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Perix was a hardened warrior, having served with distinction in scores of battles in service to his city-state. Yet, on a quiet spring morning, in the safety of his hometown, he had never been more scared in his life. The bull gripped his spear until his knuckles whitened, hardened muscles bulging as he flexed, and paced the stone street a block from the temple. His brown, leathery hide was already starting to warm from the sun’s rays, and his tail flicked about to ward off the flies which had started to accumulate. A family of rabbits walking in his direction crossed the street to avoid him, the mother pulling a child close to her side and giving him a side eye as they passed. “G-good morning, officer,” the father called, a strained smile on his lips. Perix nodded in reply, not wanting to speak in his bassy rumble of a voice and scare them further. He sighed as they walked out of view towards the marketplace, hanging his head. His officer’s medallion, a golden symbol of his station clasped to the sash adorning his nearly bare chest, caught the early morning sun and reflected into his eyes, causing him to squint. The constable corps had awarded it to him on his completion of the officer training program, a symbol of his transition from military to civilian life and, hopefully, a much-needed change of pace. But it was just another piece of metal, joining the boxful from the military now collecting dust in his quarters, symbols of a time in his life he would rather forget. Working up his courage, more so than he had ever needed when engaging in hand-to-hand combat or dodging cauldrons of boiling oil or charging into a phalanx of warriors, Perix crossed the street, hooves shaking the ground with each step. He was nearly eight feet tall and a mass of muscles, hearty white horns adorning his head. Civilian life as a constable came easy; most would-be criminals thought twice when they saw him approach, none reaching higher than his chest. In fact, he was a veritable giant among the world at large, striking fear into the hearts of enemy combatants as well as neighbors. Maybe that was about to change. The massive white columns of the temple towered overhead, making even Perix feel small, a rarity in his life. The top of the temple contained a carved mural of cows working in fields of plenty, tending healthy youth, and joyously conversing with one another, all while a smiling, shining benefactress stared down from the top of the depiction. His gaze lingered on the mural, as it had during most of his routes whenever he passed the temple. In stark contrast to the gaiety of the scene, he always felt a twinge of sadness and melancholy looking at it, but for the longest time could not say why. The depicted cows were locked in eternal happiness for as long as the stone held; perhaps he envied the joy that always felt fleeting in his life. Perix entered the temple, passing between two enormous stone pillars into the veranda. Robed cows in groups of twos and threes dotted the room, whispering among themselves as he entered. None reached more than five feet in height, and he towered above them all. He felt their glares upon his intrusion, cheeks burning. A tan spotted cow approached, hands clasped before her, expression neutral. “Good morning, officer Perix,” she said, voice even. “What may the servants of the goddess Ageladis do for you today?” Before he could speak, she continued, tone shifting, “But before you state your business, know that my sisters are under her protection. And, according to the city-state magistrate, this is an accepted sanctuary beyond the reach of law enforcement.” She glared up at Perix. “So if another abusive husband has the ear of the chief of police, know that you have no authority to force battered spouses to leave under duress. Officer.” Perix held up a hand, placating. “I am here for no such reason, ma’am. In fact, I’m not here on any official business.” “Then why [i]are[/i] you here?” she asked, crossing her arms. He lowered himself, as much as he was able, and asked in a quiet voice, “Is it possible for us to speak somewhere private? About a… delicate matter?” “What you say to one of us, you can say to all. I am head priestess, yes, but we are all Ageladis’s children. If it matters so much, why not visit your own temple? The bull god’s doors are open, surely?” Perix ran a thick hand over his scalp, sighing. He lifted his spear, holding its shaft in two places, then snapped it across his knee as though its hearty wood was no more than a twig. The crowd of cows gasped, muttering uncertainly to one another. Tossing the broken pieces aside, he dropped to his knees, closer to the priestess’s height now, and lowered his hands to the floor, palms up. “Please. I only wish to talk.” The cow’s expression softened, fingers running along the sleeves of her robes. “As you wish. Follow me.” Perix rose and followed the priestess through the veranda, down a hallway, along a series of makeshift rooms set aside by broad curtains. They arrived in the temple’s center, an open-aired atrium where a grove of trees was beginning to bud with new spring growth. “Walk with me, officer. My name is Alanys. Tell me: what business does a bull have in the cow goddess’s temple?” The cow drummed her fingers against her multitudinous rings as she walked, creating a tinny staccato rhythm matching the clopping of her hooves. He fidgeted with his fingers, not used to having his hands free. How should he begin, or even broach the subject? “I… trust your numbers are well? Ageladis’s adherents?” “...Well enough. There are plenty of cows in the city-state, with more arriving each day as the city grows. And with it, unfortunately, more in need of her assistance. Do you have a hobby in comparative religion, officer?” “Just Perix is fine, thank you. And, no, I simply… How does one… join the temple?” he asked, ducking under a branch and taking care not to scratch his horns against the wood. “Ageladis accepts any cow who seeks her protection, for as long as they need it. We turn away none who request sanctuary.” “She resides here, yes?” Alanys chuckled. “She is an immortal goddess. She travels where she wishes, defending cows across the world. Sometimes we are able to attend to her directly.” Perix stopped. Alanys walked a few more steps before turning around, brow raised. “How… difficult is it to speak with her? To ask her something?” “For a cow? Entering her chambers and beseeching her in prayer. For a bull? Out of the question. She is busy enough as it is already.” His heart pounded, mouth going dry. The moment had finally come, the thoughts buried then surfaced then stashed away then breaking through to the surface once more, undeniable, given voice for the first time. “And what about a bull who longs to be a cow?” The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow, painfully prolonged by Alanys’s unreadable expression. As the moments passed, part of him wanted to flee, to sprint from the temple with head hanging in shame, never to return. “Why would a bull wish such a thing?” she asked slowly. “Especially when a bull is successful, victorious on the battlefield, and heralded as a hero?” He hadn’t been rejected out of hand just yet. Perhaps he had a chance, heart leaping at the thought. “Perhaps those things aren’t worth as much as he had hoped. Perhaps a… ‘hero’ feels himself lessening with each day. Like there is a crack in a pitcher, with more and more water spilling away, more of himself being lost. He… [i]I[/i] remember as a child feeling more respect, more kinship with the cows in my family than with the bulls. The way they supported each other. The way they seemed so… [i]alive[/i]. My father found such behavior unbecoming of a bull. Anything perceived as feminine was beaten out of me: finding beauty in flowers, using these hands to paint and to sew and to mend before they became rough and gnarled, expressing emotions other than anger and rigid stoicism. “My body… I grew into this size as a teen and my father convinced me to join the military. After all, I had the height and the muscle for it; it would be a disservice [i]not[/i] to use it for violence and the glory of the city-state. I convinced myself it was the right thing to do. And… I was good at it. For a time, it quieted those lingering thoughts of what my life would have been like if I had been born differently. But not forever. Each victory, each medal made those feelings even stronger, more unavoidable. I can’t keep running away from those feelings anymore. If I do, I don’t know how much longer I can last.” It was finally out in the open, words left unsaid for years. Part of him was relieved to at last speak his heart’s deepest longing, another part certain that nothing good would come of it. Alanys said nothing, instead staring at a nearby greening tree. “Womanhood is far from easy,” she said softly. “If you are seeking it as a means of escaping your problems, that you think it might lead to a pampered, soft life of luxury, you are dearly mistaken. In many ways, the world treats you like a second-class citizen. You work just as hard but receive no praise for it. Falling outside of social expectations of beauty and womanhood leads to the strongest rebukes. To many, you are seen as less of a person and more a slab of meat with too many opinions. You have to live with the knowledge that a large portion of the population will always be bigger and stronger and you have to guard yourself and take precautions accordingly. There are joys, to be certain, but this is not an easy life.” “I never meant to imply otherwise. Mine is not a desire for anything as lofty as beauty or a life of comfort. I only want to, well, have a chance to feel complete for the first time in my life. To have a body that doesn’t frighten.” Alanys stroked her chin, then stared up at Perix, neck straining to meet his gaze. “This is highly uncommon, but very well. Hers is the chamber at the rear of the temple. Light the incense and, if she wishes, she will appear.” She stepped forward and pressed a finger against his abdomen. “But know this: she does not suffer liars. If she senses any falsehood in you or your intentions, you will not leave this temple alive. I… hope you are telling me the truth, Perix.” Perix nodded, clasping his hands. “Thank you. A chance is all I ask for.” Alanys led Perix out of the grove and back into the temple. A short walk led to a nondescript entrance to a darkened room. Alanys gestured and Perix parted the curtain to enter. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, stray traces of sunlight let in through gaps in the brickwork. Braziers were placed at even intervals around the room, unlit sticks of incense placed within. With quick work from a fire starter—a staple of cold, wet nights on the military campaigns—he lit each brazier, sweet-smelling smoke filling the air. He stood in the center of the room and waited, rehearsing the upcoming conversation in his mind. If Alanys was telling the truth, it would be a life-or-death encounter. He chuckled dryly to himself; what was his current life but a slow withering already? “Hello, little one,” a soft, resonant voice hummed. Perix turned and gasped. A spotted white cow stood before him, hands clasped before her. She wore rich purple robes with shining golden thread, the train of her garment reaching the floor. She had a soft, kind face, and the kind of comforting smile that instantly set him at ease. She towered above him at nearly ten feet tall, and his heart fluttered at her words. It had been so long since he had had to look up to meet eyes with someone. He knelt to the floor, bowing his head. “Great lady, I understand my being here is uncommon, but it is not my intention to offend or to intrude upon the sanctity of the sanctuary your benevolence provides. I only wish to-” Ageladis crouched and brushed a finger across Perix’s face, softly lifting his head. “You need not apologize for merely existing. I know why you are here, dear. Your thoughts burn as brightly as the midday sun and drew me here like a lighthouse guiding a ship to port.” “So are you- Can you help me, great goddess?” His heart hammered, his very existence hanging on her next words. She chuckled, the sound more calming than a bubbling brook. “It is my calling and my charge to help cows in whatever way I can. Some are born cows, while the journey for others is more circuitous. If you are ready, I bid you welcome to the sisterhood.” Perix leapt up. “Yes, without a doubt, yes!” She nodded, gathering her robes and sitting on the floor in front of him. “So the work begins. Your clothes, please, so I have an unadorned canvas with which to work.” Perix hastily threw off his sash from his otherwise bare chest, letting the chain skirt and undergarments fall to the floor. She took a deep breath, laid her palm flat, then blew air into his face. He squinted at the onrushing wind, which entered his body and dissipated through the core of his being. His limbs began to weaken and he struggled to remain standing. Yet, he grew relaxed as warmth permeated his system like a long afternoon spent sleeping in the sunshine. Ageladis reached out and began massaging his horns, brushing them from base to tip. He let out a sigh, wanting to ask what she was doing, but the words melted from his mind. There was a wet sucking sound and a brief pulling sensation, almost like a loose tooth being removed, and the bulk of his horns came away in her hands. She dropped them to the floor then resumed massaging what remained of his horns into two fine points: two squat, rounded digits extending just a few inches from his head. The relief was immediate, the ever-present weight on his neck finally gone. “Wh-what are you doing?” he asked, his own voice distant and dream-like. Ageladis smiled, her hands moving below the shortened horns to begin massaging his face. “It is a little-known secret, and one the priests may scoff at these days, but the first sapient creatures were molded from clay by divine hands then given the breath of life. To make the necessary changes, I must return your body to a similar pliable state.” The thought should have horrified Perix, his body becoming a non-living thing, no more than a foundation for a master sculptor at work, but her fingers were so warm, her movements so deft, the end result so tantalizingly close, that he felt no unease. Her work was steady, her movements meticulous as she kneaded and rubbed his face, occasionally pulling away and discarding lumps of flesh onto the floor. He felt no pain, no discomfort, nothing at all like receiving the slash of a sword on the battlefield. Though he could not see his face, he felt as his forehead became less broad, his nose less bulky, his square jaw rounded, his cheeks contoured. As a final gesture, she used her thumbs to smooth out the flesh of his face. “Can you speak for me, dear?” she asked. “Say anything at all. This next part requires it for the fine tuning.” Perix started rattling off details about his childhood, of the woods near his home that he loved to explore and the treasures of flowers and smooth stones he found there. As he spoke, Ageladis’s fingers passed through the flesh of his neck and began kneading from within. The action should have disturbed him, or at least cut off his breathing, but he did as she asked and continued speaking. To his wonder, though he made no changes in how he spoke, his voice began to rise. The bassy rumble he was used to hearing disappeared from his chest, rising to a baritone, a tenor. Ageladis paused and said, “Tell me when you wish to stop. I can continue adjusting after, however.” His baseline voice was unrecognizable to his ears as his tone heightened further into an alto range. In some ways, it felt like a stranger was speaking through his mouth. In others, it felt like he was talking for the first time since puberty sent his voice plummeting to a low rumble that commanded armies and struck fear into friend and foe alike. “A little higher, if you don’t mind,” he said, eyes growing moist. “I… gods, I sound like my mother when she used to tell me bedtime stories. She’s been dead for nearly a decade, and it’s like hearing her speak again when she was young and so full of life.” Ageladis paused to wipe away his tears. “You’re doing well, dear. I’m proud of you. Am I causing you any discomfort?” Perix eyed the growing collection of flesh lying on the floor, brown globules which had until now been part of him. “It doesn’t hurt, thank you. It’s just strange to see part of me now separate from me. But… they are parts I never cared for, so I can hardly complain.” “I’m glad to hear it, dear. I am experienced with this process, but do tell me if anything hurts.” She resumed her work, pinching and pulling away a final cluster of protruding flesh from his neck. Moving to his shoulders and arms, she massaged his broad, bulky form into narrower, slimmer forms. That area of his body produced the most excess flesh thus far, years of rigorous training and warfare wiped away in moments. Her fingers traced the numerous scars dotting his torso. “I can remove these as well, if you wish.” Perix thought a moment. “I think I’ll keep them. Symbols of encounters with death, and making it back out alive. There’s no shame in that.” Ageladis nodded, fingers moving down to his hands. She massaged each palm into smooth skin, kneading out his calluses until they clattered onto the floor. Gnarled, stocky fingers became thinner, smoother, the hardened skin massaged away. Returning to his upper body, she picked at the heavy muscles there, discarding large amounts of clay-like flesh on the floor and smoothing out what remained. Chest, back, abdomen, she moved methodically from place to place as though his body was a block of marble, a work of art hidden within. He used to be so top-heavy, a barrel-chested mountain of a bull, but, as he peered down, he hardly recognized himself. Whereas before he was all harsh, angular lines, he was now soft and curved, nearly all traces of his former self wiped away there. And yet, there was still so much more to go. She picked up a lump of flesh from the ground, from what part of his former self he couldn’t tell, and applied it to his waist. It conformed to his body seamlessly, as though it had always been there. She picked up another piece and placed it on his other side. Lump by lump, she built out his hips until they swelled and curved, hard angular muscle replaced with supple, pliable fat. More clay flesh was applied to his thighs, building out his lower body into rounded thickset trunks. Keeping things proportionate, his rear was given the same treatment, as taut, tight buttocks became rounded, malleable cheeks. Perix ran searching, inquisitive fingers over the new curves of his body, finding soft, smooth flesh. It was so different from anything he had known that it almost felt like a stranger’s body, as though his mind occupied the form of another. And yet, there was comfort and peace, the self he had always yearned for finally coming to life. He spied his manhood dangling between his legs, out of place, nearly enveloped within the swell of his enlarged thighs. A soft hand rested on his shoulder, drawing his gaze. “We’re almost done, dear,” Ageladis said, smiling. “Please be patient just a little while longer.” “I’ve spent so long never thinking this possible,” Perix replied. “What’s another few minutes?” Ageladis reached between his legs and rested his manhood on her large fingers, his notable size never something he took pride in. With a delicate thumb and forefinger, she pinched one testicle, slowly pulling it downward. Stretched taut, it came free with a wet pop, discarded into the pile of Perix’s clay. Its lopsided twin soon joined it. Perix felt not a jot of pain as his body was manipulated under Ageladis’s deft hands. Rather, it was freeing to see his unwanted parts removed as easily as pruning shears to a shrub. His penis had shrunk close to his body, Perix chuckling to himself that it perhaps sensed what was to come. Ageladis gripped its base, twisted, and pulled, leaving a featureless, flat groin. Similar to her work on Perix’s vocal cords, Ageladis passed her fingers through the flesh of his lower body, working his insides. He felt new organs taking shape, new passageways and systems springing to life. With a satisfied nod, she withdrew her fingers and used a fingernail to cut a vertical divot down his crotch. Pinching clay, she built up both sides of the opening, creating pink fleshy vulva. Her fingers hovered over the upper folds, and she chuckled as she said, “If you choose to have that sort of fun, we mustn’t forget the most important part.” After a few additional gestures, a new clitoris completed the new anatomy. “One final act to make a cow of you yet, dear,” she said, running her hands upwards to his abdomen. Below his bellybutton, she collected handfuls of the discarded clay flesh and pressed it against his lower gut, building up twin protrusions of pink, bulbous flesh that hung low against his thighs, sagging with the growing weight. She pinched the flesh there and gave a slight tug outward, pulling each teat into distended points, nipples taking shape. Above the row of udders, she crafted a second pair identical to the first. Ageladis wiped the excess clay from her hands, then rested a palm on Perix’s shoulder. “It’s all there and in working order should motherhood be a path you wish to seek. But the freedom, and the choice, is yours.” Through the whirlwind of physical changes, the possibility of becoming a mother, of enjoying intimacy and pregnancy and child-rearing, had never entered Perix’s thoughts. But the fact that it was suddenly an option was staggering. He, no, [i]she[/i], had a world of new possibilities. Ageladis brushed her hands across Perix’s body, humming as she softened any remaining edges, flattened any excess jagged clay. “One final act, then you are complete, my dear.” She raised a hand and rested her palm on top of Perix’s head. “Take a deep breath, then let it out slowly.” Perix did as instructed, body still feeling relaxed and hazy. As she breathed out, Ageladis pressed down. Her view of the room shifted as her height was compressed inch by inch. She was down to six feet tall, five and a half, Ageladis removing her hand and stopping at five feet, three inches. Perix spun about, taking in her new vantage point of the room, peering over the total transformation of her body from bull to cow. There was so much to take in, and she loved every inch of her new self. The weight of her udders on her lower body was unfamiliar, but hardly unwelcome. She traced the new size of her horns, neck feeling so much lighter, the curves of her lower body, the soft smoothness of her skin, heart leaping with every new sensation. “Are you happy, little one?” Ageladis asked, hands clasped in her lap. Perix threw her arms around the giant goddess, as much as she was able, her tears dampening the grand, rich robes. “After so long, it feels wrong to be so happy,” she replied in a choked breath. “Part of me… I don’t know if I deserve this. How can I ever repay you?” Two large hands caressed her cheeks, drawing her gaze upward into the beaming smile of her benefactress. “You want to know how you can repay me? [i]Live[/i]. Allow yourself to be happy.” Ageladis rose and crossed the room, returning with a standalone mirror. “What do you think?” Perix gingerly approached the mirror, eyes wide as the cow within repeated her movements. The stranger’s face bore traces of what she knew from before: a mole near her chin, traces of a deep sunburn earned as a teenager, and the off-color scarred skin from a dagger strike that nearly took her head off. Her eyes were the same color as before, but she had never seen them so vibrant, so [i]alive[/i], the depressive dullness wiped away. She was every bit the cow she never imagined she could be. “It’s perfect,” she replied. “Words aren’t enough. Thank you, great goddess.” “Now, dear, how about you help me with a little tidying up?” Ageladis said, eyeing the clay flesh on the floor. “There is some refuse in need of disposing.” The braziers around the room flared as one, flames dancing high. Perix collected handfuls of her past self and tossed them into the fire, watching with delight as they melted into nothingness. A brief stench of sweat followed each piece, immediately overwhelmed by the surrounding incense. She saved her former manhood for last, disposing of the pieces one by one. As she watched her old self being burned away, Ageladis returned with a voluminous robe, its green color as vibrant as new spring growth. Perix clothed herself, the robe feeling finer and more protective than any piece of armor. “One last thing to be rid of,” Ageladis said. “Unless your name is something you wish to keep?” She shook her head. Thinking a moment, she replied, “Perla feels right.” “Then Perla it shall be. Come, re-introductions are in order. It is a wonderful day indeed when a sister finds herself.” The pair walked to the covered opening, Ageladis throwing aside the curtain. A host of cows gasped on the other side. Some fell to their knees, others bowing their heads. Alanys stood at the front of the group, eyes wide. “Today is a special day, dear sisters,” Ageladis announced, resting a hand on Perla’s shoulder. “Please, help me welcome our newest sister: Perla.” Perla took a timid step forward, shocked to now be the same height as the others. Her mind started to race. Thoughts of rejection, of her identity as a cow being called into question, of the weight of who she was before not enough to see her new self. She worried in vain as a chorus of cheers rang out, multiple arms flinging across her shoulders, caressing her hands, pulling her into a massive bovine embrace. She smiled, she cried, she was accepted. *** Perla lifted the watering can with a grunt, still getting used to the limits of her new body. She walked to the flowerbed and gave the violets a drink, finding joy in their vibrant colors. She had been a cow for a few weeks, each day a new adventure. Even after Ageladis left, the sisterhood accepted her without question, treating her like any other cow. She became privy to the inside jokes, the gossip, the day-to-day joys and challenges of working in a temple and helping whoever arrived. The gardens were now her sanctuary, her responsibility, and it was more wholesome and more healing than she could describe to now nurture and create rather than fight and destroy. Standing and facing the morning sun, skirts caressing her legs with the slight breeze, she closed her eyes and drank deeply of the sunshine. Ageladis had said she would always have a home in the temple, and she had found contentment and peace in her new routine. Perhaps this life was what she always needed. Or, perhaps she would leave one day to strike out on her own, to see the world beyond with new eyes and a new perspective. But no matter what the future brought, she would live it as herself.