Touch the Cow

Howdy! This one's short but sweet, and by sweet I mean crammed full of fetish stuff. Cum, lactation, cis ladies growing dicks, some mind stuff but it's not permanent, uhh...yeah! I also did some worldbuilding because I have no control over my actions. Enjoy!

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Michele knocked on the door, making a conscious effort not to stare at the giant hole that had been burned into the side of the aging farmhouse. Arcannon fire had stained the splinters of the wooden wall with a sickly green colour. Newer boards had been crudely tacked on around a tarp that hung taut in the damaged space, just enough to keep out the rain.

After some fruitless jiggling of the knob from the other side and some muffled curses, the front door opened. Standing in the broken frame was a broad-shouldered woman with wild green hair. Well-worn shirt and overalls, skin tanned from long days in the sun. She looked like something out of a pastoral painting from before the war. The kind of idealized image city folk liked to hang on their walls to forget their dreary reality. Michele caught herself starring.

"The posting said you needed help?" Michele asked, letting the heavy rucksack fall from her shoulder and onto the decrepit, peeling patio.

"I did. I do. Who's asking? You're not from around here, obviously." Her accent was provincial in a charming way. Michele had to try and keep from smiling, lest she look like the aloof city girl she was.

"My name's Michele. I was studying to be a vet before. No call for those in the city now. Government says I'd be more use out here in the sticks, so here I am."

The other woman looked her up and down with a quirked eyebrow. Her shirt and pants were the oldest and most expendable things she owned. Threadbare in places but not torn or scuffed or stained. Her boots on the other hand were brand new, fresh government issue. Some of the others on the coach she'd ridden in had muttered something about 'playing farmer'. Something similar was likely going through Vicky's mind, Michele surmised.

"You sure you're up for farming?"

Michele threw up her hands. "Of course I'm not sure. But if I want my ration card, I gotta work for it. And yours is the only farm I saw without livestock. I'm not afraid of manual labour, just not used to it."

"Alright," she nodded. There was no trace of sarcastic dismissal in her voice. "Name's Vicky. Won't lie, work's gonna be hard. But I'll feed you better than what the ration cards'll give you, and you'll sleep better'n you've ever slept in your life. Want to take a look around?"

Vicky led the way, pointing out the features as she saw them. The farm was at least a hundred years old, she explained, built on land allotted to her family from spoils gained from the War of Northern Expansion. Several outbuildings told of different decades, telling the tale of generational occupation. The largest building was a dairy barn directly opposite the house, another hole blown clear through the northeast corner.

"Say," Vicky mused, "How come a vet student doesn't want to be around animals?"

"Family profession. Hate animals myself. Dumb, messy, and always needing something. I'll take anything where I don't have to deal with them."

Vicky shrugged. "Fair enough, I guess. Let's take a look inside, I'll need your help with this," Vicky said. To Michele's relief, it truly was empty of occupants. The scarred wall let mid morning sun pool through in a great shaft of light, illuminating scattered piles of old uniforms, stretchers, and empty wooden crates piled in the centre of the building. Since this part of the county had been directly behind the front line, it was likely this had been used as a casualty clearing station.

"I'll need your help in here first," Vicky said, picking up a helmet from the ground and dusting it off. "Damn government man said they'd cleaned all this shit up before they gave me the call to come back. Lo and behold, a lotta garbage." She tossed it into the corner with two dozen other identical pieces of headgear.

"Least the building's still around," Michele said absently. She blanched when she realized what a landmine that kind of guilt might be in a conversation. "Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it."

Vicky waved her off. "S'all good. You're right, I am lucky. When the front came through, all the soldiers took was my livestock. Poor things weren't getting fed anyway. We raised sheep here, chickens, but mostly cattle. A lot of these apparatuses were for keeping the cows fed, watered, and clean. Before I can even think of getting livestock back, these out buildings need to be cleared, cleaned, and repaired. On that topic, what's your MC rating?"

Ice water ran up Michele's spine. "I don't have one," she lied, "They drafted all the magic users for service, remember? I never served."

"I didn't ask if you had served. I'm asking what equipment are you rated for?" She put her hands on her hips, the implication clear.

Michele made a show of looking over her shoulder, but the check had been in part genuine. Last thing she needed was a provost or god forbid some "patriotic" bystander to turn her in.

"Listen, by the time I came of age, the war was in the shitter. I didn't want to die for nothing. I'm an MC-1, maybe an MC-2 at most. No good for anything but the simplest machines."

Vicky nodded and flashed a reassuring smile. "I'm not a monster. I'm not going to turn you in. I just wanted to know if you could work the conveyors. It would save me time and energy of finding a magitech myself. MC-1 should be plenty for most of what I need."

Michele's pulse only slowed a fraction. In the rush to exonerate herself of being a threat she decided outing herself as a draft dodger was the better option. She smiled weakly.

"Anything you need, just show me what to do."

***

After stowing her bag and a brief tour around the farmhouse, she put herself to work. Vicky made it clear she didn't have to, but she wanted to. Whether it be to prove herself as a hard worker, or to prove herself to the attractive farm girl, she wanted to get her hands dirty.

Metaphorically. Her brand new work gloves were covered in dirt and god knows what after a few hours of hauling wheelbarrows full of junk out to a temporary garbage pile outside, easily accessible for whoever ends up hauling it away. She stopped to take breaks to mop her brow, or take long swigs from an army surplus canteen that she refilled from a pump well. The water had a metallic tang but was refreshingly cool. She upended the last of the bottle over her curly brown hair. As she let it drip down her face and neck, she let her eyes wander over what she'd uncovered so far.

Something wasn't quite right.

She couldn't put her finger on it exactly, but there were a lot of little oddities that caught her attention. Most of the restraining cages for the cows looked typical, but others were strange. The milkers and limb cuffs were all wrong, placed at bizarre angles. At first she thought it was something for goats or pigs or some other animal you could theoretically milk, but no, no readily available answer fit.

The milk tanks also held a mystery. The system was set up to receive milk from all the stalls, but those with the modified harnesses also had a hookup to receive milk from the tank. Like an inefficient, confusing loop.

"Why would you feed cows their own milk?" she mused aloud, using a shovel to dig through the clutter. Past a pile of old rags and some industrial sized springs she spotted the glint of something shiny. Her curiosity thoroughly piqued, she bent and retrieved it, dusting it off in the process.

It was an old bell, the kind you clip around the neck of a cow to keep them out of trouble. Despite heavy denting and damage, the silvery metal it was made of still gleamed in the sunlight. She took it over closer to where the hole was to get a better look.

A spark momentarily connected her fingertip and the bell. The jolt of pain made her let go. It fell a few inches, then stopped. She didn't catch it. It just stopped falling.

"What the fuck?" She passed a hand through the air below and above it. Nothing. It hung in the air as if suspended on a thread, in seeming defiance of gravity and common sense. Before she could touch it again, it launched itself at high speed at her!

Michele fell backward, knocked down by the force of the bell's attack. It pressed against her neck, and she felt something tickling around either side of her throat. She pulled at it, but it wouldn't budge. With an audible click, it snapped into place. Michele panicked, worrying that it was trying to strangle her. But the pressure didn't increase, she merely had a bell attached to her neck with some kind of collar.

She frowned. A cowbell? Sort of embarrassing, but not deadly or threatening. She rocked her shoulders and the bell rattled. Yep, it was a bell. But why would someone enchant a bell to automatically clip around a neck? There was no mechanism she could determine or operate. Whatever magic had latched it onto her had locked it that way. If it worked the way magic locks usually worked, it'd take a keyword to remove it.

Michele was halfway out of the barn when she felt an itching sensation around her nipple. She scratched at it absently, but it only increased. It soon spread to her other nipple, and expanded outward. The itching became a warmth, a heat underneath her skin like a localized fever. She undid the buttons on her shirt in haste to examine it. There she saw the first clue that something was dreadfully wrong.

Her breasts were glowing.

"Cursed, fuck," she muttered. It could be the only explanation. Plenty of people had been hit by cursed jewelry or clothing in the past, defence mechanisms against thieves mostly. It was the kind of thing you'd read about in popular fiction about aloof sorcerers in darkened towers, not in the modern day! She marshalled all her magical talent, such that it was, and poured it into her hands. Depending on the strength of the spell, she might be able to break it.

The moment her magic-laced fingers touched the collar, her power vanished into the leather like water to a sponge. She squeaked, the sudden deprivation leaving her lightheaded. She turned a milking stool right-side up and sat down to shake off the momentary dizziness, but felt instead the warmth in her chest redouble. The collar had stolen her energy, could it have channelled it into whatever magic it was performing on her?

By now it was clear that the glowing was not just warming her. Her flesh was expanding outward, straining the fabric of her already tight bra. Unsure of what to do, she pushed down to keep the growth from warping her form further but it was no use. Her bra burst down the middle, two cups parting as her breasts made it clear they would not be contained. Great, now she'd have to explain that to her new boss too.

Something else was warming up, she realized. A pressure was building in her nether regions. This one wasn't unpleasant, and for a moment she hoped it stopped at a vague, warm feeling between her legs. But soon it was straining the fabric of her overalls. With hesitation, she slipped the shoulder straps off and tugged down her pants.

If she hadn't been sitting down already, she would have fallen over. Where her clit should have been, a thin shaft of pink, glistening flesh had formed. Two inches in length, its oversensitive nerves sang when exposed to the air for the first time. She touched it gingerly with the tip of her finger and a shockwave of mingled pain/pleasure make her cry out. What was she transforming into?!

The door to the barn slammed open, Vicky dashing in with a medical kit in her hand.

"Are you oka-...oh," she said, words dying in her mouth when her eyes adjusted to the change in light and saw Michele sprawled on her back, pseudo penis and breasts growing with every heartbeat.

"No, I'm not okay! Get this fucking collar off me!" Michele demanded. She tried to tug at it again, but it just sapped more magical energy from her fingers and forced more transformative power into her vulnerable body. Her breasts bulged outward, growing to be surely a pain to handle should she stand up and walk around. She realized her 'clit' was out in the open and tried to tuck it back, but the brushing of fabric froze her in place. She bit down on a long, humiliating moan at the feeling.

"I...there's nothing I can do, at least right now," Vicky said in a resigned voice. She circled around, examining Michele but not rendering assistance. "The bell has to work itself to a finish before I can intervene."

"You know what this is?! Why did you just leave a cursed bell lying around!"

"I didn't know the soldiers had removed them! I thought they'd gone with the rest of the livestock they were attached to."

Michele's heart skipped a beat. "Livestock...you mean...I'm turning into a..." She looked down. Her breasts were growing more dense as well as larger, and she could practically feel them filling up with...something. With shaky fingers she squeezed her nipple gently, and a gush of white shot out onto the dusty barn floor. "I'm becoming a cow?!"

Vicky hesitated for a long moment before nodding. "It'll be temporary, don't worry. The dairy business is not exactly the most profitable industry in the world, especially for a family farm. We had to find ways to cut costs...and boost profits. So we, on the side, dealt in Cream."

Cream. Slang term for one of the magical drugs that had plagued the cities in the last few decades. Resembling milk, the disgusting concoction caused euphoria and docility in its consumers. How it was created had been a long sought after secret by the nefarious dealers of such illicit narcotics.

"Cream is made with human milk? You turned people into...into cattle?!" She wanted to throw punches, but it was all she could do to keep her body upright. Her breasts were beyond anything she'd seen on a human woman, and her cock had reached four inches of throbbing, thick need. Vicky saw her distress and knelt down.

"Only volunteers. It paid surprisingly well! Here," she said, holding her breasts at the sides, "Flip over onto all fours. That will help."

Skeptical, Michele did as she was told. Strangely, it did feel a little better. Her breasts hung pendulously from her body, but staying on her hands and knees helped space out the strain of gravity. It felt natural, more comfortable than it ought to.

The pressure in her tits was not abating, however. Far from it, as they grew, so did the need for release. She pawed at her new breasts for a way to relieve herself, but there was no way to apply enough pressure with the way she was holding herself up. It was all she could think about. Words were hard to form, and all she could do to ask for help was look up pathetically and hope Vicky got the hint.

Vicky nodded once and quickstepped out of the barn. Michele barked a laugh, but was quietly relieved when the farmer returned with a clean metal pail. When the purpose of the bucket clicked in her mind, she shook her head.

"I'mmm...not a cow," she said, the words hard to form.

"It's the only way, dear. Let me help you," she said, putting the bucket below where Michele's breasts wobbled. Getting on her knees, Vicky gripped one of the engorged udders and squeezed it with gentle but insistent pressure. A long jet of white splashed into the bottom of the pail, and a twisted mixture of relief and pleasure assailed Michele's mind. She moaned low, her eyes fluttering.

"Thank you," Michele mumbled. It was hard to appreciate someone treating you like an animal, but it had truly been a relief. Vicky worked her left breast with a steady rhythm, sending long streams of magically induced milk into the pail. After a few more, she switched teats, milking Michele's right breast and filling the pail one third of the way to the top.

"There's a good girl, you're very productive for a first timer. Are you sure you've never done this before?" Vicky asked. Not that Michele could blush any more than she already was, but it was still another blow to her ego.

"Might be reacting to my magic...I tried to take off the collar," she admitted, then moaned loud as a huge gush of milk shot out of her nipple. Her breasts were still enormous, but they felt a little less dense. Of course, all this attention had done terrible things to her libido. Her pussy was sopping wet, sending streams of fluid down the length of her dangling, engorged cock. It stood at rigid attention, and soon that same tense feeling in her breasts had grown in that new appendage. Oh no, she thought, anything but that!

The sexual excitement was obvious to Vicky, but she didn't appear judgemental. "It's healthy to get off on this, sweetie. Just means your parts are working right. Can I help you down there, too?"

Michele shook her head violently. How could she say yes to something so depraved?!

"Why...why do I have cock?" she asked.

Vicky gave her a sly grin. "Well, you let me know you were a magic user. Might as well let you know what the secret ingredient to Cream was." And without another word, she shifted the pail from under Michele's breasts to under her throbbing, needy cock.

Michele's shocked gasp turned to a lurid moan at the first stroke of her new cock. It was glorious, a twisted amalgam of clitoral stimulation and the milking of her breasts. The farm girl looked at her with a quizzical expression, looking for a sign of consent. Michele nodded just as furiously as she had denied only moments before.

"Aha, I knew it. There's a good girl, just relax and let me take care of you," Vicky said, patting her head like she was a pleased owner to an obedient pet. Gentle strokes forced more blatant moans of pleasure out of her mouth that dragged on into what almost sounded like Moo's. But that was absurd, she thought. It wasn't like she was a REAL cow...right?

The first shot of cum took her by surprise. Thick seed pulsed into the pail, not with a sharp release of orgasm like she'd seen in her partners before but in a slow, drawn out release. Vicky's insistent stroking dragged the experience out for minutes at a time, gushing long ropes of sticky jizz with each twitch and gasp of orgasmic release. The mixture turned her stomach to look at, of course, but she couldn't help but wonder just what a dose of Cream really tasted like.

Just when she thought she was running dry, she felt a finger slide inside her dripping pussy. She clamped down instinctively, but soon relaxed enough to allow Vicky's skilled fingers to pleasure her with one hand while a second milked more creamy cum into the bucket beneath her.

"Mmm...mmmf..." Michele groaned, twitching in her struggle to remain upright as waves over overpowering pleasure rolled over her without end in sight.

"It's okay honey, let it out. I know you want to," Vicky said with a knowing smile, redoubling her strokes. It felt like a leaking dam had burst as a huge fountain of spunk surged into the gurgling pail.

"Mooooooo~"

Vicky laughed, but it was a good natured one. "Told ya. The ratio's about right, now. Let me mix it up and give you a tastes of just what you've made for us."

She left Michele's cock to drip the remainder of its load onto the ground, pulling the pail out and stirring it around with a ladle. Fetching a wide trough from the side, she gave it a quick wash and rinse with the water from her own canteen before bringing it over to sit in front of the human cowgirl.

"Here we go. One freshly brewed batch of Cream," she said, upending the bucket for a moment to fill the water bowl up partially with the offwhite mixture of Michele's own cum and milk. The human part of her mind reeled at the depraved fluid, wanting to look at just about anything else. But a gnawing curiosity took over, propelled by some animalistic urge. Her lip quivering, Michele dropped her head down enough to give the meniscus of the pool the slightest lick.