\n\t\t\t\t\tHedgar it went and ended up into a collab between us and well, gotta say his writting doesn't disappoint! I will post a shortened version and link to his full story!Hedgars part: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/25054884
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Best Laid Plans...
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The forest had an unnatural brightness to it as Ana slowly slipped down a crude path, her paws working carefully over roots and rocks. The path itself seemed almost luminescent, admittedly rather handy as the feathered, vulpine gryphoness chose her steps carefully in the filtered moonlight of the tight foliage.
This, this was the center of the ‘attacks,’ she was certain. Not that many were logged as attacks. These days, with people so suspicious of each other, so fractured, so isolated, there was little reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary about the valley she was slowly trekking down.
Granted, half those people would never have believed a pregnant gryphon would ever attempt such a trek in the first place. Most are still probably crowded around that tavern hall trying to decide if someone must do something. Someone surely would do something! It was doubtful anyone else would even bother to do more than shake their heads and order another stein. Or flash their steel before understandably riding in the opposite direction come nightfall. This was no place for swords and armor.
Not that she could even fit into armor!
Ana grimaced, not for the first time, as her weight shifted awkwardly. A very rotund swell of her stomach between haunches and ribs clearly showed her obscenely pregnant state. Her tail swished and wagged, her scent easily followed, and the awkwardness of her descent might be heard halfway across the valley with the right ears.
All as planned.
Again not for the first time, Ana wished she had thought of a better solution, but few in this part of the world would trust her word on this, or any word, given their superstitions. Gryphons were thought of as sheep snatchers, not messengers to heed.
“Granted, if they all knew who I actually was, they’d probably run screaming.”
THAT particular thought she put away. She was Ana, she had to believe she was Ana, only Ana. Vulnerable, tempting, innocent Ana.
Well, not so innocent that week she spent with a handsome, wolfish drake of a gryphon some months ago. He had been such an adorable fellow. She hoped he wasn’t too hurt when she disappeared on him; alas, there always seemed to be broken hearts left in her wake no matter the quest.
Mortals were always so sensitive.
She again shook herself in light self-chiding. No, Ana. Mortal, pregnant, delicious gryphoness who has wandered into dangerous lands. That’s who she was. The swell of eggs within her certainly made that part hard to forget, though no monster should be able to tell they’re infertile.
Not before it’s far, far too late.
The path continued, sidetracking, switchbacking down a particularly steep slope, that slight iridescence still present like a carefully laid trail. Ana’s dark falcon eyes could see more than many owls; her nares sniffing the wind not unlike a sensitive fox’s might for that sickly sweet odor she expected.
She was bred for this. Get it? Bred?
The gryphoness’s stifled giggle echoed quietly as she peeked back at her own rather rotund vulpine features. Pity, she had no companion to roll their eyes at her horrible jokes. Hearing a good groan from a companion was always the best part of punnery. She momentarily regretted not inviting that one thoughtful fellow from the tavern gathering. A dragon, and a handsome one at that, though his armor was rather ill fitting and he seemed a tad timid.
That one quiet laugh seemed to roll down the path before her, that was surely subtle enough to arouse interest. If this was the right valley that is.
Her thick vulpine tail swished again, a touch of nervousness this time. There was something on the wind. A change in pressure, perhaps a stilling of air. That sweet scent on the wind? Definitely seemed stronger with this switchback. The luminescence of her path seemed to brighten.
Ana was close.
It took some steeling of nerves she found, her body responding to that implied threat as was designed. Her heart began to beat against her ribs, lungs quickening along suit, and all those half-buried instincts told her this was a BAD place to be.
And yet, she kept moving forward, waddling in that slightly awkward gate along a particular ridge. That, that’s when she noticed the flowers. Beautiful, orchid-like, not all that out of the ordinary. After all, this was a rather warm forest. Climbing vines with pretty flowers was to be expected.
What some might not notice is just how...intoxicating those flowers would be.
It takes some talent to recognize the effects, when you’re the subject. A warmth, spreading from her nostrils, her lungs, her core, tingling and shivering from shoulders to fluffy tail-tip! It was a heady sort of scent, tingling at her brain, her heart, her nethers, little playful jolts down underneath all that vulpine fur and sleek falcon feathers.
From wingtips to eartips, coming all as a rush. And she felt her body, and, admittingly, her mind, grow giddy from the spreading warmth.
“Oooh. Beautiful. Simply beautiful work. I couldn’t have designed better myself.” The curtsy she offered the flower nearly sent her tumbling, laughing, giggling at the absurdity, but somehow she managed to remain on her paws. The path beckoned, a siren’s call as if a breeze had whistled across a wine jug, but she felt not a wisp of air movement.
She had found it’s lair.
And to her mild, euphoric surprise, not a single hair or crest feather was standing on end as a rustle came from the darkness ahead.
She wanted to go forward, her whole body yearning towards the darkness. And she did. One step, two, three, hesitant, awkward steps, growing steadily more intoxicated with each passing step, with each sultry brush of foliage against soft vulpine fur and sleek feathers.
It sent shivers up and down her pelt.
Her steps were growing more drunken as the minutes past. Flowers were everywhere, the path near glowing to her eyes now. She could feel...that was her arousal, dripping between her hind legs, sex growing damp as thoughts started slipping into her mind.
Thoughts of that male gryphon came unbidden, in cocky repose. Oh if only she had a lip to bite! The noble ‘knight’ dragon, with his pale mane and paler scales, and what he might look like under that armor. Other thoughts, some not even involving herself seemed to flit across the surface of her mind. It made her tongue hang out, it made her knees ache! A flower hung low over the path, and she couldn’t help but push her beak into it, inhaling deeply as stars seem to spark from behind her eyelids! There was an electric buzz in her nethers, her belly, an emptiness that seemed to defy all logic!
That’s when she came to the yawning entrance to the cave.
There were tracks here, many tracks. Paw tracks, boot tracks, hoof tracks, all leading within. As were many of those flowering vines. She couldn’t help but walk upon them, crowding as they were just as all those trails disappeared. The heady need ached once again, and she stepped drunkenly forward, the stillness seeming to intensify in the echo of the cavern.
That small core, that deep, observant self watched with interest. It was all a play, a tale happening to another being. That sky huntress willingly marching herself into the sickly sweet scent of death that the cavern brought, beneath the roots and dirt and stone; far from safety.
There was light, even to her unnaturally sensitive eyes. The vines, the vines seemed to pulse with that iridescence that lay upon the path. Fewer flowers here, more vines, and her paws followed their trail seemingly of their own regard.
This was dangerous, this was foolish, this was all manner of suicidal. All the reported disappearances, all the dangerous tales from ‘survivors’ with their lost memories. The occasional skull that had washed up far downstream.
Through some manner of will, Ana looked back, finding herself a dozen or so gryphon body-lengths within the cave. The opening was just there, gloomy but lit. Safety lay beyond.
That’s when she felt the caress. A brush against her cheek, her beak. Tentative, gingerly, tracing across the corner of her beak, down a line along her neck.
That small touch sent ripples of pleasure down along her spine, even to the very tip of her vulpine tail!
She felt shifting, felt movement under her paws. The vines, several of them at least, were beginning to shift. It was hesitant, subtle, like a snake curling around a mouse. Casual, quiet.
Dangerous.
The hazards alone nearly made bite her tongue at the thought. The outright mortal terror she should be feeling was supplanted by a similar base emotion.
Need.
When she fell on her side, it was almost laughable! Indeed, she found herself laughing aloud, falling into the softest of embraces, of oddly un-wooden vines catching her fall. Her wings pinched for a moment, soon splayed, spread in that so vulnerable state. No gryphon felt comfortable on their backs, but here she was, splaying out, laying out, the cavern exit all but forgotten.
Not when she felt it’s touch.
Something in her mind was certain this was no conglomeration. There was a single entity behind these tendrils, these vines, these flowers.
These disappearances.
It reeked of sweetness, and she loathed to leave it. She should struggle, she should fight!
And yet those thoughts were far from her mind. The vulnerability was so present, the danger so bright, the scream of such deep instincts to flee so insistent, so fierce!
All of it only made the heat of it all flare within her chest, within her groin, a heat that left the gryphoness groaning aloud to her own surprise!
Tendrils were shifting of their own accord, sliding across her pelt, her fur, her limbs in slow, ponderous, casual motions. It was cautious, she sensed. Soooo cautious, so careful.
But so, so, so very greedy.
She had fallen into a trap, Splayed like a winter goose, rather stuffed like one as well! The swell of her belly even more blatant from this pose, so tempting, so promising, her head propped up against a large stone to better see, to better view.
It seemed to mostly ignore her limbs. She wasn’t struggling after all. But it was definitely learning her curves, sliding across hips in seductive fashion, across thighs, across forelegs and chest and throat.
Those faintly fluorescent tendrils, vines, roamed across the expanse of her body, and she let them. The thrill of it again threatened to send sparks across her nerves.
She was hapless, endangered, the soft, deceptively gentle caress of those probing vines curling across her beak, teasing across the sensitive fluff of her ears. She giggled drunkenly, despite herself.
This was a monster, a monster that murdered, that sapped, that destroyed, that devoured, and she was perversely hapless in its curling grasp.
Perfect.
Not that she wasn’t enjoying this little quest. The tendrils, no longer masquerading as vines, were growing more translucent, more luminescent, more motile, much, much, much more curious. She felt probes slide under her chin, curl around her nares, cupping her beak as she laid back in total vulnerability.
Not that her muscles would probably obey her if she tried to squirm and struggle away!
Her hind legs splayed of their own accord, muscles relaxing in the awkward posture, wings shifted and pinched, but otherwise too relaxing across the floor of the cavern.
That’s when she felt the first slide of what felt more wet, more slick than flesh, sliding across her inner thighs, across strong vulpine muscles and warm fur, sliding across her lower belly, cupping, curling greedily around the swell of her stomach.
The evil creature almost seem to let off a giddy air, though she wasn’t entirely sure, given its existence only of tentacles and vines and subtly shivering flowers.
There was...delight in this cavern. A very sickly, horrible, murderous delight.
It curled across her beak once again, touching, probing, peaking, and as something touched her heat, something pressed openly between her thighs, as her tongue hung out and her beak opened to gasp, something curled between those mandibles, gently wedging them open, gently holding, gently sliding across her tongue.
She tasted it’s flesh then, oily, sleek, and again, that sickly taste of sweet that might normally have sent her stomach rolling. Instead, a numbness seemed to spill from it, dribbling down the back of her throat, and a fresh wave of eye-rolling contentment was spreading through her limbs, her chest, and right up to her brain.
Even her tail went limp, content, settled, even as probing tendrils explored outer lips of her vixen femininity. The gryphoness could most certainly coo, and she most certainly did, perfectly hapless for this monster’s ministrations.
And not altogether disliking the sensation. She couldn’t help it. That inner core, so normally invulnerable, so assured, so intent, and yet, here she was, exposed, toyed with, casually caught, captured, constrained! Even the notion that she was merely food, merely a toy, merely prey tickled that dark corner of her mind in ways that nearly all should find shocking.
Her dark eyes flicked past her hind legs, over the swell of her belly, unable to see exactly those probing tendrils, but she could see the darkness beyond where they led. A smaller offshoot to the cavern continued off, a deep, sickly glow of that same unnatural light, a hint of a mass within. A hint of the malice of presence there.
She pushed it from her mind. Ana would not be thinking that straight. Ana was drunk on the scents in her nares, writing with the spark of electricity dancing along her nerves, sapped and sated from the feel of growing numbness in her belly. She could start to feel her toe-pads and toes going to sleep, watching rather than feeling them splay at the end of her hind legs.
Her forelegs rested low, across her thighs in this propped up pose. Even lifting one took enormous effort, focus, will, until she let it slip and rest down once again.
Efficient, very very efficient this monster. The tendril curling around her beak still secreted that oily liquid. Not even the awkward angle of her neck, or the rock pressing into her spine seemed to bother her any longer.
That’s when she felt the pressure. Tendrils were not just probing at her nethers, they were wriggling, squirming, pressing, penetrating! Their slickness seemed to lubricate the way as her own body was responding most appreciatively, aiding the passage of that eye-widening thickness sliding inwards.
And beyond!
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Continue reading here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/25054884