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:
"I'll take the first watch," dad said, gazing out at the shadow-filled foliage that ringed the clearing. "You boys rest."
Neither of us was ready for sleep. We were still running on adrenaline, I think, and as the darkness swept in, I felt more awake than ever. A change seemed to come over me. Back in the managed environment of the plane, we'd been creatures of comfort, these feline forms wishing only to sink into the soft cushions, ingulge themselves from treats on the food trolley, and receive attention from the tender, loving hands of the air stewardesses. It had been a feast for the senses, intoxicating and numbing.
Starved of that stimulation, the full extent of these bodies' senses became apparent, every sound and smell heightened, the blackness picked out in intricate detail. Looking over at dad, I saw he felt it too. His pupils were dilated wide as saucers.
Simon's ears twitched at every noise, rotating like satellite dishes atop his skull to hone in on it. And the noises were constant. A layered drone of insects broken by the crack of branches as far larger things moved unseen in the undergrowth. Simon's ears perked up suddenly. A scream had echoed over the trees. Human, animal or something in between like us, it was impossible to say.
"We should go help," I said.
"We're safe here," dad replied firmly. "We've no idea what could be out there."
"All the more reason to help them," I protested. "If you won't, then I will."
"Like hell you will," he snarled. "Look at the size of us. How big do you think we are? Three feet tall? Two? If there's so much as a wild dog on this island, it'll rip our throats out. Hell, a big enough rat would give us trouble."
His eyes, shining in the starlight, turned to me, examining me up and down. As the only one to fork over the $27 surcharge to board the plane with my manhood intact, the WereAir rags dangled from a strong physique. I blushed at his inspection, wishing the rags provided a semblance of modesty.
He spoke in envious tones. "Maybe you could take care of yourself - you're twice the size of me." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "But what about your brother? Are you going to leave him here to fend for himself?"
Huh? Simon's a quarterback, he can take care of himself! Then I heard the noises he was making. Simon was huddling on a log, hugging his white-gold tail to his chest. Over the din of the cicadas, I finally noticed his quiet animal whimpers.
That sound scared me almost more than the crash had. My big brother wasn't supposed to be afraid of anything.
He'd been processed the same as dad, dehumanised and emasculated and pumped full of animal DNA. But while dad bore himself with the confidence of a tigress, Simon was all fluff and no filler. Whatever pampered pedigree his DNA had been sourced from, he was a showpiece, his glossy coat bred for winning awards at cat shows. They'd really set the machine to super suck when they drained the masculinity out of him, leaving him with barely the strength to lug around those fat, fuzzy tits.
The eerie howl sounded again in the jungle. "It could be David," I said. "They were only a few rows behind us on the plane."
I thought that might elicit at least a glimmer of guilt on his face, but his expression only hardened. "His father will know what to do. Family comes first."
I envisioned the meek, bespectacled Mr Swanson, even more useless in the outdoors than his son, fighting off a wild dog in that plump pig body they'd given him.
"Like it or not, if there's anything on this island that means to do us harm, you're the only one with the body capable of doing anything about it," dad snapped. He dug around on the forest floor until he found a thick, sturdy stick and shoved it into my hands, its purpose clear. "I'll scream if I need you," he said with dark humour, settling in for a long watch. "Twenty seven dollars..." I heard him swear quietly to himself, scowlg down at his own breasts. "Twenty seven measly dollars and I choose to spend it at Panera Bread."