With Beam and Fang Ch. 06

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The doorbell rang in the middle of the afternoon and Dr. Clara Redfield grumbled under her breath.

There were a lot of things to get used to in a body shifted and molded by a weaponized alien nanovirus. And yes, she still thought of it as completely as possible, to stave off the creeping edge of hysteria that tried to crawl down her brain and into her body. She had wings - wings that she hadn't tested yet, for fear of failing and straining something, and for the worse fear of succeeding - and she had feathers and worst of all, she had a beak. And beaks were a pain in the ass.

Unless you were eating French fries.

Which she was.

"It's not like I need to worry about my figure," Clara said as she picked up a fry and dropped it down her beak. She swallowed, sighed, and the chime of the doorbell again. She sighed and stood, brushing her palms along her belly and back, trying to get her feathers to lay nice and flat, then turned to the door.

"Who is it?" She called at the biohazard seal that the CDC had slapped over the door - a foolish and pointless precaution, which had been undertaken despite the announcement that all attempts at inter-state quarantine were being abandoned in the face of the spread of the virus.

"Uh...is this Dr. Redfield's place?"

Clara sighed and stood. She walked to the door, grabbing a bio-hazard suit that she had hung there, and called out: "Just a moment."

"Oh, no, no, you don't need to get dressed. I mean, in a biohazard suit. I mean...it's me! Kiwi!"

"Kiwi..."

"The marine from the place!"

"Oh!" Clara jerked her head back. "Kiwi, what have you been doing for the past week? Not that I cared, particularly, but you did seem to vanish terribly fast."

"Oh, this or that. Say, do you want to open the door, maybe?" Kiwi sounded hopeful. Clara crossed her arms under her furred breasts, her brow furrowing slightly as she thought it over. On the one hand, he had been a bit of an annoying bumbler - and his nickname still made no sense. But on the other hand...no one had visited her. Her family were taking a voluntary flight to Canada - her mother had called her from there and said that they had gotten over before the border closed. Her brother was a bit more of an issue for her...he had been in Doctors Without Borders, and he had been doing work in Palestine.

The...reaction in the Middle East had been something close to unification in complete and utter terror and religious shock. A bit like the middle of the United States: Everything from Texas to Canada needed the National Guard to keep things from going completely to hell in a hand basket, and they were only slightly worse than the coasts.

If it weren't people running desperately to try and escape the infection, it was the people running to join it. And through it all, the endless talk shows, panics, riots...

Frankly, Clara was just as glad to have a house in the suburbs, stocked with food, and barricaded off with CDC stickers. A few looters had seen them, then turned and run. A few National Guardsmen had seen them and turned and run. And that was just how she preferred it - once the infection completed its course in a few weeks, she'd get back to work returning her life to as normal as possible.

But...

That didn't mean it wasn't lonely.

She sighed, then went to the door, unzipping and unlocking it. When she opened the door, she found herself rather startled: Kiwi stood before the door in a suit, specially made and cut for his new enhanced size and stature, with a discrete hole for his tail. He had gotten his nose pierced, to complete the bullish affectation, and his horns bracketed a rather nice trilby, which perched atop his head - two sizes bigger than most human hats. His muscles strained the suit, and he...well...

Clara was glad that her fur and feathers hid her blush as she clicked her beak. "Look at you, all gussied up while the world is ending..."

"It's not ending!" He said. "Just rioting! Also!"

He held out his hands. One of them held a bouquet of gorgeous flowers, in a searing cascade of colors that glimmered before her eyes. She took the flowers with her clawed hand, then looked at the other thing that he held out: A package, heart shaped. She sniffed, and blinked.

"Chocolates?"

He chuckled. "I think you can eat em. If not, we can just smell them and think longingly of the past..."

That startled a laugh from Clara, who put her hand over her beak to stop any more from getting out.

"Come on and get inside before someone decides to rob the place," she said. He laughed, patting his chest.

"Don't worry, I have a gun. Had to remove the trigger guard of course." He walked into her place, looking around curiously. "Ooh, swanky! And is that a pool? In the back yard?"

"No, I built my house backwards, you're looking at the front yard," Clara snapped.

Kiwi laughed, shaking his head. "Man, you picked a great place to ride out the end of the world..."

"I thought it was just rioting," she muttered, setting the bouquet down after sniffing at it a few times. The rush of scents made her pronged feet want to curl, but she forced them flat - scraping her claws along her hardwood floors was the biggest annoyance about walking around this place. Instead, she flared her wings and then settled them behind her, looking at Kiwi's back. She wished she could chew on her lip - the instinct that replaced it was to click her beak, which always drew some attention. But...

Damn, did he know how fine he looked?

And...damn! Why was she admiring his body? He was a walking bovine.

Clara had a long and annoyed relationship with her own sexuality. Simply put: It was irrelevant to the things that mattered in the world. There were enough children that any contribution she made to the human population was entirely insignificant. There were enough cheap and easy men (or women, for that matter) that she could excise any urges that she felt - and when those occurred, it was often easier to simply use a toy or her own hand. There was something thrilling - in a precise, cold way - to get pleasure quickly, effectively, and entirely selfishly.

Then, one could get back to focusing on changing the world in real, measurable ways: Understanding new things, and applying that understanding in creative ways to further worthy ambitions. It wasn't coldness...

It was practicality.

So, when her body betrayed her like this and felt the flutter of desire for a big lunk, Clara felt no simpering lust...not really.

She just felt annoyed.

Kiwi turned back to face her, asking: "So, uh, you're prolly wondering where I got off to! And how I got all the money needed to buy a fancy suit. And how I found you! Well, actually, uh..." He coughed. "It's pretty dumb. Basically, I just got hired to test food...and, well, the corporations paid me a lot, since, technically, it was human testing without FDA approval...so...don't tell anyone. But, they have a pretty good idea of how to handle food issues." He smiled, nodding.

"I see..." Clara rubbed her beak. "And you tracked me down...because?"

"Oh! I was wondering...if you'd like to go on a date!"

"...a date?" Clara asked.

Kiwi nodded.

"Right now?"

"There are some safe places in the city! People gotta eat, so they gotta run restaurants."

"So, you want to go on a date, with a walking bird woman, by going to a restaurant run by someone with more greed than sense that is in the middle of a city that is currently in the midst of the worst civil unrest since the Watts Race Riots...do I understand that correctly?" Clara asked. "Why?"

Kiwi blinked, then shrugged. He cocked his head to the side, which caused his nose ring to clink softly. "Because you're hot, I like your sense of humor, and we need to hold onto something normal. If we don't, then why bother?"

Clara opened her beak, then closed it. She rubbed the underside with her finger, her tongue darting out to flick the edge of her beak as she looked the burly marine over. Suddenly, her mind cut through the Gordian knot that twisted within her: Why not?

She tried to think of reasons.

None particularly pressing came to mind. It wasn't as if she was constrained by a foolish taboo about respectability. And she had a condom or two hidden around the place.

Her fingers started to unbutton her loose shirt, working quickly and without much passion as she said: "Sure."

"S-Sure?" Kiwi blinked, opening his mouth to say more...but then her fingers were at the bottom of her shirt, her buttons free and glittering. She rolled her shoulders and her modified shirt slithered off her back, hitting the ground behind her. Her bra was a pale white against her black fur, ruffling some of her feathers along her shoulders as she looked at Kiwi, chuckling.

"But we'll skip the date. And don't mistake this. I simply need some way to pass the time..."

"R-Right..." Kiwi said, a little nervously as Clara undid the loops of her belt, her jeans dropping around her clawed feet. She stepped out, her lower half completely bare - panties had been a bit unworkable with the feathers and fur around her thighs. She undid her bra, which hit the ground, the dark, hard nubs of her nipples poking out at the edges of her breasts. She sighed, slowly, and luxuriously, as Kiwi's large hand cupped and squeezed her breast, firmly. He drew her in and kissed her on the beak. She felt the cold press of his nose and his nose ring against her cheek and trembled.

Mmm...he is a good kisser... a part of her thought, cool and analytical as she tilted her head to the side and opened her beak wide - it was the only way for their tongues to touch, and was still awkward as hell. But Kiwi went to it with such gusto that-

She gasped as he drew back. His thumb and forefinger had found her nipple and tugged on it gently, but still hard enough to send a shiver of excitement rolling down her back. "Gently," she said. "Gently..."

"Mmmhmm..." Kiwi gave up kissing her beak and instead kissed and sucked at her neck, his broad mouth teasing her as his other hand reached back to draw her ass forward, so that her whole body molded against his nice suit. The feel of the suit fabric against her fur made her squirm, which sent more shivers of pure ecstasy through her. She crooned and rolled her head back, her hands working with their normal, surgical efficiency. Soon, she rubbed her breasts not against silk, but against the coarse hair of his chest, the hard muscle beneath driving her wild. She slid her scaled hands along his chest, feeling him, and whispered.

"Acceptable..."

He chuckled, as if she had been joking, then pushed his pants down with his legs, unable to wait. His...rather significant endowment slapped against her belly, growing hard and hot and slick almost immediately. She grabbed it with both hands, careful to not press the tips of her claws against anything, and he hissed despite that care, his eyes closing.

"I can't fellate you..." She murmured. "But I can at least pleasure you some other way..."

"Oh, uh, just..." Kiwi gasped as she lowered herself to her knees. His bull cock was full against her cheek, and she rubbed her beak up and down the length, not actually putting her tip against his - she was gentle. Still, Kiwi looked concerned, until she reared up onto her thighs, and pressed the full roundness of her breasts to either side of his cock. She started to move up and down, tightening her hold on her own breasts. His cock tapped her chin, and she looked up at him, her eyes coldly delighted.

"You're quite large, Kiwi, and I find myself rather taken by this," Clara murmured.

"Oh, thanks..." He gasped. "F-Fuck..."

She felt his pre, hot and salty smelling, splash the bottom of her beak. She opened her beak wide, turning her head down. She didn't close it around his cock, though she did come close, her tongue sliding out to its full length and lapping at the tip of his head every time he slipped up between her breasts, which were growing slick with his pre and her spit, matting the fur down. She tasted his pre and grunted softly.

"Tastes better than it should..." She murmured.

"I eat right," Kiwi said, his voice a low groan.

"I doubt it," Clara said, licking again and again and again, feeling her own sex growing wetter - the mentality of the submissive girl, felatting a strong male, was absurd on the face of it, considering their relative intellects. But the position and the smell, and the clearly pleasured groans that Kiwi kept making? That, that was a delight all on its own, and Clara felt her control slipping ever so slightly. To try and retain that control, she continued to speak: "The virus probably alters us, to make copulation more appealing, to facilitate spread..."

"Nnnrrrhh..." He growled and sighed at the same time. "I love it when you...talk...science...I'm close!"

She drew back, her clawed hand closing around the base of his cock, squeezing tightly, stopping the explosion of cum and his climax. He groaned, then started to say something - something complaining - but Clara acted faster than his mouth. She fished the condom from her wallet, slipped it along his shaft with a quick, casual motion of her hand, and then stood, turned, and bent over her couch, thrusting her ass into the air.

"Insert now," she said, her voice trembling - showing the edges of the control she kept so well. "Fucking now!" She added when he hesitated.

Bullish hands grabbed her hips, squeezing, marveling.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured.

"T...Thanks," Clara murmured, her hands closing around the couch. Her claws punched through the false leather and she didn't particularly care, she was too busy gasping and moaning as his cock slipped into her hot sex, inch by inch by inch. She had taken toys as large as this...but not often. And more, it felt better than it had any right to - her sex felt aflame with lust and she moaned loudly. "Ahhh!"

Kiwi started to thrust. First once, then twice, then faster, then faster. His balls slapped her belly as she moved in time with the motions, gasping and groaning and saying: "F-Fuck me! Fuck me!"

Kiwi thrust faster and faster, his hips slapping against Clara's. He lowered his head down, his eyes closing as he focused on this one, single action, this glorious feeling of friction and slickness, his ears alight with the moist sounds and the slapping of flesh on flesh. His hands slid along her hips, to her shoulders, holding her more firmly as he rocked within her.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" Clara gasped. "Yes! YES!"

"Oh fucking yes!" Kiwi grunted. "Clara...I...I'm going to cum!"

"Third time for me," She moaned, her eyes dazed as she closed them. "Twice as you entered me..." She clicked her beak, once, then again. "Keep fucking me!"

Kiwi groaned and thrust one last time. He shuddered, and she felt the condom expanding within her, moaning and trebling softly. Slowly, Kiwi started to draw out of her, gasping. "I...I would have lasted longer..." He said. "It's been a while..."

Clara, thinking of all the possible, logical responses she could have made, grabbed a pillow off the divan and slammed it into his head.

Kiwi laughed.

In the end, they did go on a date.

And then another.

Clara remained perplexed.