Flocking
A short story I typed about a were duck being breeded by her flock.
Who am I? I don't know, I thought it was human, but all I see & feel are a bill & feathers, but the farmers call me a Hen. What am I? A wereduck, a mallard to be precise, it's I, a dabbling duck. I thought she was a male like the rest of the feral flock, but my body, it betrays me. I'm too thin & curvy to be masculine, but the tiny spiral cock says I must be, but the scent I emit smells nothing like them, it wreaks of female. Everytime I see my plumage molting into the drakes, I panic, to run, to fly away, but I just can't. The body is too large to fly away, no matter how many times my webbed clawed wings flap, it's always flightless. This body can't really dive, it's shape is buoyant, but mostly cause the bodies of water we huddle in are too shallow, but sometimes you find a deep enough lake or pool to dive in to get your oily feathers soaked. What would I try to escape? The drakes, they're just too aggressive when its mating season. I have no other choice but to submit, and if I don't, they'll rip out your feathers & skin. It's especially exciting when you're the only one in the flock who they target.
I may appear similar to them, but the body doesn't smell drake, it'll smell fresh hen. At first they see me as one of them, but the musk my body & cloaca is emitting says an available mate. The first drake we'll catch my attention by flapping his wings in front of me, presenting his plumage, trying to arouse the giant hen, and it does work, gazing at his flashy feathers just stirs me up inside. but that's only a distraction for another to approach behind my vulnerable body, until his breasts, or bird chest were up against my back. I can't move, the way my body is formed just can't fall backwards, only forwards, and he takes strongly advantage of that. Flapping his wings, demonstrating his wingspan, rubbing his cloaca against mine, quaking in my ear, to give in, do not resist the pleasure of his corkscrew penis about to explode inside me, and honestly, believe me, I really do try to resist, but the second his tip enters my rectum, it hits all the right spots, pounding against my prostate, she can no longer speak, but moan & quack, shouting out my brooding hen, giving in to the mighty duck cock. That's when the other drakes attack, as the lucky one extends his penis into my bill, while the other drakes have to wait their turn, until each ejaculated their seed of pure ducklings inside of me. I can't lie that it does feel amazing sometimes, the way they rub their oily feathers & scent against mine, pheromones mixing as they splash with each thrusting flap, humping into me till I was nothing but an avian bitch, a musky sticky feathery beast, whose only purpose was to breed.