Savoring the Ultimate Feast (Appetizer)

I'd had sex with Witae a few times by now, but that hadn't been triggered by my ability. It felt good, sure, but work was work. I took my time enjoying ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠life on this island, waiting for the power to activate. And finally, the moment ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠arrived.

"Fuck!"

I bit my lip hard and glared at the status window.

"Hm."

I scanned the status window from top to bottom, then nodded for the first time.

"This looks manageable."

There were no other men on this island besides me anyway, and even if there were, nothing here would shatter anyone's mind or wreck society after the hypnosis wore off.

"Any of these should be fine without major issues..."

It was the kind of lineup where I could just pick what suited my tastes. Compared to the choices I'd gotten recently, this was something I could choose with a light laugh.

"Let's eliminate the ones I don't like..."

First off, no to option 1. Forcing myself on a sleeping woman who couldn't react at all wasn't my thing. I needed some conversation, some reactions to really enjoy it. Plus, who knew what nightmares she might have—who needed that kind of moral baggage?

"Between 2 and 3... Not sure about the food, so maybe 3..."

As I was about to select, a sudden thought made me shake my head.

"R-risk! Risk management!"

These choices typically ended when the time ran out or after sex. But...

"What if I don't win a single match...? What happens then?"

Of course, there could be hidden hypnosis effects I couldn't see yet—like the men being rigged to always win. But no need to take that gamble.

"If I pick this and lose without a single win... who knows what could happen."

I wasn't hopeless at sports, but the women on this island were intimidating. If some statue-hiding human weapon popped out saying, "I'll fight at full power," I'd have no chance.

"Option 2. Safe bet."

I chose the feast. Just eat, enjoy—no stress.

I was quietly gaming in my room when a knock came.

"Sir, are you available for a moment?"

"Yes."

I opened the door to find a stunning beauty in a sharp uniform waiting.

"We're inviting you to tonight's dinner. Would you join us?"

"Of course."

I nodded. Took a deep breath. Time to relax and enjoy.

"Dress code is nude. Please undress here before entering."

"Ah... got it?"

About to step into the hotel restaurant, I gave a wry smile at the chef blocking the entrance.

'Yeah, something like this, huh.'

I'd come prepared, body already clean. As I started to strip, a nearby staffer shook her head.

"Allow me."

"Thanks."

I smiled and nodded. She deftly undressed me, her touch skilled, then tucked my clothes into a fancy paper bag.

"Please proceed inside."

"Right."

This morning's breakfast had felt like a normal upscale spot, but now it was different. A massive transparent glass table and chairs gleamed ahead.

I sat, and a sharply dressed chef greeted me.

"Welcome, Mr. In Jisan. I am—"

She rattled off impressive credentials—where she'd trained, awards won, restaurants run before coming here. I wasn't into that, so I just smiled and nodded.

"We'll start with the appetizer: crepe with caviar, smoked salmon, and herb cream."

'Super cute... but tiny?'

It was bite-sized—small enough for a woman to pop in her mouth whole.

"Here, let me—"

As ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I reached, a staffer beside me took the crepe in her mouth.

"Huh?"

Stunned, thinking she'd stolen my food, she leaned toward ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me instead. The chef spoke.

"We pursue not just taste, but touch, sound, and visual beauty."

"Ahh..."

Piano music swelled—live, immersive, like a spring breeze stirring the heart.

"Nice."

I kissed the staffer's lips, taking the crepe. Our soft lips brushed. I swallowed. The crepe's crunch and salmon's savor mingled with the lingering lip feel, turning sublime.

'Cute level.'

A virgin boy might blush, but I'd braced for this. Mild stimulation—charming. Food, melody, lips in perfect harmony.

"Next course: bisque soup with a drizzle of truffle oil."

"Ooh..."

A busty staffer brought it over—chest absurdly huge.

"Try it."

Seemed I wouldn't lift a finger here. I savored a big spoonful she offered.

"Ooh..."

Seafood umami lingered—the best soup I'd ever had.

But instead of the next spoonful, she stripped her top.

"What?"

"You've enjoyed the base flavor. Next spoons get special toppings."

Breasts bigger than her face emerged.

"Squeeze them yourself for that tactile enhancement."

"Me?"

I chuckled wryly, groping one. Both hands barely covered it. Fingers sank into pudding-soft flesh—no resistance.

"No way, breast milk—huh?"

Pure, stunning white milk squirted from her nipple into the soup.

"Aaah."

She stirred lightly and fed me again.

"This taste..."

Bisque richness, truffle aroma, plus condensed essence of milk—a hundredfold intensified.

Speechless, I eyed her urgently.

"Aaah."

She beamed, feeding more. Endless, lush flavor.

"How...?"

"MO-C-2357. 'Livestock's Joy.'"

"What's that?"

The chef smiled brightly, casual.

"A 430x210 rectangular drawing Anomalous Phenomenon. Observers manifest physical traits resembling specific livestock based on their thoughts or features. Further observation alters cognition."

"Isn't that... dangerous?"

"Of course. Permanent mutation requires 3+ hours of viewing. Our staff was managed for 62 minutes under 'Livestock's Joy.'"

Felt like forbidden knowledge casually dumped in my brain.

"So... reversible?"

"Yes."

She beamed. I sighed in relief, nodding.

"N-no human flesh or permanent body/mind damage ahead?"

"No. Not my ingredients."

Made sense—a chef specializing in cannibalism? Nah. Safe to indulge.

Disorienting, but no big issues.

"Next: seafood course."

Table cleared in a flash. I waited leisurely.

'...things are huge?'

This table was comically oversized for one. Then I got why.

"Pan-seared scallops with lemon butter on a nude blonde beauty, plus tuna sushi."

Venus lay atop the table.