Having each had their way with the tiny human Invgar, the three ice giantesses relax and entertain themselves. Kindly Thryma, cunning Ylva, and their leader Freydís get drunk and provoke their little lover into comparing his experiences with them. What follows was generated by ChatGPT.
The fire crackled in the hearth as Ingvar shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gazes of the three giantesses. Freydís leaned forward, her amber eyes glittering with a mix of amusement and impatience. Ylva swirled the jug of wine lazily, her lips curved in a sly grin, while Thryma’s soft, steady gaze offered a flicker of reassurance amidst the rising tension. But no reassurance could prepare him for Freydís’s next words.
“Well?” Freydís demanded, her voice low and commanding, her tone making it clear that evasion wasn’t an option. “You’ve been shared among us, Ingvar. You’ve touched, tasted, and been used by each of us in ways no man ever has. It’s time for you to speak plainly.” Her grin widened as she folded her arms across her chest, her presence filling the room. “Tell us what you thought of our bodies—every inch of them. And don’t leave anything out. Start with me.”
Ylva snickered, brushing her silver braid over her shoulder as she leaned in. “Yes, little one,” she purred, her green eyes gleaming with mischief. “Tell us everything. Every curve, every kiss, every… use. I think we’re all curious about your favorites.”
Thryma, sitting with her hands folded neatly in her lap, flushed a deeper shade of blue, her dark brown hair framing her serene face. “You don’t have to choose favorites,” she said softly, though her expression betrayed her own curiosity. “But… we’d like to know how you felt. Truly.”
Ingvar swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he stood on the massive wooden table before them, their monumental forms looming above him. There was no escape. He took a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he began.
“Freydís,” he started, his eyes drifting to the towering chieftain, whose smirk widened in anticipation. “Your body is… incredible. You’re powerful, commanding. Your muscles—your arms, your thighs, your… everything—are like steel, but there’s a softness to you, too. Your breasts, heavy and full, were almost too much to handle. When you laid me on your chest and let me feel your heartbeat under your skin, it was overwhelming.” His voice faltered slightly, and Freydís’s smirk turned into a full grin.
“And my cunt?” she pressed, her voice bold and teasing. “Surely you remember that. Speak up, Ingvar.”
He blushed furiously but obeyed. “Yours is… intense,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “Hot, strong, almost… demanding. When you pinned me against it and used me to please yourself, it felt like I was being consumed. But you were careful, even when you were rough. I didn’t expect how much control you had. It was… incredible.”
Freydís leaned back, clearly pleased, and gestured for him to continue.
“Ylva,” Ingvar said, turning to the silver-haired giantess, who was grinning like a cat with a canary. “You’re wild. Playful. Your body feels like it’s always in motion—your hips, your hands, everything about you. When you laid me across your stomach and let me feel your muscles ripple under me, I couldn’t believe how alive you felt.”
“And my cunt?” Ylva asked, tilting her head and tapping her chin, her tone almost mocking. “Come on, Ingvar, we’re dying to hear.”
He hesitated but pressed on. “Yours is… different,” he said carefully. “Soft, but so wet and inviting. When you held me there and teased me, it felt like you were pulling me in, like you were trying to claim me. The way you used me—your movements were unpredictable, playful. I didn’t know what to expect, and that made it… exciting.”
Ylva laughed, clearly enjoying his discomfort, and passed the jug of wine to Thryma, who accepted it with a shy smile.
“Thryma,” Ingvar said, his voice softening as he turned to the gentle giantess. “Your body is… breathtaking. You’re strong, but there’s a softness to you that’s so comforting. When you held me in your hands and let me explore your curves, it felt like I was being… cherished. Your touch was so gentle, so careful, even when you let yourself go.”
Thryma’s cheeks darkened, and she offered him an encouraging nod. “And…?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “What about me?”
“Yours is… unlike anything I’ve ever experienced,” Ingvar admitted, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “Soft and warm, but so deep. You didn’t use me—you welcomed me. When you held me there and moved so slowly, it felt like you were trying to make me a part of you. It was… intimate in a way I didn’t expect. It wasn’t just physical—it felt… emotional.”
Thryma’s lips parted slightly, her eyes shining with emotion as she looked down at him. Ylva rolled her eyes playfully, but even she seemed moved by the sincerity in his words. Freydís, however, wasn’t satisfied.
“Enough dodging,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension. “Which of us did you like best? Be honest.”
Ingvar’s eyes darted between them, each woman waiting for his answer with varying degrees of patience. He hesitated, his mind racing. How could he possibly choose? Each of them was extraordinary in her own way, and his experiences with them had been unique, unforgettable. But Freydís wasn’t about to let him off the hook.
you’re strong and passionate. Ylva, you’re wild and thrilling. Thryma, you’re gentle and loving. I couldn’t possibly compare you—it wouldn’t be fair. You’re all… perfect in your own way.”
The giantesses exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from amused to touched. Freydís smirked, Ylva laughed, and Thryma smiled softly, her eyes filled with gratitude. The tension in the room seemed to ease, the fire crackling warmly in the silence that followed. For a moment, Ingvar felt as though he’d passed some kind of test, his words appeasing their curiosity without wounding their pride.
But as the wine flowed once more and their teasing resumed, he realized that the night was far from over. The giantesses weren’t finished with him yet—not by a long shot.