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Getting into a deal with a witch was always a proposition that could have backfired on Malcolm. He weighed the risk and figured he wouldn't be one of the ones that gave her such a dubious reputation. It was said they'd all crossed her in some way so as long as the generally affable man could stay on her generous side there would be smooth sailing. So perhaps predictably for a man who would find himself at a witch's doorstep with a need to improve his looks and attract women in the first place, his luck saw him gain renown for the curse she leveled on the man.

All over a simple misunderstanding.

Malcolm was gifted with a handsome appearance, a sharp wit, or money enough to make up for it. By age twenty-three he felt that everything else had failed and that the only choice left to him was a crone at the end of the street he grew up on. For those willing to hear the rumors about her enough to find the courage to knock at her door. With some alcoholic lubrication Malcolm found the bravery to do just that and was surprised to find a woman barely older than forty in good health with a grand stature as she stood several inches taller than him barefoot. Malcolm would have even called her attractive had the polish not worn off her as soon as her personality came out.

Eccentric, rude, and somehow kindly, she insisted on being called Matron Crane. For his whole life Malcolm had only known her by other, less generous names- Crane the Crazy old Crone and the Sour Witch- so it wasn't always easy to talk to this woman. When he conveyed his ills to her she rambled off on tangents and gave the impression of not understanding. But sure enough after waiting a week as she requested- after receiving three hundred dollars down payment of course- Malcolm woke to two dirty pill bottles at his bedside table. Pills from one bottle transfigured him into a chiseled by the gods themselves version of himself while the second made him loquacious, charming, and rather irresistible to anyone he wished to woo. The effects lasted twelve hours and were worth paying her the other three-hundred dollars owed.

For the seventeen pills provided, Malcolm had the time of his life. While favoring women, there would be men that he also bedded with equal elegance. Before he was even down to the last pills he was amassing the funds for a larger supply. Along with that some adjustments to the formula, if possible, to tweak things further. Such as more intelligence, stamina, or the ability to cook. There were more ideas but he wanted to talk to the witch first to get her thoughts. Forgetting over those few months she hadn't been easy to deal with. Much less how'd she be when he arrived one Friday evening after work at her place in some suburbia.

Matron Crane was quiet as she let Malcolm in. No sooner did the door close than the tirade began. A lot of it didn't make sense or wasn't presented in a logical order but as Malcolm pieced together he had fucked up. It seemed that during one of his transformed nights on the town he inadvertently hit on but chose not to pursue a close friend of Crane's. Recognizing Crane's words, she had come to her telling him a story that as Malcolm tried and failed to argue, put him in a bad light to say the least.

"Just a misunderstanding," didn't hold weight with the wild eyed witch. She had only wicked, cursed words for him that were primarily made up crude or biting insults. Believing that this meant his chances of getting any more pills was gone. But as he tried and failed to leave through a now sealed front door he found that Matron Crane had much more than words to her anger.

Peppered throughout her curses had been mocking references to his wanton stare being equal to any base beast. More than just outbursts though, this became the base of a most cruel curse. 'If any mammal should lay eyes on you then your life is forfeit until bestial lusts are sated! And be you not returned to form until you've satisfied its lust and yours. May you bear this curse, you wretch, you nasty, putrid lowly creature, you brute undeserving of true autonomy, for until you've proven undeserving of it!' Strange, glottal noises followed from her that laid the actual curse, leaving Malcolm bizarrely dazed.

Once Malcolm gathered himself though, he was undaunted by her and pressed to instead find an exit. The hundred year old plus manor was cluttered with hoarded furniture, books, art, and cluttered workstations dotted with candles. Narrow corridors cut through it all but none lead to any way out. Any door that opened only led to another room or corridor. A door to the basement or outside, including any window, was sealed and boarded up on the other side by all accounts. Laughing the whole while was Crane. More intensely when from the basement she called a large dog, a mixed breed mastiff, to add what Malcolm assumed was meant to add the fear of mauling. Instead it turned into a lesson of exactly how his curse worked.

The dog brought the chase to an end quickly as they came across a fleeing Malcolm in a room filled with old furniture. Rather than being ripped apart he found his body being changed, warped, and twisted down to what would end up being a dog of the same species as the beast who'd trapped him. The transformation itself progressed mostly through cramping, numb, uncomfortable adjustments that were short of painful but still thoroughly terrifying to the victim. Malcolm had his mind still but he found his body wasn't just a copy of his pursuer but the opposite gender; which as it turned out for this first case was female.

To the cackling laughter of a mad Matron Crane, Malcolm was mounted and bred, having become a bitch in heat incapable of overpowering his body's new instincts until knotted and bred. Not long after, and still attached to the guard hound by the knot, Malcolm passed out from what felt like a mixture of heat and overwhelming emotion. He had just learned the nature of his curse and how it seemed to work.

When he awoke the next day he would learn just what it meant to live a cursed life. Rather than the room he was in or even the same building, Malcolm found himself inside a smaller wooden structure meant to house farm animals. In particular he was naked on bare soil behind a waist high gated wall. As Matron Crane would explain from her nearby seat as Malcolm started to transform yet again, this time due to the gaze of a sow that shared his space, she had moved him to a farm in the country owned by an associate of hers. There she intended to leave him. From there he was on his own.

Crane would leave Malcolm to his cursed life not long after he submitted to need and, as a full hog, mounted the willing sow. The pig's long, drawn out mating proved a thoroughly draining act. Soon as Malcolm shuffled off the sow he passed out into a deep, snorting slumber.

Malcolm arose to what could have easily been night or day at this point. He was still in the pig's sty, mud covered and stinking but at least human. The sow was also still there and though she looked at him no transformation was triggered. Either he was cured of the curse already or it only worked once per animal. Given how things had gone so far he had every reason to assume the latter explanation for now.

"Fucking crazy witchy bitch. This is some twisted shit! Who would think of something like this to torture a person?" Malcolm huffed to himself as he hobbled through the gate. He sought the hose out first to try and clean himself. As he did that he spied the clothes he had been wearing and stripped when cornered by Crane's guard dog. They were neatly folded and sitting right where she had been sitting last. "How nice of her," he groaned facetiously.

The hose helped somewhat but without soap and washcloth water could only do so much. After slicking off what excess grime he could Malcolm got dressed in the same sneakers, jeans, t-shirt and pullover from what felt like only last night. Fixing his short, unkempt hair best he could Malcolm found the lone door out. He took care to open it, unsure what to expect on the other side he tried to be ready for anything.

"Not great, not the worst," Malcolm said to himself as he surveyed somewhat expected landscape. Outside was a farm in what looked like mid-morning sunlight. There were barns, sheds, motorized tractors, gardens, and best of all no people. Though there were definitely signs that people were close by with the state of things. Importantly no animals in sight either. But Malcolm wasn't about to miss an opportunity to free himself. There was a pickup truck parked across from him near a large stack of wrapped hay bales. "Gotta get out of here. Can't be seen," he muttered to himself.

So very carefully Malcolm stepped out of the pig house with his head on the swivel for any human or animal. Evading the sight of either would be the only way he'd get off this farm. His plan was to move from building to building, hiding behind whatever he could as he went. Keeping his head down Malcolm made his way over to the closet building, a small workshed, and after making sure there was no one around moved next towards a large barn. Crossing several roads and paths to do so he ran over gravel, dirt, pavement, and ended sliding in grass when he heard shouting.

After some hasty crawling behind some bushes Malcolm kept as still as he could. Listening carefully he couldn't make out what was being said but it sounded like two farmhands communicating to each other as they herded. They were not close enough to be around the corner but Malcolm couldn't quite tell where their voices were coming from. Malcolm waited a couple minutes and to his relief they moved further away. So he backed up to his feet where he hurried from cover to cover.

As Malcolm steadily neared the truck he started to think about whether he'd find keys inside. From there he was just driving away, eyes on the road, and hoping he recognized some signs. "Couldn't have gotten too far out of town, could we? No, definitely somewhat off in the hick parts outside county limits. Just have to keep driving," he reassured himself.

Malcolm reached a building that seemed one end of a long stable with no sort of cover in front of it. This made it a dangerous spot but as he edged in front of the doors he already had eyes on the large hay bale stack that was his next cover. And behind that was the truck so Malcolm felt escape within reach. Then suddenly he heard voices again, this time from the house. Soon after he was fairly sure he heard the front door of the farmhouse open.

"Shit. People," Malcolm gasped as he panicked about what to do. The farmhouse was just across the driveway with some trees and bushed between but not much else. Then he could see two figures walking together and knew he had to move. With no other good choice Malcolm found the latch for the stable door behind him. "Come on, come on," he grumbled at the stuck handle.

With some effort Malcolm got it open and slipped inside as quietly as he could, shutting the door behind him frantically. He then ran to his hide in the nearest place he could, which was an empty wash stall. There he crouched down and strained his ear for any sign that he had been spotted.

It took ten minutes for Malcolm to feel satisfied that no alarm was raised or that anyone was likely to follow. During that time the man was all too aware what building he was in and that it meant plenty of horses were nearby. Given that he hadn't started changing yet he had avoided being seen by any animal occupants. Something that he definitely wanted to keep up. But now as it seemed it was clear outside Malcolm would have to hopefully leave just as quietly and unseen as he entered. 'Quick and smooth and I'm out, no issues', he thought.

Moving with the same great care he had been Malcolm glanced down the central aisle of the stables for any long face that might have their head poking out of the stall. With ten stables on either side of a double-wide central aisle there were a lot of places to look but there were only three heads he saw. Each horse was at the far end with their attention elsewhere. Others were either out or sleeping but so long as they weren't there it was fine by Malcolm.

"I got this," Malcolm said quietly to encourage himself as he stepped out of the wash stall. In a few steps he was at the door but the mechanism on this side lacked a latch. Instead there was a metal mechanism that he didn't understand how to unlock. This led to pushing and manipulating parts in hopes it would work. Feeling the seconds tick by quickly had Malcolm sounding frustrated. "Stupid, freaking, fracking, door thing. Why is it so damn complicated?" he couldn't help but huff.

More fumbling was required before he managed the right sequence to unlock the sliding door. Malcolm then got ready to slide the door open when a searing heat suddenly simmered up his spine, spreading out tendrils of a passionate fire into his torso. Second later his head and limbs were feeling, causing him to tense up awkwardly where he stood. Then as a fierce and very distinct tingling gave him goosebumps Malcolm's curse had been triggered.

"No! No! Not now!" he clamored while his body shook. Malcolm tried but couldn't summon any strength from his cramping muscles. As the sensations intensified he had to abandon the door to clutch at his aching stomach. Took all his effort to turn to see who exactly had spotted him. "Oh what the fuck?" Malcolm groaned when he saw no less than five horses in the nearest stables staring back at him.

Stirred awake by Malcolm's difficulty was what turned out to be seven horses, scattered from the nearest stables to further down once he was audibly gasping. Exactly who was the culprit and one he'd have to eventually mate with was down to five though. What still amounted to an infernal guessing game.

"I don't deserve this crap," Malcolm gasped between winces caused by discomfort.

Malcolm did his best to put one foot in front of the other to get nearer the stables. If he was going to be changing into a horse then he would need to figure out who the suitors were. He could feel his flesh and body starting to bloat, with bones throbbing, and patches of his skin getting dry and itchy. Barely to the first occupied stable on the left and most of Malcolm's clothes were already getting annoyingly tight on him. This restricted his movements increasingly but Malcolm was determined not to stop. Or to save his clothing.

"Please all be mares," Malcolm pleaded to the horses as he reached the first stable on the left. On every stable door was a posted form with the occupants information; like their name, age, breed, sex, diet, exercise regimen, medical requirements, and then just a bunch of fluff questions. So he had a good idea he was staring at a chestnut thoroughbred mare named Val. "Thank you for being female at least. Who's next?" asked a shaky voiced man who had to lean on the door to keep his balance.

The curse started the same each time however deviated in how they played out after. Such was the case this time with Malcolm's pelvis and upper thighs were far away the most distressed. Magically summoned mass tacked onto his body, causing the constriction that impeded motion. In the seat of his pants there was such growth that his jeans were already pulling part at the seams. If that wasn't enough his tailbone felt distended from his body so that it poked a noticeable bulge in his already taunt jeans. As it and his ass grew his pants were ripping to shreds.

Not wanting to let this stop him, Malcolm pressed forward to the next occupied stall on the left side which required passing two empty stalls first. Every step caused something else to rip with even the waistband close to snapping apart. The continued pointed growth Malcolm's tail proved the real breaking point as the flesh tail dock formed just over his backside. It made it harder to walk and caused enough damage for the jeans to be in complete tatters when he reached the next horse.

Once exposed his chunky ass cheeks flopped out but also spread as they did so. This exposed the crack of Malcolm more with the dock and rest of the tail growing just above it. Malcolm's skin was coming over leathery brown and black like horse hide with his rear well covered and some accompanying dark horse hairs. It spread down between Malcolm's cheeks to where his butthole was gaining an equine pucker. None of it helped him move or keep his fractured conversation.

"O-Okay, and you are... black and tan Morgan mare named, named, named... T-Trinity," stuttered Malcolm as he read the plaque. He was trying his best to ignore his transforming body but even if it didn't hurt- something intended by the witch. She also made sure he enjoyed any lusts as well. No matter how bestial- it was still transmogrifying him out of proportion. The vivid adjustments to his waistline spread down both of his legs while things also reached his head. "Damn that witch. I'll kill her for this. If it's the last.. thing... I... ugh," he coughed in a ragged, hollow voice.

Malcolm felt the flesh and cartilage of his ear ripple upwards, reshaping both to a more pointed, equine shape. This process also caused them to stick out wider from his mostly human head, giving him an appearance all the watching horses took note of. A general broadening of Malcolm's face, from mouth to lips to nose and cheeks was also taking place which was new for him. Dogs and pigs had given him an idea of what these transformations would be like but this growth was altogether new.

"And I thought, pigs were, big," Malcolm had to add, his words broken up by gasping breaths. Pelvis, ass, hips, shoulders, face, and evidently his ribs too were all expanding outward. Forcing his hobbled stance wider and made him lean to see the next horse's information rather than walk up to it. Vision in his left eye was somewhat blurred but he managed to identify them as male, also a Morgan, named Gregor. Eyeing the beast unaware the pupil of his left eye was stretching to a horizontal oval shape. Not too dissimilar from the stallion's own. "Y-You better not have been the one. I-I don't need those conflicted... f-feelings," he murmured.

That first vivid transformation into a bitch in heat had not only been shocking, embarrassing, and loathsome, it was being mounted, knotted, and effectively bred that had him so concerned now. Because Matron Crane had made it so the acting of mating was physically and mentally pleasurable. Something like instinct helped mold both dog and sow- when he got to keep his manhood- into what he was most attracted to. That both times he had passed out with a bodily satisfaction of what he had done made Malcolm disgusted and ashamed when he was clear headed. He'd hated having awareness during all of it but not the willpower to stop any of it. When Crane explained this facet of the curse as he changed that first time he didn't appreciate the cruelty of the time. It's what drove him to risk reaching a hand down to his crotch to see if he was still a man.

The heat going through his body at the start had stiffened his reluctant cock, with subsequent tingling spasms corresponding with a massive shifting in his pelvis along with copious added weight. With his hips and ass realigned Malcolm thought he felt his cock being shifted backwards. However either it had gotten lost in the sensory noise in that region of the body or he was nearer to mare as he couldn't actually feel it as he stood there. It took ripping the remaining tatters of his jeans still stuck on the front and reaching under himself to find the answer.

Malcolm sighed in relief. "Still there. Still human but, but soaking wet. Must, must have cum and not even, know it," he figured warily. Discharging his testicles had occurred in all changes so far so it gave no indication of what may come. The flesh was also very tender and sensitive as it hung further back, nestled between burgeoning thighs; nestled in the shadows of Malcolm's proto-flanks. "Have, have to keep... keep looking," he reassured him as his sights turned to the stables across the aisle.

He didn't think twice about pushing off from the Morgan's stable to attempt to cross the space on two feet. The tee and hoodie were riding up his body and like his pants had, were constricting his movements even more. But Malcolm needed to know all the candidates before he could narrow it down to a match- regardless what's between his legs. Only walking a few steps revealed that his legs and pelvis had done more than just get bigger. Bones shifted upward so fit where they would for a horse all the way to his swollen ankle and cramped, stretched foot. Much of which was still buried in boots that were of little help. With things muscle, fat, ligaments, and lower organs finding their new well suited homes. Stubborn Malcolm pushed himself anyway, reaching the halfway point of the sixteen foot gap.

'You're not a horse yet. You can make it,' mental self affirmations from Malcolm proved easier to maintain than verbal ones. 'I'll get there and they'll be a mare so will the freckled one down there and odds are I'll still be a man then. Can still feel it dangling down there. Feels so small down there though,' he couldn't help but think.

With some momentum built up Malcolm was able to make a controlled fall close enough to the stable door that he could grab the top to hold onto. This came at the cost of one of his boots, revealing a grossly elongated right foot molded now more like horse's cannon with swollen, partially merged toes and mass of thick, blackened nail destined to be a hoof. Pinky and big toe were left vestigial, getting smaller as the rest. The left foot was no better but the boot stubbornly clung to it. Given the boots were already flexing, bursting open was a good sign it would be shed soon too. It mattered more to Malcolm to learn the next horse's identity so he just adjusted its stance and legs further back until they were more comfortable while reading the disappointing form.

"Shit! American Q-Quarter... Horse, stallion, named M-Major," Malcolm said with a wide grimace. His voice had gotten deeper, more gravely, with a lot of nasality from his enlarged nasal passage. His nostrils were widened as was the space between his eyes. The same equine bearing carried through his puffed out, flushed cheeks to his jawline and down to a hide tipped chin. All the features gave the face a muzzled appearance which stretched out from his skull. Malcolm saw as much as he read Major's details but tried to ignore.

He could have cursed more or checked his progress but Malcolm's clock was ticking. There was one empty stall between him and the final horse which felt a very distant twelve feet to traverse on what were nearly hooves. Throbbing spreading down his forearms and into his hands meant it wouldn't be long before it would be all fours or nothing. Cuffs riding up to his elbows were more evidence. So with what haste he could muster Malcolm attempted to shuffle along the stable. An effort undermined early on by masses of bone bubbling from up from his palm in his fingers, causing the two digits to merge together while the others fingers were left to dwindle away to little more than part of the soon-to-be fetlock. Happening just in a matter of a couple minutes it meant Malcolm had made barely any progress. Save losing his remaining boot.

'Not so fast! I need my hands. Need my dick too. At least leave me that?' he begged in thought to the apparently thoughtless curse. Further progress came slow with Malcolm refusing still to go on all fours. Despite its inevitability.

Stubbornness met its match in practicality as Malcolm's ribs barreled out as they stretched to fill from breast down to the loins. In doing so his cotton hoodie and tee simply tore in two to be shaken off completely as changes forged on. This forced his whole spine longer, pushing him up onto his misshapen forearms while spreading his arms further apart. His rear end reeled back to try and accommodate but was slow and clumsy. Malcolm's disjointed arms scrambled but knowing it was pointless to fight it, he gave in and gingerly moved his unrecognizable hands to the stable floor. Where they could barely bear his weight.

"Sh-Sh-Shit! No, no, no! Arms not... strong enough," Malcolm wheezed between gritted teeth. His lips had darkened to deep brown but his stretching skull did the same to his throbbing gums. Some of his teeth showed signs of changes too. Many were bigger, deeper set, with many at the front shaping into equine incisors. So his strained face as he struggled to find a way of standing that was comfortable. Something not possible in a body still actively transforming.

Realizing he would just have to tough it out, Malcolm found a position that put more weight on his stockier, more developed hind legs. From there he could go carefully forward and reach the final candidate's stall. Ballooning organs, gas, rumbling bowels, and expanding ribs meant more burdensome heft settling from groin to lower chest. Thicker hooves with a substantial frame helped but at the cost of having no human resemblance or function left. Malcolm's tail was wiggling to life above it all. Its full length was reached, the bare tail was slow to sprout more than some dense but short patches. This left his puckered horse anus exposed as it had been since shedding Malcolm's jeans. A cursed sight that moved slowly forward.

Intense pangs of cursed magic pulled the man's face out further. Each new inch brought out a labored whinny from Malcolm's mouth. It was a sound the horse he approached didn't like. They backed away as he stumbled towards them. Malcolm barely noticed the movement. His attention was on the horse's information sheet that was almost in focus. So he also neglected to feel that the flesh of his cock and scrotum darkened to match the rest of him.

'I can just about read... yes! Courtney! Appaloosa mare! Oh please let it be you or literally any other mare at this point!' Malcolm begged.

It's then he searched and found the explicit sensation of his throbbing, marred cock and balls. Malcolm concentrated to distinguish what was unfolding. And to his unfathomable relief, he was granted a small reprieve in the form of his manhood's gratifying expansion. Most of all he reveled in his four inches of cock getting fatter and considerably longer. Not bad either was the churning inside his testicles that stirred their inflation from pebbles to baseball within the span of a couple minutes. More flesh migrated from the groin to the shaft of nutsack with a lot of excess massing to form the basis of Malcolm's impressive sheath.

'Well that's one mystery solved. Fuck, this is so... weird. Like an erection that I keep stiffening but it just keeps growing. So freaking gross. I don't want stallion urges,' Malcolm moved on to fretting about next now that the wall was definitely male. 'Didn't want that sow either until I got a pig dick either. Then all I wanted was her. This curse is, is, is beyond cruel and unusual punishment. For a simple misunderstanding!' The thought was followed by a sudden, all consuming bloated that speedily shot his cock over a foot in leg, both balls to small melons, weight passed one thousand pounds, started his neck's extension, tugged his muzzle out further, and caught some uncontrolled flatulence instinctive wafting of the smell. 'Ugh, my body is getting away from me more. Have to figure out who I'm the match for and get them out of their stall. Can already feel my desires being corrupted by these stupid, repulsive instincts!'

Things got more difficult for Malcolm from there. The stretching of his neck to its full and proper length and thickness held up determining his breed. Didn't help that he was no expert in horses but the three mares did feel distinct. With what hide he had seen being dark and the few hairs brown, Val or Trinity were seeming more likely. On that hunch he trotted as best he could back to the other side of the stable. Every step he took caused his massive, weighty genitals to sway and bob which stirred stallion cravings in his mind.

Such wretched needs gave him unwanted desires for the shapely presented rear of a mare in need. One moment the hairy, wet, leathery cunt of a mare is all he wants and the next Malcolm embarrassed and repulsed by his thoughts. It mostly made for hard times but a benefit was his new horse attuned senses. As the curse would also make whatever animal saw him eager for coitus with him, a mare may go into heat- just as Malcolm had as a needy canine. So he could sniff the air to look for the mare he needed. That helped bring him nearer to Val who was eyeing him all the way to her door.

'Smells like,' Malcolm thought before inhaling deeply of the aroma coming from the mare ahead of him, causing his front lips to curl. 'Such a heady, floral stink that drips with intoxicating yearning. And it's coming from you. Definitely you," he determined, his nose outstretched to just short of the mare's own extended head and neck.

That was all it took to confirm Val the Thoroughbred was the one he needed. Just five more minutes would have revealed enough of his bay coat and darker colored furnishings. He also developed a blaze white marking down the center of his face to match Val's to further confirm what his nose already had. Much more important now was getting the mare's door unlocked so nothing would impede him dealing with his curse.

'Have to get her free. Come on,' Malcolm thought, trying to buoy his nerves. The lock on the stable doors was just a sliding metal latch with a large handle that he attempted to open. Manipulating it with his teeth and muzzle for what felt like an age. His changes were still swelling him larger and now he was close enough for Val to be able to sniff Malcolm directly. She grew more affectionate as she did so, adding to the curse's intended internal conflict. 'She wants me so badly. So fucking gross. So fucking hot,' was some of his duplicitous reasoning. Mixed emotions didn't help his strained concentration. And as his new horse cock got larger, by now over twenty inches and thick as a pint glass, and balls complimented it with their own impressive size the lustful stallion desires were winning out.

It's with his body and mind now close to being clawed completely away from him that Malcolm got the latch moved with his capable new horse lips. Soon as it was done the door creaked open a little. Malcolm moved right to the empty stable next to her to give Val room to get out. In a spurt of human forethought he used his adept muzzle to unlatch the empty stall too. But after that act he was too exhausted to keep resisting. He knew what had to happen for him to be rid of those wretched stallion instincts and the body they came from.

So Malcolm did his best to surrender to the curse in those final moments. His body was approaching a full coat of horse hair that was a close match for the mare he was paired with. Fat and muscle distribution had finished through his legs, rump, and up into his neck. There was still some needed to fill in with flesh and hair but it wouldn't be much longer. Up in his head the curse was more rapid in its advance. The stallion that he had become never exactly took control but all Malcolm's thoughts, feelings, desires, and many of his memories were bent to be filled with ones fitting a horse. Malcolm was the one that had to move and act with stallion's thoughts where his decisions were born. Much as the man tried to dull his consciousness or awareness it didn't take. The stallion's needs were now his own and they were too overwhelming to not capitulate.

While Malcolm struggled with the last few minutes of his transformation Val had nudged her stall door the rest of the way open. She trotted out, shaking her body first before bearing towards him. There was some confusion on her part as to how strangely he was acting but it didn't stop the mare sniffing at him or getting as close as she could. Her lips curled and tailed flicked as she whiffed nearer to Malcolm's rump. Val could clearly see the stallion's massive, mottled endowment of his genitals. Several inches of dark, leather sheath stitched up Malcolm's belly but most still hung underneath; twitching frequently.

The whole sight of the new Malcolm was everything the mare could have wanted. Val turned next to getting the stallion's attention. Nudging and licking his head didn't work while at his side she turned herself around and presented to him. He could only see her out of one eye as his head and neck stayed rigid from the curse's last legs but it was everything that stallion in him ever wanted. Malcolm's natural aversion was there but was just a warning light he couldn't heed. So still changing his hooves did move him around, showing they were now capable of supporting and moving his new thirteen-hundred pound heft.

'Shit, and I thought a hog was horny. This is nuts. I want her so bad. Fuck these gross impulses,' Malcolm thought in futility as he body moved to pursue the mare.

When the changes at last were done with no more hair to grow, fat to pack on, bones to crack, or brain to twist, Malcolm had his muzzle right at Val's cunt where the stallion sniffed and licked himself into a frenzy. One the man was powerless but to experience.

The mare hot and willing, Malcolm mounted as the beast in him propelled him forward. It proved easier than his efforts while a pig with only a little steadying required before he made a successful stab with his cock. As Malcolm thrust it took several goes to fit his massively sized horse member into her to depth that satisfied the stallion in him. That done it wasn't honestly that long before Malcolm's stirred up emotions climaxed along with the stallion's. Penetrating deep as he could, Malcolm orgasmed with a twisted delight. The high levels of euphoria and satisfaction from the act he felt were poisoned by their repugnant beastly nature. During those moments he pumped his load was impossible to not revel in but Malcolm didn't have to like it.

By the time the deed was done and Malcolm and the mare separated a tired haze started to grip him. No sooner was he on all fours than he stumbled for the empty stall he had prepared earlier. If he was going to avoid being seen while unconscious he'd have had to get there. Still he caught sight of Val's despoiled and dripping backside before managing to get inside the empty stall. He had just enough wit left to turn and close the door before finally succumbing to exhaustion. Kneeling down his large body flopped down on the bare floor and was fast asleep within a few seconds.

Another dreamless rest passed with once again human Malcolm waking in near darkness. At first it's hard to tell where he is but as his vision adjusts and he gets to his feet he's relieved that he was still in the same stall he had passed out in. Dim ceiling lights above the center aisle were the only slim light for Malcolm to go by but after taking care to stick his head up over the stall wall, he saw that all the horses appeared asleep. That included Val in the stall next to him. Peering over the wall from his stall to hers he felt a shiver of revulsion pass through him. That he had been large enough to mount and breed an animal that big further was testament to the curse's power if nothing else.

Malcolm exited his stall with care to open the door slowly so as to not wake anyone. He was able to manage it and get out into the aisle where his torn clothing was still scattered all over the floor. All but the one boot he kicked off early was beyond repair at this point. Not wanting to be naked led Malcolm to a supply area that sat opposite the cleaning stall near the door. His desperation gave some reward with him finding some rubber overalls and boots as well as a blue waterproof poncho. The ensemble wasn't pretty but it was better than nothing.

The sliding door was also still unlocked as Malcolm had left it. He made sure to exit and close the door in as swift and single a motion as he could manage while quickly ensuring there was no one outside. Thankfully it appeared that the farm was asleep just as the stables had been. Just some flood lights- like the one above his head that had just been triggered on by his motion- to illuminate along with a clear night sky.

"Okay. No people. No animals. Everyone is asleep. Might make it out this time," Malcolm said in a dry, husky voice- his first since reverting back.

From what Malcolm could tell everything was much where he remembered it being with some of the farm equipment put away being the biggest difference. He looked for the truck but the hay bales and low light made it impossible to tell. So he returned to his interrupted plan from before and continued from the stable to the wall of hay. Circling around it carefully as he could in clothing that was all oversized on him.

When he finally circled around the bales Malcolm had to restrain himself from cursing loudly. The truck was gone, moved or driven home by a worker. As he wasn't able to spy it anywhere it didn't seem to matter which. That option gone, a quick reassessment was needed. Malcolm reached a quick conclusion. "Have to do it on foot I guess. Head to the road and pick the best direction I can," Malcolm said with a sigh and shrug.

Taking the easiest way and following the driveway, Malcolm continued doing his best to conceal himself while taking care to make sure no one, or thing, was about. It's that awareness that saved him when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a large dog, a German Shepherd, laying down not too far in front of the front door to the farmhouse. It had its head facing away from Malcolm at least and appeared to be asleep but the good news ended there. He was pointed right at the driveway which passed right in front of the house. With connected buildings and structures on the opposite side he was effectively funneled past the dog. Shivering from the memory of his last encounter with a guard dog, Malcolm decided that he needed to find another way.

Malcolm wormed his way through the farm buildings, gardens, paths, pens, stables, paddocks, sties, and other areas with care to avoid possible contact with a more nocturnal animal. Most like chicks, pigs, and horses were inside while he steered clear of a larger sheep pen where many were napping together. All the choices along the way brought him to a massive barn with at least three attached large pastures branching off into the dark distance. As sight and smell would confirm it was the cattle barn. Those fields behind it were dotted with lumps of sleeping cows, many of which were bunched together.

Largest of the packs was near the barn itself but it was a warm, clear night so most were outside. The road that Malcolm was trying to reach boarded one of those pastures so a plan came together. As trying to go around the fence brought him too close to the driveway and guard dog, the best option was going to be cutting across a part of the pasture. From what he could tell the pasture he needed to cross was lightly populated with sleeping cows. That was a big risk. Not the biggest though as signs posted to the fence Malcolm was eyeing to climb to get into the pasture warned of a bull guarding each of the pastures. Hardly encouraging

"I don't see a bull. And only like, what," Malcolm paused to count those sleeping lumps he could make out in the dark, "seven cows. Just gotta move quietly and carefully and keep my distance. Have to go though. I cannot be here in the morning," he affirmed to himself. Any plans about what to do once he was on the road and clear of any farm were put on hold until he could actually make it. He had learned well enough to not be cocky with his curse and this infernal curse.

The well-maintained wooden fence was four and half feet tall so not very difficult to climb, even in Malcolm's slapdash outfit. After landing safely he tried to plot out the route that kept him as far away from cows as possible. While there weren't many cows to be seen in this pasture they were laid out so that Malcolm's path would actually steer him away from the road for a while and nearer the other pasture. Assuming there weren't more cows hidden in the dark he could then snake his way to the road, having gone about a half mile away from the farmhouse by then.

So the slow and steady journey began. Mostly slow at the start with there being more cows near the barn side of things along with an unexpected problem for Malcolm in the form of cowpies. He had figured for some but there were so many at times he was tiptoeing at the snails pace to avoid them. The occasional movement of one cow or another, usually a cow turning in its sleep, which added to his stress. Slowly but surely he made progress while remaining unseen- though he was alert for any troubling sensations that told him otherwise.

'Making good progress. Have lots of time and too far from the farm now for them to spot you. Probably anyway,' thought Malcolm as he went along. 'If I ever get my hands on that Cunty Caine Crone I'll wring the life out of her. Maybe curse her and see how she likes fucking pigs and horses and shit. Who knows how many days of work I've missed. Probably got fired and can't tell them the reason I couldn't come in. This is outrageous. Why me? I just wanted to have a little fun,' he lamented as his self-pity grew. It was the most time he had with his own thoughts since this whole mess began.

Mercifully the cowpies thinned out along with the cattle. The grass was a little higher here so the messy mines were still a threat and kept Malcolm alert. He was going up an incline of a small hill that crested through all the pastures with the top being the point where he hoped to turn to the road. Now that he was out farther he could see the cows were really few and far between. Just two near between him and the road meant hiking up the hill in uncomfortable boots. When he reached the top at least he could scope out and confirm his route to the road.

'That's not too far. No cows for a nice gap right to asphalt. Let's hope my luck is ch-ch-change... oh fuck. Oh fuck, no, no, no...' came hurried and panicked thinking when his spine lit up with electricity that soon was scattering through him. And that meant only one thing for Malcolm.

He held out hope for a few seconds that it would cease or turn out that he backed into an electric fence. But waiting just confirmed this was the curse activating again. Malcolm's skin was prickling up and becoming like soft clay down to and including his throbbing bones. Sweat was soon pouring off him with his breathing getting lethargic and guts growling in spreading distress. There was no mistaking it anymore. Now it was just a matter, Malcolm assumed, of finding the heifer he'd roused.

"Fucking hate this shit. Least I can figure it's a cow this time. If it was a bull I imagine I would have been gored already," he huffed in a low whisper to himself. "I can't catch a break anymore I guess. I really fucking can't. And I can't do shit about it. At least until I find this stupid insomniac cow that saw me. Maybe I'll wake up early enough to get the fuck out of here then," Malcolm added optimistically while having a sense inevitability about the next few hours. Not that he planned to enjoy it anymore than previous transformations.

Body aching, belly swelling, and tailbone throbbing particularly bad, Malcolm lurched down the hill towards the road where he saw the nearest cows in the pasture. So far as he knew the curse affected the other animal as well, at least as far as getting them in the mood to fulfill the crone's curse all the more. So in an open space like this he was rather certain at least that she would show herself without him having to do much work. Flat land would at least be nice. However uncomfortably the walk was disturbed by a pulsation arising in his testicles that soon had him hard as ever.

'First hung like a horse and now a bull. It will never feel right to me,' Malcolm admitted to himself. At the same time he felt his brought to quick an unsatisfying orgasm that still managed to be the sort that effectively drained of any sperm. This had occurred each time so far and seemed an uncomfortable required step. Throbbing in his loins didn't cease in the least though giving Malcolm reason to think he would be sporting an unsightly bull cock sooner than he figured.

"Nothing I can do. Gotta get these clothes off," he insisted as he stripped the jacket off. Already he could see his bloated frame with stomach and crotch more prominent so far. He got one strap off each of his overalls and it caught on his chubby midsection. Yanking it down further took a lot of effort and when he did it revealed something he didn't think was possible. "Is that a-? How? How?"

Below a bloated gut was an equally bloated mass that was once his scrotum. Rather than hang though it had swelled out at its base, making it look more like a swollen section of his crotch. With pinker, tight flesh that had some three sizable dimples on it but more disturbing to Malcolm was seeing his now misshapen cock hanging in a square aligned with the other protrusions. Its continued growth led to it hanging again but with the shape of a forming udder. It was growing faster than he could grasp what it meant or that he'd already had a slit developing beyond that. Intense throbbing at his tailbone also drew his attention with a hand to confirm the tail he was less surprised to find.

Malcolm craned his head around him and still only saw female cattle. No bull that would explain why he was growing an udder of his own. Intense shifting of weight around his hips and thighs coupled with the beginnings of his hands becoming hooves forced Malcolm to come to terms with this deviation. As the curse packed on pounds, his hands deformed in what were destined to be hooves. Middle fingers on either hand swelled larger, blackened hooves massing at their tips from other fingers shrunk away or into dew claws. The magic rippled up his arms, thickening thick wrists and forearms until Malcolm's misshapen front limbs hung down in front of him, a weight steadily dragging him down to the grass.

"Fuck this fucking bullshit...not female. Not again. Not with a fucking udder," gasped a red faced Malcolm. Already his ears were longer, more pointed with his nostrils and nose broader, with rounded cheeks and other features that gave the poor man a bovine appearance. He was only dimly aware that his nose was sore but the rest was still ignored as he grappled with bigger things. Namely his impending fall to all fours and the thing thing helping it: the bloated growth of his midsection- with what were closer to teats now. His penis included. "Just want this horror show to be over. I don't belong here. I don't, no one, deserves this," Malcolm fumed, body quaking. "Except the bitch who, who, who did this to... m-m-m-mo- no! Fuck that!"

Choosing to choke down a bellow that was trying to get out, Malcolm just clamped his mouth shut and said nothing more while falling finally to the ground. There was enough articulation in his hooves in them that they sort of worked but were still underdeveloped. He at least did not weigh so much yet that this was a great issue. The sensation of grass brushing against his ruddy colored skin was unkind given the circumstances. Not made better when he finally kicked the boots off he was wearing while his legs were still usable.

The sound of wet, muffled bones crunching and cracking grew louder along with a sickly sloshing sound of all the organs under skin that itself was beginning its transformation to a thicker cow hide. Add to that Malcolm grumbling to himself while in varying degrees of groaning discomfort and it made for enough to get the attention of the nearby sleeping heifers. They turned and were clearly confused by what they said moving around so strangely in the dark. Most were content to watch from where they sat. This changed with Malcolm's frame growing large enough as well as the smells that were coming off him. Fear and sweat wafted from him but increasingly his odor was one like theirs. So they started getting to their feet.

"Feet. Shit, feels like it's going faster. Why does it feel like it's going faster?" a distraught Malcolm panted. Things were progressing as fast as they ever had but in the dark with things always transforming out of order it was hard for him to keep track. Cramping in his feet, realignment of his pelvis, bovine cunt drilling into his backside, new stomachs making room for themselves, hands all but gone, and bovine nose wide enough to make it all feel like so much. Emotions got to Malcolm as a result. "Where's this stupid bull? I only see... oh. G-Get from mmmMMMOOOooOOO- N-No! Stop!" he curtly yelled when he saw three heifers headed his way. Each driven by simple curiosity.

All over Malcolm's body the wracking hardship of the transformation was now at work through his entire skeleton, stretching the spine longer, ribs wider, and neck too. Every bone felt remolded in one way or another. Malcolm felt some shrink away, others swelled massively, almost all were also changing their shape and positioning in the body as the bovine shapes became more visible. That left the man's human form to wither away as cow fat and muscle packed on steadily.

He wobbled a lot because of all this and looked surly as he began to stumble around in the grass. This kept the three watching heifers at a short distance but they were definitely interested in what was going on now. The pained sounds coming out of Malcolm were warping more as his lungs grew and neck dragged his maligned skull forward against any will of his. Malcolm was still desperately trying to keep his mouth from letting a moo or any bellow befitting his new friends out.

Controlling his mouth was one thing but Malcolm found it near impossible to manage the vast gulf in anatomy her was facing around his backside. Like with a horse his realigned bones left him with ass spreading while legs shifted to support a cow's bearing. He could feel his thighs bloating into flanks, flanks forming from excess flesh, and of course the bloated pink udder that protruded down from between the thighs to passed what used to be Malcolm's waistline. It was shame enough as it was but from the great churning in his lower abdomen something stirred and tingled down into the udder. Wasn't long before the udder started to sag with liquid weight. Malcolm didn't need to think hard to know what it was.

More churning had spilled into his bowels where a gassy bloat developed. With Malcolm's ass spread his oversized bovine anus was no less a wonder than when he was a stallion. Bouts of flatulence followed with Malcolm's nose picking up on before he was aware it was happening. Then all he could do was be aware that he couldn't do much to stop it. That it smelled of the cowpies he'd be dodging all night caused him to gag. "Fucking groooOOOoss," Malcolm complained in a gnarled, distorted version of his old voice.

An udder sagging with milk and gassiness were joined by a third which was situated between them and right under his asshole. Not as well obscured by Malcolm's foot long, hide covered tail was his new bovine cunt. Its internal formation within the litany of organs shuttling around inside him was something hard for him to feel sometimes, which he was grateful for. So too for the feelings around the pussy coming into a functional state presented behind him. But just as his heat came on as a bitch that first experience with the curse Malcolm was soon beset by heifer hormones along with the first intrusive thoughts and baser instincts. They were easy to repel now but it was only a matter of time now.

It was near twenty minutes since the curse first gripped him in the pasture but it felt closer to ten to Malcolm. The darkness was doing him some favors by obscuring much of the bodily horror his body was going through. Also impeding him was a neck that was elongating with weight and mass that came from mostly under it down to a flesh dewlap. All of it Malcolm could feel but he was saved having to watch for the most part. The only thing he couldn't look away from were those changes working at his face and skull.

Like everywhere else his skull had gotten wider. From the bridge of his nose down to a rounded the rounded off nice was bovine broad with the jaw and mouth the same after some adjustments. Eyeballs and eye sockets swelled to keep up while his ears were curved to a point now and found themselves best places sticking out either side of his head. Tufts of white fur showed from the inner ear while more red colored fur coated the outside. Malcolm didn't know he was a Guernsey breed of cow but he would soon know what it felt like to be one. The same color that came to coat almost all of Malcolm's body save for some white markings here and there. And he was only aware of his coloring when it showed up around his eyes and cheeks and sides of his muzzle. He tried shutting his eyes but could only blink on account of the strain.

The group of three cows that had been watching had grown to seven. Some would stare while others ventured closer to trotted around Malcolm, keeping docile in either case. All the varied changes, smells, and sounds were a sight to behold. Especially as his gathered aroma came to match the other cattle, their curiosity developed into a concern for a fellow cow in distress. So as his weight soared past a thousand pounds and skeleton neared a bovine, their apprehension towards Malcolm gave way to them trying to lick and nuzzle. All while he still was physically transforming.

'What are these stupid cows doing? Leave me alone! You're not helping! I don't want to be like you! I'm not like you, so fuck off!' Malcolm screamed with his eyes that the beasts around him were helpless to actually say or do anything about it. More cows would come, adding to the congregation and Malcolm's sense that they were waiting for me. 'Keep your stupid herd! Just bring me the stupid bull so I can be done with this shit show.'

Encroaching cow thoughts were getting louder in Malcolm's head as things continued towards their inevitable end. The simplified thinking lacked in terms of consideration for modesty and self-awareness with needs to graze, sleep, keep close to the others, and relieve himself were pressing as much as his weight and udder were doing at the same time. Of course also present and scratching at Malcolm's willpower was the curse's twisting of his brain to lust and desires to be bred. His physical preferences in a partner were swapped with the high standards of a heifer. Revulsion existed alongside lurid, vivid visions of depraved bestial acts once again for Malcolm the cursed.

Relief from his physical transformation was closing in for the man at least with less than a handful of minutes left until he was alike to all his onlookers. Some had taken to grazing as they watched while others still tended closely to him in case he was sick. Certainly the sounds leaving his mouth now were almost indistinguishable from those mooing around him. His flatulence hadn't calmed either with the similar ill of his basketball sized udder dripping milk from its fully formed teats. Whichever engorged teat of those four used to be Malcolm's cock was impossible to distinguish from the others with all of them trickling milk. Gradually Malcolm could tell it was close to over but there was no comfort in it. Not when he was getting left with even more alien sensations.

'Not much longer. How can I be this huge? I feel like a whale. I move like one too,' Malcolm thought in a dreary state brought on by the unrelenting flood of bovine brainwaves. 'This may be the worst animal yet. When I was a pig and horse, at least I was male. And for the dog, at least I was small. But this? This is huge. This is leaking. This is hunger. This is fat and gross and the putrid smell... This curse is beyond hell. I just want to be me again,' he lamented. 'I should have never knocked at Crane bitch's door. Then at least I'd be home.'

Regrets piled up and as always amounted to nothing more than a weight on Malcolm's soul. For cursed he was and would remain until he could find a way out of it. Between now and then there would be a lot of times like this where it wouldn't be easy but he remembered it never lasted long and that he will, eventually, get this fixed. Enduring embarrassment, some disgrace, some agony, and untold levels of degrading acts would be required if he was going to come out the other end of this. Malcolm was going to get used to a cursed life and the troubles it brought. Troubles like the one snorting its way closer to the gathered group of cattle that were watching the man's final transition to the herd.

Off some half-mile away in the pasture was its resident bull who had no idea about Malcolm's presence due to a particularly heavy sleep. When he did fit to sniff the air the smell of the man was already mingled tightly with the cow so the hearty Guernsey bull wasn't inclined to get up. It's when the scent turned heifer in heat that the bull decided it was worth investigating the commotion. He started at a trot but with the aroma growing more pleasing he increased his pace, cock already sliding from its sheath.

Hearing the bull's approach scattered most of the cows just before he arrived. Malcolm's changes were a couple minutes from done but was currently having the intrusive heifer thoughts take over control of his motivations and drive. It caused him to moo and bellow repeatedly, foaming at the mouth a bit too while woozily stumbling around. Acting like this is what Malcolm reasoned, in his dulled state, what caused the cows to move away from him. He only noticed the presence of the burly bull when he was sniffing around closer to his backside. When his head turned to see what it was the man felt the gut reaction to flee while the cow was at total ease. Which is why Malcolm didn't actually move to react. All he did was swat the air with his tail, tipped now with a fluffy cow switch.

When he calmed Malcolm felt a touch of relief. 'Found the bull at least. Won't have to endure this gross body for much longer. I feel disgusting,' fretted the man. Some last few worming sensations in his gut were fading from his so it wouldn't be long now. Malcolm's coat also was still growing but only in density at this point. Already the heifer was at the reins so there was little to do but wait to pass out. But as it hadn't happened yet, he was still forced to keep his head turned and eyes on the bull. Namely his now fully erect cock, which signaled a hopeful quick act.

Barely ten seconds after Malcolm felt the cursed magic settle to nothing, and the bull on his back. The bull had clearly mounted a lot of cows in his time as the act was mercifully short. Just the first few inches of the bull penetrated when a gush seed orgasmed out. The bull's hot breath and drool heaved at the back of Malcolm's neck during the brief act as his weight was on her. But once the deed was done he scrambled his legs off and was satisfied.

It was all over so quickly that Malcolm barely had time to be sure the deed was done. There had been a tingle of something he felt but nothing like his previous times. Still, he preferred that over something drawn out any day when it came to this curse. So he just waited for his body to come over all heavy and pass out.

And he waited.

And continued to wait.

And waited for nearly ten minutes with the only feelings coming over him, a full feeling of a cow that needed to be milked and a cow that needed to use the bathroom.

Twenty minutes and hunger got the best of him, leading to some grazing in an attempt to calm his nerves about something being wrong.

Near thirty and Malcolm finds himself unable to stop his tail lifting slightly or the flood of manure that came out of his backside. Urine followed with his body content to simply continue to graze as a large cowpie formed behind him.

'Something is wrong. Something is definitely wrong. Why haven't I passed out? Why am I still aware of this cow's fat body? Is this curse broken?' worried Malcolm with some reason. Being bred had cleared some sense for him. Not enough to overcome his basic heifer programming but capable of awareness of his current self. Maybe there was some delay or hitch he was missing but as the minutes turned into an hour with no change in his state his troubles mounted.

Also mounting was the bull, again, at close to the ninety minute mark since his first go. And just like that time Malcolm's heifer was a willing participant. Here again he hoped for lights out but just persisted as a cow. Three more times before dawn the bull mate with Malcolm and leave him in sheer confusion as to what he was doing wrong. Both the bull and Malcolm's latent anxieties kept him up until morning.

The sun hadn't even risen yet when activity at the farm itself kicked into gear. Malcolm watched as the trucks of the workers arrived in the early hours and set about their tasks. Some five were dealing with the cows with their attention on the pasture the man currently occupied. Many of the cattle gathered nearer the barn with it being their time in the milking parlor for the morning. Soon some of the farmhands were coming further out to the pasture to stir still sleeping cows and wrangle any others.

Panic in Malcolm's mind didn't precipitate his body actually knowing why it should run. During the night he had drifted nearer the barn side so his chances to avoid being seen were already slim when they came out. He may not have been able to run but his feelings were certainly causing some visible fears. When finally spotted by one of the workers for Malcolm's lack of yellow tags on either ear he wasn't sure what to do.

'This isn't supposed to happen. This isn't supposed to happen! They think they're looking at a cow, I can see it already. Why am I not changing back? Why? Why?' Malcolm's head was full of dreadful worry. Outwardly the heifer just had an innocence to his fearfulness at the men's approach.

Some twenty feet from Malcolm the two farmhands, both men stopped to talk to each other. After that one took out a radio from his belt then walked off reporting something. The other man just stayed close and surveyed the area. This is when he managed to spot the clothing Malcolm had been trying to escape in which he relayed to the man on the radio.

Twenty minutes later the two men have been replaced by a woman and the Crazy Crone herself, Matron Crane. The woman in her cowboy hat stayed back while Crane approached Malcolm with the most prosperous grin he'd ever seen on a person. It turned his stomach to no end.

"Well, well, well, the cursed little wretch didn't get that far after all, did he? You truly look in your element I think though. Yes, yes, definitely your element," she tittered and grinned with a crooked voice full of energy. Coming closer Crane pet the agreeable heifer's snout as she continued to gloat. "Lowly beast fit for the farm, pasture in this case, and around kin who see you as equal. A good fit, wouldn't you say? Oh but you can only moo now, that's right. I shouldn't expect much from one such as yourself."

'It's your reason I'm like this! And look what your curse has done! I'm not back to normal! This body is, is, is barnyard vulgar! I just eat and shit, shit and eat, and the bull mounts but I'm still a freaking cow! Fix this! End this, please!' he pleaded in thought.

Crane didn't react like she understood, nor did the woman. Nor did the heifer who chose to lean into the witch's touch. Only when the witch moved on from the head, petting down her neck and back until slapping her plump flank. She moved around behind Malcolm where his despoiled cunt still dripped with the bull's latest efforts. Crane erupted in laughter.

"Seems the bull in this pasture had his way with you, hmm? And yet here you are, still you. Hmm, hmm, hmm. Perhaps you think my curse was not wisely crafted? Fool are you if you do! My magic works how I say and torments how I wish. It has worked flawlessly, is working flawlessly, will continue to be flawless until I flawlessly remove it from you. But we are a long, long, long way from that time. Instead here you are, perfectly a moo, and perfectly suited to your surroundings. And to bulls around here," she taunted between fits of laughter.

Malcolm was raging behind the guileless eyes of the cow. It boiled down to 'why am I still a cow?!' in the end though.

Back in front of Malcolm she was back wetting the willing beast when she finally solved it for him. "I would love to poke and prod more and see you mounted and milked but I do not wish to stand in the pasture all day. It's a lovely place for someone like you, moo," Crane said dismissively while turning her gaze to the land around her. In particular it fell towards the adjoining pasture not far away. "A more lovely place for you, if you wished to not be stuck as you are now, would have been that pasture, over there. Where I believe the bull that actually laid eyes on you is still leering at you from over the fence. But instead you chose this pasture and it's bull. I think, then, it's time for you to start settling in."

Hearing it caused the cow to turn its head to look towards the fence where there was indeed a larger bull waiting. Colored not unlike the one that already mounted Malcolm, it was the culprit and the bull he needed on his back to fix this.

At that Matron Crane waved the owner over. Approaching, the woman measured the heifer up.

"She's impressive. And you promise ten gallons from her a day?" the farmer asked, sounding all business.

"At least," Crane assured.

"And no medical issues to worry about?"

Crane grinned. "None at all. You'll find she's probably pregnant already but some more sessions would likely ensure as much."

"Shouldn't be a problem," nodded the farmer. "Knowing my bulls, it's never a problem."

"Perfect, perfect. My only wish is that you keep this heifer from that bull that's standing the other side of that fence ogling her. Keep them apart at least until she's weaned the calf. Contact me then," she told the farmer. "That gives you her for... how long would you say?"

"Hmm, about thirteen months or so pregnant, eight to nurse the calf, so later next year I should be giving you a ring. Want any updates about her until then?" the farmer asked Crane who was already moving to leave.

"Updates? No, no, none of those. I have no interest in a cow's diary or its goings-on. When you deem the calf old enough, then update me. Until our next book club then." Crane nodded to the farmer and then took her leave, saying nothing more to Malcolm. He didn't know it but it would be years until they met again.

The farmer left soon after, using her own radio to call her workers out to get the new heifer ready for processing.

That left Malcolm there alone in the field with the only thing that he had remaining to him, his thoughts. He'd curse the witch, the farmer, the bulls, his luck, his fate, and his situation to no end. Any consolation that this would end, mercifully, at some point was no help to the man right now. A cow's life, a pregnant cow's life, was all he had now. That life was so ingrained already that the only relief he could hope for soon was to be milked.

Things had gotten off to a bad start. Where it would lead Malcolm couldn't fathom beyond the pasture that would serve as his new home. A blessing for the heifer but a cursed new existence for the luckless man.