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Becoming a Dairy Cow

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A mini-story featuring NSFW transformation.

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

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Ian knew what Beth did to her dairy cows, where they came from, but he was too far gone to care. Her kisses had been so sweet that he had not been paying attention to how far things had gone, what she had said would happen if he stayed overnight with her. He could have gotten out at any time but a young, fit bloke didn’t always pay heed to warnings, not even as he knelt before her in the milking parlour, surrounding by metal stalls and the milking machines, things that did not play a part in his city life.

“Relax now…”

Her words washed over him but he was already gone to her whims, the changes starting to wash over him already as if a pint of milk had been emptied over his head. He should never have given in and gone home with a farm girl, a farm woman, though it was possibly the fact that he had referred to her as a girl in the first place that had rendered him her next victim. Ian would never know.

He was naked: of course, he was naked that was how Beth liked her men as she transformed them into her cows, his flesh pinkening even as it prickled to life with a short coat of hair. It was as if his skin was alive in the sense of it being a separate entity to him, patches of black and white springing to life, covering him from head to toe. Ian’s face was not pleasing to the nature of a dairy cow though and he gargled without any intelligent meaning remaining behind his words as his face bulged out and out, cheeks fattening, framed with the dish of a skull-structure that was no longer his own.

There were no complaints from his lips, of course, as his voice box closed down, giving him a different set of vocal cords to play with as his nose flattened out, moist and fleshy, a thicker length of wet tongue snaking out to swipe over it even as it grew. It was not his own and even his eyes readjusted themselves to the sides of his head, for he was no longer needed in the rights of a predator and what their vision afforded them. Ian’s ears tickled as they rose to the top of his head too, splayed out to the sides in that softly droopy fashion; it was hardly a feature that dairy cows had had bred into them, after all.

Yet fear curled through him as his shaft sunk back, smaller and smaller even as he grasped for it with hands that were becoming hooves, a grotesque mangle of human and cow. He had not thought that that part would come so soon but she was quick to steal his cock, his nuts following suit, though the skin that remained was all but flat. No, that skin bulged out and out into the distinctly fleshy, sagging udders of a milking cow, fat and heavy, tipped with four teats as was the nature of the breed.

He groaned, though it was not a human moan anymore, everything progressing far more swiftly than he’d thought was possible. Marcus panted, nostrils flaring, a wet lick of breath lingering in his mouth, though that no longer seemed like the natural way to breathe. But it was alright, quite alright, as long as he had Beth there, her hand on his head as he kicked out, twisting as his sides became less well-shaped, the blocky cut of a dairy cow bred for one purpose and one purpose alone.

He was no longer a man, bulky with chunky hindquarters, hooves gleaming as if just born.

Not a man…

Not a he.

Was he a she? Best to accept her fate…

The rest of her body had to catch up and she splayed out on her side, legs kicking, as the changes raced through her, bringing her spin to the right length, larger than she had been as a man and yet even more helpless. A man trapped in the body of a cow but feminine at heart, yes, she’d always been meant to be such. Her vision dimmed, legs all in the right position but on her side, flailing, wheezing, lungs expanding to meet the needs of a new body. Everything had to change and nothing at all came in the order that she expected it to, her sex tucking up beneath her tail and the entrance to her anal passage, a fold of flesh that was for breeding purposes and those only. There was nothing more needed for her, udders swaying, her transformation very nearly complete, the needs of the day coming to a close as the last rays of sunset trickled back out the door through which they’d come.

The parlour rang silent bar her struggles, getting used to her body as it was. It would never again become that of a man, although she would remember how it was to have a shaft, a malehood, replaced by a far more luxurious swelling, the udders with which she would be hooked into a milking machine each and every day.

No more would she penetrate. Marcus heaved a sigh, settling into her new form, her body shaky and heaving as she staggered upright, legs still grinding into place. Her chest had softened, dipping into a curve that flowed straight into her belly, no horns to speak of but large, woeful eyes that she was sure could melt hearts. She licked her lips as the final bits of hair prickled across her new muzzle, soft and yielding, nothing about her designed for self-protection or preservation but solely the product of mankind. She was only needed to reproduce and produce milk, trembling in all her glory while the woman that had so easily seduced her caressed her muzzle and kissed the top of her head softly.

“I think I’ll call you Daisy.”

And Daisy she was.