I’d decanted some of the juice from the roaster specifically for Cal, since he wasn’t the one getting it straight from the source. We set Turk gently down on a beach towel in the center of the bed. He looked even more ridiculous by now, if that was possible—his eyes too big for his flimsy and misshapen head, his dick a full-size and surprisingly thorough replica of my husband’s, save for the head where I’d torn away golden brown skin to let him drip freely. His little hand could reach just far enough to caress my inner thigh, as we two humans lay to either side of him, put our arms around each other, and started necking.

“Your cock’s on my shoulder,” said Turk. “Just an observation.”

“What does it say about me that I kind of want to shove it in the little guy’s ass?” said Calvin. “That’s one part of him that was not transformed, so it’s less an ass than a giant stuffing cavity.”

“Mmmmm, must be your holiday fetish,” I purred as he attacked my neck with little nibbles. I reached for the little ramekin with the juices, and slathered a mitful onto his shaft. “Here, let me lube you up.”

“It might be a bit hot-dog-down-a-hallway,” said Turk, as Calvin grasped him and rolled him over, “but hey, it’s worth a shot... ohhhhh, wow. Not as easy as I thought, but keep going... Damn. That is weird. But kind of great.”

My husband hissed as he shifted his hips around, rocking on his side, probing the depths of Turk’s stuffing hole. “It’s nice and warm and soft, but it kind of stings,” he said in between planting kisses on my lips. “...Oh. I think I shoved my dick into a clump of parcooked garlic.”

“Let me see.” I slid down towards the foot of the bed, and with one hand on Turk’s big savory cock, I grabbed my Calvin’s with the other hand and pulled it free. Little slices of cloves clung to him, along with some breading. “Yep, you’ve been garlicked. Ass to mouth?”

We all laughed.

“You never go ass to mouth, Sue,” said Calvin. “Well... okay. Maybe just this once.” Being Kevin Smith fans, we had that whole running joke about it, even though as biologists, neither of us was interested in trying it in a normal context. The thought of all those pathogens made it a definite no. Whereas, ass to mouth when the ass belonged to a stuffed, roasted, sapient turkey...

“Hohhh, fuck, girl, that’s good,” said my husband, “get it nice and clean. I could get used to this. Maybe I should feed you all the stuffing, one dickfull at a time.” Good G-d, this was making him power-mad. I’d started out nice and shallow, so that I could lick up all the little bits of garlic and eat them. Presently Cal’s hand wrapped around my ponytail and shoved me down deep, slurping up as much of the intoxicating turkey juice as I could along the way. Finally, I came up for breath, hawked up a thick gob of spit, pursed my lips, and lovingly smeared it across the tip of him.

“Good, now stick it back in. I wanna suck Turk off while you stuff him silly.”

Turkey Calvin was beginning to dribble extra-greasy juices out through his crudely circumcised dick, even more so than before now that he was taking a pounding from human Calvin. I wiped some onto my middle finger, reached over, and began to tease Cal’s ass open.

“This is fucked up,” he said. “I love it.” He put his free hand around Turk’s breast and began to stuff him even harder.

“Shit,” said Turk… “now this is my kind of fuck train.”

“You know, Cal,” I said between rounds of vigorous deepthroating, “there’s no way you can do PIV after getting turkey all over yourself. What do you suppose we do about that?”

I looked up from my efforts; we exchanged glances. Of course he knew what I meant.

So, Calvin got up, and went to fetch my favorite little glass buttplug while I idly teased Turk with my tongue. A minute or two later he returned with the plug. He slathered it in Turk’s juices, turning it over until it was thoroughly greased, then began carefully sliding it up my butt. The aphrodisiac effect of what I’d already swallowed was such that it made me pucker, so I received the toy with very little trouble. Especially given Calvin’s talented fingers running over my clit and labia, and Turk’s mouth on my tits.

When I was relaxed enough, and already close to climax, he slid out the buttplug. I lifted one knee, shoved Turk’s face between my legs, and held him there with a firm hand, listening as he slobbered and sucked and struggled to find space to breathe.

“You alright down there little guy?” said Calvin.

“What d’ya want?” said Turk’s faint voice. “If I die, at least I die tasting her.”

I grinned evilly. Then it was my turn for a shock, as I felt the tip of Calvin’s swollen cock press against my tender ass.

“You ready, my love?”

I took a deep breath. “Stuff me, Cal.”

***

Ah, Susan Schechter Cohen’s cute little asshole. Of all the holes on all the things in creation, it is my second favorite, a very close second, right after her vag. What can I say about the joys it’s brought me? It is a paradisiacal dark cavern of delights guarded by a surly doorman. Always taken at her express invitation, with by-the-book preparation and a respect that borders on reverence. For all her experience, she’s never been someone who can just will it to pop open—although once she’s good and ready, she can take a nice, hard, deep fucking as good as anybody. Turk and I both knew this.

I love all steps of the process, from the aching slowness with which she opens up for a buttplug, to that little flinch she makes when I first press myself against her, to the way she’ll hold my hand as she waits for her ass to adjust to each additional inch of me, to the way she melts into the mattress when she knows she’s about to have a huge orgasm. But if I had to say which exact moment I love the most...

It’s definitely the moment when she’s got the first few inches of me safely stowed in her butt, and breathlessly says my name and asks for the rest. It is a moment charged with anticipation of earthshaking pleasure for both of us; so much so, that it has become ritual.

“Calvin.” It was practically a whisper. I knew exactly what it signified.

“Yes, my love?” I said softly. Her hand still lightly clasped mine.

It’d arrived quickly this time, partly because of the aphrodisiac effect of the juices she’d swallowed, partly because of the extra stimulation Turk was providing. He wasn’t a usual part of this moment, but as he was me, he remembered it well, and he too waited in pregnant silence for it to play out.

“I need it,” Susan murmured.

“You need what, exactly, love?”

“I need your whole cock up my ass, what else, you dumb shit ass-licking son of a farmer...” (this part was always ad-libbed. The longer and more elaborate a curse she pronounced, the hornier and hungrier she was. Today it went on for a good 15 seconds) “...snot flinging, turkey slinging bastard.”

“Damn,” I said, “that’s pretty fucking horny.”

I closed my eyes, pulled back my hips ever so slightly, grabbed her by the waist and shoved hard, burying myself in her. In the floor-length mirror on the opposite wall, I could see her eyes go wide and her mouth drop open. Together with the semi-anthropomorphised turkey buried between her legs it made one hell of a tableaux.

“Uhhh!” she screamed. I lingered there a moment, balls deep, both of us stunned, nerves jangling. Then I began to move. Our legs clapped faintly in the quiet of the room.

“Oh, Turk, Calvin, I’m not gonna last long. You’re fucking me too good.”

One thing worth noting about this particular sex act with Sue, was that in fact it did not last. Sometimes I’d go slower and more gently, which drew things out a little bit. But she could only orgasm once from anal. After that, she’d clamp down hard, resulting in pain if she tried to keep going; the refractory period after that was upwards of an hour.

And in this case, with Turk providing expert oral stimulation right where it counted, of course this was going to be a short ride.

“Don’t worry hon, I’m not far behind...” Which was true. I didn’t know how to admit this, but the whole time my dick was buried in Turk, I’d had the delightful mental image of my wife, all trussed up with twine and gagged with an apple, as I stuffed her full of stuffing and packed it in with my cock. A rather wild intersection of my personal interests, but very effective for inspiring me towards orgasm. Especially now that I was fucking my beloved right in her pert little ass.

“Oh, Calvin, I’m gonna... I’m gonna... oh, yes, yes!” I could feel her muscle wrapped around me tightly, trying in vain to strangle the life out of what ought not to be there. Wetness spurted between her legs, catching Turk full in the face, but not the mouth of course. That was still sealed around her clit.

“Sweet Christ on a stick, you’re good,” I said. You knew the ass was good when ol’ farmer Schechter started blaspheming in other religions.

I counted five, six, seven contractions. Seven was the number, as I knew from long experience. Slowly and gently I pulled out until, under the force of her ass clamping shut, I popped free. Immediately I was grabbing hold of my dick, beating it off furiously. “Turk, give me Turk. Oh, shit, almost there...”

“It was nice knowing you!” screamed the turkey.

Normally at this point, I’d expect Sue to be halfway to sleep, but in this case, she was wide awake and there to see things through. Despite still feeling the aftershocks of her own orgasm, she swung her leg over Turk, rolled around and grabbed him from behind, ensuring that he was in place and lined up just right until...

“Now!”

She tightened her grip and shoved him down onto me, just as I thrust forward. His little mouth couldn’t fit the whole of my raging erection, so it kind of just caved him in. That didn’t seem quite right, but Turk was incapable of feeling pain, and I needed no further stimulation, I was already sailing across the precipice.

“Fuuuuuuck!”

He felt hot and slippery and pliant against my flesh. As I watched my cock shudder and its veins throb, I knew thick rope-like jets of jizz were flooding the hollow of the turkey’s little stump, adhering to the spinal column, drenching everything, gumming up the works with chaos goo.

I pulled out. Turk’s face was still there, but was utterly dumbstruck and dribbling cum through a hole torn in the flesh.

“What thaaaaa.” Those were his last words. Then his face did start to dissolve. We lay quiet for a few minutes as he passed, the both of us panting at first, until our hearts slowed to normal. Turk’s demise had cast a spell neither of us was in a rush to break.

He had died doing what he loved. And now there was once again only one Calvin Schechter, the proper quantity of Calvin Schechters.

***

Turk’s demise had cast a spell Calvin seemed not to want to break. So, I waited a few minutes, then I reached for him and I spoke up. “Hey, ah, Calvin? Two things.”

He smiled weakly, still exhausted. “Of course, light of my life.”

“You know how I told you I wanted us to explore more kinky shit in bed? Well, that was lovely, but I don’t think I ever need to get that level of kinky again. Nothing radioactive or genetically engineered perhaps?”

“Agreed,” he said with a chuckle. “And?”

“That job offer. How soon can I start?”

Later that night, we saluted the remains of Turk Schechter, cut away several pounds of reasonably healthy looking meat from his breasts and thighs to store, and freezer-packed it, along with what remained of the broth. Its radioactivity would soon fade, as would its psychotropic potency, and it seemed a crime to waste such absolutely delicious turkey.

The rest of the carcass we committed to the lab’s incinerator, and stowed the ashes until the next opportunity to properly dispose of them per DoD regs. We sat up a while, just decompressing from the evening’s events. My offer wasn’t finalized, but I was already refreshing myself on the Level 4 Protocols manual. These things have always relaxed me.

“Calvin,” I said, “promise me something?”

“What’s that, darling?”

“That you won’t take another job like this without forcing them to take us both. I know that you know what you’re doing, but still, it’s hard to feel safe not knowing what is being done with our life’s work.”

“I promise. I didn’t want it to be like this in the first place, but after tonight, hell no. Never again. Not only does it inevitably strain our trust. For a minute there, I forgot how sexy and fun it is to share my secrets with you.”

I smiled broadly back at him. “I know. That’s like a whole kink in and of itself.”

We lay in silence a few more minutes.

“Speaking of kinks,” he said, “what do you want to try next? I may have an idea involving twine and an apple, and your cute little asshole…”