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Dale was having trouble reaching the top of his glass. It wobbled with his efforts as he stood atop the table, hopping up and down just for the chance to sip the amber nectar within, even if it was going to mean he got considerably intoxicated. Even severely watered down, alcohol had a big effect on someone his size. Standing at only a few inches tall, the violet shark was in danger of getting washed away over the edge of the table if that frosty mug tipped over and spilled its contents all over him.

Thankfully, he had a good handler. The big vulture would have been intimidating at first glance even to someone at a more typical size. He was a towering figure, strong, sharp of talon and beak alike, yet Dale knew him better than that. Ol’ Lazarus only needed to see the shark struggling for a moment before he moved in to carefully help. He was always careful, always cautious not to startle or mishandle the small shark, with a black-scaled hand cupped behind him for balance while he slowly tilted that mug towards the struggling shark’s face, without spilling a drop on him.

Dale was so grateful for the help he didn’t think too hard about the consequences of taking a nice, deep sip of the bitter-tasting stuff. In truth, he kind of wanted to impress the feathery dad. Laz had been such a help, showing him around the workshop, teaching him how things worked and how to fix them, and making all kinds of good suggestions on how a micro might safely climb into things for inspection and repair purposes. The bird was the picture of patience, giving him all that time without charging a thing, and providing such good company all the while.

The only question was what to call him. He wasn’t quite Dale’s boss - it was a favour, not a job, though maybe if the shark managed to make himself useful there might have been something down the line. Maybe it was more of an apprenticeship, though did that make Laz his ... master? Hmmm. He’d have to think on it. The effects of even that small slurp were already making him buzz a little. He revealed his teeth in a contented smile as he rode that blissful feeling out.

“There ya go. Been a long day, hasn’t it? Think you’ve earned yourself a little indulgence. You've been learning quick.”

Laz had a way of paying even a small compliment that felt so very validating. Or maybe Dale was a bit drunk already. Either way, he stood basking in that praise like it was what he needed his whole life, beaming, looking fondly up at that wise bird. Then his eyes wandered. The bar was the exact kind of dark and dingy that was somehow classy again. It had a [i]history[/i], and the music was always on point. All manner of interesting people populated such a place, and the booze-touched fish felt emboldened enough to make eyes at one of them in particular.

He’d caught a glimpse of the silky-feathered crow a few times. She had a way of catching the eye, with her exotic outfits, those hand-sewn dresses or flowy tops and skirt combos. Sometimes she wore a set of particularly large sunglasses, but that night she’d opted instead for a long, red blindfold. It didn’t seem to affect her coordination any. Though for whatever reason, it ended up making Dale feel more conscious about staring at her rather than less. His interest didn’t go unnoticed by the vulture, either.

“Oh, her? Sweet gal. But a whole lot [i]more[/i] than you might expect, for how quiet she is.” He paused, looking the shark over. “Might be a bit much for you to handle, meaning no offense.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Met her dad a couple times. Wild fella, but a good one. Xanthe there takes after him more than you’d expect.”

“Xanthe? Is that her name?” Dale rolled that over his tongue a little, whispering it again to himself.

“That’s right. She’s a sharp one. Definitely knows you’re looking at her. Probably hearing every word of this conversation, too.”

“... Oh.”

“Want me to introduce you?” Laz beamed. “Don’t mind showing you a few pointers about that too, if you like.”

“Ahh ...” The four-inch fish just made a sound rather than speak a committal answer.

He wished he could have been more assertive, but that bird, with her feathers all shiny, dressed so fine, sipping her wine all slowly, she looked like she deserved the [i]best[/i]. She was so calm it made her seem a little stern, and if she really was as perceptive as Laz said, she probably sensed every single second Dale spent staring. The shark found himself a blushy mess. He kind of wanted to lie down.

“Hold on then. Let’s get you acquainted. Don’t let life swim on by, little buddy.”

Dale didn’t manage to object in time, either. He couldn’t think of a good reason to. Laz reached out to offer his palm, softly scooping up the shark so he could carry him over to the crow like a gift. Even blindfolded, Xanthe projected an aura of sorts that left even a small shark like him feeling very [i]perceived[/i] once he was close enough, whatever that truly meant. He stood by, nervous to be so thoroughly appraised by someone he found so attractive. Laz meanwhile had no such worry, or restraint.

“Ho there, Xanthe. Spare a minute for an old bird? I have a friend here who’d like to meet you, goes by Dale. A good fellow all around, if you want my recommendation.”

“Your company’s always welcome, Laz. Nice to meet you, Dale. You must be that apprentice I’ve heard about.”

Her voice was uniquely pleasing to a pair of perked shark ears. Low, slightly warbled and crow-like, altogether pleasant, it left him clinging to every word. Though he would have done that anyway. It occurred to Dale only then that Laz [i]knew[/i] Xanthe already. He had a big headstart on flirting with her.

“So, forgive me for the usual bluntness. Just so happens that this here shark boy has developed a [i]thing[/i] for you, but he’s far too shy to tell you about it. Figured the best way to facilitate things was to pluck him up and haul him over here myself. Maybe show him a thing or two.”

Xanthe leaned back in her seat, shifting her posture. Dale wasn’t sure if it meant she was uncomfortable, or [i]very[/i] comfortable all of a sudden. Her voice was even lower when she leaned in to speak.

“And what sort of things would you show him? He [i]does[/i] seem quite eager to learn from what you’ve said.” She took a soft breath. “Maybe I am too.”

Was that a slight tremble to Xanthe’s voice? The shark stood up on his toes to listen slightly more closely. It could have meant a lot of things, but his mind went immediately to lust. Even if it wasn’t directed at him, but instead at the vulture, it was still pleasing to hear. The moment was so warm and sensual that Dale was blushing - though it was nothing compared to how hot his cheeks got when Laz continued.

“Suppose I might take you somewhere nice, press you close, touch you all the places you like to be touched, and make you cum yourself just a little stupid.”

Dale’s shock was already enough to silence him. He was only more deeply stunned when the crow seemed to [i]moan[/i] in response to such words.

“Mmm. Laz. You don’t know how much I’ve needed exactly that lately. Or maybe you do.” She smiled, and offered her hand. “Very well. Let’s [i]teach[/i] this friend of yours.”

For a moment she seemed to [i]look[/i] directly at the aquatic micro appraising her. Maybe she was simply sensing him instead. Her expression was hard to read, but it made him squirm either way.

“And how messy is your place compared to mine? You know how it gets.”

“Honestly, I can barely walk in there right now. Too many ideas.” Xanthe softly laughed.

“Oh, I get that. The usual?”

“Mm. That’ll do.”

It was a whirlwind of sensations. Dale’s excitement mingled with the shyness he felt over Laz doing everything for him. Maybe it was just another part of being his handler. It wasn’t as if he could have hopped down from the table and crossed the floor to make his introductions all by himself. Still, he was squirming, blushing, feeling a little embarrassed and incredibly turned on all at once. It wasn’t just the prospect of seeing Xanthe naked. He had to admit spending the day working hard with the big vulture had given him a bit of a thing for the older guy too.

He didn’t pay much notice to where they were going. Laz and Xanthe got checked into a decent motel - far from a fancy hotel, but far more classy than the average dive. It wasn’t much longer until they were intertwined together on the bed, with a flustered shark planted on the side, sitting, watching, lightly pouting. He was just going to have to watch the whole thing, to breathe their scents and listen to their feathery textures rubbing together, and hope he learned something. Maybe he’d already learned that he really liked watching.

They were both such a good compliment to each other. Xanthe was every bit as elegant out of her dress as she was in it. She looked so smooth, so sleek to the touch that he could imagine every stroke Laz made over her feathers as if he was the one doing it. Her shape was slim but soft in all the right spots, so picturesque and perfect. And she looked good completely blanketed and pinned under the bulk of the big vulture. Dale had managed to get the general idea of the bird dad’s physique in those loose working clothes, but he’d never realized just how strong Laz really was.

The vulture’s muscles were so well-defined beneath the fluff, and the much smaller male found himself admiring every little flex, every bulge of exertion. Sometimes he almost flinched at the way Laz handled the crow. Xanthe playfully squirmed, and he grabbed her to hold her down just the way he wanted her whenever she did. By the moans and occasional caws she gave in response to such rough treatment, she loved every bit of that. It wasn’t something Dale could have ever done for her. Though she seemed to appreciate the subtler touches just as much, which brought the small shark some comfort.

A stroke of talons, a scratch through her silky down, and the occasional nudge or nibble of his beak, it all kept the crow pleasantly writhing for him. The bed sagged beneath his weight when he shifted, just to press all the closer to her, to take just a little of her breath away when he pressed his solid chest to her breasts. When she began to wrap her legs around him, Laz glanced back briefly just to make eye contact with the micro shark sitting lustfully on the side of the shifting bed.

“Are you getting all this? Suppose I ought to have set you up with a notebook.”

It was hard to tell which part of that was serious, and which part was just a tease. Dale kept watching intently either way. He really was taking notes, in some sense. Especially when Laz arched his back and lifted that great, heavy tail of his. That weighty appendage was more like a feline’s tail than a bird’s, swaying through the air to give his tiny audience a better look at that thick, solid shaft standing tall and stiff between Xanthe’s legs. The crow squeezed her thighs around the vulture’s hips, guiding him, pulling him in, directing his tapered tip right to the centre of her visibly slick folds. She was [i]so[/i] wet for him that even the first touch produced a tantalizing squelch, coating Laz’s tip in a sweet layer of her utmost lust.

Dale throbbed at the sight. He couldn’t help it anymore. His choice of seating meant he had the perfect angle to watch it going inside - throbbing, swelling, stretching her out with every inch he dipped down between her legs, spreading her out wide but never facing any apparent resistance. The crow made it well known how good he felt. Her voice was already so pleasing to listen to, with its husky tone, and the occasional croak or warble. Hearing her moaning that much was orgasmic all on its own. Even if the small shark wasn’t the one to cause it.

The first full thrust to bottom out inside of her stopped short when Laz bumped up against an especially thick swell at the bottom of his cock. It only got bigger with every throb, growing to form a sizable knot kissing against the glazed folds of the crow all wrapped around him. Xanthe clutched him all the tighter, scratching down his back, pulling herself towards that base as if to pull it inside her all at once. Laz instead pulled back, shaft glistening with the crow’s desire, letting it all drip down to further dampen her feathers as he throbbed above her, breathing slowly, steadily. Dale was ready to bite his lip and fuss for the vulture to just put it back in already, but Xanthe’s urging won him over first.

She arched her back, bucked his hips for me, and squeezed him between her thighs all at once. Dale never expected such assertiveness from one with such a calm, quiet demeanour. Having a thick vulture cock pulsing inside her probably had a way of bringing out those feelings. Laz plunged back in with all the slurping sounds that entailed, splashing his own powerful thighs in her juices, spurting her full of precum. The little fellow could watch the vulture’s flexing taint and nuts working that all out. Such a potent stud he was, not slowed in the slightest by his age. Getting to watch him fuck was a gift all its own.

Things quickly turned rough. Dale expected the crow might have appreciated a gentle lovemaking, a thorough exploration of her body - all the things a micro like him was equipped to provide. But she was the one spurring Lazarus on. She pulled him into each of those thrusts, into the thumping and the plowing that kept his nuts slapping against her inner thighs and rear. He watched her jiggle from the impact, as best he could see, but from his angle he was mostly focused on that [i]cock[/i]. For all his crushing on the crow, he was finding himself getting more and more enamoured with the big dad birds and his juicy, plapping nuts smacking against those shiny black feathers over and over again.

Pressing deeply into her, Laz let the tension build, stretching the crow just a little more to make room for that solid knot. Dale watched it bulging, unyielding against the pressure, rock solid for the crow they both adored. The sound of Laz tying with Xanthe was so wet that the shark actually flinched, scooting back where he sat lest he ended up splashed by the juices gushing from the pair. The crow cawed her way to climax, cumming for the vulture on the spot, kneading and flexing all around that juicy tie as if she was ready to demand he fill her up.

Laz managed to remain steady all throughout what looked like an absolutely relentless effort to milk him. He gave the occasional hump or bounce, but he still managed to pull out of that slathered sex before it was too late. A few smooth glides along Xanthe’s cunt and he gave one more telltale flex, going extra taut, curling his toes near his apprentice as if to grasp him and tug him into the scene. The shark didn’t have the best angle to watch the vulture cumming all over the crow, but he certainly [i]heard[/i] it. The sound of thick spunk hitting once-pristine feathers came with an excess of masculine scent that was truly mouth watering, especially at the shark’s size. The room was flooded with the collective warmth, and Dale was left there to throb away, listening to the splatter of vulture cum painting the crow up and down, belly to breasts to beak, as if to claim her.

A sighing, huffing afterglow saw Xanthe finally releasing the vulture from her grasp, slumping and sprawling out across as much of the bed as she could reach. She rested on her outstretched wings and simply breathed heavily, tilting her head back, letting the cum slowly roll down her breasts or over the curve of her hips, dripping onto the sheets. She sighed when she noticed that, though her tone was amused.

“Oh, Laz. You made such a mess again.”

“I got [i]most[/i] of it on you. Just hold that position while I get you a towel. You look damn fine like that.”

The vulture slowly pulled back, kneeling on the bed, making it tilt downwards beneath him. He looked to where his palm-sized guest sat, then just reached out for him. The shark gave a cry. As much as he might have enjoyed getting to rub against Xanthe’s body, he was more the size of a bar of soap than a towel. Thankfully, or maybe slightly disappointingly, that wasn’t the plan. Instead, he plucked the shark right up and carried him off, moving quickly but still treating Dale with care. Off they went, stepping just outside into the night air. Laz didn’t seem to worry too much about standing outside, fully naked, sex still dripping from his dick. If the micro didn’t mind the view, no one else would either.

The breeze felt nice. The shark’s textured skin was so very warm, and he could feel the heat radiating from the vulture. Laz looked out towards the stars, even if they couldn’t be seen all that well through the city lights. Maybe he had better eyes than Dale did. He didn’t say anything for a while, leaving the shark to sit in his palm and admire that tall, strong body, lightly dabbed with perspiration and thoroughly glazed with feather-matting juices. The scent of the crow was still upon him, especially clinging to that shiny, dark-fleshed cock, on full display and firm no matter how much relief he’d already had. Dale couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

“Suppose that was a little cruel of me, in the end,” Laz finally said.

The awe-struck shark’s voice came out as a little squeak. “How so?”

“Just having you sit there and watch. Got a little caught up in things. That bird always has a way of getting me going. Might have at least let you lick something, you know?”

“Well, I ...” Dale began, then found himself stopping short as his eyes strayed to that juicy cock once more. A thought occurred to him, but he didn’t dare speak it out loud. Not to someone he respected so much.

“Hey, now you’re thinking. Knew you had a good little brain in you. Pardon the choice of words.” He slowly closed his hand, wrapping his scaled fingers around the shrunken shark, clutching him just a little more tightly. “Maybe I’ve got a good idea for how you can participate next time. In a manner of speaking.”

He didn’t offer any further explanation. Instead, he just brought the small shark closer and closer to the cock he was coveting. The shark’s sensitive nose twitched. The nearer he got, the more he wanted a taste. The combined scents of both birds was surely going to make for such a flavour too. The vulture ever so casually pressed the micro right up against his sex-soaked cock as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Dale couldn’t even bring himself to be shocked anymore.

Instead, the shark embraced it like he was taking a cue from the crow’s own needy grip. He found himself hugging it with his arms and legs alike, grinding his lingering desire against its length. It was bigger than that slim shark’s entire body. Each throb was a bassy thump against him. He got the taste on his tongue before he even started licking. When he did, stroking his tongue against that smooth surface, gathering up some of the juices there to well up in his mouth and swallow, he found himself imitating Xanthe once more with the moaning he did.

Sharkskin had a way of being absorbent, and that included the potent musk of the vulture’s cock, along with the feminine desire still clinging to it. There was simply so much to enjoy. Dale was rubbing himself against it more and more excitedly, letting it sink deeply into his body, marking him down in their collective essence and warmth. He was going to belong to those birds after a good worship session with that cock. He couldn’t stop himself once he got going. Laz deserved every lick, every stroke, every little hump of the overexcited shark’s hips. The bird eventually gave a good-natured chuckle at the efforts.

“Went right for it, didn’t ya? Well, that’s what I like to see. Makes this next part a whole lot easier.”

At no point did Laz move abruptly or forcefully. He’d clearly handled his share of micros before. Dale never felt startled or roughed up when the vulture slowly moved him upwards, letting him grind all the way to the tip of that heavy vulture cock, feeling it flex taut right in front of him. There were still yet more juices leaking from it. He probably could have gone for another orgasm if he felt like jerking off with the shark, but that would have meant keeping Xanthe waiting. Where was he going to get a towel out there, anyway?

It was only when he made a little adjustment, gave Dale a little push that the shark realized exactly what the bird had in mind. A little nudge of his scaled finger to his violet toy’s backside helped guide that micro all the more firmly against the tip of the vulture’s cock. What felt at first like a little smooch grew much more overpowering. Lazarus nudged and urged Dale along, but it was his shaft itself that did the real work. Once it got a grip of the small shark’s snout, it didn’t let go, bathing the wet shark in a breathtaking warmth and soaking his face in a thorough splattering of the juices that just kept flowing.

A decidedly powerful pumping, clenching prowess started up seemingly all on its own. The micro gave a [i]hmmmf[/i], but it wasn’t a startled sound. If anything, the grip of all that inner flesh wrapping around his head was oddly pleasant. He gasped and breathed deep, getting saturated on the vulture, flustered and a bit humiliated by the dominant gesture, even if he didn’t know where it came from. Another flex to drag a little more of that purple treat down that shaft made things so much clearer. A deep squeeze, slowly, carefully swallowing him into that thick vulture cock was exactly what it took to finally get Dale squirming.

As a micro, he was always in danger of such things. All it took was an impulse, and someone could easily swallow him any way they liked. Especially someone like Lazarus. Dale usually told himself if they hadn’t done it when they first met him, they probably wouldn’t. It was less reassuring then. He found himself near immobile, arms pinned to his sides before he could think of getting them anywhere else. Maybe he could wriggle a little, but such token resistance was as good as nothing. Down he went, slurped and squeezed along, dunked into a dense and dense heat and scent that overpowered the rest of his senses. If he had anything to say about his new situation, he was far too dazed to speak it.

It would have been easily drowned out anyway. For as gentle as the vulture had treated him until then, the overheated and aggressively rumbling confines of his balls were far less hospitable. Dale felt himself touching down in that drained set after not long at all, once his feet and tail disappeared down the tip and his body was nothing more than a bulge beneath the slick black surface. He gave a gasp that filled his lungs with what felt like pure steam. It was largely empty in there, milked dry by the crow’s sex, but there still plenty to cling to the shark’s skin. Dale gave a groan, or maybe a moan when he touched down fully with one last squeeze, helped along when Laz couldn’t help running his hand up and down the bulge in his dick a few times, stroking himself off to the feeling of swallowing the micro.

When his prey was all tucked away between his legs, getting softly squeezed on with every little flex, Lazarus gave an extended sigh.

“Now that feels more like where you belong. There’s still just so much for me to teach you, so I figured it’d be much easier to have you right there, getting some front row seats. Don’t mind all the squeezing. Won’t juice you down too quick.”

It might have been more comforting to hear he wouldn’t do it at all, but at least he kept his word for the present moment. His balls gave the occasional clamp around their new occupant, stirring Dale in spunk, letting him marinate in pure masculine lust. Maybe he’d learn something that way alone, just by swimming in that pure essence. It was making him a little manlier with every moment just by association with that stud. Though when the walls closed in too tightly, he pushed right back at them, giving a muffled whine.

“Laaaaaaz. It’s so hot in here ...”

It wasn’t especially audible, but the vulture seemed to hear him anyway. He reached down to cup his nuts, bouncing his new temporary occupant around inside him a few times.

“Afraid that’s just how it has to be. Might get myself too excited and churn you up if I try to get you out now. I’ll do my best to make your stay as accommodating as possible, though.”

The shark fussed a little more, kicking his legs out. He wasn’t worried about hurting the bird when those balls were so much more powerful than him. They squished and squeezed him into position and gave the occasional groan as if they were already going to work, already starting to melt him down into more vulture spunk. The very thought had Dale blazing, just thinking about it. He kind of wanted to cum about it, but it was too hard to move when he was all wrapped up tight like that.

Swallowing the shark down his cock was all distinctly not a matter of retrieving a towel though. Laz gave his cock a few more rubs and turned back to the room, closing the door quietly when he found the pretty crow sleeping while she waited for him. Every careful step he took nonetheless jostled Dale around inside his nuts, rubbing his thighs against that trapped shark, adding just a bit more activity to those slowly [i]glurrrrrning[/i] balls. Laz didn’t pay him any mind for the moment. He made sure to at least do what he said he would, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and getting the snoozy crow cleaned up as best she could. Getting cum out of feathers was always a process, but they could shower together before they checked out in the morning.

Rubbing up close to her, he stretched his body across the bed with a creak of worn-out springs made all the creakier by their rough lovemaking. At last, Dale got to touch his crush when the vulture pressed him up against her thigh. Faintly rubbing on her, still turned on but ignoring it for the moment, the bird dad took to draping her in a cozy blanket of the arm-fluff that wasn’t quite a set of wings, keeping her good at cozy in her sprawled-out glory. Even passed out naked on a motel bed with some cum still clinging to her, smelling of vulture cock, The smitten shark was sure she was still gorgeous. He pictured her as he faintly thrummed against her leg, trying not to drift off, but finding himself all but forced to rest by the heat and the constant, possessive grip around his body. He was just going to have to get used to living in the bird’s balls.

---

There were so many sensations, and Dale never got used to any of them. He woke up, having nodded off for a time inside the vulture’s balls, unsure of where Laz had taken him by that point. The bouncing of every step jostled him around all the more, producing a slosh of the juices slowly rising around the shark’s ankles. The saturated shark had to think that some of that spunk was thanks to him. He was probably just inspiring it rather than becoming it, for how intact he still was. There was no numbness, no weakness, other than the fatigue he felt. Besides, Laz was his [i]boss[/i]. The last thing the big man would do was [i]melt[/i] him.

He was simply a passenger, wobbling along and squirming in the heat of the bird’s sack, surrounded by the fleshy squelching sounds that felt set on driving him crazy. At least every breath he swallowed left him a little more intoxicated, a little more easily able to deal with everything happening to him in there.

Walking about was one thing. Every moment was one Dale stewed in the aggressive heat, feeling as if he was outright melting down the more he sweltered. That went along with the steady sense of sinking down, giving into the constant squeezes a little more with each minute spent inside the vulture - and eventually, each hour. Despite being snugly tucked away, out of sight and unmentioned while the vulture made his way around in public, he could still vaguely tell what Laz was up to. The bird carried on as normal as if he wasn’t slowly digesting someone into cum, tinkering in his workshop, chatting with passers-by, and generally ignoring his captive for some time.

Dale knew how Laz got. Once he was focused on a project, there was no distracting him. Only when he was finished and stepped into the shower did he seem to recall he was carrying a shark with him. The hot water streaming down his feathered body made the heated confines of his balls all the more unbearable, bringing a fussy struggle from the shark within, no matter how tired that ball-bulge might have been. He’d been in there for half a day by then, and was only just grabbing the vulture’s attention enough for Laz to reach down to play with him a little.

“I suppose this is your life now. The bright side is, you’re getting nice and manly just soaking in there all this time. I like to think I’m gifting you a little of that essence while you’re there. You’ll be irresistible by the time I’m done with you.”

More than just cupping his prey, he gave Dale a soft, fond squeeze. Kneading him around with those fingers firmly enough that the shark could feel the scales made him sigh out loud. He soaked in there for some time, water pouring over his down, making the muscles beneath the fluff stand out all the more prominently. The nut-prisoner could imagine how good he must have looked. It wasn’t helping him calm himself down. For all his squirming, he found himself in perpetual pleasure and arousal, hardly even feeling the urge for release when it all seemed like one long climax to him. If a stifling, overpowering, nearly choking one.

At least the heat lessened when the bird stepped out of the shower and got himself towelled off. He didn’t bother with clothes, striding around his place alone for the time being. That home of many rooms looked a little cobbled together on the outside, but it was a sturdy, functional place that had endured plenty of winters and all his many offspring over the years. Moving up and down the stairs especially made for some jostling and rubbing against the vulture’s powerful thighs. Dale got tossed around in there, squished against the smooth, heated wall, dunked into the rising cream that he was becoming the more Laz moved around. He was happy when the bird finally settled on a couch, fresh and naked, feet up on a coffee table.

“I think you’re already making my balls fatter,” Laz casually said, rubbing himself to confirm as much. “It’s impressive for someone your size! Really starting to weigh ‘em down. I imagine they’ll have a good swing to ‘em when I’m smacking them up against your crush’s backside.”

He took the time to stroke one finger along the shape of the shark bulging in his nuts at that. Dale tried to push that digit away in protest.

“Was wondering if you’d sink down all the way by the time she gets here, but it doesn't look like it. Resilient little thing, aren’t you? Maybe you’re just excited to see Xanthe again. You’ll get to be nice and close this time.”

Just to tease, he pulled his balls up tight around the shark a few times, squeezing hard enough to form a clear silhouette of his prey right in the middle of them. The pressure left Dale straining, gasping out as the air was squeezed out of him briefly. He felt himself getting squished down, juiced even. The cum around him was only getting thicker while he slowly softened into it, unifying with that spunk rather than any individual part of him melting down. He hadn’t lost any part of him, and he probably wouldn’t until he was fully, utterly churned, but he definitely felt weaker after the night-and-day stay inside those plump, potent vulture balls.

Laz relented after a while, leaving the resulting spunk to splash and slosh all around Dale’s form. It was time for him to get up and answer the door. Fully nude, of course. It wasn’t that Xanthe wouldn’t know. She surely sensed it, even without sight. He just knew she didn’t care. There she stood, dressed more modestly than the previous night, offering the vulture a warm smile. Even from within Laz, the confined fish could sense her in some way, like an aura. She had such an arousing presence to her.

“Have you been getting started without me, Laz?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Just freshening up.”

Xanthe leaned in, pressing her beak to his strong chest, burying herself in her feathers. She breathed deeply.

“You smell nice.”

“I do my best. Coming in?”

“Mm. I’d say we ought to lay a blanket down in the yard and scandalize the neighbours, but you don’t have those. A little cool tonight for that anyway.”

A little crow-hop on her behalf put her in his arms. Laz was ready to catch her. Dale was left to feel that fine rear pressing down against those solid, prey-heavy balls as she rubbed herself against him on the way through the door. Up the stairs they went once more, to make the friction all the more prominent. Laz was moving fast, even carrying the curvy bird with him. The submerged micro could hear the vulture’s heart quickening, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from exertion. Soon, they were in the dad bird’s bedroom, with his various half-finished creations on the shelves and window sills, light streaming beneath a half-drawn curtain. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was its own kind of cozy, and the bed was plenty soft for planting a pretty crow.

She sprawled out over the sheets for a time, splaying her wings, sighing. Her particular fascinations had her reach over to run the covers between her fingers a few times, just to get a sense of their texture. After that, she flipped herself over all of a sudden, giving a fan of her tailfeathers, folding her wings, arching her back. It was all the indication she needed to give the vulture. Lazarus was already unsheathing, that thick shaft slipping forth smoothly to droop down atop his balls with a solid, shark-shaking [i]thud[/i], filling out seconds later. He reached and he grasped, pulling the blackbird from her clothing one item at a time, from her strapped top to her cute skirt, curling his talons into the straps of everything she wore beneath.

They both knew why she was there. The need was palpable as she pressed herself against him, letting his half-firmed shaft rub snugly down the middle of her ass, splitting those cheeks. With a touch like that, it didn’t take long for Lazarus to get harder than ever. Dale felt every throb passing down to his prison, especially when those balls flexed up taut around him each time. It was all making the conversion process a little quicker, a little more intense. He wondered if Xanthe could hear the churning. For him, it bordered on deafening.

That thick vulture cock soon found a snug, warm slit waiting for him. The crow was the kind of wet that said she’d been turned on for a [i]while[/i] at that point. Maybe she’d been teasing herself just thinking of her pending encounter with the bigger bird. Laz wasn’t going to let her down. He clutched her by the hips while she struck a pose, rump up and tailfeathers lifted, clutching a pillow for support. She was going to need to brace herself if she was going to get everything she needed.

No matter how muffled his perception of the outside world may have been, surrounded by the fleshy scrunches and the steady rumble of the enrichment process, getting him more and more saturated with pure, masculine vulture. Dale heard every single detail of that cock so smoothly spreading out the crow’s cunt. Laz sank inside her with the sweetest [i]shlick[/i] and didn’t stop until he bottomed out. He left himself like that for a time, simply letting Xanthe’s body do the work to pleasure them both, contracting, pumping, clamping down on every inch he gave her. His shaft was soaked in her lust in seconds, imbued with her scent and that slick, lubricating coating. A solid thump of a throb was his response to that.

Yet for as blissfully warm and snug as she felt all wrapped around his bare cock like that, he took the time to pull back, all the way out of her after that introduction. Fumbling briefly, he slid open a side table so he could unwrap one of the many condoms stored there. Xanthe slowly turned over when she felt the absence of his cock inside her, observing him in her way. She reached out when he started wrapping the latex around his shaft, tugging it down herself and squeezing his knot while she was there, firmly enough to get a good grunt of pleasure from the vulture.

“Oh, so [i]now[/i] you’re worried about making a mess,” she gently teased.

“Last night was just a start. Feel like I’m running even hotter today.”

“I can tell. You’re even harder than last night. Have you been thinking of me?” Xanthe’s voice was warmer than ever, calm as gentle evening rain, more sultry than silk.

“Of course. It’s hard to forget someone like you. Especially in this sort of season.”

“Do vultures go into ruts?” Xanthe pondered, tapping her beak once that cock was all nice and snug in the condom. She leaned in to run a finger along its length once more. “Maybe not the typical sort. But you’ve always been a special bird.”

“One of the nicest things I’ve been called. Now, if you’ll please bend that fine ass over, I’m going to test this wrapper’s claim of [i]extra strength.[/i]”

“You [i]know[/i] I don’t mind a mess. Especially when I don’t have to clean it up.”

If she stroked just a little lower, she would have easily detected Dale’s presence. He was an obvious bulge, even as softened as he was. Squirming a little more aggressively to try to tip her off didn’t result in much. The imprisoned admirer wasn’t even sure if she would be the sort to rescue him. He knew so little about her, other than how gorgeous she was, and how much he liked the way she moaned and cawed when she was getting fucked. If he couldn’t earn those sounds, he was just going to have to live through Lazarus and enjoy them that way.

Xanthe slowly turned herself, swaying her hips, fanning her feathers, giving that thick rump a generous bounce to tease the vulture further. Lazarus responded by just slapping his cock against one cheek of her shiny backside, grinding on her a little. The impact sent another wobble down to Dale, making him jump. Those balls squeezed down on him when he writhed around too much in response, shoving him back down where he belonged. He was just going to have to stay there getting clenched on all the more mightily, shoved down into the spunk he was creating, slowly [i]glorshing[/i] away when the vulture got more excited. At least until the first [i]plap[/i].

Lazarus bottomed out hard, rutting deep with a sloppy slide into the crow’s pussy. Pressing his knot against those lips halted his momentum, sending his nuts swinging to smack against Xanthe’s thighs. The impact rattled Dale, leaving him disoriented and all the more overwhelmed by the extra noise. He braced himself for what he felt must have been the next heavy swing, only to find himself listening to the [i]schlick[/i] and [i]schlurk[/i] of the vulture stirring his cock inside that bird, sampling all her angles, making sure that condom was good and wet. She had plenty of juices to spare to soak every last inch of that latex all wrapped around the bird’s shiny shaft.

Only when he’d worked Xanthe up to an even more drenched state did Laz finally start fucking her. It had been a whole few minutes since she arrived at his door, and she was aching. Even Dale could tell that much. He felt every clamp, every squeeze and contraction of rising orgasm she gave him. It only took a few slick, thigh-plapping thrusts before he could feel the pressure building. Xanthe was getting [i]tight[/i] on that cock, and Laz wasn’t about to let that slow him down. That meant more force, more speed, and more solid slaps of his stuffed balls against the crow’s legs while he plunged into her again and again, letting those clenches on his dick resonate right down to his softly simmering captive.

Where the previous night, Xanthe had been essentially helpless, pinned down beneath the weight and strength of the big vulture, she was far from passive that day. She was so close to getting what she needed. Grinding back with some smooth, elegant movements of her hips, she put some pressure on Laz’s knot and made it swell up even thicker, even harder. She wasn’t about to let that dissuade her. She kept rubbing, kept pushing, and Laz obliged in kind, humping her hard, making her wobble, tapping the subtle bulge of shark against her again again. As the tension built between the birds, so too did it all around Dale, leaving him completely enveloped in the walls gripping him so tightly.

He was just going to have to dwell there, struggling uselessly against the pressure, and help Laz churn up a nice fat load. In some sense, Dale shared that orgasm too, deeply connected to the bird slowly simmering him down. When that knot popped inside with the most tremendous slurping sound the spunk-soaked shark had ever heard, and the shark was nestled right between Xanthe’s thighs, getting relentlessly clenched on, there was nothing to do but cum. His groans were all muffled by the activity around him, of course. Laz’s weren’t.

If it wasn’t for that condom, he would have completely flooded Xanthe. For all the mess he made of her the previous night, he was even more productive. Dale liked to think it was all because of him. Though he wasn’t thinking much of anything at all at that point, caught up in the pleasure, having his own comparatively tiny orgasm inside the vulture’s taut nuts. In some way he helped milk out that condom-bloating cumshot to fill the crow, at least temporarily. Even more rewarding was feeling the way Xanthe trembled, clamped tight, and squirted all over the vulture's features from cock base to abs, loudly cawing her way through an orgasm of her own. The sakc-dwelling shark could feel her thighs trembling against Laz’s balls the whole time.

That time, he got to keep his knot fully inside of her, still pulsing even as his orgasm subsided. Dale felt the walls closing in more and more, gripping him, squishing on him, testing how solid he even was anymore. Where he had been largely intact before the fucking started, he was really feeling the give of his body. He was turning into thick, gooey spunk, and it was getting harder and harder to tell him from all the cream soaking into his body. At least it was a little emptier in there after Laz so effectively drained his nuts inside the crow. Yet Laz didn’t seem to be getting any softer. He pulled back, slowly, testing the strength of his own knot, and then he pulled a little harder.

Xanthe’s caws went from subdued to sharper and more startled when Laz started yanking. Dale felt those clenches of resistance give out in time. The vulture pulled free, nearly losing the condom around his cock in the process. He made sure to tie it off before he set it aside, the whole thing wobbling with dense spunk, steaming up the latex. It didn’t take him long to snatch up another one and get it tugged down his dick. The way the crow was circling her hips and grinding at the air told him she couldn’t wait any longer.

Tugging her back, he planted her in his lap, so she could sit right on his cock. Dale felt the bed beneath him, temporarily providing some stability until it started bouncing. Laz demonstrated those muscles weren’t just for show. They were functional enough to grip the crow by the hips and support her whole weight while he pulled her up and down on his cock. He moved his hips to meet her every time, making each descent stuff her that much fuller, going deeper and deeper, making her kiss that knot once more. Xanthe simply stretched herself out, brushing her toes down his legs, planting her back against his chest, and [i]writhed[/i] for him in ways even the trapped shark couldn’t manage, imprisoned in those churning nuts as he was.

It quickly grew even rougher thanks to the assist of gravity. Xanthe stuck her legs straight out, far from helpless but happy to be along for the ride when she was driving down so deeply on that cock already. The thumping and plapping almost seemed too rough for such a soft, slim crow like her, but she was far less delicate than she might have appeared. It was only Dale that got truly shaken up by such treatment, getting slapped against the bird’s underside, smacked against the walls when he wasn’t simply getting squeezed senseless by all the clenching excitement of the vulture’s sack. It was enough to render him near incoherent after a long, harsh ride like that. Swallowing the juices around him with his every gasp only sent him further into total sensory overload.

He might have passed out briefly. They were going even faster, even harder all of a sudden, and he blinked, somehow disoriented even if he knew exactly where he was. Laz’s strength never faltered. He pumped that bird down on his cock, letting the shark fuel his lust, letting all that extra cum flow through his body, pent up, audibly gurgling, making his nuts swell when they weren’t simply clamping down to almost perfectly compress every single detail of Dale’s body. He leaned his beak over the crow’s shoulder, gave her a little nibble on the neck, and [i]held[/i] it. Their pace never slowed. She was grinding back into him, getting slammed, filled, stretched, and then there came the succulent [i]POP[/i] of his knot.

That time, they didn’t immediately finish as soon as he locked inside of her. Nor did he stop thrusting. His arms flexed all the tighter to pull her right off again, with an equally messy sound, sending a splash of the crow’s juices all over the vulture. Dale could feel them warming Laz’s nuts. He yanked that knot free and rammed it in again, pulling the crow’s body exactly where he wanted it. That wasn’t just beyond that portable shark’s capabilities - few men could have managed to treat her that way, and fewer still could have done it so well, so perfectly as to make her make those kinds of noises. Such sweet caws and warbles they were at first, but as the pleasure built they devolved into simple screeches and screams of sheer, unrivalled ecstasy.

Dale swore he could feel some of Xanthe’s own delight flowing into him for how closely connected the two birds were. He soaked up that much more stimulation as it all came flooding forth, crashing to a finish of suckling, slapping, knot-fucking sex. The crow was trembling, Probably in a good way. He could feel that too. She shivered as if she didn’t even know how to deal with the pleasure coming over her. In the end, she channelled that into a wiggle of her hips, doing her best to control her own body when she was so tightly caught in the vulture’s talons. She made sure one more finishing thrust knotted her as hard and as deeply as possible, no matter how much it shook her up.

The condom on Laz’s cock might have prevented some of the mess, but it couldn’t stop Xanthe from squirting all over his bed. She erupted. It came with a croaky cry before her voice gave out entirely. Instead, she settled in his lap, pressing back, grinding his nuts while he finished inside her all throughout her climax. The pressure built and built around Dale until he was certain he was going to be crushed. Instead, he just got an intensely deep massage while the cum around him soaked all the deeper into his body. It was all making him even softer, even more vulnerable to what was coming. He was getting so weak that one good clench could have finished him.

Instead, he was left to gasp in relief as the pressure dropped once more and Lazarus bloated another condom with all the spunk Dale helped him make. Another fat load that would have swollen Xanthe’s belly in seconds instead stretched the latex to a breaking point. Somehow, it held. The vulture emptied his balls of the pent up cum around his captive, nearly shooting the shark himself right out in the process, but he wasn’t going anywhere. Settling down with his knot wedged tightly inside the crow, he finally relaxed his grip so he could stroke her. There were plenty of feathers to touch.

“Mmm. That feels better.” Lazarus gave a deep huff as the crow wiggled into place on his cock. “You’re free to stay there a while if you like.”

“Maybe I will.” Xanthe did her best to sound teasing, though the fatigue was evident in her shaky voice. “You were certainly in a mood. What got into you?”

That made the dad bird chuckle. “That’s my little secret. Though something tells me you’ll figure it out.”

“It’s hard to hide things from me.” She pressed her head against his chest and slumped, relaxing her muscles. “But I won’t pry. For now. Not when you feel so good inside me.”

Idly running his talons up and down her curves, giving her the occasional squeeze, every tense muscle in Laz’s body seemed to relax at once. Dale finally had some reprieve. He made the most of it by squirming around until he was in a slightly more comfortable position. One more fit for getting squeezed on, at least. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to endure future clenching, especially when he was already partially melted down, soft and gooey. It made more sense to ensure he was at least cozy in the meantime before he got pressed down flat and juiced into more vulture spunk.

Another indeterminate period of darkness had Dale waking up once more with a blink of his eyes and a shake of his head, as if to clear his vision, even if there was nothing he could see. He nonetheless gazed outwards anyway, finding himself tingling in a whole new way once his senses awoke with the rest of him. There was a considerable delay in aligning his feelings with their proper locations, he realized. Something wasn’t quite right.

Lazarus had himself spread out across the entirety of a park bench, up atop a hill where the sunset was most visible. He sat back, legs spread to give his passenger plenty of room, sipping the last of his tea from a flask. There was something rattling around at the bottom of it. He didn’t pay it any mind. When he felt the shark awakening, he reached down to give the bulge in his pants a fond stroke, hardly seeming to care if anyone saw him.

“Now, would you just look at that. Suppose I’ll have to be your eyes for this particular occasion. Just about the most gorgeous light you’ll ever see, shining in from afar like some mother goddess.”

His tone was different. It took Dale a little longer to figure out what exactly was happening as his senses continued to scramble and everything tingled. Sometimes he swore he could see something even in the darkness of those nuts, as if there were little flickers of illumination sparking in that chamber. He wasn’t numb anymore. He could feel [i]so much[/i], and there was a distinct sensation of spinning on every possible axis all at once, no matter how stationery he could tell he really was. It all brought an alarmed cry out of him.

“What’s ... what’s happening to me?”

“Other than the meandering details of your own exquisitely sloppy [i]digestion?[/i]”

He put such juicy emphasis on that word, just to make absolutely certain the slowly gooping shark understood it. Dale had been well-aware of such a concept, but staving off such thoughts until then. His big, hot boss wasn’t just holding him, he was melting him down, little by little. The small shark’s future was as a big fat splat of vulture cum. It had him clasping his hands together in his half-crushing chamber while Laz continued on in a more casual, relaxed tone.

“Well, for this particular phenomenon seems like we’re getting close enough for you to share in this particular mind state right along with me. I’d call that its own little miracle. Now just breathe deep and don’t worry about a thing. Daddy Laz’ll take good care of ya while you trip with him.”

It wasn’t the most reassuring response, but listening to the exaggerated, rambling speech patterns of the vulture was interesting enough to calm Dale down just a little. The stroking fingers running along the confines of that chamber kept him immersed in stimulation while his mind danced to a merry tune playing just for him. It got him a little giggly, at first. That quickly pivoted to sheer horny energy radiating through every remaining aspect of his being once it really hit. Everything was so very good, and he was just happy to be a part of it.

Curling his toes in the thick cream all around him, he began to writhe and rub himself, erect and trembling with the rising need for release. Dale didn’t care if all that extra motion and friction meant sinking into the vulture’s spunk all the more swiftly. It was all so smooth, so silky in every way. He could feel it embrace him from every side, greeting his moans with a sloshing response that only made him feel all the more entranced by his present circumstances. He was ready to let sensation alone bring him to orgasm. There was no need to resort to stroking himself, if he even still could. It only got better when she found the bird sitting there all by himself.

“Thought I might find you here. For as erratic as you get on these special nights, you have your patterns.”

Somehow, Dale could feel Xanthe’s smile. Maybe it was the energy radiating out of her that he connected with. That seemed to make sense in his present state. It was a sly smirk, teasing, playful. She didn’t spend long just standing there before she climbed right into the vulture’s lap, always invited to get close with that big man. He wrapped an arm around her and simply let her rest there, slipping and rubbing until she settled down directly atop his bulge. Being as close as she was, rubbing, sliding, grinding, she simply [i]had[/i] to know. The semblance of the shark sent that question out to her, and she seemed to read his mind. Or they were just thinking the same thing, that was possible too.

“So. Who is it? Your little carry-on. I have my guesses. But I’d prefer to hear it from you.”

Lazarus was nonchalant about being called out. “Say hi to your crush wouldn’t you, Dale? You’ve been just melting to meet her. Or something along those lines. Wordplay ain’t my speciality about now.”

Having her suspicions confirmed didn't make Xanthe rub against those prey-packed nuts any less. She rode him in the middle of the public park, where anyone could have wandered by and seen. It wasn’t subtle either. She was gripping the back of the bench to brace herself for the thrusts and rolls of her hips. All that pressure and friction was only making it more intense for Dale, stacked on top of everything he was already feeling. It was making things move faster. He was getting softer, filling out the vulture’s balls, swelling them plump with that virile energy that was everything he had left to give.

“I see. Well, if his intent was to impress me, he’s doing well at that. I can feel just how much manlier he’s making you. You’re making for such good fuel, Dale. I can feel this power radiating off of him. Or maybe that’s just a bit of a contact high.”

“He’s been keeping me going. Making me need you all the more. I definitely see what he saw in you.”

There was a slight edge to the vulture’s words there, a little more than just a casual tease. He was making it clear he’d taken Dale’s spot. That crow was [i]all over[/i] Laz, pressing against him, riding his bulge, helping grind the shark down to jizz. They both seemed to agree that he was so much better as a load of spunk. The mere realization was making that gooey, violet-toned mess soften, was making him squish and slosh, packing out those nuts extra taut, making them swell with the weight of all that cum, all that pressure. It needed somewhere to go.

Of course the vulture was getting hard. He was dressed lightly, but his cock was still confined in his pants after he got all worked up. Xanthe was relentless. She rubbed against it too, but she kept her attention on the vulture’s nuts, lifting her skirt up to let her panty-clad pussy press against them as closely as she could. She was going to feel every throb, every churn, every detail of Dale’s body smoothing and collapsing after the days-long digestive process. In truth, the shark had no idea how long it had been by then. Maybe he’d always been there, or maybe that was the drugs talking.

“Tonight would make such a good night to finish him off, I think. I know you always go all the way.” Again Dale could feel that smile from the crow. “We should go without a condom. Tonight. Not now.”

She added that last bit with a chastising tone when the vulture grasped her hips and humped a little, as if he was going to fuck her right there in the park. A click of her tongue and beak alike, and she batted his hands away. A huff escaped his beak, but he wasn’t going to argue. Instead, he put his hands behind his head and enjoyed the ride for as long as he could stand it. All it took was a few good rolls of those fine hips to leave him edging, ready to blow a load, ready to melt Dale down on the spot, but he held off.

“Hmmf. Hard to think of anything but filling you up about now. It’s going to be a long wait for darkness even with the sun descending as it always does on this blessed rock.”

Xanthe gave a chuckle. It was pleasantly musical, even muffled from Dale’s perspective. “You’re high, old man.”

“Always have been.” He gave a wink and reached out to run a talon down his spine. “I’ll flood my thoughts with you until it comes time to turn you into my own little personal cum receptacle.”

The crow bounced her hips for emphasis. “And with the help of your cute friend. It’s going to feel amazing shooting him out. I want it all inside of me. Try to remember that, if you can.”

Cute? She called him cute. It was enough to get Dale blushing all over again, or some semblance of the feeling anyway. He was trembling there under the constant sensory assault of squeezes from the walls, of undulating churns and the constant burbling digestion working away on his body. Thinking about ending up inside Xanthe sustained him. In his altered state, he meditated on the thought of dripping from the gorgeous crow’s folds. Sinking, softening, succumbing, he still had enough in him to surge past his own diminished willpower and hit a thick cumshot he couldn’t control. It was hard to tell how much of it was and how much of it was just Laz’s own seed, pumped through and out of him again. He melted all the more in the aftermath of his paltry contribution to the big fat load all around his body.

From there, it was numbing. He was sure Xanthe was still around a little longer, teasing, keeping the vulture on the edge, but she relented in time, parting with a teasing caw. That left Laz sprawled on the bench, sharing his tingles with his prey, fighting off the temptation to stroke himself. Dale could feel the tension. He wanted out, but not in the same sense anymore. Every part of him screamed with the urge to get jizzed out, to get fully processed in those nuts and shot straight up that handsome cock. He wanted to make the vulture feel good. But it was going to have to wait a few more hours, spent stewing in the urge for release along with all the good thoughts and sensations that came from so closely merging with Laz’s own body.

“Give him to me.”

It was a softly spoken request, but there was an air of urgency to it. Dale’s sense of time was all messed up. For him, it was just a blink, but he lost hours edging and tingling with Laz. When he blinked, he saw patterns. It was all he saw anymore. Minutes passed, perhaps, while he took stock of his new situation. There wasn’t much of him left. Laz was clenching on him all the more aggressively, swinging him back and forth to smack and plap against the soft crow he’d become so enamoured with. He was fucking he from behind, completely without a condom, and the building pressure brought him closer and closer to fulfilling Xanthe’s desires.

In and out he went. Dale wasn’t sure if he was thinking of Laz or himself anymore. He could feel himself in that cock, adding to its girth, making it leak and throb. The trembling confines of the crow’s cunt were all wrapped around him, squeezing every single inch of his existence. She made Laz clench all the harder, juicing that nut-dweller down to vulture cum. Closer, closer, softer by the second he went, faintly gurgling as one last sign of life. Dale wasn’t afraid of what was to come. He was already living on throughout the vulture’s body, joining with him, turning not just into his spunk but into a part of his body. Their connection was stronger than ever, and that living load of a shark finally got to feel what it was like to be inside his black-feathered crush in the process.

Each thrust brought a clench out of the vulture’s cock and nuts that threatened to be the final one. The shark-shaped jizz could feel the walls working him over in that rising intensity. He’d managed to last and stay intact through several of Laz’s orgasms before then, but he’d never been softer. All that edging, all that pent up pressure made Laz go harder, thumping that bird from behind, plowing into her pussy with all the force she could take. His nuts got hotter, tighter, squishing Dale down, shaping him into something hardly resembling a shark anymore, testing his remaining integrity until it all came squelching to a finish in a great big, messy [i]scrnnnnnch[/i].

For him it was his entire world, but the sound was subtle on the outside amid the plaps and [i]schlurps[/i]. The rising pressure and pleasure was what it took to finally smelt him down into a nice, thick load. Dale felt the moment he went from still partly shark to nothing but a sloshing load. He kept feeling even after that. The momentum of Laz’s thrusts, the splashing back and forth inside those nuts, and the ecstasy surging up that cock. Some of that was all because of him. The rest was thanks to that silky crow sex smoothly wrapped around the vulture’s dick, clamping down and ready to milk it for everything he could give her. In his new form, Dale travelled up that shaft so very easily.

Rushing forth in an explosion of pure sensation, Dale swiftly found himself surrounded in an even more intense heat than ever before. He flowed inside the crow, soaking her, splattering her, bathing her from clit to womb in a coating of the cum he helped create. Flooding her as he got drained from Laz’s balls, he took up residence deep within her, sharing in the sensations of her own squirming, contracting orgasm, trembling through a peak that brought them both to all new heights. Dale could feel every little contraction of her inner muscles as that jizzload sloshing inside her. He liked to think at least some of it was thanks to him.

Split between two places as the vulture slowly pulled from the crow’s depths, he found himself delighting in being part of Lazarus as much as he was part of Xanthe. There was still a little more cum left in those tanks, a little more melted shark in the vulture’s heavy balls. They were fatter than ever with Dale all melted down. He let some of those juices simply trickle down his shaft and over his sack, adding a glistening coating to the attractive set. Xanthe relaxed where she was for a while, letting what remained of Dale slowly drip out of her. She didn’t want to move and spill any. The ex-shark could sense that, somehow.

When she eventually did, it was to snuggle up with the bigger bird and wrap her legs around his waist from behind. She stroked along his chest and scratched her talons down his arms, admiring him, the stud she so adored. He was everything he needed. Beaking playfully at his back a while, she finally sighed with a mix of dreamy pleasure and awe.

“I can feel him. I think I’m making him part of me. Though not the whole him. How much of him do you think is still in there?”

There was enough of the spunk-shark’s consciousness to think about more than himself. He was close enough with her by then to feel her urges, to feel the tension running through her muscles as lust flared. When she couldn’t hold back that urge any longer, he understood exactly why. Her desires radiated out to touch him where he dwelt inside her, distributed over her whole form, attuned to the ruffle of her feathers and the quickening of her heart she reached out.

She couldn’t help herself. Even so shortly after sex, she had to reach around and stroke Laz’s shaft. The vulture didn’t mind, stretching himself out and leaning back against her, using her as something of a pillow. His balls gave a good clench around the spunk that still remained inside them. Somewhere within him, Dale shared in the warmth of his masculinity, his aura, feeling it as if it was own at the same time as soaking it up from Xanthe’s perspective.

“Not much. Might be able to rub out another load if I try, maybe catch enough to get him restored. Little iffy at this point, I suppose. Pumped a lot of him into ya, you know? It’s definitely what he would want, don’t get me wrong. Cute thing was aching to get inside you.”

“And he feels [i]incredible[/i]. But -” Xanthe gave a little croak as she considered it. “We ought to try. I’m sure there’s another condom around here.”

“Second drawer.”

Xanthe reached over, and soon she was helping stretch the latex down over Laz’s sex-slathered cock. All the juices clinging to it made it all the easier to wrap up. For once, the vulture let the crow guide the movement. She snuggled him from behind, hugging him and leaning her head against his back like he was a huge, muscular stuffed toy, and with her other hand she started stroking. Getting a handjob from his crush was more exciting than Dale could have imagined, even if he had to become a bigger, stronger man’s cock to enjoy it. She worked slowly, carefully. It was Dale’s last chance at getting reformed into his usual solid self, after all. Even if he was already getting nicely settled into his role as part of their bodies, sharing their warmth, their pleasure, their lust.

Maybe it was that thought, that comfort and fearlessness that made her speed up a little. She pulled the condom extra tight around his dick as she massaged the vulture towards orgasm, adding her thumb to the stimulation just to work him a little faster. Rubbing his balls a little helped up the tension. She hardly noticed when she was stretching that condom a little too hard just to touch everything she could. Or maybe she just didn’t comment.

Lazarus gave his pleasant groans while the crow played with him. His hips gave the occasional twitch as if he was going to start thrusting into her grip, but he managed to restrain himself. Instead, he settled down and let her finish him off. He wasn’t the kind of guy who needed a rest even after a good cumshot. At least not with Dale fuelling his energy. A little faster, a little slicker, and he was leaking into that condom in no time. It gave a slight slip, but Xanthe kept going, kept rubbing, putting her limited muscle into really pleasuring the bird stud.

Xanthe’s modest strength was hardly to blame. Maybe it was the throbs of Laz’s own cock instead. The big man’s orgasm welled up inside him, powerful, taut, pumping through his veins. The pressure was intense enough to send his precum shooting forth, firing into that condom until it was swelling, stretching even from the sheer volume of juices. He was gushing before he even finished, riding that peak as it overtook his entire body, milked out by the crow stroking and massaging him, faster and faster, until there came that disastrous [i]POP[/i].

It was in those final moments when Laz’s balls were at their tightest that the latex provided inadequate for the job. That was supposed to be Dale’s last chance at being whole again. Instead, Laz’s cock pushed up through it, bare, in the moment of climax. He closed his eyes, seemingly not noticing the problem. There was no stopping it. His balls tightened all the more, ready to squeeze out every last gush of the shark-made spunk, and Xanthe didn’t stop stroking. Squeezing with her scaled fingers, admiring that cock from bottom to top, she milked out everything that was left of Dale to modestly splash over the vulture’s abs, and nothing more.

That lightly purple-tinged spunk painted an outline over Laz’s muscles, clinging to his feathers. Xanthe didn’t even stop stroking. She added a foot to the touches, rubbing her black soles against the vulture’s balls, making sure he got absolutely everything out. There was nothing for Laz to do but enjoy how good it felt to spill Dale all over himself, to turn that last chance at being anything but jizz into a satisfying orgasm. Xanthe squirmed a little, excited again. The thinking, dripping load he was could feel that much. She rubbed her pussy against Laz’s spine before dipping her finger down to swirl it through the spunk clinging to him.

“What if I ...”

She didn’t finish that question. It was a matter of instinct. Dale could feel the desire welling up in her. And he felt her tongue, too. She lapped him from her digits, eating him right off of the vulture’s feathers. When she swallowed that cum, she infused herself all the more deeply with Dale’s essence. The shark was part of her then. At least some of him was. He joined her body while she lapped him up, one little lick at a time. Lazarus meanwhile slowly pulled the broken condom from his cock. It at least managed to catch a little bit of that purplish cream in its torn confines.

Laz wasn’t the sort of man to hesitate to do something extremely hot. He raised that condom, all sloppy and dripping, and simply started squeezing it out into his beak. Such a gesture was more than self-indulgence. Dale got to feel the experienced man swallow him down and add yet more of him to that body. He joined with muscle and curve alike as they drank what was left of him together, haunting their bodies in some sense, a presence felt to add warmth and enjoyment to their most intimate of sensations. Most of all, he felt that thick, heavy cock slowly soften. Most of him ended up there.

“Suppose he’ll be staying with us, then,” Laz simply said with a shrug when they were done cleaning him up.

“Mmmm. That was naughty. But he feels so happy in me. Just that little bit of pleasure, radiating out. I’m going to enjoy sharing these sensations with you.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt he’s happy. Boy was absolutely enamoured with you. Should have seen the look on his face. Can’t think of any better way for him to get all used up other than being a cumshot inside you. Sharing in that perfect moment.”

Xanthe chuckled. “Now let’s not give ourselves [i]too[/i] much credit, that was still a pretty mean thing to do to him.”

“Mmhm. I’m a mean old bird, you know me.” Laz looked back to offer her a smile.

“Gorgeous bastard, though.” She hugged him a little tighter, squeezing herself close. “Mmm. I’m going to need you around a lot more, alright? Bar-hopping just isn’t my scene.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of ya.”

Dale heard it all, somehow or other. Maybe it was more than he perceived it, with some altered sense in his current state. Either way, he could feel that connection they formed, that bond of attraction and more. Lazarus was ever so generous sharing him with her. Even if the method proved as kinky as it was joyful for everyone involved. Especially the vulture’s former assistant. Such a lesson it was indeed - even if the melted shark wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to take away from it all. He was just happy to learn.

Being part of his master Lazarus all at the same time gave him a taste of what it was like to be a true, absolute [i]stud[/i]. Maybe he was glad the condom broke too, if he got to experience a pleasure like that for as long as they kept him there. Maybe it was forever. Maybe he could find a way back into his solid form, with enough time, enough thinking - a task made more difficult by the incredible sensations flooding every aspect of his partly absorbed being.