Monster Breeder

64. Harpy Mountain, Part 5: Nests

64. Harpy Mountain, Part 5: Nests

“Ahh!” I can’t help exclaiming when I emerge into the fresh air under a warm sun. Not as much time passed as I feared; it’s only afternoon with a few hours before sunset.

Looking around for Opal and the Kobolds with Harpy Sight, I’m disappointed to not spot them immediately, but I do notice something interesting. In the far distance, at a range impossible to see with merely human eyes, I find the rapidly fading figure of a massive bird.

Whew. The Grand Harpy didn’t stick around, having assumed I died, or that I wasn’t worth his time. Good to know I don’t have to tiptoe around with him searching for me.

That settled, I head in Opal’s general direction. I’m not too concerned at not seeing them, as it’s more than plausible the lizard-folk exited the underground on a different part of the mountain or that they gained a sizable head start on me considering how long I spent distracting the Servitors.

My armored feet click and clack on the rocks as I walk. The sound gives me a solitary feel as if I were all alone again, but the weight on my back is a solid reminder of my many faithful companions, not to mention Flou in underwear form likes to play with my pussy when she gets bored.

“Hey! It’s an intruder!” says a rosefinch Harpy boy as he hops onto a rock above me.

“Smells like a human, though,” a Eurasian teal Harpy boy adds from his perch opposite the first.

“How’d they get past the Sirens and Bloodwings?” a third asks, this one a purple martin Harpy boy.

I clutch my helmet for balance from sudden lightheadedness. “I’m getting déjà vu.”

“Sounds like a girl. I bet she’s pretty!” says an orange-feathered oriole Harpy boy.

Shrugging it off, I ask, “You boys see a bunch of lizard-folk come out of the caves?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, a bunch of them!” the rosefinch answers.Updated chapters at novelhall.com

That’s great news! “Okay, where are they?”

The oriole Harpy boy perks up. “Our sisters returning from the Celebration saw them near their nests and drove them off! We thought it’d be funny to keep chasing them through Fuzzy Field. Lizards belong in the desert.”

My eye twitches.

It seems the Bloodwings and Sirens have returned to guarding the larder, or hunting, or whatever after the ‘Celebration,’ because I don’t come across any more of them. The view is scenic, and the mood is peaceful. Apparently, the attitude toward a weirdo like me this high up the mountain is ‘live and let live’ if I don’t mess with anything.

None of the Harpy boys or girls who spot me want to be the one who earns the ire of the aberration who must have killed a few Bloodwings to get this far unless I’m threatening their wellbeing and property. That, or word about me has spread despite my warning, and news hasn’t gotten to the Matron yet. Whatever the case, I’ve seen a few Harpies in flight or shuffling out of sight without resorting to violence.

The boys pointed me in this direction after a little encouragement, so I’m hopefully getting closer to finding Gale.

With nothing better to do, I’ve been inspecting nests in passing, and I’m up to around two dozen. There’ve been a few eggs from older Harpies that didn’t attend the Celebration, and assorted bones in untidy nests (the clean ones have bone piles a few hundred feet downhill), but the worst part has been the prisoners.

There are Female Goblins and bunnies as expected, since they’re just big enough to lay Harpy eggs with a decent chance of survival. Mouse girls, however, are in the larder with the males; too small to live through such a pregnancy. More surprising are the Dire Wolf bitches and Orcesses. Whether they were caught in their sleep and ganged up on, or captured young and evolved later, once they’re up here with no way down they depend on their Harpy boy lover for food.

All are gravid with eggs. Some, I assume, have contracted the ancient human disease known as ‘Stockholm syndrome,’ as they refuse to acknowledge me or guard their laid eggs and hatchlings from me as I pass by. Others jump at the chance for rescue. Not literally, it is a long way down.

I notice a few males, but they’re the exception that proves the rule. They’re clearly treated like pets or toys that get thrown out when they’re no longer fun to play with. I’m guessing that female Harpies will fuck anything that moves once they’ve conceived eggs and don’t risk being impregnated with a monster that doesn’t propagate their species.

I even come across a human woman in her late forties and have a short conversation with her. Her name is Gretta, and she’s been laying eggs for thirty years. Not from my hometown. Born in Charlatan Forest and got picked up like me when she ventured onto Fuzzy Field. She’s nobody’s wife, more like an ancient human ‘town bicycle’ who deflowers all the Harpy boys coming of age as part of their sexual education. She’s supposed to teach them some basic positions, how to please a woman, etc. so they don’t have to learn these things on the fly while seducing their first captured female monster.

I congratulate the cradle-robbing cougar on all the young bucks she’s had the chance to enjoy over the years, as she seems to be in good humor over the whole thing. We fist bump, and she doesn’t even raise the question of being rescued.

If anything, I need to make sure these asshole birds don’t eat Gretta when she hits menopause. That girl deserves a comfortable retirement plan, preferably the palm-frond-fanning pool boy treatment. She’s nursing a Chicklin infant with her breasts exposed as we talk, and I can’t help admiring how well she’s aged. Maybe I could invite her to a sex party at some point?

Overall, it’s a pretty fucked up situation here on the Mountain and, unfortunately, I’m not ready to help them in an ethically comfortable way.

Freeing a bunch of pregnant monsters to exercise their feminine pro-choice rights would put a lot of broken eggs on my conscience. On the other hand, I can’t abide letting these poor women continue to be raped until their baby-maker breaks and they get put on the menu. And how would I feed all the Harpies if I take away their prey?

Fuck, I kind of hope the Matron leaves me alone so I don’t have to take over after beating her. Running things sounds hard.

Wait, those vivid blue and green feathers look familiar! I think it is! At last, at long, long last, I’ve found Gale.

The jaded side of me just hopes I’m not disappointed.