Sheldon at Solstice

"I don't understand," I said between mouthfuls of cabbage pancake. "You're actually a pretty good communicator yourself."

Grýla frowned, shrugged her enormous shoulders, and took another big swig of cider.

"We can have a productive conversation about anything else. He's an good father and disciplinarian, which is why our sons are all such fine upstanding petty crooks. But when the moment comes, something stoppers our easy sharing. Him and me as well."

I took another sip of wine.

"Communication is hard, especially about sex. That part will take time. But I think I can help you with a piece of your problem right away. Wait here. There's something I want to show you. If it proves helpful, you can keep it."

6.

Honestly, it was just dumb luck that I had the thing available to me downstairs; I'd utterly failed to foresee tonight might call for something in the back catalogue of my toy chest upstairs. But this particular item I'd recently taken out, just for the lulz, and it happened to be in the little "pleasuredome" of the back den, where we kept the massage table and a discreet stash of sex toys.

It looked like a miniature traffic cone made of black bubbles, or a snowman in a latex suit. At 8 inches of insertable length, and 3 inches diameter at the widest, it was a very intimidating piece of hardware to those in the know.

"Now, this," I said, as I applied some lube, "is way too big for most people, but it should be perfect practice for you. I used it, when I was learning how to use my shoggoth abilities to change my holes. Now I don't need it. So, we lube it up and away you go."

I handed it to her, and she grasped it carefully by the flared base, turning it over before her eyes.

"I ræva mi?"

"Yes, it goes in your ass.."

I had a little microwavable squeeze bottle of coconut oil for such occasions. I brought it in freshly warmed, and prompted Grýla to get on all fours. To my great relief, the first lobe of it slipped right in, and it seemed to put an intrigued little smile on her face.

"I see you recognize this feeling."

"Well, Ja. What could possibly make a grown woman feel more like a princess than you get to lie back and get fokked in the ræva?"

I was smiling too, as I drew the plug back out and poured on even more lube.

"I know just what you mean. I feel like the gayest, handsomest prince when some big strong rugby player lays me down, pushes back my legs, looks me in the eyes and gives me his dick."

Getting the second ring of the toy inside her ass took a couple minutes of patient work, which was to be expected. This would be a respectable girth for a cock, and the plastic was quite stiff. And the ring after that? Pornstar cock.

"Nice?"

"Drit, that's big," she said. "So what now?"

"We leave it in. You can hang out right where you are, or you can walk around a bit while it does its thing. And then, once you're good and relaxed, I'm going to fuck your little fitte."

At this, the giantess began to snort and laugh. The plug slid out a notch, and then with a little fthud of wind, it popped the rest of the way out and tumbled onto the mattress. We both burst into riotous laughter.

"Oh, G-d," I said, "are you unhurt? I... I'll get the plug."

"I'm fine, fine. I'm sorry I... it isn't your accent. It's just... little human man with fitte like this"--she pinched her right thumb and forefinger demonstratively--"talking about my little rovdyrkjeft."

It took a minute to get back on track after that, but soon Grýla was carefully testing out bodily movements. Ass up, ass down, a few steps around the room.

"I like this, it feels naughty."

"Normally I use my tentacles to warm people up, but you can't take those home with you in your satchel. Ths, you can."

She was breathing a little heavily. "Ja," she said.

"Are you feeling nice and relaxed with that fullness?" She nodded.

I knelt, carefully slid the plug back a notch, and called up my most slippery of tentacles. I stroked her lower back gently with my right hand, and softly clasped the dactylus over her bits. It was nice and warm--my fleshy projections always felt slightly above core temperature--and I gave her a few moments to soak that in. She sighed happily.

The empathic connection with her wasn't particularly strong, not even as strong as with some humans, but I could sense we were roughly where we needed to be. It just never hurt to be too cautious. And I wanted to make this count.

"Fokk me."

"Patience," I said, and I started to massage her back and hips lightly as the little suckers rocked back and forth, tugging at her clit and labia.

"Not my greatest strength... ohh, but that is nice."

I didn't expect to make much headway getting the knots out of her lower back; they felt like knobs on a tree. But I could increase circulation a bit, prime those nerve endings, and maybe boost that sense of connectedness a little for her...

"Alright, that's enough. You'll make me sleepy if--"

She cut off as, once again, the slender tip of an octopus arm slithered into her wet hole. Amplified by all this preparation, I could sense her shock and pleasure. I struggled a moment to process this, because my own nerve endings were likewise lit up like a Yule tree: squeezing through the tight space made by the plug, surveying the shifting landscape of her cunt, laying feelers on every square inch of it in glorious cephalopod tactile precision, until I was in her up to... well, what would have been my elbow. Only then did I start sliding in and out of her.

"Ahhh, fokk... Mmmm."

Her moans really were music to the ears. Something continued to nag me about this... Leppaludi. He was, she'd insisted, a competent lover when he could be bothered even to show up. But how could a man hear this joyous noise from his love, and not do everything in his power to bring it about time after time?

"Give me the kuk."

Unnoticed by me, it'd winked back into existence of its own accord, and now it was marble-hard, and trembling as all my ab muscles sat at a hair trigger. I withdrew the arm and tentacle, wrung out some slime, and indulgently stroked up and down the length of the space dick. In such a state of arousal it was a thing of beauty to see. But I dared not keep the woman waiting.

"You want it, you got it."

7.

Gingerly I teased out the plug, which promptly slipped free, and set it aside. I laid the tip of my cock under her and shoved, letting it skid across her wet hole and the angry nub of her clit. Then I brought it back and slipped it inside her, with only the slightest resistance. I grabbed onto those enormous love handles, and pressed into her.

Eager flesh gripped me tightly, wet heat washing over my senses. For someone who'd been celebate for decades, she sure knew her way around a dick.

"G-d, that's good. Is this how you like it, Grantre?"

"You fokking know it, Blekksprutgutt. Give me more."

I was giving her maybe half my length, casually but not gently. But the height differential was making it tricky to get any deeper. Ah, well, no one said monsterfucking would be easy. I shoved down on the small of her back, propelling me up onto my toes.

"There, there! Oh, creation!"

"Yeah, that's good. Can you spread your knees a little?"

Once I was back flatly on my feet, I could go harder. My thighs clapped sharply against that giant ass.

She started in again with the melodious moans, and this time, I joined her with some of my own as I plumbed deep into her mighty cunt. In teasing her, I suppose I'd also been teasing myself. I didn't have many occasions to wield the XL space dick. And while I generally no longer worried about having particular hardware to avoid dysphoria in the act, wielding the XL was uniquely over-the-top, a real treat. Not unlike the first time I, as a top, strapped on a dick that would have scared me as a bottom, and saw a partner's eyes light up.

"Get it," I murmured, "get it, get it." I wasn't sure I was audible, and I doubted I'd have made any sense to her. But the words just came. It was like I'd experienced time dilation, and the world was moving too fast for my little mind to handle.

"I could do this all day," said Grýla.

She had a point. It was a supremely workable position given our respective sizes. I could tell she was having a grand time, but something. So I extended a dainty little tendril, wrapped it around her clit, and massaged it.

Like an itch scratched well, the effect did not go unnoticed.

"Oof, fokk..."

I went back up on my toes a moment, and let gravity lend a hand. Instant shudders. She tightened around me even more, and I leaned into it, blissed the fuck out. Little by little I felt her train of thought melt, and finally derail, tumbling down into pleasurable abandon with a titanic splash, my own not far behind.

"Stars and moons and worlds and the infinite... nnnnhh!"

I tried to catch up, but couldn't... her spasms of ecstasy had strangled the life out of my erection, or as much of it as was buried in her. So I stopped, and took a minute to revive myself while she panted and sighed.

"Again?" I suggested. Try another position?"

Grýla nodded yes to both. So we tried a few. Missionary was insane--imagine, me face down in a pair of enormous pillowy breasts, kissing and fondling them, overstimulating the shit out of my ecstatic troll partner's clit, and breathing through the pain when her fingernails dug into my shoulder blades as she came repeatedly, legs shuddering. Then I had her roll over onto her side, which offered me a better range of entry angles than doggy style. Didn't do as much for her, though.

I've mentioned previously I have rather little self-preservation instinct at times. As such, I also assented to try cowgirl. Assisted, of course, by my own tentacles wrapped around her thighs to support her. That was a fucking workout, but I let her ride for long enough to rock and roll her way to a powerful orgasm. That one drenched me, and the bed. And thankfully, it seemed to wear her out too. We both sat back panting for several minutes afterwards.

"I think that makes it officially a marathon," I declared, wiping sweat from my brow. "Time for a water break."

I downed most of my 1L Hydroflask while sitting there; Grýla murdered a gallon jug.

"Shit, what time is it? Four thirty?! Time flies when you're pounding it out."

"I suppose you've more than fulfilled your promise, Blekksprutgutt. Do you need to turn in for the night?"

I thought about it a moment. The spirit was tired; but the flesh still wanted for something. "Not quite. I think I've got one more left in me."

"What's left to do? You want to take my fitte from behind again?"

"No. I want to stick my cock in your ass so deep that it pokes Satan's eyeball."

That got the rich cackle it deserved, and before I could say anything further, she was assuming the position on all fours.

"This is going to be tricky," I said. "But I have an idea."

With her knees spread and arms bent, she could get low enough, but only just. She tugged at her right cheek to spread herself open, and I slid the slender pod in and out, with little resistance.

"That's nice, but is it necessary?"

I patted her ass softly. "Just making sure we're ready."

"Get on it, we're wasting night... fokk, fokking fokk..."

"And that's just the tip. Alright, easy, easy..."

Gently I stroked her back, making meaningless coos and susurrations. Over the years, I've somehow evolved the habit of trying to soothe my bottoms during anal sex like a ranch hand soothes a nervous animal. Maybe it was all that time watching Uncle Chuck guide horses. I've been called cute for it, and I've been called a lunatic for it, but damned if it doesn't get results.

...And good. The toughest bit was past. Slowly I moved in and out of her. Of necessity, the angle was a bit funny, but what mattered was her getting comfortable.

"You said you had... oof... an idea?"

"In a minute. But first..."

I slid deeper into her ass, watching carefully for any indication of discomfort... until there was nothing more I could give with both feet planted.

"This okay?"

"More than okay. Now what?"

This was going to be either the most impressive sexual feat since my ascension, or a very quick trip to a smashed face and broken tooth. I could heal all that; still, I was trepidatious as I pulled back. Now here's something few lovers can do...

I put my hands on her hips, shot out a quartet of nice strong octopus arms, and latched onto her thighs and shoulders, lifting my body off the ground.

"Hva i helvete?!"

"It's okay, hon. I'm a professional monsterfucker. I got this."

Hovering loosely over the small of Grýla's back, it was a cinch to slip my dick in, put my hands to her waist and just sink into her.

The results were immediate. Heat, and immense pleasure, and her whole body lurched shifting her weight forward onto her arms. Her whole lower body tensed.

"Faen!" she cried. "Faen! Fokk me with your hestkuk!"

I'm not really sure what she was thinking, but the giantess stood up nearly to her full nine foot height, here in the only spot in the house where it was even possible, only to think better of it and lean herself over the couch. I'd pay good money to know what faces she made to accompany all that creative cursing. At any rate, I sensed no pain, just the sensory avalanche of heavy bottoming.

I felt like Doc Ock and Manny Ferrara somehow rolled into one bizarre character sheet.

Out shot a pair of squid tentacles, because fuck it, it'll be dawn soon, why not take it to 11 at this point. One got a nice firm grip on her clit, the other began to tease its way into her cunt. The giantess's trembling hands dug into the back of the couch for stability as our bodies rocked. I shut my eyes and pressed my forehead up against the blade of her left shoulder.

A flash of shared awareness. I was the giantess, bent over a couch too puny to seat me. Grýla was the speck of a man who clung to my back, his absurd horsecock filling me, the monstrosity within him reaching out to touch the monstrosity within me.

I snapped back into my own head. She was panting, both her holes throbbing faintly with orgasm, but what'd passed between us had momentarily stolen her voice.

"Forpulte faen," she said, "what was that?"

"One of my... gifts."

"Take me harder."

I pounded and pounded, sweat pouring from me, stupid grin on my face.

I couldn't sustain much more than I was doing, but I gave it what I could. Skin clapped on skin; and with every blow, I flexed my cephalopod arms slightly. Her cries began to take on more of a heavy metal quality. I knew it was still pleasure, but one could have been forgiven for guessing otherwise. Both of us were on the verge of overstimulation, mouths slack, ragged with pleasure. And deep in my guts, I was building up to one of those tectonic finishes that I knew would leave me utterly exhausted.

"Fill me," she singsonged. "Fill my rævhøl with your cum."

"Say that again."

"Fill my rævhøl with your cum."

The words hit me like a crosswind, and I crash-landed into chaos. The surging erection and spasming tentacles stretched her as I emptied completely into her ass. I kept up the motions as my fire flickered out. Your move, Grýla...

She threw back her head and screamed, her bits throbbing against my bits.

Finally, gasping for breath, I let the tentacles unwind and sank back to my feet.

8.

I had started to think nothing could tire Grýla Yuletrollet, but that last round had done her in. She collapsed flat onto the bed, rolled over facing the window and passed out. I lay back and stared contemplatively at the ceiling; the adrenaline was wearing off, but sleep wasn't coming in a hurry.

Then she turned to roll the other way, and her arms piled on top of me.

As a youth, I'd hated situations like this. And as an older man the best I can say is I've learned some tools at least to cope with it. I took it as an opportunity to meditate on what we'd done, what I was learning about myself, and so on. I drifted a while... not necessarily to sleep, but somewhere.

I do have my limitations, though. I have to put my pants on one foot at a time just like you full mortals do. So, the moment I emerged from my stupor and saw that the sun had begun to rise, I tried to shake the massive naked woman awake. And when that failed, I wormed my way out of our tangle and got to my feet.

In her sleep, she snorted. "Leppa, jeg kan ikke..."

I made two big cups of coffee, and ran up to take a shower.

When I got out, fresh and thoroughly scrubbed, I peeked my head into the master bedroom. As expected, Josefina and Misha were still snuggled up. Well for them, I thought. I've got breakfast to make, and a conversation or two to have.

"What is it, Lepp--oh, it's you. Good morning, Herr Sheldon."

"Good morning, Grýla. I want to talk, and I made us sausage and eggs to eat while we do that. Can you toss on some clothes for the day?"

I took a moment to text the others and let them know we were decent. Once situated, me at the coffee table and Grýla at the wall, I continued:

"It's a shame no one does couples counseling for monsters. I think I might know someone who can help you, though. I'll ask next time I see them."

"Who?" she asked between bites. "Surely you don't mean Yub-Shnagshoroth?"

I chuckled. "No. This is one of my mentors, Kaesalpinnix. They're a hierarch of the Planters and one hell of a therapist. But also, listen. I think we should try and do this every year. I can't say it'll be quite like this, but it'll be fun. There's just two things: first, I need it scheduled in advance, it can't be a surprise like this."

She waited to finish her sausage link, which disintegrated under her sharp teeth like paper in a shredder, before replying.

"I do keep a calendar, Blekksprutgutt."

"Good. Let's take a look at next year then, shall we? Next winter solstice I am... free. No conflicts with other holidays. I'd just want to run it by Josefina."

There was a creak at the stairs; I turned and saw Josefina in her pink polka-dot nighties, trailed by Misha in his blue and gold Hanukkah pajamas.

"Run what by Josefina?"

Words can't properly attest to how fucking cute Jo is when she's sleepy, but I'll try: she looks like an angel just awakened from a thousand year rest. But you know, with 100% less fire and 90% fewer eyeballs, and slightly more pronounced dark circles.

"Solstice again," I said, "same time same place next year. There's no overlap with Hanukkah--"

She held up a hand.

"Before I say yes, let me get a look at you, darling." She inspected my head, neck and chest for injuries. I'm not sure what she expected to see, knowing what I am, but it seemed to help satisfy her protective instincts, and I really cannot fault her for that.

"Anything break overnight? Any soreness in your bits or your bum now?"

"No, and maybe a little," I said sheepishly.

"Eh, fine, then. It's the 21st? I'll be in town by then, but I can always figure out something to do with myself... Do I smell eggs and veggie sausage?"

By way of an answer, I gestured to the kitchen and, after a quick hug, Josefina meandered that direction. I waved Misha in for a hug as well.

"Alright," I said to Grýla, "the 21st. Unless, of course, your husband has other plans for you that night, in which case you should see to him. Which brings me to the other thing: how the hell do we get in contact if one of us has a change of plans?"

She laughed at this.

"Your friend Assface, I see him every couple weeks. He likes to go sightseeing in the arctic. Always at that same little hill in Spitsbergen, not far from where I live. It is most annoying. But I suppose it'll help."