“Stop playing with your boobs.”

 

“I can’t help it! They’re so…jiggly!”

 

Sloan rubbed her temples. She had assumed Tihwen’s enthusiasm for grabbing his own breasts would wane over time but in the three days they had been traveling, the only moments his hands had been breast-free was when he was eating, pooping, or stroking his own ass. Even when it was his turn to drive the cart, one hand was clutching his chest.

 

His body had turned out to be shapely enough (although his face fit the “only a mother would love” category, in Sloan’s opinion. He had refused all offers of makeup that would have helped mitigate the issue), but he was entirely obsessed with touching it. It was all Sloan could do to make him keep clothes on – keeping him from groping himself was a challenge well outside her skillset. At least he hadn’t started masterb…

 

“Hey, there are people up here. Looks like they’re building a house?” Yek pointed from his vantage on the driver’s seat of the wagon and Sloan leaned over the rail on her side to peer ahead. “Since when does anyone live in this desolate place?”

 

A fair question. They were in the midst of the salt flats that ran the course between Kynesgrove and the Velothi Plateau, upon which sat the Rift.

 

It had been easier than expected to extricate themselves from the place, thanks in large (if not intentional) part to Yek, whose biggest asset so far was being male. He had provided perfect cover for when she needed to re-enter the city to take care of her loose ends and instrumental in getting back out - it had been a surprise to Sloan to hear about the “women must have a male escort outside of cities” law, but the other two had not only known, both had assumed it was why Sloan has insisted (they had been tactful enough not to use the word “forced”) on Yek’s company.

 

But here, though the terrain looked flat and smooth from a distance, it was made of rough, broken sheets of jagged rock interspersed with bubbling hot springs. A sour smell like rotted eggs clung to everything. It did not seem the best place to try to eke out a living.

 

As the wagon rolled to a stop, however, two figures set down their tools and approached, and Sloan began to remember.

 

“You are…Craft and Hollow?” Sloan frowned as the names tumbled from her lips. That wasn’t quite right. She had been trained to remember everything; apparently, like her sluggish and weak body, that part of her other self needed to be retrained.

 

Visions of her ill-fated, slavery-interuppted trek from Windhelm back to Riften swam from her memory. She had stopped here, during that trip. The couple had shown her kindness and had suggested the wiser course of staying there until other travelers came by, so her passage would be safe. She had refused, with Aventus' plea fresh in her mind.

 

She had only passed by on her subsequent trips through the area; there was something about the place that placed it at just the wrong time to stop in a journey. 

 

She had watched their town grow and prosper over the years– it had been bigger every time she passed through until, by the end, it was close in size to the towns like Riverwood or Dawnstar, though she had never learned the key to their success.

 

Well, not the very end – it had been nothing but burned ash the last time Sloan had seen it; she had thought it a bit strange since the main force of the dragons was still days away from swarming that portion of Skyrim at the time.

 

The male Khajiit’s tufted eyebrows rose. “You have heard of us? But this should not come as a surprise. Kra’aft’s goods are known all throughout Skyrim! And beyond, though, it must be admitted, to a much lesser extent.”

 

The woman laughed. “Known for his Skyrim-sized ego, perhaps. Greetings, I am Holo, this is my husband Kra’aft.”

 

“Hello, I am Mertle, this is Yek and Ti.” Sloan had tried to get Tihwen to remember a fitting female name, but the exercise had proven beyond his boob-obsessed brain, so they had settled on his abbreviated name. It would be a tell to anyone trying to track them, which made Sloan itch.

 

“Well met,” Yek said, while Tihwen looked up from peering down his shirt long enough to nod.

 

“Would you care to rest awhile?” Holo gestured toward their half-completed building. “We don’t have much, but we are always ready to help travelers in this wasteland.”

 

“We don’t have ti…” Sloan started, but she was overridden by the two men (well, one man and one pseudo-woman), both of whom gave enthusiastic shouts.

 

Sloan had tried to teach Tihwen something about moving like a woman, but what little he may have understood had already fled his mind – he vaulted from the back of the wagon and followed their hosts with the typical male strut while Sloan followed behind, shaking her head. It wouldn’t take an expert to realize he was a man, no matter what his body looked like.

 

It was during dinner, a light and delicious stew with crusty bread and cheese, while Sloan was trying to get what information she could from their hosts, that the whispering began – all through the conversation, Tihwen and Yek held a semi-private undertoned discussion that grated on Sloan’s nerves.

 

“After the bandit attack, this one decided he had had enough travel. Fate set us here, so here must be where we are meant to be.” Kra’aft laughed. “Much to my wife’s dismay.”

 

“This seems…” began Sloan, but the sibilant hissing was punctuated by a brief yelp, and she stopped and turned to face them. “What are you two doing?”

 

“Um…nothing.” Yek rubbed his arm and refused to meet Sloan’s gaze.

 

“Best friend stuff,” added Tihwen. “You wouldn’t understand.”

 

“I understand you two are being extraordinarily rude to our hosts.”

 

That seemed to get through to them – members of high society as they were, they at least understood the importance of propriety. They mumbled apologies with red faces and were silent the rest of the meal.

 

Later that night, after their hosts had retired to the lone separate room of the house, Sloan was woken by a thumping and more violent whispers. A quick glance around the room told her her transitory companions were not in the house.  Something else she would need to re-train herself in, she mused as she eased from her bedroll – the old her was a light sleeper who would have been instantly aware of the movement of the pair getting up and leaving, especially since neither were the least bit stealthy.

 

She slipped out the door and followed her ears and, as soon as she peeked around the corner of the house, regretted it. In retrospect, she should have seen it coming. Instead, she got to witness Yek doing so.

 

A naked Tihwen lay flat on his/her back glaring up at the equally naked Yek as the elf strained and groaned into the night. A moment later, Yek collapsed onto Tihwen, his breaths heavy as he rested his head on Tihwen’s chest.

 

“You’re done already?” Tihwen shoved at Yek. “You did it wrong!”

 

“What do you mean?” Yek lifted his head and glared back. “Obviously I did it right. I came, didn’t I?”

 

“Yes, but I didn’t! Get down there and keep going!”

 

Sloan closed her eyes and turned away, wishing she could close her ears as well, because she could still hear them.

 

“I can’t, I just came. Have you forgotten what it’s like to have a dick?”

 

“You still have fingers and a tongue, don’t you?”

 

“Ew, I’m not licking you! Especially when you’ve got come all over you!”

 

“It’s your come!”

 

“That doesn’t make it better!”

 

It was somewhat improved once Sloan got back inside; she could still hear them but couldn’t make out distinct words. She shook her head and smiled a bit as she settled back into her bedroll; Tihwen had learned an important lesson about what it was like to be a woman. She wondered if he would carry the lesson with him once he turned back into a man. She thought it unlikely – he didn’t seem the sort to extrapolate his experience to others. He would probably just be glad to be on the male side of things once again.

 

In a way, she was envious of him. Perhaps she could get enough of this potion to live as a man – it would make navigating this wretched world so much easier. But even the thought of it felt wrong, like she would be betraying some secret pact with…she didn’t know, the universe, or something.

 

Besides, she thought as she settled in and closed her eyes to try to get back to sleep, she was well-versed in the ways men thought; nothing could make her want to live like that.

 

 

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