by Hondo Jinx
“Shrike gets stronger and faster,” Shrike announced. “Shrike gives Man healthy babies that eat weak babies.”
Braddock shot her a cross look. “We talked about that.”
Shrike smiled. “Not weak friend babies.”
Philia patted Shrike’s feathered shoulder again. “Tell him what happens to a man who bonds with a Shrike.”
“Man flies!” Shrike exclaimed proudly. “Shrike and Man hunt together, strike from sky.”
“Hold on, darlin. You’re telling me if I bond with you, I’ll be able to fly?”
Shrike nodded.
Braddock scratched his head. “Would I sprout wings?”
He wondered, fleetingly, if that meant he would grow one of those creepy beaks, too, but figured they could cover that ground later.
Shrike gave a blast of trickster crow laughter. “No, Man will not grow wings. It is bonding magic. Man will not fly as fast or far as Shrike, but he will fly.”
“Well, saw my legs off and call me Shorty,” Braddock said, flabbergasted. Then, remembering the nature of his present company, he added, “That’s not a command. It’s a figure of speech that means this news has me reeling.”
Philia beamed. To Shrike, she said, “Will he fly well enough to evade the woolly dragon?”
Shrike nodded. “Man will be faster and more agile than the dragon. But the dragon has a very quick strike, so Man must not get too close.”
Braddock whistled. This was a game changer.
He glanced at Philia, who was grinning at him with excitement. She clearly wanted this, which was surprising but good. He wondered if Shrike had told Philia of some power she would get, too.
He swept his gaze over the handmaidens, who looked far less pleased. In fact, they seemed to be teetering somewhere between apprehension and all out terror.
But that didn’t much concern him. He trusted Shrike not to eat them or their babies. Over time, they would draw closer.
For his own part, he found Shrike strange and a little scary but also very attractive. Had it not been for the terrified sprites, he would have offered to bond with Shrike weeks ago. And that was before he heard about flying.
That left one person to check with.
He reached out and took Shrike’s hand. “Darlin, do you want—”
“Yes, Man!” Shrike interrupted and yanked him into an embrace. “Shrike wants to bond with Man! To breed with Man! To rule the wilderness!”
Braddock laughed, stepping back from the embrace. “Well, I’m happy to hear that, darlin, but let’s take it one step at a time, all right?”
He turned to the handmaidens. “Girls, I have decided to bond with this woman.”
Shrike split the air with a triumphant eagle’s scream that made Chundra and all the sprites, even Philia, leap away.
Braddock gave them a few seconds to gather themselves, then went on addressing the handmaidens, sweeping his gaze across the room, and pausing to make significant eye contact with each woman.
Tilly was visibly struggling to disguise her fear.
Spinner was wide eyed and blushing. She was afraid and something else.
He reckoned he knew what that something else was when he studied Lala and saw that same something in spades.
Lala was blushing, twisting her plum-colored hair around one finger, and stealing glances at Shrike… specifically the bird woman’s breasts, which rose and fell with her excited panting. Lala’s lithe body shimmied back and forth with the liquid wavering of flame.
Lala might be afraid, but she couldn’t wait to taste Shrike.
Esper, on the hand, looked like she’d swallowed a peach pit. All he saw on her face was sheer horror.
At the same time, he knew that of all the sprites, Esper was the most submissive. The orange-haired kitchen sprite would go along with whatever he decided. Period. And what’s more, because of her submissiveness, she would like it.
“I know you are feeling apprehensive,” Braddock said. “I see that in your eyes, and I understand, but I’m still going to bond with Shrike.”
The handmaidens nodded dutifully.
Lala bit her lower lip and squirmed a little faster.
Impossibly, Esper’s eyes got even bigger.
“Do you know why I am going to bond with her despite your fears?”
“Because you will gain the gift of flight, Master,” Tilly said, “and that will allow you to defend the meadow.”
“Good guess, darlin, and I am thinking flight will allow me to defend the meadow and all of my beautiful women.” Braddock smiled at all of them, Shrike included. “But no, the reason I am bonding with Shrike despite your fears is that I know you don’t have to be afraid. I trust Shrike. You will, too. In time, she will simply be another of your sweet sisters.”
The handmaidens smiled bravely.
“Shrike wants to lick the one that sings,” Shrike said, pointing at Lala.
Lala laughed nervously, turned red as a strawberry, and squirmed like she was trying to shimmy up a greased pole.
“We’ll sort all that out soon enough,” Braddock said. “I just wanted to let you ladies know where I’m coming from and what I’m fixing to do.” He spread his arms. “Now, how about you girls finish doing what Philia commanded.”
A few frenzied seconds later, Braddock was stark naked.
Shrike stared at him with flaming eyes, and a shiver went through her white feathers.
Braddock stared at her, too. There was something incredibly alluring about Shrike’s otherworldly nature. She was, he realized, the personification of wilderness, all the beauty and ferocity of the wastelands contained in one woman.
“There is one thing we should discuss first, husband,” Philia said with a nervous smile.
“What’s that, darlin?” he asked, still staring at Shrike. All this time, he had been reining in his desires for this woman. She had been off limits. Indefinitely.
But now, at last, they were getting down to business, and his unbound desires roared to life, filling him with fierce lust. His manhood jutted out, hard as an ax handle.
He wanted her. Now. And he didn’t really care about what Philia had to say.
Until she said it.
“When a shrike first bonds with a man, there is a moment of danger.”
That got his attention. “Explain.”
“Well,” Philia said, putting a little too much into her smile, “the good news is, if you successfully seed Shrike, she will forevermore be a spirited yet perfectly safe lover.”
“But…”
“As you approach climax…”
“Shrike will try to kill and eat Man!” Shrike squawked.
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Blushing, Shrike looked at her talons and shimmied back and forth like a child being scolded for getting into the preserves.
“Hold on a second here, darlin. Why are you going to try to kill me?”
“Shrike must try during the first seeding, Man. It is Shrike’s nature. Shrike accepts only the strongest seed! Shrike makes only strong babies that eat weak babies!”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” Braddock rubbed his jaw, his lust receding as he remembered the last time Shrike had tried to kill him. “I gotta tell you, darlin, I have no interest in stabbing you with my Bowie knife again. I don’t see how this can work.”
“There might be a way, husband. Tilly could bind Shrike with vine cordage.”
Tilly nodded. He could see she was trying to look confident, but her eyes were full of fear.
Braddock thought for a second. “You said Shrikes couldn’t be bound.”
“Not over long periods, husband,” Philia said. “From my understanding, Shrike’s murderous moment will be brief. The need to test you will emerge as you approach climax and should last only until you seed her. Then she will be yours forever.”
“Good to know, but Tilly, do you think your vines can hold Shrike down for… what? Thirty seconds?”
Tilly shrugged, gritting her teeth nervously. “I do not k
now, Master.”
“It’s all very uncertain, husband,” Philia said. “We do not know how long, precisely, the moment will last. Nor do we know whether Tilly’s vines will hold. Which is why I would suggest other steps as well.”
“Such as?”
“It would be easier to demonstrate, husband.”
Braddock heard her out. It was a high-risk plan, but he couldn’t think of anything better, so he decided to give it a shot.
Half an hour later, they were in position. It took some doing.
Shrike was bent over the table. Her feathered ankles were spread wide and lashed to the table legs. As were her calves and thighs.
Hurry, Man. Shrike needs Man’s seed.
Her feathery bottom twitched back and forth an inch this way, an inch that way, but that was all she could manage because her waist and upper thighs were tied tightly to the table.
Her upper body lay flat atop the table, restrained by so many crisscrossing vines that she looked like a bird trapped in the web of a giant spider. Her wings, too, were folded and bound, since Shrike informed Braddock that they, too, could be a weapon.
The sprites fastened Shrike’s wrists, pulled her arms tight overhead, and tied them tightly. The bird woman’s beautiful face lay cheek to wood against the tabletop also lashed tightly in place.
Hurry, Man.
Hold on, darlin. I got one more thing to do.
This last step felt crazy, but he had learned to trust his wife. So, as Philia suggested, he strode out the door and walked stark naked into the frigid night.
Only despite the deep cold, the night was no longer frigid. At least not within the glowing tunnel of green light that stretched from the cabin to the open gate and out into the meadow, where Philia, also naked, awaited him in a dome of green illumination, the tall, vibrant grass stirring around her.
Seeing him, Philia smiled and beckoned.
He went to her and sat upon the ground beside his wife. Beneath his bare skin, the ground was warm and dry. Within the bubble, the air smelled like summer.
Philia’s cheeks and breasts were pink with desire. Her eyes shone bright green.
“You really think this will work, darlin?”
Philia nodded. “I do, husband. You have grown very strong, but your energy has no structure. It is time to take a first step toward harnessing your meadow magic. Place your palms on the ground, close your eyes, and breathe deeply.”
Braddock did as she suggested, drawing his lungs full of warm, fragrant air.
“Reach out to the meadow with your mind.”
“How do I do that?” Braddock asked, keeping his eyes closed and his hands pressed into the ground. Swaying grass tickled against his legs.
“Like you are telepathically communicating with Shrike,” Philia suggested. “Greet the meadow. Invite it to join with you.”
Hello, Meadow.
And just like that, Braddock felt the meadow’s response. There were no words. But his longstanding sense of the meadow surged, becoming more than a concept. He could feel it all around him, could feel its health and strength and goodwill toward him and his people, even his horse and cattle, all of that coming to him in a single, wordless wallop.
Along with these things, he sensed the meadow’s eagerness to commune with him.
Join me, he told the meadow.
The air grew warmer still, and the ground vibrated subtly beneath him. The meadow’s presence pressed closer, permeating his own sense of self.
It was a strange but pleasant sensation.
And as he felt the meadow seeping into him, his own sense of self spread away, creeping into the ground and shooting out across the meadow, his awareness racing outward in all directions to striate a thousand acres in roots of consciousness.
At the same time, literal roots like the tendrils he had seen wrapped around his communing wife, rose from the ground and entwined his legs and waist.
“That’s it, husband,” Philia’s voice said, sounding incredibly excited. “You are meeting the meadow!”
Braddock’s consciousness buzzed across the meadow, fusing with it as the meadow filled him.
It was the strangest thing he had ever experienced; and yet, somehow, it wasn’t strange at all.
Because he felt no less himself. He retained full awareness of his mind and body.
Communing with the meadow was not, he realized, a process of switching places. There was no swap, no surrender. Only mutual gain.
The tendrils rose, twisting around his upper body, covering most of him from toes to throat but leaving his manhood untouched.
Perhaps Philia had directed the meadow to leave him so exposed because she leaned forward, slid her mouth over him, and started sucking enthusiastically.
Braddock’s attention was split between the ministrations of his eager wife, who was now pumping away with both hands as she sucked him, and the amazing sensation of communing with the vast and powerful meadow. He could feel its physical limits, which were defined not only by the grass and topsoil but also a portion of forest to all sides, a good height of open air above, and the soil below to a surprising depth.
He could feel the grass and the not unwelcomed blanket of heavy snow, a thing natural to the meadow this time of year; the cattle bedded down just within the tree line to the east; and down below, slumbering deep within the meadow like a baby in the womb, Doal.
Philia popped her mouth free, panting with breathless lust. “Draw strength now, husband. You will need it. Tell the meadow directly what you want. Meanwhile, I will continue to suck. When you are close, we will go back inside, and you will seed Shrike.”
“Sounds good, darlin.”
Philia’s hands kept stroking him as she spoke. She smiled up at him hopefully. “One more thing, husband. Could we do this again sometime soon? Only would you seed me here upon the meadow instead?”
“That sounds great to me, darlin.”
Then her mouth was on him again, working its sweet magic as he reached out to the meadow and found it not only without but within his mind.
I need power, Meadow. Please give me strength.
And just like that, warmth filled his body, which was suddenly more than his body.
Meanwhile, Philia was sucking and stroking with single-minded purpose.
He could feel that because she was part of the meadow, too; and he could sense her thoughts and emotions and desires as she worked him toward climax.
It was a dizzying, euphoric moment, and his excitement rose quickly.
“Soon,” he told Philia, and she released him with a moaning gasp even as the meadow’s tendrils slipped from his body.
Braddock stood, coursing with power, opened his eyes, and saw the bright green aura surrounding his entire body.
Philia knelt before him, naked and shuddering with desire, staring up at him with a mesmerized expression. “Oh husband, you did it! You are a true Meadow Master.”
Braddock had never felt so good, so powerful, so right.
With Philia in tow, he marched back to the cabin, where Shrike yet lay strapped to the table, twitching back and forth and begging telepathically for his seed.
The handmaidens, Braddock was surprised to see, had also stripped naked and surrounded Shrike.
That wasn’t the surprising part.
It was their weapons that rattled him.
Esper stood beside Shrike’s head, holding a rolling pin in both hands.
Lala had an iron skillet.
Spinner held two crocheting needles.
Tilly held the cudgel Braddock had trained her to use.
And alongside them, Chundra stood ready with his spear.
Seeing Braddock come through the door, the handmaidens cried out with awe and bowed low to the ground.
Chundra took a step back and tilted his furry head quizzically.
“Rise,” Braddock told the sprites as he positioned himself behind Shrike. “And put down your weapons.”
Tilly stammered, “But Ma
ster, what if—”
“Put them down,” he said again.
His mistresses obeyed as one.
Stepping up close behind the bound bird woman, he slapped his manhood lightly against her feathery bottom.
You ready, darlin?
Shrike is ready. Shrike wants Man. Shrike hopes she does not kill Man. Shrike wants Man’s seed. Shrike wants to have Man’s babies.
Braddock reckoned that was the closest thing to a profession of love that a shrike was capable of.
He smoothed a hand over her feathery thigh then bent and kissed the hard muscle of her lower back.
A shiver went through the bound woman.
He reached between her legs, trailing his fingertips across the soft white down and found her wetness.
Shrike growled with anticipation.
Braddock spread her slit and slipped a finger inside, exploring her tender flesh. She contracted around his finger, tight with muscle. Otherwise, she was warm and wet and silky like other women.
He ached, wanting her, that aching desire magnified by the incredible power and fertility of the meadow shining within and from his flesh.
Curious as always, he ran a finger around Shrike’s slit, noting the tiny pin feathers at the edges of her tightness.
When his fingertip passed over her apex, Shrike gave a moan of pleasure and again shuddered within her bonds.
He paused to explore this most sensitive flesh, pressing gently as he swirled his fingertip in tight, caressing circles.
She had no clitoral hood. Her fleshy pleasure nub was as firm as a pinched nipple. It protruded a full inch and was nearly as wide.
Catching it between his thumb and forefinger, he pinched and tugged lightly.
Shrike gave a squawk and thrashed against her restraints.
Feeling her inhuman power, Braddock reckoned he’d best get down to business and leave exploration for another day. Generally speaking, he was a man whose pleasure was bound to the pleasure of his lovers as firmly as Shrike was presently bound to the table; but all things considered, he would defer any concerns for Shrike’s pleasure and just seed her.
He pressed the tip of his throbbing manhood into her sex, which had swollen, parting the white feathers with a line of glistening pinkness.