You pause for a moment in the lawn, trying to catch your breath. You can't get enough air through your beak, so you're snorting loudly through your massive pig nostrils, and you're making quite a racket. You try to quiet yourself down. After the debacle that came from trusting Curtis, the last thing you want is to attract the attention of another random person who could take advantage of you. You've got to be careful with your next steps, which means resting a moment and thinking things through. Your legs need the rest anyway, they're barely holding you up after the effort of tearing the coop down. Carefully, you fold your legs underneath you and sit down as best you can, flopping your udder forward so it's lying on the ground in front of you. You suppress a loud cluck as the grass tickles your udder, but once you're settled, you find that you're surprisingly comfortable, in spite of everything. It seems being covered in soft feathers has its advantages. In fact, sitting on the lawn with the sun shining down on you, you almost fall back asleep, but you force yourself back awake by thinking about what Curtis might do if he comes home and finds you sleeping outside your coop. After a few minutes of rest, you notice that you in the stillness, you can actually feel your udder slowly filling with milk, and the sensation eventually pushes you back into action.
You think through your next steps. First off, if Curtis has a weakness, it's that he's overconfident. He didn't think you could escape the coop. Would he have bothered locking his back door? Looking at your other option, the sturdy-looking fence you'd have to knock over, you decide to take your chances with the house. You try to stand up, but your udder is even heavier now, and your legs aren't strong enough to get you out of his squat. After a few moments of panic, you manage to stand up by leaning way to one side and getting one foot under you at a time. Wobbling slightly as you right yourself, you decide you can't sit down again. If you do, you're pretty sure you won't be getting back up unassisted. You work your way over to the door, your udder just barely brushing the ground with each waddle. When you get there, you don't even bother trying to get purchase with your hooves. Instead you find a piece of lawn furniture to steady yourself against and reach up with one leg to grasp the doorknob with your foot. Your heart leaps in joy as you realize you were right, Curtis didn't lock his door! It takes a few attempts, but you manage to crack the door ajar. With a triumphant kick, you knock it the rest of the way open.
You don't really fit in the doorway, but you're soft and pliable enough that you manage to shove your way through, one body part at a time. As you squeeze your udder past, a little trickle of milk comes out, and the tiny hint of relief you get makes you notice just how pent up you're feeling. Whatever you do, you're going to need to get milked soon, and to make things worse you think you can feel the beginning of another egg forming, too. You try to get more milk out yourself by squeezing it, but all you can manage is a tiny trickle. Even with how lightly you're pushing, it's starting to make you feel sore, and you give up on the idea of milking yourself for the moment. You look down and examine the spatters of milk on the ground. As far as you can tell, it's genuine milk, and there's a weird sense of disappointment that you've wasted some of it. More than that, though, the fact you're producing real milk underneath your latex exterior underscores how little time you have left before this becomes your real body, and you quickly take your next move.