A Gift for my Valentine (Vore, Scat, Feral, TF)
A quick morning story of a golden retriever and his favorite cow crush.
It was a crush if there ever was one. I visited her every weekend (even more if I had the time), thought of her every day, and sent gifts and presents as often as I could. I'd taken enough photos of her to fill an entire iPhone 4, and every desktop, home screen, and personal space I owned was filled with constant reminders of my affection. In fact, I swear that she was really the only thing that kept my world turning.
There was just one problem, really. It wasn't too significant, but it was definitely a barrier between us, and one I knew I could never cross. You see, she, Latte, was... a cow, a jersey one to be more precise. You really wouldn't understand unless you were a zoophile like me, but I loved her. Latte was my world. Ever since I had first met her at the farm of my college friend's family, I knew I was hooked. I don't know what it was about her, really, to an outsider she probably just looked like all the other cows, but to me, something just clicked. Maybe it was her cute little face, her wet black nose, or even the way she chewed her cud with a satisfying, sticky slurp. Whatever it was, I found myself coming back as often as I could, and even got a summer job at the farm just to be at her side. What else can I say to that? I loved those days and still do, but then, I don't know. Things changed.
Over the course of a month, meeting, feeding, petting, and taking care of Latte began to feel like it was no longer enough. I began to realize that to her, I wasn't anything more than just a meager farmhand, and I probably wasn't even there when she needed or wanted me the most. I desired to become something more to Latte somehow, something greater than just a farmhand, and something much more sincere that I could never give to her as a dog.
I remember running through all of my options in search of what that could be. I considered just ditching college and moving near the farm so I could work full time, but that would just postpone the inevitable, and sooner or later I'd come to feel like this again. I considered buying Latte, but again, that was merely dodging the problem and not facing it head-on. Forgetting her was impossible, and trying to find someone else would only make it a thousand times worse. It took me another week or more until I finally figured out what it was I, and she, probably wanted.
This was something else... weird, and to the outside world, I probably now looked like some sort of madman, and maybe I was. I'd always been that weird pup, in school and in college, and to me, this was really nothing different. In addition to being a zoo, I was also a voraphile, and I found nothing more lovely than the idea of being swallowed by Latte and being processed into milk by her lovely, lovely stomach. Many a day I'd spent lying on her, listening to her digest her food, chewing her cud, that kind of thing, and I guess from that day on I realized that the only way I could really be with Latte was to become her food.
But I didn't even know how to do that. Most of my fantasies involved being swallowed whole by her like we were both in some kind of cartoon universe, and even if I did fit, she wouldn't be able to digest my bones and meat very well. I really didn't know what else to do at that point? I considered being processed by some company like Blue Ribbon or City Meats, but that felt too impersonal. I wanted to be something else, something that would be a treat for her and not just another bag of cow feed, and that's where things got even... weirder.
Out of options, I turned to the stranger parts of the internet and began researching ways to make my desires reality. I don't even remember what I Googled, but I'm sure whoever found my computer after all of this was very happy I kept all my tabs in private. In short, I learned that food transformation was actually possible if you went to the right shop, and found a curiosity and magic specialist just a few miles downtown. I don't remember many of the details about driving to the place, it was late at night and the educated part of my brain just kept telling me it was just another hoax or tourist trap, but fortunately, the place had great night hours.
There really wasn't much to say about it. It was a cramped little shop that was smaller inside than out, and wasn't that unique as far as these kinds of places went. My friends and I used to frequent another one in our high school senior years, and a few years down the road, I still can't say who buys half this stuff except around Halloween.
I eventually found the owner in the back. She was a brown tabby equipped with the normal kind of clothes and attitude for the business, flowing, almost fantasy-like dresses and garments, and a sort of stare and aura that just made a dog like me feel really off. We chit-chatted a bit before I cut to the chase: I wanted a potion that would transform me into a dozen or so of the most delicious apples Latte had ever tasted. The cat laughed a bit, but seemed to understand me completely and took the offer. $2000 dollars and a day later, I had my potion. Thank god I didn't have to worry about the credit card debt.
The cat and I had agreed on how I was to be delivered beforehand, and I drove with her to a mile or two away from the farm with the potion, a beautiful gift basket, and a cute, not-too-romantic Valentine's Day card from me to Latte. I felt too much in my final moments as a dog to accurately describe the raw emotion as I held the vial tightly in my paws. I guess I'd just call it excitement mixed with overwhelming joy. Here I was, finally able to become as close to Latte as possible in the ultimate expression of my love for her, and give her a delicious treat in the process. I don't think there was a better way for my life to go.
I drank the potion without a second thought, and the effects came surprisingly quickly. Within a minute or two I felt my body shrinking and tightening as my waist stretched out into a wide circle. Flesh and fur receded to form the tight red skin of an apple, and I felt my muscle and organs harden and change into delicious fruit as apple-sized goosebumps began to appear on the surface. I then felt my body pop apart into more than a dozen individually formed little apples. It was the last thing I ever felt. It was wonderful, freeing, and the final thing I saw was a gorgeous blue sky with Latte's farm in the distance.
The cat collected the apples to place them into the gift basket with the valentine perched on top, and then drove to the farm. She dropped them off at the front door posing as a gentle delivery lady, and the owner, a sheepdog, seemed happy and surprised with my gift to Latte. He scooped up the basket, carried me inside, and then went out to the yard to give her a special treat.
The sheepdog called Latte over, and began slicing me up apple by apple before gently giving her one piece after another. Latte loved the taste from the very first bite. I'm sure she could recognize just a hint of her retriever on them, and went through nearly three apples a minute. She would swallow one down and then greedily ask for another, and the sheepdog laughed and patted her as he continued slicing me up. It wasn't much longer until we were down to just one apple.
Latte's owner happily gave the last bit of me to her, and gave her another pat and kiss on the neck before walking inside with the basket. Latte walked back into the yard, already starting to chew me as her cud in that beautiful mouth, and flicked her tail happily as my flavor resurfaced with every new bite. It didn't take long for her to finish and forget the apples. In an hour or two she was all done with today's special treat, and was back to munching on feed and grass. I didn't mind, who was I as food to care what she did with me anyway?
The next morning Latte made a delicious few gallons of milk for the sheepdog's family. One of them jokingly described it as "a twist of apple with a hint of wet dog from Ridley's affection," and that was admittedly more accurate than they'd ever know. The father sheepdog poured part of my latest form in his coffee, the pups used it in their cereal, and his wife made an apple pie and pudding that they all enjoyed. I never felt so useful and loved.
Meanwhile, Latte was out in the yard nibbling on some grass, as usual. I don't know if she missed me or even noticed I was gone, but whether she knew it or not, what she had once known as Ridley the dog was a part of her now. She probably still even had the taste of me on her tongue to get her through the day as a sort of apple-scented treat.
An hour or two later she lifted her tail, and a few chunks of cow manure plopped down into the grass to form a healthy-sized pie. It smelled a bit like apples, and after dropping a few more lumps to complete it, Latte wandered over to the other side of the yard to leave it baking and steaming in the hot, mid-day sun. She never thought of me again.
That was exactly how I wanted it.