In chronological order:
Part One:
Part Two:
![[DARK] The Vanishing of WereAir 269 [Animal TG] by Transviscera](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/87684d17-8b34-4054-a6cc-9b9e97dcb44a/dge3ahu-3aa254af-5408-48c9-bb00-83016b4d415f.jpg/v1/fit/w_150,h_150,q_70,strp/_dark__the_vanishing_of_wereair_269__animal_tg__by_transviscera_dge3ahu-150.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9NDMzMiIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzg3Njg0ZDE3LThiMzQtNDA1NC1hNmNjLTliOWU5N2RjYjQ0YVwvZGdlM2FodS0zYWEyNTRhZi01NDA4LTQ4YzktYmIwMC04MzAxNmI0ZDQxNWYuanBnIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTgxMTAifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ.TqappZBRhyp0yD0Rtl0zT3E2r7xl3L4UijwOm_gsljA)
Part Three:
![Were Island: The Crash [Man to Catgirl] by Transviscera](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/87684d17-8b34-4054-a6cc-9b9e97dcb44a/dge7frz-10cb7e8c-0080-4c2a-acad-4a2ab47c493a.png/v1/fit/w_150,h_150,q_70,strp/were_island__the_crash__man_to_catgirl__by_transviscera_dge7frz-150.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9Mjk4NCIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzg3Njg0ZDE3LThiMzQtNDA1NC1hNmNjLTliOWU5N2RjYjQ0YVwvZGdlN2Zyei0xMGNiN2U4Yy0wMDgwLTRjMmEtYWNhZC00YTJhYjQ3YzQ5M2EucG5nIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTQzODcifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ.k2vaG4bPzSrZwfR8pnjR9LXqghaxnPd-l-54ZOYDLkw)
Part Four:
The turbine blades were still spinning, spewing jet fuel into the jungle foliage, as I clawed myself out from the fuselage of WereAir 269. The eviscerated middle third of the plane lay at the end of a scar in the earth, disgorging a torrent of furry bodies from both broken ends as passengers fought tooth and claw to escape. One engine lay facing the sky, leaking thick black smoke.
"Dad?! Simon!"
The cloud of inky black rolled slowly over the scene. I couldn't see my paw in front of my face, stinging my eyes and making each breath burn. Passengers stampeded in feral panic towards the undergrowth, knocking me into the dirt.
"Grab my tail," the voice of my father yelled in my ear. "Simon, you grab his. Whatever happens, don't let go."
My fumbling hand enclosed around a thick, muscular tail. We ran in a blind conga-line for what felt like hours, Simon yanking painfully each time we stumbled over unseen tree roots. If I squinted against the smoke, I could make out a patch of white wiggling ahead, just below my hand. I allowed it to guide me.
Brambles tore at the thin WereAir-supplied garments covering our bodies. As the smoke abated and the tree canopy parted to let in a shaft of daylight, I found myself looking at my brother and father, standing there nude except for scraps of muddy cloth, looking for all the world like wild animals.
"You can let go now," dad reminded me. He winced as I released the death grip on his tail, blood and sensation flowing back in.
We'd survived. Although since my brain was still trying to catch up-to-date with the fact that we'd crashed, it would be a while before I remembered to feel relieved. We'd run so far that the shouts of the other passengers could no longer be heard.
Simon slumped to his knees. "... can't... breathe..." he rasped, clutching his chest, his large gold-furred breasts rising and falling.
We were all wheezing. Dad spat out a mouthful of tarry saliva. It didn't quite work with his half-animal lips, and it dribbled down between his cleavage. He looked at Simon then back the way we'd come.
"We can catch our breath here. It'll be fine," he said. He was trying to project confidence into his voice, betrayed by the agitated swish of his tail. I shared the same urge to keep moving, whether from the animal impulse to flee danger, or the human understanding of the jet fuel fountain back there. "Everything's going to be fine," he lied again.