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The Gamer Chapter 1330 – The Birthday Bird
🕑 Added 2022-11-19 15:20:15 +0000 UTC“”Happy Birthday, dear Gale – Happy Birthday to youuuuu.”
Nightingale, her pale skin a shade of bright red, inhaled deeply and blew out the candles on the tightly packed collection of muffins. Everyone inside the bus cheered. Aclysia waited until the applause ebbed away, then she began the work of pulling the candles out of the muffins. The first one, she placed in Nightingale’s talon. The piece of bakeware was firm and appropriately sized for harpy consumption.
“That was terrible,” the harpy chided all of them with a smile on her face. “Moving, tremendously, and the worst two minutes of my life.”
“No one ever said that a birthday should be fun,” the Gamer responded and grabbed his own muffin. There was a great selection of them. He ended up with dark chocolate and cherry, one of the greatest flavour combinations known to man. Not that the vanilla-blueberry, the simple sweet, or the stracciatella muffins were of any less value.
Nightingale, and everyone else, was too busy munching for a little bit to follow that up. A voracious quiet fell over the room, only interrupted by the muffled tones of whoever tried to speak despite the presence of muffin or flavoured metal. “To turn 31 is not an event of jubilation.”
“Any goals in your senior years?” Lee asked cheekily.
“Disciplining disrespectful fledgelings,” Nightingale shot back immediately. That got chuckles out of the gathered haremettes. Seriously, the harpy continued, “I want to be pregnant by 33.”
That changed the air in the room in the usual way. Whenever the topic of children came up, the wave caused by the mention went a bit higher. The bristling energy was held back by the universal understanding that a part of John’s recent mental issues was that he was denying himself fatherhood to wait for a better time.
John paused to observe himself for his reaction. Any emotional distress? Any rebellion of his mind against him not wanting to oblige her immediately? Nothing of the like. There was the expected excitement at the prospect of pinning her down in a mating press and give that sexual position the honour it was due. On its own, that was a non-worrisome emotion.
“Why by 33?” The Gamer’s tone was casual, leading to shedding of the strain and barriers. “You’re a goddess, you don’t have a ticking clock.”
“I was not always and an oath made I keep.” Nightingale leaned back, flirting with him by putting her body on display. 31 years reflected on her wrinkleless face in a variety of small ways that gave her an aura of maturity. Yet, her body was no less nubile than that of a mid-twenty bombshell. The lunar marks on her white skin directed his eyes up and down her curves. “To have at least 3 children, I require to start soon. Besides, my time may be unlimited, but my parents deserve to see their grandchildren.”
“Which reminds me that we are due for a video call soon,” the Gamer said. It was not every day that John got to meet the parents of any of his haremettes, mostly because a bunch of them had a lack of them. Those parents that were around often had a complicated relationship with their daughters and John’s harem situation.
Two that had truly intense familial problems were Eliana and Lydia. Rave was a distant third. Estranged mother was a difficult situation, but it really could not be compared to domestic abuse or the mess Lydia’s background was. Reagan, her father, had made his own set of mistakes, certainly. He had also given her as much love and attention as he could. It wasn’t all terrible for her.
Lee and her parents had some difficulties. Nothing that could not be bridged or summarized under the terms of standard generation conflict. Lorelei had a good relationship with her parents. Same went for Scarlett, even if both had died several years ago. Honestly, if Lee was given 12 more years, her and Nightingale’s situation would likely look the same.
John was happy to say that his harem may have consisted of a selection of uniquely minded individuals but none had the motivation to get with him only to annoy their fathers.
“Should I put on my suit or something casual?” the Gamer asked and gestured to the rest of the naked harem to expand the question to what they should be wearing.
Nightingale tilted her head in confusion. “It did escape me that humans are not as comfortable with nudity,” she confessed. “Between harpies and their parents, there is no shame.”
Salamander raised an eyebrow. “Is that limited to nudity or do you fuck in front of your children too?”
“Not in front of minors,” Nightingale specified. “We share the modern conviction that a child’s innocence is to be protected. Beyond that point, there is no shame. My father is of the same opinion.”
“So there is a chance the first thing I see of your parents is your mom sucking your dad off?” the Gamer asked, shifting around uncomfortably. He had gotten ‘better’ when it came to the whole ‘having sex around friends and family’ thing. He neither was nor aspired to entirely be totally fine with such things. He liked having some barriers to his debauchery.
“I suppose. You need not wear clothes, was the sole point I was making.”
“Yeah, no, I think I will,” the Gamer decided. A simple black t-shirt and jeans quickly covered him. Many haremettes decided to follow his example, quickly putting on or conjuring their clothes. The exceptions were Metra, Nathalia, Eliana, Rave, and Nightingale herself.
The set-up inside the living room of their expanded bus space was similar to the one at home. A large, U-shaped couch (lowercase c, in this case), open towards a big flat screen TV. All of it was controlled via a laptop. No one had a hand on the device, Scarlett was doing it all mentally. The video call started as suddenly and awkwardly as these things usually did.
John saw four people on the other end, all of them stark naked. The set-up Nightingale’s parents had put together was visually stunning. They were sitting on a leather couch located within a veranda. Behind them was a beautiful display of a Sicilian beach. Her parents had been doing well with her daughter’s fame and gotten a beautiful property, from what John heard.
There was one man and three women. John’s eyes were first drawn to Nightingale’s mother. Similarities with her daughter were obvious. She had that same set of petite breasts, narrow waist and balanced hips. Her skin, however, was heavily tanned from the long time in Italy, her brown hair and feathers lighter from the sun. Age was apparent all around, but for a mid-fifty woman she certainly maintained herself well.
John could not help himself and looked at the two other women first. Where Nightingale’s mother occupied her father’s left side, the second woman John looked at was attached to his right. It gave off the same dynamic as Rave and Aclysia did, when they took their spots. It stood to reason that the second woman he looked at was therefore Nightingale’s father’s first wife. She was short, buxom female, as close as a human could get to being a shortstack without having a medical condition or a magical effect on them. She had long, almost white hair, whether that was from age or the sun was debatable. Her big breasts drooped further than John preferred, but they were firm in her age.
The third woman sat on the floor. It felt like she was the Eliana of the set, with a collar around her neck and a big grin on her face. She was younger than the other two, which still put her in her forties. Brown hair, moderately sized curves, average height, she was visually moderate. Attractive, yes, but just not in a stunning way.
Finally, John looked at the father of his latest haremette. A late fifties, awe-inspiringly buff man. He had a full head of blond hair that he wore long and luscious. He had hard, green eyes. His skin was heavily tanned and wrinkled, but the muscles underneath stretched most of it out. There was the kind of high-status energy radiating from him that convinced John the property they were on was not entirely owed to Nightingale’s riches, nor was it a fluke that he was the one with a harem.
John established eye contact with the man. As much eye contact as one could have across the sea of latency. Something clicked immediately. “Elek,” he introduced himself.
“John,” the Gamer responded, swiftly and sternly.
Elek bowed forwards. His eyes mustered the Gamer through the screen. He stayed relaxed and waited. Finally, he nodded. “I hear a lot about you, but you look like you can back up most of it.”
“I can back up all of the good things,” the Gamer assured and leaned back. While maintaining eye contact, he put his arm around Nightingale and pulled her against his chest. “Your daughter is in perfect hands.”
Elek nodded, with gravitas and certainty. “I believe you. How unusual.”
This was the first time John felt it with such intensity: someone who completely shared his lifestyle. Maximillian had been treating his harem more as an assortment of fuck-buddies and how exactly his new one would be shaping up was up for debate. Romulus only seemed to maintain his relationship with Sol and Luna in perpetuity. While Elek only had one more woman, everything about the way he carried himself was similar to how John hoped he was seen.
Minus the casual nudity during a family call.
“You’re doing well,” Nightingale cooed in his ear. A wing settled on his chest. Had she had hands, she would have started unbuttoning his shirt that instant.
“I have some experience,” he whispered back.
“It’s so good to see you, Yolande,” the harpy on the screen spoke up. “Are you eating well?”
Nightingale just chuckled. There were some things only parents were allowed to get away with. One of them was to use a discarded name. “Mother, I am a goddess now. I can go weeks without eating.”
“Okay, but are you eating well?” she asked. Before her daughter could respond, the brown-feathered harpy shook her head. “Oh, how silly of me. First, happy birthday, my little nightingale.”
‘Is that where the name came from?’ John wondered and received his answer in the form of his lady of the night blushing.
“Thank you, Mother. If you would like to introduce yourself to my flock?”
“Of course, I am Elana, this is my matriarch Calliope,” the short woman to the right of Elek waved, “and this here is our maid Leona.”
“’Sup?” the submissive on the floor asked.
It really was nice to see someone older enjoying the harem life. Odd as well. John could deal with that oddity. “Alright, introduce me to all of your roost. Which one of them is responsible for your cooking?”
“Aclysia, primarily,” Nightingale pointed at the weaponized maid with one of her talons. “Yes, Mother, I am eating well. Exceptionally well. Now, this here is my matriarch, Rave.”
The Lightbearer waved from her position on John’s right side. “Y’ello! Not gonna lie, the whole matriarch thing is weird to me. Don’t really feel like the superior of a woman ten years my senior. Oh, also, Jane is fine.”
“Harpies often are subordinate to women their juniors. Matriarch is a position of respect and seniority within the harem, not of age. I hope Yolande knows her manners well and compensates you for sharing your man?”
“Wonderfully,” Rave purred. “Let’s not get stuck on me though, ya can see there’s a lot of introducing to do.” A long, waving gesture emphasized the entire rest of the harem sprawled out around them.
It took almost an hour to get through the process of Nightingale introducing every last haremette to her parents. At one point through the process, Elek got sucked off by Leona. It happened so casually, nobody would have thought anything off was happening. John still found it odd and did his best to ignore that happenstance.
After the introductions, they chatted for a little bit. The usual questions came up: when are the grandkids coming? Why did John have that weird arrangement about wedding Rave and impregnating Eliana? Was everything going on nicely? How was the weather? More unusual questions also came up. The weirdest one was Elena outright asking her daughter if she was getting sexually satisfied. Nightingale went on a whole retelling of how her first time had gone. Endless praise for his virility was nice to hear, but between mother and daughter, it just was so weird.
“Ah, just seems like yesterday that our Yolande was stumbling around the house,” Calliope sighed nostalgically. Then she snickered, hiding her smile behind a raised hand. “And then like a few hours ago that she had her feather bleaching phase.”
“Anolia!” Nightingale cried out. Even a thirty-year-old was not weathered against the embarrassment parents could bring. Anolia was a word from harpy culture that described a permanent partner of her father other than her mother. It was a word John would eventually teach his own children.
Beatrice visibly perked up, “Investigation: feather bleaching phase?”
Nightingale quietly shook her head towards her parents. Elana looked to her patriarch, Elek nodded at his primary haremette, Calliope grinned. “Oh, our dear Yolande was so unhappy having normal brown feathers when she left for her singing career. She bleached her feathers and they got such a pretty pink colour.”
“How would you even do that?” the Gamer asked. The logistics of bleaching feathers were a mystery to him.
“By begging for a lot of money,” Elek provided the long and short of it in an amused tone.
Elana raised one hand in front of her mouth and giggled. “Ah, that was interesting. Calli is doing the same thing, for what it is worth – That is my youngest, not shorthand for my matriarch.”
“Nightingale doesn’t talk a lot about her siblings,” John said. “How many does she have again? Eight?”
“Yes,” Elek confirmed. “Happy to have them all out of the house. It gets quiet without them, but we fill that silence.” Hard, he put a hand on Leona’s head. The ‘maid’ bobbed up and down with renewed vigour and did not stop. Elek barely let it distract him as he continued talking about his children. Apparently, he had three from every one of his women. A nice spread, all around. Aside from Nightingale, they had all ended up in rather uneventful positions in life. Something that he still took pride in.
John supported him in that. The world needed woodworkers and store managers. They were the unsung heroes of society. The more the two of them talked, the further the initial understanding went. Elek truly was a man after John’s own heart. That the older man was less successful along every metric did not even bother him in the slightest. He even joked that 20 women would definitely drive him to jump into the ocean.
The conversation ended around the two-hour mark. The limitations of the technology just became too apparent. With this many participants and only one person at each side really being able to speak at a time, everyone was awkward and slow. “Visit us in person some time,” Elek half-suggested, half-demanded. “It’s difficult to have a proper conversation through this.”
“I’m a busy man, but I’ll try to make time,” John promised. Immediately thereafter, Elek shut down the connection, sparing all of them the awkward goodbye bits. “You could have told me your father is awesome,” he said jokingly to Nightingale.
“He taught me how to find a good man,” the harpy cooed and kissed his neck. “He taught me well, agreed?”
“Agreed,” John gasped. It was doubtful he would hear of her parents more than once or twice a year. That they were immediately identified as people he could get along with was a nice assurance though. “Now, what do you want to do with the rest of your birthday?”
“I got a few ideas,” she whispered and slipped down to the floor.
