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Sharon goes in for some routine nanosurgery. Unfortunately, she reacts badly to the nanites and ends up covered in feathers. But that's not the worst of it because her condition is contagious!

Preview - Raven Against All Odds by Zmeydros

Semi-flattened spheres with LEDs behind them were giving this clinic an unsettling upscale vibe. The chairs were for looks, not for sitting in. They looked and felt like repurposed metal cubes. Their cushions were a joke. My butt was as sore sitting on them as I'd be from sitting on the floor.

The form on the tablet the nurse gave me started out harmless. Filling out "Female" for my gender, "32" for my age, and "5ft 8in," for my height was easy, well, it did take me a couple seconds to remember my age. For occupation, I put down, "Research Assistant." After putting the first line of my address, I guess they had enough info to be sure I was me and my medical history as well as other random stuff the health system had asked me over the years populated in the form.

I thought I was done, but when I tried to submit the form, it scrolled up to a question I'd missed. An angry red box was around it. I clenched my jaw in worry, this was the worst question they could have asked me:

"Do you have any unsanctioned cybernetic augmentations?"

When I was sixteen, I was swept away in the fervor that was the Lunar Independence Movement, and to be more useful, I'd elected to get my reflexes augmented on the black market. It was state of the art technology thought to be only available to the United States military. But some lunars had gotten their hands on it and I volunteered to be one of the first to get augmented.

Medical records were supposed to be private, but the United Nations had never stopped looking for Lunar Independence revolutionaries. And there were whisperings of things like the question I was worried about being used to identify Lunar radicals.

So, checking "yes" was out of the question, but I doubted that the question was there simply to flush out the few Lunatics that were left. They were probably looking for a specific augmentation that they knew caused problems for the nanosurgery. I would have just given up on this procedure, but I'd spent a very long time getting my insurance to accept it. It really was the best chance to get the use of my right shoulder back. Odds were that I didn't have the augment they were worried about.

With a shake of my head, and a sigh, I checked "no,"and brought the tablet back to the slender male nurse who had given it to me.

"Thanks," the nurse said before pulling up a prompt on the tablet. "We're all set, Sharon. Have a seat and we'll get you into pre-op in a few minutes."

The rest of the pre-op and operation were standard. The nanites that were going to fix my shoulder were injected into it while they used ultrasound to guide the needle. Then they cut a hole all the way into my shoulder so they could insert a tube. The nanites cut up the bone spurs in my shoulder and dumped them into the tube.

After the surgery, the surgeon said, "Everything went perfectly. The nanites will spend the next week helping your shoulder heal. We'll check on the progress in one week and you can start going to physical therapy in three days. The front desk will help you schedule your PT and the follow-up appointment. Any questions?"

I suppressed the urge to ask why the unsanctioned cybernetic augmentations were on the intake form and said, "No. Thank you."

The surgeon ran a hand through his short grey curls as he asked the nurse a couple questions about some sort of staff social event. Then he left and the nurse discharged me. After scheduling my appointments, I left the clinic with a skip and a grin.

Moving my shoulder was already easier, that new surgical technology was simply the best. To think little robots were actually running around in my shoulder joint helping me out was astounding. I took this great mood to bed and through my next two workdays. On the third day, a Thursday, things got really bizarre.

I was at work checking on the raven eggs we'd rescued from a tree that was being cut down. The mother had been nowhere in sight and we'd given the eggs to Gretta, a raven we rescued that had a bad heart. She could fly for a bit, but got tired very easily. She was the best momma any chick could ask for and would raise any eggs we gave her.

The chicks she raised were trained by us for use in the brand new Corvid Intelligence Lab at Cornell University. Even with all the advancements man had made, we still didn't understand exactly what made birds so damn smart. Some California startup had given us a shitload of money to study bird intelligence so they could use what we learned to make more efficient AI. Now, I thought that was pretty odd, but everyone in the AI industry was looking for a leg up these days and birds had famously efficient brains. It was inevitable that some rich company would want to study ravens. Some of us thought that the company in question might just be doing it all as a big PR stunt. We didn't care, we loved our birds.

Gretta blinked at me as I checked on the eggs. When I tried to move one, she said, "Don't!"

Ravens could mimic a lot of words, and this was one that Gretta probably understood the meaning of. She used it a lot when she was agitated.

"It's okay, I'm just checking on their development," I said. All I was doing was maintaining a soothing tone as I talked to her. We'd never broken an egg, but she still got frantic every time we examined them.

When I was lifting up the third egg, she squawked and pecked at my hand. I yelped in surprise as the egg fell toward the ground, my enhanced reflexes kicking in and swooping my other hand down under it.

It broke in my grasp. I felt a deep pang of sadness feeling the yolk and white drip through the space between my fingers. Gretta just kept saying, "Don't!" until I left the enclosure to wash my hand off.

We'd have to put her in a carrier in the future. I didn't want to risk us dropping more eggs because she was worried that we'd drop them. I wondered if Gretta understood the concept of a self-fulfilling prophecy as I turned on the hot water.

Glancing at my hand, I attempted one last solemn look at the remnants of the egg, but found my hand was completely clean. I blinked. I shook my hand. I brought my hand up to my nose and smelled it. It definitely smelled like egg had been there, so I washed it and went back to the enclosure with a sponge and a bucket. Gretta still hadn't forgiven me and I hadn't forgiven myself. I cleaned up the remains of the egg and then left so Gretta could calm down.

While I was on my way to visit another one of our ravens, my phone alerted me that it was time to start driving to my physical therapy appointment. I would have gotten an augmented reality implant like everyone else, but that would risk them discovering my unsanctioned nervous system upgrade.

Random pains plagued me during the entire drive, mainly on my left arm, the one that hadn't gotten surgery, the one that had caught the egg. Muscles twitched, skin pricked, and nerves ached. I was glad my car was driving itself because those twitches might have put me in danger. Unexpected slow traffic made it so once I got to the square building with silver-blue tinted windows that my physical therapist was in, I was running late.

Inside was a mishmash of expensive-looking art and the fever dream of an over enthusiastic designer that thought waves were the best shape and everything should have a wave in it.

Anyone who had a balance problem would have been smart to avoid coming here. I felt uneasy just walking up to the front desk. It was one in the afternoon and the receptionist looked like she was on her fourth cup of coffee. Her grin dripped with caffeination.

By the time I was checked in, I felt more awake. Perhaps caffeine fumes were coming off the receptionist. Perhaps I was just looking forward to getting my arm worked on. If I could get my range of motion back, my life would instantly get a lot easier.

With that hopefulness, I found my way up the stairs and to the PT area the receptionist had given me directions to. A robot that that had an eighties design aesthetic creepily checked me in. No matter how much people made fun of the eighties, it seemed that style aesthetic was immortal.

A fit woman with breasts that made me envious walked up and held out her hand. "Hello Sharon, I'm Tammy."

I got up and took her hand in mine. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too." She gave my hand a brief squeeze and then turned and led me to the PT room.

The smell of latex and PVC mingled with the slightest hint of stale human. Despite all that, it smelt clean, as if every inch of the room had been scrubbed with a bit of hand sanitizer. Speaking of hand sanitizer, Tammy got some from an automatic foam dispenser on the wall and lathered her hands in the quickly-evaporating suds.

"Okay, follow me." She led me past what looked like a tiny long wooden ladder running up the wall and a couple exercise balls to an open grey and white room with a curtain that could be drawn across the opening.

"May I have your coat?" she asked.

I slipped it off while favoring my injured shoulder.

She took it and hung it on a hook on the wall.

Pointing at the articulated table bed thing in the center of the room, she said, "Have a seat."

As I sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, I asked, "Have you been enjoying the cool, but not too cold, weather?" Small talk was gross, but in times like these, I had no idea how else to start a conversation.

"Yeah, I love jean jacket weather," she said as she moved in next to me.

"Jean jacket weather?" I tilted my head.

She chuckled. "It's what my husband calls it."

"Does he like jean jackets?" I asked.

"Adores them." She reached for my right wrist. "Now, I'm going to ask you to move your arm in different directions."

"Ahh, you're going to see what my starting range of motion is?"

She nodded, "Exactly."

She directed me to reach in just about every direction my arm could go. I did terribly reaching behind me and trying to touch my own back. She took images with her pad and wrote notes as I tried to put my arm in those positions.

"First I'm going to teach you a couple exercises I want you doing at home twice a day." She grabbed a yellow tube attached to the wall and gave me the handle connected to it.

"Okay, now look straight ahead and pull back keeping your arm at your side with your elbow straight."

It took a few tries before I got used to the slow, methodical movements I needed to perform. The two exercises were easy enough, she said I'd have many more before my therapy was all done.

She led me over to the long, but very thin, ladder thing and had me walk my fingers up the wall. I came rather short of reaching straight up.

Leading me back to the room, she said, "Okay, now lay face down on the table."

I did so.

"Okay, this is going to hurt. We've got to get some knots out so you can move more freely." She put her hand on my back. "Okay?"

"Yep!" I said.

Her fingers immediately found a knot neatly tucked under my shoulder blade. When she pressed on it, my whole arm felt numb and on fire at the same time. I breathed with the pain not wanting to cry out. She proceeded to get several more out before she came in from the side, just in front of my arm pit, where my breast attached to my side. Just her fingers brushing there to find the knot made my nipples hard.

I didn't have time to react to this strange development because she pressed on the knot and it sent pain up my neck and arm. She spent a bit more time on the side of my breast, her touch was professional, but I still got hot between my thighs. My clit was rubbing against my panties and I had to resist the urge to thrust against the table.

Since when was I into women? Since when could a doctor's touch make me horny? When she was done, I was relieved. My nipples felt a bit sore pressing against my bra, shirt, and the table beneath. They were so sensitive!

I sat up the moment she moved away.

"Okay, I'm going to show you some stretches I want you to do each day. Just do what I do." She put her arm across her chest and then used her other arm to stretch it a bit more toward her.

When I tried to do it, she grabbed my wrist and said, "Relax."

As I relaxed until my wrist went limp, I felt a pop of electricity from where she was touching me. Not painful, more like a sudden deep tingling massage.

She pulled her hand away immediately saying, "Well, that was the first static of winter."

I smiled and laughed softly trying to cover for my, now obvious, blush. She showed me a few more stretches, handed me some printouts of the various things she'd tasked me with, and then said, "I'd like to see you twice next week so we can get a jump on increasing your range of motion. The robot receptionist at the front desk can help you schedule or you can use our app if you like."

"Okay!" I tried to not sound too excited about seeing her twice in one week, I failed. "Hope you have a good evening."

"It'll be great, I'm working till seven tonight." She smiled.

I didn't sense sarcasm, but I still said, "Aww, you're stuck here till seven?"

She made a dismissive gesture with both hands, "Pah! It's better than waking up early."

"That, we can agree on." I smiled. "Are you pretty tired out by the end of a shift? I imagine this job is pretty physically demanding."

"Nope. I go out on the town a few times a week. My husband and I love the local music scene. Got a concert tonight, in fact."

"Oh! Well, have fun at that!" I said. I needed to end the conversation because whatever was going on with my libido, it was getting worse. "See you next week!"

"Don't forget to do your stretches and exercises, I'll know if you slacked off." She narrowed her eyes and then laughed.

Was she flirting with me? Something about how playful she was--it was making me want to shove my hand down my pants. I laughed with her to try and cover my body's reaction. "Bye!" I said as I turned and found my way to the front desk. After scheduling my two appointments for next week, I exited the building.

Walking to my car, I felt a permeating warmth spreading through me. It wasn't your typical flashes of hot arousal, it was mixed with an irritable restlessness. I sat in my car and put my keys in the ignition only to pull them back out. I was far too antsy to drive. I needed to do something to calm me down.

My eyes locked onto a worn wooden sign with words carved into it. It was situated west of the building and a part in the leafless trees told me it was pointing to a path. I thought I could make out a a body of water through the branches.

That's exactly what I needed, a nice stroll in a park. I was probably just worked up by my inexplicable woman crush and having to endure all that pain while she worked out the knots.

The woman crush was interesting. Was I capable of feeling that way toward other women or was there something special about Tammy? My muff wasn't calming down, in fact, I felt slippery down there. At the entry to the path, I took in slow lungfuls of the fall air and looked at all the fallen leaves in the forest ahead of me.

Twisting, wiggling, swerving, the path went down the embankment that the Physical Therapy building was built into. There wasn't a person in sight and the trees were thick enough to obscure the building as I got closer and closer to the body of water.

It was one of those fall days where the dull grey of the sky, the chill in the air, the lack of green, and no pretty blanket of snow kept people from bothering with paths like these. Not a soul wanted to be out here today and that suited me just fine. Times when I could feel like the only human on the planet were to be cherished.

I thought I was making progress toward calming myself down by the time I reached the park bench that looked out over the wooded lake. But the moment I sat on the bench, I moaned.

Having pressure against my buttocks felt amazing, so pleasurable that I started bouncing on the bench as if it had stuck a prick in me. It wasn't enough, I felt so hot all over that I threw off my coat and then undid the button on my jeans so I could get my hand in there.

Looking out over the placid water of the lake, I dug my fingers into myself and rolled my hips like an overexuberant porn actress. My clit throbbed against my palm, getting so hard that it pressed firmly against it. I looked around hoping no one would see me...hoping Tammy would see me, that she'd pull off her top and rub her breasts against my face. That she'd sit on my lap and make out with me as I fingered her. That she'd--I came so hard that my ecstatic bellow echoed out over the water.

After that intimidating orgasm finally ran out of steam, I slumped on the bench. My eyes went half-lidded and I yawned. Without a second thought, I put my coat on and laid down on the bench.

Blinking my eyes, I wondered where the sun had gone. Had I fallen asleep? I pulled out my phone and found it was already five-thirty. I sat up only to moan so loud my voice caught. Everywhere was sensitive. Rubbing my hands over my clothed body, I found that anywhere I touched made me want to gyrate my hips. I couldn't get myself to leave the bench, instead, I tore my coat off.

My body couldn't quiet down, it felt like every inch of my skin was as sensitive as my clit. I came from simply squeezing at my breasts. A flurry of pin pricks across my skin didn't alarm me, they only made everything feel better. My clothes started to dissolve as if splashed with acid.

And what was under them made me freeze in shock. No wonder it felt like my body was being stuck with pins! Pin feathers covered every bit of skin I could see. Stroking them gave me pleasure that combatted the pain. I would have stopped to wonder if I should get help, but I had to keep touching and pressing. Otherwise the pain was unbearable, like falling onto a bed of nails.

My skin darkened as the pin feathers lengthened on my arms and torso. The freezing air assaulted my exposed flesh as the legs of my jeans dissolved. What could be doing this? The nanites! Oh, oh no, I should have filled out the form correctly...but then I wouldn't have this amazing feeling!

I grabbed my clit, which was now over an inch long, and started fucking my hand. Grunting, out of breath, I kept thrusting. The pin feathers started to split and open like flowers revealing my pitch black feathers.

I knew immediately what they were, raven feathers. Beautiful, soft, and shiny, raven feathers.

The feathers on by breasts unfurled as I got this urge to put my face down near them. Just as I thought I needed a beak to preen them with, my lips hardened. Crying out in surprise, my nose flattened and my teeth receded as my beak grew out from my face. It felt waxy, hard, and dangerous.

Scutes formed on my arms as I reached up to explore my beak. My fingernails curved and thinned as they grew becoming talons. I rubbed my new raven claws on my beak hooking he edge of it the way birds often did. More scutes formed on my legs and feet as my toes became talons and my pinky toe enlarged and moved so it pointed backwards. Staring at my new raven feet in awe, I trilled.

Then, once my beak was fully formed, I went about preening my chest, everywhere I could reach. The more I tried to preen, the more my flexibility increased. The few spots I couldn't get with my beak, I could grab with my talons. Soon, every feather on me was sitting just right.

Movement on my back caused me to yelp and sit up. Something was pushing at my shoulder blades, my spine. Cracks of bones and stretching of flesh caused me to caw in surprise as my wings stretched out further and further, feathers forming on them as they went. My clit lengthened in my grasp as I stroked it to offset the twinges of discomfort from my new addition.

Stretching out my wings and flapping them gave me a rush of fluffy joy. I set about preening them only to stop when I felt something at my tailbone. I stood clumsily on my new legs, my tailbone burning and stretching out a bit above my buttocks. The feathers here were massive, like the ones on my wings. As they pushed out, I stroked the feathers on my breasts.

Those wonderful sensitive orbs grew under my caress filling out until they were the size of Tammy's. Thinking of her had me instantly wet and I shivered thinking about making her cum using this new body. It felt like it belonged to me, like it was made for me.

A pulling at the front of my pussy caused me to look down. A sac fell from in front of it filling up like it was holding a pair of water balloons. As it surged bigger, so did my pointy cock with a long thick bulge that took up half its length.

It definitely looked like a penis now, I needed both hands to even attempt to satisfy it. A spark of pleasure from behind my balls signaled me getting a new clit to replace the old one. I reached down and rubbed at it carefully. That was a mistake.

My hands traveled over my body stroking my feathers, feeling my full breasts and balls, teasing my cock and pussy. I couldn't get enough and a tension built at the base of my prick. I thrust even harder and opened my beak to catch whatever was about to come spurting out.

I screeched as a sharp twinge of pleasure traveled up my length. The thick salty liquid was as lewd and masculine as I'd hoped. I moved my head in to catch it all.

After what seemed like hours of grinding and a long string of orgasms, I came to rest on the bench. I was still hard, I needed something other than my hands, I needed...Tammy.

(That's it for the preview, the rest of the story has contagious TF and egg laying shenanigans. Go to my Patreon and become a Patron to read the rest. https://www.patreon.com/zmeydros)