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.”