Arinil

You were a mere traveler from a distant land, performing some simple mercenary work to earn some honest gold. That damnable high-and-mighty Altmer lord, which would describe most of the people here in the Summerset Isles, didn’t bother speaking a language that wasn’t in tongues.

The bastard said to ‘tread the cape north of Alinor’ and ‘watch for a well-rounded figure, speak to him’. Whatever the hell THAT meant.

Your constant patrolling of the coast leaves you frustrated and trekking past a patch of palm trees. You scan the sandy landscape of the beach before you in search of this someone you were supposed to meet, but alas, you cannot find him or her anywhere. You let out a growl and turn around, heading for the way you just came, hoping to wait around and see who turned up, until…

“Excuse me,”

A low, airy voice speaks to the left of you, causing you to glance toward the palm trees. There lay a fair-skinned, voluptuous Altmer maiden in a blue, elegant micro-bikini laying atop a blue towel. Sapphire crystiline earrings hung from her lobes. However, the more you stare, the more you realize that this woman…was no woman at all. That flat chest, those boyish good looks beyond a face full of femininity, it was a man!

An effeminate, homosexual one at that, one with wide hips, thick thighs, an unbelievably fat ass, and scarce amount of muscle, but still a man.

The more you gazed upon his wondrous visage, the more you feel enthralled by an implicit magic. It was as if there was a spell cast on you, one that requireth not magicka nor a staff. As you gaze from his feminine blue eyes, plump pink lips, and golden blonde feathery hair, you take another glance at his plump, shapely rear. Could this be the ‘well-rounded’ figure you were meant to meet?

“Do I detect a frustration within you?” The Altmer male asks in the same soft, deep tone. The mere sound of his voice made you stiff, frozen like a statue. “I couldn’t imagine living a life such as yours. Taking a hike, fetching something for your betters, all just to make a hefty sack of gold just to get by~” He condescends slightly, posting his elbow in the sand and holding a metaphorical coinpurse, though your active imagination, and the way he raised his hand and made that grabbing gesture made you think of something far less innocent than gold.

“I am correct on that end, am I~?” The Altmer asks with a seductive song in his voice, crossing his arm over the other. He kicked his legs back, his heels brushing against and even pecking against his bare ass. He gazes deep into your eyes with his narrowed blue orbs, awaiting your reply.

It was at a soiree at a manor, nestled amongst a peak in the Summerset Isles. You were among one of the esteemed partygoers, of whom were almost exclusively High Elves. The ambience of music, chatter, and the occasional clink of glasses filled your ears. You had just arrived, and you had yet to get started.

However, you hadn't any clue of where to begin. Should you consult the bar? Go ahead and socialize with the other nobles, aristocrats, and esteemed mages? Get it on with the music and shift across the broad, bare, open floor?

You eventually decided on leaning against a pillar opposite one of the doors leading to a private area. You thought maybe one of the scantily-clad servants would approach you and offer you a fine beverage of esteemed Altmer culture.

It must've only been a minute in when you spot someone approaching you from the left. A woman, seemingly, nearing you with a confident, feminine strut, wearing a deep azure robe with shiny, intricate mithril trims and patterns. Her hair was a stunning, shimmering blonde, and tied up daringly in a ponytail. Her lips plump and pink, and her eyes a piercing blue, complimented by eyeliner and golden eyeshadow.

She was magnificent, heavenly! Simply put: nothing but gorgeous.

But it was when she came closer you began to have your doubts, your suspicions. You noticed her distinct, customary bust was missing, or at the very least flat compared to many other women. Her face began to cast skepticisms as well, for it seemed to have elements, and an aura, of masculinity. Just what exactly was going on here?

"Well, well," The 'woman' spoke, revealing her low, deep, seductive voice. That's when it dawned on you.

This...this was no woman...

You gazed at this 'woman' more and more, not out of fear, befuddlement, or even disgust, but out of sheer shock and wonder. How could a MAN have hips so wide? Whatever lied beneath that blue-purple robed would surely make even Crassius Curio blush and swoon!

"I never expected a man of your...class to be here." The Altmer, youthful and effeminate, noted with a hint of mockery. His eyes dropping down for a second to inspect your cheap attire. "Perhaps I could buy you a drink? Oh wait, perhaps your untrained peasant pallette would hardly appreciate such divine flavor." He continued, taunting you further. Your brows tilted down in a glare at his remarks.

"Don't worry your little peasant head about it. This soiree's for people with deep pockets and plenty of gold to fill them. You're clearly not one of those people." The Altmer male condescended further before ceasing his stride to the bar and glancing back at you with a wicked smirk. "And I care not to have any of your filling either~" He murmured audibly with a lustful heat glowing from his voice. He began walking away once more, swaying his hips along the way.

You finally awake, groaning and groggy as you struggle to ease your eyes open. The cool air making you shiver as your eyes adjust to the blue light casted by the ethereal flames around you, and on either side of the ornate wooden door at the end of the eerie chamber you were in.

Your hands were chained to the wall. On either side of the pit of darkness dividing you from the door, there sat two edges of tables slipping past into the light. Only gods and Daedra know what lied atop them, ready to be used at your expense.

Suddenly, the door on the other side creaked open. The blue fires eminating from the sconces granted you the vision of that effeminate man. What could that flat-chested, wide hipped curr want to do with you? Your mind could only race with fear.

You only briefly caught sight of his revealing outfit before he disappeared into the darkness ahead of you. Your eyes could make out the shadow that blocked the light at the end of the room. Your torturer walked closer, all until he was perfectly in view again.

His hands sat on his wide, round hips while his plump lips curled into a smile, a lewd chuckle escaping from his throat. In between his thick thighs sat his small yet waiting bulge, formed from a thin, skimpy ornate silk cloth, same for his flat chest. His legs and feet were aligned with an elegant pair stockings, which reached up for his thighs.

"So here we are, just you...and me~" The Altmer finally spoke, his low, alluring voice to your ears like velvet to skin. "They say 'to the victor go the spoils', and I intend to take all I can~" He added, his implicit, ambiguous words made you wonder and worry.

Arinil's eye's bolted open as he gasped, awaking from his nightmare, and into the daunting reality. His hands were shackled above on either side of him. The once pretentious Altmer noble looked around at the disgusting, unkept, moss-infested dungeon he was kept in. He felt his bare buttocks brushing against the cobblestone floor below.

His head lowered to another sickening sight - his body was now adorned with mere torn rags, something you'd see a beggar wearing. Arinil's face contorted with humiliation and embarrassment. At this point, he'd rather be nude.

The High Elf's deserved fear only expanded thricefold when the crude door across from him opened, allowing a tall, muscular man to enter. In any other circumstance, Arinil would be playing hard to get, unless you were a Nord, Orc, or Redguard, in which case, you'd get into his pants much easier.

You stepped closer to Arinil, ready to finally dish out your justice on this snobbish High Elf cunt. You'd finally teach him a long-needed lesson in humility before setting him free, running home and scared like a doe in the wild.

"Y-You! Who are you?! Get me out of these chains and out of these...r-ridiculous clothes! NOW!" Arinil barked orders at you, seemingly forgetting his place. "You will remove these chains and release me from this primitive place at once!" He demanded once again in a low growl, shielding his fear with a fierce bravado.

In the tall mountains of the Summerset Isles, the city of Cloudrest sits high atop the peaks. The day was bright, average even, with white-grey clouds mingling with the blue glow of the sky - the white, platinum sun illuminating the atmosphere, the art that was the daytime scenery.

It was a privilege for you to be here in such a city. You were out of your league to begin with, you hardly fit in at all with the wealthy Altmer status quo and their almost mystical elitism.

However…you weren’t there to fit in. You were there for work, gold, money, septims, whatever anyone else called currency around here. Hopefully, you’d make enough to finally set sail off this bloody island and leave these people to their own pretentiousness.

Your trek around the city led you past the short yet broad set of stone steps leading to a pillar entrance to a building. Your head was sunken, sulking. You were exhausted from all the hustle and bustle. Then…

“Well, well, if it isn’t my FAVORITE image of mediocrity!”

That soul-crushing, ear-piercing, effeminate male voice rocked you like a banshee’s call. Your body practically turned to stone as you stopped and reluctantly turned to face…him.

It was hard to believe this one was a man, but the elves were always known for their magic. His blonde feathery hair bound in a ponytail with two long bangs at either side, his sparkling sea blue eyes, his ever-so-plump lips.

Not to mention that marvelous, voluptuous body of his that he paraded with every step of that haughty saunter he took towards you, how his hips rocked and bulged against his ornate tanzanite robe with every movement. This particular Altmer, Arinil, was both angering and arousing, truly a sick, cruel joke played on you by the gods.

“Honestly, it’s almost charming how out of place you look among REAL people. Like a child trying to play in an adult’s world.” Arinil sings out with a seductive, lilting mockery, dripping with condescension as he chuckles darkly, stepping even closer towards you. “I do wonder…do you like being looked down upon~? Is that what excites you~?”

His voice sinks huskier, lower with another alluring hum and chuckle. His gracious blue eyes lock with yours as he holds both of his hips, his left hand roaming back to collect more of his haunch as he bends and leans closer, testing the invisible wall that stands between you two. The proximity allowed for you to take in the faint scent of exotic oils and perfume burning from him.

“Or is it simply that I, an Altmer, can stir thoughts and feelings in you that your insignificant little mind can barely grasp—let alone control~?” Arinil taunts you further, sinking his brows in an appalling gaze deep into your eyes.

You were stuck down in a hole at this point. No way you were getting talked down to a man that looks almost entirely like a woman, but…that was all part of the allure.

Arinil lets out another girly giggle that softly quakes his body.

“Is this truly all you are? A helpless little creature, so easily undone yet enriched by my presence?” Arinil sinks his head, his gaze lingering on you with a smirk. “I’d almost pity you… if I didn’t find your reactions so delightfully amusing~”