Screech!

You wince reflexively when the stillness is broken as your captor draws in a deep lungful before a full on cacophony assaults your poor senses. The **** of this point blank shriek has you clapping your previously raised hands to either side of your head in a pathetic attempt at keeping yourself from going deaf. Despite the seal of your palms being tight enough to cause yourself a mild ache, that is nothing compared to the brain rippling cry that pounds about your skull. Stars begin to form in the lightless void brought on by your clenched eyelids, and what little remains of your stamina is eroded by the shrill expulsion which is now mercifully starting to taper off. The ringing in your mind continues on where the owl’s screech had left off, threatening to overwhelm you. If not for being shackled to the trunk by your winged attacker, it is likely that your wobbly legs would give out beneath you.

The headache induced daze is interrupted by the sobering tone of a bowstring being pulled taut. Your eyes snap open in response to the telling sound and are greeted by the vicious quill slowly drawing back, still aimed at your terrified face. The thought to struggle briefly passes through your panicking mind, but with no strength to wrench yourself from that powerful talon your options are severely limited. A look to the hooded avian reveals his cold indifference to your fear, a sadistic grin still spread across his maw. With nothing but the promise of a messy demise looming just beyond, you throw all your hopes in a most shameful display.

“N-no… Please.. Plea-”

The vine bowstring is suddenly yanked back tight, an evil sneer gleaming within that hood, before you see his fingers loose the projectile…

“NOOO!!”

You scream in abject horror and clench your tearing eyes, preferring not to see the end coming. A whoosh of air and another detonation of tree matter eclipses your entire world, stealing a yelp from your trembling lips. The seconds tick by, and aside from the bite of splinters along with the throbbing in your head, the presumed ‘coup de grâce’ never comes. Gingerly, you manage to pry your eyelids open once more to see the devious smile of your assailant before tracing his gaze to the arrow lodged half deep into the trunk about a foot above your head. A shocked expression clear on your face for having been granted at least a temporary stay of execution, you watch as the infected owl rises both his arms above his head, mimicking your earlier attempts at surrender.

When you don’t immediately glean his meaning, his right hand quickly produces and knocks another in the left arm bowstring, taking aim once more at your pinned form. There is no confusion or hesitation on your part this time as your arms meekly make their way back up over you to flank both sides of the embedded barb. After taking a moment to ensure you’re not thinking of trying something clever, the male feral lets the second shot fall from his grasp, instead bringing out a length of vine from beneath his plumage. You wince as he roughly grasps your wrists, obviously caring nothing for your comfort, before lashing them together over the surprisingly firm protrusion overhead.

Once finished, his hind paw is ripped from the bark around you as he steps back to admire his work. He doesn’t even bother to hide his depraved leering as you feel your exposed form shrink from his scrutiny. Again the idea of escape crops up for a brief moment, before another hard pulse of pain applies pressure against your temple, the subsequent waves of nausea trouncing any notions of freedom.

So there you stand, weak pants occasionally broken by the odd grunt of tingling soreness brought on by your over-exerted limbs. The avian Pokemon merely drinks it all in, obviously pleased with himself. A bit too pleased, it would seem, as the previously smooth patch of feathers capping his nether region now bulges obscenely with a tapered pink tip steadily emerging from its hidden sheath. The implications of that growing length have you whimpering in short order, much to the delight of the virus bearer as he steps up, eager to play with his new possession.

You flinch at his touch, even turn your head as much as you can in the awkward position just to gift yourself a few more moments of mercy from those soulless violet orbs. The male is having none of it, however, as a scaled hand takes a firm grip upon your chin and forces you to stare back into his eyes. The shivering of your poor frame kicks up tenfold as you watch him drag a long, slimy tongue along the rim of his beak, allowing you a glimpse of your fate. Without much more warning, he takes another step toward you so that you feel that hot phallus press into your belly. Instinctively you try to look at the ‘instrument’ prodding you, but his hold on your face denies your sickened curiosity. **** to stare up at the taller man, you can’t mount much of a defense as you feel his hips begin to thrust, dragging his member up and down your fuzzy navel.

The sensation is a strange one to be sure. The fur of your malleable stomach is rubbed down flat between the two of you, and the subtle warmth of his erection is oddly pleasant against you. Another step, aside from sealing his humping flesh between you, brings his fluffy chest mere inches from your grappled muzzle, making it difficult to view his expression over the mound of feathers. This doesn’t seem to concern him much as you feel the grip loosen around your cheeks before his hand is repurposed with cupping the back of your head, and guiding your blushing face into his soft bosom.

This gesture surprises you with the apparent tenderness of the act. The ache in your skull is abated a bit as you rest your weary head atop that pillowy bust, even subconsciously nuzzling a bit deeper than the guiding hand forces you to go. This earns what one could call a condescending chuckle from the owl above, the ‘churr’ resulting in a soothing vibration that tickles your upper body. Your own member, gone unnoticed by either party thus far, bobs about between the birds legs as his dry humping recommences with renewed vigor.

The unexpected sense of comfort is ruined somewhat by the smearing of a generous amount of pre coating much of your belly. Feeling the pushback of your dismayed head in his palm, the infected decides that foreplay has overstayed its welcome. With little care, the man suddenly drops low, making a point to drag that slickened member all the way down and over your own kitten cock, before he effortlessly coerces your left knee over his shoulder. You are **** to lean back, much of your weight being supported by the arrow pinning your bound wrists, as the lustful bird rises with your leg wrapped tight against him.

When at last you find some semblance of balance, you can see that he already has your hips perfectly aligned with himself and his throbbing penis stands proudly next to your own stiffening length. Feeling no more time need be spent on ceremony, he wraps his free wing hand around both your members, snatching a throaty moan from your lips, and begins to pump them against each other. His mutual handjob, made sloppy by the precum flowing freely from his shaft, is aided by the occasional hip thrust, which provides a surprising but more than welcome addition to the debaucherous act. What little resistance remaining in your beaten psyche is lost within the ever growing tide of arousal now bubbling up within your loins. Your eyelids droop as the full submission of your form takes hold, your now limp body held aloft only but the horny owl and his makeshift bondage restraints.

Seeing your pleasured expression, complete with a cute pink tongue lolling out to the side, the gatekeeper of your nearing orgasim picks up the pace. The shameless moans your open maw emits might have embarrassed you in days past, so wanton and needy were they. Any such thoughts are drowned out entirely when the naughty pokemon begins to sync his humping in time with his pumping hand. Most couldn’t stand up to the combined **** and you are no exception as you feel that familiar spark charging within you. If you bothered to check, your jacking companion would also be showing signs of his approaching peak.

You are the first to break, a scream of passion signaling your release, fists clenching against nothing but air as you feel the first line of kitty seed splatter against your chest. You’re about half way through your fourth shot when a powerful gush unexpectedly blasts across your cheek, just barely missing your gasping maw. Without needing much of a clue as the source, your fifth and final spurt ebbs just in time to be completely engulfed by the onslaught of corrupted jizz spewed across your face and upper body. You lose track of how many ropes he paints you with, the afterglow of your own climax taking up the majority of your attention. When at last his erupting length blows it’s last, most of your darkened chest fur has taken on a more pearlescent white hue thanks to the flyers efforts.

You simply hang there, unable to do much else as the weakness in your limbs return with gusto. As darkness threatens to overtake your severely taxed frame, you see the feral once more leering at you, panting heavily but nowhere near finished with his plaything. Not that you could do much to deny him his course, but that look in his pale eyes ignites a fresh batch of trepidation in your pounding heart. It is one of: