FSE

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On a small pleasant hill in England, the sounds of twittering finches could be heard faintly from the trees. Butterflies danced across a gentle breeze towards a gingham blanket, a small picnic laid out with a hamper basket as the sound of a gentle honk filled the air.

"Oh...o-oh...haaah, s-somebody's hungry hmmm?!"

"A-AAAH, yes, M-miss Goosingham!"

"It's MIZZ, dear."

She patted her long pink dress that currently covered half the griffon's body.

"One must always have some nice warm milk to start the day hmm Corky?"

"Yes, aaah, i-it's really good to wake me up!"

James "Jamesy" Corck panted in agreement, from the legume deep in his feathery stomach. Gaping his sable-furred cheeks, the long-necked Sandra Goosingham, Lady of Ontlebridge, was pumping her lance deep inside until she was touching his duodenum.

With a rose-feathered hat of carnation swirls and silky pink dress that draped over him, she pumped faster and quicker as she kept looking around for anyone approaching, her slender amber beak shining in the sun with her sparkling black eyes, as her bosom heaved with a sumptuous cleavage beneath the frills of her blouse.

Underneath her was a griffon of pale purplish wings, wearing a black shirt and blue jeans that were currently wrapped round his ankles. His dark leonine tail wrapped around the goose's belly, his paws digging in the ground with his front talon hands the same colour as his black panting beak.

"Bloody hell, no one's even coming?! I told them I would be out here having a picnic, it's so much less fun without an audience! Ahhh well, let's finish up shall we Corky?"

"A-AAH, OOOH, y-yes please, Ms. Goosingham!"

Hammering harder with her sturdy hips, she trembled through her long serpentine neck, fashioned with a red ribbon as she clenched her winged hands around his rear beneath her dress. For a moment she started losing momentum, a noticeable drag in her efforts as her thrusting turned slower, making Jamesy worry she wouldn't finish flossing his insides.

But then the sound of a church bell came ringing down the dell, and she suddenly turned possessed. Honking from her darling orange beak, she bent over and pumped faster than before with thickening slaps from her hefty thighs. At last, a thick flood of hot cream bulged inside and gave the griffon a brief paunch, before it would settle and fill.

"Haaah...oooh, saved by the bell, ohhh good thing we timed that!"

She patted his heaving back as he slumped forth on the blanket.

"Shall we have some tea now, Corky dear?"

"Mmmmhhh, y-yes...please."

The lady did not pull out as she reached over for the basket with her long winged hand. She offered him sandwiches and a cup, that she filled with a thermos of boiling hot tea before sitting back against a tree.

"C-can I have some milk please?" he gasped.

"OH, cheeky!" she tapped her beak. "I gave you quite plenty of that dear, just wait a few and a-ah...a-aaahh!"

Another thick spurt came out from her pole, gurgling inside his walls with a burning liquid heat as he tried drinking and eating on his belly.

"I meant, f-for my tea, Ms. Goosingham."

"Ohoho, of course, un momento dear."

She brought out a small carton of almond milk that he poured in his tea, savouring a cool sweetness against the hot leafy flavour between nibbles of sandwiches. Jamesy took a moment to bask in the English countryside, the town parish of Ontlebridge somewhere down the hill with its patchwork picturesque grdens that felt more like a model, than an actual village.

"I daresay this bread is delightful!" she pecked pieces off her sandwich. "You never told me you could make bread, such a talented little dickens!"

"Thank you!" the griffon gasped looking back at her. "What do you want to do, after the picnic?"

"Ohhh you know very well what we're about to do, and don't worry! You're merely an accessory, you'll be under my tutelage for our daring devious dalliance."

"Are you sure we're not going to be arrested?"

"OH pishposh, I'm a lady!" she waved her hand. "Ladies don't get arrested, especially when my forebears practically built this sodding town!"

"So, you have diplomatic immunity?" he smirked sipping his cup. "Like the bad guy in Lethal Weapon?"

"What is that, a John Le Carré novel?

"No it's...a film, ma'am."

"Oh I don't watch films dear, the BFI banned me from every cinema in the country and I refuse to have a television in my house."

"What?! How, why?!"

"Well they should have known better than to release the Hunchback of Notre Dame, OH it was absolutely rhapsodic! The cinema looked like a custard factory explosion by the time I could stop!"

"PFFFT!" Jamesy snorted a hard cackle. "I hope that wasn't the Disney one!"

"Oh gods no," she snacked through her sandwich, "that was the 1939 version with Charles Laughton they remastered, I haven't tasted popped corn in 25 years!"

She pulled herself up, which in turn caused a heavy shlorp to fill out from the griffon's rear, and spray her hot cum all over the picnic blanket. Something long and thick dripped beneath her dress, that she cleaned with the blanket in a vigorous tug as Jamesy tried to towel his legs before putting back on his pants, and bunging the blanket in the basket.

"Now," Sandra stood up rubbing her hands, "let's go see who's in town today, shall we?"

"Yes, Ms. Goosingham."

Taking his hand in her wing, they walked back down to the village where they saw the town square, the garden allotment, the church standing tall at the back, and several cookie-cutter two-story houses that led towards the old pub. The lady towered over Jamesy with her splendid neck, a good 8 feet from her webbed flippers to her feathery bonce, her body large with swinging bosom that swayed with each waddling step.

Across the field she led him, climbing over an iron gate that offered a glorious view of her lifted skirt, and the giant third leg swinging underneath that dragged flaccid across the top bar. The griffon followed behind with blushing face, as they both reached the allotment, a well-kept garden surrounded by hedges.

Pumpkins, carrots, cabbages and parsnips were lined up in perfect rows, a shed at the back and various tools laid scattered in an orderly chaos. The gardener was an old miserly badger with green overalls, raking across the parsnips to keep the dirt fresh and loose.

"Perfect," Sandra rubbed her wings, "now, just stand right here Corky."

"Okay," he muttered moving to position, "what are we doing?"

"You are going to talk to him, and I shall reward you for your obedience. The longer you talk, the better your reward."

"What do you mea-wh-what are you doing, ma'am?!"

Sitting on her knees, the lady Goosingham pulled down his pants again and grabbed his feathery balls along with his half-hard member that stiffened to attention.

"Oh, what a hearty little soldier!" she chuckled stroking him off. "Now remember, the longer you talk, the better your gift."

"Y-yes, ma'am-A-AAAIIGH!"

With a plucking tug of his satsumas he yelped, alerting the badger who turned with a scowl through the hedge. All he saw was the upper half of Jamesy's body from the chest up, as Sandra began pumping with little nips of her strong beak to pull and stretch Corck with a rubbery twang that made his thighs tremble.

"Alrigh' tharr?" the gardener snorted.

"AH, y-yes, hello!" Jamesy waved back. "How are you, I'm just uhh, t-taking a walk!"

"Mmm, fine day fer it. Yer that lodger wi' Lady Goosingham arentcha?"

"Yes, James, n-n-nice to meeeet you!"

He offered his hand which forced the gardener to come over and shake, Sandra plucking his grapes all the while with little twists and bites that made him salute his throbbing lance to her.

"Name's Enoch," the badger nodded, "Enoch Wallace."

"O-OH, th-tha-thaaat's an unusual name!"

"S'from the Bible. We're very Christian in our family."

"Ohhh, that's, well, it's working for your plants too haha, you have a lovely garden!"

"Thankee," a gentle nod as he looked over his plants, "all it takes is sum tender lovin' care, just as God did with us."

"Cool, cool, s-soooo, I-i was thinking of growing something mySEEELF, d-do you have any advice?!"

"You alrigh' lad?" the badger squinted. "Lookin' a bit flushed."

"O-oh, my leg it's HOO, I-i think I pulled something, is fine I'll walk it off!"

"Mmmm, well." Enoch propped his hands on the rake. "My advice is to start with leaf lettuce, you don't hafta wait fer the plant to form a head, an' you can make it work in most foods too."

"Ohhh, really?!" the griffon leaned towards the hedge.

"Yes." He pushed him back with the rake. "That's not a gate, it's a plant."

"Oh, s-sorrRYYY!" Corck squeaked from a hard pluck to his courgette.

"Now, to grow a leaf lettuce you need..."

Wallace began droning about the best starter vegetables for a budding gardener, whilst the lady Goosingham kept putting James between pain and pleasure. Under the tall hedge she would suck and pluck, pulling his plums hard to see how tight his skin became and snickering to herself quietly, when she slipped her beak down on his cucumber and bobbed with her long neck.

She could easily take the whole length without trouble, as the griffon kept Enoch talking about mindless questions on gardening. Trying to keep his interest, Jamesy tightened up in Sandra's gullet, clenching his teeth when the goose swallowed down to even further than the hilt, and slurped up his grapes inside her powerful neck.

The strength of her throat muscles were like a fleshy vice, squeezing harder to smoosh his carrot against his plums in a suffocating wet grip that bulged in her gullet with a choking sound. Even worse, she started to wrap her neck round Corck's leg to make his satsumas squish even harder, pulling his tuber into a long crushing stretch in her throat.

"You sure you alright?" the badger squinted at his whimpering. "That leg must be hurtin' bad."

"A-A-A-AAAAHM fiiiiine," he quivered his beak, "it's just, hoo, going away."

"Issat all you wanted to ask?" he turned to leave with his rake. "I'll need to check me pumpkins-"

"WAIT-MMMPH! UM...wh-why are pumpkins a halloween thing?!"

"I dunno, I'm a gardener, not a bloody historian, have a good day."

"N-no! Mmmmnnnaaaaahh!"

The lady stopped sucking, his plums falling out her beak when she unwrapped her neck from his leg, a long drip of spit from the meaty carrot as the badger looked back just in time, to see Goosingham pop out from below and wipe Jamesy's pre from her beak. Startled with a growing sneer of disgust, he walked faster away as Corck blushed a thick crimson.

"Iii think he knows," the griffon murmured.

"Good," she pulled out a handkerchief, "he's a pillock who's scorned me ever since the village fete."

"I couldn't get him to keep talking, sorry."

"No worries dear," the goose daubed her beak, "now, let's see who else we can meet."

She brought out a pair of keys and unlocked Enoch's garden door, strolling down the path as Jamesy following behind whilst pulling up his pants.

"W-wait, miss, you can't-"

"Oh it's fine I do this all the time, HELLOOOO NOCKY!" she waved to him. "How's the pumpkins doing?!"

"Whuh-HEY!" the badger shook his rake. "You can't be in 'ere!"

"Just a little shortcut," she tossed the keys back to him, "you shouldn't put that in your pocket, who knows who might steal it through a hedge."

"Y-YOU, GAH!"

The lady tossed it towards a watering can with a perfect dunk, the gardener scrambling to dig it out as Goosingham strolled past.

"No need for veg today dear, already had a courgette with two satsumas stuck in my throat, Spanish-imported don't you know anyway toodles!"

Strolling to the other end of the garden, she opened the back door and slipped through with Corck following behind, looking more shamefaced than before as they entered the village square. A tarmac road with a roundabout, which had a phonebox and TV store in one corner.

"Oh, bugger me," the lady tapped her beak, "forgot the television shop was closed on Wednesdays."

"You wanted to buy one?" James squinted at her.

"Oh god no, then I have to pay the licence fee, and I will not pay one single penny to the BBC, it is against my principles since they stopped broadcasting Whicker's World. And I was so looking forward to a little debut...OH!"

A smile crossed her beak as she looked at the phone box. Taking Corck over towards it, Sandra pushed him in before joining as he found himself bunched up against her dress, her shadow looming over as he were pressed to the glass with something thick against his rear.

"Would you be a dear and bend over Corky?"

"In here?!"

"No in the observatory, of course here! I need to keep myself awake during this dreadsome call I have to make."

"Are you SURE we can't get arrested?"

"Have I lied to you before?"

Her neck slipped over his shoulder to stare at his eyes with teasing grin.

"Actually you're right, this place is a bit TOO much of a squeeze...ah, yes, put your hands on the floor."

"I don't think we're going to fit, maybe we shoul-AAAH!"

As he bent down to touch the floor, Goosingham pulled down his pants again before lifting his legs up to put him in a handstand. The world turned upside down as she grabbed his pants, and put one foot on her shoulders to slip him under her dress. The griffon felt her long white cable slap against his thighs as she heaved it up and wedged it between his cheeks, stuffing deep as he groaned from the filling in his belly.

"A-aaaaah...mmmhhh that's the ticket," she sighed, "goodness you are a sweet little thing."

"NNNNGH, o-ohhhh, ma'am!" he gasped. "This is, kinda hard!"

"That's the point dear!" the lady giggled. "Now keep quiet for a moment, I need to make a call...oh, damn do you have any 20 pences?"

"Wh-what?!" he grunted.

"I always forget to carry change silly me, do you have any?!"

"C-could you have asked before you flipped me upside down, miss?!"

"Well, yes, but we're here now Corky so, do you have any? I'll pay you back, honest engines."

"I-in my left, pocket."

Fishing out a few coins she put them in the phone whilst bucking her hips. The box shook with the windows rattling as her large dress swayed back and forth, Corck feeling dizzy from the rush to and the gorged thickening cucumber that stuffed his belly to the hilt.

"Hellooooo? Yes, Connie is that you?! I just saw something in your television shop that worried me, I think something's dripping through the roof. Nothing's on no, but it seems like a damp spot in your ceiling you may want to looksee. Oh I'm doing SPLENDID, how are youuuu dear?!"

She trapped the phone against her shoulder to grip both his legs proper, pumping harder as he tried to not speak with whimpering moans and a punching thrust of her harpoon driving down to his stomach. Her sumptuous bosom slumped across the back of his legs and rubbed on his knees, the lady never wearing a bra underneath her dress.

"Yeees that's always the way isn't it, did you ever fix your cellulite? NO, really, he said THAT, ohoh what a bastard! You should give him one of those too, see how he likes it! Ohhh yes Corky, my new lodger he's an absolute dear and I-MMMPH...hooo!"

Sandra felt her spear nearly bottom out inside, feeling the tight clench of Jamesy's rear sucking on her staff as the goose started squatting in her thrusts to get as deep as she could. The phonebox shook harder until her thighs hung out the door, her dress barely lifting to show a huge pair of pale melons beneath her thick fluffy tail.

"Terribly sorry, felt a twinge in my leg, must have been during my constitutional. Yes Corky's been a delight, three months it's been now and he's such a dear, always helping me polish off with a little spring cleaning! Poles, flagstaffs, the bannisters, all for a nice...little...cream crumpet."

She licked her beak with a soft grin as she stuffed him to the hilt, bending Corck's body in a C-shape for his stomach to bulge even further. Between her large flippered feet, he saw e the locals walking back and forth, their eyes turning to the phonebox with widening stares and immediately looking away to deny everything.

The goose shuddered with a climax as she flooded him once again, her giant grapefruits clenching as Jamesy's stomach burbled with a rich English cream. The sound of gorging filled his ears as he turned heavier, struggling to not fall as he watched her thick orbs flex and tighten beneath the dress, the flagpole inside him showing its length.

"Hm-m-m-m-mmmm well, I need to head off," shivered Sandra, "don't worry, take your time with the shop, it's not going anywhere, see you soon!"

She hung up and finished filling, grasping his legs to pull him to the hilt and spurt the last drops from her milky bags. Her other pair of milk bags were still draped on the back of his knees, waiting until the last twitch before she pulled out with a thick splat.

"Mmmmph...haaah, oh dear," she lifted him rightside up, "they always keep this phonebox so clean I must give them a donation."

"Ha-aaaah, haaah, j-jeez Ms. Goosingham," James pulled up his pants again, "I feel so full already."

"Well you DID ask for more milk you greedy little thing," she tickled under his chin, "now, shall we go?"

"Wait, what about the TVs?"

"Oh Connie always takes like forty minutes to get ready, we have plenty time for more mischief!"

With a long dripping stream that trickled out under her dress, Sandra left the town square with more than a few cheeks looking flushed from locals, who saw two birds depart from a single phonebooth.

Heading north with a sauntering gait, James started to waddle the same as her from the fill of her goosey milk, which Sandra found charming as she wrapped her winged arm round his back. A small clearing stood in the near-centre of Ontlebridge, an old well that had stood since the town's foundation.

"Would you like to make a wish dear?" she beckoned him to it. "A little bit of luck for our venture?"

"You put my change in that phone, Ms. Goosingham," he looked in his wallet, "oh but I have a penny!"

"Go on then dear, wish us some fortune."

"...are you going to bend me over when I go to the well?"

"Why, Mister James!" she gasped with a hand to her breast. "What sort of lady do you think I am?!"

"Mmmm, I know what lady you are ma'am."

"And yet you never complain, I rather think our agreement is quite malleable! Your body in exchange for my rooms."

"Oh, I'm not complaining," he smirked wide, "I just don't like surprises."

"You certainly seemed to like getting goosed in the bath when I was waiting under the water."

"I don't want to talk about that."

He pursed his lips with a shiver from that memory. Regardless, Corck stepped over to the well and flipped the coin down into the depths. With ancient stone covered in moss, as well as a bucket on a rope, the well was oddly foreboding in the midst of an open clearing, a long drop to the water beneath.

"Don't worry dear," the lady slipped up behind and groped his cheeks, "it's not as deep as it looks, now could you possibly grab the beam up there?"

"Wwwwwhy?" the griffon squinted.

"Mrs. Smedley hid her notebook inside the roof and I'm going to exploit her."

"You can't reach it yourself?"

"I COULD, but it's much more exciting to see you try. And don't worry, I have the perfect karabiner here for you to keep your balance."

A thump landed between his legs as James gasped with a blush. Climbing up on the stone, he gripped the wooden beam above the bucket and craned his neck under the roof. With his rump exposed and his wings spread out for balance, Sandra slipped herself inside him with one single thrust, rooting Corck to her body with her dress slipping onto his back.

"A-AAH! Now, i-if anyone comes, you say you're fixing it."

"MMMMPH, haaah, y-yes ma'am! I can't really see anything like this."

"Might want to...t-turn yourself round, for a better look."

"You won't drop me will you?!" he gasped.

"I have NEVER dropped anything in my life!" she squawked grabbing his feet. "The moment I was on the rugby pitch, Rugeley Comprehensive was never the same again, NOTHING could stop me from hurtling down the yard!"

"Wow, you played rugby?!"

"Oh, gods no, I just stole the ball for funsies and they never caught me!"

As he tried to lift himself higher over the pit, Sandra gently turned the griffon onto his back, and shafted him down to the hilt of her lance with his legs wrapped round her waist. Gravity briefly stopped affecting him when a sudden flex of her monstrous pole creaked inside, Corck gasping from her bodily strength as he stretched his wings fully, grabbed the beam with both hands, and looked up inside the well's roof.

Whilst he searched for the notebook, the goose kept stuffing him, thwapping her gorgeous hips against the well that shook with a crumbling shudder as small pebbles silted from the cracks. Everytime he looked back to her, he could see the prodigious harpoon spearing deep through his stomach, a thick pendulous length that gaped every cavity.

"Can you see it dear?!"

"No!" he reached out a hand over the tiles. "What does it look like?"

"A small blue book, sort of MMMPH, like a passport!"

"Sandra?!"

A voice called out from directly behind Corck, an owl in a purple robe leaning over the fence that led to some houses.

"OH, Mavis hellooooo!" the goose waved back still thrusting. "This is Corky, you know my lodger."

"UHH, HALLO!" He dared not wave or look back. "How are you?!"

"I'm...fine," the owl cocked her head 90 degrees, "what exactly are you doing, that seems awful dangerous."

"Oh no fear!" Sandra cried. "James is something of an oddjobsman, he's just making sure the the roof's nice and steady while I hold him."

"Oh I see, well, that is handy. Must be nice having a handyman around, for things like your fireplace and such?"

"Pardon?!"

"Well just it seemed a little cracked last I was at your abode."

"MMMMPH yeeeees...shame that," the madame kept pumping James, "much like your objet d'arts, lawn d'arts I call them."

"Excuse me?!" Mavis reeled back. "Do you have a comment on my sculptures?"

"Jamesy, dear, when we passed the lawn with the purple door, what was it you said?"

"AH, I-i said, ooooh!" he pulled up on the beam as she kept smacking his rear. "I said, haaah, i-it looked like, a weird place to h-have, a yard sale!"

"It would be, IF it was one," the owl gripped the fence with iron knuckles, "speaking of yard sales, how goes your greenhouse Sandra? Still Tarzanning it?"

"Yeeees indeed," the goose tittered mid-pump, "just need to get my green wingtips out."

"Must be very hard, I applaud the effort, experience makes up for talent."

"Yes, much like your yard sale!"

"SNRRK!"

Corck struggled not to laugh as he shuddered inside, swallowing his giggles that turned into a small vibrato down her thickening cucumber that drilled through his bowels, her plump melons smacking the stone so loud that the owl turned her head.

"What...is that?" she swivelled her neck 360 degrees. "Is that someone playing cricket?"

"S-sounds a good game!" whimpered Sandra. "Hoo, dear me, Corky, I do hope you're almost done I'm about to make a sticky wicket!"

"J-JUST, WAIT!" he grabbed an odd-coloured tile. "I-i think I found it!"

"OH, b-bugger, sorry dear boy, you'll have to-aah, AAAH, c-carry the bat for meeeEEEEE!"

With a clenching shudder, she pumped her load inside him right in front of Mavis. The owl was startled and confused by the shudders running through them as James grabbed the book, clutching it tight to his stomach that bulged with visible spurts stretching his gut even wider.

The neighbour stretched her head above the fence to try and get a better look, not wanting to believe that Sandra was doing what she thought she was doing. James tightened his grip one-handed on the wooden beam, his wings flapping hard to lift himself when he felt heavier than before, bloating up strong with Goosingham's rich honey.

"Haaaaah...aaaah...howzat dear?"

"Mmmmph...g-good, I think," Corck panted, "I think it's fine now."

"Lovely."

She pulled him back carefully to solid ground, Mavis getting a view of Sandra's skirt hiked up and Corck's cheeks still parted with a long pole in the middle. She did a violent 180, head first, and marched swiftly back to her home.

"WELL, we must be off!" the goose waved. "Toodles Mavis, see you on the Loo, I mean Louvre!"

Heading off through a different gate on the other side of the clearing, Sandra led Corck out to a small road where a pub stood opposite. She did not however pull out of him, walking very close behind with a prominent bulge as his face turned to beetroot.

"Oooh look," Sandra pointed, "the pub's quite busy today, perfect for a little light reading!"

"Sh-should we really do this?" he whimpered. "So many people out, we're definitely going to be-"

"Please Corky," she patted his cheek, "trust me, I'm a lady, and ladies always know better."

"I...well, can't argue with that."

He smiled as he walked across the road, keeping in line with her as her thick webbed feet lifted behind him perfectly. Every step made the bulging legume in his belly bounce and punch his walls with a gurgling slosh, a tender drip of something sticky down his legs, whilst the bird's pants were mostly hiked up the front, and his shirt covering the swollen bulge she made.

Her dress bunched up against his back, her thighs scraping on his legs as they entered the pub garden. The tavern's front had picnic benches, and a higher al fresco balcony where several tables spread across the place.

An old human with bristly grey stache and monk-scalp haircut was dithering with glasses, two foxes were playing checkers in the back room, and a donkey was throwing darts at the end of the garden. Sandra sat herself down on a lone bench, sitting James on her lap in a nice big cuddle as she brought out the notebook.

"OOOF, there we are!"

"This, hooh!" he gasped impaled to the hilt. "This feels, haaah...kinda nice, actually."

"I would hope so, after three months of a little rumpy-pumpy."

"HAH, hahah, s-sooo what is this book?"

"Mrs. Smedley is the lady who runs the church," said Goosingham tapping it, "in here I shall learn the secrets to unlocking the place when she's out."

"Wait, we're breaking into a church?" he stiffened clenching on her staff.

"Goodness no! You can't break in if you have the key, now let's solve ourselves a mystery!"

With his stomach filling out in front, Sandra kept pumping Corck with small thrusts that bounced him in her lap, the smack of her feathery crotch filling his ears as her bulbous flagstaff grinded against the walls of his stomach. Looking past the book as they read together, James could see the tip of her pole pressing against his skin with little bumps everytime she pushed, gasping happily as no one seemed to notice.

"Alrigh' milady," the pub owner came round, "can I take yer order?"

"Oh yes, I'll have a shandy please," she nodded, "Corky do you want anything?"

"Uhh, lemonade, please!" the griffon gasped.

"Yanno there's other seats to take," the man chortled.

"He likes sitting on my lap," the lady cooed patting him, "he's such a sweet boy, and I get so awfully cold around this time he's like a big hot cuddly water bottle."

"MMMPH!" he felt her buck and lift him up. "Yes, v-verrrry warm."

"Alrigh' then," the bartender smirked raising his brow, "one shandy, one lemonade."

As he went to fetch the order, Goosingham leaned over Corck's shoulder with her long neck and read through the notebook, muttering under her breath whilst she wrapped her hands round his chest and kept thrusting away with little slaps. The book was surprisingly mysterious with several ciphers, alluding to local streets and the signs of the zodiac.

"Is Mrs. Smedley a cultist?" James asked.

"Well yes dear she's in the church," tittered Goosingham, "now, the Sandhurst Street in the time of Leo...that must mean-"

"Oh helloooo dearies!"

Two old ladies came shuffling up towards him, a cow and a giraffe in their advanced years with drooping necks and sagging cheeks. Sandra clearly sfittened up towards the much-taller woman, who was a good 2 feet higher than her.

"Hellooooo!" Sandra waved. "How are you?"

"Lovely thank you," the giraffe bowed deep, "just having our little walk."

"And how about you?" the bovine waddled up to James. "Hope our lady hasn't been running you ragged."

"Ohhh, don't worry," he grinned tightening his cheeks, "I-i can keep up with her."

"She's such a terrible thing," said the giraffe patting him, "goodness are you expecting?!"

"No um, this...this is-"

"A kitty!" the goose rubbed his thick bulge. "Lovely thing, we found him nearby, taking quite a shine to Corky but don't disturb him."

"Awwww, I love kitties," the cow started rubbing him in turn, "I used to have one when I was little, Bethany her name was, absolute queen."

"Be gentle, p-please," he gasped clenching harder, "he's a little...t-tired."

"Oooh he's purring, oh what a sweet litttle thing!"

The cow giggled as she stroked his stomach, which started to tremble faster as Sandra kept making sneaky little thrusts, the old biddies none the wiser as the bird bounced in her lap. The elderly women rubbed and patted the "purring kitty", as their hands stroked over the bulge Sandra kept forming.

Sometimes they flinched back with a chuckle, oblivious to the truth as James tried to push back down and grind on Goosingham's hips, her massive plums hanging over the seat and swinging under her dress. The griffon's smile widened as he got more into the public depravity, Sandra's neck leaning over with a lewd grin.

"Are you planning to keep him?" the elder bovine asked.

"Ohhh n-not sure," Jamesy stuttered, "h-he might be a bit, haaah, we need to check, if he's owned by anyone."

"Well, do let me know what happens to the sweetie."

"Indeed," the giraffe sagged over them both, "and DO make sure he is neutered, we can't have little devils running around."

"Don't, w-worry about that dears!" the goose cried clutching him tighter. "I...c-can make...certain, this little pussy is well, and truly, F-FILLED!"

With a trembling whimper she filled him again, the swelling lump in his lap now thickening more like a balloon as the two ladies stepped back a little startled. They half-expected the cat to come rushing out, but nothing came as his shirt struggled to keep a lid on Corck's growing belly, the fabric turning too tight.

It was at this point his underwear had become exceedingly wet, of which only he was clearly aware of. As the griffon shivered with splendour from the grinding creaking cucumber that smooshed against his walls and bent an arc along his stomach, a sigh of relief came from both birds as the old girls looked to each other.

"There we are," Sandra rubbed his belly, "kitty's back to sleep now, he had a lot of my special cream, didn't he Corky?"

"Oh yes," he nodded, "Ms. Goosingham's cream is always, mmmph, the best!"

"Well I never knew you made the stuff," the cow rubbed her drooping chin, "maybe you should share some of that with me sometime."

"Ohohhh?" the goose widened her grin. "I'd be glad to...but I warn you it can be strong."

"I would hope so," the giraffe rubbed her splendid towering neck, "one must always look out for the...LITTLE people."

Corck felt the stiffening of anger in her wings and her shaft, the elders wandering off with a toodle-pip as the pubman returned with their drinks. Both avians took a moment to savour the cold refreshing brew, as he sat back against Sandra feeling the gurgling goo drip down his rear.

"Lovely," the goose sighed, "right, I think I've figured out the puzzle."

"Haah, really?" he looked up to her. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Hahaha, of course, you were keeping kitty safe," she patted his belly, "after we had our drink we'll leave."

"I feel I had more than one drink today," he felt her milk drool out between his legs.

"OH, damn, what time is it?!" She reached her up her neck. "We'll have to get back to the TV store for when Connie opens it."

"What about the church?"

"There will be plenty time for that, dear Corky."

She felt a trembling in her melons, both the ones pressed against his back and the ones swinging down underneath that were soon coated with her cream trickling down her shaft. Once they finished their drinks, she let him stand up as discreet as he could, which was right when the donkey turned to grab his beer on the table nearby.

The look on his face when he saw Jamesy's rear painted white made his ears stand up, shuddering a hee-haw as he stumbled back against the dartboard on the wall, which clattered on his head and caused enough a commotion for everyone to not notice the birds. Sandra giggled and ran with him fast as he could, the griffon quickly pulling up his pants whist leaving a trail of more cream.

Back in the town square, they saw the TV shop was now open, a mole with thick glasses stepping inside as Goosingham led him quick, sneaking past bushes like a spy to the window with its glossy screens. Creeping into the shop, she grabbed a pebble and hurled it into the back room, startling the mole who grabbed a broom and braced herself for the source.

With a wingfinger to her beak, Sandra kept James shushed as she crept with her long but feathery-light body, tiptoeing on her webbed feet which was like watching a penguin do a tightwire act as she snuck up on Connie. The mole stepped inside the back room of the rear hall, turned on the light and stepped within. Then the door shut, the outer latch locked by Goosingham's devious fingers.

"O-OH! OHH BUGGER NOT AGAIN!!"

Sandra struggled not to laugh, motioning Jamesy to go out to the phonebox and wait for the eventual call of the trapped mole. Right on cue it happened, Connie the mole using her mobile as James picked up 20 seconds after it rang.

"Hello?! Hello i-is anyone there?!"

"Yes, hi!" he answered. "Who is this?"

"Um, this is Connie, from the telly shop, I-i'm terribly sorry but, could you get the locksmith down, I-i seem to have locked myself in."

"Oh, that's terrible!" he struggled not to laugh guiltily. "Don't worry, I'll get the locksmith, it should be...um."

Sandra motioned 20 fingers.

"Twenty minutes, okay? Promise."

"Thank you sir," said the mole in the room, "please, don't forget, check on the shop in twenty minutes."

"I will, see you soon!"

He hung up and slipped back in the shop, the few locals out and about not understanding and even less wanting to get involved when Sandra Goosingham was around.

"Perfect," she cackled rubbing her wings, "we have the whole place to ourselves."

"Is she going to be okay?" he looked to the back room. "She doesn't get claustrophobic does she?"

"Oh, honestly Corky, a mole with claustrophobia, are you hearing yourself?"

"What, it could happen!"

"Well she doesn't, I may be the terror of Ontlebridge but I would never exacerbate someone's phobia, that's just not cricket. Also it's far too easy, it's only fun when it's difficult."

She grabbed him by the arms and swept him in a waltz, the wall of old TVs feeling oddly quaint as she spun across the room towards the electric switches. Slapping them all on, the lights flickered at the front and every screen lit up in an instant, a static wonderland as she grabbed Corck in a pirouette, and spun him to the recording stand.

A video camera had been set up on the wall, where by a simple flick would transmit it to every single TV, both in the walls and the window. There was a perfect compound view of James from every subtle angle, along with Goosingham who was lifting her dress without using her hands.

"Would you care to sit up on the desk, dear?"

"Sure, Ms. Goosingham."

He grinned with less embarrrassment than before, her reckless nature infecting him as he shuffled down his pants and sat up on the front desk. Sandra moved the camera to make sure he was in shot, before stepping up with her dress now fully raised to reveal the tremendous staff.

Slapping it down against his belly, she towered above with her 8-foot body, her neck stretched over Corck as if mimicking the length of her massive pole. 45 inches of white goosey down, that throbbed and creaked against his skin and completely dwarfed his own little carrot. The head pressed on his chin with her base between his legs.

"Should we have waited until after watershed?" she tittered.

"I...I mean, we're here now," he shrugged with a giggle.

"Have you ever been on telly, Corky? It's much like the theatre, except you can't hear the audience ruffling their macaroons."

"I prefer the cinema, but," he kissed her thick shaft, "you're banned from there so it wouldn't be fun without you."

"Well then," she gripped his legs, "let's see if we can't extend that ban to all televisual mediums hmmmm Corky?"

Her smile widened with devil's gleam as she pulled herself back, her long serpent length slithering down Corck with a trail of pre glistening on his feathers. Stuffing between his cheeks, Sandra honked with a start as she pumped deeper than expected, the body of James relaxing to let her take control.

His stomach grew thick once again, well-adapted to her drilling legume that ground through his walls and stuffed his bowels, a heaving bulge forming beneath his midriff as he spread his legs further. Sandra let them wrap round her body, her gown swishing around her feet as the sound of slapping thighs filled the small studio.

"AH, a-aaah! Mmmmh such a stunning thing you look like this...have you considered a career in television?"

"I, MMMPH, w-would like to work in movies!" he panted.

"Do you think, perhaps, you could get me unbanned?!"

"I d-don't think, that could take me a while!"

"Oh well, can't blame a goose for trying!"

As she pounded him against the desk, Corck's legs tightening on her waist, her neck bowed over his body like a swan as soft little honks trembled from her beak. All around them, a dozen TVs showed their coitus from various views, a collage of copulation showing the sides and back of Goosingham.

Every thrust showed her dress lifting at the back, her white melons swinging between her legs with powerfull loud slaps that the camera caught and was soon amplified a dozen. Outside the shop, the locals would stop and turn at the window with a shock over their faces.

Young adults gasped, the elders clutched their hearts, and the middle-aged frumped their faces with disgust and outrage and planned to write a very stern letter about how far the BBC have fallen, from those halcyon days when everyone spoke with the same accent and women had all the same haircut nice and proper, not like those northern hooligans on Coronation Street despite that show not ever being on BBC.

"OH! HAAAH! God, I'm going to pump you full of eggs my little brood."

"MMMPH, OOOH!" he clenched up on her shaft. "F-fill me up miss, fill me like a basket!"

"HAH, a basket case, ohoho, O-OHH GOD!"

Pummelling harder until the desk started to shake, the TVs kept transmitting with a crowd building up in front of the shop, eyes widened with a start at such impunity in public. Not that people didn't know about Sandra's tales, but to see it so openly as her moans resounded through the TV and from inside the shop in stereo, was more than some could take.

Yet nobody walked away, entranced with this sordid display as the goose pounded Jamesy's rear, the heady slaps of her thighs ringing through the screen with her massive plums swaying back and forth. The public saw his talons curl behind her back, clenching every time she hilted with his moaning breaths.

Her bosom smothered his chest, large baps almost pouring out either side as she slapped harder and faster, the dozens of eyes upon her making her more excited with a thicker throb in her girth. Her swollen lance sputtered with pre that filled Corck once again, who was already hitting the limit from her previous fun as he groaned with panting bliss.

"W-we're making quite a good pilot," Sandra grinned, "you hear them outside dear?"

"I do," he moaned, "oh, o-oh jeez this is...this is wild!"

"Ohohoh no dear...we have not even BEGUN to get wild."

The look in her eye he had rarely seen, as if on the verge of completing her symphony, a maddened glee of creative blitz as she bent over with the strongest punching thrusts of her goosey pillar. She made certain her dress was hiked up enough that all could see her posterior with its feathery tail, her white naked bum, and the orbs that swung beneath.

Cries of protest grew louder, as well as a few cackles from the mixed gaggle of anthros and humans wearing flatcaps and tucked shirts. A few of the older ladies started to blush with lewd whispers to each other, and playful bats of the hand with some pointing to the phonebox that still had a sticky puddle.

Finally she came with resounding cry that rang through the shop, as the griffon was pumped in technicolour splendour of her rich white milk in front of half the street. The camera was surprisingly good at picking up the sound of her slaps, turning wetter with moist gooey swats of her prodigious plums against the desk.

Fat globs ran down between her legs, as the crowd watched Corck's feet tighten when he came in turn. Not that anyone saw that with Goosingham's overwhelming climax spattered around his cheeks and dripped off her grapefruits. Her luscious moans deafened the shop, her flowery hat somewhat askew as she pulled herself back, with a thick heavy shlap of her meaty halberd smacking the floor.

"Ohhhhh...hohhh, god...well, I think that'll do as payment for your services, my little lodger."

"Yes," he gasped, "th-thank you...Ms. Goosingham."

The lodger's posterior was exposed for all to see, gaped open wide like a moon's crater and dripping of Sandra's milk. She turned towards the camera and gave a delightful wave to the teeming public.

"COOEEEE! Hope you enjoyed the show, gosh ITV does have such raucous things on telly doesn't it? This camera's awfully good too, such good sound quality, might pick one up myself!"

She walked over to the backroom, not even bothering to clean her thick monolith that drained between her legs as she opened the door to free Connie. The mole had heard everything, her face tightened like a spring as if trying to snap Sandra's neck with unknown-hitherto psychic powers.

"AH, yes, Connie, I'm glad I caught you, I found the leak I reported and it's right out front."

"Oh." She clenched her teeth at the white puddle. "I see."

"That video camera is a marvellous thing, put it on my account and have it delivered to my estate, toodles!"

The look that Connie gave Corck was like frosted daggers in his brain, along with the mob outside who scowled with such polite middle-class outrage, he could hear the sound of teacups a-quiver in the distance.

"Outrageous."

"It's a RUDDY disgrace!"

"Shouldn't be allowed!"

"I'm writing to the council fer this!"

"Is that lodger chap free for the other ladies?"

The mutterings of discontent made James blush hard as Sandra led him through the crowd, his pants hiked up again in the smallest form of modesty. The goose simply waved like a queen, taking him by the hand with grumblings afoul in their ears and the long trail of white dripping between their legs.

Heading past the well again and up towards the end of the village, she walked past the pub and up the road to the very end where a church stood upon a hill. A modest chapel with a single tower, a large oak door at its front, and worn weathered stone of grey with thick latticed windows.

At the very top of this church, stood the belltower shining in the sun. Goosingham's eyes twinkled with splendour as she craned her neck, that golden jewel of the town with its gleam ringing through her ears. She stiffened up in her dress, as her partner-in-crime looked round the empty churchyard.

"You really like that bell, do you?" he asked her. "Everytime it rings you always get really excited."

"Oh yes," she sighed, "you must understand dear, the cacophony of campology sends me adrift in the seas of pleasure. The fog of Venus clouds my thoughts, and the dam shall BURST from within me! Preferably inside you."

Jamesy blushed with a warm smile, looking back to the town briefly as the dissidents had scattered to complain elsewhere. Sandra slipped round the back of the church, tapping along the walls for the secret of the notebook as one loose cobble that matched the shadow of a certain tombstone, was hollow to reveal a key.

"Lovely," she tossed the key to James, "be a dear and open the back?"

"Yes, ma'am."

As she put back the stone, they entered the church with a natural sense of guilt sweeping over Corck in its small but hallowed space. Several pews lined up before a pulpit with a cross at the back, but Sandra took him to the back room where a spiralling staircase led them up.

"This shall be our last event for the day," said the goose with echoing voice, "once we're done here, we can return home in time for tea."

"I can't believe you still have more left," he said following, "you're like a machine!"

"And YOU make a lovely partner, no one else has managed to keep up with me!"

"I normally don't do this sort of...mischief, but-"

"You make a lovely partner," she repeated looking back to stroke his face, "one cannot have a good jape alone."

Ascending to the highest point of the village, they stood before the grand bewitching bell of Ontlebridge that shone like the purest gold. The sun from the windows caught the light across its surface, glimmering across Sandra's eyes like a lost relic in a temple. Hanging above them, its brass tongue wavered gently when she grasped the rope hanging underneath.

"Beautiful," she gasped, "absolutely stunning...you know, sometime I would like to see Notre Dame."

"Are you sure you're not banned from flying?" Jamesy joked.

"Well I haven't flown yet so we shall see! Anyways, up you get."

"Wait, what?"

"I need to tie you down, or else you might fall you silly thing!"

"Tie me...oh!" He looked along the rope. "Ohhh okay, sure, is this like the well?"

"Much safer than that," she gave a wink, "don't worry, I was in the girl guides, I know how to knot a man."

"Oh, trust me, you've knotted me plenty times."

"HAH, ahahah, ohhh you cheeky little sod."

She gave him a peck on the cheek and brought up the rope, pulling down the bird's pants then tying one arm each to his legs to spread them wide and keep him suspended under the bell. Sandra Goosingham rubbed her hands with feverish glee, grabbing his open thighs after hoisting up her flagpole to shove her way inside.

Already slick and dripping wet, she had no problems pumping him once again as she slammed to the hilt without waiting, punching his stomach with a nice thick lump towards his face as the bell swung above them. The lady of Ontlebridge started to swing James like a pendulum, letting her thrusts move him as she awaited the sound that would send her to heaven.

Weightless beneath the bell, Corck managed to relax easily in her embrace and he was surprised how comfortable she had made him in her restraints, his hands against his knees and his back held up with an extra line of rope that cradled his spine tucked between the wings. It felt more like a hammock than a bondage cradle, as Sandra pumped harder.

"MMMPH, ohhh, god yes, ohhh p-please ring for me you sweet devil tongue."

"Y-you mean me or the bell?" he gasped.

"Whichever one cries first!"

Corck squealed when she pulled back with a ruthless slam, the slap hard enough to swing the bell with its first ring of the season. Sandra trembled through her entire being which in turn caused her shaft to vibrate inside the griffon. His own little salt shaker was trembling from every grind and creak against his prostate, spittling hot white down his feathered sides as he whimpered even louder.

Not that anyone heard him below the deafening bell, a song that rang across the town and reached even the hills where farmers sat on their tractors, looking up at the sky confused as to why it was ringing so early. Everyone in the village looked agasp at the church, checking their watches or the town clock to much confusion.

But inside the tower, Sandra was honking loud as she could knowing full well that no one could hear. No one but James as he cried out just as loud with the same confidence, bucking against her crotch to meet every slap of her pendulous fruits.

"A-AAAAH, AAAAAH! YEEEEES, OH BUGGER YES JAMESY, HONK, HONK FOR ME YOU LITTLE CRUMPET! HONK DAMN YOU!"

"A-AAAH, HAAAH, SQWAAAAAK!"

He honked with her best he could, too wrapped in her lust to stop as his belly swelled to its thickest with the fattening milk from past sessions swilling around and burbling out between his cheeks. Smothering her plums with her own juices, the lady goose honked in tandem as the bell kept on ringing.

Some of the locals tried to approach the church, a small crowd banging the door as the clanging ring of the bell deafened the countryside. Loud and discordant, the bell screamed its loudest with every punching thrust Sandra inside James.

Everyone heard them now, close enough to the church that the faint cries of honking came beneath the ringing cry. The harder she went, the louder the three tongues with the lady craning her head as close as she could beneath its mighty swings. All of Ontlebridge knew exactly what they were doing, from the cackling cries of the lady Goosingham.

As he swung back and forth, each time impaled to the root of Sandra's thick oaken staff, Corck cried even louder as the griffon came once again with a hot drizzle of pale cream. Droplets trickled down the floor of the belltower, lost within Sandra's thick voluminous spurts that even before cumming were as thick as custard.

Then she had her greatest climax, a bellowing honk that rang through the village almost as loud as the bell when James swelled with a powerful bloat. Travelling up through his stomach, the roaring force of liquid heat thickened in his throat, then shot out of his beak to drizzle down his chin.

"A-AAAAH, YES! YES, H-HONK, HOOOOOOOONK!"

With an earth-shattering scream, her euphoria swept through the village as her cream gushed out his lips, the pumping strength of her massive shaft straightening his neck and forcing Corck to shoot out the window behind them. Gasps of shock and awe filled the air as the village watched her streams of white spray across the land, spattering on roads and painting windows nearby.

Outcries rose even higher, and at one point a car got hit by the windshield caurins it to careen in panic before slamming into a bush. All whilst James was impaled full on her pulsing pillar, the head flossing his throat. She didn't stop thrusting, washing his gullet out with heavy sprays and rich spatters that drenched the road even harder.

The bell kept on ringing until it started to peal out with her weaking thrusts. Flooding milk dribbled down James' chest with her fading shots, the wall of the bell tower soon painted the same as she shuddered with trembling legs.

"Hhhaaaaaaa...a-aaaah...ohhh, mercy. That was the best bloody day I've...ever had."

"N-nnnngh," he struggled to swallow back her jizz, "maybe...not so much milk, in my tea next time."

"HHHHAH, hahaha, ohohohhhh you sweet thing. Hoooh! Bugger me that...that was..."

She was lost for words, for once as she pulled out. The biggest fill she had made in him yet, a waterfall drenched the floor of the belltower and rained down over the steps. As the bell stopped ringing, Jamesy heard the sounds of very upset villagers, and more than a few horns beeping.

"We made quite a mess, didn't we?" he dared not look outside.

"Well that's what they get," she chuckled, "spurning me at the village fete last month, when I made perfectly good scones."

"Wait...what? Is that why you did all this?"

"Oh yes." She unravelled the rope from his body. "The world of bake sales is rather cut-throat down in Ontlebridge. One must never suffer a bad review without...impunity."

Helping him down on his feet, with a belly gurgling full of her thick lady cream, she walked James carefully back down the steps with plenty dripping out between his legs, even with his pants back up. Her gown was barely hiding the immense bulge that swung back and forth as they reached the bottom level and skipped out the back door.

Everyone knew who was responsible. But no one ever caught her that day when she grabbed Corck by the arm, vaulted over the back wall of the churchyard leaving a thick white trail, and scurried off back to her manor. It was a lovely day in the village, and a griffon ran with a horrible goose.