by Big Kahuna
How many times had he fantasized about getting a blowjob? Millions, probably. How many porn vids had he seen on his computer? Several thousand at least. His neighbor was far better than any of those chicks on the Internet, who used their mouths like pussies, sucking fast and furious. This was a slow and sensual blowjob. It was her way of saying thank you, but more than that she was showing him what he would get if he remained her friend, if he did right by her. He came in her mouth, gripping the kitchen counter tightly as he shot down her throat. On second thought, he decided that he wasn’t going to tell anybody a goddamn thing.
He helped her back to her feet, still amazed at the size of her tits, amazed that they could still be so huge despite having just been emptied. His neighbor might be crazy, but there was no doubt that she was beautiful. Yeah, she was a bit on the heavy side, but her tits more than made up for it. The shiny blonde hair and her porcelain skin were a bonus as well.
He watched her, smiling goofily while she reached up and got a plate out of the cupboard above the counter, as well as a bag of cookies. She put a half a dozen of them on the plate, and then poured him a glass of milk from the measuring cup she had just filled.
For Billy it was like a dream. He had never had warm milk before, and though he must have been breastfed as a child he could not remember it. The milk was delicious, smooth and creamy, with a pleasant hint of licorice. He couldn’t believe what he was doing—what he had done! He was sitting here drinking milk from a chick he had just fucked, who had just sucked his dick, and all because the power had gone out. He suddenly realized that the Internet was going to be a terrific letdown after this.
When he was done with his snack, he slid the glass toward her on the counter, a hopeful smile on his face. “Could I have some more, please?”
Melissa fought to keep from laughing. “Sure, cowboy. I think there’s a little bit left.” She closed the distance between them and brought her hand up to the back of his neck and pulled him in.
“Omm,” he moaned as the immense tit ballooned over his face, the stiff nipple invading his mouth. He latched on, instinctively working the giant teat with teeth, lips, and tongue, the fresh milk instantly filling his mouth. He suckled like a newborn, blissful in the warmth and comfort of Melissa’s fat tit. This wasn’t the first tit he’d sucked, but it was undoubtedly the best. Could he possibly go back to dry tits after this? He hoped he would never have to.
Melissa watched him suckle, feeling more relaxed and content than she had in the longest time. Was this how a mother felt when feeding her baby? She doubted it, otherwise women everywhere would be having eight kids and nursing them until they were twelve.
No, it had to be her. Rance had said that she needed to be milked, and he was right. She needed it as much as she needed air to breathe and food to eat. Being a human cow was, or had become, just as much a part of her identity as what she did for a living. In fact it was more a part of her because she enjoyed it more than any other aspect of her life. She functioned better as a cow. She made more money, and the sex had never been better. When it came right down to it, all she really needed was food, a warm place to sleep, and someone to milk her. Ingredients for a happy life.
She was distracted from her musings by her cowhand, who had released her left teat with a wet pop. “One down, one to go,” he said, grinning, his mouth shining with her fresh milk.
Melissa laughed throatily and tousled his hair while he switched teats. He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. He looked so cute, not unlike a newborn babe, his head dwarfed by the mammoth milker that was practically smothering him. She remembered Janice’s words from lunch—‘your tits are going to kill somebody someday.’ Maybe, she considered, but what a way to go.
Billy continued sucking away at the giant tit, warm milk filling his mouth as fast as he could swallow. God, would she ever run dry? How had he lucked into this? Belinda, or whatever her name was, was the perfect girlfriend. Incredible tits, soft pussy, and she lived right next door. Add to that she also gave great head, and milk by the gallon—who could possibly want more than that?
Oh, some guys might be put off by that, he supposed. Some guys didn’t like big tits, God only knew why. These tits were great! Heavy, warm, and so big that you needed at least three hands to handle one properly. And then there were the nipples. Big and juicy, they practically filled his mouth, almost as if he was sucking on a co…
Billy stopped what he was doing, the thumb-sized teat poised at the brink of his open mouth, milk dripping onto his chest.
Melissa looked down at him, his expression at first curious, then worried, and then finally disgusted. “Is everything all right, Billy?” she asked. “Is…is my milk bad?”
He backed away from her, letting her tit drop back down to her belly, his seemingly inexhaustible penis deflating rapidly. “I, uh…I gotta go.” He did not look her in the eyes when he said this.
She watched while he put on his jeans and his t-shirt, not knowing what to say, almost as if she’d forgotten how to speak. “Is it…” she started, her newly regained voice sounding small, “…is something wrong?”
Billy didn’t answer, but instead picked up his shoes and socks and held them in his hand. He’s not even going to bother to put them on, she realized.
He moved closer to her, looking confused rather than angry or disgusted, but then his eyes locked onto her erect nipples, stiffer and longer in her agitation than he had previously seen them. They pointed at him in an almost accusatory fashion.
“I’ll, uh, see you later.” He left without another word.
Melissa leaned back against the kitchen counter, stunned. They had been having such a good time, or at least she had been. She played and replayed Billy’s abrupt departure in her head, trying to understand what could have revolted him so. But it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. No man wanted a cow for a lover. That was the plain and simple truth. Sure, the milk and cookies and pussy were nice, but once the novelty wore off, no man could be expected to want to continue playing cowhand to a pair of overgrown milk balloons.
She looked out over the massive milkers that took up a good portion of her field of view. It had to end now. Fuck the money. If loneliness and rejection were all she had to look forward to, Rance could get his milk elsewhere.
A knock at the door brought her out of her despair. “Billy?”
Forgetting her anger and self-hatred, she went to the door. “He’s come back,” she said weakly, wiping her eyes. “He’s here to say he’s sorry, and I’ll forgive him. Serves me right, anyway. God, what a stupid cow I’ve been.”
Uncaring at her nudity, she opened the door. After all, he had only just seen her, and she was hoping he would be seeing a lot more of her in the future.
Except that it wasn’t Billy.
The man standing at the door of her apartment was tall, at least half a foot taller than her cowhand. She had seen him before, in a dream. His skin was tanned, weathered from a score or more of Texas summers. He stood in the doorway, smiling as if he found something funny, yet his expression held not the slightest hint of warmth.
“Hello, Buttercup,” he said smoothly. His voice was as deep as she remembered it.
“Rance?” she replied, shocked more by his presence than her nudity before him. “How did you…”
“You broke our contract, girl.” He brought a short length of pipe from behind his back, which Melissa immediately recognized, the two short prongs on the end of it making its purpose obvious. She knew what it was used for, and more importantly, what it was used on.
Her first instinct was to run, and she followed that instinct, turning away as quickly as her oversized breasts would allow, so that she could get out of reach. Her first step was also her last.
The sharp sting of the cattle prod hit her just above the cleft of her buttocks, the jolt of electricity causing the muscles of her legs to instantly seize up. She hit the floor with a muffled thud, her udders helping to cushion the blow. A wave of u
nreality washed over her at that point, the realization of what was going on—of what had been going on!—sending her into a state that was very like shock.
She tried getting to her hands and knees, but her muscles were plainly not interested in following her brain’s directives. She managed to roll over just in time to see Rance bend over her, felt some kind of soft material being pressed to her nose and mouth, a sickly-sweet smell invading her nostrils. Her shock gave way to disorientation, followed by a floaty feeling of disconnection, as if her body no longer belonged to her. The pain was gone. There was nothing to worry about, and nothing to fear. She could feel her consciousness fading away, eyes closing, breath slowing.
“You’ve been a stray too long, Buttercup,” she heard him say, his voice enfolding her like a warm blanket. “Don’t you worry, girl. Rance will take good care of you.”
Chapter 9
The Dairy
Melissa awoke slowly, her mind and body seeming to exist on different levels of reality. She opened her eyes to find that her bedroom was quite dark, not early morning dark, but middle of the night dark. She lazed on her back for a few moments, waiting for her eyes to adjust, but nothing seemed to be coming into focus. No light came from her alarm clock beside the bed, nor was there any of the noise that is part of a life ruled by technology: no low hum of air conditioning, no vibration from the refrigerator cycling in the kitchen. The power must still be off, she thought.
Her body hurt, not all over, but in isolated spots, as though someone had been using her for a punching bag. But that was nothing compared to her breasts. They were uncomfortably full, as they almost always were in the morning, practically insisting that they be taken care of first. She reached a hand up to caress them, and that was when she knew something was wrong.
Something was covering her hand. No, not her hand—her hands! Both of her hands were locked into fists, fingers curled around something, a piece of wood or something similar, and surrounded by something hard, not rough like a plaster cast, but smooth like plastic. And nor was it just her hands, for she could feel something covering both of her feet as well. Her fear rising, she reached a forearm up to discover that her head was encased in the same sort of material.
She sat up quickly, or as quickly as she could considering the weight of her breasts. “Oh, my God,” she said aloud, only that wasn’t what came out. The sound that reverberated in her ears was more of a bleat, an inarticulate expression of emotion but not intelligence, caused by her tongue being somehow locked into place.
Melissa bleated again, this time out of fear. It was all beginning to come back to her: Billy walking out, Rance showing up at her door, the sting of the cattle prod. And now she was in the dark, being held God knew where, for how long, or why.
She was momentarily distracted from her fears by the uncomfortable fullness of her breasts. They hurt, but it was a good feeling, a normal feeling that helped to bring her back to the here and now.
She bleated again, trying to determine what was holding her tongue in place. She tried to move it, but only the tip would move, a little bit up and down, a little bit side to side. It must be pierced, she thought. She tried to move it again, but it was if something was holding it down from below.
She tried to remember what had happened all those hours or days or weeks ago. ‘You broke our contract, girl,’ Rance had said. Was that what this was all about, breach of contract? She had promised to sell him whatever milk she produced, but she had never considered that it would preclude her from her own personal use of it. She had given Billy some of it, and Rance had shown up at her door within a few minutes. But how could he have known, unless...he had been spying on her?
Melissa began to feel sick, not so much at the idea that Rance had stalked her, but more so because he had manipulated her, and worse still by the apparent ease with which he had done it. Lactation had been his idea, and she had gone along with it. ‘You need to be milked’ he had texted, and she had done it. When it came right down to it, she really was a stupid cow.
So where am I? she wondered. She was certain that she wasn’t home. It didn’t smell like home, though the covering surrounding her head made it difficult to tell.
Her hands were useless to her, but she could still feel with other parts of her body. She was naked, no surprise there. There were no sheets covering her body, and while whatever she was lying on was soft, it wasn’t a mattress.
She rolled over onto her side, her engorged breasts flopping against the surface of her resting place, which by the sound of it might be rubber, or rubber covered.
She felt around with her hands and feet. Despite her plastic-covered appendages, she could feel well enough that she wasn’t about to fall off of anything. In fact she was almost certain that she was lying on the floor.
That was when she noticed the light. She could see through what must be eyeholes in the plastic surrounding her head that there was light ahead of her, two vertical lines of light coming through what looked like a doorframe, only the door was very far away…or it wasn’t very tall.
A brave person would investigate, would get up and see if the door was locked, or if it might possibly even lead to freedom. Janice would do it, but then Janice wouldn’t be here in the first place.
There were two options: stay where she was, or see where she was. She very much wanted to do the former, but there was light out there. She couldn’t just cower in the dark like some frightened animal. Besides, she very much needed to be milked, something that was unlikely to happen if she stayed put.
Not wanting to risk standing upright in the dark, she got up on her hands and knees. She could support herself well enough on her plastic-encased fists, but her milk-filled breasts seemed heavier than ever. They felt more pendulous too, wobbling about like a pair of yoga balls beneath her. Surely they couldn’t be larger. Was such a thing even possible?
But now that she was up, she could feel something that she hadn’t noticed while lying down, a feeling of fullness where there shouldn’t be, the kind of thing she hadn’t felt since the first and only time she’d tried anal sex. Omigod, is that...a butt plug?
She tried to squeeze the unwelcome invader out with her sphincter, but it wasn’t going anywhere, and reaching around to feel it with her plastic-covered hand was an exercise in futility. In frustration she wiggled her broad backside, and felt something brush against the backs of her legs. Dear God, please don’t let that be what I think it is.
Fighting the urge to give up, Melissa moved forward slowly, her knees sinking slightly into the soft floor. She had felt this kind of floor before, in her high school gym class. She didn’t know why, but that knowledge made her feel slightly better, a little less helpless.
She arrived at her destination quickly enough, it being only a few feet away. The faint strips of light weren’t much taller than she was, in her present hunched over position, which meant that if this was a door, as she presumed it must be, then she knew exactly what kind of door it was. She didn’t like that picture.
Holding her breath, she nudged the door with her shoulder. It gave, pushing upward rather than sideways and then fell back—a doggie door. The sickness in the pit of her stomach increased, giving way to a bright flare of anger, for in the brief moment that the door had been opened slightly, she had been able to see what was covering her feet—hooves.
So this had been Rance’s game all along, not just to turn her into a cow, but his pet cow. A small part of her wanted to cry, but the anger began crowding that out, anger at herself for being in this position in the first place, but more so with the sick fuck who was probably waiting for her on the other side of the door. She could picture him, sitting on a wooden chair, his feet up, perhaps nursing a beer, expecting her to crawl around on all fours across his basement floor and moo for his amusement. Fuck that, she thought. I won’t hide in fear, and I’ll be damned if I’ll moo! She pushed her shoulder against the doggie door and crawled out into the light, ready to confront her captor face
to face.
Only Rance wasn’t there. What she found instead was a large room that was certainly not someone’s basement. That, and half a dozen cows.
“Ohhh….” she moaned, despite herself. All around the room were women, though they could hardly be called that anymore, their bodies having been made over so thoroughly that their relation to Homo sapiens was strongly in doubt.
Melissa kneeled there on her hooves and knees, stock still, the doggie door resting on her rump, trying to take in the insane visual without fainting. There were six of them. Six human cows, some of them lying on the soft floor, others standing on all fours, massive udders slung beneath them, hooves covering their hands and feet, and plastic cow heads surrounding their own, obliterating any trace of their identity as well as their humanity.
But more than anything else it was their skin that commanded her attention—it was white. Not caucasian white, or even the pale white of a shut-in, but paper white, as white as a sheet, except for the large black blotches that looked like tattoos, marking them as Holsteins.
The design covered the whole of their bodies, from their necks all the way to their ankles and down to their wrists, the combination of the white skin and the black tattooing taking away more of their humanity than the plastic cow heads. Melissa looked down to find that her own arms were every bit as white, and just as similarly tattooed.
Steeling herself, she continued further into the room, letting the doggie door swing shut behind her. None of the other cows—women! she reminded herself—acknowledged her presence. This worried her at first, but considering how much her own peripheral vision was limited by the plastic appliance surrounding her head, it was likely that most of the other women simply didn’t see her.
It was all so much to take in, what Rance had done to them, and by extension what he must have done to her, too. She decided to focus on the one nearest her, feeling that it would be better to concentrate on one cow rather than the whole herd.