Khajiit POV:
The world is covered in a heavy, violet fog thick enough it feels like swimming. Somewhat familiar streets unravel beneath my boots as I push my way through the crowded backways of Whiterun. I can feel a predator's gaze burrowing into the back of my skull and do my best to push it to the side. I know damned well I'm fliting between dream and nightmare with the claws sprouting from my fingertips enough proof this isn't reality. All I can do is keep playing out whatever fantasy my mind has concocted and hope that it doesn't dissolve too far into a nightmare resembling reality. I'm still wandering the backway to Dragonsreach when I realize the crowd has abandoned me and the hazy world has darkened even more.
A groan escapes me as I spare a glance behind me to get a glimpse of whatever monster my mind has created. The beast is shrouded in purple shadows and crouched; still, I know the outline of a wolf well enough to know that's what's after me. A throbbing agony between my thighs reminds me too well of the reality waiting for me once I've woken. Oblivion, for all I know the Nord who's laid her claim to me is fucking me right now. Considering everything she's done, raping an unconscious woman wouldn't be the worst crime she's committed. I'm about to turn to face the wolf and try getting whatever nightmare awaits me over with when the creature disappears into the fog.
I'm left in the middle of a wavering city with my thoughts and a distant howling as my only companions. Again and again, my mind circles what I've become. My mother and father both traced their ancestry back to the slaves kept in Morrowind during the 3rd era. My father would often brag his ancestors were freed by the Nerevarine himself with my mother having a less exciting tale of her ancestors simply being freed once King Helseth outlawed slavery in Morrowind. Even if my ancestors were freed over two-hundred years ago, the effect of their freedom still bled down to me. I was raised on stories of brave Khajiit taken from their homelands and forced to adapt to Morrowind's harsh environment and the even harsher Dunmer temperament.
My parents raised me to value the freedom I was born with while never forgetting where my ancestors came from and what they had to endure. I was also told of the stories of how the first few generations freed from slavery were constantly on alert for slavers who could no longer hunt them and wary of everything good that came their way for fear of a trap. In retrospect, I might have done good to take the advice to heart and keep my eyes peeled and heart hardened. Two-hundred and seventy-one years after slavery was abolished in Morrowind and my ancestors were freed, I've found myself in complete and utter captivity under a Nord woman's boot with no chance of escape.
I see the wolf circling to my left and can do little more than raise my arm to guard my face before the beast's fangs are buried deep in my flesh. The wolf tears chunks of skin and meat from my arm and disappears only when my hand is torn off at the wrist. A soft, constant pressure I feel past the layer of slumber warms me something is happening to my wrist in real life. I shake my arm and feel a pressure on my face which quickly convinces me to stop squirming. Whiterun hazes and blurs but refuses to disappear with the wolf still strutting just out of sight. I watch clotting blood seep from my imaginary wound while contemplating what my options are. In short, I have next to none.
Aela has me captured in the middle of nowhere with nobody looking for me and no way to free myself. My flight as a werewolf didn't offer me enough insight into where I was to even begin an escape attempt, and I don't know how to transform again even if I wanted to. My first taste of my newly acquired lycanthropy came from a jarring, rapid transformation as I was waking up from a drug induced slumber. I know Aela can make herself transform, but I haven't the slightest idea how to replicate it. For some reason, I don't think Aela is going to share with me anytime soon how I'm supposed to transom into my werewolf form.
The implications of the corruption of my soul as I've been forced to become a member of Hircine's pack is something I haven't been able to comprehend due to everything else running through my mind constantly. If my mind isn't being consumed by whatever agony Aela is inflicting upon me, I've been dreaming of ways to escape or fight with no viable solution to either option. Aela is stronger, faster, and a natural survivalist. Even if I could someone get away from her, I have no doubt she'd have me back under her control within an hour with another beating as my reward. My newly acquired werewolf healing has mended my body, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten what Aela did to me.
Whenever I close my eyes, I remember the feel of my kneecaps shattering beneath Aela's boots and my fangs being knocked from my skull by Aela's knuckles. The beating Aela gave me had me wishing for death and I don't plan of reliving it. I also can't see a scenario where I fight Aela and come out as the winner. Aside from the woman being physically stronger than me, there's never a chance where I can get the element of surprise on my side. Aela knows damned well I'd try to kill her if given the chance, so she's made sure to never give me the chance. The last option I have is to take myself out to escape whatever tortures Aela has planned for me. Sadly, that's not going to happen either.
The idea of gutting myself with a stolen knife or downing all the potions supposedly meant to heal me sounded appealing at first, but I can't bring myself to go beyond idle thoughts. I've barely entered adulthood and I don't want to die. I especially don't want to die with my soul bound to Hircine. No matter how distant the chance is, I'd rather remain alive and have a chance of escape instead of dying and never being free from Aela's influence. Some part of me, deep down inside, has already come to realize it might be weeks, months, or years before I can manage to slip free of Aela's grasp; still, a few years in captivity is worth another fifty years of freedom once I've escaped.
I feel pressure on my other wrist and the wolf comes bounding out of the mist to grab ahold of my dream wrist to match the real world outside my dream. I let whatever's happening happen and resign myself to having to remain with Aela until I can find some way to escape. Even if the reality is it'll be a long, long time before I'm able to get away. The pressure stops on my wrist and the wolf haunting my dreams bounds off with my second hand firmly in its jaws. I feel pressure between my eyes and strain to try making out some whispers on the winds. I quickly stop trying to make out the whispers when Aela's voice is what's carried to me.
Regardless of what's happening in my dream, unconsciousness is favorable to being awake with Aela. Everything I say or do is wrong in the woman's eyes and I can only handle so much sickeningly sweet praise from my rapist. Sadly, my senses are coming back to me, and my dream wolf is looking more and more like a certain Nord woman wearing a wolf's skin. Sure enough, the next time the wolf comes bounding towards me it looks like a twisted monstrosity between Aela and her werewolf form. My handless arms flail as the Aela creature ducks her head and sinks her fangs deep into my lower stomach over where my womb lies.
I have little time to contemplate the symbolism or message my dream carries as the monster mauling me in my mind is matched by someone outside my dream lavishing kisses where the monster bites. My eyelids are heavy, and it would be so, so easy to keep them slid shut as the monster of my dreams leaves me with the monster of my reality. It would almost be tempting if it weren't for the fact Aela's kisses are steadily heading further and further south on my body. I twitch my tail in an attempt to cover myself before remembering half of my tail was recently ripped off and it can no longer curl fully around my hip. I take a deep breath and gather my courage before opening my eyes.
The first thing I notice are the shackles and chains connecting my wrist to the bedpost. The second thing is the Nord woman lying heavily on my legs with her head resting over my womb. Aela looks at me with the biggest, most love-struck eyes I can imagine, and I feel some part of my stomach roll. Aela's bastard has no doubt taken root in me and there's little I can do about it. For now, all I can do is hope I can get away from Aela before I'm fit to bursting with her babe. If I end up not being able to, then that's something I'll need to deal with as it happens. I know Aela's mind is likewise on our shared spawn as she continues to kiss where I'm growing her child while bringing her hands up to my hips.
I so, so badly want to ask why I'm chained or why she felt the need to knock me out or what she did while I was knocked out; fortunately, I know asking any of those questions would end very, very poorly for me. Instead, I hold my tongue and make eye contact like I've gathered Aela is a fan of. My silence pays off as a smile forms across Aela's face and she offers my stomach one last kiss before crawling up to cuddle me. The cuddling hurts my shoulders and wrists due to the chains, but I still value my life and refrain from complaining.
Gently, my head is titled to the side and Aela's lips capture mine in a kiss. The shudder of disgust that runs through me is, thankfully, read as one of desire and Aela deepens the kiss. The deep, constant ache of my recently healed wounds reminds me of the consequences of fighting Aela. I allow the Nord woman to deepen the kiss as much as she likes and offer no resistance as she pushes apart my lips to invade my mouth with her tongue. The taste of my own cunt on Aela's tongue tells me of what she's been doing while I've slept and it's all I can do to refrain from biting. Only the throbbing in my now clawless fingers keeps me grounded enough to refrain from struggling.
My surrender is rewarded with warm arms wrapped around me and a leg thrown across my hip. Words of endearment and praise are lavished across me once Aela has had her fill of kissing me and disconnects. As I lay there, with Aela whispering sweet nothings in my ear and moving her hand to cup my tit, some part of my heart breaks just a little bit more. If I was lying with someone I loved, I could see how wonderful this moment could be. A moment shared between lovers on a lovely, slow day meant for relaxing. As it is, it's all I can do to keep my tears at bay as Aela's cock stiffens against my hip.