Vic knocked on the classroom door to gain Herbie's attention. Herbie sat on the edge of the desk, flipping through some of his notes. He looked up to see Vic standing there, smiling. Vic wore only his faded bibs cuffed up to mid-calf and slip-on deck shoe flats. Herbie smirked, knowing that showing up like this, minus the camouflage of a shirt over the top of the overalls, was a clear sign of Victor's final surrender.

Herbie got up and approached him. Victor looked around the room, which had been returned to its original pristine classroom state. "I think I miss all the barnyard paraphernalia, sir."

"Yeah, well, even with this room being at the far end of this wing and only used once in a blue moon, we'd have been discovered eventually. It was less trouble than you think to clear the room out with eight hypnotized slaveboy chickens ready and willing to serves as a strike crew, whether or not they knew what they were doing."

Victor nodded. "And to run everything back to the drama department's scene shop."

Herbie scrutinized Vic. He hadn't been with the other chickens when the move was made. How did he know that was where the scenery went? Vic caught Herbie's look.

"I mean, I'm assuming. That is where you got all that stuff, right? I figured you want to put it back before it was missed." Herbie pursed his lips and made a "hmm" sound, considering it. "I've got your stuff ready", Vic added quickly, presenting Herbie with a thick binder.

Herbie took the binder and flipped it open. As he began to turn pages, giving Vic's secretarial handiwork a cursory glance, he commented, "Nice outfit by the way."

"Thought you'd like it", Vic beamed.

"You always did look better without a shirt. You come all the way over here like that?"

Vic smiled. "Yup. Have a T-shirt, but it's stuffed in my side pocket. Just feels better this way."

"So where's your straw hat?"

"That comes later", Victor grinned.

Herbie was about to ask what that remark meant, when the pages he was turning finally registered with him. "Holy shit, Vic. This--this is fucking incredible."

Vic bounced a bit on the balls of his feet, relishing the approval. "Look at this here", he said, indicating different entries. "Every one of your notes has been typed up in archival format with dates, times, research, the works. And see here", he flipped forward to a tabbed page, "this is a variety of suggestions and suppositions on how your research may be put to use to better benefit the field of hypnotherapy." Victor began to get even more excited. "Oh, oh, oh! And there's this--", and he turned pages rapidly to find a new section, separated by a cardboard divider. "This is a run-down of all those patients who could never be treated by hypnosis before, those unresponsive to being hypnotized, ADD kids, even epileptics, who could potentially get successful treatment using your device."

Herbie nodded with approval. If everything Vic had done was this impressive, Herbie was not only looking at graduation with honors, but possibly a hefty research grant. "Very nice work, chicken boy." Herbie considered allowing his favorite slaveboy a hypnotically-enhanced orgasm or something as reward.

"If you like that, you're really gonna like this", Vic added, handing a white 9x12 envelope to Herb.

"What's this?" Herbie opened the envelope and pulled out a variety of impressive-looking documents. It took a moment for him to register what they were, and what their presence represented. Then--"Holy shit!"

"I've started the process of registering your heat-projector machine for patents and trademarks at Library of Congress", Vic smiled.

Herbie flipped through the pages, scanning them quickly. "And everything's in MY name! My name alone! You're not even mentioned."

"Wellll...let's call a spade a spade, Herbie. This whole thing was your baby from the start. I took the liberty of doing my own thesis on the side. Next to yours, it's pretty lame, but this way nobody's crowding you out of the spotlight." Herbie was about to say something else, but Vic spoke first. "Annnd, you're gonna want to see this." He held out a smaller, gold envelope, of about 5x7", it's back flap sealed with a single red die-cut sunburst sticker.

Herbie took the envelope and opened it up. Inside were a variety of very tastefully-printed invitations. Silver foil ink, embossed on gray speckled card stock. "Are-are these announcements for a presentation of my final thesis?" Herbie saw that was exactly what they were. "These invitations are addressed to the heads of the university! The provost, Chancellor Hardcourt--" he flipped through them. reading names-- "who the hell are all of these people??"

Vic leaned in, looking at the invitations. "Just a handful of impressively influential folks from around the city. If you're going to have your praises sung, it should at least by people whose voices could open a few doors for you."

Herbie didn't know what to say. He kept looking at the invites over and over, then something occurred to him. "There are no dates on these things."

"Oh, those are just the original draft copies the print shop made for my approval", Vic said off-handedly. "The real invitations have already gone out."

"They have?? When am I supposed to give this thing?!"

"Soon." Vic saw Herbie's look of concern and waved it away. "Don't worry, you have plenty of time. Here are your notes--" and Vic handed Herb a small stack of 3x5 note cards that ran through his speech step-by-step. "Now", Vic said, a wicked glint in his eye, "you wanna see where I hang my hat?"

Herbie eyed him suspiciously. "Meaning--?"

"We got the Chi Iota Kappa frat house. Some of the guys are over there already. Wanna go see 'em?"

"Hell, yeah!" Herbie could not have been happier. All of his cruel fantasies and twisted dreams seemed to be coming true.

Vic stepped back and with a grand gesture opened the door for his master. "Well, let's go, then!" Herbie strode out of the door with his head held high, anxious for what awaited him. And for the first time in months, so did Vic.

The duo made their way across campus rapidly. Victor pulled on his T-shirt over his bibs for the journey. Upon arriving at the fraternity house, which was a nice two-story job, Herbie and Vic found the two new young fratboys, the brunette and the black-haired boy, standing sentinel on either side of the doors, in full bumpkin regalia of bibs, bare feet, and straw hats. As Herbie made his way up the walk, they actually saluted.

"Master Herbie", said the brunette.

"Welcome to Chi Iota Kappa", said the other. "Our home truly is your home." The two boys reached over to the double-door entrance and opened them wide for their commander and chief to enter. He did so, with a regal, approving nod, and entered. And immediately wished he hadn't.

"What the fuck is all this??!", Herbie cried.

The frat house of Chi Iota Kappa (or the Chicken Coop, as it was now affectionately called) was wall-to-wall with shirtless bibbed barefoot chicken boys getting it on in every nook in cranny of every room. There were close to fifty young chickens in plain sight--in the living room, the entrance hall, on the stairs, in the kitchen--and Herbie could hear others running around upstairs. Vic closed the doors behind them and indicated the various scenes of debauchery unfolding all around them. Frat boys now in the guise of farm boys made out on the couch, behind the furniture, on the coffee table, under the coffee table. Those who weren't engaged in kissing, fondling, or more aggressive pursuits squatted their way along the floor, bucking and clucking like the chickens they believed they were.

The variety of boys, in both physical appearance and personality, was staggering. There were scrawny goth kids with wild, dyed black hair, tightly-muscled athletic kids with military crew cuts. Kids with thoughtful eyes under wire-rimmed spectacles and stringy, unkempt hair clucked alongside freshly-scrubbed, freckle-faced boys with hair neatly parted and gelled in place. Impressively-built frat boys in bib overalls made out with underweight bookish lads in straw hats. From all walks of campus life, these boys had been dressed as farm boys and remade as gay chickens.

Herbie didn't think there were this many freshmen in any given fraternity, and realized they had to have been recruited from all over campus. Possibly even other campuses, as there were literally over a dozen faces in view that he did not recognize. Then he noticed something else. Not all these boys were young freshmen, either. Given just a cursory glance, Herbie placed their age range from 18-20. Maybe a few a year or two older, to boot.

Herbie heard a surge of uncomfortable groaning coming from about twenty feet away, which stood out from the cacophony of joyous clucks and moans. At end of living room, a gorgeous straight boy with the build of a football player and the face of a 22-year-old wrestled in vain against the hold of a small army of younger, scrawnier hillbilly chickens. The other boys held the upper classmen down on an overstuffed chair as an additional boy focused a hypnotic heat beam on him from its projector. The older jock was buck (buck, buck) naked, and writhing against what was being one to him. With this many converts, subtlety was no longer a major concern.

The naked athlete pushed against the chair, whose cushiony upholstery gave him little purchase. "No!", he cried. "NO, let me GO, you little fuckers!" The beam began to do its work rapidly, however, as one boy whispered inductions into the jocks ear and he slowly stopped fighting it. As boys held tight to his wrists and ankles, others gently and lovingly stroked his chest and thighs. Another boy wormed his way into the mix and squeezed in between the jock's muscular legs. Leaning forward, the newcomer began to suck the jock off. The jock's head thrashed slowly form side to side, his resistance fading.

"N-no...'m not gay...'m not a chicken...'m not a chick...chick...buck. Buck-buck-buck! Berrrawwwk-buk-buk-buk-Buh-KAWWWK!!" Herbie saw that a rumpled pair of stonewashed bibs and straw hat awaited the older jock inductee, tossed over a chair back nearby.

Herbie whirled on Vic, his eyes wild with confusion. "HOW did the heat projector get here? We just left it back at the classroom! It couldn't--! Not all these guys, not in so little time--!" At that moment, an adorable young freshmen farm boy with strawberry blond, curly hair ran right into Herbie, knocking his over and sending his victorious presentation cards flying all over the carpet.

"So sorry, so sorry, was going to meet my new chicken boyfriend and I didn't see--" The adorable lad looked up and recognized the person with whom he'd collided. "Master Herbie!" His eyes were like saucers. "Oh, sir, oh master, I am SO sorry, let me get these for you!" The boy moved at lightning speed to collect the fallen note cards.

Herbie leapt to his feet and fired daggers at Vic with his eyes. "EXPLAIN yourself, you miserable little--!"

"Um, well, Master Herbie, sir", Vic said calmly, kicking off his shoes, "you're the one whose due to do some explaining. Like, to the provost, the chancellor, the head of the Psych department, um...the mayor."

Herbie looked at Vic blankly. "Whuh--what--?"

"Just some of the guests coming to hear your fabulous thesis presentation. Did I forget to mention? You're scheduled to give it here. In about, oh--" and Vic looked at his bare wrist, pantomiming checking the time on a watch, "--three minutes."

"WHAT?!!", Herbie screamed. "You can't be serious!!"

Vic shrugged. "Well, y'know, give or take a minute."

Herbie stood there aghast, with his mouth hanging open, trying to say something, but only spluttering. Vic yanked off his shirt and lobbed it across the room to flop behind a chair occupied by two chickenized frosh making out.

Herbie looked about frantically at the rampant sexual chaos, then whirled around to look past a slender doorside window where he spotted his special guests' cars arriving. To Vic, he blabbered, "This can't be happening! I had everything worked out! I had control of you!"

Vic grinned. "You still do, boss. And I followed your orders to the letter. Never said a word against you. Everyone here thinks you're practically a god." Vic turned to face the room. "Hey, guys! This is Herbie, my master!" Vic pointed at Herbie eagerly. "He's responsible for ALL this!"

Every boy in the crowded room turned and whooped and hollered in glorious approval. A small huddle of barefoot boys in straw hats who appeared to be football scholarship students cheered out in unison, "You RULE, Herbie!!", then went back to their four-way.

Vic smiled at Herbie. "And as you can see, I sure as hell advanced the project."

Herbie's heart was in his throat. "You--you shouldn't have been able to interpret my commands this way--I altered you, I changed you at a core level-- you-you're--"

Vic's smile was so bright it was brilliant. "Hey, I'm just a fag slave, Master Herbie." He then snatched a straw bird's nest hat from a nearby stack of them, cheerfully plopped it atop his head and announced, "And I am what I was meant to be--an inexperienced, cute young gay man. I'm a chicken."

With that, Vic spun around and threw himself down on the carpeted steps beside none other than industrial design student Henry, who, like everyone there, was also dressed in faded bib overalls and nothing else. Reaching over to take him in his arms, Vic grinned, "C'mere, you little chicky, you." Henry was delighted to oblige and the two made out on he steps, happily stroking and caressing one another as they did. And as an added bonus, since Henry was already lying upon the steps, he had no risk of falling if he swooned.

And just like that, Herbie's former partner in crime, Vic, was gone. He was now just another one of the many poor innocent college boys that Herbie had subjugated to his will by way of his devilish machine and his evil scheming. Herbie was on his own.

The doorbell rang.

Herbie inhaled so sharply that the room's temperature dropped. Seeing no easy escape (all the exits were blocked by chicken boys making love like hillbilly satyrs), Herbie looked once more to Vic. "Chicken Vic! I command you to hel--"

There was a strong knock at the door. Vic looked up for a moment, grinned, and said, "You really ought'a get that, sir. I think it's for you." Then went back to kissing Henry.

The door opened and the college chancellor stuck his head in. "Hello? Is this the fraternity house for Chi Iota Kappa--WHAT in GOD'S name--?!!"

An august gathering of five men and two women stood in the doorway. Herbie looked at the cluster of authority figures in abject terror. "Chancellor Hardcourt! Why-why what a surprise, you being here! Can-can you believe this insane depravity? I-I-I just can't imagine what's going on here! We should leave this place immediately, call campus security--!"

"Cut the act", Hardcourt said with venom. "Herbert, did you or did you not send out these invitations to your--" and he referred to the card he held in his hand, "--glorious moment of triumph spitting in the face of all of you academic and authoritative morons."

"What? Let me see that!" Herbie grabbed the invitation and read with mounting horror.

You are cordially invited to witness my glorious Moment of Triumph as I enslave hordes of incoming university students and spit in the face of the tyranny of you academic and authoritative morons. My newly-gay homosexual army of brainless young chickens will stand as testament to my POWER and help me gain my rightful place as a master of men's minds and God of Psychological Warfare. (Please bring no presents, your attendance is the only gift I require.) Punch served afterward during Q & A session.

"We all got one", said a thickly-built balding man with and expression that deterred disrespect. Herbie had no idea who he was.

"And you are--?"

"The Chief of Police."

Herbie gulped, hard. Then, very softly, he said, "I believe I can explain all this. You see, what started as an innocent psychology class experiment was taken over by my twisted and power-hungry lab partner, Victo--"

"Unc!" Herbie's feeble backpedaling was interrupted by a gloriously handsome boy with a body like an Olympic gymnast and a smile straight from a toothpaste ad. Like the rest of the coop, he was in bibs and straw hat and nothing else. He spoke directly to the police chief. "Man, you just gotta tell my dad how awesome this frat is! I am so glad I'm legacy--if he hadn't made me pledge, I never would have found my true self!" With that, he grabbed hold of a nearby boy who had simply been walking by, and planted a tremendously passionate kiss on him. The boy was so taken by the experience that he threw one arm around the other and led him off to do who knows what. Over his shoulder, the first boy said to the chief, "Later, Uncle Dwayne!"

The police chief looked at Herbie with burning coals where his eyes had been, and said through clenched teeth. "That...was...my...nephew."

Herbie offered a meek smile. "Handsome lad."

Before the police chief could reach over and wring Herbie's neck, two more deliriously happy farm boys appeared. They both looked remarkably similar, not so much that they could pass for twins, but it was very clear that they were at least siblings, no more than a year apart in age. "Heeyyy", the first one said, acting a bit drunk, although there was no smell of liquor on his breath, "you have got to give this guy here", and he pointed at Herbie, "some kind of commendation or something."

The brother draped an arm affectionately around his sibling and added, "If it wasn't for ol' Master Herbie, we'd have probably kept right on searching everywhere for happiness--"

And the first brother finished the thought, "--and never realized it was right in front of us the entire time." And the two boys shared a delicate kiss.

The university provost looked at the sharp-dressed woman beside him in the red blazer and tasteful jewelry. "Mayor Wilkins, aren't these two--?"

The mayor answered, looking stricken. "The county magistrate's sons."

Herbie closed his eyes and felt his stomach drop by twelve inches. "Incest. Nice touch."

The provost chastised the loving brothers. Pointing to the first one, he said, "But you're dating Jude Phillip's daughter!"

The brother shrugged. "She'll get over it. When you find true love, nothing else matters." And he looked into the eyes of his sibling. "Does it?"

The brother smiled back at him. "Nope. And if she can't deal, we'll just revert to chickens and cluck until she gets the hint and goes away." The two waved politely to the mayor and the provost and returned to the party going on behind them.

Herbie looked at the infuriated counsel before him and wondered how it could possibly get any worse. He didn't have long to wonder.

"Dad!" A delighted farm boy threw his arms around the chancellor and gave him a big hug.

The chancellor pulled the affectionate boy away and gasped, "Julian? Is that you??"

"Sure is, Dad. In the flesh. The bare-armed, barefooted lot of it." Then, leaning in close, Julian adjusted the brim of his straw hat and said in a conspiratorial tone, "Dad, I gotta tellya, this whole need for participation in a thesis study is the best damned idea you've ever had for maintaining incoming grants. This thesis experiment is AWEsome. It's opened up a whole new world for me!"

Chancellor Hardcourt looked his son up and down, trying to take his transformation in. "Yes, yes I see that, Julian..."

Another boy, a slender junior with dirty blond hair, tapped Julian on the shoulder. "Yo, Jules. Zack's gonna show a bunch of us in the other room the best way to give head. You comin'?"

"You bet!", Julian beamed. Then, to his father, he said, "Gotta go, Dad. Wouldn't want to do any less than take full part in this experiment. Gotta set a good example!" And he spun on his heel and left, giving his father a full view of his firm little ass, which stuck out as his rear drop seat swung unbuttoned behind him.

The chancellor looked at Herbie and said in a low tone that portended great violence, "Tell me why I shouldn't let Police Chief Barnabus beat you to death right now."

Herbie had nowhere to go. "You-you can't possibly believe I'm responsible or all this! What proof is there, other than the ramblings of a bunch of college kids who are OBvisouly terrible confused and unwell!"

The mayor held up a folder. "How about the copies of your original research notes you sent us along with each invitation?"

And the provost indicated a large envelope he carried. "Or the copies of your patent application forms?"

"Oh! And you'll need these videotapes", offered the adorable lad with the strawberry blond curls. He zipped in, handed four VHS tapes to the chancellor and then ducked out again before Herbie could say anything. "And these photos!", and the lad tossed over a packet of Herbie's 8x10 stills and was gone again.

"I-I-I--", Herbie blubbered. "This is all some massive conspiracy perpetrated to frame me! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL THIS!!"

The strawberry blond kid leapt up and hollered, "Let's hear it for Herbie, who changed our lives and helped us find your true selves!"

The entire household came alive with cheers, as every barefoot, shirtless boy jumped up and down in a grand ovation to Herbie. Straw hats were tossed in the air, some boys even paused in the midst of kissing, fucking, or blowing one another to add their voices to the cheer. Then, as one man, every boy went down on one knee, removed his hat (those who had one), placed his hat--or hand--over his heart and chanted in full, strong voice.

"I'm nothing but a chicken! I'm a gay young man and I'm here beside my boyfriend who is nothing but a chicken, too! Herbie is my master and I am wholly his to command!"

Herbie wanted to collapse in on himself and disintegrate. "You...you can't possibly tell me that you believe all this..."

Chancellor Hardcourt grabbed Herbie's wrist and pulled out the speech cards which he still held in a viselike grip. The Chancellor looked at the first card and simply said, "Mm-HM!" He showed the card to the mayor and the police chief, who both nodded grimly.

"What? What's it say??", Herbie grabbed back the card and read:

YES, I DID IT AND I'M GLAD My Thesis Presentation~ How I Used My Evil Heat-Generating Hypnosis Ray To Make Young Boys Turn Gay Part I: The Initial Enslavement- Introduction a. Why gay farm boys get me hot/perverting the innocent b. ritual humiliation in hypnosis/the chicken fetish

Herbie's eyes bulged. These were not the cards Vic gave him back at the classroom. What sleight of hand trick had switched them? Then he realized. "That kid! The curly-headed one! He bumped into me and knocked me down! He must've switched the cards! These are NOT my cards!"

The chancellor looked sternly at Herbie. "Which kid?"

"One of the ones who was turned into a faggot chicken by hypnotic heat projector, jackass!!" Herbie clasped his hands over his mouth, but it was already too late. He looked back at Vic, who was still sprawled on the steps, arm-in-arm with Henry. Herbie mouthed one word at his former partner and best friend. "How?"

Vic mouthed back, "You said don't mess with the report. You never mentioned your notes, cards, or anything else." He smiled, waved a goodbye with fluttering fingers.

Herbie lowered his head as the police chief grabbed him roughly from behind. "It'd be a very good idea if you come with us, young man." And with that, they carted Herbie off. The provost and the chancellor discussed sending someone over to help clean up the mess and se if they couldn't find a way to undo the damage that this deranged young psychopath had done. Henry and Vic watched them go.

"He sure doesn't look very happy", Henry observed.

"Ah, well", Vic mused, "he should get plenty of that forced gay man sex humiliation he's so fond of where he's going."

Henry looked at Vic. "Guess they're gonna be sending people over here to round everyone up and assess the situation pretty soon. We better get busy."

"Yes", Vic agreed. "Busy but organized. Can't go running around like chickens with our heads cut off." Henry rolled his eyes and the two headed for the basement.

The cement floor in the basement of Chi Iota Kappa was uncarpeted. It's furnishings were sparse, and what accommodations there were, had been at least thrice-owned and were now held together with duct tape. But for this afternoon it fulfilled its purpose, providing a moderately safe haven away from the anarchy that was going on a flight above, and effective in partly muffling the sound.

Vic and Henry descended the wooden stairs and found the original six chickens seated around the room. Jamie and Acker were together on a hideous green-striped couch, Carson and Rickie sat on two sorely overused mismatched kitchen chairs, and Coffee and Bry shared a gigantic beanbag. Vic was thrown for a moment by the sound of Henry's voice droning on as they came into the room. He soon realized the voice was coming from a tape recorder set atop two milk crates.

"Again, you will remember how you were before you met Herbie. You will recall everything about who you were, how you felt, how you thought. The more you think about it, the easier it is to recall everything. You are fully aware of how you've spent the past months--"

"How goes it?", Vic asked.

Bry reached over and turned off the recorder. He shrugged, looking a bit uneasy. Everybody in the cramped room looked uneasy.

Carson leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs, massaging his temples with his fingertips. "It goes as well as can be expected", he mumbled.

Vic looked around the sparse room and realized that Henry's makeshift heat projector was still in use upstairs. "You guys can undo all of your hypnotic conditioning without the heat thing?"

"They've already been doing the heat projector thing", Henry clarified. "Now it's just a matter of some reinforcement."

"Henry's been working with us for the better part of a week", Acker said. "Damn near around the clock."

Henry stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I realize my voice isn't the best thing to listen to over and over, but since Vic couldn't do anything to help you guys--"

Vic rested a hand on Henry's shoulder. "You did fine."

Jamie ran his hands through his hair. "God, what we've been through all this time--! Can you fucking believe it??"

"Well, you look more like yourselves, anyway", Vic noted, indicating that all the boys were back into their own clothes and out of the hillbilly attire. "Is it all coming back to you? Who you really are, I mean?"

Jamie let out a derisive laugh, more of a snort, and put his head in his hands. "God, I do. I'm a guy who likes boys." Vic looked very worried and turned to Henry, who seemed as confused as he was. Jamie looked up and saw their concern. He brushed it away with a dismissive wave. "Oh, no. My mind's not still herb-roasted, if that's what you're thinking." He sighed. "I've known there was something different about me since I was little. Like summer-after-kintergarten little. I started to get an inkling of what was different about me around third grade, knew for sure by the time I started junior high. And I've been trying to hide it ever since." He looked up at the rest of the group. "Herbie may have forcibly put me into a situation I never wanted, but now that I'm out, I'm not going back in the closet of my own free will. I'm gay."

There was a moment of silence, then Acker spoke up. "But I'm not."

Jamie looked back at him, trying to appear hopeful. "You know it wasn't my idea to--you know, with you--" Acker nodded. Then Jamie asked, "Still friends?"

"Always." The two tapped knuckles on it.

"Well, I am certainly not gay", Carson said. "I may have gotten into it right along with everyone else, but I am so glad to have my own straight urges back in place. I am just a straight boy who was acting gay. That's all." Carson looked at Rickie.

"Well don't look at me! I'm straight, too!"

Carson smirked. "That's a relief, 'cause you're so not my type."

Vic walked over to Coffee and Bryce, who were still sitting very close together. "How about you guys?"

Coffee looked up, still seeming a bit frazzled. He had one hand wrapped tight around his chest, the other rubbing his shoulder. "I'm not sure. I feel like I'm back to my old self, but--"

Bry continued the sentence. "--We're not real sure what that means."

Vic looked at them questioningly. Coffee said, "The hypnosis made us do a lot of things, but the feelings we shared were real. I know it."

Bry nodded. "Me, too."

Vic raised an eyebrow. "So you guys were both gay already?"

Coffee thought about it. "I don't know for sure. It really never came up. We've been buddies forever, but--the time we spent forced to act out the role of lovers, it felt so--"

"--right", Bry said. Then, softer, he added, "I guess we have a bit of soul searching to do." He ran his hand gently over Coffee's shoulder.

"In the meantime, it might be a good idea to stop dressing alike, if only to avoid getting our asses kicked", Coffee suggested.

Vic smiled. "Good idea."

Carson pointed toward the ceiling. "So what about all the dozens of chickens up there?"

Vic looked at Henry, who explained, "A whole lot of them are on timers, in a way. They'll revert back to who they really are on their own. A bunch of the frat boys and jocks will think either it was a prank that they got a kick out of, or that they'd lost a bet or something. I doubt they'll go searching for Herbie to break his legs or anything."

Acker twisted his mouth into a sneer. "Pity."

Rickie said, "But if everybody just magically switches back on their own, what will they have to pin on Herbie?"

"Oh, well a handful of the kids will have to be reverted like you guys were", Henry clarified. "It can be done over several reversal hypnosis sessions. Like the police chief's nephew, the magistrate's kids, the chancellor's son. And those first two frat boys. They really think they're gay right now. Um, and chickens, too. They should be more than enough to get Herbie locked up."

Vic patted his ally on the back. "Thanks heavens the stalwart Henry thought there was something fishy about those flyers we were handing out and decided to investigate by following you guys around."

Rickie's eyes widened. "No shit, really?"

"No, but that'll be my story when they ask how I found out about everything about the experiment and snapped you out of it."

The general commotion going on above went up a notch in volume as the heavy trod of adult feet romped about the house, trying to contain the many boys who were flapping about, clucking like chickens. Other stern voices hollered for sex-crazed boys to get off one another, and break up their depraved farm boy sessions.

"Geez", Vic mused. "You'd think they'd never been in a hen house before."