Oedipal Panties

"Where the fuck were you?" was the first thing Gilda yelled at her son. The somewhat smaller griffon scowled at his mother, his hand-me-down leather jacket making him look like a complete degenerate. Just the way Gilda liked it.

"Modest Mare concert," Gregor replied gruffly.

"What, those pussies?" Gilda spat. "With their shitty emo-teen lyrics?"

"Best non-griffon outfit out there," Gregor said, shooting Gilda daggers. The two often fought over music. Gilda was, after all, more into the punk from a decade or two ago, and her son was into those weird new bands.

"Well, their first record was okay," Gilda admitted. "And I guess 'The Reckless Mild West' was alright too; but the rest is garbage!"

Gregor's eye twitched. "How can you even say 'The Moon and Sombra' wasn't the best record you've ever listened to?"

"Because I like real music," Gilda said savagely. "What ever happened to your Sex Ponies records? You and me always listened to them together! Now you're all into dweeb music." Gilda paused, then smiled. "Heh, I bet you even like Green Hay."

Gregor's eyes widened. "You take that back."

His mom wore a mix of a scowl and a smile. "Make me, punk."

Gregor puffed up his chest, but after a few moments of heated tension, settled down.

"Whatever, can we not talk about music? We always fight over it."

"Whatever, dork," Gilda said, walking to the table and grabbing a pack of cigarettes that was laying their, partially open. "Go get two bottles of whatever from the kitchen."

Gregor nodded, and walked over to the pantry, opening it with a creak. Inside, many different bottles of whisky and vodka with various levels of fullness lined the shelves. He grabbed a dusty-looking whisky, and another one that looked good. He never bothered with names, just appearances. Part of the fun was being surprised by how awful his judgment was.

Gregor returned to the dining room, but his mother was no longer there. No matter, he knew where she left too. The bottles were safely held in the crook of his left arm and he wandered out towards the dining room landing.

The dining room landing was a piece of the house which overlooked the cliff which the dwelling was built upon. They had made it sort of the designated "smoking and drinking place" of the house, since the house smelled like shit if they smoked in it, and shit got broken if they drank inside. True to Gregor's prediction, Gilda was already out there, cigarette in beak.

"What'd you get?" she asked her son as her walked out next to her and dropped the bottles carefully onto a patch of moss.

"Some whiskies," he answered simply, passing one to his mother. "Don't know what they are."

Gilda took one, and popped open the cork that stopped it shut. Bringing it to her beak, she took a few swigs, her cigarette falling from her mouth and off the cliff as she did so.

"Eh, tastes fine," she deduced. "Go on, dweeb, drink yours."

Gregor nodded slowly as he unstopped his cork. His mother rarely referred to him by name, it was always "dweeb", "dork", or "punk". Not that he minded the last one, or the names in general... it just got tiresome.

He took a drink from his whisky, and instantly recoiled. His mother smirked.

"You alway do get the bad ones," she said. "Maybe your music taste is affecting how you chose drinks."

"Ugh, this again," Gregor sighed. "Don't start this again, mom."

Gilda blushed angrily. "Don't talk back to me, you ungrateful punk!"

"Calm down, will you?" Gregor told her sternly. "I just don't want to hear you bitch me out about my musical preferences; can't we just... drink?"

"I was only fucking with you, dweeb," Gilda said, rolling her eyes. "Take a joke."

The two sat in silence, taking swigs from their respective bottles of alcohol, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Gregor looked over at his mom, and reached a talon out for a cigarette. Immediately, his mother's talon was clutched around his, preventing him from getting to the smoking sticks.

"Mine, punk," she warned her son.

"Come on, not even one?" Gregor asked, trying to put on his best begging face, but instead looking like he had just eaten several lemons straight up.

Gilda grinned maliciously, and flicked a cigarette into her beak. "Nope."

Her son groaned. "You're so selfish sometimes."

Gilda stopped, and looked over at him. "Really? I'm selfish, the one who raised you from a chick? Who put up with all your bullshit when you growing up and putting everyone around you through hell?"

"I didn't say anything about that," Gregor moaned. "I just wanted a damn cigarette!"

Gilda was on a role now though. "The one who cleaned up after you, when you were growing up? The one who lets you drink as much as you want?"

"Look, you can—"

Gilda took a breath, and cut her son off. "The one who puts up with your shitty taste in music?"

"DROP THAT AL-FUCKING-READY!" Gregor bellowed. Gilda scowled at him.

"Make me, punk."

Gregor was seething, his ears pouring steam like a tea kettle. He lashed out, reacting in essentially the only way he knew how— violence. He wasn't out to hurt his mom, but to send her a message.

He shoved her.

Gilda was taken completely off-guard by this, and had to quickly stabilize herself so she wouldn't fall off the side of the cliff. In doing this, however, she bumped her cigarettes, and they went tumbling down into the town below.

Gregor watched as the box disappeared, knowing what was going to come next. He could feel his mother's eyes shooting flames at him, and he braced himself for what would come next.

"YOU DAMNED IDIOT!" she screeched, bringing her talon to his face. Gregor flinched as she smacked him, leaving a red mark under the feathers, which could hardly even be seen at all. The intent was all there though.

Gregor lunged forward, tackling his mom. The two griffons struggled, wrestling with each other, often threatening to fall off the side of the cliff. While they could easily fly to safety if they did fall, it still wouldn't be a pleasant experience.

Gregor was on top of his mother, both of their talons on interlocked with each other, pushing hard against them. They wore equal scowls, staring deep into each other's eyes, radiating anger.

Then, in an instant, they were on each other, in a much, much different way. Their beaks were pressed into one another's, an awkward sort of kiss. Kissing wasn't something griffons did often, for obvious reasons, but Gilda had spent most of her young life with ponies, and those habits still lingered even today.

"Th-that that best you got, dweeb?" his mother stammered when they broke apart.

Gregor was a bit surprised at his own actions, and wasn't trying to play it cool like Gilda. He was caught completely and truly off guard by what had just transpired. The tension between the two had built up to such high levels that they just... snapped.

"What the hell..." he began, almost breathily, as if the simple action of pressing beaks with his mother had winded him.

"I said," his mother growled, and Gregor turned to look at her. Her beak was clenched as if she were still angry, but her eyes gleamed with a ferocious hunger that transcended the emotion. "'Is that the best you got, dweeb?'"

Gregor stared at Gilda for a moment, unsure of what to do. Should he kiss her again? What should he do with his talons? How should he position himself on her? And for the love of the Griffon Emperor, why did she WANT him to continue?

"I don't..." Gregor began, before trailing off. "I mean, I'm not really sure what to do next..."

Gilda groaned, rolling her eyes as she did so. "Have you even ever had a girlfriend?"

Gregor blushed. "Of course I have! I've had my past three over like a million fucking times at the house in the past few months."

"You sure burn through 'em," Gilda muttered.

"You're one to talk," Gregor said quietly.

There was a pregnant pause, and Gilda moved on right back to the old topic. "Anyway. have you ever gotten anywhere with you girlfriends?"

"A-a few times," Gregor stuttered, feeling even more uncomfortable as the seconds slothed on.

"Then why aren't you doing what you did with them?" Gilda asked.

"Because..." Gregor paused. "Because every female's different, you know? One thing doesn't always work all the time."

"Stop being the world's biggest dweeb and give it to me," Gilda chastised, making a sudden move for her son's crotch.

Gregor moved backwards, nearly falling off the side of the cliff as his mother mother made the wild grab for his balls.

"Mom, what are you..." Gregor trailed off, looking at his mother. She was giving him that same hungry look, panting, and... twitching. Her legs were shaking, and she looked... unsettled.

"Are you alright?" Gregor asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"'C-course I am, d-weeb." Gilda was stammering and stuttering, looking down at her talons. "It's just..."

She lunged to the side, scaring Gregor damn near out of his feathers, but she was only grabbing her whisky.

"Do you really not want to..." It was her turn to trail off. Casting her son another glance, Gilda took a sip of her whisky. "Why'd you even go for it, then?"

Gregor looked at her, and sighed.

"I really don't know, we were just fighting and..." Something clicked in the griffon's brain. "Wait a minute..."

"What're you thinking up?" Gilda asked suspiciously. Gregor smiled.

"Hate sex!" he exclaimed, causing Gilda to raise an eyebrow.

"What are you getting at?"

"The tension was building since we were on each other's cases the entire time!" Gregor explained. "We were grinding on each other's nerves, and then... something snapped, and we threw ourselves on one another..." He scratched his chin. "And the reason I had second thoughts is because I calmed down..."

Gilda grinned, nodding. "That makes sense, actually! Glad I at least raised a smart dweeb."

"So wait..." Gregor pondered. "You're still wanting to go down on me, so that means you must still be angry at me about something..."

Gilda shrugged. "I'm pretty much never happy, just less pissed off."

"Fucking hell, mom..." Gregor shook his head. "Well, I'm not gonna be in the mood for anything unless I'm angry, so do you wanna just..." Gregor gestured to the inside.

"Fine," Gilda said, rolling her eyes. As the two headed back towards the house, Gilda shot out a leg, tripping her son. Gregor fell to the ground, hard.

"Oof!" he exclaimed as he hit the ground. His mom just gave him a manic grin.

"You're so obvious, mom," Gregor muttered with a roll of his eyes. Gilda scowled.

"Whatever, punk," she told her son, taking another drink from her whisky bottle. "You gotta buy me new smokes, by the way; that's another thing that's got me pissed off right now."

Gregor studied his mother for a moment, making Gilda feel a bit uneasy. "I wonder what makes us have this sort of chemistry when we're pissed off at each other."

"Too smart," Gilda mumbled. "Always questioning things... hey, dweeb, hurry up! I wanna get some grub!"

Gregor followed his mom to the kitchen, not really paying any attention to what was going on. He was far too engrossed in thought, wondering what the hell was going on between the two of them.

Gilda rummaged around in the kitchen, until she returned with some dried meat assortments. Gregor pulled out a chair for her, and he sat down across the table. Just before her sat down, however, his mother kicked out the chair from beneath his fuzzy read end, causing him t tumble to the floor.

"Ow!" he called out in pain, massaging his bruised bottom. "Mom, this isn't going to work!"

"You don't know that, dork," she said, ripping a huge chunk of jerked beef from the shank currently clutched in her talons.

"I can guess," Gregor said, grabbing his chair and pulling it to him so he could sit right. "I really don't feel comfortable doing this, and getting me angry just so you can get off... the fuck is wrong with you?"

Gilda's eyes gleamed. "Seems like I'm already winning..."

"No!" Gregor shouted, slamming his talons down on the table, leaving small but noticeable gouge marks. "No, you're not! I'm not going to let you do this to me, mom!"

Gilda took another bite of her beef jerky, and scowled. "Look, kid, I could force you into doing things for me; I could shove you to the ground, pin you, and just hump the shit out of you if I wanted to; you might be reasonably strong, but I'll still overpower you. I'm doing it for you, the way YOU'LL want to do it—you can get mad, get horny, and give your mom some action."

"I don't want to do this at all, though!" exclaimed Gregor, throwing his talons into the air in frustration. "This isn't something I want to do!"

"For now," Gilda said ominously. Gregor sighed, and reached for a piece of jerky.

Gilda swatted him away. "Get your own."

"Come on mom, it's right here, there's a lot, you can give me some," Gregor argued.

"I got it, I get it," Gilda reasoned. "Get your own."

Gregor lunged for the thin strip of dried meat, and Gilda jerked it away from him at the last moment. The two repeated this, with Gilda laughing evily each time she yanked it away. Gregor was furious.

Finally, he lunged from his chair, and sprawled himself across the table, grabbing at the jerky. However, the force he put in jumping over caused him to slide over the tabletop, colliding with his mother.

"Ooh, feisty, aren't we?" Gilda cackled. Gregor made a grab for the jerky, and this time he managed to clench it in his claws. He had little time to enjoy his treat, however, as his rage hit the tension-snapping point.

The chair tipped back, and mother and son were embraced once more. Gilda was nipping at her son's neck feathers as her let his talons dance along her lioness's bottom. Gregor groaned, and Gilda nipped harder and harder into her son.

"AH!" Gregor screamed, snapping and becoming lucid again. He launched of his mother, shoving her into the ground, and used his wings to take flight.

Gregor flew down the hallway, bolting for the stairs. He knew that his room could be the only safe place he could hide from his mother. He could hear Gilda's wings right behind him, so he had to be very quick.

And he was, really; he was a great flier, talented and hardworking at the art. It was one of the few things he put effort into, and it showed. He was up the stairs in less than two seconds, zooming down the hallway and maneuvering past open doors and discarded items with great ease; he was QUICK.

Unfortunately, not quick enough.

His mother collided with his backside right as he got to the doorway of his room, and the tumbled into his bed. Gregor quickly slid off before his mother got any ideas, but both were simply laying where they had landed, panting hard.

"Dammit..." Gregor gasped.

Gilda crawled out of the bed, and over to her son's desk. "I guess I didn't make you angry enough before. I'll have to step it up a notch..."

Gregor's tired eyes followed her, and it wasn't for a few moments before he realized what was going on. In her talons was the sleeve of the record "The Moon and Sombra" by Modest Mare.

"Mom, what are you..." he began, but stopped once he saw here take the record from the sleeve, and hold it in both talons.

"Mom, don't," he warned her, but the griffon opposite from him was not interested in stopping anytime soon. She began to flex the middle of the disk upward by pulling down hard on either sides. Gregor pushed himself to his paws, but it was too late.

CRACK.

The two halves of the record were in either of Gilda's talons, and shards of vinyl cascaded to the floor. Gilda smirked as she watched Gregor's expression turn to one of pure rage.

All Gregor saw was red.

Gregor tackled his mother, throwing all previous pretenses to the wind. At this point, he was beyond caring what she wanted; the rage that had come from that shattered vinyl was unparalleled to anything he had felt before. Sure, worse things had been done to him, but this was a betrayal; his own mother had done this to him!

Gregor flung his talons on Gilda's shoulders, and shoved her backwards. The griffon grinned, dropping the pieces of the record as she fell backwards, landing on wood floor with a grunt, twisting so that she fell on her side. Gregor was atop her only moments later.

The tension had gone far past being broken— it was snapped, shattered, decimated. Their beaks were clashing together in the odd way that was two griffons kissing. Soon, Gilda was moving her way down to nip at her son's neck plumage, as she had done downstairs.

The two wrestled on top of each other for a few moments, before Gilda sneaked a claw down towards her son's crotch, fondling the testicles that hung exposed for her to grab.

Gregor gasped as she did this, giving his mom a spiteful look. She grinned malevolently, and clenched her talon shut.

Gregor let loose a truly eagle-like screech as his balls were handled so roughly. Gilda laughed, and pressed the tips of her talons into the orbs, not hard enough to do any damage, but still hard enough to make her son yelp.

"Let's get going," Gilda hissed in her son's ear, and brought her other talon to Gregor's sheath.

Gregor gasped as the talon rubbed his sheath, forcing blood to pool despite himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he suspected this was also a side-effect from the rage-arousal, but he was too busy being occupied with the talon clenching his nuts to truly care.

"Mom, I don't—" Gregor began, but it was at that moment that his dick inched its way out from inside his body, and was soon at its full seven inch mast.

"Hehe," Gilda chuckled as she looked at her son's length. "Glad we don't have those annoying barbs cats do on their dicks. I'm all for a bit of pain, but..." Her talon tips danced along Gregor's smooth, pointed cock. "I consider this an improvement."

"Didn't pin you for a biology expert," Gregor huffed, gasping and taking huge gulps of air. "Figured you were always bit a bird brain."

"You think you're cool with your puns," Gilda mocked. "But you'll always be mommy's little dweeb."

Gilda pushed herself up, and flipped Gregor so that he was on his back instead of her. His tip glistened with a bit of precum, and Gilda eyes his crotch hungrily.

"Bit easy, aren't we?" she goaded.

"Shut up, you stupid bitch," Gregor spat back with a scowl. His mother merely shrugged this off, and began to slowly move her claw up and down his length, stroking her son. Gregor’s wings shuffled uncomfortably as her talon stroked his length, sending little blots of pleasure through him as they did so.

Gilda craned her neck down, settling so that her beak was right at Gregor’s shaft. She smiled her crafty griffon smile, opened her beak, and extended her tongue. Gregor moaned as the wet heat pushed up against his cock, his wings shuffling reflexively from the stimulation. Rubbing his talon through her head feathers, Gilda’s son sighed as his mother pleasured his dick.

Gilda maned around Gregor’s member, pressing herself further down onto it. She slid fully down, her tongue lapping along the underside of his penis. Her break poked into Gregor’s upper crotch, and the light poke sent chills up and down Gregor’s spine.

Gilda pulled off his cock abruptly, staring up into her son’s eyes. “Enough of that, if I tease you for too long, you’re gonna blow it. You don’t have any stamina.”

“You don’t know that!” Gregor spat, blushing furiously. Gilda simply smirked, and crawled up onto her son, her plump feline backside straddling his crotch. Gregor’s eyes rolled back into his head as he sighed and muttered something unintelligible, his dick resting right up against his mother’s warm pussy lips.

“Let’s get this going...” Gilda muttered, pushing Gregor down so he was laying flat on his back. One talon laying on Gregor’s neck, she reached back and spread her left ass cheek, her pussy parting slightly from the stretch. Sliding up her son’s body, she positioned her nethers right above Gregor’s cock.

“Finally...” Gilda whispered, lowing her haunches downward.

“Wait!” Gregor yelled abrupty, shooting a talon out, landing it on his mother’s plum posterior. “I can’t... I don’t know if I...”

Gilda rolled her eyes. “Fucking hell, dweeb, you’re such a pussy. We both want this. We both need this. We both hate each other right now. What’s stopping you from getting what you want?”

“Can’t we...” Gregor paused for a moment. “Can't we just go back to the way things were?"

"When they were when, Gregor?" Gilda asked him. Gregor's eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat. "When we could hardly look at each other, and we just got piss drunk? When we never spoke or did anything?”

“You said my—”

Gilda rolled her eyes, and scowled. “Gregor, the only think I care right now about it getting some. And honestly, you’re not bad. You’re not bad at all. Even though I had to settle for my son... at least it’s better than ignoring him and being pissy at each other with no conclusion. Is that what you want, Gregor? For things to go back to that?”

Gregor stared back into his mom’s cold eyes. Sighing, his slowly lifted his talon from her backside. “I g-guess not...”

She smiled. “Good.”

And she dropped down.

Gregor gasped, his vision going white for a moment as his dick passed by his mother’s frontal folds. The warm space enveloped his dick, clenching down on it slightly. Gilda sank her son deeper within her, and she herself let out a moan as he began to stretch her out.

“Mmm.. oh yes...” she hissed. “I remember when I hatched you from an egg, you dweeb; wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep you, you were a scrawny looking thing. If I had known you were gonna end up like this... I wouldn’t have thought twice about raising you.”

“Wow, mom,” Gregor grunted as his hips bucked upward, his mother’s muscles stimulating his cock with her every thrust. “What a nice thing to *ah* tell your kid!”

“Oh shut *mm* up, you twerp,” Gilda gasped, his hips sinking lower and lower. Gregor’s cock was almost fully inside her, and as she bounced up and down on her son’s dick, she felt a wave of pleasure rising up within her. Grinning, she quickened her thrusts, rising and falling faster than ever before.

Gregor’s eyelids were fluttering, and his eyes were halfway rolled back into his head. He lifted a talon, and reached around for his mother’s ass. Resting against her soft fur, he almost smiled, and dug his talons in.

“Grrah!” Gilda half-growled, half-shrieked as she felt the wonderful pain of her son’s talon digging into her flesh. Gregor sneaked his talon up further, searching for her tail, and once her found it, gave it a hard yank.

“AAAH!” Gilda trilled loudly, and stopped her humping for a moment. Looking down at her son, she gazed into his eyes with a dangerous smile plastered on her beak. “Oh, you are ASKING for it...”

Gregor barely had time to register anything before his mother mashed her beak against him in that awkward way griffons kiss. Fast as lightning, she was at his neck, nipping, snapping, and biting, and she was doing it HARD. Gregor’s back arched as he gasped in pain, yet his dick had never been harder in his life.

Through the haze of pure pleasure and perfect pain, Gregor slid his talon right beneath his mother’s tail. Feeling the supple flesh ring that lay there, he grinned. Taking three of his talon tips, he pushed them into his mother’s anus, and spread them.

“OH FUCK!” Gilda screeched. Gregor could barely register anything as he toyed with his mother’s asshole, as her pussy was clamping down on his cock; he could vaguely feel his crotch dampening slightly.

Gregor’s eyes rolled back fully as he gasped, his beak open, grinning wildly. His tongue hung out on the side of his face, dripping saliva as he slammed his hips up once more.

In a blinding moment, he felt the unbelievable pressure in his testicles release all at once, and his dick began to spasm. Thick jets of cum splattered all along the inside of his mother’s vagina, and Gregor let out a few deep breathes of orgasmic pleasure. He shot a few heavy ropes of his semen within her, before his orgasm died down to a collection of spurts.

Gasping and panting, the two griffons lay on each other, sweating and stinking of sex. Gregor closed his eyes, and sighed happily.

“Th-that was incredible...” he breathed. He tried to move, but something kept him from doing so. Opening his eyes, he saw that his mother was laying on him in just the right way to keep him perfectly pinned.

“Oh, you’re not going ANYWHERE...” she crooned with a giant smirk on her face. “I only came once, dweeb...”

Gregor’s eyes widened, and his beak fell open. “Oh dammit...”

Gilda smirk softened. “Oh, come on. You can’t hate it anymore than you hate me.”

Gregor shut his beak, and closed his eyes.