The Harpy’s Sire
By Limewah
Patron reward for Flarfenarfle (September 2023)
18+

The forest was deathly, almost unnervingly quiet at this time of the night - except, of course, for the distant hum of music and carousal coming from the inn in a glade. It was an aural beacon, a crumb trail for the ears. So Clayton Foxfire wasn’t concerned about getting lost. Besides, he knew these forests innately; he’d grown up in them for most of his life, even before he established the Foxfire Inn.
It was a bit loud and busy there tonight, but Clay wasn’t really needed. His capable staff could handle things; half the clientele were already ensorcelled by the time he left. When he got back he’d take his pick of who he’d keep on as new staff members, as well as one or two personal paw warmers to give his current one a little bit of a breather-in more ways than one.

For now, though, it was just him and the dark forest. The fox-witch meandered, enjoying the cool night breeze and the floral scents all around him. A perfect time to reminisce on good old times, and brainstorm for new ones. He tried to find inspiration for the entertainment from the world around him; the breeze whistling through the trees, for example, made him consider snagging and entrancing a few bards to create a woodwind ensemble…
In fact, he was almost certain he could hear some other music in the woods. Some wandering traveler with a beautiful voice, perhaps…?

His mind was not wandering so much, though, that he wasn’t aware of his surroundings. When the music came to a stop, he heard a sudden rustle from the treetops, and felt the telltale air-rush of a diving strike. He slipped his magic wand out from inside his bushy tail and twirled it. From the enchanted twig, a sigil-shield bloomed like a flower, and the talons of the creature collided and scratched at it with a sound like iron scraping against glass. Clayton shuddered from the sound.
Past the shield, and behind long strands of matted green hair, he could see a humanoid face with very pale skin, and deep violet eyes that almost matched his own. Where the human’s limbs would have been were two equally green wings, and two long talons.

A harpy?! All the way out here? They were supposed to be further north..!
“Put that thing down!” the bird-beast whined, pulling back and floating in the air. “Come onn…” she seemed like a young adult, with that petulant pout in her eyes. 
“I’d rather not!” Clayton shot back. “I prefer my innards inside my body, thanks!”
“I don’t wanna kill or eat you, though!” the harpy shook her head quickly. “I need you for something else… I need your help!”
“You don’t say?” Clayton kept his wand at the ready, down by his hip and tilted slightly upward like a cutlass. 
“Yeah! We’ve got the same eyes, which means you’re exactly who I need right now, more than anything…”
She was rubbing her thighs back and forth, too. Clayton was pretty good at bartering and negotiating with monsters, and he was sure this bird girl would be no exception. 
“I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement,” he said, still keeping his wand at the ready. “Perhaps you can accompany me back to my little establishment, and we could discuss things further. Can you sing?”
“Oh! Oh yeah, I can!” 

The look that spread across the harpy’s face was a worrying one. Like she suddenly knew something Clayton didn’t. He hated that look.
The harpy fluttered back, still keeping herself aloft with slow, shimmering wing-beats. She cleared her throat, and began to sing.
It seemed to be an improvised melody, no specific words to it, but… her voice was divine. She seemed to sing with more than one voice, each one trilling and harmonising with the other in a way that sent shivers down the fox’s spine.  Each rhythmic beat of her wings created a metronomic skeleton to the melody as it flowed, sweet and comforting like a lullaby.
Clayton only briefly realised his mistake before it was too late, and his body ceased to obey him.
Clayton felt his energy drain out of him, like he was sinking into quicksand. 
The waves of sound washed over him, and his wand slipped out of his slackening paw and onto the forest floor. He stepped forward towards her, only faintly feeling the snap of the stick beneath his boot. 
He didn’t understand the words she was crooning. But he felt their meaning, their intent.
He had to come closer.
He had to come to her.
He had to come…

His cock was bulging in his trousers, the pulsing tent serving as an extra arrow pointing towards the singing, swaying bird-beast. Her body was slim and lithe, and her breasts were perky and small. Clayton wanted to bury his muzzle into them. 
One of his feet dragged slightly too much and he stumbled onto his knees. His eyes were drooping, as was his jaw. The only parts of him that was alert were his ears, still pricked to take in the bewitching lilt of the harpy’s melody.

One of her talons reached out for his face, and rested on the side of his cheek. It dexterously gripped his face and slid underneath his chin, before two of them slipped into his mouth. As the sharp claw raked against his sensitive tongue, he groaned and pursed his lips around them to suckle. It pushed in deeper, and he didn’t choke or spasm. He just kept obediently suckling, his mouth and throat too relaxed to resist. The other talon grabbed the back of Clayton’s head, holding him in place. There was an intoxicating pheromonal scent to them, something downy and spicy, something that made his cock reflexively jump to attention
The harpy bit on her lip and shivered, a bright red blush on her face. 
“Mmmnhyeah, you’ve got a really nice mouth, nnhn… and a really big bulge… yeah, yeah, I wanna, I wanna-!”

The talons were pulled free from Clayton’s mouth, and before the delirious fox could do a thing, a quick swipe split his clothes vertically in half, freeing his cock from its prison. She dove onto him and wrapped her thighs around his hips. She beat her wings over and over to hoist him into the air, as she speared himself on his dick, trilling and yelping with pleasure.
Clayton sort of dangled in the air like a limp puppet, held up by the hips and bounced up and down. Each time the harpy beat her wings and lifted him higher, she gripped and squeezed his hips to pull him deeper into her cunt. 

The most reaction that was coming out of him was soft groans and gasps, as his cock dribbled out pre with each thick, wet thrust.
“Mmmnh, come on, lean up and hold onto me,” she half-spoke, half sung. It took effort, the combined resistance of his trance and gravity making his arms move so heavily, but soon he was braced against her shoulders, nose to snout with the harpy as she laid kisses on his face. 
“Yeaaaah~” she mewled, and continued her bewitching song. The metre of her singing was all over the place, but it didn’t matter. The tones themselves were too irresistible for him to care.
“You and me are gonna make such pretty hatchlings together, you’re gonna be my perfect breeder…!”

Clayton was too deeply dazed to consider the responsibilities of fatherhood for a brood of fox-harpies. The memory of the harpy’s song was still endlessly echoing and burrowing into his mind. The catchiest tune he had ever heard. 

“You’re gonna fill me up, now, foxie breedy boy~!” the harpy chirped, hugging him tight like a vice - the same tight squeeze crushed his tool, and hit him with a burst of pleasure so immense that his orgasm came instantly. She held him tightly, keeping him from moving an inch, so that every drop of his seed filled her up. She changed her angle, rolling her hips forward and hovering with her back towards the ground. Letting his seed really drain deep into her, aiming to satisfy the intense breeding-season urge.
Clayton held on for dear life, eyes rolling up into his head as he panted, drooled, and emptied everything into her - all his will, all his thoughts, and all his essence.
“Hhhah… ahn…” the harpy gasped and shivered, relaxing her grip on the fox and letting him slide out of, and off of her to fall to the forest floor. The impact did nothing to disturb the song in his head - no melody or air to it, but somehow still impossible to get out of his head. 
“Ooh, sorry breeder!” she had her hips squeezed together, rolling her hips from side to side out of some primordial breeding urge. She floated down to him and grabbed him under the arms, before hoisting him into the air again. “We gotta fly a little while to get back to my roost, plenty of time to get yourself rested for round two~! I wanna make sure we make as many little hatchlings as we can, darling~!”

The proprietor of the Foxfire Inn was never seen again. But a few years later, travelers learned to avoid the woods at night - one might find themself led off the beaten path by strange, betwitching creatures - half bird, half fox.

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