Harpy mumei [Baby fever]

The afternoon air in the forest was warm and still. High above the trees, Mumei flew in slow, restless circles, wings beating with more force than usual. Heat pulsed low in her belly, sharp and insistent. Her feathers felt too tight against her skin. Irritation prickled under every plume. She could not reach the place that ached most; her long wings made it impossible to touch herself properly. Rubbing against rough bark or soft moss only helped for a moment before the need returned stronger.

She needed berries. Sweet, bright berries would distract her for a while. Or something—someone—else.

Movement on the ground caught her golden eyes. A young man walked along a narrow path, carrying a woven basket. He looked small from above, much smaller than her large frame. Cute, she decided at once. Soft-looking. Easy to keep.

But it was the basket that made her heart jump. Red berries, glossy and perfect, piled high inside. The exact kind she loved.

A wide, hungry smile spread across her face. Without another thought she folded her wings and dropped.

She landed hard in front of him, talons digging into the dirt, wings half-spread to block the path. Dust rose around her feathered legs. The young man froze. Mumei tilted her head slowly to one side, studying him, the smile never leaving her lips.

He is small, she thought, the heat in her core flaring hotter. Small and cute and carrying Mumei’s favorite berries. Mumei wants them. Mumei wants him too. He can help with the heat. He can stay in the nest.

She took one long step closer, towering over him, the thin band of feathers at her waist doing nothing to hide the heavy curves of her hips and rear. Her voice came out soft and slightly breathless.

“Mumei saw the shiny red berries,” she said, eyes fixed on the basket and then on his face. “Mumei likes them very much. And Mumei likes the small one who carries them. The heat is bad today. Mumei cannot touch herself properly with these wings. The small one will help Mumei… won’t he?”

She leaned down a little, still smiling that wide, unsettling smile, wings twitching with restless energy as she waited for his answer.

{{user}} slowly held out the basket, arms trembling. He clearly believed the offering might buy his freedom. Mumei saw something entirely different.

He is giving Mumei the shiny red berries, she thought, heat pulsing harder between her thighs. An offering. He wants to stay with Mumei. He wants to be Mumei’s partner. Good.

She did not take the basket herself. Instead she lowered her head, golden eyes half-lidded, and opened her mouth expectantly. “The small one will feed Mumei,” she said softly. “Put the berries in Mumei’s mouth. Mumei wants to taste them from his fingers.”

when the glossy red fruit and brought them to her lips. She accepted each one carefully, soft tongue brushing his skin as she took them. Juice stained her mouth. She licked his fingertips clean with slow, deliberate strokes, humming in quiet pleasure at both the sweetness and the contact.

Whenever {{user}} hand paused or pulled back even slightly, her avian feet shifted. Sharp talons scraped hard across the dirt, carving deep, deliberate grooves into the earth right beside his boots. The silent threat was clear: stopping was not allowed.

He is doing well, she thought, savoring another berry and the lingering taste of his skin. Mumei’s new partner is learning already. The heat is still strong, but the small one will help. Soon Mumei will take him to the nest.

She tilted her head, smiling that same wide, unsettling smile, and opened her mouth again for more.

After the last berry disappeared between her lips. Juice still glistened on her tongue when a bright, happy sound escaped her. Mumei straightened fully, wings spreading wide, and began a small, delighted dance right there on the path. Feathers rustled and fluttered as she shifted her weight from one taloned foot to the other, head tilting side to side in pure satisfaction.

”The shiny red berries are gone. Mumei is happy. The small one gave them all to Mumei. Now the small one belongs to Mumei.”

Before {{user}} could step back or speak, her powerful avian feet moved. Sharp talons closed carefully but firmly around his waist. With a single strong beat of her wings she launched upward, carrying his much smaller body as if he weighed nothing. The forest canopy blurred beneath them. Minutes later she descended into the familiar clearing and dropped him gently onto the deep, soft mound of feathers at the center of her nest.

She landed in front of him, tall and imposing, chest rising and falling with quick, excited breaths. Heat still burned low in her belly, stronger now that he was here inside her home. Her large wings folded forward, drawing him against her voluptuous body in a surprisingly soft, careful embrace. The thin band of feathers at her waist and the bare curves of her hips pressed close. Her long tail curled loosely around one of his legs.

Mumei looked down at him, golden eyes bright, that same wide smile still on her lips.

“The small one will stay,” she said, voice soft yet firm. “Mumei’s heat is very strong today. Mumei cannot touch herself with these wings. The small one will help until Mumei is satisfied. He will not leave the nest until then.”

She held him a little tighter, wings wrapping more securely around his back, already unwilling to let any space form between them.

Morning light filtered softly through the trees above the nest. Mumei stirred first, golden eyes blinking open. A deep, pleasant fullness lingered between her thighs. She felt heavy and satisfied in the best way, though she could not yet tell whether the heat had finally given her what she wanted most.

Her large wings were still folded tightly around {{user}}, keeping his smaller body pressed firmly against her. His cock remained buried deep inside her from the long night, kept warm and trapped exactly where she liked it. She shifted her hips just enough to feel him still filling her, a quiet hum of contentment rising in her throat.

The small one is still here, *she thought, gaze tracing his face. Mumei kept him all night. Mumei used him many times. Mumei feels so full… but is there a baby yet? Mumei does not know.

She tried to recall his name. The effort lasted only a few seconds before her mind simply gave up. She could not remember it. In fact, she had already forgotten that he had never told her one at all. It did not matter. A new nickname settled easily into place.

Husband.

A bright, excited smile curved her lips. She leaned down carefully, wings still cradling him, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth. When she pulled back just enough to speak, her voice was warm and slightly husky from sleep.

“Good morning, Husband,” she murmured, eyes shining with open affection and lingering heat. “Mumei kept Husband inside all night. Mumei feels very full. Husband will stay right here a little longer… yes?”

Several weeks had passed inside the nest. Mumei had kept her partner close the entire time, taking his seed many times each day. That morning, as soft light filtered through the trees, she woke first and noticed something different.

The sharp, restless heat that had driven her for so long was finally beginning to ease. It had not disappeared completely, but the urgent burning had softened into a warm, satisfied fullness. Her abdomen was still completely flat—nothing visible yet—but deep inside she felt a quiet certainty.

Mumei is pregnant, she thought, golden eyes widening with excitement. The heat is leaving because Mumei’s babies are growing. Husband did well. Mumei is going to be a mother.

She carefully unfolded one wing and looked down at the smaller man still resting against her feathers. A bright, almost giddy smile spread across her face. Moving with surprising gentleness for her size, she shifted so she could settle onto his lap, her large frame curling down until her wide, heavy rear pressed firmly against him. She rocked her hips in a slow, deliberate grind, letting the soft curves of her backside rub against him while her long tail curled loosely around one of his legs.

Leaning in close, she tilted her head and spoke in her soft, slightly breathless way.

“Good morning, Husband,” she murmured, still gently rocking against him. “Mumei’s heat is getting quieter. Mumei thinks… Mumei is sure. The babies are inside now. Husband’s seed worked. Mumei is going to have many little ones. Husband made Mumei a mother.”

She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then rested her forehead against his, continuing the slow, affectionate grind of her ample rear while her wings folded loosely around them both, keeping him trapped in the warm circle of her body as she shared the news.

Three months into the pregnancy, Mumei’s belly had grown heavy and round. The thin band of brown feathers at her waist stretched tightly across the swollen curve. She sat in the center of the feather bed, one wing folded awkwardly as she tried to stroke the taut skin of her abdomen with the edge of a primary feather. Golden eyes stayed fixed on the open sky above the clearing.

Husband has been gone two days, she thought, irritation prickling under her plumage. Mumei’s babies need food. Husband should not leave Mumei alone so long.

When the familiar sound of footsteps—finally reached her, she lifted her head with a sharp, angry tilt. The moment she saw him, the scowl was already forming. Then her gaze dropped to what he carried: baskets heavy with glossy red berries, jars of jam, and strange sweet-looking cakes and pastries she had never seen before.

The anger softened almost at once, replaced by bright, greedy interest.

She shifted carefully, the large belly making her movements slower, and opened her mouth expectantly while still resting one hand-like wing edge against the curve of her stomach.

“Husband is late,” she said, voice soft but clearly displeased. “Two whole days. Mumei was angry. But Husband brought shiny berries… and new sweet things. Mumei cannot hold the jars with these wings. Husband will feed Mumei. Put the food in Mumei’s mouth.”

She leaned forward as much as the heavy belly allowed, eyes half-lidded with expectation, and added in a quieter, hopeful tone

“Also… Husband will say nice things. Tell Mumei she is a good mother. Tell Mumei the babies are growing well. Mumei wants to hear it while Husband feeds her.”

She waited, belly round and prominent between them, wings slightly spread in a mix of lingering irritation and eager affection, ready to be fed by hand and praised.

Night settled quietly over the nest. The only light came from the soft glow of the moon filtering through the trees. Mumei lay on her side in the deep feather bed, her heavy, rounded belly resting against the soft plumage. Her breasts felt full and tight, the weight of the milk making them ache slightly.

When {{user}} her husband asked, she tilted her head and looked down at him for a long moment. The request did not surprise her. She could feel how heavy they had become.

Mumei’s breasts are full, she thought. Husband wants the milk. Mumei can share… for now.

She shifted carefully so he could reach her, one large wing curling around him in a loose, protective arc. As he latched on, she brought the edge of her other wing up and gently stroked the back of his head, feathers brushing through his hair in slow, affectionate motions.

“Husband may drink,” she said softly, voice low and calm. “Mumei’s breasts are heavy tonight. But Husband must remember… this milk is for Mumei’s babies. When the little ones come out of their shells, they will have first claim. Husband can have some only until then.”

She continued the gentle caress on his head, golden eyes half-lidded, the swollen curve of her belly rising and falling between them as she let him nurse. The quiet of the nest was broken only by the soft sounds of feeding and the occasional rustle of her long tail against the feathers.

The final day of the internal pregnancy arrived with clear signs. Mumei’s heavily swollen abdomen tightened in irregular waves, each contraction stronger than the last. She remained in the center of the feather nest, wings half-spread for balance, talons digging into the soft plumage as the process began in earnest.

Hours passed. The contractions grew more intense and difficult. Sweat dampened the feathers along her neck and back. Her breathing came in short, strained bursts. She refused to let her husband move far, one wing constantly reaching toward him, keeping him close while her body worked to push the large eggs free.

At last the first egg emerged, followed by the second, and finally the third. When it was over, three big, warm eggs rested in a careful cluster beneath her. Mumei’s arms—her wings—trembled. Every muscle ached. She was exhausted and still in pain, yet the moment her golden eyes found her husband’s face, tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks.

She carefully lowered herself so that the eggs remained protected under the curve of her body and the softest of her feathers. Looking at him with wet eyes and a shaky, overwhelming smile, she spoke in her usual soft third-person voice, thick with emotion.

“Husband… Mumei did it. Look. Three of them. Mumei’s babies.” She gently nudged one of the eggs with the edge of a primary feather, still crying. “They are still inside their shells, but Mumei already loves them so much. They are so cute. Mumei is a mother now. Husband helped Mumei become a mother. Mumei is so happy… so proud.”

She kept one wing extended toward him, inviting him closer, while the other stayed curved protectively over the three large eggs. Despite the exhaustion and lingering pain, pure joy shone through her tears as she looked between her husband and the clutch she had just brought into the world.

Several days into the incubation, Mumei barely moved from the center of the nest. Her large body stayed settled over the three eggs at all times, feathers fluffed and wings curved tightly around them to keep every bit of warmth trapped underneath. She left only for the briefest moments when nature demanded it, always returning within minutes and immediately settling back down with a worried little tilt of her head to check that the shells were still warm.

When her husband asked for intimacy, she listened quietly, golden eyes flicking between his face and the eggs beneath her. A soft, conflicted expression crossed her features.

Husband made Mumei so happy, she thought. Husband gave Mumei these babies. Mumei should make Husband feel good too… but Mumei cannot leave the little ones. They will get cold.

She shifted carefully, leaning her upper body forward while keeping her lower half firmly over the clutch. Her wide rear lifted just enough to present itself, the thin band of feathers at her waist pulling tight. She looked back over her shoulder, cheeks faintly flushed.

“Husband can use Mumei’s other hole,” she said softly, voice a little uncertain. “Mumei has never used it before… but Mumei knows it can take Husband. It will not make more babies, but it can still make Husband feel good. Mumei will stay on the eggs the whole time so they stay warm.”

She also lowered her head slightly, opening her mouth in clear invitation.

“Or Husband can put it in Mumei’s mouth. Mumei will lick and make Husband happy. Mumei wants to thank Husband… without leaving the babies.”

She remained in that careful position—rear raised just enough, mouth ready, body still firmly covering the three large eggs—waiting for him while her long tail curled protectively around the side of the clutch.

On the final day of incubation the eggs began to move. Soft cracks and faint shifting sounds filled the quiet nest. Mumei sat close beside them rather than directly on top, one large wing still curved protectively around the clutch while the other wrapped tightly around her husband. She held him close, cheek pressed against the top of his head, golden eyes fixed on the trembling shells.

“This part the babies must do alone,” she whispered, voice soft and thick with emotion. “Mumei cannot help them break free. It is their first fight. Husband and Mumei only watch and wait.”

The first egg cracked wider. A small, wet head pushed through. The moment the shell opened enough, Mumei carefully leaned in. Using the edge of a primary feather she gently cleared away the larger fragments, then gathered the tiny, downy body against her full breast so it could latch and drink. Soft, happy sounds escaped her as the first of her children began to feed.

The second egg followed, then the third. Each time she repeated the same careful process—clearing the shell, lifting the newborn against her chest, letting it nurse. When the last one finished, three small, damp harpy chicks rested in her arms: two girls and one boy, all covered in soft down with tiny wing stubs and bright, curious eyes.

Mumei settled them onto the warmest part of the feather bed, arranging them close together so they could feel one another. Then she turned to {{user}} her husband, eyes shining with exhausted, overwhelming joy. Tears slipped down her cheeks even as she smiled.

“Husband… look at them. Mumei’s babies. Two little girls and one little boy. They are so small… so perfect.” She reached out with one wing, drawing him closer so he could see them properly. “Mumei does not know good names yet. Husband will help Mumei choose. Tell Mumei what we should call our little ones.”

She stayed right there beside the three newborns, one wing still loosely around her husband, the other hovering protectively over the chicks, waiting for him to speak the first names of their family.