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"So this is the view like from the top of Mt. Kenya! Dennis, this really is something..." Liza said, taking a deep breath and sighing as she marveled at the vista below, the African sky drenched in brilliant colors by the setting sun. "Even if we don't find anything of historical significance up here I'm glad Dr. Campell took us here. I don't even want to think about how much grant money he blew mounting this expedition."

Dennis smiled to her, thinking about mounting another kind of expedition with his girlfriend. Mountaineering always made the two of them horny. Maybe it was the rarefied air; maybe it was the rush of climbing a world-famous peak for the first time. Maybe it was because they spent half of the day staring at one another's asses from below. He loved how his girlfriend's shapely rear looked in climbing gear...

"How's your shoulder feeling, honey?" Dennis asked.

"Oooh, feeling a little better. I really tweaked it on that first vertical." she replied, gladly accepting the implied invitation as he walked up behind her and began massaging her shoulders. "Mmm... right there... use both hands... both hands..." Liza murmured, leaning into Dennis's strong chest.

Dennis pressed his nose into the nape of Liza's neck as he kneaded her neck with his knuckles, taking in his girlfriend's sweet, sweaty feminine scents. "Mmmm, honey, you smell so good..." Dennis whispered as he brushed his nose through Liz's hair. He worked his thumbs up into the back of her neck and kneaded the sides. As he did, Dennis noticed her pale neck was tanned brown in a wavering line around her neck- where her sunscreen had rubbed off against her clothes and gear- and snorted in laughter.

"What?" Liza queried.

"Nothing, honeybuns," Dennis replied sweetly.

"Rrrawk,"

"What?"

"I didn't say anything. Did you hear that?"

"I thought that was you." Dennis said. He stopped massaging Liza and looked around.

"Ah... hey! Don't you dare stop!" Liza said, jostling her elbows against Dennis' sides a little harder than she'd meant to.

"Oof! Hey, okay honey!" Dennis said, as one of his girlfriend's sharp elbows connected with his gut. He shifted his hands to caressing Liza's sore left shoulder in slow strong strokes, but before he could get into a decent rhythm he noticed a rustling sound coming from close by.

He turned to see what the strange rustling sound was and found himself face-to-beak with, of all things, a bird.

Not just any bird; it was an enormous, tan-featherd, red-eyed, hook-beaked, black-winged vulture with a short whispy black beard. It's sharp beak seemed to be fixed into sort of a dopey smile. Dennis wasn't sure if it was a vulture or an eagle- didn't vultures have bald heads?- but the curious feathery creature sure didn't look like it was any kind of bird-of-prey. It turned its head quizzically and stood straight up on it's hind legs, regarding him with a thoughtful and keen look. Not nearly as tall as a person, the raptor more than made up for it with it's enormous wingspan. "Krssss...aaak" the bird whisper-hissed.

Dennis nearly laughed at the funny-looking bird, but his bemusement abruptly died when he spied about a dozen more of the strangely human-like birds perched or circling overhead, a number of them pretending to be nonchalant as they cut Dennis and Liza off from their camp. The huge vultures were eerily silent, staring at the humans while casually preening or looking off at odd angles.

"Uh... hey... honey?" Dennis said, taking hold of his girlfriend by her shoulders and turning her around.

"What? Why are we... oh, what!?" Liza stammered, looking rapidly back and forth between the strange avian assembly and her equally-confused boyfriend. Dennis instinctively interposed himself between the birds and Liza, but tried not to appear threatening.

"Shit..." Liza cursed. She pressed the back of her wrist into the small of Dennis' back as she sized up the vulture squad.

The tension held in the thin mountain air for a few more seconds, and then nearly at once Dennis and Liza took off running while vultures launched from their perches and dove towards them like feathered fighter jets. Neither of the pair made it far before being intercepted. Thick avian talons sank into their coats, and the vultures used their powerful wings to pummel and push them to the ground. Dennis tripped over a rock after a feathery wing smacked him in the face, and fell over a boulder as a foursome of vultures pinned him to it. Liza shoved and dodged back three waves of birds swooping down on her from both sides until two vultures struck her from the front, knocking her off her feet and onto her back. As soon as she was down a gaggle of raptors descended on her from the skies, completely covering her in a mass of black wings.

Dennis tried to fight against the vultures as well, but his wrists were held tight by long talons. "We are sorry, so sorry for our... lack of hospitality." someone with a high-pitched, nasally voice said. It took Dennis about ten seconds to realize that it was the vulture in front of him who was talking.

"You can talk-!?" Dennis blurted, which seemed to amuse the vulture. The more he looked at the birds, the better he could see distinctly human traits in their enlarged knees and upright posture, as well as the way they held used their wings to gesture as they chattered.

"Yes, we can talk! We can even speak English! At least, I can!" the bird said, before repeating something similar to it's feathered comrades in a language that Dennis could only recognize fragments of. "But yes, we apologize for our lack of hospitality! We allowed you to wander into the courtyard to our temple without introducing ourselves!"

"That's... ahh... alright..." Dennis said, trying to pry his right arm free from the vulture pinning it down. The bird clutching his wrist hissed at him and shook it's beak in something like a scowl; meanwhile the other vulture was still conversing with him as if nothing was the matter. "Wait- we're near the temple-?" Dennis said.

"Oh yes," the vulture said, tilting it's head. "In fact, you have made your camp upon the very rocks of the sky-temple."

"What did you say? Amazing!" Liza shouted, her voice partly muffled by the thickly-feathered wing covering her face. "No wonder nobody found it before; there was never anything permanent to find..."

"You and your mate are more than welcome to join us, of course! That is why you are here, no?" the vulture continued, spreading it's wings in an expansive, questioning gesture.

"No, not at all! I mean, we're archaeologists! We were looking for more things like, uh, artifacts and structures and stuff. It's... huh, you know, there was a lot of avian imagery associated with the old texts... and, uh... stuff like... sacrificial rites..." Dennis said, a prickly feeling not far from fear washing over him with every brush of his captor's feathers against his suit. What did such big vultures eat..?

"Heh, enough, enough-" the vulture said, and a wing was pressed up against Dennis' lips.

The bird drew back from the man and leapt up onto a rocky protuberance with two quick wingflaps. "Archaeologists! We are sorry for startling you, but we took you for trespassers of ill intent. Please forgive us for our rapine ways, but we must protect the sacred place. However, a simple proof of goodwill and friendship can be made, if you two exchange with us the kiss of greeting new friends."

Liza and Dennis met each others eyes.

"Alright."

"Okay."

The vulture nodded, and then clacked it's beak thrice, which seemed to be some sort of signal. A vulture leapt up on the boulder to replace the English-speaking bird, who flew off. Dennis met the vulture's red-ringed eyes. It's hooked beak, crooked in what looked a permanent loony smile, made it hard for Dennis to take the bird-person seriously even then. But nevertheless there was a look of something in the vulture's eyes that was, if not malice, at the very least mischief.

Though he wondered just how much a bird could possibly enjoy having his beak kissed, Dennis was really in no position to argue with the bird-man. He stared at the long, hooked beak and black-feathered beard of the scavenger bird's face, and tried not to think about how a vulture's breath was going to taste.

The vulture floofed and shook his feathers out, then slowly began to crane his long neck towards Dennis. As he did, one of the vultures on top of Dennis suddenly covered the human's eyes with a big broad wing.

"Rrr... enjoy the kiss..." a vulture on top of him whistled, talons scraping on the rock as his hot breath washed over the human's face. Surprisingly Dennis didn't find the scavenger's breath all that bad and wondered why that was, but couldn't see past the long feathers in front of his face.

For several long seconds, Dennis held his lips loosely open, waiting for the hard, cool, sharp bird-beak to press against his mouth. Instead, he felt a soft, warm, wet set of puckered lips nearly the same size as his mouth. Warm, downy feathers pressed against Dennis' nose as the vulture pressed itself closer, the odd warm 'mouth' flexing and squeezing on the human's lips, which had been left slack open in anticipation of a familiar kiss.

"Come on! Kiss back!" A vulture behind Dennis hissed.

While confused as to how exactly the vulture was kissing him, Dennis reluctantly slid his tongue into the warm wet lips kissing his mouth. He pushed it into the bird firm and deep, but noticed immediately that he couldn't find a the bird's tongue. And the orifice was oddly tight; so tight he could only fit about half his tongue inside comfortably. But determined to, at least, finish what he started and get it over with, Dennis puckered his lips firmly against the bird's lips and once, twice, thrice gave them full-on tongue-frenches.

The vulture quivered with pleasure, it's feathers rustling rapidly, but he managed to hold his beak shut. Satisfied, he let Dennis pull his mouth away after the third kiss and moved away from the human before signaling to the bird covering the human's eyes.

Dennis looked up as the wing was pulled away just in time to see the vulture perk it's tailfeathers upward and into a fan. He found his eyes drawn down from the vulture's splayed tailfeathers- which were easily big enough to cover his head even though they weren't fully spread- and through the forest of messy buff-yellow downfeathers that cushioned the avian's rear before finally seeing what he had been kissing. It took Dennis several more seconds to remember enough of his undergrad biology courses to realize he was looking at the bird's sex; a big, juicy vulture cloaca.

"Oh my fuck! You fucking bird!" Dennis exclaimed.

The vulture twittered his tailfeathers from side to side, wafting powerful cloaca musk right into Dennis' face. Looking at him from out of the corner of his eye with a tilted head, the vulture perked his feathered butt up higher and winked the wet lips of his horizontal maleslit invitingly. "Kyrrssss.... come on now! That was a nice kiss... another?"

Horror and shock stuck Dennis like a hard slap as he gawked at the bird's naked fleshy cloacal lips, which were slick and wet with arousal. The taste of the 'kiss' lingered on his tongue; a meaty, masculine musk that... actually was quite good. As confusing as it was for the poor human to be enjoying the taste of male musk, it was even more confusing for him to be turned on by the big quivering sexual orifice hiding underneath the vulture's feathery rear. It was like a giant soft-lipped squeezing birdgina, and even though it tasted like a mix of dick and bird Dennis felt the strangest urge to kiss the vulture's tail-hole again.

Dennis stared at the bird's wet, winking sex for what felt like an eternity, licking his lips and staring hungrily at the slowly-quivering cloaca.

"Rrrawwwlk!" Another vulture nearby cawed. Dennis turned his head to see what had startled the bird, and was nearly as startled himself when he saw what had caused the avian screech. Liza had a vulture sitting right on top of her face, the bird's wings spread awkwardly sideways as he humped her mouth with his fluffy-feathered butt. She had her hands firmly planted on the avian's sides, using them as leverage to massage the vulture's rump...

Dennis watched as the vulture cloaca-fuck his girlfriend's face with very uncomfortable feelings running through him, simultaneously angry and horny at the sight. But he didn't have time to take in the spectacle nor form any firmer feelings before a vulture butt was again blocking his view.

"My turn!" the bird said, waggling his amply-padded rear before smooshing it backwards against Dennis' face. Dennis shuddered as the vulture's soft rear rubbed up and down against his face.

"Hey! Hey, he-ghrlfgh-!" Dennis protested weakly, before his mouth was covered with loose rump feathers. He closed his eyes and held himself stiff and still, trying to will down his growing erection as the vulture's butt-grinding slowly became more targeted.

The vulture whistled when he finally managed to plant his cloaca on Dennis' lips, smooching the human's face with his drooling, musky, muscular hole. Dennis, without really thinking about it, opened his mouth at the same time and kissed the vulture's cloaca. Then he kissed the bird's sex again, this time savoring the musky, slimy warmth of vulture pre-seed against his lips.

Dennis tried to pull back some to see what he was doing, but the vultures still holding him down didn't seem keen on letting him move much. The vulture on top of him shoved his head forward until it was tucked nicely underneath the other vulture's tucked tailfeathers and wings, keeping Dennis from moving his face more than a little forward or backward into the fuzzy downy bird butt he was pressed against. Without many other choices and secretly wanting another taste of vulture cloaca, Dennis kissed the bird's pursed rump-lips and pushed his tongue into the vulture's hole.

The vulture ground his backside needily against the human as they kissed lips-to-lips, Dennis wiggled his tongue into the warm musky bird cloaca and slowly licked the entire rim of the firm fleshy avian butthole, taking his time to enjoy the heat and taste of the hot masculine sex. The taste of it was a lot like the cloaca he had been tricked into kissing earlier, but this particular vulture had a slightly saltier and thicker musk. The taste of the raw bird sex was making Dennis feel the strangest and most intense feelings of arousal; he stopped for a short breath once he had licked the circumference of the whole vulture cloaca, and then buried his nose right into the relaxed sex. Dennis took in deep nosefuls of musky air right from the vulture's winked-open cloaca, nuzzling the lips with his nose as they clenched close around it. Each breath of pure raptor musk made his head feel warmer, lighter and fuzzier, and made his boner grow harder and fuller.

Now completely enthralled by the need to suck in more vulture musk, Dennis wiggled his nose around inside the bird's clenched cloaca until the vulture gave a rattling awk and his sex flexed open, splurted a thick stream of bird pre right over Dennis' nose. Dennis took in several slowly breaths as male vulture pre dripped down his nose and over his face, before shoving his face back against the vulture's cloaca and begin forcefully licking it with his tongue. He kissed the bird's cloaca again and again, only stopping to swallow the tasty, addicting loads of avian pre-cum the dominant bird was splurting onto his tongue.

Dennis worshiped the bird's sex with his tongue, exploring the whole of the winking avian orifice with his face pressed into the bird's soft and fuzzy buttfeathers. The flow of time felt fluid and unimportant as he concentrated on cloacalingus, exploring the nooks and crannies of the clenching, churning, creamy bird sex. Dennis noticed the vulture whistling and shaking then, while the avian's sex went from moist to sopping to positively gushing with musky juices. Dennis felt a furtive thrill from how well he was pleasing the majestic vulture in front of him. He felt the male's genitals squeeze and quiver against his tongue, certain that his avian lover was about to climax. Breathing heavily through his nose, Dennis redoubled his tonguework. Just the thought of getting to taste how musky vulture cum was made his hard shaft pre into his boxers...

The vulture whistled atonally and slowly rocked it's rump back and forth into Dennis' licks, planting it's big scaly feet firmly on the boulder. Knowing what was coming, Dennis closed his eyes, puckered his lips and passionately kissed the throbbing cloaca as deep as he could. The bird gave a shrill, half-formed screech as he climaxed, grinding his rump right against Dennis' mouth as his tailfeathers awkwardly splayed and fanned.

A pressurized spurt of gooey vulture cum erupted from the male avian's cloaca and directly into the human's ready mouth. Dennis, sucking and slurping the vulture's quivering hole with a eagerness that his girlfriend's fairer sex had never enjoyed, began to cum hot wads into his boxers as his senses dissolved into an ocean of pure bird musk. He swallowed load after sticky, creamy load from the vulture's succulent birdcunt, until the male avian's grinding and rubbing moved off his mouth.

Dennis opened his eyes just in time to close them as he caught sight of the bird's tailfeathers flexing upward and the vulture's puffy cloaca clenching. The vulture sighed and rattled as he painting the human's face with a load of bird-seed. Dennis could do little but grind his own splurting hardness into the rock beneath him and peek glances at the bird's butt as the vulture deposited the last of his hot, creamy load on Dennis' nose.

It took the human several minutes to catch his breath, but he never really seemed to come out of the flustered, sexual daze that he'd been in ever since he'd first gotten a good whiff of the vulture's cloaca. The creamy, potent, mountain-air fresh but animal raw taste of the vulture-man's cum was like some kind of drug. The need for more of it was a very confusing feeling for Dennis, who hadn't so much as given another dick a sideways glance before that evening.

Dennis noticed halfway through the process that he was licking the vulture's rump clean, while the bird babbled approving noises. Liz was in a very similar situation. His girlfriend was kneeling down in front of a vulture lying on it's back, rubbing the vulture's thickly-feathers thighs with her hands while she meticulously licked it's pubic down clean of cum. The bird's beak was half-open and it's eyes lidded as it enjoyed the grooming.

"Rrr, good human..." a vulture standing near him whistled, gently rubbing his wingfeathers against Dennis' sticky face to spread the cum around more evenly as he tongue-preened the other bird's butt. Dennis turned slightly to take a look at the bird, and noticed that this vulture had a beard painted white in places and a bunch of shiny and colorful objects danging from a belt around it's waist. Some sort of tribal leader?

"Now... let's go see your friends. I'm sure they'll be wanting to join us as well..." the bird shaman said, licking his beak-tip slowly.

****

Dr. Diegaz Campbell was composing an entry in his journal by light of a LED torch while his other two students, Sean & Doug, played Magic: The Gathering. Dr. Campbell was excited to have finally secured enough funding to actually investigate sites he'd been researching his whole career, and the pre-Kikyu temple rumored to be hidden on Mt. Kenya had been near the top of his list. Sadly, the two sites at the top of his list were roiled in civil wars, but getting to climb Mt. Kenya wasn't a bad third place.

A sudden gust of wind buffeted the tent. Dr. Campbell set his journal down as the torch hung overhead swung wildly, but nearly as soon as it had begun the wind stopped.

After a few seconds of utter calm, another powerful gust shook the tent and then died away just as quick as the first.

Dr. Campbell exchanged a wary glance with his students before standing. He walked to the front and slowly unzipped a few inches from the front flap.

There had been no wind.

Soaring amidst the dusk sky were dozens of massive, oddly *human* vultures; as the birds swooped down onto the campsite, their massive, flapping wings made gusts of air strong enough to shake the tent. Already the birds were busy making themselves at home, unpacking woven reed containers filled with smooth rocks and containers full of odd liquids and lotions. Others laid out mats or tied thick coarse cushions to the rock, making comfortable perches for their kin to rest on. Amidst the avian chaos, surrounded by a small group of wary vultures, Dennis and Liza sat on their knees. The pair were completely naked and covered in an odd gooey, glistening sheen.

Seeing the two seemingly-imperiled, Dr. Campbell rushed out of the tent towards them, but a silent, menacing wall of vultures formed from the birds nearby.

"Ahhhhhhhhhokay-" Dr. Campbell mumbled, putting his hands up in what he hoped was a very non-threatening manner as he tried to wrap his head around the situation. He remembered seeing some kind of Kalishnakov for sale in the village market before they had set off for two hundred American dollars; suddenly he wondered why he hadn't taken the bargain when he'd seen it. Taking a more logical approach, the doctor analyzed the creatures.

Superficially they resembled bearded vultures- Gypaetus Barbatus if he recalled his Accipitridae correctly!- but their size, gait, upper-bodies and behavior screamed *human* to him, which was about as impossible as a direct observation could be. But some of them were wearing clothes! Loincloths or something of the sort. Others had painted feathers! He recognized one of the sigils from a local archaic dialect-!!! But who on earth had ever heard of *were-lammergeiers!?*

"Is... is everyone seeing this?" he muttered to his students, who were still clutching the tent flaps as if the canvas could protect them.

"Yeah,"

"Yeah," Sean and Doug said simultaneously.

Agog, Dr. Campbell and his students watched as their campsite was rapidly transformed by the vultures working in concert. The smooth stones they had brought in were set into a circular ditch dug by their strong talons and long beaks, and then a powder that sparkled like diamond dust was poured around the circle, linking the stones. Other birds set out what looked like drink and food, while a pair of vultures wearing a lot of velcro pouches began to set up some sort of weird black box covered in antennae that looked suspiciously like a GPS jammer.

As the vultures finished with their work, several of the birds started whistling and looking upward. Murmurs and high-pitched caws rose from the volt of vultures, and in a rush of chaos too quick and complicated for the humans to follow the rest of the birds in the sky landed en masse.

High in the sky, a massive crimson-bearded bird patiently flapped his massive soaring wings. He seemed to be plotting a slow, wandering, spiraling descent, bleeding off altitude and speed with effortless precision.

Taking the bird's appearance as some sort of signal, all of the vultures assembled bobbed their heads down low, clapped their beaks together thrice, and gave sharp, shrill whistly trills. "Rr-awk! Rr-awk!" Then they all began whistling and babbling in voice that bled together in their human's ears.

By the time the big bird landed, the chorus of cawing and whistling vultures was a tremendous ruckus, but the moment the massive vulture landed all the commotion silenced.

The vulture himself was much more avian looking than human, and closer in size to a small aircraft than any living bird supposed to exist. Its feathered beard was long and dyed blood red. Various shades of red decorated it's majestic breast in complex, circular layers. A mask of white paint surrounded the vulture's eyes, and a loincloth strapped with a multitude of pouches hung low around it's waist. The vulture shaman had set himself atop a rocky outcropping overlooking the camp a comfortable ten meters above the flat area where the tent was set up, perching on a mat made from thick woven rope avian attendants had prepared for him earlier.

"Hello," the massive vulture said to Dr. Campbell, in perfect English with the slightest trace of a middle-England accent. "Allow me to speak for my flock. What do you know about the temple you encroach upon, interloper? Here on this sacred mountain?"

"Well, to be frank, I just, uh, figured that it was here from the, uh, readily apparent fact that you lot have set up a temple here-" There was a spate of hoarse, mostly silent laughter from the birds at this remark. "-And we have no ill intentions to you or any of your kind! We are scientists; archaeologists. We are just here to observe and-"

"-and?" the vulture said, leering down from it's perch.

"-and... do whatever the hell you want us to!" Dr. Campbell said, thinking quickly. His smile beamed.

The giant vulture laughed. "Ahk! Ahk! This is good, we have an understanding, of a sort. Allow me to offer you deeper understanding. You see-" the vulture raised his wings off his back and unfurled them, holding them up towards the heavens. "-the role of the vulture is to ensure the vitality of the flow of life. This does not merely mean eating what is dead, as our animal cousins do. Our role is much more sophisticated. We ensure the health of..."

The giant vulture blinked suddenly, re-folded his wings and scowled with his blood-red ringed eyes. "You know what? Let's just call it 'magic' for now. Yeah, magic. And the long story short is, our sacred ritual takes a lot more magic than it used to, thanks to all the crazy human crap that happens to the local metaenvironment."

"Hey! We don't even live here!" Dennis protested.

"Whatever, human," a vulture replied.

"You... you're casting a- a- a- uh, a- magic spell?" Dr. Campbell sputtered. "Well then, we better all clear out then, so you can go along then, with that, then..."

The bearded vultures all erupted in shrill laughter.

"Oh, but we insist you observe!" the shaman said. "That is why you are here, mmm, yes?"

The three humans exchanged heavy, tense looks with one another as vultures began to bob towards them. The archaeologists were quickly corralled into the rock circle along with Dennis and Liza, who were still very much naked.

"What happened to you two?" Dr. Campbell asked them in a hushed tone.

"Nothing,"

"Nothing," they replied in unison.

"Silence! Listen!" The vulture shaman boomed, shaking his great bearded head. "What you have seen, you cannot be allowed to share. It is not our way to kill, of course. We foresaw this! We knew there would be no way of driving you off; your kind would only be intrigued by strange noises or sights!" the vulture made an expansive gesture with one wing and laughed. "And so we say to ourselves- what is to be done? And we decided, as is our way, to offer you renewal!"

The shaman turned around and raised his huge diamond fan of tailfeathers, and two vultures flew over with pots of paint in their talons and went to work smearing a strange red paint all over their leader's moist cloaca. The thick pasty paint turned into a viscous liquid as it mixed with the giant vulture's natural vent juices, which the attending vultures mixed back into the pots they carried.

As this was happening, the humans still wearing clothing had their coverings ripped off them by strong talons and beaks and their protests met with wing-slaps to the face. The muscular birds then positioned the five of them inside the circle facing each other attended, to by two vulture apiece. The perching, red-bearded shaman began to chant in a raspy whistle as the vultures began to stroke the humans with their beaks.

First, the birds dipped their beaks in the jars of gooey red precum-paint they had brought, and slowly smeared it over the human's genitals. The magic-infused paint began to warm and tingle the sensitive skin it was placed on, while the other vulture in the pair began to rubbed it's paint-covered beak between the buttcheeks of the ritual celebrants. Very quickly the men were firm and the women were moist, and a *stretching*, *pulling*, *shifting* feeling traveled up and down their most intimate places. The moment the paint made contact with their skin, sexual heat rose up in their bodies and made their hearts race. The more of it that covered their skin, the deeper they sank into the mystical heat.

The five of them gasped when they realized what was happening to them. Where their skin had tingled, feathers were blooming on their skin, pushing out hairs as they grew. Their genitals were pulling together inside and outside them, the males feeling their balls sink inside their bodies while their shafts shrank away, the females feeling the strange warm growth as their feminine parts changed into male breeding organs.

The sight of his member disappearing away gave Doug a massive primitive lurch of fear. He didn't want to lose his dick! "Nrgh, no! Fight it!" Doug yelled, kicking one vulture in the chest and shoving the other one off him. He broke into a flat-out run as he scrambled away from the vultures, dodging two birds who tried to intercept him.

Incredibly, as he broke away from the circle Doug could see his erection returning to full size and the downy feathers that had sprouted around his groin were receding. Doug was happy enough about this that he realized he was alone and naked on a foreign mountaintop at nightfall only about five seconds later. He froze in place when he realized he was running away from his food, water, climbing gear and cold-weather clothes, and that momentary pause gave his unseen, silent pursuer plenty of time to catch him.

The lammergeier shaman snatched Doug up with his talons with barely a pause in his flapping flight, switching his toes to an osprey-grip as he circled back towards the camp. The other humans, busy being transformed into birds, barely noticed Dpug's doppler-shifted cries and screams as he was retrieved by the shaman, who hovered above his perch for a few seconds of great gusty flaps before dropping the human unceremoniously onto the precarious outcropping.

"Rrrgh, little human, you try my patience. You shall try it no longer," the bird said, turning around and raising his rump. The vulture shaman flicked his tailfeathers upward and wiggled his butt, turning his head around backwards to get a good fix on his target.

Doug had the breath knocked out of him when he plopped on the rock. As he was still getting it back, he looked up from where he had been dumped only to see a massive bird ass blocking out the rest of his view. The vulture's underside was covered in a huge shaggy coat of cream-colored feathers, all aside from the bird's red-paint smeared cloaca.

The human had just about caught his breath when the vulture shaman kissed his face with his huge set of cloacal lips, the musky avian orifice leaving a thick coat of precum and paint dripping off Doug's whole face. Doug shivered as the musky mix of magic and maleness worked it's way into his nose, so potent coming straight from the massive vulture's vent.

Doug moaned aloud and licked his nose, needing to taste something that smelled so good. The earthy, salty, meaty taste the cloacal face-rub had left on his face was even more intoxicating than the smell! Doug licked his lips, noticing that they felt oddly stiff- and long!- but simply did not care. The vulture shaman had presented his cloaca to him again, and Doug simply needed another taste of musky male vulture tail-hole. Of course, the shaman's sex was huge! The bird's cloaca was big enough for his whole head to fit inside! Doug licked his stiff lips hungrily and began to press his face forward, taking a few moments just to feel the warmth and heat from the bird's slick, hot maleflesh against his whole face before he rimmed the bird rump. Then he began to lap at the twitching, slippery vulture cloaca in earnest, savoring how the heat from the dominant raptor's musk seemed to suffuse his whole body after he breathed it in or licked it down.

As Doug licked and rubbed his growing beak against the shaman's comparatively huge cloaca, his friends were nearly done with the first phase of their own transformations, which had come along nice properly while Doug had been mesmerized by vulture ass.

Liz, Dennis, Dr. Campbell and Sean all remained totally human... aside from their lower bodies. All four of them had huge, muscular, and very male vulture butts in place of their former human anatomy, though the last of their tailfeathers were still coming in. The vultures who had rubbed the magic paint onto their crotches and backsides were now preening the long black feathers on the very back of their stout rumps into place, while the confused mostly-humans did little but occasionally twitch their new rump-feathers with looks of confusion on their faces. All of the humans had wet drippy twitching cloacas exposed beneath their huge avian rumps, though none of them seemed to be truly aware of this fact quite yet. They looked up expectantly at the vulture shaman, who was staring off into the starry dusk as his cloaca was licked.

The giant vulture noticed he was neglecting his ritual after a few moments of slightly-awkward waiting. "Ahhh... sorry. I was distracted for a second there. AHEM!" the vulture shaman said, doing a poor impression of a person clearing their throat. "I'm a little busy, so you're getting the short version of this speech..." the lammergeier said, grunting slightly as Doug sucked the rim of his cloaca near a nice and tender spot. "You humans are responsible for most of our problems, so now you're going to be a part of the solution! By laying many, many good eggs for us, and being vulture-kin yourself! You will add to our strength many times over travelers, aha, AHK! AHK!!!"

The humans cursed. The vultures whistled and cheered. Crowds of horny were-birds assembled on higher-up perches began to glide down closer, either to join in the action or get a better view. A few small fights broke out between the randy males over who had the right to do what with whom first, but the literal and figurative pecking order was resolved in a dozen or so seconds.

"Liz, whatever happens, I love you," Dennis said to his lover.

"I know," Liz said to him, closing her eyes and taking hold of his hand.

"This is all your fault," Sean said to Dr. Campbell.

"How on earth is this *my* fault!?!" Dr. Campbell spat back at Sean.

Suddenly, each of the four found themselves with a mate. Scaly toes and curved talons wrapped hold of their feet as their males prepared them, grinding butt to feathery bird butt. Strange sexual thrills began to come to the humans from their transfigured anatomy, as they realized that their human genitals had been changed and combined into a single avian sexual opening. The men, still reckoning with their loss of a shaft, had no real comparison to what they were feeling now. The women hadn't even noticed the loss of their clits yet, bu they could certainly feel the warm, throbbing, full spheres of male seed now inside their groins. All of them felt the strangest but most pleasant tension in their cloacas as their rumps were gently rubbed by the underside of a male bearded were-vulture, and felt the instinctual compulsion to lift their tailfeathers up and present their moistening tailholes to their mates.

As this was happening, Doug was worshiping the shaman's sex with his whole face, slathering the musky juices that drooled from it all over his face. Then, very quickly, the vulture squeezed hold of Doug's arms with his big curved talons and pulled the smaller human forward while taking a slow, deep breath and relaxing his internal cloacal muscles. Doug's eyes widened as the bird's tailhole winked wide open, and his whole head was suddenly forced inside the vulture's sexual orifice.

Doug struggled madly and gasped for breath inside the vulture's cloaca as the lips of the musky prison clamped shut around his neck. But strangely, he found that the male vulture musk that filled the bird's sex was breathable. More than breathable... wonderful. Hot and heady and virile and rich. The potent smell filled Doug with a warm, contented, tingly feeling from his head down to his toes, as though this snug, slimy vulture butt was the greatest place in the world. Eyes lidding with pleasure as the musk sank its way deeper into his brain, Doug moved his hands up to the lips of the vulture shaman's drooling sex and began to push them in to the slippery tunnel. He needed to be deeper inside...

The vulture re-position his rump and pulled the human in with his dexterous feet, until Doug was down past his wrists, then elbows, then shoulders. Doug had long since ceased struggling, and was starting to enjoy having most his body inside the comfortable bird butt. But then he vulture began... pulling him out again? Doug felt the bird's powerful talons drag him out of his musky, squeezing prison, from his waist up until his nipples were dragging against the bottom of the drooling, muscular lips of the vulture's cloaca.

Then, just as suddenly as he had been pulled out, the bearded vulture shoved him back in. Doug felt his face smooshed up against the viscous, muscular wall of the vulture's inner sex, and felt something firm and throbbing inside the bird shake. Was... was the vulture using his *body* as some kind of giant *dildo*!? Even having mostly given in to the lammergeier shaman already, Doug couldn't help but feel a deep and horrible sense of humiliation as his friends watched his naked, wiggling, cloaca-fluid covered body used like a living dildo for the head bird.

After a few minutes of this treatment, Doug was feeling so woozy from being shaken around and breathing literally nothing but pure vulture butt musk that he hardly noticed when the shaman began to cum, flooding Doug's cloacal prison with a hot bath of sticky, oozing vulture semen. Doug accidentally drank in a huge breath of vulture cum, the musk saturating every last one of his senses with overwhelming sexual potency. Intoxicated by the gooey, warm, musky birdbutt he was now swimming in, he hardly noticed when the vulture sucked up his legs and feed, and the bird's cloaca squeezed and rubbed him up into the fetal position, before finally a portion of the cum around him began to transform and shape itself magically into an eggshell. He had already begun to fall asleep...

His friends had their own problems to attend to, having not even noticed how their companion had been used as a human sex toy high above them. Words seemed to fail the scientists as sexual heat took them over, though the four humans exchanged nervous, remorseful, lust-drenched glances as they all willingly bent over for their captors. Liza moaned aloud as her suitor stroked her undercarriage with his wings and licked her cloaca with his long slim avian tongue. Dennis and Dr. Campbell had been paired by hornier birds, and they soon felt the hot, moist kiss of another male's cloaca against their own buttholes. Neither of them were able to hold in their moans, either. Meanwhile, Sean's bird had a friend join him, and as the first vulture began to hump his cloaca the other lammergeier gave the young male human his moist cloaca to lick.

"Rrrrraaaaaaawwk..!" Dennis moaned, as the vulture mounting him slowly smooshed their cloacas together. The human shuddered powerfully at the alien sexual contact, his legs only held properly in place by the strong talons of the male mating him.

It was the strangest sensation; having his big feathery ass kissed by another vulture's strong rump. Not at all like the feeling of *penetration* and *thrusting* and *filling* he knew well as a human male, but a hot and quivering kiss between two sets of taut, bulging, fleshy birdpuckers. Loud, wet, lewd smooches echoed through the cool mountain air as the sound of cloacal kissing filled the sky, while Dennis shivered with pure delight at the erotic intimate mating.

"Rrr... rraaa...!" Dennis cawed, waves of sexual pleasure erupting from his ass as kiss after hot, wet kiss smooched his drooling cloaca wide open. The vulture breeding him dragged his bearded beak over Dennis' mouth in an awkward kiss as he humped into the human vigorously a few last times, giving a low, shrill whistle as he orgasmed. Dennis gasped silently as he felt a hot, thick jet of vulture semen shoot into his cloaca, the sticky load traveling deep inside his birdsex. Two more gooey, hard, throbbing, thrusting cloacal kisses filled Dennis' virgin hole to the brim with lammergeier cum, which meant the next few weaker spurts of his partner's release went spraying out over his hole and the feathers on his rump.

Dennis took a deep breath as the talons on his feet unlocked and his sated lover flew away, quivering in place. His cloaca, still drooling with the huge vulture load left in it, was flexing open and shut involuntarily as he struggled to control his transmuted avian butt, but the quick mating had left him on right the verge of his own climax. He turned around with pleading eyes and caught sight of five nearby vultures, all of whom began to waddle towards him as he shook his raised tailfeather towards them.

While Dennis was taking his second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth breedings, a pair of elder shamans were taking their time with Dr. Campbell, breeding his cloaca by taking turns with each other while commenting on his still-transforming figure. Shaggy feathers were spreading down the doctor's legs, and his toes were lengthening and growing coarse scales as he was mated again and again. Liza was in a similar state, though she had been shared by three suitors so far each of whom found it interesting to taste her cloaca and see how her femininity had been altered. Sean had taken to being mated as well as the others after being forced to swallow a full load of vulture cum right from a very randy vulture's rear. He had already grown a full beak and beard, which dripped with the seed of his cloaca-licking. So did his tailfeathers, which had been sprayed by an errant jet of vulture love cream after an amateur if vigorous attempt at returning a mate's kisses.

Time and space seemed to dissolve away around the ritual celebrants as they bred with bird after bird, feathers sprouting over their bodies in every place they were meant to go, and toes growing nice, strong talons for gripping landing places. In the thrall of the bird musk, each of the humans felt as if their bodies and minds were being dipped in the essence of a vulture. Of course, by this point none of the humans were terribly bothered by this fact.

Dennis realized he'd been mostly transformed when he noticed he could turn his whole feathery head around to have a look at who was mating him. When he first did this, the other vulture seemed to take it as a good time to re-assert his dominance, and pushed his beak into Dennis' for a kiss as he pounded the other male's butt much harder. The vulture clamped his hard beak around the changing human's beak and licked his tongue against the humans, while Dennis moaned as his feathered rump was smack-fucked, though incredibly the sticky, goopy suction between their kissing cloacas kept their mating asses nice and snug together. Moaning as the hot load of tingly vulture cum blasted into his ass, Dennis panted as his mate broke their beaky kiss and caught sight of his girlfriend.

Liza was spread eagle with her feathery butt in the air, arms and hands still largely human though she was almost entirely avian otherwise. Vulture juices glistened off the tip of her long, hooked beak and down her full black beard, while three vultures crouched low around her, taking turns licking at her spread-bare cloaca and the soft feathery meat around it to taste the unique musk of a woman turned into a bird-man. Liza shuddered as the three tongues and beaks working together set her off again, her tailfeathers scrunching up tight and taut repeatedly as she came and sprayed her vulture seed across the beaks of the trio of scavengers making out with her cloaca. Panting, beak wide open in sexual ecstacy, Liza felt one of the vultures who had licked her lock his talons around her legs as he prepared to mate with her, and threw her head backwards, seeing Sean in her peripheral vision in the middle of the other end of a hot and heavy cloacal makeout.

Sean only noticed that his hands and arms were more like *wings* when it became apparent he couldn't use them the same way as before to lift up another male's tailfeathers so he could rim their cloaca properly. The vulture-human pulled on one of the other male's tailfeathers with his beak and got the desired result from the other bird: a nicely-presented, moist set of puckered vulture lips to lick. He rubbed his bearded beak along the another male's musky leg down, enjoying all the natural scents that the vulture-people gave off. As he began to lick the edge of the other bird's wet sex, the vulture mounting him gave a shrill cry and pushed hard, sweet kisses into Sean's cloaca, firing another thick jet of warm bird spooge into his bulging, fertile cloaca. He raised his head in time to see Dr. Campbell being bred in a very similar fashion, and for a moment the two changed humans exchanged a complex glance.

Dr. Campbell had been totally transformed into a vulture from the waist down for some time, but now the feathers had made their way up to his arms, which were just now starting to alter themselves into proper wings. His lower body bulged obscenely with the vulture sperm deposited in it, having been used nearly non-stop since the ritual began. His tailfeathers were all stuck together at odd angles from the semen coating them, and even more musky cum had dripped into his shaggy undercoat and onto his toes and talons. When the current vulture got done using him, nearly the whole of the pearly sticky load simply drooled out of the doctor's slack cloacal lips. Red-faced and crying with exhaustion, the poor human moaned sharply and turned around to find that one of the shamans had returned with a smooth, oblong stone, which he quickly worked into the nearly-transformed human's birdpussy to keep the warm gooey gifts inside it snug and tight. Moaning meekly as feathers sprouted from his increasingly-useless fingers, Dr. Campbell realized he was just happy his butt wasn't leaking anymore.

It didn't take long before all of the humans were fully transformed, fully filled and had their butts plugged up with similar stones. Though dazed and exhausted from the orgy thrust upon them, the four ex-humans were with-it enough to notice that the many loads of male sperm that had been deposited inside their cloacas was in the middle of a strange transformation, hardening and shaping into oblong eggs. Though the whole process took less than a minute, by the time it was over all four of the newly-transformed vultures had a fat round bulge in their lower belly where a full load of vulture eggs now rested.

***

The next day, the four pregnant were-vultures were still busy preparing to lay their eggs with agonizingly-pleasurable slowness. Nests of blankets and straw had been prepared around them while the native vultures attended to their needs. In the middle of the ritual circle where they sat, a slightly smaller nest held a single enormous egg.

Around noon that day, the egg began to hatch. The first thing to crack through the shell of the egg was a grey beaktip. The beak wiggled back and forth in the crack until it hooked on the edge on the shell, and then the used it for leverage to crack the ovular container wider. Shortly thereafter the rest of the bird's head pushed through, blinking a yolky mess from it's eyes while eggy juices dripped from it's beard and shiny pale tan feathers. Letting out a confused avian whistle that confused the poor bird-person even further, Doug burst from the giant egg flapping his wet wings and spraying more of the yolky mess everywhere, including across his friends.

As he burst forth, the vultures flew towards the converted humans and removed the ritual stone buttplugs from their cloacas, and within seconds each of the four transformed humans began to feel rhythmic contractions of pure pleasure radiate from their feathered butts. Then, all four of them began their laying, moaning and whistling in avian pleasure from the delightful release as they cummed and pushed nice big fertilized eggs out from their cloacas repeatedly.

Doug, still trying to wipe yolk from his eyes with his wings while resting awkwardly on his now-tailed butt, could scarcely comprehend the sight he was witnessing. It was horrible and arousing and what had happened to them all and-!?

His train of thought came crashing to a standstill when he looked up to see the gigantic vulture shaman looming over him once more. "Ah... good... the rebellious one returns to us! Get him cleaned; he needs to be bred thoroughly, too..."

Doug gulped.