Balros
Balros grins, broadly, scooping up a lap-sized Sypress in his thickbig handpawbs. His touch is... warm, orgasmic, and shockingly quick to cram your endocrine system full of too many hormones. Babybatter belts from your sheath before you're even erect and thick girl-slime splats from your sex as it rudely bloats behind your balls, as if you've been shoved through ten fresh puberties in as many seconds. He brings you in for a simple snuggle, burying your beak in the thick floof of his chest, swamping your senses with his rich squirrely fuckmusk. Just a single breath is enough to coax your six tits up two full cup sizes and pissing milk from six swollen teats. The longer he holds you, the more the squirrel overrides your reality with escalating pleasures. It feels like a hot pressure building up inside yourself, urgently pushing out as mass, heat, sexneed, and powerful rocking orgasms. 

Sypress
arched in surprise as she was scooped into his embrace, like a cat startled by finding itself in the sudden grasp of its owners hands. Any leanings towards displeasure, however, were quickly lost to the mere sensation of being touched. A throaty purr issued from her beak in the same instant that alabaster slime shot out in gooey, repetitive ropes from her pendulous sheath, a drunken warmth seeping in to her very core until it too gushed from her in the form of a noisy splash of estrus and a notable paunch in her belly; paunch that was utterly lost as those big, soft breasts swelled out into double handfuls against the squirrel's chest and belly. 
She pressed in closer still, burying her beak in the soft fluff of his chest, taking in his scent while paws two sizes too large kneaded at what she could reach, be it belly or chest, sharing in the warmth that coursed through her body, broadening her curves with every passing moment and further enhancing her already-rampant fertility until the gooey mess jetting from her sheath was reduced to tarry spurts that simply bubbled out of the tip of that pendulous sheath, adding to the growing haze of musk around the squirrel and gryphon. Who knew that so much virility could be packed into so small of a creature?

Balros
Nestled in his arms as if comforting a beloved cuddlepet, your sheath and sac aggressively bloats larger, more potent, too virile, ejaculating easily and yet with great vigor and force. So too does your estrus easily spill forth from a gurgling womb, fattening your midriff slightly more than your natural padding already does. Plump and gravid enough to peek from your lowermost pairs of breasts, even as your six fluffy feral tits swell to shame anthro pornstars. He happily churred squirrelishly as your face stuffed into the floof of his chest and neck, dipping his head to do the same to the fluff of your neck. Standing there, he could feel your paws - fore and back - explosively swell into heavy kitten mittens, too soft and also too strong to be of much practical use. Your growth continued as he stroked down your back - pops as your spine stretched longer, your whole body growing slightly bigger. Enough to accentuate your plumping rumpcheeks, bubbly spheres of fuckable fat.
Unceremoniously, Balros shuffles his hips to swing down his shorts without having to grab at them, helped by a swipe of your hind paw. The ponderous bulk of his huge squirrelsheath is soon firmly quashed against your thickening butt, your girlcum painting his swelling shaft and making it shine. But he holds up your ass, not quite stuffing into you... teasing you, hovering you above the point where you'd be fucked and filled. Instead, there's a violent heat within your womb, the sensation of a fat-butted fuckbirb stretching your birth canal.... and your young clonedaughter has a bellyfull of boner while you still have none.

Sypress
She was quickly beginning to less resemble a fluffy, lap-sized creature with a tendency towards kneading upon those who picked her up, and more towards that of a feral fucktoy. Her breasts blossomed out into huge things that overflowed both of Balros' hands with ease, thick teats pissing milk in the most literal sense as he hoisted her up. Her belly, relatively soft and pudgy, had grown into a grey-feathered dome, taut and gurgling with the oversized womb nestled away within. Heat positively radiated from her middle before it had even begun to grow, and as Balros stroked down her back, coaxing her to a decidedly more lap-filling size, the first glimpses of oversized paws could be seen pressing out from within.
Hoisted up as she was, her overheated mound flexing and gushing a literal gallon of estrus with every belly-rippling clench of her tunnel, she could do little more than paw at him affectionately, ears swiveling and tipping towards the cacophony of noises shared between them. Right up until the moment she was busily birthing the clone-daughter that had been slowly swelling her middle out into a heavy, breast-spreading dome. Her immodestly oversized pussy made the ordeal of birthing a pleasurable one, to say the least, but the sensation of her daughter seemingly becoming stuck in her canal was enough to send a dozen fresh ropes of tarry semen jetting out over the ground amidst a series of chirps and squawks, splattering the ground in front of Balros to more resemble a Pollock painting. 

Balros
With your posture in his arms - overflowing - the dome of your pregnancy is shoved against his front, while your breasts pillow about him and try to soak his fur with too much gryphonmilk. All six of your bountiful bosoms feel full and heavy with rampant cream production, pressured, making more milk than they can drain in any given moment. Desite your weight, the squirrel seems to keep you hefted and hoisted, held aloft as you ejaculate onto him and birth so readily. It was so rude of him to plough into your clonedaughter's clenching sex while she was stuck halfway birthed from your stretched snatch; juddering his hips to pump and pound at her, and threaten to shove her back up inside of you. You can feel her bloated sheath and heated balls bumping against the back of your bigger nuts; letting you feel how she is growing larger, even as you do too.
As your spire surges forth to full erection and soaks the floor around him, the bulging of your belly forces it to arc downwards, your womb getting backed up as you're clogged full of clones. Your huge black-fluffed balls dump egregious volumes of seed into your dick, a dense sludge that promises to impregnate anyone who even sniffs your scent. Your engorged cunt swells and stretches tighter as your fuck-crammed daugnter's own womb begins to bloat fat and heavy with squirrelseed, forcing your hips to widen by sheer girth. His hips keep railing and his paws keep your huge ass clutched and spread.

Sypress
With paws too large and too soft to properly get a grip on Balros, she's utterly at the mercy of his fucking as the daughter lodged halfway out of her womb is subjected to gallons of dense, virile squirrel-nut, stretching the slightly smaller fuckbird's womb into a wobbling reservoir of seed that functions just as well as the beefy knot dangling from her mother's sheath, thumping against Balros' belly with gooey, rhythmic 'plap's as tarry seed launches from her shaft with audible gurgles and groans of her bouncing, sagging balls. 
More clones continued to fill out her middle until the activity was constant, if not downright roiling. New fuckbirds blossomed through several puberties all at once, living up to their names as they vigorously bred one another within the confines of her womb, fucking each-other senseless until their fat knots were too firm to extricate from bloated mounds. If Balros didn't let her birth soon, their growth would be exponential, and she would very likely never finish birthing more clone-daughters! Tazel would be proud. If the indigo vixen could wade through the literal haze of musk that hung in the air, that is.

Balros
With a yank, Balros pulls his hips back - firm enough to wedge your daughter free from your passageway, but not from her own depths, pulled free ike a tootsi pop. Yet the sudden sensation of being able to empty yourself of brood is made all too brief, as your daughter's aching cock takes his place, shoving into her sister's snatch and bloating her fat'n'full of gryphonspunk. All of your daughters within your womb hose your womb walls with furious ejaculate and milk, as they too cum-birth their cloneselves onto their sister shafts. The population inside your belly triples in as many minutes.
The squirrel blows untold plumes of spunk into your now fully-emerged gryphonclone, her back held up off the floor from the sheer size and strength of his huge shaft. Not even Balros's hugely fat nuts touch the floor, too taut 'n' full in his sac. Several tons of fuck-gryphon in his arms and on his shaft and the floor begins to buckle before he does. Grinning through all your boobfloof in his face, he releases his grip on your ass, to let it come crusing down on your cloneself's cock. Rolling his hips to bounce her, bounce you, both atop him. His hands stay busy, however, wrapping his arms around your huge cock near the knot, stuffing one paw down into your sheath - electrifying new neurons as he coaxes forth a second shaft, splitting into a second sheath, fueled by a second set of nuts.