You look up at the house expectantly, and in short order, Curtis makes his way out to your coop. You're pretty sure he was watching you the whole time, but he doesn't let on as he opens the coop door and looks down at you. "Well, looks like you laid an egg after all. Lucky for you I eat my breakfast late." You don't respond with anything beyond a stony glare, which you hope translates to your porcine face. "Well uh, do you mind letting me have a look, then?" Without noticing, you'd hunkered down on the egg to protect it from Curtis, once you realize what you're doing you quickly step off, glad that he can't see you blushing against the brink pink latex.
When he sees the egg, Curtis lets out an impressed whistle. "You know, after I went inside yesterday, I thought that maybe I'd been foolish to give you an ultimatum. Say what you will about me, but I'm a man of my word. I'd assumed you couldn't actually lay enough for my breakfast, but if you managed, I'd really would have to let you go. And with the size of this thing, wow, you've really outdone yourself." You feel a mixture of hope at being let go, and pride at the size of the egg, but then Curtis continues. "But there's a problem. You see, I specifically said 'eggs'. As in, more than one. Sure, I could probably eat for a week off of the single egg you laid, but, rules are rules! I guess you just weren't changed enough to manage it. Maybe I can help you there. Chicken beak." You feel the latex that makes up your head sweep forward around your lips, then push out into a bright yellow, pointed beak, which quickly hardens. You try to move it, but it's fully rigid. You let out a cry of alarm, but what comes out startles even Curtis. It starts as a chicken's cluck but ends with a loud snorting. You reach up and feel around it as best you can with your hooves, and although you do indeed have a chicken's beak, you notice that the glove has left the rest of your head piggish, including your snout. You look even more like a freak!
Curtis isn't going to let you go or change you back, and you don't have time to wait around. He expects you to be stunned by your latest change, and you are, but you still have the presence of mind to try and escape, and you dash past him, He's left the coop door open, and you almost make it across his yard, but even with a head-start you aren't used to the way your chicken legs work, and as you stumble Curtis easily catches up to you and blocks your path.
"Well, you're pretty lively, I guess I haven't put you to work enough. Since you didn't get me enough eggs, how about you make it up to me by giving me some nice, fresh milk. Cow chest." You know what's coming, but you can't look away as the last of your human skin is covered by pure white latex. It starts at the top, the bright pink of your pig arms and piggy head fading smoothly into the pure white of your cow chest, and you can see it flow down until it reaches your chicken-taur lower half that starts just below your belly button. A spattering of black spots breaks out over the white latex, giving you the classical cow look. Both you and Curtis wait for what you know will happen next, but the pause turns awkward as you both realize the glove is finished.
Curtis speaks up first. "I guess it wasn't covered under 'cow chest'. Huh." He shrugs. "Cow udder."
Much like your beak, you feel the latex gather up, this time on your belly. It slowly bubbles out into a flesh-colored mass, inflating into a round shape. Four bumps appear, lengthening into short teats. You feel it churning as it fills with a small amount of milk, and it hangs down enough that you can feel a slight tickle from your chicken feathers. You think the change is finished, but it continues to fill with milk, and soon it's heavy enough that you're being pulled forward. You try to gather it up with your hooves and keep running, but not only does it spill out over your arms, but you also rub against one of your teats, and it feels amazing. You close your eyes and let out a soft cluck, embarrassing yourself in front of your captor. You get back to your aborted escape, but the udder is hanging low enough that it slaps against your scaly chicken legs, and Curtis simply watches in amusement for a moment before casually stopping you again.
"There, now you can get me milk for my cereal, too! You probably can't escape like this, but just in case, I did go out and buy something that'll help me keep track of you. Hold still while I put it on or I might pinch you with it." He picks up a leather band and wraps it around your neck, and when you swing your head, you hear the telltale noise of a cowbell hanging from your neck. "There, if you go and get yourself lost, I can find you again. Now, you can get back in your coop willingly, or I can keep changing you. Your call."
On the one hand, your 24 hours are running low, you've got maybe 2/3rds of a day to get rid of your pig head before it becomes permanent. On the other hand, your udder is full and getting fuller, and the feeling is already starting to drive you mad. You're pretty sure you can't milk it yourself with these hooves, maybe if you play along you can get Curtis to empty it?