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"Brooklyn! Come on, Angela's egg is starting to hatch!" Lexington's excited voice had the sensation of a blade forged from anxiety made solid stabbing into Brooklyn's chest.

As this day had approached he had grown steadily more nervous about the coming hatching. While Angela's decision not to reveal her infidelity to Broadway hadn't concerned him too much, he was much more worried about what Goliath might do. As leader of the clan he had the dominant say over how the hatchling was to be raised and by who, and it was difficult to say if he would take a traditional clan oriented approach, or parent oriented one. To complicate things further Brooklyn had not been able to re-ingratiate himself with Goliath, partly due to stubbornness on his own behalf.

Nevertheless, there was little more he could do but join the others in gathering in the small room in Castle Wyvern that had been repurposed as a temporary rookery. The room's fireplace had been lit and piled with wood and kept burning, and the room was sweltering now with the entire Manhattan Clan and Elisa inside. They were circled around the egg, a large thing with a shell speckled gray and blue, with Angela closest to it. Brooklyn's breath caught in his chest as he watched it rock back and forth in its nest and swaddling.

Everyone's eyes were upon it when suddenly the egg's shell fractured along its side. Brooklyn's heart thudded in his chest as claws pried open the fissure from within to pull and twist the shell, snapping it open and sending fragments of shell clattering to the stone floor.

Then Brooklyn saw it. The gargoyle child within the remains of the egg had stubby and thick features like that of a human child, and he would have mistook the creature as Broadway's offspring were it not for its crimson hide and stubby beak. Brooklyn's mind went numb as his child emerged from the egg to turn and look at all the people watching it, gasps falling with slack jaws. Brooklyn was unable to tear his eyes from the little creature, even as the eyes in the room turned to him, and he didn't even notice Angela's reaction or Broadway's.

Suddenly a massive hand fell on his shoulder and yanked him backwards and out of the room. It was Goliath, practically dragging him down the hall and around the corner. "You're leaving." Goliath growled after throwing him to the ground. Brooklyn was unable to formulate words as he stared up at the massive gargoyle, mouth agape. "You are exiled from this clan."

Brooklyn's mouth worked soundlessly as he tried to get out the words. "Exiled?" he exclaimed finally.

"I will not have you here to influence Angela's child with your disgusting behavior." Goliath spat.

"It's my child too!" Brooklyn retorted feebly.

"That child is the responsibility of this clan, the clan you are no longer part of." Goliath said, his tail lashing the air menacingly. "Now get out, before I throw you from this castle myself!" he bellowed, taking a step towards Brooklyn.

Brooklyn scrambled to his feet and ran. He didn't turn to see if Goliath was chasing him, he didn't want to see. He flung open a set of great oak doors and ran out to the castle's exterior and towards the parapets. When he reached the edge he leapt off and dived into open air, a thundering roar of anger following him as he dived into the dark clouds concealing Castle Wyvern from the streets of Manhattan far below.

The nights following Brooklyn's exile were cold and gloomy ones, spent hiding away from human and gargoyle alike. Thankfully due to his regeneration during his stone sleep he had not had to thieve away much food, but nevertheless he had been finding his stomach grumbling with him unhappily. The cold heralding the approach of winter was another problem, and he would have to find some more substantial clothing than his loincloth if he wanted to remain comfortable.

He tried not to think too much about what had happened, not yet. Instead he would get drunk on what booze he could find and pilfer, and sat atop the tall buildings staring down at the glowing streets below with glassy, unfocused eyes.

He was in just such a state when he was nearly startled into falling from his perch on the railing by a voice close behind him, "I heard what happened, Brooklyn." It was a woman's voice, bearing confidence and a steely edge.

Brooklyn dropped the bottle in his hands in his surprise, and his eyes caught a glimpse of it tumbling towards the earth far below. A vague thought of hoping it didn't hit anyone passed through his hazy mind in a flash. He snapped around to look at the source of the familiar yet chilling voice, and found Demona standing a couple meters away, arms folded. She looked much like her daughter, Angela, but with a more blueish hide and a shock of red hair.

His first impulse was to lunge at her, and as his body tensed to make the leap he saw her body tense as well, but she stood firm calmly without moving. When she didn't move, and Brooklyn belatedly realized he would probably lose a fight in this state anyway, he relaxed.

"What do you want?" he said with a sigh, hopping down from the railing to face her.

"I want to know how you're doing, on your own." Demona said, unfolding her arms and approaching to lean against the railing casually. "I heard about your exile from the clan."

Brooklyn eyed her suspiciously. "I'm fine." he lied, turning away to look back over the city streets. He didn't want comfort from Demona, and he expected to have ulterior motives, as she always did.

"Goliath separated you from your child. That has to hurt." Demona said.

"Why would you care?" Brooklyn spat.

"I know what it's like. Goliath has come between me and my daughter."

"Angela chose the clan." Brooklyn said bitterly. It felt like none of that mattered now.

Demona turned to face out from the building like him to look over the dazzling lights of the street below. "I know you and I have had our _differences_in the past, but we're more alike than you know." she said in a sympathetic voice that sounded all too false to Brooklyn's ears.

When he remained silent for lack of will to argue, she continued, "I am sorry that you have been separated from your daughter... my grand-daughter..."

"It was a girl, then? Goliath threw me out as soon as he saw it was mine." Brooklyn said, an edge creeping into his voice.

"I understand she has been named Katharine, after the _human_that cared for Angela when she was an egg." Demona was unable to keep the sneer out of her voice this time.

Brooklyn was quiet for a moment as he thought about the child and if he would ever get to see his daughter again. He looked over at Demona from where he leaned against the railing. "What do you want?" he repeated.

"I want to give you, and me, a chance to have what was taken from us." Demona said, looking him in the eyes.

Brooklyn's eyes narrowed, was he just misinterpreting her because he was drunk? "You don't mean..."

"A child, Brooklyn. Together you and I could lay the foundation for a new clan." Demona stated confidently, a devilish grin on her face.

The impossibility of the proposition hit Brooklyn like a freight train, leaving him incredulous and utterly speechless. He stared at her unblinkingly, until the words finally tumbled from his beak, "I wouldn't have a child with you if you were the last gargoyle on earth."

Demona seemed unaffected by his words however. "I might as well be to you, Brooklyn." she said coolly, which admittedly did sting him a bit. "I might add that these days having a child would not necessitate sleeping together. I only ask that you stick around to provide your genetic material when required, and in return you will get food and a warm place to stay."

Again Brooklyn stared at her, processing her offer. Before he could put together a response Demona produced something from a satchel at her waist, and pressed it into Brooklyn's hand. "When you change your mind, call me." she said and he looked down to find one of those new mobile phones made of black plastic with a small green LCD screen and an extendable antenna. When he looked back up, he found that Demona had vanished.

Brooklyn spent the next several days checking and staring at that phone. He found a single contact saved in its phone book - Demona. A warm bed, out of the cold, and food, all in exchange for jerking off a few times? It was for more than that, Brooklyn knew however; it was for giving her a child, children even, that she could raise in her ways for her vision. Could he let her do that?

He would sit for hours with his thumb idly stroking over the key to the speed dial while staring into open space, his breath sometimes crystallizing in the air before him. What had Goliath's way brought him? What had his friendship with Elisa brought him? Had Demona been right all along? His gut told him no, but the facts seemed to line up in her favor.

What if it was just a trap to lure him in to get him to work for her, and fight for her? What if it was? Would that be so bad? With his stomach empty, and his head aching, and his body cold, none of it seemed to matter too much. Hiding in a back alley, where it was warmer than up on the roof tops, Brooklyn took out the phone again. It only had one bar of battery life left, and he had no way to charge it. Would Demona bother to track him down again? Did he want to risk it?

Fuck it. He pressed the key to the speed dial.

Brooklyn blinked awake from his position sprawled out on the leather couch of the apartment as he heard the balcony door's lock turn over. He was glad he had adapted to modern human clothing since his exile, otherwise his immodesty would likely have been on full display to Demona, who walked into the apartment's living room bearing something in one hand. As it was, Brooklyn was clad in a pair of gray cargo shorts, and opting to go without a shirt.

"You've had a week to rest. Now, it's time for you to uphold your end of the deal." Demona said as she flicked on the overhead lights and set down what looked to be a metal box on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Brooklyn got himself upright and shut off the TV and peered over at the box, finding that it had a series of vents on either side of it and seemed to be humming very quietly. Demona unlatched the top and swung it open to reveal the inside, within which six delicate test tubes with rubber stoppers were carefully cradled by a series of thin wires. "I expect you to have these filled by this time tomorrow." she said, picking one of the test tubes up and handing it to Brooklyn.

He found the glass quite cold to the touch, and reasoned that the little metal box must be its own mobile refrigeration unit. As intrigued as he was by this discovery, Brooklyn found himself eyeing the test tubes uncertainly. "All of them?" he asked, turning over the one in his hand and rubbing away the condensation to read the tube's volume - 9 ml.

"Surely you can manage six times in a day." Demona said with a smirk, closing up the box again. "Try drinking lots of water." she said before briskly turning and leaving, locking the door behind her.

Brooklyn looked over his shoulder out the window, through the steel bars that had been welded in place over the windows, but it was too dark to see her. He looked down at the vial in his hand and then around at the apartment. He supposed it wasn't the worst trade off in the world. His own place to live, generally unbothered, with food, books, television, and a warm bed.

He had found quickly however that the place was as much a prison as it was an apartment. He had found out the hard way that the bars over the windows were electrified, much to his chagrin. The front door seemed completely incapable of being opened, like it was part of the wall itself, which he had found to be reinforced from within with steel bars. He didn't know how Demona had managed it, but she seemed to have built the perfect luxury prison cell.

At any rate, he supposed that he should probably start now if he was to fill all of these vials by the next night. He set the vial down on the table and closed the blinds over the window, and retrieved the bottle of personal lubricant that had been conspicuously left on the night stand for him to find. Pausing in the doorway as he headed back into the living room, his eyes fell on the little test tube and frowned, noticing its meager opening.

Trying not to think too much about what he was doing he rummaged about the kitchen until he found a plastic funnel small enough to fit within the vial. Returning to the couch he sat down after placing the lubricant and funnel on the table and sighed, looking down at himself in disbelief that this was where he was now. He undid his pants and pulled them open and extricated his flaccid red shaft from his underwear and began to stroke it idly as he reached for one of the men's magazines on the table.

He didn't know if Demona had somehow heard about his fling with Elisa or had simply figured that they were better than nothing; it wasn't like they printed Playboy magazines for gargoyles after all. He found his maleness stiffening as he peered down at the glossy images of scantily clad and nude human women resting beside him on the couch. He flipped through the pages, stopping on one featuring a darker skinned woman that reminded him of Elisa, but with larger breasts, straddling a motorcycle.

He leaned toward the table to squirt some of the clear lubricant into his hand when his cock had become fully hard and pulled back his foreskin and smeared the fluid over the head of his cock. It was cool to the touch, and the sliding of his slick hide over his sensitive tip made him suck in a breath as he worked the liquid down and over the rest of his shaft. Fully lubricated, he leaned back into the couch cushions and began to stroke himself at a quick pace, his hand gliding up and down in a well practiced motion.

While looking down at his red stiffness, stroking it pleasurably, the unwelcome thought of what he was giving Demona by doing this invaded his mind. His hand slowed for a moment as the grotesque image of Demona, belly swollen with his egg, burned in front of his unfocused eyes.

He shook the images away and returned his eyes to the magazine, stroking himself with intent once more. His eyes focused on those full mocha brown breasts, imagining how they would feel in his hands, how it would feel to slip his cock between them, how it would look to shoot his semen onto them. His pleasure grew and he felt his orgasm coming ever closer as he flipped through the pages, imagining some of the women in his bed as they were, and some as gargoyles.

A few minutes passed before Brooklyn shifted forward onto the edge of the couch, sitting upright as he grabbed the vial and setting the funnel within it. He was panting from the exertion and pleasure, his tail writhing on the leather cushions as he felt the muscles in his groin flexing and tensing. His cock throbbed in his hand as he held the vial in position before him, and he felt his seed racing up his length. Looking down to make sure his aim was true, he stroked himself just a little more before holding still, careful not to miss the funnel, and watched as his first spurt of cum shot from his tip.

White semen splattered the red plastic, and he let out a great breath and resumed his stroking as he came. His cock throbbed and he felt and saw each rope of cum leave him, to shoot into the funnel to then slide down into the glass test tube in a viscous flow. Pleasure wracked his body even as it felt like his soul was being ejaculated from his body through his penis, to be captured and used for what terrible ends he didn't know.

He breathed heavily as the pleasure faded and he reached for a tissue to clean up the seed clinging to his tip and the lubricant covering his length. He tapped the funnel to get the rest to slide down into the glass vial before setting it down on the coffee table, the tissue protecting the wood from the mess. After stoppering the vial he looked at it for a moment, full of fresh white fluid as it was; uneasily wondering if this load of cum was going to be turned into a child by Demona. If it was, he resolved, he wouldn't let her turn them into a mere tool for herself. How though, he wasn't sure yet.

He placed the test tube carefully within the refrigerated metal box and snapped it shut again. He returned his softening member to his pants and grabbed the soiled funnel and headed to the kitchen sink to wash it off. As he was passing the French doors to the balcony however, a small flash of light in the dark outside caught his eyes. He turned his head to see what appeared to be a curious glint of gold at about head height. With a start he realized that it was the gold coronet that Demona wore, and he looked closer to see the shape of a gargoyle on the balcony, silhouetted by the city lights. She turned then and left, leaping off the balcony to glide away.

So she had been watching him the entire time. A storm of confusion rooted him to the spot for several seconds before he made the attempt to drown it in the kitchen sink while scrubbing the red plastic funnel furiously. What if this whole setup wasn't just to build a new clan as Demona claimed, but to provide her with a personal toy to play with as she pleased? What could he do about it? Could he escape?

A more frightening question leaped to his mind then - why should he? Escape to what? Hunger and cold? He had everything he wanted here, and perhaps he could even convince Demona to let him fly a bit on occasion. She seemed to be interested in him on some level, perhaps he could use that.

He tried to lay aside the feelings he experienced when he conjured up Demona, and instead focused on just her body. To his surprise he found himself not displeased, and actually a bit curious as to how she looked without her covering garments. He imagined her body was much like her daughter's, which of course Brooklyn had enjoyed on multiple occasions. He stood tapping the counter after finishing with the funnel, wondering if he could tame the beast that was Demona. He smirked at the idea of bending her over a table and hate-fucking her; maybe the bitch would relax the melodrama if she would just get laid. Maybe he'd be doing everyone a favor?

To his surprise he could that his pants had become uncomfortably tight. He grabbed the funnel and headed back to the couch to get to work.

Brooklyn heard the unlocking of the balcony doors almost exactly twenty-four hours since Demona's last visit, and a couple hours after he had set the last vial within the little box. He lowered the TV volume with the remote and looked over at Demona as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She turned to him with a smirk on her face.

"Well I'm sure you've had a productive day since we've seen each other." she said as she stalked towards him.

"I don't think I've ever jerked off that many times in a day before." Brooklyn said.

"You can get your rest today, but I'll be back for more." Demona said as opened up the metal box on the coffee table to see the six vials within, full of cloudy white fluid. "My, my, you've been busy, Brooklyn."

"Had to make sure you were getting your money's worth." he said, glancing around at the apartment. He had no doubt that his services were not just going to building Demona's new clan, but to also some nefarious profiteering venture that allowed her to imprison him in such a gilded cage. He imagined that Sevarius, or someone else at Gen-U-Tech or Cyberbiotics, would pay well for gargoyle genetic material. He tried not to let a shiver run up his spine at the thought.

"Indeed. I will return in two days." she said, snapping the box shut.

She was about to turn to go when he reached out and grabbed her arm. "Wait." he said.

He could feel the muscles in Demona's arm go tense, as if readying for a fight, but she hesitated and stared at him. "What?" she demanded.

"I saw you watching me, after you left last night." Brooklyn said, playing it cool as he released her arm and relaxed back into the leather couch, resting his arms up on the cushion. "If you want a bonus one, take it." he said with a smirk, indicating his crotch and spreading his legs a bit to draw the jeans he wore tight over his bulge.

For the first time he could remember, he saw Demona caught off guard. She looked at him and down at the bulge in his pants. She seemed to be calculating, and Brooklyn was sure she was too smart to think he was just into her. She knew he was up to something, perhaps trying to get leverage. Her hesitation told Brooklyn everything however.

"Get up." Demona ordered, but her voice didn't carry its usual intensity. She sank down to the couch as he stood, pushing the coffee table out of the way easily with a foot, and turned to face her.

"Take off your clothes." she said. Brooklyn complied, pulling his T-shirt off first to reveal his bare red chest and abs. Then he unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down with underwear and kicked them off, leaving him standing nude before his sworn enemy. His maleness was already almost hard, having been trying to keep it up to provide a satisfying bulge for Demona's eyes.

Her eyes wandered his body now with interest, falling on his long red cock and dangling balls. Then they flicked back up, meeting his. "Get to work." she said, a smirk returning to her face as she regained her composure. She lounged back on the couch, crossing her legs as Brooklyn gripped his cock in his hand.

He rested his free hand on his hip, his naturally wide stance allowing his balls to dangle and swing as he began to stroke himself. He found himself thankful that he had consistently used the personal lubricant, or he would have rubbed himself raw by now. "How long has it been?" he asked, looking up from his cock to Demona, who was watching him closely despite her feigned casualness.

"Not since Thailog." she replied coolly.

Brooklyn picked up his pace a little, stroking himself steadily. It felt entirely weird to be standing nude in front of Demona, pleasuring himself, but he tried not to think about what he was doing. "Did you collect samples from him too?"

Demona let out a laugh. "Of course I did. He just didn't know about it." she said with a sly smirk.

"Care to show me how?" Brooklyn decided to risk it.

Again Demona was looking at him, gauging him and trying to determine what was motivating him. Caution, desire, and calculation warred with each other on her face. Eventually she seemed to calculate that she had nothing to lose by inhibiting her desires for the moment. Wordlessly she got to her feet and approached him, and Brooklyn withdrew his hand from his cock, placing them both on his hips.

Demona reached out with a hand and wrapped it about his red flesh, gripping him firmly enough to suck in a breath. His maleness throbbed in her hand with his heartbeat, and he looked at her as she looked back at him. "I'm happy to find you so cooperative. Perhaps we can have our child the natural way." she said as she began to stroke him quickly, from tip to base with intent. She seemed to be toying with him now, probing to figure out his intentions.

Brooklyn groaned in pleasure even as his stomach lurched slightly at her touch. His hips pressed forward into her hand, and he already felt his orgasm approaching steadily. He didn't reply, instead looking down to where her hand moved back and forth over his cock.

"You've already given me what I need, you might as well go through with it." she added.

"Whatever you want." Brooklyn breathed. The pleasure was getting intense, and he could feel the seed moving in his body, his abs flexing. "As long as I get to see my kid."

"Naturally, of course." Demona replied. "I need you to do one thing first."

"What?" he said in exasperation.

"I need you to cum, Brooklyn. Give your seed to me." she ordered, her voice edged with velvet clothed steel. She had dropped to a wide crouch, and her other hand now waited cupped before his tip.

Brooklyn groaned and thrusted into her hand, his world closing down to nothing but the sensation of pressure moving up along his length. "Fucking take it." he gasped and then moaned as the pressure erupted from his length, and a rope of hot white cum spurted into Demona's waiting hand.

Pleasure wracked him as Demona continued to stroke his cock while his red flesh brought forth more and more cloudy white fluid that covered her blueish hide and filled her hand. They both watched the spectacle, transfixed, until it was over moments later.

"Well done." Demona said, releasing Brooklyn's cock and peering down at the fluid in her hand, smearing a claw through it. He was left panting heavily, but he still watched as Demona hesitated for a moment before she took her cum covered hand and brought it between her legs. She took it under her loincloth and presumably rubbed it over herself, as she gasped and shivered slightly. Brooklyn couldn't see what was happening, but she seemed to be taking her time rubbing his freshly spent seed over her nethers.

He was unsure of what to do, and stood there awkwardly, watching Demona indulging in his semen. "Damn it all." Demona said under her breath with a glance up at him. Then she fell forward onto her knees, balancing herself with a hand on the couch. Brooklyn heard a squelch that sounded like her fingers, sticky and wet with his cum, entering her tunnel. She groaned and her back arched in visible pleasure, and Brooklyn found himself enthralled with the sight.

He had to admit, the sight of Demona using his cum as lubricant to pleasure herself was getting him aroused again already. She was ignoring him entirely, leaving his eyes free to wander over her breasts and down her bare midriff, to where her hand disappeared between her legs. It was moving quickly now, and he knew she was spearing herself repeatedly with her fingers. He wondered for a second if he was witnessing their child's conception, but he found his cock coming back to full hardness anyway.

It wasn't long, only a couple minutes, before Demona let out a howl and her eyes burned red. Her body convulsed and her legs clamped around her hand, her knees knocking together while her fingers continued to plunge in and out of her tunnel furiously. She gasped, and he saw a spray of clear feminine juices spatter the wood floor.

Brooklyn knew that it was his moment. He grabbed her by the shoulders as she sagged against the couch and spun her around and pushed her over the coffee table without a hint of resistance. He hiked up her loincloth from behind to reveal her ass and vulva, wet and drooling with his own white seed. He pushed her legs further apart and pressed the tip of his hardened cock to her entrance, and thrusted forward.

He was hilted in her in an instant with an audible squelch, drawing a surprised gasp from Demona as he spread her apart. He took no time in gripping her hips and beginning to slam his against hers over and over, lest she come back to her senses. He looked down and spread her ass cheeks apart, watching his red cock disappear into her over and over with a hateful smirk.

"This is for tricking me!" Brooklyn yelled, slapping her ass brutally. Demona shrieked and gripped the coffee table, digging deep gouges into the wood, yet said nothing and made no move to throw him off.

Their combined fluids allowed Brooklyn to slide in and out of her with ease, his red cock quickly becoming covered in his own white cum. When Demona seemed to make a move to get up off the table he pushed her back down with a snarl and held her there, continuing to piston his hips while digging his claws into hers. His heart raced as he dominated his most hated enemy and listened to her heavy breaths and cries of pleasure.

Through the pounding Demona came again with a wild scream, her body spasming and clutching at his cock. Her feminine juices flooded her tunnel, washing over his length as it pressed in and out. The clear fluid ran from where she was penetrated, running over Brooklyn's balls and down their thighs to leave a second puddle on the floor.

It felt like Demona was milking him from within, her body begging him to give up his cum, and his cock felt only too willing to oblige. "Here's your egg, you bitch." he snarled as he felt his cock throbbing, pushing yet more seed up its length. He made one more powerful thrust, burying his cock as deep inside Demona's hips as he could manage while letting out a victorious roar with eyes burning white. He smirked down at Demona as he felt rope after rope of hot cum spurt from his cock and into her while she gasped. He knew he was ultimately giving her what she wanted, but at that moment he felt like the victor.

Then he was panting again, the pleasure fading like the white glow from his eyes, and his grip on her waist weakened.

"Well, Brooklyn, I wasn't sure you had it in you." Demona's voice had abruptly returned to its smug demeanor, jolting Brooklyn back to reality.

"You earned it." Brooklyn said sourly as he withdrew from her tunnel, a couple long ropes of white fluid following it.

"Maybe I will have to earn another." she said as she straightened and got to her feet, ignoring the ooze of fresh semen trailing from between her legs to the floor.

Brooklyn had no reply to that. Instead he seated himself on the edge of the couch to rest for a moment, a frown on his beak.

"I will return in two days." Demona said, picking up the metal box from the coffee table and checking its contents. "I advise you rest up." she sneered and then turned and left.

Brooklyn didn't look up until he heard the click of the lock. He sighed and got to his feet, trying not to think about what had just happened. He headed towards the bathroom to clean up and hesitated a moment, looking back at the door through which Demona had just left. She hadn't even cleaned herself up; she was leaving it there to make sure.

With a snort Brooklyn headed to the bathroom. That cunt was definitely pregnant now.