Day of the Wererooster, part 1
My newest poultry based tf story. Part two is forthcoming soon.
Hope you enjoy it. =D
Day of the Wererooster, part 1
by Chickenboy
Amy jogged through the woods, the sky lightening as the sun began to creep over the horizon. It was a warm morning, and the woman had taken the opportunity to jog in shorts and tank top as opposed to her full running suit. She had gone along the same path dozens of time, following it through the wooded area surrounding her neighborhood. Amy loved this route, and knew every twist and turn as she sped through the shaded groves. Still, she couldn't help shake the feeling that something was off.
She would have been right, too. Quickly moving in the underbrush, following the path, was some kind of creature, two red, glowing eyes staring out from under brush as it watched the human. It felt the deep, primal instincts in its mind, readying itself for the perfect moment to strike. It crouched in readiness as the human stopped, leaning against the tree and panting heavily. Now was the time, just a few more seconds.
Amy leaned against the tree, catching her breath and checking her pulse. Another few miles and the loop trail would lead her home just in time for the morning news. As she stood there, her surroundings suddenly became brighter as the sun crested over the hills, sending beams of light through the trees. She smiled briefly, before a loud crow from nearby made her jump in surprise. It was the familiar sound of a rooster's crow, from very close it seemed. She chuckled to herself for being startled by such a thing, knowing full well they crowed when the sun rises. She turned, preparing to begin running again, when from out of the bushes a louder crow was heard followed by an animal jumping out at her.
The last thing she remembered seeing was a rooster covered in ink black feathers, his eyes glowing blood red. The next thing she knew she was thrown back onto the dirt, the rooster violently scratching her with his talons and spurs across her face and arms, all the while crowing loudly as if in triumph. She swatted with her hands, trying to get the enraged animal away, but it only provided easy places to scratch more. Seconds seemed like hours, but in only a few moments the ordeal was over, the strange rooster flapping its wings and disappearing into the undergrowth, a series of clucks heard over the rustling of the undergrowth, sounding as if it was laughing at what had happened.
Amy was panicked, getting to her feet and running as fast as she could along the trail, reaching her house in record time. By the time she burst through the back door, her lungs were burning, her face and arms smeared with blood. Taking a few moments to try and gather her thought, she saw the drops of red falling to the floor and hurried to her bathroom. Stripping off her blood-stained, dirt encrusted clothes, Amy turned on the water in the shower and stepped in. She cringed as the water stung her wounds, but tried to let it sooth her regardless. After a time, she shut off the water, wiped the steam from the mirror and inspected the damages. She was lucky to be blessed with an exceptionally level head, even in harsh circumstances, and the shower had been just the thing to let her mentally prepare for the sight before her.
As she suspected, there were dozens of cuts across her face and arms. Fortunately only a few of them looked at all deep, most just resembling surface scrapes. She knew that face wounds, even rather minor ones, had a tendency to bleed and appear worse than they actually were. Using some alcohol to clean the cuts, bandaging the worst of them, Amy quickly went to her car and began her drive to the hospital. As she drove, she kept trying to play the incident out in her head. The problem was, the more she thought about it the more it seemed to change. It went from being her reliving an attack by a crazed animal, to her seeing it almost as if she were the attacker. As if she saw herself getting cut and scratched from the perspective of the rooster itself.
Arriving at the emergency room, explaining to the nurse what had happened, she was soon led in to see the doctor on call. Examining her body and removing the bandages, the doctor almost accused her of being a hypochondriac. Perplexed, the doctor handed her a mirror, and to her shock Amy saw that almost all the marks had vanished, not even any scars left behind, even the deeper cuts had reduced to only minor scratches. The doctor replaced the dressings, gave her a booster shot and a dose of antibiotics, and sent her home, shrugging her off as he prepared for his next case.
She could barely think straight on the drive home, more of the strange thoughts appearing in her mind. She not only saw her, but other faces now in the mental images of the attack. It was almost as if she was watching the same scene play out to different people. She puzzled over this until she got home, quickly rushing inside and looking in the mirror as she removed the bandages. She jumped as she saw that even the deeper wounds were now gone, her skin as unblemished as it had been when she woke up.
Sitting down at her table, Amy tried her best to piece together the event once more. It seemed that each time she tried to recall it, her own experience became more and more hazy in her mind. She wondered if it actually happened, or if the memory was someone else's. The day seemed to pass fast, her mind becoming lost in time. She began to sweat, her body heat rising as she felt sick to her stomach. The heat continued to build through the afternoon, her head spinning, Amy losing the ability to form cohesive thoughts. It was as if many conflicting memories vied for a place in her consciousness. By evening she felt as if she were on fire, barely able to make it to the bed and strip off her sweat soaked clothes before collapsing into unconsciousness.
If the day had been bad, the night was worse. Amy tossed and turned, her naked body drenched in sweat as she writhed and winced, the images in her mind tormenting her in wild, vivid dreams. She kicked off her sheets and pillows, leaving her fully exposed as she convulsed, tormented by the strange visions. As the hours ticked by, moving from late night to early morning, they only seemed to grow worse. Unconsciously, her hands moved down to fondle and caress herself as her body began to betray her as well, screaming out for pleasure. Perhaps it was the nature of the dreams, maybe it was just a way to alleviate the painful sensations, but whatever the cause one of her hand massaged her breast while the other quickly found itself stuffed in and massaging her nethers.
Amy unconsciously huffed and moaned in pleasure her fluids drenching the mattress beneath her as she came over and over. Yet no matter how much she got herself off, the sleeping girl just seemed to want, to need, more. As with her dreams, each hour that passed seemed to bring out more of her primal lust, driving her deeper into mindless ecstasy. She yelped as she touched her most sensitive spots, each jolt of pleasure rippling through her whole body, making her scream out in her sleep. Her pleasure, fear, pain and exhilaration all merged in the burst of sensations that was her final orgasm. She jolted suddenly awake, a blank expression on her face, her breath heavy as her oxygen starved body tried to recover from its ordeal.
Sliding slowly out of bed, feeling as if her legs might buckle under her, Amy walked slowly towards the back door. She walked naked out into the cold morning air, the crisp chill biting at her bare skin. Yet she apparently did not seem to care, only moving more quickly and with some purpose out into the open field near her house as the sky continued to lighten. With each step she felt her body begin to tingle, and as the first hint of the sun began to show in the sky, her changes began.
Her feet were first to go, her ankles repositioning and lengthening, forcing her up onto her toes. The digits lengthened, nails forming into talons as on each foot two toes merged while another was forced backwards. Her skin from her knees down began to change, becoming hard and scaly, taking on a distinctive yellow coloration. Two growths formed above her feet, quickly growing into a pair of sharp, intimidating spurs. The lower part of her legs became thinner, almost bony looking. Her upper legs seemed to shrink as her ankles continued to elongate, changing the woman's stance. Her hands, likewise were changing. She watched in blurred fascination as her fingers merged and pushed out, her hand degenerating into single, long digits with only the slight vestige of a thumb left near the wrists.
She doubled over as her change began to take hold in her abdomen. She could feel organs reshaping, her stomach rounded out slightly, her thighs bulking up, and her chest suddenly pushed out making her bust seem even more pronounced, even as her bosom gained a measurable few cup sizes. From above her buttocks, her spine lengthened to give her a short, stubby tail. Anyone watching would have heard her guttural groans echoing through the crisp morning air. The sounds began to alter, becoming less and less human as her grunts began to change to clucks and caws. The changes progressed up, her neck thickening as they reached her face.
As her face began to distort, the rest of her body became covered in goose bumps. As the thousands of tiny welts pushed further out, Amy clenched her eyes shut, reveling in the sensation of her transforming body. It filled her with a sense of power and bliss that overcame the physical pain, elevating her mind into sheer pleasure once again. With a sudden spasm, the bumps across her body erupted, layers of feathers pushing out of her skin. First layers of downy fluff emerged, followed by longer feathers, their colors splaying out in a spectrum of vibrant hues. Deep blues on her stomach and chest, and bright red, brown, orange and yellow along her back and neck. Along her arms rows of longer feathers grew in, completing her limbs' transformation into wings. And from the stubby tail shot out long, green feathers, growing out many feet and hanging behind her in a magnificent, colorful tail.
As the last changes accelerated across her head, a smile appeared on her lips right before they were pulled back as a her teeth merged and pushed out into a beak. Her head flattened out slightly, her hair quickly replaced with more of the bright red and orange feathers. From her chin, cheeks and along the crest of her head, fleshy growths began to appear, their hue changing from that of her normal skin to a deep crimson red. The physical changes ceased, a human sized rooster standing in the meadow, trembling in excitement and pleasure from its first change, still possessing some physical resemblance to its previous, feminine, human self.
With a final loud cluck, the fledgling wererooster opened her eyes, revealing their glowing red hue as the sun poked above the hill. As the first ray of sunlight was caught in her vision, she let out a loud, triumphant crow, her wings flung back as she greeted the dawn. With that joyous exclamation, the memories of her kind came flooding back and she was instantly aware of what she was, of her true nature.
For centuries, maybe longer, the line of wereroosters had continued. Each created by the scratch or peck from the previous one. At dawn each day she would be destined to change into her avian form and crow to greet the glorious morning, changing back shortly after the sun had fully risen into the sky. As time went by, however, with each successive change, she would become more and more chicken-like, gradually loosing what semblance of humanity was still visible in her were form. Amy wasn't at all distressed by this truth. It had been the fate of all those who had come before, as it would be hers. The one who had made her was well over a century old, having lost all of its human traits and unable to ever revert again. He knew he was nearing the end of his life, and was driven by the basest instinct of his kind, to find another host to preserve the line at any cost. Yet the first human he had seen had been, in his mind, far from ideal. It was this fact that made Amy realize just how special she now was. For in the entire history of her kind, apparent in the long line of inherited memories, she was the first female wererooster to ever exist.
That fact stuck in Amy's mind. In his desperation, the old one that made her had created something totally new, since the gift had always been passed from male to male. She knew he had been of strong will, for some reason she could not fathom, finding the fact of being such a creature utterly revolting. He had hid in the forests for most of his life, resisting to the last the instincts that drove him to propagate his breed. Finally, being able to fight no longer, he infected the first human he had seen, giving into his urges, and vanishing into the brush, perhaps to finally find his own end. For all she knew, Amy was the last wererooster left alive. Well, she would not let that stand. As the great, mother sun as her witness, she made a silent vow that the world would once again hear their crows as they worshiped its golden radiance. After all, it was only right that others share in the gift she had been so generously given.
What seemed like ages in her mind took only moments, the newly reborn chicken creature coming to grips with its own existence. She stood there, watching the sunrise high and higher in the sky. In what seemed an all too short time, the orb had fully crested above the horizon, the sky lightening from the golden hue to the first shades of light blue. Turning, the rooster walked slowly back towards the house, her tail swishing behind her, her head bobbing as she strode.
Approaching the house, Amy felt a shudder pass through her. Stumbling slightly, she looked down to see the feathers on her arms beginning to recede, the plumage across the rest of her body quickly following suite. She felt her bones and innards shifting as her body began its shift back to human form. Amy felt a deep seeded sense of regret as she lost her vibrant feathers, knowing she was returning to her bland former self. She took solace, though, in the knowledge that come dawn of the next day, she would awake and once more be the primal, beautiful, truly ideal form of a wererooster. In her heart, she longed to remain as she was. With a sigh, she resigned herself to the inevitable. One day at a time, she assured herself, she would gain more and more of the gift's potency until, inevitably, she would be able to happily abandon her humanity forever.
The change back to her human self was as quick as the first change had been. Stumbling the last few yards, Amy collapsed onto her porch, exhausted, naked and exhilarated beyond measure. She felt very much like a new chick would, her life having begun anew that morning. Her mind swirled with thoughts, chief among them being the restoration of her kind. She crawled inside, collapsing on her couch as weariness finally took over. Amy was certain of one thing, she had a world of work ahead of her.