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"Free Range"

by The Dove

It seemed as if everyone in town had heard the familiar jingle on their condemnation when tuned to the local station. It always started off with the deep resounding call of a cow while the ring of a cowbell and the nostalgic-infused pouring milk followed soon after.

"The grass may not always be greener on the other side, but at Brass Belle Creamery, our dairy products will have you thinking otherwise! Our grade A milk, seven cheese varieties, and creamiest of cream-based products are made from 100% grass diet cow milk. No oats or hay for ol' Betsy here folks, because hay is for horses! Everything is made on-site by the loving hands of Mr. and Mrs. Belle, two retired culinary experts with a penchant for good taste, not to mention good business practices! Bring your family on down to tour the facility, check out the petting zoo and even climb on the back of a hayride for some good ol' family fun as you visit the fields in style! The grand opening of the property is only two weeks away so be sure to send in your RSVP's now! The first fifty parties will also receive a limited edition bottle of Brass Belle Caramel Hoedown Milk, YUM! So come on down and see what's happening down on the farm at Brass Belle Creamery, the friendliest and tastiest dairy farm this side of the fence line!"

The facility had raised quite a commotion amongst our homey little country town in Idaho since the owners had purchased the reclaimed seventy-acre tract of farmland from the auction house steps. Mr. and Mrs. Belle had practically come out of nowhere and took the county by storm and with an eccentric level of enthusiasm and kindness that instantly catapulted them to stardom. The elderly couple were practically geniuses as well, perfecting and crafting their dairy recipes, cheeses, and other milk-based products for decades. They were very open in what they did, who they stood for, and what they hoped to accomplish by setting up shop on their farm. Like a fine wine, they timeless marriage got better with age.

However, rumors and gossip persisted about the legitimacy of their products and career background. Despite their claims of feeding their cows a grass-only diet, some folks caused a stir when it was discovered that Ms. Belle was a former food scientist and geneticist for a big GMO think tank up in Washington. However, they were merely rumors and speculation. Heck, there were even signs of government vehicles arriving at the construction site of the dairy facility, with Mrs. Belle speaking with some FDA officials and lobbyists. But who could tell? Whether their products were imported in from another location, infused with her special blend of ingredients or love, or just crafted from scratch, the creamery seemed to be set up to establish itself in our town's legacy.

My friends and I, four of us all in, were also caught up in the whole hoo-hah of Brass Belle Creamery. My name was Malik. I was a sixteen-year-old African American boy. I had lived in the town since I was a kid and my family owned some acreage as well, although we didn't grow anything on it. My other friends were Denise, Geraldo, and Jade. Denise was fourteen, Caucasian, and had apparently moved down here with her aunt and uncle from the big city. From my talks with her, it sounded like she had a tough time getting accustomed to the new surroundings and trading in her formerly familiar skyscrapers and high-end restaurants for the country equivalents of small family-run department stores and drive-in's along the streets. She seemed to be getting along alright, though. Geraldo, his age fourteen as well, was Hispanic American and a transfer student to our high school. He grew up in Panama and lived there until his pre-teen years with his native mother and his American missionary father before they decided to move to the United States. It was always fascinating hearing about his past and the culture of Panama from him and his mother. The two of us used to spend Christmas together with his family, so I was used to hearing many of their stories. And finally there was Jade, she was the oldest of us at eighteen and was finishing up her last year in high school. She was Asian American, and she had a similar history to Geraldo, growing up instead in Singapore and moving here with her family only a couple of years ago as well. Altogether, the four of us comprised a tight-knit group of friends, all from diverse backgrounds, ethnicities, races, and interests as well. However, there was one big interest that tied us all together. That interest was journalism.

Indeed, all of us had some interest in the field. As it pertained to me, I was interested in the interviewing process of the trade, asking all the right questions and hopefully getting some juicy answers in return. My biggest aspiration in life was becoming the next news anchor at the local news outlet. Denise was interested in videography and wanted to be the first person on the scene to record hot new footage as a videographer. Geraldo had a hobby of creative writing and was also a very fast note taker in class, so he naturally geared towards writing down correspondences and other tidbits of information during interviews. Finally, Jade had a keen interest in photography (she received a fancy Nikon SLR camera from some of her relatives overseas and had been putting it to good use), so she always took great shots with it. With all our interests combined, it was only natural that we joined up with the high school's photography club, endearingly named the Boots Scoopers. Kind of a strange name I know (sounds like a product you'd wipe your feet on) but it was named after our county, Boots County, Idaho. And of course, "scooping" up a story as they say. Although the four of us were in different stages of our high school career, we all formed a cohesive and efficient group of reporters.

Well, most of the time anyway. Jade and Geraldo always seemed to be at each other's throats for some reason. It was like a match made in heaven; Jade tended to be bossy and somewhat self-centered at times while Geraldo tended to act without thinking, often getting himself in hot water with Jade. Meanwhile, Denise and I would just watch on in amusement. Denise didn't say much at all actually, usually just tinkering with something in her hands or playing with her video recorder. She always acted odd around me as well, but I could never truly put my finger on it. She was really cute as well. At times it seemed like I was the only "normal" one in the group. I did like to let off steam with Geraldo sometimes, he could be genuinely funny at times, but sometimes even I got caught up in his antics, often leading Jade to look at me in contempt as well. My outgoing personality and penchant for jokes tended to add to the mix as well. Hell, as long our differences didn't interfere with our stories, we were pretty much ready to take on the next story! We were great at catching big breaks in local events, happenings, and even some controversial stories like the time the neighboring county's football team spray-painted a goat and tied it up in our home field overnight. Safe to say, that goat was not pleased. Getting to the point, though, it was for this reason that our club instructor invited us to participate in a unique project. Who were we to decline? A story was a story, no matter how small in our little town.

It turned out to be, of course, none other than Brass Belle Creamery themselves. Since they still had a couple of weeks left before their big opening, a mass media campaign (well, massive for us anyway), was being conducted by the creamery, even though they were still a small family-run business. The Belles had contacted our instructor, asking for some of the club's students to come out, do a short interview with the owners, take some pictures, etc. to promote their business and help get folks excited for the big opening only a couple of weeks away. With all of our equipment in hand, and each student's specialties ready to shine in the limelight, we piled into Jade's Toyota pickup. She was the only one with a full-fledged license at the moment and boy did she tend to let it go to her head. We headed out from the town and out into the beautiful pastureland on the outskirts of our small Idaho county. The biggest scoop of our high school careers was at stake. It was a story we weren't going to forget anytime soon.

Why might you ask?

Because we were going to be part of the story itself.

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"Malik! Geraldo! I swear to God that if you two dumbasses don't stop flailing your heads out the window like a bunch of dogs, I'm going to run into the next mailbox I see!"

I couldn't believe those two, always acting like such retards. It seemed that with every story we went out to do, those two guys always added their dash of the typical teenage boy to it. And believe me, if they scratched the back seat of my new pickup, the two of them were just going to be another moldy steamy cow patty in the pasture. Yeah, yeah, I wasn't always the most patient person in the group but hell, I was a photographer, and I needed focus. At least I had Denise in the driver's cabin with me to keep me company. Having another woman along made dealing with those two just the more tolerable, if ever so minuscule. I did my best not to focus on the boys as Denise and myself discussed the latest results of our algebra test; it wasn't pretty. At the moment, though, we were glad to be out in the countryside and away from school for a bit. This was my chance to get some great shots of Brass Belle Creamery of course! I was set on furthering my career in photojournalism and, quite frankly, I wouldn't hesitate to leave the boys in my dust. As for Denise, well, she was more company than anything. As the four of us drove along the country roads, it seemed like everything was in perfect order. It was a picturesque day here in Boots County; sunny with large blankets of cotton-like clouds spreading like a blanket across the horizon. Every so often the flash of a bright blue and red of a bluebird would catch my gaze, its small frame perched atop one of the many rustic fence posts lining the edge of the dusty road. The pastures were rolling, the farming properties were immense, and there were plenty of cattle, horses, goats, and sheep for the two morons in the back seat to make noises at. Eh, they were still good guys. Sometimes...

As we rounded the bend along a long narrow strip of gravel road sandwiched between two adjoining farming properties, we drove up a steep hill (my pickup cluttering and sputtering as I shifted gears). At the top, almost like we were reaching the fabled Emerald City itself, we could see the expansive seventy-five-acre property of the creamery just over its crest; neatly tucked away in a windswept valley on the outskirts of the county. As we drove down the hill, all four of us were leaning forward in our seats, squinting at the large property and its buildings, appearing like specks from our high elevation. As we neared the bottom and drove onwards toward the property, we could finally make out the view of its buildings and layout in greater detail. Malik and Geraldo pointed out the large cardinal-red barn with a green roof as it extended back along the edge of the property next to one of the handful of pastures. Behind the barn was a larger, more industrial-sized looking concrete building, jutting out from the rear of the barn. We all imagined this was probably the milking and processing component of the creamery itself. Meanwhile, a small short distance away in front of the barn was a quaint ranch-style home, no doubt the HQ of operations for the Belle family. Meanwhile, Denise and I were pointing out a large sprawling shelter that was situated in the center of one of the other pastures on the opposite side of the property. We could see a menagerie of donkeys and horses grazing around the enclosed area while some of the donkeys were lying in front of the run-in shed, casually. Hewing at some patches of hay spread around the pasture. We could barely make out the large frame of a blue Ford tractor parked inside the shelter as we drove past, bundles upon bundles of hay stacked upon a wagon-like platform attached to the back of the machine. Overall, it promised a homey and friendly atmosphere just as the commercials had said. In appearance anyway.

As we followed the fence line closer towards the property, we came across an electronic gate erected to the side of the road. It was composed of wrought iron and was bordered by two small brick walls on either side of the gate, directly next to creamery property. The left wall had an electronic dial pad where one could call the Belle family for entrance. On the right side was an emblazoned brass plaque with the name of the facility and the owners. Etched directly beneath this plaque was a built-in mail slot. Situating my truck next to the call-box, I rolled down my window, reached out a hand to the box and pressed the call button. It rang a few times before the voice of a senior woman sounded over the intercom. Her voice was warm and kind and the exact definition of elderly hospitality.

"Good afternoon friends, what can I do for you? If you are here for tours, you'll have to check back in a couple of weeks when we formally open, but if you have any questions, my husband and I can certainly help."

I cleared my throat and leaned out to the speaker in case she was hard of hearing.

"Good afternoon Ms. Belle, this is Jade and company from the high school's journalism club, you know, the Boots Scoopers?"

The two morons in the back elicited a handful of giggles as I mentioned the name of the club. I turned around and told them to shut up when Ms. Belle started once more.

"Oh, why yes! Yes indeed! I heard you were all coming. We've been looking forward to seeing you all. Yes, please come right on in. I'll open the gate for you."

With a buzzy click, the woman turned hung up as a rattling noise from the entrance caught our attention. Attached to small metal wheels on the underside, the iron gate rolled open as a long gravel driveway extended out past the gate and down towards the center of the property where the small ranch house was located. The gate closed behind us as we pressed on, finally here at the location of the next biggest scoop in the town! As my pickup pulled up close to the side of the house, I put the vehicle in park and began to gather my camera as the rest of my peers got their tools together. Denise slung her video camera over her shoulder while Malik grabbed a slip of paper with some interview questions on it and Geraldo grabbed a sharpened pen and his notebook from his backpack. We locked the door behind us, gave each other a wink (myself hoping with every fiber of my being that Malik and Geraldo wouldn't fuck this project up), and headed up the rustic front porch of the ranch house to begin the interview process. Malik pushed ahead of the rest of us as he cleared his throat. I rolled my eyes and clit he'd my fist. Typical Malik, always going for the over-the-top news anchor personality. The four of us crowded around the door as Malik rang the doorbell. A quick shuffling and the soft humming of an elderly woman was heard as someone walked up to the door and opened it. The rosy face of Ms. Belle appeared from the passage as she smiled at us, her spectacles a bit foggy and misted from doing something inside.

"Oh! Good afternoon everyone, it's so great to see you. Please do come right on in. Harold! Oh, Harold! The students from the high school are here for their big project!"

Malik patted Ms. Belle on the shoulder with a smile and gave a quick chuckle.

"Just doing our job ma'am! We ARE reporters after all."

Ms. Belle turned around and smiled at Malik, giving him a quick pinch on the cheek. Denise and I laughed as he backed up, his face flushed with embarrassment. The Belle's home was a pastoral little scene, idyllic and infused with a home-cooked sense of comfort and pleasure that only they could provide. The windows looking out to the various pastureland were all covered in a delightful checkered embroidered cloth infused with decorative patterns of cows and other farm animals. The flooring and walls were composed of a polished oaken surface that, while had certainly seen some age, no doubt added to the whole country setting of the creamery. The home itself merely consisted of a small living room, an extended kitchen, and a couple of side rooms off to the side where the husband and wife slept in their respective quarters. On the walls hung various portraits and snapshots of some of their past animals, family members, and even some framed awards of their other culinary pursuits in some of the other locations they had lived in. A framed graduate degree in food genetics from a university I could not make out stood proudly over an archway leading into the kitchen. It was addressed to Ms. Rosaline Belle for her completion of her studies. It was incredible to think that such an esteemed woman lived in a quaint and homey setting such as this, let alone operated a small-time dairy farm. It was the simple things in life I suppose that brought the most pleasure. Overall, it was encouraging to see Ms. Baker showcasing her education in her home, regardless of the rumors and other gossip spreading around time.

Mr. Belle, or Harold as Ms. Belle referred to him, was a just as warm a soul as his wife. He sat in the living room, reading a book on, what he told me was a brief history of the methods, tools, and appliances used in cow milking following my asking him. As we were brought into the living room by his wife, he quickly got up from his rocking chair, walked over to us and shook each of our hands in turn as we all introduced ourselves. It was certainly an intimate little affair in such a small, cramped space. After the rest of the greetings had been underway, the couple herded us into the kitchen where they sat down, Ms. Belle straightening the collar of her husband's plaid button-down and rustling her aged hands through her husband's wiry white locks. They both looked at us eagerly as my team and I went about setting up our equipment. Soon, the interview was under way.

Overall, the interview only lasted about thirty minutes, of which I was quite personally surprised. Every question that Malik had (carefully run by me for my approval) for the elderly couple they answered with a deft swiftness and open mind that was a pleasure for us, making our task that much easier. It was almost as if they knew each and every question we were going to ask. All in all, they were two very open individuals with a genuine passion for what they did; a passion that they wished to share with everyone. To remain as objective and unobtrusive as possible, we had agreed prior not to ask the couple anything about the reports of Washington think tanks or FDA government vehicles at their property. We were fortunate enough even to be here, and we didn't want to soil it. However, Mrs. Belle was more than willing to share her experiences working in the food geneticist field. Although she had been employed as a participant in furthering GMO products in the past, she had found the restrictiveness of her work to be a primary cause for her turn to retirement to the countryside in hopes of opening a dairy farm with her husband. In her words, so far it was turning out to be just like Mrs. Belle had hoped. It was clear the two of them loved each other very much, with Mr. Belle consistently supporting his wife through her former academics while he worked for a major dairy supplier near where she attended university. While at his work, Mr. Belle gained some experience in learning about milking procedures and even assisted in the design of some automatic milking systems as well, an amazing experience he never imagined he would gain through on-site employment. All in all, they both picked up the skills they needed to begin their adventures in dairy farming once they reached the golden years of life. Although their business had just started, the couple had already accrued around half a dozen employees for small-time management on the farm. Milking the cows day in and day out would undoubtedly prove to be a tiring feat, even for the hardiest of elderly couples, so a small workforce would come in handy. However, they wouldn't be reporting for duty on the property for training until a few days before opening.

After the interview, Mr. and Mrs. Belle thanked us as they both stood up from the table, serving us each a glass of home-made milk from their fridge, a beverage that we each gulped down in due time. It was very creamy and rich, tasting very much like a milkshake in and of itself. I imaged it must have been the full-fa variety. I was more of a skim milk person but there was no doubt denying that this was an amazing product. I couldn't wait to see their milk in stores! I took the time to position them next to one of their many framed awards to capture a photo of them for the school's publication and the county newspaper. Geraldo had already filled out a couple of pages of notes on the life history of the Belles while Malik was drinking a glass of water, his mouth parched from all the constant questions he had been asking the couple. Denise was switching out the memory card on her camera in the meantime, the full interview captured for later review. After I had taken their picture, Mr. Belle gathered our attention as his warm old voice filled the room. He looked at us each in turn.

"Jade, Malik, Denise, Geraldo; my wife and I sincerely wish to thank you for taking the time to come out and interview a couple of old coots like us. It's undoubtedly brightened our day, and you've asked some fantastic questions. Of course, the real stars of the show are the cows themselves and the property. Why don't you all take a stroll around the farm, snap some photos and collect some content for your news report and meet us back here in about an hour? Please feel free to go check out the barn and the shelter where we do the hayrides. Just please make sure you close all the doors back and don't let any of the animals out of their stables or enclosures. I have faith, though! You all seem like a bunch of mature young adults. Anyhow, we'll fix you up some special Brass Belle chocolate ice cream when you return, what do you say?"

It sounded like a very good idea to me. I was itching to get outside and take some more photographs, so the team and I decided to split up to cover more ground in the allotted time. I convinced Denise that letting the two boys go by themselves maybe wasn't the best idea. I could see the headlines now: "Freak fire incident caused by two high school delinquents shuts down new creamery." Yeah, we (more especially, me) certainly needed to keep them in check. I mean, for all I knew, Malik and Geraldo might even try to ride a donkey or a cow, let alone one of the horses. Geraldo and I would see the run-in shed where the tractor was stored at the center of the donkey and horse pasture. We learned from the interview that this field also served as a petting zoo of sorts for kids and families, so it was probably a good idea to get a few shots of the tractor and hayride along with the animals to stir up some publicity for family motivation. Meanwhile, Malik and Denise were going to head out to the large barn over near the other pasture where the cows grazed. As we headed out the door one at a time, I took one last look back into the interior of the ranch house where Mr. Belle was busy pulling out a traditional ice-cream churner while his wife walked into the kitchen. I could only smile. Such a pleasant couple. They had certainly won our hearts over. Then again, I was pretty easy to please if I did say so myself!

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Shit! I couldn't believe I let Jade talk me into going with her. She was always complaining about this and that and never seemed satisfied with anything that Malik and I did. She didn't have much faith in us either, always thinking that we were going to "drag" down the whole journalism club due to our "immaturity." I mean, hell, we deserved to have some fun now and then right? Although Malik didn't say anything outright, I think we both thought Jade was letting the whole "eldest of the group" label get to her head. Meanwhile, Denise just hides behind her video camera and hardly says anything, allowing Jade to call the shots. I wonder if she knew just how much of an alpha female she was at times. Well, it didn't matter anyway. This whole trip was a perfect opportunity for me to miss my morning classes so booyah!

The walk over to the run-in shed was kind of quiet, to say the least, with Jade practically glued to her digital camera as she took pictures. It may as well have been some godawful tumor attached to her forehead. Meanwhile, I didn't do much except take some notes here and there on the property. As we approached the pasture gate, we could see about four horses and seven donkeys grazing and socialize in various parts of the property. I opened up the latch on the large gate and held it open for Jade, sarcastically bowing like a servant as she walked by, her giving me the "bird" as she strolled past. The animals themselves didn't seem too interested in a pair of students like us, with the horses and donkeys going about their business eating and swatting away the occasional horsefly. I wanted to pet them but thought otherwise. Jade would rip me a new one for being "immature." The run-in shed was, in reality, more of a run-in shelter. Due to its size, it served as both a storage area of various tools, implements, and equipment for the Belle Property as well an upper loft area for storing hay and feed for the animals. Although the cows themselves were fed a grass diet, the horses and donkeys were fed traditional alfalfa or Bermuda hay. Overall, it was a different setup for the shelter than you might expect.

It was styled similar to a barn in a way, with a handful of stalls on either side of the haven. They were completely accessible for the animals and each housed a feeding trough and a bucket of water hanging from a wooden peg on the wall (some lower than others for the donkeys to get to). In the center of the shelter was a humongous light-blue Ford tractor, complete with a large wagon attached on the back, bales of hay strategically placed within and serving as seats for families to sit on for the hayride. Towards the back of the shelter were a couple of small closets labeled "equipment" and "feed." While Jade starting taking pictures of the tractor (her getting down on her knees and angling herself to get some "artsy" shots, or whatever Ms. Stick-up-her-ass considered good photography), I decided to go walk around and take a peek at one of the stalls. More than anything I just wanted to get some distance from Jade. Her accompaniment was... oppressive, to say the least.

I walked into one of the smaller stalls and looked around. Each booth was equipped with a wooden window that could be opened up via a latch. Walking forward to open it up, I stepped onto the hay spread across the floor and suddenly felt my feet slide out behind me. I shot a glance down just in time to see my shoes stepping into a heaping steaming pile of donkey shit before I fell head first down towards the side of the wall the window was on. My head smashed against the center of the water bucket dangling overhead as I hit the ground. The impact knocked it off the peg and sent a torrent of water, as well as thick plastic, raining down onto my head and all over my clothes.

"Son of a fucking bitch!"

I was not pleased. I cursed and yelled as I lay in a soaked heap of hay and straw beneath the window, my shoes covered in donkey dung and the rest of my body soaking wet. The bucket landed with a thump in front of me as I kicked it towards the opposite wall of the stall. The sudden racket caused Jade to flip around, wide-eyed as she ran over to the stall and peered over at my predicament. Her eyes lowered to an expression of irritation as she raised her camera at me and took a picture, the flash temporarily blinding me. Fucking Jade. She looked at me with utter contempt.

"I swear to God; you are such a dipshit. Get your ass up and let's get this done. C'mon."

I rose to my knees, wishing with every fiber of my being that I had the balls to rub the shit from my shoes all over Jade's camera. Brushing myself off, I reached for a towel hanging near the back of the shelter by the equipment closet and wiped down my clothes and body. Jade wanted to get some pictures of the horses and donkeys, so I followed her out of the shelter and decided, hell with it, let her take her damn pictures. I stood up against the housing wall as she walked out towards the pasture in the direction of a beautiful black Friesian horse standing in the far corner. She turned back towards me and gave a curt smile as he continued walking.

"Done reporting today twinkle toes? You know, it's not too late to join the home economics club."

I was getting fed up with her shit. I had quite literally had enough. I raised my fist at her and shouted.

"Jade, stop being a fucking bitch for once, why don't you? Just because you have an excellent camera and a pickup doesn't mean you get to be a leader."

She merely ignored me, continuing her walk toward the end of the pasture, shaking her ass at me and giving a wink. Then I lost my temper. I felt anger surging and boiling up within me as I let myself go.

"Yeah, that's right Jade. Play the part. You do it so well you big whor-HEEEHAAA!"

I immediately cupped my hands to my mouth as my eyes shot open wide. That was totally not fucking me, was it? Jade kept walking, now laughing at my sudden grunt and call like a donkey's bray. She had no idea what was happening to me.

"Yeah, and why don't you play the part of jackass? You do it oh so well."

Suddenly, I felt my skin tingling. My body went cold as I looked down to see the hair on my arm suddenly growing wiry and thick. I tried to scream out as I felt a lump building in my throat. I was scared, very, very scared. However, all I could do was bray like a donkey, my human voice mingling and blending with that of an animal. By this time, Jade was already halfway across the pasture, completely oblivious to my sounds that now sounded just like a donkey's. The animals in the field called back to me, further mixing my cries with their own. What the fuck was going on? The thick hairs on my skin spread into a carpet of dark brown fur that spread across my arm and down my legs past the pants of my khakis. I began to feel hot and itchy. I wanted to get away, anywhere at all, just to get these clothes off. So hot, so fucking hot! As I started to run into the shelter, I felt a sharp locking of my knees as I fell onto the grassy floor of the pasture. My legs, they wouldn't move at all! Again I screamed, and again the bray of a donkey came out. I began to scratch at myself, the hot sensation of the hair now completely wracking my body and sending me into a fit. I clutched at my furred body and looked down to see my fingers elongating and fusing into each other, forming a horrifying monstrosity of a single, gigantic fingernail. It fused together and flared outward into a circular shape, creating a hoof. I raised it to my face and again brayed in horror as my other hand did the same thing. I looked to Jade for help, trying in vain to call her name. She could not hear my cries.

The next thing I knew, my legs were stretching outward, slimming and extending out. I felt myself shrinking, yet stretching at the same time as my body seemed to elongate. My belly and back felt as if it was literally being pulled in opposite directions. My pullover shirt began to slide down my stomach, now curved in thick dark brown fur. I struggled to stand as my feet slid out of my shoes, my socks stretching at the seams as my feet grew, also shaping into round hooves as my hands did. I was a freak of nature, braying out into the fields, a human face on the body of some elongating animal. I wanted someone to help me, anyone. I was scared. But then, I felt something changing in my mind. I began to feel content, relaxed, and a sense of familiarity of where I was. My human thoughts began to dwindle and die away as my head shook back and forth, my nostrils flaring as my neck extended outwards past my shoulders, my nose growing into a long sloping equine-like snout. My eyes curved and slanted as they became large and full, the pupil resembling a large longitudinal bar. My human ears, odd looking on the body of a beast, flared out and extended up above my head as they too became covered in the dark brown fur coating the rest of my body. It felt so good to feel them stretching, growing above me as I could hear everything in my home. I brayed out once more, my human mind sinking into the primal recesses of my donkey brain. A tail extended out past my furry ass, drifting down almost to the grass, the end of my tail forming into a dark brown tuft of hair. Instinctively, I flicked it back and forth as some flies landed on my rear.

Finally, I felt the most amazing change of all. I shook the vestiges of my human identity from my body as I wiggled my way out of my pants and shirt, exposing my furry body to my pasture mates. My balls, another token of my former human identity, began to swell and throb. My testicles enlarged and became thick with a soft layer of leathery skin surrounding them. My sack filled with seed and virility while my cock stretched and lengthened, turning a dark mottled black coloration as it now hung down below my furry loins, completely erect and nearly touching the ground. I was a horny beast, such a horny donkey. I never even knew I was human. I was always a donkey, and I was always a member here of Brass Belle Creamery. Around me, I could smell the pheromones of a nearby Jenny as I brayed to her and walked toward her. I was ready to mount.

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At this point, I was on the other side of the pasture. Geraldo was still on the other end, goading me and braying like the fucking donkey he was. I was going to have a word with the rest of the group about him. He didn't matter, though, I wanted my shots of the farm animals so I could get the recognition I deserved. I was utterly captivated by the black Friesian horse I was getting close to. It had been a long time since I had been given the opportunity to pet a horse and I wasn't going to let a retard like Geraldo distract me. From the looks of it, it appeared to be quite the stud too. His massive muscular body shone with a sheen of ebony fur that nearly glistened in the afternoon sun. His long mane and neck twitched as he flicked his tail left and right, the long rope-like fibers dangling and twisting in the air. He was mesmerizing to look at. I held my camera up close as I took some portraits of him from far away. However, he was still too distant to get a good shot of him. I didn't want to risk spooking the horse, so I held my camera to my eye and crept closer and closer, ready to press the button when the time was right. The stallion watched me curiously, his ears flattening and turning with irritation at times, unsure of what I was trying to do as I drew closer to his proximity. His nostrils flared as he began to stamp his hoof on the ground. Oh shit, I needed to get those pictures and get the hell out of dodge. I was almost there...

Closer...

Closer...

Yes! I was merely a handful of feet away from the horse. Damn, he was more massive than I imagined. Wow, simply a majestic creature. I had to focus, though. I had to get those shots. I raised the camera to my eye and clicked the shutter button. I saw a brief reflection of a white light against the dark fur of the horse as the animal's brown eyes opened wide in surprise. Fuck! I forgot to turn off the forced flash option! Before I could even react, the stallion reared up on his back legs, letting out an echoing roar of a neigh that caused the others horses and surrounding donkeys to raise their heads in surprise. I just about shit myself right then and there. I managed to leap back just in time as his front hooves came smashing down on the ground in front, just nearly missing me. In my shock, I lost my balance and fell back onto the grass, my camera tumbling down onto a large stray rock in the pasture and eliciting a sickening crack as the camera made contact. I lost all focus on the stallion as I now stared in horror at my broken camera. Nothing else mattered at that point. All my work, all my beautiful pictures that would make me the best photojournalist in the country, dashed to pieces. It was all Geraldo's fault. If he hadn't put me on edge, none of this would have happened. Fuck him and his immaturity! I thrust my palms to my forehead and bashed my hands against my forehead in frustration. Suddenly, a massive snort resounded overhead as I felt a rush of hot, humid air hitting my face, followed by a rough nose pushing against my hair. I lowered my hands and looked up.

The handsome face of the black Friesian stallion stood looming over me, all the rage and surprise now vanished from his expression. His brown eyes were deep and mesmerizing, almost... understanding in a way. It was as if he knew the turmoil I was in. As he leaned his face closer down to my own, I lifted my hands to his snout and up to his muzzle, gently scratching at him. He snorted again as I felt the loss of my camera suddenly slipping away. His eyes stared into my own for what seemed like minutes at a time. I was completely unable to turn my own eyes away from him. As he leaned his muzzle down to my face, I became aware of a very fragrant aroma emanating from his body. It smelled amazing and was akin to a scented candle that wrapped itself around my nostrils, filling me with pleasurable emotions and an invigorating calm that worked its way over my body. I began to breathe in the scent, drawing my nose closer to the horse's face. I rose to my feet and wrapped myself around the horse's neck and mane, nuzzling him and smelling every bit of his coat. As I did so, I felt myself falling into a trance, triggered by the aroma assailing my senses. I slipped off my shirt, allowing my breasts to dangle free and brush up against the animal, his beautiful hair tickling the sensitive skin around my areolas as I sighed in pleasure.

The male neighed in contentment as he leaned over towards me, giving me a quick touch with his mouth. He seemed to be goading me, encouraging me on. The stress and anxiety all began to drift away from me. It felt as if this horse and I were alone, the only two souls in the pasture, let alone the world. I began undressing, slipping out of my blue jeans and quickly tossing my panties to the side. I felt the warm afternoon air of the valley billowing out against me, caressing my body and tickling me. I sighed as I breathed in more of the animal's scent. As I did so, the stallion gently pushed me away and lowered his head to my freshly-shaven groin, sniffing and probing his rough nose around my clit. I felt the hot steamy breath from his nostrils warming my vagina, causing me to quiver and fill with an arousal that was rapidly building within me. I felt a cold, wet probing as the stallion began gently licking what he could of the outer lips of my vagina, causing me to moan and shake. As my muscles tensed, I fell back onto the grass, my ass gently falling onto a nearby pile of hay, softening my fall. Nearby, the brays of the donkeys ceased as all eyes were on me. Glancing back in my erotic stupor, I caught a glimpse of a lone dark brown ass near the shelter, slowly making its way towards a nearby jenny near the fence line. His dick was hanging low to the ground while a pile of disheveled clothing lay nearby. I could care less. Alas, all that mattered now was this beautiful, handsome man and me.

Slipping off my tennis shoes and socks, I spread my legs wide, again feeling the breeze tickling my skin and my loins as the stallion leaned in once more and began licking at my exposed lips. I began to slide my hips back and forth, rubbing them against the calloused surface of the horse's nose as I began to come aware of not only a wetness permeating from my slit but also a warmth spreading across my body. I was lost in a trance, completely unknowing of the many hairs billowing out across my face and body, their coloration akin to the luscious black coat of the stallion. Lowering my eyes in pleasure, I saw as a large horse-like tail flowed out above my ass and past my feet, draping across the surface of the ground. My nose felt stuffy and pressurized as my nostrils flared wide, my face sloping down and extending into a long snout. My arousal building, I saw the immense black and pink mottled dick of the stallion creeping its' way out of his sheath, his massive sack twitching and quivering with his seed. As my face continued to stretch and grow, I threw myself under the body of the stallion, lifting my mouth up to his penis and taking it in my own. It felt warm and pulsated as I traced my fingers (now beginning to reshape into a hoof-life form) along his vienous member, feeling the underside of his cock and tickling his vas deferens, eliciting a quiver in the horse as a slight droplet of precum came tumbling out.

My snout continuing to extend, I moved my face back and forth along his shaft, massaging his ball sack with two hoof-like hands. I felt his liquid dribbling into my mouth, the taste becoming saltier and bitter as his seed traveled to his head. My ears stretched, moving to the top of my head as they too became the ears of a horse. Faster and faster I moved my mouth back and forth, his dick pulsating and vibrating before finally releasing a generous dollop of sperm into my maw. It was bitter, thick and viscous as it dribbled out past my lips and down my breasts, a total of three spurts from his member causing me to swallow and breathe before ingesting the rest quickly. It felt filling, sublime even. Crawling back out of the underside of the horse, my hands and feet now completely changed into hooves, I felt a strength permeating throughout my body, changing me and providing me comfort. Looking back, my ass began to pulsate, and quiver as fat and muscle spread its way across my cheeks, causing it to stretch out and jiggle as a beautiful horse's rear greeted me. I began to snort and neigh as my breasts began to enlarge and harden as they filled out into two fine udders on my underside. My knees and legs stretched, cracking and expanding as my size grew, myself growing taller and raising my stance to that of almost to my mate who was now lifting up my beautiful black tail and nuzzling at my ass and my vagina. My clit began to flare as my lips expanded out beneath my ass, stretching and expanding while releasing a stream of pheromones that assailed my dear stallion's senses, who then began to mount me. I was in heat. I was ready to be fucked. As my vision changed as well, I realized I could see from many more angles, the sides of my vision now completely in my view in a peripheral format. Behind me, my mate clambered on top, his large member sliding into my pussy as I tensed my loins. He slid inside me as he prepared to insert the last remaining droplets of his seed into my body. I was his. I was his beautiful, darling mare. All my cares in the world melted away as I stomped a hoof down on the ground in front of me, smashing the remnants of a strange human object that lay against a rock. I whinnied, calling to the rest of my herd as I signified my arrival home. The home where I always belonged.

...

...

...

I was more than content to go exploring with Malik. He was much more mature and reserved than Geraldo while Jade was just... well, she was Jade. She wasn't a bad person per say, but she was quite unbearable at times, with me just nodding my head and agreeing to whatever subject she was rambling on about. I was content with my video camera, sifting through the various footage of stories and other interviews our Boots Scoopers club had acquired. I had already gotten some great footage of the Belles. They were a cute couple. Honestly, I didn't see what all the fuss was about with the rumors and other silly stories. I mean, what would they possibly want to hide after all? Sure, Ms. Belle had an impressive scientific background, but Mr. Belle was practically made for the dairy business. After all, he did have previous experience. As Malik and I walked out past the ranch house, I looked back towards Jade and waved them both goodbye. Boy, I bet they were going to have a time together. I shook my head as I tried not to imagine that gruesome outcome. Meanwhile, Malik was looking at me, checking in to make sure I was okay as I stared at the other two. He was quite a cute guy, with a nice muscular build and a handsome face. We often spoke of our aspirations in journalism, with myself promising to be his lead camerawoman for his stories if he ever received an anchor position at the local news outlet. He didn't know it yet, but I possessed a bit of a crush on him. Maybe after this story was over, I might ask him out on a date. With my video camera ready to go, I began taping the surroundings of the farm as made our way to the immense red barn.

It was truly the quintessential set piece of the property, with immense polished doors and a variety of glass windows etched into the upper floors. Atop the green roof of the facility was a weathervane, adorably modeled into the form of a cow as it pointed out the direction of the winds. Attached to the back of the building, starkly distinguished from the rest of the rustic structure, was the concrete building that we had seen from the road; the milking facility itself. Meanwhile, in the adjacent cow pasture, a handful of heifers were busy munching at some grass as they all but ignored our presence. Malik walked up to the barn door and stood back to face me as he threw an arm out, gesturing to me. He cleared his voice as I focused my camera on his frame, trying not to zoom in too close to his handsome features. There was an art in being secretive in one's affections after all.

"This time on Boots Scoopers, your favorite anchor is about to check out the fabled Brass Belle Creamery barn and milking center! Keep your finger off that remote and stay tuned for the next update in our story, coming to you live right after these messages!"

I rolled my eyes in an enduring way as Malik finished his anchorman monologing. Clearly, he was having a great time. Little did he know just how attractive it was, no matter how much of a goofball he was. He'd make a great anchor someday. Malik turned towards the barn and lifted up the latch on the door, swinging open the barn and holding it wide for me as I walked past. As I cleared the door, he leaned in close and whispered in my ear.

"Of course, a story wouldn't be complete without the best videographer in the county."

I turned to look at him and blushed as he winked at me. What a card you are Malik.

As we entered the barn and closed the door behind us, I immediately began scanning my video camera around the massive interior to get some footage. Before us expanded a long aisle way, littered with wood chips, giving off a pleasant pine-like aroma. On both sides of the aisle were large wooden doors, leading into stalls where the heifers were kept. Most of the stalls were empty, with their occupants busy grazing out in the pasture. However, a couple of the girls were still inside and watched us with curiously as we walked inside, one cow eliciting a soft moo in what I perceived as a greeting. Malik walked over to one of them and patted her on the head. On the outside of each stall was a large pail with the name of the cow emblazoned on it. I supposed it was their personal milking pail, perhaps a procedure to prevent cross-contamination from multiple cows before the couple processed them. As Malik and I walked farther into the barn, we became increasingly aware of a large stall door in the back of the barn, directly next to an equipment room which stored grass seed, halters, and other equipment. The door itself was somewhat unnerving as it didn't exactly match the rest of the facility itself. It was industrial grade, with a variety of bars and screw embedded into the frame. A small sign was erected into the wooden wall of the barn, directly next to steel door which read as follows:

"Brass Brass Belle Creamery Milking Center: Employees Only!"

Although Mr. and Mrs. Belle basically gave us free range over the farm, I couldn't help feeling that maybe we should have stopped there. After all, some parts of the farm were probably for specific eyes only, right? Well, that didn't stop Mr. Anchorman as he strutted right over to the door, crouching down and inspecting the bolts and surface of the door as he knocked against it with his fist, eliciting a resounding metal echo across the room. I hurriedly ran up to him and tapped him on the shoulder as he stood up and began inspecting a small lock attached to one of the handlebars.

"Malik, look. I know the Belles said we could explore but don't you think we should give them some privacy? Businesses have signs for a reason, you know?"

Instead, Malik didn't say anything and put an index finger to his lips, motioning to me for silence. Then, he drew it across his face and pointed it towards the lock on the door. I did a double-take as I saw the small consumer-grade lock attached to the handle was wide unlocked. I looked at Malik once more and voiced my concern.

"Malik! Seriously, I don't want to get kicked out of the club for this. And I don't want you to either. Come on, let's just head on back alright?

My words were lost on him as he defended his mounting curiosity.

"Denise, it won't be but just for a minute. Imagine the reaction of the county newspaper when they see we have first dibs on the inside tour of Brass Belle Creamery. It's going to be huge! It will be a great experience for both us. Imagine the great footage you can get! Look, we won't be long, alright? Just quick enough to grab some footage and we'll hop back to the house before anyone knows we were there. I mean, the lock is wide open! This situation is practically begging for exploration. Pretty please?

Malik's eyes went wide as he stretched his hands out in front of him and placed them on my shoulders. I practically melted. Malik had never touched me before, and it felt good to have his strong hands resting on me. My concerns melted away as I nodded my head.

"Alright. Fine. But I mean it, just a quick look, and then we skedaddle, got it?"

Malik gave me a thumbs-up as he lifted up the lock and plopped it onto a box of mason jars in the corner. He pulled at the steel handle on the door as it began to swing open. Behind the door was pitch blackness, a cold gust of refrigerated wind bursting out and quite literally taking our breath away. They had to keep the place cool after all. As we stepped inside, I flipped on the flashlight of my smartphone to try and find a light source. Scanning the concrete wall of the creamery, I found a series of switches. I flipped them all in sequence as a series of overhead lights buzzed into action, casting a bright fluorescent glows along the creamery. The milking center itself was as large enclosed room, no windows on any side of the building at all. The walls and floors were all covered in a concrete surface, with a handful of drains embedded in various places of the floor for easy cleaning and hosing. Once again, a long aisle way extended down the sealed room, ending in a back wall where some carts, boxes, and a variety of jars stood next to a small emergency exit in the corner. The real showcase of the center were the two sections for milking the cattle. Both sides of the center were lined in enclosed pens, fitted with steel bars in the center to isolate one cow from another during milking. The pens contained generous amounts of hay for the cows to rest on when they weren't being milked.

At the forefront of each section was an immense milking contraption, composed of a variety of hoses, nozzles, and valves that attached to some circuitry in the wall on the side. At its center was a strange, vacuum-like contraption, with the hoses and attached triggers jutting out for collecting and pressuring the milk for sealing away after obtaining it. On the end of each tube was a clasp sharpened into a cup-like formation for clamping down on an animal's teats. On the underside of the housing unit were two large canisters for storing the collected milk and preventing contamination from outside sources. Meanwhile. Smaller offshoots of the contraption spread down the enclosed area and served as smaller "units" to be used for other cows. It was an interesting setup for sure. Malik and I walked closer to the machine to get a better look at it. The chrome plating on the tubes, nozzles, and canisters for storing milk was absolutely gorgeous and looked to be brand-spanking new. Malik pointed out an engraving on the main housing unit for the machine. It was a patent license issued to Harold Belle of Brass Belle Creamery Inc. Malik and I stared at each other in awe. I was amazed.

"Wait a second. So Mr. Belle created this? That's amazing! He wasn't kidding when he said he had gotten some experience working in the industry. This is totally cool!"

While I stood gawking over the machinery, I examined the contraption's housing unit in greater detail. A large circuit board was attached to the side right in the middle, allowing for easy access by the person utilizing it. It was remarkably simple to understand, even for a high school student like myself. On the left side was a big green button that must have started the machine, along with a red button below which I assumed stopped it. On the right was a lever which could adjust the amount of suction and pressure being applied to the teat clamps on the animal. And that was about it. A remarkably simple, but also very elegant, design. Still, it was hard to believe that Mr. Belle had actually designed this. Hell, even patented it! I turned to look at Malik, who was rubbing a couple of his fingers under his chin, his face contemplating something long and hard. Suddenly, his eyes burst to life as he thrust an arm over the bar of the enclosed area and threw himself over into the milking pen, feet first on the soft hay surface. For a moment, I could only watch in awe as his athletic body effortlessly swung up and over the railing, landing like a cat on the other side. Reality snapped back to me as I realized what he was getting ready to do. I shook my head and yelled out.

"Malik! Seriously dude what are you doing? I thought we agreed on a quick look, not investigate each and every nook and cranny of this place. These people deserve some privacy."

Malik turned to look at me as he bent down over the control panel of the milking contraption, giving me the typical "puppy dog" look. As much as I tried to resist his charm, I ended up losing in the end.

"Aw, come on Denise. Get some footage of me standing here next to the machine. We can make it look like I'm actually operating the device too, you know, for publicity!"

I brought the palm of my hand to my face and shook my head.

"Malik, you know sometimes I can't tell if Geraldo's antics are rubbing off on you. Alright, fine, you want to play Mr. Anchorman, then I'll let you have your fun. But I swear, after I get this shot, we are heading back to the barn! This place gives me the creeps."

Indeed, the milking center was a dreary place. The absence of windows and the whitewashed concrete walls and floor (save for the carpet of hay lining the milking area), gave off the impression of an impervious prison. That and it was blooming cold in here. I hadn't noticed it before, but above us, large rotating fans embedded in the ceiling blasted cold and refrigerated air down below. I shivered as I uncapped the lens of my video camera and turned it on, blowing away some of the condensation from it. Meanwhile, Malik had the disposition of a kid in a candy store as he went about brushing his hair, fixing his clothing, and positioned himself next to the machine. As my video camera beeped to life, I looked up to Malik and started to tell him I was about to roll. As I did, I saw him leaning against the right side of the machine, his arm outstretched and pressed against the wall near the control panel. I saw his arm sliding along the chrome plating, inching closer and closer to the control panel. He was falling!

Time all but slowed for me as I dropped my camera to the side of the milking enclosure, throwing my arms over the side of the railing to catch Malik before his arm slipped away. Almost simultaneously, I fell forward face first into the enclosure, hitting my head against the underside of the housing unit and landing in a clump of hay directly underneath it. Meanwhile, in his surprise at both his arm slipping and seeing me rush after him, Malik flung his arm out to try and catch me. As he did so, his shoulder pressed up against the control panel of the unit, not only hitting the green start button but also pressing down on the lever enabling the force of suction on the hose, taking it from its home position at the minimum setting, all the way to max.

We were in serious shit.

As I lay there on the ground, my head ringing from the sudden impact of skin against metal, I heard the immediate rumbling of what sounded like a motor boat being started. Above me, the massive housing unit of the milking machine began to rumble, while next to me, the attached hoses and nipple clamps of the tubes were vibrating on the ground, the force of the engine causing them to move ever slightly...

In my direction.

I panicked, quickly shuffling my legs and my hands on the ground, trying to get a grip amidst the loose hay. The hay was slippery, and as my feet fought to gain ground, I found them sliding out from under me in my turmoil. My breathing increased, my heartbeat raced, and I began to scream out.

"Malik! Turn this fucking thing off! Please!"

I could see from the underside of the machine that Malik was just standing back up, himself turning his head from the housing unit to myself, and back again. The mental cogs in his mind turned together as he realized what he needed to. I saw him quickly run around to the control panel, his long legs shaking and quivering with fear and anticipation. Beside me, the hoses and nozzles seemed to have a life of their own as they moved closer and closer to me. I screamed out again as I tried to slide my way out, still slipping on the floor.

"Just turn it off! Hit the red button! Hit the button!"

I heard the sound of a hand banging against the control panel, and then the side of the metal housing unit as Malik then yelled out. His words filled me with dread.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! I can't shut it off! The button is jammed!"

I screamed out in anguish, the tubes crawling ever closer to me. With the last of my strength, I tried to claw my way along the concrete floor, my nails scraping against the floor and getting bits and pieces of hay underneath my fingernails. And then it happened. I was too late. The sounds of a pressurized suction forced boomed in my ear. The tubes brushed up against my chest, sticking to the fabric of my shirt and pulling with a massive force that began to tear away at my shirt, causing me to wince in pain as it scraped and rubbed my skin raw. Again I screamed out to Malik, the latter only standing in shock and horror as I fumbled with the hoses, my struggling inadvertently causing them to move them closer and closer to my breast with frantic every flail of my arms.

"SHRRRPPP!"

They clamped onto my breasts with a level of force that nearly took my breath away. The force caused me to cease my struggling against the floor as I tried with every fiber of my being to pull them away from me. My breasts felt tighter and tighter as the skin was pulled and stretched by the combined force of the machine's power and the pressurized suction force. As it continued to suck, I began to let the feeling overtake me, giving in to a sense of pleasure that was replacing the dread. I lowered my gaze to my breast as I saw the unthinkable; the fabric of my shirt was stretching at the seams, spreading apart as my bra began to appear from underneath, with it too starting to spread. Somehow, my chest was expanding, growing larger and larger as the force of the machine sucked on my breasts. I began to sigh, breathing in heavy bouts of air as my enlarging breasts popped free of my bra, the material drifting off my exposed chest and belly and slipping onto the hay next to me. I ceased my struggling as more changes came over me.

...

...

...

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I could only stand in horror over my friend as this hellish machine plumped her and expanded her body, enlarging her breasts to the degree that made me question the very fabric of reality itself. The machine was changing her, and all I could do was watch. I was admittedly horrified and fascinated at the same time. Denise closed her eyes as not only her breasts finished growing, but her previously flat belly began to plump and ripple with newfound deposits of fat and cellulose, sending shivers running down her body and jiggling her breasts as she sighed in ecstasy at the sumptuous force pulling at her body. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Regardless of what was happening to her, she seemed to be enjoying it, with her deep breaths interspersed between occasional thrusts of her body. The next thing I knew, I realized I was enjoying it as well. I felt my cock becoming hard and stiff, aroused at the sight of the girl I had a crush on suddenly enlarging and becoming a big beautiful woman before my eyes. And that wasn't all. I gulped as her pale skin began to be covered by white and black hairs that filled in on individual patches of her body. They were the patterns reminiscent of a dairy cow, a Holstein-Friesian heifer to be exact. This couldn't be real. She began to swell even further, growing in mass. At this rate, soon she wouldn't even fit underneath the machine.

Kneeling down, my eyes still wide with shock, I began to pull at Denise's legs as she began to expand further. Her immense weight and growing mass were almost too much for me to handle but I managed to pull her out from underneath the housing unit and out of the milking area back towards the door. I was out of breath, and it was a herculean task as her body swelled and her weight increasing rapidly, but I did it. As I did, her shoes slid off, just in time to reveal her polished toes bursting through her socks and quickly reforming into a cloven hooves divided into two claws. I fell back onto my butt as a white tail ending in a soft tuft of black hair expanded out from above her pants. Her thighs grew immensely, stretching the seams of her pants and bursting as her thickness grew exponentially. Her furry cow-like loins were visible to me as I became aware of another row of nipples grew beneath her already generous set, filling in and plumping up. As they did, the hose on her first two breasts released, releasing them from their hold. From the tips of her nipples, a fine white creamy substance began to dribble from them. It was milk. Her hands and feet now cloven hooves, her face began to elongate into a bovine shape, her nostrils flaring out and her ears poking out at her sides. My arousal was at its peak as I began undressing, hastily throwing myself on the literal cow of a woman. She was so fuckin hot, a beautiful anthropomorphic combination of woman and bovine. I clambered myself up her body as she lay there in her trance. I began to knead her chest and belly, now covered in cow-like fur and jiggling with sumptuous fat as I reached for her breasts. Taking a lower teat in each hand, I began to feel the soft pink tissue of Denise's teats as I gently squeezed them, releasing a generous few droplets of milk spurting onto her body. I then leaned down and took one of the sizable mammaries in my mouth and squeezed, moving up and down the surface with my hand as if was stroking my penis. Warm fluid guzzled into my mouth, bitter yet sweet at the same time, the essence of this beautiful girl. Denise merely sighed I pleasure as she released a soft moo that goaded me on further.

All the while a change was happening in my own body. As I continued to suck at her teats and ingest the creamy fluid, I felt the substance filling me with strength and warmth that centered in my chest before spreading out across my body. I felt my muscles surging, pulsating and growing as my already athletic build began to swell. Looking back, I saw my skin being covered in a carpet of wiry black hairs that rippled across my body, extending down from my feet, to around my erect cock, changing my pubes, and up to envelop my face. In my surprise, I quickly got to my feet as I saw my hands changing into cloven hooves, the size much larger than the now fully changed cow lying on the ground, her mind still in a haze. A jet black tail extended out from my coccyx, twitching in the cold air. It felt amazing. I was being filled with strength, virility, and lust. Looking down, my cock began to mold into something completely different, with the already darkened pigments of my penis changing into an even darker mottled coloration of black and pink. It grew and grew, flaring out to a massive dangling head as my testicles descended, their weight and girth growing and filling with seed. I let out a grunt, reminiscent of a rumbling moo as my head began to quiver, extending and pulsating as it thrust forward. My brain felt like a jackhammer was pounding at it as I felt two long pointed horns extending out from my forehead. There I was, changing into a handsome black bull, the prime mate for the beautiful heifer laying before me.

My humanity began to drift away, being replaced with memories of my life as a young calf, running free in the fields and living here at the creamery. I was the next stud to provide the farm with their supply of cows. I held the seed that would create the beautiful heifers, producing their milk for the world. I would fulfill my purpose. I reared my handsome face up to the ceiling and let out a bellow. Lowering my head, I sniffed at my mate's vagina, lifting up her tail and basking in her pheromones. I softly grunted to her, calling for her to wake up and join me in bovine paradise. Her eyes flickered opened, blinking and staring wide at me for a minute. I could see the remnant of her own humanity slipping away as her eyes grew wide, slanting upwards and becoming that of nothing more than an animal. She called back to me as I brought my muzzle closer to hers, gently licking her. She shook and quivered as I nuzzled her. Before I fell asleep with my heifer, I lay down with her and rested my strong head on her chest, her warmth and form providing me the comfort I would never have found as a human. I was bull, and I was home at last.

...

...

...

It had been well over an hour since the crew of junior reporters had gone about their duties on the farm. Harold and Rosaline Belle were busy sitting in their dining room, musing over a handful of flyers they had printed out for their products, as well as drinking some freshly-brewed lemon tea. Occasionally, Mr. Belle would look up at his wristwatch and lean out toward the window near the door, casting his gaze across the property as he looked for the students.

"Honey, what time did we say we wanted those kids back? It's been a little over an hour now, and I'm starting to wonder if they haven't gotten lost."

Ms. Belle looked up from a flyer she was cutting out with some scissors and looked at her husband quizzically, a blank stare on her face. For a minute, she didn't say anything, simply staring at Harold as if she was expecting him to say something. It looked as if she was about to speak as she opened her mouth suddenly, before clamping it shut, her teeth grinding against her mouth in sudden anxiety. Without warning, Rosaline leaped to her feet with a level of swiftness and agility that surprised the old man. She hurried into the kitchen where she opened up the refrigerator and drew open a drawer in the bottom right corner of the interior. She let out a shriek as she raised her hands to her face. Harold raced over to her and threw his arms around her in his concern.

"What's wrong pumpkin, what's wrong!?

Without a word, Ms. Belle first pointed to the dining room table, four empty unlabeled bottles of milk placed around the area where the interview took place. Next, she thrust her finger to the drawer of the refrigerator, a large label pasted directly inside the drawer read in bold black letters.

"FDA ANIMAL GROWTH HORMONE BATCH #43E (EQUIDAE) AND #78B (BOVIDAE). HOLDING PURPOSES ONLY. STORE IN COOL LOCATION. NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION."

The drawer was empty. Simultaneously, the elderly couple let out a horrifying cry that shook the kitchen. Ms. Belle reached for her phone, the number of the FDA official who kept her updated on the latest findings from her old lab in Washington, supplying her with growth hormone for private testing outside of the lab. Mr. Belle grabbed his overcoat, reached for a spare bottle of hormone suppressant stored below the sink, and shook his head at his wife in frustration before racing out the front door and down the front steps in the direction of the milking center. As he made his way closer and closer, there was one particular thought echoing throughout his mind.

Brass Belle Creamery's opening wasn't going to be as smooth as planned.