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Nicole kept her arms crossed while the vet worked, not the slightest twinge of bashfulness or embarrassment remaining in her even during something like this. Having grown up on a farm, having lived and worked here all her life, all of that had long since dissipated as her confidence grew. It was just another thing to be done, like watering the garden behind the house, or sweeping the stalls, or retouching the paint on the exterior of the stables, or getting down on her hands and knees to pluck at the persistent weeds forcing themselves through the floorboards.

Delilah stood here before the two of them, the mare's tail dutifully raised, her wide, glossy haunches and everything between them on full display underneath the wan yellow light from the bulb overhead. The vet had brought a headlamp with her as well - Nicole knew from experience that that could make tasks like much easier - and leaned in for what someone else might think of as "dangerously close", on her knees, one hand resting on the back of the mare's hind leg while the other smeared the cream into place. Nicole would have done this herself, as she usually did, but for some reason this time the vet said she needed to come out to do it.

Some bullshit about certifications and official licenses. Nicole rolled her eyes; she also knew for a fact that she had more experience beneath a barn roof than this vet. And speaking of bullshit, that was something she needed to check on, too. The visit had interrupted her usual morning routine of all the stalls.

Delilah was in heat again. This cream, kept in a sizeable plastic bucket near the vet's knee, was supposed to increase fertility as well as arouse extra interest in nearby stallions who picked up its scent mixed with the mare's natural pheromones. To Nicole it had a heavy, heady scent, the kind that made her nose wrinkle and ignited a tiny throbbing headache high up in her skull. So at least she had that over the vet, kneeling just a couple of inches away, repeatedly digging her hand into the bucket and then digging it just as deep and just as firmly into the mare's spread, winking sex, fresh pink glistening with natural arousal in the light, specked with the white of the substance. Some of it had dripped and rolled down along the horse's inner thighs, or against the dusty floor behind her hind hooves or, Nicole noticed, caught on the underside of the protruding ring of her tailhole, smooth leathery skin kept wonderfully clean by her own careful ministrations also shimmering in the light.

She prided herself in her work, and in her care of her animals. There was nothing wrong or weird about that. It was just part of her daily routine, and besides - even after so many years spent so close to the beasts, Nicole still couldn't stand most of the scents that came with the package. Daily sweepings and cleanings helped prevent a lot of that.

S

"Alright," the vet said, voice muffled by her proximity to the mare's backside. She sat back on the balls of her feet, tilted her head, and waited for Delilah to wink again, this time with a thick string of juices rolling out, hanging down, and then breaking, and then nodded and stood up. "That should do it. Sorry about that. I wish I hadn't had to come out here - it's time out of both of our days, and I know you prefer doing things yourself..."

"Yeah. I understand, though. I suppose you could have just let me do it, and then said you did it yourself..."

The vet held out her gloved hand for a shake, blinked, looked down at it, then grimaced and wiped it off on her apron instead. "I suppose I could have. Next time, maybe."

"Next time."

"So if that's everything," she went on, reaching down for the bucket, "I'll be on my way. Keep an eye on Delilah here, and as usual, reach out if anything unusual happens. Any change in behavior, any unfamiliar discharge."

"Yeah." Most of the possible side-effects Nicole knew how to handle herself. "Thank you. Have a good day."

"You too." And she was gone. Nicole reached out and patted the mare's flank as she watched - Delilah shifted with the touch, again hiking and swaying her tail in reflexive invitation - and then walked over to the stable door. The sun had risen about a full hand's breadth above where it usually was at this point in her morning routine; she'd have to double down to get back on track. Deciding not to waste another minute, the farmhand sighed, shook her head, and then bustled out of the stable back towards the house.

Naturally, though, she would end up back at the stable again shortly after noon. Three times a day, the stalls needed to be cleaned, and especially now with Delilah in the depth of her heat. Already Nicole kept the mares separate, but she had seen firsthand the lengths to which a hungry stallion would go to satisfy his desire.

Delay and annoyance of the morning now relegated to the far back of her mind, body thrumming with the peaceful yet satisfying energy of a good day's work, the farmhand strode back into the stables, placed her hands on her hips, drew in a slow breath through her nose... and then felt her entire face wrinkle up at the heady, familiar stench of dry hay, wet wood, damp manure, and of course, sharp equine arousal.

Maybe she shouldn't have closed the door. She grimaced, coughed into a fist, and then reached for the broom and shovel she kept right next to the entrance to start down the line. Just another part of the day; nothing special. One by one Nicole worked through the stalls, scooping and shoveling, going back and doing it again after finishing it up. It would take another run down on her hands and knees, not quite scrubbing but just going over with a quick wash of warm water.

First, docile sleepy Lilac, who tossed her head and leaned into her caretaker's touch when she passed by. Then the somewhat more energetic and troublesome Maria, just coming down from her own heat a few weeks ago, and who added another piece of work for Nicole to take care of while she was there in the stall; then Joanna, and Silvie, and finally Delilah again.

No side-effects so far, other than the expected increase in production of certain fluids. The scent wafted up and curled around Nicole's head even before she stepped into the mare's stall, her hind legs spread, tail raised, and flanks lowered as if in constant preparation. Preparation for entry_or_ exit, whatever - they both looked the same, really. Nicole swallowed, sighed, and held her breath as she moved around to get to work, eyes immediately going to the still-slick pool of dripping arousal between Delilah's hind hooves. Over the dirt, hay, and wood floor, it still looked to be a perfect, healthy color, and when she moved closer and peered underneath the mare's raised tail, bound up at the base with interwoven twine, everything looked fine there as well.

So focused on the mare's backside though, constantly on display as Delilah certainly intended, Nicole wasn't looking at the ground. Broom in one hand and shovel in the other, her balance was already skewed a bit, but then when she stepped forward and caught the underside of her boot against a protruding piece of floorboard further jammed out of place by old manure, all of that balance then simply swiped away.

For a moment everything happened in slow motion. Nicole felt her foot swing out from underneath her, and in trying to regain her balance she ended up throwing the shovel and letting go of the broom; she watched as they spun and fell towards the wall and floor of the stable, and she dreaded the loud clatter that those would bring. Then the sound, and poor Delilah in front of her spooking and jumping, and then she brought her foot right down onto that fresh pile of manure coated with the mare's dripping arousal - and then, just her luck, she stumbled forward, tried to catch herself against the horse's backside, and only partially succeeded.

Her fingers spread out over the smooth, silky pelt, but slimy boots and an already-skewed balance meant that this gave her little respite, and instead of catching herself broadside over Delilah's flank the farmhand instead landed right smack in the middle, face sideways, across the mare's bared backside.

Tail hiked, puckered tailhole protruding and pulsing, heat-slickened sex hanging and winking. Her face only made contact for half a second, but still it was enough for her to feel the intense wet heat of the mare's need smear out over her cheek, nose, and brow. Spluttering more from surprise than anything, Nicole sprawled out alongside Delilah's hind hoof in the way, wiped at her face, and grimaced. Mare juices were one thing - she'd already had that in and around her mouth plenty of times before, from a number of different reasons including but not limited to a rather wet copulation with a stallion, a birth of twins, and an unfortunate medical complication - but the slightly mouth-curling taste of that combined with the deeper, almost numbing sensation of the new cream gave her quite a visceral reaction.

She spent another few seconds on the floor wiping at her face and mouth and repeatedly spitting, before she decided to finally pull herself away from the fresh pile barely an arm's length away. Delilah seemed none the worse for the impact, past shaking her rump and flicking her tail a bit; Nicole took a closer look to make sure she hadn't messed anything up, and just received a small squirt of those same fluids across her mouth after another wink from the mare.

"Yeah, yeah..." the farmhand muttered, with another wipe at her mouth. "I know, girl. We'll see about setting you up with some nice stallion to fix this up for you. I'm not quite done here yet, though, so... be patient with me for a little bit longer-" She glanced over at the mare's backside again as she reached for her tools. It seemed as though Delilah had turned a bit to keep that end of her pointed towards her caretaker; the lifted tail swung and tossed, never obscuring the swollen tailhole or wet sex, a glistening sheen of arousal having leaked out and stained the surrounding skin and pelt.

Once she left the stall some fifteen minutes later, then, the encounter left her mind other than the lingering cool bite of the fertility cream, hanging around on the back of her tongue and at the corner of her mouth. Next was to trim the hedges next to the house, and after that repeat the same maintenance over for the cows as well.

The sun had started to descend by the time she made it there, and Nicole found herself breathing a little bit heavier than usual. Nothing strange about that; it was hot today, and she had had to double down on her pace to get back on track after the vet's visit. Once she got to the cows, after a smirk upon remembering her bullshit thought from earlier, the farmhand rested her arms over the fence and took a moment to just look.

Four of them here, two heifers, a cow, and a bull over in the next partition. Nicole rested there for a bit, watching as the lovely animals went about their slow, easy business... and found her gaze lingering back and down over their big, stocky forms, towards the little swinging paintbrush tails, the puckered collection of wrinkled pink skin into the thick tailhole so much different from the horse's, the sleek, heavy appearance of the cow's sex, and then from here, the heavy dangling weights of the bull's sack between his hind legs, leading up to the beardlike tuft of hair hanging from his belly. She swallowed, sighed, licked her lips, tasted a small bit of that fertility cream again, then shook her head and got back to work.

At least none of the bovines were in heat yet. _That_tended to get messy. Nicole sighed again, wrinkled her nose, and then moved to fetch the same implements to clean up this portion of the fields as well, the headier stink of cows floating around and wrapping her tight in its acrid embrace.

It wasn't that any of theses smells were bad, really. Sure, they could be foul, and heavy, and strong, and sharp, but after spending so much time with the animals and learning their secrets and personalities, so much time sharing her life with and alongside them to the point where they had _become_her life, it had become hard to think of anything about them as disgusting, or vile, or awful, or anything like that.

They were all strong, beautiful creatures, lovely in appearance, wonderful in companionship. The mares and cows perfect examples of matriarchal femininity, sleek and smooth, soft and approachable - and the stallions and bulls unwavering pillars of rich masculine virility, threaded through with tight, taut musculature, powerful and admirable. As she dug and scooped and tossed Nicole found herself drifting off again where she stood, the young Delora, perfect in her prime, standing before her with her tail high and swinging and heavy, drooping udders full and plump like a fresh peach.

What a lovely creature. What a lovely sight. Nicole let herself admire her for a moment longer before getting back to work, this time intentionally taking herself over towards the other portion of the pasture where Rogan, the bull, stood minding his own business. Despite the rather fresh stink weighing down the air here, the farmhand still positioned herself close behind him so she could steal a repeated glance over at what he had to offer, too.

This was a little odd, admittedly. Of course she had looked at and touched and felt the various sexual organs of all of these animals before in her work - there was no avoiding it, and often it was simply required of the job. Aiding with birth, helping with baths, cleaning out the deep, dense sheath folds of the horses, digging out the gathered sweat and piss and grime and dirt and whatever else from the supple wrinkles of one of the cows'... of course she had had to, but never before had she looked upon them all like this.

With this deeper interest and appreciation stirring in her, this unusual... attraction, almost. With one hand, the scoop nestled into her armpit for support and leverage, she leaned down, slid the tongs underneath that wet lump settled into the grass, half-straightened up, and then turned her head to the side to find her head perfectly level with the spot along Rogan's backside where the deep, shadow-black hair of his pelt thinned out and gave way to the fresh wrinkled pink of his hanging sack, more than both of her hands cupped together could try to hold.

The hanging tail obscured her view of the tailhole, wrinkled and puckered just like the cows', forbidding yet inviting all on its own. Following that tail down, swinging and swaying in the early evening air, she caught glimpses at the lines of the bull's rump and backside all angling down. The overlapping skin and muscle where the haunches came together against the rump, the hanging skin where pelt gave way to smooth flesh... and, God, they hung down so far.

As though feeling her eyes on him, Rogan shifted his stance and took a half-step forward. Nicole watched as those hefty balls swung and jiggled beneath him, bouncing against one another inside the thick, supple sack, and then continuing to sway even after he stopped. Jiggling forward and back, huge weights suspended there, color a stark contrast against the rest of his pelt, seeming to protrude out a bit towards her, wanting her to come in and cup and caress and touch and...

And she shook her head, trying to banish those thoughts from her mind. She had a job she needed to do, and if she delayed any longer she might have to delay her dinner tonight.

Dinner... Even as she bent over to get back to work, nose instantly wrinkling at the thick, cloying scent still wafting up like the cloud of flies frightened away at the movement, she couldn't help but smirk. Those thoughts and images, so fresh and new, remained in the back of her head throughout the rest of her work today, and even when she put away all the tools and did one more look-over of all the different animals, spending a little extra time with each one to look, and observe, and remember. And all of those sights remained in her head through her dinner, through her end-of-day shower, through her half-hour of relaxation time before bed, and then as she settled down to sleep too.

An irresistible tingling buzzed between her legs, naturally, so that half-hour extended into a full hour after she had climbed beneath the covers, one knee drawn up, part of the blankets caught between her teeth, and her back arched and body bucking and jerking in the tight, tense throes of pleasure, this strange need and desire forced into her and building up throughout the day.

Still the tingling remained afterwards, as Nicole squirmed and wriggled around trying to find a spot along her sheets and mattress that had not ended up soaked and slick with the peaks of that arousal, also still simmering inside her. She ended up relegating herself to the edge of the bed, underwear left halfway down her legs since she could still feel the slow crawling trickle of warm slickness.

It didn't stop there, either. Nicole's dreams that night caught her constantly between, behind, and underneath the farm animals: her on her knees behind Rogan, the bull, with her face pressed sideways in against that heavy sack; her lying beneath Solar, one of the stallions, while he bore down into her with his arm-sized length, full heavy balls swinging forward and back; her using her nose and lips and tongue instead of her hand to dig into the sheath of one of the others; then using both hands to spread Delilah, on her knees behind the mare, with the horse hiking her tail and squatting down to allow her easier access, all of that slime and slick wetness dripping down her cheeks and chin and splashing into the puddle between her knees...

But of course, as soon as her alarm shocked her awake the following morning before the rise of the sun, all of those dreams and images swirled together into one vague impression and then popped like a soap bubble in the cool pre-dawn air. She sighed, reached over to turn the alarm off, rolled over onto her back, pulled her arms over her head, then stretched her legs out and forward - and shuddered against the sudden wave of pleasure that that movement sent through her.

A little startled and confused yet not necessarily disappointed, Nicole turned on the lamp on her nightstand and tossed the blankets back. There between her legs, just past the small flat tuft of carefully maintained pubic hair, dark brown and a bit more curled than the locks atop her head she kept bound into a tight bun, was the usual sight: smooth, soft mound curving down between her legs, supple wrinkled lips pulling back at a spread of her fingers, glistening nub of her clit protruding out from the top.

Except it all seemed... more, somehow. That skin rolled back further than she remembered, and perhaps it was just the dim light in the room, but the skin looked a bit darker and yet tighter as well, smoother to the touch. And then her clit... she shifted her hand a bit, shivered with the slickness coating her fingers, and then ran her index and middle fingers around that little nub of flesh, squeezing it gently between them. That part _definitely_looked and felt bigger, not only protruding further but having grown wider as well. Before, she could keep it between her knuckles and still touch the sides of her fingertips together, but now a good half inch of space stood between them when she did so - and the squeeze itself ignited and maintained that bright, tingling spark of electric fire in her abdomen, at once making her bite her lip and curl her toes.

She let that wave pulse through her and then settled back into place on her bed, other arm hanging off, mouth open, chest heaving with shaky breaths. It might be a problem if this didn't go down during the day, but no matter what, she still had work to do - and she was already a little behind schedule. Nicole sighed, looked down over herself once more, ran a hand up over her sleek, tight belly, then moved to get up and get dressed. That was difficult in itself, too: the panties she'd had on overnight were still soaked with slick, sticky fluid, and sniffing at them just brought some of that arousal and sensitivity back. As usual she switched to boxers for the day, which helped a bit.

Breakfast consisted of eggs, potatoes, and finely chopped steak, also as usual. Nicole sucked everything down while looking over the news and weather for the day and checking through her missed messages; she had also discovered long ago that she needed to leave her phone on silent, or at least resist checking it, while going about her work. Another half-hour and then she was out the door once more, just in time to greet the sun as it poked its shining visage over the distant horizon.

And here her day began all over again. For a while Nicole forgot about her tantalizing, taboo dreams, and about the slight changes_to her that had taken place overnight; there was a bit of sensitivity and tingling between her thighs, but her work-oriented brain dismissed it as just a slight chafing or something similar from the slightly warmer, slightly more humid day. Technically she didn't _have to clean and care for the animals and their stables as often as she did, but again, it was just part of her day, and she drew a certain satisfaction from seeing these tasks done.

That didn't mean, though, that she was ever excited to do them. Never before, that was. Today as she went through her other chores, sweeping the house, retouching the paint along the sides, settling some of the fenceposts back into the ground after some shifting land, she found herself thinking about when she would be able to make it over to the animals - to the horses, and the cows. Yesterday she had cleaned up but hadn't really scrubbed too deeply, which meant if she set some time aside for that today or tomorrow she would be able to spend most of the day there... kneeling here as she scooped the soil back into place around the cement roots of the fenceposts, the farmhand imagined that instead of these two broad planks of wood there was instead a pair of equine hind legs right in front of her, so that she could lift her head up and into the sleek leathery backside of one of the mares, or bring her nose up beneath the heavy hanging sack of one of the stallions.

This time, she realized, it was Cairn of Stones on her mind instead of Solar. Cairn she had inherited as a gift from a family friend, a somewhat old and now retired recreational racehorse, but still he maintained his strength and certainly his virility, stirring there in the pinkish-white orbs hanging and jiggling behind his muscular hind legs. Solar's bay coloration caught the light of the sun and shimmered like warm caramel, while Cairn of Stones's more relaxed cloudy-fog tone showed the tint of sleek, warm skin underneath, and when his pelt ended up damp from washing or from his body's natural sweat and lubrication, it darkened to a more graphite-grey, and...

And final fencepost settled into place, the job itself a little bit shoddy, Nicole stood up, wiped her hand over her forehead again, sighed, then left the trowel where it lay so she could go attend to the horses. At least she remembered to grab the shovel and pail on her way past the door; as she approached, the so-familiar scent stirred around and hit her nose, inviting her closer. Naturally the horses tended to have a low, earthy scent, brought out a little more sharply when running them in the fields or exercising somewhere else, while back here in the stables that scent mixed and mushed together with the expected others - the bright, acrid sting and then sharp, nose-curling stink of refuse, and soaked wood and dirt, and clumped hair and who knows what else. Again, not the most pleasant of mixtures, but as the farmhand strode through the stable doors and looked upon the few stallions held here, she stopped, swallowed, tilted her head back, and drew a deep, slow breath in through flared nostrils.

Just three of them waited here, already more than sensible for one caretaker like herself, but Nicole knew what she was doing. She would hardly trust the care of her animals to anyone else, had she even _had_anyone to do the work. Solar stood closest to the door, head dipped and eyes closed, but one of his ears flicked at the sound of her footsteps; next was Moonlight, dappled paint, restless as usual as he pawed at the ground and tossed his head upon seeing his caretaker; and then finally Cairn of Stones there in back, warm grey-white, watching her through calm eyes. His nostrils flared and he, too, flicked an ear.

Still Nicole couldn't get him out of her head as she got to work. Each of the others got a little extra attention too, the farmhand focusing on clearing out the stalls and dumping the refuse first, before she came back and brushed and patted them down. One hand on the brush over Solar's neck, his mane, his back, his haunch... while the other reached back and down, fingers playing through the stringy hairs of his tail, following it to its base, touching and feeling at the spot where the thinner skin around his tail plumped out and thickened. Then just beneath that the wide, protruding ring of his tailhole, around which she spread her fingers - all of them, and her thumb, she could rest lightly around the exterior and pull slightly.

Her brushing had of course slowed and stopped while she attended to Solar's backside, fingers squeezing and touching lightly at the projecting ring of tight muscle, feeling over the slight, sleek wrinkles of leathery skin, then tracing down beneath to where those wrinkles stretched out into folds, leading to the balls suspended beneath. Nicole turned her head and rested her cheek along the stallion's shoulder, drew in a breath of his warm, comfortable scent - and then felt him stir and take a small step forward and away.

So she stumbled in place, chuckled, then realized what she was doing and blushed. She reached up to wipe at her forehead again, swallowed, then caught a whiff of strong scent, looked around... and identified it as coming from those very same fingers.

"Sorry, boy," the farmhand said. "Not in the mood, I understand. We don't really do that here. Sorry. I'll, uh... leave you be."

When tending to Moonlight's stall next, then, she couldn't _believe_it. Never before had she been so bold - and never before had she even felt such potent interest and desire. Natural curiosity had given her a wandering hand before, but then shame and embarrassment had stopped her before she had gone too far. Now, though, even while on her knees scraping and scooping and scowling at the heavy odors, and trying to turn back the slight tingle of appreciation and affection that these odors ignited in her. She looked up again and immediately got an eyeful of the paint's barrel chest and sleek belly, arcing down to the wrinkled pouch of his sheath and just as full sack below. The spots and specks that had given his name along his pelt continued down there, Nicole knew: having had to clean that sheath before, buried elbow-deep in hot, slick skin and flesh, she had felt him drop and grow along her forearm, and looked over to see the warm pink flesh bearing the same little patterns like moonlight coming through interwoven trees somewhere above.

She paused where she knelt, the scent of manure giving way to that same earthy smell of horses. When was the last time the stallions had had their cleaning...? That might be a task for tomorrow. Job here done, Nicole sighed, sat there a moment longer, and let her eyes linger along the restless stallion's backside, swinging tail repeatedly interrupting her appreciation of his presented side. If he expected the same treatment as he had surely seen her give Solar over the stall border, he wasn't going to get it.

Though she did think about it. That image stuck in her head as she stepped out of Moonlight's stall and closed the door behind her - swinging tail bound at the base and held high over the puckered ring of muscle, the long lines of loose skin pointing down towards the heft between his hind legs. Before going into Cairn's stall she paused there and leaned against the wall, taking a moment to close her eyes, roll her head back, swallow and sigh, and... and let the shovel rest against her shoulder while she slid a hand down into the front of her pants. Just to relieve a little bit of this tension that was so insistent on distracting her from her daily duties.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she indulged for just a bit. Eyes closed, Nicole now imagined herself to be between those two horses, cleaning both of them up at the same time. Either way she turned her head she would brush her nose against protruding tailhole, or touch her lips against the soft, supple skin of a hanging sack... she swallowed again and let a tight breath out between parted lips, fingers straying down beneath her already somewhat-damp boxers. It felt as though the change here had continued, with her clit now poking out from her lower body with the skin around it taking on the smoother, soft-leather texture that she knew to stretch out between a horse's hind legs, and up towards the center point of their rump.

She knew that this change should have upset her, and instilled a nervousness and shock in her - but all it did was reinvigorate the lust and arousal for these same animals that had never existed inside her before. Nicole forced herself to draw her hand out of her pants then, and her first instinct was to bring those slickened fingers to her nose, sniff over them, and then trace the sticky fluid across her lips. Smelled - and tasted - like herself, mostly, with a touch of that characteristic barnyard sting.

This was where she spent literally all of her time, so that made sense. Arousal just piqued instead of sated, the farmhand straightened up, wiped her hand off on her shirt, sighed again, and then turned to tackle Cairn of Stones's stall next. And this she did, deliberately forcing herself to keep her eyes down as she scraped and scooped, and then to focus on his head, his cool eyes, his relaxed expression, while brushing him down. Inevitably her care brought her around to his back, brush coming through the short, soft hair of his pelt, stringing easily through his somewhat thinner mane.

So Nicole stepped around to his backside, one hand with the brush resting along one thigh, other hand over the other side. The calm, easy grey turned his head to the side to watch her, not a hint of worry or concern in his trusting gaze. He swung his tail; it brushed against Nicole's chin and cheek. This close she could smell him, the undeniable tang of lingering manure over the warm, wet-grass scent that dug so deep into a horse's pelt and presence.

The former of these strengthened as she dropped to one knee behind him, and then that one, too, gave way to another, newer scent, brighter and richer, a touch of dry spice. Nicole let the brush drop to the stable floor near her booted foot and reached up with both hands, running her fingers and thumbs over the backs of Cairn's legs. He adjusted his stance a bit, not to pull away but rather to spread his legs and lower himself down a bit - she glanced up at his tail in a quick panic, but saw that it remained relaxed and swaying, instead of hiking up as she had feared. The rhythmic pulse of his heart could be seen in the ghostly veins visible underneath his skin, coming up along his inner thighs toward his groin, curling in around the base of his sack and sheath, disappearing again around that good inch or so of protruding puckered muscle.

That wasn't where Nicole focused her attention, though. Caution, concern, nervousness, worry all shoved to the back of her head, she swallowed again, tightened her grip on Cairn of Stones's haunches, then closed her eyes - and leaned forward until she felt the intense humid heat of those heavy balls settling against her face and cheek. Immediately her lips parted to let out a low, breathy moan, and the farmhand turned and tilted her head to nuzzle up and around along that sack, feeling the way the concentrated weight rolled and slid around against her face, how the supple, leathery skin shifted and spread against her lips and breath, how the salty, spicy scent filled her nostrils and then her mouth as well.

Hunger and arousal dripped down her chin, though she intentionally kept her tongue inside her mouth. Still, though, the farmhand dug and nuzzled in against the horse's balls, her hands quickly coming in around to squeeze and caress and weight each one in her palms, just as she pressed them in closer against her nose. By the time she finally drew back, panting hard enough for her shoulders to shift and shake, all she could taste every time she breathed was the strength of Cairn's racehorse virility.

The attention had definitely had a physical effect on her, as well: even without looking Nicole could tell that her pants and boxers especially fit a lot tighter, and when she reached down to unbutton and unzip her fly, at first glance it looked as though she, too, had the same set of equipment between her legs that this horse did, tail swaying and balls still swinging and stirring. Kneeling there along the stable floor, breath puffing out in hot, heavy bursts, Nicole slid her thumbs beneath the waistband of her boxers, felt the gathered moisture there, tugged them down in front - and saw there that her clit, her sex, the skin around, had bunched together and darkened into an assemblage looking not at all unlike a horse's dense, wrinkled sheath. The small, subtle changes she had felt, the tightening and adjusting of skin, the tweaking of the nerves, the shifting of the pipes, so to say.

Inspired, aroused, almost intoxicated, she slid her fingers over the brown-tinted skin, leathery in appearance yet still sleek and soft to the touch. It pulled and shifted in much the same way as when she ran her hands over one of the stallion's sheaths for their cleaning, but still she could tell the change wasn't complete: instead of the familiar blunted head with the prominent duct at the end, still the single rounded and very sensitive nub of now-dappled flesh of her clit waited there inside, tingling and sparking through her with each touch. Her inner thighs dripped with gathered arousal, the skin there taking on the same darkened appearance also so familiar from the horses.

Once more Nicole looked up towards Cairn of Stones still standing calmly before her. Again the stallion turned his head to look back at her, chewing idly at something or other. He shifted his stance, briefly lifting one hoof and then lowering it back down, as if trying to draw Nicole's attention back to his jiggling, full sack. She considered it, swallowed yet again, tasted him on her breath and in her throat, then yet again realized what she was doing and bustled to do her pants back up and get back to work.

The shame and embarrassment were still there, and flared up again when she turned to close the stall door behind her - Cairn swayed his tail yet again - and once more when she caught a whiff of herself on the air as she walked. Still they were there, but they seemed distant and unimportant. After all, who would be around to judge her? Who would be around to see? The only others on this farm would be the vet when she occasionally came by, but that wouldn't be for a while.

Just herself and, of course, the animals. She doubted that Cairn of Stones would be the only one to offer an invitation as such. Nicole sighed, willed the tingling in her abdomen to go down at least enough for her to continue her tasks, and headed back over to the supply shed. It worked for a while, long enough at least for her to finish up her tasks and then return home later in the evening for dinner and her rest.

Over dinner, though, her mind wandered again, to the point where she couldn't tell whether her mouth watered for the steak and potatoes on her plate or for the image of Cairn's heavy sack, dense sheath, and pulsing pucker stuck in her head, so fresh from memory. Things became a bit tight for Nicole, and halfway through her meal she grumbled, pushed back from the table, unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, and this time yanked her pants and underwear halfway down her thighs - and yet again was surprised to see what waited for her there.

Of course the change had continued, from whatever odd source it had began - part of her wondered if this was all part of a dream, that none of it was actually happening. That would explain these strange wants and hungers, the likes of which she had never before experienced but now felt more powerfully than anything else. She had never really needed anyone, in _that_way - and now, legs spread, chest shifting with slow, hungry panting, hands on her waist, looking down over the wrinkled horse's sheath and balls that each could fill a cupped palm, she couldn't imagine wanting anything other than one of the beasts that stood over in her stables.

Again, she had watched horses before. She had guided them around for breeding, and had been there throughout the copulation and aftermath. Her own arousal had had the same biological effect on her, with the wrinkled skin of the - of her - sheath pulling and growing, giving way to the now fully-formed head and shaft below. Dinner immediately forgotten, Nicole bit her lip, reached down, wrapped a thumb underneath the heavy backside of her cock, and lifted it up; her thumb dug gently in beneath the gathered skin of her sheath, plush and leathery all at once, smooth and hairless, moist dark brown. Just like Solar's equipment, she thought. I wonder how he smells, compared to Cairn. I'll try again tomorrow; maybe he'll be in a better mood then...

For a while the farmhand sat there, dinner half-eaten on the table, legs splayed and new equine shaft draped over her waist, her belly, her chest, steadily growing as her thoughts continued to wander. Careful, exploratory fingers poked and touched over herself, every nerve firing in its place, pleasure growing and swelling; naturally it wasn't the same proportions as what she knew to dangle and swing beneath any of her stallions, but still it felt large, so that fully hard it was been easy to lean down, run her nose over the blunted head, slip her tongue in along the little divot of the urethra... Nicole shivered as the mixed taste of herself and bright, fresh equine strength filled her mouth, sending another pulse of rich arousal through her hips. One hand kept the end of her cock close to her face while the other slid down, fingers squeezing and brushing in along the soft yet firm flesh and down towards the base of her sheath, and her balls underneath.

Big and heavy, again not quite the same as a genuine stallion, but... close enough, maybe. She just wished she could grind her face into those, too, but then again, Cairn of Stones was still waiting for her back at the stables, and it seemed as though he had expected more. Perhaps he would be the one to get more attention tomorrow... for now, though, Nicole could tell she had a hunger for something other than the steak and potatoes on her plate.

She swallowed - her wandering thoughts and exploring hands had squeezed a thick glob of what she imagined to be sticky pre out onto her lips - and struggled for a moment to do her pants up, then instead decided to shove herself haphazardly beneath her shirt to leave the house again. The action and focus on movement luckily resulted in her obtuse erection going down a bit, to the point where she could at least zip her pants back up once she was halfway to the stables.

This time, though, she headed towards the mares instead of the stallions. Something in the air, something about these changes lancing through her body and still echoing and zapping between her loins, put another difference in her: she could tell that Delilah was still in heat, even before she had closed the distance to the building. There was a spice, a tint in the air, feeling to her needy mind like the scent of fresh soup to an empty stomach.

Already it was dark out. Her work took her from the sunrise to sunset, and often a little bit past on either side; the heavy door of the stables creaked open as she pushed against it, and the new, reinvigorated farmhand took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness inside, and to take in the swirling scents all around. There was that very same smell she had spent so long beside earlier today, the verdant, grassy-earthy scent of equine life, on top of the heavier stink of manure, still less unpleasant than before... and finally, brighter and higher, cutting through everything else, the _distinctive_sting of the mare's heat and arousal.

Strong enough, distinct enough, that all Nicole needed was to reach out to feel for the stall walls and doors and then make her way over, following the scent as it strengthened and wrapped more strongly around her. Along the way she just had to undo her pants again and then hold herself in one hand, heavy shaft twitching, pulsing, growing, threatening to tighten and throb just like she had seen all the stallions do so many times before. No belly-slapping here, however: just an energetic throb, a stiffening from base to blunted head, before the soft flesh again relaxed in her grip. She was so, _so_warm, slightly humid and moist, and the scent of her own equine cock mixing with Delilah's heat...

In the darkness of the evening-bound stall still the mare's eyes glittered back at her. That, and a glitter of something else, dim light from outside catching along gathered slick moisture - and flexing, twitching, winking, warm wet pink just barely visible beneath the swaying tail and between the moistened skin of the mare's rump.

"Hey there, girl," Nicole breathed, each inhalation heavy with Delilah's scent. Warm and rich, so close to the horse's natural aroma yet distinctly changed in a deeper, almost pungent way... the farmhand swallowed, undid her pants the rest of the way, and then dropped into a somewhat awkward half-kneel, half-squat behind the mare's wide backside. Delilah turned her head to look past her other side at her caretaker. "You're in need, aren't you? I'm sorry for letting that strange woman touch you. Do you mind if... I..."

So close. So close. She could feel the wet heat emanating off of the mare's sex, almost imagining it to steam in the cool of the night. Nicole swallowed, almost able to taste that scent on her lips and tongue, and cautiously brought one hand up to stroke along the back of the mare's rump.

Delilah's tail brushed against her head, but the mare did not pull away. Nicole closed her eyes, touched her cheek to the warm rump, licked her lips, drew in another slow, shaky breath, and circled her fingers in closer towards her face, that winking sex standing between... and when she first touched against the wet flesh she reflexively jerked away again. She opened her eyes, looked right at the view she had seen so many times before yet only now felt an interest in, and then brought her hand back in.

First two fingers running along the exterior, feeling the spot where exterior skin turned to interior flesh, where pelt and hide became soft, supple skin. Nicole shuddered, half-bracing herself against Delilah's backside, as she traced in over those folds of skin and slick, sticky flesh, then practically submerged her fingers inside of Delilah. The mare didn't respond at first - seeing what she was used to from the stallions, she likely hardly even felt it - but when Nicole spread her fingers, when she ran up and then down towards the wide, round protrusion at the base, revealing itself and flaring with each throb and wink.

She couldn't take it anymore, this close, this hungry. Nicole drew her hand back again, watched the way the thick strands of equine arousal hung between her fingers, then brought that hand to her mouth, slid her tongue over and around - and immediately turned to do the same to the source. _This_brought a reaction out of Delilah before her, the mare jumping as though startled and adjusting her stance a bit, but otherwise she remained in place... and, Nicole thought, even pushed back into it. She swallowed again and again, struggling to drink down the sticky fluids as they leaked and oozed over her mouth and tongue, working in over those wrinkles of wet, warm flesh, clinging together, sticky yet slimy at the same time.

Again and again she drew in deep, heavy breaths through her nose, shoved right in at the spot where tailhole met sex. The wrinkled, puckered skin of the former brushed and pressed in against her nostrils, filling her head with that rich, deep stench that still fueled the fire burning in her abdomen, while she dug her lips and tongue and entire face deeper into the mare's backside, both hands now positioned to spread the mare's lips so Nicole could work her way deeper. Every surface, every wrinkle, every drip she could find she licked and suckled at, taking it into her mouth, her throat, her stomach.

At one point she pulled away, then had to shake her head and swirl her tongue over her lips to break the thick strands of equine arousal and hungry saliva hanging between them. Now when she panted she couldn't tell whether it was her own breath or Delilah's need, steaming in the air between them; Nicole's new shaft, fully hard, throbbed and twitched over the stable floor before her, beneath and between the mare's legs. She definitely wanted to try that out, but for now she still hadn't sated her hunger - or rather, her thirst, seeing how many times she had had to swallow, and how soaked her shirt had become in this short time.

So again she dove back in, this time with one hand making its way up to caress and tease at the mare's tailhole, while she angled her head down further. The farmhand kept her lips pursed and mouth open just so she could lick and suck at the revealed flesh after every wink, coming faster and more urgent; she drew her fingers back and forth over Delilah's protruding pucker, feeling it pulse and push out in response to her touch, while the mare at the same time shivered and lowered down along her hind legs. This allowed Nicole to finally drop down into a full kneel, other hand making its way down to stroke at herself while she worked. Her jaw started to ache, but still she pushed through, nose now settled firmly within the folds of Delilah's sex, the mare sputtering and whinnying quietly, pawing at the ground with a front hoof, shaking and shivering and pushing back and winking -

Until, suddenly, Nicole jerked back, a spray of thick, acrid fluid dousing her face and soaking her head, her hair, her shoulders, her shirt. She gasped and spluttered - rich and salty and musky - and shook her head as a second and third spray jetted out from the mare's peak. Delilah twitched and whinnied and winked, dumping out the last few sprays of her sticky orgasm across her caretaker's already-soaked chest and the base of her sheath and cock, while Nicole wiped her mouth, wiped again, swallowed a few times, grimaced at the taste, and then lapped the rest off the back of her hand to get more of it.

Still Delilah dripped before her. Shocked by her own actions, a little disgusted but still enticed and so aroused, Nicole couldn't stop herself from gripping the mare's legs again, lifting herself up, and then dragging her tongue over the leaking remnants of the equine's orgasm, taking that rich taste into her mouth and swallowing it down. That made the mare twitch and adjust her stance again, and when she felt as though Delilah had had enough, Nicole stood up, wiped her mouth, swallowed again... then changed her mind, and leaned down to plant a kiss right against the mare's puckered tailhole.

"I think," she said, one hand reaching down to heft and stroke her own hard shaft, "that you enjoyed that at least as much as I did. I do_need to get to bed, dear; I came all the way out here to give you some..." She leaned in and nuzzled up against Delilah's flank. "..._extra attention and care. Maybe more tomorrow. Would you like that?"

The horse snuffled at her hand, the one that hadn't_end up soaked in equine arousal, when she reached up to pat at her nose. Nicole smiled, chuckled, and then moved to leave the stables, this time just leaving her pants unbuttoned and unzipped to accommodate her somewhat awkward length. She _loved the way it swung and dangled between her legs, even as it began to retreat back into her sheath; loved the humid heat and the dense, firm softness of the flesh, and especially loved the way she could slide her thumb and fingers around inside those gathered wrinkles, well-slickened with drool, sweat, and the sticky fluid of Delilah's heat-driven peak. That scent in particular drove her crazy: even when she stepped back into her house, the room full of the smell of garlic-butter steak and roast potatoes, all Nicole could think about was what she had just done.

So the dinner remained half-eaten on the table while the farmhand returned to her bedroom. Her shirt and bra she tossed to the ground, and her pants and underwear she stepped out of on the way there. Was that - more of the tanned-brown skin, soft and smooth, spreading out over her thighs and up her hips? She ran her hands over those spots, feeling the thin, light coating of a pelt of hair starting to grow in as well, over and around, down towards her knees.

Nicole looked over herself for a moment longer, more interest and amusement thrumming through her thoughts than concern and worry, and then slid into bed. As soon as she tugged the covers up she slid her hands back down, slightly-sticky fingers poking and prodding and searching, exploring herself all over again. There was a lot more to learn, and she had all this time to do it.

~ ~ ~

As soon as she woke up the next day Nicole knew that she would be getting no work done. Before settling in to sleep she had quite thoroughly enjoyed the recent memories of serving to alleviate some of the mare's heat, and especially how she could taste and smell her on her upper lip throughout the night, and even this morning as well. The entire left side of her pillow, her hair, and a portion of the wall behind her bed had taken the brunt of her own orgasm, thick spraying spurts that utterly drained her in more than one way so that she certainly lacked the energy to clean up before drifting off - and now that scent clung about her as well, strong and enticing enough that she decided to forego her usual shower and wear it instead, musk of mare mixed with her own scent becoming steadily more equine, just like what she had picked up when she had buried her face between Cairn of Stones's balls the previous day.

Maybe I should do that again, was her first thought upon reaching over to turn off her alarm. Misty impressions of her assortment of dreams trickled out of her memory, each and every one involving her kneeling down behind one of the animals, lying beneath, or otherwise getting her face, mouth, hands, or now her cock, somewhere that the "previous" Nicole would never have even considered. She sat up, stretched her arms over her head, saw the still-unfamiliar bulge and outline of half-hard morning wood stirring beneath the blankets, and then stood up. She was a little front-heavy now, and had to stand with her legs a little further apart - and as she plodded into the bathroom to get at least a little bit cleaned up, she saw that her assumption had been correct, and that the changes had continued to spread over her.

This didn't bother her, however. What had started centralized there between her thighs now pushed down over her legs and knees and up along her lower body too, coating her in the short, soft pelt of a fresh, young brown bay mare - or, stallion? She admired herself in the full-length mirror there, one hand running down the pelt of her lower belly and feeling the tight muscles beneath, pushing down towards the hanging wrinkles of her sheath, while the other hand came up along her inner thigh, brushed against the back of one of her heavy balls, and then slid around towards her backside. Constantly climbing up and down stepstools and into the rafters of the various farm buildings meant that she had a hell of a butt, too; if she turned and angled herself just right, and imagined there to be that stringy paintbrush-tail right_there,_ she could almost pretend this was a horse's behind in the mirror.Especially with the low-hanging, leathery sack visible between her legs.

On her way out the door she didn't even think about getting dressed. The cool air of early morning bit into her bare skin, less so where her pelt had begun to spread, and caused those heavy balls to crawl up her legs a bit. What an odd feeling that was, and her first response was to reach down and caress them again, though of course she needed both hands to do this, and that touching and feeling just led to her thumbing and fingering her sheath all over again, digging in to feel at the buried length of her shaft... Nicole shuddered, licked her lips, and then shook herself out of it, though as she went through her imagined tasks for the day - again, knowing that she wouldn't get any of them done - she kept that hand along her upper lip, sniffing at her own scent and letting the salty taste trickle down into her mouth.

I need to clean out the gutters, she thought, but that can wait. Then the branches out in the field need to be stripped and cut. Winter's a ways off, though, and they're probably still drying out. The front lawn needs to be mowed, but why? Nobody comes to visit anyway. Then I do need to mix up a new dilution for the soap I use to clean the stalls, but... well, that can wait, too. I've always been told I'm a little excessive on that.

_ _

Rogan needs a brushing. That'll be a good way to start the day.

Nicole didn't even fetch the brush on her way over to the bull's pen. Another new discovery, another fresh interest, was the feeling of the morning air on her bare body, head to toe and everything in between: she deliberately swung her hips as she walked, feeling the way the wind curled and caressed her balls swinging between her legs, and at one point even reached down to spread her rump to alleviate some of the sweat that had already begun to gather. As she walked she imagined herself as one of the stallions she had attended to so thoroughly the previous day, high flanks and powerful thighs working and pumping, tail swaying, protruding donut bouncing with her step and full balls bouncing beneath her... it took the heavy, cloying scent of cow manure to pull her out of her fantasies, and once she picked it up, the farmhand lifted her head and took in a slow, deep breath of the stink, despite herself.

Despite her previous self, that was. Something about it, though it still made her nose curl and set a warm, heavy pressure in the back of her throat, just drew her in and made her want more. Instead of open the gate like normal, the farmhand braced a hand against the top of the fence and swung herself over, then regretted it almost instantly after landing without making space for her new sackful of equipment between her legs. That would take some adjustment too, certainly, and it remained to be seen whether this would be a permanent alteration, but... I suppose I should just take it as it goes, and enjoy it while I have it.

_ _

Other things to enjoy, too. Rogan lifted his head as he heard his caretaker come across the grass towards him. It looked as though he had been resting, though upon seeing her familiar face even with this slightly-unfamiliar body, the comfort and affection visibly ruffled through his body. Bulls could be quite frightening to strangers and newcomers, especially after hearing all of the bad press and news reports and all that, but if you know how to properly treat them, they could be one of the most loving creatures on the farm.

Nicole came forward, forcing herself to draw her eyes away from the hanging tuft of hair along his lower belly, and took a moment to greet the beast. She leaned down and touched her forehead to his, drawing in the tight, heavy odor of bovine presence and warmth, so similar yet so far different from all the horse she had inhaled yesterday. Another piece of the "barnyard" whole, familiar and comfortable in its own way, yet not really all that conventionally pleasant - but still she enjoyed it.

"Hey, there," Nicole murmured, lifting away and rubbing her hands down along his thick neck. Rogan chuffed along her upper chest. "Good morning, big boy. I haven't forgotten about you, don't you worry. You've got a brush today, and then I'll have to clean your hooves soon, too, and..." While she spoke she started her way back along his tall, broad body, running her fingers over his thick pelt and the solid musculature beneath. He shifted again and swung his tail; Nicole's nose wrinkled the closer she came to his backside, the pungent scent of bovine refuse beginning to dominate everything else. "And then... I'll..."

She never made it there, though. As she approached his hind legs she lowered her hands down towards his belly, then braced herself against him so that she could drop down to her knees. It was a bit of a squeeze beneath him and the dew-streaked grass but she made it work, and then suddenly there she was in one of the scenes from her dreams last night, the bull's sheath hanging down before her face and his huge, oblong balls hanging down within arm's length. Nicole licked her lips, swallowed again, and reached forward to take those gently in her grasp, deliberately keeping a slow, steady pace so as not to startle or surprise the bull. One of the loveliest creatures on the farm, but still dangerous when startled - and directly beneath one was the _last_place she would want to be were Rogan to suddenly become uncomfortable.

Until then, though, she felt quite the opposite. Reaching forward like this put her face right up against his sheath, more like a wrapped exterior than the bundle of thick wrinkles and flesh that the stallions as well as herself had. The beardlike hair there was moist and sticky with gathered piss and natural fluids, and the heady scent filled her nose; hefting each of those heavy balls in her hands she closed her eyes and nuzzled in along the end of that sheath, feeling the way the supple skin rolled and shifted, how the shaft inside was kept perfectly slick and moist.

The bull had a much stronger scent than the horses, brighter and richer, more acrid, pungent - and Nicole loved it. Her mouth fell open, and within another few seconds she had brought her hands back up to run along his sheath where it hung along the underside of his body, pressing into the soft skin and flesh there and feeling the solidity of the masculinity kept hooded inside. Already Nicole's own arousal stirred between her legs, pushing its way from her gathered sheath and out over the grass underneath her; she sighed again, licked her lips once more, and then settled in right at the end of that sheath for a small kiss, tentatively taking that gathered stink and taste into her mouth.

From there she just couldn't stop. Above her Rogan twitched and huffed again, briefly startling her, but he remained in place - and just like Delilah the previous night, soon he pressed down into his caretaker's attention as well. Nicole felt the thinner, tapered shape of his shaft slip out between her lips, leaving the warmth of his sheath for the wet heat of her mouth, with the wiry hair hanging down along her chin and becoming steadily more soaked with her own dripping drool as well as the slickness of his arousal. One hand remained along his sheath while the other again made its way down, reaching for those ovular balls, not quite able to reach them - until she dove down further, gagged a little bit at the feeling of him poking into the back of her throat, and then swallowed down the clinging stickiness of bovine arousal.

Animals tended to waste no time. Nicole knew this, having watched and supervised several breeding sessions, and having stood in to gather fresh samples on a few separate occasions. Still, though, it surprised her when she felt the bull's loins tighten and tense in response to her gentle suckling and rubbing, and then suddenly her mouth filled with enough of the bull's seed that she felt it shoot into her throat and dribble out her nose - and even when she pulled back, spluttering and coughing, another forceful spray emptied out across her cheek, then a third over her bared tongue, and then the fourth directly into her mouth again, lips pursed around his tip to drink it down even as she still shook with startled coughs.

By now the stink of cows had become just a backdrop to everything else, something that seemed and felt proper for her current position kneeling beneath the still-bucking bull, the taste of his orgasm fresh on her lips and in the back of her throat, and the heat of it stirring in her belly. She wiped her mouth, laughed softly, coughed again, and then leaned in to lap off those last few drips. Rogan eyed her as she stood up; she couldn't help but blush and look away, as though embarrassed for her treatment of him.

Still, though, she wasn't done. If anything her taste of him had only further fueled her desire for the bovine portion of her farm, and with her own shaft fully hard and hefted in one hand, open and free to the advancing morning, she looked over to the cows' pen next. She hadn't actually tried out this new equipment yet, save for her own hands and part of her mouth... Nicole gave herself a few slow, steady strokes, loving the way her legs started to buckle with the pleasure, and then with her shaft still in her hands, started waddling over to the other pen. Halfway there she released herself, adjusted her pace further so that she wouldn't slap against her own legs quite so hard, and reached up to brush her hair back over her shoulders. Normally she bound it up into a bun to do her daily duties, though she had already skipped her shower and other daily ablutions, so - why bother?

As she did, though, her fingers brushed over more of the short, soft pelt, this time right up over her shoulders and along the back of her enough. Sure enough when the farmhand glanced down she could see that it had continued to ascend and wrap around her body, sealing her within a smooth, plush hide almost head to toe, shimmering in the sun with sections of darker shadowed fur and then specks of lighter creamy-white, again just like any other bay horse. At the gate to the bull pen Nicole paused and turned around to take a look at herself: she still had the body of a regular human woman, save for the massive meat hanging down between her legs and swinging and pulsing with her throbbing and heartbeat, but by now she was entirely wrapped in the pelt of a regular horse. A few fingers brushing over the base of her spine told her that she was starting to grow one of their little paintbrush tails, too.

If anything, though, the idea just further invigorated the ever-present arousal stirring inside of her. Nicole stepped through the gate and then bustled over to the other cows, following the stinging scent of fresh manure in the air: it still stank, but just like she had noticed with the horses, just like she had noticed with Rogan, it was the kind of stink where she still wanted more of it, where she loved the heady, heavy-air feeling of the barnyard. The taste of the bull's seed still in the back of her throat and weighing down her belly only added to the experience; Nicole reached up and wiped her hand under her nose as she crossed the field towards the cows, but there felt that her face had indeed started to change as well, the front of it pulling out, the nose broadening, the mouth lowering a bit, to take on the shape that she already knew would belong to that of a horse.

Delora had caught her attention yesterday, right after she had made her little misstep and gotten a face full of wet mare sex - and fertility cream, she realized - and this still held true today. Nicole barely even saw the other two on her way over, but this young, fresh cow here, broad body facing away from her, thin tail nowhere near obscuring the mass of thick wrinkles of her tailhole and sex beneath... the farmhand's mouth fell open and she swallowed a few times on her way over, growing nostrils flaring as she picked up her scent, one hand returning down to give herself a few strokes.

There was no greeting this time. Nicole tried, but nothing came out over her arousal, her desire, her need. Panting softly, she knelt down behind the cow - Delora glanced behind while chewing, mostly unbothered by her presence - and then immediately mushed her face forward into that hanging mass of hot, humid flesh, digging in until the wet slickness of the cow's natural lubrication began to drip down her cheek and chin. Of course she had a different taste from the bull and mare before her, and of course Nicole still loved it: she drew her tongue along those inner walls and sucked and swallowed, but pulled herself right back out before spending too much time there. Already her jaw was sore, and again, she had _other_things she wanted to try out.

Again she stood back up, this time adjusting into a more proper position immediately behind the cow. The angle was a little bit strange, a bit awkward, but Delora's relative youth as well as the other changes within Nicole's own body meant that she could line the blunted head of her equine shaft up with her target, press it in with a hand, and then with that hand still supporting it from underneath, push slowly, carefully in... and Nicole shuddered over the cow's backside, that thick, wet heat squeezing and sucking around her.

What a feeling. She adjusted her stance, drew her fingers through Delora's thinner, coarser pelt, and continued pushing in - and also stepped right into a fresh, soft pile of the very source of the scent that still stung and wrinkled her nose, but that was fine, too. The undersides of her feet had started to shift and jut out into thick, hard hooves, with the bones and joints of her ankles lifting her up to accommodate. This gave her a better angle and position to continue at the cow beneath her, Nicole trying out the slow forward-and-back movements that she had seen guys do in so many videos before.

It worked, and it felt fantastic. She stretched her arms forward over the cow's body, stretching out and resting her chin along her strong, tough back. Again Delora turned her head and looked up at her, and Nicole thought she saw recognition, appreciation, and of course, enjoyment in those cool, sweet eyes: she remained buried against the cow's backside for a moment, each of her twitches and clenches sending another jolt of pleasure and pressure through the farmhand's body, her heavy balls resting against Delora's even heavier udders underneath. Warm, and soft, and humid, and... and she gripped in against the cow's sides and started to pulse in and out against her, staying buried past her own medial ring with her movements before she pulled slowly out in her thrusts, the sticky slickness of her cow's interior and her arousal leaving wet streaks across her shaft.

She had to maintain a certain pace and rhythm at the cow's backside, wet flesh sucking and smacking against her leathery skin, to keep from swinging her balls too hard against those pillowy udders. Before long she found a steady, enjoyable rhythm, not necessarily easy as she was panting and huffing within moments, but certainly more than she had expected. This pulsing, this electric pleasure bubbling in her abdomen, the _sensation_of the cow's inner walls shifting and squeezing around her sensitive length, pushing back along her blunted head, rolling her skin back and forth; the slight tickle of wet arousal dripping and rolling down between her heavy balls, sliding down the back of Delora's udders, the scent and stink of cow mixing and melding with her own high scent of equine lust.

Still she could smell Delilah on her upper lip; still she could taste Rogan in her throat and on her breath; and now Delora's slightly different musk began to swing and swirl around her as well. When Nicole opened her eyes she was unsurprised to look down over her own equine snout, almost fully formed; she reached up while she continued thrusting and felt at the familiar head shape, the crest of the mane, the soft ears... and she felt her tail slapping and swinging against her rounded rump as well, certainly looking just like it did when she guided a stallion to mount a mare.

Except she wasn't a stallion, and Delora underneath her _certainly_was no more. Still Nicole bred her, pounding and pumping, teeth gritted and lips and nostrils flaring, rhythmic panting turning to breathy moans, to hissing gasps between her teeth and then finally to little spluttering whinnies as she shoved herself deep, felt Delora tense and shift beneath her, and then physically felt her heavy sack tug up towards her body as she began to empty her load deep into the cow.

Nicole panted and sighed, entire body quivering with the waves of pleasure that pumped through her. Her hips jerked and bucked of their own accord, cock flaring to briefly lock her inside Delora's depths and ensure her load sprayed deep. She remained buried long after her peak, simply enjoying the sensation and the feeling of having Delora wrapped so snug around her still-twitching length, even as it softened and retreated back into her sheath, bringing a good amount of the cow's interior wetness with it. The farmhand spread her stance to let the pool between her feet - her hooves - grow, and when she finally did slip free, she did so with a soft pop and a backwards buck from her hips. The last few inches of her softening shaft, sticky and slimy with both her own load as well as the cow's arousal, swung and jiggle before settling slowly back into her sheath, itself leaking a thick drop of almost-clear liquid from the end.

Nicole took a few small steps back, chest heaving with exertion and relief. She reached up to wipe at her forehead, bumped her fingers against her snout instead, then leaned back to look over her body again. The shape had stayed mostly human, save of course for the dick, the hooves, and the head, while her pelt had come all the way around head to toe, with all the same slight variations that came on a regular horse. Her tail swayed against her rump as well; she twisted around to get another look at that as well, and then thought she ought to go pay the full-length mirror in her bedroom another visit. Still, though, there would be no fun in ogling her own butt when she still had three stallions and five mares better deserving of the attention.

And, speaking of mares... Delilah was still in heat. Nicole tilted her head back and sniffed at the air, almost able to pick up the mare's distinct sharp scent. Even though she had just finished, even though she knew guys - and animals, from experience - usually required a period of downtime to relax and recharge, Nicole felt her arousal begin to stir right back up. She reached over, patted Delora on the rump, and with her other hand dug a thumb into the thick, slick wrinkles of her sheath, then lifted that thumb to her mouth and wrapped her lips around it as she made her way over to the gate of the cow pen. The stables housing the mares could be seen from here, with the door slightly ajar.

The fertility cream had certainly worked its magic on her. Now she wanted to see if it had worked on its original, intended recipient. The mixed taste of equine musk, bovine arousal, and who knows what else washed around in her mouth, where the slight heady sting of Rogan's load still lingered. Maybe she could get a mouthful from one of the stallions, too, more than just a faceful of balls - but right now Delilah stayed fixed in her mind, and stirred and coaxed her thick length right back out of her sheath as she walked.

She had time to figure it all out, after all.