Buttercup Dreams

Buttercup was the most adorable little hucow in all the land. She had curly red hair on her head and curly red fur between her legs, with a beautiful smile and big, deep blue eyes, and the cutest moo. Her hands were encased in artificial hooves, and her calves were permanently bound to her thighs, with artificial hooves below the heavy-duty kneepads on her knees, and her little pink toes wiggling above her ass. (Her leg bindings were absolutely necessary; she was so top-heavy that if she were ever to attempt to stand on two feet, she would fall over and injure herself.)

She was always completely naked otherwise, and thought nothing of it, since cows naturally did not wear clothing. Her most prominent feature, of course, was her beachball-sized udders, which looked even more magnificent on her small frame.

People often wondered how she could move, even on all fours, but from long practice, she managed to crawl along quite well, with her massive mammaries swaying ponderously below her torso, and her dark red, swollen nipples in constant danger of brushing the ground. She might not move rapidly, but once she was in motion, Buttercup was a rare work of art, heating the loins of everyone who gazed upon her, and she was in excellent shape from constantly carrying the weight of her own chest. Despite her heavy load, Buttercup moved with surprising grace.

It was a struggle even for the muscular Buttercup to move, however, when she had gone unmilked for too long and her straining udders were distended with the weight of her milk, with each udder accumulating as much as a gallon. Fortunately, Buttercup's owners were kind and loving and milked her several times a day, in addition to pulling milk from her udders directly into their morning cereal and coffee, as she mooed in delight.

Sometimes they would use a milking machine if they were in a hurry, but Buttercup much preferred it when her owners milked her by hand. She loved to feel the rhythm of human fingers tugging on each teat alternately, and she loved the sound of her milk spray hitting the bucket. She was so, so lucky that her breeders had sold her to this family instead of one of those soulless automated dairies.

Buttercup was also the vainest little hucow in all the land, and was enormously proud of her milk production. "Five people is nothing! My udders could feed an army! I am hucow -- hear me moo!", she would think to herself. And in fact, Buttercup usually came home from the county fair with blue ribbons, which made her even more vain. Her owners could not even keep up with drinking all her milk, and either used the excess to make cheese, or sold it to local shops. It was no wonder that Buttercup strutted with pride on her little hooves.

Buttercup's owners were also her lovers. Hucows, in addition to industrial-scale lactation, had been genetically engineered for perfect docility and submissiveness, and were incapable of aggression; but they were also genetically engineered to imprint upon the scent of an owner's genitals, with a superbovine sense of smell that let them infallibly recognize individual women just by the smell of their privates. The intent had been to hardwire the bond between hucow and owner; and Buttercup was bonded to her owners with a deep and passionate love as soon as she tasted them.

At least one of Buttercup's owners, and usually more, were always available to let Buttercup lick them out after her milking, and she strove to communicate her love and loyalty with every stroke of her clever tongue into their delicious pussies. The taste was intoxicating to her, even more so than her owners' aphrodesiac scent. Even better was when they used Buttercup's cunt, gently stroking her red pubic fur and stimulating her to orgasm with fingers or one of Buttercup's sex toys. Buttercup orgasmed easily and frequently, mooing loudly in ecstasy and melting with love for the wonderful family that owned her. And of course she was spoiled with lots and lots of petting and kisses. It was a wonderful life!

(Buttercup's vaginal recognition was so highly developed that she had won tracking competitions at the county fair. Blindfolded, she had made her way unerringly through a crowd of women to lift her head and kiss her owner's (clothed, unfortunately) genitals. Hucows' sense of smell was so acute that specially trained hucows had begun to replace bloodhounds in search and rescue operations, at least when the missing person was a woman. All you had to do was rub a pair of used panties on the hucow's face, and she was good to go.

(There were tradeoffs, of course: a hucow was slower on the ground than a dog, but rescued women tended to be dehydrated and in desperate need of sustenance, and a hucow did a much better job of providing it. Of course, the rescued women were sometimes embarrassed when told what had led the trackers to them...

(There was even a reality show, which Buttercup had watched with her owners, about a motherly Black tracker hucow named Molly. Buttercup had loved the scene at the end where a gaunt woman knelt on the ground next to a triumphantly smiling Molly, hugging Molly's large soft, warm body tightly to her with one arm, while using the other to hoist one of Molly's gigantic udders to her lips, sucking thirstily. That looked like fun! Buttercup wondered whether Molly would get to lick out the woman, or whether the maternal hucow's reward would come from the male handler standing behind her holding her extensible leash. They never showed that part on TV, for some reason, but that was what Buttercup really wanted to see!)

There was a distant cloud hovering over the otherwise sunny sky of Buttercup's placid life, however. She lived in constant trepidation about the bane of all hucows - hucow rustlers! She occasionally overheard her owners discussing the news, and once or twice they were shaking their heads over how rustlers had stolen several hucows nearby. This terrified poor Buttercup. How could people be so cruel? She loved her family and her home so much, and did not ever want to be taken away from them. She didn't think she could survive without them.

Obviously Buttercup was a prize hucow and immensely valuable, she thought, glancing down at her immense chest and swollen nipples with no false modesty, so she was bound to be a prime target for those villains. She tried to reassure herself, though, that her owners would always keep her safe.

One day she overheard her owners talking about something that made her eyes pop wide open. They were going to go out and get her a brand-new, super-sized dildo as a reward for being such a special hucow. Her capacious vagina really needed a dildo worthy of a bull anyway. Buttercup spent the next few days fantasizing about this, in between milkings and orgasms. She imagined its appearance -- what color would it be? Maybe bright red would be best, to make sure that it couldn't get lost. Would her owners let her kiss it, and lick it, and love it, and carry it around with her everywhere in her mouth (if she could even pick it up with her mouth)? Exactly how big would it be? Would it stretch her out more than anything she'd ever felt? Would it be just long enough to reach her womb, or would there be more left over? And what should she name it? After long pondering, she decided, "I shall call him... Goliath!"

And then her owners left to go shopping for her, leaving Buttercup home alone to wait impatiently for them to get back from the penis store, or whatever it was called. She rested quietly in her little pen in the kitchen, still imagining what Goliath would feel like. Suddenly she bolted upright in anxiety. What if Goliath was too big to fit in her? That would be terrible! But Buttercup trusted her owners and had perfect confidence in them. If Goliath didn't fit, well, they would just make him fit! She relaxed, and settled back down to enjoy her fantasies about how delicious Goliath might feel inside her. She was also beginning to notice the ache in her engorged udders, and hoped that her owners would come back and milk her soon and give her some relief.

Suddenly, she heard a creak from the front door, and footsteps entering. She inhaled deeply, anxious for her owners' familiar scent. To her utter shock, although one of the people entering was a woman, it was a stranger's (unbathed) cunt that she was smelling. What on earth was going on? When two ugly strangers entered the room, a man and a woman carrying even uglier cattle prods, she knew that she was in serious trouble. They were wearing dusty black cowboy hats (traditional proof that they were the bad guys), dirty jeans, and cowboy boots, and carrying ropes as well as cattle prods. These were the hucow rustlers!

The rustlers' jaws dropped in amazement when they saw her, and the woman said, "Jesus H. Christ! Do you see the size of that pair?" The man nodded with satisfaction and said, "This is going to be our biggest haul yet." "Well, obviously!" Buttercup thought with annoyance. "Stupid rustlers!"

She didn't know what to do, besides moo loudly for help. If only she had been capable of fighting, perhaps she could have at least kicked at them with her sharp little hooves, but the only thing she could do was try to run away at her lumbering pace, her udders shaking wildly. The rustlers easily cornered her, and looped their ropes around the base of her udders, using them as leashes to yank Buttercup toward the door. That hurt! She thought outraged, "Can't they see the lovely tattoo that my owners put on my ass? That proves that I belong here, not anywhere else!"

But the rustlers mercilessly continued to drag her by her udders, and when she tried to dig in her hooves in spite of the pain, they just zapped her ass with their cattle prods to urge her along. Mooing in distress, she had no choice but to follow them forward and out of the house as fast as she could manage. Her overfull udders squirted milk whenever the rustlers yanked on them, and Buttercup knew she was leaving a trail that would at least show her owners that she had been taken out of the house.

The trail of milk droplets ended, however, at a dirty Ford pickup into which the hucow rustlers adroitly loaded her, pushing her over onto one side and hogtieing her before throwing a dirty blue tarp over her. Their coordinated movements, and the ease with which they controlled her by udders and ass, suggested that they had done this many, many times before.

And so Buttercup was driven away from her beloved home, wondering whether she would ever see it again, or taste her wonderful owners. Terrified and alone, Buttercup had no idea what was going to happen to her. Would she be taken far away from her home and her owners? Would she be forced to produce milk for strangers, without any love or care? As the pickup truck abruptly turned left and right, Buttercup slid back and forth, slamming first her udders and then her ass into opposite sides of the pickup truck, leaving her bruised all over.

Eventually the truck came to a stop, and the rustlers pulled off the tarp, undid the hogtie, and pulled on Buttercap's roped udders again, dragging her into what seemed to be an abandoned farmhouse. As she stood there trembling in fear, the hucow rustlers laughed and mocked her, showing her an empty crate in which she was to be shipped abroad so that her genome could be used to jumpstart Japanese hucow technology. Poor little Buttercup wept in utter despair.

Just then, a rhythmic beeping began, at first quiet but then getting louder and louder. Buttercup and the evil rustlers all looked around in confusion, and then they all simultaneously realized that the sound was coming from Buttercup's ass! Her clever, clever owners had concealed a tracking device/burglar alarm inside the butt plug that Buttercup wore most of every day; and judging by the growing volume, it seemed to have an amazing powerful speaker as well.

The rustlers dove for Buttercup's ass, trying to get the butt plug out so they could switch the device off, but a frantic tug-of-war ensued. Buttercup was determined that if her owners chose to keep a butt plug up there, then it was going to stay up there, rustlers be damned; and her powerful sphincter muscles held it tightly against all their fumbling.

As she desperately struggled against the rustlers' grasping fingers, she suddenly scented a vagina she knew by heart, every nook and cranny, and instantly felt a rush of lust. Could it really be...?

And then the door flew open. It was Maria, the tall, powerful Latina bodybuilder who was one of Buttercup's owners! And she was wearing a Hucow Police uniform! ("So that's where she goes every day!" thought Buttercup.) Hucow Officer Maria screamed with rage and charged at the two rustlers, who froze in shock, their hands still between Buttercup's ass cheeks.

In the brief battle that followed, Maria completely demolished the two vicious hucow rustlers. Maria punched the man deep in the gut, then broke his nose with her knee as he bent over gasping for breath, and finally shattered his balls with a powerful kick, leaving him groaning and almost unconscious on the floor. Then a powerful uppercut to the woman rustler's jaw took her out of action, especially after Maria followed up by swinging her by one tit face first into the wall, after which she collapsed to the floor as well.

Buttercup mooed quietly and stared in awe at the wondrous Maria, who stood before her with heaving breasts, panting with effort and wrath as she reached around between Buttercup's ass cheeks to turn off the alarm. Maria was her hero, her rescuer, her savior, her warrior queen, her goddess! And oh, how Buttercup burned to give her the hero's traditional reward from a damsel (read: hucow) in distress!

Buttercup, though tremendously relieved, was still shaking from her horrible ordeal, but Hucow Officer Maria was a veteran hucow wrangler, and knew exactly how to calm a traumatized hucow. She proceeded to follow procedure: a hucow in distress needed to be comforted with familiar female flesh, in as close contact as possible. (Also, Maria really needed some stress relief herself.) Maria's Hucow Police uniform was so skimpy that she was stripped for action in seconds, and dropping her sodden panties to the floor, she grabbed Buttercup and lifted her up in the air in both arms.

She carried Buttercup over to a couch, udders swinging, and threw her down on her back, udders bouncing. Maria's effortless mastery of her made Buttercup swoon, and as Maria's sweaty, powerful, and fragrant pussy descended toward her face, Buttercup's lips eagerly rose to meet Maria's. Buttercup felt so safe and secure as Maria's strong thighs held her head and Maria violently rode her face over and over again, with Buttercup lapping and sucking as fast as she could manage.

Maria proceeded to ride Buttercup to at least four or five orgasms, while grabbing Buttercup's fat udders in both arms and raising them to her own face, drinking from Buttercup as thirstily as Buttercup drank from her. Eventually, Maria and Buttercup both calmed down.

Still seated comfortably on Buttercup's face, so that Buttercup could keep inhaling her scent as long as possible, Maria pulled out her phone and made a quick phone call to let the local police know where to come to pick up the defeated hucow rustlers. Only then did Maria get up off Buttercup and stand up, to Buttercup's dismay. Her jaw might be sore but she wanted to keep this up for hours and hours. She gave a sad moo, and Maria kissed her gently on the nose.

Maria then picked up her wet panties and carefully stuffed them into Buttercup's mouth as a pacifier, so that Buttercup could keep the taste of her fresh on the way home. She found some duct tape and covered Buttercup's mouth with it, so that the panties would not fall out, and then Maria more or less adjusted her uniform (one ample brown breast had fallen out of her blouse, what with all the bouncing). With the police on their way to secure the scene, it was time for sweet Buttercup and her valiant owner to go home.

Hucows can be difficult to carry for any distance, because they are so magnificently top-heavy, so Maria used the standard fireman's carry modified for hucows. Specifically, Maria's left hand held the small of Buttercup's back, just above her ass, with Buttercup's face and udders hanging down against her own back; while her right hand went into Buttercup's damp cunt and formed a fist, eliciting a thrilled gasp from Buttercup. This was standard Hucow Police procedure, necessary so that the weight of Buttercup's heavy udders would not drag her down Maria's back to the ground.

Buttercup, for her part, was still trying to cling to Maria as tightly as she could, and clamped down hard on Maria's fist with her powerful vaginal muscles. As Maria strode from the old farmhouse toward her car parked some distance down the road, her fleshy burden jiggling on her shoulder, Maria's fist was stretching Buttercup out so nicely that she must be almost ready, she thought, to accommodate Goliath (Buttercup had never forgotten about Goliath).

Just then a police car arrived at the scene, siren blaring, and two regular police officers got out and greeted Maria, congratulating her on a job well done. Maria apologized for not shaking hands, and pointed out that her right hand was otherwise occupied at the moment. The officers laughed, and invited Maria and Buttercup down to the station house for milk and cookies. Buttercup mooed agreeably at this through her pacifier/gag from her upside-down position on Maria's back; she had a good idea who was going to provide the milk!

Maria demurred, however, explaining that she had to get this poor hucow back to her family. She politely offered the police officers a drink of milk before they went inside to get the rustlers, and the officers were happy to accept, stepping behind Maria and each lifting an udder to his mouth. Buttercup's udders held more than enough to go around, after all, and Buttercup was very happy to be of service. They patted her upraised ass in appreciation before parting.

When Buttercup and Maria got to the car, Maria opened the hatch and placed Buttercup in the back, but then there was another tug-of-war when Buttercup stubbornly refused to let go of Maria's fist, clenching her vagina with all her might and issuing muffled moos of protest. She never wanted to let Maria go! Maria finally had to use the "release" command, and Buttercup let go instantly. She might be stubborn, but she was the most obedient hucow around. Maria smiled and promised her "Later, my love," and gently arranged Buttercup's udders beneath her torso, so that she would have something soft to lie on. They took off for home, with Buttercup quietly sucking on Maria's panties.

When they finally got back to Buttercup's house, the rest of her family was waiting in front for them. Buttercup's family eagerly awaited her return, their faces bright with anticipation. Maria opened the hatch and lifted Buttercup out, and kept her promise by reinserting her fist. This time she gripped Buttercup by the collar with her left hand and by the cunt with her right fist, holding Buttercup aloft with her arms fully extended overhead like a meaty trophy as she marched triumphantly back to the house, with everyone cheering Buttercup's rescue.

Buttercup, even more impressed with Maria's awesome strength, thought to herself that this day just kept getting better and better. She loved being displayed in this fashion, and hoped that maybe Maria could start using her body for her weightlifting exercises. She couldn't moo properly right now, but she at least tried to swing her milk-filled udders even harder than they were swinging already to convey her delight at seeing her family again.

And her family were overjoyed to see her too, as they demonstrated with a long orgy/milking in which Buttercup's face was pressed to Maria's groin again while two pairs of hands steadily squeezed the milk from her breasts, and other hands stroked her poor bruised ass and her genitals. Suddenly, out of the blue, Buttercup was pierced from behind by something enormous, though her cunt, dripping though it was, still offered enough resistance that the person had to shove even harder to get it all the way into Buttercup. Buttercup's eyes flew open and her mouth parted from Maria's nethers to form a perfect O of astonishment, as her owners laughed with delight to see her expression. It was Goliath!