An Overwatch TF
(Woman to Hen)
“You know, I’d hoped that the dirt on you would be a little more interesting.” Sombra drawled, an easygoing smile on her face as she looked to her redheaded coworker, Talon’s resident mad scientist. “But cockfighting? Really? That’s so mundane.”
“I don’t know what you’re on about.” To her credit, Moira looked as though she genuinely didn’t. But the Latina hacker had seen the files for herself, she knew that Moira had more than a few secrets up her voluminous sleeves.
“Really? Come on, Roja. I’ve been through your computer, I know fully well that you were weaponizing chickens. Honestly, I’m hurt that you didn’t come to me for advice. You know Los Muertos loved that kind of thing.” Sombra mock-pouted, tilting her head down and lifting her violet eyes towards Moira. “Anyways, let’s talk less about that, and more about what you can do for me.”
Moira’s response was laughter. In all of Sombra’s years at Talon, she’d never seen the woman do such a genuine human reaction, and it was all the more terrifying for it. It was like watching someone who’d observed a woman laughing, and had never done so herself.
“Uh, you okay?” Sombra asked, unease settling in her chest.
“I’ve never had the privilege of someone coming so close to the point, yet missing it entirely.” Moira said at length, after catching her breath. She rose to her full height, and Sombra realized that Moira was a good foot taller than her. “But let’s educate you, shall we? I’ll use my work on you, since I’m sure Talon won’t miss you.”
Sombra lifted a finger, tutting with a small grin on her face. “Ah-ah-ah. Roja, you don’t seem to realize that if any harm falls to me, I’ll leak my intel to those do-gooders who think we’re not onto them. And, perish the thought, if I die, your secrets go global.”
The redhead flicked a hand towards Sombra, and a series of needles embedded themselves into Sombra’s arm. The Latina yelped, grunting as the needles emptied themselves into her body. Then she looked up, shock in her eyes. “I thought you were smarter than that. Well, to be honest, not really. I thought you at least imagined you were smarter than that, though.” Sombra hissed.
Moira shook her head. “Always so sharp, yet never so clever. Dear, you really should actually try and read my notes, rather than just looking at the pretty titles.” Her tone dripped with scorn, and Sombra grimaced at the woman’s arrogance.
In truth, Sombra had skimmed over this big reveal, gleaming only the barest minimum. This was in part because Moira’s notes were written in Gaelic, and in part because Sombra had thought the scientist would fold easily. Still, she’d definitely deciphered that there was something about weaponizing hens…
Her skin burned before she could follow up on that train of thought, and Sombra let out an agonized groan. She looked down to her arms, seeing something bubbling just beneath the surface of her tanned flesh. She couldn’t fight back the whelming wave of curiosity, and she extended her augmentic claws, digging at her skin.
The wire-laced flesh parted easily, as though it was latex covering her flesh, rather than her flesh itself. It revealed a layer of feathers beneath it, which was an impossibility Sombra had to struggle to rationalize. Her eyes widened as she played her fingers along the long, brown tufts, looking up to Moira in search of answers.
“Hm. A Drab brown. And here I’d hoped your plumage would keep some of that lovely violet.” Moira mused, picking up a notebook and jotting something down. “I do recall that being a natural color of yours though-despite the rather permanent shade you’ve applied to yourself through cybernetic enhancements.”
“What are you talking about-AAH!” Sombra grunted, looking to her hands in shock as her fingers snapped together. Her skin fused at the seams between her digits, and something was rippling just beneath the surface of her flesh. Sure enough, the tips of brown-plumed wings burst from her hands, her old skin simply falling to the ground below herself.
“N-no!” Sombra yelped, flapping her forming wings, shearing more of her old skin from her body and shuddering at how she could feel the feathers catch against the air. Every individual quill tugged at her reformed pores, and she could feel skin prickling.
“Hm, looks like you’ve got a case of goosebumps… Or henbumps?” Moira tilted her head, her lips quirking. “Pardon the joke, but I’ve been told humor can ease tension. Is your tension suitably eased?”
“Screw you, Roja!” Sombra grunted, her nose crinkling, brow creasing with anger. “You can’t actually be doing this, you can’t really bwak turbawk chicluckbock!” Her eyes widened as her face started to ache, a beak earing through her plump lips, her skin sagging slightly as her head shrank within her old body.
“Ah, and there’s the speech loss. Interesting it’s going faster for you, perhaps because there’s so little of you that’s still organic? Or maybe it’s just because of the dosage.” Moira scribbled down further notes, infuriating the changing woman.
“NghhBWAK! Nawwt chickluck! BACK-GAH!” Sombra’s throat burned as she began to shrink, her skin sloughing from her avian body, revealing how much of a bird she’d become. Having a beak was a nightmare, she could see it in her peripheral vision, even as her eyes slid to the sides of her head. It was as numb as her nails, so she could feel it yet not feel it at the same time.
“Well, if you’re angry now, I can’t imagine how you’ll react to the realization you’ll lose your mind before long.” Moira hummed, beaming as distress set into the chicken-girl’s still-violet eyes. The tall woman stooped down to Sombra’s height, the Latina now barely standing up to the Scot’s knees. Then she began to pet the hen, peeling away Sombra’s humanity as though she was wearing a costume.
Much to Sombra’s horror, the motion was calming to her. It set her nerves at ease, and she clacked her beak quietly, letting out a subtle “Pock-pock-pocl…”
A red, fleshy comb parted Sombra’s hair, and Moira stroked at it softly, pulling away Sombra’s old black-and-purple hair. Likewise, two red flaps grew out from Sombra’s feathered chin, which flopped from side to side as she swayed with content.
Having her head-comb pet was even more pleasurable than having her fur stroked, and Sombra tucked her arms in, letting them become the wings that the transformation wanted them to be. She lifted her legs one at a time, slipping hard, yellow bird’s feet from her clothes and old skin alike.
She was a hen from head to long-tufted tail, her body aching as it grew fatter yet smaller at the same time. It was like her height was ever-dwindling, yet her width remained the same. The hot feeling of her body shifting was ebbing; however, and she clucked as she realized that the changes were coming to an end.
“Hm, around four kilograms. Also interesting, you’re the weight of a modern hen, and not a naturally bred one. Likely because of the original DNA I used…” Moira mused, stroking the hen’s back, chuckling as Sombra involuntarily preened.
The hen jerked her head away from Moira’s fingers, her feathers ruffling as she squawked loudly. “GUHBWAK!” She hollered, purple eyes narrowed accusingly. Moira couldn’t get away with this, she couldn’t just turn Sombra into a chicken!
Then a cramp settled in Sombra’s new cloaca, and the chicken realized that her ordeals were only just beginning. Her jaw fell slack as a hard, ovoid object began to crown at the lips of her aching sex, and she found herself clicking gain. “Buh-GAAWK! AGAAAWK!”
An egg slowly stretched her, and she squatted down, spreading her legs and feeling the round smooth object push from her body. It clacked against the ground a moment later, and her head swam with distress and confusion alike.
Little did she know that her eyes were losing their purple shade, a bit of the violet drained by the laying of her first egg. Moira certainly wasn’t keen to tell her, instead simply observing the changes, knowing fully well that any further words would be wasted on Sombra.
“GWAK!” Sombra ruffled her feathers, looking up to Moira, then around the lab. Everything seemed… Different somehow. It took her a few moments to process it, then she realized she could no longer read the warning signs that marked the exits. She knew that they were English, but her brain couldn’t possibly process the letters.
Terror elicited a frantic hopping from the hen, who squawked and screeched. “CluckLUCKBUHGWAK!” Sombra felt another egg crowning, with more behind it. She was still intelligent enough to put two and two together, realizing that she was literally laying her intelligence away. Desperately, she tried to hold on.
But an egg slipped from her regardless.
It was easier than the first, and Sombra looked to human-person desperately, dreading how much of her intelligence she’d lost now. She couldn’t even think of words, only feeling emotions and instincts in her simplified avian skull. “BUGAWK! BWAK BWAK!!!” Still, she knew she had to try and keep herself from laying eggs, keep the eggs from
Another egg clattered onto the ground.
The hen was not hen, she was person-human-person like tall-human above her. She not want to lay eggs, was smart, not hen. “GUHBLAK! POCKGAH!” She screeched loudly. Had to keep from egg-lays, egg-lays bad
A fourth egg joined the first three.
Hen was egg-lay. Hen lay eggs. Not want lay eggs. Hen need not lay. “Buck… Gluck… Gwak?” Hard think, Hen hard think… Hen not want lay
A last egg slowly stretched from her body, and her eyes clouded over to a dull, dark brown.
Lay eggs need eggs lay hungry eat mate eggs lay lay eggs HUMAN “BUCK-GWAK!” human not threat human touch touches good lay eggs hungry “Pock-pock-pock…”
Moira held the hen in her arms, stroking her feathers with a soft coo. “That’s a good girl, Test Subject 001. Do you like it when I call you that? I’d imagine you do.” The redhead chuckled as the hen didn’t so much as respond, lacking the basic intelligence to comprehend her words, much less retort. “Marvelous. I’ll consider this project a success, an excellent beginning for… Future work.”