NSFW Fapfic Anthology

NSFW

Beginner

varishangout.com
Regular
I mean, it was inevitable.
I've only been making a big deal about the fact I used to write these for /tg/ and would like to get back into writing them again.

Now if you wanna make comments and shit, I don't mind if you do it here. As much as I'll be posting stories in here, the Ao3 link below will keep it all centralised if you don't wanna dive through the thread to find them.

The Archive of Our Own link if you'd prefer over there.

Otherwise I'm just going to post shit in here whenever I get around to finishing these.
When in doubt on any of my shit, assume hentai logic. I'm not talented enough to draw doujins so take this as a consolation prize.
Will be under spoiler tags as not to make the page longer than need be.

If you want to throw requests my way, go nuts.
I've always liked replying to requests, they're far more useful for writing than tapping my own imagination, which get can bogged down in autismo if I let it.
Just... under no obligation to do so if I'm not feeling the idea, just know that going in.
Things I'm not okay with:
-Guro
-Scat
-Watersports
-Vore (Is it still vore if a tentacle monster takes residence in the womb though?)
-Rape and related ('dubcon' when it's revealed character's actually been into it the whole time is okay).
-Cuckold and related (Swinging is a bit different though)
-Inflation (with the unique exception of cumflation in the context of tentacles and the like. That's fine.)
Things I don't do out of lack of interest, or because I'm not good at them.
-BDSM (by this I mean whips and chains. Fluffy cuffs hardly count)
-M/M stuff
-Futa

This one's an older story, which meant I had to spend a couple hours editing the fucking thing.
Predates the booba memes by several years, so don't think I was trying to get in on that at all.
Yes I know it's pretty vanilla all things considered, but I figured it was a good starting point.
Cunny will come eventually.

“That’ll be 200 gold pieces ma’am!” Said the overly cheery shop attendant, pushing her hands forward a little too eagerly.

Karina looked down at the girl, who was barely the height of her chest. She considered a whole variety of witty comebacks, verbal gut-shots and the odd sarcastic guffaw... the reality was however, the kid was adorable in way too many ways. With a pained sigh, Karina tossed her the coin pouch.

“There’s 250 in there, keep the change," she said, brushing her long auburn hair back over her shoulder.

“Really miss!” the girl was excited, “Wow, you’re so nice!”

Karina chewed her lip to stop herself laughing. 'Nice' was not how she would have described herself. Still, the girl reminded her of what she once was, innocent and carefree. She patted the girl on the head, “If you say so kid…”

She bid her goodbyes, especially to the tattooist who earnt that particular coin. Magical etchings, a pre-coded spell written into flesh. The intention was to circumvent such troublesome things as casting times and reagent costs. The glowing blue streams were inked down her arms, circled with runes of power and sigils of might. In a more mundane tattoo, it would have been impressive and intimidating. In the magical… well, she started grinning without realising it, her eyes alight in manic joy. Her magically tinged eyes glowed a deep shade of purple.

The sorceress was proud of her life choices, so much so she dressed herself in stereotypical ways, standing out as much among her peers as it did among the greater community. Few sorcerers wore pointed hats, let alone bright purple ones adorned with gilded stars. Equally purple 'robes', if one could still call them robes after her alterations. Karina loathed how androgynous the typical set looked and set about mending that pet hate. Tucked in a seam here, let out a section there, and very quickly, the ‘robe’ barely contained her massive breasts, as evidenced by the fact that they bounced with each footfall.

The robe sat tight on her hip and ended just below her firm, curvy arse, an asset the whole world saw when she bent over. She had no love for traditional undergarments, but this new fashion in the ‘G-string’ as the tailors called it, drew her attention more than any other clothing accessory. Her slender legs, glistening in sweat from the overly warm summer’s day, were another feature she enjoyed showing off to those who would watch. Although her methods for doing so got her a few strange questions. ‘Who aside from horseback archers want high heels?’ they’d ask. She never had a good answer for that, she didn’t even know how to ride a horse, and she had never so much as touched a bow in her life, so that was out of the question. Nope, she just like her legs, liked how they looked with the raised heels and didn’t care for whatever questions might have come her way over it.

All this pride, this air of superiority was further accentuated by her purposeful strut, her hips thrusting out with each footfall as if to say, “I’m sexy and everyone knows it!”

And the best part? People kept the disparaging judgements to themselves. Who really wanted to piss off a sorceress after all? Anyone who could wind-up a fireball the size of a person’s head was inherently dangerous. At least, signalling that her magical power was half the point of dressing this way.

Karina found herself a deserted alley, one leading directly into the mouth of one of the storm water drains. It hadn’t rained for a full season and the seers weren’t anticipating anything for at least three full days, so it was safe enough for the time being. She wanted to sit, the price of vanity being the raw sense of a future blister in her heel. Cobblestone was not a good surface for these shoes. She entered in a little ways, a space shared only by the moths and the rats. She found herself a nice, raised platform to sit on, a walkway for when the waters start rising.

Kicking off her shoes, she immediately turned her attention back onto the etchings and the magic pulsing in them. Her brow creased as she went over the sigils and the signs.

“Living creature? Whatever happened to fireballs?” the muttered to herself, a bad habit that she plied to keep her own thoughts straight. All that the tattooist had told her was that ‘it’s perfect for her’. It was a point of confusion because she wasn’t a summoner. Resolving herself to find out exactly what the deal was before confronting the tattooist, she cast the etchings and called forth this ‘terrible sin of a creature’ that the runes described.

A portal opened into the ground and immediately tentacles spewed forth. Hundreds of them, all shapes and sizes, all different purposes and forms.

She slowly pulled her hat off. She hadn’t even considered the utility of it all before, she always hated being on the receiving end of both minion creatures and entanglement spells. This creature was a horrible combination of both.

At first, it brought its warrior side to bear, the creature’s tentacles that were at the fore had wicked hooks and scything blades. These weren’t just for ensnaring, they were for reaping. She immediately fell in love with the very thought of the havoc this creature could wreak. A particularly stupid rat bit down on one of the tentacles, causing the creature to respond by decapitating the rodent, a tentacle made of nothing but mouths and prehensile teeth emerged, devouring the mess left behind.

She approached it, the cold stone floor against her bare feet made her wince. Her heart beat elevated as she did. It was exciting, it was frightening in all the right ways.

The creature seemed to know this was her reaction and withdrew the violent limbs, replacing them with ones that had no armaments at all. Their breadth varied, many of them were thin, barely the width of rope, but some stood out at the width of her own thighs, and the rest sat anywhere in between. She walked closer, the tentacles seemed to understand, to appreciate the gentle approach.

"An ostlinion? How interesting."

A few of them reached out to her, a couple of the smaller ones touched her face, a few of the larger ones stroked her arms. The largest tentacle, one the thickness of a human torso, loomed in front of her, as if to give her a ‘face’ to gaze upon. She noticed quickly just how… phallic it was. It had the general shape of a cock and even a slit in the tip. Curious, she reached out and petted it.

It responded well to affection, would have even cooed if it had the vocal chords. The ostlinion drew closer, slowly wrapping around her voluptuous frame, gently tugging, urging her gently in.

As if on reflex, she reached out and hugged the giant tentacle, burying her face into the slit at the tip. She found her face lightly covered in a sticky sheen.

The etchings provided a telepathic link of sorts, one that was taking a bit to adjust to. Even though it told her what the tentacles were for, she's not a stranger to carnal pursuits. She knew what precum was and what it felt like on her face.

One of the tiny tentacles coiled around the top of her robes and in one quick motion, jerked it awkwardly off, her shapely breasts bouncing out of the fabric.

"A bit forward, aren't we?" Karina slid her arms out of the sleeves, taking the time to pose slightly and run her hands across her massive, firm breasts. "Normally I'd insist on at least a stimulating conversation well before this point..." she playfully tuts at the 'face' tentacle with one hand, teasing at her nipples with the other. She lifted a breast up as well as she could, drawing the nipple up to her mouth, catching it with the corner of her mouth and suckling at it until it was erect.

She had a hard time reading the creature, but the link told her that it at least liked what it saw. "However..." she continued where the last thought left off, reaching out to the creature, "I was about to excuse you for a lack of a mouth," she said as she ran her fingers along the edges of the giant cock slit, "but does this not count as one?"

The tentacles were tightening their grip, firm but not hard. She lent in, burying her face into the cock slit. She ran her tongue up the rim of the slit, savoring the taste. She slipped a hand down under the g-string and between her legs. She played with her clit for a moment or so before she moved down, slipping her middle and ring fingers inside her soft, warm pussy. She let a moan escape, and was immediately pleased with the creature's reaction - it understood the mating call. She then pulled her hand back up and licked her fingers clean of her own pussy juice, running it over her tongue, playing with it in full view of the creature before swallowing, relishing the tangy sweetness.

That seemed to be the creature’s breaking point, as tentacles of varying sizes all held onto her, lifting her off her feet. The tangled mass of tentacles formed a kind of fleshy hammock for her. The hold was gentle despite how quickly the creature whisked her up. When it opened her legs, it was quite polite about it all things considered. She knew it had the strength to be a little less chivalrous, but for a creature without a face, it was the perfect gentleman. It caressed her, all of her, attentive to every subtle reaction her body exhibits under its touch. A couple of strange, trumpet headed tentacles emerged and played with her breasts for some time, massaging, caressing. Quickly though, when a sharp breath escaped her lips, they latched onto her nipples and suckled. Without petty human limitations such as teeth or bones, it moved and caressed in ways that she didn’t think it was possible to feel. A couple of the smaller ones were still massaging the breast as a whole, while a larger one lay itself between her bouncing tits. The tentacles all worked together, pressing her breasts together, around the massive, throbbing cock-limb. Despite the sticky trail pre-cum the creature left behind with each stroke, she found the whole ordeal quite enticing.

Another group of tentacles all clustered around her groin, unsure of what to make of her g-string. After a moment’s contemplation, the tentacles seized it in multiple places and tore the fabric asunder.

“Hey that wasn’t cheap-” She tried to call out, but the creature reassured her with a gentle stroke along the forehead. She doubted it actually understood, just that it sensed she was upset over something. She sighed, fearing for the future of her wardrobe. A flicker of perverse thought bled through that fear however, maybe undergarments were overrated?

A thought she would have to handle later, as some of the smaller tentacles gathered around the lips of her own bodily temple and teased it, played with it in tender strokes and gentle fondling. Some of the tentacles moved immediately onto her clit, attacking it in various angles, lubricating it with the pre-cum to ensure that it never rubbed too raw. Karina’s head lolled back as far as the tentacle hammock let her. Her moans growing in intensity, only a thin vestige of self control stopped them from turning into echoing cries.

The tentacles parted slightly, as a larger one pressed up against her pussy. It rubbed around the lips, spreading its watery pre-cum all over to lubricate before pressing in. It was gentle, but it didn’t escape her notice just how massive it was. The throbbing member seemed to fill her completely as it pushed its way in.

When it reached the deepest depths of her pussy, Karina let out a long, drawn out moan. It pulled back, it's tip flaring out, and thrust. The tentacle moved gently at first but each successive thrust emboldened it, causing it to pump harder, faster, deeper. Karina on the other hand found herself uncontrollably digging her nails into the tentacle flesh, the flared end stretching out the inside of her cunt, pressing itself along the entirety of its internal surface area. If Karina looked down, she would have seen its shape emerge slightly from under her tummy. Not that it mattered, she was too busy enjoying the ride, her body urging her to writhe against it, to wring out every possible angle that she could feel it.

“Oh, gods above and below, you are a fucking treasure!” she called, “Don’t be shy darling, You’ve got more swords than I do sheaths, so start sheathing!” Her voice failed her for a moment, “Fill me," she gasped, "all of me, everything!”

The creature complied, and all of the tentacles writhed about her. Meanwhile she felt a couple of the smaller tentacles cup her arse and before she could speak out, felt them lubricate it. Suddenly another large tentacle pushed it way in, but this one didn’t bother with the foreplay, it went straight on to thrusting. The tentacles inside her thrust in unison, she gyrated with them.

“That’s more like it, darling," she said as she reached out and stroked the nearest free tentacle, "but you’ve got more, be creative now, drown me in your seed!”

At that a bunch of tentacles placed themselves into her hands and thrust, as if urging her to play with them, causing her to laugh. She gave them a loving peck as she started jerking them, sliding her palms across their pre-cum slicked shafts.

“I may just drink from these shafts if your seed is as tasty as I hope!”

The creature responded by pressing one of the larger tentacles against her mouth. She licked the head as a greeting, "hello darling, waiting for permission?" she teased. She swallowed, took care to pull her teeth as far away from it as she could, paying extra mind to suppress her gag reflex. She hadn’t ever sucked a cock this big before, and it was an experience she relished. At first it was like the creature was tentative, worried about suffocating her and only letting her suck the head, go shallow. Karina pulled away, "Darling, you fret too much. I've magic at my command, if anything goes wrong, I can correct the misstep."

The ostlinion appreciated this invitation and thrust the tentacle so deep her throat distended. Before long the creature, emboldened by Karina's confidence, thrust harder and faster, ramping up to an almost inhuman speed. Karina couldn’t hold it anymore, the creature hit all the right buttons at all the right times. Her whole body tensed against the tentacles, but they gave no indication they noticed, pounding their way as deep into her body as they physically could.

Karina felt her whole body seize as she managed to let out a moan through the cock in her throat. The creature began to low as Karina stopped gyrating, the heaving, shuddering breaths she managed between half choked gasps, told the story - a climax so powerful she nearly blacked out.

The ostlinion hesitated, waiting, its body frozen in place, mock statue-esc. When her senses finally came back, she pulled away from the tentacle in her mouth and spoke to the creature, “now that... I’m done," she even amazed herself with how bashful that sounded, "we need to get you off. I did say I wanted to taste your cum,” she licked her lips, "just... as you were before, don't think you have to bring me off again, I don't think I have another one in me."

The creature complied, ravenously. It thrust the tentacle back into her throat without a second telling, and the rest tentacles surged back into motion. It only took a few moments, but Karina was overwhelmed with how explosive it was. The first to come were the ones inside her, first the tentacles in her pussy and arse erupted, filling her so thoroughly that the cum sprayed out of her with the pressure, spattering onto the stonework underneath. The tentacle in her mouth receded back so that she could have her mouth filled with the seed, for taste like she instructed.

When it withdrew she found herself savouring it, the cum tasted like a kind of salty nectar. Soon after, all of the other tentacles started shooting their respective loads, the ones in her hands first, covering her in the sticky sweetness. While she was licking her hands clean, the ones on her breasts blew, covering her in a mockery of a dress.

She tried to wipe her breasts down but gave up with a laugh, instead, she gave the creature a wink and her best attempt at a seductive pose, at least what little of one she could manage with her legs held into place. She never considered however, that the hammock too was eager to blow, as the cock-heads all rearranged around the 'rim' of the shape, spraying her from all around, covering her head to toe in its seed.

She spent a few moments wiping away the cum glazing over her face, trying to get her eyes open without them being dripped into. She lent over as far as she could bend, looking over the hammock edge. Threads of cums were dripping their way onto the stone from between the tiny gaps.

"Quite the way to make a good impression..." She beckoned the 'face' tentacle over, once again making out with the cock-slit she's been taking for a 'mouth', "Quite the good impression..."

She paused, pulling back as the tentacle started to shudder. She frowned for a moment before it clicked, "Oh, this wants to go as well..." she bit the her bottom lip as she playfully ran her hands over the tentacle's head. It was when she buried her face into the slit and tenderly kissed the inside flesh that the 'face' hit climax, the massive tentacle launching its barrage, hitting her with enough force to pin her back into the hammock, soaking her once again in a giant surge of cum.

Karina gave up with a hysterical chuckle, "You know, I had planned to eat up every last drop but... we are going to be here for quite the while if I wanted to do that," she said as she wiped some of it off her face and licked her fingers clean. The ostilion raised a tentacle, one flared out into a trumpet shape and scooped up some of the cum. The ostilion presented the tentacle to Karina's face, as if it was a chalice.

"My, my, aren't we considerate," she grinned as she wrapped her fingers around the shaft and drank deeply. The absurdity of it all wasn't lost on her. “You did good darling, you did so good. Now, that cute tattooist who gave you to me... and that adorable little number who processed the coin? I’m going to show you to them when I’m clean,” she made an exaggeratedly slow lick to impress the point that she was in no hurry - not that she had much of a choice in that matter, “and by the gods I’m going to let them know just how much of a gorgeous treasure you are!”
 

Jahy

varishangout.com
Spoiler: The New Tattoo - Fantasy - Consenticles, Big Tits, Human Female x Tentacle Monster
Took a bit before I sat down and read through it all, but I finally did, and boy was I impressed. I had anticipated you would be a skilled author, but this exceeded by expectations, and this is supposed to be an older story. If this is what you consider "pretty vanilla", I'd certainly love to see what else you have to offer. It does go through a lot of the typical beats but that doesn't detract from its overall quality of execution.

The central idea around using a tattoo as the cause of action is very appealing to me. It reminded me of an improvement of the adjacent fetish of living suits or armor, but this is even better since it carries with it the trait of being embedded into the person. The metaphysical link established between she and the horny tentacool also serves to give more depth to their interactions.

One particular element I appreciate is how you are able to weave in visual descriptions without being too abrasive about it, since that's a flaw I often see in erotic works particularly. No lie about it, that's a challenge, since this is an act of writing about very visual and very descriptive scenes, characters, and actions, yet words look like words. Being able to incite the imagination and guide it along a specific design is a show of literary mastery.

Another is that of character; Karina is extremely emotive and believable as the sort of seductive yet powerful woman she's written to be. Funnily enough, this is how I tend to prefer the magically-attuned female characters I create and/or play in fantasy worlds. I appreciated her commentary on how androgynous mage garb tends to be and how she more or less made it her own by emphasizing her body. I don't know if it was intention or not, but this is an actual presentation of female empowerment. Even aside from that, she is well-written and exists as more than just a swath of meat to get porked.

Speaking of which, I did go back and read a bit from our Draft House conversation and noticed the references to this story. You are certainly right on how I found myself much more invested in the story and what may come next. I certainly hope the tattooist and the girl get more than just the tip. :korone-smug:

The Archive of Our Own link if you'd prefer over there.
Can you go into detail about this site? This is the first time I have ever heard of it, and I'm always interested to learn more about places that are actually welcoming to lewd content since that shortlist dwindles each year. That being said, their privacy policy is a bit lukewarm to me, so I'm not sold just yet.
 

Beginner

varishangout.com
Regular
The fishing sucked.

Well, the fishing was awesome. It was a lifestyle that suited Melanie beautifully.

Perk number one: beer. Three full, and one half drunk, kegs of it strapped onto the houseboat. Dipped in the water a little ways and there was always cool (although not cold) beer on hand. Beer, tankard, mouth. Not quite a perfect cycle, Melanie reasoned, as that requires bacon somewhere in the formulation, but its hard to get bacon out on the water. To tide her over though was the copious supply of jerky. Not ideal, but spiced just right and a single strip could last a day before it got boring. She had a month’s worth of the stuff.

Perk number two: Lazy days. Melanie fished off a barely used cove near the sleepiest city in all the kingdoms. What she fished, she ate, what she didn’t eat, she bartered for more beer. Occasionally she’d save up for a night on the town (or more accurately, a night in one solitary tavern because stumbling elsewhere was too much effort). Otherwise, she was free to sit down with a rod and waste time writing poetry or draw or whatever other solitary pursuits took her fancy while the fish weren’t biting.

Perk number three: Privacy. Others did occasionally use the cove, forcing her to put her pants back on, but for the most part fishermen went for the open water where they could lay nets. Sunny days she kept covered to avoid sunburn and really hot days would see her use the little trapdoor inside the cabin to fish, but usually when the clouds were out and twilight decided to drag its heels and last hours, she bore all because hell, not like anyone was looking.

Perk number four: Mobility. Some uppity arsehole ruining a good day’s fishing? Just haul anchor and move. Privacy on demand.

Perk number five: Money. People like fish. Haul enough fish, people buy fish. Stable income.

But the fishing that day sucked.

Melanie seethed, it was such a wonderful day too! She’d gotten the beer nice and cool, found some of the best line on sale in town and was going to try it out, gotten herself a new hammock to fish from and finally found a breeze cool enough for her to consider ripping her clothes off.

Not a single bite on the gods forsaken line.

Melanie flopped back into the hammock. She figured she had a week before she had to make landfall anyway. She could write, but she wasn’t feeling the words flow lately, could draw but it wasn’t like there was any subjects lying around (only so many times you can draw a heaven-scape complete with beer volcano and bacon trees). She could masturbate, but she hadn’t seen a man hunky enough to take her attention, or a woman curvy enough to turn her head, for quite some time. It kind of felt pointless really.

Bored, frustrated, tipsy, pick any reason, it wasn’t like the ‘why’ mattered so much as the fact that it never actually occurred to her before to try it. She stuck a piece of jerky onto the line and cast it.

She put the rod down, making sure it was secure in the holder, and stood, giving a big stretch, several joints cracking as she did. With a heaving sigh, she sat back down, only to have her day get worse from there. The clouds parted and immediately the cool breeze died. Summer heat wave, harbinger of sweat, discomfort and really itchy privates. Her memory of things a little hazy, she swore her beer was boiling in its tankard, but the reality was that her body just started sweating that quickly.

Within the next half hour she opened the door, preparing to go inside the cabin, away from the glaring sun. That plan died the moment she realised the inside was a furnace. Time came to consult the other barrels, the four water barrels on the opposite side of the ship to the beer. Completely full, untouched for an unhealthily long time. Tankard in, water to mouth, somehow right then better than the beer.

Another half hour of the sun to beating down on her body, searing and sweltering, Melanie finally caved and propped up one of the shade sails she had built into the boat. It eased the sun’s assault as most of the heat was humidity... well, not a lot to be done there. Another half hour and she tore her clothes off, a feat in itself as the sweat caused the fabric to cling. Bare-breasted in the breeze, she gave a contented sigh, emerald eyes on the horizon.

As a sturdy, muscular woman, Melanie was always quick to dismiss compliments on her attractiveness. She’d complain that she was too sun-scorched, despite the fact most considered her tan a plus. Her mangled, unkempt rust coloured hair was a perfect match for the freckles covering most of her body. Despite this, she would often complain it made her look like a leper, and she would get get into fights with anyone who corrected that to ‘leopard’. In her mind, was too boyish with all that hard labour strengthening her. The idea there was any appeal to a toned tomboy was lost on her.

In her failed attempts to wipe away some of the sweat with her shirt, the line started tugging.

“Fuck off, there’s no fish here…” Melanie had a bad habit of vocalising her thoughts. Lacking an audience at almost every waking hour, she generally didn’t have much need of a filter from brain to mouth.

Despite her insistence that there were no fish, the line started unspooling. She darted for the line and immediately grappled with the reel. She didn’t want to think about how far out the catch had gotten before she got her shit together. Silently hating herself for her inaction, she got to work. Muscles flexing, sweat glistening, brow creased, teeth gnashed. Whatever this was, it was big.

A fierce tug nearly tore her from her boat. She let the line unreel slightly as she flopped back into the hammock, and planting her feet to the edge of the boat. She steeled herself, determined not to be bested, as she started reeling. Whatever this was, it was going to be worth bragging rights. It felt like a tuna, heavy, strong, fast. It’d been a while since she had tuna…

Sweat beaded on her brow and her muscles ached. Progress was agonisingly slow, every foot of line reeled in was in itself a battle. Patience, that's what wins these struggles. Well, her powerful body helped. Just needed to be stronger and more enduring than whatever was on the other end of the line. It was only when her jaw started to hurt she realised how hard she clenched her teeth.

Her quarry was splashing and thrashing closer to her, sea salt spraying into her eyes. So close…

She made one last pull on the line. A triumphant roar escaped her lips as she heaved with all her might, tearing the massive quarry from the tide and ripping it into the boat.

Problem was, the quarry was much larger than she anticipated. That last tug angled it straight towards her. It slammed into her, half knocking her out of her hammock, legs still caught in the cloth. All of her quarry's weight took the wind out of her chest on the way down. Vision blurry, Melanie stared up at her shade sail for some time, not daring to move. The quarry wasn’t flopping, which was good, last thing she needed was this slimy, heavy thing slamming more air out of her lungs. Maybe it was fatigued too, either way, easier to deal with.

It was then the figure squirmed.

“Oh, fuck me!” Melanie was exasperated.

“Oh?” came an unfamiliar voice, “That’s a bit direct, shouldn’t we at least get to know each other first?”

Melanie blinked, she might have been marinating in her own sweat, but she was pretty certain she was a ways off from hallucinating.

“I don’t know, I usually don’t have catches talking to me, there an etiquette I’m not aware of?”

"Was going to ask you the same thing. First time I've ever been caught you see."

Melanie’s chest heaved with short breaths, “I’ll go first. I’m Melanie, most call me Mel, I drink, fish, fuck, and eat."

Suddenly, a face shot into Melanie’s line of sight, staring straight down at her naked body, “Apparently, you also strip,” she said with a smile, chewing on a small corner of the waterlogged jerky, “But what I don’t get is, why the landmeat? Most fishies don’t know what landmeat tastes like, not going to catch them that way.”

“I… think I’m going to need another beer before I’m comfortable with this…” Melanie’s vision cleared up enough to see the blue-eyed, turquoise haired girl staring at her. She had strange fin-like appendages where the ears should have been and there were almost invisible slits lining her neck, ribs and collarbones, closed tight aside from the occasional twitch.

“Suit yourself, this is your boat… home? After all,” she tried to be polite but all things considered, she didn’t quite choose to end up on the boat.

Melanie tried to get up but failed, her body was just that far gone.

“You know what? I’m just going to stay here for a while. Rest fixes a lot of things, you know. So, I never got your name…” Melanie took the time to actually look at the girl, head to tentacle? From the waist up, she was a slightly chubby, pale skinned, voluptuous beauty whose sizable bust was barely contained by the clam shell bra.

From the waist down however, octopus tentacles. Her particular octopus half was turquoise, like her hair, and the tentacles only had to squirm slightly for her to reposition herself. She wore a skirt of sorts that seemed to be fashioned from woven kelp, making Melanie curious at to what a creature like her could possibly hide. It wasn’t as if… there was anything there… right?

The cecaelia smiled, “I’m Myrta, some people call me Myr. Pleased to meet you Melanie!”

“Pleasure’s all mine…” Melanie said, but there was a lack of warmth in her voice from being physically worn out.

“You went to a lot of effort to catch me you know…”

“You went to a lot of effort not to get caught!” countered Melanie, before she had a pang of concern, "... you didn’t get hooked, did you?”

Myrta laughed, “No silly, there’d be blood if there was. Besides, I can tell a fishing line when I can see it. No, landmeat isn’t something you get much down there, so I was eager to try it!”

Melanie smiled, “You like that landmeat?”

“Yep!”

“That works out then, I’ve got heaps of it inside,” Melanie didn’t even stop to consider why she was being so charitable to a stranger. Maybe she was just impressed with how well Myrta fought.

Melanie continued despite herself, “So welcome to my home, such as it is."

"Home..." mused Myrta wistfully.

"That's the tone of someone who's lost theirs," said Melanie

"I kind of lost my last place, was getting overrun by barracuda and I wasn't going to hang around for that…”

"Barracuda a threat to you?" Melanie raised an eyebrow.

"Are wild dogs a threat to land-folk?"

"Touche."

Myrta just silently nibbled on the jerky as she watched the empty horizon. "It's not just the barracuda..." she clarifies after a while, "Something's pushing them in. Blue-water's not safe lately... well, it's never safe but it's more dangerous than it was. Place was overrun so quick I had to leave my stuff behind."

"So you decided you'd fight me for your dinner?"

Myrta taps her plump belly, mildly embarrassed, "Well, I suppose I could stand to have a few lean days..."

"Not what I asked..." Melanie finally rises to her feet. Taking a few moment to track down a spare tankard, she returns to Myrta with a beer for each of them.

Melanie sits back on the hammock, offering Myrta a seat. The cecaelia nervously takes it, her tentacles squirming around until she finally gets comfortable.

"Been homeless, not fun. Luckily I managed to find work, get some coin... decided the best homes were the ones you take with you." Melanie smiled, indicating the boat.

"Yeah, I don't have the option for an equivalent. Can't build boats under the waves."

"Well, on land some folk wander the countryside, living off game and sleeping on the grass."

"Good way to be eaten by something."

Melanie grunted. She never understood outdoorsmen either. She takes a long sip of her beer, "We've known each other all of five minutes, and it already sounds like you wanna ask if you can stick around."

Myrta gives a hollow chuckle, "Am I that transparent?"

"You're not a fish, you have hands. You could have just pulled the jerky off the line."

"I could have, yes..."

"You wanted to meet the fisherman?" It was more of a statement than a question, "Seems a little risky, doesn't it?"

"I could see the prow from below. Could tell it was small. Maybe three people at most?" Myrta frowns as she spells out her reasoning.

"One I'm afraid, if that's cause for disappointment-"

"No no, I didn't..." Myrta trails off.

Melanie smirked, "You want a place to stay?"

Myrta glanced at Melanie, and just as quickly, turned her gaze towards the horizon. She takes a swig, "... I don't wish to presume-"

Melanie takes a gulp of her beer, "You've been doing everything in your power not to look at my tits this whole conversation. Instead, you've been gazing into the horizon like an old sailor stuck on land. One way or another, you like the view up here."

Myrta blushed, "I... I definitely don't mean to presume."

"If you want to stick around and eat all my food though, help me catch some fish. Fish pay for everything here after all.”

Myrta is taken aback, “Is that sincere invitation? Because-"

Melanie downs her beer, "Not a free ride. That jerky and drink you have is free, the rest needs some effort from you, you hear? That means rent.”

Myrta shrugged, “Name your currency.”

“Fish, what else?”

“First words I ever heard from you were 'fuck me'…” Myrta smiled coyly, drawing swirls and patterns on Melanie’s shoulder with her finger.

“That…” Melanie was suddenly nonplussed, “You… wait… what… huh…?”

Myrta frowns, "That... didn't come out right... did it?"

“That... what counts as flirting where you’re from?”

Myrta blushes, "I'm a weirdo loner, alright? I'm not even convinced there are other sea-kin around these parts."

Melanie laughs, "From one weirdo loner to another, you seem to be doing alright."

Melanie's heaving chest caught Myrta’s attention, who was transfixed on the jiggling breasts. This attention didn't escape Melanie's notice, "You're really bad at this, you know?"

"I uhh... don't have many friends..." she finishes the last of the jerky.

"Any friends?" Melanie didn't quite catch what Myrta said.

"Yeah, 'any' is a better word." Myrta downs the rest of her drink.

"Don't know how to conduct yourself around people."

Myrta, a little overwhelmed, acted out. In an almost childish fashion, she reached for Melanie's breasts with her free hand, sinking her fingers into the soft flesh.

"A bit direct, aren't we?"

Myrta grimaced, "Well... I don't know, what do you expect from me?"

Melanie collected the tankard from Myrta. She looped a small bit of rope around their handles and tied them off. Myrta cuddled into Melanie all the while, pressing her head between Melanie's breasts. She traced her fingers along the contours of Melanie's body, feeling her way around Melanie's musculature.

Melanie smiled, "Are you alright there?"

Myrta stopped, "I-"

Melanie pats Myrta's head, "I'm not complaining. Just don't feel that you have to put out just because I'm giving you a place to stay-"

Myrta smiled, running her fingers down Melanie's abdomen, "No, it's not that at all. That one earns my gratitude and..." one of her tentacles lazily slapped at the fishing rod, "... and I guess I'll have to learn how to use that."

"Then what-"

"Pulling me out of the water was pretty impressive, I just... want to acquaint myself with the body strong enough to pull that feat off."

"Don't get too excited, I hurt in my everything. You put up quite the effort."

Myrta ran her fingers along Melanie's thighs, “Is... it okay if I explore the rest of you?”

“That depends, what do you get out of it?” Melanie teased Myrta’s hair.

Myrta’s tentacles snaked and weaved, pulling her body between Melanie’s legs, “If I'm going to be working for board, I need to know I can rely on you to look after me out of the water.”

“And what do I get out of it?” said Melanie, running her hands over Myrta’s hips and up past the trunk of her body.

Myrta’s tentacles wrapped around Melanie’s legs for support. She leant in close to Melanie's ear and whispered, "Someone who can take care of things below..."

Melanie considered for a moment, "What, like below the waves?"

Myrta nibbled at her lip as the tips of her tentacles ran along the outer edge of Melanie's cunt, causing Melanie's eyes to widen.

"Below," Myrta clarified.

Melanie cleared her throat, "So uhh, my muscles still kinda-"

"What, you think I'm going to make you do all the work?"

Melanie gave her an incredulous look, "I can drop a horse with my left hook. Doing all the work comes with the territory."

Myrta’s brow furrowed, "I suppose that is why you're alone out here?"

"Well I'm not anymore-"

Myrta suppressed a chortle as one of her tentacles gently slid inside of Melanie, slowly working its way in. When it reached the end of the lewd canal, Myrta kept pushing, the tentacle folding in on itself, pressing outward, stretching out the interior walls.

"You seem rather dedicated to ruining the mood."

Melanie cupped a hand over her mouth to kill a moan, "Sorry, sorry just... Kind of a new experience on me..." She frowns, "Exactly, how much can you fit inside?"

Myrta raised an eyebrow, "Kind of a you question isn't it?"

Melanie patted her distended pubis, "I would have thought so too..."

Myrta pondered for a moment, "I can squeeze through any gap I can squeeze my head."

"Shoulders don't get in the way?"

Myrta pushed down on one of her shoulders. Her ribs flexed inward, and the shoulder flattened into the chest. After the point was made, she releases her grip and stretches the shoulder out.

"Hell of a trick..."

"Top half is all bony and rigid too. Bottom half... not so much, octopus after all. Why, you want to see how much I can squeeze in?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious... Wait, you don't... have an octopus beak under there do you?

Myrta smiled and tugged the solitary tie holding her skirt together. She tossed the garment aside, revealing that the octopus half didn’t quite start at the waist, rather it was a gradient that ran from the hips, all the way down to where the thighs would have began if she were human. She followed that up by removing her bra. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she freed her massive, plush breasts.

"See for yourself," she said.

Melanie took the time to run her eyes over Myrta's naked body. She reached down as best as she could, running her hands along Myrta's lower half. Melanie didn't quite expect the webbing between the tentacles to be anchored to Myrta's vulva. She slipped her hand underneath, feeling where the beak would be on an octopus. Instead, by the time she felt something that wasn't flat skin, she was cupping Myrta's hindquarters, which too were anchor points for the tentacle webbing.

"So..." Melanie began as she ran her other hand along one of Myrta's tentacles, "Why aren't I feeling these?" she said as the ran a thumb inside one of Myrta's suckers.

"I don't have to grab onto things you know..." said Myrta. She demonstrated this point by leaning forward, and pressing one of the suckers right onto Melanie's nipple. It took some downward force for it to suction on.

Melanie took a sharp breath as she felt it latch on, and stifled a cry when Myrta pinched the tentacle and peeled it back off, "There'll be plenty of time to make use of those later," said Myrta, "I thought we were trying something else first after all."

"Wait, we were-" Melanie bit her wrist to kill a squeal as Myrta gently slipped two more tentacles inside her, "-trying that? okay."

Myrta helped Melanie up, easing her into a seated position, "And in a moment, I'm going to need you to hold me, I won't have anything to grab you back with."

Before Melanie could reply, Myrta guided one hand to her butt, where Melanie's fingers ran over a strange, stubby tail-like appendage sitting at the end of the tailbone.

"That's my ink funnel," explained Myrta.

"I don't know how to ask this but can... it..."

"Be used in sex?"

"Yeah."

"I've never stuck anything up there, so I don't know if it'd feel any good."

"What about-"

"You want to be pumped full of ink?"

Melanie frowned, "... Not on the hammock."

Myrta opened her mouth to speak, but just as quickly cut herself off. She didn't expect that answer, "Uhh... later. Much later... umm, where were we?"

Myrta guided Melanie's other hand to the gill slit above her collarbone. She coaxed Melanie's fingers inside the slit, burying them down to the knuckles, gently pressing Melanie's hand into a firm grip around the collarbone itself.

"Wait, don't you need those to breathe?" Melanie focused on Myrta to push away the sensation of Myrta's tentacles stretching out her nethers.

"Only below water."

"Wouldn't this feel like choking?"

Myrta spoke in a distant, dreamy tone, "Kind of but I still breathe? I just... want to be... want things inside? That's... not weird is it?"

Melanie gave a hollow chuckle, "You think I'm in a position to judge?" The creeping feeling of tentacles folding in on themselves, pressing against her cervix proved hard to dismiss.

"Fair point," mumbled Myrta as three more tentacles slipped inside.

Melanie leant forward burying her face into Myrta's neck, muffling her involuntary cries as best as she could.

Myrta grabbed Melanie by the hair, Melanie's voice proved powerful enough to rattle her bones. She thought to distract the fisherwoman and whispered to her, "Kiss me."

Melanie caught her breath before complying. She kissed, tasting sea salt upon her skin. She ran her tongue along Myrta's neck, the tip accidentally entering one of the gill slits. Myrta reacted to this by pressing Melanie's face in, trying to get the tongue deeper in. Melanie understood, running her tongue along the inside. A watery, almost saliva substance coated the inside. Melanie was reminded of the taste of salmon of all things. She grabbed Myrta back, exploring every inch, every nook of the slit with her tongue. She could feel Myrta's fingers digging into the back of her scalp, and the rumble of a suppressed moan scratching at the inside of the cecaelia's throat.

Myrta then slipped in the last two tentacles. Melanie wasn't even sure she could fit that much. She wrapped her arms tight around Myrta, clinging on as her body seized. It wanted to scream, but Melanie struggled to find the breath.

Melanie pulled back, pressing her forehead against Myrta's, her breath short, sharp, shuddering.

She could feel Myrta squirming to get comfortable inside her. She looked down, her abdomen was visibly distended by the octopus half inside her. Myrta was buried right to the pelvis. Melanie leant forward, taking charge. She pinned Myrta into the hammock, sitting up, towering over the cecaelia, her fingers still buried and slimy in the gill slit. She pressed her clit against Myrta's and started gyrating her hips.

"I... I thought you were too sore-"

"Don't remind me... Just let me do this," grunted Melanie, as she rammed her thumb inside Myrta's pussy, lifting her hips up with it, pressing more of the octopus half inside her body. Melanie kept gyrating her hips the whole time, only mildly stumbling in her tempo.

"Oh darkest abyss-" Myrta cupped a hand over her mouth, as if to take back the blaspheming. It was a strange sensation for her, the she could feel the twitching and convulsing of Melanie's vaginal walls. She could feel the pressure of them pressing down on her tentacles, trying in vain to squeeze her out. Myrta had this irrational thought that it was like the most comfortable of weighted blankets. It was warm in there, safe, comforting. This would only be better if she was submerged, heavy waves pressing down on top of her. Her eyes rolled back as she bit her bottom lip. Moans issues from her mouth.

For Melanie on the other hand, she would have described the feeling as 'my gut is going to explode, but in a good way?'. Every tiny movement stretched her inside. While Myrta wasn't directly focused on them, the tentacles had a mind of their own, and right then, Myrta wasn't capable of focusing on anything. In Myrta's throes of ecstasy, each tentacle started squirming with a mind of its own, writing against each other.

Myrta came first, as a trickle of her juices slowly ran down the front of her body, pooling in her navel. She stopped moaning, instead going limp, her eyes lost, unable to focus. Melanie considered stopping for a moment until Myrta let out an involuntary shudder and gripped the hand inside her gill slit, leaning over and kissing the wrist.

The shuddering was violent, and with half her body inside Melanie, the sensation compounded many times over. Melanie let out a choked scream, and a barely coherent string of sounds pretending to be words, as she felt her entire body tighten squeezing onto Myrta's tentacles.

Myta looked up, unsure of what to make of it. "Are you alright-"

As Myrta tried to reposition, her tentacles scraped inside Melanie in just the right way to finish the job, as her body released all its tension, and like a switch had been hit, went from completely rigid, to completely floppy, in that snap split second.

She didn't even have the breath to let out an orgasm cry.

Melanie slowly lowered herself forward, collapsing onto Myrta, suddenly very aware of how much her muscles ached.

"My my, that was..." Myrta's face was bright, "sounds like we've quite the list of things to try, you and I."

"Uh huh," Melanie groaned as her body became dead weight on her.

"You... alright?"

"I will be. Needed that. Regretting that. You good to massage?"

Myrta giggled, "I can do that."

"You want to... exit me at all?"

"Nah, I'm comfy."

"Really?"

"... Yeah..." Myrta swallowed, a worried expression crossing her face, "Hey... It's not weird is it?"

"I liked it. Why?"

"You... you mind if..."

"We can do it more often, that's not-"

"No I mean..." Myrta whispered, somewhat self-conscious and embarrassed by the question, "Can I... go to sleep inside you like this?"

Melanie chuffed but says nothing.

"I... you... I feel safe inside you. Ocean is big, full of danger. Feeling safe is..."

Melanie kissed her on the lips, much to Myrta's astonishment.

"As long as I get to use your boobs as a pillow, you can use me as a sleeping bag. Deal?"

Myrta laughs as Melanie shuffles down, laying her head on Myrta's breasts.

"Deal."

New story... well, old story, but the rewrite was like, 60% of the original work, so it might as well be new. Human on Monster girl (half-human, half-octopus) Yuri.

Anyway...

Sorry I took so long to reply Valenthyne! Wanted to get this story out before I did so...
Took a bit before I sat down and read through it all, but I finally did, and boy was I impressed. I had anticipated you would be a skilled author, but this exceeded by expectations, and this is supposed to be an older story. If this is what you consider "pretty vanilla", I'd certainly love to see what else you have to offer. It does go through a lot of the typical beats but that doesn't detract from its overall quality of execution.
A heavily edited older story.
I used to use the term 'seemed' as filler.
I want to hurt my younger self just for that.
The central idea around using a tattoo as the cause of action is very appealing to me. It reminded me of an improvement of the adjacent fetish of living suits or armor, but this is even better since it carries with it the trait of being embedded into the person. The metaphysical link established between she and the horny tentacool also serves to give more depth to their interactions.
Magical tattoos to circumvent casting limitation are just underutilized as a general idea to me.
I just want to see more of it in fiction in general tbqh.
I do really like living armour (hell, even mechanical armour that's been lewded is fantastic), so I might do that down the road too. No old stories on that, so I'd have to compose it wholecloth, so that'll take time unless someone really wants to request me doing it.
One particular element I appreciate is how you are able to weave in visual descriptions without being too abrasive about it, since that's a flaw I often see in erotic works particularly. No lie about it, that's a challenge, since this is an act of writing about very visual and very descriptive scenes, characters, and actions, yet words look like words. Being able to incite the imagination and guide it along a specific design is a show of literary mastery.
You'll likely start noticing as I get into further stories that I ain't a master of any stripe, I just had like 30 odd short stories to practice this. Worried I got a bit formulaic by the end there actually.
Another is that of character; Karina is extremely emotive and believable as the sort of seductive yet powerful woman she's written to be. Funnily enough, this is how I tend to prefer the magically-attuned female characters I create and/or play in fantasy worlds. I appreciated her commentary on how androgynous mage garb tends to be and how she more or less made it her own by emphasizing her body. I don't know if it was intention or not, but this is an actual presentation of female empowerment. Even aside from that, she is well-written and exists as more than just a swath of meat to get porked.
I can't remove my association between the Sorceress from Dragon's Crown and female casters in general. When it was pointed out to me that most of her official art makes her resemble old fertility goddesses, or at minimum something motherly (just, with a necromantic twist), it sort of cemented it in my mind.
Maybe it's me tapping into some primal interpretation of feminine power, I dunno, I know I never thought that deep about it.
Then, I do buy into the idea that artists don't create as such, they're merely liason to ancient archetypes and ideas that go back to the beginning of the species, that art itself is the reiterated telling of the human metanarrative.
If that makes me sound like a really fucking pretentious twat, given we're talking about smut here... I never said I wasn't one.
Speaking of which, I did go back and read a bit from our Draft House conversation and noticed the references to this story. You are certainly right on how I found myself much more invested in the story and what may come next. I certainly hope the tattooist and the girl get more than just the tip. :korone-smug:
Funnily enough I never did the sequel. Other stories were more popular.
So yeah, never got around to that. If you have requests, I'm all ears.
No, the story contained in this very post was actually the one I had in mind... even though I never did a sequel to this one either. Always sort of wanted to, because I figure mermaids and their ilk would have... odd ideas about the surface and what they'd fetishise.
Just the sex scene was completely changed around, the original was fairly bog standard Yuri fare. I figured if I wanted to go monstergirl, I had license to get weird.
Can you go into detail about this site? This is the first time I have ever heard of it, and I'm always interested to learn more about places that are actually welcoming to lewd content since that shortlist dwindles each year. That being said, their privacy policy is a bit lukewarm to me, so I'm not sold just yet.
I honestly don't know, only started using it recently myself. So I couldn't recommend either way.
Just that it's been around for a while, they don't seem to ask too many questions, are real lax about the whole 'fan work' thing for whatever reason and that everyone else I know uses it.
Everyone I know's been happy with their experience for what it's worth. I know, anecdotes and pinches of salt and all that.
It might be a shit idea, couldn't tell you, but Pastebin fucking nuked smut so I needed an alternative.
If it turns out shit, I'll just have to migrate again. ASSTR is fucking ancient and still around, and more importantly completely independent. So if Ao3 presses the nuke button, there's always a home there. It's just... well, it is a product of 90s usenet groups and it shows. So it predates modern conveniences like comment boxes and the actual capacity for interaction. You wanna talk to authors on ASSTR, you gotta do it by email.
Still always in the back of my mind as an option.
 

Jahy

varishangout.com
So, this is a pleasant surprise. Yuri is something very near and dear to me, easily a high tier preference of mine, and I had not anticipated a story of it here. It's always difficult to tell in these sorts of environments how well received it is.

I've got to say, if you hadn't mentioned things like taverns and tankards, I could have assumed this story took place in the typical world with a good ole country girl as the main character. On that note, I doubt it was intentional, but Melanie's presentation just reminded me so much of Byleth from Fire Emblem: Three Houses.

fisher byleth.jpeg


More on topic, this story was a bit of a different read compared to the other, given the more widespread use of dialogue due to having secondary party capable of speech. It's really interesting actually to compare the two and observe how they differ structurally because of this.

I honestly think there's a lot of potential for this story beyond being a smut fic, but then again, I think that's a good sign that a piece of fiction is well-written, regardless of its erotic merits. The characters themselves, particularly their interactions, are fantastic and possibly your best aspect as a writer. I also laughed a few times, and I don't imagine I'll be forgetting the vaginal weighted blanket anytime soon.

Anyway, this is still stellar work, even if it's an old work you cleaned up. I'd really like to see what you can manage presently with your current day knowledge and proficiency in full force. You've baited requests a few times in this thread, but I'm not really sure what I could offer as a suggestion. I have to think on it a bit.

I used to use the term 'seemed' as filler.
In all honesty, this is something I seem to do myself. I don't exactly know why. I would really like to pinpoint what is drawing me to overuse that word to the point it has become pointless filler akin to "eh", "uh", or "um". I completely understand being upset with that. Evacuating your work from these sorts of habits is a difficult task. Hell, even when I'm simply writing posts like this, be it on forums or imageboards, I worry that I am too often repeating phrases or structures when I'd rather be more dynamic in my speech.
Magical tattoos to circumvent casting limitation are just underutilized as a general idea to me.
I just want to see more of it in fiction in general tbqh.
I agree here quite a bit. As I have mentioned previously, I am extremely interested in magic and magical systems, and it's amazing how varied it can be. One of the difficult points of writing it tends to be establishing a strong ruleset of how the magic is invoked and what its restrictions are. Things like tattoos to aid in the process, while not entirely novel, is definitely underappreciated and should be pursued more frequently.
I do really like living armour (hell, even mechanical armour that's been lewded is fantastic), so I might do that down the road too. No old stories on that, so I'd have to compose it wholecloth, so that'll take time unless someone really wants to request me doing it.
Yeah, I'm not sure what it is about living armor exactly that's so apparently to me, but I would really like to see it manifest in works more often as well. Honestly, the only examples I can name outside of writing spaces online where I've seen it would be Kill la Kill and Skullgirls, and even with the latter counting Samson might be a stretch.
Worried I got a bit formulaic by the end there actually.
I would say interpretations of what is exactly "formulaic" is going to differ from person to person. As someone that I will assume consumes a lot of lewd material, I am sure you are will aware of the desensitization factor. In all reality, there's only so much you can do sexually without veering into the more niche fetish territory, which is why I find writing smut in particular to be more of a challenge than traditional fiction. Like sure, I can definitely see the other story as going through the motions, but it's really irrelevant as long as it's being executed properly and the character(s) driving the action are entertaining, which is what occurred. So don't worry too much about it.
Funnily enough I never did the sequel. Other stories were more popular.
So yeah, never got around to that. If you have requests, I'm all ears.
Branching off what I was just talking about, there probably doesn't need to be a sequel, as again what exactly are you going to do differently this time that would justify another work? I'm not saying it wouldn't be an enjoyable read, as it most certainly would if it's a fraction as fun as the first, but there are so many other ideas out there and characters to deal with that unless you have something new you want to bring to the table, revisiting older work just isn't as worthwhile.

For example, if you want to work with tentacles again, you could make a sequel to the Karina story, or you could instead craft this new one with Melanie x Myrta. Of course, I have no idea how the timeline aligns relative to the other, but you get my point. If anything, such a "revenge" story would have been fitting for a short afterword.
 

Beginner

varishangout.com
Regular
Elyssina closed her bedroom door behind her, her back pressed against the wood.

"Just, put it to the back of your head, just think about other things...", She mumbled to herself as she paced around the room.

The young, lithe dark elf sat down at her bed, reaching for her hair brush.

"Just think about literally anything else, think about drama among my friends, think about..." she trailed off. Most of the aforementioned drama concerned relationships and relationships led to...

She clenched her hands into fists and stormed over to her mirror. Her mind started racing, searching for something to distract herself. "Just get all self critical, just start spiting fire and fury to yourself about how ugly you are! Just how little you offer! Just how... sparkling silver your hair is, how nice and how close to midnight blue your skin is..."

She tore her eyes off the mirror teeth biting hard into her lip, eyes clenched shut. She hated herself for that mild streak of arrogance, but the fact was she knew she was pretty. The question that weighed on her though: was she as pretty on the inside?

Despite, or perhaps because of, a dearth of sexual experience, Elyssina found herself overwhelmingly frustrated. Coupled with the self-consciousness of an ego always picking at the scabs of its own flaws, she only had herself to deal with it.

She sighed and shuffled up her bed, leaning against its backboard.

"Okay, okay..." she thought as she centred herself and lifted her knees up, "Just take these off..." She removed her undergarments from under her silken white dress. She slipped the straps of her dress down, exposing her washboard-flat chest.

She swallowed, "Okay, just... get this over and done with quick and I can get back to being a normal person," She toyed with her nipples with one hand, and stroked her slit with the other.

Her notably dry and stubbornly unresponsive slit.

She gently smacked herself on the side of her head with her hair brush, "Think, think..."

She gently massaged one of her ears with her other hand, sending a slight shiver down her spine, as the other hand, still gripping the brush, sought refuge between her legs. She ran through mental images searching for a fantasy...

***​

"Ely..." a sultry, baritone voice rumbled through the still air.

She was in a gazebo, sitting before an alabaster skinned high elf man, half-naked from the waist up. She bit her lip, eyes glistened before this almost demi-god figure. She was barely at tall as his chest.

She ran her fingers along his abdomen, his silent, gentle smile indicating his permission. Her fingertips glid down his muscled, lean frame towards his belt where her fingers hooked over the edge of his trousers and-


***​

Elyssina frowned. This wasn't making her horny. This was making her self-conscious. Her bodily well was still bone dry, much to her chagrin. She kept rubbing her clit on autopilot, as joyless and unstimulating as it was to do so.

"So much for knocking this over quickly..."

Although, there was something of a revelation in there. It'd never quite made sense before why other girls had some 'debased' fantasies until then. Turned out, it was easy to feel self-conscious even against the most unrealistic of fantasies, especially when boys in the real world caused her to stammer and stumble. Elyssina tried not to think about it, her lack of confidence in an otherwise matriarchal race was something of a sore spot on her sense of pride.

She hummed slightly as she ran through her head for a less self-conscious, more... 'debased' fantasy.

***​

"Amends must be made, delinquent!" Spat the dark elf matriarch as she made the final knots on Elyssina's restraints. The dungeon was cold, dim, if not for her naturally attuned eyesight, Elyssina would have seen nothing but blackness.

Were it not for the fine tailoring of her lingerie, the scantily clad matriarch's giant breasts would have long escaped their confines.

"Be thankful, my daughter isn't quite as adept at punishing your ilk as I am. But alas, the girl needs to learn."

The matriarch turns, indicating a just over half her height, similarly clad. Her own breasts quite shapely only a slight amount smaller than her own head.

The matriarch's daughter approached and with a wicked grin, held Elyssina's head still as she forced her tongue between Elyssina's lips...


***​

Elyssina tapped at she sheets, a mild pang of frustration growing. Her mind wandering endlessly down various whys and wherefores - namely why 'punishment' would be sexualised so.

She looked across the room, to her writing desk. Summoning one of the few vestiges of magic she knows, she reached for the pen, a spectral hand holding it aloft. She made a short note of the matriarch's daughter fantasy with a promise to come back to that one when she can dwell on the surrounding context a little better.

Maybe, there was something to being helpless though...

***​

"See this, son?" the orc was a giant of a man, easily towering over a fully grown elven man, let alone her short, petite frame. She barely reached his crotch. He had her gripped by the head with one colossal hand, holding her still.

The son he was speaking to was a much smaller orc, only a head taller than her. A handsome young lad, a surprisingly chiselled frame on such an otherwise wiry body. He surveyed her up and down, an obvious glimmer of attraction sparking in his eyes.

"Now, as much as elves are quick to deny it, everyone else knows one key fundamental truth about them," continued the father.

"What's that?" replied the son.

"Behind all the bluster and the arrogance, all an elf really is, is a walking, talking, self-aggrandising, fucktoy. No matter how they might plead and fight, the moment you stick you cock in, they get real tame."

"Are... are you sure?"

"Get between her legs, find out for yourself."

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna hold her still. Don't worry, once you're in there I'm going to pleasure myself with her throat. Elves don't have much of a gag reflex you see."

The boy awkwardly fumbled his way between Elyssina's legs. She made a token gesture to try and kick him away, but as soon as he gripped her thighs, she threw in the towel. Her heart pounded in her chest as he dropped his trousers and-


***​

She realised she didn't know what to expect under an orc's trousers. She notes that particular fantasy down for later, with a mental promise to herself to test her gag reflex.

She wracked her brain, searching for her limited knowledge of the various cocks in the world. To her own mild frustration, it was animal cocks that came to mind - as it tends to happen when one spends enough time around them.

She ran her fingers along her vulva, searching for even the mildest drop of moisture as she was running her clit raw. She glanced at her unused hairbrush, quietly seething at how long it was taking.

Well, aren't dragons giant lizards? Maybe...

***​

The dragon pinned her to the floor with one of its colossal forelimbs, the size of its hand larger than her whole body. The giant apex predator grinned, his hungering eyes taking in her body as he tore open her dress with a casual flick of his talon.

"What a fine, young thing you are my dear. From here on, until the day you die, you are part of my hoard..."

The dragon coiled around, bringing his hips towards hers, both shafts of his hemipenis unfurled, each one longer still than her whole torso.

"You are going to lay so very many of my eggs..."

Elyssina's finger dug into the floor as he held her legs apart, the tips of his hemipenis pressing against her cunt and her anus, and with one firm thrust-


***​

Finally, a fantasy that got her going long enough for everything to moisten over! Elyssina buried her hairbrush to the hilt, with a careful effort to suppress any involuntary moans...

... and just as quickly, it became snother fantasy on the list of 'revisit later'. This time, for lack of appropriate toys. Nothing in arms' reach could work as an egg, nor was there anything she felt comfortable inserting in the back door.

She was still rubbing her clit on idle, although this time without any risk of chafing, so at least things were looking up. Hairbrush handle was buried deep, so that's the hardest part sorted. She let go of the brush for a moment, pinching at her nipples, playing with them until they hardened, but unable to get a-hold of a satisfying fantasy involving them.

She ran that hand over her ears, running a finger down her ear-hole and-

Nope, that fantasy didn't last. Other elves get the ear thing - the idea of another girl bringing herself off on her ears, or a boy fucking her in the ear holes, made her shiver in delight - but other races tended to think it weird, and she was still in the mode of being too self-conscious to let herself fantasise about other elves.

What's something that wouldn't judge then?

A thought crossed her mind...

***​

Elyssina was on her hands and knees, pleading as the wolves surrounded her. She was terrified, covering her face with her hands as the wolves circled closer. She felt the teeth dig into her clothes, as the wolves tore them all asunder. That's when she noticed them - the erect throbbing members underneath their lean, powerful bodies.

She tried to crawl away, but one wolf gripped her around the neck with his mouth, a threat. He held her steady, as tears streamed from her eyes, "please, please..." burbled out of her mouth as one of the wolves mounted her, the tip pressing against her innocent-


***​

There was nothing nearby she could affix to the hair brush to emulate a wolf's knot.

So that was another one for the 'later' list.

She took a moment to set her thoughts straight. She needed a fantasy that fulfilled certain criteria: she needed to debase her in some way so that she wouldn't feel self-conscious and depressed over it, she needed it to be a complete story without the chance of encouraging her mind to wander, she needed it to be something she could knew enough about to accurately picture, she needed it not to require any more object than the hair brush in front of her-

She closed her eyes, finally settling on something that sent a slight flutter through her chest...

***​

It was a punishment. Elyssina was standing on a balcony, having slandered the name of someone very important. It was either this, or the stocks.

She swallowed hard, fighting back humiliated tears as she disrobes before the waiting eyes of the gathered crowd below. She had her hairbrush ready, part of the punishment at hand really. She forced it in, wincing as the handle caught her pussy lips. She didn't have the luxury of getting everything wet down there - she had to perform immediately, otherwise the deal was called off and she would receive far worse.

The crowd whoops and hollers, as she runs the hairbrush harder and faster into her dainty glory box, steadily pounding away her innocence.

Through tear-streaked, half-hooded eyes, she surveyed the crowd. She realised just how much they wanted her, and suddenly the words of her sentence made much more sense: "When you are done performing, the crowd will want their own performances."

When she was done up here, the crowd would pass her around like an object, a common fucktoy, until each and every one of the had their fill-


***​

"Hey Ely, you hear a squeaking noise just now-"

The bedroom door opens and Elyssina's body freezes, except the hand playing with her clit as that has grown a mind of its own.

She glanced up, saucer eyed, a deer startled in the torch-light. Her bare breasts, what little of them there was, on full display. Her glistening cunny facing directly towards the door, hairbrush half-soaked in her juices lodged up to the cervix.

The timing couldn't have been worse, her body was shuddering, she was cumming right there and then but the interruption was keeping her from finishing the job.

Her older brother, Malathrien, hesitating for a moment, clearly unsure what to do. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly points to the door latch, "You can lock this you know."

"Uh huh-" She caught herself mid-vocalisation, as the acknowledgement transitioned into an orgasm squeal.

"... Dinner will be up soon. I'll tell everyone you're... writing and just need a moment to finish."

"Thanks Mal," She covered her mouth as she said that, his name turning into a shuddering gasp in her mouth.

He clicks the lock on her door latch and slowly pulls it shut, the distinctive click of the lock fell into place.

Ely felt a whole raft of things in that very moment. She felt ashamed for having been so loud, embarrassed for having been caught so openly, but most of all...

She felt like she had another fantasy she could explore.

***​

"You can lock this you know," said Malathrien.

"Uh-huh..." murmured Elyssina, puffing her chest out slightly. She continues bringing herself off with the hair brush, utterly undaunted by the presence of her brother. A true matriarch would just look the interloper in the eye and continue as if their presence didn't matter in the slightest.

"You're... not even slowing down are you?" Malathrien stammers.

"Why would I? Do you have a problem with what you see?" Elyssina offered him the most sultry tones she could muster.

"I uhh..."

"Come here you idiot."

Malathrien frowns for a moment as Elyssina tosses the brush aside, "You heard me!"

Malathrien nervously looks behind him as he closes the door, locking it behind him. He slowly sidles over.

"Pants-" Elyssina panted, "please."

Malathrien complies, unsure and unsteady. A large, erect cock stood to attention underneath.

Elyssina climbed onto him, lowering herself onto his cock, letting gravity do most of the work. He quickly had to adjust, gripping onto her buttcheeks as so not to drop her.

Elyssina ground against his cock while she ran her tongue along his ear, "Did I ever tell you that you're the most caring brother in the world."

"No, that's a new one on me... Hey, we shouldn't-"

"Why not, you liked what you saw!"

"But I'll get you pregnant-"

"Exactly!" she chirped in a carefree, sing-song voice before silencing further complaints by forcing her tongue down his ear canal.

"But, but... what'll I tell our parents?"

"Tell them... we're trying for a little girl. And when she's old enough to be doing this, you'll put a little girl in her too."

It only took a handful more thrusts before he couldn't take it anymore, and a rapid warmth filled Elyssina's abdomen.

He pulled her off and dropped her on the bed. There was still some cum left in him, steadily squirting, covering her abdomen in its sticky white cast.

She giggled as he wiped up some with his thumb and pressed it against her lips, where she sucked it off without hesitation. He took another smear, and ran it over her ear, coating it in his mark.

"Mark me as yours, in a way everyone would know!" she purred as he loaded up a particularly large globe of cum and painted it down her cheek.


***​

Elyssina slipped under the covers, hiding her body as best as she could. In the post-orgasm twitching, she lacked the manual dexterity to do up her clothes properly.

She was more than a little disgusted at the places her own mind went, the post-cum clarity had begun. That last part about the pregnancy particularly, where the hell did that come from? And the wolves, was that more, or less gross than the fantasy of her own brother? And the public humiliation stuff, what was that about?

She agonised over this as she idly licked the handle of her hairbrush clean of her own juices - it didn't even register that she was licking it.

Before long, there was a knock on the door. She made sure the covers were up to her shoulders before she engaged her magic to unlock the door from a distance.

Malathrien entered, walking over towards her. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and silently held up a block of chocolate. He broke a strip off and handed it to her.

"What-"

"An apology," he answered.

"No, no, it's alright, I should have locked it-"

"I should have knocked."

Elyssina smiled as her face whitened in a blush. She sat up, reaching for the chocolate, the covers falling away slightly.

"Umm..." Malathrien pointed to her chest, still exposed for him to see.

Elyssina looked down, one hand gripping the chocolate, the other supporting her weight. Her legs openly betraying her, as they were feeble from the orgasm, still unable to do their job. She decided she was too worn out to care, and the chocolate was a higher priority.

"I'm well past the point of being embarrassed."

"Face says otherwise," Malathrien made a point not to look.

"Face is a gods damned traitor."

After loading the chocolate into her mouth, Elyssina leant forward, wrapping her arms around Malathrien.

"Why are you so understanding?"

"If the roles were reversed I'd hope you'd make the effort to make me feel less embarrassed too."

She buried her face into his arm, "I don't think I'm that stoic."

She tried not to think about it, tried not to dwell on the thought of him, wide-eyed at her intrusion, cock in one hand, half-covered in his own jizz.

She failed. In the post-cum clarity, she felt sickened by this new-found fantasy, and the half-dozen ones that came before it. Her head had decreed, 'this is kinda messed up, and you're kinda messed up'. Her heart accepted this criticism with some grace and dignity, but proffered the compelling counterargument of, 'still pretty hot though', and was pounding at breakneck speeds.

"Your heart's going wild. Don't fret Ely, I'm not going to tell anyone. Besides, even if I wanted to, how the hell would I tell that story without sounding like a creep."

Elyssina pressed her face into the folds of his clothes, "It's not creepy if I want you to tell the story-" she mumbled, before cutting herself off with the sudden realisation of what she's saying.

"What? I didn't catch that..."

"Don't... worry."

"Anyway, dinner's just about up, want me to lock the door on the way out?" Malathrien placed the chocolate bar on her bedside table.

"No, no, it'll be fine," she mumbled as she pulled away.

Without a further word, he left her room, and she was alone with her thoughts once more.

Heart steadied, thoughts slowed. She glanced at the hairbrush. A wistfulness fell over her.

Was any of this... normal?

She shook her head, even if she could figure out who and how to ask, would she ever truly know?

She adjusted her clothes. Isn't that the point of fantasies though? to explore possibilities without consequences?

She walked to her writing desk and added a further entry, her brother's name.

If it's without consequence... can't hurt to indulge it again later on... right?

This one probably needs some editing, I kind of hammered it out while I was half asleep last night because I wanted to catch the requester ASAP (Sometimes the thread on /trash/ dies during the night), and I tend to take a couple of weeks before I'll let myself stare at something long enough to edit it.

I'll try to have a faster turnaround, just been busy.

Also, doing it in Word first and copy-pasting saves the indentation when posting online, so I'm gonna do that from now on.

So, this is a pleasant surprise. Yuri is something very near and dear to me, easily a high tier preference of mine, and I had not anticipated a story of it here. It's always difficult to tell in these sorts of environments how well received it is.
Yuri is cute though.
I've got to say, if you hadn't mentioned things like taverns and tankards, I could have assumed this story took place in the typical world with a good ole country girl as the main character. On that note, I doubt it was intentional, but Melanie's presentation just reminded me so much of Byleth from Fire Emblem: Three Houses.

View attachment 3444
I like this way too much.
More on topic, this story was a bit of a different read compared to the other, given the more widespread use of dialogue due to having secondary party capable of speech. It's really interesting actually to compare the two and observe how they differ structurally because of this.

I honestly think there's a lot of potential for this story beyond being a smut fic, but then again, I think that's a good sign that a piece of fiction is well-written, regardless of its erotic merits. The characters themselves, particularly their interactions, are fantastic and possibly your best aspect as a writer. I also laughed a few times, and I don't imagine I'll be forgetting the vaginal weighted blanket anytime soon.
That wasn't in there originally. Used to be a more stock standard Yuri fare.
Been told before my dialogue is my strength as a writer. Probably a good thing all things considered, but it has tripped me up before. What I tend to want to write is more 'this is clearly an action movie put into a book', but what I tend to be good at is more 'this is a super tense political drama' and I've only very recently started caring about the latter due to the past half-decade of screeching.
Anyway, this is still stellar work, even if it's an old work you cleaned up. I'd really like to see what you can manage presently with your current day knowledge and proficiency in full force. You've baited requests a few times in this thread, but I'm not really sure what I could offer as a suggestion. I have to think on it a bit.
Honestly, whatever my imagination will take me at this point.
In all honesty, this is something I seem to do myself. I don't exactly know why. I would really like to pinpoint what is drawing me to overuse that word to the point it has become pointless filler akin to "eh", "uh", or "um". I completely understand being upset with that. Evacuating your work from these sorts of habits is a difficult task. Hell, even when I'm simply writing posts like this, be it on forums or imageboards, I worry that I am too often repeating phrases or structures when I'd rather be more dynamic in my speech.
You tend to get into habits with enough practice though. Writing like this is forcing me to rethink things, because I've gotten into the habit of writing in present tense, so going back to past tense feels... weird?
I also wouldn't be too concerned with dynamism. Your job as a writer is clarity, and while it's nice to have dynamic prose, if it isn't in service to the story flow, it's an obstacle.
I agree here quite a bit. As I have mentioned previously, I am extremely interested in magic and magical systems, and it's amazing how varied it can be. One of the difficult points of writing it tends to be establishing a strong ruleset of how the magic is invoked and what its restrictions are. Things like tattoos to aid in the process, while not entirely novel, is definitely underappreciated and should be pursued more frequently.
Funnily enough, the only book series that comes to mind where good use of this has been made was the Skulduggery Pleasant series. I liked them while it was still under the pretense of 'Lovecraftian Occult Underground pitched at a YA audience', but the moment it kicked into 'Lovecraftian Dragonball Z' it fucking lost me. You had me for six fucking books, then you completely lost the plot.
Yeah, I'm not sure what it is about living armor exactly that's so apparently to me, but I would really like to see it manifest in works more often as well. Honestly, the only examples I can name outside of writing spaces online where I've seen it would be Kill la Kill and Skullgirls, and even with the latter counting Samson might be a stretch.
It's a feature of my non-smut work that I tend to put in characters that, if they aren't themselves purpose built living armour, can in some way act in that capacity.
So make of that what you will.
I would say interpretations of what is exactly "formulaic" is going to differ from person to person. As someone that I will assume consumes a lot of lewd material, I am sure you are will aware of the desensitization factor. In all reality, there's only so much you can do sexually without veering into the more niche fetish territory, which is why I find writing smut in particular to be more of a challenge than traditional fiction. Like sure, I can definitely see the other story as going through the motions, but it's really irrelevant as long as it's being executed properly and the character(s) driving the action are entertaining, which is what occurred. So don't worry too much about it.
That's a fair call.
Branching off what I was just talking about, there probably doesn't need to be a sequel, as again what exactly are you going to do differently this time that would justify another work? I'm not saying it wouldn't be an enjoyable read, as it most certainly would if it's a fraction as fun as the first, but there are so many other ideas out there and characters to deal with that unless you have something new you want to bring to the table, revisiting older work just isn't as worthwhile.
Oh I've got ideas. Myrta: "So Mel, those figureheads they stick on the front of ships... they always look like merfolk? ... ... ... They uhh, don't actually stick merfolk on there, do they? ... ... ... So umm, why doesn't your boat have a figurehead anyway?"
For example, if you want to work with tentacles again, you could make a sequel to the Karina story, or you could instead craft this new one with Melanie x Myrta. Of course, I have no idea how the timeline aligns relative to the other, but you get my point. If anything, such a "revenge" story would have been fitting for a short afterword.
I have nfi what I'm doing with Karina though. I can go about three or four different ways with that one, I just can't settle on which.

Main thing: I wanted to do a cycle of four seasons way back, all of them were Yuri. The Mel/Myrta one was Summer, Autumn was Human x Dullahan, Winter was Loli x Yuki-Onna, but I never did Spring. Did have a draft involving a giant Treant ages back, but never did anything with it.
Also another reason I'm interested in at least sequelising one step on each of the season ones: Winter got a sequel.
My 'tism craves 'symmetry'.
 
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When your quick 2k word project ends up being 10k words.

Anyway, delivery.

Eric's arms burned with the effort. He dragged himself up the last outcrop of rocks, every muscle in his body burned, resentful of his effort up the cliff. It wasn't that tall really, barely a rocky foothill. Still, a six or a sixty foot drop, a single misstep would see his skull dashed upon the stones all the same. One of the first things every Ranger is confronted with in their lives is a simple truth: You will die to sheer bad luck one day. Alone, forgotten and inglorious.


No time to rest however, he stood upright, despite the furious protests of his legs. Hunger was a hell of a motivator. He dragged himself, one footfall at a time, towards the bird's nest, and half slumped on the edge.


He frowned, he didn't immediately recognise the eggs. They looked vaguely like a large eagle's eggs, off-white, lightly speckled - but it was the size that threw him off, each one about the size of a human lung. A half a dozen lined the nest.


He glanced around. The nest appeared abandoned, but without knowing which bird it was exactly, that might not mean much at all. A quick click of the fingers, and the spell was cast: Threads of pale off-gold light, the colour of autumn leaves, emanated from his palm.


He pressed his hands against the nearest. Nothing inside, just yolk. A relieved sigh escaped his lips. If none of these eggs are fertilised, he reasoned, then it's unlikely the bird will fight him over them. Whatever this bird was, it was likely big enough to be a problem.


He moved to the second egg, and checked. Same story, empty. As he moved to the third however, he heard something. Barely perceptible over the wind, a pebble was knocked over. He turned slowly, hand at his hatchet.


It turned out a wyvern had the same idea for its dinner.





***




Yaya perched atop a sturdy tree, overlooking the rocky crag where she built her decoy nest. The young harpy perplexed by the sight before her. At first, a human man seemed to be checking on her eggs. The next, he was defending them, tooth and nail, against a would be predator.


She watched as both fought to a stalemate. The human couldn't fight effectively on the rocky, uneven ground, and so his back was planted against the wall. The wyvern meanwhile had taken a couple superficial scratches from the axe and had gained an appreciation for its weight. It eyed the human's weapon, determining it to be more than capable of damaging its precious venom stinger.


After a tense, but brief standoff, the wyvern backed down, deciding this human wasn't worth the fight.


The human watched the wyvern fly off, still tensed for combat just in case it circled back. He dared not move, just in case.


Yaya glode over to the decoy nest, perching on its rim, the distended abdomen filled with more unfertilized eggs making that task a lot more awkward than she would have liked.


The human eying her as she flew. She felt strangely self-conscious under his gaze, as he analysed every inch of her almost naked body. 'Almost', in reality she was completely naked, it was just a tuft of speckled off-white and black feathers over her pubis and on the underside of her somewhat small breasts to protect from the cold that gave her the illusion of clothing. Aside from that, was a thin layer of barely perceptible down from the underside of her collarbones to her groin.


The feathers running down her back and down the sides of her wide, rounded hips, were of the longer, more important variety, many of them needed for flight to some level. She turned her head, and made it look like she was grooming her tail feathers to try and alleviate some of the tension.


"Are we to have a problem?" asked the human when she landed.


"Why would we? You defended my nest. Misguided though it might have been..." she taps one of the eggs with one of her eight inch talons, "All empty."


She could tell from the look on his face questions were beginning to form.


"So these are harpy eggs?" he taps his abdomen, staring at her's


Yaya nodded, "How observant. Also empty. Got a question for you, why'd you defend my nest?"


He frowned, clicking his tongue, unwilling to answer.


Yaya sighed, "alright, what's your name?"


"Eric. I'm a Ranger before you ask."


She smiled, "Fitting, hair the colour of bark, and clad in animal skin..." She left an opening for him to talk. He doesn't take in, instead giving a frustrated sigh.


"Don't be in such a hurry to get to know me now," she mock-pouts.


"... Sorry. What's your name?"


"Round these parts, they call me Cruelty, Devourer of Small Children!" She waited for a laugh that never came, "Don't bust a gut on me now. I'm just fucking with you anyway. Name's Yaya."


Eric leaned back against the rocky wall, deciding he'd better start lightening up, on account of her talons, "sorry, still... Blood's still stirred from the Wyvern."


"Yeah, they do that. Dangerous things," her eyes locked onto the hunting equipment on his belt, "Not that I should tell a fellow predator that."


Eric smirked at that, "Great hunter I am. Was getting desperate, was checking the nest for something edible."


Yaya chuffed, "Now that's bullshit and you know it," she shuffled around the rim of the nest to draw herself closer to him, "I saw that look in your eye when you were fighting the wyvern. You were waiting for him to fuck up, so you could eat him."


"I'd be lying if I said that didn't cross my mind," Eric nodded, "But I still don't get why it's bullshit."


"Because..." Yaya rotated on her perch as she shuffled, so that she was always facing him, "Eggs draw middling predators, serpents and the like. More mass on meat than on egg. Dried blood on that hatchet. Using my nest as bait, weren't you?"


He didn't have the energy to correct her, "Where'd you see all this from anyway?"


Yaya pointed to her prior perch. It was just far enough away a lot of these small details would be difficult for a human to spot.


"Sharp sight on you-" he paused as he said that. Facing closer to her, he realised her eyes were far bigger than a human's, it was like looking into the face of a bear cub, "Helps that you're all eyes."


"I hunt by sight," she shrugged.


Eric didn't have an answer to that, "Never known a predatory bird to deal in decoy nests."


"Not entirely a bird am I?"


Eric wasn't sure how to respond to that. He quickly changed the subject, "How did you build this nest anyway?" He pointed to her wing-arms. As impressive as the wingspan was, there were no hands he could see, "You lack beak and... those talons seem ill suited..."


Yaya pressed a wing into the rocks and lifted a small pebble with the with it. She flexed it out so that he could see the pseudo-thumb hidden under the feathers.


"Still seems a difficult task," he peered over her, squinting though the feather 'horns' that sat over her mottled grey hair.


"I manage."


"I expected something far bigger to have this nest though, "Something that would... take stronger exception to my loitering."


Yaya stood upright as far as she can, uncomfortably stretching herself as tall as her body would let her. In her normal, comfortable, hunched posture, she was only at tall as his chest. Eric realised very quickly however that fully extended so, she was a full head taller than him.


"I'm plenty big. I'm also not taking exception to your presence."


"Because I defended the nest, right?"


Yaya gave a happy nod.


"Well, as you pointed out, I was relying on that wyvern making a mistake. Given that it didn't, I'm without food. I should probably attend to that-"


"Ah, that's why you told the fib before. Too proud to beg for a handout, so you'd rather I think you were an egg thief so you'd look competent in the presence of a lady, is that it?"


"What if it wasn't a lie?"


"If I believed that we'd have had a very bloody problem by now."


Eric swallowed hard, "fair point."


A silence fell between the two. Eric believed it to be uneasy and tense. Yaya believed it to be calm and pleasant.


Yaya threw four of the eggs over the edge of the nest, off the cliff entirely, "And those are rotten..."


Eric started making his way down the ledge.


Yaya called after him, "hey wait... I can offer you something to eat as thanks. Just... you might have to help me with something you might find gross."


"Beggars can't be choosers. What do you need help with?"


"... Gonna need you to come back to the nest for that."


Eric cautiously approached the nest.


"I'm not sure I follow..."


Yaya sighed, "I can offer you something to eat, but you're going to have to help me... acquire it?" Yaya couldn't think of a more elegant description.


Eric frowned, "Perhaps I am stupid, which wouldn't be the first time I've said that, but I really don't follow."


Yaya slowly waddled her way towards the centre of the nest, "need I spell it out? Help me lay these eggs. They're unfertilised if that makes it less gross for you?"


Eric tentatively stepped over the threshold of the nest, making sure the wood debris it was built out of could handle his weight, "Gross wasn't the word I was going to use..."


"Shameful then?" said Yaya as she settled herself down.


"I'd find eating a fertilised harpy egg disturbing."


"Be glad I'd never offer that then. What would you call eating an unfertilised harpy egg then?"


"Interesting?"


Yaya felt her face redden slightly, "Of all the words, you choose 'interesting'?"


Eric shrugged, "Human keep chickens for their eggs. It really wouldn't be the strangest thing one of our kind has done for food."


"I'll... take your word for it."


"So... what exactly am I doing?'


"Sit behind me, allow me to nestle into your lap."


"That sounds... intimate."


"Do you wish to secure tonight's meal or not?"


"A compelling argument."


Eric sat on the ground, leaning with his back against the edge of the nest. He squirmed momentarily until he could find an angle where stray debris wasn't digging a hole in his back.


Yaya shuffled back between his legs, her seating position natural for birds, but impossible for humans, all tucked up in on herself.


"So what am I-"


"Patience," said Yaya, "I'm asking for help mostly because you have hands and I don't. Things sometimes get difficult. Harpies... don't exactly have cloacas. Means things take some effort and some pushing."


"You don't know exactly how I'm supposed to help, do you?"


"Not in the slightest."


Eric pondered for a moment, "what is it you often wished you had when you laid eggs then?"


"Aside from the ability to just teleport them out of my body?"


"I don't have that kind of magic."


"I dunno... I suppose actual hands to extract them?"


"I can't just reach in and claw it out you know, I'll do you an injury if I do that."


Yaya tapped at the nest flooring with a talon, "This might sound really strange but... something rigid and sturdy in the... other hole. Eggs like to sink that way rather than actually leaving, so something that would prevent that would be appreciated."


"Eric restrained the urge to raise an eyebrow, "Awful quick to get..."


"Intimate?"


"Yeah that's the word I think I was going to use?"


"I don't understand the human thing about clothes. Armour yes, furs for winter, yes. Covering the bits everyone knows are there? That seems... Just like you're ashamed of your skin."


"That's not quite what I was speaking to."


"You're helping me with a problem. One I could very easily hurt myself in fixing."


Eric sighed, "and what is it exactly you want stuck up your tail hole?"


Yaya blinked, "That... 'tail hole'... okay, saying it like that, I can understand where you're coming from. Umm, I'm not sure. It can't be hard or rigid, don't want to crack one of them open in there as the whole point of this is to feed you. Hmm... Something that's soft enough not to break anything but firm enough to prevent the eggs from pushing back instead of down?"


"And presumably something that won't cause a mess?"


"Hey! I keep clean! I wash regularly! Bathed before I came up here! I made sure to wash under my tail!"


Eric growled over the top of her, "I meant more of a bloody mess. As a euphemism for injury."


"Oh..." Yaya immediately calmed down, "Yeah, harpy bones are more brittle than land-walker bones. Nothing too... sturdy."


"Axe handle is out of the question then?" asked Eric.


"Yeah... knife sheathe would be too much too."


Eric grimaced, "I think I have a solution but..."


"Then what are you waiting for?"


Eric leant forward, wrapping his arms around Yaya, "It-"


"I'm not going anywhere, just wherever it is, in whatever state it's in, just-"


"Just, give me a moment..." he swallowed. On the one hand, the problem-solving part of his brain was in full swing. On the other... she was kind of pretty. How he just needed to connect these two disparate tracks of thought, "Is there anything else you need me to do before that part?"


"Feathers down my front are going to slough off."


"Come again?"


"Nest material is often too hard and too cold for an eggs. So when laying time comes around, feathers I don't need, namely everything from neck to crotch, comes off."


Eric glanced over her shoulder, looking down on her lithe body.


"And... do I... pluck you?"


"No, if you need to pluck it, it wasn't supposed to come off. Just... brush your hands down, it'll come off."


"I take it that's one where you wish you had hands?"


"Yeah. Feathers get caught on feathers which sort of just make everything roll on itself. I end up scraping at it for a while."


Eric sighed, "Okay... let's see..."


He pressed his hands just under her collarbone, where the down began. As soon as his touch was even mildly firm, he could feel the down pulling off her skin. Gently, he wiped downward, the feathers practically melting off her.


He flicked his hand, and the tuft of down drifted off into the breeze.


"See?"


"How often do you moult like that?"


"Every month or so. Goes with the eggs."


"Could make pillows out of that."


"If you say so?"


He ran his hands down her chest, firmer and more assured this time. His hands ran over her small breasts, leaving a wake of goose-bumped skin.


He cupped her breasts for a moment, resisting the urge to pinch at the nipples he felt under his fingers, unsure how to handle the bigger feathers just under them.


"They come off just as easy, don't worry."


"Could make pens out of those."


"Whatever those are?"


He pressed down. They didn't quite come off just as easily, a barely audible click was heard as each feather pulled off of her, but Yaya has a completely lack of reaction, barely noticing the sensation. Instead, Eric could feel her shiver a little as a cool breeze flowed through, running over her now exposed breasts. Her nipples visibly hardening against the cold.


"You seem uncomfortable."


"It'll be less comfortable if I don't get the feathers off. Believe me, I tried. Couldn't tell what was worse, the itching or the drag they caused when I tried to fly."


He slowly stroked her cleavage, peeling off the down right to her navel.


"Goosebumps where the feathers were aside, I didn't expect you to look so... like a human under there."


She shrugged, "I wouldn't know. You going to clean up the feathers between my legs so I can brace my wings against the wind?"


Eric didn't respond. Having a shuddering, naked woman in his arms wasn't exactly how he thought the day would end. He wiped a hand downward, peeling off the thicker layer of down covering her pubis. It put up a little more resistance, but just like the rest, it fell off into the nest.


A large pile of the down had formed just under her groin.


"Around the... where the eggs are going to come from. That needs to go too," Yaya tried to hide the fact her face was reddening.


He gently ran his hand between her legs, pushing off the down coating her vulva. It all came off so easily, a simple sweep of the hand and she went from something approaching 'modesty', to having her most intimate regions completely exposed. His hand pressed against her newly bald pussy, pulling off the last of the down.


"Alright, ready for the... 'tail-hole'..."


Eric reached down to his trousers and pushed them down a little, exposing his newly erect member. He was unsure whether to go through with this. He felt kind of deceitful yet...


Well, he was a hunter. It was about the only thing he had on his person that could fulfil her request without likely killing her. Besides which, he figured if this all went poorly, it wouldn't matter much anyway - talons sound a nicer way to go than hunger, so might as well feel something nice before punching out.


Pushing his doubts aside - but not completely out of mind - he slowly pressed his cock against her anus. It felt strange, and surprisingly easy, to push it in. He realised he didn't do anything to lubricate it and yet...


Her eyes were closed, flickering, as she leant back, settling onto his member. She wrapped herself in her wings, hiding her body from the wind. She shimmied down, snuggling back into him, nestling into his lap.


"That... that is a nice perch."


"Are you... alright?"


"The eggs aren't sinking back."


"But it's comfortable... right?"


"It feels... right. Like one was meant for the other," she said, uttering a gentle chirping.


"How many are there anyway?"


"In me?"


"Yeah."


"Four," she said as she rocked against his lap, getting into position. "Okay, you're going to have to reach between my legs..." she parted her wings just enough for him to see down.


He reached his hands underneath her wings, "Next?"


"I... I need one hand to..." She gnawed on her lip, brow furrowed, "I find it exits easier if I am... 'excited'."


Without missing a beat, he placed one hand on her clit.


"That's... alright, that saves me some explanation. The other... goes inside."


"To help 'excite' you?"


"That and to help stretch things out."


"Too easy..." Eric grumbled as he started playing with her clit. He'd barely touched her and already her could feel moisture at the threshold. He gently pressed the fingers of the other hand inside her, surprised at the lack of resistance her body offered.


He realised while he was working her body, that he was digging his chin into her collarbone when she shrugged that shoulder on him.


"Hey, no need to be so intense. With you helping this..." she cut off she bit her lip, eyes half rolling up on her. She let out a short sigh, steadying herself.


"Sorry I-"


She started grinding on his cock, "Besides, you did decide to get... intimate... on me."


"You knew, didn't you?"


"Knew is giving me too much credit. Was more hoping I wasn't too subtle with the hint?"


"Sailed straight over my head if I'm being honest."


"Chalk that up to good instincts hunter," she looked him in the eyes. He felt lost inside her gaze. Maybe it was that her eyes sat big in her face, or just that her gaze was so intense, but...


He felt something hard against his fingers. He'd barely touched the inside of her cunt and already he felt rivulets of her juices flowing down his palm.


"First one's on the way," she mumbled.


He gently stretched her open, while the other hand continued to massage her clit.


He could feel the strain on her body as she pushed, such was the pressure he swore she was cutting off blood to the tip of his cock.


"Easy," he said as he moved his hand from her clit to her tummy.


"No, don't push there..."


He ran a hand over her engorged belly, feeling around the eggs inside. When he found the one, he slipped his fingers above where the egg ended.


"You're not going to be able to push it for me, you'll just leave bruises."


"So what am I to do then?"


"Open me up some more."


He reached down, pulling her vulva apart with both hands.


"Was sweet of you to want to try though..." she smiled at him as she pushed.


Eric felt the pressure pushing his cock out of her. In the interests of preventing that, he clasped both his elbows against her hips and thrust his cock as deep into her as he could.


He felt a bunch of things happening all at once. He felt her tense up, as she also pressed her face into his neck. He felt her shudder, and his hands get soaked in fluid, as she tried to hide the orgasm. Most of all, he felt the tip of his cock press against the egg, and the egg move away.


The pressure died down rapidly as the egg slowly eased out of her body. The opening of her pussy pulling back, as the speckled white tip of the egg, slick in her juices, peered out of her


He moved his fingers, playing with her clit once more with one hand, teasing the egg out with the other. Slowly, inch by inch, her pussy lips exposed more and more shell, as Eric placed his hand underneath. As soon as the widest part of the egg was out, the rest practically popped out as her body immediately pulled itself back to its normal shape. Eric placed the egg aside.


He was honestly surprised she could carry this comfortably, the four of them together would be about the same size as a pumpkin.


She rocked against him, this time leaning forward onto her wings, seemingly no longer concerned by the cold. It was still affecting her, at least if the chattering of her teeth was any indication, but she was too absorbed in the laying to notice.


The second egg wasn't budging properly however, and Yaya eventually stopped.


"Great... stuck already."


Eric ran his fingers over her pussy's opening, surprised by how quickly it settled back into a small, tight form.


"If you're expecting a gaping chasm, I'm sorry to disappoint. Nature saw fit to prevent that. Would be so much easier if she didn't, if I could just rip it open and let them tumble out like I was turning a sack upside down, believe me, I'd do it..." Yaya stops and thinks, "Though having said that... with you here... laying that was... pleasurable."


Eric slipped his fingers inside, inserting them one at a time until every finger of that hand was down to the knuckles.


"Oh, that's... that's a bit much..."


"You stretched bigger than this before..."


"Yeah but I'm meant to on the egg-" her words turned into a squeal as Eric eased his whole hand inside. He could feel the eggshell at the end of her lacuna, a partially opened cervix that... wasn't allowing it passage.


He shoved the egg back up.


"What are-" she gasped, "Wrong way, wrong-..."


Her words rapidly turned into incomprehensible babbles as he strained against her cervix, holding it open, "Not fun, not fun, not-" Her eyes widened, pupils dilated as she felt increasingly nauseas.


Then the egg dropped back into place, the nausea subsided and her body eased back into the rhythm of things. Eric extracted his soaked hand and she passed the eggs with barely and resistance.


She was fixed, staring at him, wide eyed and startled.


"Okay... that's... a new one on me."


"I'll try not to do that again-"


"... I... if you have to do that again I won't stop you. Better out than in, right?" She didn't want to admit that as scary as she found it, she didn't entirely hate it. Seeing him take charge was kind of attractive. Feeling him literally claw his way inside of her... in a very bizarre way, also kind of attractive. As much as she knew that if he'd put his hand right through her cervix and into her womb, that it likely would have hurt like hell, a strange, irrationally lust-addled part of her was a little disappointed he didn't... the rest of it would have felt good enough to overcompensate, right?


When the next egg tumbled into place, she let the thought go. If she could convince him to stay around long enough for a next time, maybe she could ask him to try that then.


He went back to playing with her clit as she leant back into him, "Okay, so crisis averted," she said, "the next one is..." she cut off as she felt it slide into place.


"You're... you're going to have to... 'jolt' it."


He started gently thrusting against her.


"I said 'Jolt'."


He leant her forward so that she was once again leaning on her wings and pounded at her. He grabbed her by the tail feathers, while keeping his other hand at her clit.


She felt her body grow warm as the egg pushed out of her. Her body tensed up on him, so much so it gave the illusion that his member was growing inside her.


Her own thoughts faded as the sensation overwhelmed, until even the cold wind howling at her exposed breasts, bouncing with each thrust, slipped away. She felt a warmth spread inside her, fill her, and that snapped her mind back into action, as she forced herself to choke down an orgasmic shriek.





She wondered for a moment if that warm feeling was love. Maybe this was the strong mate she was looking for?


She glanced down, the egg it seemed was quite literally fucked out of her.


Just as it plonked onto the nest, Eric pulled her in and held her. She turned to him and gave him a peck on the lips.


"Thank you."


He nodded and grunted, "I uhh... you'll need to bathe again."


"You filled me with the marrow of your manhood?"


"That's... an interesting way of saying it. I've heard it called 'seed'-"


"It comes from the core of the masculine right? what sits at the core of bone, at the core of being? marrow!" She smiled, "So it's marrow."


That feeling was love after all.


"About this last one-"


"Oh you can push down on the abdomen now."


Eric frowned as he pressed his palm on her navel and gently pressed in.


Quickly, and easily, it fell into place. All he had to do was tease it out, much like he did with the first one.


They sat, catching their breaths after all was said and done.


"And that..." sighed Yaya as she drew her wings to cover her body against the wind once more, "Is dinner for you."


Eric looked at the eggs. He expected the fact they came out of her to be unsettling but...


He felt his member harden a little once more. The fact they came out of her caught his interest more than anything.





***​





"So... whereabouts do you actually live?" asked Yaya as she threw herself into the water of the creek, slapping at the surface with her wings to splash it up into her face.


Eric chuckled, "That's adorable."


"What is?"


He sat by the creek's edge, refilling his canteen, "Just the way you did that."


"Did what?"


He averted his gaze from her nipples, hardening in the cold of the water "... Nevermind."


"You going to answer the question?"


"Yeah, I live about half a day's walk north from here."


"Wait a moment... I've been waddling alongside you for a couple days now, you went that far afield for food?"


"I'd still have to if you hadn't have solved my food situation."


Yaya tried to hide her blush, "Well, you're useless if you don't have some protein in your body."


"But yes, we aren't far from my home."


"Anywhere near that lake?"


"Right on its edge."


"The human-nest built at the canopy of that oak tree?"


"We call them houses, and yes, that one's mine."


Yaya plunged her head into the water for a moment before flicking it back up, letting the water caught in her hair splash down her back, "I'd wondered if it was lived in."


"Why's that?"


"Because I would have taken it as a nest if it weren't."


Eric frowned, but didn't press the subject, "What about you, where do you live?"


"Lived. I'm not going back to that nest."


"Why not?"


"Wyvern would have gotten my scent from the decoy. I can take on a wyvern on a good day, but I'd rather not if I can help it."


"Surely you'd want to defend your home and territory?"


Yaya shrugged, "There's nothing there. It's just a pile of dead twigs really. You groundwalkers like to fill your nests with pictures and memories and things - weight that roots you down, anchors you in. Your build your trees, and you become their squirrels. We... don't do that."


"Why not?"


"Harpies don't build hollows like you do. We can't make the nest permanent enough to hold the memories. So we let what weighs us down blow into the wind. All else that matters, we carry with us."


Eric sat down at the water's edge, taking a sip from the canteen, "So you're saying you're homeless?"


"... Home is wherever I may roam," Yaya said slowly.


"You sound like you don't really buy that."


"... A thinking creature wants more than to hunt and eat and sleep and fuck," she said after a solemn pause, "So most harpies roam and soar and see and explore. Every time I try that I just see more of the same, and that when it's a safe day. Rolling green and blue skies are pretty and all, but I've seen enough that the wonder's dull. It's a cracked pebble, all rough where the polish once was. When it's not safe... well, run your fingers through my down sometime and you'll feel some scars. Fighting is a great way to feel alive but..."


"Without young of your own its hard to see a reason to fight?"


Yaya nodded slowly, "Yeah. I guess... I guess I just want to share the things I think are nice with people who haven't fatigued of them yet. Doesn't have to be offspring just... company."


"You're lonely?"


"We're all lonely in the wilds Eric," Yaya's face hardened, "We arrive in this world by the grace of others, but we leave it in solitude."


"What if... you didn't have to?"


Yaya gave a bitter laugh, "It's... a lovely sentiment good hunter but..." She swallowed hard and rapidly changed the subject, "Gods, the mention of food and now I'm peckish."


"I think we've still got some of that rabbit you caught-"


Yaya awkwardly splashed her way over to Eric and flopped her body on top of his lap.


"You've been eating the product of my body for the past couple of days now. I demand reciprocity."


"... I don't think I..."


Yaya scratched at Eric's belt with her pseudothumbs, "The marrow of your manhood. That too is protein, no?"


"I... I guess?"


Yaya finally caught the edges of his trousers with her pseudothumbs and pulled them down. Eric shuffled towards the rocks, trying to keep from soaking his rear in mud.


Yaya flapped at the water, splashing it up his flaccid cock, "It'd better start ripening once I finish cleaning it."


"It's not a fruit, you know."


She stared at it as hardened slightly, skin reddening with blood flow, "You say that but..."


Eric reached down and helped splash some water over it, to wash away the grit and sweat of their travelling.


Yaya leant down and gave the head of his cock a series of tiny pecks.


Eric laughed as the feeling tickled, "what are you doing?"


"Coaxing it out of hiding."


"Right then..."


Yaya looked up, mildly embarrassed by the response.


Eric quickly backpedalled, "I'm... sorry, I... didn't expect... Oh gods, I'm burying myself now aren't I?"


She looked worried, "Didn't expect what?"


"... Gentleness?"


Yaya's face brightened, "Hah, that answers a few questions I had," she gripped the cock as best as she could with her pseudothumb.


Eric felt a shudder up his spine as she stroked his member, the feathers were unbelievably soft, it was like being touched by a living pillow.


Yaya continued, "I always see groundwalkers hitting each other. Just because you've got no feathers to damage, you take that as permission to batter each other around, is that it?"


Eric kept the remainder of that thought to himself - 'gentleness, from a harpy', but he considered what Yaya said for a moment and in fairness, he hadn't known tenderness from other humans either. Part of the reason he moved out into the wilderness to start with, the wilds he understood, but the fabric of civilisation had too many constraints and demands. Required one commit to duties with no promise of reward, commitments with no guarantee of return, demands with no compensation after.


He looked down into her giant eyes as she playfully nibbled at his foreskin, "Come on out of hiding Mr. man-worm, birdie here wants her evening meal!" she said in a dreamy sing-song voice.


Everything asked of him has been in the interests of reciprocity - 'I owe you this because you helped me, and after I help you, you will owe me in turn'. Fair, reasonable... earned.


He felt a strange flood of warmth in his chest. Maybe this harpy was someone he could actually give a damn about for a change?


He reached down and stroked her hair, quickly learning that it's a mix of hair like his, and feathers forming a crest. She loosed a happy trill as he did.


"Yeah..." he said.


"Hmm?" She asked, as she tentatively wrapped her lips around the tip of his newly-erect member.


"We do kind of use it as an excuse to beat each other around, don't we?"


"Yeah, harpies don't have that luxury. Talons too big. If we're not willing to risk going to the death over something, it's not worth fighting."


Before he could answer, she licked her lips and threw her face back down into his lap. Her lips were just moist enough for her to slip immediately to the base of the shaft.


"Oh, okay then..." he mumbled as he felt her swallow, the walls of her throat briefly clamping down around the tip.


She giggled as she slowly pulled her head back, then rocking it back and forth a few more times, before pulling back up to answer him.


"You speak like that was unexpected."


"I'm surprised you didn't gag to be honest."


"Do... humans have a problem with that?"


"They can overcome it, but yes."


Yaya's face reddened, "Yeah... I don't have that problem."


"Clearly..."


"No, I don't think you understand. As squirrels don't tend to without demonstration..."


Yaya went back down on him, pressing her face right down into his lap, taking the shaft to its hilt.


Eric then felt something strange. She teased her long, pointed tongue around his testicles, looking for purchase.


He felt a quick tug, and then another, and then... warmth?


He looked down, the feeling of Yaya giggling sending shivers down his manhood.


He understood when she pressed each of his testicles into her cheeks, "Squirrel, huh?"


She kept giggling and he found himself gripping onto her hair again.


"Keep laughing and I might accidently drown you."


"Mm Hmm Gmm!" she tried to speak.


"I'm sorry?"


She rose from his shaft, thick threads of spittle threaded from her lips to his cock, "Don't want that!"


It was his turn to be red in the face, "Felt nice you trying to talk though that though. Could feel your throat on it and..."


She smirked and "Then how about we hold a conversation?"


"It'll be very one-sided-"


He didn't finish the thought as she went back down on him, her lips running the entire length of his shaft. After a few moments, she pressed right down to the hilt.


He closed his eyes and felt the rumble from her throat as she tried to speak.


"Umm... 'It won't be that one sided'?" he guessed.


"Mmm!" he felt her nodding, 'Yes'. She continued 'talking' like this.


"You're asking 'does this really feel so good?', right?"


Another hum of agreement.


"You have no idea."


Eric quickly picked up the vocabulary. It helped that her tongue was pressed against him, and that she tried to use it even with a full mouth when she 'speaks'.


"I don't know if all conversations can be handled like this," Eric laughed at her latest question, "But... we can handle some."


"Mmm Hmm?" Yaya sounded disappointed.


"Some words would be hard to form down there-" He paused 'listening' for her reply. He swallowed, the fact he was approaching orgasm was distracting from the translation process.


"Oh, I need to be more attentive then? I thought I was doing a good job!"


She closed her eyes, smiling with what was unmistakably a 'You are...', as she pressed the pointed tip of her tongue down his urethra.


"Did not expect..."


She giggled, the vibration of which passed down into his shaft.


"I'm umm... not far off."


Yaya emerged once more, spittle coating the underside of her chin. Eric didn't understand why, but there was a primal part of him that saw her wide eyes and messy face and just... wanted to grab onto her as tightly as he could.


"Good. Now be useful and feed me as you should!"


She went back down on him and this time Eric, listening to that irrational part of his mind, grabbed hold of her hair. She didn't resist, on the contrary, she closed her eyes and relaxed into him. He could feel the vibration of her giggling as he started thrusting into her throat.


After a few moments of this she pressed her wings into his hips and pushed against him, feeling his member twitch on her tongue, his testicles twitch against her chin. She fixed her lips around the head, and stuck the tip of her tongue just slightly down the opening of his urethra.


As she expected, the sticky, salty spray of his cum washed over her tongue and flooded her mouth. She looked up at him, not daring to move until he looked back down at her.


He took a moment to recover, as a secondary, smaller spray shot into her mouth. He slowly looked back down, and found her eyes fixated directly onto his.


She slowly pressed her tongue as deep into the urethra as the shape would allow, which wasn't all that deep, but it was enough for him to feel it. The pointed tip curled back, as she scraped the cum out of him.


He realised he was gripping her hair so tight his knuckles were white, but try as he might, he couldn't will his hands to release until-


It was tiny compared to what came before, but spurred on by the scraping, another shot of cum sprayed into her mouth.


She slowly, gently, pulled back up, forming a seal with her lips as so to make sure not a single drop escaped.


She opened her mouth, showing flood of white inside before swallowing hard. She opened her mouth again, and there was nothing.


She leant forward and pecked him on the cheek, "Thank you for dinner good hunter."





***




"Why do you live so close to the ground anyway?" asked Yaya.


"I don't have wings," replied Eric.


Yaya shrugged, taking this as an acceptable explanation.


She looked at the wide, sprawling veranda of Eric's tree-house, with a mix of surprise and awe - the fact this ground dweller was able to put together something so nicely spaced. Just closed off enough to be safe as a hollow, just open enough to allow for flight. Moreover, it overlooked the lake, the sun's light shimmering on the faintly rippling surface. She wondered if there were any fish in there.


Eric meanwhile was staring at her, the feathers around her pubis and breasts were slowly regrowing back in, he could barely see her intimate places anymore between them.


"You built an aerie."


"I guess you could call it that."


"Are... are you certain about what you said?"


"With that detour-"


Yaya flapped, as if to beat back any blame, "I wasn't going to tangle with an owlbear."


"Nor was I, but my point was that it's been what, nearly two weeks since we met?"


"Yes?"


"And that whole time I was subsisting off you."


"Well, I was subsisting off you too-"


"You and I both know that makes up a tiny portion of your diet."


"Well... a tasty part."


"Why do you like the taste anyway?"


"I like my food salty."


Eric didn't know how to answer that.


"Point is, you're big on reciprocity, right?"


"Hmm?"


"You made sure I was in a state to make it back home."


Yaya nods slowly, frowning as she's unsure of where this is going, "uh huh?"


"Figure it's fair to offer you a place in that home too."


"So...? I don't-"


"I'm trying to say, this nest can belong to you too. If you wish."


Yaya looked around, most of his home was open, his sleeping area was a hammock secured between two branches.


"I expected more walls," she said, "I expected..." She didn't know how to phrase the thought without making him sound like a prey animal, and she wasn't keen on insulting him like that.


"Privacy?"


She sighed as he provided that out, "Yeah, I expected a need for that."


"I mean, I've only been staring at your naked body this whole trip," he smirked.


"I noticed," she chirped, smiling, "Would have been kinder if you'd allowed me the opportunity to leer at you too."


"Should have said something."


"You lack feathers to protect you from the cold, so... seemed selfish... but if you want me to nest here..." she frowned trying to find the words, "well, when it's warm enough I start to moult, it's warm enough for you to moult too."


He took his shirt off, "Well, I guess I should start then."


"I didn't necessarily mean now."


"It's a warm clear morning, going to be a warm clear afternoon."


Yaya looked up at the sky, "Some clouds," she corrected, "Just enough to be pleasant."


Eric sat down on a nearby bench and threw off his trousers, "and now I don't have all that weight on me..." he sighed with relief, "Feels nice to have my boots off for a minute."


Yaya looked at him as he said that, this being the first time she'd properly seen him naked. He was muscular and lean. She expected something a little more... bear-like. Instead...


She likened him to a mongoose. Light, nimble, but sturdy.


She waddled over to him, "How much do you actually weigh?"


"little under eleven stone, why?"


She hopped onto the bench, examining him, having absolutely no idea what 'eleven stone' actually meant. She hopped onto his shoulders, wings splayed flapping occasionally for balance.


"Little warning next time..."


"How much do I weigh?"


"Gods... not much less than me?"


"Tuck into a ball."


"Sorry?"


"Tuck into a ball!"


Eric hesitantly complied.


Yaya flapped hard as he did. For a moment, she was hovering comfortably, with him lifted off the bench. She slowly lowered him back down.


"You could have used your words you know. Just explained that you wanted to do that."


She hopped off him and turned, shrugging, unsure what it mattered.


"Good, good... I can show you something..."


"What?"


"I'll let you relax until afternoon, I need to rest my wings too. Come with rope."


"Rope?"


"Trust me?"


"Sure... will I need to get dressed?"


"No, no... that would only get in the way."


Eric frowns but doesn't press it.


The two of them spent the next couple of hours relaxing in the tree-house, eating a small lunch together. Yaya playfully waving off all of Eric's guesses as to what she has in mind. Until finally, Yaya told him to meet her on the railing.


He came, naked, with a large tangle of rope.


"So... umm..."


Yaya smirked, "Lash yourself to me."


"... You're going to have to use more words than that."


Yaya looked up to the sky, "I want you so see the world from a bird's eye view."


"But seeing as I can't fly..." he looked at the rope.


"Yep."


"Sure you can carry my weight?"


"Oh easily. I can snatch a wolf mid-swoop. Don't be too alarmed, I've only had to do that when they threatened my territory. Point is, you're not that heavy."


"Alright..."


Eric was unsure how to even approach it, but Yaya reassured him through every step.


Before long, he found himself strapped to her, his chest pressed against hers.


"Wouldn't it make more sense if I was lashed the other way?"


"If something goes wrong, you'd rather be able to grab onto me, than have me grab onto you. I only have the talons. Can't guarantee point end won't find you."


"Alright I guess..." He stepped onto the railing, one arm wrapped around her, the other holding onto a pillar for support.


"Three, two..." Yaya counted down.


When she got to one, Eric let go and Yaya tumbled backwards over the railing, wings spread, catching enough of an updraft to quickly correct and pull up, away from the ground.


Just as quickly she darted over the lake, finding a swell of warm air over the water, lifting her upwards.


The whole time Eric was clinging onto her, unsure if he was getting in her way. The initial winds were rough, and in a fit of nerves, he'd buried his face into her cleavage, her soft skin and steady heart doing a lot to reassure him.


Eventually, when the gust died down, he risked looking out.


It was dizzying, just how far above the ground they were. High enough that the lowest of the clouds raked at Yaya's back.


"Oh gods above and below..."


"No gods up here... just us," said Yaya.


The wilderness yawned before them for miles in all direction, rolling green of tree canopies, the serpentine blue of rivers... Even up here, the horizon melted away long before the first glimpses of civilisation are seen.


"Thoughts?" she asked.


"It's not as beautiful as you-"


"Now, now, not the time for that," she smirked.


"No it's... terrifying but.. amazing."


"Terrifying?"


"If I was meant to be up here, I'd have wings of my own."


"Who says you weren't meant to be up here?" Yaya looked down at him and stretched forward as far as she could manage without interrupting her flight.


She kissed him and said, "Maybe, I was meant to be your wings."


Eric looked around, "That's a lovely sentiment and all but..."


"I can feel your heart pounding," Yaya interjected, "maybe you should press your face into my breasts again, calm your nerves?"


He chewed the side of his mouth, eating back the retort that sprang to mind. He realised, that with his pounding heart, he was erect...


He shuffled up as much as the ropes would allow him.


"Or maybe..."


He fixed his gaze intently in her eyes and grabbed hold of her hips via handfuls of her feathers, "I could do this instead."


He pressed his cock inside her.


Her eyes widened but she didn't offer any reaction - the fact of the matter was that she couldn't risk it, at least, not with a passenger that depended entirely on her.


She just looked back toward the horizon and gulped.


He slowly eased his cock inside her then-moistening cunt. When he reached the base of the shaft, then slowly thrust, making sure not to do anything that would serve a detriment to her flight, or undo the ropes in any way.


Yaya meanwhile wanted nothing more than to wrap her legs around him and let him go to town on her body, but the drop below was mighty and it would take several minutes just to land safely - and safe landing wasn't an option mid-thrust.


She stifled a cry as he found the perfect angle on accident. She grew flush in the face as she felt his lips wrap around one of her nipples. Already hardened by the wind, it too nothing for him to latch onto it.


He knew not to touch her tail feathers, but when he grabbed handfuls of her ass, feathers and flesh, he could feel her body tense, her pussy tightening. She still offered no visible reaction, but her body told the story as he felt her fluids drip over his shaft.


"Hold onto me," Yaya called.


He grabbed on, and she flipped over, gliding with her back facing the ground.


"Do not, whatever you do, touch the wings, or the tail," she says, "Be very careful on that..."


Eric studied her face, cheeks flushed, eyes wanting.


He cupped a handful of breast, "But I can touch here?"


"Yes."


"Here?" he stroked her cheek.


"Yes..."


He pressed a thumb to her lips, whereupon she started sucking on it.


"It's a poor stand-in..."


"Maybe next time we take to the sky," she smiled.


He grabbed her by the hips, "So I can do this...?"


"Long as you don't touch the wings-"


He started thrusting faster, "Anything goes?"


She nodded.


He pressed into her, reaching one hand up behind and grabbing her by the hair, forcing her face down just enough that he could reach her properly.


He planted his lips on hers.


The locked like this for a while, the wind rushing over their ears drowning all else out. Even for Yaya, there was only the feeling of his manhood probing deep inside her. By the time he moved to her neck, passionately kissing the skin there, Yaya was already in the throes of ecstasy. While her moans were downed out the by the oncoming gust, Eric could feel the vibration of them running up her throat.


When the gust finally died down enough that he could hear, he realised they sounded more like bird songs than moans. This only served to distract him for a moment, before he decided that it was endearing, and allowed them to spur on his efforts.


"You're chirping."


"Shut up," Yaya cooed.


"I wonder, if I go at this hard enough... can I get you to sound like a songbird?"


"Never gonna happen. I'm an eagle, proud of it. Eagles don't sing-"


He felt the beginnings of an orgasm in her and pressed the attack, pounding into her as well as circumstances would allow.


In her failed attempts to prevent herself from making a sound, a loud chirp escaped her lips.


"That's why you been so quiet. Pride."


"Shut up!" embarrassment painted itself on her face.


"Just know..." he leant up to her ear, "I'm not stopping until I hear birdsong."


"What, you-" She was distracted by a particularly strong squall, forcing her to correct, flipping back over so that her front was facing the ground again.


Eric however didn't notice the wind, and didn't care about the repositioning, and had buried his face into her neck. He grabbed the base of her tail, careful not to move the feathers too much, and rammed his thumb up her anus.


The thumb pressed her pussy-flesh into him, forced her to feel more of him with each thrust.


"Told you, not the tail-" She didn't fight it, only glancing up to check position relative to the horizon as he grabbed her breast, fingers sinking into the soft skin.


She angled back towards the house. This may have been a mistake. She set into a steady descent.


The angle of descent however meant that gravity was helping him thrust. It was like he was trying to make the tip of his cock meet the underside of her heart.


She didn't know what to do anymore, but she was committed to the descent, and planned to see it through. She buried the sensation down as best she could, distracting herself from it... even though it was winding itself tightly in her chest.


The pounding didn't help.


It only took a few minutes to reach the house again, but the trouble was navigating a safe landing, especially as Eric wasn't letting up. She glanced down at him and he merely smiled. He could see the story written on her face, the mix of ecstasy and anxiety, the struggle to remain in her element with such a massive distraction clinging onto her.


"When are you at your most beautiful you reckon?" he asked, "In the air, when you're at your most graceful, or..." he smirked, "When you're overcoming challenges thrown into your way."


"You're a jerk..."


She felt his thumb hook slightly as he thrust as deep as he could. That one she felt run up her spine, and press into her gut.


"I decided, you're at your best when both are true."


She looked down at him, and their eyes met. She didn't realise that she was biting her bottom lip, curled in so far that her top front teeth were visible.


She was too busy trying to accept someone believing in her quite so strongly.


She looked around as the feeling in her chest, and her loins, grew more intense. She flared out her wings, rolling to the side, taking a wide sweep around. She flew in a wide arc, circling in and angling herself towards the veranda. She took this time to slow the descent, angle slightly upward, let the wind itself being them to a stop by the time they reach the railing.


The intensity of it all was like a spring, wound to the point of snapping. She had to press it aside to land safely. She had to...


She reached the railing, catching the wind just so as to touch down gently on it-


As soon as she touched, Eric leant back pulling her down. He rolled, back first into the wooden flooring. Yaya however, planted her talons down, attempting to land upright.


Eric however, clutched tightly at her tail, thumb firmly gripped inside her. As she tried to rise upright, he tore her back down, forcing her cunt to slam down to the base of his shaft.


She couldn't vocalise, the whole event tore the air from her lungs. She collapsed forward trying to restrain all of the sensation-


When a warmth filled her abdomen the tension broke, the proverbial spring snapped.


It was like her body had completely given up the will to function and she collapsed onto him, muscles ones taut to the point of rigidity became floppy and limp.


While she didn't literally melt onto him, she felt as though she did, eyes half hooded and devoid of focus, as her world faded out every detail but him.


She could feel Eric undoing some of the ropes, and when they loosened up enough that she could snuggle into his neck, she did.


Eric meanwhile was just spending a moment listening. Yaya was completely out of it. She didn't notice the gentle, happy tweeting issuing from her mouth. A subtle, barely audible song.


He stroked her hair, not in any particular hurry to disentangle himself from her. If asked why he offered her a permanent place in his home, a cynical part of him might quip about a permanent supply of eggs, pillow feathers and quills.


The honest truth dismissed all of that, when Yaya kissed him on the cheek, still in her bleary, chirpy haze.


The other half of the reason he took to the wilderness was a love of birdsong - and here was a bird singing just for him.
 
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