Another set of injections and Ken lost consciousness. When he woke next he was in some sort of pen, and all his pinfeathers had grown in. He could hear hundreds of turkeys gobbling, and when he tried to call out his voice was added to the incessant gobble, gobble, gobble. He rolled his eyes and struggled to his spindly clawed bird feet. He might be a big turkey, but his feet felt the strain of his body mass. Turkey feet even enlarged proportionally were not designed to support his current weight. He felt something heavy in his lower abdomen, and rightly figured he had an egg or eggs forming down there. A much smaller turkey flapped up to Ken, he was sure it was a male as it tried to mount him, but its huge breast kept it from connecting with Ken's nether regions.
"Yeah, the instinct is there, but not the physical ability," commented a familiar voice.
Ken turned and craned his neck to see the source of the words. It was his brother Tommy. He was holding a turkey baster.
"Personally, I'd like to let a wild turkey mount you, but they're too lean for the consumer market and their breasts are too small. So I've got grade A domesticated turkey sperm in this baster. You may not like the idea, but here's the sitch. Your contract is for a minimum of 150 hatched eggs - now like I said we're not exactly sure how many eggs you'll be able to lay, so if it turns out to be one a year, you'll probably get off after 10 years. But you'll stay a turkey until you at least lay one egg, so the sooner you let me impregnate you, the sooner you get to have a cock between your legs again."
"Gobble, gobble, SQUAWK!" said Ken.
Tommy just shrugged, and said it won't be that bad. You may even learn to like it. He climbed over the pen fencing, and approached Ken.
Ken ran around in a circle and finally was cornered with his tail feathers facing Tommy. He felt the cold hard plastic penetrate and lukewarm liquid filling him. Ken shrieked and flapped his wings violently. He flew to the top of the fence rail, and ran along the rail toward freedom.
"Wait, Ken, you don't want to-"
Gobbles covered up whatever words Tommy shouted.
There was a big slatted truck parked at the end of the pens. A man was shooing turkeys up a ramp into the truck. Ken ran for the truck. It was almost full. He figured it would be his way off this freaky farm. Only after the man closed the rear gate of the truck and locked it did Ken stop to think where the truck might be headed.
It drove off before Tommy could reach it.
Next stop the abbatoir.