The Legend of Bastien - Chapter 17 – They Don’t Teach That in School – Part 3 of 4

 

The Legend of Bastien

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 17 – They Don’t Teach That in School – Part 3 of 4

 

Tess could feel her body shaking as she accompanied Judy across the yard toward the chicken pen.  Before leaving the house, Judy had handed her a baby bottle to carry.  That had been a big surprise.  Now, as they approached the pen full of chickens, she could see her son walking around.  She saw him turn and look at her, but this time, he simply hung his head and stayed put.  Tess nearly died when Judy stopped before going into the pen to pick up a cattle prod.  Did she use that on him?  She was guessing she did.  But before going into the pen, Judy suddenly jabbed out toward her with the prod and zapped her.  She screamed in agony.

“I just wanted you to get a taste of what that feels like,” Judy told her.  “One wrong move and not only do you get that, but so does he.  And trust me, he knows what this thing feels like.  He’s had lots of experience with it.”

The cruelty of this girl boggled Tess’s mind.  She felt a tear slip down from her eye as her hand rubbed the place where Tess had zapped her.  It still hurt!  And her son had a lot of experience with it?  She couldn’t imagine what that had to have been like for him.

Judy opened the gate and Tess followed her in.  Like she promised, she didn’t head for her son but waited for Judy to close the gate first.  Only then did they head in Chrissy’s direction. 

Chrissy wanted to die!  Again!  Still!  Here was his mother, coming closer to him.  And she was carrying one of the precious bottles of something for him to drink that he now craved so much.  He didn’t miss the cattle prod in Judy’s hand, and he knew how quick she was to use it.  He had already seen her use it on his mother.  He could tell that his mother was still hurting from where she had been zapped by it.

As his mother approached, he couldn’t look anywhere except into her eyes.  As much as he wanted to, he dared not make a single sound…other than the allowed chicken noises.  What must his mother think of him now?  Why couldn’t they have killed him before this?  As they approached, he saw a tear roll down his mother’s cheek.  She was trying to be brave, but he could only imagine what she was feeling inside.

Judy and Tess stopped right in front of Chrissy.  Chrissy and his mother could only look at each other.  There were tears on both sides.

“Enough tears,” Judy said.  “Besides his regular feedings, he gets four of those bottles every day.  You’re going to have to feed them to him.  According to my dad, he needs more than just chicken feed to live on.  Personally, I disagree.  But the stuff in that bottle is a nutrient drink that dad says he can probably live on for the rest of his life.  So he gets four of them every day, plus he gets fed with the other chickens.  You’ll be helping with that too in a little while.  He’s lucky.  Since it’s getting close to award time for the livestock and everything else, we’re up to feeding the birds three times a day now instead of two.  Otherwise, he’d be eating a whole lot less.”

Tess barely took it in.  She was too enmeshed in her distraught feelings for her son as they continued to stare at each other.

“Now stick that bottle in his beak and hold it there so he can drink it.  It’s the only non-chicken like thing that we allow him.  And you have no idea how much I wish we didn’t have to.”

Hesitantly, Tess brought the baby bottle in her hand up.  She held it straight out toward his…beak.  She was surprised to see how Chrissy’s attention was suddenly caught on that bottle as he opened his beak and practically lunged for it.  Sucking and drinking it greedily. 

“I wish he didn’t seem to like that junk so much either,” Judy muttered as she stood there and watched.

The bottle finished far faster than Tess imagined.  The moment it was empty, Judy pulled her away from Chrissy and back into the house where they couldn’t see each other.  In minutes, she was back to doing the family’s laundry, but her thoughts remained solely on her son.  What had they done to him?

A little while later, Tess was back in the chicken pen, this time following Judy around as Judy spread chicken feed for all the birds.  She saw Chrissy watching them, staying close, but not too close.  This time, instead of carrying a baby bottle, Tess was holding the cattle prod.  She knew Chrissy was watching the thing as closely as he was watching her.

Judy made her way all around the pen with her bucket.  Finally, she stopped, right in front of Chrissy.  “Your turn,” she said to Tess.  She set the bucket down and took the cattle prod from Tess.  Reach into the bucket and pull out a handful.

Tentatively, Tess grabbed a handful of the chicken food.

“Hold it out in your hand toward him,” Judy directed.

Tess extended her hand with the feed in it toward her son.  Just the thought of him having to eat that…junk…made her queasy, but the sight of him almost desperately diving his head down toward her hand to get at it surprised her.  She felt all the pressure as his beak went up and down against her hand and she felt his lips and tongue scrape her palm over and over again.  He chewed it somewhat, but not much.  Mostly he seemed to just get it into his mouth, chew slightly, swallow, then dive back for more as fast as he could.  She finally realized he wasn’t just hungry, he was starving!

When the feed in her hand was gone, Judy had her get another handful, but this time she made her hold it out for him even lower, so Chrissy had to bend over further to get it.  Once again he desperately ate every bit of it.  Judy had her do it again, a third time, but this time when Chrissy was done, Judy picked up the bucket and pulled Tess away.

“That’s all he gets.  He’s a chicken.  He doesn’t need anymore.”

Tess wanted to cry at that thought.  Tortured.  Starved.  No matter what they wanted of him, Chrissy would have no choice but to do it.  She already knew Chrissy wanted to die, but still, even now, that was the last thing she wanted for him.  Chrissy had to live!  But she still had to wonder, maybe death, for both of them, would be better.

 

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Day after day.  Four bottles a day plus three feedings.  They were the only interactions Tess was allowed with her son.  As little as it was, she was grateful for that much.  The rest of the time she spent cleaning inside Liz’s house where she couldn’t see him.  But the truth was, other than those few times of interaction, she didn’t want to see him.  She didn’t want to see what they had done to…him.

Chrissy was getting used to his boring life wandering around the chicken pen.  But a few days after his mother had arrived, he couldn’t help but notice when Judy and her mother came into the pen.  But this time, instead of having that cattle prod, they had other things.  Still, he didn’t dare make one move or one sound while they…measured him.  All over.  In strange ways.  Including measuring that metal disk that was where he peed through now.  And then they were gone.  He had to wonder what that had been about, but as always, he was afraid to know.  But something told him he would find out…eventually.

A few days later, after Deputy Mike came home, the deputy and Judy came into the chicken pen, carrying a bunch of metal and leather strips.  Chrissy had no idea what they for, but the fact that they were heading for him didn’t bode well.  He cowered against the far fence as they approached.

Judy grabbed him and pulled him away from the fence, then they began fitting the straps to him.  As far as Chrissy could tell, it seemed to be some kind of harness that went over his shoulders and down his chest and his back.  There were metal pieces that stuck way out from his front as if he had a big belly or something, and he could tell there was more metal stuck way out behind him too.  But then he felt them doing something with that metal disk that covered his cock before the straps came up through his crotch and split wide around his anus.  Then they seemed to fasten that to the straps going down his back.  Tightening it all.

“Looks good, dad,” Judy said as they surveyed their work.

“Yeah,” Mike agreed.  “So far, I think it’s coming nicely.”

With that, Chrissy was left alone, but now, he had…a metal something secured to his body that made moving around that much more difficult.  A few minutes later, Mike was back in the pen, this time carrying a hammer.  Chrissy heard banging inside the coop, then the deputy left.  He had no idea what that had been about.

Tess and Judy headed out to the chicken pen a little while later with Chrissy’s last baby bottle of the day.  This time, the moment Tess got into the pen she stopped and stared.  “What’s that?” she asked, seeing the contraption that Chrissy appeared to be wearing. 

Judy chuckled.  “The next part of his new life,” she replied.  “Now feed him and let’s get this over with.  I know dad is waiting to take you home.

As always, Chrissy was desperate to drink the bottle.  While he drank, Tess studied the contraption.  Vague ideas for it formed in her mind.  None of those ideas pleased her at all.

That night, when Chrissy headed into the chicken coop to sleep, he saw that the back of his coop had been removed to make room for the thing he was now stuck in.  When he sat on his nest, he could feel the leather straps under him.  There was nothing he could do about it.  Nothing, except sit there like a chicken and go to sleep.

Two days later, Mike and Judy came into his pen again, this time Chrissy saw them carrying a large pile of what looked like feathers.  White feathers.  And once again they pulled him away from the far fence to work on him.

When Tess was allowed out a little while later to give Chrissy his last bottle of the day, she stood at the gate aghast.  Chrissy now had wings!  Chicken wings!  Complete with feathers.  And worse, they looked awfully lifelike.

“Flap your wings for your mother,” Judy ordered.

Chrissy dutifully pumped his arms up and down.  The exercise was difficult because the wings they had attached to his harness weren’t small.  In fact, to him, they were huge.  As he pumped them up and down he could feel them spreading out, then contract each time.  Going from folded wings to spread wide.  He saw his mother turn around.  Turning her back to him.  He couldn’t blame her.  He turned, completely ashamed, and walked away.

“Chrissy!  Get your chicken ass over here!” Judy yelled.  “Or do you want to feel my cattle prod again?”

Chrissy stopped and turned.  So did Tess.  She was crying.  She felt so bad for her son she didn’t know what to do.  She hurried over to him.  “It’s okay Chrissy.  It’s okay.  Here,” she said as she held the bottle out.  “Drink it.  I know you need it.”

Chrissy looked from her to the bottle.  But he was thirsty and hungry.  He moved closer, then opened his beak and took the bottle in his mouth. 

Tess fed him…while tears rolled down her cheeks.

In the days to follow, Chrissy’s costume filled out more and more.  Chicken wire was now attached to the metal frame in such a way as to form more of a chicken body for him.  The chicken wire was soon covered in fabric…which was itself covered in feathers.  The way the costume was fitted on him, he had no trouble peeing or pooping in it since the costume seemed to be tight against him in both places.  And each day, he saw the tears on his mother’s face as she fed him his feed and his bottles.

For Tess, it seemed like every day brought new horrors for her son.  New horrors that she had to see.  And every day, it was as if more of her son was disappearing.  The huge foam chicken feet they gave him made his walking more difficult than ever.

For Tess, the last straw came when they fitted a cap over Chrissy’s head.  It was not just covered in soft feathers, it was tight.  Before putting it on him, Judy had used styling jell to push his hair and bangs back out of the way.  The cap with feathers covered most of his head.  After that, Judy glued small soft feathers onto every patch of leftover skin on his face so there was nothing left to see but his eyes, his beak, and the feathers.  A chicken head.  Perfectly!  Made more so by the beak sticking out from his face.

Tess broke down and sobbed on her knees when she saw it.  Her son was gone.  But he wasn’t.  He was in there…somewhere.  She just could no longer see any sign of him. 

Chrissy thought there was nothing left they could do to him.  As far as anyone would be able to see, he was a chicken now.  The fact that nobody could see his face was the only good thing about his situation he could find.  But he was wrong.  Judy wasn’t done yet.  Not by a long shot.  Now that he looked and acted completely like a chicken, this was where his training was really going to begin.

Early one morning, after the feeding and after his first bottle, Judy came into the pen.  She had her cattle prod in one hand, and something else in her other hand.  Something small.  Chrissy had no idea what she wanted now, but he was afraid all the same.

Judy placed the tip of the cattle prod right up against him, but she didn’t hit the switch.  Chrissy wondered if he would even feel it though all the feathers he was wearing.  That would help if he couldn’t, but the thing still scared him.  “Don’t move!” Judy threatened. 

Chrissy wouldn’t have dreamed of giving her any trouble.  With the prod still touching him, she walked around to the side of him.  She knelt down and took the hardboiled egg in her hand and pushed the small end of it against his ass.  Chrissy moved forward a step.  “I said don’t move!” she yelled immediately.  Chrissy stood still.  “Don’t tighten up.  Relax!” Judy ordered.

It was all Chrissy could do to do that.  He felt her pushing something against his ass again…pushing it…into his ass.  Pushing it up inside his ass.

“Damn that’s tight!” Judy complained.  “Too tight!  Now squat down.”

Chrissy wasn’t sure what was going on.  Squat?  With all the junk he was wearing?

“I said squat down!” Judy yelled as she pushed harder against him with her cattle prod.

Chrissy did his best to squat down.  “Now push it out,” Judy said next.  “Push it out of your ass.”

Chrissy had already been trying to do that, ever since the moment whatever it was got pushed up into him.  He had to work at it a bit, but eventually he managed to push whatever had been in him…out.  Whew!

“Shit!” Judy exclaimed.  “You broke it!”  She grabbed the hardboiled egg and stuck it in front of his face.  “You broke the damn shell!  Next time, be more careful.”  With that, she angrily strode off, out of the pen.

Chrissy stared after her.  An egg?  She was teaching him to lay eggs now?  What next?

The next day, Judy was back, but instead of another boiled egg, she had a few other things in her hand.  Once again Chrissy had to endure something being shoved up his ass, but this time that thing felt like it was going to rip him apart before she was satisfied.  Then to make matters worse, instead of letting him push the thing out, she tied rope around his entire costume to keep whatever it was in him.  He wanted to take a shit in the worst way, but he couldn’t.  He spent the entire day unable to sit down, wanting badly to shit – anywhere!  But the next day, when Judy brought out another boiled egg, it not only went in easier, it came out easier.  Of course, Chrissy’s ass was still sore.  He had a feeling it might not ever be well again.

 

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Sheriff Tom Bastien was surprised to see the man walk into the police station.  And by the look of him, Tom had no doubt that he was a farmhand that worked with the cows.  The situation was so unusual that he left his inner private office to find out what the guy wanted.

Deputy Wyatt was manning the outer office just then.  “What can I do for you?” Wyatt asked the man.

“They said I need to talk to the sheriff about something,” the man replied.

“What?” the sheriff asked, worried about something serious.

“My boss, Mr. Stockoff, said you’re the one I have to ask.”

Definitely a farm hand, Tom concluded.  “What’s your name?”

“Burt.  They call me Burty though.”

Something about that name registered in the sheriff’s mind.  “And what did you want to know Burty?” he asked.

Burty plucked up his courage.  “At the next festival,” Burty said.  “I want to know if I can have Chrissy all to myself for a while so I can dance with her.”

At that point, the connection was completely made for the sheriff.  “You’re Chrissy’s…uh…boyfriend.”

Burty smiled broadly.  “I love her!” he said.  “She’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.  And she makes me just so…excited!  So can I?  Can I dance with her?”

It was all Tom could do to keep from laughing.  Wyatt though, couldn’t help himself and laughed out loud.  “Sorry Burty.  Not this time.  This time I can pretty much guarantee that Chrissy won’t be able to dance with you.  But maybe at the next festival.  Check back before then.”

“You mean it might be possible?” Burty replied hopefully.

“Trust me Burty,” the sheriff replied.  “I think I’d get a big kick out of seeing it.”  Once again Wyatt laughed.

“So you think it would be a good thing for me to dance with her,” Burty concluded.  He looked up at the sheriff.  “I’m hoping more than ever that someday I can marry her.  That would be…the greatest thing in the world.  A real dream come true.”

Tom had to fight harder than ever to keep from laughing.  He held it until Burty was out the door, then bent over laughing so hard he could barely stand it.  He couldn’t wait to tell the rest of the family about…Burty.  He could already picture that wedding in his mind.

 

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