Eggs in the City
Story by Muskwalker on SoFurry
Imported from SF2 with no description provided.
One thing I've always loved about the big city is that it's got everything—even the stuff you'd think you have to go out to the countryside for. Fresh, local produce is one of those things I usually bring up as an example: some people think that a vegetable isn't authentic if you didn't buy it off a grown-up's version of a lemonade stand on a dirt road somewhere off Route 15000 or something.
I tell those people, “You've never seen the farmer's market on Hake and Vine."
Now, if I'm being honest, the market wasn't all good. Sturgeon's Law held here as in many other areas: 90% of everything is crap. But in the places it did succeed, it was exceptional—there was a little old Italian grandmother that was always selling the most perfect tomatoes, and a cute chubby guy who'd bring in rows and rows of herbs, including better cilantro than you could find anywhere, and—
—well, I do get a little excited about the ingredients sometimes. Sometimes new friends would call me out for going on and on, but the complaints would die down after I started inviting them over for dinner, because I do have a little talent in the kitchen.
But anyway, I'm not really here to tell you about cilantro.
Last week I was out there for a bit of the usual shopping and saw a stall that I didn't recall ever seeing around before.
Now, I'll admit that its display wasn't the most appealing; the main highlight of the booth was butchery, and I never really did pick up a taste for red meat. But I do keep an open mind, and I did see the counter also had trays of massive eggs laid out and that did catch my eye.
To start with, anyway.
As soon as I reached the booth, I encountered its proprietor, who was eye-catching in another way altogether. A massive mountain of a man in red flannel, well-tanned and sporting a round hanging belly that nearly reached his knees—the embodiment of everything that wasn't the big city, to be sure, but his messy gray hair and beard framed a sweet pudgy face whose eyes I was already ensnared by.
My ears told me he was talking to me, but my mind was still too busy taking him in to pay attention to anything else.
By the time I managed to snap out of it, I had to ask him to repeat himself.
“Can I help you, young man?"
My libido immediately supplied half a dozen ways I would have loved his help, which kind of astonished me. Maybe to the farmer I was a “young man", but I had thought my days of random horniness in public were long behind me.
Yet here I was, hoping my clothes were loose enough that I wasn't showing a visible bulge. “Um," I said, trying to recover my thought. “Eggs. I saw… eggs."
He looked over at the display of eggs, a stray hand reaching down to scratch his belly. Somehow the motion of that hand, the way it lifted up his shirt, the way his gut spilled out from under it, the way thick hair covered that exposed flesh… somehow…
The farmer snapped his fingers and my attention was ripped away from the entrancing sight. “Looks like I reeled ya in without even trying. Someone really wants some time alone with Uncle Boyce, eh?"
I didn't even try to deny it.
“Come with me."
I followed after Uncle Boyce with my head in a fog, my attention so consumed by the way he filled out the seat of the jeans that struggled to contain him that I had no awareness of my surroundings until we were standing behind a pickup truck in a dark corner of a parking garage.
He removed his shirt in a slow, tantalizing motion, revealing the glorious acreage of his furry gut.
“You're drooling," he said. It wasn't an exaggeration. “Kneel."
I knelt in front of him, helpless to do anything other than what the farmer ordered.
“And what do you want?"
Somehow, one thought remained in my head, despite everything: “Eggs… I saw… eggs…"
The farmer laughed, his belly shaking hypnotically. “Poor kid." My eyes were drawn to his deep navel, and I couldn't pull my gaze away.
Only one thought. “Eggs… eggs… eggs…" I always did get a little excited about the ingredients.
I trembled, my whole body tense and shaky on my knees in front of Uncle Boyce's perfect belly as the need for eggs filled me, as the need to serve filled me.
When I felt the pressure at my ass, I somehow knew what was happening, as though it had happened before.
When I felt my hole stretch open and new-laid eggs filled my underwear one at a time, I somehow knew this had always been my job, that I'd always been laying eggs for Uncle Boyce.
When I felt myself stretching open wider, the eggs growing bigger and heavier in my pants, I somehow knew that the urge that was overwhelming me was a need for the scent of the farmer.
The scent of my farmer.
The scent of—
I shuffled closer to him, careful not to lose any eggs from my rapidly-filling underpants, and planted my nose in the cleft of Uncle Boyce's navel.
I inhaled deeply of his musk.
It was all I knew.
When I came back to my senses I was in a place I didn't recognize at all. No—I was in my farmer's pen, of course. Don't know how I could have forgotten that. It was my familiar life, wasn't it? Here squatting in my narrow stall as I laid egg after egg for him from dawn till dark?
I groaned out deep as the need struck again, the fullness at my ass that signalled a big egg was coming. Bearing down hard, I felt my hole begin to stretch as the egg began to crown, its wide end forcing my rump apart as it pushed its way out.
It hurt like hell—like it was the first time I'd ever laid an egg this big, but clearly that couldn't be right, couldn't it? This was my job. Nevertheless, I must have lost some stretchiness overnight, as I could barely stand to have the widening part of the egg push through my tender ring.
Fortunately it was all downhill from there. The base of the egg touched down gently on the floor of the stall and I pushed the tapered end out of my hole till it was fully freed.
As my hole recovered from the strain of laying, I turned to face the big egg, which rivaled my torso in size.
Even though I knew I did this a hundred times a day—I did, didn't I?—I was still struck by the sight of it.
My egg… It was perfect.
I knelt in front of it and wrapped my arms—no, arms were for humans—I wrapped my wings around it and embraced it, pressing my face against the white shell still warm from my ass.
I felt arousal growing as I rubbed over the egg's sensuous curve, and sat back to pull it into my lap. My stiffening cock pressed against it, coating the lower half of the shell with my precum.
The experience was so all-encompassing that I didn't even notice that the farmer had come in and was watching me.
“Don't go fertilizing that one, little hen."
My body froze up at the conflict between love of my egg and love of my farmer. Why shouldn't I be able to love it?
“Put it down."
I hesitated.
The farmer reached into the pen with both hands, took hold of the egg, and started pulling it away from me.
“Let it go."
I wanted to resist, to fight back, but my body wouldn't let me land a scratch on him. I wanted to beg him to let me keep it, but all I could do was squawk.
And then my egg was gone.
The farmer walked away with my treasure as I felt the need to lay strike again.
Uncle Boyce returned before I had even managed to push out any of the egg inside me. He stood over my stall, his hanging belly peeking out under the expanse of red flannel and arresting my attention again.
A pleasurable lightness washed over me at the sight of his bare skin.
My farmer… He was perfect.
As I watched him watching me, the fear that had come over me when he took my first egg faded away. This is my life. There'll always be another egg, right? Of course there will be… I'm a good hen.
A contented cluck escaped my beak as my cloaca stretched open to start letting the new egg through. The feel of it stretching out my passages coupled with the sweet influence of Uncle Boyce brought me to orgasmic levels of pleasure—my body trembled as my tail lifted to deposit the egg.
And this time he didn't take it from me.
I enfolded the egg in my wings as Boyce lifted me up by the neck, lifting me out of my stall and bending me over a breeding stand.
“I dunno if there's any of you left in there," he said. “But I think this is what you were looking for before you got caught up in Uncle Boyce's spell."
I heard the farmer lifting his belly up with a grunt, a slow unzip as he undid his jeans, and a rumpled thump as they slid to the floor, but I was too engrossed in my new egg to care.
He slid a pair of fingers under my tailfeathers, spreading my vent open. I shivered with pleasure, the sensation so like the feel of a new egg emerging. I didn't have long to enjoy it, though, before the farmer stepped up and hefted his heavy belly onto my back with an abruptness that nearly made me drop my egg and started pressing a thick shaft into my hole.
I squawked out loud at the intrusion, more from the suddenness of it than any pain—the eggs I'd laid had left me more than loose enough, after all. But he hilted me with one thrust, and I could feel him throbbing inside me as I buried my face in my egg.
Between the pleasures of my egg and my farmer, my mind started dissolving into a thick fog. I surrendered to the sensation, knowing my thoughts wouldn't matter anymore anyway; from now on I was just going to be my farmer's hen, laying my farmer's eggs and bred by my farmer's cock.
The farmer ground his dick into what remained of the morning's customer. The new hen's hole was shrinking fast as its transformation continued, and its tightness quickly brought him to climax, the big man panting hard from the exertion as he flooded the chicken with his seed.
With a grunt he reached under his gut and pulled the bird off his cock, tossing it back into its stall.
The hen landed ungracefully, dropping the egg it had been holding. It hit the floor with a crack and splattered all across the far wall.
No matter—there were more where that came from.
Uncle Boyce watched the hen for a few minutes for any salvageable traces of humanity, but it did nothing but wander its stall aimlessly before settling in to lay again. He sighed, wiped off his dick, and headed back to the city.
There might still be time to find new customers, after all.