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Watching the huge wolfman lead her sister away, Calandra Nostima felt a slight twinge of guilt. When she'd discovered that Tocca Dolce was a predator's spa, the young harpy had wanted nothing more than to simply dive in. Since she was young, Calandra had been toying with the idea of what it would feel like to sit on the other side of the dinner plate; as she'd grown older, curiosity had turned to fantasy, and the harpy girl had enjoyed many an evening in self-induced bondage, moaning as she clenched her womanhood around whatever phallic vegetable she'd stuffed herself with. The thought of being prepared for real had sent Calandra into fits of exultation, and she'd signed up for a "spa day" without a moment's hesitation.

Daria, on the other hand... Calandra's twin knew of her proclivities, and had even admitted (privately, and with great reservations) that she entertained some curiosity about them herself. But so far as Calandra knew, her sister didn't have the same gut-clenching, thigh-moistening, breast-heaving reaction to the prospect of being someone's dinner that Calandra herself had. And yet, Calandra couldn't bear the thought of her twin wondering where she'd gone; the prospect of Daria rejecting her was equally nauseating, so simply telling her was out of the question. She'd settled, reluctantly, on signing her sister up for a "personal" session after receiving assurances that Daria could say no at any time.

Her twin vanished down the corridor, obviously taken with the handsome Gino. Calandra shivered as an image of those powerful jaws closing on her sister rose up in her mind and sent runners down between her legs. She half-smiled, thinking, is it narcissism or incest when you fantasize about your identical twin?

Her smile took on a slightly worried note, and she bit her lip as she turned to the ifrit manning the welcome desk worried. "You think she'll enjoy it?"

Arshia chuckled and cocked her head. "Well, if she doesn't enjoy a massage from Gino, there's something wrong with her wiring!"

Calandra laughed. "No! I mean...the other part."

"Does it matter, really?" The ifrit asked, giving the harpy another mischievous smile. "If she says no, then obviously that's the end of it. Gino starts slow, and we have healers on hand, so even if she changes her mind we can turn back up to a point. But for you...well, either way, you're unlikely to find out, given that you've asked for the dinner service, hmm?"

Calandra shivered, her smile returning. "True. Speaking of which, when do we get started?"

"Well, if the attendant will ever get...never mind, there they are," Arshia said, looking over Calandra's shoulder. "Took you two long enough!"

The harpy turned and gasped in appreciation and excitement. Walking across the courtyard toward her was a pair of stunning minotaurs, hooves clicking softly against the tile in time to their powerful strides. Both topped eight feet easily, and both rippled with muscle. The bigger of the two was obviously a victim of the slave trade that had plagued her home country, a thick ring welded through his nostrils and his magnificent horns truncated and capped. There was an ugly brand on his pec, which had been defaced either by knives or another iron at some point in his life, and when a muscle moved just right, slender gaps opened in his fur to reveal old scars. He walked with his head upright, not bothering to hide his past, and the warmth and humor in his eyes eased the sudden clench in her heat that she'd felt at seeing the signs of his abuse.

The smaller minotaur was a roan dapple, coat speckled with white across his shoulders and stomach, and his hands and hooves looked as though he'd dipped them in paint. His horns were broad and free, the longest she'd ever seen on one of his kind, and their tips came to elegant points. He was broader, nearly stocky, and unlike the proud and upright black beside him, he had an easy, loping stride and a smile that stretched from ear to ear. He wore a simple loincloth, in contrast to his companion's nudity, but it acted to enhance the obvious size of the sheath behind it, rather than hiding it. Calandra realized she'd become caught in the tantalizing trap the loincloth offered when it came to a halt before her and she looked up to meet his eyes guiltily.

The roan laughed and elbowed his companion. "Do you think she'd be up for a beef spitroast before the harpy roast begins?" he asked in Greek.

Calandra flushed and cut the black's response off. "Shouldn't you ask her yourself, brother?" she shot back in Greek. The black let out a snorting bellow of laughter as the roan jerked in surprise. Calandra licked her lips theatrically, deliberately looking the roan up and down before meeting his gaze. "Still, while for such beautiful bulls I'd love nothing more, I doubt the customers would be happy to know that their meal had been so...liberally seasoned?"

The roan stammered unintelligibly, and the black laid a hand on his shoulder to silence him, still chuffing softly. "Forgive Artis, please. He is yet young," the black said in a rolling basso voice that had Calandra clenching her thighs together. He inclined his head towards her, and said, "I am Forsythe. Artis and I will be your attendants through this experience."

She returned the bow and extended a wing tip to each of them, brushing their palms when the extended their hands. "I'm pleased to meet you both," she said. She blushed and let out a giggle before she could stop herself. "And I'll admit, it's doubly a pleasure to see a bit of home today of all days."

Arshia laughed behind her, and the three Greeks turned to look at her curiously. The ifrit nodded at the little clock on her table, eyes twinkling. "While this little family reunion is touching, they've already put roast harpy on the menu. The longer you stand here catching up, the less time you'll have to attend the young lady's needs."

Artis chuckled and reached out to place his palm in the center of Calandra's back. She jumped and moaned involuntarily at the heat and size of it. He leaned in and murmured, "The lady of the house is correct, of course. If you will follow us?"

The young harpy shivered again, and turned to follow the huge bulls, flipping a wing up in a farewell salute to Arshia. The ifrit's feathers seemed to writhe for a moment, before the tip of one of her massive wings emerged to waggle back.

Calandra smiled and tucked her wings in behind her. Forsythe let one of his huge hands rest on her shoulder, and the harpy walked between them with an almost hopping step, partly from eagerness to begin, partly to keep up with the bulls' huge strides, and partly from excitement at the feeling of their hands on her skin. The bulls radiated a shocking amount of heat, and simply walking between them, the harpy felt as though she was being cooked! Their hands felt like they were going to singe her where they touched, and the thought of them massaging and manipulating her body was driving her to distraction.

She barely noticed the complex of hallways and tunnels that led to their destination, aside from feeling that they took entirely too long to navigate. At last, Forsythe led the way down a branch that ended in a pair of double doors, and Calandra found herself being ushered into a huge kitchen. She slowed, goggling at the sights, smells and sounds that crashed over her in a wave. At the center of the room was a steel table, twenty feet long and ten across, where a lovely young cat boy was undergoing preparations. Alcoves spaced around the room held everything from smaller preparation stations, (many of which were in use, judging by the variety of joyous sounds emerging from them) to cooking stations as simple as a grill and one fantastic gyro roaster that held the writhing body of female kitsune, her skin darkening as the chef preparing her held the basting brush against her skin as she rotated.

She looked back to find the catboy, shaved, seasoned, and bound up in a ball, being carried over to a massive brick oven on a pizza peel. He was panting heavily as the big man carrying the peel lifted him to place him into the oven, and as the first bloom of heat hit his back and buttocks, he sprayed the peel with his excitement. A second later, he vanished into the oven, a new scent joining the smell of cooking meat throughout the kitchen.

Big hands worked the ties on her vest, and she jumped as it was tugged away from her, exposing her to the warmth of the kitchen. The bulls led the excitement-dazed harpy over to a shower, and she squawked in protest as she was unceremoniously doused in water. Artis laughed and stuck his tongue out teasingly to distract her. It worked, because even as she returned the gesture playfully, a hose slid into her ass. She jumped and let out another squawk. Forsythe laughed as he ran his huge hands over her, manhandling her in the process of soaping her up. "You wouldn't want your meat spoiled before it even finished cooking, would you?"

Calandra grimaced as her stomach swelled under the force of the flow. "You could at least have warned me-umph!"

Simultaneously, Forsythe and casually pressed his soapy hand over her face, palming it easily, and Artis had jerked the hose from her. As she laughed at their teasing, they finished scrubbing her while her belly emptied. One thorough rinse later, the young harpy was fresh and clean, albeit dripping. Her wings looked like they'd been attacked by a water elemental, feathers sticking out all at odds, and water dripped down her chest and back from her hair. They led her over to big oven and lifted her up, turning her over in front of it so the heat helped dry her as they ruffled her feathers. The harpy sighed happily as the big hands touched her everywhere, turning her over and over like a doll in their massive grip. She occasionally caught glimpses of the boy inside it, backlit by the red coals. From the first glimpse of his squirming form, to the last glimpse she got as they finished drying her, he moved less and less. The knowledge that he'd changed from living cat to delightful meal coupled with the growing scent that wafted out of the oven, driving her desire to new heights.

Finally dry, Calandra found herself carried over to the big prep table and laid across the width of the table at its center. Her wings were gently tugged out to stretch to length of the table, and she shook with anticipation. Forsythe smiled and lifted up a pair of urns, handing one to Artis. He cocked his head, and gave her a small smile. "Shall we go gently, or would you prefer a...meatier...treatment?"

Calandra licked her lips. "Meatier. Definitely."

Without another word, the bulls upended the urns, pouring oil out of them onto her wings and across her body. Everywhere it touched skin, it began to heat up, sending tingles throughout her body. She came, back arching up off the table as they grabbed handfuls of her muscles and began roughly kneading the oil into her. Artis worked on her body, starting with her talons, firmly forcing the oil between her scales, while Forsythe grabbed great handfuls of her wings and shoved his fingers between the feathers to push the oil into the skin beneath.

Her eyes rolled back and she shook. "Ohh, fuck, yes! Th-that f-feels i-in-incredible!"

"It's the oil," Forsythe said, chuffing softly. "It heightens pleasure while numbing pain."

As Artis began rolling her thigh muscles in his hands with near bruising force that sent blasts of pleasure through her, Calandra moaned and went limp, the oil taking the starch out of her. "I'll...say..." she whispered.

The rough work went on, her wings subjected to the sort of manhandling that would normally have had her screaming and clawing at whoever had dared. But with the oil, it was mind-blowingly wonderful, each squeeze, each twist the herald for a new spike between her legs. Artis had made his way up to her stomach, and after the expansive feeling of the cleansing earlier, his deep, probing fingers made her guts quiver ecstatically. Her only complaint was that he'd skipped her cunt, an oversight she hoped would be remedied soon. Forsythe finished working over her wings and she closed her eyes lazily as he massaged her scalp. Her breath caught in her throat as Artis cupped handfuls of the oil onto her breasts, the small orbs vanishing into his hands as he crushed them, oil squeezing out between his fingers. The contrast between the gentle stroking of her head and face and the rough press on her breasts sent the over-stimulated harpy into another orgasmwith a soft moan.

She drifted hazily as they flipped her over, her wings flopping with an oily splat onto the tabletop, and worked her back and sides together. Her soft gasps as Forsythe kneaded and stroked her ass were muffled by the squelching of oil on skin as Artis grabbed entire muscle groups in her back and rolled them between his fingers. It was the deepest massage she'd ever had, the only downside the maddening drip of oil as it ran down her crack onto her cunt, heating it and sending little shocks through her. She wanted to beg and plead with them to just touch her, even once, but her desire to enjoy the experience of being prepared as food overwhelmed it. Meat didn't talk back, even if it was to ask that its' filet be better basted.

Finally, she was oiled, all except for her cunt. Their hands left her for a second, and she let out an involuntary whine. While the orgasms from the basting had been phenomenal, they'd left her with a deep ache between her legs, her clit screaming to be played with. It surpassed the gentle burn all over the rest of her from the oil, at least until she felt one of the bulls pin her wing down and grasp a handful of her feathers. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the feathers were ripped out, a rolling, stomach clenching blast of fire shooting down her wing to curl up in her groin. She'd expected to come from the feeling, but when the sensation was repeated from the other side, her peak was arrested and the crest built even higher. Over and over, in staccato bursts, her feathers were ripped from her wings. With each jerk, the flaming ball of need burning inside her grew, even as each burst stopped her short of release.

"Gods, just let me cum!" she cried out hoarsely, voice barely able to rise over the background noise of the kitchen and the sound of her own feathers being plucked.

The bulls plucking her laughed. "Oh, you will," Artis said, grunting as he ripped out another handful of feathers. She thought she might get some respite when they flipped her back over to work the front of her wings, but the flip was executed so smoothly, the bulls so skilled, that it barely interrupted their rhythm. Just when she thought she'd go insane, her entire core one massive liquid clench, Forsythe grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled it out, bracing against her neck. At the same moment, Artis palmed her sex and clamped his hand down on it, forcing the oil inside her at last.

It was the most forceful orgasm of her life. She felt as though her guts had turned to light and were streaming out of her every pore as her limp muscles fought to tighten. She stopped breathing for almost a full minute and her vision whited out under the force of her pleasure. When Calandra came back to herself, her hair was gone. Forsythe gently lifted her head to show her herself, and she whimpered softly. Her wings were naked, the powerful muscles and slender membranes that held her feathers exposed to the air. She looked like nothing so much as giant humanoid turkey, plucked and ready for the oven.

"Wow..." she whispered. "I look fantastic."

Forsythe chuckled. "Not as good as you're going to look, little bird. Now just relax, this next bit is going to be intense. Of course, given how hard you've been getting off, I think you'll want to watch this."

Calandra shivered as the big minotaur slid something under her head. She watched as Artis picked up a meat injector, and her breath quickened. The needle was nearly a quarter of an inch in diameter and the plunger behind it was a big as a tube of toothpaste. He grinned at her and flicked the needle. "Just have to plump you up a little before we stuff you. Speaking of stuffing you, I hope you don't mind it we get started on that."

She moaned as the needle slid into her thigh, then gasped when Forsythe reached between her legs to press one thick finger into her ass. Her eyes widened as she watched the area around the needle plump under its ministrations. The finger inside her withdrew long enough to be coated with oil, before plunging back inside her. She keened and rolled her hips as best as she could before Artis planted on big hand on her groin and pinned her in place. He pulled the injector out and moved it over to a new site. She grunted and shuddered as another part of her thigh plumped and stiffened.

"F-fuck."

Artis smiled as he continued, emptying the rest of the injector into her thigh. By the time he'd finished, her thigh was twice as large as the uninjected one. It was burning, and felt tight. So close to her core, the sensations were delicious, especially with the sharp stretch and burn of her ass being opened up for whatever they intended to fill her with. She gasped her way through another round of injections, her other thigh ballooning up to the same juicy plumpness. Forsythe lifted her talons, and Artis applied yet another injector to her ass. With each injection, she felt her ass cheeks expanding, growing taut, and when Forsythe let her talons rest on the table again, her hips cocked up at an angle from the solidity of her newly inflated ass.

Artis selected another injector, and she licked her lips as the needle plunged into her breast. Three quick injections and her breast had tripled in size. She was building to another orgasm as she watched her other breast receive the same treatment, but it seemed her body was either tiring from the non-stop pleasure or becoming accustomed to it. He smiled and stood back, admiring his work. "Almost done, little bird."

She could barely see past the two huge balloons on her chest that had once been her breasts, but she certainly felt it when the needle pierced her labia. Her eyes shot wide as liquid fire poured her sex until her cunt felt as though it was being pressed to one side from the amount of marinade filling it. The needle withdrew, and she shuddered as the process repeated, only now instead of being pressed aside, her cunt felt as though it was being fucked, crushed, and burned all at once. It brought her to the edge of orgasm, and then held her there, almost ready to cum, but unable to get over the final hump.

"G-gods, so close!" she whispered in frustration. Artis set the injector aside and vanished from her field of view. Forsythe stroked her bald head, setting the oil to warming again and making her scalp and face tingle and burn.

"The oil has almost reached its peak, and it will take a great deal to bring you to completion now," he said.

Calandra felt a flurry of panic. "Y-you m-mean I c-can't c-cum anymore?"

The bull chuffed, and she realized he was still fingering her. More importantly, she realized he was using three of those massive fingers, and she'd barely noticed. He must have caught her incipient despair, because he squeezed her inflated cunt sharply, sending a blast of welcome pleasure through her that took her a little closer to the edge.

He smiled down at her as Artis returned, carrying a bowl. He pulled his fingers out of her now gaping ass and gave her cunt another pat. "You still can, little one. It will just take a great deal to make it happen. Soon, little one. Soon enough."

He reached into the bowl and Calandra blinked in shock when he pulled out an eel. Well, part of an eel. If the head was anything to judge by, there was a lot more of the creature still in the bowl. "First, however, we have to stuff you. A little surf and turf, I believe the Americans call it."

She panted as she watched the eel's head disappear between her legs. She screamed with pleasure, eyes closing, as it began slide into her, writhing and squirming. Her scream was cut off as something was shoved into her mouth, and her eyes flew open to see the body of another eel protruding from her mouth. Artis' hand landed on her throat and began to massage it. "Swallow your stuffing, little one."

Calandra obediently began gulping the wriggling morsel, sending it down to meet its fellow as the eel being fed into her ass continued to force its way deeper and deeper into her. She panted as best she could around the mouthful, her throat stretching to accommodate the ever thickening body of the creature as she swallowed it whole, eager to reach whatever it was that would allow her to cum again. As the creatures constant squirming drove her to the point of madness, she prayed they would get to it soon. If she didn't release, she might just pass out from the intensity of the sensations she was being subjected to!

Finally, she finished swallowing the eel in her mouth, gagging slightly as its fins tickled the back of her throat before vanishing into her now-massive stomach. Her eyes drifted closed as the last foot of eel was forced into her ass, and she let out a sigh as the pleasure that was pounding through her entire body ratched up another notch, pulsing in time to the wriggling of the creatures inside her. She felt herself being moved around, and she looked over to watch as her right wing was carefully gathered up and bound.On the other side, similar sensations told her the left wing was receiving the same treatment.

"Is...is it time?" She whispered.

Artis smiled and lifted a spitting pole up to where she could see it. "Almost. Just have to take care of that last orgasm, little one."

Calandra moaned eagerly. If she could have moved, she would have climbed onto the damn thing and impaled herself for them, if only it meant this insane pressure inside her would ease. Artis lifted her talons and placed the head of the spit at her ass, pushing it into the stuffed orifice with practiced ease. Six inches, ten, and Calandra screamed out in triumph as it pierced her. It was as though she was getting the deepest, most amazing fuck of her life, and the orgasm that ensued tore through her like a storm bursting. It rode her hard enough for her senses to shut down, her brain only focused on the incredible feelings filling her as the spit made its way through her body. It slid around the eel in her stomach easily, before pressing into her throat and sliding up and out her mouth.

The young harpy drifted back down from her high to find her talons being tied to the spit, her torso and wings already secured. She settled in, content to enjoy the glow suffusing her body, as the bulls lifted her from the prep table and carried her out to the dining room. The chatter died down for a few seconds as she was conveyed over to a roasting pit, before the diners broke out in a wave of appreciative applause. As the bulls placed her over the coals, Forsythe gave her one last smile. "Enjoy, little one. I hope it was everything you wanted."

As the eels went crazy inside her from the heat, dancing and struggling to escape, Calandra groaned and managed to give the bull a wink. He turned on the spit and she started rotating, the heat pressing into her, aided in its work by the oil that coated every inch of her skin. She drifted, her body stiffening under the coals strict ministrations, turning into food. To her shock, another peak began to build within her, the knowledge that she'd be eaten soon combining with the exquisite preparations to force her towards one last bang.

Calandra gasped and shook, unable to quite believe she was going to go out cumming, when a familiar face appeared in front of her. Gino smiled and took a deep sniff before licking his chops. "I'm glad I caught you, dolce bella!" he said. He leaned in and lowered his voice. "Your sister would send her regards, but she enjoyed her session thoroughly. So thoroughly in fact, that there isn't a scrap left of her!"

The mental image of her sister vanishing between this handsome wolf's jaws did Calandra in. Her whole body exploded in a final farewell orgasm, every nerve that still worked sending pleasure blasting into her brain. The harpy shuddered and stopped breathing, blackness settling over her in a gentle caress of afterglow.

Gino stood up, laughing softly. "Sogni d'oro, piccolo uccello. Possa il vostro cielo sia dolce come la vostra carne sarà."

He heard a rustle of feathers behind him, and smiled. "Come to check on your fellow feathered one, bella vento?"

Arshia laughed softly. "I don't see any feathers, pati. And haven't you had enough harpy for one day?"

"What? A man can't even admire the roasts in his own restaurant?" Gino shot back teasingly.

"Admire, yes. Eat? If you keep eating like this, you'll eventually blow out a metabolism as strong as yours!" Arshia said, grinning and nudging his stomach with one hip though the thick cloak of feathers surrounding her.

He wrapped his arms around her, stroking her feathers the way he knew brought the cutest little happy sounds out of her. He nuzzled the nape of her neck and whispered, "Ah, but bella vento, you know what feathers do to me."

"Fine," she said, snorting in mock frustration. "I suppose a little taste of the girl won't make you blow up like a balloon."

Still laughing and bickering, they went to a staircase hidden behind a tapestry and climbed up to the roof. The moment they stepped outside, Arshia unfurled her wings with a groan. "Oooohhh, yeah." Maneuvering carefully, she turned in place and kissed her husband on the nose. "You need to hire more help, pati. I can't be cooped up inside all day like that."

The ifrit stepped back and up, wings sweeping downward to lift her fifty feet into the air in a single bound. "I'm going to take a few turns around the country. Save me a slice of harpy?" she called as she flicked her wings up for another burst.

"Of course!" Gino called back. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes as she whipped her wings down again, blasting the area below her with a sudden gale that hurled her skyward. Within seconds, her two hundred foot wingspan was a mere speck on the horizon as she returned to her element.

The wolf slipped back downstairs, marveling as he always did that such a powerful creature of air would choose to share his life on the ground. He stepped into the dining room just in time to see Calandra being lifted from her perch on the roasting jacks. The harpy roast was laid out of a serving table, bringing a smile to Gino's face. The slender girl that had walked in this morning was almost a caricature of herself: her breasts were swollen, heavy with marinade, jiggling softly from the liquefied fat filling them; her ass had also plumped up, as had her thighs; a peek between her legs found a sex puffy and swollen, thick lips frozen in an appearance of constant arousal; and of course, her belly, stretched to the size of a basketball, filled with the roasted remains of the eels that had been stuffed into her.

He sighed in anticipation as the servers sliced her belly open, and the seafood inside her was revealed. The attendants began carving her up, pieces disappearing from her thighs and breasts, served alongside a few slices of eel so the bird and fish could compliment each other. He signalled a server, murmuring softly to him when he arrived. Within moments, he was presented with a glorious slice of harpy ass and several slices of eel. A second plate was set, with Calandra's expanded pussy alid on a bed of eel. He licked his lips, as he gazed at the delicate filet longingly.

"No," he said with a sigh as he pulled his own plate over and cut a bite from Calandra's ass. "The best cut for the lady."

The bite exploded on his tongue, flavor expanding until he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, luxuriating in the smorgasbord of competing sensory assaults. He swallowed and licked his lips again, this time to get the last bits of the flavor. When it finally faded, he looked over and chuckled to see that the harpy had been nearly reduced to a skeleton.

"No wonder," he murmured as he cut another bite. "She's one of the best dishes this kitchen has ever prepared."