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In the age of water and wind, journalism had never before been more vital to the world expanding. With more ships crossing the sea than ever before in history, many tales both true and false spread like wildfire across the streets, and a tale of an uprising in one port could destroy a company's reputation, or sentence a corsair to exile without a trial.

Because of this, several outlets took on the task of becoming "News Anchors", who took to the high seas to record only the facts, and "anchor" folks in reality. At the docks was a silvery-purple griffon in a flat cap and brown vest, who watched a galleon roll into port with a dark heartwood bow, and the sails festooned with a black gator's skull with two daggers pierced behind.

"AHOY THERE!" the gangplank slammed onto the dock. "GOT OURSEL' A WELCOMIN' PARTY, AYE?!"

"YES!" the bird waved up. "I'm your news anchor!"

"AHHH, WELCOME-GANGWAY!"

A hundred kremlings barged down the ramp, feisty crocodilians that stank of soggy leather and came in every size of beast. Large, round ladies with cannonball-muscles, lanky beanpole gals and shortstacked femmes all rushed to the nearest tavern. They sang a bawdry song that in the time it took for him to see the end of the horde, James had heard every stanza that left him blushing at their language.

"C'MON UP, ANCHOR!" a voice cried to him. "WE'LL GET YOU SETTLED, AYE?!"

"Sure, thank you!"

As he marched up the plank, he met two kremlings waiting up top. One was a lithe muscular orange kremling around his height with a jade bandanna, a tight bra round her sturdy breasts, and a bright-green thong that tethered to her belt from which James could see a hefty bulge. The other was a wide-shouldered 8-foot-tall muscular blue kremling with a mohawk made of spikes, who wore an army-camo singlet that did nothing to hide her thick, heaving breasts, and a thicker lump between her legs.

"Name's Khertail," the amber one offered her hand, "I'm the boatswain of this here galleon."

"Krumhilda," said the azure croc, "firzt mate."

"Nice to meet you!" he shook back. "James Corck, thank you for having me, I'm really excited to get some real stories."

"Well we won't be settin' aff fer a few days yet," Khertail put hands on hips, "krew needs to refresh, that gies ye plenty time to settle in an' meet everyone. First, let's get ye to the captain, Krumhilda'll take ye aff mah hands while I sort mah krew."

"Are all of your crew not leaving for shore leave?"

"First one group, then the other, we set a rota so this ship's ne'er left unguarded. Haste ye back!"

As the gangly gator scurried off, the ship creaked against the waters and Krumhilda beckoned him with a sour look. They marched towards the stern as James took note of the ship's design, having two main sails and a third rear one for better rudder control. The back of the ship was a cube-shaped hind with a lavish door gouged from years of claw marks over its latticed front. Inside was a furnished square room with a scarlet-silk bed, an enormous writing desk that said "Property of the Royal Charter KARMINE", two chairs in front of it, and several portraits of a post-impressionist rogue alligator.

"AAAAAH, the anchor boy!" A shadow reared from a high plush chair set against a vast window. "Welcome to the Kaiman Hart, name's Kaptain Karmine, yer office sent us a missive we'd be receiving a boy on our dicks."

"You mean, your decks?" he squinted at her accent.

"Aye, you got wax in yer ears? Anyways, 'ave a seat."

Sitting at her desk was a muscular green kremling, dressed in a long red coat with high-collared rim that touched her black tricorner hat with the emblem of skull-and-daggers. She wore nothing underneath the coat apart from ragged shorts, and the bird tried not to stare at her sumptuous melons when he sat down before her, or the dozens of scars that ripped over her chest.

"My name's James Corck," he bowed, "it's a great honour to meet you, and we hear a lot about your exploits, but I wanted to set the record straight."

"Ohhh that so?" The beast beckoned him close. "Tell me, I luvs hearin' whut fiction them mollies roll."

"Well," he pulled out his notebook, "there's rumours about you pillaging other towns, and forcing males into slavery."

"Hogwash," the captain waved her hand, "never took no lad that never wanted it, plus slavery's nasty business, costs too much and it's more mouths to feed, we all agreed that's off thuh table."

"We do pillage though," said Krumhilda behind him, "other piratez owned portz, zey cry foul for being too weak."

"Okay," James scribbled more notes, "is there a reason your crew is entirely female, or is that serendipity?"

"Zerendipity? Hmm, jawbreaking word."

"S'not the only thing that breaks jaws on our ship," Karmine tented her hands, "we're all old friends from the Caiman Chain, used to be an old fortress that dickless bastard K. Rool set up."

"You used to be in his crew?" the bird gasped. "He's a legend!"

"He's a PILLOCK!" she slammed a long wooden peg leg on the table. "Couldn't 'andle a pair o' tits tellin' him whut to do so 'e banished every lady off his isle, then marooned us on that chain an' I 'ad to build this galleon out of all the wrecks 'e crashed!"

"Karmine zaved uz," Krumhilda crossed her arms, "we build army to kruzh K. Rool."

"But that's all fer later," the kaptain waved her hand, "you be wantin' to know 'ow this ship runs, you'll 'ave to interview all the heads."

"Of course!" James nodded. "I won't get in your way, and if you need help with anything, I'll do it."

"That so?" She stood up from her seat. "There do be one thing that only a male can provide...and I 'eard rumours about you in particular, hence why we requested ya."

The griffon saw a thick sausage shape trapped in her red-and-white boxers, that grew fatter with each second as Krumhilda stepped up beside him. His eyes widened as he whistled in appreciation, then put his notebook aside and stood up in turn.

"So, this," he pointed, "is what you meant by...no lad that never wanted it?"

"Mmmhmmm," Karmine teased with her waistband, "all you 'ave to do is say no, an' we just continue business. But this be a one-time offer. It won't be offered again, out of respect to ye, but if you say yes...you'll get all the access you want with the krew, an' we get access to you."

"Oh, I see!" He watched her thumb the shorts down and show a meaty green girth. "That's...a really nice offer, will all your crew be okay with this?"

"Kheh, ohhh aye. We 'aven't been with a boy in months, an' getting each other off is not as fun, an' a lot more distracting. All them months at sea, all full up, without a single drop allowed to leak. So what'll it be? You wants to stay professional, or you prefer a more intimate interview?"

The kaptain slid down her shorts to reveal the first few inches of her shaft, as did Krumhilda who pulled aside her singlet to show the long curved length and a thick set of scaly balls. They waited for his offer, and after a few licks of his beak, he nodded softly.

"I would...love to," James giggled, "how did you know I-"

"Rumours go both ways," she tapped her desk, "now bend over an' show me that sexy bod."

"Y-yes, captain!"

He reached over the desk and met face-to-crotch with Karmine, who slipped down her shorts to show her throbbing 17-inch lance. Her breasts heaved above his eyes as he groped her spear and felt along the girth to feel her creaking veins. The weight of her halberd in his hands excited him, before he slipped down to rub her pendulous orbs and savour the rich warmth they exhuded.

His touch alone made her shiver with a drop of pre trickling out, a bud on her pink glans poking out of her leaf-coloured foreskin. The bird inched closer and licked her head to taste it, along with the hot leathery scents that wafted from her hefty balls, whilst Krumhilda pulled down his pants. With each lap of the tongue, Karmine grew harder and flexed against his beak, whilst the first mate spread his cheeks, sucked on two of her fingers and stuffed through his tight ring.

The griffon moaned with a little flap of his wings as the kaptain slid her cock down his throat, her hands gripped his head and she started to thrust in his gullet. Jamesy tried to keep slack and let the kremling have her way, her peg leg grinded the floor with each thrust whilst her other leg tapped its claws in excitement.

"Thaaassit, boy," she stroked his head, "polish me good fer a sheathing."

"Mmmmm, he zo zmall," Krumhilda groped his fluffy sack, "poor little bird."

"Now Krum, don't tease our guest. Boys might not be good breeders but they make better fer breeding IN."

"Ja, kaptain."

The muscular first mate pumped her fingers deep in his rear, and twisted against the folds to make him turn stiff at a cute little 6 inches. Karmine watched him swallow halfway before he started choking, his eyes watered at the 9th inch while the kaptain waited for him to adjust. The griffon coughed with a trembling head as she pulled back, then once he nodded he was alright, slid back into his throat and dove further in.

"That's the way, lad. Nice an' steady, you'll be needin' practce to interview the rest of us."

"M-mmmmhhh, GLRRRK! KHHH!"

"Hold fast now...there's a good boy."

She smiled with a toothy grin and let him go at his own pace, until he struggled at the 14th inch to the point that his eyes bulged. Karmine stepped back and looked to Krumhilda, who pulled her fingers out of his opened hole and then spun him round on the desk.

"My first mate always preps me guests," the kaptain chuckled, staring at his rear, "now you practice on 'er."

"Mmmmmph, y-yes, captain."

James took a deep breath and opened his maw before Krumhilda, who pulled out her fat pulsing 18-inch beast to shove in his throat. The kaptain stroked along the griffon's leonine tail, caressed his furry cheeks with scaled claws, and lined up her shaft to slide in his hole.

"Ohhhhh, fuck me," she sighed, "love me a warmblooded arse, specially a non-virgin one."

The bird blushed as he sucked off the first mate, whilst Karmine thunked her peg leg to walk closer and slide deeper inside. His ass was much more accepting, taking her pole in half the time his throat did as her scarlet coat swished with each thrust. Past the 12th inch, she started to find resistance as she grinded back and forth to push his walls a little wider, his paws tightened up against her legs before a little pop helped her in.

Likewise Krumhilda tested his gullet, her sapphire staff buried halfway in but her girth was thicker than Karmine's. Her fat blueberry plums smacked against his beak with each thrust, as well as the kaptain's own leathery-green apples until the slaps of their thighs filled the cabin. Jamesy was in heaven already, as he let the two ladies pump him full with their bosoms hanging over him.

He could tell they were pent-up after so many months at sea from how thick their precum grew, as a good ten minutes passed of their thumping claps that shook the desk and his body. Karmine grabbed his tail and wrapped it round her wrist to drill him harder, stretching him to the hilt before she would finally cum with a shuddering groan. Hot jizz sputtered deep into his ass, and Krumhilda followed her kaptain with an equally-thick load of cum down Jamesy's gullet.

The two kremlings sighed and pulled out once they stopped throbbing, painting his cheeks at both ends with a juicy squirt of cream. Karmine slumped back on her chair and admired the griffon's drooling ass before he stood up with shaky legs.

"How wuzzat?" the kaptain chuckled. "Krum'll take ye downstairs to meet the cook first."

"Oh, th-thank you!" he stammered and licked his cummy beak. "Are all of you so um...friendly?"

"Only fer cute and eager lads." She pulled him into her lap. "Now, you say we're pretty friendly, but I got the feeling you done this before."

"Mmmmaybe," he blushed from being cuddled against her body, "what have you heard about me?"

"That yer the top bird who loves to crow about independent gals," her fat drooling length rubbed against his thigh, "called ye a lifestyle correspondent, yer office said."

"That's...about right, yeah. So, are there any rules I should know?"

"Firstly, you respect us an' we respect you." She put her leg over her wooden one. "Don't hassle nobody fer doing their job. Second, you can always say no, we run a tight ship of boundaries round here."

"That's good!" Jamesy's eyes roamed down to her wriggling toes. "Should I ask about-"

"Riptide." Karmine knocked her wooden limb. "Sucked it right through a rocky gap an' twisted it off."

"Oooof, nasty!"

"Ye get used to it...adds a li'l extra fun fer some of the gals round here too." The kaptain patted his butt to push him off. "Alright, Krumhilda's got a schedule fer you to meet the chiefs in order. I'll see yer cute li'l tail after it's been down every dick."

"You mean, deck?"

"I know what I said, lad."

With a long smile, she watched him hike up his pants and leave her quarters, but not before he rubbed her foot in passing with a tiny blush. A soft stroke of his fingers made her toes twitch, and her eyes glinted with intrigue as she "waved" him goodbye with them. The griffon was taken below deck by Krumhilda who showed him around the various rooms. The upper deck had the officers' cabins of polished wood and thick capstans for turning the ship, whilst the lower deck had the crew's quarters, the galley and the gunnery.

It was here James found sixty ladies singing songs and carrying crates, marching through the halls as the smell of gunpowder scarred his nostrils, when he passed thick black cannons being polished by the crocs. Krumhilda took him down to the mess hall, with long empty tables and a steamy partition to the galley.

"Karpaccio iz firzt," said Krumhilda, "then Khertail, then Krackerjack."

"Yes, ma'am!" he saluted. "Is there a reason for that order?"

"Oldest to newest. Kitchen, rigging, hold."

"Makes sense! That way I can write up a timeline, thank you!"

"IS HE HERE?!" cried a bubbly voice from the kitchen. "Bene, bene, bring him in!"

"I leave you now," the first mate bowed, "glad to have you, James."

"Thank you!" He watched her leave then stepped into the kitchen. "Hello, I'm the news anchor an-HMMMF!"

"OOOOH you're a bello ragazzo!" he was crushed in a thick bear hug. "Kaptain said we'd be getting a little birdy but I bet you sing good full of meat, sÌ?!"

Lifted off his feet in a tight squeeze, James stared upon a thick-bellied red-scaled kremling with a chef's toque, and a huge belt on her white pants from which one leg looked thicker than the other. The galley was a long row of stoves and bubbling pots, with several more kremlings in white cooking away.

"I'm Karpaccio," said the big croc, "benvenuto to my kitchen, my ladies needed the good relief from a cabin boy, sÌ?!

"Glad to help!" he bowed. "I am here to report on your lifestyle, Krumhilda said you were second-oldest to the kaptain."

"Brava!" She whistled for two wooden stools to be brought over. "Sit, sit, you have good hands, nice little fingers for all your writing?"

"I do," he sat down, "why you ask, ma'am?"

"HOO, bene!" Karpaccio's stool bent under her weight as she lifted her thick foot. "My toesies, they ache, oh so hard to keep standing for many hours."

"Youuuu just want...a foot massage?" The bird shrugged. "Okay, sure!"

"Grazie," she pinched his cheek, "mmmm you a ragazzino, I could eat you all up!"

"Or he'll be eatin' us," said a brown buff kremling, "you got a li'l sumthin' on yer beak."

"OH, do I?" He wiped a sliver of white. "Sorry, I just met-"

"We know." A purplish lady with a spatula for a hand limped over. "You said yes to the kaptain, aye?"

"I did, yes."

"So let's get down to your, kheh, interviewing us."

"Yes, yes!" Karpaccio clapped. "Clean my little toesies, per favore? I tell you all my story, then we give you nice filling of mi carne migliore."

She rubbed down her thigh to show the heaving trouser snake, which terrified but also excited James as he grasped her scaly foot, a fat oval shape with stubby black-clawed toes and a rough pale sole. The underside felt like a grater against his fingers, whilst the top was like a bumpy log both smooth and rough as he grinded his thumbs into the fatty parts. Karpaccio shivered with a long tongue, her large belly heaved in bliss as more of her staff cleaned up the kitchen.

"Are you all taking a break now?" he asked.

"Mmmmm sÌ," the chef sighed, "now that we dock, we rest our poor footsies in a big salt bath. But no one got as good fingers as you, so soft and OOOH!"

"None of the other girls give you this?"

"Oh sÌ sÌ, they do, but they always too rough, girls never play soft like you sweet boys."

"Very sweet boys," a black kremling walked past with pots, "an' yer just the relief we need."

"I didn't know I was going to get such a welcome!"

The bird rubbed down the grit of her thick sole, feeling the stubs of bark and little wood chips that had gathered grit over the months. Crocodilians had thick webs between their digits, which of course made them full of dirt and gristle that rubbed off on Jamesy's fingers. He sat closer to try and chip through the dirt, when he caught a whiff of that wondrous aroma of hard woody leather, a coffee-bean odour that made him lick his beak.

"Ooooooh, bene!" the chef chortled. "You want a taste of the chef, eh?"

"Mmmm, well," he shrugged and waved his head, "I mean if you're offering, I won't say no."

"Ooooh, I hope you ready, mie ragazze offer a ten-course meal that won't stop once you start?"

"T-ten?" James looked across the kitchen staff with bulging shorts. "That's...quite a feast you're offering!"

"A meat feast fer a pretty bird," said one yellow croc, cleaning the stove, "worst crime in a kitchen is to come in when yer not hungry, right girls?!"

"Asso-LU-tamente!" Karpaccio waved her finger in the air. "But no feet, only the meat! You get a whiff and nothing else, that is dessert after dinner! Now, I tell you my life with Kaptain Karmine?"

"S-sure!"

"Thirty year ago," began Karpaccio, "I had nothing but a skillet and a big sausage, OH, so hard to find pants that fit me! I wanted to cook, but K. Rool never let me in kitchen, said I was too distracting, too big, I bump everything! Karmine believed in me, asked me to make the finest stew, and I did!"

"That's good of her," James mumbled between slurps, "how did you end up on her crew?"

"I jump ship when she was banished! That one-eye pezzo di merda never respect me, he fatter than me but treat me like the butterball! I jump ship before he push all ladies off, I salute Karmine and say I cook for her forever and more!"

"And you've been with her the longest?"

"SÌ! I built half the ship with her, I carpenter as well as cook, big arms for big logs!"

"An' not just the one swinging 'tween yer legs!" cackled a purple gator who sat on a chair. "Hope yer ready for entrées, boy."

He looked around to find ten kremlings circled around, a scaled rainbow that unbuckled their ragged shorts to flop out their meats. A butcher's rack spread out before him, all of whom were twice his size as they fluffed their cocks to full-erect.

"Mmmmm such a good boy," the portly cook pulled her pants down further, "maybe I give you the meat special, sÌ?"

"Ooooh yes!" he slurped across the other sole. "That would be great! I notice all your staff have their specials too!"

"We gots plenty to spare," said a purple croc, pumping herself, "hungry boys are our favourite."

He smiled wide and dragged his tongue hard over the ridged scaly foot, whilst Karpaccio teased him further with every new inch of her long red pipe, until her pants were hanging off below her knees. With both hands she lifted her tremendous meat, all 21 inches of it that now throbbed against her chubby belly.

"Sit up with me, ragazzino," she patted her lap, "I tell you the story while I give you my meat."

"Mmmm, yes ma'am!" He stepped over to her. "What about your girls?"

"They give you the side-order, give you lots for growing birdy!"

Karpaccio offered her beastly salami, the head twitched with leaking pre as James dropped his pants, then climbed up on her belly. Her bosom was tight inside her shirt, a fat pair of tits that James felt with his hands like sumptuous hills of dough. Now facing each other, he hiked up his tail and aimed her sceptre towards his twitching hole, then slid himself down with a shivering moan that they shared together.

He was surprised that someone was bigger than the kaptain, but the chef spread him good with a heaving grunt as her thick hands wrapped round his thighs to kept him spread, whilst her fat balls swung beneath the chair. She went tremendously deep, to the point of tickling his insides and poking his stomach, making his little pecker stiffen up.

"OHHH! Ohhh bene, little birdy sings good for my meat?"

"M-MMMMPH, OOOOOH!" Jamesy twitched his leonine paws and spread further. "Y-you have a lot of...um, meat to spare!"

"Always make more than there are guests you see, some want seconds, some show up late!"

"And you definitely showed up proper," a black burly croc raised her mast to him, "we'll keep yer beak busy."

The staff stood up in a circle and offered their meats to him, then grinded their shafts all over his face to leave streaks of thickening pre. James did his best to lick and suck whatever came in range, despite the gutpuncher that filled his belly and grinded against his stretching walls. He was ravenous for their offerings and slurped over their glans, whilst ten pairs of balls dragged their sweat all over his body.

Karpaccio humped him harder, her chufty thighs clapped against his widened rear as the bird chirped with squawking glee. He was soon covered in ball-sweat, his tongue was awash in thick scents and the odd salty tint of the sea. With every pump of the chef's hips, the staff grinded their lengths on top of his much-smaller member, smooshing his plums beneath their twitching poles. The chef was building up to her first orgasm, sweating from her heaving body with a faster pump of her monstrous beef as her balls smacked against the stool.

Further and further she managed to inch him down to the base, until she erupted with a mighty roar. Gallons of cum flooded his depths to the point of drizzling across the floor coating the deck, when the staff climaxed together with thicker ropes criss-crossing over James and their chef. The bird was drenched in a thick cream that dripped off his feathers, and each time her fat crimson spheres tightened up, another drench of seed sprayed his insides and bloated him a little further.

"A-A-AAAAH!" screamed the chef. "S-SÌ, SPIRITI DEL MARE, NNNNGH!"

"O-OOOH, GLRRRRK, HAAAAH!"

Overwhelmed by the deep basting both inside and out, the griffon stammered in heavenly bliss as streaks of jizz marked his feathers, whilst his rear drooled a creamy river. The chef eventually stopped cumming , but it felt like an eternity before her orange-sized balls stopped twitching, and her other pair of melons heaved against his rear.

"Mmmmmm...meravigliosa," she smooched his cheek, "hooo...you had good meal, birdy?"

"Y-yes," James gulped with a stuffed gut, "you...you really know how to fill 'em."

"Hohoh, grazie." She smooched him deep with her thick tongue. "Oh, I forgot to finish my story! You want sit here while I tell you, and my krew clean up?"

"Sure, sure!" He was thankful to not leave so soon. "Let me just...aaah, get my notebook, then I need to find Mrs. Khertail."

"HAH, hah, no Mrs. here, only chefs and kaptains!"

In a special dry-seal pocket, he kept his notebook for those perilous white-tide adventures such as this one. As the kremlings cleaned up their mess, Karpaccio ended the tales of her youth in a brief summary over 30 years, before she let James pull free from her gorgeous pillar. A long drag of her crimson shaft popped out of his gaped ass, from which a waterfall of kremling kum drenched the deck. The chef helped guide him back up to find Khertail, leaving two trails of cum from his rear and her baguette.

Back on deck, James was pointed up to the rigging where a familiar orange shape scurried over the ropes with several other bodies. He flapped himself up and spiralled around the mast, then latched onto the cross-net ropes where Khertail swung above from the mizzen.

"AHOY THERE!" she slid down a rope to beside him. "Someone got marinated in the kitchen, eh?"

"Ahhh, yes," Jamesy blushed and spread his cum-stained wings, "I hope it's not a problem."

"PSHT, nawwww we're a dirty sort round 'ere, besides you'll be getting plenty dirtier diggin' fer yer hot scoops, aye?! So, let's natter, whutcha wanna know?"

The amber kremling sat on a rope-swing with her green bandanna and bra, whilst her bulging thong grew a little and her smile widened every time she caught him looking at it. Other riggers climbed past with daredevil leaps, with more noticeable amputees as James spotted hook-hands and peg-legs swinging between ropes and even dangling upside down to catch cords from others. Jamesy used his wings to stay aloft when he pulled out his notebook to start writing.

"Is this the most dangerous job on the ship?" he asked.

"Nah," Khertail swung from her rope, "powder monkeys are, gettin' gunpowder from the hold, you drop that shit an' yer dead."

"I'm just noticing, and sorry if this sounds rude, this part of the ship has more prosthetics."

"Oh, yeah, losin' an arm or a leg is nuthin' out 'ere! We got a great surgeon fer it!"

"So what's your job, exactly?" he flapped higher to keep face-to-face.

"I'm the head of the krew," Khertail spun to another rope like a poledancer, "any complaints they 'ave, I tells 'em to the kaptain."

"Were you elected, or-"

"Sure wuz! We love the Kaptain, Krumhilda too, but they said they needed someone younger, feistier, someone who keeps up with the krew. Gettin' tired there, birdy?"

"Sorry," he kept writing mid-flap, "can't hold on the rope and write at the same time."

"Aye ye can, just need to tie ye down so you don't blow awa'!"

"Oh...is that safe?"

"Aye we're in dock! Then you can blow us without worryin' aboot fallin'."

"Mmmmm...that would help a lot, alright then!"

She whistled sharp towards the others who all scrabbled down like a sea of rats, a horde of scaly beasts who grabbed the griffon's legs and wrapped knots around his limbs. Despite some of them having hooks, they twisted their implements so finely with additional wire-grips that they could tweak cords round his body, then spread his legs wide and tether his shoulders to give his arms freedom.

It was then that James saw the entire rigging crew of 20 kremlings all circled around him, some short and squat, whilst others were long and thing. But as they loosened their shorts, they were all bigger than James with the smallest having a 10-inch shaft, and the largest almost double that.

"Wow!" he gasped, folding his wings. "That was quick!"

"We done this fer years, pal," said a greyish-brown girl waving her hook, "nuthin' we can't knot."

"Ropes, strings, tight boy arses," a green lady with stumped legs cackled filthily, "issit our break, boss?"

"Ayyyye it sure is," Khertail beckoned them close, "he's met the chef so nae need to hauld back."

"She's a good soul," a blue gator slipped down his pants and grinded her pole at his rear, "all heart an' taters, not like this cold fish."

"HOY!" the boatswain made a fake-slapping motion. "Alrigh' lad, ask away."

"So uh, OOOOH!" he felt the first rigger pump his ass. "Haaah, a-aaah, a-are you the youngest head?"

"Naw, chief gunner's that," Khertail loosened her thong, "brain like an abacus, that un."

"Is this, a-all your rigging crew?"

"Oh aye, dinnae need that many on the ropes, quality over quantity."

"I can-MMMMH, f-feel that quality for sure."

"An' the quantity yer gettin' later," rasped the blue kremling pounding away, "fuck me his arse is soft."

"Don't hog it then!" shouted a purple one-eyed croc. "Leave summa that tightness fer us!"

"Now now girls," Khertail waved her hand, "there's plenty arse fer everyone, an' he got sum other bits to play with too."

"He sure does," a black one-armed kremling slipped down closer, "cute wee thing, such a shame boys can't get bigger."

"AH, OOOH!" James throbbed to his fullest. "S-so, um, ma'am, how does the election process happen in your crew?"

"WELL!" the boatswan pulled out her shaft and began stroking. "We tried with paper, but that tends to get wet an' it's a valuable resource fer gunpowder, see. So we tried with raisin' hands then realised some of us dinnae hauv those, so..."

As she explained the principles of a kremling krew's politics, Jamesy kept writing whilst being buggered from behind by the pent-up dark-blue lady, whose thick breasts smooshed against his back and her foot-long length hammered his hole without any resistance. His eyes roved down towards Khertail's length of 16 inches, slightly smaller than the Kaptain's had been but no less thicker in its girth as she pumped herself up.

Thankfully the first rigger came quick, feeling the eyes of her krew incite her to hurry up when she clapped her thighs on his rump and filled him with a happy sound. She pulled out with ease then climbed up a rope and let the next one swing by, a mossy-jade girl with one leg who drilled him fast against the rope bindings, and grinded her bosom on his shoulders. It was a test of his mental endurance, one that he savoured as he tried to keep his writing neat and his ears sharp.

"Course the swimmin' competition was right oot," she waffled on, still stroking, "not cuz of the legs mind you, there wuz wee Kassie who's a BEAST in the water wi' only two arms, an' everyone agreed she wuznae a good role model being a kleptomaniac."

"But, OOOH!" the bird whimpered. "I-is that not, what pirates do?"

"That's a choice we make, kleptomania's a condition, she cannae help that! But it makes her problematic to lead a krew, ya ken? Anyways, we finally decided that all the Ayes head fer the bow, an' the Naes head back the stern, an' we count the votes there."

"That, mmmmph, sounds a good voting plan!"

"Now as fer how I joined the krew," she tapped her bandana, "I were almost twenty an' got in a wee scrabble in Krem Quay, ghosts are FUCKERS by the way, you can put that down in yer notes, they're little bastards tryin' tae steal the baws off me cuz they hauvnae any themselves, fuckin' balltergeists I telt ye!"

She ranted on whilst James wrote everything down, whilst the dark-green croc smacked her hefty apples against his cheeks until they both turned Red Delicious. Another glut of seed filled him up and drooled out his rear before she pulled out to let number 3 slid up behind to form a rolling queue round the griffon.

One kremling, the one-eyed purple croc, was the most savage with a 19-inch girth that punched his belly, whilst her tongue dragged across his beak. She muttered dirty things that made him shiver and scratch his notes. Another was a beefy triangular-bodied albino with wide shoulders and short legs, who crushed him in a bearhug and punched a good 15 inches inside, all whilst she cooed lovingly in his ear.

Then there was the hook-handed girl, who used her prosthetic to tease his balls and cup them in her cold iron grip. Her 17-inch nail stuffed in his rear nicely, whilst she fondled his sack and stiffened his spine with the teasing drag of her sharp sickle. She rubbed along his pudgy meat with a careful scrape of the hooktip, then back down with the blunt side before finding a rhythm to stroke him with.

Eventually one girl couldn't hold herself and climbed higher above James to wrap her legs round his head, and shove her black 14-inch cannon down his throat. Khertail paid no mind to this, rambling about her stories whilst the bird struggled to keep writing between the choking pumps, the stuffing of his rear and the hook-job. He couldn't take it anymore. with all the banging in his rear he couldn't help but cum with a sputtering spray through the air that drenched the ropes and the deck below.

"And that's why oysters're banned from the ship," Khertail finished her tale, "kaptain's never liked 'em since but I've always been handy with a shuck-knife so if any of 'em big bastards climb the hull, that's where I come in. Now, ye get all that?!"

"Mmmhmm!" he gave a thumbs-up whilst balls clapped his beak.

"Good good, see? The girls're getting friendly too, I'll wait 'til they all done."

"Thank ye boss!" said the girl deep in him. "Augh, fuck his throat's like a velvet sheath!"

"Plenty swords left fer it!" a brown kremling snapped her fingers. "C'mon me arse is gettin' splinters 'ere!"

"Heh, you didn't complain with Khafir an' her leg."

"I TOLD YOU I FELL ON 'ER!"

Khertail laughed and shook her head, before the black croc pounding his beak came at last with a trembling groan whilst her fingers grabbed the ropes above. The sound of choking gulps made the riggers throb even harder, as the hook-handed gator pulled up his balls and threatened to pluck them off when she too came inside him. James whimpered with puffing breaths as he focused on swallowing, whilst his ass received a tenth load of cum, with the ever-tightening grip on his plums hurting a bit too much.

Once the two girls finished, they pulled off and climbed over him to the rigging above, leaving sloppy trails of jizz down his back and face. Another round of ten more kremlings would sidle up to him, as he put his notebook away to fully focus on pleasuring two at a time, with his hands occasionally offering to jerk off the more frantically-in-need..

During this, the pale-green croc reached out her stumpy legs to rub over the quivering furry shaft, fascinated by its texture and how warm it felt against her remaining limbs. She jerked off at the sight, more than happy to watch and feel his body whilst the griffon felt the hardened skin around her stump, and rubbed harder like starting a fire.

He gazed up towards the heaving breasts that grinded on his scalp, warm sumptuous melons and a sultry voice that purred in her belly. She did not take long to reach her climax, when her rod sputtered another rope down his belly, and she pulled out just in time to let the two shafts he was stroking hit him in the face with a double-barrel shot. Overwhelmed by the sweaty gangplank gals, he came all over the stump-legged croccy who pushed her tits forward to let him paint her chest, whilst she ground her limbs with rough-shod stony scales to squeeze out all his seed.

"Khahaha, good job girls!" Khertail swung closer. "Now let's gies you a real bird's eye view."

The boatswain unbound the ropes on Jamesy's arms, then let him drop to swing upside-down with his legs still tangled. Khertail then climbed over and behind him and slid herself inside with all 16 inches, both of them now staring towards the deck far below. Her orange arms wrapped around him tight as she rolled her hips in a panting gasp, savouring the sloshing cum left behind by her krew as James grew light-headed.

He blushed from being cuddled against her body, his wings flapped by instinct which only made more white droplets spray around them, whilst the amber-scaled croc panted on his face. She rasped with excitement, her balls clapped on his tail and she slammed harder than the other girls with the help of gravity. He could tell from the speed that she had been more pent-up than the others, her eyes clenched and her teeth gritted with fierce stabbing thrusts, looking for his weak point.

Jamesy kept tight as he could to help her finish and tried not to look "up", the sky and sea reversed as other kremlings down below looked up with cheers and fist-pumps of encouragement. The ropes creaked even harder and twisted against his ankles when Khertail pummelled him harder, tightening her grip on his arm when she bit his shoulder with a deep croak. Her voice rumbled through him like a foghorn, her thighs bruised his ass and with a shudder through her limbs, she came with a roar of relief. Her jizz flooded down into his gut and nothing leaked out to make him feel much fuller than before.

"Aaaaaaah, ffffffuck." She breathed thick on his beak. "Ohhhh...thank ye, pal. Ye make a good anchor fer me to dock in."

"N-no...problem," James gulped and waggled his toes, "could you, um, pull me back up?"

"Why, afraid of falling, bird-boy?"

"Flying still needs prep time, ma'am."

"Alrigh' alrigh'," she grabbed a rope and pulled herself free from his rear, "let's get ye back down."

Once she was upright, the boatswain jerked the griffon upright to let him re-grab the ropes, and allow a wash of thick white to drool between his legs before she unbound them. He pulled up his pants and nodded his thanks, before flapping free and circling back down towards the deck, where Krumhilda waited once again.

"Good talk?" the blue statue crossed her arms.

"Oh yeah," he nodded, "your crew is uh...really generous!"

"Thiz way." She beckoned him to the hold. "I join you for thiz, break time for all krew."

"All...of them?"

She gave a simple nod with the ghost of a smile, before leading her kum-slathered guest down to the depths.

The hold was dark with swinging lanterns overhead, and the groaning of the ship was loudest in its belly when Krumhilda brought him to their storage. Amongst the walls of barrels and crates, there stood 50 kremlings with arms crossed, bulging pants and the widest grins, with several boxes laid in corners that more of them sat. One of them barked from the crowd, the face of a banana-yellow croc in a wide-brimmed hat.

"AHH, so you're the anchor!"

"Hello!" He walked towards her. "Nice to meet you, I'm-"

"Yes yes, we know the names, Krackerjack," she shook fast, "I am the chief gunner, I maintain all the weapons and experiment their proficiency in battle!"

"Oh wow, have you seen a lot of them?"

"Only when they remember to bring a stool!"

She grabbed two of her staff to push aside and reveal she was standing on two crates for her 4-foot high body. Despite her shortstack form, she had muscles like a landslide and a terrifyingly-huge boulder of a bulge from her pants, causing her to remain bow-legged.

"Seventy-three guns!" she hopped down and swept her hands across the room. "In accordance to the Sieve of Krokosthenes, I ensure only thirty-six cannons work each side, with an additional left in storage for my personal use!"

"What kind of, um, personal use?" he felt the girls surround him.

"Devising new forms of gunpowder! Course I can only do so much with a deflagrate, but I am hoping to make a low-explosive detonator for a controlled environment and I need a spare cannon."

"I-isn't that, dangerous?!" Two girls spread out behind him and one more stepped up in front.

"I fire it on an island, boy, not in the damn hold! Now let's not dally, the interview can wait, my girls need their firearms inspected! You may start with whoever you wish, but once you start, there will be no stopping until EVERY kremling's kannon is cleaned out fully."

"O-ohhh, yes ma'am!"

The girls encircled him, then spread out further like a ritual dance with their hands gliding towards each other's spears. Jamesy now stood in their circle, whilst all across the hold others sat in wait whilst polishing their harpoons. He undressed himself and put his clothes on a peg. None of them were below 10 inches as the griffon did an eeny-meeny-miney-mo, then picked a burly grey croc who sat him up on a crate, spread his legs as they faced each other, then slammed herself into his rump.

From that point on James would be swamped with thick lady meat, when a hefty pole reached close to his hand to be fluffed up, and a third kremling slid in his throat. They dribbled with such thickening pre that the bird almost thought they came in seconds, but the gorged thickness of their swollen balls smacking his body meant they just had more to give.

The silver gal bred him like a bull, her nostrils flared above him and despite having all the time they needed, she felt the impatience of her krew growing behind her and built a steady-but-vicious pace. She grinded his walls in all the right spots, before she came in plentiful spurts. Then came the one in his throat, like a gushing river whilst the kremling he jerked off soon climaxed and drizzled all over his chest. A fourth kremling slipped in out of nowhere, and shoved her meat before him that the bird swallowed down gratefully, whilst his hands now free could fondle her balls. He stroked and caressed them lovingly, but she was pent-up enough that she pulled out a few minutes later, added her own offering to his cum-streaked body.

Once they were done, he pulled himself up and walked to a group of six kremlings that he bent over and presented to. A purple gal smacked his rear then pulled his tail up to drill him deep, whilst the other five semi-circled round his face to give him a smorgasbord of sausages. Whoever he licked first, she would throatfuck him hard for a minute before pulling back, then letting him choose another kremling to cock-floss his gullet. Beefy hands squeezed his rump as the gator slammed balls deep, hard enough to make the lanterns swing above and let shadows dance around them.

"MMMMMPH, thassa fluffy boy," she rasped mid-hump, "like stuffin' a cloud round me mast."

"His throat's just as good," tittered one jerking off, "if you finish up, can I take it?"

"Suuure ya can, just watch yer trigger finger, eh?"

"GLLRRK, MMMH!" James breathed between shafts. "You don't have to go just once on me, I'm open for seconds!"

"Oooooh, hear that girls?! All you can eat buffet!"

The five lengths pumped him one after the other until the first came in his throat, and the one in his ass stuffed him with more cream. With two pairs of balls emptied, the other four came in succession from the swelling heat of lust, and drizzled the bird's face in hot sprays of white upon his beak and eyelids. He kept his mouth open however to let them each scrub his throat and clean their dripping shafts.

James then stood up and wiped the cum from his eyes, then walked over to another group of ten gators that were working out, doing pull-ups from beams or lifting barrels to pump their muscles. One kremling tied his hands with rope to a low-hanging beam, before another croc grabbed that same beam to lift herself up and shove her spear upwards inside him.

"Just a li'l challenge amongst us," snorted a deep-red gator, "whoever does the most pull-ups before they nut gets their ale paid by us."

"MMMMPH, OOOH!" he trembled as their hips clapped. "Do I get ale too?"

"If you ask fer it, khahah!"

The scarlet sailor flexed her sturdy muscles with each lift of her body, sliding to the hilt as James kept his paws up to let his dripping ass stay in-line. She lasted 30 pull-ups with huffing barks, then her successor reached 32, then the next only 28. The drilling shafts punched in his belly, and their heaving bodies grew much sweatier from fatigue.

One by one, the kremlings came and went, their bosoms bounced in front of his face and smothered his beak with pull-up thrusts Through grunting snarls and gritted teeth, they smooshed their bodies against his until their bellies grinded on his pudgy meat. The strongest of them was golden-yellow, a shimmering goddess who pumped James with 57 pull-ups, as her polished orbs clapped his drooling rear and her gorgeous melons clapped his head.

Once the workout girls were finished, they untied him from the rafter and smacked his twitching rump. He walked over to another six kremlings who sat around a large crate, with their cards in one hand and their meaty staffs in the other.

"Hoy there!" a green girl waved. "We're needin' a footstool while we play."

"Oooh, yeah?" James crawled on top of the crate-table. "You don't need me to check your cannons?"

"After the game, but fer now we'd appreciate sum footcare."

"Sure!"

The griffon laid on his back before the six girls planted their feet on top of his cum-slathered body, with one girl standing up as the dealer who stuffed her halberd in his rear, whilst an orgy of toes crawled all over his beak. He tasted bits of stale biscuit and wood shavings all mixed with a crinkly texture that peeled off in tiny flecks. His tongue rolled around each digit and flicked over the thick webbing to extract all the juiciest grit, whilst the kroupier pumped away in his hole.

"Ohhhh yeah," she sighed, "alright, show your hands!"

"Straight!" one girl called, stuffing her toes in his beak. "Howzat?"

"Khah, no one's straight on this ship!" said another, patting her toes on his pecs. "Got a flush!"

"Well yanno what we are?" a third grinded her sole on his chubby lance. "Four of a kind!"

"AWWW PISS!"

James sucked on the heel that grinded on his beak to catch the foot-flavoured drool, a spicy tang coating his tongue whilst the dealer reshuffled their cards and dealt them. The other girls scooted closer to bring up their feet and rub them more all over his head, catching his tongue between each other's toes.

Every time one girl won a hand, they changed places so the winner became the dealer and fucked James deep, whilst the griffon nuzzled deep in their toes and took a whiff of their salty scents. As he dragged his tongue across the soles, every small ridge was a mineful of flavours. His eyes occasionally looked up to their girthy harpoons that dripped pre over his feathers, and during this, Krackerjack looked on with a haughty chuckle, then marched into the back storage to bring something out with a rumbling shudder. Dragging a rope behind her, her short gorilla arms heaved out a black cannon with a fat cauldron base, whilst the card game continued on.

The kroupier kept humping away, grasping Jamesy's legs and trying to keep score of the contestants who tried to out-bluff each other, between the lashing tongues and lascivious moans. They only stopped playing once all of them had cum in his rear, which took them two wins each to plow him full to overflowing,. They packed up their cards and pulled James up, the tablecloth sticking against his feathers now matted with jizz before he waddled over to the cannon.

"Oooooh, very nice!" James chirped. "What you bring it out for, ma'am?"

"To give you a demonstration!" the chief gunner tapped it. "Hop in, it's defused so it won't go off!"

"But...I thought you wanted me to clean your crew."

"You will be! You've got twenty-four more left until the rest return from shore leave, now hop in!"

He clambered in feet-first, leaving cum-wipes on the rim as he sat like the main course in a cooking pot. With a sharp whistle, Krackerjack made the rest of the girls come forward, the 24-as-yet-unpleasured kremlings now aching with the fattest, drooling lengths. They wrapped arms round each other to form a daisy cock-chain of two dozen shafts that dripped down into the cannon, and form a white puddle that James sat in.

The bird gulped from the prospect of so many, but he gave a firm grin to the challenge and sucked off the first meat in front of him. For the sake of fairness, he bobbed ten times then moved to the next, the girls sang with a shanty that made their breasts swing while he pumped his gullet. All of them struggled not to cum too early, despite his skilful tongue and teasing strokes from their friends as the cannon filled up with fattening pre.

But a krew that fought together always came together, when the girls felt one shudder too many and a rippling shock went through the gators. First one kremling came, then the next and onwards, forming a 24-gun salute that rat-a-tat-spurted all over his face. His body was soon drenched in hot seed, his feathers clumped together and his silvery pinions turned white before his legs were consumed in a thick soup. With each sputtering groan from a croc, his waist was swallowed up, then his head and shoulders bobbed out of the salty ocean that poured out of the cannon. asas

"Marvellous," Krackerjack sighed, rubbing her bulge, "and just in time for the others to return, perfectly."

"The...the others!" James bobbed like an apple in the kum-kannon. "Well at least I got a bath!"

"You'll be getting five more by the time we are done, now!"

She had her krew pull down the kannon, the spout now horizontal as a white froth spilled out across the floor, and James now stared upon the gunner's crotch. She pulled down her pants to reveal a monstrous sceptre that soon flopped on the ground, and slowly grew erect before him to a terrifying 26 inches with thick golden tangerines dragging on the floor. The longest banana he had ever seen throbbed its glans before him, as she waddled forth and slid it straight into his mouth.

Settling inside the kannon which still had a puddle of jizz under his belly, the griffon kept his throat slack to let Krackerjack go all the way in, despite her beastly girth testing the limits of his throat. But took it he did as the chief gunner stepped closer to him, flossing his throat with her thick kannon-scrubber and gave him a few seconds to breathe when he audibly gagged.

"Goodness you ARE experienced, aren't you? Took my girls quite a few months to manage all of my firepower."

"GLLRRRK, GLLLMMMPH!"

"Oh I know, one must pace themselves in everything. Oh, and here comes the girls now!"

A distant thunder came from above deck, the trampling of a hundred feet assaulting the stairs and echoing through the halls. The hold was soon filled with shadows, a rising mob of thick-muscled, brawny females with hefty bosoms and bulging shorts like sacks of oranges. The entire hold grew thick with sweaty air fogging their nostrils, whilst Krackerjack walked closer to stuff half her meat down the bird's throat.

The ladies fluffed themselves in preparation as the sound of James choking on meat made them throb all the more, the hundred-strong gators now circling the entire room with their backs to the hull. Krackerjack had to step back and forth to line herself up and bury deeper, and pressed her fat orbs to his beak. From then on she would walk back on her stubby legs, then slide back in as the girls cheered at his impressive throat technique.

Some of them however could not wait and lined up to add more glazing to the bird, jerking themselves to fruition and painting his bloated cheeks with hot milk. Whatever missed him went in the kannon, staining the inside and adding to the pool, marinating him in croc seed. Krackerjack did not take long to reach her climax, partly from the fatigue of having to waddle away and stuff back in, her thick vein throbbed so powerfully that Jamesy's tongue could trace through its path.

Her cry of jubilation filled the room, and out came a typhoon of white that splashed through his stomach, gushed back out from his beak and spurted from his nostrils with a trembling cough. It was hard to tell which was hers from the other strips of jizz the girls left on him, but once she finished pulsing, the gunner stepped back with a heavy sigh and sat down on the floor.

"Haaaah! A-aaaah!" Her mast heaved above her head. "Good gods...that was...I'll have to...m-make a second referral, before I am...satisfied."

"GLLLRP...r-really?" James crawled out of the kannon. "Will you be alright?"

"I've handled worse weapons in my hands, hahah...go on, entertain the krew during my respite."

Whether it was exhaustion or the weight of kum on his feathers, the bird struggled to stand with most of his body now white as a sheet, his wings clumped together and his paws leaving jizz-prints in his wake. Only his head remained relatively purple, but even that was fading beneath the veil of semen that drenched him fully. The hundred kremlings waited as he wobbled on his feet and limped forwards with a lick of his beak, then pointed to one lucky gal who pumped her fists.

She pulled him down on his lap and drilled his ass with gusto, plapping his cheeks against her studly thighs and not even trying to hold back her awaiting orgasm. When she was done and pumped him full, he stood up and pointed to the next one beside her, making a mental note on where he started, so he could work his way round the hold and give each girl their due. Some bent him over and scrubbed his mouth with cock; others fucked him sideways on the floor and hugged his jizz-stained feathers; others still would smother his face with their feet and jerk off to his service, before basting him in their cream.

One kremling had hard fatty soles that strangled his length like fists; another had long slender toes that would lock round his member and jerk him off; two other gals had smaller feet that put two soles on each side to rub him fast like starting a fire; and a burly gator almost squished his meat flat with her muscular grippers squeezing so hard, that he shot out an orgasm to paint himself with. Down the row he went picking a girl to pleasure, or just getting on his knees to suck her off when she tapped his head.

But always he chose first as he sucked on many glans and was caressed by dozens of feet. His tongue tasted sand and wood, as well as wondrous salty scents from toes shoved against his nostrils. The ladies purred at the heat of his body, which grew stickier with each offering they gave as layer upon layer of thick milk settled on his feathers, turning flat from each spurt.

Soon his face was a wet phantom, and the more shots of kum he received, the more struggle it took for him to reach the next kremling until he was crawling on his knees. His head felt like lead, his wings slapped against the wood and the next kremling had to help him up to rail him against a barrel. At the 50th croc, Krackerjack was ready to go again, and whistled for some of the girls to pick up James and put him on top of the kannon.

"Hope you don't mind I dip in for seconds," she clambered up behind him.

"N-no, not at all!" he wheezed. "Have at me, ma'am!"

The shortstack ordered her gals to tilt the kannon downwards, where James gripped the rim and hiked up his rump for the gunner to slide down and stuff herself into his drooling rear. Both would ride the weapon as the chief gunner pulled herself back, then slid forwards once more to hilt even deeper in him. As the largest-endowed of the Kaiman Hart, she was Jamesy's greatest challenge.

It was more than enough as the griffon's legs slumped either side of the kannon, whose master rode until her plump coconuts smacked on his rear. But of course James did not stop his other duties, when he pointed to more kremlings who would line up in front and shove their sceptres in his throat. His gullet was flossed many times before Krackerjack could fill him again, as croc after croc stepped up to pump his beak full of rich kremling seed until it was drooling down his chin.

His stomach felt bloated with each movement making a sloshing sound, only further added by the chief gunner's shaft drilling him deep with hefty claps, grinding herself inside the walls of his belly which grew a little thicker against the kannon. As she mounted James proper, the smallest kremling rode his ass and hammered the last 9 inches of her girth repeatedly in him, helping the griffon reach another climax before she filled him once again.

The rest of that evening was an orgy of senses, and from that point on James could no longer stand as he crawled all over the hold choosing more kremlings to sate. Hours passed with his rear blown out and constantly oozing milk, the taste of meat fogged his breath and he had to wipe his eyes every sixth load that painted his face. By the time he reached the 90th kremling, his throat had turned raw and his beak was drenched in ball-sweat, as the last of the ladies picked him up, rammed him deep, and passed him to the next ten ladies.

"AVAST!" A voice called from above. "How's everyone treatin' the new boy?!"

"OH, KAPTAIN!"

The kremlings all saluted at once, as Karmine sauntered down the steps in her crimson coat and black tricorner hat. Her breasts swung bare-chested and her shorts strained from the beast within, as the 150 crocs filling out the hold gave room for her to see the blob of sticky white on the floor.

"Awwww dear, tuckered out are we?" she bent down over him. "I must say ye've impressed me, not many can take all our kew at once!"

"[i]Th-thrrrnk yuuu,[/i]" he burbled with a cummy beak, "[i]ghhd krew yuu huv, kaptun.[/i]"

"I sure do," she clapped his shoulder then wiped her hand on her cloak, "what say you take a breather, then the other fifty get to ya?"

"[i]Thuh...uther fifty?[/i]"

"Well aye, you been down here long enough they're all rarin' fer seconds! Also meant to 'ave Krumhilda show you yer new lodgings!"

"We're all done with him here!" Krackerjack clapped her hands. "The others can refind him if we need his services again, see you again soon, James!"

"[i]Thhnk yuu, mrrrm.[/i]"

He tried to nod when he sat up on his knees before Krumhilda marched forth to hoist him over her shoulder. The ladies all waved him goodbye with their shafts still drooling between their legs to form a spiderweb on the floor, as James passed out briefly on his travels. When next he awoke, he had been dunked in a large tub of salt water, usually for cleaning fabrics, to give him a quick scrub down and peel off the layers of cum from his feathers.

Krumhilda was gentle with her powerful thick sausage fingers. James slowly recovered his energy from the bubbling froth that soaked his body, despite the hard brush Krumhilda used that scraped his loins and scoured his chest.

"You get title of cabin boy," she said mid-clean, "you writing about uz, but help with dutiez to relieve uz. Long voyage makez it hard, maybe help with cleaning if need more handz."

"It's only fair," he sighed with a smile, "today's been awesome, your crew's been so nice!"

"Thank you." She smooched his cheek. "You are good boy. I clean you each day after duty."

She towelled him down and fluffed his feathers with a special cream that gave them a little zest, making him feel like a brand new bird before she led him to his quarters in the stern of the ship, not too far from the captain's quarters. Inside was a freshly-made bed, and a writing desk in the corner which had a hole in the wall cut out to form a seat.

"You ztay here," Krumhilda pointed down, "waz burzar room, before we zack her."

"Oh, thank you," he nodded and laid down, "why uh...why the hole?"

"For uz." She smiled wide and groped herself. "We do you, while you work. Goodnight, Jamez."

She walked out and let him sleep, the griffon closed his eyes and let his salt-cleaned body deflate in relief. They had made a good impression, and so too did he on them, many times. Fatigued and full of the krew's sumptuous warmth, he slumbered with a joyful smile already anticipating the next few months of his voyage, as both their Anchor and "cabin boy" to relieve themselves with.