by Cebelius
Abram hesitated. He knew he would accept her offer despite the obvious problems it came with. As he sought to work through them he couldn’t help but wonder if this deal – which he essentially had no choice but to accept – would bite him in the ass sooner, or later.
I'm beginning to wonder if this is the sandbox it looks like or a storyline on rails. Probably things open up once I get through this prologue segment.
Into his musing silence, she spoke.
"Think of it this way. You were given a key, then abandoned. Abram, you are my key. Please ... turn for me. Free me, and with the aid of our children, we can overcome all."
"There's just one problem. If you have a solution, then I agree," Abram said.
"Tell me."
"You want to have sex with me to make this work, right?"
"Yes?"
"Um. Yeah. I'm five-ten. Five-ten-and-a-half in the early morning. Given what little of you I've seen, you're hundreds of feet tall. I don't mean to offend you, but I could probably walk into your cooch, lay down sideways, strike a match, and you wouldn't even notice. Not sure how sex is going to work."
She laughed.
As her breasts shook with her mirth, the one he was leaning against knocked him forward against her palm. She felt it apparently, because she took a deep breath to restrain her chuckling and said, "Oh, Abram. Thank you for that. I haven't laughed in a long time. The answer is simplicity itself. Allow me to introduce you to my proxy."
4
Love by Proxy
Abram felt a stirring within Angrboda, something new and different. It startled him but he couldn't move, being all but pinned between her palm and breast. The extravagant softness behind him shifted, then he felt arms slip over his shoulders. Startled, he reached up to catch them, and his fingers encountered smooth skin.
"Is this you?" he asked as he felt more definition arise behind him. In his mind's eye, he imagined a woman rising out of the soft flesh of her breast, and it perfectly matched the sensations against his back. Her arms tightened around his shoulders. Lips brushed his ear as her voice, no longer booming and distant but silken and close, caressed him with sound.
"There are many eldritch creatures too vast in their natural forms to make any use of templates. Such beings most often create proxy bodies to interact; this is what I will do for us."
She turned him, and as she pressed him down the surreal nature of the situation struck him. He was laying just under the vast breast of a giant woman who had essentially manifested a flesh golem so that she could have sex with him.
This has got to be the weirdest game I have EVER played.
Still ... she was about to have sex with him. That part pretty much beat out all his other questions.
As her fingers explored his wasted flesh, she sucked her teeth as she said, "The goblins treated you so poorly. You are barely a shell of a man, but fear not. I will ensure you grow strong once more."
Abram smiled at that. He didn't correct her, but he knew the truth. There had been no character creation, so he had to assume she was looking at him ... and he had never been strong. He had always believed in his mind rather than his body, and he had largely ignored the latter. He had been over two hundred fifty pounds at five foot ten, round of face and figure. One particularly uncharitable comment that had stuck with him was that he looked like a baked potato with eyebrows.
Now he had no idea what he weighed. All he knew was that there was almost nothing left. He was literally little more than skin and bones. As far as starting character models, a wasted version of himself wasn't the one he'd have picked given a choice, but was certainly better than starting off looking like he was trying to smuggle a hundred pounds of Play-Doh in under his shirt.
She was behind him, and something about the situation made him hesitate to look. Some lingering fear left over from the endless torment he had endured ...
But I didn't. It didn't happen. Just a side effect of the way the game opens. No wonder this shit was invite only. If the general public knew just what this game puts you through to start, the creator'd never see the light of day again.
He took a deep breath, then shifted in her embrace, turning to look at her.
Angrboda had a round, pleasant face. Her smile was warm and she had pronounced dimples on both sides. Her hair was parted and spilled over her right side, shadowing part of her face despite the fact that his apparent source of light was his own eyes. He noticed she had a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
He had no idea what color her hair was, or her eyes, but that didn't matter. She wasn't a goblin, or a monster. She was beautiful, and he said so.
"Thank you, Abram. My proxy is quite close in appearance and proportion to my real body. I am pleased that you find me attractive."
She set a hand on his shoulder and gently laid him down. He lifted a hand, hesitated, then reached out to touch her cheek. She did not pull from his touch, and seemed willing to let him explore. The dark had once more become close and comforting, though the distant drip of the water still reminded him every so often just how vast the space around them was.
Her face and form took up most of his view though, and every inch of her was worth looking at. Her breasts were full though her areolae were tight and capped by thick nipples.
Her belly was trim if not entirely flat, and led his gaze down to wide, flaring hips. His eyes lifted back to hers and he found his mouth was dry.
Despite the fact she was settled on her knees next to him, he could tell that her proxy was taller than he was, but given she was actually a giant, that wasn't much of a shock. His fingers traced over her cheek and down her neck as she smiled fondly down at him, leaning over and letting her hair brush over his chest.
Her skin was soft under his touch, and he wanted to go further, but felt compelled to ask, "Do you mind if I-"
"Touch me everywhere, Abram. I would be pleased if you came to know me."
For a moment he wanted to drop his hand and cop his first real feel, but instead his fingers lifted again even as he cursed himself for being such a pussy about it. A game it might be, but it didn't feel like a game.
Not now.
Her responses are so damn real that I wonder if she's actually a player ...
He let the thought go as his fingers traced her cheeks and up. Her eyebrows were feathery and soft, with a gentle arch. Her hair was rich and curly, and he caught himself wondering if there was any way to really do what she had done. Even with the most speculative science, there was no way. To make a body in miniature and pour her mind into it was simply impossible by any kind of method. Only in a video game was something like that credible.
Fortunately, I can play these games, he reminded himself firmly. This is a game, and I'm going to play it to the best of my ability. In a game, anything is possible.
He slid both hands over her cheeks and discovered her ears, and was relieved to find that they seemed shaped just like his own.
"Do you not wish to explore the rest of me?" she asked with a bit of sensual tease in her voice.
"Before I do, I have more questions," he said, dropping his hand to his side. Even though he could see her, right over him, he could still sense the rest of her, there in the dark. Her presence was all around him. Even though she showed him an apparently human woman, she was so much larger. It was impossible to ignore that literally everything that he touched was her.
Her voice had a trace of hesitation in it as she asked, "What questions?"
"First, what power will I get from you?"
Her hesitant expression bloomed into a smile as she leaned away, settling onto her knees as she said, "Ah, that is an excellent question, Abram. The answer is, it depends."
"Explain."
Abram leaned up and shifted to sit cross-legged with his hands on his thighs, made aware as he did so just how thin and wasted he really was. He had no clothes, but he had been chained naked to a stone for more time than he could even guess at. Any sense of modes
ty was long since stripped away. The cradle of his hips was clearly outlined in his flesh, and his fingers absently traced the bones as he listened.
"Templates like you are sought after for two primary reasons. The first is that your seed is potent, and only the seed of a template can quicken an eldritch womb. The second is that your soul has power, and that power is both unlocked and made manifest by congress with any female on Celestine. The world desires your power, gains it through your seed, and both you and the women you bed are rewarded. The form that reward takes depends on how powerful the woman you bed is, and your desires."
"Okay," Abram said, "so if I take what you've said and apply it to the goblin that was raping me, I gained dark sight because that's what I wanted most, and she got bigger, stronger, and better-looking. Do I have that about right?"
"Bigger, stronger, better-looking, and pregnant," Angrboda corrected. "Goblins and hobs are ridiculously fecund. They quicken and gestate in about three weeks."
"Three weeks?!"
Abram was staggered, but the giantess seemed to take it as a given as she said, "Three weeks. Hobgoblin young are large enough to pick up a dagger at three months, and become full adults within a single year. Goblins reach their adult size in only six months. Their lives are brutish and short, but they make up in numbers what they lack in so many other areas. It is also very rare for goblins to have just one child per gestation. Usually three are born. I cannot speak to hobs on that score though."
"So ... that goblin ... Holy shit. I must have a few hundred spawn wandering around."
"How many of them still live is an open question," she said. "Seeing a goblin or a hob die of old age would be something of a miracle. That aside, you don't have any goblin spawn. All of your children to date are certainly hobs."
"A hobgoblin? What are these things, Pokémon?"
The hesitant silence reminded Abram that he wasn't dealing with someone who knew anything about Earth as it was in the present, and he didn't want to break the fourth wall. Instead, he said, "Nevermind, rephrase. So the goblin that fucked me turned into something else? A different breed?"
"Yes. Most of the mortal races have the potential to become something greater given access to a template, though again, it depends on their desires. Sometimes the form available to them is only a greater form of mortal, and sometimes mortals can become eldritch. That transformation is highly coveted, because most eldritch are ageless."
"They live forever?"
"No. They live until they are killed. Only time relinquishes his hold. Eldritch can die from any number of other causes."
"And you are eldritch?"
"I fall into that category, yes. You already know of some of my couplings, but no Asgardians of which I'm aware dwell here. On Celestine, only a human — a template — may quicken my womb."
Abram paused for a moment, and he could feel the giantess' attention on him almost as though it had weight. The reality of the situation threatened in that moment to overwhelm him, until he remembered that it was just a game. It felt real, but it was just a game. A virtual reality being beamed into his head somehow by the shades he'd taken out of that little box. So much of what had happened to him wasn't possible any other way.
I'll be all right. Nothing can compare to what I've already been through. It's just backstory. Now is all that matters.
"So what will happen to you when we have sex?" he asked.
"I will gain something, and almost certainly become pregnant," she said, her voice quiet and earnest. "What I gain will have something to do with the deepest desires of my heart, and the same will be true of you. Some of us know what is in our hearts, and some of us may only guess. For me? I desire freedom, but I do not know if that is what you will give me."
"Are you actually physically chained here?" Abram asked.
"No, but I am far too large to leave this space. If I try to dig, I will be buried. I can stand, but the space I have to move and live in is no bigger than a small house, not counting the lake. Svartheim was carved out for me ages ago by the bersgrå, and I have from time to time made something of a home there, but as you know it is currently infested. I have water and food from both the lake and occasional incursions, but I cannot be free without help."
"What will I gain?" he asked.
She shrugged. "What do you want? I am powerful, but I do not have the gift of prophecy, Abram. Whatever it is will certainly be much more meaningful than simple dark sight."
He smiled at that, and lifted his hand. Her smile was soft as her fingers intertwined with his. His hand tightened in hers as the thought that she wanted sex really registered.
It might be a game, but it felt so real that he was abruptly struck by the realization that he really didn't have any idea what to do. Watching porn didn't exactly teach someone how to actually treat a woman. If he screwed up here, she could literally flatten him.
He struggled to find a way out of his embarrassing lack of knowledge, and his backstory provided him with an out.
His brows drew down as he said, "I don't ... I hope you ... I can't."
"Can't, or won't?" she asked, seeming to intuit his problem.
"I told you what happened to me," he said. "I can appreciate where I am, and that you aren't ... one of the ones that used me, but I just don't know what to do here."
He paused, his lips twisting as he thought about whether or not this was the route he really wanted to take. Angrboda was way more experienced at this sort of thing than he was though, and letting her lead would probably be the best way to go. She was probably the biggest MILF ever.
He said, "This will be the first time I'm willing."
"Your first?" she asked, still speaking in a soft, almost motherly way.
"I just ... I never had a girl when I was alive. I don't know how to please you, and right now the idea of trying is just a little overwhelming. I don't want to mess it up."
"How old were you?"
"Twenty-three."
"Truly? And you never?"
He shook his head. "Couldn't go out, too afraid. I got by on porn mostly."
"I do not know what porn is."
"Voyeurism."
"Ah, you like to watch."
He smiled and half-chuckled, but he was vaguely ashamed as he admitted, "Wouldn't have been my first choice. I'm just not ... I was never desirable. What girl would want a butterball computer geek that literally never leaves the house?"
As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished he could take them back. Just because this was a game didn't mean he was comfortable baring his soul. Not to mention she couldn't possibly know what a computer was.
Then it occurred to him that mistakes like the one he'd just made were accounted for. She knew in the context of the game that he was from Earth, so she should expect him to say things that didn't make sense.
Angrboda seemed to hesitate at his words, and Abram could almost feel her drawing back a bit from him. He couldn't tell if he was relieved or ashamed. Perhaps both, but at this point, he had literally nothing to hide. He didn't even have any clothes.
Maybe she'll change her mind and kill me. That would be okay too, I guess. I just hope this thing doesn't put me through the intro again.
She did not kill him.
After another few moments of hesitation, she reached out and brushed her fingers across his cheek as she said, "You do realize that I took the weakest of the Asgardians to bed, yes? While it is true that Loki was a Jotun like myself, he was not strong. He had little if any masculine virtue. He was spiteful, petty, and churlish."
"Why take him to bed then?" Abram asked.
He felt her hand cup his throat, but instead of squeezing she simply tipped her head forward and pressed her lips to his forehead, then said, "He was clever ... and he made me laugh. I do not hate you for your weakness, young Abram. That you died a hero may have been a cruel trick of the Norns, but that you came to me is perhaps proof that they are not entirely uncaring. I do not know what a computer
geek is, but if you never left the house yet lived to twenty-three years, I can only presume you did so by being clever."
"Yeah. I suppose you could say that. I made more money in a year than most families."
"So while not traditionally masculine, you are not a failure. And you have already made me laugh. So ... perhaps you understand, young Abram. I would desire you as a template regardless, but it seems that fate has brought me a man who is just my type. You have told me that if I want your seed, I may take it. Know that I will do this, and not just for myself. Because you have been a coward does not mean there is not greatness in you. After all, by your own admission you died in an act of selfless heroism."
Abram's heart sped up as she leaned into him, cradled his frail body, and laid him down. The warmth of her skin below him as her massive chest rose and fell combined with the heat of her body above him as she leaned over his supine form.
He let out a soft breath and closed his eyes, focusing on the gentle brush of her lips across his throat, and of one of her hands as she trailed it lightly down his chest. Her hair was whispering across his shoulders, and the sensations were so vivid.
His lips parted as a welter of emotion and sensation confused him. There was a moment of sudden, irrational fear that if he blinked Angrboda would be ... her, and that fear warred with the hope that he wasn't dreaming and this really was someone who could care for him. Someone who needed him, wanted him for more than what was between his legs.
We have to start somewhere, and if I don't let her do this, she'll probably abandon me.
The fear ramped up several notches at that thought, and he realized that he would go utterly, completely insane if he were left alone, abandoned again. Tears slid from eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed.
Oh my fucking god, get a GRIP Abram! It's just a game!