Dusty’s finger pressed down on the bottle in his hand and a faint mist sprayed out in Frank’s direction.
With the green recording lights burning away on the cameras around him, Frank got the sense that this was what he was here for – and for what Dusty was paying him, he didn’t want to disappoint.
Closing his eyes, Frank puffed his chest out, lifted his nose, and took as big and loud of a breath as he could. The scent that entered Frank’s nostrils wasn’t what he was expecting.
He had seen how Dusty had made the cologne – the only two constituents were cum and sweat, and Frank fully expected it to have a musky, chlorine odor. As foul as that may have been, it didn’t compare to the smell of straw and rotten eggs that actually invaded his nose.
A jolt went through his mind, like a primordial danger instinct set off by the sulphureous odor. It told him to stop breathing in, that there was some hidden danger in nearby, that he needed to move away and get to fresh air. Frank could feel the muscles in his legs tensing as they prepared to sprint, every nerve preparing itself to fire. And he used every ounce of will to countermand the order that his body was trying to give, to silence his instincts, to hold still, to keep breathing in.
Frank needed that money, needed the job that money could help buy, needed the chance that Dusty was going to give him. So he exhaled, then flaired his nostrils and breathed in even deeper than before. He let the chicken coup scent fill his lungs. He felt it absorb into his blood and circulate through his body. He felt it permeate into every muscle fiber, every bone, every nerve. He felt the barrier between himself and the smell break down, until there was no longer a Frank. No longer a human being, just the smell of chickens and eggs wrapped up in a tiny ball of flesh and bone.
And throughout all of that, Frank made sure that the cameras caught every moment of it.
Frank opened his eyes to the sight of Dusty sitting across the table from him, as a curious smirk overcame Dusty’s face.
“How did it smell?”
“Not like what I would have expected. I kind of figured it would smell like cum but, I don’t know how to describe it, it smelled like chicken and eggs?”
“You mean like fried chicken?” Dusty asked in a puzzled tone, “Something about the process makes it so I can’t smell them, you’re the first person whose ever tried to describe it for me.”
“Nah,” Frank replied, doing his best to sound cheerful about the otherwise noxious spray he’d just subjected himself to, “I don’t know how to describe it, like… this will sound weird but when it first entered my nose I got this image in my mind of a chicken’s cunt with a huge egg stuck inside of it.”
Frank paused for a second, “I think, and I know this sounds weird, but I think if I stuck my nose inside of a chicken… inside of its… you know… its cunt… that would be the smeCAW!”
“The CAW…” Frank tried to finish his sentence, only to be find himself interrupted again by an involuntary clucking noise that exploded out of his throat.
Frank lifted an arm to his mouth, almost as if to cover up after a loud burp. As his hand ran along his mouth, Frank felt dozens of small, bristly objects pass over his lips. Glancing down at what he expected to be the soft tan skin on his arm, Frank was instead greeted with a sea of white. Looking closely, he realized that what he was looking at were feathers. Feathers that were attached to his arm. Feathers that were covering his arm.
Frank’s mind tried to process what he was looking at it, but he didn’t have time before he was met with dual sensations coming from his head. From his face, Frank could feel his lips hardening and pushing out, while from his arm, he could feel a hard object growing out from where his lips should be.
His mouth seemed to narrow and expand while teeth receded into his gums. It was too much to process, too much to understand. He could see something large and yellow begin to fill the bottom center of his vision, he could feel air sucking in through a calcified beak. Bones fused and tendons reconfigured. Fingers melted away as they receded into downy feathers, all while his new wings pulled down to his side.
Frank looked back towards Dusty, only to find that Dusty looked much bigger than before. But Frank quickly realized that it wasn’t Dusty that was getting bigger – as the edge of the table rushed up towards his face, Frank knew that he was shrinking.
He tried to ask Dusty what was going on. He tried to ask for help. But all that came out of his new beak were the clucks of a very frightened, very confused chicken.
Frank felt his body begin to get smothered by the layers of clothes that had kept him warm on the street. But the feeling was brief, as his old clothes began to disintegrate into nothingness, leaving scaley clawed feet to clack against the kitchen chair.
He looked around the room and realized how small he was – above him was the underside of the kitchen table while behind him was the absolutely massive backing of the chair he had been sitting in. The entire room looked gigantic, and looking towards the other side of the table, his vision was greeted by the sight of a huge, hairy belly, and a decidedly erect penis that was almost as big as Frank’s entire body.
Frank barely had enough time for the question of “am I really a chicken?” to flicker through his mind before a single, overwhelming thought forced its way into his mind: FLY.
Before Frank knew what was happening, his new wings were propelling him through the room. He kept flapping, circling the table, confused as to where he should go or what he should do, when he felt something hard begin to grow inside of him.
Like a switch flipping in his brain, the urge to flap his wings immediately vanished and dropped to the ground, the feeling of his claws digging into wooden floor boards as alien as everything else about this new experience.
Whatever was inside of him continued to grow, continued to expand. He could feel muscles tightening around it, rubbing and squeezing as they adjusted to the alien presence in the center of his stomach. It was such a strange sensation – to be aware of something inside of his body, something hard. Something that new muscles told him was… egg shaped.
Frank looked up and saw Dusty towering over him. As if sensing the confusion in Frank’s eyes, Dusty said, “Its funny you said a chicken cunt. I wasn’t lying about the book, or the cologne. You are a chicken Frank, but don’t worry, you don’t have a cunt.”