Gilda Bulks Out

"Absolutely not, Gilda."

"Aw, come on, dude!"

Bulk Biceps wasn't a divine alicorn, but he did serve as one's captain. He looked the part of a warrior-priest, of a paladin devoted to overwhelming life. On his own, he cut a massive, massively muscled figure at nine feet tall with breadth like a fortification wall, muscles like a relief map of the rolling Coltish Highlands (only white, not green), and a jaw like a ramming prow. Even his single golden earring seemed almost piratical.

If pirates were prone to shouting out, "Yeah!" rather than, "Arr!" as the enthusiastic equivalent of an um.

He was naked, too, chiseled physique in sharp relief, and the fat, oversized cannon between his legs on obscene display. Other than the fact that it wasn't rock-hard, and preferably in her, that was just the way his wife liked things.

His gigantic griffon wife, a good three and a half feet taller than he. Gilda Griffon, Tribune of the Immunes Adversi Tenebras Magicas, Priestess of the Flyer, and widely acknowledged as the physical ideal of what griffons thought they should be. Diversely trained in both the Discipline-Savagery ways of the Griffon Legions, and the Righteous Soldier of the Pegasopolitan traditions, she was considered to be a tactical, strategic, and logistic wunderkind by both the notoriously praise-scant Griffon High Command and the notoriously parochial Cloudsdale Aerial Committee.

His gigantic, badass griffon wife, who was currently pouting at him, naked, nips hard, and holding up the spiked collar she had in mind.

Tartarus, Bulk thought, the GHC is still cultivating her to join them after marrying me, yeah! He smiled to himself as he looked over her naked body. She was every bit as musclebound as he, was, on a frame more than a third again taller than his. It showed everywhere, from gigantic eighty-inch biceps to the enormous pecs behind her lovely G-cup breasts, down through the columnar majesty of her thighs and calves.

His lip twisted into a half smile. Usually abs from here to breakfast, he thought with a great wonder filling his heart and hardening his cock. She lit his fuse even more now, though. Because instead of her rock-hard, rigid abdominals, all he could see was the positively massive bulge of her belly, bigger even relatively than the biggest nine-footer hyper mares at eleven months… and she was only at month six of what Fluttershy had told them would be a solid year.

Gilda's rage at being told she'd be benched from combat after a mere five months, just before their wedding, had been something to behold. Even more so given that most griffons and mares fought until the last two months or closer. Only he had wished to observe it from much further away, especially when his goddess-boss had told Gilda that she'd actually have to be grounded for her safety and that of the hippogrifflets after nine months.

The purest rage hadn't lasted. Nonetheless, the raw, gorgeous fury of his warrior-bride roaring, screeching and throwing up ship-hawser corded arms had been beautiful to Bulk. It hadn't lasted long, because Fluttershy had included a little gift when she'd pushed the two of them together.

Griffons valued children at least as much as ponies, after all.

And being blessed with five hybrids, when hybridization required significant magical power in the first place had been enough to get Gilda asking if Bulk wouldn't mind her making out with Fluttershy then and there in thanks. All fury forgotten in a heartbeat when that factoid popped up.

Can't lie, he thought cheerfully, his prick now completely rock-solid and four feet long with pre starting to dribble from the tip. Wouldn't have minded at all. Flutters had demurred, her own relationship, while open, being in an odd place then, but the image still felt good.

Almost as good as his Gilda's huge, weapon-calloused hand closing over as much of his throbbing tool as she could manage-- not nearly all the way, not with eight solid inches of diameter as an average-- just behind the head of his sensitive flare. He groaned with pleasure, toes curling and wings fluttering from the expert handling. Licking her long beak, she squeezed and rubbed, adding her other hand to finally clasp across the entire thickness she considered hers.

Given they'd been married once before the Flyer, her clan, and representatives of her legion, and had just been married directly by the mare who was Bulk's goddess, she had a fairly good claim. Even if the princesses weren’t worshipped much openly.

She dropped her jaw in a predatorial griffon smile and said, "See? Ya like the idea, mook." For added bribery, she pointed the lube-drooling tip right at her already swelling melons. He was briefly distracted by the thought of just how big they might get by the end of the pregnancy, but caught up with her logic. Or what she called logic; even he could see some of the flaws.

He shook his head, shaking his short mane fiercely. "I said no kink, Gilda," he told her, folding his arms over his broad chest and staring unflinchingly up into the eyes he adored so. "We did the first, second, an' third ceremonies the griffon way. I want this my way. Do I gotta safeword here?"

That pout. A twelve-foot-six supermax predator-- with a beak, no less-- shouldn't have been able to manage a comfortable simulation of a lip-quivering pout, but there his wife went, utterly adorable. He raised an eyebrow, steeling himself, determined to not be walked all over on this point.

His patience won out. "Oh, fine!" Gilda growled at him, and threw the collar messily off to a side, nearby the dildos and the floggers from last night. "You going to just complain about things, then?"

Cute, but he wasn't after cute right now. Even if he didn't want to play dominance and submission games at the moment, he still wanted her. All of her. Every mega-amazonian giantess inch and pound of her four yards and change, multiton warrior's body, the grouchy mind, and wonderful soul within. He grinned, "Nah, got a better use for my mouth."

Gilda sneered. "You'd better, pony," she threatened, for all it didn't disturb his aplomb. "Or I'mma tattoo my name on this pretty stick with my talons!" Her fingers didn't pop a single inch of her savage natural weaponry, just gripping and fondling with more of her masturbatory expertise. But each new splurt of his precum brought a hardening of her face, and he knew that, deliciously hyperpregnant or not, Gilda would try something… griffonish… if he didn't act soon.

So he cut to the chase-- as it were-- and stepped in close, fucking his giant dick through the tight hole of her grasping hands. Like he was fucking her tightwad ass from the front. He shoved the already pre-covered tip up over the lovely padding of her vastly pregnant belly, and into the soft invitation of her gorgeous breasts, like… uh… the folds of her sex?

No, that's not right, Bulk told himself. G's pussy is exquisite, but it's nowhere near as gentle as those boobs. Gentle was not really one of the things that his wife indulged in much. He shrugged a bit, and just as she looked like she was going to start ranting, he grabbed her elbows and hauled her down towards him, fast.

He had to be careful to tilt Gilda slightly so the giant heft of his cock didn't get between his lips and her beak. Still, he kissed her hard, ignoring the sharpness as his tongue pressed into her mouth. Her jaw dropped again, in pleasure rather than sarcasm this time.

The huge griffon groaned into Bulk's kiss, the warm strength of her tongue wrestling aggressively with his; but otherwise, she just melted against his body. Her heavy belly was first against him, and he felt the life running through her and them in a great, expanding circle. This would be neither the first time nor the last he'd help carry the load of their children-to-be.

It was poetry that even his sometimes… blunt.. mind could appreciate.

Her sculpted, superb arms followed, wrapping around his shoulders as her welcoming breasts pressed tight to his pumped pecs. At that, the heavy pair did their own wrapping around the throb of his cock. He had a "cheat," as she called it; his hyper strength was vastly superior, not just pound for pound, but in absolute terms, especially when coupled with his cutie mark. She found this to be absolutely awful, just terrible, and highly offensive when they were sparring. Which was even more offensive now that she couldn't spar with anyone safely.

In moments like these, with an intimacy between hayculean pony and amazonian giantess, she gave him her full, pussy-gushing approval.

Strong hands, wandering, possessive, and loving, trailed up to his fifty-inch biceps, squeezing fondly before tracing over the masses of his triceps, supporting their flashier bi-cousins as they always did. Gilda might object to his extra strength, but she adored his muscularity, the apex of his bodybuilding talent. Especially now that she considered his hide and anything beneath her personal territory, she could get all kinds of creamy just exploring him with her fingers. Or her tongue.

She made ample use of both, and her height advantage too. Holding the kiss for but a little while, she soon broke off to lean across him, smooshing his face into her giant left melon, forcing her already-lactating nipple into his mouth while she preened at the tough muscles basing his wings. "Yes, damn you, pony!" she hissed at him. "Use those sweet fuckin' lips of yours like the first time you came onto me!"

Bulk suckled hungrily, tasting her rich milk. He considered that to be yet another "historical revision" of Gilda's; she'd been basically jerking him off before shoving her tit in his face nipple-first anyway. All the while roaring a mating challenge-display at him. A little unfair, yeah, he thought, but wisely said nothing.

Because he was getting giant Gilda boob. In the face. And her long tongue felt so good on his back, and he definitely appreciated the massaging those long, strong fingers were giving his tight butt. He held her up, her whole massive body, in an easy grip, and she took full advantage, caressing and exploring his body while he nursed at her breast.

Eventually, he broke the liplock and smiled up at her, nipping at her neck the way she liked. While she hissed and cursed at him in the same loving way she always did, Bulk quietly said, "I love you."

Suddenly he wasn't so much holding up Gilda as holding her as she squirmed her bulk against her Bulk (him) as much as she could. Flutters had told him griffons tended to be private about expressions of non-antagonistic affection, so she wasn't sure what effect pony romanticisms might have. The answer-- at least for Gilda Griffon, and wasn't she in her own words the pinnacle of griffdom?-- was apparently, "electric."8

She trailed beak kisses and long slurps over his wing muscles, over his back, tracing the expanse of traps and delts and lats while cooing in wonder. Her hands shifted from squeezing his butt to cupping the tops of his enormous balls in front. Fingers rubbing and pleasuring them frantically, she focused on him as though she was in a panic that he might disappear. "Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!" was her refrain, somehow being a whispered scream of primal need, her scent filling Bulk's nostrils like his own personal heaven.

(Like the one the Flyer and Flutters said they'd worked out for their afterlives, as a wedding present)

So, no fool, Bulk said it again. "I love you, Gilda Griffon," he told her with a quiet groan. Immediately, that started her beautifully pregnant belly bouncing against him, and the hard gorgeousness of the rest of her crawling over him. He just had to give a quirky smile. This, too, was contentment.

Then he literally lifted her completely up off the ground and off him. In a flash, he trailed his own kisses from her milk-laden breasts to her heavily loaded belly. He took his time, nuzzling and kissing everywhere along the golden brown fur. On a whim, he even licked with lingering flicks of his tongue at her once-innie-now-outie belly button. He roughly rumbled, "Got plenty of use for my lips that ain't complainin'."

Gilda was blushing brightly now, her nares flushed, pinkness under white feathers, and red under brown along her fur right down her arms to her wrists. Still, she was a tribune and a priestess of the Disciplined Savage, the Flyer. She growled, groaned, and almost squeaked, "Show me!" at him. So, laughing, he carefully hoisted her up onto their tall bed, laying her down on her back. With her thunderstorm thighs spread as wide as she could to take him, the lovely pink of her needy sex nearly winked at him, pony style.

He knew what his lady needed.

She couldn't see him, not over the hump of her curvaceous mega-tum. He put every part of his smile into his voice, rumbling, "My pleasure, yeah!" With that, he worshipfully kissed along the tensing, twitching muscles of her inner thigh. Perfect definition, the bodybuilder in him whispered. Lovely mass, the 'lifter in him cheered. But his heart screamed, Pleasure your fem! and that was all any of him really cared about.

Bulk went to work as Gilda roared out an almost leonid, wordless rush of sound. The bed trembled, her control tested with every light nip and loving kiss along the sensitive, super-strong flesh of her inner thighs. She could have turned it to flinders with a pinky, but she held it. After all, she had every ounce of discipline he had and more. That said, they had the measure of the bed’s strength now, so he knew they wouldn't have to ask Flutters to fix their bed with divine magic.

Again.

This week.

It was time to stop teasing, and to start making himself a cat-bird hat.

Pony lips were a "cheating" element that she had no beef with, at least. Bulk curved his finger-like upper lip against her clit as he kissed her twitching nethers. Taking his time, he stroked his strong tongue along her puffy vulva and swirled it around for new tastes of her honey.

It worked. She roared again, trailing off into squawks as his tongue explored her. He'd dined deep on griffon pussy a lot since they formalized their relationship-- fighting each other in a ritual arena, natch-- but he loved swirling his tongue deep in her no less. Every time he tasted her, every time his tongue excited another wave of core-deep clenches from his Gilda, it got him all the harder, knowing how much pleasure he gave her.

She'd told him once that griffons, especially big griffly griffs like her, did not squeal like ponies. Maybe her ex-boytoys, when she did them. Prostates were like that, she'd informed him with an evil snap-beak grin.

Later, Gilda had informed him that his grin when he'd first made her squeal like a virgin in heat was unacceptably smug. And evil. And that he needed to either do that again or knock it off. Since he had what his father had warned him was "a smile that made mares itch to punch your jaw or ride your face," he decided to do the that in question yet again.

Get her to ride his face and squeal like that again, that is. And so he did so again now, his lip tugging faster left and right over her throbbing clitty. His insistent loving made her cry out and call him all kinds of foul names, almost threats. Of course, all the while she cursed him out, her potent arms reached around the hulk of her pregnancy to adoringly caress his ears.

He didn’t mind. It was just her being a griffon. He didn’t need sweet praises from her; her body told him how much she loved him too. There was no way he would let it rest with just that, though. After all, Flutters had very firmly assured him that a pleasured momma was good for her incoming babies-- and better for the momma's relaxation, which was Bulk's whole world right now.

Pleasing his fem. Building a future with her. Eating out the most primo griffon snatch in the whole world, if he did say so himself.

Except Bulk couldn't really say much at the moment; his face was full of said primo griffon snatch. His nostrils flared every time she gushed over his tongue, every time he felt her thighs tighten and tremble as she wanted to let go of her spread. Eventually, the cooes and whimpers reached a fever pitch, so he brought out a yelp of protest when he stopped. He knew how to deal with that, and got a rumbling purr out of her when he leaned up to kiss her belly. He reminded her, "You can't hurt me unless you try, Gilda. Let your sexy legs free. I wanna wear you like the best hat ever."

Gilda came explosively from just the offer-- the offer and the aftershocks-- so he ducked his head down to wriggle his tongue inside her clenching cunny once more. Legs like crashing mountains slammed across his head, massive calves crossing behind his ears. Ears that were ringing from the force, a head that was a bit stunned, but all it took was a needy cry from his griffon for him to get back to work drilling his tongue deep into her.

His prehensile upper lip got back in the action, squeezing and teasing her honey-drenched lips and periodically flicking her clitty. Extra effort got him extra bounce out of his wife, even before she managed to anchor her arms on the far side of the bed. From there, she used the leverage to bounce her body, extra mass from the pregnancy and all, against his blunt muzzle. He loved it. Not least from how her delightful derriere bounced hard against his chest while her craggy-mountain thighs bounced off his shoulders.

"FUCK!" she howled again. "Gonna ride you like a hat!" Bulk didn't laugh; he found her weird endearments even nicer than her cursing, and that's what he wanted her to do to him anyway. She was into it all the way, grinding up and down on his shoulders and face like they were making a very, very strange cross between a getaway run and a piggyback ride. Huge muscles that he knew could crush boulders squeezed around his head, her heels rubbing hard into his wingbases.

He kept his tongue plunging into her. Kept using her sensitive sex to drive pleasure through those gorgeously giant muscles harder. His wins were her squeals of pleasure, but he considered every super-flexed cabled bulge around his head to be a victory lap. So lap on he did, while his lips showed why ponies didn't just invent oral sex, they mastered it.

No matter what the stupid bears said.

His actual fingers weren't idle, either. He loved Gilda's butt third best of her physical features after her breasts, which of course were still a second to her delicious muscles, but he loved all of her, so what was he thinking about again?

Duh, he reminded himself. You're eating her out, and still doing a good job, since she isn't clawing your back up. But he was also fondling her ass, squeezing and fondling the tough glutes and pretty padding on top. He'd made her blush complimenting her bubble, too, after all. Not least by going on about how much he loved the way it felt, whether in his hands, or wrapped around his dick.

That was one of the native blessings of being a hyper. Griffon males weren't so outrageously overcocked as to need quite so much copulatory compatibility magic, which could put a dampener on later stage or high-number pregnancies. But he had magic in more than muscles, and the fertility that ran through him even without Fluttershy's magic was more than just about planting the seed. It was about protecting the mate and the offspring.

With the magic of Life and Kindness running through him, he couldn't hurt either the fetuses or his female by having sex with them.

Which was good, because Gilda liked doing things griffon style, which meant rough. And when she had enough oral, she just grabbed his huge shoulders in her huge hands, and hauled him up. He'd gotten her to not bring out the collar, or the floggers, or the cane again, but she would not be having gentle sex unless she needed comfort or reassurance.

Tartarus, he thought as he rested carefully against her lovely, pregnant belly. I'm not exactly sayin' no to doin' this the fun way myself! Bulk had always enjoyed sex with hypers, or body-bonus marked normals, better, just because-- well. Athletic. It was kind of his thing.

A fierce smile flared along his lips, while his hands rubbed her pregnancy-swollen belly, caressing lovingly. "You ready for this?" he asked, knowing questions like that drove her crazy. Still, as she wordlessly screeched at him, impatient and demanding, he kissed his way up to her milk-leaking melons.

Then she stopped him with a word. Well, two; "Fuck no," she growled, just as his flare came up to her still quivering sex. She dropped her jaw in another beaky smile-- a smirk, at that. "I'm bored with your pussy fixation, dweeb," she told him. "Get goin' with stuffing more." As he laughed, she switched her legs on him, pumping vast thighs and hard calves, bracing her heels on his shoulders and curving her toes around, pushing said calves up against his head. "You waitin' for an invitation?" she snorted, clacking her beak. "Or you need a guide, like last time?"

"Oh, fuck you, Gilda," Bulk snorted back at her, and as she snapped something about hurrying up with that, he grabbed her juicy-thick thighs with the strength of his hands. Carefully, both of their bodies well-braced, he dipped his tight hips, and brought the immensely broad, flared tip of his pre-coated cock up to her world-class ass. "As requested, then," he told her with a smug grin, and thrusted up, hard.

He wasn't quite as over-proportionate as he'd be with a mare his own size. Those extra three and a half feet Gilda had on him in height spread out in gloriously lush three dimensions. As a result, her bouncing bubble butt nearly jiggled on an ass-lover's level with several goddesses of his prior intimate acquaintance. And it was all his to plunder. To dick-delve deep into, forcing her to stretch despite that size differential. To make her tight ring submit and give way to his invading member.

Grunts and quips at each other gave way to a loud crack as skin met skin and glutes met cock when he popped the flare in wetly. Immediately, Gilda’s greedy asshole squeezed his huge dick hard just behind the rim. She clenched all the harder as he didn’t stop, refused to stop, and plowed her back nine but good.

Precum slicked his way, but only so much. His hyper magic forced her powerful form to give way, to make her body conform to his throbbing tool's pulsing pressure. She roared at him again, interspersed with pleasured yowls. It wasn’t just his lube, either; the constant gush of her sex down from her lips dribbled onto his shaft while it thrust deeper still.

Then she got really impatient. Snarling, Gilda hauled him forward, feet on his shoulders. He didn’t need words to tell him just how eager she was to have her ass pounded harder. Gotta satisfy your fem, Bulk, he told himself

This was an invasion she didn't just tolerate, she demanded. Bulk loved giving her what she wanted. What she needed. He didn’t need her help with that any more than he needed instructions. So he scooped her bulging, thick thighs up along his chest, kissing his way from quad to knee to calf, bracing her. "I'm goin' all the way in," he told her and grinned when she growled at him for moving her feet. "Don't worry about pulling. You just lay back and enjoy your stallion."

A loud moan escaped his giant wife's throat. "Dammit, fucking pony, fucking pony romance…" she snarled happily. "Bring it!"

Which of course, he did, slamming his flat hips forward. It was his turn to flex and pump hard along his chiseled legs, swinging himself back and forth, driving deeper each time. Once he had her legs up high and he was close enough, he did the polite thing and reached around the redwood prominence of her thighs. His supple fingers found her drenched pussy, and as he forced the immense, juicy thickness of his medial ring into the clenching tightness of her ass, he had his merry, pony way with that too.

Bulk didn't last much longer. His cutie mark was in strength and lifting, not endurance. And while there were reps, indeed, there was only so much any stallion, any male could do like this. Not with his beloved wife bearing down with all her considerable strength, clenching her anus over his pounding cock, screaming profanity at him to encourage him to fuck harder, to give her a ride and the babies a bounce.

He obliged Gilda, gritting his teeth even as his toes curled on the edge of orgasm. His triceps tensed, a slow, broad bulk of their own beneath his biceps as the pure feel of his massive maleness pounding into that amazonian tightness started to work him over the edge. The sound of her strong hands caressing her fat tits, milking herself back against her own cleavage was an elysian accompaniment. All of it twined with scent and feel alike so hard through all of him that he could barely see his beloved's beauty.

He knew it was there all the same, a red flush working its way over him that had nothing to do with embarrassment. Nor did it have anything to do with the physical heat that was driving sweat to outline every pumped muscle in a glisten of its own. A kiss became a nip, and she smacked him in the face for biting her lower leg-- despite the marks from her beak and talons on his back from the first time he'd made her really lose control

As she squeezed and squeezed and squeezed her tight anal muscles around his invading cock, Bulk let out a long, rumbling whinny, his tail lashing hard behind him. "Soon," he crooned at her, shuddering, but he wanted her. Needed her. For all her protests, he fumbled his hands around to grab her hands and clasp them tight, making up for pulling her away from her breasts by pulling hard at her immovable might, pounding deeper into the super-muscled griffon.

His griffon. He closed his eyes, tilting his head and resting the right side against Gilda's upraised, quivering calves. Another elysian moment for a simple masseuse-cum-soldier; a blissful pillow, like every part of her, hard or soft. His heavy, full balls slapped off her tensing tush, and she let out a near songbird trill, squealing, "Mine! Gimme!"

A short, huffing series of laughs escaped his throat as he kissed feverishly at the sculpted mass of her calves again. No nips this time, just loving presses of his lips, adoring licks along the strength he admired so much. Her hands clenched around his, and he felt a smugness with the slight sting as she lost some of her grip on her talons, the hard ridges poking against his hard hide.

"Fuck soon!" she roared at him. "Now! Fill me now, stupid pony!"

So he did, his roar meeting hers, two deep bellows of triumph moving as one. His nuts unleashed their heavy cargo into her waiting body, filling her, inflating her even more. His seed rushed into her ass and distended her, remaking her shape to bloat on the "stupid pony" semen she seemed addicted to. Just the way she liked it.

He screamed out, "Oh fuck yeah!" at the top of his lungs as a final thrust and a final squeeze brought him over. The heavy sway of his nuts seemed almost to ache with pleasure, emptying out into the greedy clench of her asshole. "Mine," he whispered as the climax finally ebbed. "All mine."

"'Bout fucking time you reminded me, gorgeous fucking pony," Gilda gasped. "Griff up and -- oh!"

Whatever she was about to challenge him to do was lost for the moment, as he doubled up and came in her again. It took them a while to settle after that, and about the only coherent thought he could manage was, How did I get this lucky?

He must have said it out loud, resting his hard body against the swell of her overfull belly. As usual, she had the answer. Shaking her head, she snorted, and preened possessively at his ears. "Flyer fuck you with a spork, Bulk," she told him. "You godsdamn know how: I reached out and grabbed what I wanted. You weren't about to make the first fuckin' move."

Laughing, he kissed around her navel and the furry curve of her stomach, nuzzling happy. "Okay," he admitted. "Yeah."