Delta Timeline: Ben Frost

"This young man was found snooping around the Sears Tower. Upon doing a background check, I've determined that he's an Agency dog."

The current President of the United Trade Corporation, a wiry man named Richard Pryce, was sitting at his desk. He was looking over a few files, which all documented the same teenage boy. A black man with dark hair, in a blue suit, Richard looked every bit the businessman. Right now, he was in full business mode.

"Not much on this one," he frowned, "What do we know?"

"His name is Benjamin Frost. He is sixteen years old, born on Mimas, a moon of Saturn, an Agency world," the man opposite him, a scientist of average build, replied, "We've prepared the usual punishment for him. Dr. North will supervise."

"Good," Richard nodded, "This one is still a child. I doubt he will take more then a week to crack."


Slowly, groggily, Ben Frost woke up. He wasn't that different from a normal teen, short brown hair, average build and height. He was paler then normal, from years of living far from a sun. He had been stuck in a fairly tight prison garb, and, oddly enough, had some sort of collar around his neck. It hurt a bit, but not too much to be completely unbearable.

"Make this easy on yourself, kid," A voice called through a speaker, "Tell us what the Agency sent you to do."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ben replied, the collar making his voice hoarse, "Who are you? Where am I?"

The voice was silent for a minute, "If you want to play that game, so be it."

Suddenly, Ben couldn't breath. He gasped for air, grabbing at the collar around his neck. Then, just as suddenly as it had strangled him, the collar detached, falling to the floor. Feeling the area around his neck, the teenager noticed several pinpricks; the collar had apparently been stabbing into his neck. Before he could check further to make sure there was nothing wrong with him, pain shot through his body. Ben doubled over, then fell to his hands and knees. All of the sudden, the prison garb he was wearing felt slightly tighter.

Forcing himself back around to a sitting position, the teenager sputtered as his mouth and nose merged and pushed out into a muzzle. White fur sprouted from his new muzzle, while what had once been his nose turned black.
Feeling an itch on his stomach through the pain, Ben tore at the shirt, managing to pull it off in time to see more white fur creeping up his stomach to his chest, while brown fur sprouted from his sides.

Brown fur had also started growing on his feet. As the pain in them intensified, his feet grew slightly larger, the bones inside grinding and changing. Pads developed on the balls of his feet, as well as his three middle toes. Meanwhile, his largest and smallest toes receded into his feet, and disappeared. The remaining three on each foot plumped up, filling the empty space. Webbing developed between the three toes, while his toenails grew out into claws.

His pants, made of fairly cheap material, all but exploded as a long, rudder-like tail grew out from his hindquarters. It was quickly covered in brown fur, which then began growing up his back.

His legs, as well, were quickly covered in the brown fur, beginning their own changes. His heels were pulled upwards as the bones in his legs grinded into a position suited for digitigrade movement. He rolled onto his back, legs in the air, as they continued to shift before, with a crack, they settled into their new position. If he was walking anywhere now, it'd be on all fours. His legs finished their changes by becoming more muscular, thickening a bit. They also grew shorter, matching the length of his arms.

Trying to stand again, Ben was forced onto all fours, looking down at his hands as his arms began to change. The fur raced over his shoulders, and, with a crack, they too settled into a new position. There were followed by a snap in his elbows, signaling the changes working their way down to his hands. Then, his thumbs and pinky fingers receded just like two of his toes had. His remaining fingers shrunk down and plumped up, while his fingernails, too, grew into claws. Pads developed underneath his remaining fingers while webbing grew between them. They were accompanied by another pad on his palm. His hands were now forepaws.

As the white fur from his chest met the white fur growing down his neck from his muzzle, Ben began to shrink. The floor rushed up to greet him as his limbs all but collapsed entirely. As the rest of his body shrank, it became more streamlined, perfect for swimming. It felt like something ripped open his throat as his vocal cords too, changed, sealing away human speech.

A crack in his neck forced his head forward, bringing about the last few changes. As the fur, now brown, worked its way up the rest of his head and face, Ben's vision blurred. He squeezed his eyes shut for only a moment, but when he opened them again his pupils had grown tremendously. A whole new wave of scents hit him as his nose became more sensitive. Tasting blood, Ben realized that his teeth were growing and sharpening.

His ears shrunk a bit, before rounding themselves and migrating up his head a bit, covered in brown fur. His hair fell out as the fur overtook the last shred of his visible humanity. Finally, his head flattened slightly, becoming much more streamlined with the rest of his body. A few clicks in his brain, and what was left of his human mind was almost shattered by a wave of instincts and muscle memory.

Scared, small, and now a River Otter, Ben looked around the room. Everything looked miles taller. Gingerly, he tried to push himself up onto his hind legs. Shifting his weight and bringing down his heel, while using his tail as a counterweight, worked, bringing the small creature's vision up a little more. His arms folded his chest, if they could even be called that anymore. With their movement severely limited, their only use outside of catching and eating food was to serve as an extra pair of legs when he needed to walk anywhere.

After a minute, a door opened on the far side of the room. In walked a young man, with dusty brown hair and a goatee of the same color. He wore a pair of square rimmed glasses, as well as a gray fatigue jacket, black boots and pants, and gray fingerless gloves. Before Ben could flee, as his new instincts demanded, the man grabbed at the back of his neck, and hoisted the small river otter into the air.

"I know somewhere within that mind of yours you understand me," he growled, jabbing Ben in the head, "In one week, we will restore your voice, and you will tell us everything you know about the Agency, and the mission they sent you one here. You cooperate, and I might just return you to normal. Do you understand?"

Ben did his best to bob his head, after which the man carried him out of the room, into a hallway. The river otter was thrown into a cage so small it wouldn't suit a kitten, let alone an adolescent otter. The cage rattled as the man picked it up, and carried him into the darkness of the building.

Eventually, the man took him into what appeared to be a storage area. Cages lined the walls, all empty. To make matters worse, the room was fairly chilly as well. The man unceremoniously shoved Ben onto a high shelf, too far off the ground for him to knock the cage down without hurting himself, then proceeded to leave him behind, alone in the dark.

He was stuck like this for at least a week; afterwards it all depended on the grace of the man who had locked him in here. Things didn't look good for Ben in the near future. In the back of his mind, the more animalistic part of him wondered if he'd be kept fed. Pushing those thoughts out of his brain, the river otter did his best to curl up and conserve warmth, eventually drifting off into a restless sleep. He would wake up in the morning, with all hope that this had just been a bad dream shattered.