FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

He knew it was an exclusive place, but he didn't exactly expect it to require an actual golden ticket. That was more or less what he was looking at. Embossed, shiny, with his name in a fancy curly font. Makuta wasn't sure how to feel about that. Someone had anonymously sent it to him in the mail with the intention of inviting him there, so couldn't just ignore it. Even if he didn't even know what to wear. At least a dark-furred cat like him could slink around and blend in among the club lighting.

There were plenty of voices in his head telling him to just forget about all this mysteriousness and stay home for the evening. It would have been so much easier and safer. Not that he expected there to be any actual danger, aside from the risk of embarrassment or disappointment. Though he could never really know. There were plenty of stories and rumours flying all around. But he could dismiss those as just being the kind of thing as just what happened when people didn't know what was going on behind closed doors. Of course wild rumours would fly around.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was standing in line among vases and wooden tables at the back of a nondescript antiques store, one that was little more than a front for what really went on underground. He tugged at his collar and his necklace. Though he lacked anything overly fancy to wear to such a place, at least the tight-fitting top hugged around his frame in a good way. Showing off a little more than he was used to. His tail twitched as the line shortened, leaving him silently watching all manner of eccentric-looking people approaching a gruffly scowling crocodile at the door.

The bulky, scaly fellow gave each hopeful guest a long looking over before even asking for their invitation. Some people weren't even making it that far, turned away just at a glance, and Makuta couldn't figure out any sort of pattern to who got rejected. Nobody seemed to be arguing, either. They simply shuffled aside and let the next person have their turn, usually without a word. It was all so very quiet and formal, an unspoken agreement among everyone, and Makuta had to admit he found it pretty weird. Like he was stepping into some sort of alternate reality. But he couldn't think about it for too long, because he was at the front.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it. The croc hotly snorted at him, though he couldn't tell if that was a laugh or just a grunt of acknowledgement. A quick look up and down, and Makuta wasn't rejected yet. The bouncer held one of his meaty hands out, and the cat laid that shiny invitation upon it, flinching as he waited, watching those yellow eyes scanning back and forth. All he got was a nod. He sucked in a deep breath, stepped past, and pushed through the hidden door and into the indigo of the inner club, immediately stricken by a rush of bass running through his skeleton.

It was deep and loud, but not deafening. Rather than some sort of pumping club tunes, it was more of a slow, jazzy tune with extensive use of brass and strings. A glance over and he realized that it wasn't coming from a speaker either. A live band was standing tall under a spotlight, illuminated amid the sea of darkened bodies. Even a cat like him was having trouble making out some of the finer details of those around him thanks to all the light and dark contrast, keeping his eyes from ever adjusting right.

He more or less just staggered forth, unsure of what to be doing with himself, or where he ought to have been standing. There were so many bodies around him he could barely move without bumping into someone. There was a heady scent of incense and wood smoke in the air, a welcome warmth on an autumn night, but only serving to contribute to his disorienting sensory overload. He was already feeling the urge to sit down.

Glancing to the site, he saw a few candlelit booths, but they were all occupied by groups. Except for one. There was a women there sipping something dark, and as soon as Makuta laid his eyes upon her he couldn't help but continue looking. Partly because he simply had never seen someone so large before. Tall perhaps. Wide as well. But both together left her looking like some sort of illusion, like an anomaly in his perception. Given how much his head was spinning, he maybe wouldn't have been surprised.

He was pretty sure he recognized her particular plumage as that of a griffon vulture. Which was to say, she was earthy brown all over but for her creamy white sleeves of feathers. An elaborate ruff of a more regal golden brown around her neck looked almost like a fancy accessory, but was simply part of her body. In contrast her head was smoother, though still covered by fuzzy white down. She wore a simple but attractive black dress, and no jewelry or other accessories. She didn't need them when her body was so nicely lifted by that plainly elegant outfit, enhancing her general heft in pleasant ways, ensuring that even a plump woman like her was showing off her best assets. He hoped she didn't notice how long he was looking at her fluffy bust.

When he met her dark eyes, even from across the club, looking right between several other bodies, she seemed to look right back. There was something about that glare that actually startled him. She looked wise, experienced, but there was something more there. Something intense, immediately intimidating, making him want to avert his eyes but feeling like he wasn't even physically capable. When he returned the look for several seconds, never seeing her blink, he finally saw her arch her beak subtly. Just a bit of a smile. Then she gave him a nod, and when that failed to move him, pointed directly beside her.

The gesture was sharp and swift. She didn't beckon to him, but merely instructed, holding her hand in position until he moved. And before he even knew what he was doing, he was walking over to join her, swimming through the sea of people, hardly seeing any of them. He was far too fixated on that golden bird, placing himself right where her extended talon indicated. When he realized he was gaping at her he closed his mouth, but he couldn't do anything about his tail. It was twitching all around, swishing and swaying in excitement as he basked in her warm presence. She carried a scent like burnt sugar. It was exquisite.

When she spoke, her voice was deep and accented, but he couldn't place it. "What are you drinking, feline?"

He of course babbled and stammered his response.

"Ah ... I'm not drinking anything. Yet, I mean."

She gave a blink and then simply smiled at him again.

"Your first time here, if I were to wager. Allow me to get you something you might enjoy."

He watched her carefully as she perked up from her position, making two sharp gestures at someone he didn't even see acknowledge such. Yet she seemed satisfied, and settled back down again to gaze at him with a gaze that felt like it could punch a hole right through him. He felt his eye twitching just trying to meet it, and soon was just looking at the table, and her folded fingers. Chewing on his lip, he tried to think of what to say, but before he could manage a server waded through the crowd and found them, laying two short glasses out in front of them.

"Oh, um, thank you."

He sniffed at the alcohol, flinching at its strength at first. There was nothing else in it, not even ice. But he didn't want to offend, and so he sampled with a careful sip. It was strong, intense, but with a smooth undertone that left him feeling warm by the time he got it down. And that was just from a tiny taste. Well, she had good taste in drinks, but that came as no surprise given her aura of experience. When he looked back up from his glass, she offered him her hand from across the table.

"Vivian," she said.

He took it, attempting to shake, but that wasn't what she was going for. She simply wrapped her fingers around his palm, enveloping his whole hand in the scaly grasp of her own. There was strength there that her soft exterior left hidden.

"Makuta," he answered. "It's nice to meet you, Vivian, I, um. I'm admittedly pretty out of my comfort zone here."

She nodded, and offered him a smile that brought one from him right back. He couldn't help mimic her, even if their faces were shaped quite differently.

"Oh, I think you are doing well so far. Hardly five minutes inside, and you're already sharing a drink with a woman thrice your age. And weight, most likely. In a place like this, rife with hedonism and excess, that is considered a success."

He blinked. "Thrice? That would make you ..."

He left that thought unfinished, though he did consider it. She was certainly old enough to be his mother, and perhaps could have been two generations apart depending on whether she was exaggerating or not. For a few seconds he thought to himself whether there was anything wrong with that. And he firmly dismissed that notion. If anything, it just made her more attractive to him. She already knew what she was doing. In general.

"Mmm. Perhaps I am old for a place like this. But what better fun can I have in retirement than late nights in dark places, populated by attractive boys such as yourself?"

He was blushing at even just the small compliment. "I'm definitely not complaining. You're something else, yourself..."

"Thank you."

She leaned in, brushing a claw along his cheek, and then beneath his chin. It was surprisingly sharp, ensuring he followed her direction, tilted his head back as she seemed to inspect him. He held perfectly still as she did so, admittedly intimidated by such a sudden touch. They'd only just met. But he was already finding himself wanting to do what she said. Not out of fear, but simply because even that small touch was sending a sparking tingle through his scalp and down his spine. And turning him on no small amount.

When she seemed satisfied with her looking over him, she simply patted him on the head and withdrew. Her words became like nectar, sweet to hear, softly spoken. They were only for him. He was frozen in attention, clinging to every single one of them.

"If I might persuade you to accompany me home tonight ..." She gave a pause that had him all but leaning right across the table. "There has been something I have wanted to try. I have simply lacked the right ... someone."

He almost shivered. That sweet unknown was making him regret his choice of tight pants. When he didn't immediately answer, she reached for his hand and gave it another squeeze.

"Do not worry about your lack of experience. I will take it at a gentle pace."

How she could tell that just from looking at him, he didn't know. But he could only imagine what a silly look he must have had on his face. By way of silently showing her just how down with the idea he really was, he reached for his drink, and finished it in a single gulp. It burned some on the way down, but he didn't care. Maybe a bit of intoxication would help him calm down. Either way, the gesture made her smirk.

She moved slowly and deliberately, straightening up in her seat, taking her own glass in her free hand, and slowly draining it into her beak. One gulp at a time. He found himself watching the process, finding it strangely sexy. Maybe it was just because everything she did turned him on at that point. And the thought of getting closer to her, of feeling all that fluff against his body, of sinking in against those juicy curves and letting her do just whatever she wanted with him, it was enough to make him purr.

When she raised an arm and reached for him, he looked up at her hand like an excited kitten. She pulled him close to her side, permitting him a sample of her softness as he rumbled against her. At first he didn't know what to do with his hands, but she didn't seem to mind at all when he touched. He stroked the feathers of her arm and shoulder, pressed closer, and even gave a fond squeeze to her belly. She was certainly chubby, but he didn't mind at all. That just meant she was softer to snuggle with, and she carried her heft with such confidence.

Just like that, they were on their feet and leaving via a back door. She didn't stop to pay for anything, and nobody seemed to care. The night air was chill in contrast to the inside of the club, but she kept him warm. He was pressed to her side as if glued there, letting her stroke through his fur while he touched and squeezed her fondly in return. She was even taller than he thought, leaving him not even up to her breasts as they strolled along together through a discreet back alley, illuminated by little more than moonlight. There were no streetlights there.

In truth, he had no idea where they were going. He'd never been to this particular part of the city. It was shrouded in mystery. He was only following the bump of her hips as she guided him along the twists and turns, seeming to know the back streets by heart. When they came upon a secluded set of apartments, he thought they must have taken a wrong turn. It wasn't that he was expecting a mansion exactly, but she exuded such opulence in her manners and movement that he thought her home might be less modest than that. Not that he cared at all, as long as he was with her. In they went, with him snuggle against her sugary side, breathing her enticing aroma all the way.

When they were alone in the elevator, she pressed even closer to him. He found himself pinned in the corner by all her weight, trapped between her thighs, her belly in his face. She kept him just like that for a while, slowly grinding on him, holding him in place while she hummed and murmured her first hints of pleasure. GIven how much bigger she was than him, he simply had no choice but to endure her whims, feeling all that weight leaning against him as they rode all the way to the top floor, the thirteenth. He had no complaints.

When the door opened, she finally withdrew, leaving him gasping as she took him by the hand and led him along to her door. Inside was a moderate, sparsely-decorated apartment. Vivian seemed to prefer things very simple, forgoing any sort of extravagance in favour of simplicity. He didn't see any form of decoration or personalization. It was almost unsettling in a way. Almost more like a sterile hospital room than a cozy home. But it did have one hell of a view.

The trendy layout lacked many walls, and the outside was on full display through floor to ceiling windows that spanned three of the four walls. He stood there soaking in the distant shifting lights and colours, while basking in the delicious scent of freshly baked goods. It was as if she had just been preparing some indulgent dessert right before stepping out for the night. It was all so strange to him. He was so very far out of his comfort zone. And he never wanted to go back.

Of course, he was quick to notice the bed in the corner. It was nestled in a complex iron frame, extra wide and covered in smooth, silky sheets as well was plenty of pillows. At least a dozen. He found himself wondering why someone so soft would need so many, but that was just a small thought amid all his others. His head was swirling. He was all alone with a much older woman, looking at the city and his life from a whole new perspective. And when he heard the click, he knew he was locked in. Nothing could interrupt them.

Just as he was about to ask her what she wanted him to do, she just directed him. She didn't bother with words. Waving those talons so precisely he could all but hear them slicing through the air. He shuddered to think what kind of damage they could do to him. But he didn't think she was going to hurt him. Still, he followed her commands without question. She knew what she was doing, so much better than he did.

That was clear when he climbed on the bed, stretching out across the sheets only to provoke a sharp click of her tongue as if he had done something wrong. That startled him. All he could do was freeze, stiff all over, wondering what he did. He looked to her for guidance.

"Without your clothes, funny cat," she told him. At least she seemed amused.

"Oh. Right. Um." He looked down at himself for a time, just considering how he was going to look all stripped down. She was definitely going to see how hard he was.

He sat up on the side of her bed and started to just strip out of everything he was wearing. It didn't seem right to just toss his clothes around such an immaculately kept home. So he sheepishly folded them, setting them down on the rug beside the bed once he was down to just his fur. As shy as he was acting, he couldn't hide how turned on he was. His pink shaft twitched and pulsed away, hard enough it was almost a strain. And he only got harder when she swept in close and drew her finger along its length, savouring it with a smooth, delicate touch.

She was very good with her hands. As gentle as could be, yet so deliberate and exact. It was enough to bring a great big shiver from him, one that rattled his body so much his tail ended up lashing around with the motion of his hips. He grit his teeth, trying not to whimper when he looked up at her. Her eyes were narrowed, focused. But she still wore a smile. Her sweet scent was ever-present, and perhaps growing even sweeter. He hoped he was turning her on.

"Lucious," she simply said as she admired his cock. That was enough to ensure he was still blushing.

He was so caught up in her slow, seductive ways that he didn't see her sudden movement coming. She shoved him. Firmly, too. It sent him flopping back, hitting the bed so hard his legs kicked up in the air. She was above him in a moment. Still dressed, but he could still her feathers beneath her soft dress. Her weight sagged even that sizable bed, and his legs were all but numb beneath her as she simply sat upon his crotch, holding him down a while. Her hands were around his wrists, and her breasts were right in his face. He wasn't sure what she wanted him to do, so he simply held still, basking in her warmth, her softness, and that sheer size that totally overwhelmed him from all sides.

Eventually, nervous though he might have been beneath her, he was purring again. That brought another smile to her beak. She leaned in close, letting him feel her breath on his face, warm and sweet. Then she simply pecked him on the cheek. Literally. The tip of her beak was still surprisingly sharp - some birds he knew liked to get them softened and manicured to avoid any sort of accidental poking or scratching. Her, not so much. She was sharp all over, like a wild bird of prey.

Keeping him flat, she whispered right in his ear. There was something coating her words, like a sweet glaze, that made them simply delicious to listen to.

"I like how you look like this. I think you would enjoy being tied to my bed. What do you think?"

The bluntness of the question struck him silent at first. He looked up at her, and that sultry look in her eyes. Given she already had him pinned, she probably could have done anything she wanted with him. So at least she was kind enough to ask first. Still, he'd never actually been tied up before. And he'd only just met her. But the longer he lingered beneath her, feeling her heft and cushioned curves upon his slender body, the less he could resist her.

"That's - yeah. That sounds good."

"I knew you'd agree." She rose, sitting upon his thighs a moment, reaching for a bedside table. Everything she needed was just sitting there in a drawer, at easy access.

He didn't resist her any. Even when she produced a pair of handcuffs, gleaming in the lights. Those weren't the fuzzy variety. No novelty there. They were solid steel. He wondered what his friends would think if they knew how much trust he was placing in the old vulture. But he didn't care about any judgement. He couldn't remember the last time he was that hard.

Once he was cuffed, his hands stretched above his head, he just sucked in his chest. Breathing seemed a little more difficult, but it wasn't for any sort of strain. Simply the fact that she was standing there above him, finally revealing what was beneath that form-fitting dress. Slowly, of course. One feather at a time, taking it at her leisure. She was simply so soft. And yet firm in places. Her breasts bounced plumply, her belly gave a slight sway as she ran her hands across it. She was watching him the entire time, paying careful attention to his reactions as she fondled over her matronly curves, and she seemed quite pleased with his lusty stare.

Before they had even done much together he was already certain she was going to change his preferences all by herself. No more skinny cats like him. He'd been converted to the gospel of curves. If he wasn't cuffed to the bed he might have been unable to resist reaching for some part of her. Just to squeeze and admire how very plump she was. Not to mention towering. From his position beneath her, helpless as she stood looming above him, she looked like even more a giant.

When she was fully exposed, he saw that she was wet. It was subtle, just a bit of darkness around the feathers on her thighs, but he knew he was doing well. Which seemed strange, given he was just laying there. But that was all she wanted him to do. If he expected her to simply pounce him on the spot, he would have been disappointed. But as excited as he was, he had plenty of patience.

She put those expert fingers to good use, touching him everywhere she liked. Her talons brushed through his fur, or faintly scratched across his skin below as she seemed to almost examine him more than pleasure him. Up and down his arms, along his sides and his ribs. Across his chest, inspecting every one of his muscles. It was strange, but the delicate way she touched him was making him tingle in places he didn't even know could feel so good.

Her attention was specific and controlled. Not simply touching him at random. She knew exactly what she needed to do. He was watching her in silence, wondering if he was supposed to be moving or something. But she didn't offer him any direction. She was busy, taking him by the wrist, raising his hand up towards her face. She tugged on his fingers, massaged his palm. And then she just gave him a slow, sensual lick. Right along his digits, and in between, working her firm tongue in smooth, slick strokes.

He lip was quivering. It wasn't because she was scared. Those talons were sharp, but she wasn't hurting him. Even when she was running them up and down his inner thighs, he didn't mind. She was getting closer and closer to his balls, to his cock, touching, stroking. And finally taking it in her tight grip. He wasn't exactly small, but her one hand took up almost all of his inches. She squeezed, pressing that scaly texture against his bare skin, letting him get used to it a while before she started stroking.

It was slow at first, but she was already making him moan. He opened his mouth, gasping out, his hips giving a buck on the bed. It was like it was anything particularly unusual. He'd stroked himself off plenty of times. But feeling her slow, yet firm touch, it felt better than any sex he'd ever had. However minimal that might have been.

He was trying not to shake so much, but just a few strokes up and down his shaft and he was already getting her hand all messy with the per leaking from his tip. She didn't seem to mind. She just semared it along his cock and let it glisten as she massaged him, bouncing his balls up and down, getting just a little faster with every single motion. The way she kept her eyes on his the entire time was a little frightening, but just made the simple pleasure all the more intense.

It wouldn't have taken long for her to make him cum like that. Just a single hand was all she needed, even with all her soft curves on display. But rather than escalate, faster and faster, she remained calm, keeping him in pleasure but never quite reaching anything close to climax. He was starting to feel squirmy sensations running through his limbs, making his tail bounce and his toes curl. All he needed was a little more pressure, a little tighter squeeze, and he would make a big mess for her. The feeling turned from pleasant to increasingly needy, making his lips curl back, showing his teeth to her the longer she kept him marinating in that pleasure, wanting to get off more than anything.

"May I ask you a question, Makuta?" She spoke as casually as if they had just met, and she wasn't jerking him off at the moment.

He took a while to even find his voice, licking his lips and giving a slow nod as he made his gasping reply. "Of course you can ...yeah."

She walked the fingers of her free hand slowly up and down along his thigh as she spoke. "You find me attractive, no?"

"Of course I do, Vivian." He nodded vigorously as if to reassure her, but it wasn't like she sounded insecure.

"Good. Then another question." She ran her whole palm along his thigh and his hip, fondly massaging him while she smeared pre all over the tip of his cock with her thumb. "What part of my body do you enjoy the most? I am always curious to hear."

His first instinct was simply to tell her he loved all of her, but he didn't think she would be satisfied with that. He scanned up and down her form, taking in her breasts, her belly, her hips and her thighs and that fine ass beneath those golden tailfeathers. Then back up again, trying to narrow it down. He wanted to touch every part of her. He could easily imagine himself just licking her from her face all the way down to her toes. But if he had to choose...

"Your breasts," he finally blurted, feeling awkward at how bluntly he said it. His followup didn't help assuage that feeling "You, um, have very nice ones. One of the first things I noticed."

That didn't seem to displease her any. She smiled, and let go of his cock for a moment. Clutching at her bare bosom, she played with it in front of him. Two round, ample vulture tits, covered in thick feathers, bouncing pleasantly for him as she hefted them up and down. They were surprisingly perky for her age, and simply looked so soft. Putting his hands all over them sounded amazing. But she had an even better idea than that.

Still cuffed as he was, he couldn't do anything about it when she laid herself with her face just over his belly, gazing up at him with that subtle smirk of hers. She kept her grip on her breasts, and slowly stuffed his cock right up between them. He slipped into a tremendous groan as she enveloped his entire shaft in that fluff, squeezing tight and letting that soft down pleasure him. He couldn't help but thrust his hips a few times, barely even able to control his body while he mewled and outright yowled.

"Such funny feline noise. Are you enjoying yourself, Makuta?" It was hard to tell from her steady tone, but he was pretty sure she was teasing him. Still, he took the bait.

"It feels so good. Ahh, Vivian ..." He bit his lip sharply, trying to hold himself back. But the pleasure was getting too much to resist. He was tense, outright spurting his pre all over her tits, marking down those feathers in little drops.

"It's okay. You can cum. Let it all out. Don't worry about the mess." She spoke firmly, almost like a command, but there was something gentle about her voice too. Coaxing him at the same time as telling him what to do.

He couldn't hold on. Not with his cock wrapped snug between those lusciously soft tits, feathers gliding up and down his every inch until he couldn't help but climax. He tested the strength of those cuffs as he shook and bounced atop the bed, crying out in a voice embarrassingly shrill, but he didn't care how he sounded. Not when he was all caught up in a thick, creamy cumshot, gushing all over Vivian's fine breasts, layering rope after rope of feline seed up into her cleavage, even shooting it far enough to get some in her beak. She didn't seem to mind, simply keeping her grip tight as she milked him dry with his bosom, stroking up and down his dick until he'd emptied every single drop of cum from his clenching balls in broad ropes layered across her feathers.

She simply smiled to him as he slumped back down, purring and panting, licking over her beak and rubbing some of the mess he'd made deeper into her down. Clearly she didn't mind. His eyes took a moment to refocus, but when he looked to her, he just saw her laying on her belly, gazing up at him, licking along the edges of her beak. He'd never cum that much in his whole life. And the afterglow that struck him almost made him pass out on her bed.

Which he was still cuffed to. She wasn't moving to fix that in any way. Once she finished cleaning her beak, she moved up to his face, laying herself partly over him as she snuggled close. Soft as ever, dragging a few slurps along his cheek while he purred against her warmth. She stroked her talons up and down his chest as they snuggled. And she was being a little firmer than before. Not hurting him or anything, but he could hear those scarp edges scratching along his skin, like she were tending to an itch he didn't even have. He wasn't sure why, but he felt his chest getting a little tighter when he noticed that. And it wasn't just because his orgasm left him so breathless.

Something had changed in her demeanour. He couldn't have put it into words, but the intimidating side of her experienced aura was getting just a little more obvious. It wasn't that she was scaring him exactly. He just suddenly realized he was tied to the bed of a large, strong, dangerously sexual woman he had only just met. Some part of him wanted to just get turned on again. Another part of him wondered what that lingering look in her eyes meant. He sort of wished he could read minds.

She rose in time, leaving him bound, simply waiting for her to return. She was moving around her apartment, still fully naked, humming something to herself as she wandered all the way to the kitchen. It seemed odd that she might be looking for a snack before she even bothered letting him free. But maybe it was some sort of domination thing. Just making him wait, and wonder while she towelled off her tits and retrieved a few ingredients. All he could do was wonder what she was making. And if she was going to share.

She returned, holding a few bottles and shakers. It looked like maybe some oil, some spices, not exactly a meal in themselves. He didn't say anything when she sat down beside him, running her hands along his chest and belly again, getting an uncontrollable purr despite his tentative expression. He looked to her, wide-eyed, and glanced down to what she'd brought with her, asking a silent question without actually opening his mouth.

"You are a very tasty cat," Vivian told him. "You soft felines have always been my favourite. But, ah. I could hardly call myself a connoisseur if I neglected a little seasoning."

He heard her just fine, but nonetheless was left squinting at her as if she had spoken pure gibberish. There was a literal meaning to her words that he just didn't want to think about. She was probably just teasing. Probably delighting in the expression on his face. He trusted her, mostly. But he couldn't help but think about how stupid it would have been of him to let her chain him up without question if she turned out to be ... well, something. Not as nice as she initially seemed, maybe.

Though he had to admit she was still turning him on. Even so shortly after that orgasm. Seeing her admiring him like he were some fine specimen, like he were a prize, that was giving him something of a pride boner. Even once she poured something over her hands, rubbing them together with a slick, oily sound. Her fingers glistened as she began to knead him over, spreading that sweet-smelling something into his fur, flattening it down to his body while she attended to his details.

She hummed as she worked, paying special attention to the parts where he was thickest. A squeeze to his thighs, his calves as she massaged him there. Up to his middle and his chest, his shoulders. Even his face, pressing her thumbs against his cheeks while she wiped the last of that special oil off her fingers. It had such a nice aroma to it that he didn't even hesitate to lick her fingers when she offered them, taking in a smooth, oily flavour that he'd never tasted before. He wondered if it was good for his fur.

"There we are. Very shiny. You are doing well, Makuta," she cooed, squeezing his cheek. "Now, for flavour."

It was a strange sensation to be salted. Or maybe that was sugar? Either way, she was shaking some sort of seasoning over his fur, and with the oil coating it stuck right to him. When she'd left a reasonable amount over everything from his face down to his middle, his balls, and his legs, she just rubbed it into him. Her fingers were firm and strong, pressing deeply into his muscles until some of them were even numb. It was an intense deep-tissue massage that sent sensations all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes, bringing a soft mewl from his lips, making his breath catch short at first until he simply sighed. A long, soothed breath in and out, while he slumped down to the soft sheets, feeling like he could melt right through the bed and sink down to the floor.

"Are you relaxed?" she asked him, speaking very softly.

He looked at her through glazed eyes. She really knew her way around his body. Knew how to lull him into such a state with little more than a touch. He wasn't even sure if he could move. Not because he was paralyzed or anything. It was more just a matter of him being unable to muster up the willpower to ruin that perfectly contented state. Even if he was still a little confused why she had gone and covered him in what looked like cooking ingredients. Maybe that was just her idea of being kinky. He'd understand when he was older.

She still hadn't uncuffed him, as unnecessary as the bindings were to keep him still. That left him laying there and wondering what was next for a while as she returned to the kitchen once more, rummaging around for something. He heard a metallic clink, and saw her returning, still fully naked, enormous and regal in her golden feathers. And casually clutching what he was almost certain was a blowtorch. That roused him from his soothed stupor pretty quickly.

"Uh ... is that ...?" he softly said, having trouble remembering how to speak after that massage.

"Relax," she told him. "It won't hurt. Just a little around the edges."

He gave those cuffs a tug, succeeding in nothing more than making them rattle. His arms were stuck in that position, leaving him completely vulnerable. He wasn't going to get away. Not from a professional quality pair of cuffs like that. Her bedframe was solid and didn't even wiggle slightly when he put a bit more muscle into his struggles, increasingly uncomfortable with the way she was looking at him. Especially once her focused eyes were reflecting the bright light of the flickering flame as the device hissed to life.

"Don't squirm, Makuta," she chastised. "I don't want to burn you. That would ruin it."

As alarmed as he was, she had a point. She was precise, but she couldn't be careful if he was kicking wildly. He certainly was considering crying for help. That thought occurred to him before he even thought to ask her to stop. Because it was pretty clear she'd already made her decision. There was no stopping her. So he just pursed his lips, sucked in his chest, and tried to make himself as small as possible, shrinking away from the bright blue flame looming close.

She hadn't been lying. It didn't hurt. It was hot, but never painful as she brushed that flame up and down his oiled body. He heard some kind of crackling, and felt that liquid coating turning firmer, along with the bits of whatever it was clinging to him. Up and down, making him sweat a little, pant in the heat, but never quite lingering on a single spot for too long that it actually hurt. He was overheated, but intact. And soon covered in some kind of tasty candy coating. Maybe she was going to lick it off of him. That would have taken a lot of work.

She set the tool aside and climb right on top of him soon after that, not seeming to mind if she got all sticky. He was smothered in her weight and fluff in a moment, wrapped between her thighs, buried in her bosom, and breathing of her scent while she finally set to unlocking those cuffs and setting his arms free. He couldn't see a thing from his position beneath her, but she let him stretch his arms out and relax the muscles, after having them stuck above his head for so long. She wasn't letting him up though.

"There you are. Delicious boy. I knew as soon as I saw you," she told him, taking hold of his wrists as she spoke. She slid down along his body, sitting on his legs, looking down at him, staring him right in the eye. "You'll be such an indulgence. But in time, I'll work off the extra weight."

His heart was going faster. He was barely blinking. Some part of her already knew what she meant, was already tensed up in anticipation of what she was about to do. The rest of him was still in denial. He wanted to think this was all just good luck, to be singled out of the crowd like that. That she liked him for his looks and his personality. Not because he looked vulnerable and alone. But it was getting harder and harder to play dumb when she wasn't doing anything to hide her intentions.

"Thank you for the pleasant evening, Makuta. I'll be sure to remember your name," she assured him, but it was hardly a comfort.

That was her last warning. She held his arms flat to the bed, overpowering him despite his writhing struggles, and opened that pointed beak wide. At least she didn't peck or tear. Instead, she gave him an extended look at the inside of her mouth, all glistening and wet with anticipation. Drool dripped down along those sharp edges, splatting down upon his oiled features she moved in, closer and closer. Her breath was sweet and decadent, and feeling his muzzle slipping into her open beak was like being immersed in an active bakery. Hot and delicious as she began to consume him.

Not that he didn't scream. Or at least try to. He as muffled before he even managed the attempt, slipping towards the back of her throat so that his cries were met by nothing more than inner flesh, echoing down her gullet and failing to escape her insides. He kicked, he pushed, he flailed as much of his body as he could. But none of it was any use. She had a firm hold of him and nothing was going to change his fate. Whether it was just the hunger worked up in the fun, or she had decided as soon as she had seen him, she had her mind set on eating him. Whole and alive, no matter how much he struggled.

He tried to form some sort of sentence to convince her otherwise, but it was too late. The most he could get was a wet mmfing as his muzzled bulged beneath the gold feathers of her throat. She worked fast, swallowing him with ease, squeezing her throat around him hard enough he could barely breathe, much less scream. Maybe a whimper or two. Other than that, he was just her meal. Wiggling his way down as if it might have helped him slide back out of her hungry beak. But he couldn't even inconvenience her.

Though she didn't waste time, she did make sure to savour him as she ate him. Her tongue worked hard, intrusively cleaning that glazing from his fur for the most part as she feasted on his body. At least she wasn't hurting him. He flinched when he felt her talons digging into him as she clutched him, forcing him down. Her beak was sharp, but he never caught its edges. At least she was being careful not to hurt him. Or maybe that was just because it would have ruined the flavour.

She felt her tongue smearing down his belly, working towards his cock. It was still semi-firm despite everything, still hadn't fully retreated to its sheath. She gave that a good licking over, pushing from one side of her beak to the other as she held him there half swallowed, framing his rump in her throat. But it wasn't really making him firm. Maybe he twitched a little. She seemed to just shrug as she reached up, taking him by the ankles and continuing the push. No matter how long that swallow went for, she never seemed to have any trouble breathing. He could feel and hear her lungs inflating near his head as he descended. Her heartbeat was auduble too. Slowly pumping even as she ate him. She was entirely calm throughout the process.

He on the other hand most certainly wasn't. The deeper he got, the wetter, slimier her insides were. Eventually he halted when he hit something solid, but that swiftly gave way under his weight. His face got hit with a rush of hot, slightly acidic air. His eyes watered until he shut them tight. And as much as he wanted to scream out, the most he could really do was choke. The scent in there was mostly just liquor and sugar, but that didn't make it any less frightening. He was inside her stomach, and the rest of his body was following.

She rolled her head back, tilting up to point his wiggling paws at the ceiling. That position she held for a moment, posing like a sword-swallowing, stretching her arms out. Then she clutched at her belly and began to knead, forcibly massaging him in there as she finished him right off with a gulp so wet it resulted in saliva flinging in all directions, raining down as he sank into her depths, sealed away in humid darkness as the walls around him squeezed and churned. It was already noisy.

The pressure was closing in on him firmly, making him flinch and yelp as he got pinched at by the strength of her stomach. There really was no choice but to curl up, making the most of his feline flexibility to form a small ball of cat trapped in the big fat bird's belly. She patted him a few times, and modestly belched, licking at her beak a while before she even bothered to move. And when she did, it wasn't to bother with cleaning up. She simply turned herself over and sprawled out on the bed, stretched from one end to another, sighing out and letting her muscles relax. He could feel them shifting all around him, compressing down as she basked in the orgasmic feeling of eating someone.

He wondered if she had fallen asleep. She didn't seem to be moving much. But he could feel her fingers pressing inwards on him, massaging him just as intently as she had before eating him. He was trying not to let the heat get to him. He wasn't suffocating, but the air was thin enough to make him lightheaded. When he tried to push with his feet or elbows just to make a little more room for himself, her belly walls closed in on him, tighter and tighter, until his joints almost felt like they were dislocating. They popped, not quite crunching, and he just huffed desperately, trying to hold on, trying not to succumb. Maybe he could still be saved. Maybe someone would interrupt him before she digested him alive.

The ominous grumble of her gut shortly after that thought seemed to tell him there was no real hope. He thought grimly about the reality of it all, as he got squeezed and compressed by early digestive motions, feeling a trickle of something tingly coming down over his fur. She wasn't just going to digest him, but she was going to absorb and keep him. He was going to make her fatter, was going to be nothing more than an ample trophy upon her curves, a little extra heft and jiggle to her step. And nobody was even going to know it was him. Nor would they ever find out. Or maybe they just wouldn't care.

"Good cat. You need not do anything more than sleep, now. I will take care of the rest."

Despite what she'd done to him, she still spoke with a soothing tone, still sounding friendly even if her charming ways were ringing false by that point. She seemed to think nothing of it all, aside from feeling satisfied. Even as he panicked and tried to fight against her digestive process, she simply rested, enjoying the sensations flowing through her heavy body. He was destined to be melted down to nothing more than vulture food, and every heated churn brought him just a little closer to that fate.

The fluid was overtaking him. He was struggling not to be immersed. It tingled and bit at his fur and skin beneath here and there, singling out all the sensitive places. He couldn't defend himself from them, not when they were all around. Beneath his tail, or his sheeth, as well as the pads of his toes and the tips of his fingers. It just tickled a little at first, then became more an itch and eventually a mildly painful burn. It could have been much worse, and it was going to get there. But he was having such trouble holding his head up. It would have been so easy to just slump down and give up, to submit to her whims and desires even if it meant oblivion.

His body was failing and he knew it. At least it wasn't too painful. There was an irritating sting, but it wasn't enough to make him scream. Not that he could have any more. Not when he was that tired. Drained, weakened, helpless. He sank deeper and deeper, unable to withstand the strain of staying awake any longer. His head went beneath the surface of the bubbling fluids. His body got bent and twisted into all manner of unnatural shapes by those powerful compressions. And what started as struggles tapered off as his body gave in. His muscles twitched, giving a few last kicks as his nerves sang their final tune, and then he was limply flopped down in the bottom of her gurgling gut, unconscious and sure to fade completely in just a little longer inside the thick vulture's stomach.

Vivian lingered awake just a little longer, laying her head back with an undeniably sexual moan as she felt those final moments. First the muscles giving their spasms, and than that stark, exquisite stillness. All that was left was to digest her delicious meal. And she didn't need to be awake for that. Closing her eyes, she kept one hand on her belly, feeling all the activity going on beneath her fat, starting to really work upon the cat's form. By morning she'd be wearing him, and everything she could harvest from his cute, succulent form would be little more than a trophy on her thighs, her rump, her belly, her breasts. Everywhere that mattered.

She didn't bother with any sort of alarm. The sun would find her just fine. She awoke slowly the next morning, gazing out over a city bathed in a crimson glow, increasingly orange with every moment. Before even yawning, she tended to her gut. Two hands upon it, hefting and squeezing, admiring the added padding. Then she stood, stretching her arms above her head to touch the ceiling, yawning broadly. All was soft and soothed, her muscles feeling free and sprightly, her mind sharp and focused. It had been the kind of sleep most could only dream of, ironically.

Of course, all the stretching made her aware of how much plumper she was. She wore him well. Striding naked through her apartment, she made her way to the bathroom to admire herself in a full-length mirror. He had been so kind as to distribute all among her various curves relatively equally, padding her out broader and softer but not making her looking especially fat. At least, not much more so than before. She was simply juicier, sexier, even harder for those horny young men to resist. Even if it spelled their digestive doom.

She was no monster or demon. Just an old fat bird with an appetite. And thus her body worked like any other's. After a whole night stewing in digestives, the cat had finally been melted down to and pushed through her intestines. Everything she could take from him, she'd absorbed. That even included his bones. She was a vulture after all - her body could make good use of those. But not every single part of him was useful. There was always a little left over. And as she strolled about admiring her new weight, she eventually felt that crude biological need making itself apparent. It wasn't a dignified end for such an attractive feline, but that was how it went.

Getting settled on the oversized porcelain throne, she sat up straight and kept her golden tailfeathers high. She cleared her throat, relaxed, and then she was sending Makuta down to the bowl and water below in a mess of soft brown and white. Such a state wasn't nearly as flattering for him, but that was all that was left of the poor cat after a thorough tour through the old bird's body. She sat mostly still as she disposed of him, shitting him out in that unrecognizable mass, splaying her toes as she did so. Just another relaxing part of the whole process, if not exactly pleasant.

It took some time to fully rid her body of all that waste. Though she had been very thorough in digesting him, using up the vast majority of his nutrients, there was always some left. And eating that much food in a single night always meant a heavy dump by morning. She reached a talon back to delicately tug the cord and flush some of him away, but there was still more. All squeezed out of that thickened ass, a great big steaming pile of thin, fresh vulture shit.

Not exactly what he pictured when he thought about his future. But there was no more of that now. He belonged to her now, and any last remnant of him swirled down to the pipes below when she cleansed and flushed again. Standing up once more, she sighed, relieved. There was still the matter of disposing of his clothes, but that could wait until she had a shower. Turning the water on and cranking it up to hot, she waiting for it to be steaming before steaming before stepping inside.

There was still plenty of mess clinging to her feathers, and so she spent a good while beneath the stream of water, washing and scrubbing and preening. As well as simply admiring the way her meal had changed her shape. He hadn't even been that big of a cat. She'd eaten bigger. But he seemed to agree with her body just right, giving her so much more to squeeze at, remembering how nicely he had squirmed.

Such thoughts were eventually enough to aroused her, getting her fingers working between her thighs as she soaked in the steam. Faster and faster, thinking about his soft body. His pretty face, and his muffled cries when he realized what was happening. But it wasn't until she thought of those last moments, that harsh squeeze her belly gave when it clenched inwards on him and he finally stopped struggling and moving entirely that she climaxed. Hard enough to squirt, running juices down her thighs and necessitating a bit more cleaning as she huffed and licked her beak in perfect orgasmic satisfaction. Like gold through her veins.

She wasn't sure what it was about felines. Perhaps it was just the pleasure of the irony. Or maybe it was their slinky, lean builds and muscle that always slid down her throat so smoothly. All she knew was he wasn't going to be the last cat she digested. Far from it. But he might have been among her favourites. Which was as much an honour as he could hope for, when he was nothing more than fat on an old vulture's body, and a thick mass of bird shit moving through the plumbing.