ACR - Ch7

A birdgirl stood inside the house. She was dressed far more elegantly than almost any monstergirl that Lyle had ever met or seen. He was unfamiliar with how to describe the sort of outfits worn by nobility, but this certainly came close. She wore a sheer one-piece dress and a decorative jacket. The material of the dress looked like some form of thin silk and hugged the birdgirl’s figure tightly. At the same time, it left a lot of that figure out in the open.

This birdgirl must be Itria, Lyle assumed. And she had plenty of figure to show off. Her breasts almost spilled out of her clothes. Her hips flared wide—perfect for egg-laying. And she had thighs as thick as those massive mammaries sticking out from her chest.

Pinkish-red hair cascaded down her back, broken only by a pair of bunny ears sticking out through them. Bunny ears like Felife’s. The two of them were the same species of birdgirl, although Lyle didn’t know what that was. Their ears and wings were the same.

Her legs transformed into talons toward the bottom, although Itria appeared to have painted part of her black bird’s feet red to match her hair and eyes.

Three things stuck out about Itria to Lyle: her clothing was built for sex, given she didn’t wear underwear and he suspected that her jacket was the only thing covering up her breasts. She was a very well-endowed and elegant monstergirl compared to almost any he had ever met. And, finally, she was bloated with eggs.

Her stomach swelled out almost as far as her tits, which was impressive. Lyle imagined the volume and number of eggs she must be carrying.

It was an unusual quantity. Birdgirls grew in size with eggs, but not to the point of having almost balloon-like bellies. Itria’s clothes handled the extra volume surprisingly well, which was a sign that they had been designed for birdgirls.

As he watched, Itria peeled off her jacket. Lyle’s suspicion was proved right, and he saw her naked breasts bounce freely with every movement Itria made. Then she undid the ribbon around her neck and the dress collapsed to the ground a moment later, leaving Itria completely nude.

Felife’s eyes widened and she began to say, “Itria, you shouldn’t—”

But it was too late. And Lyle suspected that the house blocked out external sounds. Itria should have heard Felife after all.

Itria’s house was small, but it had a stairwell, so Lyle suspected there was more he couldn’t see. But this entrance area appeared to be a central living space. It contained some sofas, an icebox, a wooden countertop for food preparation, and a dining table. Very good furnishings for the wilds. Better than Lyle’s home.

To his surprise, Itria got up on the table. A large basket with low walls sat on it, with a heavily padded base and sides. Lyle blinked as he realized the probable purpose of the basket.

And frowned as he realized what was about to happen when Itria crouched over said basket, her crotch pointing toward it.

“She hasn’t laid eggs today,” Lyle said flatly.

“This isn’t the business of a human,” Felife shot back.

He stared at her, gaze cold. “Birdgirls always lay in the morning, so that they can be bred again in the afternoon and their bodies can start on the next batch of eggs immediately. It’s well after noon by now. Given your petite size, I sincerely doubt you’re a weekly or monthly laying species.”

Felife flushed. “How do you know that?”

“Lyle knows lots of stuff,” the Vierfach chirped.

Felife glared at them, then at him. He shrugged in response and watched Itria. Initially, he had done so out of arousal. Now he was concerned.

He suspected that Felife wanted to stop Itria before she laid eggs in front of him, but something stopped her. Maybe she wanted to prevent Itria from knowing that she had been spied upon—but that was unusual for monstergirls, who would happily have sex in public at the drop of a hat.

Itria crouched over the basket, trying to find her balance. Her wings flapped occasionally as she awkwardly stood on the balls of her feet on top of a table in the middle of her dining room.

A rather odd place to lay eggs.

Her fingers ran over her slit. She played with her clit and began to slip fingers into herself, one or two at a time. Although she appeared to be moaning softly, Lyle didn’t hear a thing. His suspicions about aural wards proved correct.

The Vierfach hiked up their tunics and began to finger themselves while throwing lustful looks at Lyle. He ignored them. Felife grimaced and looked away. Or pretended to. He felt her eyes watching him.

Slowly but surely, Itria laid an egg. That was how birdgirls worked, after all. Human semen combined with the corruption in their bodies to produce eggs, and then they laid them. Monstergirls had incredibly low rates of fertility however, and this carried over even to birdgirls.

Almost every egg inside Itria was guaranteed to be infertile. Birdgirls could go for years without laying a fertile egg. These eggs were just by-products of her nature.

In this case, an unnaturally large by-product. Lyle suspected Itria to be from a species of birdgirl that laid eggs daily. Birdgirls came in daily, weekly, and monthly laying varieties, and the size of their eggs and clutches varied accordingly. Itria should be laying a few small eggs, and it should be a quick and simple process.

She shouldn’t be gasping for air, screaming for pleasure, and struggling to lay just one.

Something was very wrong.

Although the pleasure was normal. Laying eggs was orgasmic for birdgirls. Like all monstergirls, they desired sex above all else. The pleasure of egg laying then drove them even further to capture men to produce eggs constantly.

“She has difficult laying eggs, doesn’t she?” Lyle said flatly, while Itria took a breather after just one egg. She still had a bloated stomach.

Felife frowned but finally looked at him. “Anybody could have guessed that from this.”

“I’m talking about in general, not just now,” he corrected, giving her a warning look.

Felife winced. “I’m surprised you can tell so quickly from just this. How?”

“Experience,” he said. Birdgirls were one of the most common tame monstergirls in Ghraive. “I have two questions: why is she laying eggs when it’s clearly so difficult for her? And why isn’t anybody helping her lay them?”

“Both have the same answer: there is no flock here. We need to provide for ourselves.” Felife shrugged. “Our fertility rates are low, and our species is even lower. Unfertilized eggs are an amazing food source.”

He stared at her. “She’s eating her own eggs?”

Birdgirls did eat eggs in Ghraive, as they were a very popular and common food item, but he had never heard of them eating their own eggs. That seemed odd. The wilds were a strange place.

“It’s an efficient source of nourishment. The energy for the process comes from the Blight and a male. And we only need to take in semen once every few days in order to keep laying eggs regularly,” Felife answered.

“If she laid eggs that regularly, she wouldn’t be having these problems,” Lyle responded. “And you definitely don’t rely on that.”

“Not now,” she said, looking away. “But there’s a reason for that. That’s what we need to talk about.”

He glanced back at Itria and saw her crouched over the basket again. Her face was taut, almost pained, as she crouched over the basket and tried to push out another egg. This one refused to go any further out than an inch.

Then she looked out the window.

Itria leaped up from the table, her wings flapping wildly in the air as she let out a shriek that Lyle couldn’t hear. The basket was knocked aside, sending the egg flying. Itria’s eyes darted to the egg, and despair crossed her face as she realized her mistake.

“Shit,” Lyle cursed. His crest glowed, but too slowly.

Felife snapped out her arm. A violet glow appeared around the egg before it hit the ground. Wings of light erupted from it. The egg’s descent slowed instantly, and it dropped to the floor softly enough to avoid cracking or breaking.

“You can use magic,” Lyle said, his hand instinctively going to his sword hilt.

“That was the other reason I was less worried about your threats,” she said, a hint of a smirk on her face. Fear showed in her eyes, however. She stared at his sword and let out a sigh of relief when he relaxed.

“We want to talk this through. Truly. Brainless dildos can be found any week, but somebody like you is… flock-changing,” Felife said. “Please believe me. And trust me and Itria.”

It was a surprisingly heartfelt appeal for a woman who would have been happy to leave him in the breeding hall because she didn’t think he was strong enough. But this world was a mess, and he had objectives to achieve. Making a pointless enemy of the birdgirl flock here didn’t help him right now.

He nodded. Felife led them into the house.

Inside, Itria was gathering her clothes. Her eyes were wet, but she wasn’t crying. She glared at Felife.

“Why is he here? I can go to the gathering point when I need to refresh myself,” Itria said. Her voice had a soft, almost lyrical tone to it. Like the chiming of a bell.

It was also a form of corruptive influence. Itria’s voice was dangerous to humans. If she was powerful enough, a loud cry would obliterate the minds of men and begin the transformation process in women. The power was so exceedingly rare that Ghraive spared nothing when it came to killing monstergirls that demonstrated it.

But Lyle was immune. While Itria might be dangerous to Ghraive, she wasn’t dangerous to him. So he ignored her corruptive voice for now.

“He isn’t here to fill you with your next batch of eggs,” Felife said, speaking quietly and avoiding eye contact. “This is Lyle. He is of sound mind, is capable of powerful magic, and wishes to work with us.”

Itria froze. Her jaw dropped, and then she looked down at herself. Red filled her face, and she tried to dress.

“Wait,” Lyle said.

She scowled and glared at him. “Is preying on my body part of any deals we make, human?”

He ignored her statement and instead said, “You’re having difficulty laying eggs. That needs to be dealt with immediately.”

“I brought you here to negotiate with us. This problem is our own,” Felife said. She stepped between him and Itria.

“You did, and now I see an issue that makes me think any negotiations may be short-lived.” He pointed at Itria’s still-bloated stomach. “You’re not only laying eggs late, but I’m certain you’re not laying all your eggs in one day. That’s going to permanently damage you. I prefer my partners not to destroy themselves, especially with something that is easily fixed.”

Itria’s eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

“Experience,” he said. “Your body wants to produce eggs. You aren’t laying them. Every time you produce additional eggs with the old ones still inside your body, you risk doing serious damage to yourself. And that’s leaving aside the other issues of leaving eggs inside your body for long periods of time. You may have an essence filled with corruption, but if you let your body break down unlaid eggs, the corruption you reabsorb will warp you.”

Missing a single laying period was bad enough that most birdgirl farms in Ghraive abandoned a layer. They’d never be whole again. Lyle hoped that Itria hadn’t already harmed herself in the past.

The way her eyes widened and filled with tears concerned him. “Really?”

Felife scowled. “You didn’t need to say that,” she said to Lyle. She turned to Itria. “You’ll lay your eggs, and it will be fine. It always has been.”

That calmed him down somewhat, but only made the situation worse in another. “I get the feeling you don’t know how to deal with this problem. Let me help you lay these eggs. Then we’ll talk.”

“What if we don’t want to?” Felife said. Itria pouted at her but remained silent.

“It drastically changes the way I deal with you if you’re foolish enough to let such an important member of your flock destroy her body,” Lyle said. He glared at Felife.

He had no particular interest in Itria herself. If she died or hurt herself, that didn’t affect Lyle.

But she was a monstergirl vastly different to any he had ever encountered, save for the Blight heralds. And Lyle was certain she wasn’t a herald.

Letting her destroy her body due to the idiocy of a subordinate was something he wouldn’t allow. Not if he planned to work with them.

“Felife, it’s fine,” Itria said. “You’ll be here. I trust you to protect me.”

A pained expression crossed Felife’s face. Her eyes shot to each of the Vierfach, who wandered around the room with curious expressions. Then she glared at Lyle.

“Do not harm her. I will allow you to touch her,” Felife agreed. Then the petite birdgirl stepped aside with a sullen expression.

“Well then, allow me,” Lyle said as he stepped forward. “Bring the basket.” He gestured to Felife.

The table was an awful place to lay eggs, although he suspected Itria used it because it was the highest piece of furniture in the house that was also stable. Instead, he pulled her to one of the sofas. After he removed his crotch plate (again), he took a seat and pulled her into his lap.

Felife glared at him. “Not until after she lays,” she said, understanding the purpose of the plate.

Itria simply tilted her head in confusion as she let Lyle guide her movements.

[Another egg-laying scene]

“Move your legs out more,” he guided her verbally, and sometimes placed his hands on her bare flesh. “Spread out. More. That’s about the right angle. Now plant your talons here but keep your thighs where they are. Back straight. Lean into me if you want to.”

Itria followed along but made confused caws occasionally. Only the comfort of Felife’s presence kept her from panicking. But her body adored his presence and she dripped a constant drizzle of juices onto his pants.

Eventually, Lyle got her into position. He sat on the sofa. She crouched over his legs with her back pressed against his chest, legs spread wide. There were some particulars to the angles and positions he wanted, so that she would rest against him when she got into the hardest part of the laying.

The process started off smoothly enough, but quickly went awry once Itria began to lay.

“I need somebody to take over,” Lyle said. He looked at Felife and the Vierfach. The wolfgirls had stripped off their clothing and began to actively masturbate again. “She needs somebody to help the eggs come out, if it’s this difficult.”

Felife scowled. “I’m the only one who will be touching her.” She shot a warning glance at the wolfgirls, who had begun to prowl closer. “And only once you explain what in the Blight is going on?”

“Later.” That answer clearly wasn’t good enough, judging from Felife’s intensifying glare, so he sighed and said, “The more pleasure she feels, the more relaxed she will be. That should make it easier to push out her eggs. There’s a second method, but it’s more extreme and you’ll hate it, even though it’s more effective.”

“Tell me?” Felife said.

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s the reason I took off my crotch plate.”

A pause.

“Fine,” Felife said. “I’ll help. I need to… help Itria please herself?”

Lyle nodded, and they resumed.

Slowly, Itria calmed down. Her wings flapped at a constant, sedate pace. She began to press her face against his and fanned a flutter of kisses against his stubble. More than anything else, Itria wanted release. Either from laying her eggs or having a massive cock shoved in her.

She’d get both, in that order.

“Okay, Itria, I need you to lay your eggs,” Lyle whispered into her ear. His fingers ran along her gaping walls. “I’ll make it nice and fast. You’ll love this so much you’ll ask me to do it every time.”

She bit her lip, her eyes glazed with pleasure. “Really?”

“Really. It won’t hurt at all.” That was a lie, but it would hurt a lot less. And by the time it started to hurt, she would be so rapt with pleasure it wouldn’t matter.

A minute passed as Itria nuzzled against him. She basked in the pleasure that he and Felife gave her.

“Okay,” she said in a voice he barely heard.

Over the next several minutes, six eggs of different sizes plopped into the waiting basket. Felife’s face glowed as she helped her close friend. That fascinated Lyle. Monstergirls rarely cared about public sexual activities, or helping one another. The Vierfach played with and helped one another in bed without batting an eye.

What made Felife’s and Itria’s relationship special?

Itria’s body heaved against him by the end of it. Her belly had flattened out, without any signs of stretching or distension, as if she hadn’t looked like she was carrying quintuplets thirty minutes ago.

Her pussy gaped. Lyle figured to let it calm down before the next step, given how badly Itria moaned and gasped.

But Felife opened up his pants and stared at his shaft. “Even without magic, it’s impressive,” she said.

Well, apparently her embarassment didn’t stop her from giving Itria her reward.

Lyle remained still as Felife guided his cock into Itria. The redheaded birdgirl cawed softly as her pussy found something other than an egg to grip onto and contracted heavily. He groaned as her insides undulated around him. Birdgirls right after laying were an intense pleasure.

Without conscious thought, Itria began riding his cock. She rubbed herself against his chest and moaned in delight.

“More,” Itria moaned. “Don’t stop.”

She rubbed her head against his neck. Her arm curled around him and held him close as she bucked her hips relentlessly, pumping herself along his length. She wrapped around his cock with each thrust, juices spraying out over the floor and the attentive Felife right in front of them.

For her part, Felife suckled on Lyle’s balls. Her fingers worked on her own crotch, and she drooled all over the floor. Thick strands of liquid pooled on her face as she took the full brunt of Itria’s fucking. Felife didn’t care. Her eyes glazed over as she lost herself in her pleasure, intent on what might come afterward.

“I can feel you coming,” Itria said with an ecstasy-laden grin. “Your cock is getting so big inside me.”

Lyle grunted, but kept himself contained. There was no way he was popping before this birdgirl screamed his name at the top of his lungs.

Her plump thighs and breasts bounced against his skin, making fleshy slapping sounds with each movement. The room smelled of sex and arousal.

It didn’t take long to give Itria what she wanted. Rope after rope of thick seed shot into her womb. It overflowed and drizzled down his balls, where Felife lapped up every drop like a cat.

When he popped out of Itria, Felife was there to suck up every bead of white that oozed from the other birdgirl’s slit. She then cleaned up his shaft, her eyes glazed with lust. When his hands tangled in her silver hair, Felife stared at him in shock. A moment later, she let him lead the way as he forced his way down her throat and gave her a special reward.

Both birdgirls leaned against him afterward, moaning in pleasure.

Nearby, the Vierfach pouted at him. “When do we get fucked?”

“Later,” he said. “You get this every day.”

“That would be nice,” Itria mumbled.

Which brought them to their topic of conversation.

The birdgirls slipped away to clean up. When they returned, Itria wore her dress and jacket from earlier—for what little decency it provided her, given the massive wet patch already formed on the dress. Felife refused to make eye contact with Lyle.

“Felife says you wanted to talk about food. Or trading for food,” Itria says. “Things are more complicated than just that. But after what you just did, I wonder if there isn’t a way for us to work together.” She smiled beatifically at Lyle.

“Felife said there were complications, and they all relate to the fact you can’t form a flock. I’m more confused as to why that’s the case after meeting you. Explain,” he said.

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Commentary: Sorry for the update delay. Things have been chaotic IRL for the past few days.