Gilda answered the door wearing a knit-cap and a snow-white pair of panties. I blushed reflexively, but I knew she was just fucking with me. That was Gilda. She knew I knew, too, and just grinned at me. That was Gilda, too.
“C'mon in, nerd,” she said as she turned and walked inside. I ducked – griffon hutches weren't designed with humans in mind – and followed her. Her tail swung back and forth as she walked, her wide hips pulling the thin cotton of her underwear tight across her backside. They were thong-cut, but the curve of Gilda's ass and thighs hid anything from sight. She looked back over her shoulder and caught me staring.
“I said come in, pervert!” she growled as she half-turned towards me. I blinked and muttered an apology, and shuffled the rest of the way in.
I'd been living in Cloudsdale for a few months – enough to where I didn't draw any overt stares. I felt the eyes of ponies on me wherever I went, but at least I could ignore them now. It was weird being treated like a monster. Here, monsters were invited over to tea and maintained great conversations, but I was still an outsider.
I guess that's why I liked hanging out with Gilda – she's an outsider too. There were only a handful of griffons living in Cloudsdale, and their quarter was actually made of solid ground. I didn't have to worry as much about falling through a weak patch of clouds, and so I'd made my home in the biggest structure the city had – an old warehouse.
I hung out with Gilda for another reason – she was my dealer. I'd been a light user back home, but the stuff here was fucking primo. Most ponies didn't use, but those that did grew the best chronic I'd ever tasted. Given that I couldn't really make the trip down to the surface easily, Gilda had become my go-between, after I'd seen the bong on her shelf. She bought her stuff from a zebra in Ponyville named Zecora, and let me buy my share wholesale. She'd scored earlier in the day, thus the reason for my social visit.
The panties were kind of a joke. Most humans (and there weren't very many of us) were uncomfortable with the overall level of nudity in Equestria. I never understood it myself – we have horses at home and don't feel the need to make 'em wear boxer shorts... but there were enough prudes in the first waves of explorers that human sensibilities were taken account of. Some creatures, but far from all, had taken to wearing human garments as a matter of course, rather than on special occasions. Clothing had been one of my first conversational topics with Gilda when she and I had first smoked together. My loose tongue mentioned my love of clean, white panties. And from then on she always wore a pair – in a variety of styles – whenever I came over. I knew she did it to tease me. Her eyes would always linger on the bulge in my jeans when I’d stare too long, and she’d usually throw out a verbal barb or something.
I made my way into the central living room of Gilda's place where she had a veritable nest of pillows. I sank into a pile of silk cushions and sighed dramatically. Gilda passed me her biggest bong and the small paper envelope of hash. The bong’s handle/stem was about as thick as an old-fashioned soda bottle, and the bulb that held the water was maybe the size of a small cantaloupe. It was made of clear blue glass, with thousands of little multi-colored streamers swirling and knotting together. Like most things in Equestria, it was built for its beauty as much as it was for its functionality. As for why she passed it to me, one of the reasons ponies don't smoke as much is because they don't have hands. Griffons have opposable thumbs, but their talons make it hard to adequately pack a bowl. When I showed off my own skills months ago, Gilda declared that I would forever be the designated packer.
The little envelope was like origami, and the sticky sweet smell that wafted up from it set my nose tingling.
“New stuff?” I asked. “It smells different.”
“Yeah,” Gilda said from the kitchen as she rummaged around for snacks. “Zecora said this was something of an experimental strain. Let me have it for a song.”
“Well, thank you miss zebra-pants,” I giggled. Like every batch we'd ever enjoyed, the leaves were finely ground without a single stem or seed to them. It had a syrupy sweet smell to it, almost like molasses or sorghum, but not as strong and overwhelming. A hint of clove, maybe. I packed the bowl nice and tight and pulled out my lighter.
Gilda had sauntered back in with a tray of crackers and cheese, talon-sliced into little ribbons. She sat them down with a clack on the table in the middle of the room and took up position next to me. I felt the heat radiating from her body – ponies and griffons have a naturally high body temperature, especially up here among the clouds. She examined my handiwork and nodded to herself.
“Lookin' good, champ,” she said with her trademark sneer. “Light me up.”
She took the thin glass in her claws and put her beak to the neck of the thing. It was crafted by unicorns, according to Gilda, which resulted in its ethereal shape and supernatural durability. The neck of the bong was flared, to better accommodate a griffon's beak. I had to put my face down into the thing to get a good seal. As the purchaser, and the owner of the house in which we sat, Gilda always took the privilege of the first toke.
I flicked my lighter to life (one of the many innovations this world had enjoyed thanks to the crossover) and held the flame to the bowl. Gilda took a few experimental huffs and then drew in a deep breath. The hash glowed to life, the inside of the glass filling with thick smoke. With practiced timing I clicked the lighter off a second before Gilda pulled the bowl's plug free, and sucked the entire bong clear. Her chest puffed out considerably, her eyes only slightly watering at the bite of the smoke in her lungs.
She exhaled in a ragged sigh, pushing the hit straight into my face. I sniffed the sweet-smelling smoke, and felt my head get a little lighter. Given the difference in lung capacity, Equestrian bongs are considerably smaller than the ones I'm used to, so I have to take as much as I can. The sheer concentration of the chemicals, however, usually makes up for it.
I took my hit next, doing my best to draw as much smoke as possible into the bong before ripping. I'm no lightweight, but this stuff was awesome, and I felt my lungs tingle as the smoke filled them. I returned Gilda's favor by exhaling in her direction, causing her to cough and swat at me through the haze, squawking in mock-indignation.
We passed the bong back and forth several times. After the third hit I felt my head start to swim as the THC hit my brain. Equestrian weed has much more of a hallucinogenic effect, but it's never harsh or weird. Colors are just brighter, sounds sharper. It's good. Very pleasant.
We took a break after the first bowl was ashes, munching away at our snacks.
“So,” I said through a mouthful of crackers. “Those're new?” I pointed in the vague direction of her crotch.
“Yeah,” she said, giggling. “Bought 'em from a boutique when I was in Ponyville. Seamstress said you'd like 'em. They're all the rage in Canterlot.”
This sort of teasing was also part of the whole ritual. I hadn't engaged in any sort of intimacy with any Equestrians while I was here, and Gilda knew that. She teased me, and I teased her back. I dunno why we did – just for fun? It would have been frustrating, but the weed usually tamped down my desire. But not this time. This time I felt... well, to put it bluntly, I felt horny. Like, seriously horny. It'd been maybe a day since I'd last jerked off, but it felt like it was more along the lines of a week.
I leaned forward, my face dangerously close to invading Gilda's personal space. I was near her hind legs, maybe a foot or so from her talons.
“I dunno, may have to get a good look at 'em,” I mumbled, inching closer. Gilda looked me over, her eyes already red and half-lidded, but still sharp. She shrugged, then, and scooted her butt a little closer to me on the silk pillow she was sitting on, spreading her wide-set thighs apart.
“C'mon, then, nerd,” she teased. “Take a good hard look.”
I pushed forward through the sea of pillows, breaching the perimeter described by her claws. I knew just how sharp they were, but she made no moves. I looked up at her as she looked down at me. I felt warm.
I got closer to Gilda's panty-clad sex, and I could see a little dark spot of damp there. My erection was painfully obvious. I heard Gilda doing something above me, but I was mesmerized. Here was my friend's pussy, a griffon's pussy, maybe 8 inches from my face. I could feel the heat radiating off of her thighs and sex, and I smelled her. Fuck, she smelled so good. The dusty smell of feathers, the clean smell of rain, the faint crackle of ozone. She was a creature of the sky – why shouldn't she smell like it?
I heard a click and looked up, and saw that she'd managed to repack the bowl and light the bong, despite her talons. She was taking a massive hit. She sat the bong down with a heavy thunk and then made a “come hither” motion with a talon. I pushed up, moving closer. Her claws snagged my shirt and pulled me against her. Her beak opened and then closed over my mouth in a kiss. My mouth opened reflexively as her pointed tongue tickled my lips, and she exhaled, blowing the smoke right into my mouth.
My head swam, my vision blurred. It was like four drags at once hit me like a truck. I felt warm and tingly all over. I realized that I'd gotten into missionary with my griffon friend, and she had locked her legs around my hips. My cock was straining through my pants, and despite the layers of cloth that separated us I could feel the heat of her sex against mine. Her pussy was like a furnace. My arms wrapped around her and I pulled her chest against mine. We disengaged from the kiss, but remained close.
“Th... huh-uh... that was nicccce,” I hissed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
This was new. This was kind of scary. This was turning me on so much.
“Shut up,” Gilda growled as she pushed against me. “Just shut up and hold me, fuck.”
I did as she asked, holding her tight against me. I sat up, hauling her smaller body into my lap. Griffons were bigger than ponies, easily by a factor of two or three, and she fit into my lap quite snugly. I kissed her beak and the soft feathers of her neck. Copying my actions, she pushed the hard bone of her beak against my neck, nuzzling me. She pulled back and opened her beak again, tickling my lips with her tongue and slipping it into my mouth. After a few seconds she broke the kiss and nibbled and nipped at the skin of my shoulder, never hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to make it known she could if she wanted to.
I grabbed the bong and took a big hit of my own – as big as I could muster. I tickled her beak open with my fingers and as she squawk-laughed I pushed my face inside her mouth and exhaled, returning the favor from earlier. I felt wetness spread against my crotch as she humped against me.
Her eyes rolled back in her head, her tongue lolled out of her beak, but her talons poked into my back. She raked down, shredding my shirt. I could feel the skin break, but it didn't hurt. Endorphins or THC or lust, I don't know what, but it didn't hurt. I pulled back just long enough to tug the tattered remains of my shirt free. Gilda responded by running her talons gently across my hairy chest. She clucked and cooed in appreciation as she did so, and then hugged me tight again, pressing her downy-soft feathers against my flesh.
I stood, hunching over awkwardly, and shucked my pants. The only things separating our bodies were the thin cotton of our underwear.
“May I?” I asked, my words slurred. My fingers had hooked around the waistband of her panties, and I tugged up on them. Given their cut and tightness, I knew my gestures were rubbing the fabric against her sex. Her little shivers and squawks confirmed my theory.
“Take 'em off, pervert,” she churred. “Smell 'em. Stick my dirty panties in your face and sniff them.”
I tugged down gently, stretching the thin cotton of the waistbands across her wide hips. Her feathers made a whispery sound as I moved the cloth down. They were so soft against my fingers and palms. Spread-eagle as she was, she had to rock back between my thighs to remove her underwear. She did, and I saw the glistening slit of her sex for just a second as the damp cotton peeled away from it. She kicked her clawed hind-legs as I pulled the soiled underwear up her legs. I saw little arcs and blobs of clear goo clinging to the inside of the crotch of her panties. I did as I was told, and pushed the dirty underwear right into my face, inhaling the heady scent of griffon-sex. The scents from before were amplified, along with a rich feminine musk. Gilda pressed the thin scrap of cotton into my face, rubbing my nose into the thin layer of slime that was her arousal.
“Yeah, smell me, you fucking pervert,” she growled. “Dirty fucking human. Freak! You wanna fuck me, don't you?”
I pulled her underwear from my face and nodded.
“Yes, fuck, I want to fuck you god what was in that stuff,” I said. I was babbling. My hands were cupping her taut, athletic ass. The feathers there were short and stubby, soft as silk. There was almost no fat on her body – she was all muscle. My fingertips grazed the soft space between her cheeks and thighs, though, and I felt her softness there.
“Special blend,” the griffon growled. “Makes you horny.”
“W-why?” I groaned as I felt her grind her unclad sex against my shaft, still trapped in my underwear.
“Because I want to fuck you, idiot,” she rasped, holding me close. “And I'm too scared to ask.”
I felt her heart pounding through her ribcage, thanks to the closeness of our embrace. She was nervous. She was drugged, too. I gently pushed her away and looked into her eyes, but her gaze didn’t meet mine. She withdrew suddenly, curling up on a nest of pillows and putting the curve of her back to me. I sat there, my cock rock-hard and tenting my boxers. She flicked her gaze between the bong and my cock and her panties (still clutched in my hand). Only then did she dare a glance up at my face.
“It's okay,” I said as I stood. I peeled down my underwear, letting it fall to the floor. My cock stood straight out from my body, straight and proud, bobbing in time with my heartbeat. “I want you, too. And it's not the drugs, Gilda.”
She was abrasive and could be a bully. But when we smoked her walls came down, and I could see the person inside of her. Scared to be alone, but dedicated to perfecting herself. Afraid of pushing others away, and reacting negatively when she did so. She was angry at herself for being so bad. Weed gave her the excuse to relax and be herself – it was the pretext she needed to be happy and not worry about her image.
And I loved her for it. I wanted to make her feel loved. I'd pushed away my impure thoughts for weeks now, but there was no denying it. Here she lay, naked and beautiful and strong and vulnerable. She was as scared as I was - maybe even more so. I saw the beginnings of tears clinging to the corner of her big golden eyes. I wanted to just hold her, to heal her with my love. It was the corniest thing I'd ever felt, but it was absolutely true.
I sat down on the pillows, Indian-style, and opened my arms.
“I want you, Gilda,” I said. “Please, come here.”
She sniffed, eyes red, and took a few tentative steps forward. Her claws clicked on the hard stone floor beneath us. She curled up against my torso, drawing her legs and wings into herself, tucking herself into a little ball in my lap. I held her close to me as she lay there, just breathing.
“I think I love you,” I whispered.
“I think I love you too,” she replied. “And it's the scariest thing I've ever felt.”
After a long pause, I felt the smooth-scaled knuckle of one of her claws stroke my still-hard cock.
“Well... other than that,” she quipped. I started giggling. She followed suit. We couldn't stop laughing. It was the funniest thing either of us had ever heard, and it wouldn't stop being funny. We laughed and laughed, tears streaming down our faces, holding one another.
After a good solid five minutes of pot-induced hysteria, we had calmed down. She was sitting up in my lap, my cock against her sex, the head buried between her tight ass cheeks. She looked up into my eyes. A spark leapt between us, and we began kissing with naked, earnest passion. I stroked her crest, her wings, the small of her back. She ran her talons down my face, tracing the line of shoulder and arm, tickling my ribs with the needle-sharp tips of her claws.
“Wait,” she mumbled, pulling away. I stood still, letting her move. She rummaged around a nearby drawer and pulled out a condom. A human-sized condom. I opened my mouth to ask where she got it, but desire made me reconsider. I reached for it but she pulled away, insisting with her body language that she be the one to put it on. She was careful with the thin latex, and opened the package. With equal delicacy, she centered the ring of the condom onto the tip of my hard shaft, and then gently rolled it down with the palms of her claws.
“The stuff Zecora gave me,” Gilda muttered as she rolled the condom down onto me. “Fucks with your fertility. She said we'd need to use protection.”
I nodded, not quite sure how a human and a griffon could conceive, but I figured it was better to be safe than sorry. My balls were feeling awfully full. I slipped my hand between my thighs and gasped at how heavy they were - they were definitely bigger, and from the way they churned in my palm they were full of cum. My thoughts were interrupted, however; once Gilda was done applying the sheathe she returned to her perch on my lap, grinding her slick pussy gently against my latex-clad cock.
“I am going to do so much to you,” she rasped. “But we have lots of time to do it with. Right now, you are going to fuck me. Got it?”
I grinned and nodded, wrapping my arms around her, just beneath her wings. She cooed - I recalled through the fog of pot and lust that they were very sensitive, and she liked to have them massaged. I pressed my fingertips into the base of her wings, where the thick, powerful muscles of her shoulders latched onto her light wing-bones. At the same time I changed the angle of my hips, pushing the tip of my wrapped cock up into her vagina.
Gilda gave a chirp of surprise at the sudden sensations at the base of her wings and at her labia, but the sound shifted into a deep-throated chittering purr as I gave shallow thrusts up. She was tight - the size difference between Equestrians and humans was significant, and even a small human penis would have presented a challenge. Griffons were a bit bigger than ponies, which included their reproductive organs, and I was average, so it was actually possible for us to have sex.
But sweet fucking Christ she was tight.
Her small sex was flanked with all-too-human lips, both major and minor. The slick heat of her sex radiated down my shaft, warming my glans as I pushed against her thick outer lips. My hands slipped down to her downy-soft butt and pried her cheeks apart, stretching her labia to either side. She gave a cute little grunt, and the head of my cock popped into her sex.
Her claws tightened their grip against my back, and I took the signal to wait. My hips were stone-still as she wiggled her hips. I felt her pussy flutter and stretch, massaging my cockhead as it accommodated. Her eyes were closed and she was panting, little bird-like squeaks slipping from her beak as she did so. I nuzzled her beak, and her eyes opened. She smiled at me and nodded, pushing her hips down. I pushed up in response, and we made a little more progress. Gilda’s pussy was absolutely gushing with lubrication - whether that was normal griffon biology or a side effect of the weed I wasn’t sure - but it eased my passage, despite her tightness.
We gasped and panted as her vice-tight sex slowly stretched to accept my own hardness. About five minutes after initial penetration, she finally seated herself on my cock entirely. She put her talon to her belly and pressed against the lean flesh there, gasping.
“Feel!” she rasped, grabbing my hand. She put my palm awkwardly against her belly, and she tensed. I could feel the shape of my cock through her flesh - she was so tight and lean that I made a visible bulge in her abdomen. I was unsure how I fit inside of her, but given how her eyes were fluttering and how deep and even her breathing was, I was obviously not harming her.
“Okay,” she gasped. “Okay, you can move now. Just go slow, okay?”
I nodded, and began rocking my hips very slowly. Her plentiful juices eased my passage, and within a few seconds we established a rhythm. She and I gyrated our hips in synch, moving my body in and out of hers in shallow strokes. It felt amazing – her pussy was so hot the heat was radiating down my shaft and up into my belly. Our motions were slow, and as we moved our hands explored each other’s bodies. I stroked her crest and tickled the juncture of her wings, while her talons traced shapes across the back of my neck and my upper shoulders.
We sped up by degrees, both of us cautious about not going too hard or fast, but Gilda's body was able to stretch and take me to the hilt. The tip of my shaft bumped into what felt like her cervix with every stroke, but the sensation was pleasant for both of us. We'd give little grunts with every part of the thrusting rhythm.
“Harder?” I asked as I traced the curve of her beak with little kisses.
“Fuck, yes,” she growled. I obliged, thrusting more powerfully with my hips. Her own hips responded, spreading wider and letting me get deeper as she settled down onto my body. My hands came down to her waist and I pulled her body down with every thrust. I shifted so that I was kneeling, giving me better control over the strength I was putting into each motion, and Gilda responded by holding me tight and twirling her hips.
The extra motion brought me closer to my peak, and I could feel my body preparing to climax. My eyes were half-closed as I rode the building wave of ecstasy, but I didn't want to miss a moment of our lovemaking.
“Gilda,” I gasped. “Baby, I'm- nngh... I'm getting close.”
”Me too,” she panted, holding onto my shoulders for dear life. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Cum with me!”
I tilted forward, laying her onto the sea of pillows, onto her back, and began thrusting into her in short, rapid strokes. Her thighs were spread wide, her hind legs locked around my waist in a death-grip. I felt her vagina begin to flutter and she started to keen a high, squeaky wail, and I knew her orgasm had arrived. The sudden renewal of tightness in her sex triggered my own, and I came.
I don't know if it was the drugs or the thrill of fucking a different species, it was like a bomb went off inside of me. I felt this huge outpouring of energy from the depths of my body. Whatever Zecora had put in the weed had swollen my balls to massive size - my sack was about the size of a big orange. Each thrust forward sent my huge scrotum slapping into the sensitive, hot folds and feathers of Gilda's sex. My cum-tanks twitched and throbbed between our bodies, pushing rope after rope of scalding-hot cum up my cock and into the condom, completely bathing my cock in its head. This was the best orgasm of my life – stars fell and sparked behind my eyes, and I swear every twitch of Gilda's cumming pussy just prolonged my climax. It was like we fed on one another, her making me cum, which in turn made her cum even harder.
My climax faded slowly, and I found myself curled protectively over Gilda, our foreheads pressed tight together. Her legs tensed a final time, and then relaxed from their locked position around my hips. We lay there for a few long moments, just breathing and feeling our bodies let down. I coughed, clearing my throat so I could talk.
“Want me to pull out?” I rasped, my throat still gunked up.
“Yeah,” Gilda said as her body unclenched. Her vagina had tightened up around my cock, and she had to will it to relinquish its grip. I pulled out, and was shocked to feel warm wetness follow my cock, rather than the familiar suction pop of a full condom being pulled out. A gush of hot, thick fluid spurted from Gilda’s cunny and onto my groin like a little geyser. Something must’ve happened to the condom - my cum was definitely not contained within the latex sheath. Gobs of the still-hot stuff clung to my cock, dripping in thick, heavy lumps down onto Gilda’s soft crotch feathers. Gilda felt it, too, her eyes going wide.
“Shit,” Gilda and I muttered simultaneously. I pulled out completely and we both looked down at the juncture of our bodies, taking stock. Sure enough, the condom that Gilda equipped me with had burst; it had several long tears in it. Her pussy was absolutely full of my drug-enhanced semen. She was still on her back, so it wasn't exactly leaking everywhere. Thick streamers of our mingling juices stretched like lace across her short labial feathers. Ropes of the stuff connected her sex and mine. Her winking vulva was filled to the brim, twitching sporadically with little orgasm-aftershocks, trying to squeeze out my thick, glue-like cum.
“Fuck,” Gilda growled. “Fucking talons, I swear...”
“Uh... should I get a towel or something?” I asked, not knowing quite what to do. “Does Equestria have the equivalent of the morning after pill?”
I worked the rest of the condom off of my cock, what little was left of it - it was nothing more than a ragged fan of tattered latex strips. Gilda took it from my hand and threw it onto the table in the middle of the room.
“What does that do?” she asked. She still hadn't moved, and her talons were now massaging the flesh of her belly. She was looking down at her sex, a curious and inscrutable look in her eyes.
“It, uh... prevents impregnation,” I said. My hands went to her sex, and I began stroking her warm, cum-smeared outer labia. “Don't... want you getting... um... pregnant.”
There was a very, very long pause as I sat there, stroking her slippery, sticky sex.
“Would... you mind if I got knocked up?” Gilda asked very slowly in a quiet voice, a lone talon joining my fingers. She dipped the sharp appendage into her cum-stuffed cunny, stirring my baby batter. It looked like she was trying to push it deeper into her. I felt myself getting hard again. Really hard.
“I mean, if… you... were the father,” Gilda murmured, meeting my gaze. She looked hopeful. Confused. Vulnerable. Smitten. Lusty. This was exciting her, too. “If you were the father of my eggs, that wouldn't be... so bad.”
Eggs. Of course, griffons laid eggs. Images of Gilda, her athletic body swollen with eggs – eggs I had fertilized – swam through my head. Snuggling with her at night, helping her build a nest, making gentle, passionate love as her belly grew and grew. I shook my head, and found that I was closer to Gilda, now. On my hands and knees, crawling towards her. Dangerously close.
“I... would like... that,” I stammered. “Would you?”
I was between her thighs, now. Her hips had scooted forward, trapping my sperm inside of her body, not letting so much as a drop spill out over her lips and down the sweet crevasse of her butt.
“Yesssss,” Gilda hissed as she extended her talons to embrace me. “Zecora said... she said that im-impregnation was almost guaranteed... if we didn't use protection. But... j-just in case... if you are o-okay with kn-knocking me up... maybe we should be sure?”
We looked deep into one another's eyes. We knew there was still a chance that we’d dodged a bullet. Maybe, just maybe, my seed hadn't taken – either because the magic of Zecora's herb hadn't had time to work or we were just crazy lucky. There was still time to get my cum out of Gilda. There was still time to prevent her from getting pregnant.
I pushed my cock into the sticky goo that filled Gilda's pussy. She chirped, her eyes full of need, digging the sharp points of her talons into my ribs. She wasn’t as tight as before, which made it easier to get inside of her. Her orgasm-relaxed muscles and my slick, sticky cum worked in tandem to ease the rejoining of our bodies.
“N-need to be sure,” I muttered as I pushed forward. I was so turned on and aroused my teeth were chattering. It was like an electric current was running through her body and into mine. “And... if that's the c-case... if we really want to be s-sure... we should light up some more – make sure we're both... f-fertile?”
My cock half-way into my griffon girlfriend's pussy, I paused to tightly pack the bowl of the bong with as much of Zecora's fertility-enhancing weed as I could. Gilda mewled beneath me as I took the biggest hit I'd ever inhaled, and she opened her beak eagerly like a baby bird as I leaned down. I hilted in the depths of her body, pushing some cum out (but even more deeper into her womb) as I breathed into her mouth.
We groaned in unison as the magic worked inside of our bodies, every thrust tightening her sex and swelling my balls. Gilda coughed and groaned as she clutched her abdomen. Grabbing my hand, she pushed my palm into her soft feathers just above where my cock was bulging her belly once more. I felt something small and hard moving inside of her.
“O-ovulatinggg,” she grunted. “I'm going to have an egg. I'm going to have your egg, you bastard! Fuck your egg into me! Fuck this is so good – you feel so good!”
“You want my egg, Gilda?” I grunted through ragged breaths. “You want to have your belly swell and be so fucking full of my eggs? I will fuck you every day until you lay our egg and then I'll knock you up again.”
“Yes!” she squawked, every thrust pushing air out of her lungs. “Yes, please, fuck, please, eggs, give, me, your, eggssss!”
I came even harder than before, though I had no idea how that was even possible. The magic herb saturated our bodies, optimizing them for fertilization. It didn't matter that we were from different worlds, or that we were different species. Zecora's magic, and just maybe the budding love between Gilda and I, made it possible. I poured my essence into Gilda, and she did the same, our mutual orgasm sending tidal waves of ecstasy and love through us both. For long minutes we came, rocking together, hands and claws and mouth and beak never still, always finding a new place to explore or touch or grip.
At long last it ended, and we collapsed into a sweaty heap on the floor. Gilda lay on top of me, my cock still hard and still buried in her, keeping my seed from leaking out. Not that it needed to be plugged, though – we both had our hands between our bodies, and could feel the tiny, hard shape of her egg as it swam in the depths of her cum-filled womb. Magic or biology, or both, had opened her innermost depths to me, and I had filled her uterus with as much cum as it could hold, soaking her unprotected egg in my seed. She was pregnant, now.
She grunted, and between our fingers we felt another hard shape shift from somewhere deep within her, landing with a muffled plop into the sea of seed.
“Griffons ovulate in pairs,” she murmured into the soft hair of my chest. “Guess I should've warned you.”
“Twins?” I asked, stroking her wings with the backs of my knuckles.
“Twins,” she purred, snuggling into my body.
We fell asleep like that, feeling the two hard lumps that would become our future children gently jostle around inside of her belly.
