There's Something About Birdstyle

DISCLAIMER: This story is a non-commercial work of fiction based on the anime GATCHAMAN. Original copyright of GATCHAMAN belongs to Tatsunoko Productions and Sandy Frank Entertainment. Absolutely no monetary gain has been made with this work.

THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT BIRDSTYLE
© April 9, 2008 By Rory V. Pascual


PART FOUR

"Whew! Right in the nick of time!"

Ken closed the door of the rest house, just as the rain began to fall. He had been in the forest, checking out his snares for any game it had caught. By the time he reached his last snare – which, to his delight, had trapped a young wild turkey, dark clouds were building up in the sky overhead. Slaughtering and cleaning the vicious bird right then and there, the Eagle hurried home, pausing briefly along the way to pick up a nest of quail eggs. He first took his prized catches to the kitchen before going to the upstairs bedroom to check on his patient. To his relief, Joe was sleeping soundly in bed. Rather than announce his return, he went back down to prepare supper.

It has been a week since Nambu-Hakase left them, seven days that were both a joy and a trial for the Eagle.

Ever since he was a child, Ken loved the beauty and peace that the wilderness surrounding the rest house accorded him. It also brought back fond memories of when he and Joe would play in the woods or clamber down the rocky cliffs to gaze at the churning sea foam. They were always getting into all sorts of crazy adventures that either led to trouble or fisticuffs, causing poor Nambu to develop a few premature gray hairs.

As Ken chopped up the turkey and dumped it into the pot, along with some vegetables and spices, he couldn't help but muse wryly that it had always been his fondest wish to be able to confess his true feelings to the Condor in this beautiful place.

The circumstances they were in, however, made any notion of romance an impossibility.

Joe was recovering, true. But it was a gradual, frustrating process, especially for his patient. His recent head trauma left him feeling weak and with poor muscle coordination that Ken had to give him therapeutic massages and put him through rehabilitation exercises. If this wasn't distressing enough, he was prone to episodes of dizziness and headaches. Visions of flashing lights – a symptom he exhibited during the Marine Satan incident – became a regular occurrence, especially whenever the Condor was feeling stressed out.

Ken has one consolation though. Not once has Joe complained or brought up the issue about their birdstyles.

Leaving the pot to simmer over the fire, Ken brought a bed tray – laden with a bowl of turkey stew, rice, six shelled, hardboiled quail eggs and a tall glass of milk – to the bedroom. Joe was lying on his side, but the Eagle sensed that he was already awake. Sure enough, the Condor's shoulders jerked as thunder boomed outside the window. Placing the tray on the bedside table, he peeled back the covers and gently nudged his patient.

"Come on, Joe. I know you're awake," Ken poked him repeatedly in the side, causing Joe to squirm. "Dinner is served."

The Condor's eyelids twitched. One bleary gray eye opened followed by the other. Propping the pillow against the headboard, Ken eased Joe – whose mouth was stretched wide in an exaggerated yawn – to a sitting position and placed the bed tray before him. Joe glowered at the Eagle who tucked a napkin under his chin.

"Say 'Aah!" Ken said playfully as he offered a spoonful of stew.

The Condor's mouth formed a tight, grim line, refusing the spoon entry. "Not…baby! Can feed…myself!"

"Oh really?" Ken's eyebrows rose at that declaration of independence. Replacing the spoon in the bowl, he said with a wave of his hand, "Here! Be my guest!"

Frowning with intense concentration, the Condor picked up the spoon, only to have it slip through his feeble grasp and fall on the tray with a clatter.

"Fuck…fingers!" he glared at his uncooperative hand as though it had become the minion of Berg Katse. "Fuck…tongue too! Talk…idiot! Grrrr…"

"That's because you don't drink your meds regularly. If you just take them like Hakase ordered you to, the headaches would disappear and your speech will go back to normal."

Joe stuck out his tongue. "Shitty taste…like battery acid. Only crazy fucks…drink crap pills!"

"Joe, don't be a pain. I brought some milk. Even put in some extra sugar. It'll make the pills less bitter and it will go down easier."

"Milk? Urggh! Not…baby! Beer! Want…beer!"

"Condor…" Ken used his stern Eagle voice. "You know what happens to you whenever you drink anything alcoholic while you're sick. In the condition you're in now, you'll be brain dead."

"Hmmph! Eagle…idiot! Fuck…meds! Give! Beer! Pills! Damn! Shit-!"

Before he could go on a one-syllable cursing spree, Ken quickly shoveled turkey chunks inside Joe's mouth.

Feigning outrage, the Eagle exclaimed, "My, my! What a dirty mouth you have there! Maybe I should wash it out with soap the next time I give you a bath."

"You…love that…baths…" Joe snorted, as he chewed resentfully. "Look like angel…big blue eyes…but really…pervert!"

"Ohh, a pervert, am I? And please do tell me what I did to unman you?"

There was a wicked grin on the Condor's face. "Nothing…yet. But…know…in…pretty head…have…fucking…in mind. Said…before…"

Ken suddenly remembered what Joe was talking about – that embarrassing little speech he made when they argued over the uniform designs in Nambu's office.

"He he he!" The Eagle's face darkened, hearing the staccato of his teammate's chuckles. "Ken…peach cheeks…nope…like cherries…"

"Shut up, you!" Ken popped a quail egg inside the Condor's mouth, but that didn't stop the laughter.

"Ken's eggs…teeny weeny…"

"I BEG YOUR PARDON!"

Joe doubled up then, his body heaving as he laughed, that the irritated Eagle had to lift the bed tray before its contents toppled to the floor.

"Yeah, yeah! Ha ha ha!" Ken said indignantly. "Glad to see you're enjoying yourself at my expense!"

The Condor's laughter subsided to a hiccup. "Sowwy!" he lapsed into charming baby talk. He even held out a quail egg as a peace offering. "Ken…egg?"

Rolling his eyes upwards, Ken exhaled and parted his lips, allowing the Condor to put it daintily inside. To his consternation, he felt a fingertip brush against his lower lip. Joe tried to look innocent as those blue eyes narrowed in a scowl.

"Sometimes, Joe, I think you're doing this deliberately," the Eagle fumed as he sliced up the turkey meat into bite-sized pieces and fed them to Joe, who opened and closed his mouth like an obedient toddler. "Even Jinpei wasn't this much trouble when he was little."

"He was…" Joe countered. "Smacked…baby butt…wet bed…and worse…learned toilet."

"Are you telling me that the reason why Jinpei became toilet trained was because you spanked him?" Ken asked, aghast. "Joe Asakura, you really //are// a devil!"

"Was…laundry detail…Yuck!" Joe gazed at the Eagle through the veil of his long lashes. "I'm devil…true…but Ken…angel…when not…birdstyle."

Despite himself, Ken found his body stiffening at the mention of their uniform. "Are we back to that again?"

The Condor noticed the change in his friend's demeanor. "Sorry."

"Joe, listen. I'm sorry too for the way I rejected your designs. I know the hard work you put into making them. But the birdstyles are a reflection of who we are. It did not shape me into the man I am now. I'm not an angel, but I am Owashi No Ken, I am Gatchaman – and I am who I am because of people like Nambu, Jun, Jinpei, Ryu, and of course, you. That's the reason why I love wearing my birdstyle, not because it makes me look sexy or something like that. It represents who I am and what I stand for, and it constantly reminds me of my duty to protect the people who stand with me in battle, those whom I love dearly."

There was a moment's silence between them. Seeing the look of contemplation on the Condor's face, Ken hoped he had made his teammate see reason.

"Nice speech," Joe said, nodding gravely. "But… still doesn't…change facts!" He pointed a finger straight at the Eagle. "In birdstyle, Ken…sexpot!"

Ken slapped his hand to his forehead. "Why you…" he began with a growl, then stopped. A sly grin curled up the corners of his mouth as he gave his recalcitrant patient a side-glance.

Joe didn't like the look on the Eagle's face. "Wh…what?"

Ken did not say a word as he picked up the bed tray and placed it on the table. As the Condor eyed him with suspicion, he sat down on the bed with languorous grace and leaned over, propping his left arm on the other side of Joe's body, near his hip.

"Joe?" Ken asked in a hurt tone, letting his full lips tighten in an alluring pout. "Are you saying that you don't find me sexy when I'm dressed like this?"

"Huh? Well…I…errr…hmm…" the Condor was at a loss for words.

Ken tossed his head back seductively and let his wayward chocolate mane tumble over his shoulders in waves. With a flirty bat of his obscenely long eyelashes, the Eagle caught Joe's startled blue gray eyes with his tantalizing sapphire orbs, pressed his fingertips to his lips, and blew him a playful kiss.

"Oh my god! Birdstyle possession!" the Condor gasped in horror, making a small cross with his index fingers to ward off the blue-eyed siren.

"But I'm not wearing my birdstyle, so how could you say that I'm possessed by it?" Ken argued huskily, sliding his body over the Condor's as he inched closer and ever closer to his face. "You wound my heart to the quick, Joe. Tell me. Does this…" He ground his crotch against Joe's. "…Feel small to you?"

Not trusting his voice, Joe shook his head briskly.

Ken let his finger slide across the neckline of his T-shirt from left to right, stretching the fabric, so that the mesmerized Condor could have a glimpse of the pale skin underneath. Was that a tiny pink mole on his right collarbone? And – Blast! – It was heart-shaped too! Joe found himself bewitched by that little mole…until he realized that the deep blue of sapphires had replaced that sweet pink heart.

"Joe…" Ken whined seductively, those moist, soft lips moving with aching slowness to meet the Condor's quivering mouth. "How could you want me as an angel? Pure…sweet…innocent…" Their lips were now only a breath apart. "If I'm an angel…then how can I…do…this?"

Joe did not realize that he had been holding his breath until Ken's lips closed upon his mouth. But as he drew in air, the Eagle pushed two pills – which he had been hiding inside his mouth – between Joe's lips with the tip of his tongue and pinched his nose shut. As Ken released him, reflex made him swallow the hated medications. Without waiting for the Condor to regain his wits, the Eagle pressed the glass of milk into his trembling hands and made him drink it all down in deep gulps.

Ken stuck out his tongue in revulsion. "You're right! It did taste like battery acid. But then again…" He gave his teammate a charming smile. "That wasn't so bad now, was it?"

"KEN WASHIO! YOU'RE NO ANGEL ALL RIGHT, BECAUSE YOU'RE EVIL! THE DEVIL INCARNATE HIMSELF!" Joe sputtered in fury, not realizing that he had lapsed into straight speech. "You almost choked me to death with those fucking pills! Taking advantage of a sick man…I oughtta…"

"Sick? Who? YOU?" the Eagle asked in sarcasm. "I'm amazed by how quickly you regained normal speech! It's either those pills work really fast or you've been stringing me along all this time!"

The Condor flopped back into bed, flinging his arm over his head. "Oh my aching head! Ken, I think I've got a dizzy spell coming on."

"But I just gave you your medicine, didn't I?" Ken picked up the bed tray and marched stiffly towards the door. "Don't worry! You'll survive."

"Ken, you are going to give me a bath, right?" Joe wheedled his teammate. "Those massages of yours work wonders on my weak limbs."

The Eagle paused with at the doorway. "Oh, I think you can manage on your own this time." Ken let out a snort. "Besides, whenever I give you a bath or a therapeutic massage, something does work wonders all right…and it's certainly NOT your limbs."

"But Ken…"

"If you find yourself drowning in the bathtub, just use the Bird Scramble. I'm sure the team back at the base will fly to your rescue."

Without sparing a glimpse at the dismayed Condor, Ken shut the door behind him with a bang.

~~~~~~~~~~

Joe was up to his chin in steaming hot water in the bathtub. Deprived of the tender, loving care of a certain Gatchaman, he was sulking at the same intensity as the foul weather outside. The problem was, no matter how angry he was that Ken abandoned him, he couldn't blame his dutiful leader for doing so.

Ken had been right in accusing him of not taking his medications regularly, but that was before Jun rattled his brains again with a roundhouse kick. It was dumb of Nambu to presume that Joe didn't know that the drugs he had given him were psychiatric medications. Rebelling at the idea at being thought of as a basket case, he only drank the pills during those times he was conducting his experiments with the transmutation bracelet. A clear head, after all, was needed for him to make sharp observations. But following the mishap, he decided to take the awful-tasting drugs on schedule, if only to show to the Eagle what an obedient patient he was.

By the third day of their stay in the rest house, however, Joe began regretting his decision. With his mental faculties back to normal, and his strength coming at a close second, he realized that he had been a lunatic for obsessing over the birdstyles the way he had. He wished he could say he felt remorse for what he did to the rest of his teammates – his opinions of Jun's panties remained as strong as ever. What nagged at his conscience the most was the way he had treated Ken.

Joe gave himself a solid bop on the head with his fist. // Moron! It wasn't the birdstyles that were the problem, but you! You pinned the blame on your uniforms when you should be berating yourself for lacking the courage to open your heart to Ken! //

He looked wryly at his right hand. "But you knew what you were doing, didn't you? You're one horny hand, squeezing Ken's butt like that before it could even register inside my brain." Delayed mental processes aside, he could still vividly recall how the Eagle's behind had felt like – tight, round and firm as a melon.

"Yep! Absolutely yummy!" mused Joe dreamily.

Yet, in spite of everything that he had said and done, the Eagle was here with him now, practically at his beck and call. No man could ever boast of having THE Gatchaman as his nursemaid. But, selfish bastard that he was, he had to ruin it by pretending that he was still brain addled in order to milk all the attention he could get…perhaps a hell of a lot more than he could handle.

The Condor blushed hotly, remembering the seduction play that Ken had pulled on him. But did he just imagine the love and the desperate need that burned in those pretty blue eyes? And what about all those things that Ken had said to him?

"I'm really disappointed when…SOMEONE…only sees me as Gatchaman. Beneath this uniform is a man with desperate needs and desires who would do anything…EVERYTHING…to fulfill them. If that…PERSON…would only find the courage…"

"My birdstyle constantly reminds me of my duty to protect the people whom I love dearly."

"I'm no angel, Joe."

Joe let out a pathetic groan as he sank even deeper into the tub. "You really are an idiot, Joe Asakura. For a reputed playboy, you should've seen the signs. Ken was dropping hints all over the place, and what did you choose to focus on? His damned uniform!"

With a grunt, the Condor hefted himself out of the tub. What was the point in berating himself over past mistakes, and shriveling up like a prune in the process? It's still not too late. Why not try to salvage what he could from their pitiful excuse of a wannabe romantic relationship?

Drying himself up briskly, Joe wrapped the towel around his waist and went into the bedroom, his gray blue eyes falling upon the green door near his clothes hamper. That door led to Ken's room – an addition that Nambu-Hakase had built to prevent two mischievous little boys from falling down the stairs as they sneak into each other's rooms at night. Inside, the Condor could hear the soft padding of Ken's bare feet. Going towards the door, he lifted his hand to knock, but paused when the noises suddenly stopped. Joe's mouth hung open in dismay when the doorknob twitched as the lock was pushed in on the other side.

"If that's the way you want it, fine!" Joe hissed, tossing aside the towel. He jumped angrily into his bed and yanked the covers over his head.

The wall clock ticked away the minutes until it became a half hour, then an hour, and then two hours. But sleep would not come to the Condor.

Pulling down the covers, Joe stared at the ceiling, his face so sour as though he had eaten a bushel of lemons. The blue flashes of lightning on the ceiling reminded him so much of an alluring siren with sapphire eyes.

Well, he mused, he could be discreet when he wanted to. Besides, the rain outside was strong enough to mask any sounds he would make, sooo…

A dreamy smile – no, it was more of a leer than a smile – lighting up his face, Joe let his angsting libido have free rein with his overly fertile imagination. With picture perfect clarity, he envisioned Ken dressed in his birdstyle, sitting at the foot of his bed with his left leg bent under him and his right leg dangling from the side with a booted toe touching the floor. The Eagle removed his helmet and, with a flirty toss of his head, let waves of brown silk fall on his shoulders.

There was a questioning and fretful look in Ken's pretty blue eyes as he pressed a fingertip between his luscious lips.

"Joe? You know I can't be the angel you want me to be," Ken began apprehensively, his voice low and needy. "But are you sure you don't you like me in this? Am I not…appealing…enough for you?"

The Condor's piercing gray eyes were like laser beams that seared every inch of the gorgeous body before him. "I'm sure we could work something out."

At that hopeful answer, Ken gave him a devastatingly sweet smile, and Joe wondered how someone that innocent could exude such raw sensuality.

The tip of a pink tongue traced the Cupid's bow of those full lips. Ken murmured huskily, "Would you like me to show you what I can do, Condor?"

Joe raised his eager arms to his angel…no, HIS Gatchaman.

"EAGLE GO!" he said in heated anticipation, as his dream lover fell into his embrace.

In real time, because it had become a habit for him, the Condor was unaware that he was still wearing around his wrist the prototype of Nambu's new transmutation bracelet.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing could be more unromantic than an emotionally upset teenager. When the cause of said emotional distress happened to be sleeping in the adjoining bedroom, sleep deprivation was sure to follow.

Ken lifted his head from the pillow he had plopped face down on. Groaning, he grumbled, "Damn it! Don't tell me I can't sleep because of that…that faker!" Burying his face back down on the pillow to muffle his outraged shriek, he punched the mattress beneath him repeatedly.

The worst part was he couldn't make up his mind WHAT he should be mad about – that Joe pretended to still be an invalid so that he could enjoy the luxury of being babied by Ken or that the Condor did not find him sexually attractive when he was out of his birdstyle.

Seeing that he would not get any sleep without resolving the issue once and for all, Ken bounced off the bed and padded over to the full-length mirror hanging on the wall. He glared critically at the image that was reflected back at him – a handsome albeit grungy-looking young man with unruly chocolate brown hair, dressed in a blue and red team T-shirt with a large number '1' printed in front, this time left hanging free over white bell bottoms. The Eagle moved this way and that, trying to view himself at all possible angles. He even tried bunching his hair up in the semblance of a shorter hairstyle. When that didn't work, he put both comb and brush to those wild tresses, only to have the ends spring up stubbornly like stiff porcupine quills. Managing to get his mane back to the way it was, he faced the mirror again only to jerk back to find Nambu-Hakase's stern figure scowling back at him.

"Now, Ken, I did tell you time and time again to take care of your appearance," Nambu wagged a scolding figure at his young ward. "You look like…"

"A lazy hippie, I know!" the Eagle practically wilted like a wallflower, seeing the fact confirmed by his own two eyes. "But if I change…"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" the doctor snapped back at him. "The birdstyles are only to be used for work!" Nambu's eyes narrowed into ominous slits behind his thick glasses. "Need I remind you of the trouble you caused when we were still testing the prototypes?"

Ken's blue eyes widened in alarm. "No, don't do that! Please!"

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Nambu said bluntly, "We had to push up the speed of the transmutation process to equal that of lightning because of the way your body reacted to it. Our scanners went haywire trying to register the number of fluctuating erogenous zones that were stimulated in your system." Nambu produced a full body scan that was lit up like a Christmas tree with bright red dots. "Surprisingly, based on this readout, you have double the number of erotic zones that Joe has and…"

Ken blew at the mirror to fog out Nambu's image. "Okay! So I'm horny! I don't need you to make a scientific paper out of it!" With an exasperated wave of his hand, he exclaimed, "Ahhh! To hell with it! BIRD GO!"

In the absence of a Galactor threat, the Eagle focused his senses on his civvies as they transformed into birdstyle. He was waiting for the mind-blowing sensations that the prototype had given him. Instead, all he got was a sweeping caress – no, it wasn't even a caress – more like a whiff of wind that came and gone.

"Now that was a major letdown," Ken remarked in disappointment. "But…back to the business at hand!" He wiped away the fog with his gloved hand and looked at his reflection again in the mirror.

This time, at last being able to get a real good look at his valiant alter ego, the Eagle had to admit that he WAS very impressed. The birdstyle was a flattering fit, practically hiding nothing on his body. Without ISO business in mind, sundry body parts were reacting to the intense perusal that was being given to them – the tiny points at his chest tightening against the friction with the thin fabric, six pack abs flexing to draw attention to the deep pit of a navel, a bulge in the crotch which couldn't be due to any type of padding.

"No wonder Joe sees me as a sexpot whenever I'm wearing this," Ken mused, preening at the tantalizing vision in the mirror.

Wanting to get a better look, the Eagle took off his helmet…only to have it slip through his fingers as he witnessed a startling change in his reflection.

The face that went with the birdstyle was a striking contrast to the slob he saw earlier – kind and gentle, which made him look younger than his eighteen years, wide blue eyes of an innocent child. The only contradictory feature was that he possessed the succulent lips of a seducer.

In the absence of a helmet, Ken has transformed into the angel Joe wanted him to be.

"Why, hello there!" Ken greeted his reflection with a shy, sweet smile. "I'm sure Joe would just die to meet you!"

Closing his eyes, the Eagle leaned forward and pressed his lips to the glass, until he felt the birdstyle tighten on his upper arms…as though someone was holding him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Joe has this secret fantasy, which resulted from a mistake he had made when he was a playboy-in-the-making at the tender age of sixteen. Back then, he rebelled at the strict training they were made to undergo and yet, were not given the freedom that youngsters their age were enjoying.

It had happened during one rare summer break in the rest house. The person who had helped him steal out that night was a very reluctant Ken.

"I don't think you should be doing this, Joe," Ken had told him as they pushed the G-2 out of the garage and into the street. His eyes had turned stormy blue in disapproval.

Giving his best friend a reassuring grin, Joe had patted the back pocket of his jeans. "Don't worry! I got protection right here."

"Actually, I think it's the poor lady you're going to end up with who's going to need protection from you."

"SHUT UP!!" Joe had snapped back as he jumped into his car and drove away.

When Joe had reached the city, he went straight to the red light district. Since his time was limited – thanks to a midnight curfew set by Ken, he had chosen to enter the first bar that caught his eye, a place with the questionable name of the Peachy Papaya. It was a ratty looking hole, with a garish pink and green neon sign showing a bowl of bananas with a round green fruit in the center.

As Joe had soon discovered, however, there was nothing peachy about the Papaya. It turned out that the drinking establishment that had the dubious privilege of being the first to enjoy his under-aged patronage was actually a gay bar. He should have snuck out then, just to spare himself from the embarrassment he had felt upon realizing WHERE he was. But he was prevented from doing so because – as expected – his macho good looks and dark, moody eyes gained him unwanted attention from a group of leather-clad bikers who asked him if he knew how to use a whip. At that time, he was still that naïve to suspect that they were Galactor recruiters looking for torture experts.

So driven by a strong sense of civic duty that was bolstered by a shot of mezcal – no, he wasn't sure that he HADN'T drunk the big fat worm sitting at the bottom of his glass, Joe plastered his pubescent butt to a seat right in front of the stage…and found himself gaping at the sexiest angel he had ever seen in his young life.

The wings had been forgettable – nothing but large cardboard cutouts with faded feathers and glitter pasted on them. That face, with its dark blue eyes, and that mahogany hair –which came down to slender shoulders – had reminded Joe of someone, someone whose name had become lost in the psychedelic haze that had suffused his system so unused to alcohol.

What had permeated inside his mind was what the angel had worn as he gyrated on stage – if the ornate jewelry and gold chains, which were the sole adornments of his lithe body, could qualify to be called an 'outfit.' He had only seen such intricate jewelry on women in the porn magazines he had been pilfering from the older trainees' locker rooms back at the base. But Joe never imagined how stunning they would look on a man.

Even when he returned to the rest house a minute shy of midnight, that kinky jewelry remained firmly etched in his memory.

That – and the haymaker Ken had given him when he answered his friend's curious questions with a drunken, "I met a reeeal sexy male hooker…and he looked just like you."

Chuckling, the Condor peered down at the succubus who was drawing curlicues on the olive-toned skin of his chest with the tip of his tongue. "You're not going to punch me again, are you, Ken?" he asked, running his fingers through those tousled locks.

Dream Ken laid his chin on Joe's sternum and blinked at him in confusion. "Now why would I do that?"

He was right to ask that question, Joe mused. This was a dream after all, //his// fantasy. While the real Ken was sure to gut him and bleed him out to dry like a turkey for what he was planning to do, he could do anything he wanted with his dream lover.

Cupping that taut butt, Joe pulled his Dream Ken towards him. With both hands, he reached for the turtle neck collar of the birdstyle and murmured, "You're gonna love this."

~~~~~~~~~~

Ken stumbled away from the mirror in shock. His back struck the window hard, causing the shutters to bang open and raindrops to blow in gusty sprays into the room. But the rain that was drenching him was the least of his worries; what had seized his heart in a grip of cold fear was his birdstyle, which seemed to have come to life.

The Eagle shuddered as his costume twitched against his skin, wrinkling along the slopes of his shoulders and converging at his neck. Then, the collar simply gave way, stretching wide apart as though it were made of nylon instead of one of the strongest fibers on the planet. When it could not stretch as far as the breadth of his shoulders, instead, it began to dissolve into a thick, pulsating slime.

"No! Don't!" Ken gasped as a column of warm goo crawled up to caress his face – a tiny tendril snaking out to trace the delicate bow of his lips – before slipping down his neck and shoulders.

Reflex made him cross his arms over his body to stem the dissolution of his uniform, only to find his gloves also changing into ooze, which crept up his arms like slender snakes to merge with the bulk of slime that was converging at his torso. What remained of his gloves were shimmering blue wires that were curled around the length of his arms, forming exquisite designs. Remembering his bracelet, he raised his left wrist and shouted "BIRD GO!" Instead of responding to the voice command, the birdstyle slammed him against the window frame. Ken would've toppled backwards and fallen headfirst to the ground below if he hadn't gripped the edge of the window.

Helpless and terrified, the Eagle could only squeeze his eyes shut and bite down on his lower lip as the ooze that was once his birdstyle began a most thorough exploration of his body. Worse, like the groping tentacles of an octopus, it found the spots that ignited the fires that no amount of sheer will and discipline could abate.

Tears trickled down Ken's cheeks as the mounds of his chest were squeezed and fondled, drawing up the pink areolae to enable glistening white threads to coil around the base of his nipples, keeping the nubs painfully taut. More tendrils snaked down – teasing his washboard abdomen – and wrapped around his genitals, pulling his member to a semi-erect state. Even his boots had dissolved into slimy runnels that crept up the length of his legs and thighs and glided along the smooth curves of his buttocks.

In spite of his fear and the humiliation he was feeling at his body's intense arousal from the unrelenting stimulation, the Eagle's sharp mind ran through a quick analysis of his predicament. He soon realized that there was a direction to the birdstyle's movements. Without a doubt, it was transforming into…something.

This conclusion reached, Ken dared to look down at himself to discover that his uniform had been reduced to slender white chains, the links of which are in the shape of feathers. The chains flimsily held together intricate adornments that did nothing to cover the intimate parts of his body. Crimson eagles with wings lifted for flight cupped each breast, the talons clamped tight to his tits. As he trained his gaze even lower, he saw that his genitals were enveloped in a mesh of fine glittering chains. Instead of boots, the Eagle was wearing Roman sandals, with the lace straps crisscrossing his calves. To make up for the absence of a utility belt around his waist, a sheath was strapped to his bare right thigh, with his trusty bird rang tucked inside.

The transmutation process, however, did not stop here.

With a pain-filled cry, Ken dropped to his knees as the chains yanked the ornaments on his chest and crotch, drawing his tits and cock to agonizing hardness, as the bulk of the birdstyle's substance converged to his back. He didn't have to guess what was happening – that the adornments and chains were parts of a harness to which the pair of great wings that were forming on his back were attached. The urgent tugging of developing wings upon his acutely sensitive anatomy was driving him to heights of pleasure he had never experienced before.

From a hazy corner of his mind, the Eagle remembered what had happened to his teammates – how their uniforms had changed into something else. The knowledge of his unseen tormentor's identity was like a dead weight on his chest that made breathing difficult.

// Is this your doing, Joe? // Ken thought bitterly. // Are you changing me into the angel you always wanted me to be? Damn you! It's not going to work! //

Fury and desire became as one as Ken lifted his left hand to his chest while his right closed around his aching cock.

"Tell me, Joe. Can an angel do what I'm doing now?" the Eagle asked between every sharp intake of air as he tweaked his hardened nipples and pumped his weeping member in a steady rhythm. "Well, I can…because I…AM NOT…AN ANGEL!"

Again and again, he stimulated himself relentlessly until he reached the precipice. With a moan, Ken gripped his cock at the base, denying the release he craved. His left hand dipped to the region between his thighs. Arching his body back against the wall, he thrust his hips forward and spread his long legs, bent at the knees, exposing the tiny opening that was waiting to be breached.

His tears mixing with the rain that was soaking him to the bone, he positioned his two fingers at the orifice – ready to plunge them in when he, at last, permitted his straining erection to fire its load.

Gritting his teeth, Ken poured out the anguish that was bottled up inside his heart. "I'm not an angel, Joe! I'm just a human being who wants you to love me!"

As he released his member, the powerful waves of orgasm crashed into him, like the churning sea waves upon rocky cliffs. Screaming Joe's name, the Eagle felt his come splatter on the cold, wet skin of his chest and belly. There was only one thing left for him to do to bring his utter degradation to completion.

Ken was about to jab his fingers into his ass, when a strong hand gripped his wrist and yanked it up. Nothing could describe the devastating shame he felt as he looked into the red, furious face of the Condor.

~~~~~~~~~~

To his sheer delight, Joe watched in awe as his spectral lover transformed into the angel of his fantasies. But he wasn't too far gone in his dream not to hear his name called out from the adjoining bedroom. There was no mistaking the fear and pain in Ken's voice.

Without thinking twice, Joe jumped out of bed and hurried to the door, breaking it open with a kick. He thought it was a surprise attack by Galactor. The Condor never expected to find Ken sprawled on the floor underneath the window, rain pouring on his transmutated form.

Seeing those beautiful wings, Joe could not stifle his gasp, his horrified gray eyes gazing down at the red bracelet around his wrist. //Oh my god! Did I do this to him?//

If it was shocking enough to behold his fantasy become reality, even more was the sight of the Eagle in the act of masturbation, getting ready to deflower himself with two stiff fingers.

Joe crossed the distance between them in two long strides and seized Ken's hand before he could hurt himself. As if waking into a terrible nightmare, wide blue eyes blinked back at him in horror and shame.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Joe demanded in a voice so loud that it made the Eagle wince. "Do you know you could've seriously injured yourself? You could've suffered internal bleeding!"

Ken jerked his hand out of Joe's grip. "Let me go! You have no right to barge into my room and interfere with my business. I knew what I was doing!"

"Oh really? A virgin like you? Do you honestly expect me to believe that someone as inexperienced as you knows what he's doing? If you think I'm just going to stand by and watch you debase yourself, then you're wrong!"

"You're concerned that I'm 'debasing' myself?" Ken asked incredulously. His frustration and anger exploded out of him like lava from a pent-up volcano. "You pushed me to this, Joe! YOU! I chose to wallow in the muck…because you're too much a fucking coward to acknowledge the feelings you have for me!"

The Condor felt his voice catch in his throat at that outburst. He could not offer a rebuttal, because everything the Eagle said was true.

Rising to his feet, Ken showed Joe his new form, spreading his white and crimson wings behind him.

With bitter tears streaming down his face, Ken continued with his tirade. "You accused me of looking like a sex object when I'm wearing my birdstyle. But what do you call this, huh? This…//this thing//…you turned me into is a mockery of the pure, celestial being you claim I resemble! You say I'm your angel, Joe? In your heart, you want me to be your whore!"

"No, that's not true! Ken, let me explain!" Joe was crestfallen when the Eagle turned his stiff back to him and faced the window. Realizing his friend was about to bolt, the Condor reached out to stop him. "KEN, WAIT!"

One minute, Ken was standing there; the next minute, he was gone, leaving a single white feather in Joe's hand. Looking out the window, he could see the dim outline of the suicidal figure flying through the stormy night sky, unmindful of the forks of lightning that were threatening to hit him.

Cursing Nambu for giving him the transmutation bracelet, Joe ran back inside his bedroom and swiftly put on his civvies. Thrusting the prototype inside his jeans pocket, he strapped his blue bracelet back around his wrist.

With a cry of "BIRD GO!" the Condor dashed down the stairs, out the front door and into the lashing wind and rain in pursuit of the runaway Eagle.


TO BE CONTINUED…

* * * * * * * * * *