On his third morning as a member of the flock, Jeff awoke slowly. The cozy coop felt so warm and cozy, especially with all the feathered bodies roosting close together. At dawn, the sun began to rise and sunbeams shone through the slats in the walls of the chicken coop. Jeff felt his fellow hens begin to stir. His neighbor clucked softly.
Jeff hopped to the floor of the coop, surprised by how far he had to drop. He looked around the coop's interior. The coop that he had perceived as cramped and cozy now looked much, much bigger than it had when he had tucked his head under his wing and gone to sleep.
Beneath him, Jeff felt the three eggs nestled in their box of straw that he had so far produced during his time as a chicken.
Other hens milled about on the floor, brushing their feathered forms past Jeff. As he became more alert, he noticed something flopping along the crown of his feathered head. "What now?" Jeff wondered as he pushed past the hens to get out into the fenced yard. He made his way over to the puddle and confirmed his suspicions.
Overnight, he had grown smaller. In fact, he looked almost identical to the other hens in size and in having a thick layer of white feathers. Cocking an eye toward the puddle, he noticed something else. He sported a bright red comb along the crown of his head and, on either side of his bill, two red wattles dangled.
Despite his anxiety, Jeff followed the example of his fellow hens and pecked fitfully at the ground. The pecking helped him organize his thoughts. He began to wonder about the timing of his changes. So far, they had followed all the times he had laid an egg. Coincidence? Jeff wondered. He had left the device's programming free to change random body parts and determine his level of reality.
He was glad to see the woman return with her sack of feed. She looked larger, of course, as she tossed handfuls of scratch feed onto the ground for the flock. All the hens, Jeff included, ran forward and began snapping up the food with their beaks. He was happy that he had gotten better at picking up the split corn kernels with his beak and he soon felt fed and content.
He knew he had another month, give or take a couple of days, left as a chicken before he could change back thanks to his sloppy work in hitting the "EXECUTE" button on the menu before he had settled on the transformation. Well, what's done was done. Nevertheless, if he could prevent it, he wanted to halt the progress of his transformation.
"It's simple," Jeff thought. "I just need to stop laying eggs."
About that time, he spied a cricket and his chicken brain reacted with speed and delight. His beak snapped closed around the bug. "Bawck!" Jeff clucked and swallowed.