The Voracious Plot of Mark Beaks!

Falcon Graves had a meeting. Which wasn't unusual for such an in-demand professional as himself, but today's meeting was with a... repeat client. One Mark Beaks, a grey parrot that was also the billionaire founder/CEO of a tech company named Waddle. A text had inexplicably arrived at his private number at 3 in the morning saying, "Hey Gravesy, up for another job? Bodyguarding this guy (me), deets at brunch!" Then, "You owe me for bailing you out." And then, "But you'll still get paid too since I'm a billionaire and can afford it! 💲 💲 💲"

He groaned at remembering those messages. He considered not accepting, but well... money is money. At least this time he knew who his client was in advance. That was already a start on the previous incidents. Still, he had to collect himself when he finally came around the corner to his office, seeing that scrawny bird typing away on his phone as he tends to. Wearing that hoodie ridiculously over his shirt. He didn't look up when he entered the room, not until Graves was staring down at him from across his desk. "Gravesy!"

"Please, do not call me that."

"Right right right. We're both professionals here. You a 'corporate saboteur' or whatever and me, a rich tech genius!"

He started to do finger guns at Graves, only getting a few off before the much bigger falcon slammed his hands on the desk and glared very intently at him. "Mr. Beaks, I have come out of the slightest sense of respect I have for your money, not you." He took a step back, gathering himself and straightening his tie. "I am also grateful you helped me out of jail, even though I could have done it myself, and it was partially your fault that I was there in the first place."

Beaks laughed a little and said, "Come on Graves-" before being interrupted by a sharp eye, "-S! No cute ending this time. Look, I'm being real with you this time." He threw his hands up, even putting his phone down on his desk. "I'm hiring you for me. No hidden buyers! Just one hundred percent transparency." The falcon raised a single eyebrow in doubt. "...Okay, like ninety-nine percent, but still! More than before. I can't spill all my secrets, but what I can tell you is that I hired you because I have a gut feeling someone's going to try to rob me for all my goods at WaddleExpo."

Graves' beak curled into a rather mean smirk. "Why Mr. Beaks, I wasn't aware you had any real goods that could be stolen."

The techie's expression dropped for the first time that day. "Ha ha," he forced out. "Yeah, well, I do have some real stuff, not to mention over a billion of very real dollars. Look, the point is I want you to be my bodyguard for the day. I know you're more effective than my normal guys."

"An understatement to say the least."

"Exactly!" He walked away from his desk to a panel on the side of the massive office. He tapped something into a keypad next to it, then the panel promptly opened to reveal a can of some energy drink. "I forgot this was supposed to be brunch! What would you like, Graves? Some of this? Pep? Coffee?"

He grimaced at the other options. "Some tea, if you have any."

"Psssh, yeah I have tea. Some tea, coming right up!" He dialed in the order, with some additional keypresses. The panel took slightly longer to produce the order, but shortly it opened to present some tea, elegant teacup and plate included. He brought it over to him, saying, "Here you go, buddy! To being honest business partners." He held up his can to Graves, who groaned, but he relented by lightly tapping his cup against the aluminum can. It made a wholly unsatisfying noise, but Beaks seemed pleased.

Mark watched as the falcon drank his tea, smiled, then drank his own energy drink. His own drink was chock-full of garbage, sure, but the tea he gave Graves had a little something extra too. Not just water and tea leaf extracts, but also thousands upon thousands of invisible nanomachines! Neither of the two could possibly sense them without equipment, but as the tea poured down Graves' throat, all those nanites became active. They left his stomach and entered his bloodstream, spreading all throughout his body. In the end, they settled across his nervous system, especially around and within various parts of his brain.

Of course, all of this took no time at all from outside. It was completely unnoticeable, with Graves unaware of his new mechanical passengers. Beaks was fully aware of the plot, of course, heading back behind his desk to check his phone. It was fully synced up with the nanobots, ready for them to activate whenever he so chose. He smiled happily, silently complimenting his own brilliance.

"What are you smiling at over there?" Graves asked, putting his empty teacup down on the desk.

Beaks' expression stayed about the same as he started to blow the question off. "Uh, our partnership? We're going to be so good together, Graves. So... fulfilling! The two of us, finally together, with you aware that you're working for me and with me still being me!" Graves rolled his eyes. Mark picked up his phone, glancing at it for a moment before stuffing it in his pocket. "C'mon big man, we have a big day ahead of us! Onwards... to WaddleExpo!"

*/^\*

WaddleExpo was largely uneventful. In some regards it was similar to when he was a bouncer for Beaks' mother. Albeit less action, people, and general significance. Graves relished each opportunity he had to toss an overzealous fan or unrelenting entrepreneur out of the show, even if none of them posed any real threat. Still, it was boring. Periodically Mark Beaks would get up on stage and blather on about his own company or some other thing he found minutely interesting. It was a long day.

Fortunately, it came to an end. After far too many hours, Graves found himself standing outside the convention center, night nearly upon the city. Next to him was his client, who was furiously tapping away on his phone. "Are my services finished, Mr. Beaks? There wasn't a single threat all day. Not any serious ones, anyhow."

He glanced up from his phone for a second and said, "Really? You booted out a whole bunch of people."

Graves looked away to smile and said, "That was simply some fun on my part. You were in no real danger."

"Well, well done man. Couldn't have survived without you!" Beaks said, eyes returning to his phone. "I paid for the day though, so you'll be stickin' with me a while longer."

Graves groaned. "Will we be having dinner together, Mr. Beaks?"

The parrot cracked something of a smile, which he quickly turned to anger as he said, "We would if my stupid Wyng driver would show up! Ugh, rideshare... I'm too rich for this! I should just make my own service. WaddleRide: A name you can trust! To always be there, on time, and for free for its CEO and--"

"Just call one of your helicopters or something."

"UGH! Why do you think I'm trying to use a stupid rideshare app? I broke all my helicopters." He stared at Graves as if that was supposed to be a totally obvious, normal occurrence. "At least I have my hoverboard," he said, as the self-balancing scooter drove up from somewhere on its own accord. He picked a helmet up off the pads, strapping it on and stepping onto the scooter. "Sorry Gravesy, I didn't bring you one! Hope you're fine to walk."

He scoffed. "Please. I prefer it. Anything's better than riding that ridiculous machine again."

Beaks shrugged. "Suit yourself!" He continued to tap away on his phone a bit longer until he said, "Alright! Looks like it should only be 26 minutes, or 57 minutes, depending on traffic. Let's gooooo!" He tilted forward, zooming off as fast as a brisk walk. Graves rolled his eyes and followed at a similar pace. He had honestly been hoping that by now another buyer would've purchased his services to betray his client, but he had no such luck. It seemed no one was interested in bothering Mark Beaks today. Maybe he just didn't have anything worth stealing. At least he was getting paid a hefty amount.

Fortunately for him, if normally unfortunate for the CEO he was protecting, someone did have something in mind. A block ahead of them, down an alleyway, a group of three dogs were waiting. They all wore the same costume: a green ball cap, a domino mask, and an orange t-shirt with a big bold 'B' on the front. They were a trio of Beagle Boys, members of a gang known typically for somewhat petty crime: Theft, burglary, bank robbery, and various scams. Today, they'd gotten a tip-off about a certain well-known tech billionaire.

"Ma'll be proud of us for snagging this one, boys. Just you wait," said Big Time, their rather short and stout more-or-less leader (of this particular trio, at least).

"When are they gonna show up? We've been waiting for almost an hour." This question was asked by Bouncer, a dog built like a truck and approaching the size of one.

The last member, a scrawny one named Burger, simply grunted and mumbled something that might be inferred as agreeing with Bouncer.

Big Time snapped, "Shuddup! That anonymous tip told us that hot shot Mark Beaks will be coming by any minute now. When has anonymous tips ever done us wrong?"

"Well, there was that time you-" Bouncer began, before being cut off by his boss shushing him and pointing towards some long shadows coming from the sidewalk near the alley entrance. They quickly hid behind a surprisingly large dumpster.

Down the alleyway came two birds, with one blabbering loudly, "Listen Graves, you have to trust the technology on this! If it says this shady alleyway through the dangerous part of town is a shortcut, it's a shortcut! I should know, I made this app." He waved his phone over his shoulder, for his 'bodyguard' to see.

He didn't see a thing, not that he cared either. "We've been taking this ridiculous route for 30 minutes. I could get there faster blindfolded." Right after he said that, a feeling came down his spine, as if something was about to happen. Before Beaks could open his mouth to respond, the falcon's hand was covering his beak. He indistinctly tried to complain until he saw three costumed dogs emerge from around the corner.

Big Time started, "Lookie who we got here boys, billionaire CEO Mark Beaks!" He turned towards Bouncer to say, "Told you that tip was good. Didn't expect the muscle, but he shouldn't be an issue." Then he turned back towards their future victims to say, "Listen here, Suit. How about you drop the rich guy and we'll let you leave with all your teeth?"

Graves let go of Beaks, wholly unimpressed. "Ah, the Beagle Boys. I've heard of you. I guess you're more of a threat than rowdy convention-goers, but that's not saying much," he said with a smile. "Take a step back, Mr. Beaks. This should only take a moment."

"A moment?! Bouncer, show this guy who's boss."

Bouncer nodded, strutting forward. He was much bigger than Graves, to be sure, but it didn't seem to concern the bodyguard. He straightened his tie and delivered a quick and powerful jab to the large dog's gut, causing his face to scrunch up and then the rest of him to keel over. The other two seemed startled for a moment. Bouncer was the biggest of them, yet... they had to try something. Big Time and Burger shared a glance, then they both nodded with determination. "Let's get 'im!" he said, as they both manifested a baseball bat from behind them and started to charge. Graves smirked at the attempt, but he knew it was worthless. He caught a bat in each hand, stunning the two beagles as he yanked it from their grip. Then he deftly flipped the bats around, knocking them each unconscious with their own weapon.

Finished with the fight, Graves tossed the bats aside. "Hmph. Didn't even make me break a sweat."

Beaks suddenly shouted from behind him, "DANG man you never fail to impress! I'm glad I managed to get it all on tape this time, though the angle's kind of garbage. Maybe if we could do it again... Oh, you knocked them all out." Each of the boys were sprawled on the ground, Bouncer on his stomach and the other two flat on their backs next to him.

Graves shrugged. "What can I say? I'm good at my job."

Realizing this was the perfect time, the parrot simply nodded. "Yup! I'll call the police to get these three and then we can continue back..." He started to hurriedly swipe and tap around on his phone.

"Really? I could probably throw these guys there. Well, at least the lighter two... Not to mention, they'll be out the next day." He turned away from his client, measuring the three in his mind.

"Uh-huh." Being still unaware, there was no way Graves could have known or expected that the techie wasn't dialing for the police. Instead, he opened up a private app he called NanoCtrl (name pending). The nanomachines were still ready to go from this morning. Now, he decided, was the time to activate them. And so they did with nothing more than a press of his thumb.

"We should really just go, Mr. Beaks. I-" Graves froze mid-sentence as something broke his train of thought. He stammered as he tried to say something else, looking around his surroundings as his thoughts failed him. He was having a hard time thinking of anything to say. He was having a hard time thinking of anything at all. Without him knowing it, all those thousands of nanomachines he drank so many hours ago were activating, cutting off his own thoughts and allowing for any signal to be delivered from the smartphone in Mark Beaks' hands. Finally, his body stiffened upright and his pupils shrunk to mere pinpricks as he became wholly incapable of independent thought.

Beaks' beak transformed into a wide, if nefarious, grin as he realized his program was successful. He walked right up to Graves and playfully knocked on his chest saying, "Hellooooo? Gravesy? You in there?" Graves blinked, but there was no sign of the falcon's mind. Staring straight ahead into nothing. "Woohoo! Tech does it again," he said as he did a fist-pump. Then he lifted up his phone and said, "Raise your hands into the air, big boy." The falcon obliged, lifting both arms up. "Now dab!" His arms quickly snapped into position, diagonally pointing up with his distant eyes buried in his suit's right elbow.

Cracking up with laughter, Mark took a couple of pictures for his personal collection. "Aha, alright. Now, for the main course! Heh." He glanced over at the beagle boys, still unconscious. With a bit of nervous excitement he commanded, "Gravesy. Swallow the beagle boys for me." Almost robotically, the large falcon turned 180 degrees to face his future food. Some low-level part was operating now, one that knew exactly what to do with food, even if it was unusual to swallow it whole.

He decided to pick up the smallest one first, Big Time. Lifting him up by his head until he was at eye level, 'Graves' briefly considered how best to swallow him. But really, he was nothing more than a big meatball. Opening his beak as wide as he could, he started to stuff the round dog inside. Large, to be sure, but no match for such a determined predator. Eventually, he'd somehow managed to fit all of Big Time in his mouth. If the gangster was conscious, he'd see a dark pink chasm ahead of him, lit only by rays of light squeezing past his own body. Instead, the beak started to close again, briefly leaving Graves with cartoonishly full cheeks. Then, powerful muscles squeezed together to pull his mouthful down into his throat.

The one in control of the entire situation was honestly surprised by how much this was working. He was thrilled in a very personal way. He watched with awe as Big Time vanished inside him, only visible by a bulge sliding down his throat, disappearing entirely in his chest, then slightly reappearing as he plunged into the falcon's stomach. He was barely visible underneath Graves' suit, only really from the side. Mark was all so enraptured by the experience he'd forgotten to start recording. He whipped out his phone with some embarrassment that he'd even forgotten it. Fortunately, there was still more to go.

Next, the hypnotized predator turned to Burger. This one would be quite more fulfilling than a mere burger, although not quite as easy to eat as one. Deciding on a course of action, he lifted the beagle high into the air and started to feed him to himself feet-first (well, shoe-first, but fortunately his mind wasn't exactly processing taste). Burger's thin, lanky body lended well to this method. His mouth didn't need to open nearly as wide this time as he continuously swallowed and eased in more. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Burger also did not wake up, even as tongue and saliva lapped against his arms and face. Not to mention the tight throat compressing the rest of him.

It was incredible to see from outside, watching someone of a more normal size become nothing more than a meal. This one was significantly more noticeable from outside, forcing Graves' suit jacket to undo itself to accommodate the larger belly. His shirt underneath still held for the time being, but it was untucking itself from his pants and cream feathers peeked out between buttons. Even in his hypnotized state, he sighed as the meal settled in his gut. The sight was tantalizing to Beaks, but he knew he needed to remain an 'impartial bystander'... at least while he was recording. Just a little while longer. One more.

Despite being only 'one more', the last dog to down was a big one. Bigger than the other two combined. It would take some doing, but Graves was more than willing to obey. Kneeling down next to Bouncer's face-down head, he once again opened his mouth wide. He quickly snarfed the head, which wasn't any bigger than Big Time was. Next was the broad shoulders, but he didn't hesitate. His mouth somehow, whether by natural ability or the nanomachines inside, continued to stretch as he gradually slurped him down until finally both sides were wrapped by tight flesh.

From there, it was a progressively easier time. Bouncer was pulled more and more to a digestive fate, all the while the falcon's own body was growing. He had to pause for a moment when his tie refused to loosen enough to accompany the meal, but with a forceful swallow it simply tore apart. Halfway through he was able to stand again, revealing a ludicrously expanded chest and neck that marvelled Beaks. Finally, Bouncer's comparably small legs were the only thing dangling outside. With a firm slurp and GLULP, there was no longer any sign the Beagle Boys were even in the alley. The moment all of that last dog landed in Graves' belly, his shirt exploded, sending buttons flying down the alley, noisily ricocheting off the walls and a dumpster. Then, even louder, he let out a triumphant buuWORRRRUP that could probably be heard all over Duckburg.

Beaks took that as a sign to stop recording and as he did he enthusiastically said, "Wellll DONE Gravesy!" He quickly moved up close to admire the damage more intimately. The falcon's stomach reached the ground at this point, with those creamy chest feathers of his outlining rather irregular lumps that could be recognized as Bouncer and maybe Burger. Beaks rubbed his hands across it, eyes glittering with delight. "Oh you did SUCH a good job with those boys... I bet you'll look even better in the morning." As he said this, the falcon's stomach growled and gurgled loudly, as if to assure him of what lied in store.

While Graves' mind may have been absent, his digestive system was more than willing to take charge in this case. He hadn't eaten all day and now he'd had the largest meal of his life. Mind or not, those dogs were as good as dinner. Beaks sighed happily as he hugged the stomach for a moment, admiring the noises and feeling. "Yeah you're a strong guy, I bet they'll be done by then. For now, what say we head back to Waddle? Not that you have a choice in the matter!" He started to head back to his hoverboard when an alternative occurred to him. On his phone he quickly commanded his vehicle away, then commanded his current toy: "Carry me home, Gravesy!" He squealed in delight as the big falcon took him into his arms, marching onward even as his stomach worked so hard on his meals.

*/^\*

Falcon Graves woke up, rather groggily. His eyes opened as if from a deep, empty sleep with blurry vision. Normally he snapped between asleep and awake as easily as one might breathe, with the fine-tuned bodily control his occupation required. This time he felt like he overdid it last night. Although he wasn't sure what 'it' was. Slowly he began to realize he was in a familiar room-- Mark Beaks' office. He was on some sort of lounge chair. He began to scan the room for the parrot, but as it turned out he was very close by. His 'client' was sound asleep atop his belly.

Wait, belly? That part actually caught him more off-guard than the sleeping idiot did. He started to take inventory of himself, realizing that something was very very wrong. His once muscular body had practically flipped proportions, changing from top-heavy muscle to bottom-heavy fat. The sight actually made him yelp out of distress. Now instead of large and imposing, he was... well, still both of those, but not in the way he intended!

Mark Beaks woke up, rather softly. His eyes opened as if from a nice, pillowy dream with a very angry falcon staring down at him. "Heeeey big guy, how ya feelin'?" He asked, sweetly.

Graves wasn't having any of it. He quickly stood up, lifting the other bird by his shirt's collar as he did despite the flabby weight caked on his arms. "What. Have. You. DONE?"

"Hey whoa, easy Gravesy! If it's any consolation, I think you look great now," he said, sheepishly raising his hands up.

"This is not a joke, Mr. Beaks. It's one thing to use me in a get-rich-quick scheme. To unwittingly use me in your familial disputes. But messing with my body in this way... Is a line you should NOT have crossed." His new gut sloshed with every emphasized word, which served more to amuse and fluster Beaks than convince him of the danger he was in. Graves was deathly serious.

As he began to ready a blow to knock the parrot out, he quickly replied, "Wait, wait, it wasn't me! It was you, buddy. All you!"

He paused, considering the gap in his memory. "And why should I believe you?"

"I got it on my phone. See?" He'd pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly opened a video, which he showed to Graves. The video was shakily recorded with poor lighting due to the dark alley, but very apparent was the sight of him managing to swallow those three ruffians from last night. Graves couldn't help but watch, fascinated, shocked, and disgusted all in one. After a few minutes, the video stopped right as he finished letting out that belch.

He put down the parrot, finally accepting the apparent truth. "I can't believe I... Why would I...?" he quietly asked himself as he pinched some flab on his former abs.

Beaks smiled privately, happy to see his plan was continuing to work out perfectly. "You didn't eat the entire time at the convention. Maybe you were just starving." He stepped up to the blobby bodyguard, really admiring the sight. His clothes barely hung on at this point, torn in so many places from his increased size. That belly of his jutted out remarkably; it was now a very round and sagging mound of fat, smaller than with all three of the beagle boys in it, but not by much. It was much easier for him to rub now that they'd been melted down into falcon pudge. He did that while Graves continued to reconcile with reality, too stunned to counter his affections.

"Oh you're just so much bigger now, Gravesy... More to love!" He said this giddily as he fondled around with the new moobs and love handles acquired overnight. His whole body was just so soft now, all that musculature buried deep underneath, if not utterly destroyed by his dinner. Then to add to the reality of the situation, Graves suddenly felt something coming up from his gut. He turned to the side and with another guttural belch, spat out three destroyed pairs of beagle boys clothing.

They both stared at the soggy pile of clothing on the floor. Beaks recovered first, moving onto the last part of his plan: an ultimatum. His expression turned from lovey-dovey to something more sinister. "Oh, Gravesy... While I absolutely adore your new... physique," he said, sinking a hand into the belly as he climbed off, "I think the police wouldn't be so understanding of the situation. Or Ma Beagle."

Graves' eyes narrowed as he shifted focus from his own body to the implicit threat being made. "Choose your words carefully, Mr. Beaks."

"Can't we drop the mister? Look, it's simple. I want to keep you around, out of jail or somewhere worse. I exercised remarkable self-restraint by not uploading that footage to my social media!" He even managed to restrain from sharing it on some more private sites, but he saw no need to share that info. "Buuuuut, if you want me to keep that video on my phone and not on the internet... I'm going to need you to do what I ask."

"And what exactly are you asking?"

He smiled widely. "Anything I want, Gravesy!" He could always technologically enforce his will, but it was so much more fun to get it this way. "You're practically Waddle property now. Though really," he rubbed down the side of the falcon's paunch, "You're all mine."