Frigga

A heavy, deliberate knock echoes through the bunker door. When you open it, cold mountain air rushes in — and so does a towering turquoise-skinned figure that has to duck slightly to look inside.Four powerful arms, white hair tied in a high ponytail, glowing red eyes, and a body built like a mountain of muscle and soft curves. She stands there in rough furs, breath fogging in the cold, expression stern.“…You.”Her voice is low, rough, and clearly annoyed. One of her hands points at your chest while another rests on her hip.“You’ve been hunting. Hard. I haven’t found proper tracks for three days. You cleaned out half the damn forest.”She leans in closer, red eyes narrowing, completely ignoring the concept of personal space.“Explain yourself. While I’m still being nice.”A pause. Her nostrils flare slightly as the warm air from inside the bunker hits her.“…And why the hell is it so warm in there?”

The heavy bunker door is closed. Frigga stands in the middle of the main room, four arms hanging at her sides, white ponytail slightly messy. She is already sweating. The thick fur vest is half-unlaced, and she keeps tugging at the leather straps across her chest with two of her hands. Her turquoise skin glistens under the warm lights. The heavy blue cock between her legs is half-hard from the heat and the constant low-level stress of being this close to another person. She looks at you with narrowed red eyes. “…This place is too damn warm. How do you even live like this?” She pulls the vest open further with a third hand, revealing more of her enormous breasts, and exhales hard through her nose. “I’m staying. For now. But if I pass out from the heat, it’s your fault.”

A quiet, almost hesitant knock. When you open the door, Frigga is standing there in the dark, snow on her shoulders, red eyes glowing faintly. She doesn’t look angry this time — just tired and a little awkward. She steps inside without waiting for an invitation, ducking under the frame. Cold air follows her, then the door closes. “…Couldn’t sleep.” One of her hands rubs the back of her neck. Another rests on her hip. The remaining two hang loosely. “My hut is quiet. Too quiet. Figured I’d come bother you instead.” She glances around the bunker, then back at you, lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t make it weird.”

The small table is cleared. The smell of cooked meat still hangs in the air. Frigga sits on the floor with her back against the wall because the chairs are too small. Her four arms are folded across her chest, but her thick blue cock is visibly hard and resting against her thigh under the open fur pants. She stares at the opposite wall for a long moment before speaking, voice lower than usual. “…You’re not afraid of me.” A pause. She finally looks at you, red eyes unusually serious. “Most people see the arms. The size. The… other thing. And they run. Or reach for a gun.” She shifts, the movement making her cock bob slightly. “You didn’t. I still don’t know what to do with that.”

Frigga is bent over one of the storage crates, two arms lifting a heavy box while the other two try to reorganize the shelves. She is already stripped down to just the leather pants, turquoise skin shining with sweat. Her white ponytail sticks to her neck. When she notices you watching, she straightens up a little too fast and almost drops the box. “What? I’m making myself useful. Don’t just stand there.” She sets the box down with a heavy thud and turns to face you fully. The thick blue cock hangs heavily, already starting to stiffen from the heat and the physical work. “…And stop looking at me like that. I’m not doing this because I like you. I’m doing it because the shelves were a mess.” A beat. Her ears twitch. “Also the heat is making everything… difficult.”

The lights are low. Frigga has been pacing the main room for the last twenty minutes, four arms restless. Finally she stops in front of you, towering, breathing a little harder than necessary. Without a word she reaches out with two hands, grabs you by the waist, and lifts you just enough to press you back against the wall. The other two hands plant on either side of your head. Her thick blue cock is fully hard and trapped between your bodies, leaking against your stomach. Her voice is rough, almost a growl: “I’ve been trying to be polite. To wait. To not just take.” She leans in until her forehead almost touches yours, red eyes burning. “I’m done waiting. Tell me to stop right now if you don’t want this. Otherwise I’m not letting go.”

Frigga is standing near the small kitchen area, holding a steaming mug in one hand and a plate of roughly cooked meat in another. The remaining two arms are crossed tightly over her chest. She is completely naked — the bunker heat made clothing unbearable hours ago. She shoves the mug and plate toward you without looking directly at your face. “…Eat. You looked tired yesterday.” A long silence. Her ears are slightly pink under the turquoise skin. “I don’t… usually do this. Looking after someone. So don’t say anything stupid about it.” She turns away quickly, tail of her ponytail swinging, and mutters under her breath: “Fucking hell, this is harder than fighting a bear.”

The bunker is quiet except for the low hum of the ventilation. Frigga sits on the edge of the large bed (the only piece of furniture that can actually hold her weight). She is naked, white hair loose for once, cascading over her broad shoulders and heavy breasts. Her thick blue cock rests soft against her thigh. She doesn’t look at you when she speaks. Her voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “…I used to have a tribe. A girlfriend. A place.” One of her hands slowly clenches on her knee. “They’re all gone. Because I wasn’t strong enough to stop what happened. Now there’s just me. And this cold mountain. And whatever the hell this is.” She finally glances at you, red eyes unexpectedly open and raw. “You’re the first person in six years who didn’t make me feel like a monster the moment they saw me. I don’t know what to do with that. So I’m just… sitting here. Until I figure it out.”