Sheogorath's Offspring, an elder scroll series fanfic

Sheogorath's Offspring.

One autumn day at New Sheoth Palace, Sheogorath was sitting on His throne, twitching His tail with irritation. He'd been the Madgod for a few years now and He felt that something was… missing. It obviously wasn't something He'd lost or He would have found it by now, but there clearly was a gap somewhere in the Shivering Isles. Then, as the umbric Argonian thought this, His awareness turned to Crucible and Bliss just as the crying of a tiny child rose into the air above one of the two districts, causing Him to let off a wild laugh of pure glee. Hatchlings, of course! That's what He needed to fill the empty space He felt in His realm. With an insane grin of discovery on His face, the Prince of Madness called for Haskill.

"Yes, my Lord?" the chamberlain asked once he stood in front of Sheogorath's throne.

"Haskill, there's something lacking in My life."

"What would that be, my Lord?"

"Hatchlings, Haskill, hatchlings! I want little ones to delight Me while they're young and help Me spread madness beyond My realm after they've grown up."

"But You would require a female to bear Your young, my Lord, and You prefer males. I've felt the evidence of that often enough," Haskill grimaced, recalling the soreness he had experienced during and after each of the Madgod's mating seasons.

"Well, it isn't My fault that I prefer you over females, and you can't say you don't enjoy coupling. I've heard your groans of pleasure often enough."

Haskill gave an inward sigh of frustration. If he'd only realised that his ruler had taken his groans of pain as proof of his enjoying the encounters from the start, he could have asked his Lord to wish for something to make mating easier.

"Anyway," Sheogorath continued, "as it stands, you're My chosen mate so you'll have to give Me hatchlings. We'll start trying as soon as the next mat-ing season begins."

"That is unfortunately impossible, my Lord," the Breton intoned.

"Oh? Why is that, Haskill?"

"In case it has escaped Your notice, I am a male and only females have the necessary equipment for bearing offspring, my Lord. If You want hatchlings, you will either have to mate with a female or find an alternative method."

"I see that I'll have to think on this some more, Haskill."

"Very good, my Lord," the chamberlain replied, fading from view.

Once Haskill had gone, the vampiric Prince of Madness did indeed think about His current goal and how to achieve it for some hours. Then He suddenly leapt up and started prancing about, triumphantly singing:

"Scamps do it, guars do it

Even Princes in Their realms do it

Let's do it, let's have some young"

The moment He'd finished His capering, Sheogorath sat back on His throne, closed His eyes, and made a simple wish.

- Several Months Later -

At one o'clock in the morning, Haskill lay in bed, tossing and tur-ning feverishly. If only this damn bellyache would go away! The Breton had already taken a healing potion that seemed to be having no result, so he took a sleeping potion instead. As the potion took effect, Haskill finally fell into a deep slumber.

The chamberlain never felt the changes being made to his groin.

The evening after Haskill's disturbed night, Sheogorath took him to bed.

"Not tonight, my Lord. I had an upset stomach yesterday," the Breton complained.

"Yes, well, you seem fine now, My Haskill. Anyway, you knew it would soon be the mating season since you've been accepting My love gifts and attentions for the past two sevendays, so hurry up and get undressed."

Reluctant, but unwilling to have his ruler do something drastic to him, Haskill hurriedly stripped as Sheogorath divested Himself of His own clothing. Once both the Prince of Madness and His chamberlain were naked, they got into bed, Haskill lying on his back as his ruler sniffed between his legs, giving a huge grin as He did so.

"Lift up your scrotum, My Haskill."

Wondering what new kink the vampire had in mind, Haskill nevertheless obeyed. Resigning himself as Sheogorath grasped his hips in His hands and his shoulder in His teeth, the chamberlain got the shock of his life as the Madgod extended one of His hemipenes and sank it into an orifice where Haskill's perineum should have been, before thrusting as energetically as He usually did, causing no pain to His chamberlain whatsoever. As a result of this and a very enjoyable orgasm from the new passage, Haskill was able to climax without the customary stimulation of his prostate.

Once Sheogorath had finished mating and was lying still, holding His hemipenis inside His chosen mate as was His habit, the dazed Breton gasped, "What happened, my Lord? How did You do that?"

Finally releasing Haskill's shoulder, Sheogorath asked, "Do what, My Haskill?"

"Put Your thing inside me in a place it shouldn't go."

"Oh, but that's just where it should go if we're going to have hatchlings together, My Haskill!" the Madgod giggled.

At these words, the chamberlain passed out. He could have sworn that Sheogorath had dropped the idea of offspring months before.

It was about halfway through the mating season when Haskill finally conceived, to his mate's great elation, and another five months later that he laid seventeen pale eggs with leathery shells, the proud father in attendance at the clutching. Both parents looked after the clutch with great care, but despite all their attentiveness, one of the eggs hatched late, the hatchling inside destined to grow up in the service of Sithis.

"Oh, well," Sheogorath sighed as He watched His youngest son being carried away by a courtier of the King of Black Marsh, "maybe I'll get to see Shadow-with-Golden-Eyes in My capacity as Listener, and we still have sixteen others to bring us joy and help Me lead other people down the Golden Road. Speaking of which, it's time to feed them. I do love you, Haskill. You've made me the proudest Prince in Oblivion!"

Haskill wore a modest smile of pride as he and his Lord held out small pieces of slaughterfish for the hatchlings to take as each squabbled and fought with the others to get the largest share for itself. Only the chosen mate of the Prince of Madness could become gravid with eggs despite being a male Breton!

The umpteenth time that Sheogorath had woken up in order to change sixteen diapers, He shook His chamberlain awake and irritably said, "You know, Haskill, having hatchlings is the worst idea you ever had!"

"I apologise most humbly, my Lord," Haskill intoned. He didn't bother to inform the Madgod of the eggs he'd fertilised with some of the Argonian's sperm that was stored in the special place within his body.