just getting to the point where pressing on it would yield fantastic sensations. Sensations Keerava couldn’t get watching other people, though knowing they’d be experiencing them was more than enough for her to sympathize and enjoy it anyways. But why settle for that when she could get the real thing? Keerava pressed her legs together as she pulled a few bottles from under the counter – it was time to refill some drinks, and more importantly she was feeling quite thirsty herself. All the better for her, really. One bottle was set aside, and the others ended up empty as their contents found their way into patrons’ mugs, then it was time for the fun to begin. That last bottle was bigger than the others by a significant margin, which also meant it cost more as well and was too expensive to waste. So it was that bottles like this would be saved for special occasions, and this occasion seemed special enough, so Keerava again ripped it open with her teeth, and spat the cork out to the ground. Then she drank up. The bottle was drained over the next three hours, first in large swigs then slowing down to occasional sips. If Argonians could get drunk on human liquor, Keerava could have used that as her excuse, but even she had to admit that as the bottle emptied, her bladder filled even more. By the time she’d finished her drink, she was struggling to sit still. And that was before enough time had passed for the alcohol’s effects on her bladder to fully kick in. The Dragonborn had moved back to the bar in that time, too, following Azhani while she carried a tray laden with his empty dishes. Now he was seated next to Lydia, neither of them buying anything, instead discussing their coming adventures. Normally she’d kick them out to make room for paying customers, but lunchtime was over by now so there weren’t really any paying customers to make room for. Well, that, and she knew Bjorn would be looking over at her every so often, enjoying the show she was putting on. Even Talen would look her way every so often, though she knew that was only because she’d started getting cheeky, leaning forward onto the bar with her pants pulled down just enough that she could lift her tail and flash him a nice view of the scales down there. Keerava had a plan for how this would end, and she needed Talen to be in the right mood for it. Hopefully he’d get the hint. Her bladder was definitely mad at her now, for refusing so many times to empty it when she had the chance. She was bouncing in her seat and her breathing was getting heavier, her legs pressed tight together while she waited for just the right moment to end her game. She could go on for quite some time yet, she knew, but given the events of the night before it was probably best to call it off earlier and rest instead of getting to her limit again. At the same time, though, Keerava wasn’t a fan of intentionally relieving herself before her bladder had a chance to get nice and hard – firm now, but still soft enough that it couldn’t be totally full yet – and certainly wasn’t terribly willing to sacrifice the pleasant heat down there that came from holding back so much urine either. The pressure was too good to give up. She was certain she could feel her bladder stretching out, its contents pressing down on the sealed exit, giving her the feeling that all that restrained liquid could break free at any moment while she wiggled around to keep that from happening. Of course, if she really wanted to stop that from happening, there was always more she could do to make sure she stayed locked up, and normally she would be doing those things by now, but it was nice to enjoy the sensations caused by the ever-present risk of leaking. One hand had found its way down to the bulge in Keerava’s abdomen, rubbing it lightly enough to enjoy the shape of it without pressing down, as tempting as that was. Her breath was deep and slow, everything well under control for now. Azhani walked past looking a little uncomfortable, and Keerava smiled at the sight, her breath accelerating a bit as she pressed on her bladder ever so slightly once Azhani was out of sight, gradually increasing the pressure for a minute. She only let up when it felt as though she was on the absolute edge of losing control, standing up and crossing her legs while she planted both hands on the bar. “Hey,” she said to the Dragonborn, “Do me a favor and take over, will you?” Bjorn put on a smile that said he knew far too much. “Heh, sure, no problem.” He walked casually around to take Keerava’s place, and she nodded and headed back into the kitchen. Talen gave her a curious look, which turned into surprise and then joy as she grabbed his arm and spoke quietly: “Bed. Now.” Then she dragged him off in the direction of the stairs, and he followed along without objection. The walk upstairs was pleasantly torturous, and Keerava’s breathing was becoming labored as she walked quickly towards the room they’d be using. She barged in and nearly threw Talen at the bed, stopping to collect herself for a moment. Keerava forced herself to relax, taking deep breaths and standing as normally as she could, until she decided she was calm enough to go ahead with her plan. She stripped down to her scales, some of which glistened from moisture that she was certain hadn’t come from her bladder. Her clothes were tossed haphazardly aside and soon enough she found herself looking at her mate, who was wearing just as much as she was now. He started to speak. “So, what exactly-“ But she cut him off, holding up one finger and walking quietly to the bed, sitting down on it facing towards him. Keerava got as close to the edge as she could, then leaned back and spread her legs, running a hand invitingly over her lower body. Talen didn’t need to be told twice – or once, even – and instantly got to his knees and buried his face between her legs, working his magic with his tongue. Slowly at first, almost just teasing, going exactly where he needed to be to get Keerava heated up and wanting more. She leaned back further and closed her eyes as he got more aggressive, her breathing turning into panting as the internal stimulation from her bladder’s fullness only got more pleasurable while Talen worked to stimulate her from the outside. It was nearly overwhelming. Nearly, but she was still in control, if only barely so. Both feelings only got more intense as time went on, and Keerava found herself letting out shaky moans as every second brought her closer to the edge. More than one edge, really. Talen didn’t seem to be letting up – not that she wanted him to anyways, but if he kept doing what he was doing, he’d surely end up with a face covered in Argonian piss. He seemed to know the risks, and didn’t seem to care. Neither of them did. Keerava was enjoying herself too much, and Talen enjoyed too much that he was part of that. She’d started grabbing at the sheets, holding as tightly as she could, all the while giving off long, quivering moans of pleasure and pain and pleasure from pain. Her bladder demanded release, and it wasn’t playing nice, but she still had her own priorities and was dead set on delaying its satisfaction until she could get her own. Her breathing got quicker, each breath now a short, high-pitched ecstatic cry that she hoped nobody else would be able to hear. She was sure she’d ripped a hole in her sheets just by grabbing at them as she was. Keerava felt muscles all over her body tense, and by now there was no doubt that one way or another, the end was inevitable. Her pleasure would overwhelm her and her bladder would burst, and that would be it. She bolted upright and moved herself away from Talen at the last second. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t let it end like that. Some final sensible part of herself told her that, if nothing else, she really didn’t want to be left cleaning all that up later. “Move,” she said quickly, sliding off the bed and pushing Talen out of the way at the same time. She fell into a squatting position almost immediately, and heard the first few drops hit the floor as she reached under the bed, pulling out her oversized pot and sliding it under herself just in time to lose all control. Keerava felt herself melt as the pleasure overwhelmed her and her urine ran free into the metal container below. She didn’t know what was going on around her, or what exactly she was doing, but it didn’t matter. It felt too good for anything else to be important. Her senses came back to her slowly. First she felt herself trembling, then heard every moaned breath she took, then at last she could look down and see the torrent she was unleashing – however long it had been, it hadn’t let up one bit since she’d started. There was a reason this pot was bigger than all the others, and this was it. She reached out weakly to Talen, vaguely feeling her hand on his shoulder, and tried to say something, but the only sounds she could make were a garbled mess of moans and grunts, with possibly some incomprehensible Jel syllables thrown in for good measure. What was she even trying to say, anyways? Did it even matter? Talen seemed to get the point, whatever the point was, and he moved in close and wrapped himself around Keerava, keeping her vaguely upright while she continued relieving herself. It took some time for her stream to weaken even a bit – how much time, nobody knew, for nobody was keeping track – and at this point Keerava let out a deep sigh and pulled herself together again. Her breathing returned to normal, and the waterfall between her legs had become what a normal person would consider a heavy stream, dying down eventually to a trickle that Keerava cut off on her own – she knew that if she let it continue it’d take even longer for it to stop completely, and holding in the tiniest bit of leftover pee wouldn’t be the end of the world. She lifted an arm, indicating for Talen to help her stand, and she rose unsteadily to her feet. One foot casually slid the pot back under the bed then, still in his arms, Keerava looked Talen right in the eye and shoved him down onto the bed, climbing on top of him to return the favor.
  8. Just for the record, lots of people in the experiences section change details like that. I don't think anyone expects the stories there to be 100% accurate, but the main difference is they actually happened, and the stories here didn't.
  9. As someone who's written both Khajiit (who have at least 20 different forms, of which only half are reasonably humanoid) and Argonians (who are known to spontaneously and repeatedly change sex and shape) my advice is that if you're gonna do non-humans, keep them anthropomorphic. The only reason you shouldn't is if you're writing feral furry stuff, but that's a bit of a niche in a niche already. Otherwise it's easier not only for you to write but for people to read and understand if the characters have human qualities, both physical and otherwise. You have a lot less explaining to do if you're dealing with upright-walking bipeds that have two arms with fingered hands and opposable thumbs on them, a neck with a head on it, and a body containing more or less what you'd expect from a human. For example, the Khajiit main character in my ongoing Skyrim story is of the Suthay variety - essentially your typical bipedal cat-person, perhaps standing around five feet tall (or less; I can't know for sure) with digitigrade feet and four fingers and a thumb on each hand. That way, nobody really needs to do much thinking about how her body works. Unless your character is outlandish enough for there to be a reason to assume otherwise, you can rely on the assumption that they work like a human and would probably act and respond like a human would - in this example, the Khajiit in question can reasonably be assumed to act like a human with fur and a tail. The farther you get from humans, though, the more explaining you have to do and the more readers have to remember about the characters to know what they do and how. If that same Khajiit were a Senche-raht, for instance, suddenly she's more comparable to a feral lion than a human, which means there's extra information you need to remember and can't just reliably assume based on what you know about people being people. She wouldn't walk upright or have thumbs, for example, so you'd need to remember that whenever she walked anywhere or grabbed anything. She'd interact with things and people differently than a human would, so you'd need to remember that too. And the more you have to remember, the worse it is for both you and the reader. Especially if you're writing a longer series over a longer period of time - you'll forget information established earlier on, as will the audience, so if you stick to anthropomorphic characters there's a lot less room for confusion and error. Instead of needing to remember how a character's body works, you can rely on the assumption that it works mostly like a human one and the few things that would be different are notable enough to be easily committed to memory. All that said, I personally don't care for aliens at all but there's always a need for more good omo content of things other than humans. It's part of why I do what I do the way I do it.
  10. Sake

    Omo stories: plot or no plot?

    It can be fine if it's used in dialogue, depending on who's saying it and how (best if it's a more dom-type figure trying to be cheeky about getting someone else to drink), but it definitely doesn't have much of a place in narration when used unironically.
  11. Sake

    Omo stories: plot or no plot?

    Some degree of plot is critical, I would say. After all, everything we can write has already been done. Some things a lot more than others. If you want a story to be anything other than a rehashing of the same smut we've all already seen a million times before, you need to build at least a tiny bit of a world. You need characters with actual personalities, who act like people and make decisions consistent with their characterization - even in short stories and one-offs. If there's more than one character, their interactions have to be natural - basically, avoid the pizza delivery guy cliche. You need a setting that makes sense. That's especially important in omo stories, because the setting itself needs to give some valid reason as to why the characters need to pee and haven't yet. You need a premise. Any premise, as long as the story is more than just "she has to pee". Okay, great. Why? How did this happen? Why can it not be resolved easily? For stories that start with the character already desperate, that's even more important because you don't get to see how it happened. And you need progression. The story has to move from start to finish in a way that makes sense. It makes sense if the characters' interactions with other characters and their surroundings line up with how we've been shown throughout the story they're likely to act. Plus, y'know, if it's gonna make sense it's just a little important that the desperation exist and proceed logically - you can't just jump from empty to bursting without an explanation. All that, I would argue, counts as plot, and without at least that much you just have generic porn that doesn't give us a reason to read it or care about anything that happens in it. Beyond that, you end up having to deal with an incredibly difficult balance between plot and omo, though really it just comes down to taking the absolute minimum required to have a functional story and building on that. Just take the world, and you add more world to it. There is such a thing as too much world - too much time spent on mundane details that aren't relevant to the characters, mainly - which is why you have to be careful with how the omo ties into it. If you're gonna have a plot, it has to fit seamlessly with the omo - each has to make sense in the context of the other. And when that happens is when you get the best story. I tend to prefer (and write) stories that favor plot a little more, but they still (try to, in my case) make the omo fit into the plot. The plot doesn't take breaks to make way for the omo, and the omo doesn't disappear for long stretches of time while plot happens. They play off each other. So, to answer the question: plot or no plot? My answer is: Yes.
  12. Sake

    Trials of the Nine

    Follow-up to the piece by Biku, this time done by Rolo.
  13. Sake

    Ask Scarlett

    "Fuck you", you say? Yeah fair enough. Ah, but, if that's not going to happen, perhaps... Whaddaya say to a bit of a business agreement, eh? I mean, it would be a shame to let her popularity around here go to waste. You could relay to me stories about her (and yourself), perhaps even cause them to happen for me, and then I'll write 'em up all fancy-like and maybe even convince Rolo to illustrate them by throwing your outlandish Queen-money at him. I already owe Rolo a story anyways as part of some bet we made a few years ago and I don't even remember anymore, so why not let you in on the action too, right? Also: you should do more things lying face-down. That angle is, eh... your good side, y'know? Very nice indeed. I suppose I should ask you a real question too. How'd you meet Rolo in the first place? And, eh... Spider-girl? You mean, like, Chaos Witch Quelaag type spider-girl or...?
  14. Sake

    The great Nomako discussion thread (0.6 update)

    NoMaKo is the Aquarius of our generation. Except NoMaKo actually gets updated more than once a decade.
  15. Sake

    Jailor's Art Request Thread!

    You never know. I mean, have you ever seen how many different forms of Khajiit there are? Just about every cat could be a Khajiit. The universe itself is infringing on Bethesda's copyrights.