Domesticating the Hero
I had commissioned some stories from
, and it inspired me to write three short vignettes that take place between parts of the story. I've included links to his stories if you're looking for context and/or actual monsterfucking mpreg smut.
As weeks go by, Sam reflects on his new life as a Hero of Fertility, his feelings as a broodmother, and even his relationship with his bovine guide.
Links to the original stories:
Fertilizing the Hero | Educating the Hero | Training the Hero
- (Takes place after Educating the Hero)
“So!" The minotaur, Huritt, clapped his hands. “The ground rules. You'll be assisting me with repopulation efforts of endangered beasts. You will fuck said beasts, birth their young, and, when necessary, nurse said young. Your next client will be L-7 again, but rest assured there will be many, many more."
Sam was only half-listening to the bull sitting across the table. He tried to lean back in the wooden chair to make himself more comfortable. The movement elicited a growl from his so-called “client," the lycan designated by Huritt as “L-7." The wolven beast was hunched in the nearby corner staring intensely at Sam, though its eyes would occasionally move to what was on Sam's lap: a small lycan cub currently nursing from Sam's new tits.
Huritt continued: “Once they're sufficiently grown, I, and their fathers, will take responsibility for raising them. In return for your cooperation, I will house and feed you. At any point, you are free to leave, but if you refuse to cooperate you're on your own. Since I'm an exceptionally magnanimous soul, I'll even give you a grace period before you have to fuck L-7 again. Any questions?"
“Yeah," Sam said, pointing at the lycan, “is 'Fido' over here going to be giving me the stink eye the whole time?" The movement earned him another growl. Perhaps a week or two ago such a menacing sound would make Sam cower and pull his arm back, but now he just felt annoyed.
Huritt looked between the two of them and shrugged: “As long as you're holding his cub? Probably. Lycan never leave their young unattended if they think there's a risk. I won't go into his life history, but even you should be smart enough to understand why a rare beast like him wouldn't trust a human mercenary, yeah?"
Sam rolled his eyes, both at the not-so-subtle slight against him and the tree-hugging rhetoric. Yeah, yeah, humans are the real monsters, hunting down nature's beautiful innocent creatures, blah blah blah. The lycan sure wasn't innocent when it attacked him that night. Sam was certain he would have been eaten in the more literal sense if it hadn't been for the unintended activation of his Lust Drive skill.
“I have some things to attend to," Huritt said as he got up from his chair, “should be back a little after nightfall." He then leaned down to the cub and said in a cutesy voice: “Be good for mommy and daddy, lil guy~"
Sam shot the bull a curt “fuck you," though it only seemed to please Huritt that he got a rise out of the human. As he left the cabin, Sam was left looking down at his changed body. He could feel his tail hanging limply against the floor, but what drew his attention currently were his much more recently added breasts. Four plump tits full of vitamin-packed minotaur milk that, according to Huritt, would never go dry.
He let out a grumbling sigh. What the hell did he get himself into? Being some kind of… broodmother to a bunch of beasts? He couldn't think of anything more humiliating and degrading. The one light at the end of this miserable tunnel was the promise that, if he stuck with it long enough, he could change this stupid Class and go back to his regular life.
…Though, Sam supposed a much smaller benefit was that he now had his very own tits that he could grope at his leisure. It was something he believed all creeps thought about at least once in their lives. The situation was far from ideal, and the extra pair was a little excessive, but Sam wasn't going to let that stop him.
As he reached his hand up towards his breast, L-7 gave his loudest warning yet, even going as far as to bare his teeth. Sam knew it was likely because he brought his hand too close to the cub, but even so he was fed up. He turned his body to face down the snarling beast: “You gonna do that every time I so much as scratch my-"
But before Sam could continue his tirade, he felt something that stopped him in his tracks. In his moving, he had dislodged his nipple from the nursing cub's mouth. Filled with a sudden sense of urgency, he turned back to the small creature in his lap.
“Ah, sorry…" Sam apologized to the cub as he held up his breast, offering his nipple. The cub latched back on and resumed suckling. The sight, the sound, and the feeling filled Sam with a strange sense of relief. The feeling of nursing the cub felt… good, he guessed. Relaxing, even.
Without the distractions of Huritt's mocking words, L-7's growls, and his own whirlwind of thoughts, Sam began to let himself be in the moment. His full attention was now on the cub for the first time all day. It really was… such a small little thing… He hadn't really noticed before, but while the cub's coat was mostly all black like its father, the fur around its claws and markings on its face were a silvery-gray. Sort of like Sam's hair… or maybe more like Sam's tail?
Sam took a subtle sniff; with all the time he spent stuck with L-7 and his bestial musk, he half-expected his spawn to smell the same. Like hints of rust and blood. However, the cub mostly just smelled like “dog."
As Sam's mind went to smells, he looked back at the nose of the larger lycan in the room. He wondered if the beast would be able to smell his relation to the cub. If Sam had a nose like that, would he be able to do the same? How much stronger would the lycan's musk seem, or Huritt's for that matter…
The sound of a soft huff brought Sam's attention to the owner of that nose. Sam felt a little sheepish… How long was he staring at the beast like that? That's when Sam noticed it; had the lycan's expression changed? It was hard to tell, but it seemed… softer now.
Sam realized another thing: he could no longer feel and hear the cub nursing. Shit, had he dislodged his tit again? He turned back and found himself staring face to face with the cub. Lycan cubs start life with their eyes closed, so this was the first time Sam saw them open. They were green… green like his own eyes. Big green eyes and a little face looking up at him. The cub didn't seem hungry anymore, and Sam wasn't sure what to do.
“...y-yeah? What is it? You need something?"
That's when it happened. The cub's little tail started wagging and its little face was… smiling. Smiling at Sam. Sam felt himself smiling back, his voice taking a softer tone.
“Yeah? You feelin' happy? All nice and full now?"
The cub continued to give Sam that classic puppy grin, and then he started to open his mouth wider. His tongue stretching out and curling until he let out a squeaky yawn.
“That's a big yawn for such a little guy."
Sam wasn't sure why he was talking like that, or talking to it at all for that matter. It wasn't as if it could understand what he was saying. As he pondered his actions, the cub began to clamber up Sam. The little claws, trying to find purchase, dug into Sam's breasts. It hurt, of course, but Sam still instinctively brought his hands up to support the cub's bottom and keep it from falling. The cub found its destination when he reached Sam's shoulder. He laid his chin in the crook of Sam's neck, let out a content sigh, and settled for a post-meal nap. For some reason, Sam was reminded of the last time he had a lycan sleeping on top of him.
“You're a lot lighter than your daddy…"
He knew the words would hold no meaning to the cub, but even so his little tail thumped against Sam's breasts when he spoke. He heard a similar thumping directly behind him, and found that his own tail seemed to mirror the cub's. He… wasn't sure why that was happening. Instead of trying to think on that, he began rubbing the cub's back. His fur was incredibly soft.
Sam listened to the little creature's heartbeat resounding against his breasts, and listened to the comforting sounds of his breathing. He then felt a slightly uncomfortable wetness flowing down his back; he was fairly certain the cub had started to drool on him. It was gross, but, relative to everything else he went through these past weeks, Sam supposed that it was fine.
Another, growlier sigh filled the cabin, coming from L-7. Sam watched the beast get up, stretch its powerful muscles, and amble out the cabin. The action struck Sam as strange for some reason. Hadn't Huritt said something about why it had been there in the first place? Sam tried remembering but came up blank. He supposed it probably didn't matter.
“Maybe he had to take a shit?" Sam pondered aloud as he continued to pet his little one.
- (Takes place between the timeskip in Training the Hero)
The cabin filled with the sounds of suckling and Sam's tail thumping against the bed. Huritt was out doing… something. Maybe he had told Sam where he was going, but at the moment he couldn't remember, nor did he particularly care. The only things real to Sam at that moment were the three little bodies on top of him.
Sam looked down at the nursing cubs with a dopey blissful grin. He had almost forgotten what nursing felt like. It was an altogether different pleasure than getting bred. Definitely not an erotic pleasure, but there were some similarities: like tension melting away and inhibitions lowering. A sense of being complete. If the lustful pleasures of sex and huffing musk made his head feel “foggy", then this felt more… “fuzzy"? “Fluffy"? Something like that.
Using his breasts for their intended purpose… It made sense that this would feel so nice, he supposed. And with three cubs, that pleasure increased thricefold.
He lightly rubbed the backs of his cubs with his right hand, smiling when he heard their happy coos. Their coats were a mix of silver and black, and so very soft. Their claws, closer to human hands than wolf paws, were kneading Sam's breasts. The claws were slightly too big compared to their bodies, but they would grow into them over time. Sam craned his head forward and took a deep inhale. With his new lycan nose, he could easily make out their individual unique scents. He could detect their relation to L-7, but also hints of his own scent. For some reason, that pleased Sam immensely. He wondered if his oldest also carried his scent…
His oldest… Sam hadn't thought about him for a while…
He wasn't sure if it had been the lycan's own physiology or maybe part of the Hero of Fertility accelerating his development, but the cub grew exceptionally quickly. He used to follow Sam around like, well, a puppy. Nipping at his heels and trying to get him to play. But eventually the cub became more interested in exploring outside. Just like Huritt had planned, L-7 took full custody of the cub once he was weaned off milk, and that was the last Sam saw of him.
A melancholy feeling washed over Sam. “It's too bad…" he mumbled to his little ones, “your big brother is too old to be here with us." With his left hand, he idly rubbed his remaining unattended breast. His finger brushed the puffy areola, and a dribble of milk started to leak out. Sam wiped it away before it could drip on the nursing cub beneath it. Despite the familiar electric tingle of pleasure emanating from his top left tit, Sam still frowned, “If you had another littermate, I could have fed all of you at once…"
…Sam blinked. What the fuck did he just say? He grumbled and rubbed his face. Lowered inhibitions indeed. What the hell was he doing, fawning over the spawn of that beast? The only reason why he should want more offspring is to gain the experience needed to change this stupid Class. He got so caught up in the physical pleasure that he had forgotten how awful this all was.
It… was awful, right? Right. An awful humiliating situation, one he was stuck in for the foreseeable future. And why should he care about the oldest cub, that yappy thing? He should be happy that it was no longer his problem. He couldn't care less if he never saw the beast ever again.
An impatient grumbly whine brought his attention back to his cubs. Feelings of anger and resentment began melting away almost immediately. It only took a few seconds for Sam's weak resolve to crumble and resume petting them. He let out an affectionate chuckle seeing their little tails wag. He couldn't really hold his situation against them, he supposed.
At the very least, Sam was thankful Huritt wasn't around to hear him during that moment of weakness. The bastard would have never let him live it down.
- (Takes place after Training the Hero)
“Morning, sunshine~" said the amused minotaur.
“Eat shit and die," growled the wet grumpy human.
It had started about a week after he had laid those eggs; Sam and Huritt had returned to the Cabin after finding suitable nesting locations for the Griffin and Drake eggs. Shortly thereafter, L-7 came to take possession of the three cubs. Sam had a strange feeling in his breasts; he attributed it to some kind of… hormonal instinct from seeing them go. The following day, that strange feeling had graduated to outright soreness and visibly fuller tits. No matter what he did, Sam couldn't get comfortable. That night, Sam had been tossing and turning, and when he awoke from his restless sleep he found himself and his sheets soaked. Sam didn't need a lycan nose to tell that he was drenched in his own milk. He was leaking all over himself, and it showed no sign of stopping. Not wanting to ruin his makeshift shirt, Sam had confronted the minotaur while topless.
“Hey, Cow!" Sam held up one of his leaking tits, wincing slightly from their tenderness. “These are from your race! The hell is up with them?!"
The minotaur walked over to him to take a closer look. “Well, after a minotaur gives birth, milk production goes into overdrive, proportional to the amount of calves. Usually lasts 2-3 weeks before going back to normal." Huritt gave one of the tits an appraising poke.
“But I laid eggs!" Sam exclaimed as he slapped Huritt's hand away. “Eggs don't nurse!"
Huritt simply shrugged, “Guess your body can't tell the difference… Hang on, I got a solution."
Huritt walked over to the wall, picked up a tin bucket that was hanging on a hook, and tossed it to Sam to catch. The human stared at the bucket in his hands in confusion for a few seconds. The color drained from his face as it finally clicked. “You're not serious. You want me to... to…"
“Milk yourself like the pretty little cow you are? Well, I certainly won't force you. If you'd prefer being in pain and making a mess of yourself, be my guest."
Sam just scrunched his already tired face. He didn't even have the energy to be mad about Huritt's last teasing remark. Fine. Fucking fine. What's one more indignity to add to the list? Sam pressed the metal bucket against his soft tummy and wrapped his left arm around it. With his right hand, he took a hold of his top right tit, pointed the nipple towards the bucket, squeezed and…
…Nothing. Huh. Maybe it was more of a pressing action? Sam pressed his fingers near his nipple. It was moderately more successful, but what milk he managed to express flowed down Sam's body instead of into the bucket.
Maybe he needed two hands? Sam walked over and placed the bucket down on the table. He leaned over and tried pressing and squeezing. It produced a few drops of milk and a whole lot of discomfort. Sam bit his lip in frustration. What the hell was he supposed to do, suck his own tit and spit the milk out in the bucket, like sucking the venom out of a snake bite? No, that wouldn't work. He wouldn't be able to reach his lower tits, and he couldn't feed his little ones milk contaminated with his spit, and… and… what was that last thought???
The sound of poorly concealed snickering snapped Sam back to reality. In his tunnel vision he hadn't noticed Huritt moving his chair, and was now sitting right next to him. Clearly, the bull had been enjoying the show, while the human was nearing his breaking point. Still leaning over the bucket, Sam slowly turned his head. He locked his furious, exhausted, and bloodshot eyes with Huritt's. “Are you planning on being helpful," Sam started to ask through gnashing teeth, his voice dripping with seething rage, “or are you just going to sit there with that stupid fucking look on your stupid fuCKING FA-"
Without any hesitation or ever breaking eye contact, Huritt reached over and grabbed one of Sam's lower tits. With just a small amount of pressure, a small stream of milk shot out from the nipple. As it hit the inside wall of the bucket, a very brief “pzzz" reverberated throughout the cabin.
Time seemed to stand still as Sam stared wide eyed at Huritt, to Huritt's hand still holding his breast, then to the bucket on the table. Sam felt like he should be mad about the groping and the sheer audacity. But the sliver of relief the squirt brought, along with a small amount of awe, overwrote that. Finally, Sam spoke: “How the hell did you…"
The bull let go of Sam's tit and wiggled his fingers in his face. “Years of experience," he answered, “communal milking is part of minotaur culture. If you ask nicely, I could keep going…" The bull then theatrically shook his head, “But… no no, what am I saying? You got this, champ. Keep at it!"
Sam did his best to repeat what Huritt did, but try as he might, all his attempts ended with more messy dribbling. After one last unproductive pinch, Sam was ready to concede defeat. He turned towards Huritt. The bull was leaning back in his chair with his fingers steepled. “Yes, dear? Is there something you want to ask?"
Yeah, why are you such a fucking shithead, Sam thought to himself.
“Huritt, could you please…" Sam sighed, and found the courage to finish his sentence. “...milk me?"
“Why, I'd be delighted to." Huritt replied, shooting the human his best smile.
Sam let out a surprised yelp as Huritt grabbed him by the hips and lifted him in the air, as if he were as light as a feather. The former mercenary was by no means weak (even with his now considerably softer tummy), but his strength paled in comparison to the beast's.
His oblivious admiration was cut short when he was unceremoniously dumped on the table. “Alrighty! Now, hands and knees, boobs over the bucket."
Sam's hairy face flushed red as complied. Perhaps it was due to the nuance of the situation, but getting milked like an animal felt much more degrading than getting fucked like one. After getting into position, Huritt got straight to work. Sam flinched when he felt those calloused hands grabbing a hold of his breasts, but after the first few squirts he settled in.
Soon, the cabin was filled with the rhythmic sounds of milk squirting into the bucket, accompanied by Huritt's humming as he timed each squirt to his tune. Sam merely stared at the wall with a dejected look on his face as he looked back on every life choice he made that led up to this point. Or tried to look back, at least. Truth be told, he was finding it hard to focus. That uncomfortable fullness had already reduced significantly, and a familiar fuzzy-fluffy pleasure had begun to fill his head.
“Ah, I just remembered!" Huritt exclaimed, breaking out his humming but continuing to milk. “I had a lovely chat with your husband just the other day!"
Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, “Yeah? Which one?" He might as well play along, lest Huritt decided to stop.
“L-7. He wanted me to tell you that your firstborn managed to take down his first elk all by himself! Looks like your milk helped him grow up big and strong. You must be such a proud mama~!"
Weirdly, Sam did feel a small amount of pride. To take down an elk singlehandedly, the cub was likely now fully grown. He couldn't help but be in awe; how a cub, so small he could hold with one arm, could grow into a beast as large and as powerful as L-7. Sam doubted he'd even recognize him now, nor would the lycan recognize him. That... made him sad for some reason... Also, had L-7 really ask Huritt to tell him this? Why would the lycan want to share this news with him?
“It's a bit cruel." Huritt said out of nowhere, his voice lacking his usual teasing and mocking tone.
“Huh? What is?" Sam turned to face the minotaur. He'd never seen the bull make such a grave expression.
“I was just thinking… The base Skills for the Hero of Fertility doesn't include any way of feeding the young after they're born… I suppose that's part of the point of Rewriting: to acquire the necessary traits? Still, without any kind of milk, most of the young would be doomed to slowly starve…"
Sam felt his blood run cold. The thought hadn't occurred to him before, but it certainly could have, no, would have happened if Huritt hadn't arrived. He thought back to when he saw the cub for the very first time. It had looked so lethargic in the larger lycan's hands. So weak, so hungry. How long did it wait as Sam slept, got bred by the bull and the wolf, before it finally got something to eat? What if he had been too late? What if the lycan had handed him their cold dead little one?
“Well, damn… Didn't think you'd get that upset." Huritt's voice broke Sam out of his spiral.
Upset? He was upset? Sam realized that his breathing had become faster and shallower, and his arms were trembling. He felt a hot pressure in his face and behind his eyes, something he hadn't felt since he was a child. Had… Had he almost started crying? Shit, there was no way in hell he was going to let Huritt, to let anyone see him cry. Sam tried racking his brain for an excuse.
“I'm- no, I'm not… I'm just tired. I could barely sleep at all at night with these stupid tits."
“Aw… you poor thing," Huritt crooned with mock compassion, taking one hand off Sam's teats to pet his head. Clearly the bull had gotten over his rueful conjecturing and was back to his usual self. “My pretty little cow, up all night with her swollen leaky udder…"
Sam knew that the bull was making fun of him, but gods that touch felt so good. It took all of Sam's willpower not to lean his head up into his hand, to encourage him to continue. He'd even be fine being Huritt's pretty little cow if it meant he kept going.
Sam stifled a pleasured hum as Huritt gave him one last pet, a whimper when that meaty hand left his head, and then a yelp when felt himself being suddenly picked up. He let himself go limp as Huritt positioned him as he pleased; placed in Huritt's lap and made to hold the bucket. Huritt's hands returned to Sam's breasts, and Sam felt himself relaxing completely as he watched the milk continue to flow into the bucket. Watching with fascination and a sense of achievement.
Each squirt couldn't have been more than a thimble's worth of milk, and yet already the bucket was over three quarters filled. It occurred to Sam that they must have been at this for, what, an hour? Maybe even two? That uncomfortable fullness from before, the reason Sam had asked for this in the first place, was gone now. At this point, Sam could have asked Huritt to stop. But he didn't. He didn't want it to stop; due to the sheer pleasure that came from the bull's touch, and some deep primal instinct that wouldn't be satisfied until that bucket was completely filled.
Huritt leaned in and whispered in a sultry voice, his breath tickling Sam's ear: “Brings back memories, doesn't it~?"
Indeed it did. It brought Sam back to when he first acquired the Minotaur Milk trait. He remembered riding that monster cock, feeling so filled and so good. He remembered the sight of L-7 suckling on his new growing tits in an attempt to coax milk; a precursor for the months to follow. And, below that, he remembered the feeling of Huritt's calloused hands twisting and pulling his lower nipples. Even in his lust drunk state, he could sense the bull's sadism, genuine malice in his roughness. He had enjoyed inflicting pain on the human, just as much as he enjoyed giving pleasure, and Sam's tits had borne the brunt of both.
This time, however, was different. For starters, there wasn't currently a cock in his ass (though he did feel the semi under Huritt's kilt pressing against him), and without L-7 it was just the two of them. A bull and his cow. The more subtle difference, though, was the distinct lack of aggression. There was no twisting and pulling. Instead Huritt's hands had a lighter touch. He would alternate between the four breasts, giving each time to rest so that they wouldn't get too sore. Instead of furious grunts, there were only soft exhales; puffs of air blowing against his hair. It was all so… gentle. Sam could feel the gentleness & warmth from Huritt's body enveloping him, caressing him. He never felt so at ease… He felt… cared for.
This is probably close to what being cuddled must feel like, Sam thought. He was never much for intimacy; his style with women in the past could best be described as “pump and dump." It was for the best; with his face, attitude, and reputation he knew he'd be pushing his luck trying to stick around. But this feeling? It felt good. So good, Sam could feel himself melting away in the embrace, feel himself giving in to the warmth, feel himself letting go…
Wait, no, I can't do that… Sam thought, trying to fight through his exhaustion. I can't give in to this. To Huritt, to this Class. I have to hold on… hold on to… on to…
What was it Sam needed to hold again? The bleary-eyed human looked down at the bucket in his hands. It was nearly full. Full of Sam's milk.
Ah, that's right… Sam remembered. I need to hold on to the bucket…
Sam felt his head being nudged. He had been resting his head on Huritt's pec, and the bull was now flexing it to get his attention.
“What's this? Falling asleep on me?" Huritt asked in a voice that sounded mostly teasing, but not entirely so.
“No… can't let go... can't spill… the little ones would go hungry…"
Huritt suddenly paused mid-squeeze. Sam frowned in confusion; did he say something wrong? A moment later he felt his body being shifted about, allowing him to lean back more. Huritt's powerful arm wrapped around him and the bucket, and he resumed milking with his remaining hand. “Here, I got the bucket. Go ahead and rest, Sam."
“Oh… okay… Thanks, Huritt…" Sam murmured with a sleepy smile.
Huritt grunted in response, which reverberated through Sam's body. Sam turned his head to the side, so that his cheek was flushed against Huritt's meaty pec. He listened to the comforting sound of Huritt's heartbeat and breathing. He felt himself being lifted and lowered with each breath the bull took. With the way Huritt currently had his milking arm angled, Sam noticed that his pit was now slightly exposed. The human craned his head to point his lycan nose in its direction, and took some deep sniffs; his wagging tail brushing Huritt's legs as he breathed the odor in.
Perhaps if he had been more awake, the scent would have excited him more, riled him up. Maybe he'd have even tried reaching his new serpentine tongue out for a taste. But for now, he simply allowed it to fill his senses. While he certainly enjoyed L-7's bestial musk, and the scents of his little ones made him happy, there was something about Huritt's smell… the mix of musk and floral. It put his mind and body at ease like nothing else. It smelt like… like home.
“...Your eggs will be hatching any day now, Sam. I'll be using your milk to help feed them." Huritt's voice held an uncertainty Sam hadn't heard before. “If… If you want to, I can take you with me the next time I check up on them. You can help with the feeding. It's not part of the original agreement, so you don't have to if you don't want to…"
“I wanna go…" Sam answered without any hesitation, “wanna see them… my little ones."
As sleep finally began to overtake him, Sam smiled. Feelings of happiness and appreciation washed over him. How lucky was he? Getting to be a broodmother of so many little ones, to have a firstborn son grow up so big and strong, and to have someone nice like Huritt taking care of him.
His last thought before finally succumbing to sleep was wishing Huritt would call him by his name more often… He really liked hearing Huritt say his name…
...
Huritt looked down at the human sleeping in his arms as he kept kneading his soft yet hairy breasts. Once he was done, he would take a wet towel to wipe down the human and clean the milk off of him, change the drenched sheets, and then put him back to bed. He chuckled and shook his head. Before all this started, if anyone at his village had told him that he'd spend this much effort taking care of a human, he'd have smacked them upside the head.
Ok, anyone besides a certain orc, Huritt admitted in his head.
Originally, Huritt had wanted to limit the young beasts' exposure to Sam as much as possible. If they became too used to humans, it could put them at risk of poachers and mercenaries. But… maybe this would be worth the risk.
He could make a reasonable prediction of the events to come. When Sam woke up, he'd likely not remember what he had said. Or if he did, he would claim that he only said that because his "head was messed up". He'd make excuses: blaming the exhaustion, blaming the milking, blaming his Class, blaming Huritt. The human would still go with him, complaining and griping the whole way there. Then, when he finally got there, when he saw his hatchlings, he would get that misty eyed look on his face, his voice taking that soft timber reserved for when he thought no one else was there to hear it…
…Or maybe not. Maybe Sam was just a dog person, and that doting instinct only extended to anything vaguely puppy-shaped. Maybe the human would take one look at those baby griffin and baby drakes, and be utterly repulsed. Reacting just like Huritt thought Sam would, back when Sam first laid eyes on his firstborn cub. In which case, Huritt could go back to his cruel and merciless bullying without feeling a shred of guilt.
He then felt a slightly uncomfortable wetness on his chest; he was fairly certain Sam had started to drool on him. It was gross, but, since he was already planning on getting a wet towel to clean up after this, Huritt supposed that it was fine.
Thanks for reading! Sam & Huritt weren't even full characters when I first commissioned the story, and now I'm so attached to them, so thank you again @Marchastre for your fantastic work! How you managed to write these so quickly is beyond me because this took me literal weeks...
There are a few more parts I have in mind for their story, including a conclusion of sorts, but nothing in the works as of now. This is the first time in a very, very long time that I've done any kind of creative writing. I'd love to hear any feedback you may have!