So it came as only a moderate surprise when I met him directly one afternoon while flying at the edge of my territory. He was bigger than I expected; very big for a gryphon, compared to the few I’d seen before. He called out and landed, beckoning me down, and bowed with an eager caw. That’s a good start. Before I could respond though, he then turned, and bowed again - presenting his backside, tail hiked. I was on the verge of being offended at the insult, until he spread his legs a bit further and wiggled his hips – Oh. Oh! Not an insult, an invitation? Weeeeell then. That changes things!
I don’t like to think of myself as a prude, but I’d never even really considered fucking a gryphon before, certainly not on a first encounter. I’m not sure why not though – this bird’s delightfully tight, soft, and stretchy! I’d expected him to have second thoughts once I fit my crown under his tail, but he just pushed back and onto it instead, chirring up a storm. I’d figured he’d change his mind once he felt how much pre I was pumping into him, but he just crooned and curled his tail around my leg instead as his belly gurgled and bulged. I thought that certainly he’d protest once I came, especially with the full energy of my ring involved, but the horny creature planted his feet and pressed back to make sure he took every last drop – even when his belly was swollen all the way to the ground.
…. Fuck that’s hot.
Alright Faun, you earned it. When a teasing and overly-firm squeeze on your spectacularly distended gut only elicits a groan of aching contentment, followed by a gurgling croak of delight, I think you’ve proven yourself worthy. I hope you like walking, because with the number of eggs you’re now carrying, you won’t be flying any month soon.
Perhaps “walking” was too generous a term for what the poor egg-laden gryphon would end up doing. “Waddling” was almost too generous. Toward the end of gestation, he could barely lift my clutch off the ground, which meant he left entertaining trails wherever he went, and usually had grass stains in his soft belly fur. The horny breeder took it all in stride though (in a manner of speaking), and despite his increasing encumbrance, never turned down my attention and often sought it out. I wouldn’t have believed you if you’d told me that a creature so heavily pregnant could take even more abuse, but Faun was always eager to please, and took obvious pleasure in return.
I’d gotten so used to having him around, I almost forgot the inevitable end result of making eggs; which is that those eggs eventually need to be laid. So it happened that I caught Faun sprawled on his side, panting and groaning. I was concerned for just a moment – until I saw the first of my progeny on the ground, and the second on its way. Why, Faun, I don’t remember giving you permission to stop carrying those… Let’s just put these eggs back where they belong. I’m not done playing with you yet. There’s a good gryph. Put that beak of yours to worthy use, and maybe I’ll let you lay them tomorrow.
… Maybe.
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