Awakened by the dawn, the seven foot tall chicken boy stumbled groggily out of the cave. The first rays of sunlight were peeking through the trees, covering the ground in patchwork light. Cole, in his transformed state, knew he could ignore his stomach no longer. He would have to forage for his own food somehow. And so, reluctantly, he walked/strutted over to a clear area between the trees and began poking at the ground with one of his sharp toes.
"Uuhhh...." he moaned, scratching at one of his yellow thighs absently. He poked some more, getting a feel for the dirt between his feet. He found that he was able to now kick up a decent amount of dirt, spreading it around in order to look for small insects. Cole didn't want to do what he was about to do, but hungry instinct soon took over and he clawed more sharply at the ground. His movements became more animalistic and he even bobbed his head on his long chicken neck, getting into it a little. He kicked up clouds of dust, faster and more efficiently until he spied his prize.
Grubs!
Cole squatted down, leaned forward, and extended his neck. Repulsed with himself, he puckered his beak and pulled the bugs into his mouth. Chewing them quickly, and swallowing, he soon ate his fill.
They actually weren't too bad.
After this, Cole rustled his feathers to shake some of the night's dirt off of himself, and headed off into the vast, empty forest. Soon he came to a stream, which he used to clean his dusty body. Having finished with this, Cole spent the remainder of the afternoon sunning himself on a rock and thinking about his life.
Most 17 year olds did not have to worry about pecking in the dirt for food or washing their feathers in a stream, but Cole had been cursed. Cursed and alone, now.
He squatted behind a tree and laid an egg.
* * *
Cole spent the next few weeks in monotony, looking for a way out of the forest, but he had run into some hardcore wilderness. There probably weren't people around for a hundred miles. You can run pretty far in a short amount of time when you're eighty feet tall, after all. Cole shuddered. He didn't want to think about that.
Yes, for an anthropomorphic chicken, Cole's life had become dull and monotonous as the weeks passed into months. His body was also subtly changing over this time, but he hardly noticed. After the first week, his chest began to round out. Soon, his arms began to flatten, to change into a pair of chicken wings. His feathery shoulders and head remained the same, though his eyes grew larger to see better in the dark.
Cole was too depressed and he began to lose his identity; to sink into the chicken he was slowly becoming.
* * *
One day Cole strutted around, operating basically on instinct when a sudden shift hit his body. All at once, it seemed, he felt the urge to flap his arms around. They were nearly completed wings at this point, and this snapped him out of his stupor. "What - no! No, I don't want to become this..." he sobbed. "Noooo..." His beak-mouth opened in a gaping O as he flapped round and round in a circle. His knees, which had bent like a human's for so long, were cracking and buckling, reversing direction.
Crunch! Crack! His thighs thickened some, and rubbed against each other severely. Chicken legs.
In a panic, Cole flapped hard, ran fast, and tucked his new chicken legs up under his torso. He was more chicken than boy now... and he was flying...