Raffle Prize of  Hoofburd he opted for a second person gull transformation, and after a loooooong wait, here it is

A new restaurant has opened up on the boardwalk. This isn’t your typical everyday joint, but it does seem very unoriginal. “Deep Sea Diner” is the name of the restaurant, and its name is very tacky indeed. Far from five stars, the diner does draw you in for some reason.

It could just be your hunger, or something is controlling you, but you decide that it is as good of a restaurant as any. You pick up your feet and walk down the boardwalk, enjoying the salty breeze as you stroll. You always did like the ocean, and you try to come here as often as possible.

Before you go inside, you look at the view of the ocean from across the entrance. The sight is spectacular, for there are several boats out there, and its hard to tell where the sky ends and the sea starts. You feel like you could look at it all day, but then your stomach growls again. You turn around and head into the new restaurant for a meal that you are contemplating if you should try or not

Entering through the doors, the stench of raw fish instantly hits you. The smell overpowers everything, but you still feel the need to stay there. You wait for one of the waiters to seat you, and begin to stamp your foot from the poor service. Finally, a very sloppily dressed man comes to bring you to a table, and hands you a menu.

Everything around the restaurant looks like a second-hand item. The floorboards are rotted, some of the seats are stained with who-knows-what, even the lights are terribly smudged and dim. There certainly is a very repetitive atmosphere about the diner, and the disgust of the place is almost too much to bear.

You take a look at how the employees are working. They aren’t doing even a half-hearted job. One of the busboys somehow fell asleep while clearing one of the tables, a waitress is clipping her nails over the counter, and you even catch your waiter spitting on the floor every once in awhile.

You wonder why you are still in the diner, and not at the other end of the pier already. You had options to go to other places, yet you have stayed. Either that is customer loyalty, or there is something wrong with you. Maybe you should just take a look at the menu

The foods they offer contradict everything that you took out the restaurant's appearance. Many choice seafood dishes scatter the menu in your hand. You can’t help but to drool a little at the sight of some of the entrees. You have to pick one, even though the prices aren’t bad at all, almost too cheap.

You decide on the sushi plate, plain and simple. You cast in your order into the waiter, and he takes it to the kitchen. Buyer’s remorse kicks in, and you begin to crave half the other things on the menu. Anything from fillets, to lobster, and you took the bits of fish wrapped in seaweed. You find you foot tapping nervously, but you ignore it.

You wait for your food to arrive, and quite impatiently too. The only music playing is the sound of a scratchy record coming from a distance away. The same short tune plays over and over again, until you can memorize each note flawlessly, and there is no chance of you forgetting it anytime soon.

You can hear rambling and laughter coming from the kitchen, and you begin to wonder if they are even preparing your food. Who knows what they are doing back there, but it sure doesn’t sound like Gordon Ramsay is shouting at all of his chefs to do better.

Thoughts of all sorts of crazy things pop into your head. They’re poisoning your food, they ate most of it, and they’re giving you the scraps, the people are adding something else into the mix of ingredients. You feel something is happening, but there is no evidence behind anything aside from a gut feeling.

The chef comes out with your plate in hand. His grease covered smock, and his unkempt facial hair make you kind of sick. He waddles over to your table, and lays the plate down in front of you. He gives you a forced smile, and tweaks his mustache before heading back to the kitchen.

With a heavy sigh, you stare down at your plate. If you didn’t know any better, you would say they got it straight out of a gas stations. The plate looks atrocious, and you push the plate away, that is, if you weren’t so hungry. Your stomach growls, and you take another look at the sushi. You pick up a piece, and twiddle it around in front of your face.

You build up your courage, and drop the sushi in your mouth. Chewing slowly, you realize that it isn’t too bad, but its not anything spectacular. Its almost like the made it out of the cod that they fished out of the sea right there. Your used to other types of fish, but this works out too.

You are able to finish your plate, without any ill feelings, and you sit back in your chair, wondering if this was really worth it. The waiter tosses the check to your table from another, and you look down. You write out the check, but “forget” to leave a tip. You push out your chair, and you’re on your way.

You head out the screen door, and out into the bright sunshine. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust from the dim restaurant, but at last you can see again. The scent of the salty air revitalizes you, and you feel great again. All of a sudden, you hear your stomach churn, and you double over in pain.

This wasn’t your average stomach pain; this was much worse. You hold your gut, and you fumble over to the railing to support yourself. You feel very weary, and almost out of touch with yourself.

You reach over to grab the rail, but you notice that there is something on your hand. A little white strand, almost like a thin feather shaft. You realize that the strand is growing, and fanning out into little fibers. It was a feather, and you try to pluck it off your hand. It’s no use, and somehow, the feather grew into your hand.

You notice that your other hand has also been growing feathers. Now they are rapidly popping up. The shoot up from your skin, each letting off a *plink* sound when they sprout. They come out faster and faster, before both of your hands are covered from wrist to tips of the fingers.

You realize that now the feathers are coming over your arms as well. One by one, the feathers needling through your skin, and covering them in a thick down. They pass over your elbows, and up your bicep. The feathers don’t stop spreading until they reach your shoulder. Its odd to be covered in natural feathers; it’s a feeling you are not going to get used to.

Now a stranger sensations fills into your arms and hands. You can feel each of your fingers melt together, into one solid tip. Your arms themselves, shrink, and become thinner, and lighter. Some of the feathers grow longer, and more defined. Before you know it, a pair of wings is under your control.

You suddenly lose your balance, and fall to the wooden floor. You look down at your feet. Rapidly, they are becoming a malformed mess. You can hardly call them feet right now, but they are reshaping into something familiar. Then it hits you like a truck. Orange, webbed, bird feet, that could only mean one thing to you. Right now, you are turning into a seagull.

The feathers begin again around your thighs. You could feel the fuzzy shafts underneath your clothes, and its really feels uncomfortable. You think to yourself that you aren’t really a human anymore, and take off your pants, just to make it easier, followed by your shirt. You are surprised on how many feathers have already covered your body. A plume of feathers shoots out from your tailbone, a small gull tail.

Your body reshapes itself, leaving your human stature behind. Its becoming gradually more difficult to tell you apart from an actual seagull, because your head is going. Its shrinking, becoming more streamline. The most significant thing about it is the long beak that is emerging from your mouth though. It’s funny to see the long orange point in your vision wherever you look.

You waddle out of the pile of clothes still on top of you, and honk. You are a little surprised that you can’t talk anymore, but its makes sense. If you turned entirely into a seagull, why wouldn’t you sound like one. Honk, honk, now you are beginning to like the sound of it.

You closely examine your new body, and are quite satisfied with it. Then you get an idea. You step back, and get a running start. You make a valiant jump off the boardwalk, and catch the air in your wings. With a couple of flaps, you are way over the boardwalk, and can see from a whole new perspective. You can get used to this.