(A side story to the series)

(Chicken TF, falcon TF, tomato TF, diamond TF)

by grapehyacinth

“Roman, we have to do something about those poor animals!”

Roman Smyth looked up from the table as his young wife burst through the front door. Somewhat guiltily, he allowed himself to savor the moment, ogling her figure hungrily. How he loved to take her soft curves and sculpt her into objects or animals of her choosing! Thanks to his incredibly rare transformation ability, changing his wife was often the highlight of the day.

But right now she had something else on her mind, and he could only imagine what it was. “Come, Corrie. What's wrong?” He patted the chair beside him, inviting her to sit down.

She tossed down her college books and threw herself into the seat. “Oh, Roman. That company on the edge of town – the one that raises chickens – there's rumors that they're so nasty to their animals. We need to stop them!”

Roman chuckled, tossing his pen to the table. Corrie was always ready to save the world. Immediately. “That's the Board of Health's job.”

She shook her head, frustrated. “Well, they're obviously not doing it! Maybe they don't even know about it. We need to do something! I need to expose them.”

“Board of Health again, Corrie.”

“No. We need proof that this is going on. Roman, bring me over there and turn me into a chicken.”

“What?” Standing up quickly, Roman smashed his hands on the table. “I will not! That's dangerous!”

“Oh, please, Roman. They don't kill chickens there. I'm pretty sure they just have them for egg-laying.”

Relaxing only slightly, he replied, “Corrie, can't you let someone else deal with this? Why do you have to get involved in these things?”

Her answer was simply, “Because I can,” followed by a wink.

They stood outside a fence that surrounded the dilapidated factory. A far-off sound of clucking was just audible, and the air smelled like rotting flesh. “See? Smell that? Doesn't anyone notice the stink around here? No one sees the place is falling apart?”

Roman pointed to the barbed-wire that ran over the top of the fence. “I don't like this, Corrie. Me leaving you here is just asking for trouble. Don't you see that? Remember when we turned you into a hamster?”

Corrie smiled dreamily. “Sometimes a little danger is fun.”

Roman shook his head with impatience. This was one of the rare cases that the couple's age gap became painfully apparent. “Listen, you know very well that even if I transform you, you can still die! I don't want to find pieces of you in a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken!”

Corrie snorted.

“At least let me stay with you.”

“Oh, Roman, why can't I have my own adventures? I need you outside as a person so you can monitor the video feed, anyway.”

“Adventure? Is this how you see it?” He balked. “I can help you better inside. Plus I'm not so great with audio-visual stuff.”

But her pleading look, as always, made him cave in to her demands. “You promise to be careful?”

“I promise.”

Inhaling deeply, he grasped her shoulder. “Become a chicken,” he ordered.

“Make my transformation really sensual,” she requested, as the changes began to shudder through her.

“Right here, where people can see? Come on, Corrie. Just change.”

Corrie's frown twisted into a beak, and she giggled a strange, inhuman sound. You're making it nice anyway, she said in her mind, as her body quivered with delight. Tailfeathers burst from her lower back, and her arms thinned to form wings.

“Uh, maybe not,” Roman had spied someone coming towards him, wearing a yellow “ChickenFarms” shirt. He brought his wife's transformation to a rapid conclusion, which elicited a disappointed cluck from her.

“Hey! Did you steal one of our chickens?” the man called, sprinting towards Roman.

Placing a small camera around Corrie's feathery neck, he whispered, “Hey, this thing fits you perfectly! I did a good job making it.”

The new chicken rocked its head back and forth, as if displaying a prized medal.

Roman carefully concealed the device under his wife's rusty red feathers, then turned to reply to the approaching factory worker. “I think she escaped or something – I found her roaming around, so I'm bringing her back.”

Mumbling his thanks, the worker grabbed the hen roughly, and Roman cringed as Corrie's eyes bulged out. “Hey! Careful with her! She's...”

“She's what?”

“She's...fragile.”

The man eyed him strangely. “Uh, she's a chicken, dude.”

Roman gulped.

“If you go to the office, Madge probably has one of those free-dinner coupons she can give you for your trouble. Thanks again.”

As Roman watched the stranger walk off with his wife tucked under his arm, only one thought was in his head:

Why the hell am I letting her do this?

It was rather uncomfortable being sandwiched under the man's arm, and he reeked of sweat, but Corrie also was enjoying herself. This man hadn't the smallest inkling that the hen he clutched was actually a human being! A woman that had been turned into a chicken – wings, clawed bird's feet, and all! Her body still tingled from her metamorphosis, and she flapped her wings excitedly. She would solve everything here!

“Cut out the damned flapping,” the man scolded, crushing her tighter in his grip.

She squawked in anger, but he merely murmured “Nasty bitch” and pulled open a door into a dark, musty-smelling room. Hundreds of small wire cages lined the walls, one piled on the other. “Here's a nice one for you,” he selected an empty cage four down from the top and stuffed her inside.

For a moment, Corrie merely stood there, shocked at her new home. The cage was perhaps as wide as a piece of paper, which kept her from being able to fully spread her wings. The rungs of the cage cut into her feet, and stretching her neck only led her to injure her head on the bars above her.

My God, this is more horrible than I ever imagined! she thought to herself, twisting around as best as she could so every view was captured on the small camera.

She settled down in a sad pile of straw in one corner, trying to get comfortable in the tight quarters. The hens around her made mindless clucks and grunts, as if there was no life to them. How could they go on like this? she thought. This is hell for anything!

Beside her, a particularly bad smell issued forth, and as her bird eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could see that two birds apparently had shared the neighboring cage but one had died. The other bird stood on its rotting carcass, having used it to lay eggs on.

Oh, Roman needs to get in here and stop these people! Cringing at the odor, she nonetheless pushed the camera between the bars to make sure that the hideous sight was captured on camera.

Roman toyed with the 'fly on the wall' idea to observe Corrie secretly, but he knew somehow she would end up finding out, and she'd get sore with him. He'd done enough lately to threaten her trust, so, against his better judgment, he went home and clicked on his computer.

Corrie's video was up and working, and he watched silently. He was shocked at the squalor that his wife had put herself into, and to know that the poor animals lived their whole lives this way hurt him deeply. He had never realized these factories could be so cruel.

Despite her wishes, he could not leave Corrie in there for long.

Waste from the animals above her rained down onto Corrie's feathers, and she preened it off in disgust. The rumors were quite right; this facility was truly inhumane and animals should not be treated this way! She could see that many of the other birds were obviously in pain from their muscles atrophying and their bones weakening. Just being stuck in a cage and unable to move for the last few hours was driving Corrie's own mind into a panicky, almost insane mode.

No. I have to keep calm. I'm me, I'm Corrie, and I have to stay here to get proof that this place should be shut down.

She allowed herself to fall into the hen consciousness that was part of this form, but it wasn't helping. Pain and hopelessness felt exactly the same as when she was human.

The sweaty man's voice pulled her from the tortured, empty clucking that surrounded her. She was so hungry that she pecked at some rancid feed as she listened to his words.

“I put her in that cage. See her?”

She saw another man lean down to look in at her. “Gabe, is she ready to lay?”

“I'll check her out.”

Corrie was pulled out and thrust onto her back, and then fingers rudely explored her private parts. “There's her pelvic bones- yes, she's big enough. She should be laying.”

Incensed that she was being violated in this way, she snapped at the man's finger.

“Bitch!” he yelled, dropping her to the ground in a flurry of feathers. She fought weakly to fly off, but she was a chicken, not a crow or hawk like she'd been in the past, so the wings did not do much to break her fall.

“I don't want nasty ones. One more nip and that's it for this one.”

Very insulted, she was crushed back into her cage and the door locked behind her.

Yet the pressure the man had put on her back end made something click in the hen part of her mind, and she squatted back in the straw.

Oh, God. I seriously think I need to lay an egg.

Inbetween checking Corrie's video feed, Roman was scanning the internet in search of stories or articles on ChickenFarms. Each bit of information he uncovered was worst than the next. And a description of the facility on Facebook confirmed his worst fears: “Chicken Farms produces farm-fresh eggs for your table. We also provide limited, choice-fed meat on request.”

Cursing repeatedly, Roman slammed down his laptop. “Corrie, if they don't kill you first, I might just do it myself! Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

He threw open the front door, and, not bothering to check if anyone was lurking in the woods around their house, he flew off as a very angry falcon.

Corrie crouched in the corner, the pressure building up in her body growing extremely uncomfortable. She had been many things in her life, but for some reason, knowing that she was about to lay an egg was more embarrassing than almost any other experience. And this included when she had laid eggs as a butterfly. Now she was a chicken, and she definitely felt the hen instincts as she had grown accustomed to her new body, but the act of laying a chicken egg seemed demeaning, almost shameful.

The approach of voices made her pause, and the man called Gabe came in with an older woman. “She's a Rhode Island Red,” the woman said on viewing Corrie. “She's not ours.”

“Check her out. She's perfect. Where did she come from?”

Corrie grew angry as they opened the cage. Leave me alone. I need to get this...thing...out of me!

But she was seized by the legs. As she was yanked from her cage, her side rubbed against the bars. She squealed in pain as feathers and flesh were torn from her, and then pecked at the woman in rage.

“Ow! Damn it!” the woman spat, shaking the hen furiously. “She's a mean one, huh? But look at her! She's show-worthy, plump...”

“She'd make a great meal.”

Let me lay my damn egg!

This time Corrie pierced the woman's hand so hard, that the woman lost her grip on her and she tumbled once more to the floor.  

I have to lay this thing NOW!

As Corrie scuttled across the dirty coop floor, Gabe grabbed at her. Pinning her wings painfully to her side, he shoved her back into the cage. “That's where you belong, you stupid bird!” he muttered.

The pressure to lay was overwhelming, and Corrie tried to cover the fact that she was struggling and forcing. Oh, God, I have to get that out of me...

A final push resulted in a shapely egg.  

Corrie let out a relieved sigh. I laid my first egg. Yay. Roman would be proud.

“She laid. Looks decent. What do you think?”

Nursing her wound, the woman replied, “She's too nasty. Probably escaped from somewhere else. Not worth the hassle. Let's just cook her up for ourselves.”

A scramble was heard on the roof above them, and the screech of a bird of prey rang out.

“Hawk or something,” the man muttered.

“Hey, Gabe, what the hell is around her throat?” the woman asked, seeing a glint of metal poke out from under the scruff of Corrie's neck.  

“What?”

“Didn't you even see this?” The woman opened the cage and fingered the camera. “It's like surveillance or something.” She glanced back at the open door in fear. “Are we under observation? Get this thing off and kill her now!”

Corrie shrieked in fear as she was wrenched back out of her cage. The camera was removed from her neck, thrown to the floor, and crushed. She thrashed viciously, pecking and yowling for dear life. Roman! Roman, help me please!

“Cut it out you bitch! I just wanna snap that pretty neck of yours...”

Roman!

“Just chill out for one minute and it'll all be over...”

Suddenly Corrie fell to the floor. No longer were there hands gripping her. Instead, she was now on the ground, face-to-face with two very frightened tomatoes.

Tomatoes?

A bird fluttered in through the open door and became a frowning Roman. He stared at Corrie for a moment, murmuring, “Thank God,” under his breath.

Thank God is right, thought Corrie. I really thought this was it...

Roman poked at one of his victims, examining it closely. “Talk about plump,” he smiled at the woman-turned-fruit. “You'd make a tasty pizza sauce.”

The grateful hen sighed at her husband's trying to make light of the situation. She limped over to his ankle. Thank God you came when you did. I was nearly someone's dinner. She shuddered. You were right, Roman. I have to stop getting involved in things like this.

He picked her up and cradled her in his arms. “No, it's fine getting involved and trying to help out. But you can't do something like this alone. It's too dangerous. You'd have been fine if I had been here with you.”

I know, but, I just...I'm not powerful like you are, so I felt like it would be nice if I could make a difference on my own...And now, it's all for nothing. They smashed the camera.

He petted the ruff of feathers on her neck. “First of all, the video's all backed up at home. But I don't think we'll even need that recording. We're going to fix this place ourselves.” He placed his wife on the ground and brought her back to human form.  

Corrie stretched luxuriously. “I can't tell you how good it feels to be able to stretch.” She gazed over at the caged chickens mournfully. “If only they could too.”

“They will,” Roman assured her. “I'll make sure of it. Starting now.” He picked up the tomato-woman. “You will fix this place up or you'll remain a very unhappy tomato.”

The tomato had a face on it, which Corrie found very disturbing. “What did you do to me? Turn me back!” it spat.

“Why'd you make them tomatoes?” Corrie emitted a nervous giggle.

“I was thinking of the time I turned a bully into one when I was young.” He paused for effect. “Then I smashed him against a wall,” he added, glowering down at the woman.

“Am I supposed to be scared?” the tomato said.

“Yes. If you don't do what I say, I'll make sauce of you and your friends.”

“Sick bastard,” said the transformed Gabe on the ground.

Corrie drew in her breath. She knew her husband would never kill, but now and then he had been pushing his transformation abilities, testing to see just how far he could go with them without causing harm. What would happen if he did?

“Funny. Usually when I change people, they're like, 'what are you' and 'how'd you do that'. You guys are too cool for that, huh? Can't even admit that you're scared?” No one answered, so he continued, “Where's your friend?”

“Tom? He's in the office with Madge.”

“Let's go get him. The more tomatoes, the richer sauce.”

Corrie followed her husband into the office, and two more tomatoes were born.

Back home, Roman put the tomatoes on the counter and drew out a large pot. “I'd crush you with my shoe, but it's too messy. You first, lady. You won't fix up the factory?”

“Go to hell.”

“Into the pot with you, my friend.”

Roman clunked her down and brought his fist down on top of her. With a sickening crunch and yelp, the woman was reduced to a pulpy mass. “Like your new form, lady?”

“Yes!” she responded in anger.

Roman glanced at Corrie. “Tough crowd here, huh?”

“I didn't do anything to deserve this,” yelled Madge from the counter.

“You sure as hell do. You never clean the dead ones out of the cages when we ask you to,” said Tom from beside her.

Clasping his hands together, Roman exclaimed, “Oh, then definitely you next, Madge!”

“Please, no!”

Crunch.

When all four were reduced to a squishy glob, Roman began to stir them together. “We're merging these dregs of society into a nice pot of tomato sauce...or is it paste?” He held up the spoon and watched some unhappy pulp drip from it before plunging it back in. “Remember when we merged as a vase, Corrie?” he said dreamily, ignoring the increasing shouts coming from the pot, “Yes, I know I always bring it up, but it's such a sweet memory...one of our first changes...I love sharing a form with you.”

“Roman,” Corrie whispered in worry, “You're not going to cook them, are you? I mean, that would probably kill them.”

He turned so his victims could not hear his response. “Well, I'd love to experiment...”

“Roman!”

“Just scaring them a bit,” he whispered, although not very convincingly.

He continued to stir in silence, and the sauce began to protest even more. Finally, after a brief time, the woman's voice rang out plaintively.

“Please, Mister, don't cook us. We're sorry. We'll fix everything.”

“Oh, I thought you liked this,” Roman replied.

“It's scary being all...squishy liquid.”

One of the men added, “And I don't know where my body starts and where it ends.”

“We don't have bodies, you idiot. We're...mush,” Madge pointed out in disgust.

Pausing, Roman left the spoon in the pot of victims. “Listen, you're all done with the chicken business. In fact, no more animals for you. Any more cruelty, and I'll put you back in tomato form and leave you to rot.”

A chorus of defeated 'okays' was his answer.

“Come on out,” Roman said, drawing them forth. Light erupted from the pot, and four shivering humans stood before them once more.

“You ever bother us again, you will be very sorry,” Roman warned.

“What about the chickens?” asked Tom.

Roman pondered this. They were so sickly, if only someone could give the animals a better life...

“Let's take them, Roman. You can fix them up, we can make a coop for them...” Corrie exclaimed.

Roman had figured this would be his wife's response. He knew nothing about raising chickens, but he had some experience being a rooster...“You bring them all over here the minute you get back to that factory, you hear me, Tom, Madge, Mrs. Whatever-your-name is...”

“Gloria,” the older woman uttered defeatedly.

“How will you get a coop up that quickly?” Gabe asked.

With an twisted grin, Roman answered, “You leave that to me. I just turned you into tomatoes, didn't I?”

The four were out the door in a flash.

As Roman created a coop in the back of their yard, he shook his head. “I never thought I'd be raising chickens,” he chuckled. “I'm going to have to research what kind of feed to create for them. We only want the best for our rescued brood.”

“Well, I'll tell you this. I'm becoming vegetarian,” Corrie announced proudly.

“You kind of almost are.”

“Now, after being in that cage, it's one-hundred percent. And, you know, chickens are actually very intelligent. When I allowed myself into the chicken mind, you can feel it – you know what I mean?”

“Yes. It's like that with any animal as you remain in that form. You can draw on its intelligence, or you can feel its lack thereof. Luckily you have the human part of you to keep you on your toes.”

“You know, the birds all around me – I could sense their sadness, hopelessness, pain... I had no idea it was like that for them. I just...well, they're chickens, you know?”

Roman nodded. “Most people today don't think of where their food comes from. Although you might. But ours usually comes from dead leaves, pebbles, or whatever else I decide to turn into a five-course meal that night. But these chickens – we're going to give them very happy lives. No cages for them anymore!”

When all the chickens were delivered to them, Roman transformed each and every sick one so it was young and healthy once more. He stood watching them scoot joyfully through the grass, proud to have introduced them to something other than being caged. “Looks fun. Want to join them for a bit with me?”

Corrie declined rather abruptly. “I've had my fill of feathers for a bit.”

“Come on, we're running low on eggs. You can lay some for us.”

“No way. That was degrading.”

Roman cocked his head in shock. Was there something related to transformation that she didn't enjoy? “Really? I think it's kind of fun. I dare you to lay another one.”

“No.”

“I'll make it awesome for you!”

“How?”

“It's a surprise. Here, be a chicken,” Corrie shot to the ground, once more covered in red feathers, “and just relax and enjoy it this time.”

Somewhat angrily, Corrie settled herself into the grass, and the urge to lay began to effect her almost immediately. “Lose yourself in the hen consciousness. I promise, it's much better that way,” Roman encouraged softly.

The hen rolled her eyes, but then visibly relaxed. And, rather quickly, she laid two eggs.

She stood up and shook herself off. Wow, that was quick, she said in her mind as she preened her wing.

“I made you ready to lay so you wouldn't freak out waiting. It wasn't so bad, was it?”

Corrie found herself back in human form. “Actually, no. This time it was kind of nice and relaxing. And, oh, look!”

When Corrie turned back to gaze at her work, she found two golden eggs staring up at her.

“You made me lay golden eggs? Amazing!”

“Thanks. I pride myself on my amazingness.”

Corrie picked them up and juggled them in her hands. “Can I keep them? They're solid gold!”

“You laid them, they're yours.”

She giggled. “So I'm like the Golden Goose! Well, with red feathers...” She embraced him lovingly. “Thanks, Roman!” She stood beside him, watching him observe the hens longingly.

“Mind if I change myself?” he asked after several long seconds.

Rolling her eyes, Corrie said, “How about you be something else? If you become a rooster, you might make more chicks. We have enough birds already.”

“You love baby animals. Besides, I could be female!”

“Roman, let's be something else. Maybe something that's not alive.”

“Okay.”

He took her in his arms and merged them together, forming a diamond bigger than both of them combined.

Are we beautiful, Roman?

Roman smiled inwardly. We're perfect – we're one hell of a diamond. Feel the sun on our facets? Look at the rainbows we're making...The chickens are probably getting confused by them being all over the ground.

Mm. I like the way this feels. And I deserve it.

You sure do. And Corrie?

What?

You lay nice eggs.

Her inward giggle made the large gem shake slightly. Thanks, Roman. Coming from you, that's a very nice compliment.

The diamond soaked up the afternoon sun contentedly as the happy chickens nosed around its base.