A Good Egg Layer

Published: Sep 23rd, 2007

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Woman to Chicken.

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Story

A Good Egg Layer
By Seraphic Soul
Woman to Chicken
(Edit by Umg)

Vicky sighed as she thumbed through the job pages of her local paper. Nothing grabbed her. It was mostly awful fast food jobs or positions far too permanent for her plans. She was about to toss the paper aside and give up when an add caught her eye, hidden at the bottom of the very last page.

The add simply read "Looking for a young person to manage the egg production on a small farm. Will need to stay on site for the entire summer, good rate of pay."

It wasn't the flashiest add but Vicky had heard that summer farm jobs paid incredibly well. She planned to work incredibly hard for the summer so she would be set up for traveling Europe that winter. She wanted nothing more than to be a writer; but small town life had left her little to write about. Vicky had worked herself into believing this trip was all she needed to become a successful writer. The add left no phone number just instructions to be at an address by 6:00 am on the 23rd of June. "That's tomorrow," thought Vicky. "Better get to sleep early tonight."

The next day Vicky was up with her alarm at four. She crudely forced herself awake with a cold shower and strong coffee and then proceeded to pack some rough and ready clothes into an old duffle bag. She packed one nice slinky summer dress just in case there were any attractive young men working on the farm. By the time she was done packing she could barely contain her excitement. She chucked her bag into her old beetle and tore off as fast as it would carry her. The hour-long drive barely seemed to last half that time, and it wasn't until she pulled down the farm drive she noticed she'd forgotten to put on her driving music.

The farm was small; an old Victorian style farm building set in the middle of several large barns. Beyond them big red barns, the farm opened out onto fenced off fields of grass where dairy cows grazed. To the sides of these fields, rose steep hills topped with thick woodlands, the place had a romantic air of seclusion that pleased Vicky immensely.

Vicky pulled her little Beetle into a parking area next to one of the barns. On one side of her, she had a great big Landrover and on the other, a big truck loaded with hay bails. She tapped the top of her Beetle as she squeezed out the gap. "There, there, lil' guy," she said. "Size isn't important."

"Cooee," she heard called across the yard to her. Vicky was looking around when she heard it again, "Cooee," and was finally able to focus on the source of the sound. Standing over by one of the barns was a little old woman; she had an old white shirt on with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a long brown skirt. The bottom of the skirt was caked with mud and a pair of muddy feet poked out the bottom.

Vicky smiled and waved before walking over to the little old lady. She left her bag under the bonnet of her beetle. "Helloo," Vicky cried out trying to sound as cheerful as possible; she really wanted this job. She couldn't help however, being a little disappointed that the farm wasn't run by a nice young man. She'd spent the drive over dreaming of summer romance.

As she got closer, she noticed the muddy feet sticking out the bottom of the woman's skirt were bare and not as she had assumed, clad in Wellingtons. "Your feet are caked in mud!" Vicky blurted with surprise before blushing with the realisation of how rude she was being.

"Ho, ho, ho, yes. It's good for the skin you see, and ever since I was a little girl I loved to feel the mud squelch between my toes. My dear old mum just couldn't keep my boots on, and in the end just gave up trying." The little old lady gave a chuckle and a warm smile.

This relieved Vicky quite a bit. When she imagined her running around on the farm, a little girl throwing her boots off as her mother chased her, she warmed to the little old lady. "I'm here for the job," Vicky said, trying her best to look hard working and cheerful. "It said you needed someone to look after you egg production facilities."

"Oh did it dear? Hrmm, now I thought it asked for a young person who could manage the egg production on the farm over the summer. Never mind ey, perhaps it's just my old age," she said with a warm smile. "Do you think you could manage producing all the eggs on the farm over the summer?"

Vicky didn't really understand the distinction but she was eager to please and just put it down to age-befuddled wits. "I'm sure I can. I'm very fit and hard working. I get up early every day anyhow so working on a farm should fit right in with my sleep patterns."

"My, my, you're an eager one aren't you?" the little old lady said with a cheeky smile. "Well," she said peering behind Vicky. "You're the only one who turned up on time so it looks like you have the job anyhow." Vicky was relieved by this and felt her body visibly relax, she hadn't realised that she'd been so tense.

"Ho, ho, ho, my you're all worked up over this job," the little old lady said with a further chuckle. "Why don't you fetch your bags from the car and go inside. Oh and you'll find the kitchen easy enough; brew us up some tea will you dear." As Vicky headed off to get her bags from the beetle, she heard the little old lady call after her, "I'll be in soon as I've washed off my feet."

The pair passed the day together chatting about life on the farm as Vicky followed her new boss around learning all the jobs of the farm. "It's important you take all this in dear, there will be days when I'm busy with other things and you'll need to look after the farm. I hope you don't mind it does go beyond what I asked for in the ad." Vicky didn't mind the extra work in the least. She was having a great time. This was all life experience, just the sort of thing that makes kids into interesting well-rounded adults, and it was all fuel for the writer in her.

"This is gonna be a good summer, I can feel it." Vicky was helping lift the Hay from the back of the truck into one of the barns. It was hard work and her muscles burned from it, but it felt good. "When do we get to look after the chickens?" she enquired.

"Oh there aren't any chickens dear." The little old lady replied as though it was the most normal thing in the world to say.

Vicky was thrown by this for a second. Had she been lured here under false pretences and if so what would her real purpose be?

Her mind soon found a reasonable explanation and rationalized away her worry. Obviously, the farm produced duck or goose eggs. Her question was soon answered as they found themselves in the barn where the egg production went on.

The barn was dusty and full of cobwebs; it had obviously not been used in a long time. The old egg stalls were full of dried bird droppings; some of which were bound to be from pigeons using them in the chicken's absence. "Your first job will be to clean up this old barn. Don't worry I'll be helping you out." The little old lady surveyed the barn, clearly remembering a time when it was full and in good use. "You see it's been a long time since there was any money in eggs, unless your willing to battery farm. I could handle producing just enough eggs for myself. But I want to start selling them again, at least locally. So I need a young person with plenty of vigor to help me out."

It took them a week to clean the old barn as they had a lot of other work around the farm at the same time. Finally, mid afternoon on a Tuesday, they stood surveying their hard work. "My dear old mum used to be famed for her eggs. The biggest and tastiest in the country. No one could figure out her secret but she confided it to me. You see she didn't only keep chickens to produce eggs." Vicky was puzzled and intrigued by all this. She wanted to know this secret now. She was nervous with anticipation at being told. "You see, she used to lay her best eggs herself!"

'That's it,' Vicky thought, 'She's totally lost it in her old age. I've been wasting my time here.' Vicky was saddened by this she didn't relish having to report the old lady to the authorities and have her taken to a home for her own protection.

"I know that look," the little old lady said. "It's the look I gave my mother when she first told me." The little old lady had a sly twinkle in her eye as she reached into her apron and removed a bag of grain. "My mothers secret was actually how to produce this grain."

She opened the bag and showed it to Vicky, it looked more like a bag of cake topping than grain. The shape of grain was familiar but the colour was bright pink. The little old lady took a few out and popped them in her mouth, she chewed them a little, then swallowed. "Tasty too, that's the rosehip. You want to try some? If nothing else it's good fibre."

Vicky completely refused to believe in any magic properties of this grain, so she happily popped a few in her mouth and chewed. The taste was familiar, she remember drinking a little of the rosehip syrup that had been made up for her younger siblings. It was a pleasant flavor very sweet. "You know these are nice, never mind selling eggs you should sell these!"

"Oh no. Ho, ho, ho, we couldn't do that. Imagine the trouble that'd cause. You'll see in a minute, the rose hip is to give flavor to the eggs."

Vicky waited patiently and after a few minutes the little old lady squatted a little then pulled up her skirt with one hand cupped below her exposed privates. She grew a little pink in the face for a second before making a little grunt. 'Oh no,' thought Vicky. 'What's she going to do now?'

Vicky was astonished to say the least when the old woman actually forced an egg, from her vagina, out onto her hand. It was pale, clean and shiny. "Wha…" was all Vicky had time to say before she felt a strange gurgling in her lower stomach.

"You've, poisoned me you crazy old woman!" Vicky cried out as she clutched at her stomach. She felt a pressure building similar to what she felt when she had a period. The pressure continued for a little while and she felt the need to push with the muscles around her own vagina. The sensation of something passing the wrong way down her vaginal canal was possibly the oddest part for Vicky; she felt its opening stretch much larger than she imagined it could. Something large and smooth passed down and out into her underwear. Vicky quickly unbuttoned her jeans in a panic. She pulled them down and sure enough stretching out the front of her panties was a large egg shaped object. Very carefully, she reached in and pulled it out not wanting to cover her privates with the insides of a smashed egg. It was large and slippery, and when she gripped it a little too hard it shot right out of her hands.

Luckily the little old lady caught the egg; rather deftly considering her age. "Careful Deary," she said. "That's your dinner this evening."

Vicky was in shock; she couldn't believe what she had just forced out of herself. She stood there staring at it for a second before her thoughts ordered themselves again. She checked herself over to make sure it hadn't done any damage on the way out, but she was fine. "How?" was all she could think to ask.

"I'll explain later if you like. Still think you can imagine producing all the eggs over the summer?" the little old lady asked, a sly twinkle having returned to her eyes.

Vicky was astonished at how this devious sweet little old lady had been at tricking her. She seemed so ordinary and nice. The distinction that the little old lady had made at the beginning now made sense. "I should be horrified," Vicky's said, still in shock. "But I suppose there are questions I want answered, and…"

"Yes?" the little old lady inquired.

"And it actually felt kinda natural. Laying the egg I mean. It almost felt good," Vicky answered. She couldn't help but feel disgusted at herself for having admitted this. The old lady just gave her a knowing smile.

Back at the house they fried up the eggs. The little old lady sat and explained the plans for the egg production on the farm. They shocked Vicky to the core but the little old lady pleaded that she not just dismiss them altogether and asked her to think it over that night and she could give her an answer in the morning.

They ate the eggs in silence. Vicky stared out the window thinking about what the plans meant for her. A summer rain had started up as they had finished for the day, and it created a constant hypnotic drumming on the windows; lulling her into daydreams.

The old lady simply ate her eggs quietly, patiently waiting for some reaction one way or the other from her young farm hand.

It was Vicky who finally broke the silence, "You know, after a week's work and all that's happened today, I still don't even know your name!"

"Oh dear," She replied. "I'm such a scatter brain in my old age," the little old lady smiled as she got up, reaching over the table to shake Vicky's hand. "I'm Gladys."

Vicky took her hand and gave it a gentle shake, which felt uncomfortably like they'd just signed a business deal. 'Still,' she thought, 'I have tonight to think about it.' That was the sum total of the conversation that passed between them for the rest of their dinner. Vicky excused herself and went upstairs to bed with a promise to do the washing up when she woke the next day.

Upstairs Vicky stripped down and stood looking at herself in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She wasn't the most super model perfect girl in the world; but she definitely had a very feminine figure. A nice round arse and broad hips topped long legs with firm thighs and solid calf muscles. Her breasts were large but firm and her hair was long and thick. She was constantly surprised by the effect her childbearing hips had on guys. They would go wild for her, obviously despite what they publicly admitted; guys still wanted a woman that looked like a woman. She had a little bit of a belly but it had always been there. She didn't worry about it though, it didn't turn guys off and she mostly ate what she wanted without fear of it getting any bigger. She then focused on her face the human features that allowed people to recognise her for herself. How would she feel if this were all changed? Would she still be herself if her body were a completely different shape?

She thought about the plan as she looked herself over. She was to consume large quantities of the pink grain which would actually begin to turn her into a human sized chicken. As a chicken she would lay more eggs and eventually sit on some. When they hatched, growing into large chickens themselves, her daughters would then produce enough eggs for the farm. Her part completed, Vicky would be able to eat some blue grain, which Gladys had showed her. This would force her body to remember her human shape and return her to the body she was staring at in the mirror. Gladys actually used the blue grain regularly to slow her ageing, which was another useful side effect. Apparently, if she ate enough she could return to her youth but no one in her family had ever done so. Gladys had said that very few people actually want to live forever. One day she wanted to move on and discover what the next world had in store for her even if it is nothing!

Vicky was concerned by so many things. What if she preferred life as a chicken? What if she didn't want to change back because the grain affected her identity too? What if she couldn't bare to abandon her daughters, and if that was the case, how long did chickens live? She tried to imagine what it felt like to be a chicken but it was such an alien concept that she couldn't begin to imagine it. Finally, she decided she would go to sleep and in the morning, she would make her choice.

However standing looking at her naked body in the mirror she became acutely aware of how horny passing the egg had left her. She decided on running a bath before bed, and as she sank into the warm foamy water her hands found their way to her delicate privates and she brought herself to orgasm. She wondered as the waves of pleasure ebbed away if that would be the last time she would do it as a complete human.

The morning light woke Vicky. She worried as she'd over slept a little. Normally she would be up before dawn to clean the barn. Slowly she woke up and realised they'd finished the barn yesterday. Then the rest of the previous day came back to her and she remembered the decision she had to make this morning. She threw the covers aside and looked down the length of her body. The weight of her breasts had shifted their mass to the sides and she had a good view of herself. She was very attached to this body. She liked it, but this was an opportunity to discover something new. Something probably no one else in the world would have experienced before. Finally, the writer in her won out, hungry for new experiences she decided to say yes.

Downstairs two plates had been laid out for her; on one was some fried bacon and beans, on the other was a good quantity of the pink grain. Vicky had made her decision and took up the pink grain wolfing it down; it was pretty tasty after all. "Do you mind if I eat this one as well?" Vicky asked politely.

"Yes dear, be my guest, and thank you, you've made an old woman very happy!" replied Gladys.

Vicky didn't really know what to expect as she went about her tasks for the day. Apart from a few aches here and there, she mostly found her legs quite itchy and spent all day scratching them. She ate more pink grain for lunch and dinner. By the end of the day, she was busting to see what differences there would be. She ran straight upstairs to her mirror and practically tore her clothes off her. The woman standing before her was shocking in appearance. Plenty had changed but she hadn't really noticed the most alien of it with her clothes on.

The biggest change had been the distribution of weight. Her breasts had shrunk down through the day so that she was almost flat chested while her chest had expanded growing thick with muscle; the disturbing thought that this is where she would carry most of her meat crossed her mind. Her stomach and arse had grown too, her height reduced with the changing curvature of her spine. Her legs looked almost comical. All the muscle had shifted to the tops, her thighs becoming massive and leading into hips that had grown wider with her arse. Just above her knees, her legs were drastically thinner, the muscle tightening to the bones leaving very little in the way of definition. She still had human feet but they looked almost skeletal.

The source of the itching was apparent; the skin on the lower half of her legs had become very thick and almost looked scaly. She had to crouch to touch it, which brought to her attention another difference. Her arms had shrunk! The skin of her legs was smooth and hard with some almost definable furrows appearing in it, leaving her legs with rings around them. On closer inspection, three of her toes had nails that looked more like claws now; while the toes between them just appeared to have shrunk and lost definition.

Tentatively she reached past her slightly larger belly to find her privates. She found her pubic mound had almost smoothed out. Searching further, she found that the opening to her sex had moved further around to join with her arsehole. She was a little startled by this discovery but it made sense to her. Free range eggs where always covered with bird shit.

During the day she had laid a few eggs but she didn't feel any connection to them as yet and so didn't feel the desire to sit on them. Instead, she was quite happy for Gladys to put them in the larder. The sensation of the eggs traveling down her vaginal canal had been exquisite; each one bringing her to the brink of orgasm. They never seemed to quite push her over the edge so there was another thing she had been waiting all day to do.

For a little while, the thought of touching herself including putting fingers up her arse disgusted her. However, her fingers had already found her hole and it had already responded and the sensations demanded she pay it further attention. So Vicky ran a bath and sank down in it feeling a lot better about touching herself there. The sensation was great and she found her canal had expanded a little allowing her to fit her entire hand in there for pleasures she hadn't experienced before.

She woke the next day rather embarrassed to find she had pushed out an egg during the night. Luckily she hadn't broken it and she lifted it and carefully carried it downstairs to the kitchen.

"Oh Deary!" Gladys cried blushing a shade of pink.

Vicky looked down at herself. It hadn't occurred to her to put on any clothes when she got up and she was walking around stark naked. "I'm sorry Gladys, it just didn't occur to me!" This worried Vicky, she was obviously starting to think less like a human. One of her biggest concerns was whether there'd be any of her left when she completed the transformation. "I think I'm starting to think like a chicken. You needn't be so embarrassed though. It's not as if you can see any of the bits that make me a woman anymore!" The matter of fact way she said this startled herself but once again she thought, 'Just like a chicken.'

"You're right Hunny; I was just a little surprised that's all," Gladys said as a little of the colour left her cheeks and she looked more normal. "So how does it feel?"

"Strange, it doesn't feel like me. It's a little scary and exciting at the same time," Vicky said as she sat at the table and ate some more grain. During breakfast she laid another egg and handed it over to Gladys.

The day continued much the same as the day before with the pair doing chores together. In the afternoon, they started deconstructing the old chicken houses and pens making larger ones out of the timber. The thought crossed Vicky's mind that she will have to live in one of these things when she's completely changed.

As she was strolling around naked that day, she could see the changes as they happened. It was like watching water boil, if she watched it nothing seemed to happen, but every so often something would be different enough to draw her attention to it. The first thing that caught her eye were the changes to her feet. During the course of the day, the last of her human toes were absorbed into her feet. The remaining three separated and formed three hard scaly claws. She grew a fourth scaly claw out the back of her foot and by the end of the day, she was scratching about with fully formed chicken feet. It hadn't rained that day so luckily they didn't get too muddy and she was able to admire them, feeling a strange sense of pride over them.

It was another itchy day for Vicky as little goose bumps popped up all over her body. She was sure they'd become feathers in the end. At the same time she had been slowly loosing hair from her body, The thin hairs on her arms had brushed off as she scratched, as had the small tuft she maintained on her pubic mound along with what little hair she had negligently allowed to grow under her arms and on her legs. She decided to preempt what would be the slightly distressing loss of her long dark hair, by taking a razor to it after dinner.

She ran her hands across her slightly stubbly scalp in front of the mirror. "This could be a good look for me when I go back," she said to no one in particular. During the day her weight had redistributed further. She was almost bent like a chicken now. Her large arse stuck up in the air providing balance for her now heavier stomach and chest.

She was also thinking more like a chicken now. When her evening grain had been laid out for her she had bent over and eaten it from the plate without even thinking to use her arms. Several times during the day she had left droppings as she walked without even thinking about it. Luckily, by the end of the day she had learned to anticipate its coming a little better so she didn't disgrace herself in the house. Her arms had become so small now they were next to useless with one exception. They could just reach round her back to her sex.

Having passed several eggs smeared with small amounts of bird like excrement today, she was no longer squeamish about the hole or her feces in general. She found the skin, like that of the rest of her body, had toughened becoming much more leathery. It was still just as sensitive though and she enjoyed playing with it just as much as before. The next day she awoke and tried to sit up in bed but found she couldn't. Her legs weren't working properly, they were just kicking the wrong way in the air. As Vicky came to, she realised what had happened. During the night, the joints had taken the opportunity to reverse while they weren't being used. Flapping about, almost literally, she managed to right herself and get her legs beneath her. She leapt off the bed and trotted down the stairs rather awkwardly. She decided she wouldn't be able to go back up there anymore. So, over breakfast she asked Gladys to move the full-length mirror into the barn.

Vicky's arms were now next to useless for chores so she spent most of the day scratching around the barn and retuning to her pen to lay eggs in her hay bed. She had decided to acclimatize herself to life in the barn and so Gladys had agreed to bring her meals out there and she ate from the dishes they had gotten for her daughters to use.

That day, some of the most startling changes occurred. Vicky's skull had gradually changed shape. Her teeth had been absorbed and where her nose and mouth would normally be, a harsh beak had grown. Vicky found it far more suitable for eating grain and was pleased. With her skull changing shape she had been left with some loose flaps of skin, these turned bright red and grew into her wattles and a small crest atop her head. Looking into her mirror Vicky could no longer see anything of herself, the person there was entirely chicken shaped. She looked like a giant plucked chicken. Her arms had changed forming the shapes of wings and were now completely useless to her. She found some enjoyment rubbing her rough skinned vagina against the beams of the barn but the most fun she had to enjoy now came from laying eggs.

Vicky woke the next morning with the dawn; it seemed to be an instinctive thing. She got up without thinking and went to where she knew food would be waiting. On the way she passed the mirror and stopped. Standing proudly before the mirror was a large speckled brown chicken. She strutted backwards and forwards barely registering she was making habitual crawing noises low in her throat. Vicky was now completely transformed into a chicken and it felt natural. She could remember how it felt to be human, and that didn't feel any less natural. However, she controlled her chicken body as if she were born into it. She still felt no great attachment to her eggs and left them to cool while she scratched around and Gladys came and collected them.

This went on for a few more days. Vicky didn't really think much about her situation as she had while she was changing, she just let herself operate on instinct most of the time. Then one day Gladys turned up with something struggling inside a bag.

"Before I let this out I want you to know what it is and what it means for you," Gladys said slowly as if she was speaking to a child. Vicky responded by giving her and angry squawk, she wasn't stupid she was a chicken! "Ok, I'm sorry Hunny, I just didn't know how, err, you'd be with it. I never tried being a full chicken. My mum used to love it from time to time. She wouldn't tell me what it was like though. Just used to say I'd have to find out for myself." Gladys' eyes glazed over as she spoke, she was obviously lost in a memory of her mother. Further shaking of the bag brought her round. "Right yes, the bag," she said. "What I have here is a rooster and if I let it out this bag it's going to mate with you. Is that ok? If it isn't scratch on the ground three times."

Vicky wasn't sure how she felt about this; she hadn't considered that unless her eggs were fertilized she wouldn't have daughters. She found it hard to feel disgusted with the idea of being mated with an animal, and she realised that was simply because she was an animal herself, well, a bird at any rate. The bag was so small she wasn't sure she was even going to notice this mating anyhow so she decided it was fine.

Gladys waited a while for an objection, then niticing that the Vicky was just looking patiently at the bag she realised that everything was fine. She opened the bag and an angry rooster flapped his way out into Vicky's pen. It strutted around for a little while before noticing Vicky. Upon laying eyes on her it ran terrified into the house. "Oh dear!" Gladys exclaimed. "I'm sorry Hunny, don't take offence. Your quite a bit bigger than he is remember. Give him time to get a whiff of your pheromones." At this, Gladys left the two soon to be lovers in peace.

It wasn't until later that evening that the Rooster came out the house and investigated Vicky further. She kept deadly still as he sniffed about and became more confident. Finally the rooster leapt at Vicky from behind. She could barely feel it flapping and pushing against her as it strove to rub its tiny penis inside Vicky's comparatively cavernous sex. Eventually he emptied his seed into her and she could feel the thin trickle of viscous fluid flowing inside of her. She knew that even that tiny amount would be enough though.

Over the next few days she allowed the rooster to repeat the act several times until one day she laid some eggs and just didn't want to get off them. Instinct was telling her to look after these eggs. When Gladys came to remove them and was met with an angry crawing she understood and bagged the rooster back up, taking it back to the people she had borrowed it from.

Vicky sat on the eggs for what seemed like weeks before finally she felt them start to stir beneath her. She got up and watched as they started to crack open. Chicks the size of large pigeons forced their way out of the eggs. They were matted and slow moving at first, but as they began to dry out, they grew more fuzzy and became more active. Vicky noticed one of the chicks wasn't moving, exhausted by breaking out of its egg it had died. Without thinking Vicky picked it up and ate it feeling the small brittle bones crunch in her beak before she swallowed. She knew why she had done it; she had recognized that she'd need the nutrients to replace the dead chick. But it was the first piece of her instinctual behavior that had truly horrified her. She counted her chicks, there were 7 left.

Gladys was beaming when she saw the little chicks. As soon as they started growing feathers and could be told apart, she named them; with Vicky's blessing of course. Vicky taught them how to feed and where to go to lay their eggs and was a little saddened to see them grow up so fast. They didn't reach her size, but, the largest of them was the size of a swan and they all produced massive eggs. Gladys assured her it had been a success and the eggs tasted just as good as her own.

Eventually Gladys came back to her with a bowl full of blue grain. Vicky had forgotten that the plan was to turn her back, she had even forgotten on occasion that she had ever been human. She had become so used to living instinctually day to day. Vicky looked at the bowl of blue grain and then to the mirror. She had finally reached that moment of decision and she wasn't sure anymore. This is part of what had frightened her about the whole thing, that she would want to stay as chicken. Vicky slept that night having not eaten. She would decide as she had done before, she would make the decision in the morning.

The deciding factor came that morning. She woke up feeling horny. As usual she rubbed herself against her favorite beam. She realised while doing that, that this was the best gratification she could feel as a chicken. As a human she could feel her vaginal walls being stretched and explored by foreign appendages, she could stroke and play with her soft breasts, teasing the nipples until they swelled and hardened. This got her thinking about all the other things she enjoyed about being human. She remembered the deciding factor about becoming a chicken was she wanted to write about it. With this in mind, she made straight for the blue grain and wolfed it down.

The change back was a lot more stressful than the change into a chicken. It came quickly and violently. She felt her feathers fall out, her bones stretch and bend pulling her body into unnatural shapes. The loud popping as joints reversed themselves and teeth forced their way out of sensitive, newly formed gums. Her head itched as hair forced its way out of her scalp with the hair on her body following suit.

She lay naked on the floor in a pile of feathers, savoring the last dull aches of the experience when Gladys came into the barn. "I didn't think you'd have changed until this morning." Gladys said as she reached down and helped the rather dazed Vicky stand on legs that still felt alien to her. "Lets get back to the house love, you'll be wanting a bath and a shave I imagine."

Vicky caught sight of herself in the mirror and blushed with embarrassment, all of her body hair that naturally grows and she normally shaved had grown back to its full length. Being a dark haired girl meant there was quite a lot of it. She shook off her embarrassment and Gladys' arm at the same time and walked back to the house in as dignified a manner as she could. Relishing the thought of the bath waiting for her and the fun she would have in that bath while also noticing how nice it felt to have mud squishing between her toes!

Vicky stayed on the farm for the rest of the summer looking after her daughters. She was surprised to learn that she had only been a chicken for two months. She left in early September with a promise to come back after she'd done a little research. She was gonna see if she could find out how to become a few different animals, and when she came back she was going to need Gladys' help.

The End

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