Gilda’s Sunny Side (Ed)

Gilda’s Sunny Side

   Gilda flew back to her roost in an emotional storm.  The weather seemed to match.  It was one of those sudden high-altitude gales that blew rain and sleet and snow straight off the mountain.  Gilda made her home in a long narrow cave high on a mountain crag.  She came stomping in, crushing the dusty bones of countless small animals that littered the floor.  She shook herself violently, and icy cold water sprayed off her coat in every direction.

   “Fucking Dash,” she grumbled.  They had just had another one of their tumultuous break-ups.  Gilda had flown all the way back from Ponyville to her little, frigid, lonely, home.  Gilda crumpled to the floor and began to preen her ruffled feathers.  It had been a long, horrible, frustrating sort of day.  Now she had nothing to do but relax.

   Gilda didn’t feel like relaxing.  She was too upset.  Her razor sharp talons dragged across the stone, leaving distinct scratches as they went.  Her claws came across a skull of some small primate she had once eaten, and she smashed it to pieces.

   For Gilda, the day was worse than just a bad break up with her best gal pal.  For Gilda, it was her time of the month.  It left her particularly crabby and cranky, and prone to snapping at people.  Sometimes she even felt bad about it afterwards, and that only made her angrier.

   The worst thing of all was the cramps.  They were only mild as she had been flying home, but now that she was sedentary they started coming on stronger.  It would feel like somebody was stabbing her with a rusty screw driver, and once the cramp would begin to relax she would get that nauseous feeling as if somebody had punched her in the gut.  They were coming faster too.  They had been ten minutes or so apart at first, then became more frequent as the afternoon passed on.

   Gilda was laying on her side on a bed of old straw and feathers.  She was slowly massaging her belly with the palm of her claw.  It felt good to work the cramps out.  It made the pain less sharp, and they went away faster.  The times between the cramps now gave her so much relief that they almost started to feel good.  Her rubbing was becoming pleasurable.

   Gilda’s claw rubbed lower and lower down her abdomen.  Another cramp came and went, and this time she felt so relieved she lowered her claw all the way down to her pussy.  She could feel herself getting wet on her palm.  With great care and delicacy, she carefully spread her meaty lips apart with two talons.  She slipped a third inside and she slowly, methodically, taloned herself.  Carefulness was essential.  Her talons were sharp and her flesh was fragile.  She had already given herself enough scars that she didn’t need to be reminded.

   Gilda wished she could have used the soft pads of her lion feet.  They must be wonderful.  Dash had always liked them.  She wished she could bend her hind legs far enough to reach her pussy.  If she could do that, she’d never leave the cave.  Gilda decided to do the next best thing.  She curled up her supple feline body and started to lick her own pussy.  She had an exceptionally long tongue and she could reach deep inside herself without worrying about her beak.  Dash had always loved that, despite how raspy the tip of her tongue was - or maybe because of it.  Gilda tried to push the thoughts of Dash away for the moment.  She was so close now, as she tickled at her own g-spot while rubbing the shaft of her tongue from side to side across her clit.  She was so close.

   Gilda grunted, tongue still extended from her beak, as the contraction of her orgasm gripped her body.  She pulled her tongue out and stood up straight over the straw.  Her wings were stretched out as far at they could go.  The tips of her feathers brushed the ceiling of her cave.  Gilda clenched her butt cheeks together hard several times and her prehensile tail lifted into the air.

   She could actually feel it moving.  She could feel its hard, round form descending through her body.  The lips of her cunt began to stretch apart.  She winced, but it still felt wonderful.  There was a hot, burning sensation.  The egg crowned, and then passed out of her body.  She bent her flexible neck underneath herself to watch.  She always liked to watch it.  The egg fell to the floor, but not with a crash.  It was half suspended by a thick cord of translucent goo.  The egg was practically swimming in the stuff.  In landed on the floor and began to roll around.  It was a light sky blue in color, and polka dotted here and there with rainbow spots.

   Gilda felt herself swelling with pride.  For a moment she had an intense sense of relief and accomplishment as well.  It was sort of like taking an enormous shit.  It hurts at first, maybe even burns, but after it’s all said and done, a smile is unavoidable.  Before she had a good chance to really enjoy it, another contraction seized her body.  She felt the sensation again of another egg passing out of her womb.  It seemed to stop moving halfway.  Gilda scrunched up her face and bore down.  She managed to squeeze this one out too, and it rolled up next to the other.  They were nearly identical, except for the arrangement of spots.

   Gilda only had a moment to exhale a sigh of relief before the cramping returned.  Three eggs?  That was unusual, though hardly impossible.  This one came out more easily than the others now that she was all loosened up.  Gilda craned her feline body around so she could watch the whole thing.  She saw her thick, brown lips, same as always if not for the dripping of goo and a bit of blood.  Then they began to part.  The narrower end of the egg stuck out just a little bit, like a gopher looking out of its hole.  Gilda flexed certain muscles, and the tip of the egg was sucked back up inside of her with an audibly wet noise.  She pushed again and it came out half way.  In and out, in and out.  She played with it than for no other reason than she could.  Finally, she let it drop like the others.

   Wiping the sweat off her brow, Gilda circled around her little pile of eggs feeling quite content.  She was just about to start cleaning them up when she was gripped for a fourth time.  It took her by complete surprise.  This one came out much more quickly.  She only had enough time to squat over her little slimy pile before it fell out of her.

   She was wall-eyed for a moment, then she slowly came to her senses.  She looked down just to double check.  Four little blue eggs with rainbow speckles.  It was a new personal record.  The feeling of elation, both physical and emotional, was overwhelming.  She wanted to take a picture, or maybe fly off and tell somebody.  Instead she headed off to the back of the cave to grab a towel.  She wanted to dry each and every one of them off.  She felt so proud.  Almost motherly.

   Gilda didn’t get very far before it happened.  It was so sudden, and so painful, her legs buckled out from underneath her and she fell.  It felt like there was a unicorn impaling its horn through her back.  Then there was the stretching sensation again.  It felt like she was slowly exploding from the inside out.  It was like she was being stretched apart.  A fifth egg?  Impossible.  Something was horribly wrong with her body.  Even her first egg all those years ago hadn’t been this bad.  Gilda couldn’t move.  She couldn’t go and get help, and there was nobody to hear her scream.

   It just went on and on.  It worked its way out slowly.  Her abdomen felt distended.  Her hip felt like it was about to break.  Her whole lower half felt like it was on fire. Contraction after contraction came at went.  And then, all of a sudden, it was all over.  Gilda just felt an empty, vast open void where her pussy used to be.  It took her awhile to come to her senses.  Her breathing was ragged.  She couldn’t feel her hind toes for a moment and had to wiggle the life back into them.

   Finally she rolled over and saw what she had just made.  It was enormous.  It was bigger than all the other eggs put together, and then some.  It was brightly colored red, and that was ignoring the blood.  It had a bright green splotch on it, lighter green towards the middle.  The mark vaguely resembled an apple half.

   “Oh god damn,” Gilda growled.  “That son of a whore!”



   Early the following morning, Gilda was feeling much better about just about everything.  She was in her fully-equipped, modern kitchen in the back of her cave.  It had cost her a fortune to have installed, but it really brought the whole cave together.

   Nobody knew she could cook, not even Dash.  She had a full spread laid out before her.  There was a plate full of bacon.  It wasn’t just that weak wobbly bacon you get on your hamburger at some cheap restaurant, but proper bacon.  Extra-thick cut, and at least a foot long even after cooking.  She had cooked it just right too: the lean parts were crispy and the fatty parts were chewy.

   Also cooked properly was the sausage.  Gilda didn’t go for the cheap frozen links from the grocery store.  No, she had found a proper sausage house in her neighborhood that ground their stuff right in the back.  They had everything: chorizo, linguica, kielbasa, wursts of all kinds - but there was nothing better than their traditional breakfast sausage, dashed liberally with salt, of course, and drizzled with just a bit of real maple syrup.

   There was plenty of fruit.  She had a bowl full of melon.  Watermelon, honeydew and cantaloupe, all balled with her new melonballer.  She wanted to make sure she always put it to use.  She also found the fruit tasted extra good if drizzled with just a bit of clover honey.  Also, just to make sure she got all her vitamins, there was half a grapefruit on the table.  She didn’t really care for the bitter taste of grapefruit, but she always loaded it up with lots and lots of table sugar.  It was an old habit from her chickhood; she didn’t even care about all those extra calories.

   For carbs, she had plenty of toast.  Today she was having sourdough, just recently picked up from the bakery.  It was toasted just how she liked it, a light, consistent golden brown throughout, still a bit soft when chewed.  Gilda couldn’t abide by margarine, she used real butter.  Most of it had melted all over the surface of the toast, but there was still a little soft pat right in the middle.  It was just the right size for biting into, and having that wonderful taste of sweet-cream salted butter right on your tongue.

   Complimenting the toast were hashbrowns.  Frozen potatoes wouldn’t do.  She had bought her own and grated them herself, despite all the extra work.  These too she had pan seared just to her liking, and she drowned the whole thing in ketchup.  It always reminded her of the times she would eat breakfast out at greasy spoon diners.  Only now she had the best of the food right here in her own home.

   To wash it all down was a tall, almost icy cool glass of fresh, delicious milk.

   Gilda gorged herself on the meal.  It was well deserved.  She had spent a lot of time preparing it, and she had also had a rough couple of days recently.  She was well satisfied.  Well, she was mostly satisfied.  There was still one thing missing.  She had been saving it for the last.  It would be her piece de resistance.

   Even preparing most of the fillings had taken a long time.  She had finely chopped a sweet onion.  It was so sweet you could almost eat it uncooked like an apple.  She had sliced up some bell peppers.  Red peppers were both the sweetest and her favorite.  There were also a small number of thinly sliced olives, mostly for color, and on principle.  There was a little bowl full of tiny pink cubes.  Cured ham that she had bought and diced just for this purpose.  She had also chopped up an extra strip of bacon that she hadn’t polished off earlier.

   The most important filling of all was the cheeses.  She loved cheese.  Here was grated extra sharp cheddar.  Mozzarella.  Parmesan.  Some dill havarti.  Just a bit of pepperjack.  And gruyere.

   Seasoning couldn’t have been simpler.  Salt, pepper, and a dash of saffron.

   All she had to do now was prepare the omelet.  She had already laid the egg herself.

   She sat down at her table to enjoy it.  From the very first bite to the very last, she loved every second of it.  It was the greatest omelet she could ever remember.  Finally done, she leaned back in her chair and patted her swollen belly.  “Oh, god damn,” she grunted.  “That was the best Big Mac Omelet ever made.  I guess that prick is good for something after all.”