A montage of happy families sitting at restaurant booths bombarded the senses, accompanied by an infectious jingle.  “Here at Chirpie’s we’re always cooking up something special, but don’t take it from me, “said an obnoxiously happy waitress who suddenly burst into frame.  “Just ask Mama Devore!”    The camera shifted to a table occupied by the smallest, roundest, happiest looking bird imaginable.  The titmouse’s blue head feather’s had been styled into a pompadour, her thin beak spread into a beaming smile that forced her slightly chubby cheeks to press outwards at the corners.  Devore’s face was quite pretty, and if that was all you could see most holovision viewers would have assumed she was as slim as most of her kind, but below that polished black beak breasts the size of cantaloupes sat firm and defiant atop a dome of feathered fat.  She wore an ill-fitting pair of jeans and a red plaid shirt, its buttons straining to contain the orb which made up the majority of the four foot birds frame.  She sat in a hover chair, her thin, blue feathered legs and jet black talons dangling lazily above the ground, spread wide by the checkered behemoth.   “Boy howdy do I got something special for yall this week!  Fer a limited time only when ya buy one of our five gallon belly buster chicken baskets ya get a second one fer half price,” she announced with a charming southern drawl, her slender arm gesturing to the massive buckets on the table beside her, each one overflowing with steaming, crispy drum sticks.  “Hunger don’t stand a chance against my chicken baskets,” she chuckled, removing a drumstick from an overflowing bucket with a black and blue feathered wing, “and neither dose yer waist line!  So come on down to Chirpie’s today and waddle away with somethin good!”    Devore spread her beak wide and engulfed the whole drum stick, pulling back to reveal a picked clean bone.  The bird’s sharp beak sliced the meat right off onto her waiting tongue, and as she swallowed it all down in one solid chunk with a look of pure bliss upon her face the Chirpie’s logo flashed on the screen, followed by the fast food chains theme song.   “Cut!  All right folks, that’s a rap.”    The sound stage erupted with noise once the director yelled cut, and Devore tossed the now meatless bone behind her, where it came to rest atop a pile of similar bones.  Her expression changed suddenly, like a switch had been turned off in her head.  Gone was the pleasant smile, the ruddy cheeks.  She scowled at the room around her, and belched in the face of the sound tech who was trying to remove her microphone.  “Uuuurp about damn time!  What was that, fifteen takes?  Fifteen times that bitch fucked up her line,” she shouted angrily, pointing a grease coated feather at the dejected looking collie who had plaid the part of the waitress.  “You’re fired!  Get outa my sight,” Devore snarled, letting loose another belch.  The poor young women burst into tears as security approached, and the tiny bird turned her rage on the sound tech.    The nervous ferret fumbled with the tiny microphone’s clip, which was pressed tightly between her feathered flesh and the taught fabric of her shirt.  He struggled to get his arm under the cloth, tracing the wire up the curved, tight mountain until his paw bumped one of her breasts.  Devore grabbed the ferret by his ear, pulled him in close to her face, and studied him with her cold, spiteful eyes.  The poor sound tech winced with pain, and let loose a surprised squeak.  “Trying to cop a feel eh?  Do it again and I’ll snap you in half like a twig, do we understand each other?”  The ferret nodded his head so fast it looked painful, and with a yank freed the microphone from its dark prison.  “Y – yes Miss Devore. So sorry Miss Devore,” he said anxiously, backing away from the bird.  Devore glared after him, her eyes scanning the ferret’s toned legs, firm rear and sculpted chest.  She licked her beak, the thought of having her way with him sending a tingle through the birds buried nether lips.  She snapped her feather tips, and a nervous brown bear in a lime green business suit rushed to her side.  “Yes Miss Devore, how may I be of assistance,” she asked with a practiced professional tone that sounded lifeless and defeated.   “Get that man’s contact info and send him a message, “she said with a lustful groan. The bird rubbed her feather tips across the three foot ball that pinned her to the chair, and the bear could see Devore wince for a moment as another jolt of pain shot through her organs.  “Tell him if he wants to keep working he’ll be at my penthouse tonight at eight.  If he refuses call my network contacts, get him blacklisted from television.”    The bear nodded, tapping her trimmed claws across the screen of her personal data slate.  “Yes Miss Devore.  Would you like me to notify the cooks to begin preparing your evening exercises?”   Phoebe Devore wheezed, her composure beginning to falter slightly.  She had been eating heavily all day, and over the past two hours the bird’s personal assistant had witnessed her tear through three of Chirpie’s five gallon belly buster chicken baskets.  The titmouse’s stomach had ballooned so rapidly that makeup specialists needed to apply three coats to the angry red skin bulging through each diamond shaped gap in her shirt.  Devore was full, so full her very core ached, but she still needed more.  “Urp yes, and notify Doctor Wesley I’ll be needing his expertise this evening, my body is fighting me again and I can’t afford another setback.”    Yes Miss Devore,” the bear replied yet again.  “Will that be all?” The titmouse’s feathers ruffled slightly around her neck, and she turned her piercing gaze upon the timid assistant who already regretted her question.    “Did I dismiss you Nicole,” she asked with a snarl. “N –n –no Miss Devore.” “That must be because I’m not through with you yet, so shut your mouth and open your ears!”  Just the simple act of shouting at Nicole left Devore out of breath.  The blue feathered bird slumped back into her chair and gasped like a fish out of water.  She was beginning to feel light headed.  Her wingtips fumbled desperately for a small compartment on the side of her chair, retrieving an oxygen mask which she jammed over her beak.     “Now – huff huff – read me the – huff – daily reports,” she wheezed.   Nicole was dreading that question, she had already looked them over.  Devore wasn’t going to be happy.  The brown furred bear brought up the data files on her screen with the swipe of a claw and took a deep breath.    “Yes Miss Devore.  Our total income for the day is eighteen billion and counting as of one hour ago.  Most of your fast food and restaurant chains are performing well, though profits for Bubba Burger and Taco Town chains have dropped by twenty percent.”    Devore lowered the mask from her beak and released a deep belch.  “Shut down one hundred stores starting with the lowest performing –urp- and tell manufacturing to increase the Addictol dosages in all their products.  Now what about our contract with the GSA?”     Nicole took a sharp, deep breath, and braced herself for the coming storm.  For the past four months NutriCal foods, which Phoebe Devore owned and operated, had been competing with her nemesis for a twenty million dollar contract with the Global Space Association to develop and supply food rations for their upcoming deep space colony missions.  Their decision wasn’t what Devore expected however.   “The GSA sent a formal reply this morning.  They’ve chosen Anadine Labs.” “That bitch,” Phoebe shouted, slamming a feathered fist into the arm rest of her hover chair.  The camera crews ignored her and continued to pack up their equipment.  None of them wanted to risk incurring the bloated billionaire’s wrath.    “This contract was MINE!  I didn’t bribe the director of the GSA for a fucking no thank you!  How dare they choose her pathetic excuse for a company!?”    Phoebe shoved the oxygen mask back over her beak, and with the tap of an atrophied talon her hover chair gave an electric whine and raced towards the nearest exit.  “That bitch – gasp – thinks she can take money out of my wing tips?  I’ll teach her to fuck with me!”  The titmouse raced through the sound stage’s sliding doors and out into the parking lot, her humiliated assistant doing the best she could to keep up.  Devore’s chair slowed to a halt beside a limo, Its coal gray finish gleaming in the sun, anti-gravity thrusters rumbling faintly.     “Nicole,” shouted Devore, turning her chair to face the winded bear who was just finishing her jog across the parking lot.  “Hire a professional to deal with this problem – gasp – permanently.”    The brown furred bear’s jaw dropped open.  “You mean a hitman,” she whispered.  I – I don’t think I can ----.”   “I don’t give two shits – gasp - what you think,” Devore shrieked like a spoiled child through the mask. “I’m giving you a list, you’re going to find me an expert – gasp – and my rodent problem WILL be exterminated.  Got it?”  She glared at the bear as the limo’s wide gullwing doors swung open, waiting for her answer.  Nicole trembled, her heart racing.  “Yes Miss Devore, I’ll get started immediately.”     Her hover chair slid inside the limo, lowering into a cup shaped hole where the back seat would have been.  “Good.  You have three days to get things in order.  DON’T disappoint me.”   Nicole just nodded her head, still shocked by the order given to her, and watched Devore’s limo rise into the air.  Small navigation lights blinked along its fender’s, and with a screech from its turbo glide engine it rocketed off towards the nearest sky lane, leaving the bear alone to worry.   Nicole slammed the door to her cramped apartment and collapsed into the living room sofa.  Her foot paws ached, her back ached.  Now that she thought about it everything did.  The bear had spent hours at her desk arranging meetings for the following day, and she wasn’t looking forward to them.    The thought of interviewing trained killers and psychopaths filled Nicole with nervous tension, but there was nothing she could do.  The bear had to go through with Miss Devore’s orders, she feared what would happen if she failed far more.  She sighed and leaned forward, rubbing the bridge of her muzzle.  It hadn’t always been like this, she had to remind herself of that.  Nicole could remember how happy she was to get this job.  The excitement and pride she felt being picked to be personal assistant to one of THE wealthiest woman in the world.  At that time Phoebe Devore had just inherited Nutrical from her late father, and although she was only twenty three the little bird quickly proved to be a natural businesswomen.  Under her leadership Nutrical foods went global, buying up smaller distributers and restaurant chains around the world.  Phoebe even began appearing in all of her company’s ad’s as their new wholesome mascot Mama Devore, and she did it all with a calm confidence and pleasant demeanor that quickly earned Phoebe the love and respect of her employees.    Nicole’s eyes welled up with tears just thinking about those happy times.  It was like she was remembering a different life, a different boss.  That Phoebe Devore was long gone now, devoured by the hate filled ball of food and feathers that tormented her every waking moment.   She had been thin back then.  Her slender legs widening to toned aerodynamic hips and a wide, well-groomed set of tail feathers.  Devore’s hour glass waist and small, perky breasts were always clothed in the finest tailored suits, and Nicole would meet the bird every day on her office balcony high atop the company’s skyscraper.  The nimble titmouse would practically skip across the clouds like a pebble on a smooth pond, performing acrobatic flips and barrel rolls just for the bear to enjoy.  Phoebe would dive down like a leaf and greet Nicole with a pleasant chirp, and once her delicate talons had reached the cement of her balcony the two would sit down to a simple breakfast and go over the day’s itinerary.    Then everything began to change.  At first it was little things.  Devore would land at work looking tired, her eyes heavy with the weight of sleepless nights.  Her mood began to shift, the simplest things began to annoy her, even drive her into rages.  One day Nicole walked into Devore’s office to discover that the bird had installed a large floor to ceiling mirror across from her desk.  The lithe, smartly dressed titmouse studied her reflection intently, turning this way and that before its reflective surface, sucking in her already trim stomach and then sticking it out as far as it would go.  She didn’t seem to notice her personal assistant at first.   “I know what they’re all thinking you know.” She muttered bitterly, tears beginning to form in her weary eyes.   “What who says?” “Everyone,” Phoebe shouted, turning to face her assistant with clenched wingtips.  “She’ll fail, Phoebe will ruin her family dynasty.  She’s just too young for the job, too weak.”   Phoebe spat those words out bitterly, tears streaming from her eyes now.  “I’ve never heard anyone say that about you Miss Devore,” said Nicole softly, trying her best to calm the angry bird.  “Age and strength don’t have anything to do with running a business, it’s your mind that matters, and you happen to have a brilliant one.”   Phoebe’s brow feathers furrowed, her thoughts turning to what Nicole had just said.  After a moments deliberation she waved at the bear dismissively, turning back to the mirror.  “Bah, nonsense.  Brains may be important but strength and power ----- now that’s essential.  If I want people to take me seriously I need to embody them, but how -------”   It was a question Phoebe Devore didn’t have an answer to, but it wasn’t long before it came to her in the form of a newspaper article.  “Look here,” Devore cried out one morning with an intense excitement that Nicole hadn’t seen her display in months.  The business suit clad bird jabbed a feather tip into the paper as Nicole bent over her, curious to see what had caused such a sudden change.  It was a small half page write up titled, “Groundbreaking research brings high honor to local genius.”   “Dr. Michelle Ratzenberger was awarded the Modell Peace Prize last Saturday for her lifesaving advances in the treatment of Regressive Instinct Syndrome (R.I.S.).  This debilitating disease effects both the body and mind, triggering long dormant primal instincts in predator and prey species alike.  “We often forget that Mother Nature never intended for us to look and act the way we do,” explained Dr. Ratzenberger during her acceptance speech.  “Humanity did that, and humans make mistakes.  You could say there are bugs in our genetic code, and R.I.S. is one of the worst.  It draws out our alpha mentality, the deep-seated desire to dominate and overpower, to show strength.  Many sufferers develop hunting tendencies, tracking and devouring their fellow animals.  They will often seek to show their fertility and health by gaining weight, a way ancient animals attracted mates.  This results in an addictive mentality that drives them to gorge on food and seek out worthy partners.  Many die due to rupturing of the stomach, intestines or womb, over eight thousand last year alone!  But now those afflicted with this terrible disorder can get the treatment they need to live their best life, not through re-programing or institutionalization, but by giving them a safe and structured way to work off their primal urges without hurting themselves or others.”    “That’s it!  Regressive Instinct Syndrome, if I had that I could dominate the world, everyone would take one look at me and know I was in charge.”   The small bird jumped to her talons and headed for her desk, throwing the newspaper at Nicole as she passed.  “Get me an interview with this doctor, and do it IMMEDIATELY!”   Nicole did as she was told, setting in motion a bitter rivalry that burned brighter than the sun.  Days later, when Devore returned from Dr. Ratzenberger’s office she was furious, taking out her anger on anyone unfortunate enough to cross her path, and Nicole took the brunt of it.    “That fucking cunt, I’ll bury her! I’ll take away everything she’s ever held dear, starting today!  Give me a list of Pharmaceutical companies currently on the market, and I want geneticists, chemists,  chemical engineers,” she shouted from behind her desk, “ a Gastroenterologist who specializes in weight gain and R.I.S. ----are you getting this or do I need to do it my fucking self!?”    Nicole jumped, her paws trembling as they valiantly tried to type up the avalanche of words spilling from the titmouse’s beak.  “Y-yes Miss Devore, I have it all here on the data slate.”   “Good, now get out of my fucking sight, and tell the kitchen staff I want a six course dinner and I want it now!”   “C-certainly, should I have the table set for six then?”   Phoebe jumped from her seat, neck feathers ruffled.  “No! Get the fuck out of my office,” she screamed, pointing at the door.  Nicole left the bird alone with her rage and slumped against the hallway wall outside.  She felt dazed and exhausted from the verbal assault she had just endured.  “What the hell happened at that meeting?”     Nicole never did find out the truth.  After that day Phoebe didn’t mention it again.  What she did do was buy several chemical and pharmaceutical companies, and higher Doctor Wesley.  Once he came into the picture strange things started happening.  Nicole was suddenly not allowed in Devore’s office, only the doctor and his team could enter.  She watched them carry in all kinds of medical equipment every morning, and the kitchen staff were never far behind, struggling to push their overloaded serving carts through the double doors of her inner sanctum.  They would come and go all day, never stopping until the doctor retired to his quarters in the evening.  The little bird just shut herself away inside, only communicating with Nicole over the phone.  She always sounded sickly, her breathing shallow, her words slower but just as angry.  Sometimes the bear even heard what she thought were muffled burps.  Nicole had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but she had no way to know for sure ---- not until one fateful night a month after Miss Devore’s sudden disappearance.     It was the end of another long day spent behind her desk in the small waiting room to Devore’s office.  Nicole ran her claw tipped fingers through the silky brown hair that cascaded down to her broad shoulders and moaned.  She was exhausted, and the paperwork on her desk was all starting to blend together now.  Devore had started dumping more of her work on to her assistant, payrolls, purchase orders, research and finance reports.  Nicole could hardly keep up with it all.  She yawned, looking up from the latest stack of documents that needed her signature.  Raising her arms the bear stretched, cracking stiff muscles   “I should just take the rest of this home with me,” she thought.  Nicole really didn’t want to spend another night asleep at her desk.   The waiting room door suddenly burst open with a bang, startling Nicole.  It was Doctor Wesley!  The middle aged lion looked as disheveled as ususal.  His mane a tangled mess, clothes wrinkled and stained.  Nicole had seen him leave for the night over an hour ago, it was unlike him to come back like this.  The tan furred cat rubbed his paws together nervously and muttered to himself, completely unaware of the bear’s existence.    “Should have known better than to give her a controllable feed, she’s far too eager.  I warned her this would happen, I tried to be reasonable, but no, no I don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m just a doctor!”   Wesley threw the double doors wide open and rushed out of sight, leaving Nicole alone again. “Your body is trying to evacuate its contents, I warned you of this,” she heard Wesley whine like a frustrated child.  Strange noises came to her ears.  A deep, ragged wheeze, and a dull boiling rumble that seemed to be an almost constant presence in the background.  She found herself moving towards the doorway, each step slow and hesitant.  Nicole stopped just short of her destination, heart pounding, mouth as dry as sand.  Did she really want to know what was going on in there?  Was it really worth it?  She wasn’t sure, but something compelled her to peak around the corner.   Nothing could have prepared Nicole for what she saw, it was forever burned into the bears mind.  The spot where Phoebe’s desk once stood had been replaced by a hospital bed.  A semi-circle of beeping machines surrounded it, some had screens filled with waving green lines, while others pumped the contents of at least a dozen IV bags into both of Devore’s wings.  She convulsed upon the bed, her limbs twitching, trembling with muscle spasms that rolled through the small bird in waves.  Frothy foam bubbled from Devore’s open beak and onto her ill-fitting hospital gown, eyes rolling back until only white remained.  The poor bird looked on the verge of death, and the cause was plain to see.  It erupted from her waist, a medicine ball that forced the light blue gown to bunch up atop her meager breasts.  It flared from the sides and forced her abs to spread apart until the barely visible slabs of muscle were nothing more than eroding islands.  The titmouse’s glossy blue feathers bristled across the dome.  Many had fallen away, revealing patches of flushed pink skin.  Her molting belly contracted, intestines shifting like a coiled serpent beneath the thin, shining surface.  The good doctor stood over her loading a glass vial into his auto injector, still muttering away.    “From now on no more feeding tube use without strict supervision, another food induced seizure like this could cause a stroke.  You’re really very lucky, very, very lucky.”    He moved to the bird’s side and griped her by the forehead, bringing the auto injector to her neck.  With a hiss of compressed air the vial’s contents rushed into Phoebe, and her whole body stiffened, the birds back arching violently, thrusting the overdue ball into the air with an ominous creak.  Nicole could see her bosses’ belly button emerge from between two feathers, silhouetted at the highest peak for just a moment, before her body went limp and slumped back into the mattress.   That was all Nicole was able to see.  Doctor Wesley had turned towards the door at that point, forcing the bear to retreat back to her desk, but it was enough.    Nicole stifled a sob, wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.  It was a painful memory for her, one she struggled to make sense of even after all these years.  “What possessed her to do this to herself, has she gone mad,” she wondered.  It really seemed to be the only answer that made sense, but the reason wasn’t worth dwelling on.  It was best to force it all from her mind.     “What I need is a nice hot shower, and bed -----oooooh my back,” she moaned, pushing herself up from the couch.  “If I’m lucky maybe I can get a solid four hours tonight.”        “Mr. Buzzsaw?  Is that your legal name,” asked Nicole nervously.  The thickly muscled boar sitting across the desk from her grinned madly, his head tilted, eyes bulging.  “Buzzsaw’s mah only name ----- it’s what I doooo,” he said in his eerily calm southern accent.  “You –um-you buzzsaw people?”   The boar cradled a chainsaw shaped suitcase in his lap, petting it affectionately, eyes never leaving Nicole.  “I love the saw.  The saw’s a part ah me, and I make it ah part a themmmm.”    Nicole did her best to smile politely, but beneath that nervous smile she was terrified.  “Ah, excellent ----- well, thank you for your time Mr. Buzzsaw, but we’re looking for a more stealthy approach.  I-gulp-hope you understand.”   Buzzsaw’s neck muscles bulged like tight lengths of rope, his teeth grinding.  “That’s fine. Thank yaaaaa, fer yer tiiimmmeee.”    He got to his hooves, never breaking eye contact, suitcase clutched tightly in his bulging arms, and exited the conference room.  Once the door clicked shut behind him the bear started taking deep breaths, her paws trembling.  That was the eleventh interview of the day, and they had all been the same caliber of crazy.  There was Subzero, the ice skating assassin with a titanium bladed hockey stick.  Nicole still didn’t know how he expected to kill Dr. Ratzenberger without any ice to skate on.  Then there was The Detonator, who tried to convince Nicole that a bazooka round through the doctor’s bedroom window was a good idea.  Each one was a waste of time, and Nicole was running out of options.  There was only one potential assassin left.   A knock at the door signaled their arrival, and Nicole closed her eyes.  “Just one more interview,” she told herself.  “You can do this.”  “Come in,” she called out calmly.   The door opened, but Nicole wasn’t exactly sure who entered.  They wore a black trench coat that covered everything but the equally black boots they wore.  No trace of a tail could be seen, and their paws were covered by black leather gloves.  A holo-mask covered their head, its cloth screen flashing the faces of hundreds of animals in a random constantly repeating fashion that made their true features impossible to see.     “Please take a seat Mr. Noface,” said Nicole, gesturing to the nearest chair.  The strange looking figure looked at the row of chairs that stretched the lengh of the conference table and clasped their paws behind their back.”   “I’d rather stand, if it’s alright with you Miss Benson,” they replied with a robotic tone that could only be made by a voice changer.   Nicole looked up from Noface’s resume, breath caught in her throat.  “You know my last name?” “Nicole Benson, born September twenty sixth, twenty one eighty six to Steven and Deborah.  Graduated from Brookfield College with a degree in business management.  I could go on but you get the idea.”     Noface chuckled at the shocked expression on the bears face,    “Are you really that surprised? I make a point of knowing about all my clients, a true professional can never have too much information.”    Clearing her throat, Nicole eyed the strange androgynous animal before her with a look of interest.  “I suppose not.  You’ll have to excuse me for getting straight down to business but how do you usually dispose of your targets Noface?”    “Why with the power of invisibility Miss Benson.   I blend in with the crowd.  Any gender, any age, at any time.  My targets never see me coming.”  As Noface spoke the mask would stop for a second, briefly giving them the appearance of a beautiful female bat with flowing auburn hair, then a middle aged parrot, and finally a stern faced Doberman.    Nicole was beginning to feel hope for the first time today.  “This job would require just such an approach.  My employer would prefer it be made to look like an accident, something low key.  Robbery gone wrong, hit and run, the exact method would be left to your discretion.”   “The target?”    Nicole tapped at the touch screen built into the tabletop, the clicking of her claw tips upon glass the only sound in the room.  Beams of light flickered into existence above the table, steadily widening until they formed the three dimensional image of a golden haired albino rat.  “If you know about me then I’m sure you know about the target.  Doctor Michelle Ratzenberger.”    Noface nodded, approaching the table to gaze closer at the image.  “Owner and head scientist of Anadine Labs.  Thirty three years old, five foot five, two hundred and eighty pounds.  She has a regular jogging route, as well as a repetitive schedule.  An easy target really.”     Nicole was impressed, none of the other applicants had bothered to do any digging.  Noface seemed professional, discreet, everything Nicole had been looking for.    “My employer would like this job completed within the next week.  Is that a possibility?” Noface’s constantly shifting features slowed to a stop, and suddenly Nicole was staring at a smiling young lemur, his emerald eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger.  “That won’t be a problem at all,” he said with a deep, charismatic voice.  I can start as soon as my bank confirms the deposit.”   Nicole swiped a paw pad across the touch screen.  It was a simple motion, but it authorized the transfer of money, and sealed the bear’s fate.    “Please call, please call, please, please,” whimpered Nicole.  The bear sat slumped over her desk, looking tired and defeated.  Her blood shot eyes stared at the small round holo-phone on the desk top, trying to will it to ring.  Six days had passed, and she still hadn’t heard from Noface.  The job should have been finished by now, and at this point every minute that passed filled her with an ever growing feeling of dread.  There wasn’t much time left.  Devore had become increasingly impatient, and Nicole knew that the next time her boss demanded an update she wouldn’t be able to stall any longer.    When a dark shadow fell across the desk Nicole knew it was all over.  She raised her head to find two burly security guards standing next to her.  They were both Dobermans, and their uniforms looked more like something a swat team would be issued, complete with assault rifles slung over their backs.   The one closest to her stared down at Nicole with a sympathetic smile, holding out his hand to help Nicole to her paws.  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but Miss Devore requests your presence in her office.”   His brown and white fur was well combed, and he wasn’t bad on the eyes, but all Devore could think about was the horrible ordeal she was about to endure.  “What will she do to me, will I disappear too, like that Turkey girl from marketing,” she thought.   “NOW,” snarled the second guard, a stern faced Doberman with ash grey fur.    Nicole jumped to her paws, startled by the sudden outburst, and ignored the first guards offered hand.  He lowered it, giving a slight nod of understanding.  “After you,” he said, pointing towards the large, dark lacquered doors to Devore’s office.   Her heart pounded, she felt light headed, chest fluttering with panic.  Nicole wondered if condemned prisoners felt like this on their way to the disintegration chamber.  The two guards followed close behind.  Leaving her no choice but to keep moving forward.   It had been four years since Nicole last caught a glimpse of Phoebe Devore’s office, and once they had crossed the threshold she found it almost unrecognizable.  What had once been a wide open room flooded with light from floor to ceiling windows was now a dark, cluttered den of secrets.  Thick velvet curtains hid the sun’s rays, leaving only the glass chandelier hanging high above to illuminate the room.  A row of fridges lined one wall, along with four ovens and a long countertop fitted with every kind of cooking appliance imaginable.  The rest of the room looked like a cross between a lab and a hospital room.  Strange machines beeped and whirred, all of them connected to the bloated bird who sat reclined in her hospital bed.  Doctor Wesley bent over Devore, palpating the sweat covered surface of her belly.  It trembled at his touch, the skin barely denting when he pressed into it, leaving pale white imprints of his hand to slowly fade back into the sea of feverish red.      Her abdomen bulged to the sides, an exaggerated curve that made the whole mass look ready to fall off of the torso from which it erupted.  Purple stretchmarks, wide and crinkly, thin like tissue paper, shined faintly in the dull light.  Not a single crease remained on the pressurized mass.  It jutted into the air at an angle, as rigid as a barrel, supported by a pile of pillows between her thin, widespread legs.  As the Doctor continued his examination, Devore sucked furiously on a tube that disappeared behind the oblong shaped, featherless gut.  Each wet, forceful gulp that Nicole heard caused the bird’s cone shaped navel to pulse.  It also caused strange bulges to shift sluggishly along the surface as the titmouse’s organs revolted against the onslaught.   Suddenly the whole mass contracted, and a loud slosh filled the room.  “That’s it for now I’m afraid,” said the doctor with a tired sigh.  He seemed nervous, eyes darting about to the different gauges and monitors, moving with a flustered energy to remove Devore’s feeding tube.  The titmouse gagged while the length of hollow rubber slid up her throat, and once the last of it was free of her beak she let loose a wretch that rocked her dangerously filled girth to and fro atop its mountain of pillows.   “What – what’s the measurement today,” she heard the bird ask weakly.   “Seventy four inches Miss Devore!  That’s a three inch increase, one more than expected.  I would say quite a successful exercise session, yes?”   There was a deafening silence once Wesley finished talking, and Nicole knew what was coming next.   “Successful?  SUCCESFUL!!!”   “Wheeze –gasp – wheeze”, that’s fucking pathetic!”    She belted out her rage in small clipped sentences punctuated by deep, rattling gasps for air, her small legs kicking feebly into the mattress with childish rage.  “That’s the best –gasp wheeeeze-you can do!?”   Wesley seemed to ignore her for the moment, more concerned with the bird’s breathing than her anger.     “You need oxygen,” he said, lowering a mask to her snarling beak.  “There we are, deep breaths now.  You shouldn’t be getting so worked up, it’s not good for your blood pressure.  Birds of flight were never meant to grow as large as you have become Miss Devore, at your size every inch is a victory.”    Devore’s limbs went limp, her energy exhausted.  All she could do was breath into the mask for a few minutes while she waited for her heart to stop pounding.  “Do not – wheeze – lecture me Doctor – wheeze – just because you are developing –wheeeeze – my R.I.S. treatment doesn’t mean – gasp – you aren’t expendable.”    Wesley bowed slightly, and turned to leave.  “Yes Miss Devore, my apologies.  I’ll leave you now, it seems your assistant is here to see you.”  The lion walked past her and the two Doberman guards, giving Nicole a strange look, his eyes twinkling with a strange excitement that made the bear’s blood run cold.   “Nicole dear –gasp – come here please,” Devore asked in a sickly sweat tone that oozed with incincerity.  Nicole steeled herself, and approached the bedbound bird.  She rested her back against the raised bed, rubbing her black and blue feathered wingtips gently across the angry mound.  Devore looked up at her, studying the bear with her cold eyes.  “So tell me,” she cooed, her words muffled by the plastic mask.  “Have you heard anything from this Noface yet?  Hmmmmm?”    Nicole licked her lips, she was beginning to feel sick.  Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, and the heat radiating from the titmouse’s oblong belly was only making it worse.    “Yes, ah – I mean no, not yet – but I’m sure they will make contact today.  There’s still twelve hours left on the contract, and I have faith in their abilities.”    Devore’s beak spread into a fiendish grin.  “Good ---- oh, could you open that box for me please,” she asked, raising one wing from the shelf of her gut to point at something behind Nicole.  The bear turned, following the outstretched wing with her eyes.  A simple brown cardboard box sat atop one of the monitors.  She scooped it into her paws and examined the SpeedEx logo stamped onto the side.  A shipping label covered half of it, lacking a return address.   “Go ahead, open it,” snarled Devore, her innocent tone beginning to slip.  The box had already been opened, and with trembling claw tipped fingers she reached inside, and removed a familiar piece of cloth.  Noface’s holo-mask, torn and stained, stared up at her.  A small piece of paper hung from it, pinned to the fiber optic cloth.    Dear Phoebe,             A hitman, really?  If you’re going to pay someone to kill me at least higher a good one.  This amateur didn’t stand a chance.  My new bodyguard seemed to like them though, she said they were very sweet.             All the best, Michelle The tattered cloth fell from Nicole’s limp paws, her eyes growing wide with fear.  This was it, the end.  All of her fears had come true.  “No, ------no, this can’t be.”    “Oh but it is Nicole, you fucked it up!  I’m disappointed, and I warned you not to disappoint me.”    Strong paws gripped her shoulders, twisting the bear’s arms behind her back.  The guards held her firmly, and no matter how hard she fought against them Nicole couldn’t break free.  The titmouse laughed at her frantic struggling, her sadistic smile barely visible beyond the titanic swell that pinned Devore to the bed. “I know just how you can make it up to me though.  You can be Doctor Wesley’s newest test subject!  Isn’t that exciting!?”   The guards turned Nicole to face the waiting room doors, and there stood the disheveled doctor, a stretcher by his side.  Nicole dragged and kicked her legs, desperate to break free.  Tears streamed from her eyes, blurring the bear’s vision and staining the fur of her cheeks. “No, please!  Please stop this!!  This is madness, you can’t!”    Doctor Wesley rubbed his brow, looking annoyed by the bear’s hysterical cries.  “Quickly now, get her strapped into the stretcher so I can put an end to her bleating.”   “Unf, she’s not cooperating Doc.  How the hell are we supposed to get her strapped into that thing,” grunted the brown and white Doberman.  He seemed uncomfortable with the whole situation, unsure of what to do.  Something fast rushed by the corner of his face, leaving a cool breeze in its wake.  It was followed by a sharp crack, and Nicole went limp in his hands.  “That’s how,” snarled the ash grey Doberman, holding up the folding baton he had just used to knock the bear out.   “What the hell Rick!?  You could have killed her!” Rick laughed as he clipped the baton back onto his belt, shaking his head.  “Stop being a pussy Ted, help me lift her up.”         Nicole shivered, the cold cement floor piercing into her very core.  It was the first thing she felt, followed by a dull ache in her temple.  Though her eyes were closed the bear’s vision was filled with bright flashes and shimmering sparks that danced in the dark beneath her eyelids, and lingered even after they fluttered open, slowly fading in the corners of her vision.   The bear let out a low moan, her headache intensifying, and moved a clawed hand to rub at her throbbing scalp.  Her finger tips felt the cloth bandages that wrapped tightly around her skull and hesitated.  Just the light pressure of her pads against the gauze wrapping sent sharp bolts of lightning through her skull.  What happened, an accident?  Was she in a hospital?  No, a hospital wouldn’t leave her lying naked on the floor like this.    Nicole pushed herself up and looked around at the room she found herself in.  One bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling gave off just enough light to reveal padded walls, probably sound proofed.  There didn’t seem to be any door either, only one single window that stretched across the wall in front of her.    Nicole was beginning to feel nauseous, her stomach was turning, and the pounding in her head wouldn’t stop.  She tried to gather her legs beneath her in a futile attempt to stand, but the room began to spin around her and she gave up.   “It’s about time you woke up.”     The voice came from nowhere and everywhere, startling the bear.  Her breathing was accelerating, fear building as the memories began to flood back.  Devore, she had kidnaped her!   “Wh – where are you? What did you do to me?” Bright light suddenly filled the once darkened room beyond the window, revealing the bird responsible for her imprisonment.    Devore hovered there in her chair, dressed in her usual business suit.  She steepled her feather tips atop the upper shelf of her bare, globular gut, and watched the bear intently.    “Nothing my dear, but the good doctor ------- he did all sorts of things to you.  Have you ever heard of brain mapping?  It’s a surgical process, veeeeery invasive.  He fired lasers into sections of your brain.  Re-wired you like an old radio, it’s why your head is so tender.  I do apologize for that.”   The words rolled off the birds tongue like acid, each word dripping with bitter condescension.   Nicole sobbed, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.  “You fucking bitch,” she snarled through gritted teeth.  “After all I did for you, after everything I ---Urgh!”    A stabbing pain rolled through Nicole’s stomach, forcing her into the fetal position.  She cried out in agony, flopped onto her side, and listened to the cruel, wheezing laughter of Devore.     “Ahahahahahaha, oh what’s wrong Nicole, you don’t seem well.” Devore was only a blue blob in Nicole’s tear-filled eyes, her senses dulled by the waves of pain.  “S-something wrong – hurts – stomach hurts,” she grunted in between deep, gasping breaths.    “That would be the hunger.  You see, the section of your brain Doctor Wesley re-wired is the hypothalamus.  It releases hormones that switch your hunger on and off.  He just removed the off switch.  We weren’t sure it would work actually, there was a good chance you would end up a drooling vegetable.”   Nicole writhed on the floor, her agony leaving the bear delearious.  She was only vaguely aware of Devore now, her fur matted with sweat.  She needed to eat something, anything!  “P – please – food,” she sobbed.  “Make the pain – go away!”    Devore drummed her feathery finger tips atop the tight, flushed pink table that jutted from between her heavy, fattened breasts.  “Hmmmm, well since you asked nicely I suppose I can give you a snack.”   The rotund bird tapped a button on her arm rest and watched a trap door slide open in the ceiling.  Something plummeted through, crashing to the hard ground with a muffled crump.  It was an otter, his tall, lanky body clad in a wrinkled three piece suit.  He lay there a few feet away from Nicole’s head, the bear only just starting to realize his presence.  She could smell something, an intoxicating scent that was beginning to clear away the feverish fog clouding her senses.     The otter stirred, moaning as consciousness returned, and the pain set in.  He had broken his left leg in the fall and blood was slowly soaking through the grey cloth of his pants.  It smelled delicious.   Nicole began to drag herself towards the groaning otter.  She needed the pain to stop, it had to be done.  Her mind rebelled against the idea, but Nicole couldn’t stop herself.    He could hear the bear coming and sat up to look for the source of the strange shuffling grunts.  When he spotted Nicole the otter’s ears shot upwards, and he let out a gasp of surprise.  “Oh thank god,” the otter said with panic in his voice.  I thought I was alone down here.  My leg – I think it’s broken.  You need to help me get out of here before she kills us both!”   “Why William, what kind of boss do you think I am,” asked Devore with mock sadness in her voice.  I wouldn’t hurt a fly.  That’s what Nicole is for.”   William tried to swallow but found his moth had suddenly gone dry, he knew that voice all too well, and once the otter turned to see the bloated bird grinning behind him from the other side of the thick glass window his heart sank.  “No, no please!  Don’t do this, I’ll give the money back!  I will!  Just call her off!”   William looked back at Nicole, and the bear’s expression frightened him.  It was desperate, focused.  She was stalking towards him on her hands and knees, looming over the smaller otter with hunger in her eyes.  “You need – unf – stay away – from me.  Don’t let – me –ahhhh!”  The hunger pains stopped Nicole from giving any other warning, and she pounced.    William screamed, and attempted to drag himself away, but it was too late.  He disappeared from Devore’s view for a moment, buried under a mound of brown fur, and then Nicole reared up on her hind legs, head thrown back.  Devore grinned eagerly at the sight of the flailing otter whose upper torso stretched her former assistants jaws wide.  “It works, the procedure really works,” she crowed happily.    Nicole bobbed her head like a baby bird, her thick muscles contracting around William’s body.  His belt buckle slipped from view, then his knees, and then his webbed, wriggling paws..    The bear wobbled on unsteady paws for a moment, the massive oblong of her gut jutting out far enough to cast a shadow over the ground, and then fell back upon her padded rear.  She sat there with her back against the wall, desperately trying to breathe, tears streaming from her eyes, and let the horror of her situation sink in.  Nicole’s lungs were being compressed by the mass of her stomach, and each punch or kick from the otter trapped within forced her to belch and wheeze.   She could feel him writhing inside, desperately fighting to escape.   The surface of her stomach warped and stretched like an overfilled bag of trash.  William kept trying to flex his limbs, making the sides and front of Nicole’s stomach bulge oddly, bristling her thinned fur and revealing the flushed pink skin bellow.  Bare breasts flopped atop the misshapen mass, forcing them to bounce against her chin.  Nicole tried to stop his thrashing by pressing her palms into the bulge’s that left purple bruises in their wake, but the pain and discomfort was too great, and she was left with no choice but to lay there and pray it would stop soon.  What William didn’t realize was that his futile efforts were only shortening his life.  Each thud or bump forced the bear to expel precious air, and after a few minutes the otter’s movements became more sluggish.  The surface of her stomach began to grow still, only faint flutters of movement remained.  Consciousness was beginning to leave him, and in one final desperate bid for freedom William mustered the last of his strength and rammed his head against her esophagus.    Nicole’s eye’s bulged, her muzzle releasing a deep, gagging wretch with each hit to her stomachs entrance.  She desperately stuck two clawed fingers down her throat, trying to aid William in his escape, but her stomach refused to give him up.  The overloaded organ constricted around its occupant with each gagging cough, forcing her belly button to shoot outwards like the eyes on a stress relief doll, only disappearing back into her fur when her stomach relaxed.  It looked like contractions, her abdominal muscles tightening for a moment to reveal the outline of the huddled otter within.  It lifted upwards like a rigid blimp before relaxing, dropping back to the ground with a meaty thud to rush back across her widespread thighs.    Devore watched the bear’s miserable struggle’s with a sadistic smile on her beak.  “Is he not agreeing with you Nicole?  William was a slimy little shit, fool thought he could cook the books and steal my money. I’m not surprised he gave you indigestion.  He was a failure as an accountant and a meal.”    Nicole glared at the bird, her stomach settling finally as the last wisps of oxygen were forced from her gut.  Now that her meal had grown still she realized the hunger was still there.  It had been temporarily masked by the pain of her thrashing prey, and Nicole’s heart sank at this realization.  Devore wasn’t lieing, the hunger would never end.  “Wh – why,” she muttered bitterly between deep, raspy breaths.  “Why would you – do this – to me – to him?” Devore leaned forward with an eager grin, her pink, red striped orb dipping between plump blue feathered legs, threatening to drag the titmouse out of her chair.  “Why?  Because you were never loyal to me, you never respected me.  If either of you did then Michelle would be dead, and Williams would have never dared to steal my money.”   Nicole laughed, a weak, gurgling laugh that quickly devolved into coughs and gasping breaths.  “You –cough – don’t want respect – you want people to –cough – fear you.”   Devore thought about that for a minute, sitting back in her chair.  “Hmmmm, well you aren’t wrong.  To be feared is to be respected.  Once I have R.I.S. flowing through my veins I can devour anyone who crosses me, everyone would see what fate could befall them at any moment, and they would respect me.  My body WILL grow, and the world WILL see my wealth and power every time they lay their eyes upon me!  You’re the first step to making that dream a reality Nicole.  For once in your pathetic life you haven’t disappointed me, and now that we know Doctor Wesley’s brain mapping works the next step is testing its effectiveness, which means it’s time for your next snack.”   The trap doors far above the bear’s head slid open once more.  Nicole clenched her eyes shut and waited for the thud of another body, her willpower all but gone now.  Replaced by the hunger.