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Litter approached the front counter of the bathhouse, which even for the tall gryphon came up to his beak, making him barely able to see over it. To his right, the scent of the pipe smoke and musk wafted from an open hallway leading inside. Behind the counter waited a dragon, sitting with his back to the counter, sorting some scrolls in a cubby set into the wall. Litter cleared his throat and straightened up to his full height. It did not make much of a difference compared to the dragon, whose head and neck swayed, glancing at Litter a moment before he said, "Run along, biped. This bathhouse is meant for dragons."

Litter's wings fanned out somewhat to try and be more imposing. Despite his athletic frame, his striking black to red to white plumage, his crest feathers sticking up, to the old, wizened dragon he was nothing. Still, he loudly proclaimed, "I know what this place is for."

That gave the dragon pause. He spun around, forepaws resting on the counter and leaning forward. His muzzle broke in a toothy smile, his tendril-like whiskers twitching at their ends as he chuckled. "I see, then forgive my rudeness." Litter almost flinched as the dragon's sleek, inky black muzzle came closer. Those jaws were big enough to crush Litter's skull with ease. The dragon's nostrils twitched and flared, then his head darted back.

The dragon licked his chops. "I can smell that you have been with dragons before."

This time, when Litter's feathers puffed up it had nothing to do with being imposing. "Y-you can?"

"Heh, unless you wash very thoroughly, yes. You are one of those bipeds, then."

"Those bipeds?"

Another rakish laugh from the dragon. "I mean nothing ill by it! Simply that you are one who appreciates the beauty and majesty of dragons."

Litter's wings relaxed to his back. "I cannot deny I was struck by this place."

"And what brought you to the Kingdom of Kor?"

"Magic, what else?" Litter said. "My name is Litter-of-Smashed-Eggs, a warrior of the Crooked Talon. You are?"

"Grevan, friend."

Friend. That meant Litter did not need to worry about gaining entry. "Will you grant me passage? I have script and can pay."

"Your payments are pleasantries, so I can know what room to send you to."

"Send me to?"

Grevan's head cocked. "Oh you poor thing, you really are new to this aren't you? You will be entertainment for our guests."

Litter glanced back at the door, curious that he could not hear anything from beyond the hallway. That must have been magic, given the stories he'd been told. Litter knew he would be expected to submit to whatever dragon wanted his pleasure, but that was why he came here.

"Tell me, you are a vulture, no?" Grevan asked. Two strong slashes of black streaked down his face, marking him as an eater of bone among gryphons.

"Yes," Litter answered.

"I hear your people still refuse to swear loyalty to the Crown of Pinion, is that true?"

Litter was not sure when, but at some point Grevan had produced a scroll on the counter and now took notes. Litter could not read the writings. His tribe was an oral culture with no use for literacy, he came to Kor knowing only his mission and the pidgin draconic that guild mages and merchants spoke. That he spoke now with Grevan.

Reluctantly, Litter said, "That is correct. We believe fealty to the Crown would mean abandoning our ways in favor of theirs. We reject that."

"Mhmm, mhmm, and what was your business in Kor?"

"To obtain a spell."

"That did?"

"Must it matter? Our people are weak in the ways of magic. I needed a spell and traded for it."

"Ahhh, see that won't do. I can smell the magic on you. Something was done to your body recently," Grevan said. "I cannot let you interact with my clients until I can ensure you mean them no harm."

Litter glared at the dragon. "You are more than a simple receptionist."

"All dragons are more than they seem, friend. Even the ones lounging in the baths beyond here. Now, if you do wish to keep your privacy, I will have to ask you to leave."

"Fine," Litter growled. He felt heat flushing to his cheeks. "I had my body altered so I could be a vessel."

"A vessel?" Grevan asked. "For what exactly?"

Litter stamped his foot on the stone floor ineffectually. "What do you think?"

"A body can be a vessel for many things--"

"For life!" Litter snapped, crest and wings standing out again.

Grevan smiled. "Most interesting. And are dragons what you wish to quicken with?"

"I dreamed it when I came of age," Litter said solemnly. "My people do not take such visions lightly."

"Interesting," Grevan said. "And what will you do when you carry life inside you?"

That particular question his visions did not supply with an answer. Something had always called him to Kor with the need to carry a dragon's clutch, but nothing beyond that longing explained itself to Litter. Fortunately, the elders of his tribe saw a way to sate Litter's longing in service of his family and tribe.

"I will return home," he told Grevan.

"Hmm, you know you will be tasked to raise dragons, yes?" Grevan asked. "Mothering creatures like us is no simple task when there are no other dragons around."

"Our tribe will manage, and my children will protect our freedom and help steward our land." That, the elders had reasoned, must have been what Litter's ancestors wanted from him. With their blessing, he had been eager to come here and meet his destiny.

"Quite," Grevan said. "You know, a donation of semen is not out of the question. You could simply--"

"I..." Litter almost admitted what he really wanted outright. Fumbling for his dignity, he said, "I want to have a natural conception." Not quite so simple. Something pulled him to this bathhouse. Perhaps the ancestor's guidance, perhaps his own perverted lusts--it did not matter: these were the winds he chose to follow.

Another throaty chuckle from Grevan. "Very well. We have plenty of willing dragons here to help, and I know just where to send you." The dragon finished writing something on it, rolled up the scroll into a casing then fit it into a pneumatic tube. He turned a knob next to the tube, clicking it to a certain spot before pressing a button. The case rocketed up into the ceiling before Grevan faced Litter again, "Walk down the hall, take your first right and follow it down to room B5. Two dragons will be waiting for you. A red named Typpont and a bronze named Zelzan. They are both fat, spoiled, and quite demanding, but they spoil their biped guests frequently. If, at any time, you must get them to stop, simply call my name, 'Grevan!' Even if your beak is occupied with something, if you just think to shout my name they will stop and someone will be sent to retrieve you."

That last instruction caught Litter off guard, but given the description of Typpont and Zelzan, he appreciated the attention given to his safety.

"Thank you. I will keep your instructions in mind."

"Enjoy yourself," Grevan said as Litter walked away. Despite the warmth already stirring in his loins, he told himself this was for his tribe and nothing more. It had not been a single dream, but one of many he had of his belly swollen with a dragon's clutch. The day was finally at hand. While Grevan had assessed correctly that Litter had explored and slaked his needs for male dragons, his cunt had yet to taste a cock. Had the mage who performed the spell that changed him not been a dragoness, Litter might have thrown himself at the mage's mercy. She had taken herself a taste of his sex, insisting she needed to use her tongue to be certain Litter's cunt functioned as naturally as a female's. It was mere coincidence the mage's forethumb stroked his clit as she brought him to orgasm after orgasm.

Thinking about the night before had Litter's cunt already drooling under his skirt. He entered the bathhouse, finding himself swallowed up in the building's dragon-sized architecture. He moved through the hall with a few dragons walking further down, idly chatting and paying him no mind. On his left, several large stone archways with thick curtains kept anything but musk, smoke, and steam from escaping the privacy of the baths. Musk. Male. Litter was panting by the time he found the hallway to the right.

What he could not read was the sign pointing down the hall that read, Biped Rooms. Rooms dragons took with the expectation of having bipeds service them.

One such dragon had shoved his head past the heavy curtains to lookout for his quarry. Zelzan watched for a gryphon described at the end of Grevan's note: "A vulture with red, black, and white coloring. Thinks he is proud. Wants to carry your clutch. Goes by Litter. Likely illiterate, so may be unable to read the signage for your room."

Zelzan spotted Litter before the vulture might test Grevan's assumption. The gryphon walked with nothing on but a woolen skirt cinched with a cord covered in polished stone and bone beads. His coat was thicker than any other gryphon Zelzan had met, which made sense for the little biped. How else would he handle Kor's colder climate?

Litter locked gazes with him, and, for a moment, Zelzan stared, something stirring in his chest. He shrugged it off as the Langor he had been smoking and called out, "This way little bird!"

Litter stopped and scoffed. Little bird? The insolence. Litter was among the strongest, fastest, and tallest in his tribe. Grevan had not been wrong about these dragons and their attitudes. Litter had half a mind to turn back, but, not only had the need in his loins had only grown, his longing clawed at his chest, urging him forward. Still, angry, feathers and wings puffed out again, Litter marched to where the dragon had just been. He had matched Grevan's description. That handsome head of bronze had practically glistened in the steamy lantern light. His dark chocolate horns were curved around his head like a ram's. Litter considered what this would mean for his children. Would they be as stately crafted, would they be as rude?

Perhaps Litter should turn back and think a little more carefully about what male he let sire his clutch, but a sharp, heated twinge in core made him drop the thought. Right now he just needed satisfaction. He could always see someone later to be sure he did not quicken with this dragon's seed. It was such a selfish reason to press on, but at this point the entrance to the bathhouse was so far away Litter worried he might collapse and start masturbating before he made it back.

His lust felt... unnatural. Spurred on by something in this place. The musk, the steam, the smoke... it was hard to pinpoint what, but something in the air had him hornier than he should be.

A part in the center of the curtains allowed him to force his way through the heavy fabric, still scowling as someone laughed. "Good, I was worried you got lost even after I called you over."

Litter blinked as he tried to take in the room. Tried to take in the center of the room, where two dragons reclined in a bath dug into the floor, barely large enough for the two of them. Steam wafted up from the bath, covering both dragons in a sheen of moisture. Zelzan, the bronze, had a sandy front that matched the membranes of his wings. His gut stuck up out of the water, with a dark red spire flopped across it. It was hard to tell what was moisture or precum from the potent, ridged breeding tool. Typpont mirrored his posture, his ebon cock an equal to Zelzan's, throbbing on his gut and drooling precum. His scales were a deep, dark red, dark enough to be confused for black on a moonless night. A thick, fiery orange beard covered his jaw, matching the tuft of hair on his head that went down his spine. His underbelly was splotchy with shades crimson to pinkish red. That softest of colors matched his wing membrane. Typpont's horns shot straight behind his head, a fan of four with slight bends like a pitchfork's.

The wind sang through Litter's bones like it had when he first set eyes upon Kor's capital: his ancestors celebrating Litter edging closer to the visions they bequeathed him.

In Typpont's foreclaw was a hookah pipe. Litter did not know much about what recreational drugs dragon's used, but had been warned of their potency. Typpont blew smoke through his nostrils and passed the pipe to Zelzan's waiting foreclaw. He said, "He's cute. Litter, isn't it? You look nervous."

Him? Nervous? Litter bit down a reflexive flinch and straightened his back. He began to undo the tie on his skirt. With his beak held high, he said, "I am not nervous. I am merely new to this."

A bellow of smoke followed Zelzan's barking laugh. "New he says! Netrikor bless him, Grevan really is spoiling us."

"Excuse me?" Litter asked, now only holding up his skirt with his hand. "I am not new to dragons. Do not think me so easily impressed by your size."

Typpont smirked, sharp, tusk-like fangs showing past his beard. "You may not be new to dragons, but you are new to us," he waved his forepaw in a gesture to the room, "New to this. Leave your skirt there and join us in the pool."

Typpont felt more endearing than Zelzan. A suitable sire perhaps? Though, Litter had not seen a dragon with hair on them. An interesting if unusual trait. Litter dropped his skirt in a bundle and walked to the bath. As he approached, Typpont grabbed the pipe from Zelzan, leisurely taking a hit. The stem must have been big enough that Litter would need both hands to hold it.

Rather than exhale as he did before, when Typpont removed the pipe, his head swerved before Litter's face. A blast of smoke washed over him before Litter had a chance to react. He doubled over, eyes watering and coughing a little as the smoke gnawed at his sinuses and throat.

Zelzan laughed some more before taking his own hit while Typpont asked, "Powerful stuff, eh?"

"Ugh, bloody marrows, did you poison me?"

"Now, now, don't get your beak twisted. You'll be fine."

Rubbing his throat, Litter rasped, "What is it?"

"Langor," Typpont said.

"Relaxes the limbs and the mind," Zelzan growled. "From the pipe would be too much for you, but secondhand will help loosen you up, little bird."

Litter did feel that relaxation, but also a building heat seated in his core and dripping down to his nether lips. His eyes flicked to the pair of cocks still draped across both dragons' guts. They were erect but relaxed.

"He's staring, Typ."

"Hungry, little bird?" Typpont asked.

Litter blinked. His wings had sagged down to the floor. He shook his head, fighting to concentrate on what exactly he came here for. Before he might speak, Zelzan, who had taken the pipe, blew another blast of smoke across the gryphon. This time, Litter's eyes watered, but he managed to swallow the urge to cough. He glared at Zelzan only to see the dragon had offered a forepaw.

"Take my paw." It came from Zelzan like a friendly suggestion, but Litter moved like he'd gotten an order. Zelzan helped Litter clamber up the dragon's thigh onto his body. He suddenly found himself on all fours. Zelzan's scales were slick from perspiration, and this close his musk became an undeniable force. A twinge in Litter's sex told him he couldn't leave if he wanted. I claw nudged under his beak, getting Litter to glance up into Zelzan's domineering eyes.

A kiss. Litter sensed it just by Zelzan's smolder. That larger snout nudged his beak open, a little peck before he found his maw full of the dragon's tongue. The smoky flavor of Zelzan's palate actually tasted pleasant. It mingled with a saltier, distinct flavor that told Litter the dragon had been pleasuring his partner before this. That massive oral muscle overwhelmed his tongue, plunged in his throat and brushed away any sense of a gag reflex. Litter's choking moan was drowned out by Zelzan's pleased rumble, which made the gryphon's twat clench around nothing. Something about a dragon being pleased always did something to him.

Typpont admired the view before him. Whether intentional or not, Litter had lifted his tailfeathers and exposed his soft red then white rear. If he pushed his ass out a bit further Typpont would catch the glimpse of the needy bird's pussy. Something he happily helped with by wrapping his forepaws around Litter's waist. He could close both paws entirely around Litter's middle, and did so, his thumbs resting on that pert rear so he could spread its cheeks. He exposed Litter's asshole, which was a dark pink crater of wrinkled flesh. It looked soft and inviting, and despite all the scents wafting through the room, Typpont's sensitive nose caught the scent of past romps coming off Litter's slutty behind.

Litter, who, entirely distracted by Zelzan's kiss, did not notice Typpont till the dragon's snout burrowed into his rear. His wings clenched to his back as Typpont took a deep breath of his scent. Litter wondered how fertile he smelled to such a potent male. How much did his ripe womb signal to these studs he needed breeding?

Zelzan wondered, too, breaking the kiss to growl, "How is he, Typ?"

"Mmm, begging to be broken."

Zelzan grabbed Litter by his ribs, shoving him upright, the dragon's muzzle looming over him. "Don't they all, eventually?"

Litter felt those large forepaws shift around his body as Typpont said, "I want to taste him first."

"Agreed," Zelzan said as they moved Litter. Soon they held the gryphon aloft, Zelzan by his waist, Typpont gripping his thighs to keep them spread. Litter's wings spread out a little, awkward flaps for balance even though neither dragon planned to let him squirm from their grasp.

Any concerns about falling slipped away when both dragons nuzzled into his crotch and rear. Litter hiked his tailfeathers reflexively, and Typpont licked up his crevasse. Spongy tastebuds ground in his sensitive rim, wrinkling the flesh and making it prickle with a familiar need. Zelzan's forked muscle forced itself into Litter's new vent, and he doubled over, grabbing Zelzan's horns and groaning as he was speared. At the same time, Typpont's tongue wormed its way inside his rear. Litter groaned, quaking, lower half contracting as the sudden double penetration broke the tension building in his belly. He came, to which Zelzan growled as he tasted Litter's arousal. Those dueling serpents wriggling inside of him were so much, each tongue exploring on a timed rhythm, lapping in and out, squishing in his rim and nether lips at the same time. Litter's beak hung open, drool falling onto Zelzan's head as their tongues quested deeper: prodding his prostate, tasting his cervix, and scraping his walls with their spongy flesh.

They worked with a level of worship and reverence that both intoxicated and frustrated Litter at the same time. The smoke, the musk, the pleasure of those lashing tongues, all of it had his cunny dripping all across Zelzan's tongue and jaw, but with each orgasm the twinge in his core grew sharper. A higher note on some string plucked, till that need announced itself with, "Please! Please..." Litter whined, squeezing Zelzan's horn and working his inner muscles. Not to tighten his hold on those tongues, but to force them out.

"I think he's in a rush," Typpont growled. His tongue remained burrowed inside Litter, making a testament to how much of that muscle the dragon could still use. It was an organ meant for pleasuring beings much bigger than Litter, after all.

"I don't know if I've ever tasted such a needy cunt," Zelzan said.

"J-just breed me," Litter huffed. "D-don't you want your, hah, cocks pleased?"

"Mmm," Zelzan rumbled. "Why? When breaking you down is so much more pleasing..."

"Gods..." Litter whimpered as another orgasm crashed through his body. His thighs and crotch had gone a little numb. His butt, taint, and sex were soaked by draconic drool and his cum. They worked Litter over until he could do nothing more than quiver and mewl. He lost any sense of time, reduced to the languid rise and fall of one orgasm then the next. They explored every nook and cranny, found every spot of pleasure and massaged, prodded, and licked till Litter thought he might pass out. Only then did they set him down.

Dazed, it took Litter a moment to realize he rested on Zelzan, his legs dangling off the dragon, taloned feet half-submerged in the hot bathwater. Next to his beak, Zelzan's member pulsed in that same engorged yet flexible state, leaking dollops of precum with each slow beat of the dragon's heart. Typpont took a hit of the pipe, saying something before he blew the smoke out across Litter. Zelzan mirrored the action, and the sting of smoke in his nares and eyes roused Litter some. The Langor did to his body what it did to the dragons: flushed with arousal and relaxation at the same time. Enough energy returned to Litter that he began to nuzzle Zelzan's shaft with his cheek.

The dragon's ridged, crimson cock was slick with water vapor and arousal. Litter's beak yawned open in a long, slow lick. It was too large to lick all the way to the tip without sitting up, and he was just so cozy... His thin, fine tongue continued to lap against Zelzan's shaft.

"Looks like he woke up," Typpont said.

"Ready to just let us take care of you, little bird?" Zelzan asked.

"Cock..." the word came out of Litter like some stupefied mantra. Zelzan threw his head back in a barking laugh, but it only annoyed Litter because it disrupted his licking with the shaking of Zelzan's body.

"Heh, I think he's had too much of the Langor."

"Or just enough, eh?" Zelzan shot back at Typpont.

"Suppose we can never tell with bipeds."

Cock. Zelzan's cock just tasted so good. Forgotten, his mission. Litter licked. Litter worshipped. Litter loved what he felt. His mind fogged over by hazy bliss.

Zelzan blew more smoke across Litter, and he quaked, cumming across the dragon's scales. "There," Zelzan growled, "now he's ready."

"Heh, you want his cunt?" Typpont asked. The question roused something in his mind. Wasn't he supposed to get Typpont to sire him? Yet his tongue still licked up and down Zelzan's throbbing meat, and the question became moot. Surely a cock that tasted this good could not produce a bad clutch.

"It would make my father happy, wouldn't it?" Zelzan said before lifting Litter up with both foreclaws. He could not fathom why Zelzan's father mattered in any of this, but, then again, Litter couldn't fathom much at all when the Langor made him limp as a doll. "I'll get him sheathed on you then breed him."

Typpont grunted acknowledgement, grabbing his cock and pointing it upward. His spade tip throbbed and fired a gout of precum across Litter's backside. With his free forepaw, he grabbed the helpless gryphon around his waist. Zelzan lifted Litter's thighs and lined the vulture up with Typpont. Zelzan had to sit up to do so, making his cock flop and grind against Typpont's slit. That's one of the many things they had been doing while they waited for Grevan to send them their pet: Frotting their slick cocks and scales together in the steamy bath until both dragons were snarling and near completion.

It would have taken a lot to finish without a tight hole like the one being presented to Typpont now. His spade nudged Litter's butt, flesh sinking inward as they forced the gryphon down on it. Even with the extensive prep and the Langor relaxing every muscle, Typpont's size difference made it difficult to penetrate that tight little hole. But they were patient, the pressure on Litter's asshole inexorable. When Typpont's tip punched inside, Litter's back arched with a howling screech. The once-addled avian came awake as Typpont forced his body to accommodate the girthy dragon's length.

Had Litter's previous partners just been small? Or were Zelzan and Typpont unusually endowed? Within the steam and smoke, Litter had not noticed, but he _felt_Typpont like the first time he took a dragon's cock. That long night where he spent an hour on his knees, slowly getting mounted by a gentle drake. This was anything but: Typpont snarled in his ear, forcing several of his ridges inside of Litter's body. Each one making his feathery bubble butt cave in. His rim burned from the intrusion. A sharp stinging pain that became a sharper pleasure. He could not fathom it. His protests turned to tremulous groans. He came, squirting his wet across Typpont's scales and heard Zelzan laugh.

"Hah! He pissed himself!"

"Rrr, we were bound to make his bladder pop at some point," Typpont responded. With a sudden jerk of his hips, the great dragon dick slammed to its knot. Litter saw white, the wind knocked from his lungs. Along his stomach one could see the clear outline of Typpont's spade. The pair let Litter fall against Typpont, wings splayed across the dragon's rhodamine scales. He grabbed Litter's thighs and started working his hips up and down. Typpont's strokes were shallow and slow, hauling only a fraction of that massive tool out of Litter before jamming it back inside. His neck curled around Litter and he dragged his long, wet tongue across the gryphon's chest. The affection made Litter moan. He threw his arm across his eyes, trying to hide from himself how meek he had become. Getting seated on a dragon's cock had broken Litter from his stupor, but pleasure and Langor still overwhelmed him too much to do more than mewl and moan for the studs he entertained.

Until Zelzan mounted Typpont, Litter forgot about the bronze dragon and the pair's designs for him. Two cocks were surely too much. Zelzan's body blocked out any light for Litter while the pair locked muzzles. Litter gawked as the dragons exchanged a kiss, smoke passing between their maws from a recent hit Zelzan had taken, and a brief flash of envy surprised Litter before Zelzan's angry red cock slapped against Litter's stomach. Bloody marrows the weight alone made Litter's interior so much more sensitive to the cock already stirring him up, as if someone pressed down onto Typpont's spade every time it bulged outwards.

Zelzan broke the kiss and dropped his gaze to Litter. The little bird's feathers felt so soft on Zelzan's cock, and Litter's clear amazement got a smirk from the imposing stud. He hovered a forepaw over Litter's chest, doing several hand gestures while speaking quickly in draconic before he let his paw touch Litter. The gryphon gasped as magical heat flowed from Zelzan's paw into the avian. It was an old spell, mastered over the centuries by dragons who had spent time using bipeds for pleasure. One that would ensure Zelzan would be able to breed his little bird without causing Litter permanent injury.

The heat in Litter's chest wormed its way through his limbs. A spell, this much he knew, but its effect only became apparent when Typpont's thrusting became less brutalizing. Those crashing thrusts that threatened to overwhelm him turned more manageable, and the thought of taking Zelzan's dick at the same time turned less daunting. His inflamed nether lips puckered a little, a hunger once buried by Typpont's penetration rising back in his womb. He _could_take both dragons at once, needed to be taken by both. Let them push Litter to a plateau of pleasure no one in his tribe had ever touched.

Zelzan seemed to sense his need. He gripped his shaft and growled, "Hold him still."

Typpont stopped his thrusting, and looked down Litter's body to watch his partner penetrate their prey. Litter still gawked, entranced at the sight of that fiery spade tip nestling against his sex.

"You're mine now, little bird," Zelzan growled. All three watched as he rammed his cock inside that tight little vent. A chorus of sighs and moans answered the penetration: Litter overwhelmed once again while Zelzan and Typpont relished his body's contractions. Their little bird was cumming, juice spraying out around the edges of that yawning sex; the cock that split it open wiggling deeper. One ridge popped in then another. Litter no longer watched but squirmed and moaned. Zelzan closed his eyes, feeling his internal testes stir as the gryphon's walls milked the first half of his shaft. He felt the pulse of Typpont's cock, the shape of his ridges. The wall of flesh squished between the draconic endowments was so meager that it almost felt as if Zelzan forced his cock into the same hole Typpont had taken.

Litter's wings quaked and beat helplessly against Typpont's scales as he struggled with the steady sinking of that spire. He could not believe his body could manage so much girth. Zelzan's spade smashed against his cervix then kept pressing, implaccable until the sharp tip speared open Litter's womb. He screamed, truly seeing white, truly feeling nothing but the searing pleasure of such an intense penetration.

Zelzan's knot bumped Typpont's, both dragon's now panting. Having his cock milked by a tight, fertile cunt was only made better with his knot nestled up to his partner. "I, rrr, love bipeds," Zelzan snarled.

"Breed him," Typpont urged. "Show him how lucky he is to have the seed of House Stratus."

Stratus? Litter barely caught the word, barely understood its import before Zelzan began rutting him. Soon as those ridges started popping free of his cunny, Litter forgot himself again. Each ridge tugged and slammed into his pussy caused searing sparks of pleasure through Litter. It left him feeling numb again, unable to think past the heat and fullness of two draconic dicks inside of him. Typpont began his more shallow humping again, and soon the pump and piston of both lengths left Litter's insides feeling raw. Typpont's ridges mashed Litter's prostate into a pulp, while Zelzan's spade-shaped tip plugged in and out of Litter's egg chamber. His cervix outmatched by that sharp point. His womb rubbed raw by those meaty glans. On each draw backwards, precum from both dragons drooled from his wet holes. His insides soaked in their arousal.

And yet, the Langor kept both males from cumming quickly. Litter lost track of time again as they abused his body. Occasionally they stopped to reach for the pipe, blowing smoke into Litter's mouth. The gryphon all dazed bliss, beak hanging open, panting between lewd moans, his belly distended by the twin tools working him over. The dragons exchanged lewd, deep kisses, tongue plumbing each other's throats before one would bend low and feed their little bird their tongue. The other would drag his muscle all across Litter's chest and stomach. Everything simply faded from Litter's mind. It was just him and these two powerful males together, basking.

An eon or an hour of luxury reached its peak when both dragons could no longer resist the inevitable. Langor's sweet kiss could not stop the pressure of rubbing their cocks together in a squirming, squeezing, warm body. Typpont felt it first, head spilling back in a groan turned roar, his grip shifting on Litter to try and knot their little bird. Litter yelled, feeling the knot throbbing against his ass, but he was simply too full to fit it. A hard, heavy crash of tension broke across Typpont's waist, and warmth spread through him, his testes clenching.

Zelzan felt his partner's cock flex inside their little bird. A rush of heat, the kind only a dragon's loins could produce, made the sloppy cunny he fucked feel warmer. Gouts of cum, enough to make the little bird swell if knotted, flooded Litter's bowels. Zelzan felt hot seed splash out of Litter's rim and across his and Typpont's knot. He could not plug up the gryphon, either, so settled for sheathing his spade in Litter's soft, frail womb. He wanted to mark Litter with a claiming bite, but worried about hurting the gryphon, so his jaws closed around Typpont's shoulder instead.

Thick, virile seed spilled from Litter's body. Rivers of molten spunk gushed out both his holes, spread like a magma flow across the knots and scales of both his partners. Zelzan snarled and still rolled his hips, humping Litter through his orgasm. He stared at his stomach, watching it flood, swell, and deflate with each pump of cum from both endowed dragons. The pungent musk of their seed was enough to make Litter forget about his clan. Or rather, the only thought he had of gryphons was how many Zelzan could breed with a single orgasm. All that precious seed could be stuffed inside of every vulture in his tribe and make them quicken with a clutch. Zelzan, so mighty and virile, how had Litter ever thought it wrong not to take his seed?

***

The pleasures Litter experienced, quickened by Langor and magic, lasted for several more rounds, and each time it was Zelzan who claimed his womb. By the time the dragons exhausted themselves, Litter felt Zelzan's seed taking in his belly. It was a content, satisfied heat in his core that signalled to him he was pregnant. He sat against Zelzan's chest, wet from water and dragon saliva, savoring the smells of sex, his body with a pleasant ache all over. Typpont had just sat back, his cock finally retreated into his sheath while Zelzan's tongue worked along Litter's wing. The pair had been grooming him for some time, cleaning him of any trace of their cum.

"How long... ah, has it been?" Litter asked as he enjoyed Zelzan's tongue massage.

"Four hours, five? We tend to lose track of time," Typpont said. "You were very good."

Litter's cheeks flushed. "I did little compared to... to..." he stumbled. What did he call this pair? Surely they deserved his respect.

Zelzan finally stopped grooming him and settled his snout next to Litter's ear. He said with an easy air of authority, "Typpont is your lord, and I am your prince."

Litter's exclamation almost came out as a squawk: "You're a prince?"

Zelzan's forepaws gripped him possessively while Typpont laughed. "Grevan didn't warn you?" Typpont asked. "Hah! No wonder he was so insolent."

"I am the heir of House Stratus, and will be its prince once my father steps down next year," Zelzan answered. "Which means if you are going to carry my clutch, you will stay with me until our eggs have hatched."

The forepaw on his stomach gave a gentle squeeze, and Litter rested a hand on it.

Typpont said, "We can use a simple spell to make sure you don't end up swelling with Zelzan's seed, and you may choose another dragon for your mission."

"Or you may stay here," Zelzan said, "and stay as me and my husband's consort."

"You... you..." Litter struggled to understand. "You would want me to stay?"

Another growl that Litter recognized as affectionate. Zelzan told him, "The Prince of House Cirrus has made it fashionable to keep a gryphon as consort, and Zelzan and I need an heir of our own."

A pang of fear lanced Litter's chest, and he looked back and up at his prince. "And after I've given you an heir?"

Zelzan nuzzled Litter's face and shoulder before he rumbled, "Then you will be welcome to stay as long as you please."

Such a life had been unthinkable to Litter before today. He had a duty to his tribe, a connection and bond he would have to forego. For what? To be pleasured and bred and loved by a pair of dragons? Their consort? Would he really cast off his honor and independence to spend a life in service to Zelzan?

No, he'd have said this morning, but Litter had been changed. Whether the dragons did it intentionally or not, anxiety needled Litter into glancing from Zelzan to Typpont to ask, "Why me? We've only met?"

Typpont sat up and nuzzled into Litter's front. Both dragon's heavy breaths washed over him as Zelzan answered, "Because between my first and second orgasm, when I renewed the spell I first cast on you, I sensed our bond."

"A bond I felt, too," Typpont added.

Zelzan quietly observed, "Some longing drew you here, did it not?"

Litter remembered what he told Grevan. He said again, "When I came of age, I dreamed of quickening with a dragon's clutch. At first it confused me, but soon I understood it as a guiding dream from my ancestors."

Zelzan did not belittle or doubt his beliefs, but said, "Mmm, the memories imprinted on your very soul guided you here. It guided you to us, in same way that I was guided to Typpont."

"What does that mean?" Litter asked.

"Heh," Typpont licked Zelzan's nearby snout. "It means princes are a romantic lot, and often use their magic to tamper with the souls of their lovers, so they may have more time with them."

Litter, stunned into silence at this, did not say anything for a long moment, so Zelzan filled the silence in that same quiet tone, "My house is particularly notorious for this sort of magic. Normally a Prince's soul is bound to reincarnation inside of royal lines, but our lovers can be reborn anywhere, so we forge a soulbond and they find their way back to us. If you wanted the bond broken, then I could of course break it--"

The suggestion caused Litter physical pain. "No!" he snapped, surprising himself at the same time. He reached up and grabbed Zelzan at the base of his horns, hugging the dragon to him. "I will stay. I will be yours." The words flowed from him so naturally he didn't quite understand it.

"Such easy devotion," Typpont observed, asking Zelzan, "Do you think all gryphons are like this?"

"I have a sneaking suspicion the bond Sirtas shares with that ambassador is closer to the one we share with our Litter here," Zelzan said.

Litter ignored this discussion that went over his head in favor of asking, "So what happens now?"

"Now we leave together and return to the palace. I imagine Zelzan's father will be equal parts pleased and outraged," Typpont said as he leaned back and clambered out of the bath.

"How is your strength?" Zelzan asked before he got up, "Do you need me to carry you?"

"My wings are as strong as any dragon's, my prince," Litter said as he used Zelzan's horns to pull himself up. He hopped off and landed on the slick stone, falling to one knee with a little gasp. His bottom half had not fully recovered from its pounding.

Zelzan got out of the bath and ignored the stumble. Somehow the prince now knew better than to tease Litter's pride, but instead addressed him as he got his feet under him. "Then let us fly in formation, little bird."

That title no longer afflicted Litter with shame, for he knew it came only from a place of affection. It was a pet name between lovers that felt... familiar, and at that recognition the wind sang through his bones again. Litter's old duties quickly faded away as he walked with his mates out of the bathhouse and into the life he dreamed so long of.