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“Kinda fucked up the eyeliner again. But I’m definitely getting better! Ready to see the new you, birdie?”
Stolas’ seat swivels until he’s facing his vanity mirror. It takes him a minute to adjust to the face staring back at him. The reflection, whoever she is, is breathtakingly beautiful, like the fair maiden fated to be with her knight in shining armor. Stolas’ internal voice is yelling at him “That’s you! That’s you in the mirror!” It’s quite extraordinary how a little bit of makeup can make a homely owl look desirable. There’s shimmery lavender eyeshadow dusted above his eyes, and a thick coat of mascara has his lashes wisping dramatically around those giant red orbs. A faint hint of blush stains the white feathers on his cheeks, and the eyeliner Blitz swears is terrible is pretty impressive. But the most jaw-dropping bit of the transformation is his head feathers. Gone is his usual slick-back style, and instead the delicate gray feathers are framing his faceplate in gentle wavy locks. Sparkly strands of tinsel are sparsely placed near his scalp, adorning his head in golds and purples when the light hits them just right.
Stolas holds back tears, in complete disbelief that he can be this beautiful, and it’s all thanks to the talented hands now tenderly rubbing circles into his bare shoulders. The hands that have brought him to tears on so many nights, and hold him lovingly while he’s engrossed in his soap operas. It hits him that he’s crying when he sees a red claw come up to swipe a tear from the corner of his eye. “Hey, none of that. You’re gonna ruin my handiwork. So? What do we think?”
“Um… it’s beautiful, Blitz.” Both hands are back on his shoulders, rubbing down feathered arms. Stolas watches those sexy claws massage him when he remembers he’s completely bare. His tiny tits are poking out, perky bluish-onyx colored nipples peaking through the feathers. They’ve barely started coming in two months ago, and he recalls with amusement the night he excitedly showed his growth to Blitz, who proceeded to pop open the champagne they were saving for New Years Eve. The bird had his little pinchfuls sucked like a leaking heifer after, coming harder than he ever did in his life. He was pretty sure he passed out in between orgasms. The doctor did say sensitive breasts is a common symptom. Blitz must be reading his mind, because red claws are now cupping his small boobs as fingers roughly pinch his nipples. “Ahh! Blitzy!”
“You’re beautiful, Stols. And these. They look real good on you.” Another sharp tweak tugs desperate chirps out of him. Blitz has always been a passionate lover, but since the owl’s body started developing, the imp has been so savagely feral. The pervert grabs his perky tits whenever the opportunity presents itself. He cops feels on the couch while they’re watching some indie flick. Then he’ll apologize and call him his pretty bird and swear he was reaching for the buttered popcorn, though they both know the other knows what it actually is. Blitz’s enthusiasm for his growing buds makes Stolas squirm in his pink fuzzy faux-fur seat, and a trickle of wetness falls out of his cunt. “These are the hottest tits I’ve ever seen,” Blitz chuckles, “and I’ve seen a lot of tits.”
“Aaah… Blitzy, slow down! I’m more sensitive there now, remember?” Another gush of his juices escape through his swollen folds. His boyfriend has been sucking and toying with his tits for weeks, bullying him through countless mind-numbing orgasms before they’re so sore they feel like they’re bleeding. “Please, darling. I want to be under when I come this time.”
Blitz’s hands let up on tormenting the poor bird’s just-started-puberty boobs, and Stolas gasps until his shallow lungs replace the air he didn’t know he had bottled up. The night’s still young but his tender gumdrops are starting to ache already. It’s been five months since Stolas started taking his prescription shots, and his lecherous imp is already ruining his new body. He looks Blitz in the eyes through the mirror, still not used to the fondness he no longer bothers to mask behind scowls and crass jokes. “Thank you, darling. I can’t wait to have your hands on me again, just like that. But I want to feel like a fuck doll, in the literal sense, and I would be grateful if you could keep the touching to a minimum until I’ve slipped into hypnosis.”
“Anything for you, big bird. So, wanna go straight to it? Or did you wanna cool down for a bit? I know these scenes can make you…” Blitz tries to find the right word to describe it without sounding demeaning. Of course he fails, but at least Stolas has gotten better at reading between his lines. Dating Blitz means eventually learning his peculiar language and having the translate feature going off in your brain whenever he says something kind of shitty. “...emotional.”
He isn’t wrong. Any roleplay involving Stolas in a dress or lingerie gives him the shivers, but scenes like these, where his loving partner decorates him to his liking and dotes on him like he’s the most stunning demon in Hell… well, emotional would be an understatement. Blitz knew he cracked something buried within Stolas’ psyche when he called him a ‘dirty girl’ while balls deep in bird pussy. It was an accident, but Stolas makes a convincing chick when he tries, and the bird came so hard he nearly snapped Blitz’s penis off. Little by little, they’ve been experimenting with names, pronouns, clothes. Some decisions came easily. His name is to remain Stolas, much to Blitz’s delight. I like saying your name, especially when I’m fucking you. Others remain an ongoing conversation. He tried going by she/her pronouns at the start, then they/them. He feels most comfortable with masculine pronouns, though the occasional she/her and feminine terms are enthusiastically welcome. The posts on BurnBook he reads about nonbinary demons have made him more comfortable with his unconventional gender identity.
“Actually, I think I’m more than ready to have fun with daddy right now. Is that alright?” His pouty voice shoots daggers straight to Blitz’s cock.
“Arms up, slut.” Blitz swats a barely-there side boob, and the bird squawks before doing as he’s commanded. The imp rummages through one of the vanity drawers and picks out a see-through red bralette, with the smallest cup size the local adult store carried. He slips the skimpy, ruched fabric over the breast buds and secures it behind his lover’s back. “Up on those stompers. I got you matching panties!”
“You can still see my nipples through them. Good taste, daddy.” He does a once-over in the mirror, admiring his erect nipples underneath a translucent layer of scarlet. He can’t help but feel so proud of himself. He grew those. They’re not much right now, but they’re organic bird milkers-in-training. His blood and flesh. He’s capable of becoming something beautiful. On shaky legs, Stolas stands facing his lover, his uncovered cunt inches away from his snout.
“Duh. Gotta keep my fuck doll looking her best, right?” Blitz slides the red panties up Stolas’ thighs and makes sure to tug the elastic enough to snap on that feathered ass. “C’mon, pretty thing. Let’s take this party to the bed. Wait, shit! Almost forgot your heels. Just one sec.”
Blitz b-lines for Stolas’ half of their closet and digs through his modest but rapidly growing shoe selection. Stolas cannot stand anything on his feet. His collection is strictly kink gear, not one practical pair to be found. The imp reaches for the comically oversized ruby-red stilettos and hobbles back to his boyfriend. “Okay, baby bird. Grab onto my horns while I get these on.”
“Yes, daddy.” Stolas grasps the banded ivory. “Daddy~ That tickles!”
Strong claws intertwine with Stolas’ toes and secure the lace-up straps halfway up his legs. Blitz eyes his work of art up and down several times before nodding in satisfaction. His bimbo sex doll is towering over him more than ever, a full ten inches taller in those tacky fuck-me heels. Blitz’s mouth is no longer at cloaca level, but the curve of his horns are, and he shakes away the mental image of Stolas grinding his hard clit against them. That’s a fantasy for another day.
“Color, birdie?” Blitz massages the bird’s wobbly legs. Save for his fuzzy slippers, Stolas has never worn shoes in his life, and the leap from going barefoot full-time to stripper heels is completely throwing off his center of gravity. There’s no way he doesn’t topple over and eat the floor. Thank Lucifer Blitz is here to break his fall.
“Green. Oh so green, Blitzy. But…” Knees knock and eyes zero in on the potted houseplant in the far corner of their bedroom. Stolas is so ridiculously cute when he hesitates like this. Blitz is successfully chipping away at his partner’s reservations, but there’s a small part of him that never wants the bird to lose that endearing awkwardness. “...could you carry me to the bed? I fear I may sprain my ankles with these shoes.”
“I won’t let that happen to ya, big bird. Just say the word and I’ll carry you. But if you really wanna go all-in with this bimbo shit, you’d make a sexy ass hooker walking in those.” This is all the convincing Stolas needs, and he tightens his hold on his partner’s horns as he’s carefully guided to the bed. Blitz’s thick tail coils around one of the massive grippers and stabilizes his ankle, and a couple dozen seconds later the pair are tumbling on the mattress. Although still a bit clumsy, he didn’t do too bad for only his third attempt walking in heels this high. Blitz is already massaging his shaky legs again, silently praising him for giving an honest try.
“Mmmhh… Daddy. Want to be your dumb slut. Only yours.” Stolas lies on his back and basks under Blitz’s intoxicating gaze. He wants to succumb to him, to spread his legs and let his imp indulge himself with his damp hole. He desires to see nothing, hear nothing, perceive nothing but his Blitzy.
“That’s right, baby. My dumb slut. Mine. Every inch of this sexy body belongs to me. I get to fuck it whenever and however I want, and you’ll take it with a smile. You want that, you cock-brained whore?” The owl clams up and forgets how to speak all of a sudden. Instead, he slips a pathetic whine and a weak head nod and hopes that suffices for an answer.
“Tell daddy what you want, baby.” Blitz smacks his left tit through the fabric, this time enough to sting.
“I want you to fuck me until I’m mindless. Until I forget who I am except a wet feathery fleshlight. I want you to use my cunt so roughly, it bruises. I want you to lose your self-control and masturbate with my cloaca like I’m a plastic sex doll. Please, daddy. Please. I’ve been such a good girl, haven’t I?” There goes that fucking pout again. Brat. Blitz swats the other tit before roughly grabbing it.
“The best, baby. Now close your eyes, and focus only on my words. Your mind is sinking. Let go of all those anxious thoughts filling that pretty little head of yours. You’re my fleshlight, and fleshlights don’t think, do they?” Another unforgiving squeeze on the boob pulls a pain squawk from Stolas. “Answer me, birdie.”
“No, daddy. Fleshlights don’t think.”
“Good girl. Who owns this pussy?”
“You do.”
“Say it right, slut.” Another harsh slap to his tit, followed by a high-pitched yelp.
“You own this pussy, daddy. It’s yours, all yours. Only yours.”
“Very good. And when can I fuck you?”
“Any time, any place. My hole is available for you to use at your pleasure, daddy.”
“That’s right, slut. You can go back to being silent. Fleshlights don’t talk, either. You’re slipping, I can feel you slipping. You want to be useful to me? Be a good little sex toy? I know you do, baby. I can see the way you check yourself out in the bathroom after we fuck. You love the bitemarks I leave all over you, don’t ya, birdie?” Stolas doesn’t speak, as directed, and instead nods furiously. The truth is that Blitz claiming him makes him feel a thousand times sexier, and he has on multiple occasions hosted a selfie photoshoot for himself post-coitus. His fucked-out hair looks cute. Profile picture worthy, in fact.
Stolas lets his brain fade to blank, the echo of Blitz’s voice bouncing around his empty skull. He should be paying attention, but he’s so attuned to his boyfriend’s needs that he doesn’t require much instruction. All he has to worry about is looking pretty and keeping his cunt open. Blitz will do the thinking for him. A snap of fingers and Stolas’ eyes flutter open, though his eyelids are heavy enough that he looks only half-awake. “Mm mm mm!” Stolas feels the imp’s gaze molesting every inch of him. “You’re an expensive lookin’ thing, aren’t ya?”
Stolas lets a groan slip past his beak, words hovering just out of reach, never quite forming anything intelligent. He did not expect the spell to be so potent. His imp’s claws are all over him. They tug, knead, and grab every square inch of feathers they can reach.
Stolas takes good care of himself. He preens daily after a lukewarm bubble bath. He maintains his waistline with an optimal diet of grains, salad, and vermin. He even stops by the local nail salon once a week to refill his mani-pedi set. He’s always been a vain bird, as are all of Lucifer’s Goetias. Spirit of Pride and whatnot. But it took dating a man who truly sees him as the ethereal creature he is for Stolas to embrace beauty as a lifestyle. Blitz is his safe place, and with him he’s free to experiment, to make mistakes, to be a little messy. In the past, he would’ve counted himself lucky to get an hour to decorate his face before his arranged wife barged in, ready to unleash whatever torture method of the day she’d settled on. He’s woken from the unpleasant memory by skilled fingers playing with the thick patch of his happy trail just above the hem of his panties.
“Mmff…” Stolas clamps his beak shut. He wants to be a good fuck doll for daddy, and good fuck dolls don’t whine and beg. Blitz seems to be pleased with him, trailing his hand lower so his fingertips are brushing his barely concealed clit. His cunt is so swollen it’s swallowing the sheer fabric between the slick folds. The garment is entirely soiled now thanks to his bird juices, and suddenly a dim lightbulb goes off in his empty bimbo birdbrain. Stolas spreads his legs, slow and calculated, taking queues from Blitz’s expressions and grunts. The imp’s eyes are locked in on the hole, and Stolas angles his hips up so his lover can practically look inside him.
“Fucking whore. You want daddy to fuck you open? Fill you up with my cum?” Blitz hasn’t torn his gaze from Stolas’ cloaca yet, and another rush of slick bursts out of the owl. “That was a question, slut.”
“Fill me, daddy. Fill me until my belly swells.” The first real phrases he’s spoken since slipping come out a bit slurred. His tongue weighs heavy in his mouth, and he’d much rather have it wrapping around a cock than words. He’s here to be a fuck doll, after all.
“That’s what I wanna hear. Good girl.” Blitz tugs the flimsy fabric down Stolas’ hips and long, long legs before working them over his giant pumps. The panties are so drenched Blitz wonders if his boyfriend pissed himself at some point. He brings them up to his snout and inhales, and detects only the faintest hint of urine.
He grabs the back of Stolas’ thighs and pushes them down, fuckass bird ankles now bracketing the bimbo’s pretty face. His cloaca is fully exposed to the cool air and Blitz’s ogling, and the imp’s prehensile tail coils around his own, preventing any attempt at protecting his modesty. Stolas would normally make a fuss about such a lewd position, but his brain is too dazed to protest. He doesn’t mean to, but he can feel his rim clenching open and close under the intense scrutiny. He just hopes Blitz enjoys whatever pornographic performance his body decides to deliver without his permission. The satisfied purring lets him know he’s doing a good job, so Stolas lets his mind sink further and focuses on presenting himself. His slit gapes just enough for his obsidian guts to be visible when fully relaxed before the puffy rim clenches shut again. He repeatedly winks his entrance, his lips making a plop sound when they split apart. He drinks in the low moans and expletives from his lover. He just wants to please Blitzy, and he’ll go to great lengths towards that goal. It doesn’t matter how embarrassing. He’s debased himself on innumerable occasions just to watch his lover come undone. Blitz spits a fat drop of saliva straight into the open hole. “That’s a good birdie. You’ve got such a fuckable body.”
Stolas trills at the complement. He’s not allowed to speak unless commanded, but Blitz didn’t say anything about making cute bird noises. Hoots and chirps come naturally to him, especially under hypnosis. His own hands travel down to his cunt, and spread his lips even wider. He trills again when Blitz lets out a pained groan, and a quick glance at the denim bulge lets him know just how much his imp is enjoying the show.
Blitz brings his face closer to the wet mess, inhaling the rich heady scent. His bird looks so sinfully slutty like this. His makeup still looks pretty flawless, and his hair is tousled over the throw pillow under his neck. He’s doing his damn best to keep his cunt spread open, but every now and then his fingers slip on his slick. “Hook your fingers inside. C’mon. Keep your pussy open.”
Stolas does as his daddy orders, feeling past the feathered slit and along the silky flesh of his swollen rim, before pressing both index fingers inside, just barely past the first knuckles, and tugs the tight band of muscles open. “That’s a good birdie. Yeah, just like that. Holy fuck. How do you stay so tight? Looks like I could fit one, maybe two fingers inside ya.”
As though to underscore his point, Blitz acts without hesitation, cramming two of his massive digits in at once. Stolas cries at the abrupt intrusion. Oh, how he’s missed this. While he loves slow teasing, Stolas is a big fan of little to no foreplay before Blitz inevitably splits him in two on his energy-drink-can-sized cock. It always burns so good after. He cants his hips down and starts fucking himself, his drooling pussy making the glide easy despite the taut stretch. He looks up at his boyfriend, whose eyes have darkened into something predatory.
For months he’s yearned for Blitz to look at him this way, like he’s a defenseless hatchling to be consumed. It’s been ages since they've had anything remotely in the realm of kinky sex. Blitz is so sweet to him nowadays, almost cloyingly so. Always kissing him as he makes gentle love to him, and the bits of kinkiness Stolas insists they include in their nightly rituals — spanking, ropes, blindfolds — is kept to a minimum, with Blitz constantly checking in and killing the mood. Stolas is in disbelief that Blitz even agreed to engage in this roleplay. He had assumed the imp’s aggressive enthusiasm over the hormones and breast buds and crop tops was just Blitz being a supportive boyfriend.
A third finger stealthily slips inside, and the bird realizes he’s still riding his lover’s hand. His cunt spasms around the fingers, milking them like they’re his favorite red cock. “Yeah. Come for me, birdie. Come for me. Let go, baby. Yes. Yeah, that’s a good girl, Stolas!”
The bird squawks, feathers puffing up as he squirts five thick ropes of cum down Blitz’s wrists. His legs tremble and he gasps for air. That was embarrassing. He came so fast. On just Blitz’s fingers, no less. They haven’t done anything beyond vanilla sex since their full moon nights, but that’s still no excuse to come undone. He looks to his boyfriend and, oh! His pants and underwear are off, and a girthy cock bobs up and down from excitement. Blitz smirks back at him, like he’s proud of the damn thing. “You ready for daddy’s cock, baby girl? I wanna hear you say it, Stolas.”
“Yes. I want your cock, daddy. Please fuck me. My pussy feels so empty. Please. Fill me up. Take me.” Heavy panting punctuates his words, making him sound even more desperate.
“Yeah? Tell me more, baby.” Blitz grips his cock and starts jerking himself, aiming his head at Stolas’ cunt. “Tell daddy what that empty head is thinking.”
“Force your cock inside me, daddy. Push it all the way in. Even if I scream for you to stop. Use me, please use me. Ruin me. Fuck me hard until I bleed. Use my mouth, my cunt, my tits. Anything.” Stolas is realizing this hypnosis business is no joke. His dirty talk is getting out of control, and that’s a high bar to clear. He’s a tiny bit anxious he’ll say something embarrassing, or worse, off-putting. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he ever turned Blitz off. It’s never happened before, but there’s very little in life he can count on, and being worthy of unconditional love is not one of them. But here and now, he’s just a bimbo, a fleshy sex machine made to be sucked and fucked. Blitz is still yanking on his throbbing hard-on, hovering just above the wet slit. He’s so close, a shift of his hips would be enough to join them.
“You’d let me come on your tits?” As though on command, Stolas brings his talons to his breast buds and rolls them in his palms. He tries to jiggle them seductively like the women in the pornos they watch. It’s hard to pull off when his tits are so small they barely move, but his aggressive tugging and squeezing keeps the illusion going. Why had he not gone on HRT before? This would have healed him in ways the other wretched medications never could. But no point in dwelling on the past. He’s got the most handsome imp in hell sitting rock hard between his slutty thighs, his fluids glistening on that sturdy arm. It’s Stolas’ duty to please him. His breasts will grow bigger someday. Maybe, hopefully, very soon. Everyday they’ll grow heavier and sorer, and everyday he will seek his boyfriend’s mouth or hands like a mindless whore. He can’t wait for his breasts to balloon up so he can put them in pretty lace bras like those mannequins Blitz ogles at when they’re out shopping. Oh Lucifer, Blitz is staring at him. Stolas hopes he’s pleased with the show. He’s pretty sure he’s sexy, because he’s never felt sexier, and the imp looks like he’s holding back a fat load from watching Stolas play with his little handfuls.
“Yes, daddy. Use my tits.” They don’t have a lot of use right now; they’re way too small to motorboat or titty-fuck, no matter how much Blitz swears he can make it work.
“That’s a good little slut, Stolas.” Blitz tears his heated gaze off the bird’s immature chest and takes in those long, black bird feet. “How about your feet? You’d let me use your talons?”
The regimen and Blitz’s cooking have helped Stolas’ thighs shape out nicely, but the long shaft of his spindly keratinous feet remain slender, and the whole thing would almost look pathetically harmless if not for his top-of-the-food-chain talons. Blitz has received a couple dozen talonjobs in his life, and the same number of cuts to his balls and shaft. Those razor-sharp nails can gut prey in an instant, but that’s part of the thrill. The other part is watching his owl’s horny face attempt to look serious as he focuses on not mutilating his boyfriend’s penis. Considering Blitz walks away with only minor cuts, mission accomplished.
“Yes. Come all over my feet, daddy.” His talons ball up into closed fists at the suggestion. His slender toes would be so obscenely coated in man chowder, as Blitz crudely calls it. The thought of drowning in Blitz’s cum, his feathers drenched in it from tits to cunt, has his guts squirming. He feels a new stream of slick flowing through him, and he spreads his legs wider for Blitz to get a thorough look. The other demon growls before pulling him in by his feathered thighs. He folds said thighs up so the drooling cloaca is on full display. Stolas knows he’s in for a rough night, and he chirps in excitement. He desperately craves for Blitz to take him forcibly, too unhinged with lust to hold back.
“Fucking slut. I’m starting with your juicy puss first.” He drags his cock along Stolas’ puffy slit, smearing slick and making an even bigger mess on the delicate feathers framing his pussy. His blunt head catches on the stretched out rim with every pass. He doesn’t waste much time teasing Stolas, and plunges right in until he’s bottomed out. Shit. Stolas is still impossibly tight, despite all the fingerbanging and buckets of cum coating his walls. They stay like this for a moment, completely still. Stolas’ hole clamps down on the base of Blitz’s cock, holding back his premature ejaculation like a cock ring. Blitz’s hand rubs the distended belly his cock is digging into, beneath layers of feathers, skin, and flesh. “I’m so deep. You’re taking me so well. Such a good fuck doll for me, birdie.”
“Fuck me, please. Please, daddy.” For emphasis, the bird trails his fingers down and once again shoves them in his cunt, the fit impossibly tight thanks to Blitz’s thick cock. The imp’s brain is fighting the urge to turn to putty, which is ironic considering he’s not the one hypnotized here. It’s hard to not devolve into an untamed beast when his bird is begging for it like the whore he is. One of Stolas’ talons abandons his cunt and mindlessly reaches around for Blitz’s dangling balls. His deft fingers gently roll the sack around, juggling them in his palm. Blitz groans, considering for half a second to swat the hand away, before opting to let Stolas have his fun. He’s only trying to please his daddy, after all. The smaller demon settles into a steady rhythm and, aside from the few times he slips out, he’s pummeling the dumb bird’s guts at an unforgiving pace. Stolas gives the pair in his hands a firm squeeze when the cockhead pierces through the tight ring of muscles separating his cloacal vent and his intestines. The pain knocks the air out of the owl’s lungs. His handsome man is fucking the deepest parts of him, and he’s taking it like he’s meant for it.
“Your filthy fuckhole’s swallowing me up, baby. Fuck.” The obscene sound of his cock pumping the slick in and out of Stolas’ bird pussy puts Blitz into a trance. He didn’t think a hole could sound so sloppy yet so tight before Stolas, and even now he’s amazed at how vocal his cunt is. The imp’s eyes transfix on where their bodies connect. What a sight. That cloaca is downright wrecked. It’s more responsive than usual, spasming and contracting as Blitz pulls out before thrusting back in. His puffy rim is raw and twitching as his guts adjusts to the rude intrusion.
Blitz is so, so deep. This isn’t his first time breaching that second opening; Blitz has gently fingered that tiny hole a couple of times while fisting him, and some bigger toys have managed to reach, but he’s never this rough. He’s stretching that little entrance, and if he keeps going, he could probably bully the tip in. Stolas doesn’t know how long he can bear this pain. It hurts so good, and he’s quite the pain slut, but this is the worst discomfort he’s experienced during sex. Oh, but his Blitzy looks so cute fucking him, so happy as he mercilessly beats his cock into that abused cunt. His beautiful boy is so drunk off cloaca his hips falter every several thrusts. And he can’t. Stop. Staring. At his ruined snatch, like an artist falling in love with his masterpiece.
“Daddy~” Stolas whines for Blitz to pay more attention to his face than his cloaca. Without slowing his hips, the latter reluctantly peels his eyes away from the sloppy puss and stares at the pretty owl it’s attached to. Stolas’ hoots are coming out short, labored, and desperate. His tail wags when Blitz holds eye contact. “I want to be beautiful for you. Be your pretty fleshlight. Fill my fuckhole with your cum, finish on my tits. Anywhere. Please, daddy.”
A lightbulb must’ve flickered on in Blitz’s horny brain, because he stops his thrusts and carries his bird off the bed, not once pulling his cock out of that warm, wet crevice. He plops down on the swivel chair and swirls Stolas in his lap, so they’re both facing the mirror. Stolas looks so fucking gorgeous. Tears he didn’t know he shed stain his feathers tar black with mascara. His entire body is one massive pillar of fluff, no longer properly shining and preened. His tits bounce on as he rides the cock digging inside him.
“Look at you. Ain’t you something special?” Blitz is still in a cloaca-drunk stupor, and his shaky breathing is unmistakable despite his attempt at taking the reins tonight. “Fuck. Gonna blow my load. Y’close?”
Blitz’s grasp on his hips will leave bruises and broken feathers in the morning, but right now they’re gripping the bird like a lifeline. His cock never ceases assaulting the sensitive dead-end of his cunt. “I can tell you're close.”
Blitz is close himself, but he quickly cycles through a few unsexy thoughts — Stolas in the hospital, his dad naked, spelling bees — and staves off the impending orgasm. He swats the feathered ass in his lap, shoving the owl off his dick. “Up. Watch yourself while you take me from behind. Good girl. Just like that. Shit. Your birdpuss is fuuucked.” Stolas’ knees are wobbly but he angles his hips so his boyfriend can get a good view of his cloaca. Blitz slips his dick back through the tight rim. Copious amounts of slick leak out of Stolas and completely coat Blitz’s testicles, making the most obscene squelches when the owl slides down. “What a dirty fuckhole. So tight. So fucking tight. You want me to fill you, huh?”
Stolas impales himself on the angry barbed shaft like he’s born for it. He can’t help but appreciate how stunning he looks, despite looking more disheveled with every gut-rearranging glide along the fat cock. His imp looks more handsome, if that’s even possible. Unbridled lust looks good on his Blitzy.
“Ahh!” Blitz sinks his fangs into Stolas’ arm, forcing him to clench even tighter. They’re both so close, but neither wants it to end so quickly. “Daddy, please. Play with my tits.”
Blitz doesn’t need to be told twice. He tears off the bra and reaches for the little boobs bobbing up and down amidst a mess of chest feathers. He tugs at the pert nipples, pinching them and rolling them between his fingers. Stolas moans so sweetly, encouraging the imp to continue molesting his little breasts.
“Your tits are fucking hot, Stols. Can’t wait till they grow into fat milkers.” Blitz’s cock pistons in and out of the sopping cloaca. He’s so fucking close. Stolas braces his talons on the floor for leverage and assists his lover by fucking back on his meat. Another glance at the mirror and his imp has his eyes closed, completely lost in the mind-blowing scents and sounds emanating from the owl’s pussy. “Shit, baby…” He licks the wounded arm in between pants, preparing to mark it up again. “…not gonna last long. You close?”
“So close, daddy. Play with my clit, please?” Blitz isn’t going to deny his baby, not when he’s asking so nicely. Both his hands are occupied with a pair of A-cups, so instead the spade of his tail comes around to flick at the neglected nub. Stolas’ legs are gelatin again, and he musters what little strength he has to ride the dick. His hands find purchase on the vanity table. He leans forward and braces himself, and he’s delighted to see his Blitzy’s gaze travel lower, eyes stuck on the cloaca gripping him like a vice. Stolas deliberately clenches as he pulls himself up, knowing his walls just barely slip out in a way that drives his imp wild. Blitz taps his spade on the clit in rapid succession. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t get Stolas off with him.
“Wanna watch you come. C’mon, birdie. Be a good slut and squirt on daddy’s cock.” Blitz glares at Stolas, who is trying his damn best to maintain a steady rhythm despite wanting to tap out and beg his boyfriend to bend him in half. He’s so close, just a couple more flicks of Blitz’s tail and he’ll cross the finish line. He wants his imp to get there, too. Deep inside him. Fill him with that warm stickiness. Stolas arches his back dramatically, forcing his tail up in the air as his cloaca practically stares back at Blitz. The owl flushes upon hearing the new noises reverberating from his hole, but the grunts behind him encourage him to deepen the bend. “Sloppy bird cunt. Gonna come. Shit. Shit. Shit. Take it. Take all of it, whore.” Blitz flies his hips up into Stolas and blows his load, and excess sperm leaks through the tiny gaps in their union. Stolas feels so full.
“Ahh! Daddy! Daddy, daddy, daddy!” A hot rush of semen fills his belly, and if Stolas didn’t know any better, he’d think he was gravid. With Blitz’s eggs. Oh Lucifer, there’s more cum. Blitz is such a fruitful man. Stolas watches as his small bump distends further. He’s so full, so round, so pregnant. Would his little tits leak milk for their babies? Would his Blitzy drink from them? The image of his lover latching to his swelling nipples sends the bird over the edge, and a rich white cream flows out of him. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Oh, Blitzy~”
Stolas collapses flat on the vanity and Blitz’s softening cock slips out of his cunt. He feels their combined fluids spilling, most of it clinging to his thick bush while a few stray drops land on the carpet. They're silent for what feels like forever, with only their gasps breaking the stillness. Stolas chances a glance at the mirror again. He’s certain his imp is staring at his ravaged entrance. He wants so badly to put on one final show and contract his muscles for him, but the gaping hole is so blown out it doesn’t budge no matter how hard he tries. To his surprise, Blitz’s focus is elsewhere, and the imp stands on the chair before leaning forward to plant kisses on the sore feathered shoulders.
“How does a nap then a bath sound, big bird?” Blitz speaks through a thick fog of exhaustion. He suckles on a patch at the nape of his boyfriend’s neck, and Stolas wants to snatch the imp off his back and shove his boobs in his mouth.
“Nap sounds good, dearest. Just give me a moment. You’ve gotten me all sore.” Stolas hooks his arms under the crook of Blitz’s knees and piggybacks the little guy to the bed. “That was incredible, my love. Almost as fun as when we played cops and robbers.”
“Nah, this is way more fun. Bring those tits over here.” They fumble around to find a comfortable position, and settle for a hug, with Blitz’s face planted right between the fluffy boobs. The thick chest fluff rests on his head like a stupid toupee, and Stolas hoots in contentment as he pulls his darling imp closer. “Mmm… Have I ever told you you’re gorgeous?”
“Only all the time, dear.” Stolas has a habit of rolling his eyes when Blitz compliments him, and this only eggs the latter on.
“You’re so fucking big. Like a tall, tall model. Feels like I won the lotto or something. And that stupid laugh, fuck. I love hearing you laugh.”
“My laugh?” He is almost sure he’s never heard Blitz remark on his laugh. How long has he been paying attention to that sort of thing?
“Yeah. That hooting you do, and then when you’re laughing really hard, you snort.” Blitz imitates the sound, earning him a pout and a light jab to his ribs.
“I do not snort!” Stolas momentarily considers withholding sex for a week for such an insult. He’s a bird, and birds sing. Chirp. What have you. Such undignified noises like snorting are not in his repertoire.
“Do to! Here, I’ll prove it. What’s the difference between a chickpea and a garbanzo bean?” It takes Stolas a second to pick up that this is a set up to a punchline.
“Um… That’s a tricky one. What is the difference, dear?” He’s no longer upset about the remark, too invested in Blitz’s stand-up (lie-down?) comedy special.
“Never had a garbanzo bean on my face!” Stolas’ face morphs from confused, to contemplating, to a crooked smile before his beak flies open in laughter. He’s almost to tears, and his chirps give way to a particularly loud snort. He immediately slaps a hand over his mouth. Shit. Blitz is right. How embarrassing. Has he always had such an ugly laugh?
“Ha! See? Told ya you’re a snorter. It’s cute. Ready for another one? Why is your puss like the weather?” The imp wiggles his eyebrows, so excited to reveal this side-slapper.
“Oh, Blitz. Do I want to know the answer to that one?” Stolas can see his own brain with how far he rolls his eyes. First his laugh, now his privates? Is nothing sacred anymore?
“If it’s wet, it’s time to go inside.” Oh, would Stolas love to wipe that smug look off Blitz’s face with his own joke or two about his stupid cock, but he’s too flustered to come up with anything clever. Still, he’ll admit it’s a funny joke, and he lets out a couple of delighted hoots. No snorts though.
“You’re incorrigible.” Try as he may, he is too madly in love with the stupid man in his arms to truly be upset with him. Besides, Blitz thinks his laugh is cute.
“That better be a fancy word for pretty. Ok, last one! Whadya call a sweaty owl?” Stolas is suddenly self-conscious. Does he stink? Tonight has been quite intense, and his skin and feathers are noticeably damp. His worries are quelled when Blitz buries his snout in the space between armpit and sideboob and inhales the musky scent. Stolas adjusts his arm so it’s tucked under his boyfriend’s horns, giving the imp better access to the sticky clump of pit feathers. “A moist owlette! Hahaha!”
The couple burst into coughing fits, cackling their lungs out. Stolas tries to suppress it, but he’s snorting more than laughing. The rush of serotonin puts him in a good mood again, and he succumbs to the urge to smush his beak to Blitz’s horn.
“Fine, I concede. I do snort when I laugh. At least you find it somewhat endearing.” He hugs his imp tighter, silently thanking Lucifer for allowing their paths to cross. His prophecies used to show him a happy life with a partner he’s insanely attracted to, and his boyfriend’s beauty, wit, and kindness are beyond even his wildest of premonitions. “Thank you, Blitz.”
“For what, birdie?” His voice is muffled by the fluffy armpit he’s sunk back into.
“For… Well, everything. These past couple of months have been terrifying for me. You know I don't take well to changes, and watching my body develop hasn’t been easy.” Stolas knows it’ll get easier with time, but this weird in-between phase of transition is deeply anxiety inducing, especially when in public. He fixates on his too-deep voice, on his chest that’s too small to signal the waiter he isn’t a “sir”. He’s painfully aware he doesn’t pass yet.
“Aww, babe. Puberty is rough no matter how old you are. It’s one of those things you just gotta tough out, ya know?” Blitz is impressed he’s able to string together a sentence, because the heady aroma emanating from his bird’s skin is dangerously intoxicating.
“I know, but you’ve made this journey bearable. I look forward to my morning shots now, and I used to dread taking medications.” He feels the tickle of his imp’s tongue tasting his stench. Blitz is a freak for scents, and Stolas lets him indulge.
“You like your new body now, yeah?” Sniff. Satan. Blitz regrets suggesting a bath after.
“Oh, most certainly. You know, I used to avoid looking at my reflection in mirrors. It’s silly.” This time, Blitz dislodges his face from the wet cocktail of sweat and pheromones, and gazes into his partner’s four eyes.
“Not silly. I’m happy you’re happy, Stols. Or getting there, at least. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come, buddy.” A warm, honest smile later and he’s back in position, tasting the steamy air around him.
“All thanks to you, my love. You’ve been nothing but supportive, even when I’ve not been very kind to myself. Some days, I have a hard time appreciating the changes. I can’t begin to tell you how affirming it is, to hear you call my breasts juicy. Despite their size.” Stolas whispers the last part. He knows he shouldn’t be so self-deprecating. Blitzy doesn’t like that.
“Size ain’t got nothing to do with it. All tits are juicy, and yours are the juiciest…” he lazily wraps his lips around the nipple closest to him, refusing to pull his nose out of his bird’s humid pits in favor of properly latching on. “...perkiest…” his hand holds the other boob and pinches the dark bud. “...jiggliest jugs in hell.”
“Oh, darling. You’re going to make me wet again. Are you enjoying nursing on my breasts?” Blitz is silent, save for his moans when he huffs Stolas’ scent. The owl decides the weak suckling suffices for an answer. His poor Blitzy must be too exhausted to speak. Yawn. His own heavy eyelids blink a few times before he’s drifting off, guided by his beloved’s snoring.