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Darkness, silence.

Flashes of light and sound. Gunfire?

Metal against his ankle, something cold and sharp cutting through the thick bracelet fastened there. Tom opened his eyes and gasped a breath as adrenaline flooded into his system, waking him up in seconds.

"Hey! You the senator's kid?" the black-clad commando asked the young man in front of him. His voice was as cold and commanding as the gleaming steel knife he wielded.

A small figure on the room's single bed jerked awake. Aside from a white patients gown, he was naked. He jerked against the ropes holding him spread-eagle to the bed, thrashing hard enough to dislodge the thin blanket covering him. An IV line taped to his forearm swung wildly.

"Woah! Easy, easy! Name's Bridges; I'm here to help you!," the armor-clad figure said sternly. With surgical precision, Bridges sliced through the nylon ropes that bound the dazed hostage. Acrid, burning smoke filled the small concrete cell, and the young man's ears rang from the sound of confined gunfire. "Stay quiet, stay low, do exactly as I say and you're going to be fine, I promise. Understand?"

"Huh? Wha? I-I mean, yes, I'm him. Thank you for coming for me." He braced a hand on the bed frame and clenched down, the knuckles whitening, before using his free hand to slowly pull the needle. His eyes started to water before he gave up and jerked it out entirely, sucking a pained breath in through his teeth.

"Um... what about them?" he asked, gesturing at the bodies in the hall. Blood pooled slowly and dripped from the walls. And from him, he realized. He hurriedly smeared a stray drop across his cheek.

"Don't worry about them for now, just follow me; we're in pretty deep here. I ain't never seen shit like I've seen here kid," Bridges growled, casually stepping between two dead men. Though his face was concealed behind a gas mask and helmet, the young man could practically feel his disgust. "Stay close. If we run into anyone I want you down low. Kiss the motherfucking floor if you have to- just protect your head and core."

Tom nodded listlessly, his hands trembling as he put on a pair of scrub pants sitting on a nearby table.

Taking a fresh magazine from a pouch along the front of his vest, Bridges re-loaded his assault rifle and checked the passage outside the cell with fluid, practiced ease. "Okay; we're clear. Ready to make a run for it?"

'Okay, Tom. Remember what Dr. Stanton said. Breathe in, eyes closed, ground and center, breathe out.' He nodded shakily, ready to... follow this Bridges wherever he led, apparently. "Lead on. Um. Kitchen's about 50 feet to the right, guard housing's right next to that. Elevator's left down the hall, first left... y'know. If you need to know."

Bridges made a grunt that was almost like a laugh. "Memorized that, did you? Good instincts. Believe it or not, we're going out through the kitchen."

The commando slowly, methodically approached the kitchen, stepping over a pair of dead guards wearing biohazard gear, their plastic suits coated with blood and stained with powder burns. The air around Tom was so thick with smoke that it stung to breathe, but they advanced down the hall unopposed. Strange cries and roars came from the other cells; Tom caught sight of blurred, impossible shapes behind the thick steel doors. Creatures that looked like people, but all... wrong... in some way. People with skin that looked like rubber, animal-like creatures clothed only in scales, feathers and fur; something that looked like a giant, winged lizard...

"Best not to look too much. We can't save them yet," Bridges said, pausing as the hallway turned the bend to check on Tom and their flank.

"God. Did you do all this? How?" Tom had to skip an extra half-step for every one of Bridges' long strides, wheezing slightly at the unaccustomed exertion. He caught up shortly, pausing only to pick up a sidearm from one of the guards.

"No, I didn't do this all by myself. I had some help from the rest of... kid, what the *fuck* are you doing?" the soldier interjected. "Do you know how to use that?" he asked, pointing at the Glock 17 in Tom's hands.

"Uh. Safety's here, right? Point and pull the trigger?"

"Yeah, that's about right. Just keep it the fuck away from my back and your face, okay? You shoot yourself and your dad is going to have my sack as a paperweight," Bridges said, matter-of-factly. Tom couldn't help but notice that the soldier was checking his wristwatch and down the hallway, but not making any attempt to advance further. "Bad news is, we're cut off from the rest of the squad. Good news is, we have a contingency plan in place for just such an occasion..."

"Okay, so what happens next? What were those things?" Tom glanced behind them at the... farm? Jail? Lab? and shuddered. Was he meant to've been food for those... animals?

"I'll explain what I know later, which honestly amounts to a Dixie cup worth of cold piss as far as I can tell," Bridges replied, bitter scorn dripping from his voice. He began searching his pockets, pulling out a rugged, blocky cellphone, of all things. "Right now? I need to make a phone call."

The soldier's gloved fingers slowly transverse the keypad, calling up a phone book and punching in a number with authoritative force. The digital screen was dim but large, and gave Tom a good look at who Bridges was calling:

Someone named, oddly enough, Mr. GARAGE CARBOMB.

Tom's eyes widened as the floor shook and a sheet of flame burst from the doorway leading to what had been the kitchen. He instinctively cowered on the floor behind Bridges, covering his head, gun limp in his hands. Concrete dust pattered from the ceiling, and somewhere behind them a light fixture clanged to the floor. The cacophony of inhuman cries raised to a fever pitch around them...

"Come on! Run!" Bridges shouted, one of his Kevlar-wrapped arms scooping Tom up and pulling him along. He paused for a half-second to fire a burst of ear-splitting gunfire down the hallway, blowing fat holes in the face of a dazed, scorched guard before dragging the young man towards the remains of the kitchen. The sprinkler system tried in vain to fight a raging gas fire, and loud warning klaxons began to blare over their heads. A stern voice crackled over the loudspeakers, warning about the security breach...

Past the burning blast zone, Tom saw their freedom ahead. The bomb had blown a jagged hole clean through the kitchen wall, giving them clear access to what looked like an underground parking garage. Just past that, faint daylight poured through a half-ajar steel screen...

Tom *whuffed* as he was lifted bodily and carried towards the exit. They stumbled briefly as they crossed the new threshold, but Bridges' strong grasp never faltered as he carried them both to cover. "Okay, put me down any time you like... I can stand! Really!" Bridges squatted behind a beefy-looking SUV and lowered him onto the ground without looking, rifle at the ready, trying to cover all the angles at once. "Can we... um. Not set off any more explosions without warning, please?"

"I'll tell you what, drop the smartass routine and I'll give it some thought!" the soldier yelled back, pivoting around the engine block of the armored SUV to pour automatic fire into the garage security booth. The garage thundered with the sound of gunfire as security responded back with submachine guns and pistols, making the air just over their heads crack and whistle with the bullets' passage. Bridges shouted , "Do me a favor and get this fucking thing unlocked!", throwing Tom a keyring stained with dark-brown splotches of dried blood.

Tom managed a squeaked "Yessir!" as he clumsily grabbed at the keys. He punched blindly at a key fob, managing to set off the SUV's intruder alarm before finally! being rewarded with a solid-sounding chunk from the doors. "It's open, let's go!" He crawled inside and into the passenger seat, trying to stay out of sight of the bad men with large guns. Almost as an afterthought, he leaned over the seat and slid the key into the ignition, turning it and making the SUV come to life with a throaty roar.

Bridges paused only to send a 40mm grenade whistling down the length of the garage, blowing apart the garage door controls as well as the unlucky guard trying to reach them. Quickly, he slid into the driver's seat, crouching over the control console and stomping on the gas pedal. The tires on the over-weighted SUV screeched and burned rubber into the concrete as they tried to gain traction, before the vehicle began to lurch forward. They reached daylight and the top of the ramp just as the SUV was approaching its top speed, making the car briefly catch air.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Hold on!" the soldier growled, breathing heavily through his gas mask. Never taking his foot off the accelerator, Bridges drove straight through the outside parking lot, over the curb and through a razor-wire tipped fence. Small caliber rounds rained down on them, but despite breaking off part of the vehicle's fender and cracking the windshield wide open they made it safely out of the compound.

But where was here? They were surrounded by trees and sharp hills; it was somewhere rural. The flora looked... mostly recognizable. They had to still be in the United States somewhere...

Tom scrambled to get a good view of the ranch house as it shrank, framed by the rear wind-screen. After a long moment of careful contemplation, he carefully gifted it with the raised middle finger of his right hand... but squeaked and ducked out of sight again as the armored glass starred - some ambitious guards still earning their pay, trying to disable the SUV. The thunks stopped as the compound disappeared behind a low hill studded with solar panels.

Tom climbed up into the passenger seat, glancing idly out the window. For a few minutes that seemed to last way too long, all he did was measure his pulse and try to calm his panicked breathing. But as they passed through the forested peaks around them, the scenery awoke his memory. "...hey. Hey! I know that peak. We have a summer home near here, on the far side of the mountain, I used to hike all over it as a kid. How the hell did we get to the Rockies?"

"*How* did you get here? Now that's a goddamn fine question, ain't it?" Bridges replied, tearing his helmet and gas mask off with his left hand as he continued to drive through the woods, following the directions of a green GPS screen. Despite his gravelly, deep voice, Bridges didn't look very old. Sporting a shaved head and a gritty five o'clock shadow, the commando had flushed but tan skin and sharp, well-defined features. His eyes were light blue, surrounded by black paint that was streaked with sweat. Like Tom, he still seemed to be breathing quite hard, and the younger male could see dark dampness in his shoulder where he had been shot. "Imagine Senator Vitter's surprise when his son attends a frat party and then *disappears* off the face of the fuckin' earth. What's the last thing you remember, kid?"

"...I'm not sure." Tom was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "There was a recruiter there, or something. Some guy in a suit, with an awful tie, and a plastic-looking girl on either arm. We got to talking, y'know, like people do at parties. Then, um. Music got loud. Something by Green Day. I didn't feel well, so... took a nap to sleep it off, I guess." He turned to his rescuer. "How long have I been missing?"

"A week. You know that sleazeball? Don't have a name, but he's wanted by INTERPOL under six aliases for some real sick shit, including human trafficking, terrorism and conspiracy to manufacture weapons of mass destruction," Bridges spat. "Your dad's been going apeshit; the police were taking too long and he wanted results... which is why we got involved. I bet that motherfucker didn't know you were the son of the Senate Armed Services chair, huh?" the soldier laughed. "Granted, we had no idea that we were about to hit a place fortified like that. If we had, he would have called in the goddamn Marines."

Tom began to mumble something about his father's ice-cold brand of 'caring' when the sight of blood soaking into the back of the driver's seat caught his attention. "Holy shit, you're hurt. Um. Okay, you drive, tell me what to do. We need to get the bullet out, I know. There was a show on Discovery the other day..."

"We'll deal with it once we're at the backup safehouse, and I know from your dossier you're not a med student so *you* aren't touching a fucking open wound," the older man interrupted, sounding slightly annoyed. "By the way, allow me to properly introduce myself, Mr. Thomas A. Vitter. Name is Daniel Bridges; I'm with the Special Activities Division of the CIA, as is the rest of the team. However, since this operation was strictly off the books we're going to have to fashion a persuasive cover story later."

Tom sagged into his seat as Bridges spoke to him. "A week." He huffs out a weak laugh. "Well, there goes midterms. Oi, my professors aren't gonna believe this."

"Seriously? You've been held hostage by those crazy fuckin' sex slave traffickers for the last six days and that's all you have to say? Jesus kid, you're a lot tougher than you look!" Bridges said, laughing despite himself.

"...wait. Sex slavery? Ew. Ew ew ew ew ew." Tom shuddered involuntarily and fumbled behind his seat, pulling a light jacket out and slipping it around his featureless shift. The barcode over his chest flashed in and out of view. "That... explains some of this..." He suddenly turned to Bridges and offers his hand. "I... thank you. I really didn't have time to properly thank you earlier, but thank you for coming for me, truly."

Bridges' cold eyes looked over the offered hand, but made no motion towards it at first. A faint smile crossed his face, and then he swiftly crossed his unhurt left hand over to shake Tom's hand. Bridges' warm grip was bone-crunching firm. "No need to thank me, Mr. Vitter; just doing my job. I just wish we knew exactly had been going on down there. What the fuck were those things? What were they doing to *you*?"

Tom slowly withdrew his half-crushed hand and slouched back into his seat, rubbing it tenderly. "I haven't the faintest clue... I was pretty out of it, missed all the nasty parts. I basically woke up whenever they changed the IV, and once when they gave me some kind of shot by hand. And when *someone* started shooting the place up, of course. I mean, one minute I was playing a round of beer pong and the next thing I know, I'm out of my clothes and in this," he shrugged, sweeping his hands over the light "thing, some guy's injecting me, very much without my consent, and then I'm back down. Time passes fast when you're that high, I guess."

"Well, that's not exactly uncommon. Sex traffickers like to get most prostitutes addicted to drugs, helps keep them pliant and weak..." Bridges mused, grunting slightly as the SUV tumbled over a rough patch of rocky ground, hitting the highway with a thump. "But that was *not* a common operation. It looked like they were turning people into..." the commando began to muse, sighing and letting the sentence hang in the air.

After another few minutes at heart-stopping speed, Tom ventured another question: "Can I, um. Can I borrow your phone? My dad probably wants to hear how you did."

"No. Too big a risk of compromising our position. I don't know if you noticed how extensive that operation back there was, but this situation is *not* contained. Until it is, you and I are going to lay nice and low at the backup safehouse. That means no phones, no e-mail, nothing. You tie a fortune cookie scroll to a pigeon's leg and I'm going to have to blow that bird out of the sky; get it? By the way, this vehicle is almost certainly being traced, so before we hit town we're going to have to find a bum to drive it around for us, or push it off a cliff. Depends on my mood."

"Eep. Okay, okay." Tom sighed, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "God. Sex slavery. Why me? I mean, I'm nobody, I'm not even that hot!" He hugged the jacket closer around his skinny shoulders and managed a sour laugh. "I wouldn't even make for good leverage on my dad. He hates my guts." Which was half-true. The Senator- as he was known both to his constituents and around the dinner table- was constantly disappointed with his youngest son for a long string of character failures, real and perceived. But to Senator Vitter, family was *family*. Despite the bitter accusations of idleness, immaturity and homosexuality he leveled at the boy, he had never spared any expense in Tom's health, education, welfare or protection.

Bridges grunted. "Hell if I know. Honestly, I think they didn't know who you were; at least, not at first. We would never have tracked that place down if Senator Vitter hadn't made the NSA... ah, fuck it. This isn't the time for what-ifs. I just need to know if you feel anything, like, missing organs. Anything that needs immediate medical attention. If you're fine, then we're going dark."

"No! No, I'm fine." Tom made a show of patting himself down, torso, sides, arms and legs, ignoring where his injection site was already slightly reddening. "Nope, I'm good. I mean I'm bleeding less than you are, anyway. How far are we from this safe house of yours?"

"Hmmm... twelve miles or so? Not too far, but we're going to have to ditch the car before we get there," Bridges replied, sighing as he waved his hand over his rifle and combat gear. "Look in the backseat, see if you can find anything we can hide my shit in."

Tom crawled back to the back seat, rummaging around, the borrowed jacket flapping around his narrow torso. "Um... flak jacket, K-bar, shotgun shells, shotgun... ha! Duffel bag!" He passed it forward, shortly followed by himself. "Here, give me your gear, I'll pack it for you."

Bridges complied, rubbing his gritty stubble nervously as he raced down the highway. "Thanks. I have to commend you on keeping your cool back there, kid."

"Pfft. You did all the hard work, I just sorta tried not to get left behind. Um. Clear this, please? I can't manage the bolt." He offered the butt of the rifle, let Bridges eject the unused round. "Thanks." He pushed the rifle into the bag, then Bridges' cargo web, then his well-worn armor. Fingered Bridges' armor plate where a lucky round had lodged itself.

"Like, y'ever have one of those dreams, where you're just running away from something horrible behind you? And it doesn't matter what you do, so long as you keep running? Like that." Tom said, considering things a moment before adding,"Besides, I was so out of it that you could've ordered me to put on a strip-tease for you and I would have done it cheerfully. Groggily, mind you. But cheerfully."

Bridges arched one of his eyebrows sarcastically, but the faint edge of a smile appeared on his lean, leathery face. "Duly noted."

Given the near-suicidal speed that Bridges seemed to prefer to drive at, it didn't take long for the pair to make their way into a nearby small city. A pair of twenties bought the services of a roadside beggar, who drove the damaged SUV away looking like a man who'd won the lottery.

Fifteen minutes later, the two were safely inside the backup safehouse, which happened to consist of a room in the back of a motel grandly titled the Thurston Suites. The sign's 'e' swung freely from its frame as the suspicious pair crossed the empty parking lot. It was a cold but bright Fall afternoon, but thankfully no one seemed to spare them more than a glance.

The motel room was very, very modest; only the flat screen television gave any indication it had seen changes in the last few decades. The beds were small and the furniture was cheap, but at least it was clean. Apart from two unopened cardboard boxes, it looked like no one had even been in it.

"Will he be alright, do you think? That guy, I mean. With the car." Tom lugged the duffel, heavy with Bridges' gear, while Bridges himself checked that no one had found their hidey-hole.

"Maybe. Probably. Honestly, I don't know, and can't say I much care. In case you can't fucking tell, we really weren't prepared for the level of opposition we faced inside Dr. Moreau's winter cabin, or whatever the fuck that place was," Bridges grumbled, tearing off his sweat- and blood- soaked clothing, sighing and cursing under his breath. When he was down to nothing but a tight pair of boxer-briefs and black socks, he picked his knife out of its sheathe and began to walk towards their shared bathroom.

Bridges had a physique that strode a fine line between being built up through rigorous exercise and chiseled out of pure muscle. Though most of the hair on his body had been shaved, scars old and new stood out on his frame, along with a neatly-etched tattoo of a stylized eagle above a compass. Tom could see the man looked to be in considerable pain from the slug still lodged inside him, the wound still slowly bleeding. "I'm going to need to have a bit of alone time in the shower. Make yourself comfortable, there's some supplies in the boxes and the television is all yours. Just don't touch anything that can communicate to anyone outside this room and do *not* open the door or blinds."

"'kay. Oh, uh. Can I raid the fridge? I dunno if they had me on a nutrient feed or what, but I'm starved. And... and do you want anything? I'm not wonderful, but I can avoid burning water, at least."

"Yeah, go ahead, whatever," Bridges said, ambling away slowly. Tom could see several ripe bruises welling up on his chest where his armor had held, and there was a limp to his walk that looked like it was from an old injury. "Christ al-fuckin-mighty, I'm getting sick of this shit. Next time they want me to do an 'easy' snatch-and-grab off the books they better have an AC-130 on station..." he grumbled, rubbing the area around his bleeding shoulder tenderly.

Tom turned his attention towards the boxed supplies. Some rummaging produced two boxes of instant Mac 'n' Cheese. A few minutes to boil the water, a few more to boil and drain the noodles... there. He dished up two bowls, drew some ice water for himself and a beer for Bridges, and double-checked the simple meal. Carbs. Protein. Alcohol. Everything needed to recuperate after performing a daring paramilitary raid against superior numbers. Not to mention getting shot.

He waited almost ten minutes after that for Bridges to finish up, unsure exactly how long it took to dig a bullet out of your own body with a knife.Tom furiously tried to clear the memory of Bridges' muscular and bloodied shoulder from his mind as he knocked on the bathroom door. "You okay in there? I got, uh," a glance at Bridges' watch on the dresser, "I got brunch ready."

There was a sharp click from the door, followed by a billowing cloud of steam as Bridges walked out of the bathroom. The towel wrapped tight around his waist was splotched with blood and cut lengthwise, the strip of cloth used to make a makeshift bandage over his shoulder. The commando looked a little annoyed with the interloper, but there was a clearer hint of worry on his stern face. "Food? Good thinking... but... we may have a problem..."

"What? What happened?" Tom clutched at a slotted spoon. "Is someone after us?"

"Probably, but... this is more immediate," the soldier said, scowling in a nakedly apparent attempt to hide his own worry. "What the fuck do you make of this? This is what I dug out of my shoulder..."

There were scorch marks and deformities on the silvery, bullet-like slug; it had clearly been fired from some sort of gun. What was less apparent was why it was filled with a hollow, glass-lined cavity, filled with both Bridges' blood and a sticky, blue substance. A faint echo of a memory flashed through Tom's mind; didn't he see a restrained girl being shot with something similar on his first day inside... that place..?

"What...? Why would someone do that?" Tom examined the round as best he could. "They should have been trying to kill you. Why were they shooting needles? I mean, this isn't a round of TF2, here."

"A what of TF what?" the soldier asked, rubbing the wounded area gingerly. "I don't have a fucking clue what it is... I mean, come to think of it, one of those scientist geeks was the one who shot me, not a guard. Whatever that thing is, I think I broke it open when I was digging it out. I... I don't know. I feel kinda... feverish."

"Oh. Oh, no." Tom started hearing his pulse thump. "Um, okay, okay. So... what, you've been poisoned? Okay, um, I guess sit down, and I'll call a doctor." He backed away from Bridges, muttering. "Or, no, that'd give us away, so... crap, I dunno, I'm just a comms major at an expensive college!"

Slowly, Bridges sat down on Tom's bed, giving an oddly strained gasp as he settled down. The effort couldn't have been much for someone as fit as Bridges, yet it looked like just staying upright was taking considerable work to maintain. "Ahh... fuck. Yeah, I feel... disoriented. Slightly nauseous, but even more hungry. Salivating... hmm, a little bit. No local twitching... yet." Abruptly, he seemed to switch gears. "Tom, have you ever seen 'The Rock?'"

"That one with Sean Connery infiltrating Alcatraz, and the guy launches chemical weapons at San Francisco and the other guy gets stabbed in the chest with pure adrenaline or something, and then the other other guy does this Jesus-on-the-cross thing with green flares just in time to prevent an air strike from levelling the place? I think so, why?"

"Listen, just... calm down. You're as hyper as a goddamn..." Bridges began to say, before his words trailed off. He was breathing even more heavily than before, barely holding on to the towel around his waist. "Symptoms are... not good. Might be a neurotoxin. Just... dig around in my bag, find the pack labeled 'Mark I NAAK'. If I start to convulse, take both autoinjectors... and jab me in either the thigh muscle or my ass. Got it?"

Tom calmed immediately, given instructions. "Mark I NAAK, got it." He began rummaging hurriedly through the overfilled duffel bag, setting things aside as he went. "Grenade, grenade... different grenade, glow-stick... *another* knife? The hell does he keep all these?... Ammo, ammo, more ammo, aha, injector." He turned triumphantly, wielding a hard case with "NAAK, Mk 1, disposable, field-stabilized" laser-etched onto it. "This, right?"

Bridges had slumped over on his side, breathing rapidly and shallowly, arms clenched around his middle, face flushed and covered in sweat. His mouth seemed fixed in a pained grimace. The sight made Tom drop the case. "...hoshit."

"Nope... not poison... probably... don't feel so..." Bridges mumbled in short, forced breaths, awkwardly rolling over onto his back and leaving his towel behind in the process. "Feel like... bones..."

Tom gawked for a moment, before noticing that Bridges' body was changing before his eyes - below his thickly layered musculature, the rib cage, shoulders, hips - all were visibly changing. Jerkily, suddenly. And judging from Bridges' expression, painfully. Tom could hear the grinding sounds from where he knelt beside him on the bed. "I'm here, but... I don't know what to do. Do you need water, a compress?"

"Need... you... to shut... the fuck up... for... like... ten seconds... want to die... in peace... arrgh!" Bridges gasped, suddenly curling into a fetal position. Tom caught a good look at his shoulder as something began to happen around the wound site. As the makeshift bandage slipped away from his shoulder, it looked like the broken skin and muscle was re-knitting itself. Aside from the splotched brownish sheen to the skin there, it looked almost as good as new. Actually - Tom squinted slightly - maybe better. Bigger, beefier, maybe a bit leaner. "Ah... wait... that didn't hurt that much. That felt... actually... not bad. Weird, but... erk!"

Bridges' body convulsed as more rippling muscular contractions ran down his arms and back, something beginning to press out from the deformed skin near where he had been shot. It looked like hair, but it was dark brown and far too fine to be normal hair.

Tom took a step back, completely unsure of himself. He watched his rescuer... his tall, blond, muscular, naked rescuer... writhe on the bed and become something completely inhuman.

The process was slow, but it didn't look like it was causing the commando much pain. If anything, there was a desperate, shaken, unbelieving look on his face that more closely approximated morbid embarrassment. From the region around his shoulder, the brown hair-like filaments began to expand outward and grow, enveloping his back and neck before wrapping around his chest. The strange, dark-brown shapes looked almost like a coat of fur at first, but quickly differentiated into fine, downy structures that more closely resembled...

"...feathers? What... the fuck..." Bridges grumbled under his breath, gasping and rocking back and forth on the bed as his metamorphosis continued. Tom was able to watch as the feathers grew thick and long around his companion's arms and backside, sprouting and expanding like miniature trees. They held their dark brown color around most of his body, but took on a lighter, almost golden sheen as they crawled up his neck. Bridges tried to press his hands against wherever the feathers were spreading, as if somehow he could fight off the changes. It was a helpless endeavor, especially when the transformation subsumed his hands. Tom watched the soldier shake his head in disbelief as his calloused hands grew even harder and thicker, the skin turning into banded, yellow-tinged scales. Blunt black claws began to press out from his fingertips once all his skin had changed.

Tom stumbled backwards, tripping over the duffel bag and landing awkwardly on a rifle magazine. He pushed himself backwards with hands and feet, trying desperately to put as much space between him and the thing on the bed as possible, coming to rest with his back pressed against a cheap set of dressers. "B-Bridges?" His voice was soft, tremulous, questioning. He began eying the distance to the duffel, with its load of guns and armor.

"Aah... grhn... T-tom... get... gun..." Bridges choked out, his eyes closed tight with strain. "I don't feel... right... if I t-turn into... monster... shoot me..."

Tom heard Bridges' struggles become noisy shuffles as his growing feathers rubbed against the bedspread. The thick, long flightfeathers under his arms were over a foot long and still growing, and down contained to sprout all over his lower body and head. Scars, tattoos and hard muscle disappeared into the uniform coat of dark brown plumage, giving his body a streamlined appearance. A look of real panic only came to his eyes when short feathers began to grow from his face, and the black tips on his fingers grew out into inhuman, deadly-sharp claws.

"Just... use a suppressor... and aim for the head... you'll have to... figure out... cleaning part... later... gonna need... shampoo..." the commando said, his voice beginning to tremble. The feathers covering him wrapped around his eyes but seemed to spare his mouth, until Tom saw the soldier's lips begin to harden and grow darker.

Tom could only nod and crawl to the duffel. Pistol, suppressor... no, threads at the other end. Magazine's in, safety's on...Tom stood, handling the heavy pistol with sudden distaste. It was a blocky, *heavy* gun, not like the nine millimeter he had appropriated earlier. With a sudden afterthought, he grabbed Bridge's discarded towel and tossed it onto his feathered nether region, getting only as close as absolutely required, then darting back, eyes on those glinting black claws at all times. He huddled into the corner, hands flexing around the grip of the pistol as though holding it tightly enough might somehow fix this.

"Bridges? Can... can you hear me?" Tom whispered, trying not to break down.

The only response Tom could hear was strained, hard breathing. Bridges' mouth and nose were in the process of slowly melding together, pushing out from his feathered face and taking on a yellow tint. Right before his eyes, it grew out into a long, sharp beak, black and hooked near the tip. Bridge's legs and feet- already quite impressive by human standards- bulked up even further as the transformation claimed the last of his body. Downy feathers poured down his thighs and then faded, the bottom half of the soldier's meaty legs growing in hard, thick scales. Bridges let out a gasping, inhuman cry as his toes crammed together, the five small digits quickly morphing into three massive talons. A fourth talon burst out from his heel, quickly growing to match the size of its companions. Finally, with a sound like someone pulling a rope taut, Bridges' feathers finished growing to their final size. His tailfeathers pushed the flimsy towel off the bed as they grew out into a broad fan, but the man's modesty was preserved by the addition of a thick, down-covered sheath that swallowed his limp but impressive penis entirely. Tom couldn't help but notice that the length seemed to grow even larger as it changed...

Slowly, breathing heavily, Bridges' gaze fell upon Tom. His once-blue eyes were now tinted a feral shade of amber and much larger, but there was a hint of more than just animal intellect in them.

"You... forgot to chamber... a round," Bridges mumbled, his voice a warbling, scratchy call.

Tom squeaked in surprise and struggled to work the heavy slide. He brought it up not-quite point at the weird creature on the bed, careful not to cover anything he wasn't willing to destroy. Apparently, years of professional training hadn't come in as handy as his father had hoped. 'Thanks, Dad'. "Are... are you gonna," nervous gulp with a mouth suddenly achingly dry, "eat me?"

Slowly, Bridges tried to take stock of his transformed body. He cleared his mind, distance himself from the reality and immediacy of the situation; it was a skill he had trained well and often employed on missions. Physically, he seemed to be some sort of *bird*- by the look of things, a predatory one. Sharp, hooked talons; sharp, hooked beak. Some sort of... half-eagle? His limbs felt like they all ended in sharp little knives; on reflection, having natural weapons growing from his body actually felt sort of *good* to the seasoned soldier. Never could have too many knives, really. Mentally? Well... that was a tricky one. Everything seemed to be in order, but how did he know his own judgement was still intact..?

"No. D-don't think so. I feel... weird, but I... I think mostly I just need a fucking drink..." Bridges finally cawed, rubbing his new beak gingerly and then staring at his clawed hands. "Well, it's official. This is the weirdest fucking day I've ever had."

Tom sighed in abject relief. "Thank you." He immediately set the pistol down on a convenient nightstand and sagged against the closet door, holding a hand over his eyes. "So... what now?" He slid down the door until he held his knees loosely to his chest. "Can't go out. Can't fix you. Can't call for help." He busied himself with something he *could* do, pulling the gun off the nightstand and carried it gingerly back to the duffel bag, now surrounded by heaped piles of lethality. Mag release... ah, there. Slide, chamber check, pull the trigger to decock. Suppressor. Everything into the bag...*another* goddamned knife!

"How the fuck should I know!?" Bridges spat, unsteadily getting up from the bed. Awkwardly balancing with his tailfeathers and arms, the feathered commando managed to stand up unassisted. Tom couldn't help but notice Bridges seemed unaware he was still naked, his heavy avian sheath hanging proudly between his legs. "No... this doesn't change anything. You're safe, and that means mission accomplished whatever the collateral. We... we can't do anything about... this..." he continued, waving one winged arm over his front, "for now... so... I'm just not even going to think about it."

Of course, he couldn't help but think of it. Strange feelings kept surprising him, urges that took a constant expenditure of will to suppress. His talons and beak practically begged to be used. Could he glide with his winged arms? It certainly felt like it. Fly? Probably not, but... well, who knew? If only he could go outside, feel the wind catch on his feathers and... and... wait. Focus on the mission, damnit! Bridges had been a soldier for quite some time and was used to thinking of his trained, condition body as a weapon. What he wasn't used to was being, literally, a predator.

Tom couldn't help but notice that the transformed soldier's massive, laser-sharp eyes seemed to linger on him longer than usual, Bridge's head moving at unusual angles as they talked. He looked a little like a bald eagle, but stockier, stronger. And not bald. There was something very unsettling about the eagle's gaze, something that made him feel twinges of real fear, even though the soldier had saved his life and sworn to protect it.

Tom managed to avert his eyes from Bridges' new form with its fascinating... feathers, keeping his hands busy with the duffel. "Well... okay. You're right. Nothing's changed." He managed to quirk a smile briefly and meet the bird's intense gaze, even if only for a fraction of a second. He settled for keeping eye contact with his beak... no, too weird, go for the chest. "So you still need food, right? And I think someone stocked the fridge before we got here, there's some PBR."

"Food, beer, good start. God damn I wish I had put some goddamn cigarettes in there..." the eagle mused, sliding down and sitting against the bed facing Tom.

Tom got up, glad for a task that he could actually do. He grabbed the food and drinks, then carried everything into the bedroom. "Here," he said, handing the fuller of the bowls over. "Um... if you need a straw or something I'm sure I could find one around here somewhere." He sat alongside Bridges, carefully leaving a space between them and a clear line to the door..

Bridges looked from the beer to the bowl of noodles and back again, before letting out a deep sigh. "Fuck," he cursed dispassionately, feeling the tip of his hooked beak with two of his claws. "That's not going to work. But it... doesn't even look appetizing. I feel like... ech... I don't know. I need something... meatier."

Slowly, Bridges began to flex and relax his talons, easily pulling the thin carpet up off the floor and leaving long rends in it. Oh, that felt *good*! "I mean, I still feel like... me... there's just... these strange urges..." he said, his mellifluous voice softening as he turned and locked his eyes on Tom again.

"Er. I think we've got some hot dogs? Or I could make a run for cheap steak, if you've got cash?" Tom blinked disconcertedly, trying to focus on impaling an elbow noodle on the spork he'd found. Anything to avoid those unsettling eyes.

"No going out, no calling for food; make do with what we have. I have to keep you safe, kid," Bridges said slowly, his words uncertain, searching; his eyes moving with deliberate precision. The hotel room carpet had lost its struggle with his talons badly, but now he was out of convenient things to rip up. Don't think about being a *bird*, Bridges; focus on the mission! Protect the primary!

"I need to know you're doing alright in the head, by the way," Bridges began to say, confidence returning to his voice. "I'd be willing to bet that the first time you've experienced violence like that, back in that house of horrors. You may have nightmares for a little while, maybe even PTSD. It's going to be important you get psych help once everything is straightened out."

Tom tucked his legs up into his chest, pulling the baggy jacket around him to preserve his modesty. "I'm fine, really. Like I said, I was doped up for everything but the last bit with the guns and the running and the explosions... uh." He swallowed, hard.

Quickly, his lighthearted tone became distant, detached. "And the bodies. That guy you nailed by the gate? His, uh. His boot was still there. Standing upright. With some stuff streaked down the side... I guess it was blood." His voice cracked at this last, and he hugged his legs fiercely, burying his head in his knees. A great, wracking, sob later, his voice was steady again.

"They're dead, aren't they. All of them."

"Yes. I'm not going to bullshit you, those men died. We did what we had to do to stop that psycho and rescue you, and that meant shooting them," the eagle said, his cold words feeling far more vicious coming from a flesh-tearing beak. But this was necessary harshness, needed for the healing to being. "Wasn't supposed to be that way. The original plan was to come in hard and fast and arrest the guy... but we had no idea how big that place really was, what they were doing... we had to improvise. I'm sorry you had to go through that, but as I said earlier you did exactly what was needed. Tom, you were very brave... you don't have anything to be ashamed of."

Slowly, Bridges moved towards the crying college student, placing his great winged arms around him in a firm but gentle hug. "Things could have gone much, much worse. You're alive and unharmed, that crazy fucker is probably enjoying a government-paid, five-point-five-six millimeter funeral. Whatever he was doing, he ain't doing it anymore."

The soldier was so *strong* and yet his feathers were so *soft*; it was a powerful, comforting embrace. Tom could feel the latent power in those raptorial claws and talons, hear the resolve in Bridges' altered voice. The only thing that threw off the emotionally-touching moment was the feel of a dangling, ridiculously large bird sheath rubbing against his lower leg.

Tom's shoulders shook briefly, then his defense collapsed and he clung desperately to the eagle, arms barely meeting behind him, tears staining his chest feathers. The sobbing continued for awhile. Slowed. Stilled. He looked up and wiped his face on the sleeve of his borrowed jacket, looking embarrassed, trying to contain the effects of his emotional outburst. "I'm sorry about that. Thank you. Um. Let me get you a towel, I made a mess of your feathers..."

"Hey, no problem kid. There's nothing wrong about dealing with your emotions; like any other problem, the only thing to do it face them head-on," Bridges said, nonchalantly wiping a streak of snot off his chest-down with some of the feathers on his wrist.

Tom got up slowly, stiltedly, reflexively gathering the dishes from their abortive meal. Took them to the kitchenette, left them by the sink. He ducked into the bathroom, moistened a hand towel, brought it and a full-length bath towel out. "Er, here. For your, um, y'know." He held the bath towel out, awkwardly looking anywhere but at the nude eagle's crotch.

Bridges looked up from his grooming and shook his head at the larger towel. "Not gonna work." The soldier stood up and did a half turn, pointing toward the wide fan of tailfeathers that stood straight out from his backside. "Why are you so damned anxious to get me to cover up, anyway? We're both men here; it's not like this is any stranger than having a fucking beak and talons," the eagle said gruffly, giving his plump, downy sheath a few light slaps with the side of his hand.

"Aheh. Habits from a shared dorm room, I guess. The other guys, y'know. They're touchy. Look too much, you're a fag. Don't cover up soon enough, you're a fag. Do the dishes more than once a month, you're a fag." Tom flushed, stammering, "Er, not that I'm saying you... er... I'll shush," he ended lamely.

"Right," Bridges replied noncommittally, picking up the PBR Tom had brought in earlier and giving it a truly nasty look. With a swift, vicious strike, he bit down hard on the aluminum with his hooked beak, tearing a neat, uneven chunk out of the can and spitting it out. Tilting the can nearly vertical, Bridges drained the entire beer in a single gulp. He belched with an odd warble before continuing the conversation, asking Tom, "so, wait, are you gay then?"

Tom blinked, suddenly nervous. "Um." He swallowed hard. "Well, y'know... there was this party, once, and everyone was pretty soused, and maybe a little high... andIkindablewasoccerplayer. But that was it, I swear! I even have a girlfriend, a marine biologist, she's in the Bahamas right now doing her doctoral research."

"...right," Bridges said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Tom almost swore he could see the bird-like soldier's beak curl into a disbelieving smirk, but of course that was impossible. He leaned against the edge of the bed, leg muscles visibly tensing under his feathers. "I honestly don't give a fuck what you prefer, but I don't like being lied to. I'm a ladies' man myself, but I've had my fair share of other experiences as well. I mean, hell, you spend enough time cooped up on a submarine and you'll fuck anything that ain't sharp."

Tom was silent for awhile, next to the dresser. "I suppose I owe you that courtesy, at least." Another pause. "I'll readily admit that you're, um. Distracting. Without any clothes on, I mean." He tensed at Bridges' silence. "...Sorry."

Bridges let loose a deep laugh that seemed to make all of the feathers on his body shake at once. "Oh really? You like *this*? I'm a fucking... bird-thing..." he said, his voice quickly becoming crestfallen. "I don't think I have a lot of poon in my future..."

In a small voice, Tom whispered "...yes." He twitched a quick smile, avoiding Bridges' eyes. "The feathers kinda work for you, I think. Brings out your chest some, draws the eye in interesting lines. Plus I hear there're people into... what you are now. Animal-people, anthros."

"Right. 'Some people'," the eagle said, his powerful, amber eyes fixing firmly on Tom. Bridges was half-torn between two competing ideas in his head, one of which said he was a half-bird freak and the other that said he was stronger, faster and deadlier than he had ever felt before. He walked forward, stopping right in front of the college student before crushing his empty beer can in his claws and tossing it to the side. Bridges towered even higher over Tom than before, his tall, muscular, feathered frame both regal and powerful. There was a hint of something stronger in the air than just the beer on his breath; something musky and sweaty. "You wouldn't happen to be one of those people, would you?"

Tom closed his eyes, practically able to feel the heat pouring off the big eagle's body. He wished his cock would stop getting hard without his permission. "...it's a fetish, that's all, I swear. I saw too many Disney movies as a kid, or something. But people started playing with genes like tinkertoys, and it was suddenly real. So... I'd hoped... some day. I dunno, to meet one." His eyes dropped to the floor.

"And then this, and you, and now you're changed, and... I'm sorry," this last phrase quietly miserable, "I know I'm weird and a pervert. Look, just... just deliver me back to school, and my dad'll pull some strings for you at a hospital somewhere, and this whole awful ordeal'll be over for both of us, okay?"

For a few pregnant seconds, Tom and Bridges faced each other, both hesitating slightly to meet the other's eyes. Bridges felt a faint hint of worry pass through his head as he considered the smaller male. Tom's cute, innocent face and lean body was just *begging* for a good, hard fuck. Something instinctual told him to grab the male and do to him what he should do, what he was *supposed* to do to any other prey... only instead of digging his talons into someone's jugular, he wanted to use something a bit larger and softer, and put it somewhere tight and hot...

"That's the plan... but you do know we're going to be here for at least a little while longer. Now, I'm perfectly fine passing the time with pay-per-view movies and awkward, forced conversation, but there ain't nothing wrong with... having a little fun" Bridges said, reaching one of his powerful, clawed hands out and resting it on Tom's backside, giving his right ass-cheek a firm squeeze. "I promise I'll be nice and gentle..." he breathed. It was the first lie he had spoken to Tom since they had met.

Tom jumped at the unexpected touch. The musky, locker-room like smell of maleness was getting stronger and stronger. "You mean... you aren't, I don't know, disgusted with me? Everyone I've talked to about... well. People like you. They're weirded out, disgusted. Call me dogfucker." He touched Bridge's corded forearm softly, wonderingly, whispered, "Are you serious?"

"Are *you*? Kid, I'm in the business of protecting national interests no matter how it has to be done; you think I really give a fuck about anyone's personal shit?" Bridges replied, inching even closer. Tom could make out the fine details in the downfeathers that swathed his face; from further away, they just looked like coarse fur. Bridges' hand never quite left Tom's ass; he simply continued to give the flat flesh strong squeezes, only occasionally switching to grope the other cheek. "Eager and hesitant all at once; you're a strange one, I'll grant you that. Don't think I'm forcing you into anything, kid... if you don't wanna play around, I can go jack it out by my lonesome. But I think we can help each other..." the eagle said, trying to restrain the instincts that told him to *take* what he wanted before even hearing an answer...

Tom closed his eyes and took a deep breath, asked himself if he was really sure, counted to five.

"...okay. I'm yours." He put a hand on either side of Bridges' muscular torso, ran his fingers through the downy feathers, palmed the broad feathered chest. "I'm kind of new to this. I mean, I don't remember much of the guy in the bathroom or how we got there..."

"Wait... seriously? You've never done... oh man, this is going to be *fun*." Bridges said, letting out a warbling chuckle. Fresh prey.

"Well... I remember he liked this." Tom palmed Bridges' groin, feeling intimidated by his shaft's thickness even while flaccid. "And this," wrapping a hand gently around the sheath, stroking up and down.

Bridges looked down at the slender hand caressing his protected cock, and then met Tom's eyes again. "Yeah... it's really not so hard. Easy thing about fuckin' another a guy... you already know what feels good..."

Tom squealed as he was lifted bodily into the air, *oofed* as he landed on the bed, bounced once. Powerful, clawed hands pushed him back onto the sheets while his knees bend against the front of the bed. Bridges pushed his head down against the top of Tom's chest, slowly rubbing his beak against the younger man's neck and breathing heavily against the flushed skin. "How'd you like sucking that soccer player's tool? You like the taste of hot jizz in your mouth? Like feeling him moan and pant and squeeze your shoulders, hmm?" Bridges whispered throatily, ending by running the sharp edge of his beak carefully along the edge of Tom's jawline.

"It was... nice, yes. Satisfying, knowing that I could bring him that pleasure." He dared eye contact. "I can do better with you, I think. I know what I'm doing now, have more experience," a gesture at the eagle's impressive equipment, "and better raw materials to work with..."

"Just ask nicely, and I'll give you all the cock you can handle..." the raptor said, lifting up his limp cock and slapping it against Tom's chest.

"P-plea..." Tom began to say, when he felt the bed under him sink for a second as Bridges vaulted up onto his chest. The warm, soft feathers of the eagle's bottom suddenly pressed right onto him. Even with a hollow-boned frame, the muscular commando weighed quite a bit. He could see the arch of strong tailfeathers behind the raptor, sense those deadly, powerful talons squeezing the sheets right next to him...

...felt that massive, plump, fuzzy sheath come to rest right next to his chin. Tom could see a hint of deep red inside the sheathe, the tip of the other's altered manhood. Bridges mantled himself over Tom, the eagle's eyes somehow protective and predatory all at once. Slowly, he stroked the hair away from Tom's eyes, making careful use of his rough-scaled hands and sharp claws. "I'd offer to sixty-nine with you, but I don't think that would be..." he clacked his beak, "...a good idea," Bridges said. "But go ahead... experiment. I'm kinda curious to see what the fuck happened to my dick, anyway. This all-natural cock-sock is weirding me out."

Tom wiggled his right hand free, to gently grasp Bridges' massive tool. He gently pulled the sheathe back on one side, exposing the crimson head of his partner's penis, let it snap back into place with a soft flap. He stroked a finger down the thick rod to its base, tried to circle it with thumb and finger, got almost all the way around. He cradled Bridges' sac, feeling the warm, potent weight, the palpable virility.

"Bigger than I thought. Warmer, too, I'm surprised you're not sweating." Tom kept probing along Bridges' feathered taint, feeling the warm tube grow firmer, and almost hot. He was rewarded with the tip of Bridges' thick dick peeking out into the air, inches from his face. "Mm... lovely."

"Yeah... mmh, yeah..." Bridges moaned softly, wrapping his winged arms around Tom's shoulders and filling his field of vision with the feathery cloak. The younger male was so eager, so inexperienced, so *curious*! As the sensitive, fleshy rod inside his sheath began to grow turgid from Tom's exploration and their bodies became warmer, the room thickened with the smell of male sex. It wasn't something Bridges usually appreciated, but there was *something* about his heightened, altered senses that made the young, lean student under him absolutely irresistible. "Come on... you want a taste; I know you do..."

Oddly enough, Bridges thought, so did *he*. Not unfamiliar with his personal urges, Bridges instantly realized that something was wrong. There was no way in hell he would have propositioned his primary objective for sex on *any* mission, let alone Senator Vitter's *son*! It had to be whatever had transformed him, some instinctual response triggered by whatever virus or chemical the slavers had infected him with. If they were turning people into inhuman sex-slaves in that place, couldn't that mean his own sex drive had been hijacked?

...but, on the other hand, that cute little cocksucker was about to wrap his lips around what looked like nine inches of eagle-shaft- *his* eagle-shaft. It put his old, already formidable seven inches to shame. Bridges wanted to feel that hot mouth around it so badly... and there was no way the kid would go around boasting or anything. Could one little, harmless bit of sex really be all that bad? Besides, it's not like he had to cum in the boy's mouth; could always do it elsewhere, he rationalized.

"Start slow... give the tip a little lick. Kiss it... feel it with your lips... explore it," Bridges gently but sternly instructed, shifting his position around so that he was sitting on top of Tom's chest, tailfeathers tickling the boy's exposed stomach as pleasure made them rise and fall.

Tom gently took Bridges' beautifully exposed shaft into his hand again, felt the heat pouring off it in waves. He rubbed the glans with his thumb, made a show of examining it from all angles. Finally, he extended his tongue and licked the very front, the taste and smell of warm musk filling his mind.

He found that he rather liked it.

Another lick, longer, around the full edge of the head, then he took it into his mouth entirely, engulfing the blunt tip and suckling on it like a newborn babe. After a moment he allowed his head to fall back, his lips tracing every moist, steaming contour of Bridges' thick rod. "You know, you actually taste pretty good. Here, let me scoot down a bit..."

He wiggled against the sheets, using his legs to pull him nearer Bridges' engorged shaft. He took a long lick from base to head, allowing himself to savor every subtlety, every hotly pulsing vein. "I mean, like, really good."

"A-ah... oh, *shit*..." Bridges mumbled, his large eyes closing in rapture. Reflexively, the eagle's talons had squeezed down tight and hard on the bedspread as Tom licked, ripping easily through the fabric. Within seconds the fleshy, hot cock had finished growing out to full length and hardness, already dripping eager spurts of preseed onto the boy's tongue.

What Tom had managed to say was true, of course; the taste was incredible. It was a slightly-salty, rich, textured brew, and each drop was a spark of pure sexual energy. Each oily drop rolled across his tongue, slowly simmering away in his mouth as he rolled it around... or sucked down into his stomach with ravenous haste. Every taste made hunger well up in his belly, made his skin feel warm and tingly and made his undergarments feel quite snug. He felt like he could drink that succulent treat forever and be content.

Tom felt a heat building in his stomach, flushing his skin and making pinpricks of sweat start on his forehead. He attacked Bridge's cock with actual enthusiasm now, taking full mouthfuls and bobbing up and down, feeling the blunt tip probe at the back of his throat. He pulled off, making a soft pop as his lips pulled off.

He moved on, tonguing and suckling gently at each warm, heavy testicle in turn, taking them into his mouth and massaging them with his tongue and hands. "What do you think, more of that? Or," he gave the moistly bobbing tip of Bridge's cock the daintiest lick possible, "some more love for this big boy?" He intentionally grazed the back of the head with his teeth, as punctuation, and lay back, looking impolitely pleased with himself.

Bridges leaned down and licked the top of Tom's ear with his slim tongue, occasionally running the smooth top of his beak along the sensitive flesh. "Why don't you get something a little heavier than just pre in that cute little mouth of yours..." the eagle purred, deliberately fanning his tailfeathers against Tom's protruding crotch. "God, you're the most eager cockslut I've ever met, of either gender. You lick my meat like it's going to kiss you back. I want to... I mean... it's... not a bad thing, really... I mean, I'm just stating the facts," Bridges continued, realizing mid-sentence that being straightforward and honest presented complications all their own at times.

"Heh. Funny. That's what the last guy said, too." Tom said, giving a quiet, nervous laugh." He still couldn't quite suppress the grin on his face, nor the pride he felt in his tonguework. Still, his hunger, his *need* was tormenting him. He took several deep breaths, hyperventilating, before saying. "I'm... I'm going to try something new."

He pulled himself even farther down the bed, actually putting his mouth slightly behind the base of Bridges' monster shaft, before taking it by the tip, tilting his head back like a sword-swallower, and pushing himself up onto it. He gagged freely, his eyes watering at the unaccustomed invasion, and his throat rippled around Bridges' thick cock, even as he pushed himself further, taking all nine meaty, musky, wonderful inches and cramming his nose into what had been Bridges' pubic hair.

The smell was exquisite: warm, spicy, slightly moist... he wanted to stay forever, but he wanted air more. He pulled himself off of Bridges slowly, tenderly, throat still trying to swallow Bridges' cock whole. As his windpipe cleared he took a deep breath in of musk, driving him even madder with need for this perfect man above him. After only a few gasped breaths, he did it all again.

"H-holy... fuck..." Bridges panted, too stunned to even react as Tom devoured every last inch of his maleness. He felt warm, moist breaths blow straight into his rolled-up sheath and felt the boy's nose poke at his pubic down, but those incredibly pleasant sensations paled next to what his cock felt. The kid was deepthroating like a professional whore, his zeal more than enough to outweigh his lack of experience. Powerful, wet, sucking swallows assaulted Bridges' cock and milked the pre from him with mechanical speed and force. "W-wait... m-m..." the raptor tried to say, his words abruptly cutting out. Any thought or hope the transformed soldier had for not making Tom swallow his possibly virus-tainted load were dashed.

Having his mouth around Bridge's whole cock, Tom could feel the orgasm in full. Bridges' heavy balls tensed up against his face, the sweaty, musky down rubbing up his nose and cheeks. A half-second later, the eagle's steel-hard, throbbing, burning-hot shaft began to tense and pulse up and down, seed beginning to surge into it all the while. Suddenly, potent, fresh raptor cum shot down Tom's throat, instilling a filling, tingling, sweet, deep warmth in his belly. Though most of the potent, sticky batter was deposited straight into his stomach, the sheer volume of the orgasm meant that some cum washed back into his mouth. Bridges' inhuman essence made Tom's mouth tingle with its meaty, salty, sweet flavor; it was like a soupy, lava-hot taste of pure sex.

Tom lay back, eyes half-closed, suckling blindly at the tip of Bridges' meat, feeling it ripple with the aftershocks of the most powerful orgasm he had ever seen anyone experience. He swallowed again, clearing the thick, meaty spunk from his mouth, and passing his sticky tongue around his lips to pick up any overspill. He looked insufferably pleased with himself, and felt even better. "Was that satisfactory, sir?"

"Mmh... you bet, soldier," Bridges replied, using his thumb to wipe away a stray strand of seed from Tom's nose.

He felt a warm glow envelop him, a deep sense of absolute rightness with the world.

After all. He was here, with this wonderful, perfect, amazingly hot man, who not only had enjoyed his ministrations, but had expressed it in the purest and most honest way possible. The world was warmth, peace, and light on a beautiful Saturday morning, and nothing could ever possibly change it.

Bridges slowly withdrew his cock from the young man's hungry lips, watching it dribble sticky strands of cum over his chin and shirt. But quite abruptly, the look in the eagle's raptorial eyes went from the warm haze of sexual afterglow to the razor focus of panic.

"Oh, shit...." Bridges cursed, angrily digging one set of his claws into the mattress. He began to rub Tom's cheek gently, with the edge of his hand, muttering darkly to himself.

It was then that Tom realized what Bridges was rubbing. It was something soft and tickly and connected to his skin... or, more accurately, growing from it. It wasn't the warm glow of 'rightness' he had felt. It was the warm glow of fur beginning to cover his sweat-slickened skin.

"Mm... Bridges? 's matter?" Tom felt a dull sense of worry penetrate his blissful shell. He put a hand atop Bridges' cool talon, feeling the short prickles of stubbly fur starting to push through his skin, the changes to his skull and skeleton. He grabbed hold of Bridges' hand with surprising force, his expression one of absolute panic. "Don't let me go, man, please."

"Ahh... fuck. I'm sorry, Tom; don't worry though, don't panic! It doesn't hurt or anything..." Bridges quickly said, his own fear disappearing as the need to comfort Tom became paramount. The eagle leaned down and pulled the upper half of Tom's body up, enveloping him in a tight winghug. "It's okay; it'll pass soon... you'll be different, but you'll be fine..."

Tom could feel the cottony fur continue to sprout out all along his fingers and between his ears and toes, seeming to emerging from everywhere at once. An itching tickle along his upper lip burned for a few seconds, and then wirey whiskers began to push out from his face. Heat swelled up in Tom's belly, and then dripped down his nerves like icewater. The feeling of disorientation in his head was profound; his senses began to distort and merge together into an unreliable mess. Only the warmth of the eagle's feathered breast and the feel of his tight embrace was a constant.

Tom felt his breathing and pulse accelerate, feeding the metabolism that would produce such dramatic changes so shortly. He clung tightly, panting, feeling sweat start to drip from him in earnest, to mingle with the pooled juices on the bed. The changes to his body began running together in a single fluid stream of impressions, his only anchor Bridges' tight embrace:

His skin took on a white, snowy tone as short, silky fur covered him completely. The base of his spine extending, pushing out into a broad, nimble tail, new muscles and sensations filling his awareness. He flicked it once, twice, not knowing *how* he knew to do so, but suddenly as familiar with his new appendage as he was with his eyes and hands. He felt his skeleton changing, pushing his furred skin out into odd planes and angles: his face pushing out, incisors lengthening into buckteeth, nose-tip recessing into his face.

New sensations came from his ears, now long and stiff and almost painfully sensitive to every sound, able to be moved and tuned to every angle conceivable. And, of course, his feet. They lengthened very quickly, pushing his center of balance forward, and bumping his height another six inches, were he to stretch out fully. He felt his legs twitch, felt the muscles there grow lean and ropy, capable, yet not too obviously powerful. His entire body grew lithe and toned, perfectly suited for either hiding or fleeing... and then it was done.

He had his mind back, he had his body back... well, plus a few things... and most importantly, Bridges had never, ever, once, slackened his embrace even fractionally.

"Are you okay, Tom?" Bridges asked, his beak resting just next to one of the lapine human's large, perked ears. The eagle slowly turned his head and adjusted his hug, his predatory, amber eyes meeting the wide, guileless gaze of a bunny boy.

"I'm... yeff. Yeth." Tom scrunched his eyes closed in concentration, trying to sound out simple words through a radically changed skull and a jangled state of mind. "Yes. I'm. Fine." He leaned back in Bridges' arms, tilting his head up to look him in the eye. "Thank you. I... it wouldn't have been nearly as fun without you there. I mean, not that it was fun, but you understand." On a sudden impulse he stretched up and pecked Bridges between the eyes.

Bridges chuckled, rubbing his golden feathered forehead against Tom's gray-furred one. "Just doing my job, kid. Just doing my job..."

The eagle adjusted his position on the bed, springing back up onto his talons and pulling Tom up with him. Tom found it was rather strange to balance on his elongated footpaws, but Bridges helped steady him as he adjusted. "Well, let's see the damage..." he said, his voice tinged more with eagerness than worry.

Quite suddenly, Tom felt the raptor's strong claws latch onto his borrowed scrubs and pull them down until they pooled around his ankles.

Bridges' general impression was one of long, lean, legs, tight and hard without being bulky, a perfect balance between marathons and sprinting. Getting used to the extra joint at the ankle would take some doing, but... the kid carried it off well, somehow. Tight, firm bubble butt, lean hips, and... Bridges huffed in amused frustration as he found a pair of snow-white paws between him and his prize. "You're not still shy after all that, are you, kid?"

"Why don't you... hold onto this..." the eagle said, grabbing Tom's wrists and gently but firmly forcing his hands around to his tail, before wrapping his own claws around the boy's fur-covered maleness. Bridges fondled the bunny's sheathed package possesively, resting his beak on the edge of the boy's furry shoulder. Gently, he pushed his half-hard maleness into the snug cleft between the rabbit's smooth, furry asscheeks, occasionally poking it up into the broad, leaf-shaped tail above. "We'll figure out what to do about our... situation..." the raptor growled, his claws roaming all up and down Tom's silky pubic fur and flat, lean chest. Something about holding a piece of sexy, needy *prey* in his hands was unbelievably erotic. "Until backup comes, we're just going to have to... keep ourselves busy... thinking about something else... and I think you know what I wanna do with you..." the predator said, his voice commanding yet warm.

Tom leaned his torso into Bridges' feathered chest, enjoying the feel of his thick muscles working behind him, eyes lidding in pleasure as Bridges' taloned hands roamed beneath his shirt and against his own furred penis. At the same time, a new, bolder set of instincts made him arch his back and grind his hips into Bridges' crotch, feeling him grow hard again. "I'm sure I haven't the faintest idea. Tell me? Please? I'm," he dipped a long, tufted antenna to one side, "all ears."

"Mmm... indeed you are..." Bridges said with a shallow sigh, gently taking the boy's left ear into his beak and sliding up with the grain of the fur. The tickle of the hard, smooth beak against his sensitive earfur was enough to make Tom shiver, especially when Bridges' hands got into the act. One of the eagle's powerful talons began to rub the rabbit's bellyfur in pressing, circular strokes, while two of his claws gently tweaked the transformed mammal's nipples one by one. "Seriously, though... have you ever been fucked before?" he added, more than just an afterthought. Slowly, the eagle's member- still sticky with spilt cum- began to re-harden as it explored the groove between the bunny's strong thighs.

Tom shuddered against him, rocking his head back into Bridges' chest as lightning bolts of sensation rocked through his body from his nipples. "I've... no. But I want you to. I want *you*. All of you, everywhere. In me, around me, by me.... with me. Please." He pressed himself into Bridges, trying to enfold himself in the other male like a blanket of warm, protective, birdman. "Whatever you want... I'm yours."

Though Bridges couldn't make his beak curl into a smile, every feather on his body tingled with delight. It felt so natural, so *right* to be there to protect, to comfort, to *possess* the smaller, weaker male; to hold him fast in his talons and claim his willing, virgin ass, love and dominance in accordant harmony...

Both of the eagle's arms enfolded around Tom like warm, feathery blankets, and the eagle's talons began to gently prod apart the lapine's legs. A fully-hardened raptorcock began to roll around the rim of his tailhole, the slick, tapered rod still content just to tease. "Well... here's what I want, my cute little bunny. I wanna hold you down and fuck that cute, furry little ass of yours until I make your rump sag with hot cum. I'm going to hump you until you're fit to lay eggs, and I'm going to make you cum into those sheets until they are painted white..." the eagle's voice was bold, demanding, utterly certain, even though Bridges himself felt quite confused. He knew he had to protect the primary, but the other instincts flooding his mind were far too powerful to ignore. Instead of resisting, Bridges came to the conclusion he could still do both.

Bridges used his beak to hold and stroke the rabbit's other stiff ear, pausing occasionally to lick the peachy inside with his small but bold tongue. All the while, his cock continued to trace out every fine contour and detail of the bunny boy's ass.

"That... that sounds wonderful. Yes. Yes, please, immediately if not sooner." Tom turned in Bridges' strong arms, contouring himself to the other's strong body, letting his arms hold him fast to his rescuer. The fact that this left his own hardness rubbing against Bridges' belly was completely immaterial; Tom had given himself over, he reasoned, and there ought be nothing between them. Tom caressed Bridges' chest with one small hand, crooning throatily, "Please, don't make me beg."

Bridges leaned down and licked the boy's furry cheek, taking the time to grab hold of both halves of the rabbit's wide yet lean rump. Squeezing the light-furred orbs together and gently poking his claws into the dense fur, Bridges began to speak more sticky-sweet words. "Oh, I won't... I want it just as much as you do. All you have to do is... turn around, lift that cute leafy tail... and let me do it..." he whispered in a deep, scratchy voice. At the 'it', he emphasized his point by poking the lapine-human's maleness with his own hard raptorhood, feeling a shiver shake his tailfeathers as their down and fur rubbed together, sinfully sensation-rich.

Tom whined needily as Bridges ground their animalistic members together, feeling every iota of sensation, every nerve's exquisite song, with unnatural clarity. He nodded eagerly and turned back, stroking a path over Bridges' broad chest in the process. "Take me, please. Fill me up, make me yours." He felt an all-consuming need to be filled ignite in his loins, an emptiness that threatened to drive him mad. He ground himself against Bridges' crotch again, but it only just barely appeased this new drive. "Please..."

There were no words from the powerful eagle, just the comforting, strong embrace of his feathery arms. The raptor's hands roamed through Tom's backfur until they stopped on his rumpcheeks, massaging them with strong, swirling squeezes. Bridges continued to push the furry orbs apart and then pull them together, playing with the boy's ass like he owned it. Well, for the moment, he did.

Leaning down, Bridge's beak began to lightly nibble on the boy's excited, flat tail, before sliding lower to groom and licking the thick, musky fur around the back of the rabbit's deliciously plump balls. Though the hard beak didn't have much going for it in terms of warmth or comfort, just feeling the pinpricks of sensation in such sensitive places was making Tom feel heavenly. Suddenly, Bridges began to gently lap at the exposed, virgin hole just below the bunny boy's tail with his thin tongue. The sharpness, the deadly potential of the hooked beak pressed into his crack was a strange contrast to how small and slick the avian's tongue was. "Mmmh..." Bridges moaned, his warm, shallow breaths pouring over the rabbit's cotton-smooth fur. "I know this has been a royally fucked up day for the both of us... but I'm gonna keep you safe. You can trust me with that, kid; I promise I'll take care of you..."

Tom felt his legs grow wobbly, and braced himself on the bed's frame before he fell down completely. He panted in purest physical ecstasy, his sensation finding voice in high, shrill short moans. "Oh, god, that's so good..." He focused all his energies on standing upright and not melting into a puddle of bliss on the floor. "I - hah, ah! - I trust you. I always will."

Suddenly, the eagle was up in a blur of motion, standing fast behind him. Raptor talons wrapped around the front of his long feet and under them with irresistible strength, and the bird's feathered arms hugged him in a tight embrace. Unlike earlier though, the nine-inch long cock that had been teasing him pressed against his virgin entrance, the slick, tapered head easily catching against the rosy, freshly licked tailhole.

It happened too slowly, and yet never quite stopped. The first thing that Tom felt was another gentle push against his anal ring, and yet unlike before Bridges never quite stopped...

"Good bunny..." Bridges growled, his whole body tensing as he began his thrust. "You know, you're the hottest, sexiest guy I've ever had the pleasure of fuckin'. With an ass like this, it's no wonder you're gay. I think I just might have to perch on top of it and play with your cock all night..."

The pressure against Tom's tailhole rose and rose, his tail twitching nearly uncontrollably and his legs shaking against the bed as the muscles of his sphincter began to yield with burning pleasure...

"Yeah... just relax, keep breathing... you know you wanna feel me as deep inside you as my cock can go. Mmm... f-fuck, you're so tight... calm down... you're safe with me..." the raptor continued to caw, using his claws to grasp the bunny boy's handpaws tightly.

Suddenly, Tom felt the burning pressure on his backside abruptly fall off to nothing. Simultaneously, Bridges let out a hissing, warbling moan, and Tom felt the stronger male's pole of thick, hot raptor-meat fill his ass wide and deep. It was so *big*, Tom swore he could nearly feel the tip of Bridges' member bulge against the outside of his own lean stomach. But Tom also felt something deep inside his anal passage quiver with electrifying, hot pleasure as his no-longer-virgin rump was filled with cock. Preseed practically exploded from the tip of his bunnyhood when Bridges started to roll his hips around, grinding the cock against every nook of his insides he could fit in.

Tom gasped as his hole was stretched wide, feeling shockwaves of pleasure wrack him from toe to fuzzy ear-tip. He felt his eyes water at the incredible size of Bridges' shaft, and rubbed them dry against the soft blanket beneath him. He panted for a moment, wrapping his mind around the fact that not only did he have another man inside him - and *such* a man, at that! - but that it felt so damned good that he didn't understand how he had ever truly lived without this pleasure before. All those nights spent alone masturbating in the dorm showers or under his bedsheets- all of that aching, unfulfilled need that others mocked and derided him for even possessing- suddenly nothing more than memories.

"Th-thank you..." he whimpered, voice muffled by the blanket. He gasped as Bridges began gyrating his hips, swirling his intestines, igniting every inch of flesh that it could reach with passion, hunger... pure physical need. He gave voice to his most secret desires, moaning lustfully and using his long lapine legs to press Bridges even deeper into him. Anything to get more - more touch, more warmth, more of these incredible sensations, more of this man who had taken him in mind and body.

Bridges felt the predatory, irresistible lust in his body seize hold of him as his cock hilted in the bunny-boy. He saw the younger male's leafy tail twitch and shake feverishly above his penetrated ass, the sight only making Bridges want to fuck him harder. Still, his pace was limited by his desire not to be too rough with the sheltered male and the sheer tightness of the tailpassage around his cock. From the first hint of pressure against Tom's ring to fully burying Bridges' shaft in the bunny's ass was at least five seconds of agonizingly slow pushing.

"F-fuck... mmm... I'm glad I could be your first, kid... I'm gonna make sure... your first anal cum... is something you're gonna remember..." Bridges sighed, draping one arm over Tom's shoulder and pushing the other one under the bunny's body. His yellow-scaled talons formed a tight, rough ring, which he wrapped around Tom's rabbithood, slowly rubbing it up and down the first few inches of the mammalian member's length. While Bridges' was only just barely moving his fingers up and down the ultra-sensitive, blood-engorged maleness, every time his hips met the other male's rump he forced Tom to buck forward into it. Even though the eagle's talons were gripping his feet with almost painful tightness, no sensation could possibly compete in his mind against the maelstrom of pleasure coursing through the needy bottom-bunny.

Tom was completely lost in a world of bliss, sensations assaulting him from every direction. His voice rose into a higher octave as he was filled again and again and again, so forcefully but so slowly. He pressed against Bridges' talons, voluminous amounts of precum slicking them and making the tight ring of scaled finger perfect for thrusting into. His hands involuntarily clenched at the bedsheets as his rump was filled to capacity and beyond; his red-hot cock flexed hard against Bridges' strong claws as he felt Bridges' testes nestle against his furred rump...

...and then Bridges was slowly, slowly pulling out, dragging his full length out of Tom's ass, making sure that every inch rubbed against Tom's prostate to best effect. He looked behind him questioningly - surely he had been satisfactory? - but his expression turned to one of blissful relief as Bridges began pushing his full nine inches back in, spreading his loosened ring wide, possibly even wider than before. Tom arched his back in ecstasy, pressing himself against Bridges' broad feathered chest, feeling his own genitals burn even brighter, with mounting intensity. Bridges' slow, deliberate ministrations began to prove too much, and he started losing control of himself. 'No, this isn't right', he thought, 'I want him to be first!' "Bri- ah, hah!" He lost all command of language.

A hot, electric tingle ran all the way up Tom's maleness like a shiver as the eagle's cock pressed hard against his pleasure center, making his bunnyhood throb quicker and more powerfully than he had ever felt before. Simultaneously, he felt every muscle in his ass clench down hard on the raptor's dominating length. As Tom let loose a low, moaning cry, the predatory avian mounting him let out a tremulous, restrained screech. What felt like pure, liquid heat began to gush hard and fast into Tom's clenched passage, making every last strand of fur on his body stand on-end. The rabbit's nerves felt sore as pure pleasure filled him from both ends, his bottom from being bred by a massive cock, his bunnyhood from being stroked by those two powerful talons. Bridge's beak was locked open and his eyes were twitching in pleasure, the mighty, majestic form of the feathered soldier making his pleasure with the rabbit very clear.

"F-fuck... oh-h... yeah, yes..." he moaned out, holding himself fast against Tom's prostate as he continued to cum over and over again.

Bridges' geyser of seed pushed Tom over the edge. As soon as he was aware that the massive eagle had climaxed, he lost every vestige of his self-control, his own hard length feeling briefly like hot steel in Bridge's grasp before he came hard, Tom's seed puddling on the bed and splashing against his belly with every burning spurt. His ring clamped down around Bridges' maleness with every fresh, steaming spurt, perceptibly rippling along the eagle's length as though trying to milk him for every red-hot ounce of seed that he could produce.

Tom wailed his joy into the bed-spread, all reserve abandoned as he became lost in the strongest orgasm of his life. He had fantasized about being bent over and pumped full of cum many times before, but he had never imagined there could be so *much* of it. The warmth, the tingling, burning, filling pleasure was everywhere inside him; the potent, virile eagle-cum overpowering his own musk, replacing his scent with the raptor's stronger pheromones, marking the predator's dominance. Bridges' voluminous load packed Tom's virgin rear to the brim and then some, the excess splattering over the rabbit's tail and into the eagle's bellydown; the rest, slowly dripping down to join the bunny cum soaking into the sheets beneath them. Bridges humped at the rabbit's toned rear once, twice more, and then lay still, his weight pressing Tom into a pool of their mixed semen.

There was a long, quiet pause when the only sound that came from either of them was the slow rushing of their labored breaths. If they did that again, Tom felt as though he was going to have to start laying eggs.

"We're gonna make it... kid. I promise... we'll be alright," Bridges said, resting his beak against the top of the bunny's head. The eagle made no move to withdraw his spent raptorhood from the furry rump it was buried in; he enjoying the feel of holding Tom safe and fast- with every part of his body- too much.

Tom managed a tired smile. "With you around? How could we not be alright?" For the first time in a very long while, he felt safe, warm... He reached blindly, feeling along Bridges' muscled arm, and grasped one large talon with his hand. The scales were hard, cool, slightly slick with spent fluids - but they were uniquely Bridges', and no other's, and that was all that mattered.

Bridges smiled as Tom held his arm. "Exactly. That's the attitude, you sexy little furball," the raptor said. He had been a soldier for a very long time, had ended many lives, and saved many more. No one had ever been as grateful as Tom. The warm glow of the rabbit's affection, the necessities of the mission, the tight hold of his furry, leaf-tailed ass... everything he saw and felt made him even more attracted to the needy, weaker, younger male.

The eagle's powerful, brown-feathered arms pulled the rabbit's weakened, limb body upward, holding him fast as Bridges turned around, flicked his tailfeathers upward and sat down on the bed. Tom felt his cock twitch and dribble even more cum into his matted pubic fur as the maleness in his tailpassage moved around, Bridges now making him sit right on it. Tom squeaked in surprise as he was lifted, turned, and matter-of-factly sat atop the eagle's strong thighs, Bridges' enhanced cock ramming hard into the bunny's abused tail-hole. He wriggled himself into some degree of comfort, feeling the eagle's softening rod stir his insides, then was encircled in Bridges' arms, held fast in a firm and protective embrace. One hand drifted up to lay atop the eagle's arms as he lay his head back and nuzzled at his protector's, rescuer's... lover's... feathered jawline.

Bridge's held him tighter against his muscled chest, wings and legs almost encircling the rabbit completely. He knew that the feral lust in his loins, the aching, arcing need that made him want to fill the boy with his seed again wasn't right. Something, probably the same thing that had changed them was giving him irresistible, animalistic sexual urges. Yet it was almost impossible to deny them, so much easier to give in to their shared lust. Idly, Bridges ran his claws through the mess of cum in Tom's pubic fur, bringing it up to the rabbit's muzzle, trying to give him a taste of their seed. Tom nuzzled mindlessly at Bridges' talon, pink tongue darting out to lap up the salty, meaty cum.

"Mmh... anyway, I'd say... aside from being turned into a giant fucking eagle and rabbit that didn't go half-bad..." the raptor mumbled, gently nipping at Tom's fur and straightening it out with his beak as Tom lapped at his hand; the grooming pattern feeling strange but also somehow right.

Tom sat still, not wanting to tempt fate by moving too quickly around that sharp beak. "A plus plus plus, would be rescued again. And the bit that came after wasn't awful, either." He wiggled atop Bridges' lap to emphasize his point.

Bridges gave a soft, warbling moan as the bunny boy continued to playfully jiggle about in his lap. His raptorhood was already growing hard again, even though the boy's thoroughly used hole was still stuffed full of very sticky seed. Even the smell of sex and the sweat running down his feathers was still fresh. "Mmhh... well, how about I return the thanks again..." he said, grasping Tom by his furred hips and pushing him down slightly on his towering phallus. "I think there are a few more things I could show you about taking it in the..."

Tom's ears perked up, catching a faint but worrying sound. The sight made Bridges pause himself. A full second passed before someone began to knock on the hotel room door.

Tom looked at the door, expression tightly worried again, all thoughts of safety suddenly vanished like evening mist in the morning sun.

"The rest of your team?" He was able to faintly discern a jingle of equipment, maybe from more gear webs, and the tread of heavy boots. It could be them... or it could be friends of whoever had taken him, trying to tie up loose ends. He hugged himself, suddenly very aware of his lack of clothing - even covered in fur, everything was exposed. He looked around the room - the bloodstains, the guns, the clothing puddled in the corner, the scent of musk heavy in the air... there was nothing to shield him from what he'd done. Except Bridges.

"Probably. Either way, it's gonna be okay." Bridges said. He leaned over to the side of the bed, picking up his USP from the duffel bag by the bed and casually flicking off the safety. Protectively pulling Tom to the side so he could put his feathered bulk between the boy and the door, Bridges aimed the pistol right at the entrance. "Promise."