Quickly open the container and start distributing feed to the troughs, moving efficiently to complete the task

Harpy Aviary, Building Four, Paradise Breeding Farm, Rural Montana, at 12:01 PM on Monday April 3rd, 2024 (Day 1 of 7)

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I move immediately to the container, popping the lid with practiced efficiency despite my trembling hands. The high-protein insect blend releases a sharp, earthy smell as I grab the scoop and locate the feeding troughs—suspended platforms along the walls at varying heights, accessible by the harpies' flight.

I start with the lowest trough, dumping the first generous portion of mealworms and fortified pellets. The scraping sound of the scoop echoes through the aviary.

"Look at her go," Skye comments from directly behind me, her voice dripping with amusement. "All business. Like we're not even here."

I move to the second trough, refusing to acknowledge the comment, focusing on the task. My veterinary training kicks in—treat them like animals that need feeding, maintain professional distance, complete the work.

"Zephyr," Skye calls out, her tone shifting to something more playful. "I think our new feeder is ignoring us. That seems rude, doesn't it?"

"Extremely rude," Zephyr agrees from my other side. Both futas are now flanking me, their cocks visibly throbbing as they track my movements. "We should probably do something about that."

I reach the third trough and dump another scoop, my movements quick and efficient. Just four more feeding stations. I can finish this in under three minutes if they let me work.

"Here's what we're thinking," Skye says, stepping directly into my path as I move toward the fourth trough. Her grey-and-white wings spread slightly, making her appear larger, more intimidating. Her eight-inch cock juts toward me, the upward curve making it point almost directly at my chest. "We've been stuck in this aviary for three days without satisfaction. Three. Fucking. Days. You walk in here smelling like you've been bred by half the farm, covered in fresh cum, practically advertising how submissive you are..."

"And we're supposed to just sit here patiently while you toss some bugs in our troughs?" Zephyr finishes, moving closer behind me until I'm effectively trapped between the two futas. "That doesn't seem fair."

From the perches above, I can hear the other harpies watching intently, several making encouraging sounds.

"So here's the game," Skye continues, her amber eyes locked on mine with predatory focus. "You're going to finish feeding us. But while you do, Zephyr and I are going to touch you. Anywhere we want. As much as we want." She reaches out and runs one taloned finger down the front of my transparent shirt, tracing the line of dried cum coating the fabric. "If you can finish the feeding without begging us to fuck you, without getting on your knees, without spreading your legs—you win. We'll back off and wait for proper satisfaction time tonight."

"But if you beg," Zephyr says quietly near my ear, her breath hot against my neck, "if you drop to your knees, if you present that ass, if you ask us to breed you—then we get to pin you down right here on this floor and take what we want. Before feeding is even finished."

Skye's hand slides lower, cupping one of my breasts through the soaked fabric, her thumb brushing deliberately over my hardened nipple. "So what do you say, Cassandra? Think you can resist two horny harpy futas while you work? Or are you going to end up face-down with a cock in each hole before you finish scooping bug food?"