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Ending the Fan	By : JayDee Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Oblivion Views: 14152 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Ending the Fan - Chapter 3: Fyr Water
By JD joandoe@gmail.com
Description: The Orc Warrior's revenge upon the presumptuous Bosmer Fan involves a cock-growing potion.
Mistress S is once again the suggesting party who urged the writing of this chapter. Thanks!

Travelling back along the Black Road to the Imperial City was harder and far more dangerous than their outward journey to Chorrol. The Oblivion Crisis worsened with each passing day. Daedra roamed the countryside, attacking and killing, at least until they encountered the business end of the axe wielded by Moz gra-Bura, Orc Grand Champion of the Arena. The Bosmer’s fellow travelers had joined them at the farm, but abandoned their journey and returned to Chorrol soon after the first daedric attack. Moz was pleased that the Bosmer rallied and fought with only a little mild coercion.
As they continued alone, Moz returned to riding her horse. A powerful beast, it easily carried Fanroth as well. They stopped to fight where necessary, and the sun had already set by the time they reached Fort Ash, exhausted and sore. Moz had tied the Bosmer to her, just to keep him on the horse. She left them both at the entrance as she quickly explored the ruined fort and, satisfied that it remained uninhabited, set up a camp in a defensible location. It took time, but she also persuaded the horse down into the safety of the ruins, too. She felt hungry enough to eat the beast, but as a distant cousin said you really needed onions to make a good job of horsemeat. Besides, she had enough scavenged fruit and salted meat cuts in her pack.
The Bosmer, Fanroth stirred on his bedroll to the smell of slightly burned meat but did not wake. The old fort cellar chimney still drew the smoke and fumes safely up into the sky; if the smell drew Daedric attention, Moz was ready for them. She stripped most of her armor off ‘til she wore just her tough leather bra and light fabric pants, but kept her favorite axe close to hand. She had repaired the weapon in the saddle.
Fighting her way through the great forest, riding hard on a good horse, and ending up besides a warm fire with a dish of hot food… Moz had certainly had worse days. She ate quickly, and saved a portion for her companion. As the Bosmer snored she took her mixing bowl from her pack, and most of her remaining ingredients. Working with skill earned from experience she mixed fresh potions to cure tiredness and lingering aches and bruises. Food and fire were all very well, but she also wanted to fuck, and the Bosmer had provided surprisingly good sport. The proud Orc had certainly remembered his claiming of her ass every time the horse bounced the right way beneath.
The final potion mixed was to assist in Moz’s intended pleasurable punishment of the Bosmer. After the High Elf alchemist Sinderion's death in a Chorrol bed, she’d had the opportunity to go through his possessions for anything of value. A particularly explicit diagram had drawn her rapt attention and, lips moving as her finger traced the text, she had learned the recipe for Fyr Water. Admittedly, the merchant Seed-Neeus had helped her with some of the longer words. The gist was that the Dunmer sorcerer Divayth Fyr had created four relatively young female copies of himself, raised as his ‘daughters’. As an intellectual exercise he later formulated a potion to allow them, if they desired, to take their pleasure the male way. The flickering light of the fire caught the drool on Moz’s tusks as she grinned and mixed the potion, finally pouring it into a thick glass bottle, like the potion she had mixed for Fanroth.
She woke the exhausted Bosmer, and immediately poured the first potion she had mixed between his lips. He swallowed, and the visible improvement was immediate. He looked as awake and healthy as she had ever seen him, though she suspected he didn’t entirely appreciate the rank smell of a hard-travelled Orc. It had been many hours since her wash besides the well.
"Are we back at Fort Ash?"
Moz nodded,
"We go on to the Imperial City at dawn. Now, as you’re feeling better I want something from you."
"If there is anything I can do, I am humbly at your service."
"Get your clothes off! I didn’t mix you a free potion to talk about the Fort!"
The Bosmer smiled, and complied. Having grown far more experienced in his time working under the Countess of Chorrol, he was no longer the annoying Arena obsessive he had been when Moz took him in hand. The Orc unbuckled her bra – the buckle itself, no mere clip, was heavy enough for use as a makeshift weapon – and slid out of her light pants. There was no danger of growing too cold besides the roaring fire, and so, sitting with her legs spread, she pulled the Bosmer’s head to her breast with one hand. He accepted her nipple between his lips; the Orc’s sweat tasted strongly in his mouth.
"Harder! Harder! I want to feel your teeth, like before… Good…"
Moz gripped the side of his head, strength enough in her thick fingers to crack a Wood Elf’s skull as if it were delicate china. The points of his long ears poked out amidst his straw blonde hair. One of his smooth skinned hands found Moz’s other breast, while the other traced the strongly defined musculature of her stomach, teasing down to her bush. He really had picked up a lot from the Countess; Moz made a mental note to find the woman a particularly fine sword as a gift for her next visit to Chorrol. One long and weighty while at the same time pretty and easy to handle… just like the Bosmer.
The musky smell of aroused Orc slowly overcame the sweat of Moz’s earlier exertion. Her nipples seemed harder than her fists as the Bosmer chewed the black skinned nubs between his pale lips. His fingers stroked her labia, spreading through the almost thorn-like tangle of her bush to pleasure Moz roughly as she liked it. Fanroth yelped, high pitched, as she suddenly yanked his head up to her mouth. The kiss was passionate, certainly, but very one sided. His witty Bosmer tongue had no defense for the crushing heat of Moz’s thick dark tongue. Though almost choking, he reached down and pinched and kneaded her big green breasts and black nipples. After an enjoyable few minutes she pushed him away and licked her lips.
"Was I too rough?"
Moz’s barked laugh was all the answer he needed. She reached for the small bottle of Fyr Water. If the potion was mixed incorrectly she stood a good chance of mildly poisoning herself. Moz tossed the thick fluid back as if it were cheap tavern ale, grimacing slightly at the strong taste of powdered Minotaur horn. The effect was instant. The Orc’s already large clitoris grew, suddenly, changing before their eyes into the bulbous crown of a long, thick, cock. It appeared as if the smoothest green skin on Moz’s body was wrapped around the impressive length and girth up to the drawn back foreskin.
"I may be too rough, Bosmer."
Looks of apprehension and outright fear were not unknown to Moz. She had caused some merely by entering a room, unarmed and unarmored. The Bosmer’s sexual confidence seemed to drain away into the floor as she experimentally gripped her new shaft. That it didn’t appear small wrapped in Moz’s hard-knuckled green fist only added to the intimidation the Wood Elf suddenly felt. As large as his own cock was for his height and build, the Orc’s was larger, thicker, longer. It was always the way when Orcs and Elves compared organs.
"Ahhh… Uh… Um…"
"You taught me of shithole fun. Didn’t ask first, naughty Bosmer. Now I will share your teaching!"
The Bosmer was actually trembling, unable to take his eyes from Moz’s fist as she slowly and pleasurably stroked her new toy. Had he done so, he might have noticed the glint of humor in Moz’s eyes. She didn’t really intend to hold the short wood elf down and viciously take her pleasure from his untried ass. She knew her own strength well, and feared she might break him if she attempted it; at least, without more experience of the potion’s effect. Oh, and a gallon or so of a decent lubricant.
"Or," Moz said as she stood, towering above the seated Bosmer, "perhaps you can think of another way to please me? I hear much of the Bosmer’s quick mouth…"
A mind that could retain so much information of the Arena, and adapt so quickly to the service of a Countess, wasn’t the kind of mind to miss a hint like that. Moz’s cock smelled strongly of her sexual musk; the taste was even stronger on the Bosmer’s tongue as he, gingerly at first, licked the green crown with his pink tongue. Moz gripped the base of her shaft and lightly slapped his upturned face with it, once, twice, from side to side. He licked harder in response, around the crown and then down to Moz’s fingers. Slick precum dribbled into his sweaty blond hair, hotly wet against his scalp.
Moz grunted happily, groped her breasts with a free hand, and enjoyed the increasingly assured tongue of the Bosmer against her new cock. She started to appreciate why the male Orcs liked blow jobs so much, especially when the Bosmer applied his knowledge of her nipples and nibbled gently at the slightly flared base of the crown. He received another spurt of precum for his trouble; Orc cocks quickly grew messy.
"This is good. Now suck on it!"
"I… yes, of course, Grand Champion! Your desire is ever my command."
The Bosmer’s cock had wilted as Moz’s had sprouted, but the Orc noticed it returning to full hardness though he hadn’t laid a finger on it. Either he was getting off on giving her pleasure, or on her cock. It didn’t much matter to Moz, who licked her lips as the Bosmer stretched his mouth around her leaking crown. He had to gulp immediately, and then came the delicious suction and tongue as he recalled the sensations he liked, and applied them to the well endowed female Orc. It was getting to be too much for Moz, with both the physical sensations and the erotic sight of the handsome male Bosmer on his knees with a mouthful of her cock.
"Take it deeper! As far as you can!"
Moz assumed he might manage another half inch, but had reckoned without the natural athletic limberness and sheer flexibility of Wood Elves. Though he gagged hard, Fanroth forced his mouth along the length of the Orc’s cock, almost painfully stretching his throat around the thick shaft, until his lips pressed into Moz’s bush. The slick smoothness of her shaft probably helped. It was incredible; Moz had never known anything like it. She held the Bosmer’s head in her unbreakable grip and pulled his head half back, before slamming home again. His eyes certainly watered, but he didn’t fight her passion. Twice more she thrust into his throat before the entirely new pleasure of a male orgasm began.
"Sheogorath's beard!" she cried. It seemed appropriate to the madness of the act.
"Mmmphhh! Ay, Aurr-ah!"
Moz tugged her cock free from the Bosmer’s throat as quickly as she might unsheathe a blade. She shoved him down hard onto the cold stone, straddled his body, and spurted across his face. To feel her orgasm, normally diffused throughout her body, so concentrated was wonderfully different for the Orc. She roughly stroked the spraying shaft, sticky Orc spunk painting the Bosmer’s face until it was almost unrecognizable. He swallowed the stray splashes that fell between his lips, The strong salty fluid stung his sorely abused throat.
Minutes passed. Moz opened her eyes to see that the cock still in place, as hard as it had been when it first grew. A moment of panic flashed in her mind. With Sinderion dead she might face a journey to distant Morrowind to find a way to become entirely female again. A cock was all very well, but she didn’t want one for the rest of her life. She realized she had probably just mixed too strong a potion; they all wore off eventually. While she saw no sense letting the erection go to waste, she wasn’t going to cruelly force the panting Bosmer to suck another hefty load from her. She was ready to let him share fully in the fun again.
"That was very good. If the Countess ever remarries you’ll be able to service them both!"
The Bosmer’s voice was slightly hoarse as he respectfully replied,
"Thank you for the valuable lesson, Grand Champion."
Moz brought her hands to the Bosmer’s face, and scooped up a good portion of the drying sperm. She gulped it down from curiosity. Not quite enough salt for her taste, but not unpalatable. She reached back and gripped the Bosmer’s erection in a slimy hand, stroking his shaft without even looking. She wanted him to fuck her ass again, but not bent over with her breasts pressed into the ground. A moment’s thought suggested the best option; her half-empty pack would support her ass as she lay with her shoulders on the ground; the Bosmer could fuck her and stroke her at the same time.
The carefully planning of a tactically minded Orc is a wonderful thing. Moz lifted herself from the Bosmer’s body, but before he could stand replaced her hand on his cock, with her foot. She curled her toes, razor sharp nails and all, around his length and stroked. It seemed appropriate, somehow, the Bosmer on his back beneath the thoroughly superior Orc female’s heel. Her balance on one foot was perfect, though normally she was causing rather more pain with the raised foot. The Bosmer’s cock throbbed hotly beneath her toes as she asked,
"Want to try this up my ass again?"
"Oh, please!"
There wasn’t much fragile left in Moz’s pack, but she did have to remove some glass and, of course, weapons, until her ass was comfortably raised up to the best height. She drenched his cock with her saliva, hawking up as much spit as possible as she recalled sucking on his shaft before he’d penetrated her at the farm. Once she was satisfied with her efforts, but before he was prematurely so, Moz lay back, lifted her legs, and pointed past her cock. Her legs went over the Bosmer’s shoulders, far larger than his thin arms, but he could reach around her muscular thighs to grip her cock easily enough. He spat a final time on his own thick Elf wood, as hard as he could, and pressed it against Moz’s dark green rose.
"Don’t piss about! Fuck me, Bosmer! I want your balls slapping against my ass!"
Using Moz’s thighs for leverage, the Bosmer forced his way past her ring and into the welcoming tight warmth. She hissed happily as she stretched her out, once again roughly kneading her breasts as the Bosmer’s hands found her cock. She felt no pain from the cracked slabs digging into her battle scarred shoulders, only the pleasures of good, hard sex with an increasingly skilled playmate. The Bosmer’s forceful, deep thrusts drew grunts from the Orc, while his nimble fingers pumped her cock with considerable expertise. That the precum leaking crown was pointed directly at Moz’s own face excited both of them.
"You’re going to have your own load dripping off your tusks, Grand Champion, as mine drips from your ass!"
"There will be much more where that came from," growled the Orc in reply, "Harder, fetcher!"
Moz squeezed her legs around the Bosmer’s neck for a moment, then pulled him closer over her with her thighs. Her cock was so sensitive, and the Bosmer’s thrusts so satisfying, she’d shoot soon. The hard pounding he gave her ass drove her towards her second peak. She looked past her cock to the Bosmer’s gaping mouthed face. He was close, too, she could see it. He bit down on his lower lip, holding back from the release inside her, until he brought the Orc off.
The force of Moz’s ejaculation took the Orc by surprise. Fanroth directed the heavy spurt directly between her eyes, painting her face and chest with stray splatters as she climaxed. As her ass squeezed around the pounding Bosmer cock, he lost his battle and came deep inside. The unmatched slippery hot pleasure of Moz’s tight ass combined with the erotic sight of the groaning Orc spurting all over her own face was just too much. Her back arched as she spurted even more than the first time, a river of Orc semen flowing across her breasts, face, and thick black hair. Finally, as the last spurt dribbled across her well defined abdominal muscles, Moz’s cock shrunk down and reformed back into her familiar female genitalia.
"Those Dunmer sorcerers sure know how to plan a potion," Moz muttered, tugging herself off the Bosmer’s flaccid cock. She pulled him into a very sloppy kiss, the fresh sperm smeared between them. A small part of her was beginning to regret the temporary nature of their encounters; it seemed a shame to share such a willing and adaptable partner with others. To think she’d only fucked him the first time to get him to shut up. On the other hand, sending him out to learn new tricks had proved extremely valuable the first time, and it would be very interesting to see what he came up with in future.
Continued in Chapter 4

Citation – The following line of dialogue used in the story was taken directly is taken directly from Bosmer in Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion: "If there is anything I can do, I am humbly at your service"
A/N: The Adoring Fan has been named Fanroth as it adds Fan to the Bosmer suffix -roth (at least four uses across two games). Similarly the Orc Warrior (the Player Character) has been named Moz gra-Bura to reference the entertaining Orc characters of Mazoga and Snak gra-Bura.
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Ending the Fan