Feathered Hearts - Eros

Lying atop two other griffons who were improbably yet deliciously sexually tied to him like a trio of mounting male dogs, Christopher McLain was not only sure that he’d somehow died and gone to a heaven he barely believed in, but that he must have done something in a previous life that earned him the reward he was living now.

Though the red-haired and pink-cheeked 38-year old university professor and military history aficionado was in no way sexually experienced, aside from the odd encounter or experimentation with a few guys in his youth that wasn’t anywhere near as misspent as he would have wished it to be, he found that the pinkish cider haze that everything—and everyone! —seemed soaked in shunted all such concerns or worries to the side. Instead, it left only raw desire and dramatically heightened passions in their wake, with all taboos and inhibitions for both sides forgotten.

It wasn’t just about sex either, finding that he was more than amenable to not only seeing Marco and Tara together again—how nice that they had finally made up for their awful encounter before! And best of all, he didn’t have to clean up after them getting drunk and sick this time—but immensely enjoying watching them both get it on with Gilda, whose prickly and previously standoffish nature had initially left Chris certain that she would never let Marco within reach of her again.

And yet, here they all now were, naked and endlessly aroused while watching a series of movies that seemed to turn on their guests even more than whatever was in the cider they were imbibing, feeding their fighting fantasies with visions of old battles and human warbirds—who would have ever thought that all his military history knowledge and especially his WWII hobby would come in handy for arousing and seducing griffons? —while he narrated and explained what was happening in the movie, allowing them to enjoy the story and the accompanying sex greatly.

As a result, he’d had the courage to do things he’d never dared dream of until that night, being with the alien men he’d had crushes on from almost the instant he arrived in the Kingdom. But he couldn’t help it, not after beholding their sleek and powerful male forms paired with a set of impressive genitalia that belied their feline halves. And not given the fact that they were almost always on display given how few griffons actually wore any coverings on their hindquarters.

They feel so good in my hand and inside of me. And to think I was worried that their dicks might all be tiny and barbed! He shook his head again as he watched the movie proceed, giving occasional commentary as it went.

He found it amazing that such a strong warrior race would be in any way interested in a visibly inferior male such as himself, given even the guys he knew back home wanted toned physiques as opposed to his pale and slightly flabby form paired with the professor’s paunch he bore.

Incredibly, he could impress the male griffons with not his physique or ability to fight—he didn’t have any warrior talents other than being a good shot with an old Russian rifle he had bought a year earlier to go shooting on weekends with his longtime friends—but his mind, discovering to his delight that the older and far more physically impressive griffon soldier named Giraldi actually seemed attracted to his encyclopedic knowledge of human history and warfare!

Better yet, the young tiercel soldier named Fortrakt seemed not just enthralled by Marco’s movies but incredibly easy to arouse and very sexually malleable, allowing Chris to fulfil his most fervent fantasy of feeling him up even despite his obvious crush on Tara.

In the end, he’d not only gotten his hands on the exotic male but even his cock inside of his four-legged form, taking his virgin tail and even introducing him to the pleasures of prostate stimulation while his friends and comrades looked on in great amusement.

You know, I really do think that birdie boi’s an exhibitionist! Chris had the passing thought more than once as Fortrakt kept accidentally exposing himself and getting even more turned on every time he did. By accident or design, he had repeatedly showed off an impressive organ that was neither avian nor feline; it had a unique anatomy that had a bulbed structure at the base. One which seemed to borrow more from canines than cats.

And yet somehow, all of it paled in comparison to seeing his good friend Marco go gay, who he’d always known as a somewhat notorious skirt-chaser back home. He’d had an uncanny knack of getting in trouble yet could also get away with murder, groping or kissing suddenly willing women who had initially wanted nothing to do with him.

Either due to his unusually large cock or an overabundance of confidence, he took liberties with girls Chris had never known anyone else to be able to—no little thing given the decidedly unhealthy dating atmosphere back home and all the risks that came with it, especially around a major university.

Didn’t especially like the gay scene there, either… he silently granted as he snuggled more firmly into the combined embrace of Fortrakt and Giraldi, finding it far too shallow while also being soaked in politics and activism he found anathema.

Nobody wanted a relationship, just a cheap and meaningless fling, and if you so much as said one word someone else didn’t like, they attacked and ostracized you. And even aside from that, they were all so freakin’ pretentious! Then again, so was I, once upon a time…

He shook his head as he recalled how he’d wholeheartedly embraced the culture at first, only to find that no matter how deeply he immersed himself in it, it simply didn’t work for him.

Endless pride parades… always have to speak and act a certain way… make everything about being gay… goddammit, that’s an incredibly shallow and stupid way to live! He reflected that by the time he had figured that out, he had nearly burned all his bridges and the only thing he’d really gotten out of it was his job at the university, which he’d applied to as a gay man to fulfill their demographic checklists.

Fortunately, it had worked, even if he hadn’t been active in the gay community or had anything approximating a boyfriend for years. Still bugs me, because I now understand that I wasn’t accepted for the job on my merits. But not anymore! I’m a damned good professor despite what that damned Dean thinks, and that’s to say nothing of the fact that I met Marco and Tara there, he thought as he glanced over at them, where Marco remained firmly planted between Gilda and Tara.

He was actively fondling and fingering both as they lay against them, to the evident enjoyment mingled with disgust of both. How does he do it, though? Chris wondered again, finding them haloed by the glowing pink ring that seemed to surround everything in his vision, including his own partners and even the movie Marco’s laptop was projecting on the wall.

Get all the girls, whether griffon or human? Even Gilda’s letting him do it, and she just about tried to rip his head off before! He could only dimly recall that night’s events as if through a haze, like it had somehow happened in a different time or place.

Well, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? He’s got his girls, and I’ve got my guys! Sure wouldn’t mind if he hooked up with Giraldi again, though. Nothing quite like seeing a straight guy go gay! Or a gay guy go straight… The odd thought crossed his mind as his gaze drifted over to the very naked and buxom Tara again, noting her impressive curves paired with a decently toned body that she’d demonstrated earlier that day by laying Dana Caraway out.

The surprise thought gave him pause. Huh? But I don’t even go for girls! Especially after what happened with… his thoughts trailed off as a series of bad memories took hold of him and even caused his phallus to shrink for a moment in the grasp of Fortrakt’s smooth curved talons, which he’d quickly determined were safe to have touch you as long as the sharp tips were kept away from his sensitive surfaces.

“Huh? You’re softening, Chris. Is something wrong?” Fortrakt suddenly asked in concern from behind his head, with his talons still wrapped affectionately around large human cock.

“I’m sorry. Is this arrangement uncomfortable or not to your satisfaction? Giraldi asked in turn.

“Oh!” He snapped out of his reverie. “Sorry, buddy. And you too, big guy. Just thinking about some old stuff I probably shouldn’t. Let’s get back to the movie, okay?” he said, anxious to be back in his element as a history professor again. “We’re getting close to the really good stuff. Roll it, Marco!”

“You got it, buddy,” he said, letting Tara pull away from him just long enough to reach over and tap his laptop screen to start the Midway movie playing again. She did so and then re-settled back against Marco’s side opposite Gilda, grasping her talons right over his cock as the two females stretched their necks to touch tongues between them in lieu of a human-style kiss.

Huh… Chris was surprised to find his gaze lingering on them, watching them make out. Never thought about two women getting it on as anything special, but I have to admit, seeing those two take-no-crap-from-anyone girls go at it is kinda hot…

The movie resumed to a series of angry voices shouting in Japanese within earshot of Admiral Yamamoto, who entered a room containing many officers and a large table map of the central Pacific overlaid with ship and plane-like tokens.

“You’re not following the strategy!” the translation captions indicated someone had shouted, though everyone fell silent and bowed low when the commanding Admiral entered, then came to stiff attention.

“Admiral Nagumo? This is no way to conduct a war game,” Yamamoto addressed the even older flag officer calmly but sternly from across the table.

“Yeah, they can’t fight there. That’s a war room!” Marco pantomimed, earning a chortle from Tara and an annoyed glare from Gilda.

An exchange of voices followed, explaining that they were conducting a simulation of the upcoming attack on Midway, but it had gone awry when the young officer controlling the American side—he was wearing a facsimile of an American flag on his dark Imperial Japanese Navy uniform sleeve—had ‘ignored battle doctrines’, to which Chris could only shake his head.

“Confused?” he asked with a grin to feel that Fortrakt had slowed his thrusts and that he was whispering the words on the projected image softly to himself, but only getting halfway through the sentence before they disappeared.

“I’m sorry, Chris. But what are they doing?” the young Griffon soldier asked as he listened to them fight in a foreign language. He was clearly having some trouble reading the captions at the bottom of the screen in time, perhaps because written English, or Equish as they called it, wasn’t something he could scan as fast as written Latin. “Arguing over… doctrine?”

“They’re simulating their upcoming attack via a wargame, deciding on outcomes of engagements with dice rolls. As you can see, they’re testing their own attack strategy, but the problem is…” At his direction, Tara replayed the last minute at half speed so the griffons could read all the words this time.

Chris let the scene proceed to the point the junior Japanese officer controlling the American side explained that he ambushed the Japanese carriers by staging the American ones northeast of Midway. He had then struck while their planes were away attacking the island, sinking three, only to be told that his actions were impossible because the Americans could not know they were coming and would not be in position to attack.

“As you can hear, they’re making some very foolish assumptions out of pride or just plain wishful thinking. Not the least of which is that their plan and naval movements wouldn’t be detected. And that we wouldn’t be capable of staging an ambush of our own.”

“I find such arrogance annoying but understandable, Christopher McLain. For I have seen it myself on smaller scales from our own leadership many times,” Giraldi said ruefully, resting one paw on Chris’s chest and the other over his crotch.

“Oh? Chris craned his neck to look back, raising his hands to grasp Giraldi’s talons as they found and rubbed his nipples again, leaving him marveling at how wonderfully sensitive they’d gotten. It was shortly paired with the big male’s other set of talons below gently cupping and rolling his large balls, which seemed to engorge further under the large tiercel’s stimulation, sending his ‘spear’ as the griffons termed them surging back to full attention again in Fortrakt’s grasp.

Despite the unquestionably delectable feeling of it, both from the intimate contact and the knowledge of who was doing it, it was the nipple stimulation that held his attention the most.

Whoa. So is this what Tara and Gilda feel when Marco tweaks theirs? he wondered as he glanced over at them, noting that Marco was rubbing Tara’s left tit between two fingers and the thumb of his left hand while his right hand rested happily on Gilda’s lower belly, cupping, caressing, and kneading each of her four impressively expanded belly breasts in turn while the griffon female could only stare down at his hand in a mixture of desire and disbelief.

Each was now at least as large as Tara’s two chest-mounted boobs had been previously before the cider influence, though the latter had now doubled in size, leaving Chris further amazed that they didn’t seem to sag at all.

Huh. I wonder what they feel like? He suddenly wanted to know, having only had his hand on one once previously. And God knows that was not a happy experience at all… he turned away in sudden pain.

“Indeed. For far too many griffon officers I have met, tradition trumps training and pride blinds them to the possibilities of battle, failing to understand that our enemies have a mind and will of their own. In truth, I have seen far too many lives lost on the Ibexian border needlessly over the years thanks in large measure to such attitudes, which I fear permeate our military at times just as much as this ‘Japanese’ one.” He nodded at the screen.

“But don’t you guys have a military meritocracy?” Chris asked in confusion and was surprised to hear a pained sound from Fortrakt followed by feeling his griffon phallus noticeably softening within him.

“By all the Ancestors, I truly wish we did, Chris,” he said forlornly from where he was sandwiched between Chris and Giraldi. “And I’m sorry to go soft. It’s just that if we truly did have one, then maybe my father could still…” He couldn’t continue, and Chris was surprised to hear a sound close to a sniffle.

“Your father?” Gilda looked over at him from the other side of Marco, her normally gruff tone turning concerned. “You’ve never mentioned him before.”

Fortrakt hesitated before replying, but only briefly as he settled back into Giraldi’s large body like he wanted fatherly comfort; the bigger griffon promptly obliged him by wrapping his powerful forelegs around them both to pull him closer as he licked the back of his subordinate’s head.

“Speak, cub. You’re among friends here. If you have something to get off your wings, please do so,” he invited as Tara paused the movie again.

“Yeah, please,” Chris further implored, unable to see him even though he could certainly feel the griffon’s chin resting on his head.

“Thank you, Optio.” He took a shuddering breath as if to gather himself. “Well, since you revealed your secret, Decurion, I will reveal mine. When I was six, my father was permanently injured by Harpies when he got put under the command of a young tiercel noblegriffon who had no business being a Centurion.”

“Harpies?” Tara echoed with a glance at Chris. “You mean those bird-pirates we heard about from the Equestrians?”

“Yes, Tara. Them,” he said, then gave a strained trill that was half angry, half-sorrowful. “My father was part of a ground convoy sent to protect a visiting Senator in the north. But that unqualified excuse of a Centurion panicked and ran when they got ambushed by a Harpie airship in a blizzard, leaving his unit to fend off the attack with no leader and keep the Senator from being taken hostage. Though they did so thanks to the unit Optio, my father took a poison dart to the wing muscles and could never fly straight again. He was forced to leave the service after. And then…”

He gave an angry trill that Chris could feel clear through the phallus still deeply embedded in his backside. “And then my mother felt so ashamed of having a mate that couldn’t fly that she took my sisters and left us, leaving me to support him and our clan’s longtime trading business on my own.” He sniffled, his anger ebbing to be replaced with sadness.

“So I did. For the next twelve years until I came of age, learning as much of the family business as I could. But when I turned nineteen, he told me to leave him. That as the business was now profitable and our village was solvent again, it was time to stop supporting him and make my own flight through life.”

The room fell silent as the movie remained paused, though Giraldi wrapped his forelegs even more tightly around Fortrakt and Chris. “I never knew that, cub.” Even Gilda sounded subdued. “I guess I can understand why you didn’t want to mention it any more than I wanted to mention Dashie to you.” She looked away.

“Dashie?” Giraldi blinked, looking over at her. “Wait—you mean Rainbow Dash? The famous racing pegasus?” he asked in a surprised tone, earning a pained look as Chris exchanged a glance with Tara and Marco that told him they had no idea who the name referred to, either.

Only Rainbow I know is that pegasus mare named Rainbow Streak who first appeared on Earth when the portal opened… wonder if she’s related?

“Yeah. Her. But somehow, breaking up with her doesn’t compare to…” She waved a talon at Fortrakt as Tara sat up and reached out to take the young soldier’s talons in her fingers.

“I’m sorry, Fortrakt. I can’t imagine any mother doing that to her husband or children. You deserved far better. And so did he.”

“Agreed,” Giraldi said simply. “Such an eagless is worthy of neither respect nor honor. And I pity your sisters for being raised by her.”

“Thanks, Tara. Thanks, Optio. Crows know that I still miss them sometimes,” Fortrakt admitted with a sniffle as he gently squeezed Tara’s fingers back, clearly taking care to keep his talon tips away from her skin. “I haven’t seen them since I was six. Ancestors above, I doubt they’d even recognize me or father now. He was the reason I joined the Auxiliary Guard, you know. I wanted to finish his term of service and fully redeem his honor.”

“Then you’re a good son of a good sire,” Gilda said, earning a nod from Giraldi as she turned away and went brooding. “Completely unlike my own…” she then added under her breath as Marco glanced down at her and his expression turned softer.

He then gave her a warm smile and a comforting squeeze. “Hey, I know what it is to have parents you don’t like, Gilds,” he then said with a glance at Chris, who grimaced. “In my case, they’re the entire reason I left the Philippines. To get the fuck away from them,” he added, to which Gilda looked up at him curiously.

“And we’re glad, buddy,” Chris called over to him. “Because we both met you. Even if you were a bit of a womanizer and more interested in shooting than studying at first.”

“Heh. Yeah, that’s on me,” Marco agreed with a chuckle. “But we don’t get to own guns in the Philippines outside of airsoft, so that was new to me, and I also had to learn that the girls in the US weren’t quite as… well, willing as back home. But that’s fine. After a few slaps and getting decked by Tara at least once, I learned and honed my seduction skills further. And now…”

He reached down to pull Tara and Gilda closer against him, before his hands settled happily on their breasts again. “Damn, your tits are epic, Tara. And I love the fact you have four, Gilds. So much to sample.”

“So glad you approve.” Tara told him in mingled exasperation and enjoyment as he tweaked the nipples again, earning a pleasured hiss from her and a strained but sensuous trill from Gilda that left Chris feeling envious anew. “But we’re getting distracted again and I’m getting another headache. So how about we get on with the movie? And this time, how about we let it go more than twenty seconds forward?”

“Yeah, you’re right. And I’m getting a bit lightheaded, too. Hold on, girls,” Marco said as he reached back for his cider mug and gave it to Tara.

She took a sip and sighed with relief before passing it to Marco and Gilda, who partook as well, their cheeks warming again before sighing with sudden pain relief. “That’s better. Ready to resume, Fortrakt?” she asked him, still giving him a hand to hold.

“Yes,” he said after a slow exhalation as Giraldi gave his cheek a reassuring lick, and then laid his chin over his head so they could both watch the movie. “Ancestors, I’m sorry for being so emotional. But he’s my sire and…” he trailed off again, his beak quivering.

“Hey, we get it, buddy,” Chris told him, wriggling his backside against him to encourage his excitement to return, which it promptly did. “I’m really glad you shared that with us.”

“Agreed. And you’re not alone, you know. You should talk to our Marines,” Marco suggested. “What happened to your father sounds suspiciously like some of the stuff they’ve been through over the years.”

“Oh? Then they have seen combat?” Giraldi asked.

“Not all of them, but most of the older and higher-ranked ones have. I know for certain that Sergeant Reyes has. In fact, that’s the reason he—oops! Sorry. Nevermind.” He corrected himself even before Chris mentally caught up to the statement and sensed the danger. “Don’t want to get him in trouble.”

“Trouble?” Fortrakt asked in confusion, to which Marco only shook his head.

“Sorry, buddy bird, but I can’t say anything. I don’t care about us getting in trouble anymore, but him? Let’s just say he helped us and leave it at that. We really owe him,” Marco explained, to which Chris saw Tara nodding along with himself.

“Oh. It’s a question of honor, then. Okay,” Fortrakt said agreeably as Tara moved the laptop up enough between them so that she could reach it easily, then tapped the screen to get the picture started again, though she did make a point to start from several minutes back so they could catch up on the action uninterrupted.

Everyone fell silent again aside from some slightly sensuous sounds, though the pace of them had slowed considerably as they took in the action on the screen.

Once they made it past the Japanese wargames, the scene shifted back to Hawaii to find Admiral Nimitz challenging his intelligence officer on his claims of a coming attack somewhere other than the Coral Sea. But Lieutenant Commander Layton pushed back on him emphatically, claiming that “Washington is starting from a faulty assumption and looking for evidence to corroborate it.”

“Is this accurate, Chris?” Tara asked as the conversation continued.

“It is,” Chris confirmed. “Washington—meaning our nation’s leadership, who are based in our capital city of Washington, D.C.—thought Layton was wrong about Midway being a target and that the Japanese were going to continue their efforts in the South Pacific, launching their next big attack there. Nimitz was caught in the middle, so he sought understanding of where Layton’s guess was coming from. This was the result,” he said as the Admiral was escorted to a large chamber where many men were working, and then to a back room where a single disheveled and hollow-eyed officer popped a pill from a bottle and hid it just before they entered.

“Okay. This guy looks like a total dweeb.” Gilda commented in open distaste. “No griffon would ever listen to him. Or take orders from him.”

“Nimitz thought the same thing. His name was Joseph Rochefort. He was an intelligence analyst and cryptologist—meaning a codebreaker,” Chris detailed, noting that Nimitz didn’t appear any more impressed by him as he looked him over, finding him wearing slippers and an old-time smoker’s jacket. But to his credit, he gave him a chance, instructing the decidedly unkempt officer to ‘explain how all this works’, to which Rochefort began taking him on a tour of the station as Chris continued speaking.

“A very good one, if a bit eccentric. It was his job to intercept enemy communications and try to decipher them, providing early warning of Japanese operations. So if you think he’s dumb and ‘dweeby’, Decurion, just listen,” he directed, deliberately using Gilda’s favorite word. Wonder where she picked that up? Maybe when she lived in Equestria? And who was this Rainbow Dash she still obsesses over? He made a mental note to ask later.

“Whatever,” Gilda said dismissively, leaving Chris noting she alone didn’t seem too enamored of his intellect or ability to explain military history. “As far as I’m concerned, you can skip this. The sooner we get through it, the sooner we can get some more flying and fighting.”

So she’s a girl of action, he decided. She isn’t interested in romance or backstory; she just wants to see battle! Wow. Never met a girl like her… He suddenly found himself wondering what he could offer her if not his intellect, only to come to the conclusion that there wasn’t much given his decidedly un-chiseled physique, which he was still stunned and delighted that Giraldi didn’t seem to mind.

But he’s older while Gilds is younger, so maybe it’s just a question of maturity. Wait—the griffies do seem to like guns, right? So maybe I could pull out my Mosin-Nagant and wow her with my rifle accuracy…? He suddenly wondered if they could reveal the secret stash of storage gems they were keeping in a magically masked chest placed in a hole in the floor.

The scene proceeded to a groan from Gilda of Rochefort explaining to Admiral Nimitz how ‘signal intelligence’ worked, explaining that they were able to intercept and decipher only about a fourth of enemy communications. It was from that they tried to determine movements and intentions, using the analogy of deducing where and when a wedding was happening on the island from the flow of messages to flower shops, bands and caterers.

He also mentioned a Japanese objective named “A-F” that both they and Washington agreed was a code indicating the target of their next attack, but differed on the identity. Though Gilda sounded less than impressed, Giraldi rumbled thoughtfully.

“Now I see. He seeks to turn a few scraps of information about enemy intentions into actionable intelligence. Much like our Sparrow agents in the Council of Crows, he is the epitome of the old pony saying to ‘not judge a scroll by its header’,” he said, nodding slowly. “He might not look like much, but he clearly possesses a keen mind and a will to use it. He also clearly hasn’t been sleeping or grooming, meaning he fulfills his duties at the expense of his health and appearance.”

“Exactly. After all the intelligence failures at Pearl, he and everyone else were determined not to miss the signs of a major Japanese operation ever again,” Chris noted, impressed at how sharp and observant Giraldi’s mind remained even as he was decidedly distracted. Despite his words, the big tiercel’s talons continued to caress and fondle the two males above him while his hips occasionally moved upwards, shifting both human and griffon males above him as he thrust slowly and rhythmically into Fortrakt, who did the same into Chris, seemingly plumbing his depths ever further.

Fuck… there aren’t supposed to be many nerve endings that deep in us… so why does this feel so good? He wondered again but decided he wouldn’t question it because he didn’t want it to stop, forcing his mind to focus as he pushed back with his lesser weight and strength as best he could.

“The consequences of failure were just too high, especially early in the war. You’ll note from the bed there that he was sleeping in his office and probably taking pills just to stay awake. The man was wedded to his work.”

“I see. It might not be glamorous work, but I find it no less honorable or essential than soldiers in the field,” Giraldi said as Nimitz promised Layton and Rochefort that he would find a way to get the Enterprise back from the South Pacific, but he also ordered them to figure out a way to prove they were right about Midway being the real Japanese target. And when Layton asked how, Nimitz simply lit a fresh cigarette.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he said before walking out.

The scene then shifted again to Admiral Halsey on board the Enterprise, who received a private message from Nimitz instructing him to make sure he was spotted so he would have a valid reason to break his standing orders, leave the area and return to Pearl Harbor.

He promptly ignited the missive with a cigarette lighter and watched it incinerate in an ashtray, telling the slightly perturbed Captain that they never received any such message.

“Whoa.” Even Gilda sounded impressed for the first time at something other than a combat scene. “So in other words, he’s disobeying orders from his superiors. If you do that in our military, it won’t matter how high-ranked you are. You’ll be stripped of your post and be spending years at hard labor in the mines. If you’re lucky.”

“She’s right,” Fortrakt confirmed with a voice of awe. “No matter how highly ranked you are, you don’t disobey orders in the griffon military, ever. You’ll be facing arrest and possible execution if you do.”

“And yet, if he didn’t, the carrier would have been out of position when the Japanese attacked,” Chris pointed out. “And then we wouldn’t have had enough firepower to counter the Japanese operation, after which the Enterprise would have been destroyed piecemeal with the rest of our Pacific carriers. Of which we currently have only two available with a third still limping back to Pearl with extensive battle damage.”

Giraldi nodded. “Very well. I understand and accept that this step was necessary, but it is still a very dangerous game to play. For if they were wrong…” he trailed off as the movie showed Layton visiting Admiral Nimitz in his office again, who informed him that Washington had intercepted Japanese messages saying that objective “A-F” had reported their freshwater plant was broken.

Chris just grinned as Layton responded in an almost sly voice saying that Midway had ‘accidentally’ broadcast that message even though their freshwater plant was fine. “But that proves Midway is A-F,” he pointed out wryly.

“And there you go, big guy,” Chris said in great satisfaction. “They proved it by having Midway broadcast a false message in the clear—meaning uncoded—and letting the Japanese intercept it. Once they did, they reported on it and assigned it their objective code. That cinched it. We now knew where the attack was coming. Like Nimitz notes, the only questions remaining are numbers and timing.”

“Remarkable…” an impressed Giraldi said. “And very clever. We could have used this ‘Rochefort’ backing our operations on the Ibexian border.”

“Yeah, well, our equivalent of the ibex—the Russians—were actually our allies in WWII,” Chris then noted idly, to a series of shocked looks from the griffons. “It was an alliance of convenience. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all.”

“Yeah, well, that would never happen here,” Gilda all but snorted. “We hate each other like you wouldn’t believe.”

“So we’ve heard. But what’s the beef, exactly?” Marco asked, then corrected himself at the odd looks he got. “I mean, why do you hate each other so much?”

“Do you have a few hours to spare, Marco Lakan?” Giraldi replied before Gilda could snap at him. “Because that’s how long it would take to relate our long history of conflict and its origins. But suffice it to say, we have clashing territorial claims dating back to ancient times.”

“They harass our borders and raid the Cheetahean peninsula with irregular forces constantly, claiming it belongs to them. They’ve also outright invaded us with the intent of overthrowing our royal line at least twice, and even once cursed our Queen to do their bidding and order our defenses lowered. And crows know that they would try it all again if given half a chance,” Gilda added with a growl.

“Sounds strangely familiar…” Chris muttered as for the first time, the movie depicted the island of Midway itself through the eyes of a movie director, who commented that he was there in search of some ‘real action’, to which he then expressed doubt that he would find any. But his escort remarked that he wasn’t so sure, given the amount of fortification and arriving planes he was seeing.

The scene then shifted back to the USS Enterprise, showing Lieutenant Best entering a ready room only to receive a surprise shout.

“Attention on Deck!” his comrade called, causing the Lieutenant to look around in befuddlement for a moment as everyone leapt to attention, and then smirk.

“Very funny. Sit the hell down,” he ordered, then stalked to the front of the room as Chris bit his lip to keep from interrupting again for a minor explanation of naval attention calls that would only delay the movie further.

Best then explained that he was going to be an even bigger ‘pain in the ass’ as CO than he’d ever been as XO, and went onto outline his initial orders, including doubled scouting flights and to practice dive bombing runs while on patrol.

“Don't be the man who lets down the squadron when we finally face the Japs,” he directed, to which the mood in the room went subdued before his squadron silently exited.

“An excellent way to introduce himself and take command, making clear that he is in charge,” Giraldi approved. “Griffons would respond well to him. Less so to the far more immature and cocky manner he carried himself with before.”

“Having to command has made him grow up,” Chris had to say. “And it’s not done yet.” He went silent before Gilda could glare at him again as one of the younger pilots presented himself to Best, saying that he’d lost his confidence and felt very unsure of himself in the air. To which Gilda frowned but Chris sensed Giraldi nodding slowly behind him by the movement of Fortrakt’s head against him.

“It is a rare griffon who would admit to any doubts about their ability—especially young ones whose ability would be the most suspect. It speaks well of him that he feels compelled to voice it. And that he trusts the Lieutenant to listen. You agree, First Spear?” Fortrakt then asked.

“I do not wish to stop the action, but yes,” he said simply, and then fell silent again as Lieutenant Best then challenged the young pilot’s manhood and then decided to make him his wingman.

“Then he takes the younger flyer under his wing in hopes of helping him. An honorable act,” Giraldi then added, though he sounded strangely subdued to Chris, who couldn’t crane his neck enough to see the big griffon’s face.

The scene then shifted to the pair emerging onto the deck to man their planes, where they saw Bruno Guido again. Asked by the worried younger pilot what ‘his secret’ was to always being so unconcerned at the chance of death, he explained that his father had worked a thousand feet in the air on building the Empire State Building with nothing but his balance to save him, only to get ‘splattered’ by a taxicab that jumped a curb and killed him.

“You never know what’s gonna get you. So why worry about it?” he concluded as Best summoned the junior pilot to the flight line.

“Heh. I really like this ‘Bruno’s’ attitude,” Gilda decided, raising a set of talons to caress her own wingbase for a moment. “We would have gotten along just fine. But I really hope we get some more action soon.”

“Hey, I’ll give you more action, Gilds,” Marco suggested with a grin and grope of both girls, earning an annoyed glare from both Gilda and Tara that for once made him relent. “Sorry. I’ll wait for more battle scenes,” he promised as Best started his takeoff run only to realize that they were going too slow, causing his plane to start bouncing on the deck instead of pulling into the air.

“I don’t understand… it can’t take off?” Fortrakt asked in bewilderment.

“Insufficient headwind,” Chris said grimly as Best flew off the end of the deck but struggled to stay aloft, finally forced to point his nose down to gain speed in what little remaining height he had. He just barely succeeded with his plane visibly skimming the water for a moment before pulling itself back into the air.

“Those planes require a certain airspeed, as they term it, to get airborne. That’s not speed over the ground, but through the air itself. The carrier generally creates a headwind by steering into the available wind, which increases the lift of the wings. In this case… well, they don’t explain why the carrier wasn’t going fast enough, but this was the result,” he said as the junior pilot did not receive word to abort his takeoff in time. Finding his plane likewise failing to respond, he tried to point his nose up instead of down, causing the plane to stall and go into the water directly in front of the carrier.

Despite frantic calls from Best to ‘turn starboard’ and an equally rapid reaction from the enlisted soldier manning the ship’s helm, the mammoth metal carrier was unable to change direction in time and hit the plane in the right wing, dragging it under and its young pilot to his doom.

“Ancestors…” Chris once again felt Fortrakt’s phallus deflate along with his mood. “It killed him.”

“That it did,” Chris confirmed with a sigh, suddenly wondering if griffons could swim. Or if they simply assumed humans couldn’t. “Lieutenant Best was experienced enough to know that you can’t just try to pull the nose up when you’re close to a stall, but rather point it down to gain airspeed,” he recited, suddenly wishing he’d followed through on earlier plans he’d made in his twenties to become a pilot, to the point he’d taken one or two lessons.

You know, if I had, I could have had my commercial license by now and be making big bucks ferrying tourists! Of course, I’d never have met Marco or Tara then. Or the griffons… he then reminded himself as he shook himself free of his reverie again, deliberately looking at the screen and then down to the two sets of tiercel talons against his body, slowly caressing and stroking him.

“Taking off from the deck, Best had just enough altitude over the ocean to enter a shallow dive once he retracted the landing gear, but the new pilot didn’t understand that. Or maybe he panicked and just didn’t remember,” he finished, shaking his head sadly as Tara paused the video again to show the carrier once more back at Pearl, with its planes parked on deck and a portion of its crew dressed in their formal white uniforms for a ceremony.

“I see…” Chris immediately noted that even Giraldi’s voice had turned very subdued. “Though we know that instinctively, I can certainly see how a non-flying race would need to have it taught.”

The picture then focused on a haunted-looking Lieutenant Best as he stood in formation, only barely aware of Admiral Nimitz giving out some medals.

“He is clearly troubled,” Giraldi further noted, his talons stilling against Chris. “He blames himself for what happened.”

“You sound sad. Is something wrong, Galen?” Tara asked at his suddenly brooding tone.

“My apologies, Tara Fields. I fear that I now find old and unpleasant memories… reawakened upon seeing that scene,” he admitted. “For I, too, once took an anxious and uncertain young soldier under my wing while on the Ibexian border, promising to keep her safe. But just as with this Lieutenant Dick Best, it was a promise that I was unable to keep.” He went downcast and looked away from the freshly paused image on the screen.

“Yeah? Were you two lovers?” Marco suddenly asked.

“Marco!” Chris and Tara chorused along with Gilda, to which Giraldi shook his head in rueful regret.

“No, Marco Lakan, though I admit the thought crossed my mind that once she gained the needed experience and confidence, she might make a good partner. It was nearly nine years ago, when I had just made Second Spear,” he said solemnly.

“She was killed not in combat or even on patrol, but in an avoidable accident on her very first training mission, much like this young pilot. Forgive me, but I do not wish to say more. Save that writing her family to explain her loss and apologizing for failing to keep my oath was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.”

He reached for his bowl of whiskey-spiked cider and took another sip, causing his flaccid organ to immediately engorge anew judging by Fortrakt taking a sudden ragged breath. “Much better. The pressure in my head just receded. And please do not take this the wrong way, Second Spear or Christopher McLain, but I would like to sit up for a bit. I am enjoying being within you, but my wings are starting to fall asleep.”

“Oh!” Fortrakt and Chris chorused, with the pair pulling off him hastily with a series of wet slurps that released a flood of fluid onto the belly below them. “Damn, I was full…” Chris marvelled as Tara grabbed more clothes for them to clean up with. Once they had, Giraldi sat up partially and flexed his wings, to which Fortrakt and Chris then snuggled up to his flanks from opposite sides, with the former making sure his slightly larger wing remained below Giraldi’s.

“I’m really sorry if that scene upset you, big guy,” Chris said while moving his soft talons to envelop Giraldi’s newly cleaned spear, stroking it once before settling his grip on the bulb on the base, finding his fingers were no longer large enough to encircle it.

“As am I, First Spear.” Fortrakt instantly moved his talons to join those of Chris, cupping his longtime superior’s sac to both fondle the fertile orbs within and express his affection. “I cannot imagine the pain you felt. But I would also say that you have mentored many other soldiers quite well. Including me and Gilda.”

“The cub’s right… for once,” Gilda confirmed from the opposite side of Marco, though judging from her smirk she clearly couldn’t resist the dig, making Fortrakt glance at her with an annoyed look that then turned into a strangely mischievous gleam.

“You’ve taught us well these past six months and kept us out of trouble… for the most part, anyway.” She looked down at Marco’s oversized footlong organ, her expression turning odd. And then, to her own visible surprise, she lowered her head over it and took it in her beak, wrapping her tongue around the end.

For his part, Marco was stunned, staring down at her in surprise. “Damn, Gilds! I didn’t even ask!” he said as he was forced to lean back and brace himself with his hands on the rug, clutching at the thick pile to withstand what Chris understood to be the almost overwhelming pleasure.

“Don’t remind me!” she said as she began bobbing up and down on his cock repeatedly. “Crows take it… why am I…” she started to ask herself but didn’t stop either, seeming so into the act she couldn’t even work up her usual attitude over it.

“Ancestors…” Fortrakt whispered as he watched the unlikely act unfold, giving his beak a lick in a manner that Gilda promptly copied, then took Marco’s entire organ into her gullet without touching it with her beak, massaging it with the muscles of her throat.

Her efforts elicited a groan and an astonished expression from Tara, who began to pleasure herself in turn. “Wow, Gilda. You’re a natural!” she said as she raised her hips to give her fingers freer access, leaving her backside facing the three other males in the room.

“Holy…” Chris found his gaze fixing on both her clean-shaven feminine opening and the two large breasts now swinging ponderously beneath her chest. “T-Tara…” he suddenly found old and still-unwelcome urges reawakening along with the memories of an encounter long past.

His words elicited a glance back and smirk. “See something you like, boys?” She waved her hips at them, earning a pair of lustful growls from the two griffon males and something approaching a squeak from Chris.

“Ancestors above…” Fortrakt said again as he stared at her in awe, his cock freshly throbbing.

“Such a magnificent display by an equally magnificent eagless. May we partake of you, Tara Fields?” Giraldi asked politely with the throat-baring motion Chris had now gotten very familiar with.

To the great surprise of Chris, she only had to consider the request for a second before giving a jaunty smile and a sensuous toss of her blonde hair. “Oh, what the hell. I’d hate to think I’m neglecting you boys, who have both been so good to me. So why not?”

“Thank you, Tara!” A sorely excited Fortrakt said eagerly, sitting back and watching both with flared wings and a set of talons slowly stroking himself as she was grasped by Giraldi.

Sitting up slightly, he hoisted her by the hips onto his lap, lowering her onto his organ. To Christopher’s surprise, she even allowed him to take her by the tail, letting him lower her until not just his shaft, but his very bulb had disappeared into her with a sensuous sound of suction.

“Fuck, that’s deep… okay, your turn, lover-bird!” she then beckoned Fortrakt forth, holding her pussy lips wide from where she straddled Giraldi’s lower body. The younger male needed little encouragement after that to position himself before her and claim what they called her ‘nest’ in turn, and before long, he had even started synching up his thrusts into her with Giraldi as Chris could only watch agape.

“What… why is this…” He looked down to see he was frantically stroking himself to the sight of not one but two scenes of straight sex, his gaze shifting rapidly back and forth between Marco and Gilda to Tara with the two tiercels.

“Feel free to join in, Professor McLain!” The latter then playfully called him by his job title from where her face was buried in Fortrakt’s chest as he made out with Giraldi over her head. “I’d offer my mouth or tits if they were available, but…” the rest went unsaid as Giraldi fell back fully and pulled Tara with her as Fortrakt laid on top of her, giving Chris a spectacular view of both her erotic orifices being claimed by two different griffon cocks, whose knots pried her open spectacularly.

“Uh… thanks, but I’m good…” he said in a shaky voice as he watched the deliciously illicit interspecies scene unfold, with Tara receiving the attention of two tiercels at once. But then abruptly, he remembered:

“Oh! Wait!” He went for Marco’s laptop and began hurriedly flipping through menus to start the camera recording again, shifting it back and forth between the two scenes. “I’m getting this on video, gang!” he then announced, to which Fortrakt in particular picked up the pace of his thrusts. Gilda glanced up at Chris briefly but didn’t object except for her eyes flitting to his own organ for a moment in appraisal even as she continued to go down on Marco’s, now standing up on all fours to do so.

“Damn, this is good stuff…” Realizing he was missing the best part, Chris then moved the laptop over to the wall they were projecting on so he could look from the opposite side at his friends, focusing first on Tara’s rear end being claimed by Giraldi and Fortrakt, followed by zooming the camera beneath Gilda’s upraised tail. And to his great surprise, his cock reacted by engorging further to see her glistening and as-yet unclaimed feminine opening before him, puffy and visibly swollen and far larger than what he knew to be the feline norm.

Wow. She looks so slick—no lube necessary! I wonder what it would feel like to be inside her… he couldn’t help but wonder, and to his surprise, his hips began lightly thrusting forward, trying to move him towards her much as Marco had experienced earlier with Giraldi.

Though he’d been delighted when it happened to his nominally straight friend, seemingly forcing him to be gay for the big griffon, he found himself both amazed and aghast when it happened to him, seemingly forcing him to be straight for a griffon eagless!

“What?” he looked down at himself in shock to see his body almost pulling itself forward of its own accord towards her, with each involuntary buck of his hips edging her closer to Gilda’s rear as she continued to orally pleasure Marco, whose head was arched back and whose neck tendons were sticking out in sharp relief.

“Nonono…” he tried to stop himself but couldn’t, finding himself taking step after halting step towards Gilda, close enough that he could reach her and finally did so with his trembling hands, forced to put them on her backside to steady himself.

“Huh?” she said at the contact, then paused long enough to look back over her shoulder at him. She froze and so did he to realize what he was poised to do, with his throbbing cock somehow pointed directly at her feminine opening and oozing a stready stream of precum. “Chris?”

“S-sorry, Gilda, I…” To his shock, his hips moved again, and this time, the head of his cock found her opening and entered it. “I… can’t… stop…!” he cried out plaintively as all other action ceased in the room to see him claim Gilda’s nest, each word he spoke corresponding with a fresh thrust of his hips into her, sinking him deeper into her previously forbidden depths.

“Ancestors…” Fortrakt had craned his neck to watch. “Claim her, Chris!” he implored, and to his further shock, Chris found he needed no further encouragement to do so, already beginning to thrust with gusto, lost in the sensations her exotic opening fed him, marveling at its feel and

“Crows take it! I said my nest was off-…” Gilda began only for the words to leave her as her beak gaped open as her tongue hung out of her beak, a string of semen connecting its tip to the head of Marco’s cock as Marco himself finally started to roust himself out of his daze.

“Off-limits to Marco Lakan, perhaps. But you never said anything about Christopher McLain, Decurion!” an enthralled Giraldi pointed out from where he lay on his back, staring at her raptly. “As such, he has not broken your rules. And recall that he did cook for you. An amazing chicken concoction that any griffon would take as coming from the greatest of culinary artisans. So perhaps this is how you may repay his skill and honor?” he suggested slyly.

“Repay him… for food?” The thought seemed to give Gilda pause. “For really, really good food?” she corrected herself and started pushing back harder against him.

“Whoa! Chris?” Tara craned her neck in amazement when she realized the two males had stopped thrusting into her and were now staring in rapt attention at the scene in back of her. “Look at you! You’re really doing her!”

“I really am! Oh, God. Oh, fuck…” was all a shaky Chris could say in response, staring down in disbelief at his own hands latched on her muscular flanks, which then slipped under her belly to find and fondle her lower set of belly breasts as Marco had already done repeatedly.

“Putang ina…” Marco breathed softly, and Chris knew from asking him years earlier that it was the Filipino phrase—their language was called Tagalog, he remembered—for ‘holy fuck’.

“You said it, buddy! She feels so…” he didn’t know how to describe the exquisite erotic sensations he was experiencing, only that her feminine anatomy was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Her tunnel fit his cider-expanded cock like a glove with the ridged walls effortlessly enveloping and milking his organ with muscle movements no sphincter could support, encouraging him to thrust harder and deeper.

“Crows take it…” was all a badly quavering Gilda could say again as her forequarters collapsed though her rear stayed up, helped by Christopher’s hands remaining under her. “So deep… so good… never tasted chicken that good before… or felt a spear in my nest before!” she exclaimed between panting breaths as she found herself pushing back against him. Her altered stance forced Chris to shift his hand back up to her hips to brace himself, praying his bare feet wouldn’t slip on the soft carpet.

“Hey, don’t fight it, Gilda…” Marco was now stroking himself to what he clearly found to be an astonishing sight, and Chris understood why—his Filipino friend knew perfectly well that Chris was gay. And then he caught himself and rushed to the laptop, beginning to control the video. “Just goes to show that a way to a girl’s heart truly is her stomach, and that you’re irresistible to any male, Gilds. I’m just sorry it’s not me getting you first!”

“I’m not!” She shouted, trying to assert some attitude even as her body betrayed her, welcoming the intrusion even as Chris felt his awareness rapidly narrowing to the incredible feel of his oversized organ—how large was he now? Ten inches? Eleven? —filling her nest to the brim. “By the Ancestors and all the Crows of the Kingdom, I’m going to… to!”

The rest went unsaid as Chris felt her entire body tense and her tunnel clamp down hard on his cock, squeezing him so intensely he felt his head flare from the extra blood inflating it. Unable to hold back any longer, he erupted hard within her, slamming his hips forward repeatedly as his vision went as white as the cream he was pumping into her for what felt like the better part of a minute.

And through it all, he felt the waves of her orgasm wrack her, with the muscles of her tunnel repeatedly clamping and releasing, almost firing randomly as she gave a loud and very passionate trill before they both finally collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Chris awoke a few minutes later to find Marco and Tara staring down at him in concern, with the former holding him up and the latter giving him a bowl of water mixed with at least a little cider.

“Easy, buddy,” Marco said, helping him into a sitting position. “Take it slow and easy.”

“Are you okay, Chris?” an equally naked Tara asked, putting a hand on his chest. “You kind of passed out there. Gave us a scare.”

“Y-yeah…” he offered weakly as he slurped at the water, noticing the three griffons were standing back and watching in concern. Even Gilda, who looked as dazed as he felt, her gaze averting almost instantly when he noticed her. “Whoa… I really did her?” He marveled again, staring down his lap, where he noticed his ‘spear’—he was even starting to think of it by the griffon title! —had only partially softened.

“You really did,” Marco confirmed with a wry grin, ruffling his red hair. “And now I’m jealous as hell.”

“Swear I didn’t mean to…” he buried his head in his hands for a moment, wondering how he would ever live this down. Or could even go back to his male lovers again, having seemingly just betrayed them. “It’s just that everyone else was having fun but me, and then when I saw her from behind, I…” to his shock, his erection returned in full force to the memory.

“No apology is needed, Christopher McLain,” Giraldi assured him. “I daresay you reacted as any male would to such a supremely tempting sight. And the Decurion was simply rewarding you for serving her such fine food and explaining this exceptional example of human cinema.”

“Ancestors, yes!” Fortrakt added, nodding sharply. “And Marco isn’t the only one jealous. You got to have her nest first, Chris! Not just among us, but for the first time ever!” he said eagerly.

Chris felt his organ twitch and spurt even as his mouth dropped open. “Wait—you’re a virgin, Gilda?” he stared at her in wonder.

“Was,” she corrected somewhat sheepishly, though there was no anger in her voice. “And crows take it… I thought your food was weird and all that running commentary was dweeby, and yet you got me off!” she admitted in some embarrassment, eliciting a smirk from Giraldi.

“Then perhaps he is not as ‘dweeby’ as you think, Decurion,” he suggested wryly. “Perhaps you, too, can find something attractive about a male who is not only an excellent chef, but has a sharp and honorable military mind?”

“Maybe. But I’m getting a headache again thinking about it…” she said, suddenly rubbing her temples with her talons.

“Yeah, so am I…” Tara agreed as she reached for her mug. “Need some more cider,” she announced as she took another gulp and sighed in relief, passing it to Gilda next.

“One question, Chris: Tara called you a professor before? You mean like a teacher in a magus academy? What do you teach?” Fortrakt was suddenly curious to know as they got back in a pile with Giraldi.

“Climatology and history,” he said as he took his own gulp of cider and found, to his surprise, that it relieved a feeling of pressure he wasn’t even aware had been there, clearing his thoughts fully and refocusing them on sex and cinema. “Long term weather patterns, in other words. I’m a researcher, but then I found I missed the field work that Marco and Tara do. That was a big part of the reason I came here!”

“Well, that and to get away from a Dean you couldn’t stand,” Marco corrected with a wry grin as he stood behind Chris and bodily helped him to his feet, completely unashamed of the fact that he was equally naked and aroused, his cock slipping between Christopher’s cheeks for a moment.

“None of us could,” Tara growled as she returned to Gilda’s side, rubbing her shoulders with a hand. “Dean Volte is a tenured twat of a woman who lords over everyone but doesn’t instruct students herself. All she’s interested in is getting more government grants for her research which never goes anywhere. I swear, that’s the only thing she’s good at. Well, that and getting her TAs to do her research and teach all her classes. Like me.”

“Tee-As? Fortrakt repeated blankly.

“Teaching Assistants. They’re supposed to take over teaching duties for when the professor isn’t available or for more minor lessons to give them classroom experience. And trust me, she’s not much better when you’re a professor. I’m surprised you tolerated her dumping all her classes on you for as long as you did, Tara,” Chris said. “I mean, you were so pissed that Marco and I were taking bets at one point on how soon you were going to tell her off. Or better yet, hit her.”

“Yep. And that bet was still on before we came here,” Marco confirmed as he made sure Chris was steady again, not releasing him until he was. “I said a year from when we made the wager in March, but Chris said eight months. Guess the bet’s off if you’re staying in the Kingdom, though.”

“Sorry to never settle it. And believe me, I was tempted.” Tara smacked her right fist into her left palm and began to twist it in place. “But the problem is that I couldn’t. I needed her recommendation and contacts for getting hired by the Feds as a full-fledged geologist later. Guess that’s out the window now that I’ve requested asylum, though…”

She shook her head as she gently turned a still-dazed Gilda’s head to kiss her, leaving Chris guessing that she was reminding the eagless that even after getting off to a guy, her interest in other eaglesses remained.

“A reference? You mean you needed a sponsor?” Gilda asked her once their kiss was broken, though her tone remained distant. “I mean, I needed one to make Decurion.”

“Sponsor?” Tara echoed blankly for a moment, but then her eyes lit up. “Oh, you mean like someone important to recommend you? Then yes. And that was the only reason I tolerated her… Oh! I know! Now that I’m staying in the Kingdom, I’ll write her a letter. Or better yet, send her a video of me telling her off. And since rumor is that she’s a full-blown lesbo, if a really ugly one—that’s a slang term for girls who like girls, and no comments about them all being ugly, Marco! —I’ll flash my boobs at her and tell her to kiss my tits.” She bared her teeth with her grin, to which Marco hefted one of her breasts high enough to plant his lips on a nipple, earning an envious look from Fortrakt.

“Hey, I’ll kiss your tits anytime, babe,” he said with a grin as he settled in between both Tara and Gilda one more, putting an arm around both. Tara again looked to Chris like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss or kill him, so he encouraged more of the former as Marco then bit down lightly on the sensitive flesh, earning a barely bit-off gasp.

“Kiss, pinch or nip, actually. Or I’ll even take them. Your call,” he added impishly, squeezing the area around the prominent dark-ringed teat to force more blood into it and stretch the flesh further as he then rubbed it between two digits.

“I know. And I’m through fighting it—ah! Dammit, you know just the right amount of pressure to use,” Tara said in what sounded like a disgusted tone as Marco gave her prominent nipple a gentle bite, causing Chris to feel a fresh moment of envy for him.

“But goddammit, stop it with the pet names! The next time you call me ‘babe’, I swear to God I’m going to tell Giraldi over there to take your tail again. And I’ll record it for all our friends, too,” she warned as Marco then gave her other mammary attention in turn, offering her first one to Gilda instead.

“Promises, promises.” He both amazed and enticed Chris by seemingly inviting it, waving his rear in Giraldi’s direction, who growled lustfully even as he found himself unable to intervene for the human and griffon tiercels nestled against him.

“Show respect, Marco Lakan,” he warned, ruffling his stiffened pinions as much as he could. “Names and titles are very important to griffons, along with those we call our friends. We do not take kindly to ‘pet names’, as Tara Fields terms them, being applied to us.”

But to the astonishment of Chris and Gilda’s visible annoyance, Marco gave him a mocking grin. “No pet names? Suit yourself, ‘Big Guy’,” he said with a wink in what Chris recognized was a deliberate imitation of his own voice. ‘And you too, ‘Cub’.” He then added in a tone reminiscent of Gilda’s with a glance and wink at Fortrakt, who likewise flushed.

There was dead silence for a moment finally broken by a disgusted trill from Gilda. “Crows take it. I hate it when you’re right, dweeb. But I don’t care what we’re doing; you’d better not call me anything but Decurion.”

“Sure thing, Gilds,” Marco said with a twinkle as he turned his attention to mercilessly molesting her wingbases, causing her eyes to bulge and feathers to ruffle even as her wings stiffened further and her forelegs trembled.

“Come on, Marco. It’s only a term of endearment coming from the right people. Otherwise, it’s the same thing as Dana calling you ‘Flip-boy’ when you don’t mind the Marines doing it,” Chris told him to head off any trouble, causing Marco to pause in his efforts for a moment.

“Yeah, you got me there,” he granted. “The last thing I want is to be compared to her. Fine, no more pet names. But look, Gilda—I really don’t want to call you Decurion while I’m tucking your tail,” he added with an eager note. “I know Chris got your nest, but I want that! You didn’t say I couldn’t, remember?”

“Crows take it…” was all a shaky Gilda could manage as she watched Marco’s hand track down her body and then find its way between her legs, slipping his fingers inside of her newly opened nest. “F-fine, no ranks during rutting. But only then!” she tried to assert as Chris heard Marco move his fingers into and out of her with a series of wet slurps.

“Yes, ma’am!” Marco said with a salute over her back as he hilted his digits within her while rubbing her clit with a thumb. “It’s sir! So don’t—Ah! And even that is—” her body began to tremble in what looked like another building orgasm.

She soon threw back her head and gave a long and keening trill as some combination of Marco and his movies got her off yet again, her feathers stiffening so hard that he almost thought her pinions would pop right off her wings. “Crows take it. Why am I letting you and McLain do this? And why, by all my Ancestors, am I liking it?”

“Don’t know, girlfriend, but like I said before, don’t fight it,” Marco said as he slipped his fingers out of her with a slurp and made a show of tasting them. “Damn, that’s sweet. But you know? Since everyone’s having everyone, I also wouldn’t want my best friend from back home to feel neglected. So…”

He stepped over Gilda and then pulled Tara’s unresisting form close by the rear and kissed her deeply, taking her breath away before gently lowering her to the floor and spreading her legs wide to show off her shaven sex, then positioning himself before her with his slick and overswollen phallus pointed right at her entrance as to his own shock, Chris found himself mentally urging him to enter her.

Even though his intention was obvious, Tara didn’t try to stop him, watching in disbelief as he thrust his thoroughly wet organ between her lips without quite entering them, seemingly teasing her by threatening to.

“Marco? if you get me pregnant, I swear to God, Celestia and Luna that I’ll…” her shaky voice trailed off and mouth gaped as he proceeded to silence her by using his engorged organ to expertly part her pussy lips.

“Fuuuuck…” She arched her back hard and squeezed her eyes shut, thrusting her impressive chest up enticingly as Chris could only marvel at the intensity of her reaction and obvious pleasure.

I just don’t get it. She LIKES this, too? But it was never like that for me with… he couldn’t finish the thought as Marco spoke again.

“Only because you asked so nicely! And no regrets or hangover this time, for either of us!” Marco proclaimed.

“Ancestors… Wait—you can get pregnant? You mean you’re in heat, Tara?” Fortrakt looked suddenly and sorely excited, exchanging an equally eager and hopeful glance with Giraldi.

“Huh? No! That’s not— Ah! I m-mean human women don’t—oh! Fuck!” Tara kept losing her train of thought as Marco started to slowly move in and out, visibly pausing to savor her while giving each of her boobs attention with his hands in turn.

“Human women don’t have estrus cycles like yours do, buddy. Their cycles are monthly, but it’s very difficult to predict within that when they’re actually fertile. That means you have to assume they could get pregnant anytime and take precautions,” Chris explained, but then blinked, still amazed he was taking what he’d just done—as well as the sight of Marco openly fucking Tara—so easily.

“Are hybrids possible here? With magic or something?” Chris then wondered aloud, trying to envision what a human/griffon cub would look like. I’m not sure, but I bet the furry community would love the result!

“A fair question…” Even Giraldi looked intrigued as he studied Marco’s lovemaking technique. “And one I would wish to know the answer to, given I was already with her myself.”

“Me too!” Fortrakt added eagerly, stepping closer. “I love that mating position…” he marveled as Marco continued to move in and out of her.

“As do I, Second Spear. But with regards to the question of hybrids? With the possible exception of the ponies, different Tellusian races cannot interbreed, and I would also imagine we cannot either… a pity. Such an interesting alternate form of male mounting! Few eaglesses would ever consent to being on their backs before a male for the submission it represents.”

“Though I appreciate the thought, Galen, and I’m sure you’re a great father, I am not ready for babies!” Tara told him through glazed eyes and gritted teeth. “And Goddammit, Marco! If we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way!” She abruptly wrapped her legs around him and flipped him onto his back, putting herself on top, leaving her staring down at him in mingled lust and triumph.

“Hey, I ain’t gonna object!” Marco said with a sorely pleasured expression as she took over the effort, moving her hips up and down on him in lieu of him moving upwards, continuing until they both groaned and arched their spines hard, causing Tara to cry out while thrusting her large breasts into the air.

“Well, if I wasn’t pregnant before, I probably am now…” she admitted as she panted softly afterwards, still straddling Marco. “The funny thing is, now that it’s done, I don’t care one bit. That’s some of the best fucking sex I’ve ever had! Well, this side of Giraldi and Fortrakt, that is,” she took pains to compliment the pair with winks at both, who smiled and puffed their chests out in pride.

“So glad to be of service,” Marco said from below her as his breathing slowed. “Damn, I don’t remember you feeling that good to be in before! Then again, I don’t remember much about that night, either.”

“And all I remember is cleaning up after you both!” Chris reminded them as he got them more water and a wet towel. “But hell, even I found that hot…”

“You did?” Tara looked at him in sudden interest. “You know, after all you’ve done for me over the years, I’d be happy to give you a turn, Chris. I mean, you’re the only guy in this room that I haven’t been with yet. Hell, even Lieutenant Nantz got some love from me earlier,” she recalled wistfully, earning a surprised look from everyone present. “I just hope he’s treating Merlina Marcus well right now. I told him he should do her.”

“Oh, really?” Marco’s grin went lopsided as he slowly sat up, his shaft instantly returning to attention at the idea. “Gotta admit, I’d love to see that pretty young griffie on her back taking a human cock. Always causing trouble, aren’t you Tara?”

“Yeah, well, I learned from the best, Marco—you,” she rejoined with a wink as she poked him in the chest from above him, then deigned to kiss him as Gilda looked on. “You’re a very bad influence.”

“I’ll second that!” Gilda said with a glower. “And fine, fair’s fair—you can take a turn, Chris. You’ve been nothing but nice to me to this point and even made me scream. So between that and your cooking, I guess you earned it.” She had to look away again.

“Uh…” Chris abruptly stiffened. I guess Gilda is one thing, since she’s a griffon, but to be with an actual woman…? And a lady I call friend? His emotions went decidedly mixed for a moment.“Yeah, pass, thanks. Hey, uh, how about we resume the movie?” he suddenly offered, scrolling back through the laptop menu.

“You don’t want to be with her, Chris?” Fortrakt sounded shocked, exchanging a confused look with Giraldi.

“Leave him alone, gang,” Marco ordered sharply from his back. “And please don’t push him, Tara. It’s nothing against you at all.”

“What he said,” Chris quickly added at Tara’s hurt look. “Just not my thing, okay?” Even if you do look and smell so tempting right now… His nose twitched at the mingled smell of her feminine fluids sweetened with cider, which he could somehow pick up keenly just then. It left the scientist part of himself wondering if it was part of his own interest in her, or just another side effect of whatever was in the cider.

But just like the cider itself, he didn’t care enough to consider all the implications as they resettled into the same separate cuddle piles as before. Though Gilda gave him a longing look for a moment, and he was sure that she wouldn’t mind his company, he decided he needed some more time to assimilate the experience first, settling back in with Fortrakt and Giraldi.

The movie resumed with Admiral Nimitz meeting Admiral Halsey for the first time in the film, with the former ordering the latter to report to a hospital for treatment of his rash when he initially refused it.

“A rash is a pretty dweeby reason to be relieved of his post,” Gilda stated, still sounding subdued. “Especially in the middle of a war. Even if it does look disgusting.” She crinkled her face around her beak.

“He had something called Shingles,” Chris said from where he now lay against Giraldi from the side, his head propped on a slightly soggy couch cushion. “My dad had it once when I was a boy. It’s pretty debilitating. Hard to work or think when you’re always itchy. You can’t sleep and scratching at it only makes it worse. In really bad cases the itch turns into outright pain.”

“Oh? In that case, I’ll allow it,” Gilda said with a grimace. “I’ve had the griffon pox before as a cub. And Crows know that rash was bad enough.”

“Me too,” Fortrakt agreed from the other side of Giraldi, where he lay alongside with his stiff wings below the level of the other tiercel’s to keep them from what Chris guessed was somewhat awkwardly entangling. “I caught it from classmates when I was eight. Had it under my wings bad. Even after it subsided, I couldn’t fly for weeks because I scratched myself raw and the air currents only inflamed it further.”

“As you say. My two youngest cubs had it in the past year,” Giraldi added as he shifted slightly to give his wings—and those of Fortrakt—more room. “They were miserable and wouldn’t eat for days, and the anti-itch potions we gave them only did so much. It is a malady that generally afflicts the young. There is the rare griffon who only gets it as an adult, and the illness tends to be much worse if so.”

“Huh. Sounds suspiciously like a childhood illness we have,” Chris said with a glance over at Marco and Tara, who grinned ruefully back, leaving him marveling again at how many similarities there were between the two worlds. So, is this place in the same universe as ours, or is it some kind of mirror one accessed through a wormhole? Is the portal a genuine Einstein-Rosen Bridge connecting two different realities, like across the Penrose Diagram of a static or even rotating black hole?

He knew that the question had been vexing human physicists ever since the portal opened for several reasons, not the least of which was the presence of a seemingly fifth fundamental force acting on the alternate reality that seemed to be the basis for their magic. “Still beats the hell out of getting the measles like our grandparents had to,” Tara pointed out.

“Yep. Let’s hear it for modern medicine,” Chris said as the scene shifted to show Lieutenant Best at home outside of Pearl Harbor again, talking to his wife.

“We keep losing men,” a subdued Lieutenant Best told her as he lit a cigarette while lying in bed, his expression distant. “And it’s not even the Japs. Herman crashed on takeoff. Tom Durkin disappeared on patrol. And there’s this other kid…”

He went on to relate the story of the pilot he had tried and failed to guide, admitting to the great guilt he felt as Giraldi went still and silent, causing Chris and Fortrakt to snuggle up against him closer in comfort.

“It’s not your fault,” his wife said softly, to which Best could only shake his head.

“He was right to be scared. Everybody knows something big is coming. We're talking about a couple dozen planes against the whole Japanese fleet,” he said grimly. “And if we lose, they own the Pacific, and then they raid the West Coast. Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles… will burn,” he predicted as his wife commented that she’d never seen him this worried before.

“I never had to worry when it was just me and my plane… but it’s different now. I have to lead these men. What do I say to them?” he asked his wife earnestly as Chris felt Giraldi start slowly nodding again, his avian features solemn despite the stiff and swollen shaft that Chris made sure to nuzzle and kiss along with Fortrakt, sensing his brooding mood.

“Just… be honest. And let them see what I can see. They'll follow you anywhere, Dick Best.”

“I’d follow him,” Gilda admitted a bit quietly as his wife got into bed and snuggled up to him for what might be their final night together.

“At first, I didn’t like him. Crows know that I hate cocky flyers, maybe because they remind me of Rainbow.” She ruffled her feathers and gave a low, angry trill before relaxing again at a shoulder rub from Tara, who reached behind Marco to do it. “But he’s different now. He’s a good mate and an able warrior who really knows how to fly and fight. Any griffon would appreciate that. And be willing to be led by him.”

“Agreed, Decurion. It also helps that he is married to a fine eagless who supports him, much like mine does,” Giraldi said. “I am impressed at how greatly he has matured as both a soldier and leader.”

“You’re right, First Spear. If you ask me, he would make a very good griffon,” Fortrakt commented.

“Glad you guys think so. There’s a good reason they’re showing the movie in part through his story,” Chris said coyly, eagerly anticipating their reactions to the battle scenes to come. “He has a certain claim to military fame.”

“Good for him, but here’s what I want to know. Why are all your soldiers tiercels? Why aren’t any human eaglesses actually in uniform? Or fighting?” Gilda asked.

Tara and Marco exchanged a glance between themselves, and then with Chris. “Because women don’t usually fight in our wars. Given our greater physical strength and stamina, war is a man’s game on earth,” Marco said despite Tara’s glare.

“Not entirely true,” Chris corrected before Tara could snap at him. “We’ve got a few women in combat roles now. I saw at least one female Marine among those here, and they can be things like fighter pilots. Even historically, the Russians put more than a few women in combat roles while fighting the Germans in World War II.

“Oh?” Gilda perked up.

“Yes. They had some excellent and quite lethal women warriors. Among other things, they used them as fighter pilots, a few of which made ace—meaning they had at least five aerial kills. Well over 2,000 served as snipers, with one woman nicknamed ‘Lady Death’ notching an incredible 309 confirmed kills. There was even an almost entirely female antiaircraft battalion defending Stalliongrad—er, Stalingrad.”

“Stalingrad’? Gilda repeated dubiously as the scene shifted to show the damaged carrier Yorkdown dry docked at Pearl Harbor and undergoing frantic repairs.

Damage control teams were trying to patch a massive hole in the deck, cutting away large pieces of twisted and rended metal with showers of sparks. “So why, by all the Crows of the Kingdom, are most of your place names just weird versions of ours?”

“It does seem odd,” Giraldi concurred. “How by all the Ancestors could two entirely different worlds share such similar geography and history? Or speak the same languages?” he wondered aloud as he stared mesmerized at the interior of the cavernous carrier, which the escorting officer explained had taken a 500-lb bomb amidships.

“You got us, big guy. We’ve been trying to figure that out, too…” Chris trailed off as Nimitz was told that the crippled carrier needed at least two weeks to be battleworthy again, only for the Admiral to emphatically state that it would have to sail again within 72 hours despite the gaping and jagged hole in its flight deck, ordering the repair crews to do whatever improvisation was necessary to make it happen.

The scene then shifted to the Admiral’s war room, where a score or more of senior officers were present and the massive map of the Pacific that sat at the center of the room was laid out and adorned with various arrows and unit tokens.

After announcing Halsey was unavailable due to illness, Nimitz introduced his replacement: Rear Admiral Raymond A. Spruance, who Chris noted somewhat disapprovingly that the movie failed to mention had been recommended for the position by Halsey himself.

“We’re setting a trap,” Nimitz told his assembled staff. “Our carriers will lie in wait northeast of Midway. We have set up a picket line of submarines. As for Midway itself, we’ve crammed every plane we can spare onto that runway. But this time, if we’re lucky, surprise will be on our side.”

“Seems like poor strategy to rely on luck,” Tara commented, snuggling up against Marco a little more closely as Chris guessed she was anticipating the battle scenes to come. He hugged her closer in response, reaching a hand around her to rest it on her inner thigh with his fingers dipping between her legs.

“Yeah, you said it, girl,” he then agreed as Spruance challenged Layton on his intelligence, saying he couldn’t plan around guesswork. “Relying on surprise and luck seems like a surefire recipe for defeat.”

“Griffons do not believe in luck, as the ponies term it,” Giraldi said. “But we do believe in the winds of war rewarding meticulous military preparation and extraordinary effort. Or the Ancestors intervening after we have done all we can.”

“Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity,” Chris recited, though he couldn’t remember where he’d first heard it. “The opportunity is there, and they’re attempting to seize it,” he went on to say as an apologetic Nimitz asked Layton to be as specific as possible for planning purposes on the upcoming Japanese operation.

Though the question was seemingly impossible to answer, Layton did so: “The Japanese will attack on the morning of June 4th from the northwest at a bearing of 325 degrees. They will be sighted 175 miles from Midway at 0700 local time,” the intelligence officer stated with as much confidence as he could muster.

“Okay, I’m officially calling bullshit. There is no way that really happened. He couldn’t possibly have predicted all that,” Tara said emphatically as Nimitz dismissed the war room meeting.

“Like so many other unlikely stories in this movie, he really did,” Chris confirmed with a broad grin. “Our intelligence community blew it badly at Pearl. But just six months later at Midway… well, you’ll see.” He motioned to the screen as the scene shifted back to the Enterprise, where an alarm blared, announcing the return of Torpedo Squadron Six from Pearl Harbor.

Unfortunately, the plane belonging to Lieutenant Lindsey crashed when its landing gear failed to fully deploy.

It collapsed on the left side as he touched down, sending the plane into an ugly skid and spin that sent it over the side of the carrier in a shower of sparks and into the ocean with a loud splash as the nearby crew ran for cover.

He was rescued but badly wounded, showing him being helped to the infirmary by two white-shirted Naval corpsmen with blood streaming down his face, in apparent agony from a back injury. He was thus missing from the ready room briefing that followed.

“So that’s what your squadrons are up against,” Wade McClusky told his air wing’s squadron leaders on board the Enterprise as the camera focused on them. “Four carriers, approximately 250 aircraft, plus the biggest battleship in the world.”

Though Chris waited for what he assumed was an inevitable question on just what a battleship was, it didn’t come. “Not to mention the Japs are unbeatable,” Lieutenant Best said from where he was slouching against a wall at the back of the ready room, earning a frown from the griffons over what Chris quickly guessed was the expression of defeatism.

“We’ve got the drop on the bastards,” the mustachioed McClusky reminded them. “Make it count.”

“A daring and dangerous strategy. But perhaps the only one available to them. Surprise counts for a great deal in war and battle,” Giraldi noted as the carrier’s air wing commander asked for the status of the wounded Lindsey, only to be told that it wasn’t good.

“It can compensate for many enemy advantages in both numbers and ability. But it is a double-edged blade at best. For if your timing or information is even slightly awry…” He trailed off as Best followed McClusky into his office, waiting until the other officer noticed him.

“Do you trust the intelligence?” Best asked him in a dull voice from the entrance.

“I’m trying. Because we’re betting a hell of a lot on this hand,” McClusky said in an equally subdued tone as he stared down at the papers on his desk.

“Hand?” Fortrakt echoed in confusion.

“Like a poker hand. Or, uh, hoof,” Chris quickly corrected himself as Tara paused the playback, remembering the pony vernacular. “He’s saying that this is a huge gamble, and he’s right. We’re wagering most of our remaining military strength in the Pacific here. If we lose, that’s pretty much it. Like Best said, the Japanese will own the entire ocean. And then Hawaii and later the west coast of our mainland will be wide open to attack. Or even outright invasion.”

“Ah,” Giraldi said with a nod. “Yes, I understand the analogy now, given I played that rather curious card game called poker a few times in Equestria. Apologies, Decurion. Please proceed,” he bared his throat in Gilda’s direction upon seeing her glare.

The movie resumed with a tap of Tara’s finger on the screen to show McClusky addressing Best.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but, uh… I liked you better when you were cocky,” he said with a slightly wan grin, earning a smirk from both Tara and Gilda.

“Nah, you don’t have to worry about me,” Lieutenant Best promised, but there was no conviction or fire in his voice.

“Oh, really?” Wade challenged him, recognizing his doubt and despondency. “You’ve been blaming yourself for that kid that went down.”

Best hesitated before answering as Chris felt Giraldi’s body go very still against him. “How do I make it right?” he wanted to know, asking in a dull tone.

“Make sure your men are ready for tomorrow,” came the reply. “And you bring back as many of them as you can,” he added as Chris felt Giraldi start to slowly nod again.

But Best got no chance to answer before another officer entered with a simple but urgent message: “Ship sighted.” So they rushed up on deck to see:

“It’s the Yorktown!” the cry went up as the crew on the carrier’s flight deck broke out into cheers and applause.

“How the hell did she get out of dry dock in time?” an amazed Lieutenant Dickenson asked, wearing a broad grin.

“I don’t know,” Best replied simply, struggling to stifle a smile of his own.

“I guess every battle needs a miracle,” Dickenson decided, clapping Best on the shoulders affectionately in an action that caused Chris to grimace, knowing only too well by then how the griffons would take such a gesture.

“I am not certain I would call that a ‘miracle’ rather than a determined effort of your naval repair crews, likely working around the clock,” Giraldi noted as the movie was paused again. “Still, I can understand the sentiment. I imagine that we would have much the same reaction to seeing a previously damaged and unavailable airship reappear just when it was needed the most against the ibex.”

“Pretty much, big guy. So now it’s three American carriers and their air wings against four Japanese ones,” Chris said. “Still not great odds, especially given the Imperial Navy has generally better planes and pilots than we do right now. But with the element of surprise, there’s a fighting chance for victory.”

“Not bad,” Gilda said, and Chris noted that she finally seemed to be as much into the scenes happening around the battles as much as the battles themselves. “But by the Ancestors above, I’ve had enough of this talk and all the dweeby doubt and training montages. Had enough sex for now, too. Crows know that I’m ready for more war!” She flexed her talons meaningfully for a moment.

“Don’t worry your tasseled tail, Gilds,” Marco said with another impish grin, leaving Chris suddenly wondering how the griffons might take an animated series with actual imps like Helluva Boss.

“We’re on the eve of battle. I’ve seen this movie three or four times by now, so I can promise that you’re going to love it…”