The woman closed her eyes, stuck her tongue out and moaned. Mary could almost commisurate with her. Such a nasty taste. Made it so hard to disguse anything, unless Mary used sugar, used candy.
"What's your name?" Mary asked. She didn't know...it bothered her that she didn't know. She might be turning this woman into a peacock, but she didn't know her name.
"Linden. Linden Fra-si-ER! OH!" And Linden doubled over, holding her stomach with tears running out of her eyes.
"It's changing me!" She screamed.
"It's supposed to." Mary said, and leaned against the doorway.
Linden's face turned blue--deep, rich blue. Her neck began to grow, longer and more graceful, the folds of skin from age--commonly called "chicken neck" tightened against the vertebra coming into existance with tiny, neat little pops. Small specks of blue color grew into silky, irredecant feathers.
Her nylon stockings sagged as her feet lost thier fullness, became slinder, yellow and pebbled. Her feet split into three long toes, and a fourth grew out of her heel. Her knees shifted from bending forwards to bending backwards as tendons and bones snapped into place.
Her arms grew out, the middle, ring and pinky fingers fusing together, the thumb and first finger turning yellow and thinning...looking quite a bit like Linden's new toes. Blue feathers began growing off her arms, flowing down in a cascade of irredecant torquoise. Fluff-feathers, secondaries, primaries...they all came into existance with a soft puff of silken sound.
Linden was crying. Tears were coursing slowly down her feathered cheeks as her eyes changed into a bird's glassy black beads. Her ears sank into the bed of blue, and now green and black feathers. Her hair fell out, her crest grew in. The tears continued to flow. It was as if she were asking Mary to explain...to do something for her that Mary would not do.
There was a puffing noise, like that of the flight feathers Linden had grown, but Mary couldn't see what they were. Then there was a tearing noise...from pure pressure...and Linden's tail-bone tore out of her panty-hose. A hundred beautiful tail-feathers slipped down...and a great many were broken from Linden's panty-hose. The next wave were longer, the next group, longer still, until the world's most magnificant peacock tail was spilling out of the bottom of Linden Frasier's woolen office skirt.
A beautiful human-peacock creature now stood there, long silken wings extended from her body with a yellow wing-thumb and finger. Her neck arched, but her face was nearly human...she still had a nose and mouth, and her lips still bore traces of her human lipstick. Her silken blue wings were half-shrouded in her coat, some of the primary feathers mussed and broken by the wool. The front of her blouse hung open, and her bra dangled useless against her blue feathered chest. There were no breasts to hold it up.
Mary suddenly remembered. The colorful, beautiful peacock is the MALE. Which meant that Linden's lovely tail, Linden's long neck, Linden's silken wings...they were all HIS wings, His tail, His neck.
How...interesting.