The Fruits of His Labor

An offering to CthulhusButtercup

TW: general silliness, human/humanoid mushroom, breeding kink, physical injury (nonsexualized, acquired offscreen)

Ysbos was out of her skirt but still in the precontemplation stage of putting on a proper nightgown when she heard the bell ring from the outer gate. Whatever idiot was still out there at this time of night was doing his best (she felt certain it was 'his') to awaken her other guests. In her haste she didn't bother to throw on anything more suitable over her camisole bodysuit. She was at her doorway in a matter of seconds, tearing it open only to immediately appreciate her mistake as a rush of chill air hit her mostly exposed skin. Gooseflesh would have formed on her naked arms and upper chest if she had any hair.

The muted nighttime glow of bioluminescent lichens shone down from the cavern vault far above, suffusing her rough stone courtyard with soft green light. Only the subtle, orange-yellow glow from the bubble-like patches on her cap supplemented the light, and she found it difficult to make out anything definite, even with eyes such as hers.

"Hello?" She stepped out onto her mossy welcome mat, keeping one hand on the door. The bell hung still on its post, and neither heard any sound nor saw movement outside her iron gate. "Is anyone out there?" Against her better judgment she proceeded toward the gate step by step, her cap cocked to catch any unusual vibrations. A few yards from the gate she hesitated and looked back toward the door.

A metallic tap on the iron bars behind her sent her a couple inches off the ground with a panicked squeak, her arms raised defensively. But there were no fangs, no horns or claws, no fire pits where eyes should be or misplaced tentacles. Just a human, or something in the shape of a human. Unusually tall and broad-shouldered, even for his kind. She composed herself as well as she could, embarrassed at her initial reaction. But she kept her attention halfway fixed on the back of her mind in case anything were to go poking around. One could never be too paranoid down here, especially at night.

"Evening," the man said in a deep, almost rumbling voice. In the dim light his expression was impossible to read, especially through what looked to be a long, thick beard. A glinting silver ring on his finger tapped again against the gate.

"H-hello, dear. Did you need anything?" Ysbos shivered in the cold as she glanced up into his eyes. Deep green, expressive, oddly beautiful, even if marred by the weird, round pupils. She shivered in the cold, and her nipples began to stiffen noticeably under her too-tight bodysuit with its plunging neckline.

"Bed for the night." The soft yellow light from her cap glinted gold on crested waves of thick, reddish hair, his angular features casting shadows that enhanced the contrasts of a gaunt but handsome face. She suddenly felt very self-conscious about what she was wearing. The thin straps holding up her top had wandered off to the sides at some point, allowing her already low neckline to slip halfway down her absurdly full breasts. Pulled taut by her close-fitting garment, her erect nipples proved her salvation, their upward pressure preventing it from abandoning her bust entirely.

"Anything out there with you?" she asked, flitting her eyes from side to side, glad for a pretext to direct her gaze elsewhere.

"Not anymore." She noticed the long spear in his hand for the first time.

"Ha..." She fumbled with the lock, distracted by the self-sustaining cycle of swelling nipples against tightening silk and the twinge of electricity tingling insistently between her legs. Perhaps taking pity on her, the lock clicked and came undone without too much fuss and she swung the gate inward, noiseless on its well-oiled hinges.

No sooner had it opened than he was through, much faster than she'd expected, almost plowing into her. She stumbled back, lost her footing, and started to fall, but instantly her hand was in his and he was lifting her gently back onto her feet. Being lifted by her arm rolled a strap back onto her shoulder, and the immediate danger of indecent exposure faded.

"Th-thank you!" She straightened out the membranous netting that hung like a bridal veil from her cap. In a moment he would, of course, let go of her hand and turn to close the gate. Then she could roll the other strap back up, smooth things out, maybe make her budding arousal a little less obvious. This pleasant thought was interrupted by the gate clanging shut behind him, driven closed, she eventually worked out, by his foot.

"Fuck me." She muttered under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing sir." She withdrew her hand with a blush she desperately hoped wasn't visible. Humans did have terrible low-light vision, she'd heard. "Come with me, please."

She turned and led the way back to the inn, trying without much success to minimize the swaying of her hips as she walked. The visitor stood still for a while, watching her make her way back on her petite little legs before quickly closing the distance with long, slow strides. He reached the door almost at her side, interrupting her as she started to open it.

"What'll I do with these?" He lifted the large bundle in his left hand.

"I have dry storage for goods over here, as long as it doesn't require a controlled temperature?"

"No, that's fine." She scurried over to a low, broad cave in the otherwise solid terrain encircling her rock-cut inn. It was somewhat better lit than the surrounding yard thanks to some strategically placed, glowing fungi. Various sacks, chests, and bundles lay packed together a bit haphazardly. Someone had thoughtlessly (or lazily) filled the outermost floor space instead of working from back to front - good help could be so hard to find. There would need to be some rearrangement before anything new could be added.

"I'm so sorry, sir. Just give me a second here."

She started moving items further back into the cave, struggling a bit as she progressed from light to heavy. When she came to the chests, she got on her hands and knees, putting a less-than-prudent amount of thought into what effect this might have on her new guest in just a skirtless bodysuit and stockings. She didn't even notice the sharp intake of his breath as she strained against an especially weighty trunk, and while she did hear him smack one of the nightlights with the shaft of his spear, she failed to appreciate the significance.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir. How careless of me! I forgot about your night vision." She stood and joined him next to the long, slender blue mushroom sprouting just outside the mouth of the cave, its broad, translucent cap now glimmering ever so slightly, but not nearly enough for purpose. She took the stalk in both hands, firmly agitating it and coaxing it to first glow then shine with an intensifying bluish-white light.

"That's quite the technique."

"Oh, it's nothing. They're everywhere down here, I use them all the - oh! My gods!" She covered her mouth with both hands, her yellow eyes wide with shock. The man regarded her quizzically in the newly bright light, one eyebrow cocked. "You're covered in blood!"

"Oh?" He looked down at his mantle and tunic, which were indeed heavily spattered, in some places soaked, with dark blood. "Not mine. I don't think."

"Come on! We have to get you some medical attention!" She said, taking him by the hand and trying unsuccessfully to drag him toward the door.

"I think I'll be ok, actually," he said, letting what turned out to be a bundle of fox pelts fall with a soft thud into the space she'd already cleared before running his fingers through his hair.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, circling around and trying ineffectually to push him forward, "you need medical attention!" After several seconds of her fruitless efforts he propped his spear against the wall and allowed himself to be shoved through the door. She closed and bolted the door behind them, took him by the hand, and dragged him along. Half blind in the faint light of scattered lichens, stooped to avoid hitting his head on the beams, he followed her past the bar, into the kitchen, and down a steep brick stairway through a narrow, packed-earth tunnel that opened into a smallish stone chamber.

Translucent green tendrils lining the tunnel mouth came to life at his touch as he allowed himself to be squeezed through. He halted once they entered the chamber, ignoring her continued tugging as he eyed the undulating, now brightly glowing flora suspiciously. He paid her no more mind, busy glowering at the grasping little tentacles, until she interposed herself and started pushing on his thighs. He glanced down at her under the long bangs that would have mostly hidden his face if she weren't looking up from below.

"Would you sit down?! They're harmless."

"Hmph." He let her turn him and push him along, still looking back over his shoulder as if he expected them to sprout from the walls. They stopped at what he accepted as a safe distance, and he found himself in front of a comically low, woody stump carved in the shape of a seat. Obediently he sat down without requiring instruction, his flexed knees coming up almost to the level of his shoulders. He tossed a corner of his fringed, blue-and-gray checked mantle between his legs as he glanced around, taking in the stacked, overstuffed cases, scattered basins of bronze and clay, and closely packed shelves heavy-laden with glass vessels and dried fungi.

"Don't be silly!" she protested with a petulant flick to his shoulder that hardly registered. "How'm I supposed to see anything with that cloak in the way?" It was hard to tell behind the long bangs, but she thought he arched an eyebrow somewhere back there. He stared at her silently for several long seconds before straightening and crossing his legs and begrudgingly helping her remove the mantle. She took it delicately and held it at arm's length, peeping in alarm through one of the three large gashes that had covered his flank. The thin linen tunic he wore underneath hung about him loosely, except where a large, bloody patch lay plastered to his left side.

"I thought you said it wasn't yours!" He cocked his head noncommittally but made no further answer. Even folded in half the mantle's fringes trailed along the floor as she carried it over to a toss in a ceramic basin, leaving a dry-brush trail of blood on the stone floor. She was back in an instant, finding him with arms crossed defensively over his yellow tunic. "You need to let me see it, sir."

"Do you have a..." He gestured toward his lap.

"Like I've never seen a man naked before." She shook her head but tossed him a blanket for modesty. "Now strip." She glared at him until he obliged, undoing his belt and starting to pull up his tunic.

"Do you mind?" he asked, turning to the side out of well-placed mistrust in her discretion. She performatively covered her eyes with both hands and made a quarter-circle turn on her heel in the opposite direction.

"Better?" He didn't answer, but she could hear him pulling off the garment behind her. She suddenly realized with acute embarrassment that she'd forgotten to introduce herself. "Oh! I'm Ysbos by the way."

"Artos."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance!" she said in a bubbly voice. She got no answer, but feeling she'd given him enough time to get undressed she added, "Is it safe for me to turn around yet?"

"As it pleases you."

"Good. Now, uh..." Ysbos had turned again to face him, getting out a couple words before her brain caught up with her eyes. He was angular, beautifully cut, with broad muscular arms and shoulders like a beast of burden. Her gaze slid down his happy trail, the downward path cruelly blocked by the blanket, then back up his v-shaped loveline to his hip. What had she been saying again? You look, just, really... no, not that. Can I touch your...? No, definitely not. "Um..." Maybe it was something about those pecs? The bear tattoo on his chest? The fresh blood dripping from his... "Gah! What did you do?!"

"What?" He followed her gaze to the jagged claw marks encircling his remarkably well-defined ribs, now oozing thin lines of fresh blood. "Oh, that? You made me take off my clothes."

"Normal people stop when it reopens their wounds! This should not require special instructions!" She ran over to a free-standing cabinet in the middle of the room, fell to her knees, and opened the lowest drawer. She scanned it for a moment before starting to unpack it at a furious rate. "Where is it?!"

"It, uh, it'll really be ok, I think." The bleeding had already slowed again to a bare trickle, but the woman ignored him, leaning deeper and deeper into the drawer. Her fine rounded cheeks stood fully exposed in this position, her silk bodysuit having slipped inward to cover nothing but her perineum and the majority, but by no means the entirety, of her unmentionables. Artos shifted in his seat, trying to avoid causing too much friction against his rapidly stiffening cock, but the adjustment proved counterproductive. Not that there was anything to be done at this point, with this painfully oblivious woman putting herself on obscene display. Oblivious or crafty - surely no one could be this obtuse?

She found whatever she was looking for, announcing her victory with excited little vocalizations and a newly vigorous swaying of her hips. Definitely crafty. No one could advertise their own supreme fuckability this blatantly by accident. He noticed he'd stopped breathing at some point and let out a long, controlled exhalation as quietly as he could manage, trying to catch up.

"I found it!" She fairly jumped to her feet, triumphantly displaying a nondescript leather drawstring sack tightly grasped in an upraised hand. "Bet you were starting to think I was just fucking with you, huh?" An expression of confusion and almost anger flashed across his face, which she failed to note, but he said nothing. Well, this guy was no fun. She tried to conceal her disappointment that such a beautiful body was wasted on a man with such a dull disposition and took a seat on his left thigh.

"Um... miss?"

"That's about enough from you. Now hold still please." She positioned his arm away from his side and began cleaning his wounds with some foul-smelling concoction from her bag. The vapors stung his eyes and nose, but the bleeding rapidly ceased completely. "Now this part is delicate. It would really help if you would move your calf out of the way and give me a little space."

"Listen, miss..."

The human did nothing to fix his position. Maybe he'd had a head injury or something? Now she felt a little guilty being impatient with him. The positioning wasn't ideal, certainly, but she could work with it she supposed. "Just hold still, sir," she said, trying to pass off an exasperated sigh as just deep breathing. He did his best to obey, literally biting his tongue while she quickly sewed him up.

She stood to cut the ends off the final suture knot. "There, good as new, love." Even through the heavy bangs she could see him glaring at her. "Now get that blanket off."

"Ok, miss, that's really too much," he said, springing from the seat and firmly gripping the blanket wrapped around his hips like a towel. "Thank you for patching me up, truly..." He stepped away as she tried to close the distance, easily outpacing her.

"Sir, I do have some expertise here. We need to make sure nothing else has been injured. If you would just..." She lunged for the blanket and he darted back away, circling obliquely back toward the little chair. She came at him again and he dodged backward, only to catch his heel on a root and stumble right back into the seat where he'd started.

"There!" She tore the blanket aside. "By all the good lords, was that so... um..." She was having some difficulty parsing what she was seeing. "Do humans have three...?" The facade of his hair, disturbed in the little scuffle, had parted slightly, clearly revealing something like fury building in his gleaming green eyes. His furrowed brow was mirrored by hers, knitted in confusion.

"What the fuck?" She asked no one in particular, eyes fixed on his semi-rigid cock, already as thick as her forearm in its present state. In a haze, she didn't notice herself moving till she was already on her knees. "Are they always..." she mumbled, her expression almost pained as she failed to prevent taking it in her hand. It jumped, hardening noticeably at her touch, and she felt a delicious mixture of fear and anticipation in the pit of her stomach. She squeezed gently and extended her arm, peeling his foreskin the rest of the way off his engorging head. She looked up to meet his gaze with newly shy eyes half hidden under her cap. "...this fucking big?"

He leaned forward, a wild expression in his eyes. He placed a heavy hand on each shoulder, claws digging into her back and grazing her collarbones.

"No."

Wait, were humans supposed to have claws? His fingers now brushed against the sensitive, papery, hymenium-lined gills under her cap and she forgot her question. They pressed against the nape of her neck and that was all the encouragement she needed. She tugged the skin of his cock taut and planted a kiss just below the head, eliciting a deep groan that made her melt. With some difficulty she forced herself not to swallow his head right away. Better leave him something sweet to look forward to. He pulled her in and she allowed herself to fall into him, her face landing in his lap as she caught herself on the floor with both hands. Her tiny lips brushed against his balls, his now fully engorged shaft half covering her face, the tip extending well above the brim of her cap. She sighed and kissed him again, flicking her hot tongue roughly back and forth against the base even as her lips withdrew.

"Fuck," he snarled, his suspiciously long canines bared. His grip tightened around the back of her neck, but he didn't force her forward. She glanced back up to find him watching her intently. Steadily holding his gaze, she enveloped his foreshaft with a broad tongue that traced its way up with agonizing slowness. He narrowed his eyes at the torment but refused to look away. Scooting forward, she sat up with her knees splayed, her head encircled by his muscular thighs. One after another, her now free hands gripped his cock and stroked downward as her rising tongue made room, progressively tightening his skin as she approached the head. One hand held him taut as her tongue lazily took a lap around his obscenely swollen head while the other slid down to fondle his sack, palming what seemed to her an absurdly large, warm testicle.

"Mmm," she cooed as she flicked her tongue across his reddened slit, glistening with precum before she had her way with it. She kissed him again, making a seal with her lips rather than pulling away, swallowing his head and a first fat inch. He growled something incoherent, and couldn't help himself but help her take him deeper, pressing gently but firmly against the back of her head as she swallowed down to, then past, her limit.

Tear droplets sprang to her eyes as she started to gag, but with her lust waging a successful war against common sense she suppressed it as best she could, swallowing him deeper and deeper in fits and starts until physics intervened. Her tiny jaw could stretch no further, though not for lack of trying. With a disappointed whimper she resigned herself to bobbing back and forth, compensating with her manifest eagerness for the lack of depth achieved. She heard his breaths growing ragged, felt his claws digging with involuntary strength into her neck and shoulders, felt his already oversized head swell in her throat, and she excitedly pulled back.

Working his head with tongue and lips, her fingers sliding over distended veins as she jerked his thick, rigid shaft, feeling him tighten as his body prepared to fill her with hot cum - she needed this fucking thing inside of her, and not just in her mouth. She started to pull off, to see if she could calm him back down and put that cock somewhere it'd do her more good, but it was too late for that. A first rope of semen shot out as her clinging lips pulled off, filling the hollow of her tongue and smearing her upper lip.