FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

WARNING: CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING CONTENT. BESTIALITY (HUMAN WITH A TALKING FERAL), WATERSPORTS, SCAT.

Enjoy a potluck picnic in the picturesque countryside, they said. Enjoy the fresh, rural air, they said.

You're not totally sure you even have the right place. Perhaps you took a wrong turn on those unmarked and unpaved country roads. The article listing the best free out-of-the-way picnic spots in your area didn't mention a fence or a cattle guard, but the directions were vague at best. It seems to be not be private property at least – there's no signs, and no farmer chasing you with a shotgun – so it must be one of those public areas where ranchers graze their livestock. You think the view might actually match the photos, but only if they were taken at least fifteen years ago (which is how old the website seems to be) and the trees in the background have grown since then, completely ruining the view of the picturesque hills.

But that's not the reason this is the most disappointing picnic of your life. No. That would be that you've been stood up. You'd think you'd gotten lost and your friends were waiting for you and your potato salad at the real picnic site if it weren't for the text message informing you that there was a change of plans and everyone had decided to go bowling instead. Sent two hours after you left the house, received as you passed through a tiny patch of cell service on the three hour drive. Dicks. After you put all the work into planning this, and your so-called best friend even said his girlfriend would try to set you up with a buddy of hers on a blind date.

You're the kind of guy to make the best of a bad situation, though. You figure you might as well not let the trip completely go to waste, and set up your picnic blanket, your portion of the food, and a book to enjoy lunch in peaceful solitude.

Sadly by the time you found a large enough spot without a cowpat in it to lay the blanket, and realized you'd left your potato salad in the hot car, it was too late. So now you're left with an apple, a bag of chips, and two water bottles. And so much for the fresh country air. The only thing fresh is some of the cowpats. You contemplate shoving the book into one of them so that it can be with the rest of the bullshit after two chapters. You weren't expecting much from a cheap romance novel, but calling a penis a 'willy' is unforgiveable. A total turn off. What kind of hack would do such a thing, you wonder?

After all these disappointments, you're not surprised when even your melancholic solitude is disrupted by a modest-sized herd of cows wandering back into the area. Several of them come up to you, sniffing at the picnic basket, but you turn them away, remembering that you read that apple cores contain cyanide. You've never liked cows. You've always felt people aren't nearly scared enough of an animal with horns, sharp hooves, a half a ton of muscle, and a tiny brain. Not to mention they're gross, as the state of the field can attest to.

You start to pack up, but three of the beasts are grazing uncomfortably close to your car, and you don't want to spook or anger them with any sudden moves. You decide to just stay put in your lawn chair and wait for the herd to move on. Most of them seem to be ignoring you, but you catch one cow staring at you more than once. The look in her eyes makes you deeply uncomfortable, and when she starts sidling closer you sit bolt upright, keeping a close eye on the massive animal. Fortunately she seems to lose interest, now focused on grazing. She ambles closer, closer, and you're getting a bit worried that she'll just blunder into you when she turns away and starts to pass by. She can't be more than twenty feet away, and you have to admit she might win a few prizes at the county fair. She's a black and white splotched dairy cow, not particularly big for her kind, but a bit on the chubby side, and with an ample udder swinging beneath her. The way she lazily munches at the lush graze and her tail idly swishes from side to side is rather serene, and you start to wonder if perhaps your dislike of cattle might be a tad irrational.

BBBFFRRRRRROOOOOOOOPPPP!

Never mind. The heifer nonchalantly hikes her tail to the side and unleashes a hissing, trumpeting blast from directly under it. Unfortunately you turn out to be downwind of the noxious cloud of manure-laced emissions. You fan nose and almost gag at the sickly stench of digested grass. It almost feels like the air became warmer and more humid. You've heard that bovine tailpipes produce more greenhouse gases than all cars and trucks put together, but you've never truly comprehended how that could be possible until this moment. Disgusting creatures, you think. All they do is eat and... oh, god, she is, isn't she? Right in front of you?

Your stomach churns as the heinous discharge of pent-up gas turns out to be the prelude to an even filthier and more unhygienic act. Without even pausing her grazing, the ill-mannered bovine hikes her tail further. Her white pucker, already stained with flecks of crusted-on unwiped manure, yawns open and immense dollops of dung begin to ooze out, plummeting to earth with squelching splats and desecrating the field with yet another rapidly growing cowpat.

You want to avert your eyes and give this cow privacy even if she has no qualms about emptying her bowels so publicly, but you can't look away. You're transfixed, both from your nervousness at being this close to the massive animal and from awestruck horror and disgust. How can she still be grazing without a care in the world? Even a dog knows not to shit where it eats, but this bovine is casually dumping on the grass just a few feet from where she's happily munching away. Even worse, you spot another cowpat barely a foot from her head. How unsanitary! This, you can't even watch. You turn your gaze back to her rear end, where a mudslide of thick, mushy manure is still flowing from her bovine butthole with no signs of stopping, plopping down into the pile. Because she hasn't even bothered to squat while she poops she's made a mess of her vulva as well, her sticky excrement clinging to her beef curtains and tainting her taint. Ugh... someone ought to introduce this cow to a bidet, you think. But not you. Even this is too close to her backside for comfort.

“Watching me take a poop?" A voice suddenly asks.

“Huh?" You look around in confusion, finally tearing your eyes from the cow's hindquarters looking for the woman you're sure just spoke. The voice is high, youthful, and southern accented. Then your eyes return to the cow's face, and you realize she's looking right at you with that same... sultry look in your eye. Not a shred of embarrassment or even anger at you for watching her defecate.

“It's okay, honey, I don't mind an audience." With a sweet smile the inexplicably sentient heifer angles her rump further towards you.

“Holy shit, a talking cow!" you blurt out without thinking.

But it is this that finally angers the creature. “Really? That's it?" she says indignantly, swishing her tail from side to side – unfortunately putting it right in the inexorable flow of waste and smearing the repulsive greenish brown muck across her rump.

“I - ohgodimsosorry – what the fuck?" you stammer incoherently, unable to process what's happening. Your mind is reeling, and your eyes are watering from the stench of her bovine digestion. “You can talk?"

“That's all that impresses you? Not this huge dump I'm taking?"

“What?" You have to admit, her load dwarfs most of the other cowpats. The sloppy mess has spread almost far enough to reach her hooves. “I don't know, I guess it's a lot of shit, but -"

“Well, there's plenty more where that came from," the exuberant heifer says with a hint of pride. “So just relax and enjoy the show. Here, I'll give you a closer look!"

“Wait! Wait! I wasn't watching you in a perverted way I swear! This is a big understanding!" You wave your hands in a panic as the massive animal turns around and begins slowly reversing that dump truck of an ass towards you. Or perhaps septic pumping truck of an ass is a more apt comparison, because sticky sewage is still oozing from beneath her tail. She's trod in her own cowpat, but she doesn't seem to notice, or at least care.

“Then why were you watching me?"

“I'm just – I'm just intimidated by livestock, okay?" You try to explain your situation but your words are drowned out by another cacophonous blast of rectal wind. The stench is unbearable, like a petting zoo mixed with an overflowing porta potty mixed with a compost heap, and you swear you feel your hair pushed back even though she's still at least ten feet away.

“Oh, you're a city boy, huh?" the heifer giggles. It occurs to you that despite having the mental and vocal capacity to say 'excuse me' for the monstrous five-second ass-blast she just polluted the air with, she refuses to do so. “This your first time seeing a cow take a dump?" Thankfully she's stopped shitting, but her poop-smeared pucker continues to bulge and pulsate in an unsettling rhythm as short bursts of methane escape her, and her gut rumbles and gurgles noisily.

“Uhh, I think so! I saw a horse poop at a parade once, and a goat at a petting zoo, but not a cow!"

“Well, you've been missing out!" she says happily. “My name's Chloe, by the way! What's yours, handsome?"

You're so flustered, and the way she asks is so innocently curious that you tell her without even thinking about it. Maybe this cow isn't so bad. She's friendly, if lacking in bathroom manners or hygiene. And it feels wrong to admit it to yourself, but she's got a sexy voice.

“Well..." she addresses you, and hearing your name on her tongue sounds... good. Alluring. Especially with the way she sways her hindquarters and lifts her tail aside again, and her full udder swings beneath her barrel-like belly. “This ain't no petting zoo, but don't let that stop you from touching anywhere you like. Your body, or mine."

“Look, Chloe, I – I'm flattered you want me but I told you, I'm not into... this." You meekly protest.

“You sure? Cuz either you're pitching a tent that says otherwise or you're mighty big for a human."

You glance down at your crotch, and let out a choking exclamation of ashamed shock. Your face becomes a furnace. You grab for the book, and hurriedly cover the groin of your jeans, but you know it's too late to hide your boner from the harlotous heifer. And she has a point. You've never admitted it, not even to yourself, but you've always had a secret fantasy of an attractive lady being brash and naughty enough to relieve herself right in front of you. But a human lady, or maybe a hentai catgirl, definitely not a cow. You try to think of an excuse for your arousal, but your mind goes blank. Disgust, shame, and attraction are at war within you. It's gross, dirty, perverted, and she's not even your species, but there's certainly no question of her consent. In fact, without even waiting for an answer, she lets loose.

“C'mon, I know you like what you're seein'. Don't be shy about it, it's natural ain't it?" As she speaks, her bovine butt blorps up another generous serving of waste, punctuated with a burst of gas that ripples her black-and-white dappled bovine buttocks.

“Pooping is natural, getting turned on by it isn't."

“Sure it is! Most humans are just boring prudes!" Chloe backs up even further, her soulful brown eyes gazing intently at you as she does so, until she's almost at the edge of your picnic blanket. Then she widens her stance a little, and with a relived “Ahh," she unleashes her bladder. A golden fountain of urine patters against the earth. “So, why did you come here anyway?"

“The website said it was a good picnic spot. The view looked better in the pictures, though."

“Aww... does this waterfall improve it?"

“Y-yeah, it does." Oh God that sounded hot. And it is hot. There's just so much gushing out of her alluring folds, a thundering yellow cataract of cow pee completely overwhelming the ground's ability to absorb it. “Uhh... you're standing in it," you point out. You think perhaps she might not notice, with the limited sensation in her hooves.

“I know. Don't worry, I don't care about getting messy." She smiles sweetly, and lets her tail fall back into her stream to prove her point. The hissing torrent splashes against it and sprays out all over her ass and legs. You can hardly believe your eyes, and lean forward in your seat, agog at the indecent sight. What a mess! It's actually made her tail a bit cleaner due to her earlier soiling of it, but her rear end is soaked, with glistening drops clinging to her short fur and rivulets of piss running down towards her hooves. She moves it aside again, giving you an unobstructed view of the source of this wondrous fountain.

“Jesus..." Your own crotch is a little damp too now, a tiny cool wet spot in your boxers right at the tip of your penis. Your jeans feel uncomfortably tight. You sigh. She's right. No point in being shy. You unbutton them.

“You know, in some countries they bathe in this," Chloe says informatively. “What are you waiting for, go ahead and try it!"

“I... that's disgusting," you gulp. Watching is one thing, but you have to draw the line. It's a hot day and you wouldn't mind pouring some sort of liquid over yourself, but that's piss for fuck's sake!

“I know! That's the point, ain't it?"

It is then that you notice the puddle has reached the edge of a slight slope in the meadow and is now running freely down to your picnic blanket. You start to get up to move it, but the fabric is already wet. “Dang it..." you grumble. You guess the thing was cheap. You might as well leave it here.

“What's wrong? You come already?"

“Never mind..." you get up anyway, realizing the book is in danger as well. You open it, take one look at the pages of steamy, but incredibly poorly written sex – and without so much as a drop of urine involved – and toss it into the puddle. “How big is your bladder, anyway?"

“Can't tell you, they ain't made a bucket big enough!" Chloe jokes, and expels another muggy plume of fermented rectal wind. “That's not somethin' you ask a girl, you know? A lady's gotta have her secrets! I'm not done, if you're still thinking about that shower! Trust me, it feels great – and tastes great too!"

“How do you know that?"

“How do you think, city boy?"

“No, I mean... how do you taste your own? You can't... reach back there with your mouth, can you?"

“Like I said, they ain't made a bucket big enough, but there's plenty that tried. Besides, there's empty water troughs too. Haven't managed to fill one all at once yet, at least not without shittin' in it too, but I'll manage it one of these days.

By the time her stream wanes, your blanket is completely ruined. Not only is there piss all over it, and she's even sprayed her stream with enough force to drench your picnic basket, but she's dumped several pounds of sloppy poop into the puddle, and her foaming torrent of urine has dissolved the slurry and sent the dirty liquid down with the rest of the noxious agricultural runoff.

“Damnit... my shoes..." you try to shake off the sullied footwear. You've been holding them up off the wet blanket, but they've been sprinkled with cow urine as well, as have your socks and lower pant legs. The denim is damp, but you can't take them off without getting your hands dirty.

“Woopsie-daisy!" Chloe giggles unapologetically. “Don't worry, soon you won't be able to tell I pissed on 'em! Besides, you enjoyed that, didn't you?"

“I..." Your boxers are soaked with precum. You've been fighting the urge to touch yourself for a while now.

BBBTTTHWWWAARRRRPPPP! Chloe's ass suddenly makes a truly hideous sound, like a mud-clogged tuba at its lowest and dirtiest of notes. PPFRRROOPPFFFPLRCHH! Her abominably wet fart gives way to even wetter squelching and splurting noises. “Ahh... oh that feels good," she sighs. She moves her tail aside, and almost immediately her anus is forced open by what can only be described as a river of crap. At first it flows forth as fist-sized globs of fibrous but incredibly loose and mushy stool, but soon it becomes so runny that it's just a continuous mass of vile cattle sludge pouring out of her asshole. SPPPPPPTTTPPORRRRRRT PRRROOOBRROOP PLOOOT. The noisy, gurgling chocolate waterfall splashes onto the muddy, piss-soaked ground, spattering Chloe's own hooves and the edges of your blanket.

“Are you feeling okay?" you ask, now concerned for the heifer's digestive well-being.

“I'm fine." BLURRRTT PLOOOPLRPTT. “Ooh... maybe my stomach's a little upset. But don't you worry, I like it runny. Feels good comin' out, and just as good going down your throat."

“Holy shit..." The realization is sinking in that this cow is far more perverted and disgusting than you could ever have expected. Has she participated in some obscene 2Cows1Trough horrors with her fellow bovines? Staring into her gaze, you have a feeling she's done far worse.

“In some religions, yeah." Chloe grunts, and just enjoys the pleasure of shamelessly evacuating her bowels for a bit. The pulsating waterfall of dung has thoroughly soiled her pussy, and something brown and watery has even run down to her udder. “Hey city boy, you ever learn how chocolate milk is made? They pump a few gallons of milk up a cow's ass and collect what comes out -"

“I might be a city boy, but I'm not stupid. They don't make it like that."

“They don't sell it like that. It's fine for us cows to drink, though." BLRBLLRLBPPRRP! By now her dung is coming out as a thin stream of slurry. She lets her tail fall into it, carefully moving it back and forth to thoroughly paint it with her own shit, then slaps it against her ass, sending droplets of dung flying.

“Don't get any on me!" you yelp.

But at this, Chloe looks back at you with her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Watch your manners, boy! You don't order me around in my own pasture!"

“Sorry - please don't get any on me!" You cringe away from the increasingly volatile stream of crap now spattering the edges of the blanket.

The dirty heifer rolls her doleful brown eyes. “I'm a cow, sweetie. The world is my toilet. You can ask nicely, but I shit where I want." She sighs, and pumps out another sludgy waterfall of manure. “And I've really got the - unhhh -" BBBLBBLOOOORPRLGLRP “The squirts today," she groans. “So I can't control it too well."

“Can't you just – point it somewhere else?"

“Listen honey, this show ain't free. The price is audience participation's mandatory, and the only seats are in the splash zone."

“Par-participation?" you stutter.

“Like you said, I can't exactly reach back there, and usin' a fence post's too splintery. You're gonna have to get me off. If you're gonna be squeamish I'll let you wait 'til I'm empty and only use your hands, but I want you right under my tail right now. This is the best compromise you'll get."

You've always had a thing for intimidating country women, and while her threat sends a chill up your spine it also makes your loins tingle with terrified arousal. Some dark, unhygienic corner of your mind wonders what it would feel like to be defecated on, to have that nasty, slimy manure pouring down on your naked body. You chastise yourself for even harboring such an unthinkably gross fantasy. You take a long whiff of the polluted air to remind yourself that this is definitely not mud. Under her tail... god, the way she says it makes it sound so hot.

You're considering whether you should make a run for it, abandoning your car and making for the cattle guard, when Chloe makes you an offer you can't refuse.

“Tell you what, city boy, since you didn't know better I'll give you one last chance to back out. But I know you want some of this." She wiggles her ass seductively, and just to make it clear that she's not just talking about her gorgeous body but its foul contents as well, pushes out several baseball-sized lumps of soft, mushy poop. “You can leave, but you'll be wondering what you're missing your whole life. Or, you can trust me that you'll enjoy this. You stay right there in that chair until you cum, and after that you can stand anywhere you like. I'll stand right here." She takes two steps forward, putting about eight feet between you. “And I pinky promise I'll try my best to hold back as long as I can. But I gotta warn ya, it's dangerous standing behind a cow with diarrhea. If you squirt on your shirt before I do I'll do anything you want all day long, but if you don't... you'll do anything I want."

It occurs to you that this wager is rigged. With the state of her bowels she could probably win the bet with one strong push. But she could have done that already if she wanted to, you consider. Why should you mistrust her now? And this declaration of dirty dominance has left you so aroused that it shouldn't take much more to finish yourself off, you think, the risk of becoming the powerful bovine's slave for a day such a thrilling danger.

“What do you say, city boy?" she says sultrily, “Wanna take a little risk?"

You gulp, afraid that if you admit it she'll just change her mind and use you as a latrine. But you accept the bet without thinking, only remembering after the fact to add: “Nothing with any cows that can't talk though!"

"Deal."

But you've made two tragic errors in judgement that prove to be your undoing. The first is that it proves harder than you expected to jack off with no lube in the middle of a field. You slide your jeans off, then your boxers to your knees and sit naked on the lawn chair, gritting your teeth and whacking your willy with all the ferocity you dare. The chafing... the chafing! You're mesmerized by the sight of Chloe's dirty dairy cow derriere still oozing muck, her tail and rump caked with sticky brown dung, and more still dripping down her. Her stomach gurgles dangerously.

“Mooohhhh..." she grunts. “Oh, man, I can't even hold it in! It won't stop!" Her thighs quiver, and she presses her dirty cheeks together, but it's no use. Mushy manure rolls down her legs. “I'm shittin' myself," she sighs, her voice trembling with ecstacy. “This feels so good... don't you wanna see for yourself?"

It's so hot. It's so incredibly hot, but you just can't push yourself over the edge. Your member is throbbing, rock hard, and leaking pre, but your sweaty skin just keeps twinging in pain. You try to spit on it to give yourself some some form of lubrication, but your mouth is so dry it just dribbles down your chin. Come on, you're so close... you start to imagine what you'll do if you win the bet. Leave? No – maybe you'll make her roll in her own filth! Maybe you'll make her eat it! She said she liked that, didn't she? Maybe she'll... maybe she'll lick your dick clean.

You seize that mental image, imagining Chloe's massive, sloppy tongue slobbering all over your cock, but just as finally you're approaching climax, your time runs out.

PPRRURRRPPBLLAAARRRRPPP!

Your other fatal mistake? Cows, being hooved animals, don't have pinkies, and even if her promise did mean anything, you've knowingly spent the last ten minutes sitting directly behind a cow with explosive diarrhea. She was being completely honest when she warned you that sooner or later, she'd lose control. Her reeking slurry pipe suddenly detonates, unleashing horrors beyond your wildest comprehension. An apocalyptic volley of soupy projectile poop is launched through the air with devastating force, splattering into your lap and up your chest. You shut your eyes and shield your mouth and nose just in time, but the force of her anal outburst flecks any unprotected parts of your head with shit.

“Fuck!" you squeal.

“Hee hee! Whoopsies! Guess I couldn't hold it after all!" Chloe giggles, not in the least bit phased. In fact, she looks downright triumphant as she looks back at her horrific handiwork. A pulsing, sputtering stream of liquid shit is still sullying your picnic blanket, and the basket is doomed. “I guess I win!"

“You - you cheated! You shit on me on purpose, didn't you?" you shout, momentarily forgetting that she's at least five times your weight, and even more dangerously has the ability to spew liquid scat at unthinkable ranges.

“No I didn't!" she says with an indignant shart. “If I'd shit on you on purpose, you – well, here, I'll show you!"

“Oh God... Chloe..." You're about to protest, but... oh god, it feels so warm and slimy and slippery all over your crotch... all over your dick. You give an experimental tug. This feels so much better. “Oh fuck, I'm about to..."

Then, you notice the cow is backing her massive behind up closer and closer, treading on the blanket with her shitty hooves. She kicks the ruined picnic basket away and keeps coming closer until your foot is pushed up against her udder. Oh, fuck... you've never been so close to a cow's butt before! “No need to rush anymore, sweetie. Just take your time and enjoy it. You're not getting' up until I say you can."

“Oh god, please no!" You try to push her away, but the massive animal doesn't budge an inch.

“Stop complaining unless you want it in your mouth. I warned you not to stand behind a cow when she's got the runs unless you want a mudbath!"

She's right, you think. You stare up at the heifer's hulking hindquarters as they loom over you in all their shit-stained glory. You played Russian Roulette with a cow's intestines, and you have paid the price. Your shirt is sullied, your torso coated in filth. But you know far worse indignities are yet to come, for you've gambled yourself away as a sex slave to a coprophilic cow with a mind as dirty as her body. What a fool you were. And now you're a shitty fool, anointed by her appalling anal expulsion. You weep in shame as you accept your fate and breathe in the overpowering odor. How will you go home like this? Your shirt is ruined, and surely there's no way to wash your besmirched body before you get in your car. You might reek of manure for days.

But such erotic humiliation beyond your wildest and most shameful dreams is driving you mad. You continue to masturbate, your only thought the glorious feeling of this unhygienic but all-natural lube Chloe has so generously provided you with. Each stroke makes such a lovely squelching sound, but the noises coming from the cow herself are far nastier. She unleashes another eyewatering outburst of methane-laden manure gas, and from deep in her bowels there's a much wetter gurgle, a worrying harbinger that another diarrheal detonation is nigh.

Your heart pounds in anticipation and terror as her rump looms over you. With an amused moo she moves her tail aside, exposing her festering, pulsating sphincter, and wiggles from side to side as if taking aim with that rancid slurry nozzle, a little bit of brown liquid dribbling from her hole and raining down on your knee.

Then, she lets loose. A thin jet of liquid feces spurts from her butthole with such force that it would surely have fouled your face if she was still standing where she was before, but at such point blank range it flies harmlessly over your head. But you're only spared for a moment, because she puts her tail in the line of fire again, sending her mess ricocheting everywhere. She raises it again and follows suit with a volley of repugnant, bubbling sharts that dredge up sludgy beef stew. BLBLRRURRBLRTT, SSPLLBLURBBRROORRRRRT, PPPBBPBPBBPLLOORTTSCHHH!

“Ohh god... oh god this stinks!" you gag, and bile rises in your throat. Your chest has been spattered with a fresh layer of animal waste. The obscene muck has the consistency and color of one of those greenish grass and algae smoothies gyms sell, if instead of a blender it were run through a cow's digestive tract.

“You love it and you know it!" Chloe laughs. She shuffles back even further. “Here comes some more... moooooo!" she lows, raising her hips to the heavens. Her pucker bulges out, and is forced open by a rancid avalanche of hot, steaming bovine butt-mud. The thick, creamy manure cascades down on your crotch. Your furious strokes spatter the squelchy mess everywhere, but you don't care. You're so close! You throw your head back and let out a groan of your own, fully letting go of your civilized inhibitions and giving into the perverse, primal pleasure. Your loins spasm and buck, and you, finally, find your long-awaited release as you mix your seed with her organic fertilizer.

“How did that feel?" she asks sweetly.

“It's not... it's not bad," you admit.

“Good, 'cuz here's some more." BLLLLLOOOOOOORRRRRUURRRRRBLBLBLBT. To your horror, the rude and ruthless ruminant evacuates her bowels of another several gallons of slurry. The thick, soupy stream of cattle diarrhea erupts violently from her asshole, but this time your luck has run out. The outpouring ordure doesn't splash down in your lap or even on your chest, but it doesn't have the power to fly over your head either. Oh, no, the truth is much worse than that, and you realize it too late to shield your face. You can only hold your breath and close your eyes as you're inundated with a thundering torrent of what might euphemistically be called beef broth. But in truth, it's more of the consistency of gravy or runny oatmeal, and there's no hiding the disgusting reality of the situation.

You are being defiled by her deluge of dung, bathed in runny cow shit.

And you're enjoying it.

“All right..." Chloe pants, finally stepping away, shaking crap from her hooves. “Now it's your turn, dirty boy."

“Are... are you done yet?" you ask hopefully. The amount of feces she's produced is unbelievable. You peel yourself off your lawn chair, leaving a cartoonish silhouette of relatively clean fabric.

“Oh, not even close!" she giggles. “Does it matter anymore? You're already a mess!"

“You said you'd let me wait until you were done," you groan. The post-nut clarity is starting to sink in, and you start thinking about how you can't possibly drive home in this appalling state, not without ruining your car's upholstery, and what horrible germs lurk within the gallons of raw animal sewage she's discharged all over you. Your eyes are watering from the abominable stench of the filth coating your body. You try to wipe it from your face, but it's hopeless. You swallow a gag.

“Oh - you silly boy, that was only before you lost our bet! Now you have to do whatever I want, all day! Besides, you look so cute all covered in my shit, I just can't help myself!" She bows down and raises her tail invitingly – or possibly to let out more waste, you think. “What are you waiting for? If you're nervous, you don't have to use your mouth... for the first round."

Dear God, what have you done? You've gambled away your freedom to an amorous and perverted cow, and even though you're covered from head to toe in fresh, steaming manure, you know far worse is yet to come.

(To Be Continued)