"Linda," he said, stopping in his tracks, and with some effort, closing his drooling mouth.
They ran into each other's arms - Zack took her into a empty room, shutting the door behind him.
Linda was a leggy blond, with large breasts. She was upset, and Zack saw she gave new meaning to the word heaving bosum - her boobs jiggled around with her every breath.
Unconciously, Zack began waggin his tail.
"What's going on?" she asked. "There's been these shooting everywhere, boys dissapearing, shootings in the street. This was a protest against this anarchy, and the secrecy. And soldiers - like you - come in on us."
"I had ordered."
"Are you in the national guard?" she asked.
"No," Zack sighed.
She clasped her mouth.
Zack was a sight for sore eyes - and she hadn't even seen his ears or tail.
He was about three inches taller than she remembered, and had bulked up. He was unshaven, his heavily stubbled face was dominated by a large, dark nose.
Thick hair pushed out the top of his shirt and jacket. Even his hands sported a thick pelt, only tapering off near the fingertips.
He stood awkwardly, in boots so large they that might make a clown blush.
"What happened to you?" she gasped.
"Kidnapped, inducted," croaked Zack, putting out his hands in a futile gesture to ask her to calm down. "They injected something into us . . . to give us super strength."
"Oh Zack," she pouted.
Before he could stop her, she took of his cap - and stared.
Linda sobbed when she saw his ears.
Zack comforted her. "Don't cry, I'm alright" he said. "The important thing is to get you out of here."
She stroked his face, then looked at his trousers.
"You have a tail, don't you?"
"FUCK"
He realized he had been wagging it the whole time.
"I got it with the ears," he said dryly. "But come'on."