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Warning! Warning! Warning! This story contains all those things your mom and dad said they'd tell you about when you grew up, in hopes you'd never ask again. Avert your eyes, lest this missage burns itself into your retinas, for I can't be held accountable for your marred purity! And all the rest. You know the deal. 18 blah blah don't read blah blah legal blah blah... Okay, enough on with the story. Warning! Warning! Warning! __________________ Lunch Break - By Kandrel

• * * Kylarr yawned, clacking his beak back shut and fiddling with the till's hard plastic buttons with idle claws. It'd been almost an hour since he'd seen a customer, and two since his last break. By all signs, it was going to be another long day. The mall was empty, the Wednesday slump leaving the morning sunlight streaming through the high skylights to reflect off of the highly polished floors. Here inside, the air-conditioned air held the smell of nothing but the harsh cleansing solutions used on the floor the previous night, and not a wisp of breeze stirred the air. Mixed with the gryphon's boredom, it was enough to turn the morning's doldrums into restless impatience. The second hand on the clock crawled around its track, and the minute hand matched its lethargic pace. The bright glare of sunlight shone off of stone and linoleum from the wide mall halls just outside his store. Slowly the light moved from tile to tile as seconds, minutes and hours passes, slowly approaching the long awaited lunch break. Eyes closed and mind wandering, Kylarr retreated into his own imagination to survive. In his own mind, he was flying, gliding from thermal to thermal and playing in the breeze, the mall disappearing into the formless sprawl of suburbia below him. Wings spread to catch the sunlight, he settled into an easy pace. Even though it was far below him, his eyes could pick out detail of each person going about their business. His mind started to wander, even in the midst of his fantasy, and his eyes flicked from imaginary form to imaginary form. On the streets below him, all of the people walking to and fro about their business were naked, fur bared to the sunlight. Tipping over the edge from daydream to sleep, the fantasy lost form, the lucid dream becoming hazy oblivion. The sound of talons takking on the stone in the halls of the mall woke Kylarr. Thankful for being a light sleeper, he straightened himself in the little swivel chair behind the counter. He pulled his store jersey straight and patted down his face feathers, blinking owlishly in the reflected sunlight. As he shifted, his pants strained against his crotch, the fabric tenting a bit as the subject of his dreams came back to him. Quickly sitting and crossing his legs, he tried to make himself as presentable as possible, half hoping his store would stay empty just long enough for his erection to fade. With a barely suppressed groan, Kylarr watched the figure approach his store, passing through the bright patches of streaming sunlight. Still unable to focus his eyes properly, he blinked quickly, trying to identify the person. Slowly, the approaching form solidified into vaguely avian, then further as the feline legs stepped out of the intense sunlight into the darker halogen glow of Kylarr's store. Back-lit by daylight, the figure stood for a moment as if posing, the sunlight blazing like an aura around its form. At least six feet tall at the tip of his frilled head, the newcomer blinked as his own eyes adjusted to the low light of the shop. Atop his head, thin feathers formed a frill, bobbing a little as his head moved. His feathers were dark, almost black, with the hints of Lanner hawk markings along the wings folded against his back. His chest was exposed, the spikey ruff of feathers over his chest covering thick, cord-like muscles, dipping sharply to a thinner waist. Over the new gryphon's stomach, the feathers thinned and disappeared beneath dark brown fur, marked by black tiger-stripes. Kylarr's beak clacked again in appreciation, his waning erection springing back to life in his baggy jeans at the sight of the darker gryphon standing in front of him. Proving that his subject wasn't a part of his earlier fantasy, though, long black shorts covered the gryphon's midsection and legs down his knees, made of some shiny material, drawing attention away from the feline tail and legs that emerged from holes in the fabric. Without preamble, the gryphon started to roam the store, picking up shorts and shirts and examining them, before hanging them carefully back on the appropriate hooks. As he moved, Kylarr's eyes followed him, watching the play of muscles over the avian and feline form. To Kylarr's eyes, this gryphon was obviously a weight lifter, or an athlete. Kylarr tried to imagine each outfit on the larger gryphon's frame, but his imagination invariably strayed to try and imagine what was beneath those outfits. His mind had wandered so far that he almost missed when the gryphon walked back to the front, a few pairs of shorts and shirt in hand. "Don't s'ppose you have changing rooms here? Love to try these on." The gryphon's accent wandered a bit, though in the end, Kylarr decided that the only word he could use to describe it was "rural." Glancing quickly over the items the larger gryphon held, Kylarr felt below the desk. "Booth number two. Just back behind the jeans." He handed over a badly abused rubber tag, oversized key dangling below. He waited for the gryphon to amble back towards the changing booths, then, seeing his chance, he stood and snuck back into the rear of the store into the employees only section. He waddled a little uncomfortably as he moved, trying to hide his excitement, and consciously smoothing down his wings. He heard the click of the changing booth closing, then with another click, the security monitor in front of Kylarr sprung to life. Not long ago, on advisement from their head office, the chain Kylarr was employed by had installed high-quality security cameras, all controlled here in the rear of the store. To Kylarr's great amusement, the camera watching the rear of the store was ideally located to look in on one particular changing booth. With another flick, the security recording tape stopped, giving him freedom to swivel the camera. Hoping the soft whirr of the servos controlling its view wouldn't alert his "guest", the camera gazed down into changing booth number two. Through the eyes of the camera, the gryphon placed the bundle of clothes on the seat while gazing at himself in the mirror. He ran talons through the frills on his head, the dark feathers springing back to position. The long feline tail whipped behind him as he bent forwards. Dragging talons through the fur of his sides, he caught the waistband of his shorts and tugged downwards. With fluid grace, he lowered his shorts, tail tugging through its hole in the fabric, then springing free above his back as the shorts gathered at the gryphon's ankles. Kylarr gulped loudly, paws fumbling at the catch to his jeans as his eyes feasted on the sight of the gryphon in the stall bent over, tail high. Now completely naked, Kylarr could see that the stripes continued over the avian's rump fur, and wished that the camera showed him colors. The gryphon in the booth turned, wings flipping a bit and a stray feather fluttering to the seat as he reached for the first pair of shorts on the stack. Getting full view of the gryphon's front, Kylarr's paws drifted into his now open jeans, gripping his thick erection through thin cotton and stroking a little. Even through the imperfect picture captured by the security camera, Kylarr could see the thick sheath in stark contrast against the background of the smooth monotone of the veneer of the stall's walls. The sheath was plump, visibly bulging around its contents. Stark black balls dangled beneath the fuzzy pouch, swaying a little as the gryphon shimmied into the first pair of shorts. Careful of his fur, the dark gryphon pulled the shorts snug around his waist, not bothering to feed his tail through the hole in the back. Clearly the shorts were a size to small for him, as his sheath bulged the front of the lyrca out, the waistband not able to even lay flush against his stomach. He put his hands on his hips and turned sideways, looking at himself in the mirror. Kylarr leaned back, eyes flicking to the other two cameras momentarilly to make sure that no one else had entered the store. He caught the elastic of his own underwear and tugged down, his thick shaft springing up against his thinly furred belly and dribbling slowly. He wrapped his scaled fingers around it, careful of the sharp talons tipping each one, and started stroking himself slowly as he watched the display. The gryphon in the booth was admiring himself in the under-sized shorts, fingering his own sheath through the smooth material. Even though the image quality wasn't great, Kylarr could just make out the lighter colored tip appearing at the fuzzy entrance to the gryphon's sheath. The dark gryphon in the booth squeezed his sheath, the lighter blotch on the screen growing in length, until the gryphon bent over again, shimmying out of those shorts and fitting the next pair around his legs. The next pair, roughened denim, were baggy and clumped up around the gryphon's waist. Tugging and twisting, the gryphon turned side to side, glancing at his waist. With a flash of inspiration Kylarr realized what the gryphon was doing. As the darker figure opened the zipper and gave his plump sheath a few more quick strokes, Kylarr figured that he must be trying to find shorts that would hide his ample endowment, even when he was at least moderately excited. Paw moving on his own cock quickly, Kylarr hunched over his stool and put a paw to the security monitor. As the denim shorts slid off of the darkly furred hips again, the black sheath now showing a good four or five inches of slickly glistening gryphon cock, Kylarr put a hand on the security monitor and grunted, his own shaft flaring a bit, squirting thick gobs of slippery cum across the concrete floor of the back hallway, narrowly avoiding the boxes of overstock littering the floor. He closed his eyes, huffing loudly through his clenched beak and wheezing a little. A minute or so later, he let his spent cock dangle beneath him as he lazily glanced at the screen again. The gryphon was wiggling his way back into the black pair of shorts he'd worn in. Fumbling with his fly and wincing as he shut his still stiff shaft in his jeans, Kylarr brushed himself down, then walked confidently back towards the front of the store. The other gryphon returned from the stall another minute later, carrying two of the shorts with him. He put the them on the counter top, pulling a credit card from the pocket of his shorts. Kylarr silently rung them under the scanner, the beeping of the system abnormally loud to his ears. "Find everything you were looking for?" asked Kylarr, as much to break the silence as to provide good service. "I think so. The other ones were a little snug for me." Kylarr nodded dumbly, swiping the credit card through the slot on the top of his keyboard. "These ones fit well, then?" "Well enough. Keeps the gear in place." Kylarr gulped a little. "But then again, still not enough to hide me from prying eyes, eh?" The taller gryphon glanced upwards at the closest security camera, winking broadly. Kylarr stopped momentarily, beak caught half open and the newly purchased jeans hanging from his talons as he froze in shock. "Uh, excuse me?" "Oh, don't try to deny it, that camera was pointed directly at me. I may be from the country, but I know that if I got a camera pointed at me, someone's watching." The gryphon leaned over the counter, and even though he was only a few inches taller, Kylarr felt as if the dark gryphon were towering over him. "I'm sorry, sir, the camera is just part of our automatic security. If it was looking..." "Stop right there. If I minded, I wouldn't have given you that show. And maybe you enjoyed it?" Quickly, the darker gryphon dipped his beak and sniffed at Kylarr's neck feathers, before the cowering gryphon could pull back. "Yup. So now, I know you were watching me with the security camera and enjoying yourself." "S... Sir... I'm sor..." "Na, na, I told you, I don' mind." The larger gryphon clicked his claws on the counter top and smiled. "M'name's Rife. And I figure at this point ya' owe me. You can start by taking me out to lunch." Kylarr's jittered, adrenaline coursing through his veins and making him feel light-headed, almost drunk. He was leaned back against the wall, wings pressed to the slot-board used to hang knick-nacks behind the desk and tail curled between his legs and flicking against his jeans. At the last sentence, though, his head cleared, sobering him almost instantly. After being caught, was this gryphon actually asking, no, demanding he go on a date? Without, hesistation, Kylarr answered, "Yes." _________________________________________________________________ (Fin! Kylarr is copyright J. Fox Rosenberg, Rife is copyright his respective player, and any other resemblance to other characters is only incedental and unintentional. Reposting is permissable, however, all reposts must be in original form, and must contain the author's name unaltered.) Send Kandrel mail! fox at foxyonline dot com Comments and suggestions are welcome, flames can go to hell!