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Brett never thought of himself as a vengeful person. He'd always been easygoing, which transferred into his life at the research facility. At that moment, though, staring into those crazed, power-hungry eyes as Dr. Wu ordered his mate's death, Brett wanted nothing more than to tear him apart. The harsh mechanical reminder of his impotence pressed against his back with each step, and all he could do was clench his claws and wait.

Unfortunately, the doctor seemed unwilling to take any chances, keeping his distance and putting two of his assistants between him and Brett at any given time. With each step, the hope of escaping him and returning to help Eli melted away, leaving despair and hatred to mingle.

"You'll make a better stud than that washed-up soldier." The doctor smirked, eyes flashing with malice as he guided his assistants in strapping Brett to the table, placing his legs in stirrups, and leaving him exposed to an insane, rapacious gaze. "Don't think I haven't noticed your little changes. You're the first subject to take so well to the treatment. All I require is a few tweaks, and I'll be able to harness that natural charm. Why let subjects go if I can use you to convince them to stay?"

Brett's chest tightened. Had the doctor noticed his increased intellect? If he had, it would be exponentially harder to escape. Playing the part of the stupid, cock-obsessed hen was the only way he knew of to get the man to drop his guard.

"That's right. I've noticed your muscle growth. You're not a hen. You're a stud. You've been trying to hide away to stay with your feathered lothario." Completely missing the mark with his assumptions, the doctor turned his back, grabbing various vials and a long, wicked-looking needle. "It's alright, though. This time I'm not going to allow you free will. I've learned my lesson from dear Elias. Your offspring will be my ticket to infamy once I've given you the tools to produce them."

Fuck. How could Brett fight back? Did he have to watch his free will drain away, leaving him with nothing but a desire to fill others with eggs? Fighting against secured bonds, he opened his mouth to speak, but a sharp tap against his palm stopped him in his tracks.

'Quiet. I'm sorry. Don't miss this chance.' Words mouthed by a familiar face set him reeling. Was this the intern that dropped cream for Eli's abused ass? As he followed the intern's arms down to his wrist, he watched the man intentionally miss the buckle's hole, then step back.

"-That'll fucking show them. They said I was crazy. Inhumane. Don't they see the POSSIBILITIES?" Monologuing like a villain from a 90s TV show, Dr. Wu finally stopped to take a breath, holding a syringe full of swirling off-white liquid like the beaker of transformative sludge that changed Brett in the first place. Standing over Brett with an obvious tent in his pants, the doctor laughed. "Goodbye, Brett. I'll take good care of you once you've become the stud you've always been."

Crossing the distance between them, the doctor flicked his fingers against the syringe, then lunged forward, burying it in Brett's arm. It was now or never. As liquid fire filled Brett's vein before the plunger could descend fully, Brett broke the leather restraint, harnessing his anger to break through the spreading pain and grab at the doctor's coat. If he didn't stop the doctor now, he'd lose everything.

"What the fu-" Silenced by Brett's claws around his neck, the doctor screamed out, then choked on his words, his windpipe crushed by vengeful fingers. Flailing his arms, he demanded help from the two interns flanking the door, but his only answer was a heavy thud and a familiar crackle.

"FUCK YOU!" Finally breaking his silence, the intern that helped Brett's escape raced over, but not to the doctor's aid, instead yanking the needle from Brett's arm and hurrying to release his limbs one at a time. "All you do is take what you want, forcing me to please your sick fantasies, hurting me to get off. Fuck. You." Turning his cattleprod on the doctor, the intern shook, his mask askew and tears streaming down his face. "I won't let you do this anymore. I won't let you kidnap and hurt people. I don't care what happens to me."

Eyes rolling, Wu started to turn purple, pawing at Brett's claws as another hand joined the first, his bloodshot eyes growing redder by the second. Soon enough, he went limp, his head lolling and his mouth foaming like the sick animal he was. Brett wasn't sure if the man was dead but barely cared. It would serve him right after all the pain he put poor Eli through.

Snatching the badge from the doctor's coat, the intern pressed it into Brett's claws, followed by his weapon. "That should get you back to Elias. I'm sorry for what we did to you. I know I can never make up for it, but maybe you'll be able to get out of here. That's a start." Breathing a sigh of finality, he slumped against the wall, still holding the syringe. "I'll take the blame. They won't look for you if they have another subject to work with, right?"

Watching incredulously as the man pressed the remainder of the needle's contents into his arm, then sat back, hands on his knees and face contorted in pain as it started its work, Brett could only nod. Turning his back on the spreading feathers and labored breathing and breaking into a run as he reached the hallway, he wiped his face, blinking back tears of relief. There would be time to break down once they were safe. He owed that to his mystery savior.

"Fuck, he's got a lot of fight in him. Almost a shame. All this effort to throw it away." A muffled voice greeted Brett as he reached the door, fueling his urgency as he heard Eli cry out in pain. If he could still make noises, it meant he was alive.

"What-" Barely able to react, both of the men standing over Eli's crumpled form, draped over the bed and clinging desperately to their clutch, fell victim to the electric jab of Brett's borrowed weapon. Slamming into the ground hard enough to ensure they'd need a hospital stay, they stopped their taunting, instantly unconscious.

"You can't have them." Weakly swinging at Brett as he stepped over his tormentors, Eli blinked through swollen, blackened eyes, his beak chipped, and his feathers scorched in a few spots by the touch of a cattle prod. "You're- Am I-" Falling forward against Brett, he burst into tears, burying his face in soft feathers. "You're okay. I thought-"

"You think I'd let you go? You're stuck with me." Brett returned the swaying griffin's embrace, allowing himself to soak in the scent that filled him with a sense of peace. Eventually, though, he had to break contact, hurriedly moving to gather his eggs and forming a makeshift sling from a pillowcase and a few torn sheets, then tying it around Eli's neck. "We're leaving."

....................................................................................

The sweet scent of flowers on the breeze tickled Brett's nose, and a familiar weight against his side coaxed him into the waking world, accompanied by a soft grumble. "Morning." He murmured, nuzzling into the griffin's back as he took a deep breath of ruffled feathers. "We can't stay in bed all day."

Wriggling back into Brett's embrace, Eli sighed, letting his tail twitch against the former hen's side. "If you want me to wake up, you know what to do." He murmured playfully, blatantly teasing a new addition to Brett's body. One that he enjoyed even more than their more traditional play.

"You big softy. You'd think you want to get pregnant." Unable to resist the bouncing embrace of griffin cheeks, Brett pressed his sheath against the welcoming heat of Eli's hole, his peeking dick leaving a trail of arousal across sensitive flesh. Among other things, the dose of transformative cocktail had given him back his manhood, though it hadn't undone any changes that came before.

"It's your fault for being so damn good at it." Grumbling, Eli stretched, sighing dreamily as his movements popped Brett's growing erection past his hole. "Mmmph. Nice and slow." He panted, rolling his hips to massage the growing shaft and welcome more of it into his increasingly welcoming hole. In the weeks since their escape, he'd abandoned all pretense of feigned manliness, willingly giving himself to Brett and learning all sorts of tricks to wind him up.

"I love you," Brett whispered, teasing at feathers with the tip of his beak as he started a slow rhythm, giving into Eli's wriggling need and bringing his arms around to tweak the griffin's nipples. "Though I'm pretty sure if you keep this up, my balls will fall off from overuse."

"Fuck. Right there." Too far gone in the throes of passion for coherence, Eli clamped down on Brett's slow rut, reaching back to drag Brett over him as he rolled onto his stomach. "Breed me." He begged, claws digging into soft linen and chubby ass on display, wobbling with each thrust.

Gathering the chubbier griffin's cheeks in both paws, Brett slammed himself to the hilt, hunching over Eli's blatant presentation. "Quiet down; you'll wake the kids." He teased, chuckling as Eli buried his face in a pillow to muffle a desperate moan. A thin trail of arousal trickled down the back of his balls, and he felt himself clench, but it would have to wait. Eli's ass was too good to give up.

Pushing back against every thrust, Eli panted like a bitch in heat, his inner walls clenching like a silk vice and his tail thrashing, finally curling around Brett's waist as he felt the telltale milking sensation of Eli's finish. Each thrust sounded wetter as Eli's cock smeared itself through its mess, and he melted into the bed, his beak embedded in the pillow and body shaking.

One final thrust brought Brett to his finish, hilting him within the desperate clench of silky need and filling Eli with rope after rope of newfound virility. Covering Eli's fingers with his own, he nuzzled into the back of his neck, lacing them together as he luxuriated in their shared orgasm. "Don't go back to sleep. It's already almost noon."

"Mrrphrmph." Garbled by a beakful of a pillow, Eli answered with a dreamy, half-awake tone. Stretching, he groaned aloud as Brett's softened member slipped from his gaped, drooling ass and took a moment to gather himself, spitting out the mouthful. "I can't help it. It's been so many years since I could sleep without worrying about what they'd prod me with when I woke up. I'm starting to feel like a person again."

"You smell like an animal, though." Dangling his feet off the bed, Brett slapped Eli's ass playfully, earning a yelp from the former soldier's beak. "Hop in the shower, Mama's probably got breakfast going already, and I feel bad making her feed all four grandchildren by herself." It was a flimsy excuse, as Brett's mother had been almost feverishly involved with the hatchlings since the first cracks appeared on their eggs, and she now called Brett her favorite son for bringing her 'hijos' home to her. She'd hit him with her shoe if he even hinted at taking them away from her.

A short shower later, with both of the griffins crammed into the shower and Eli getting a bit fresh, pulling Brett into a kiss that worked suds further into their feathers and his tongue down Brett's throat, they smelled less like a cumsoaked gym sock. Padding down the stairs, dressed in custom-fitted clothes that a local tailor provided for free in exchange for the publicity, Brett took in the unmistakable smell of steak and eggs, smiling as he heard his mother's soap operas blaring on the kitchen tv. It reminded him of his childhood.

"Mama, you know you don't have to do all this yourself." Sitting at a table loaded with enough food to feed a small army, Brett watched as the older Mexican woman hummed to herself, keeping one eye on the television as she effortlessly stirred and chopped. "We can hire someone to help you. The rights to our story sold for enough that we could never spend it all anyway."

"You think a personal chef could beat your Mami's cooking? I'd like to see them try." Tearing her eyes from the TV, she scraped another plate of meat and eggs onto a serving platter, making her way over to the four high chairs filled with happily munching hatchlings. "Besides, I had some help with the cleaning. Your little friend Bruno's a natural. So good with the babies."

Patting another feathered head, she hugged a third smiling griffin, leaving a pink kiss in her trademark lipstick on white feathers. After Dr. Wu's operation collapsed, Bruno (As Brett's mother affectionately called him, no one knew his actual name.) came to stay with them, delivered by an unmarked van. Brett assumed he was the man that helped him escape, but Bruno couldn't speak, though he greeted Brett with a long hug and seemed more than happy to have his company. His presence turned out to be a boon, taking care of the hatchlings without needing to be asked and almost acting as an older brother.

Sitting back, Brett watched as Eli cleaned a little beaked face, making funny faces to make its owner laugh. It was hard to believe that weeks ago, Eli was a caged animal, zapped and forced to breed unwilling participants, and he was just a stupid college student so desperate for money that he'd sign anything. Looking back, he wouldn't change anything.