Description
Alchemy
Commission has done for Feather.Stride
Story by Feather.Stride edit by falcrus
Story
Narrator: The old sign rattled in the evening breeze, hung over the door of a store still open despite the late hour. “Altered Alchemy,” the sign read, amid a structure of roughly hewn stone and hardwoods for support. The timbers, despite their age, were well-kept, if not well-worn.
Narrator: The oversized oak door creaked open as a figure stepped within and stepped into the green glow of two eyes attached to a large, feral creature.
Stranger: Pet is here but where is the proprietor?
Narrator: When the visitor began to look around in search of the owner of this animal and the store, the creature narrowed at this customer, though he must have needed the business to have not thrown him out on the spot. The venom in the man’s voice was apparent enough, and the tired gryphon was in no mood for games.
Stride: Why yes, we do deal in vermin control. Rats, insects... Two-leggers such as yourself…
Narrator: Gryphon said this with contempt or even hate in response to a visitor's biased question, to make it clear to him that he is not welcome here if he is going to talk that way.
Stranger: I came for an alchemist, not a comedian. I have a night of fun coming along, and I want to be certain my guests will be...
Narrator: The visitor took a short pause before saying very emphatically, as if hinting at something.
Stranger: Thoroughly entertained.
Stranger: Surely you’ve something of that sort of the wingless and featherless?
Stride: Wait right here. But it’ll be expensive. Party favors are not exactly a common ground tread by alchemists.
Stranger: Yes, yes, run along, creature. Fetch me my potions.
Narrator: Descending the stairs after a glare of contempt and nod, the gryphon cursed that being’s kind and entered the most important part of this establishment with a handful of creaky steps. Books and glassware lined the walnut shelves, dusty if not orderly.
Narrator: The lab was kept clean and clutter-free, all labelled vials and bottles facing outwards towards the rough stone walls. The still air spoke to a lack of ventilation, though eventually it would filter up to the rest of the structure, which was above ground. While clearly the abode of a successful alchemist, the size of the furnishings hinted at a larger than average tenet.
Narrator: A loud voice of a visitor was heard from above, clearly addressing him. Another poisoned phrase.
Stranger: You know, it is very smart that an alchemist gets an apprentice as a gryphon like you, to keep the store open even in this late time, when nothing beside cleaning this, fix that, be running errands and serving buyers. Nothing the bird can't handle. Haha. No need to pay humans or someone more skilled. Good business move!
Narrator: But the gryphon tries to ignore that self-confident idiot. Obviously he is trying to mock the gryphon, he can't believe that someone quadruped could own a store and be a good alchemist. He does throw away the thoughts and try to focus at his searching.
Stride: Seven aphrodisiac vials, four hallucinogen bottles…
Narrator: Scanning the shelves, mumbling and taking stock of his “party” wares, the ebon-feathered gryphon slowly found his way down the rows of shelves and counters.
Narrator: His oversized, scaly tail was not a normal addition to a gryphon, but it was a testament to his ability as an alchemist and his courage of testing his experiments at his own.
Narrator: The visitor still talking to him something loud, but he tried to ignore his poisoned speech.
Stride: Also I have noticed... since you do not wear clothes. Of course animals do not.. and you are nude and I did not see balls and penis, as the usual animal kind of you would have. So I believe you are female, right?
Narrator: This phrase caused an expressive reaction, ruined his balance and forced his tail wide to try and steady himself.
Stride: What?!
Narrator: Wood shattered as his tail cleaved through the shelf he had just taken stock of, vials and bottles spilling their contents onto the floor. The gaseous contents hissed from their freed confines, swirling and mixing in the air as the gryphon gasped in surprise.
Narrator: A gasp which sent the potent mixture into his lungs, immediately wreaking havoc on his senses. The room began to spin, and amorphous clouds of gas began to take shape.
Stranger: Oh I just guess. Are you okay down there?
Stride: Who’s there?
Narrator: Coalescing before him, one of the clouds took on the form of a nude human being, a two-legger as he called them, whose eyes were empty as they were bright. The hands of the figure stroked down her sides as she called out in a voice so very familiar, yet beyond his recollection.
Narrator: A second figure came into view just beside the other, who was also stroking the first’s curvy sides and hips, pleasing her. Stumbling backwards, shaking his head, the distraught gryphon’s hind paw caught on that broken section of floor, trapping him in the vapors that caused these hallucinations. The second figure circled around him as he struggled to free himself, her voice different from the first’s.
Hallucination 2: You can’t get away that easily, stud.
Narrator: By the time that Stride had successfully freed his leg, a sensation washed over him. The form of that woman was stroking along his scaly backside and underbelly, directly the gap in his scales where his slit made its home. Despite being composed of the fumes from the bottles, the touch was like ice and fire, the sensations shocking as they were pleasing. Stumbling slightly, the gryphon shifted forward, only for the other figure to take him by the cheeks and guide his beak between her legs.
Hallucination 1: You aren’t going anywhere until you’re as empty as we are full.
Narrator: Any struggle the gryphon might have put up was squarely defeated by the tantalizing touch of the ephemeral ladies before him. It was not simply the warm, fulfilling touch of the bare skin from a human being, but the powerful, primal grasp of desire that overrode any other sensation.
Narrator: They weren’t touching him so much as reaching into him, bending his every thought from the haze of confusion to the fine-pointed focus of ambitious lust. Forcing his animal nature making it appear, ironically confirming the words of the visitor who refused to accept gryphon as his equal. Only a beast not capable of anything. Just carry out the simplest assignments and breed female to continue his bloodline.
Stride: What are you two?
Hallucination 2: We are everything you ache for.
Narrator: The gryphon’s body surged with immense need of his nature he tried to hide, pretending he is a erudite alchemist. His focus making it a simple task for the apparition-like figures to maneuver him onto his back.
Narrator: Thus exposed, the gap in his scales was now parted wide, with two spires already tipped in fluid, spilling over at the lightest touch from the hallucination behind him. One length glowed with the same bright green of his eyes, a tapered length of nearly a foot. The other was coated in ridges, even more sensitive to touch than the last, and the target of a stroke from the ghostly hands. Does it his nature, or a result of his experiments too, who knows?
Stride: Hands are so dexterous…
Narrator: As if accepting an invitation, two more hands slid down his chest as a feminine form climbed atop him, resting her nethers above his best just prior to a grind along the smooth upper section of his beak. While there were no fluids left behind, the sensation that accompanied the touch of her sex left the gryphon groaning in need, his ridged member throbbing hard in response, no thanks to the stroking hand upon the shaft.
Hallucination 1: You hate us, do you not? Channel that hate.
Hallucination 2: Give us what we desire above all else.
Narrator: Any resistance the gryphon may have offered was replaced instead with the parting of his beak and the arching of his spine. As the second hand stroked his other length in tandem with the first, he plunged his tongue into the phantasmagorical depths before him, surprised to feel the familiar constricting sensation that only taut, fertile sex could provide.
Narrator: They did not need to goad him further to have him conform to their will-- his own, given form by the alchemical concoction spilled out beside himself. The croons and cries of his partners was music to his ears, elicited by that exploratory tongue, feeling down passages that did not make sense, yet felt so very right. Soon, however, he withdrew that appendage and gasped for breath.
Hallucination 1: Give us more, and we shall likewise offer you more.
Narrator: Reaching back from his chest, the gentle caress of the hand to his cheek was somehow still strong enough to guide his panting beak back to its place between her legs. The digits upon his ridged member knew just how to glide upon those plateaus, stroking every sensitive point and nub across the length, drawing forth a pleasured warble from the gryphon, accompanied by a spurt of pre.
Narrator: A precursor to what would follow. His tapered, glowing length was twisted with each pump, the angle and pace changing at set intervals that left him unable to grow accustomed or weary of any particular pattern.
Hallucination 1: Oh, lying at his back, spread his own at the floor. Mhm… so inviting, how can we refuse that… I’m going to ride you until morning as you ask!
Hallucination 2: If you think our hands are dexterous…
Narrator: Dismounting the beak, the first hallucination sat beside him, stroking at her groin and at her chest, giving him a show as the other began to slow. In tandem, they shifted onto his thighs, resting their loins against his knees as they ground against him. Then, lowering at the same time, both of their mouths parted into those blinding smiles before taking a length each within their gaseous maw. He was confounded by the clear sensation of a tongue, though he could see none within their mouths, only his lengths throbbing and twitching against the air.
Stride: Don’t stop.
Narrator: While they had both accepted his lengths in a perfectly symmetrical fashion, the sensations were anything but. The invisible tongue upon his tapered length circled the tip before sliding down the left side, returning to the tip, then sliding down the right, slowing and speeding up to keep him on his toes. The other tongue was far more erratic, flicking at ridges here, before adjusting and stroking several elsewhere, never forming any coherent pattern to be determined, instead tantalizing him with its randomness.
Stride: Exactly what I need…
Narrator: The murmuring of the gryphon could barely be heard over the sloppy, wet noises of the slurping that followed. As if the tongues weren’t enough stimulation on their own, the suction that followed was nearly enough to send him careening over the edge of his threshold, though he grit his beak and held on, wanting nothing more than to make this last.
Narrator: Their grinding intensified, those wet-feeling folds parting slightly around his furred knees as the heat radiating from within graced his skin and senses in a surreal manner.
Stride: I… Can’t…
Narrator: Rising in intensity along with their ministrations, the throbbing and aching for release was rapidly becoming far too much for him to handle. A knowing look crossed their faces as he watched them accepting a member a piece, and they both took on a pace that was unnatural. The grinding, the dance of their tongues, the suction force was all impossible. No surprise, then, as the gryphon cried out loudly, just in time for the apparitions to remove his lengths and allow them to impart their sizable load, spurt after spurt, into the chemical cocktail between his legs.
Hallucination 2: That was not all of you.
Narrator: Despite the powerful climax, he could sense that they were right. Those aphrodisiacs that had spilled kept him stiff as a board despite it all. While he still felt the satisfying exhaustion that followed his climax, he still wanted to keep going. To go until he couldn’t feel these two-leggers and their wonderful bodies any longer. He watched as one of them rose and had a seat upon his counter, crossing her legs and leaning back to give him a view of her ample chest.
Hallucination 1: You will give us all your seed, you an animal, a stud, show us your virility. This is what meant that human upstairs.
Narrator: Climbing atop his belly, the apparition nearest stroked up her belly, then breasts, presenting herself to his eyes. Then, reaching down, she grasped both lengths in her grip, the shafts brushing together, as she descended upon them, both of the tips angled perfectly to penetrate her. The initial parting of her petals was tight, though she stretched with several attempts, both tips slotting within her and adding to the blinding grin upon her mockery of a face.
Stride: How can this be real?
Hallucination 2: Do we not feel real? Perhaps you will feel real as you climax again-- This time within us.
Narrator: The wriggling of her hips shifted those tips at odd angles to feel every bump and ripple of her walls-- Not that any were visible through her translucent form. The clinging grip of her muscles only tightened as her body slid down his own, and his lengths passed that threshold into a zone of wet warmth that enveloped everything within.
Hallucination 1: How do we feel, Stride? No need to answer with your beak-- Use your body instead.
Narrator: The shock from having just orgasmed to being forced into a tight pussy was jarring, to say the least. However, the arousal and need were rapidly building up once again. The way the passage seemed to almost conform to his lengths, yet not bar passage, was a testament to the supernatural forces at play.
Narrator: Sensations and feelings he would never again feel, and as such, relished to their fullest in the here and now. The gyrations only added to the swathes of pleasure that sang across his spine in waves. Each millimeter of movement was an orchestra of sensations felt across his thighs, groin, cocks and back.
Stride: I-it’s too much, slow down!
Narrator: Definitely, those curvy hips began to rock side to side rather than gyrating, the limited space for the lengths making one pump in further than the other, only for their positions to be swapped, the tightness mingling with the sensation of frotting, both cocks stroking one another the entire time. And yet, despite the overwhelming pleasure, he found he did not have the urgent need to finish.
Hallucination 1: Take your fill, and only then will we release you of your duty to us.
Narrator: Every twitch, twist and throb of the hallucination’s walls filled him with an ever-growing desire, yet there did not seem to by any end in sight. Without that instinctive limit he could feel when his climax approached, he could only feel arousal and exhaustion compounding into an experience that was both euphoric and disastrous.
Narrator: Hands caressed his chest before pressing down, stabilizing herself as she rose, tips nearly slipping from her, before her entire torso fell until her nethers kissed his own, both lengths buried as deep as they could go. His fores tightened their grip as he cried out, the sheer tightness across the entirety of his tapered lengths an impossibility. Yet, that only served to make it that much more to savor.
Stride: When… When will I finish?
Hallucination 2: When we release you. Then you, too, will have release.
Narrator: In spite of the gryphon’s thrashing given the mounting stimulation, his partner continued to quickly, if not calmly, take him within herself. The loud popping and smacking of their lubricated sexes parting and rejoining time and time again filled the air, much the same as the gases of the potions had prior.
Narrator: Each full stroke, with every millimeter of his lengths possible stuffed inside of her, there was little room for doubt. This was almost certainly the very best rutting he’d ever had. A thought that was ill-timed, as she began to double her pace.
Hallucination 1: Let us seep into every fiber of your being, so you may know true elation.
Narrator: The excited, amorous cries of both hallucinations, mirrored in inflection, but not tone, only added to the entire situation. Feeling drained, the gryphon was grasping at the straws of consciousness, barely able to form thoughts that did not revolve around the all-encompassing lust that plagued him.
Narrator: Crashing upon him like waves, the ocean of her interior seems to never end, with crushing depths that were constantly changing with the position of her hips, he could only endure it. Endure and hope his mind would be intact by the time this was over.
Hallucination 2: It is time.
Hallucination 1: Are you prepared?
Stride: Yes!
Narrator: With a meaning only implied, the gryphon had no idea what he had agreed upon. Not that he could have processed any of it. But once their cries reached a crescendo, he realized what he had approved. It started with her walls slowing their grip on his lengths, but an increase in their warmth.
Narrator: All at once, the pressure returned, but intermittent, like a flickering light. The rippling was hardly uniform, overlapping and intensifying, and grasping from impossible angles. All at once sensations rushed back into him and he realized that he, too, was so very close to his own orgasm once again-- Perhaps even surpassed it.
Stride: I need--
Hallucination 1 & 2: Then give it!
Narrator: In the midst of the constricting, powerful climax, he couldn’t help but repay it in kind. His lengths throbbed until it reached a fever pitch and once more felt the familiar relief of the initial volley of his seminal fluids.
Hallucination 1 & 2: Cum! Cum, you beast! Accept your breeder nature!
Hallucination 1 & 2: Fill! We are your female, breed us as gryphons, breed us as your partners in wild sex! Show us who you are! Who is the alpha here!
Narrator: The explosive force behind this particular orgasm surpassed even the first, trapped and suspended within the body of the apparition before him. Between both of his lengths pumping out shot after shot, he was surprised to see the sheer volume that accumulated-- To think that was only half!
Narrator: That or the aphrodisiacs were having some peculiar side effects. His every throb was having him fire on all cylinders, and his heartbeat felt as though it were between his legs, in his throat, and everywhere in-between. His cries nearly drowned out their own. Almost.
Hallucination 1 & 2: YES! We feel you! We are reflecting you!
Narrator: The lingering stench of gaseous potion lingered in the air, alongside the distinct scent of gryphon musk. He wasn’t certain how long he’d been asleep, and his muscles barely felt in any condition to be moving, let alone climb stairs.
Narrator: Still, he dragged himself up onto the rough wooden floor and carried himself, slowly, to the upper floors. He was a mess, and he didn’t need any mirror to tell him that much. When he saw the closed door to his storefront, he remembered the customer.
Stride: Well, I suppose I didn’t really need their sale…
Narrator: The gryphon considered the closed door. Had he closed it? It was supposed to be a simple trip down to take stock before relaying availability to that obnoxious two-legger. As the door swung open, he was greeted with the sight of that same two-legger, seated on the opposite side of the counter, barely visible over the gryphon-sized furnishings. His eyes widened, namely because the two-legger smiled.
Stranger: I don’t know how to tell you this, but… I want whatever it is you spilled down there.
Narrator: The gryphon certainly would have blushed if his ebon feathers hadn’t obscured the reaction. He really hadn’t closed the door after all. But more importantly, they had clearly watched.
Stranger: Tell it to me straight, gryphon. You’re an alchemist. I know you all develop resistances to potions.
Stride: A dose of that size would have given you a heart attack.
Narrator: Rather than seem deterred, the two-legger instead broadened that smile, as if in great excitement and anticipation. He watched as they removed a coin pouch of not insignificant size and felt its weight as it hit the counter.
Stranger: You give me whatever it takes to come just shy of death’s door, so long as it’s nearly as good as whatever you were seeing down there. Mumbling to yourself sweet nothings and making a huge mess. And also, now i know, that you are a male, and see, that i was right about your wild nature, but in a specific way.
Stride: ...It shall be done.
Narrator: The gryphon slipped the coin under the counter and turned around to enter his lab once again, exhaustion still seeping to his hollow bones. Glancing over the railing, he could see the sheer size of the mess he’d created, around in reality, instead filling those spirits and couldn’t help but feel slightly impressed. He could only hope that the experience of that two-legger was even half as good as his own.
Art © 2021 Falcrus, Character - Feather.Stride © as himself (gryphon)
DragonHugger
MemberThe story is a lovely read, as is the artwork provided.
I do love me some gryphons, and alchemy, double bonus! :)
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