“Wake up dweeb,” a scratchy voice yells. You jolt up from the relative comfort of your bedding and roll onto the hard wooden floor. Gilda lets out a huff of irritation as you fumble your way out of the tangled fabric.
“Holy crap dude, a guy your size shouldn’t be getting trapped like that,” she complained, ripping through it with her yellow talons. A hand bursts through, and you pull away the now tattered quilt.
“Thank you, but did you really need to ruin the sheets?” you mutter. You tower over her being large by human standards, but this little catbird still manages to intimidate you on a regular basis. She’s at crotch height and she has sharp claws, that’s all you needed to know before trying to get on her good side.
“Did you really need to volunteer for this cultural exchange thing?” she fires back rapping a claw impatiently against the floor.
“I didn’t volunteer you know, they forced me to come here.” You step to the small dresser and open one of the drawers, pulling out a fresh pair of trousers. The drawer above contains shirts of all colours and shapes, but you decide to wear a simple white shirt. You grab a black jacket from the banister of the bed and slip on your dirty, old trainers.
It’s true. Being the only human in Equestria, you of course are dragged around different countries like a damn sideshow attraction. A mild curiosity to most, a scary hairless monkey to many others. Some world leaders, headed by that blasted white horse, insisted that you travel around the place and find somewhere that fits you the best.
The ultimate goal being to find you a home, or at least a place to stay and tolerate. So far the search has been fruitless, Equestria was a bit too kid friendly for your tastes, Minotauria was filled with hyper aggressive meatheads and udder tits and one of the many Zebra states was boring and seemingly devoid of any modern comforts.
You shudder as you remember all of the farm work you did.
At first you thought it was a sweet deal, getting to travel around the world in one big holiday. But the reality was much different and the novelty started to wear thin pretty soon after. The people who put you up generally felt the same. Now there’s an overriding need to get this done as quickly as possible.
The Griffon Empire has been a pretty sweet joint so far. It manages to combine to mild weather of Minotauria, the natural beauty of the Zebra state, and has all of the technology and development of Equestria without the sickeningly sweet décor.
The purple tipped lioness yawns as if she’s heard the story a thousand times before. You make your way to the door and look back, “Come on then, you were trying to pull me out the door a minute ago.” She rolls her golden eyes and hops to her feet, brushing past you like the arrogant little shit she is.
The latest host to grace your presence, Gilda. She’s an ice queen if you’ve ever met one. The others liked to grin and bear it, but Gilda made no secret of her seemingly open disdain for you. She insulted, she belittled, and she tried to piss you off at every presented opportunity. If there was one thing she was good at, it was being a tour guide to your lazy ass.
Her house was one of the few in the town with a spare room, as Griffons (apparently) place great importance on family. Gilda struck you as the loner type, so it was no surprise to you that she didn’t live with anybody else. When asked she just said she was waiting for the right guy to come along. According to her, crass, loud and willing to put up with her are the three main qualities.
You make your way down the stairs and into the main floor of the house. The stairs come out into a cosy looking living area, to the left through an archway is the combined kitchen and dining area. To the right is the front door and window that allows some natural light into the otherwise dark room.
It’s time to begin the daily ritual, you declare in your mind as you shuffle into the kitchen. Gilda is already rooting through her fridge for her favourite morning meal. You move past her and open the cupboards, pulling out a frying pan and some other pieces of cutlery. Looking to the left you switch on the cooker and place the pan onto it. Finally you pull out the oil that you’ll need once Gilda finds the…
“Bacon!” she declares waving around a plastic packet. Every morning without fail, she does the same thing. You sigh and grab it from her talons, ripping open the flimsy material. A healthy squirt of oil into the pan gets things sizzling. You pull the raw strips from the packet and slap them down into the pan, inhaling the smell.
Gilda hovers over your shoulder the entire time. “What are you doing?” you ask.
Gilda backs off and her feathers ruffle slightly. “Just making sure you’re doing it right dweeb.” You aren’t entirely convinced, but you decide to save the fighting for later and keep a close eye of the meat. Gilda floats around the kitchen, grabbing some bread from the bread bin and buttering it up. It doesn’t take long for the bacon to be done.
You grab two plates and assemble two pairs of sandwiches. You slide them both onto the table and you take a seat, Gilda following close behind with a glass of water. You both sit down and eat them in silence, Gilda inhaling her food and eating like a ravenous eagle. Once you’re both done you take the plates to the sink and give them a quick wash, leaving them on the rack to dry.
“What’s on the agenda today?” you ask sitting back down at the table.
Gilda’s face lights up with a sly smile, “Hunting day! We’re going down to the forest to catch ourselves some fresh meat.”
You’ve been to one of these hunts before. You didn’t participate for obvious reasons, but griffons still enjoy catching their own food despite the recent move towards traditional farming techniques.
It serves a lot of cultural purposes too. Traditionally it’s a way for griffons to attract a mate by demonstrating their hunting prowess; but it’s also a coming of age ceremony for young griffons. Gilda said that sometimes it would be done for that purpose, but that as a method of meeting a mate it is rarely done anymore.
Still, it serves as a good form of entertainment for the weekends and is a good way to keep in shape. Not that you can participate anyway, with no kind of natural weaponry attached to the ends of your fingers. You’ve already been down with Gilda a few times, this being the third. You normally end up sat at the base camp waiting for everybody to come back.
With a sigh you rise from the wooden chair and follow Gilda to the door, her tail swishing from side to side with excitement. You look away and cough to yourself as her lower lips flash themselves at you. She looks back and makes eye contact, you tense up and shrug hoping that she doesn’t notice how hard you’re sweating. If she found out you saw that, she’d probably gut you. She gives you an unamused glare and rolls her eyes, so she doesn’t seem to have noticed. Another sigh, but this one of relief.
You head out into the town centre. Gilda had a house that was pretty close to the middle of the action, meaning it was only a stone’s throw away from the weekend market and other little amenities like the local watering hole, the red feather. Some of the other griffons passing by give you a friendly wave, which you return. You’ve made plenty of friends drinking each other under the table.
Gilda isn’t really into making friends and often diminishes your efforts with derision and questioning. Her behaviour tells you that she was never the sociable type. You head south through many different roads, one difference between this town and the ones you’ve stayed in before is how dense everything is. No space is wasted, everything’s laid out with function and efficiency in mind which you like. Ponyville was murder, having most of the houses spaced out across miles of empty field.
It didn’t help that your host wanted you to help haul stuff to their own market. Your shoulders still feel sore from pulling that wooden cart every day, and you swear that you still have those red marks from the harness you used. You crack your shoulders causing Gilda to jump a little.
“Stop doing that dweeb, it freaks me out,” she complains in her usual scratchy, angry tone.
“What? You’ve never cracked a few bones in the morning before?” you ask picking up the pace to walk beside her.
“I don’t do it when others are around. It’s rude.”
“Oh, that’s rude but not everything else you do and say huh?”
Gilda glares at you and paces ahead again. You chuckle to yourself and fall back behind her. The houses soon start to thin out as you reach the edge of town, the stone roads turning into dusty brown dirt. You cough as some of it works its way down your throat. Must be nice having a beak that you can clamp shut.
Gilda ignores your plight and continues on towards a forest to the south-east. Tall alpine trees shoot off into the clear spring skies. It’s a very pretty looking place and reminds you a lot of Earth. Out beyond the thick treeline you can see the tall mountains that surround the southern border of the Empire, a useful natural defence against land faring armies. Also a good place to go skiing.
You work your way through the trees, hopping over overturned logs and pushing your way past intrusive branches. You both enter into a circular clearing around fifteen meters across, where a large camp has been set up. Various leather structures, like tents and booths have been set up for all kinds of purposes.
To the left is the tanning racks, where already various animal skins have been left out to dry. Just past it is the cooking booth for the impatient ones, with a large table in front of it for griffons to sit on and socialise. On the other side there’s a larger tent for the event organizers and a small militia in case somebody gets into any serious trouble.
The rest of the space has been left relatively clear due to just how many griffons come down here every weekend. The place is packed. “I hate it when it’s busy, every other week,” Gilda complains.
“Be careful, you might make some friends,” you joke brushing past her and b-lining to the table. Sat there are some regulars from the bar, who give you a jovial greeting and invite you to sit down and have a drink with them. You aren’t able to actually go out and hunt, so you accept the offer. A large mug of strong beer is placed in front of you. You grip the handle and chug it down to its halfway point.
The other guys laugh and pat you on the back. It’s strong by griffon standards, but your liver is much better than theirs, meaning you’ve beaten them at their own game several times by default. On the downside of things, you end up paying much more of your already meagre stipend trying to get wasted.
Gilda approaches, causing some catcalls to be sent her way. She grips your shoulder as you polish off your first drink of the day.
“Already dweeb?”
“Hey, I need to get started early to catch up with these guys,” you explain motioning to a currently vomiting Harold.
“Do you really want to? I was thinking of taking you out for once and showing you how we do it.”
You drop the mug back of the table and twist in your seat to face Gilda. “Sounds great, when are we setting out?”
“Now, no point in waiting,” She waves you along with a wing and makes you follow her to the big tent. Inside there’s another, much larger griffon sat at a small desk. Gilda waltzes up and grabs a quill, scribbling down her name on a piece of paper. “We’re going out.”
“You’re bringing the human with you?” he asks in a booming voice.
“Well he gets bored sat in the camp all day, and I am meant to be showing him everything that goes on around here.”
“Be careful, the both of you.” He brings out two pairs of green, sleeveless jackets. On the front is a large purple crystal that glows softly in the shade. Gilda takes the smaller one while you take the largest they have.
Slipping it on you realize the purpose, as Gilda’s own jacket lights up in a vivid blue colour making her easily visible. Noticing your gaze Gilda takes it upon herself to explain. “Visibility jackets, to make sure everybody doesn’t end up killing each other out there.” You both leave the tent and you notice that you can see the shape of the jackets through the walls of the tents and stands.
“Yeah, it’s super lame. It’s a rule the government introduced recently after a bunch of griffons killed each other in a dumb fight. Helps the local authority take no liability in situations like that too, they’re scared of getting sued by the families,” Gilda explains. “It was big news for a while a few years ago.”
“I suppose people complained about it.”
“Of course they did, they said it ruined the purity of the hunt or some other crap. I’d rather not get minced by some blind idiot acting on instinct to be honest. Most griffons come out here to get some free food anyway, so they don’t care all that much.”
You exit the clearing and start heading deeper into the forest. “Alright dweeb, let me lay out some ground rules. Don’t follow too closely behind me, keep your big mouth shut, and try not to annoy the other dudes out here, they’re not as understanding as me.”
You nod and enact immediate caution, zipping your mouth closed. Gilda scoffs at your little mime imitation, “Such a dweeb.” She stops suddenly, and looks at something far off into the distance. Spreading her wings she shoots off like a rocket, leaving you in the dust. You chase after her, the jacket making it easy to keep track of where she’s heading.
It’s difficult to run at full speed with all of the shit that’s in your way and soon you lose sight of Gilda, even with the visibility jacket supposedly lighting her up. Damn it, you’ve lost her. You sit down on the dirty ground and try to regain your breath. You could have done without the running today, especially after chugging a full mug of alcohol.
A small voice in your mind yells at you, you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere and the one griffon who knows where to go has just ditched you in a sudden display of instinctual hunting. You groan and collapse onto your back, looking up through the canopy. You wait for five minutes hoping that she’ll come back, but it’s a fruitless effort.
With a grunt you stand back up, and turn back. You were going straight for most of your walk, so it shouldn’t be a huge bother to find your way out of the forest. You can hear the sound of small animals rustling through the underbrush, and the occasional squawk of a griffon finding its prey in the distance. It’s kind of unsettling, but as long as you have the jacket on you should be okay.
You wonder where Gilda has run off to. She must have seen something pretty amazing to rush off like that in such a hurry. Maybe she saw some kind of deer, catching a piece of meat that big must bring some kind of respect from the others back at the camp.
The forest is really amazing at this time of day. The sunlight reflects off of the wet trees and ground giving everything a sparkling look. The surrounding mountains manage to peek over the top of the trees, giving everything a grand sense of scale. In fact, you’re considering picking this town as your place of choice.
Why wouldn’t you? It has good company, good food and beer, and has an awesome natural environment to explore outside of the otherwise dense town. Gilda might not like the idea of you becoming her neighbour, (although that would mean inhabiting one of the houses next to hers, otherwise she’d probably just ignore you.)
You chuckle to yourself. You like Gilda. She’s a bit of a bitch, but you can tell she enjoys your company to some extent. A lot of the other guys at the bar were surprised when they saw you hanging with her. By their accounts she’d sooner punch a griffon in the balls than hang out with them. You suppose it’s your natural charm.
You’ve been walking for a while now, but you still don’t seem to be any closer to the edge of the forest or the camp. Have you been going the wrong way the entire time? You stop for a moment and look around. There doesn’t seem to be any indication of what direction the place actually is. Looking up again you try and spot a plume of smoke, they do have an open fire over there after all. You come up empty handed.
A rustling in the bushes catches your attention, you swing around to try and spot your stalker but see nothing of interest. You step towards a little bush, trying to not make any noise. Your hands shoot out and rustle the prickly bush, causing a little brown squirrel to flee. You jump back in shock and let out a little shout. That made you jump.
You shake your head and laugh at yourself. Getting scared at a little rodent?
A larger rustling, this time coming from the trees. You feel a little uneasy, but the guys at the camp said there really isn’t anything to be afraid of in this forest. You aren’t about to climb a tree to find out what’s up there. As your eyes scan around you, you spot a blob glowing softly. Is that one of those jackets?
Making sure to memorize where you’re standing you trek towards it, passing through more identical forest. Out in the middle of a smaller clearing one of the jackets is glowing softly, crumpled on the floor. Somebody has left it here.
“Very funny Gilda,” you shout, deducing the joke easily. “Come on! Don’t do this after you ditched me!” You pick up the fallen jacket and run the material between your fingers. You look around the area, behind the trees that line the clearing, in the brush, and you keep a close eye on the canopy. With a grunt you throw the thing back on the ground in frustration kicking up even more dust and leaving you hacking.
You don’t even have time to react as a weight hits your back and sends you face first into the ground. A burning sensation on your left arms indicates that somebody has just cut you with something. The weight hops off you. You groan and roll over to see the smirking face of a mirthful Gilda.
“Fuck you.”
“You wish,” she says swishing her tail. She picks the dirty jacket back up and slips it on. You hiss as you pull your hand away from your left arm, finding it covered in a light layer of blood.
“Gilda… you fucking cut me open,” you gasp, a throbbing pain running down your arm. What the hell is her problem? She couldn’t have done her little prank without causing you injury? For the first time since you arrived Gilda looks guilty for her actions and checks over the wound.
“I didn’t cut open anything major, but that’s going to need some stitches.”
Three long claw marks are running down your arm near the joint, they’re hard to see because of the blood. “If I pass out before we get to the hospital, you’re carrying me there.” You cradle the wound and stand up, Gilda taking off through the canopy before coming back down and leading the way back to the camp.
“You really need to be more careful Gilda, those things are sharp.” Gilda slows down to walk with you.
“Sorry dude, I just wanted to scare you a little bit. I didn’t pay enough attention to what I was doing,” she admits.
“It’s cool, as long as I don’t bleed to death. Was bringing me out here really just a set up for that? You could have hidden behind the sofa back at the house and jumped out at me from there.”
“Nah, I really wanted to bring you out here to see what we do. But after I chased after the rabbit I figured that it was a bit too fast paced for you to keep up with. The scare was just something I came up with at the last second.”
You’re careful to not get any blood on your clothing or the jacket. Eventually you decide to take them off. “Gilda, can you take this jacket off me, I don’t want to ruin it.” She nods and floats up behind you bringing the shirt with her.
It isn’t as embarrassing as you thought it would be, Gilda’s seen you shirtless before, but that was back in the summer when you first arrived. You’ve lost some weight since then, and you’ve generally been getting a lot more exercise thanks to Gilda. “Looking good dweeb,” she says poking your belly. You slap the talon away and start walking.
“For real, you look a lot better.”
“Good food, and it doesn’t help I have to run away from your vicious ass.”
Gilda hits you with her lion’s tail in response, the furry end tickling your naked back. You shiver at the sensation and try to get away, but Gilda has noticed your displeasure and repeats the process, over and over again. “For fucks sake Gilda I’m bleeding to death here, can we please get back to the camp?”
She gets the message and stops tickling you. “Spoilsport.”
You began to trail behind her slightly, suddenly feeling very woozy. “Whoa shit,” you mutter leaning against a nearby tree.
“You alright dweeb?”
“I feel like somebody just hit me over the head with a chair.” You rub the back of your head with your clean hand and wince as a thunderous headache makes itself known. You feel horribly ill all of a sudden, you hope she disinfected those claws before she attacked you.
“We’re nearly there now, come on, just a little more and we can get you looked at.”
You stumble after her, the strength in your legs failing you. Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth and you find yourself unable to call after her as she rushes ahead. You fall to a knee and try to clear your head, but it only makes the pain worse. You hear a muffled voice calling out in the distance before everything goes black.
You groan in pain as you awake. The smell of antiseptic and cheap plastic bedding fills your nostrils. She brought you to the hospital, she did have to carry you after all. You roll about on the bed. It’s extremely uncomfortable and your restless body wakes itself up as a result. You’re alone on the ward.
Your arm isn’t bandaged like you expected, but they’ve stitched up the claw marks. It’s kind of gross seeing the needles going through your skin like that. You decide to occupy yourself elsewhere before you vomit. You sit up on the bed and stretch, feeling very, very sore and stiff. Either you’ve been in this bed for a year, or whatever aggressive disease you caught is really fucking up your body.
You absentmindedly scratch at the palms of your hand. They feel very dry. You look down and see some of the skin peeling away, you must have done that while running after Gilda. You have a lot on your plate, but you still notice a slight blackening of the skin where those dry areas are. You hope that isn’t something else to add to your list of ailments.
You clap your hands together trying to get the dead skin off. The door opens and in walks a griffon wearing a goofy white doctor’s coat. He watches you for a moment, “What are you doing?” he asks while flipping through the chart at the end of the bed.
“I’ve got some dead skin on my hands, can’t get it off.”
A futile effort, you’re going to have to get a scrubber or something. You start picking at the dry skin while the doctor hums to himself. He nods and hooks the chart back onto the bed, circling around the stand face to face with you. “Could you open your mouth for me?”
You do so. He pulls out a little thermometer and places it on your tongue. “Looks normal, I suppose.” He pulls it away and dries it with a little cloth, placing it in another pocket. “Miss Gilda was very worried when she brought you in, could you give me a description of what happened for the records?” He pulls up a chair placed to the right of the bed and brings out a notepad and quill.
“Me and Gilda were out doing this hunting thing. We lost each other, but Gilda found me again and decided to play a prank on me. She put her vest on the ground and waited for me to find it, before jumping out and trying to scare me. She ended up bisecting my arm with her claw on accident.”
“Could you show me your arm?”
You show him your stitched arm. “Nothing too serious, you did lose quite a bit of blood though. What kind of symptoms did you have before you collapsed?”
“Sweating, nausea, wooziness, loss of strength…”
“Right, very typical of somebody who’s losing blood."
“That was pretty much it, I passed out and she dragged me all the way here.”
He smiles and laughs and the imagery and pockets the notepad, “Well there isn’t much else to say, you’ve got a clean bill of health as far as I’m concerned. Just try to take it easy for a few days while you recover, I’ll send a nurse in to bandage that for you.”
You thank him and he leaves the ward. You rub the wound with a hand and feel the stitching running through it, man you were lucky that Gilda was strong enough to bring you to the camp. She might have gotten some help from the others to bring you to the hospital.
Speaking of the devil, the yellow eyed lioness struts into the ward with a proud look about her. “Hold your applause, I know I’m amazing,” she boasted sitting on the doctor’s chair. “How’re you doing dweeb? Feeling okay?”
“It’s just a scratch, I’ll be fine. I just need to take it easy while I get my strength back.”
“So nothing unusual then?”
You punch her in the arm as she laughs at you. You’re not lazy! It’s just that you don’t really have a job. The monarchs have provided you with a small stipend as you search for a home, just enough to buy all of your essentials, or most of your essentials and lots of beer. A nurse clears her throat from the doorway and Gilda backs off to let her work.
The smaller griffon pulls out a white bandage, dips it in a small tub of water and efficiently wraps it around the injury. “You don’t need to change this or come back here, just take it off in two days and you should be fine. If there are any problems or complications, don’t be afraid to come back.”
She nods and hurries away from the room, she must be really busy. “Ready to get going?” Gilda says pulling you off the bed.
It’s nice to be back outside. Even if you were only in there for a short time, you never liked hospitals. You reach your arms up and stretch, cracking an arm. Gilda shivers next to you.
“This is for the tail thing, isn’t it?”
“Could be,” you tease. She’s looking intently at your hands. You hold them up and notice that the black spots have become more prominent.
“What’s up with your hands?”
“Probably fucked them up running after you, it’ll wash off,” you clap them together again and begin walking in no specific direction.
“So what do you wanna’ do now?”
You shrug and walk to the centre of town, where a small public park is located. It’s a little slice of nature right in the middle of the dense town, with trees, benches and a pond. It’s a good place to hang out when you’re not doing anything. You pass by several families having fun and older teenagers playing various sports on the grassy area.
You walk up and sit down on one of the wooden benches that watch over the pond. Gilda sits next to you and lies down on her stomach. Her tail wags happily behind her as she watches the sun move across the sky. You lazily hang you head from the back of the bench, giving yourself and upside down view of two griffons playing some frisbee type game.
They go out of focus, the nature filled park becoming a green blur. Sitting up you rub your eyes, but still everything is blurry and hard to see. “Uh fuck me,” you groan as a headache starts to come on as a result.
“What?”
“I can’t see shit.”
As soon as the words leave your mouth, everything comes back together. So much so that you’d argue that your vision has improved. Everything looks so much more detailed now, and it’s very, very strange to say the least. The individual pebbles that compose the distant roads now stand out individually, you try and blink and shake it away, but no matter where you look it’s the same story.
“What the fuck.”
“Seriously dude what’s up? Do we need to go back to the hospital?” You make eye contact, and she backs away in shock. “Whoa! What in Tartarus is wrong with your eyes?” You walk over to the pond and get on your knees, looking into the clear water. Sharp green slits look back, they almost look like…
Nah, that’s be silly.
You stand up and return to the bench. “Just what I wanted, more medical problems.”
“You want to go back? The doctor will still be there.”
“It’s fine, I just need to get some sleep.”
You roll underneath the sheets of the small bed. Drops of sweat roll down your overheating body. You haven’t been able to get to sleep, you have no idea how long you’ve been tossing and turning. If this keeps up you’re not going to get any sleep at all. Your hands start to itch again, and endless cycle of scratching and irritation.
You toss the covers from the bed and lie on your bed, panting. Something is seriously wrong. You shuffle and wince as a bump at the base of your spine makes contact with the rough bedding, that’s sensitive. You reach a shaky arm underneath yourself and feel the bump, it’s large, like a tumour. The lightest of touches causes you to gasp in pain, and your hand retreats back onto your midsection.
“This is a dream…” you repeat to yourself, “This is a dream…”
Your entire body quakes as you struggle to sit up. You have no strength in any part of your body making such a simple movement an absurdly difficult effort. In the darkness you hold a hand out in front of you face, seeing a piece of skin fall away, revealing a new black surface. You hurriedly hide them away from sight with a pillow and try to calm yourself.
You are falling apart.
It’s only now that you notice how fucked up you are. You’re completely bald, all of your body hair being left on the bed. Your hands have become black and harsh, with pointed tips at each finger. The bump at the base of your spine is joined by two more at the back of your chest.
Rolling off the bed you grunt and try to crawl to the door but to no avail. Now you’re stranded on the wooden floor as whatever horrible disease you’ve caught has its way with you. You shout out, your voice cracking as your body tenses up and renders you unable to move. Gilda didn’t hear.
A new coat of hair starts to cover your lower body, rising from the skin. Pins and needles run up and down your legs as a new thin layer of grey fur emerges. What the fuck is going on? It only gets worse from there as your feet cramp up and begin to change, your toes merging together to form three big ones. The fur spreads to them, and soft black pads of flesh form on the bottom of your new paws. It’s excruciatingly painful and leaves you with fresh tears in your new sharp green eyes.
The fur spreads over the bump at the base of your spine. Suddenly the lump begins to grow longer and longer, the new tube of flesh flailing as new nerves connect to your spine. A small tuft of black hair grows out of it like a blooming flower. Even amid the pain you can connect the dots, you’re turning into a griffon!
You yowl in pain as the other two lumps begin to push against your skin, pulsing and desiring to burst free from their restraints. You can no longer stand, so you’re forced to roll over as the horrible feeling of your skin stretching outwards reaches its climax. With another scream the thin layer of skin gives way, revealing two blood covered appendages that flap erratically.
You hear the beating of feat coming to the door, which swings open to reveal an angry looking Gilda. Her eyes widen, her anger forgotten as she feasts her eyes upon your mutant form. She’s left speechless, and stammers out half words as you continue to writhe in pure agony. It’s like somebody has poured gasoline into your veins and set it alight.
Your lips begin to harden, rendering them unable to make any more sound. They become black and callous, just like the new claws that tip the end of your hands. You groan as they extend out further than you expected to form a tightly sealed beak.
“Oh man, what should I do?” Gilda shouts, running in place as she freaks out.
There isn’t much she can do, a morbid mind replies. Having gotten over what’s happening, now you just want it to be over and done with. A prickly sensation of your chest and face tells you that another set of feathers have come in.
The invisible hand changing you, having done with the outside of your body, moves onto your legs and arms. They shrink down, becoming much shorter. Soon enough your stature is equal to many of the griffons you’ve befriended during your stay.
A new joint is formed between your knee and feet, giving you the distinctive bend that comes with having the legs of a lion. An unfortunate consequence is that it renders you unable to walk on two feet for long. Your chest follows closely behind, it also shrinking to match the rest of your body. Organs compress and rearrange themselves, a new purpose being assigned to some of them.
Your testicles don’t escape unscathed either, now covered in a spattering of the same light grey fur. They swell slightly with your heartbeat, increasing to the size of a small orange each. Your penis presses into your body slightly before being covered by a furry sheathe. Internally the changes continue, your penis’ distinct mushroom head sharpening into a tapered point, while a fat bulge swells at the base, designed to hold a female in place during intercourse.
Contrary to what you might expect, it grows in size to a whopping eight inches, with impressive girth to match. Your new four legged stature means that there’s less need for smaller genitals. However the potential applications for this are the furthest thing from your mind as your sweaty body rubs against the harsh wooden floor.
The pain begins to subside, but you’ve been thoroughly exhausted by the experience. You slowly drift off to sleep once more as Gilda appraises your new body. Gilda decides that it isn’t worth dealing with so late, and she tries to heft you back onto the bed by lifting you via your armpits. Her muscles strain with exertion, but you remain firmly on the ground.
“It’s too late for this shit,” she grumbles, leaving your room and going back to her own.
Author's Note
First chapter of this two-parter.
Gilda snuggles closer to the large pillow held between her claws, letting out a small coo as the morning sun pierces her curtains. She sighs and rolls on her back, claws lazily spread across the soft surface of her bed. She smiles to herself, but something isn’t quite right.
“Argh! What the fuck!” you scream from the other room, jolting Gilda from her lie in induced haze. With a scowl she sits up and prepares to berate you but the memoires of last night come rushing back. “Gilda!” you shout. Gilda mulls over her options, stay in the comfortable embrace of her bed, or go and see her distressed friend’s new body.
It’s a no brainer, and with a cheeky grin on her face she runs over to your room to see you staring at the full body mirror to the left of your bed. She stops at the threshold of the door and watches as you experiment with yourself.
You can’t believe it.
Hardly noticing her presence you reach a claw out to the reflection looking back at you, it imitating your movement. The green tipped feathers that jut out from your head bristle slightly as your black claw meets the mirror and runs down its surface; you can feel the early morning cold seeping through it, the grey fur on your arms stands on end.
Your human eyes have been replaced with predatory green slits that go with the colouration on your white feathers. An agitated lion’s tail whips against the floor, swinging from side to side. Your grey wings twitch and spread slightly, but the feeling is unnatural, and you find it difficult to control them. Your chest is large, with layers of thick muscle hidden from plain sight.
“Why?” you whisper to yourself, head hanging low. You can’t bare to look at yourself anymore. A claw rests itself on your shoulder, Gilda looking very guilty.
“Maybe… it’s because of me,” she says, making temporary eye contact before looking away. An awkward atmosphere settles into the room as you run over yesterdays’ events in your mind. It makes sense, the only thing that sticks out is the…
“Claw wound,” you mutter, rubbing your left arm where it used to be. There’s no indication that it was ever there, even when you search underneath the fur. Gilda sits in silence while you consider what to do next.
“Do you want to go back to the hospital?”
“Why? What can they do to fix… this?” you ask motioning to your new body. Feeling sorry for yourself you turn away from the mirror and curl into a ball.
“Seriously dweeb? Don’t be like this.”
“How would you feel if I scratched you and you turned into a human?”
“Well, uh, I’d be pretty pissed.” Getting your point Gilda backs away, “I think I’ll go make us some breakfast,” she mumbles leaving you alone. With her gone you have some more time to think. Is this really such a bad thing? You were planning on staying here after all. You don’t stick out anymore, you’ll fit in just like everybody else. But you’ll miss your old body; and all of its little imperfections and quirks. You can’t just throw away what you’re used to.
The smell of bacon fills your nostrils, perking you up. With a weary smile you turn away from the mirror and head downstairs into the kitchen, where Gilda is cooking for once. You weakly trudge over to one of the chairs and sit down, placing your head on the table. Gilda ignores you. Walking on all fours seems to come naturally.
“You need to look on the bright side, being a griffon is pretty awesome,” she says laying out another two strips of bacon; “You get to fly, you get claws, and you can hunt down animals and stuff.”
“Forgive me for not being so enthusiastic Gilda. I was enjoying my old body thank you very much.”
“Don’t take it out on me, I didn’t know that it’d… do that.”
“So? You shouldn’t have jumped out at me like that, one of could have- no, one of us did get hurt. And now I’m stuck like this.”
“You don’t know that. I bet some egghead unicorn could find a way to change you back.”
You aren’t convinced. You lapse into an uncomfortable silence as Gilda lays out the table and prepares the food for serving. “C’mon, I even made you some extra to cheer you up,” she begs sliding a plate in front of you. Indeed she has, your portion is double the size that it normally is.
“Extra bacon? That’s the best way to cheer me up?”
Gilda’s feathers ruffle slightly at the thinly veiled accusation. She ignores it and sits down with her own plate beginning to eat. Your stomach rumbles and you begrudgingly begin to scoff down the large portion she has granted you. It’s hard to chew, in fact you can’t really chew it at all. You simply have to swallow the stuff whole, getting a passing taste of the meat on your tongue. This is going to take a lot of getting used to.
After you’ve shovelled everything down your gullet you lie back on the chair and wait, unsure of what to do with yourself. What can you do now? Report it to the council? Just deal with it and start living here? You wouldn’t mind staying, after all it has everything you want out of a home, easy access to meat and beer, some good company, and nice houses. Gilda catches your attention by speaking again.
“Alright, I’m sorry dude. I was really tried and… I didn’t want to deal with it right there and then.”
“It was serious! What if I was dying or something?”
“But you weren’t, so I went back to bed.”
You growl and slam a fist onto the table, “What the hell is your problem? Is this how you treat all of your friends?”
It seems to hit close to home as she leans back and scowls, “I don’t have any friends.”
“Except from me, so I’ll say it again, is this how you treat all of your friends?”
“You’re not my friend.” You polish of the plate and pull away from the table, “Where are you going?” Gilda asks as you walk to the front door.
“I need some air.”
Gilda doesn’t protest as you walk out into the open streets of the town. With a sigh she resigns herself to the task of washing up.
For once in your life the other griffons on the street pay you no mind, your new body allowing you to blend into the crowd with ease. You’re fairly tall and muscular meaning that you still earn a few second glances. The transformation must have tried to preserve your mass, and since you were a human, you’re now a big griffon.
Speaking of, how the hell did Gilda turn you into a griffon?
For one thing, it isn’t a coincidence that it happened right after she clawed you yesterday. When you went to the park and she said that your eyes were messed up, that must have been the transformation starting. You look down to your black claws, of course, the dry skin was either peeling away or turning into… whatever claws are made from.
You clench it and sigh to yourself. It could be worse you suppose, you always wondered what it’s like to fly and now you have a prime opportunity to do just that. You shuffle your way back to your favourite spot in the park and sit down on the bench. A perfect place to do some self-reflection for sure.
Your moping is interrupted by a familiar white pony who sits down next to you. Oh shit, it’s time for the monthly inspection and you left the house! The bench creaks and moans under her weight, but she pays no mind as she look down to you and squints her eyes. “Have I met you before, stranger?” Princess Celestia asks.
You snort and sit up straight. “You don’t recognize me huh?”
Her eyes widen as she hears you voice. “Ah, I see,” she gets very contemplative and looks out over the lake. “An odd affliction you have there.”
“Gilda’s fault.”
She tuts, “No, no. How could she have done this?”
“She scratched me with those claws of hers, and I turned into a griffon. It seems pretty open and shut to me.”
She purses her lips and makes eye contact again, “I must be truthful. I have never seen anything like this. The many applications of magic beyond being channeled through out horns still remain a mystery. There was no telling how your body would react, being an inter-dimensional being and all.”
“But I guess you have some idea…”
“That I do. You come from a place with no magic, so you are a blank slate. Something that can be imprinted on in many ways. You like it here, that much I can tell, that desire was transferred into a tangible effort by this world to suit your body to live here.”
“And Gilda’s scratch?”
“A catalyst for the change. Griffons aren’t infectious, that I know.”
You still aren’t convinced. “So what? The magic… thing tried to cover itself up?”
“I never considered that possibility. Potentially yes, although I do doubt that magic has some kind of sentience. It is not a living being, rather it is a fundamental force that effects everything on this world.
“I know you wouldn’t like to try it, but I suppose that if you were ever harmed or, ahem, shared bodily fluids with another, you would transform into that species.”
“No thanks, it hurt enough the first time.”
“I don’t think there will be a second, as I said you were a blank slate, but now you have been coloured by this place. To paint on the canvas again would be to ruin a magnificent piece of art.”
“Are you flirting with me, Princess?” you ask slyly, a smirk on your beak. Her cheeks blossom a red colour as she looks away with a huff.
“No, I would never intrude in such a way. And besides, I think there’s a certain somegriffon who has your attention already.”
“What are you implying?”
Suddenly looking much smugger Celestia titters at you, “You like Gilda, don’t you human?”
Now It’s your turn to blush, “W-what? No!”
“Oh please, save me your excuses. For many others she’s aggravating and childish, but you seemingly enjoy your time with her.”
Your tail swipes from side to side behind you as you become increasingly flustered. “What? She’s nice; when you get to know her. She’s got a good sense of humour too, and she really likes bacon,” you practically gush
Celestia just stares at you with a small smile on her face. You stop as you start to sound like a little girl talking about her favourite actor.
“No, is it?”
“I might like her a little bit.”
“I highly doubt this incident will get in the way of your relationship, do not hold a grudge against her for something she did on accident.”
Celestia stands up and walks to the water’s edge, a hoof lazily skimming the top of the lake. “So have you come to a decision? This is the last stop of your world tour.”
“I want to stay here, it’s got everything I want,” you state confidently.
“Do not make this decision on the life that you knew, never be afraid to go on an adventure. Are you completely sure?”
“I don’t like adventure, I just want to live somewhere with good food, good company and a nice view. I’m sure you understand.”
“Indeed. Very well then, I shall inform the King of your decision and have him start on the paperwork to make you a citizen. As far as my involvement is concerned, it is unlikely that we will see each other again.”
“Thank you for helping me Princess.”
She nods and spreads her wings before taking off into the morning skies. “Farewell friend,” she calls as she fades into the distance. Spirits lifted, you get off of the bench and start walking back to the house, a new confidence in your step. The others seem to notice and you receive a few catcalls from some lionesses chatting in a café.
You burst into the house, “Gilda! I’m back.” She comes out from the kitchen, drying off her claws with a hand towel.
“That was quick. Are you cool now?”
“I’m better than cool. I feel great!” Gilda throws the towel into the kitchen and sits down on one of the couches, tapping the space beside her that you eagerly take.
“So what brought this on dweeb?”
“Well, Celestia actually. She was looking for me and sat down in my spot at the park. I forget that her visit was for today. So we talked about some stuff, and I’ve decided to stay here permanently.”
“Cool, did she say anything about the… transformation?” Gilda asks anxiously.
“Not really, but she did say that I shouldn’t blame you for anything. Some magic bullshit is at fault.”
“That’s a relief.”
“I still don’t forgive you for leaving me in the night though, you should know better.”
“Seriously dude?”
“Seriously, you’re going to have to make breakfast for like, a week to make up for that!”
“Aw,” the griffoness whines. She seems glad that things are back to normal at least. The two of you just sit there for a while, Gilda working up the courage to ask for something. “Can I look at you? If you know what I mean?”
You waggle your eyebrows lecherously and stand in the centre of the room as Gilda blushes at the implication although you fail to notice. She follows you and sizes you up. “Damn dude, you’re stacked.” She pokes one of your arms and squeezes it, feeling the muscle underneath.
“Really? I can’t tell.”
“Yep, you could pick up a lot of chicks with a bod like this,” she laughs, nudging you with an elbow.
Gilda circles around you a few times, occasionally prodding you. “So, this is the real deal huh?”
“I thought that was implied when I woke up as a griffon,” you grumble. “But I don’t know, do I look real to you Gilda?” She rolls her eyes at you and sits back down. “By the way, you should teach me how to use these things,” you say fanning out your wings.
“I’ll think about it. I’m not an amazing teacher.”
“So where would I go if you don’t?”
“You’d have to go see the flying instructor. He works at the school to teach the kids how to fly. Who knows, maybe he’ll enrol you in his lessons.”
You’d rather not.
The couch creaks under your own weight and causes Gilda to slide into the middle. The feeling is strange but not unusual, a lot of the furniture here couldn’t hold your weight when you were a human. It makes you wonder, does Celestia have special chairs made just for her? Does she bring a chair with her when visiting other nations?
Gilda punches your arm from her position next to you. “C’mon dweeb, you just totally ruined my couch!”
“Well maybe you should have bought something that can support my stature,” you say flexing an arm. Welcome to the gun show indeed. Once again you don’t notice the slight blush peppering Gilda’s cheeks, (because they’re hidden under all those fluffy white feathers, duh.)
Just then your bladder makes itself known. “I need the bathroom,” you conclude, releasing the couch from your girth and walking upstairs. On your way you try to figure out how your new plumbing works, from what you know about griffons you must have some kind of sheathe to keep it in.
You approach the toilet and manoeuvre yourself so that your underside is directed over it. Unlike normal toilets, these ones are built into the floor so you can just squat at them. After making sure that everything is lined up you let loose. Your new sheathe doesn’t get in the way, much to your relief, and everything goes off without a hitch.
Shaking twice you step away and admire your handiwork. You wash your hands in the now appropriately sized sink and head back out into the hallway. Gilda’s voice comes up from downstairs, she must be talking to herself. A habit of hers that has led to a very grumpy, sleep deprived human in the past.
It’s a bad idea, but you decide to eavesdrop on her a bit and see what she really thinks about this entire debacle. You slither over to the top of the stairs and lay down on the floor to hear her better. It’s quiet, but she’s definitely mumbling something to herself. Your eyes open in shock as she gradually gets louder.
“Don’t do it Gilda… so what if he’s totally hot now… he’s still the same old…”
Oh boy.
Gathering your faculties you make an exaggerated effort of walking down the hallway to diminish any suspicions she might have. The sound of you stomping on the wooden floor gets her attention and she shushes herself.
“It’s so nice being able to use that thing properly,” you say to break the ice. Unfortunately that only makes things worse as an embarrassed atmosphere settles upon the room like a suffocating blanket. You silently move to the couch and sit down again. “You okay Gilda?”
“Uhm. Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you only talk to yourself when something is up?”
This seems to put her on edge, “H-how did you hear that?”
“You aren’t exactly quiet. What’s bothering you?”
As you indicate your ignorance to the problem she seems to wind down slightly. “Just thinking about this,” she says gesturing at your body. “Are you sure it’s cool?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m going to live here anyway. May as well go native right?”
Gilda’s tail wags slightly at your admission, a soft smile gracing her face. “Cool.”
You stare at her.
She glances around the room nervously.
But you keep staring.
She cracks.
“You heard everything, didn’t you?” With a shit eating grin you nod, slowly.
“Buck. Really?” she sighs. “I guess I’m not getting out of this one.”
“No, not really. What was it again, ‘totally hot’?”
Gilda’s feathers ruffle as you recall her own words. You laugh well naturedly, but this only makes her more flustered. “W-well, it’s not my fault! You’re just good looking okay!”
“It’s not just that Gilda, is it? You’re not the type to get flustered over a good looking guy, I’d know, I’ve been here for a few months now.”
“That’s- spot on actually.”
“What is?”
“You’ve been here for a while. You’re the first guy to pay me any mind really. All of the others just want a cheap fuck. And at first I thought it was just because you had to, but when you said you were staying… and the griffon thing… I just… really thought that I’d actually have a chance.”
“Well, you still do.”
Her eyes sparkle with freshly ignited hope, “Really?! I thought you were mad at me!”
“I already forgave you. You’re too good of a friend to leave for one mistake.”
She wraps you in a tight hug, her beak nestled against your plumage. It feels strangely imitate for such a simple action, and the feeling of her hard beak rubbing against your sensitive chest sends shivers up and down your spine. You find yourself returning the favor and rubbing the tip of your own beak against her neck.
It feels like an instinct has taken over, the involuntary action forcing you to stroke through her feathers. She coos at the contact before backing away to arm’s length.
“What was that?” you ask.
“Griffons can’t exactly make out dude, so we do… that instead,” she sighs with a dopey smile on her face. Evidently she enjoyed the contact, and soon enough the two of you are diving back for more. The warmth of fur body against yours is something else, far away from simply kissing one another. It feels much more intimate than that.
“So, what should I expect from a griffon relationship?”
“Cuddling, public affection, lots and lots of aggressive sex,” Gilda answers sharply.
“Doesn’t sound like you.”
“You have to make it known dude, otherwise any old bird could walk up to you and try to claim you. We’re pretty competitive, even when it comes to dating. We don’t have any of that wimpy wedding stuff either, you can just get together with somegriffon whenever you want.”
“There’s a lot I don’t know then.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you,” she giggles.
You spend about half an hour on the couch with her until you decide to inquire further. “So, does that make us a couple, or what?”
“Mates, actually. The old griffons are all about efficiency, and keeping things simple.”
Gilda just so happens to run across an extra sensitive spot, you shiver as Gilda begins to attack it mercilessly. “Ah Gilda! Don’t!”
She doesn’t heed your warning, and an odd pressure begins to build below as a slick red member begins to emerge from your furry pouch. It has a head similar to your human member, but it is much sharper and ends in a point. At the base is a thick bulge, which considerably increases the maximum girth of it. By your estimation the thing has to be at least twelve inches long and three inches wide, no longer limited by your two legged stature.
Gilda sees your mortification and looks down, letting out a very bird like squawk at the sight. “That’s a freaking monster dude! Why in Tartarus is it so big?!”
“Are you really complaining? How do you think I feel?”
“Very proud with yourself for one thing. How am I even going to…” she whispers. Under her scrutiny you soon reach full hardness, a droplet of musky pre-cum running down its length. She reaches for it and wraps a talon around it. You gasp and thrust slightly into her grip.
“Is this happening? You’re going to tear me in half with this.”
You shake your head, unable to form words at the intense sensation of having her rough claw wrapped around the surface of your cock. With a sweet smile she gently begins to pump up and down, using your pre-cum as lube. “You’re rock hard right now, I bet you like having a pretty lioness like me inspect your cock huh?”
She pushes you down onto your back, giving her easy access to your cock and balls. Her other claw attacks the furry orbs, rolling them between the sharp tips of her claws. “I can feel these things pulsing, such a perv.”
She leans down and slips one of them into her beak, her thin tongue setting to work by lashing it with strokes. She seems to have some kind of distaste for it, probably due to the fur covering them, and she instead leans down to taste your cock. Her tongue licks up the thin stream of pre that has been steadily flowing since she started.
She swallows audibly and sucks on one of her fingers, “Not bad for somegriffon who only eats bacon.”
She redoubles her efforts, using both claws to pump your twitching member. “Gonna’ cum for me dude? Be careful, if you get it in my feathers I’ll smell like you for a week,” she taunts. You groan and buck again as the pressure in your balls builds.
Just as soon as you feel like coming she stops, casually inspecting her claws as if nothing is amiss. “Gilda, please!” you plead with her.
Her eyes half lidded, Gilda wraps her arms under your body and leans in to your crotch, her beak teasing your cock-hole. She moves up and slides it back into her mouth, the airy cavity doesn’t have much of a grip, but the idea is more than enough to get you going again.
She gives you a smouldering look with her golden eyes as you take charge and begin fucking her beak with wild abandon. You grab the top of her head and push her all the way down, the tip of your dick lodging itself into the back of her throat. Gilda doesn’t push away as you pound her mouth in a wild fervour. Her eyes begin to water as you approach your climax.
With one final push Gilda deep throats you. Your orbs tense up against your body as you cock twitches, wild streaks of hot cum pulsing down your length. You lean back and gasp as an intense shock runs through you, this is the most intense orgasm of your life. Gilda is wide eyed as you unload a huge volume of cum into her beak, some of it being forced out around the edges in the process.
Panicked and surprised she pulls away, coughing and sputtering as the last few errant strings decorate her face. You let out a breathless chuckle as the wipes the semen out of her eyes. “I was only kidding! I didn’t actually want you to!”
“Well I can’t exactly control how much I cum Gilda.”
She looks down and notices that you’re still rock hard. “Are you messing with me? How are you still hard after that?”
You shrug. She groans again. “Why? Scared?”
“Not scared.”
“Sounds like you’re being chicken to me.”
“I am not a-“
“Buck buck buck BUCKAW!” you screech infuriatingly.
“Hey!” she objects as you continue to imitate a chicken, your cock swinging in the air tauntingly. “Alright tough guy, I’ll show you who the boss is.”
Swinging around she reveals her own soaked pussy, it’s flushed pink lips glistening with moisture. You roll back over and line yourself up behind her. “You better go slow dweeb, or I’ll geld you.” Your stomach meets her back as you grab your cock and place it against her entrance. You slowly push, the large head splitting open her lips and granting you access to the tight tunnel.
Gilda whimpers as the intimidating beast splits her open. You wrap your arms around her and nuzzle the back of her neck, which relaxes her slightly as you ever so slowly inch forwards. “I-I don’t think it’ll fit.”
“I’m not even halfway in yet Gilda, I’m sure you can handle… six inches?” you hazard a guess.
“Forgive me for v-voicing my concern,” she gasps.
As you get closer and closer to getting the entire thing in, it rapidly increases in girth to form some kind of knot. That is not going to fit, at first anyway, so you stop as the majority is inside her already. It’s time to return the favor and give Gilda something to remember.
You pull out, her walls gripping on tight to try and keep you inside, but your new found strength wins out and you pull back to the tip, Gilda letting out another breathless sound of ecstasy. Your cock is still slightly numb from your previous orgasm, but as you find a good rhythm it starts to feel good again.
Gilda lets her claws relax as you hold up the back of her body and continue to thrust into her, your new muscular body making it easy to manhandle her. She finds it hard to form words, only letting out the occasional sigh of pleasure. She’s getting into it now. Every time you push back inside you edge ever closer to slipping the fat knot into her now loose pussy.
“H-hey!” she objects, “Watch that thing!”
“C’mon Gilda, you aren’t a little curious about what it feels like?”
“It feels like you ruining my bladder control,” she quips with a hiss.
You come to a stop and adjust yourself to get better leverage. Gilda squawks as you wrap your arms around her midsection and pull her into a sitting position in your lap, poised directly over the thick base of your member. She’s too overwhelmed by the pleasure to fight you as you slowly push yourself deeper.
Her outer lips wrap around the bulge as it struggles to take the sheer girth. “No! Dude seriously!”
You ignore her and press on, worming your red cock deeper into her. There’s no reason or logic behind your actions, just the insatiable desire to breed her, claim her, make sure nobody else can ever pleasure her like you can. The instinct that had taken control of you before is now in full drive, and intends to make the most of its time.
With a howl from Gilda the knot slips inside, finally allowing your balls to slap against her cute little clit. Her pussy is stretched to its absolute limit. You take a moment to allow her to recover, but soon enough your bird brain regains control and makes you pull out. Gilda is left babbling incoherently as you push back in again all the way to the base, the wet sounds of her pussy juices is music to your ears.
You lift her up via her armpits and hold her above your cum covered cock. You wrap them around her barrel and begin to pound away ferociously. Now unbidden by the previously limited cavity, your knot slips in and out freely as if it were nothing. Gilda mumbles your name repeatedly as you rush to fill your mate with your virile seed.
You nuzzle the crook of her neck and smile to yourself. How could you have possibly been angry her for giving you this? Gilda’s eyes have glazed over in pleasure, your mate, your one and only, the mother of your children. You could do this forever, just you and her wrapped in endless tides of bliss.
The smells, the sounds, they all drive you to go faster. You inhale the scent of sweat coming from her furry body, imprinting it into your mind. You are left breathless as you feel the climax coming, pushing you to go even further. With a cry you thrust, harder than ever before and lodge your knot into her.
You black out momentarily as you climax. Your balls working overtime to produce the live giving seed, they twitch and tighten as another wave of thick ropes paints the inside of Gilda’s womb. But it doesn’t just stop there, despite your previous orgasm you manage to produce even more than before. Gilda’s stomach bulges slightly as you fill her to capacity, the few streams that couldn’t fit leaking around your joining.
Gilda ejaculates hard. She spasms as a wave of contractions run through her lower body. Her own juices are lost under yours, in fact you barely even notice that she came at all. She screams so loud that the windows begin to rattle in their frame. Her voice is reduce to a hoarse croak as she lies back against your chest.
You nuzzle the back of her head and work your claws through her fur as she comes down from the high of orgasm. Her chest heaves as she tries to inhale some much needed air. After a while she also shows her own signs of affection, nuzzling you back and holding your claws in her own.
“Maybe I won’t geld you after all,” she whispers.
“Love you too, Gilda,” you whisper back.
Author's Note
There we go. A project I've been working on for a while now. Delayed by my motherboard dying on me, hopefully it's worth the wait.
