Down Kelsyre's pants

“I suppose since I am already awake,” a small yawn belies your words, as you stretch your arms, “And since Prexa is correct about seeing you at the port this afternoon with Drelf-”

Kelsyre interrupts before you can finish, nuzzling your cheek with a deep purr before scooping you up underneath his foreleg into the musky pit of his joint, trotting back to the barn happily, pausing near the entrance as he waggles his hindquarters with another small toot.

“Yes, yes, human! This is going to be such fun!”

You can only sigh into the musky scales as he slides the door open and tiptoes inside, creeping to his stall as quietly as he can since it’s located next to Apheron’s, who appears to have fallen back asleep. He sets you on his bed so he can more easily reach into an adjacent wooden chest and withdraw a large cloth dragon diaper, nodding to himself with a huff and motioning you to follow him back outside. You exit quietly, mindful of the exhausted dragons and rejoin him in the fields, where he is already slipping the cloth around his hind legs and up over his hindquarters, the front of his sack clearly tented as the anticipation is keeping the dragon’s morning wood perfectly preserved. As Prexa and Noctrus encourage him to hurry, the emerald dragon rests on his haunches and pulls back the brim of his diaper with one claw, the other having gripped to lift you in the now-familiar thumb-digit-across-belly position, the three dragons chuckling as Kelsyre deposits you under his tail base and down into the soft cloth depths of his big dragon diaper. Your skin slides along the smooth scales of his warm rump, legs tucked beneath his big scaly balls as the musky stench of his puckered anus greets your face stickily, the cloth surface swaddling your back and shoulders as you feel the dragon returning to all fours, giving his backside a wiggle as there’s a small satisfied sigh that you’re comfortably inside his pants, his pucker passing a small poot into your nose.

“Okay, little friend, now it’s time to pooop!” Kelsyre, in truth, has already started dumping by the time he begins the final word of that sentence, as you feel the hot, sticky substance pressing out across your features as his large anus distends to perform it’s natural function. The huge heated lump of dragon dung slops down your chest and oozes down your belly to stick somewhere around your waist, but you hardly register this in the moment because by the time that thick turd reaches its resting spot in his diaper, the dragon’s bowels were already pushing out more poop. The hot mess spills across your face and down your chest and sides as the green dragon continues dirtying his diaper, coating your naked body in the soft and horribly sticky filth as you feel it continually pushed into your nose and cheeks from the reptile’s rectum, keeping your mouth shut tight though regrettably this does nothing to help the appalling stench. While you’re starting to get used to the smell of fresh dragon poop, it doesn’t make it any more tolerable feeling the sticky mud pouring all over you, and you squirm to at least wrench your head to the side a little as you feel more dung splotching along your cheek as Kelsyre keeps going, but at least you can take a few breaths through your mouth without being in danger of getting any directly in it. You can feel the cloth diaper sagging now around you, heavy with the hot muddy mess and undoubtedly very brown, though unfortunately still tight enough to keep you mostly against those smooth butt scales, and regrettably with that poopy pucker still kissing your cheek- but even with the dung up to your chest now, Kelsyre has not finished his morning dump, as you hear a faint grunt and a sigh somewhere around front before another hot splotch of dragon filth plops out enough to cover your shoulders. There’s another sigh and a shift and then the weight of the green dragon’s big bottom comes down on you with a nasty spukkftch as his dung is squashed all around and those hefty haunches start their wiggling, as you can only groan in the incredible stench within his disgusting diaper, the waste squishing and shifting all around you as he scoots and smears his filth with you trapped under his tail, repositioning your nose where he likes it best as you smell the stink from its source once again. Now, it doesn’t really matter how much he filled that diaper- chest or shoulder height, Kelsyre does as thorough a job as Noctrus or Brummox with Noah of making sure it’s absolutely all over you as he sits and scoots and enjoys his poop-piled pants, and especially the sensation of having a human inside them.

“Human down my pants, human down my pants, covered in my dragon poop!” you can vaguely make out Kelsyre’s singsong voice as he continues wiggling his plump rump on you over the sloshing of his dung, contrasted as you feel his dragon balls bouncing near your legs with the steady slap of his claw pulling at his penis. His fun doesn’t last more than a few minutes, however, as you hear a commanding voice shouting something and judge it must be Malory coming to assemble their team, feeling the dragon rise after his lustful huffing tapers off in a short growl followed by a whine as he returns to all fours and pads over to the barn. You wait in the diaper eagerly, then start trying to squirm and shout in the sticky mess, but all of that dragon dung must be muffling your complaints or else everyone is in too much of a hurry as you feel the slight bouncing of the dragon’s hind section as he exits the stables, then a sharper jolt that bounces the poop along with you as Kelsyre pushes off the ground and begins to take flight. You groan as you feel the stinking sack bouncing in time with the flapping of his mighty wings, carried with the green dragon up into the sky in one of the grossest ways possible, though you could say at least you’re outside of his bowels this morning, sighing and settling back into the squishing stinkiness, lightly swayed in the waste as the dragon glides across the farms and residential district on his way back to the docks. As you feel a slight bump as he flaps his wings briefly to adjust his altitude, you realize there’s nothing to do but wait in his dirty diaper for the next fifteen minutes until you all land, though at least with all the motion and the fullness of his pants your face isn’t flush with his muddy anus any longer, not that it helps any with the pervasive poop smell. Kelsyre certainly seems to be enjoying having you along for the ride, though, as you feel the bounce of dragon balls near your ankle and the occasional moan as he paws around front, guessing the Riders are fine with him pleasuring himself off the clock.

It is a long, foul, and filthy flight, but as you feel a slight bounce within the dragon’s pants as he flaps his wings and begins to descend, you know you’ve at last reached the destination and hear some muffled conversation without before the diaper wobbles with you as Kelsyre begins walking. You hear the shifting as he removes his tail and the weighted sack practically falls from his hindquarters with barely a tug of his claw near the seat, landing with a squishy splat in the grass, bright light shining down as you squint and blink with your eyes readjusting to the sunlight after the smelly darkness of his diaper. You begin to stand upwards so you can climb out of the mess and make a rush for the nearest washtub, but then you feel a grip as the diaper tilts again with you inside, the green dragon chiding “uh, uh!” as he turns the diaper to dump out the dung on top of you, effectually re-burying you in his poop pile. You squirm upwards, shouting a protest at the dirty dragon, only to emerge from the dungpile to find Kelsyre on haunches again, busily pawing at his arousal, lime tongue lolling as the big beast huffs and moans, a little green bead of pre shining along the tacky tip. You shake your head in disbelief a moment and are about to start telling him to stop huffing and start helping when there’s a yawn and you feel something very warm and very wet splashing along your shoulder, turning to see that a big red male his lifted a hind leg and is casually emptying his crimson cock on you, smacking his lips with a sigh as he takes a nice morning piss.

“O-oops, sorry little friend! Didn’t see you down there,” the red dragon seems genuinely surprised when he discovers he’s been whizzing on your head, but continues peeing on the dungpile with a chuckle, simply adjusting his stream to spatter about an inch away from your face instead. You decide not to ask why he’s urinating on another dragon’s dung to begin with, especially as Kelsyre only snickers and continues to paw at himself while the other male pees, but consider this must merely be another gross dragon behavior. When the red dragon finishes and lowers his leg, nodding at you with a smile before heading off, you turn back to the emerald dragon who’s fault this is, asking if he’s nearly finished with another struggle to free yourself. He pads over on three legs, keeping his foreclaw busy, and whines and tells you he’s… getting… very… and then releases his seed with a bellowed moan a few seconds later, splattering your face with his lime-scented seed before he rolls on his side, panting heavily.

“Ugh… Kelsyre! You disgusting dragon, will you not help me out of your dung already?!”

The emerald dragon low growls, and judging by the flinching of his spent cock, he found that complaint arousing, but, nonetheless resumes all fours and reaches down a foreclaw to give you a bit of leverage to free yourself from his big mess. Noctrus approaches with a chuckle and his own leather diaper squirming and stinking terribly as you wonder who he decided to dragon dump on this morning, only to hear a familiar muffled giggle and greeting in response to your question, recognizing Noll’s voice coming from within the black dragon’s diaper. He also drops his pants, emptying out the mess along with the ferret, who is swifter and more flexible than you, able to squirm his way right out of the mess mere moments after he’s been covered in it, Noctrus watching with a snorting chuckle. The filthy ferret approaches you with a big grin and gives you a hug, which would be revolting except for the fact that you’re both equally covered in it right now, explaining he peeked out to see what all the fun was about this morning and ended up down Noctrus’ pants, though you have a feeling more willingly as you felt and can see his little pink penis standing at attention. The two dragons accompany you both to the washtubs to get cleaned, depositing their diapers near a larger iron tub near the “love shack,” for washing later- you think to ask if it’s okay to leave them there, but then consider no one is going to consider stealing clothing that filthy.

“Noctrus, Kelsyre, finish with your friends and accompany me, please,” Amerst nods to the two dragons after approaching from one of the warehouses where the other knights are reviewing a chart with a walrus. Kelsyre finishes cleaning his poop from your shoulders and back as Noctrus washes Noll’s legs and tail, the ferret splashing about in the tub as the dragon sighs and encourages him to hold still. The four of you head off across the fields towards the warehouse where Malory shakes his head with a sigh at Noll’s presence, asking him what by the blessing of the Spirits he is doing here, exhaling in annoyance as the ferret explains, before encouraging the smaller anthro to head back to the stables as they have very important work this morning. Amerst turns to ask the same of you, rounding and pointing an accusatory claw tip at Kelsyre, who snorts and scuffles the ground with his claw, protesting that not half-the-hour earlier he was just told he could enjoy the company of a guest, to which the tiger responds that they have serious duties now. You think there might be an argument as Noctrus whines and takes a step forward with an annoyed growl towards his Rider, but then Prexa intervenes by reminding you that she promised she’d ask Malory to get you a coffee, as the lion claps his gloved paws together to settle the matter before it has a chance to escalate.

“Yes, quite, I could use a strong coffee myself after pontificating on this most of last night,” he yawns, showing his impressive pointed teeth, before turning to thank the walrus with a courteous nod, “I think we’re finished here, thank you, Garilk. Let’s discuss this at the Salt and Sand.”

“Though I think the human should dress himself first,” Lizelle stares in your direction, and as you see her flat tongue lap across her dark lips, you wonder if the large wolf might be less stoic than her fellow knights, particularly as she adds, “His presence is otherwise… distracting.”

Your lack of knowledge at the pub’s name causes a bit of laughter among the group as you journey across the fields towards the tavern complex, the docks seeming considerably less busy at this earlier hour when the sun has yet to reach its zenith, asking Malory if that is common or due to the suspicious sighting. He informs you things do tend to pick up in the afternoons but the potential marauder spotting could also be causing some ships to keep a wide berth, assuming she isn’t flying false colors and the lookouts are doing their due diligence anyway. You observe the handful of sailors and dragons milling about, passing a couple of the scaly beasts enjoying their morning urges and gas on dockworkers or other smaller friends before things get busy later, Lizelle explaining the tavern is their favorite to stop in for a drink and a bite to eat, and generally serves as their base of operations to discuss matters with a bit more privacy. This prompts another growled complaint from the tiger, but the lion leader raises a gloved paw to silence him, saying they can continue this discussion over coffee, and you wonder again with some concern over why you’re being permitted to accompany them, watching the handful of anthro sailors chatting over ale and hunks of bread as they take their breakfast on the tavern’s porch, giving energetic greetings which are met with formal nods from the knights and purrs from the dragons.

The Salt and Sea is a smaller tavern, with a handful of booths on either side of the old walls, which are weathered enough to appear to have been comprised of driftwood and giving the feeling of being inside the berth of a large ship. Outside of a group of rats sharing some ale and scones with a human sailor and engaging in loud conversation at a booth towards the back left, the place seems deserted at this hour apart from the crow bartender yawning as she calls out a greeting from behind the counter as you enter. Malory orders coffees for the group and takes a seat around a booth upholstered in slightly tattered dark leather, unfurling the map across the table as Prexa takes a seat next to you, Lizelle and Amerst both shooing their dragons to the restrooms to properly wash their backsides as they were in a hurry to rejoin the group earlier and neither is willing to be held responsible if they get any dung on the seating. The lion sighs and taps the chart with impatience as he resolves to wait until the dragons return, seeming more annoyed by the whole situation as he suggests after a few minutes you should go check and see if they’re about finished, turning at the clinking sound of the spoons and cups arriving on a tray carried by an otter. You’re worried you might have gotten dressed for nothing, Lizelle adding they might as well have some breakfast too and sliding out of the booth to head back towards the bar, when Noctrus and Kelsyre return and take their positions, the wolf stirring cream into her coffee as she agrees to wait.

“According to what we know from the harbormaster’s report, the sightings have occurred within this area starting around late evening yesterday,” the lion traces a small line from the eastern tip of Igrandranmyr in the center of Ozminia a short ways outwards, tapping on a tiny speck that you wouldn’t have even taken for an island, “We believe the ship to be using these sea cliffs for cover, laying in ambush for vessels en route to port.”

You stir some extra sugar into your coffee as you listen, deciding to enjoy it the dragon way, as Amerst questions what’s known about the craft.

“She’s a sizable vessel, older in design, likely a Cardiff, flying flags that one ship reported as Prevoan,” the lion detailed as he paused to take a drink of his coffee, “One vessel arriving near midnight also reported she emerged and gave chase, but backed off after they fired a warning shot across the bow. There’s some conflicting information, but she’s most like a ten gunner, three over two under, and what’s more, the ship pursued was carrying five, three port side. What’s that tell us, eh?”

“Both unsurprisingly,” Lizelle scoffs as she traces a circle absently along the map with her glove, “That our messenger last night was barely informed, and secondly that the pirates are damnable cowards, staking easy prey instead of any who’ll fight back.”

“Aye, indeed it does,” the lion nodded, “Which is why I’m proposing we set off from the port ourselves and show them the Windbourne Riders are watching over these docks. And…” he turns to you with a small smile, “I say a little demonstration for our friend here is in order. What say you, lad? Care to join us?”

“Spirits Preserve, have you lost your mind, man?!” the tiger bangs the table so loudly that Prexa has to turn and wave towards the group of rats who’ve paused in their shanty to eye the sudden commotion to assure them nothing is wrong.

“Now, Amerst, my friend,” the lion reaches out his glove to pat the paw of the tiger as he seethes, “We are the Windbourne Riders, after all. We should show our gallantry, our bravery to our human friend here…”

“Good gods, have Prexa’s farts and the smell of her sex gone to your head?” the tiger snarls as the lion meets his tone, and Prexa growls in disapproval as Noctrus whines in discomfort, while you sink into your seat, glancing out at the bar as you worry the two might actually come to blows for a moment.

“You will not…” Malory breathes deeply with a warning growl as he meets Amerst’s gaze for several moments, Lizelle watching as she considers how to respond or when, “take such a tone with me, sir. Speak plainly of your concerns.”

“I should not need remind you of our supposed demon hunt two years prior in these surrounding woods,” the tiger begins, maintaining his position with paws upon the table as he meets the gaze of his fellow Rider, “Apheron, Noctrus, myself and you and that quail you insisted accompany us, that you might’ve assuaged her fears so heroically…”

“That was not…” Malory interrupts through gritted teeth, seeking the right words, “The situation was well in paw when we cornered him in the hills.”

“Aye, ‘twas, until out from the trees comes four of the other bandits in ambush, ready for your hide for spoiling their little ruse! That innocent lady was near-“

The dragons shift in the booth uncomfortably, whining as you witness their frilled ears drooping in concern, as Malory roars his reply.

“I recall as well as you, I still have the wound in my shoulder where the bolt drew blood! I would have laid down my life in her defense, and would gladly have taken a dozen arrows more to prove-”

A growl from the tiger cuts off his protest.

“Aye, proving my point precisely! Putting the life of an innocent in harm’s way on behalf of your posturing, quixotic-!”

“Peace, noble brothers, I prithee have peace!” Lizelle places her large gloved paws between the lion and the tiger, the wolf separating them gently as she forces them to return to their seats, the dragons breathing sighs of relief at a break in the argument. A large gryphon with white plumage and silver fur emerges from what must be the restrooms towards the back of the tavern, as the wolf nods to you with a jerk of her muzzle towards the bar.

“Mayhaps, my friend, we should continue this discussion if you would be so kind as to order us some breakfast?” she withdraws a pouch from her waist and presses a handful of silver coins into your palm. You’re grateful for the chance to leave the heated argument as you ask the crow what is available, ordering fried eggs with baked bread for everyone at the table, the blackbird nodding as she accounts for the differing portions needed for your dragon and anthro companions. You feel a small poke across your right shoulder as the bartender heads for the kitchen to put in the order, turning to see the big black beak and feathered face of the gryphon as she chirps and coos down at you, nudging your chest through your shirt with a friendly, “Hello there, human. Come and play?”

Scooping you up with her talon as she carries you back to the rug to the right of the bar, you begin to wonder if this was part of Lizelle’s plan as you glance over to see the wolf smiling in your direction as the eager gryphon tugs at your trousers with her talons, her surprisingly dexterous beak going to work on the small buttons of your shirt. Like with Scarvy yesterday, you imagine these big birds- er, bird-lion as the case is atop you- have quite a bit of experience unfastening human clothing in order to get at the pleasure they want underneath, the gryphon cooing and working the buttons of your underwear with her beak as you lie with the soft fibers of the plush tan rug across your back, boots tossed to the side as she goes to work on your stockings. It really might just be better to do things the anthro way and get a loincloth around here, you consider, wondering if it’s just the stubbornness of old customs or some social awkwardness between their own species preventing the rest of your fellow humans in town from doing the same. That thought is rudely interrupted as the gryphon pivots over your unclothed body and begins to lower the fat silver-furred flanks of her lion rear end over your head, and you see the brown staining her pink pucker and realize she was taking a big dump in that bathroom, your nose confirming what you can tell visually as you feel her sit down across your face, scooting her stinking rump across your cheeks as she gets nice and comfortable on her new cushion. You groan into her anus, hoping she doesn’t smudge any gryphon poop on your features- you just got off the last of Kelsyre’s dragon dung, after all- though thankfully as nasty as her big soft butt smells, it feels like she must have wiped the worst of it on someone else’s face before she left the restroom, as her lion hole isn’t clean but it doesn’t seem too filthy as it brushes and prods at your grimacing nostrils.

“Comfy down there, my human seat?” the gryphon teases as she presses and wiggles her butt over your head, shifting her weight so you can hear her speaking above, “Get nice and cozy, because I’ve got gryphon gas for you to sniff, haha!”

She wiggles her soft lion haunches back across your shoulders as her plump rump covers your chest, warm silver fur brushing across your bare skin as you hear a grumble from her stinking anus, while she continues to tease and press slow and sticky over the bridge of your nose. There’s a sigh above, more of pleasure than relief, as little poots and toots start leaking from her bottom, lion anus unfurling across your nostrils as she passes her gryphon gas and wiggles it in methodically, her wide heavy hindquarters just shifting and brushing on top of your head and keeping your arms pinned beneath her as her small farts begin to build a more collective stink as they start to bubble out a little faster, one after another. The gryphon huffs long as you groan into her backside, feeling your breath on her fur and the pleasing pressure of your nose against her puckered tail hole, discontinuing her scooting a moment and leaning forward just slightly to unleash a much longer, deeper frrrummppmmnntt which sends a thick cloud of flatulent stench warmly across your face as she sustains her huge fart for several seconds, a satisfied sigh reaching your ears faintly over the rumbling of her rear. The gassy gryphon bounces her fat butt on your head with a jiggle through her shaggy seat, rubbing in that stink good and deep as you hear the steady sticky sound of her masturbating with a talon tip inside her slit around front, pausing in her scooting a moment later to pass another plurrrpffttt, followed by an equally stinky ffrrummppbbnntt, giving a clucking chuckle as your complaints are muffled in all of her warm fur, her farts smelling so bad at this point they override the muskiness of the sweat you’re starting to feel on her butt, though unfortunately even the worst of her gryphon gas isn’t drowning out the stench of her unwashed anus against your nose. The dirty lion-bird chuckles and fans in front of your face with a large talon, giving a small squawk of disgust as she takes several whiffs of her own festering farts, but of course your little breaks are short lived as she raises her great big shaggy seat and plops back into position over your face, sweating and farting loud and wet and deep, as you can hear her pawing around front and moaning over your muffled groans and rippling, bubbling bursts of gryphon gas, the fat female squawking with laughter and huffing as she sits heavily and scoots in her stench.

“Ahh… what a cushy little seat you made, human!” the white gryphon gives you one final butt-rub across the face, before you feel the weight of her haunches sliding smoothly off the sides of your arms as she turns to sniff at her handiwork, warm air from your nostrils blowing across your bare chest, “Sheeew! Yeah, you definitely stink like my big lion butt now, friend. Let’s get you all cleaned up so I can feel that little face of yours between my legs, shall we?”

The gryphon scoops you up off of the sweat-soaked rug and carries you against the soft down of her chest into the bathroom, as you brace yourself for a wave of stench from a pooping dragon or other massive animal, only to find the toilets are empty at this mid-morning hour. Her opposite talon clacking as her hind paws shuffle across the gray tiles of the floor towards the showers, she pulls back the dark blue curtain to reveal the shiny white interior, pleasingly clean compared to the shower from yesterday, as you reflect the color choice must be a reference to the name of the tavern. The gryphon sets you down and starts the water, washing you with a citrus-scented bar of soap which reminds you a little of the smell of Kelsyre’s cum, wondering if you’ll get a taste at some point of if things are likely to continue being so dirty with the green dragon as the silver talons gently wash down your chest and belly, the gryphon giving a cooing chuckle as she presses the firm surface across your penis and gives it a little tug. Of course, once you’re clean, she insists it’s only fair that you return the favor, jutting out the plumage of her neck and chest and standing to reveal the fur of her tummy and below so she can enjoy your smaller hands brushing and cleaning her body, moaning as you get too close to her lion loins before she decides she wants a little taste of your head down there, flattening you to the shower wall as her large warm sex sucks and smooches across your cheeks, regretting you didn’t get a chance to wash her vagina yet as she’s pretty ripe from playing earlier. After a few minutes of enjoying you in this position, there’s a suckling pop as the gryphon withdraws her pink pussy, returning to all fours and squatting just a little to smush you against the wall with her other end, giving you another deep smell of her still-unwashed butt and anus as she rubs you against those smooth tiles, cutting a few teeny farts which linger foully in the damp space.

Another washing later, and gryphon dries you with her downy feathers and fur after drying herself with a towel, chuckling and cooing as her talon returns between her legs and she huffs, saying it’s time for more fun on the rug. She scoops you up and carries you back out of the bathroom to lay across the soft tan rug once more, still a bit damp from your sweat, and you reflect as you watch her rearing and squatting her pussy over your head as she prepares to take a seat-the tips of her talon slimy as she removes them and wipes them on your naked chest with a snicker- that you really only get washed as much for the benefit of your bigger playmates so they don’t get their sex dirty when they’re enjoying you. Her flanks sink down across your shoulders and arms, pinning you against the rug with her front side as you feel the sticky heat of her sex pressing down across your face, slippery folds engulfing your cheeks with a slick suckling sound as the world goes pink, a distant and prolonged moan reaching your ears from above which is nearly cut off entirely as her ample vagina swallows you up to your chin, and you feel the pressure of her flesh against yours as she grips your face in a long, hot kiss with her moist loins. The gryphon’s furry flanks begin to rock and press against you, fur gradually growing damp as the musky odor of her sex intensifies in kind as she begins to bounce and hump across your features, a steady shluk, shluk, sklutch filling your ears as her huffs and moans fade in and out as her pink pussy withdraws up to your nose and eyebrows and upper lip, then plunges back down fully across your chin as her great weight sinks back down across you, coating your head from forehead, across your cheeks and down to your chin with the thinner viscosity of her pre-climax arousal with the teetering pressures of her massive, soft body, the gryphon stopping to pant and clench along your cheeks, pushing and pulling your head with her strong and slippery muscle as you feel a thinner strand of slime oozing down your cheek. The smell of musk is slowly broken by the gathering scent of sugar, like the hint before you added it to your coffee, but that stronger odor overtaken by the lighter in faint strokes as the heavy humping continues, introduced like an infusion into the musk of her slimy pre-climax fluids, the fat female pausing to catch her breath and wiggle her sex along your chin and forehead as she keeps your face inside her, resuming her humping but never pushing or bouncing enough to fully free you from her sticky pink privates as you breath through the thinner coat of pre leaking from her legs, spilling onto your cheeks and down your chin, staining the rug to either side of your head. At last, with a moan cut through with a raucous chirruping like that of an eagle, the massive gryphon climaxes in a splash of sugary sliminess, her thick seed spraying your entire head as she plunges down in her release, panting and groaning as you feel the folds of her sex slowly relaxing across your cheeks, sliding by centimeters up and back down, everything sweet and white as she recovers, her cum leaking down over your neck and dribbling onto the sweat-drenched rug to pleasantly contrast the smell left by her butt fur earlier and the muskier smell of her pre.

“Ahhh… huhh… h-humnnn…” the gryphon’s chest heaves in and out as she rolls over on the rug, pulling you to her downy chest as she licks some of her seed from your forehead with her thick black tongue, “Mmm… that was fun, human. I think… you deserve a taste, too.”

The dirty lion-bird shifts you down her sweaty plumage and damp fur with a sigh, gasping as she pushes your sticky head back into her slit with the base of her talon, holding your face in her pussy until she feels you taking a few licks of her sugary slime. She makes sure you’ve gotten your taste as she grips and relaxes her loins around you, her huge body shivering as you wonder for a moment if she’s going to get off with your face again, but then her sex stills and she relaxes her talon and lets you come back out, chucking as she wipes a long strand of slime trailing from the edge of her vagina to your cheek with the back of her talon. She groans and stretches, passing a small, squeaky fart from her anus as you regard her with a worried gaze, as she laughs and brushes down your upper back.

“Mmmm… I always need to take a second dump in the morning, like the movements of the stars, it never fails,” the gryphon muses as she continues petting you, “And now I am debating if I should give you a little break since you have been such a good little human, but I also could enjoy you all day long, mmmm… difficult choices…”

You grimace at the thought of getting buried in another outpouring of poop today, watching the lewd lion-bird tracing the edges of her sex with the tip of a talon as she considers her choices. But then it is decided for you, as the group of rats who have been watching the fun and pawing their human friend and each other are jostling near the edge of the booth, and there’s a thud as a fat rat falls out and lands laying on top of the man, the other rodents laughing and clinking their mugs together. The gryphon glances over the man with his trousers about his ankles, and then at the fat rat with his loincloth hanging along his groin, having adjusted its position to paw at the earlier fun at himself and his human friend, and decides with a cluck that removing a single article of clothing is preferable to stripping another human. The rat exclaims with a surprised squeak as the talon snatches him up and tucks him against the downy chest, the gryphon calling him, “her fuzzy toilet paper” as she trots off towards the toilets, the rat regarding her nervously as his companions call after him to have fun and to make sure he washes the poop from behind his ears as they pull the sailor back into their booth. You aren’t sure judging by that line if the rat is just going to be used to wipe or is headed down into the bowl to get pooped on, but shake your head as you stand and lament that your face is still covered in gryphon cum, holding your nose as you head for the sinks and hear a groan from the rat before the loud splattering splashes indicate it is definitely the latter.

“… will allow for satisfactory coverage of inspections for the time we shall be absent in dealing with the problem. If needed, we can pay for any delays in the cargo processing,” Malory is saying as you rejoin the knights.

“Lizelle, was that merely to-”

The wolf’s soft chuckle cuts you off as you sit down at the table, grateful that your breakfast is still somewhat warm, as everyone else is tucking into theirs.

“I will only say that, aye, we have had time to settle the debate in cooler temperament, my friend,” the wolf winks at you as she bites into a piece of ham.

Judging by the resigned expression on Amerst’s face and the energy with which Malory is scarfing down his eggs, you have an idea of how the argument settled before the lion advises. You are relieved, however, to see that your dragon friends seem much more relaxed now, though this may be due to having food and from enjoying the sight of the gryphon playing with you on the rug.

“We have reached a decision, my friend!” Malory announces as he claps a gloved paw across your shoulder, the leathery surface smooth like a dragon’s underside across your bare skin, “Get dressed, as you are welcome to ride out with Prexa and myself. We shall show you some real adventure this day, friend human!”

Loud enough so everyone at the table can hear it clearly, the tiger grumbles that he still thinks this is a foolish idea, tearing off a large bite of toast as he meets the warning raise of the lion’s eyebrow, and for an instant it looks like the wolf might need to step in again, but then Malory turns back to you to instead ask, “What say thee, my friend?”

Considering the matter more objectively now that it’s being presented- maybe this isn’t a very safe idea at all? After all, you’ll be riding out against a band of pirates, clearly hostile in intent, likely heavily armed with guns and almost certainly cannons, and the Windbourne Riders have… well, Malory does have a longsword, and Amerst has a pair of daggers…? Spirits…Yes, you’ll be flying out on dragonback, but you aren’t completely confident even Noctrus’ bulk is going to withstand a direct cannon shot to any part of his body, let alone a full broadside. As you’re considering these thoughts, you also feel a tinge of regret for now not having checked in with Drelfrumm since yesterday, wondering how the poor dragon would feel if you were to succumb to serious injury or worse. But… glancing expectantly now and again towards you, Malory is recounting a story to the others, causing even Amerst to smile, about being cornered by a group of armed bandits, and you recall the countless tales from your youth of the Riders’ chivalrous and heroic exploits, and almost nod to yourself as you consider, if you aren’t safe in their company, who could you depend on for protection save the gods and Spirits themselves? And to miss this opportunity to fulfill a childhood dream come true, could you honestly ever forgive yourself for passing this up?

Prexa interrupts your thoughts as she rests her head on your shoulder, swallowing her food before she begins speaking with a comforting purr behind her words.

“Don’t worry, my little human, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Her breath smells like eggs but her tone is as sincere as it is sweet and gentle. It seems she wants to prove herself as much as her lion is determined to do so.

You continue with your breakfast as you weigh the two options- fly out with the dragons or remain at the docks to wait for Drelfrumm?