Cluck's Ticking, Part 2

Story Tier Prompt for Spacebanana

John is a lazy, procrastinating student who is sent to the prestigious Gallus Dee College, an institution on a remote island off the East Coast. It is hoped that his education will improve there, but John quickly starts to notice strange changes among the staff and student body, changes only he can notice. Can he solve the mystery of Galluss Dee before it is too late?

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Cluck's Ticking, Part 2

Holy shit, I had feathers. Actual, factual feathers growing around my ass and on the sides of my hips! I felt at them, pulling at the quills to check tha t this wasn’t some obscene joke, but they were unmistakably part of me, piercing my skin and causing me to wince painfully when I tried to remove or manipulate them. Their colouring was a mottled brown, the quills half a centimetre in thickness and half a ruler’s span in length. The feather itself was a couple of inches or so wide, tapering to a fine point, and they naturally lay flat against my skin, though the more agitated and terrified I became, the more they seemed to arc upwards, like a bird trying to make itself look larger. It felt utterly alien.

“The absolute cluck - I mean fuck!” I said.

I grabbed my throat, eyes wide. Once was a coincidence, but twice was a pattern. I was clucking like a chicken when I tried to swear. Or when I was agitated. I needed more information. I needed to wake Irvine.

It took the better part of two minutes grabbing his arm and rocking him back and forth. The formerly athletic jock’s figure was now nearly as bloated as my own, and I noticed that for some reason he had his hand protectively over his stomach, mumbling as I tried to rock him.

“N-no . . . don’ hurt them. Precious. Not done cooking yet . . .”

“Irvine!” I shouted, “wait the CLUCK up man!”

At that, his eyes went wide open.

"What are you yapping on about John?"

"Your ass! Check out your ass now!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious? Dude, I date hot chicks, not tubby dudes."

"Look! Look what happened last night?"

I turned in my underwear,  and showed him the grotesque feathers that were pushing out from my sides and above my ass.

“See? See!? I’m growing feathers and I’m freaking out dude!”

And then, to my absolute horror and shock, Irvine just rolled his eyes.

“So what, this is just an attempt to show how pretty your feathers are? No offence John, but I still pull more hens than you do.”

Hens. He’d said hens. I’d never heard Irvine call any woman a hen before, wasn’t that just some mid-20th century term for a married woman or something? And why did he consider me growing feathers to be utterly normal? He rose from his bed, complaining of needing breakfast, and sure enough he had a set of mottle black feathers in the same areas as me. My stomach panged for hunger, and I could hear his bloated belly growl too, but I needed to ascertain one last thing before he dressed to leave.

“Wait, Irvine. Stop.”

He rolled his eyes. Jeez, he had gained weight. Even his hips looked wider. “What?”

“How long have I had these feathers?”

“Dude, I don’t know, from birth, like the rest of us?”

“The - the rest of us?”

But he pushed past me and made for the door to the dorm. Another pang of hunger came over me, and after quickly dressing myself, I followed him, needing food.

And needing answers.

***

The cafeteria was a collection of fattened, bloated students and even some teachers, all of them scratching at feathers that were pushing from the gap between their shirts and pants, or between the tops and skirts of the girls. It terrified me; why did none of them notice? Was I going crazy? My stomach quivered, and I could not fight the hunger that was coming. I loaded up my plate and went to sit with Ellie.

The former petite punk-rocker type was now inarguably overweight. She was eating with wild abandon, pecking at her food with quick fingers that were similarly swollen. I realised that my own fingers were in fact a little swollen also.

“Hey, Ellie,” I said experimentally, “your feathers look nice this morning.”

“So do yours,” she said absent-mindedly, downing some hotcakes. “You ready for agricultural studies today? I figure I might as well attend the one class people here seem to take seriously.”

I nodded, unsettled by her normalcy over this.

“Ellie, is something strange going on here? I mean . . . at Gallus Dee?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You mean, some kind of conspiracy?”

“Exactly.”

She smirked. “Absolutely, there is.”

It was an enormous relief to hear, even as I tore into the reserves of bacon and . . . not, something about eating eggs put me off this morning. Bacon and bread this morning. I could stomach something made with eggs, but eggs directly was a bit too far.

“Thank God,” I said, “I’m glad someone else finally noticed.”

“Yep,” she said, smirking, “I think someone is trying to reshape and change us.”

“Exactly!”

“Changing our circumstances, and redirecting our futures.”

“I’m glad someone else sees it.”

“To try and make us into educated and productive members of society.”

I felt as if I were a balloon that had just been deflated. She was mocking me, and I could see it in her smirk that this was so.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“Naw, I just think you’re hungry. Have some more.”

I did, but I also resolved to get to the bottom of this. For the rest of the day, I actually did something I’d never done before; I fully attended all my classes. Agricultural studies, mathematics advanced, marketing in business, even accounting! In each of them, I was one of the few students there, and those that attended were also bloated as I was, and only getting bigger. They had feathers also, ranging from dark yellow to mottled brown like myself to jet black. Their asses were huge, hips widened, and to my shock, most of the teachers were the same, including Mr Hardy at the head of our dorm. The only ones that seemed unaffected were some of the aide staff, who just looked at me as if I was ignorant when I questioned them. The other unaffected individuals were our agricultural studies teacher, as well as, of course, Dr Elizabeth M. Roe, who I’d taken to avoiding, just in case she was behind this all.

Worse, even as my search for answers went nowhere, I could feel my body continuing to change: my hips had broadened even further, and my stomach had rounded more. The feathers had spread, and a strange bump had developed at the base of my spine, stretching out at least a full two inches. My fingers were getting stubbier, and conversely it felt like my legs were shrinking to the bone, the skin beginning to flake and harden as if it were scaled or something. There was also a terrible itching around my ass, and behind my penis, that was making me greatly concerned.

I was terrified,and it was even worse when I arrived at the dorm at the end of a long day, and Mr Hardy was there, borderline unrecognisable. Even throughout the day, he’d changed. His legs had lost much of their musculature, and like mine were more and more bony. Even the skin appeared as if it were yellowing. In contrast, his waistline had expanded aggressively, and he barely fit within his clothing anymore. Fears were sticking out of his waistline, and small tufts of them were hanging from his shorts as well.

“Mr Teeran, how are you doing?” he asked, as if his body hadn’t rapidly changed in the course of a few days.

“I’m - I’m well. Feeling a little bloated, though. Aren’t you?”

He seemed to consider this. “Certainly am,” he decided upon, rubbing his rotund stomach, “but that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?”

“What’s it all about, exactly?”

He chuckled, and put a hand on my shoulder that should have been reassuring, but instead simply revealed to me how much his fingers had changed, becoming stubbier and wider.

“About being a productive member of the future, of course! Isn’t that what Dr Roe always says? Her and that Doctor Yarrow?”

My eyes widened. Doctor Yarrow had been one of the few staff who were seemingly unaffected by these strange mutations. The thin man was knowledgeable, and moreover literally taught biology. If anyone knew what was going on, or could have information prised from them in some way, it must be him.

“Yeah, uh, exactly,” I managed. “Have a good night then, Mr Hardy.”

“Night to you too John. Don’t let me see the light under your door too long now, we want you guys roosting up properly. Cluck! I meant ‘rested.’ Rested up properly.”

I stepped away from Mr Hardy, trying to appear normal. But I was afraid. Very afraid. I would have to talk to Mr Yarrow.

As I slipped into bed, I felt at my abnormally rounded stomach. It was firm and round, and more exaggerated for the fact that his thighs had become swollen and fattened. Above him, already asleep, Irvine groaned and grunted, his stomach making odd bubbling noises. My own stomach was just as bad, and it felt strange to hold. It was as if it were fully of something, or many somethings. Like it was packed from the inside. There was a growing pressure that was evident in it, and I worried I would explode or something.

It took some time to get down to sleep; my mind was preoccupied by the horrors of my changing body, and the far greater horror that I was the only one who seemingly recognised it. And even as I drifted off to sleep, I could still feel something turning over in my insides, hard and rounded, like something being formed. It was the last thought before I lost consciousness.

***

I was woken in the night by a painful pressure in my loins. I gasped, breathing heavily, even as the pressure rose and rose. I’d never felt anything like it before.

“Ngh! - Ah - Ah - Ahhhhh . . . what’s - what’s happeningggHHhh!”

I clutched my dome, and to my horror, it seemed to have actually have gotten even bigger. Above me, Irvine was also shifting, causing the entire bed frame to shake slightly. He groaned, and seemed to be actually clucking under his breath. I barely had time to concentrate on that though, because the painful pressure was mounting more and more. I shifted to my side, still clutching my taut belly, and felt at the base of my spine: my ass had expanded even wider, and what’s more, that strange protuberance out of my spine was beginning to feel more and more like a nascent tail. Feathers were adorning my lower half, all the way to the top of my thighs, and now climbing up my back. How could the changes have advanced so much? Were they accelerating?

“Ohhhhh f-fuck . . . s-so much p-pressure!”

I spread my legs apart in order to get more comfortable, but it did very little. My stomach was rock hard, and what’s more, I could definitely tell that the contents of it was not purely fat and organs and tissue. I could feel multiple objects within, large objects. I had no way of knowing how big exactly, but they felt huge to me, and what’s more, they wanted out. I tensed, trying to fight the alien feeling, that borderline-instinctual drive to push. But I was losing, and judging from the gasps and groans above me, Irvine was too, though he did not seem so panicked about it.

“Ohhh shit, NGH! Gotta p-push!” I exclaimed, finally giving in.

I pushed.

I pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed. There was too much pressure, and my belly was too overly full with contents to struggle against it anyway. I gasped, moaned, groaned, and cried as my hips spread wider apart in response to my efforts, and slowly but surely, I could feel something hard and round descend from my stomach and down towards an exit. My ass felt strange, different somehow, as if its exit was altogether bigger and wider. I felt at it, and my eyes went wide; whatever was descending was coming out there! And yet it didn’t feel like an anus at all, but something larger, more intricate, and hooked to other systems.

I knew it, because even as the pain grew, I felt a strange and repugnant pleasure. It spread my cheeks, and I pushed once more, dick getting hard as it spread me wider. My passage was somehow longer, pulled back from my body slightly. I huffed and puffed, hugging myself as I strained.

“B-B-B-B’GAWWWK!”

I crowed like a hen, shocking myself, and then it squeezed from my person. I felt the rounded object exit the hole between my legs, and a wearied sense of comfort and strange, lingering enjoyment came over me. I laid there, as if in post-coital pleasure, savouring the sensations of delivery.

“Delivery? The cluck am I thinking?”

I shifted awkwardly, trying to avoid the slink dampening of the sheets between my legs, as well as my gravid belly. Even in the darkness, I could just see from the light of the moon what I had delivered, and it gave me pause. But then, I guess I had just been in denial all along.

It was an egg.

A chicken’s egg, only it was massive, easily eight times as large, and much tougher in the shell. It was coated in slime from my body, but there it sat.

“H-holy cluck, I just delivered a b’gawwking egg.”

I held my stomach, unbelieving that the enormous object had come from me, somehow. I was seriously mutated, and judging from the clucking and b’gawking from above me, so was Irvine. I had little doubt that other members of the school, perhaps every feathered, bloated member I had seen, was either currently laying an egg or about to. The thought of Ellie lying back and clucking like some sort of madwoman as she laid an egg was insane to me, even more so for Mr Hardy. I needed to get answered. This was going too far, and I was afraid of the changes that would follow if I didn’t - B’GAWK!

I gasped, tensing as another pressure rose once more. No, no! I was already feeling the need to push again; my stomach was still rounded and tense, and I could feel more of the contents pressing against one another. The eggs. I was literally pregnant with eggs! I tried to fight it again, but it was useless. Once more the dreadful need to push came over me, and I succumbed to it.

“Oh G-God . . . s-so much p-pressure . . .”

I pushed again, my hips widening once more in preparation for the descent of the - of my eggs. It lowered, slipping through my passage quicker this time, but still causing me to squirm as it passed. It was utterly alien and strange, and yet even through the pain I couldn’t deny a horrid pleasure. It was as if new sensitive nerves had formed in my changing behind, and now I was unable to be completely repulsive by their new function.

“Ooh, aahhhh . . . cluck . . . why does this feel - Mmhm! - sooo good!”

My cheeks spread, and I shivered in a light orgasm as yet another egg passed from my belly. But I received no reprieve; the pressure was not letting up, and my laying was only getting faster. As soon as one egg left my system, another was ready in line to be next, and soon I was continually huffing and puffing as egg after egg left my body. I squirmed and writhed, gasped and groaned, tensed and squeezed, as one by one they passed through my passage and left my body. And with each successful laying, I clucked and squawked, scratching at the end of the bed with my leathery-skinned legs. The pleasure rose higher, and soon I didn’t want the process to end, it felt so good. Painful, yes, but the pleasure of squeezing eggs from my body was greater than any act of masturbation. Judging from the groans and cries from Irvine above me, it was better than many a one-night stand with a woman as well.

The orgasms continued to build, overlapping one another, and I was helpless to them. I felt at my dick, which had hardened considerably, but found myself shocked that it was also shrunken; stubbier than it had been. Yet another change to be horrified at, were I not indulging in the pleasures of laying eggs. The pressure was lessening, but there was still one egg to go, I sensed. I could feel it now, nestled in my stomach. Or perhaps, even, my womb. Regardless, I could tell it was the largest of them yet, and the pain and pressure of pushing it was extreme. The pleasure too; it caught in my canal, and I licked my lips, clucking in delirious joy as it passed ever so slowly. Finally, it emerged wetly from my behind, to join the collection of seven other eggs.

“B’GAWWK! B’GAWWK! B’GAWWK!”

I lay back, panting heavily, my breath a consistent huff as I came to terms with what I’d just done. I had pushed out actual eggs, far larger than their regular kind, yes, but eggs nonetheless. They had come from inside me; been grown from inside me! I was tired from delivering them, and I could tell Irvine was too, having just finished. We had both done something deeply extraordinary but deeply wrong, but I suspected I was the only one who knew that second part. We were being turned into egg-layers, which meant that the passage I had pushed these eight eggs through was no longer a rectum or an anus or whatever you wanted to call it.

It was a cloaca.

I was too tired to do anything but lie back again, the pressure in my still-sizable stomach greatly relieved, but questions still racing through my mind. Why did I lay eggs? Was this Dr Roe’s plan? Was there life inside them, or just - oh God - yolk? Were my changes done, or just beginning? But before I could slip back to sleep again, even as my vision swam, one question was more pressing than all the rest:

“What am I going to do when I meet that motherclucker Dr Yarrow?”

To Be Continued . . .