"No, trust me, you don't want to know."
Decatur looked up briefly. "Never start with dialogue. Besides," she added. "All I said was 'I wonder what the difference between the regular eggs and the range-fed eggs is.'"
Monty grinned. "I don't know what you mean about the dialogue, but the bit about the eggs. You're better off not knowing."
Decatur eyed the polecat suspiciously. "Is this another one of your--"
"Yep."
Decatur sighed and stared at him for a minute. Then she shook her head. "All right, fine."
Monty leaned back and nodded. "All right, then. Imagine this..."

Suddenly the sun was shining on a field that could only be described as verdant. A light wind ruffled past, making the grass ripple in a ridiculously picturesque manner. It was a very pleasant break from snowy winter they had just left.

"Okay," Decatur prompted. "I'm imagining."
"Just wait for it, Stripey," said Monty. "You can't rush a story like this."

As the sun climbed into the late morning section of the sky, the field slowly began to fill with meandering forms. Hens, they turned out to be, each carrying a basket and apparently enjoying the sunlight. They wandered around on the field, chatting with each other, sitting down or lying on the grass to relax. Occasionally a hen would moan softly and squeeze an egg out of herself, to her apparent enjoyment, and put it her basket. A few roosters mingled with the hens, striking up conversations here and there.

"Heh. I get it, the hens want c--"
"Yes, very funny, no one's made that joke before. Are you going to let me finish or not?"
"Sorry."

Around noon a group of pleasant-looking cowgirls showed up carrying baskets of food. They laid out meals for the hens, leaving the baskets for the hens to fill with eggs, and collected the morning's full baskets before leaving the field, bouncing happily as cowgirls tend to do. By mid-afternoon the baskets are full again, and the hens head off again, chattering amiably amongst themselves.

"So that's the range-fed eggs. As for the other ones..."
"You're about to get to the kinky part, aren't you?"
"You know me so well."

After the bright sunshine, the sudden darkness is stifling. The oppressive heat doesn't help, either. After the initial surprise, a low murmur becomes audible, an almost familiar sound... which eventually solidifies into the sound of a roomful of people moaning.

"Hens?"
"Maybe, maybe not. You'll just have to listen to the story."
"They're hens."
"Impatient fuzzball."
Decatur stuck her tongue out at Monty. "Nya."

The lights gradually rise on rows upon rows of hens, each one strapped into a frame that spread their legs open. The source of the moans is obvious, as every few seconds a large egg squeezes out from between a hen's legs and drops onto a padded conveyor belt. The hens look barely coherent with pleasure, their eyes rolling back in their head, their bodies shuddering. It's obvious that the only things keeping them from collapsing are the restraints and the tubes strapped into their mouths, which feed a steady stream of nutrient broth down their throats. The hens' stomachs are round and full, although it's unclear whether the bulges are because of the broth or simply from all the eggs inside them.
A fox approaches one hen who'd gone a few minutes without laying an egg. "Finished up, are we?" He said. "We'll get you a refill, then." The hen's eyes widen and she shakes her head weakly as the fox waves over a rooster. Her protests are muffled by the nutrient tube.
"You know what to do, then." The fox nods at the rooster, who begins to stroke his cock to hardness. The fox taps his foot impatiently. After a minute he crosses his arms. "Having trouble?"
The rooster glances up and shakes his head. "No, no. I just... I've done this a lot today."
"Two dozen?" The fox snorts. "Pretty slow day by your standards."
The rooster nods and slips his cock into the hen, still half-soft. The hen shudders, apparently climaxing even from that, and the rooster starts thrusting slowly.
The fox sighs. "All right, you're done."
The rooster looks up, a little panicked. "No, I can get it--"
The fox shakes his head. "We're on a tight schedule here. You're done." He pulls a syringe out of his pocket.

"Is this--"
Monty glared at Decatur. "You're a terrible audience."
"Hey, I just wanted to know what the syringe was. You should be happy, I'm getting into the story."
"If you'd listen a little longer, you'd find out. All these interruptions detract from the story."
Decatur shrugged. "Sorry."

As the rooster turns to run, the fox steps forward and jabs the syringe into him. The rooster collapses as the injection reaches his bloodstream, twitching. The rooster's cock and balls begin to shrink, his body starting to soften and re-shape itself. A pair of breasts swell out of his chest as his hips bulge out, his waist narrowing and his genitals disappearing entirely. A dripping slit opens up in their place and his stomach starts to bulge.

The fox waves over a pair of bulls. "Take her to an empty spot and start her laying. Oh, and get me another rooster." He turns and walks away.

"Oh, I see. I thought it--" Decatur broke off as Monty glared at her again. "Right. Sorry."
Monty sighed. "Actually, that's all I've got. The end."
Decatur shook her head. "Where do you come up with these things?"
"They just pop into my head," replied the polecat. "I can't help it." He shrugged.
Then his eyes lit up. "Hey, have you ever wondered--"
"No."