Cicero was feeling very lonely because he got the feeling that everyone in the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary loathed his very existence...and the new member who had helped him with his wagon wheel outside the Loreius Farm was out on a mission in Solitude. He wanted something to do. Some way of validating his existence. Everyone else seemed to have something to do...but nobody had given him a mission yet. This was clear discrimination on Astrid's part! Just because he was the newcomer! Well, he'd show them all! He'd do the most important mission of all! His sacred duty to the Night Mother!

He jogged and danced at the same time, waving and showing his ass to Arnbjorn as he ran past the werewolf-man towards the Night Mother's chamber. He grabbed a broom as he went and pretended to fiddle with it. He set about barricading the door with the twenty buckets he had in his inventory until he was satisfied that nobody would be getting in any time soon. He turned to the coffin, stood like an iron maiden in the center of the room.

Dropping the broom, he walked towards it and it swung open as he pulled on the door handles. In the center was the skinny, dried-out corpse of the Night Mother. She was tied to the coffin with a rope and looked as if she had been killed by having a pole rammed up her ass. He bowed theatrically to her and licked his lips as he picked up the broom again. He proceeded to embed the broom handle in a cheese wheel for support and do a sexy dance for the Night Mother's enjoyment. In between each dance move he ripped off part of his clothing and threw it across the room in some sort of rhythmic sexy rage as he yelled, "Ohhhhh, do you like that Mother?" He grabbed the broom pole and tried to throw his entire weight around it so he hung upside down...but the cheese wheel was not strong enough and ripped in half sending Cicero flying into a table across the room with a loud high-pitched shriek. Some apple-cabbage stew scorched his dong which was still tied into his underpants. "Oh! These were clean on three days ago!"

He got up slowly as his dong felt like the innards of a volcano, and grabbed the now cheese-covered broom to finish his sexy dance. It was a lot harder now that he had to hold the pole himself...and now that every movement of his legs was agony. "My apologies, Mother!" He yelled, "You can spank me later if this is displeasing for you! Oh, do do!" He cried out, "Cicero does love to be punished... especially by you, dear sweet Mother!" The pole of the broom caught on his underpants and in one swift motion they were torn clean off and his bright red, apple-cabbage stew scorched jester-stick bounced around excitedly.

At this moment, Arnbjorn barged his way through the bucket-barricade with a warhammer in his hands as he had not appreciated being mooned by Cicero earlier in the main chamber whilst he trained. He took a long look at what was going on inside the room - Cicero naked and holding a broom pole, the Night Mother's coffin open and ready, cheese everywhere... He backed off immediately and decided to go. His wife wanting sex with him whilst he was in werewolf form didn't seem half as depraved as what Cicero was doing.

It was now time for him to begin his sacred duty of tending to the Night Mother's needs. He got the bottle of oil from his bedside table and carried it over to her (he could not get the usual oil and so had needed to compromise with the local speciality - horker fat oil). He coated his hands and began to gently caress them over her papery skin. He could feel her collar bone beneath his fingers and his boner sprang to life as he thought how easy it would be to snap it in two. He squealed in delight and began making his way down her arms with tender love and reverence. His fingers found the rope that kept her secure in the coffin and he longed to cut her free - feeling her body finally lying next to his, her sharp and jagged ribs cutting into his own flesh and puncturing his bowels. Ah, his bowels...

Snapping back to his senses he realised that she would probably fall apart if he took her to bed he decided that if he wanted to bone her, he would need to improvise a sex-swing. He lovingly unwound the rope from her waist and her neck and used it to suspend her body from the top of her coffin. He undid her waist-wrap and parted her legs deftly, hearing her hips grind in her crumbled sockets as he bared her inner sanctum. He secured her neck by an improvised noose to the ceiling so that she would remain safely in place whilst he 'tended to her needs'. He giggled, "Oh Cicero! You naughty, naughty boy!" as he began to oil his way up her inner thighs to the rancid hole that lay between them. His dong throbbed like a burned lizard. He allowed his fingers to run around her dried-out onion ring of a slit and shivered in pleasure, squealing once more, "Oh! Mother! You are so tight you might guillotine Cicero in half! But he will bear the scar gladly..." With this he took his dong in hand and pulled one of her legs around his waist. It sounded like marbles rolling about in a sack as the bones grated against each other and then her leg came off in his hand.

"Oh! I see I've made you so weak at the knees that you can no longer control your own legs! Hahaha!" He lovingly kicked it across the floor and resumed his position before ploughing into her like a farmer ploughs a cabbage field. He sounded like Nigel Thornberry as the million year old papery skin rubbed against his meat-pleasure-stick as it entered the corpse. The body swung from side to side as he had sex with it, grabbing onto the ribcage and pulling repeatedly as he thrust. A rib came off in his hands and he used it to tickle her face with. "Oh, oh Mother! I worship you, yes I do! And in return, Cicero is most pleased!" He pulled her towards him again as he thrust and the rope around her neck strained, threatening to behead her. Cicero was an easy man to please and soon he was nearing climax...

...but just as the jester was about to cum, Arnbjorn came back with Astrid in tow. He went to speak but saw the Night Mother's leg and instead vomited all over the room. His wife followed suit. The rest of the brotherhood came running and soon everyone was vomitting at the sight of what Cicero was doing to the Night Mother. All of these bodily fluids were making Cicero experience untold pleasure and he climaxed with a giggle and dong juice went all over the Night Mother! He screamed at the mess he had just made and the pressure in his head made ear-fluid spray onto Arnbjorn who promptly shat himself with the fright of it all and turned into a werewolf. Diarrhea started to fill the chamber and so Cicero picked up the Night Mother and her leg and locked them both inside the watertight coffin. They would weather this literal shitstorm together! How romantic.

The end.