2:18 am
Buh.... bump......buh.... bump.....buh.... bump.....
You ever have that one night, where you mistakenly position yourself at an awkward angle in your bed, bending your spine until it's left with an unbearable ache if you move it? Pheagle was having that experience right at this moment, and yet it wasn't going away, no matter what position he shifted to. Two minutes prior, the young man had suddenly, inexplicably, jerked himself awake, and no matter how hard he tried, his body was refusing to go back to sleep. He felt terrible, his muscles achingly sore and his skin intensely warm, as if he had just completed a grueling, several-hour-long workout, without a single break in between. Except, with each passing second, it was getting worse and worse.
The red glow of the digital clock at his bedside table was almost blinding in its glare, and his eyes were stinging like crazy. Normally, in bouts of extreme fatigue, things would get blurry and hard to see, yet right now, it was almost the opposite. For everything was so crystal clear and detailed, to the point where he could pick out every individual speck of dust on the ceiling as if viewing it through a magnifying glass, that it made Pheagle feel dizzy and nauseous, until he forcefully shut his eyes.
Pins and needles, a very excruciating variant of pins and needles, was then rippling across his body, as his limbs spasmed and jerked. His skin was itching like mad; his lips were as dry as the desert; his feet felt like he had walked several thousand miles in shoes that were several sizes too small; and God almighty, his back.
Buh bump....buh bump....buh BUUMP-
His back was the worst, as it kept aching, straining, even pulsing. Had he been injured earlier? Did he land roughly on his back when flopping into bed earlier? Was there a loose spring? Did he pull a muscle? He didn't know, but he was pretty sure nothing like that had happened. Still, his back remained in agony, and excruciating pain was constantly, unendingly roaring across his tendons and muscle fibers. His spine and shoulder blades felt like they were both stabbing into and being pulled away from each other at the same time, and above it all, his back just felt so....so....weird.
Buh-bump.... BUH-bum....., BUH-BUMP, BUH-BUMP, BUH-BUMP.
2:19 am
Gurrrrrrgle....
Pheagle groaned loudly in discomfort, as he suddenly yanked his bedsheets off of his body. It was too hot, too prickly, it felt absolutely unbearable to be under the covers. Everything in his body felt like it was straining against itself, and, rather bizarrely, his green Eagles-logo-patterned pajamas especially felt like they were constricting him, as if they were a few sizes too small.
GurrrRrrrrRggGglurrrrrRRRRGLLLE....
His stomach growled and bubbled, as if he was going through some nasty indigestion. Was that it? Was he just sick? Why did his stomach sound so....loud?
The scab on his arm was throbbing.
The scratch...maybe it was the scratch. Just the day before, he had visited the local aviary, and they had put on a flight show, which he had eagerly attended, as one its star birds was a well-fed, well-groomed, and overly huge bald eagle, the animal he had held as his absolute favorite. Of course, when an offer for a lucky guest to hold it was presented, Pheagle jumped on the chance, and for what it was worth, it was a dream come true. But, in his eagerness, he hadn't donned the protective glove correctly, and the bird, with its razor-sharp talons, had accidentally gouged a nasty scratch into the flesh of his arm, one so bad that it needed medical attention. A wild animal scratch like that, no matter its living conditions, was never something to be taken lightly, and though Pheagle, in his ever-stubborn drive to always be the strong, tough jock, had successfully gotten them off his back, the medics that at the show that had sewn him up had fretted up and down about the potential infections the man could contract.
And maybe that was exactly what was happening? Pheagle's body shuddered, as his heart throbbed and pounded more intensely than it had ever done so before. Maybe he was suffering a fever, muscle spasms, whatever else illnesses usually did, as if the bird's talon, like a poorly cleaned needle, had directly injected a serious disease into his flesh.
BUH-BUMP, BUH-BUMP, BUH-BUMPBUHBUMPBUMPBUHBUMPBUHBUUUUMP-
Pheagle's eyes suddenly disobeyed his desperate desire to sleep, as they shot open, the sclera turning pitch black, and his irises becoming a glowing yellow.
Well...it definitely had to have injected something.
2:20 am
BLbuurrrblub-blub-blublblulblurb-blubblubbblllllllllLLUUUUUURRRRRGLE
Pheagle started to squirm in his bed, his body suddenly erupting with a strange...stretching sensation. He needed to stretch, he had to stretch, every single part of him wanted to stretch as much as he physically could, and so he did. He groaned as he flexed out and out, until his pajamas were strangely so snug against him, that he felt like moving even a little would tear them at the seams. The pins and needles were absolutely atrocious now, his stomach-no, his everything loudly rumbling, bubbling, rippling, and it was all so itchy.
Desperate for answers, Pheagle strained and craned his neck over to the arm that had sported the scratch. He expected it to look nasty, sickly, green or blue with disease-infested flesh, and braced himself for the worst. What he didn't expect however...was that not only was the scab gone, but that his skin was indeed changing color, rapidly, right before his eyes. To yellow, with the golden sheen spreading and painting across his skin like an expanding stain, his pinky finger nowhere to be seen on a suddenly four-fingered hand, as his nails had turned an inky black, lengthening, sharpening, thickening...into claws.
Or rather....talons.
Pheagle no longer felt sleepy.
2:21 am
Blllluuurrrrrrrrrrble-
And before he could do anything: `RIIIIIIP, RIIIIIIIIP!', Pheagle?s arm was suddenly ballooning in size, swelling rapidly like a loaf in the oven. His pajama sleeve creaked and clenched tight around his limb, as his hand and wrist violently fattened, but the growth was so rapid, forceful, and strong, that the seams were quickly splitting open, his warm sleeve slowly peeling and tearing across his flesh like wet paper.
RIP, RIP, PAFF-PURF-PFF- The pins and needles were at an apex of discomfort now, not because of their intensity, but because they felt like actual pins and needles were being lightly pressed into his skin...by his pajamas. Pheagle had questions, but the answers were already showing themselves, as with the growing mass of his arm, holes were ripping open all over the seams and fabric of his sleeve, and what came bursting out of them, like the stuffing of his pillow that he was accidentally `Ri-i-i-i-iiip'ing his new claws into, were thick, fluffy tufts of warm brown feathers, quills and bristles piercing through the gaps in the threads of his clothes, and unfurling into a soft, prickly mass, as if to replace his increasingly damaged coverings.
Crrrrrrnr-rraRRIIP-RIP, PAP, RIPRIPRIPRIPRIIIIP-
Because, to Pheagle's yelp of alarm, the growth and feathers were rapidly spreading across his whole body, his other arm starting to swell and bloat, tearing his remaining sleeve into pieces. The legs of his pajama pants quickly followed, the seam lines splitting against his fattening thighs, as all over everything but his lower arms and lower legs, further stuffing his pajamas to cartoonish strain, was a thick coat of brown feathers, with a down of snowy white simultaneously starting to creep up his neck. And in the midst of all this, his body continued to throb pulse, and bulge.
Before the rest of Pheagle began to swell.
2:22 am
Crrrrk
The posters before him, that of the Philadelphia Eagles, were laminated on plastic cards. They were prized possessions of his - a constant reminder of his greatest dreams, and their textures could get so shiny, that under the right lighting conditions, he could see his reflection perfectly within their gleam, as if he himself was the anthropomorphic mascot eagle portrayed on them. Now, however, these reflections let him see the changes from a second-person view. They weren't able to include every single little detail, but it was more than enough for him to see his feet clearly.
So he could watch them bulge in his socks.
`CrrrRRRRRRRK' His fabric-clad flesh was soon bubbling, gurgling and pulsing, the cloth stretching so thread-tight, that he could see his toes swelling to triple their original size, their nails slowly sliding out and thickening into chunky, dagger-like shapes, while their increasing bulk was being absorbed into each other's mass, changing them from a pair of fives into a pair of threes. Soon after, excess fat and musculature flowed down his steadily softening soles, pooling into his heels, until, unexpectedly, his brain was telling him that had a fourth, opposable toe on each of his feet. Much like the talons of a mighty, hulking eagle.
Pheagle squeaked as a pink blush spread across his cheeks, and his feet shuddered, quivered, and gurgled violently, before their already meaty forms began to swell. `PAK PAK-PAK-PAK, RRR-PAK PAK PAKPAK!' Then, with a sensation like cutting cards with scissors, each one of Pheagle's newly sprouted toe claws shoved, pressed, and pierced through the cloth of his socks, his eyes bulging wide as he watched a series of thick, ink-black knives burst out from his footwear in rapid succession. `BLUB-BLURRRrrrrRRRrrrrrrRRRRRRIIIIIP! RIP, RIP, RIPRIPRIPRIPRIIIIIP-' Soon after, the rest of his skin was also bursting out of his sleepwear. Holes rapidly began to form in the fabric, his toes ripping and squirming out of rapidly expanding gashes, as the socks were now bursting across his soles. His now sleek, spongey, golden flesh spewed out from gashes and rips like a viscous liquid, turning his once warm comfy socks into open-toed chaps, `RIIIIP!' and then scraps, `PAP-PAPAP' and then anklets, `RIII-RIII-RIIII-I-I-IIIIIII-' as he watched his feet inflate and swell and burst out in the glossy reflections in his posters, until-
RIIIIIIIIIIP!
Until he felt his socks spring away from his increasingly hulking foot meat with a PAFF, fabric snapping clean off his ankles, and relieved talon toes spreading wide, as his now bare feet ballooned out into the wall, before slamming into the posters with a booming `BMMMPH'
Pheagle could only take a moment to stare at his fat, hulking, handsome forms, before moaning loudly as he continued to swell larger, clenching his newly transformed toes tightly, gouging his claws into the wall, `Ri-i-i-i-iii-i-iiiip'ing large tears into the posters underfoot.
2:23 am
Pheagle's lips were getting even drier. It was weird that out of all of this, that was one of the things sticking out the most to him. By this point, he had lost the feeling in them entirely, and when he ran his tongue along their surface, he'd felt l that they'd formed into a solid mass, as if calcifying. Normally this detail would flow into the back of Pheagle's mind, given the rest of the nonsense that was happening to him, but understandably, he did have enough of reason to get distracted by it, considering that his teeth appeared to be fusing into them. The motion was happening too quickly for Pheagle to properly process it, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move or curl his lips in any way against his teeth, as his molars and canines and incisors seemed to steadily flow and meld together, directly into his now sharpening mouth, until Pheagle's skull was aching, painfully, as it started to stretch and push outwards with a `ck-ck-ckr-crk-cr-ck-r-crkrrrr'. Pheagle's skull stretched out, and out, and out, creaking and distorting longer and longer, sharpening and thickening, his nightcap stretching and straining with it, until it could hold no longer, and `RRRIP'ed and snapped off. More sleek white feathers were racing up his face, quills spilling out onto his cheeks, and his hair was steadily thickening and discoloring, until it melted and disappeared into the mass and sheen, and the pain grew so intense, that Pheagle failed to hold in his straining emotions, and he flexed open his newly-grown beak to loudly screech.
2:24 am
BUMP-BLURRRB
RII-I-I-IIIII-IIII-IIIP
Pheagle moaned and grunted as his body continued to swell, musculature bubbling across his shoulders, `ri-i-i-i-i-iiip'ing his sleeves even further, as the claws on his hands and feet scratched and tore into the threads of his mattress and now wildly out of place bedsheets. He felt the boney hooks get caught inside the wool and fabric, before tugging and ripping through with barely any effort. Pheagle wasn't entirely sure how to feel about all of this. What he was becoming was undeniable, as he was able to see his reflection in the scratched and tattered posters, his vision making it as clear as if it was an actual mirror. But it was just so absurd, so fantastical, it had to be a dream or nightmare, or some kind of feverish hallucination brought on by an actual, normal infection, or else how was he going to explain this to everyone he knew?
Part of him was terrified - he had no idea what was happening, how it was happening, why it was happening, and what was going to happen afterwards.
But strength was filling him, inhuman strength, superhuman strength. In fact, it began roiling across his arms and legs, as they expanded and thickened in his pajamas, before his leggings `RII-III-IIIIP'ed into hulk-esque shorts, while his sleeves `CRA-A-A-A-AAACK'ed into useless threads across his arms. Something was pushing and squirming against the seat of his leggings. It was a strange, alien feeling in his tailbone, in fact, nearly identical to the feeling in his back. But before he could question it, Pheagle suddenly felt a deep gurgling rumble through his torso, before his chest began to bulge outwards, his pecs `THRUMP'ing and `THRUMP'ing, and swelling up. Muscles were roiling and pulsing across his form, causing him to grow, his clothes `crrrrreeeeak'ing and `PAPpapapapap'ing, as his mass lurched, and lurched, and lurched. He felt the buttons on his shirt straaaaaiiin as they pressed into his increasing flesh. As bizarre, impossible, and terrifying as these changes were....god, they felt good. It felt good to burst out of his socks, to feel his pajamas peeling across his body, to watch his body swell and engorge itself, even to see himself in the reflection of his posters, slowly changing further and further, into a form very similar to the Eagles' wonderful mascot.
BUMP-BLURB, BUMP-BLURB, BLLLUUUURRRRLLBLE-
Pheagle clenched his beak and jerked his head back, as his body surged in size, his chest bulging, swelling, and ballooning into a thick-pecked, six-pack juggernaut, his shirt's buttons digging deeper, deeper, and deeper into his flesh-PAP!
Pheagle swelled violently, as one of the buttons, the one topmost of his chest, suddenly snapped and pinged off, the pressure releasing ever so slightly, before the motion encouraged him to grow even bigger, the buttons shrinking tight again, creaking and stretching loudly, before: POP! Another snapped. PAP! And another. And then:
PAP, PAP, PAP-PAP-PAPAAPAPPAAAAAP-
RIIIIIIIIIIIIP!
2:25 a-CLUNK CLACKRCKCRUNK
The now near-blinding glare of the clock was at last swatted away by a squirming limb, sending the clock smashing and splintering to the floor, as Pheagle's body had grown so large, that he was no longer able to fit on his bed, his writhing and jittering causing him to tumble off. The shuddering `K-THUMP' he made on impact rattled the entire room, his foot connecting with a set of drawers and knocking it over, flinging his model cars into his tv, the screen splintering with a `CRNK-BZZZT', as his hands and head lurched forward reflexively from the fall, butting both of his tables, his various eagle sculptures flying and crunching to the ground. His lamp smashed and buzzed as it joined them, the fuzzy red light of his broken clock blaring his crimson-lined shadow into the far walls. To prop himself up and ease the building pressure, Pheagle squirmed himself into a position on all fours, as he found himself compulsively arching his back up and up.
The pain now was incomprehensible. It had been slowly intensifying during the entire ordeal, but now, it was overwhelming. That strange feeling in his tailbone was starting to `rii-i-i-iii-ii-iip' into whatever was left of his lower pajamas, as his back swelled and pressed into the upper regions, straining and stretching the fabric until, with a `RiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIP', it loudly split in half, a wide hole bursting across his feathered spine, as his body bulged outwards. The feeling, the pressure, it was starting to get...familiar. Like the opposable toes flexing at his feet, as his talons clenched and hooked and tore into the carpet. Or perhaps, like the sudden rush of articulation at his lower back, as finally the pressure around his tailbone release in a `PAFF-FFRFF'ing burst at the seat of his leggings, for a plume of brown feathers erupted out from his rear, catching the wind as their flare swooshed the air all over the bedroom, sending papers and posters whirling. His back wasn't just in this bizarre, alien agony because it was growing, but because there were things growing out of it. And now, as his transformation was nearing completion, it was soon time for them to emerge.
CRRCKRCCRRRRK, BLURRRUBRBLRBLE
Pheagle growled deeply as his shoulders bubbled with new flesh, packing and bulging muscles forming across his deltoids, as the skin stretched and expanded to let his shoulder blades divide into newly sprouting bones. The hole in his pajama shirt tore open further, as mushy lumps began to well, rippling and writhing in an unkempt mess, as more and more feathers spewed out, like a geyser about to erupt.
BUH-BUMP, BUH-BUMP, BUH-BUMP
They throbbed, and throbbed, and throbbed, bubbling and pulsing, warm and tender, as bones upon bones stuffed themselves into the excess mass, until the lumps began to balloon outwards. Pheagle's ears were treated to a cacophony of sickening, crunchy cracks, as the pressure built, and built, and built, until a final surge raced across his spine, and in a hulking lurch of `CRACK'ing, `CRUNCH ing, `SPLURCH'ing, two vast fans of flesh erupted out of Pheagle's back with a mighty `WOOOSH!'.
BLURBLE, THRULB, GURRRRGLE.
And yet, his body was continuing to grow, whatever remained of his pajama shirt creaking loudly, before, `RIPRIPRIRIPRIIIIIP', it burst into tatters across his shoulders and back, leaving nothing but feathers covering his upper torso. Pheagle attempted to stand, but his newly grown wings painfully smacked against his bookshelf, rattling his books until they tumbled away. A yelp at the sudden shock of pain escaped his beak, and reflexively he tried to reel the new limbs back. However, he of course never had wings before, making them difficult to control, and they had grown so large, in such a small space of time, that-
FOOWISH-BRMRMPHFCLRCK
That they had easily caught the air inside the room, and hurled him backwards. His dresser, already jostled and dented, were now smashed into splinters upon impact, as the wind kicked him up with such force, in such a small area, that almost everything across the far wall was wrenched off their plinths and hooks and shelves, his plushies tumbling to his ruined bed from the force, as his posters flew across the room.
Pheagle groaned, both out of pain, and at the sight of so much of his property being smashed and flung around his room. But even as his wings refused to comfortably fit anywhere, no matter where he moved them, Pheagle was continuing to grow. He felt the feathers at the very top of his head start to brush against the shelf where his plushies once stood, and he attempted to stagger forwards. But, as he moved, his toe claws once again hooked into the carpet, caught, and suddenly he was tripping and-face planting right into the floor with a `K-PLOMPH', somewhat glad that didn't have teeth to bite through his tongue.
Gurrrrgglllee...
And yet, he was still growing, expanding, swelling, and as he tried to regain his footing, one of his wings smacked into his ceiling fan. There was a sensation like pulling a plug out of its socket, a sickening `CRRREEERRCK' filling Pheagle's attention, before the entire assembly, wrenched out of its housing, was hurled right into the wall, smashing and splintering into rubble, as a sizable gash was formed in the drywall. One of the blades had even snapped off, and was now embedded inside, like a bee sting.
Good lord, fixing all of this was going to be a nightmare.
BUH-BUMP, BUH-BUMP, BUH-BUMP, BUH-BUMP, BUH-BUMP
And yet, he was still growing, his wings crumpling against the walls, as he stumbled, staggered, and continued to bash and headbutt his surroundings, no matter where, or how he moved.
Shit...shit, the room was getting small. Too small. Too cramped.
A primal, instinctual claustrophobia was starting to overtake his mind, forcing his brain to grow irritated at the increasing lack of space.
Out.
He needed out.
He needed to get out of the room, right at this instant. There was too much furniture and clutter, it was prodding at him too much, he needed space, a lot more space, and he needed it desperately.
His first thought went to the nearby bedroom door, but his instincts immediately shut it down, harshly. Even if he could fit through the door, he'd still be indoors, and he couldn't stand that. He couldn't even breathe. The rustled air, thanks to his wings, had already messed up the flow of oxygen, and the struggle to gain control of it was filling Pheagle with an anxious rage.
But his eyes, his new, glowing, golden eagle eyes, despite being overwhelmed with the sheer detail of everything in his room, could quickly discern and analyze every single piece of this interior space, within a fraction of the speed his human brain could achieve. And in that rapid scan, he eyed the nearby window instead, with the clear night sky glowing from behind the glass. Pheagle's patience was at its end, and he figured that trying to mitigate any more damage to the absolute wreck of his bedroom was pointless, so without a second more of hesitation, he rushed over.
His strides were so huge, that it took only a single step, but his other leg continued to move, swinging upwards and upwards until it was parallel to the window. And then, with a glare in his eye and the momentum he gathered, Pheagle thrust his talon-like foot forward, sole-first, straight into the glass, his flesh making a thick `THUMP' on impact, before he pressed it in, pushing, and pushing, and puuuushing until:
CK-CK-CRRK-BIIISSISHRIHRIRSHSSIIIIISSSSH
The sensation was not unlike stepping and crushing into cardboard, rather than glass and wood, as Pheagle's strength had increased to such a ridiculous degree, that the window easily splintered and burst open with a loud crash. And despite being barefoot, as Pheagle stomped his talon onto the windowsill to grip it tightly, Pheagle felt the jagged shards of glass and wood stabbing into his naked flesh...but the skin didn't break, no matter how hard they shoved.
Alluring, but Pheagle didn't spend too much time to dwell on it. Instead, with his talon firmly clutched, he hurriedly crouched and squeezed himself through the new opening, flexing and pushing his muscles aggressively, until enough of his form had slipped through the window, that he could flare his now gigantic wings out. And then, once his wings were able to splay, Pheagle channeled every single hour he had spent to train and hone his football charge, coiling his leg and bulging his muscles, before, with a loud, snarling grunt, he kicked, and:
`FWWWWOOOOOOOOOOIIIIIISSSSHHH'
He found himself airborne, flying free.
There was some panic at first. Outside of travelling on airplanes, Pheagle had never actually flown before, so in the beginning of his flight, there was quite a bit of flailing, some very close calls with neighboring rooftops, and his ears could even pick out some brief wooshes of utterly flabbergasted yells, presumably from witnesses to the unusually massive bird soaring overhead. By some miracle of fortune, however, avian instincts had flooded his brain enough to make the rhythmic beating of his wings almost compulsive, soon keeping him consistently aloft. With that, he was able to ascend even higher, the streets below racing past him faster and faster, until they were nothing but a blur of light. The wind rustled and raced across his body, the chill of the cool night air soaking into his feathers and washing across the bare skin of his hands and feet. After such an intense transformation, it was a very refreshing sensation, so Pheagle shut his eyes and let the cold of the night embrace him.
From there, time was nothing. Pheagle found himself lost in the night sky, banking, twirling, and rolling through the air, the thrill of such unbelievable freedom fueling his heart in ways he had never felt before. By now, he was well out of range of his neighborhood, having made sure to get out of there as quickly as possible, before his bizarre form could cause any panic. But though the houses below couldn't see him, he and his raptor eyes could, and he took a moment to stop and flutter in the air, so he could observe the lights gleaming far off in the distance.
It was....beautiful.
From where he hovered, his neighborhood looked so small - a pitch-black sprawl painted with countless little dots of yellow, with the dark blue, starry night hanging low above it. Pheagle's gaze then swiveled around to his current position, in the vast Pennsylvanian forest, with its millions of treetops coated in the dark warmth, with vast, cloudy mountains far off into the distance. To most, it'd be a mundane image of the world in the night, but to eyes that could discern and appreciate far more details than a human brain could ever manage, the view was nothing short of artwork.
Pheagle paused, his wings still flapping to keep him aloft, before his gaze moved over to himself, and he held up his hands. Just about an hour ago, he was a normal human man, a star player for his dream team, the Philadelphia Eagles. And now, another dream had come true: he had become a perfect hybrid of human stature, and an ample, hulking, bald eagle-like creature, the only things left of his clothes being a stretched and tattered pair of shorts that used to be nice and comfy pajama bottoms. And it was all thanks to a random little scratch.
It was almost impossible to believe, and some part of Pheagle was still convinced that this might be some dream. How else could such a drastic transformation from human to this beast-like form be explained? But despite being half-convinced he was dreaming, he really hoped what was happening to him was indeed real.
Because despite how absurd it was, Pheagle couldn't deny how amazing it felt. He was strong, he was huge, he was flying, he was imposing, he was badass, he was fluffy, and he was-
Rrrrr..
H-he was...
Gurrrrrglle, rurrururmble....
He was starving.
Pheagle nearly lost control of his careful flight, as the sharp sting of hunger rippled across his form. He figured that gaining so much mass, musculature, and of course sprouting entirely new limbs, would've probably burned quite a few calories, so now he likely needed something to keep him energized, and quite soon.
Luckily, Pheagle was currently glancing down at a vast forest, presumably filled with an abundance of snacks. So, his eyes carefully scanned through the tree line, seeing with such fine detail, that he could perfectly navigate the entire layout, as if no trees were even present.
Within moments, a favorable target was seen: a rapid river splashing around a small cliff, with the shimmering, silvery forms of salmon inside.
A grin spread across his beak, and Pheagle swooped downwards, stretching out a leg to kick right into the river, with a speed that easily caught one of the fish in a single splash. The water was ice-cold against his skin, but the gleeful gratification of feeling his claws hook into the salmon's flesh far outweighed the little shock of discomfort. Instantly afterwards, within the same swift motion, Pheagle was back into the air, having not even slowed down from the catch, until he was well above the river bank, approaching the cliff.
He felt the salmon wriggling and flailing against his sole, but the claws had it caught firmly.
A clench, and the squirming creature went limp with a satisfying `CRACK'.
The morbidity of eating an entire fish raw briefly fluttered through Pheagle's brain, but whether it was his new animalistic instincts, his hunger, or just his general ``go with the flow'' approach to life, he had found himself barely caring. Thus, once at the cliff, Pheagle found himself a very nice rock to plonk himself down upon, panting excitedly from the adrenaline of the flight and the hunt, before he plucked his prize from his talon, and found his beak easily piercing through the juicy, aquatic flesh.
Once daylight returned, Pheagle knew he'd have no rational explanation for what was happening to him, and much less of an explanation for what was to come afterwards.
And yet, as Pheagle slowly savored his meal, and found his eyes wandering back up to the beautiful, star-filled night sky, deep down he was confident in one thing: whatever this bizarre curse was, or what it was going to be...he felt that he was going to like it. Quite a bit.
Reel123's Emergence series.
caelanj13
