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[b]Blind Auction[/b]

By: Dankedonuts

https://dankedonuts.sofurry.com/

My world is black. Time is told by the sharp clacks of stiletto heels. From the woman just ahead of me, and to my right. She smells female. I don't mean the lilac perfume she's wearing, or the lingering remnants of her equally flowery shampoo. I mean[i] her[/i]. Underneath her deodorant and skin cream and makeup. Her sweat is just different from a man's. I'd never noticed the subtle distinctions before my transformation, of course. They say that men and women are aware of them on some subconscious level. But now I can't [i]not[/i] notice. In my conscious mind, all the time. If she were on her period, I'd smell that too. Just one of a hundred little ways my world has changed.

With the hood covering every part of my head but my beak, the only other sense of mine that's not obscured to some extent is touch. My hands are locked solidly around a thick glove my escort is wearing. I don't mean to scratch it while she leads me on, but with talons this thick and sharp it can hardly be helped. And every time I do, the smell of raw leather punches through the varnish for a tiny moment. I depend on her utterly to get me through this unfamiliar space to where I'm going.

We stop. And stand. And stand. She uses her free hand to smooth out her gown. I preen a bit too, trying to be as dignified as possible while combing my beak through the feathers over my breasts. I hear a muffle of polite applause. Feet moving away. Two of them in hard shoes, two of them are padded flesh. Paws, too heavy-footed to be a cat. The soft rustle of tall curtains. I know the person on the other side of them is a man before he starts talking.

“And now, we are quite pleased to offer you the eighth and final pet of tonight's auction..."

My guide moves forward, a smile in her stride. I follow. My wings brush up against the curtain. The air around me is open and wide, the floor under me is wood. I'm on a stage. The man is on a podium, I'd bet. He's speaking above me.

“Lovely Falcanne. This female falcon is in her early prime, and peak physical condition."

He's dressed to the nines, like my handler. Or I should say the model, here to show me off. The audience too. I can't see it, but I can tell anyway. I can smell the starch on the men's collars.

I can smell the floor underneath me too. It was a dog who was standing here last. Male. A ponygirl before that. Maybe a cat before that. Then it gets too muddled to tell. They don't auction cows and bulls here. Some other place has that locked up.

“Take a good look, ladies and gentlemen. Note the beautiful smoke-white plumage, accented with marks of silver, down her throat, chest, and legs. Her wings, back, and tail are that same silver, flecked in darker grey. All accented by a jet black beak. She stands at a height of height of five foot three, With a wing-span of nearly 15 feet. In flight trials, consistently reached some of the highest speeds on our records."

The model adjusts her arm. Playing startled, I unleash the full the length of my wings. [i]Fwoosh![/i] Oh, shivers! Every time! I love that sound! I love having wings! I love flying!

But the price for living that dream of flight… Well, I'm paying that now.

“They may not be visible now, but I can assure you she has the prettiest hazel eyes you've ever seen. And sharp eyes too! Measured at having a range seven times that of a human."

I called my hood a shield, and I meant it. My new eyes are [i]huge[/i], and get overwhelmed pretty easily. If there's a lot of crystal chandeliers here, or one of the bidders is wearing a sequin dress, forget it. Goodness knows what I'd do if I had to see them waving their arms about when the bidding starts. I'm still not used to seeing in the ultraviolet range either. That's a trip, let me tell you. Hell, I don't know if my squishy human brain ever will get used to it.

The auctioneer continues, “The lovely custom-fitted hood she wears is hand-crafted from nappa leather. A fusion of Dutch and Arab styles, with an accordion back. "

I can feel the strands of leather string hanging down from the back. Resting between my wing-shoulders. It really is a beautiful thing. With rhinestones set into the blinders over my eyes. Stamped detailing around the seams. And a plume of dyed feathers that adds another foot to my height. I had my choice of at least a dozen designs. This was the one that sang to me.

The only other piece of clothing I've been given to wear anymore is the braided cord around my left hand. The other end of which is being held by the model. Not that I'd really want anything else standing between my new body and the world. I chose this form, I'm going to show it off!

“It is our gift to you, to whomsoever purchases this bird. This splendid specimen of the transmogrificational arts."

The potion was given to me in the form of a pickled egg. Served in a crystal egg cup/ very fancy egg cup that reminded me of a Ming vase. The dining room was fancy as fuck. The shell was dyed a marbled blue, and the egg inside a deep royal blue. I took a tiny bite. A bigger one. Then tore of the rest of the shell and inelegantly shoved it down my throat. It didn't taste all that different from a regular egg. But once I got that first little taste, something made me need to gobble it down as fast as possible.

Nothing happened at first. But soon, a gentle warmth spread all through my body. Warmer and warmer, until I had to get up of my chair and take off my robe. Leaving me naked as the heat settled in my skin, and came out as countless tiny barbs that extruded out of my skin. It tickled, hah! The barbs became shafts, the shafts became splintered, spreading out into coat of down feathers.

Then a second round of heat, faster than the first. Hotter and deeper inside me. Practically orgasmic! It all moved to my hands, feet, mouth back, shoulders, ass. Parts of me reformed, stretched out, shrunk in. I lept off my seat as the tail started growing out, only to fall to the floor. My legs you see were changing too.

Without bothering to rise, I gave in to the pleasure of the third wave. The one that brought the outer feathers. So many feathers, so many sparks of bliss. There on the floor, Annabelle Cassidy vanished forever under an enormous pair of wings.[i] My[/i] wings. Falcanne's wings.

“During her training, this bird proved to be docile and obedient. And acclimated quickly to confned living conditions."

Of course learning to [i]use[/i] my wings took time. So did everything else. Learning to walk on legs that aren't really fit for even ground. To get across my wants and needs through only birdcalls and body language. Oh, I can still talk. But my presumptive contract-owner may not want me to. They're buying a pet, not a roommate. And yes, I can make [i]that[/i] sound. The one in every movie, TV show, and commercial. Whenever a bald eagle, or golden condor, or any bird of prey other than a red-tailed hawk is flying on the screen, you hear it. I shouldn't be able to, I'm too large and my throat is still mostly human. 'But everybody expects it,' my head trainer told me, 'So we make sure all our hunting birds can.' I spent an hour every day with a voice coach getting it just right.

On top of that, there was acclimating to an all meat diet. Then to a [i]raw meat[/i] diet. Then came the day when I was presented with a live trout. My human mind repulsed by the gasping and twitching. But my predator's nose enthralled by the smell of prey. I gave in faster than I thought I would. That's when the hunting instincts kicked in. The [i]need[/i] to feel my food end at my hands.

Now dead meat feels like an insult. A punishment.

“This pet is contracted for three years of service."

Technically, they're bidding on my contract. Paying the House Of Pets back for the costs of my transformation, housing, room and board, training. The House will pick up a hefty profit, too, I'm sure. Doesn't matter. I got what I wanted. And I'm not opposed to giving up a little control before I'm 'set free.' And I don't mind saying I'm curious...

“The standard extension and breeding clauses apply."

My contract dictates a renegotiation if they want to breed me. I'm not sold on squatting out eggs on demand. Adding another life to the word just to satisfy someone else's power trip. [i]I'm[/i] choosing this. That doesn't mean I want to make that choice for someone else. I'll say this much, if I bring a child into this world for someone else, they'll have to pay for that kid's education. All of it. I mean college. These are people who can pick funds for a four-year degree out from under their couch cushions.

What he isn't saying is I'm going to need… help… with recreational sex. I can't play with myself by myself anymore. My hand-talons are near as long as the fingers they're attached to. So forget sticking them inside. And rubbing up against the outside, I might tear my butt and thighs into hamburger. No, I need toys with long handles, or something I can mount. Meaning something that can be granted or taken away by my new owner. Like whether or not I can eat good, live, twitching fish.

“We will begin the bidding at fifty thousand."

Clothes move, bracelets Hands are raising up and going down. The auctioneer speaks in a lightning patter I can't hope to follow. Before I know it, it's done.

“Going once. Going twice. Sold!"

One hundred and ten thousand. Wow. Just wow. That's high enough to auto-kick another year of petdom.

Four. Years. It's only hitting me now. I'll be nearly twenty-five before I'm flying on my own terms.

“Thank you again to Bidder A-12. If madam would kindly step this way to finalize matters. Thank you all. This concludes tonight's auction." A loud, final, rap of wood on wood proceeds another round of applause.

A murmur of footsteps and voices. I'm led across the back of the stage now. Through the exit taken by the dog, the pony, the cat, everyone else who traded away their old life for a new one. To another waiting spot.

When my winner comes she's tapping something in her hands. Light but sturdy, encased in leather. Quite possibly my contract. She's wearing a long, swinging necklace. And perfume that smells of orange blossoms. I feel the bracelet tug a different direction while he trades pleasantries with my former handler. Her voice is sultry and smooth. Powerful. With a hint of mischief. My cord is in his grasp now. I like that.

“Hello there, you magnificent bird. You and I are going to have a lot of fun together." She scratches the bit of chin peeking through my hood. I believe him. This could be a whole lot of fun!

I ruffle my feathers and make[i] that[/i] sound.