Helen's Choice

Part One.

It was all her own damn fault, Helen reminded herself, as she felt the milking cups sucking at her breasts. Automating the farm had been her idea. Insisting on doing the quality inspections herself had also been her idea, rather than using the inspectors from the installation service -- at least after the first two mandatory check-ups that were included in the contract. After all, she had walked the checks with them and it wasn't that difficult. Simple really. Just pay attention and check the output readings and observe two of the cows throughout the morning sessions. 

Sure, she hadn't planned on getting careless and ending up mistaken for a loose animal. She hadn't planned on the machine restraining her and moving her into a stall where she would be hooked up to hormones and feeding lines and made to be a better, higher-performing dairy cow. 

Nor had she planned for all that to happen on the week when Jeff was away at a convention. And neither of them had expected the snowstorm that locked down the airport and kept him there another three days. 

So, when he did arrive back home and couldn't find her, he assumed she was running errands before bed, and he dropped off to sleep, exhausted from the flight and the drive from back to the farm from the airport. 

That made a total of eleven days Helen had been at the mercy of the automated system, just another milker in a row of milkers, ten per side in Barn #3. And with five full barns total, that mean she had simply become one cow in a lot of fifty such animals -- albeit a weak, low-producing one. 

At least during the first few days. 

After that, the hormones had finally taken up their task inside her body, and her milk production had increased to almost that of the youngest heifers on the farm. Still, nothing to write home about, but she was well on her way to earning her stall and feed. The drugs that came with the hormone shots kept her woozy and allowed her mind to wander to the point that she was rarely even aware of her surroundings until the pumps activated and started to pull on her nipples. It was only then that she would jolt awake, first in shock and then relax to actually enjoy the attention on her breasts. Firm, strong, but gentle -- that was how the sales company had advertised the new automated milking system -- and damn if they hadn't been completely honest in that description. It was almost sexual, she thought. A welcome change from standing on all fours locked in her stall and held still by the leather collar on her neck and around her waist. These were affixed to the sides of the stall so that she couldn't move. 

But rather than let the cows grow bored and atrophied, the system had a way of taking care of that too. It was on her third day as a member of her own livestock that Helen discovered that one for herself. Happy cows make the best milk, the slogan had read, and the system had a nice little trick to keep the cows happy. 

Twice a day the system gave her bovine bottom a vigorous fucking. The dildo, sized for a heifer, had been uncomfortably large at first, but Helen had grown to welcome it when it entered her and brought her back to alertness and awareness. 

That meant eight days of twice-daily fucking, eleven days of thrice-daily milkings, and countless hours of being somewhere lost in her random, ambling thoughts, more unconscious than subconscious. 

It had taken Jeff all day to find her when he woke up that morning. Noticing that she wasn't in bed with him, or downstairs drinking her coffee and eating dry, unbuttered toast, he hadn't panicked at first, assuming she was making rounds on the farm. After all, she had long established a pattern of prioritizing the farm over him, and he was okay with that. It was her family's farm, and it was important to her. It was also their livelihood, and if that meant Jeff needed to postpone any romantic attention from his wife, then that was just fine. 

When ten o'clock had rolled around and there was still no sign of Helen, Jeff began to panic. Rather than taking the time to walk the expansive grounds, he got on the little Gator jeep and raced from one field to the next. He got off and opened the door to each barn, looking down the aisle and calling for her before moving to the next. When an hour had passed, and he still couldn't find her, he started to call around to her friends. Was she with them? Did they know anywhere she might be? Of course, not one had a single goddamn clue. 

So, Jeff did another search of the farm, a far more thorough one. 

After another two hours, there she was.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. 

His beautiful wife was on all fours munching on livestock feed from a trough, her lovely average breasts now hooked up to milking pumps and swollen to what looked to be five times their regular size. One of the propriety collars was around her neck and another around her waist, holding her in place for the milking. 

The most amazing part of it all was that she was actually producing. 

He couldn't help but check the readout. 

She wasn't the prize heifer by any stroke, but she wasn't the lowest performer either. She had an acceptable output for a cow almost twice her size.

He checked the numbers on the hormone shots and even the amount of hormones in the feed she had been receiving. That explained it. The system had overcome her earlier lack of production by pumping her with so many new hormones that she couldn't help but make milk. He was pretty sure that if she stopped milking, she'd probably be in incredible pain. 

Helen, on the other hand, hadn't noticed him watching her. She seemed lost in the sensations the milking was causing inside her. She breathed heavily and kept her eyes closed. Jeff swore he could smell her pussy getting excited by the ordeal. 

That was it. Watching his wife, the dominant Helen who always put the farm first, in such a wanton state, downgraded from the owner of the farm to mere livestock that belonged to it, well, it was too much for him. His cock ached for release. It throbbed to life inside his pants.

They had enjoyed bedroom games, at least lightly, some fluffy handcuffs that held the attention and imagination rather than actually holding a person captive. They had even done some light whipping and spanking, but it was clear that Helen had really had to fake being submissive for him. 

But this... This predicament. She didn't have a choice. The machine held complete sway over her. It fed her. It milked her. It dominated her every waking -- and sleeping -- moment. He knew she probably wasn't enjoying it, but it had been several days so far. What would another few minutes hurt?

Before he could pull it out and masturbate, just out of sight in case she finally became aware of him, the computer launched into the afternoon fucking. A huge dildo pushed ruthlessly inside her and moved in and out with mechanical precision but no passion. If she had been excited before during the milking, she all but moaned like a bitch in heat now. She squealed and sputtered short breathy sounds that might have once been words, or maybe had been intended to be, but instead, they only came out as cries of horny desire, something more animal than rational. 

She had never done that with him. 

Before he knew it, his cock was in his hands and he was rubbing it roughly. He was so excited that it didn't even take a minute before he spurted all over the dirt floor of the barn. 

The Helen-cow was still going strong though. She was loud and didn't care who knew it. The machine hadn't stopped pumping in and out of her pussy, and with each thrust her massive, dripping tits wagged below her and tossed drops of milk on the ground or the side of her stall as they swayed. 

He loved her, but he couldn't deny the feeling of excitement that seeing her like that gave him. Still, it wouldn't be right to just leave her like that, leave her at the mercy of the machines. She was still his wife, damn it. No matter how sexy she looked as her own milk-cow. 

After setting her free, he let her sleep for the first day, and he kept his eye on her with a baby camera he set up in the bedroom and linked to the app on his phone. She slept fitfully, and she kept groaning in pain. When he came back from the chores to check on her, he found her rolled onto her side with her huge, full tits hanging off the side of the bed. 

"It hurts so much," she said. 

"I don't know what to do," he said. 

"I can't. It hurts, Jeff."

He stroked her head. 

"I think I need to be milked. It hurts so bad."

He sat beside her, still not knowing exactly what she needed to make her feel better. 

She took the initiative. Helen gripped the nipples of her left breast and squeezed. Instead of drops, a steady stream of milk flowed out of it and onto the floor. 

"Shit," she said. "This is gonna make a mess." She looked up at him, eyes pleading and weak and more than a little humiliated. He smiled to ease her desperation. "Can you get a bowl or something to catch it?"

A day off the hormones, and although she was still not herself yet, she was at least slipping in and out of awareness less, and in her more lucid moments, she was almost like her old self. Still caring about the house and the chores. 

"Sure, sweetie," Jeff said and went into the kitchen for a large popcorn bowl. He returned and put it on the floor below her dripping nipple. 

"I hate to ask, but can you..." She let the words trail off, then noticing that he wasn't getting the full picture, she actually stated it directly. "I need you to milk me. For real. It hurts so back, Jeff."

"Milk you?"

"Yes. Milk me."

"I don't know."

"I can't do it myself. The angle is too weird. And just squeezing my nipples isn't going to cut it."

As she spoke, she climbed off the bed and sat on all fours on the floor. Her tits hung almost into the bowl below her. 

"Please, Jeff." 

He could see conflicting emotions in her eyes. On the one hand, she was extremely embarrassed, devastated in her humiliation. But tinged with that negative feeling, she was also trying to hide something else, something, dare she admit it, stimulated by the thought of her husband milking her and the thought of him getting turned on by seeing her milked. 

Again, it was more than he could take, and his erection tented inside his khakis. 

"If I have to," he said, trying not to make it a lie. 

"Please." This time she looked at the floor instead of him. 

He took her left tit in both of his hands. It felt so full and thick and heavy. He'd never felt her breasts resemble anything like that. They'd always been firm but soft and pliable. 

Luckily, he knew his way around how to handle farm animals. After all, they had milked by hand before having the new system installed, and he squeezed in and down. 

Milk hit the bottom of the bowl in a thick, steady run, no longer a trickle. It hit the plastic with a loud fzzzzt sound and he felt embarrassed on her behalf, but she now had her head up and was groaning softly, grunting a little from the pressure. 

After a few minutes, her left breast was significantly lighter than the right. So he gave the same attention to that one. As he did, Helen continued to moan steadily. He could smell the musk of her sex and he knew she was getting turned on by the attention. It didn't make sense. She had always been the one in charge. She had only pretended for his sake to be the submissive one. Yet, he she was, thoroughly orgasmic while being milked on all fours by him. 

"Fuck me," she said weakly. 

It was all the prompting he needed. He let go of her boobs and unzipped his pants. They were down to his ankles in no time, and he got behind her doggie style. He laughed. More like cowgirl style. Or maybe girl-cow style was more accurate. 

He entered her easily, as her cunt was already well lubricated. He pumped slowly, and only when he realized she wasn't reacting with the same fervor, he put two and two together. Four, in this case, was that the monster dildo she had been receiving was more than twice his size in both girth and length. And since he couldn't do anything about that he shifted position to reach beneath her again. He took a breast in each hand and squeezed mercilessly, not like he was a lover giving her pleasure, but more like he was a farmhand hurriedly trying to get through a chore. 

Now she moaned and quivered again. He pumped, knowing she was far more interested in him jerking on her tits than his comparatively smaller tool working inside her pussy. He didn't care. Right now, she was a hole and he was the dick filling it up. 

Her moans, under the right circumstances, sounded a bit like moos, and the thought of that sent him over the edge. He exploded inside her. 

"Don't stop," she begged, still mumbling more than speaking.

"I'm spent," he said, then he realized what she meant. 

He moved to her side again and resumed his grip on her teets. No longer breasts, they were just teets, something to be milked. 

When she finally told him he could stop, the bowl was more than half full. 

"Damn," he said. Without thinking, he stuck his finger in the bowl and lifted it to his tongue. "Sweet," he said. 

Her face flushed red. 

"Here," he said, dipping his finger again. "Taste it." He held the finger under her nose and mouth. She shook her head. 

"Please."

She relented and opened her mouth and sucked his fingertip like a lollipop. 

"See?" he asked. 

She didn't respond. She only crawled onto the bed as a dog might, spent from her exertion, mumbled something about how that wore her out, and then slipped right off to sleep facing the wall away from him. 

She called him on the phone in the late afternoon, and when he answered, she was obviously in pain again. 

"Jeff, it hurts," she said softly, hurting, her breaths short and shallow. 

"I'm checking the bailer, but I can be back in ten minutes."

"It hurts. Damn it, Jeff. I need you to fucking milk me."

"If we keep milking you, it's not going to stop," he said. "You know that."

She made a grumbling sound and hung up. Less than a minute later, she called him back. 

"You're still coming to milk me, right?"

He nodded to no one in particular. "Yes, honey. But we can't keep --"

The line went dead. 

He let himself linger and in twenty minutes he was beside her in the upstairs bedroom again. She was on all fours and he was filling up the popcorn bowl again with her creamy, sweet milk. 

He climbed behind her and fucked her again, reaching beneath her for her udders and mashing them with little regard for her comfort. She didn't seem to care. The rougher the better, her body indicated. Just get that goddamn milk out and squeeze 'em. Harder. Faster. Harder. 

He finished and unloaded inside her again, not that she noticed, and he came back around to finish the milking, after which she crawled into bed, spent, again. 

She asked to be milked before bed and he complied. 

And that was their week. Rather than suffering through the pain of her engorged breasts, Helen preferred to have them milked and to enjoy the orgasmic sensations as they were mashed and squeezed and stretched. The fucking was okay too, and it was a pleasant diversion, though she got little more than a good feeling from it. She needed something bigger inside. 

Through it all, the milk not just continued to fill her plump melons, but it also increased. Wearing a bra was not remotely an option any longer, as her tits were like playground balls when full and like a popped balloon when emptied. Okay, not quite that bad, but it felt that way to Jeff, who was quickly growing tired of having to milk his wife. Helen seemed determined to keep this new arrangement going and had no plan to suffer through the time required to encourage the milk production to stop for good. 

It dawned on him throughout the week what he would have to do, but he knew she wouldn't like it. 

So it was on the eighth day after finding her hooked up to the livestock processing system and setting her free that Jeff gave Helen the ultimatum. He had hoped his strong words would cause her to finally buckle down and endure the pain needed to make her life normal again. 

"Listen, Helen. We can't keep doing this. I'm worn out and I'm not helping you at all. I'm just keeping you from getting back to normal."

"I can't, Jeff. I just can't."

"You have to, honey. Unless you want to be a dairy cow for the rest of your life."

"I don't know what to do. I can't stop, sweetheart. It hurts so damn bad, and then it feels so damn good when I get milked."

Not, he noticed immediately, "when you milk them" but "when they get milked." 

"Well, I can't keep doing it. I've got to take care of the farm. And in your condition, you're clearly not able to do that. Honestly, you're not even able to take care of yourself."

"Please, Jeff. What are you saying?"

He took a long, heavy breath that tasted like betrayal. "I need to have somebody or something else take care of you so I can take care of the farm."

She looked up at him confused.

"I'm saying I need to hook you up to the system again if you're so deadset and determined on being milked and fucked. If you wanted to stop, I'll take however long it takes to help you, but if you don't want to, if you want to just be milked and fucked on a regular schedule during the day, the machines can take care of that better than I can."

There. He had said it. 

Her reaction seemed frozen on her face. A combination of confusion, pain, anger, excitement, and lust. 

"I don't understand, Helen. What happened to you? It's like the accident broke you or something. It turned you into a different person."

She looked away. Crying. "I don't know."

"Do we have to start today?"

He nodded, his face firm. She needed to know he meant business. 

"Fine," she said through her tears. "If that's how you want it, then do it. Make me a fucking cow."

He clenched his fists and counted to ten silently. How dare she? Had he not gone out of his way to do everything she asked of him? He wasn't trying to make her a fucking cow. She was the one determined to make herself a mother-fucking cow. 

Not me. 

Her. 

She, herself. 

"Or you can stay here and try to be a real woman again."

"Please, Jeff. It hurts."

"I know."

No more sympathy. Not after that outburst. 

He helped her from the bed and she put her arm over his shoulder. He pretty much carried her all the way to the barn. All the while, she mumbled about how it was probably for the best, at least for now, and that she would miss him but at least the pain in her swollen teats would be taken care of. 

And her need for that huge cow cock, Jeff thought, not that she'd mention that to him out loud.

In a matter of minutes, she was collared again. As she watched he went to the workstation computer a few stalls down from hers. He entered her into the system as a new item of livestock. She was assigned a number by the system, HF006205062022, indicating she was the property of Hanson Farms, the 62nd cow entered into the system, and became livestock on May 6, 2022. 

He hesitated when he reached the box for the cow's name. They typically skipped that one, choosing instead to reference the cows by number rather than actually giving them names. But just this once, he figured he should. 

But what name would be good for a cow like Helen? He laughed, going through the cartoon characters he had seen as a child. Then he decided. 

Mabel.

Mabel was a perfect name for a milker. 

He typed the name into the box and clicked enter. 

A pop-up window told him that a tag was being engraved and would be waiting for him in the main office. He smiled and then chided himself for being mean and petty. They might not be any way around this situation, but that was still no reason to be a bully about it. Besides, hopefully, in a few days, she realized just how pitiful her new world was and then beg to be let go and become the woman he loved again. 

No sooner had he clicked enter to activate the new cow into inventory, than the collar lowered Helen... No. Not now. Not until she was human again. The collar instead lowered Mabel to the ground, forcing her onto all-fours. 

Jeff watched as the hormone tube injected a needle into the new cow's rump. Soon enough, it would start a regular regimen of chemicals in her bloodstream, continuing to maintain and even ramp up her milk production and keep her drugged and drifting in and out of consciousness. 

A new strap was locked around her waist and the wires on each side of it bound her to the sides of her stall. Once secured, there would be no standing up again as long as it was in place. 

Fresh feed was dispensed into the trough beneath her face. He watched the slight sheen on the food under the natural light that flooded in through the skylight, the tell-tale sign that it was the food that also contained the hormone mixture. 

Mabel hung limply against the belt and collar, knees and hands taking most of her weight. Her teats dangled beneath her and the red dots from floor sensors danced on her skin to find her nipples. When they did and the dots locked on, eight milking cups rose shot out and the first two locked on her nipples. She gulped. The others, finding no surface from which to get milk, retreated back into the sides of the stall. 

Finally, the mechanical arm that held the dildo whirred to life and positioned the monster phallus behind her. But it didn't enter. No. That would come later. 

He waited a few more minutes, watching his wife-turned-cow accept each dehumanizing element of her new world. He watched as Helen-turned-Mabel started to relax in the restraints. Her breathing quieted, and her eyes darted from him to the floor again. She tried to get a good look at the huge dildo behind her, but her position and the collar wouldn't allow it. 

"And this," Jeff said. "This is better?"

As if on cue, the milking pumps turned on and Mabel jolted to alertness. 

Also, as if on cue, so did his erection. 

Just for old times' sake, he thought, as he stepped between his new cow and the phallus. He stood up and fucked her with a bestial intensity. He didn't care if she came or not, but he damn sure needed to, and after a few minutes he did just that, filling up her heifer pussy with his man jizz. 

He watched her on the camera in her stall every day. He even had a station installed in his bedroom so he could keep an eye on her and see that ensure was safe. 

For the first week he visited her each day, often several times a day. But after trying to have a conversation with his drugged-out cow and failing, he decided to stop trying. Instead, he simply talked at her from a stool in the corner and watched her eat, get milked, get fucked, and orgasm from both activities. The only time she was aware of him was when she was getting milked or fucked, and even then her attention was on the pumps or the giant dildo, not him. 

He had hoped to hear her tell him she wanted out, she wanted to return to the house, she wanted to get his help to work through the pain and eventually stop producing milk. Sure, he had hoped to hear all of that, but instead he only her the soft, lowing moans -- or were they moos -- as she climaxed over and over again as he sat there watching and usually getting himself off in the corner. 

In her world, Helen -- who still thought of herself as such, having no idea that the tag hanging from her neck marked her as a heifer named Mabel who belonged to Hanson Farms -- went back and forth between groggy rest and intense tugging at her tits and being filled up by the huge cow-cock. Her world was a whirlwind cycle of just those three activities. Occasionally, in moments of lucidity, she would eat and she would think of the life she had lived as herself in the house, the life before the much more relaxing and much simpler, much less stressful one she was enjoying now. 

In those moments, she wondered what Jeff thought of her new life. She wondered if he was starting to see other women even, or was he content to come down to the barn and fuck her while she was milked. She wondered what went through his mind when he masturbated while he watched her get fucked by the giant bull, as she had begun to imagine, to whom the plastic cock belonged.  

But then there would always be another dose of the hormones and she would drift away again until either the pumps or the cock jerked her out of her dreams. 

After two weeks, Jeff stopped coming to visit. It wasn't doing him any good, nor did it mean anything to the sexed-up Mabel. He was an intrusion. Fine. She wanted to be a cow. She could be a cow. 

He continued to watch her on the screen, but instead of jerking off to her in person, he simply watched her video shows and jerked off to those. He even went into town and left her alone on the farm at the mercy of the machines. 

He monitored her milk production and was pleased to see that she was squarely within the green zone, indicating she was an average performer. He wondered how many people had drunk milk from his human cow, never knowing its origin. He was using it almost exclusively for his coffee, his cereal, and his before-bed glass of chocolate milk. It was too sweet for regular drinking, but it worked very well as a part of other items. 

It was funny, he thought. There were actual cows on the farm that weren't producing as much as Mabel. He laughed at the thought. The human cow, Mabel, was out-producing at least twelve of the natural-born heifers. 

Of course, all that production had played hell on her teats. They fluctuated now between voluminous balloons filled with milk and shriveled and deflated udders that hung wrinkled and waggly beneath her chest and belly. Her ass had expanded too, and her lithe, athletic shape she had always been so proud of had changed noticeably. Her belly had grown from the hormone-laced feed and was distended beneath her. Her legs and arms, on the other hand, had grown far more muscled and toned from bearing her wear for so long. 

After a month, he only dropped by maybe once a week. As long as her production was up and as long as her vitals were in normal ranges, he could be sure she was healthy and taken care of. The last thing she needed was him, and he wasn't so stupid he needed to be told twice. 

He actually had gone out on a date, leaving her alone up on the farm, defenseless if anyone broke in. Well, it hadn't been planned as a date, but when he went to the bar and met the brunette in the cut-off jeans, he couldn't resist bringing her back to the house for a rendezvous. He, of course, made sure to turn off the cameras in the room that night. After that, date nights increased, and he was seeing other women regularly. They wondered about the woman in the photographs at the house, and he started telling them that he and his wife were separated, but then he decided it would be easier and less annoying to just put the pictures away, at least the ones of both of them together. He kept out the ones of himself or himself and friends at the beach or skiing or mountain climbing. 

After three months had passed, he realized he hadn't been down to visit her in the stall in at least two weeks. Still, he resisted the urge to see her in person and just watched her on the camera in the office. She was getting fucked again and moaning loudly, almost wailing, her tits flapping beneath her. Let her enjoy herself, he told himself. Just let her be. She doesn't need you. 

He needed to tell her about the trip to Washington to see the presentation on new materials and upgrades for the automated system. He needed to let her know that he would be gone for a full week and she would have only the system to keep an eye on her. 

He needed to, but he didn't. 

For all she knew, if she still knew anything other than to eat, milk, fuck, repeat,  he might as well not have been there for at least a month and a half. Even when he had visited, she didn't seem to notice or acknowledge him. 

She was livestock, he reminded himself, and that's how she wanted it to be. 

An alarm buzzed on his screen, reminding him to reset the hormone levels. It was an experiment to keep up with the cost of materials thanks to increased shipping charges after the pandemic and lockdown. He'd need to up milk production by another twelve percent to adjust for the increase in costs. So that meant upping the hormone level so that the heifers could create more milk. 

That left him with a choice. 

He could either reset each cow in Mabel's barn one-by-one or he could click enter on the system screen and up the hormones delivered to the cows across the board. He wasn't sure what that might mean for Mabel. More hormones meant more changes to her body. Her teats would grow larger, no doubt, and her quantities of milk to fill the new jugs would grow with them. But what of the rest of her? Would her ass and belly also enlarge? Would she increase the hair growth on her body that was already beginning ever so slightly from the existing treatments? 

Jeff clenched his hands into fists. 

"No," he said aloud. "She wanted to be a cow. So she's a cow, just like the rest of them." He pressed enter and sent the command to up the dosage. 

He made an alarm on his phone to check on Mabel when he returned and see how she was reacting to the increased level of hormones. 

There was a place in Helen's haze where she wondered why she hadn't seen Jeff in a while. He seemed to exist more now in her memories than in her waking thoughts, and even those memories were becoming more difficult to access. 

Something had changed. She was more groggy, more forgetful, more out of it. And her milking was taking longer. That meant more, deeper orgasms. But it also mean a lot more pain as her breasts were stretched and filled to almost the breaking point before the machines whirred to life and sucked them dry. There was even an extra pumping session during the day. 

She was still aware enough to count the difference between three and four. At least, that was, if she was still measuring the days correctly. Spending so much time asleep between getting milked, getting fed, and getting fucked was taking a toll on her ability to be sure what a day actually felt like. And the sun overhead was at best an unreliable measurement since she could never be sure if she had slept a day away and awakened in a new one, missing night entirely. 

Her skin had taken on a sort of silky down or thin brown hair to match that of her head. Her bush had become so overgrown that when the machine fucked her it often grabbed a tuft of her nether curls and tugged at them, combining a stinging pain with the pleasure of being so filled up. From a distance, she probably still looked like herself, but up close, she was sure she was far hairier than she would have ever allowed herself to be. 

But any concerns were soon swept away when the pumps on her tits started to suck the milk from her again. 

Between each milking, her boobs would fill up and she noticed their new, heavier weight. It had started to make her back hurt. Maybe when, maybe if she ever saw Jeff again, he could do something about that, give her a little more support. 

Even her odor was getting worse. She smelled so much like any other cow now that a blind man probably couldn't pick her out of a line-up with other heifers. But it was comforting in a way. Left to her own thoughts, she couldn't really tell why it comforted her, but she couldn't help feeling that it did... somehow. 

The monster bull behind her smelled just like her. It had been inside of her so much that it had taken her sexual stink as its own. It was a part of her. She was a part of it. And the more they mated, the more they became one. 

She wondered if she could ever really be satisfied with Jeff again, at least sexually. She had become so used to, so stretched out by, so abused by the giant bull cock that she might never enjoy sex with any man again. She most likely would never be able to compress or squeeze her new cow pussy enough to even create enough pressure to get any sensation from a human cock. 

Again her thoughts were rushed away when the bull impaled her and pounded her with its mechanical precision. Again it darted through a tangle of her long, busy curls and almost pulled the hair out of her tender skin as it ravaged her. 

When it stopped, she was gone again, and didn't wake up until the night was almost pitch black. 

So her days went. Stray, random thoughts. Wondering about Jeff and if he was even still around. Getting fucked. Getting fed. Getting her teats jerked and pulled. 

When Jeff pulled back into the driveway, his alarm went off. Time to check on Mabel, he remembered, and he pulled up the app that connected to the system. 

Blood pressure? Fine.

Heart rate? Fine. A little elevated but she had just come off a pumping session, so nothing wrong there. 

Blood sugar? In normal range. 

Milk production? Up only ten percent. There was an exclamation mark beside that reading, and he clicked it. 

With her productivity not up as much as the other cows, who had hit twelve percent without the first few days, the system had analyzed her and automatically increased the hormone level again. In just two days, she had jumped up from a six percent increase to a ten percent one. At that rate, she'd been back up with the rest of the herd in another day or two. Good for her. If she was going to be the property of the farm, then she'd have to pull her own weight, even if most of that weight was in her glorious breasts. 

He clicked the link for the camera, and he gasped. He almost dropped the phone when he saw how much of her beautiful skin was covered in her natural brown hair. She was suddenly something otherworldly to him, an oddity, a rare creature he owned. There was no other being like her. She was his unicorn, his brown, floppy-titted, milk-making unicorn. 

When the car skidded to a stop in front of the garage, Jeff jumped out and couldn't help but walk quickly, almost jogging, to the barn. When he arrived, he saw her sagging sleepily on her belt and dripping sweat and sex from her cow-pussy. Her tits were filling up again and were almost honeydew melons, but he knew before long they would be watermelons or maybe beach balls if the hormone injections had their way. 

He touched the side of her face to wake her, and she stirred, but she quickly fell back to sleep. He touched her again. She mumbled, but that was all. Damn, she was really out. He pushed on her ass and she shook a little, sending ripples across the extra skin and fat on that plump, somehow still cute ass. He slapped her ass and she opened her eyes and gazed back at him. 

"Jeeeeeeffff," she saw with a drowsy hum, and her head fell forward again, eyes closed. 

"Well, I didn't want to have to do this, but desperate times call for desperate measures." 

He left the stall and went to the closet at the end of the walkway. He opened it and pulled out a cattle prod. 

Returning to Mabel's stall, he stepped behind her and raised the prod to that fat, hairy cow ass. 

Zzzzzzzttt!

It stung into her skin, and the cow-girl jolted to life. "Fuuu--" she exclaimed. She turned to look at Jeff and smiled. "Why did... why did... shock me?"

"I had to wake you up, you silly cow," he said with a laugh. "How have you been?" 

She started to speak, but even after the shock from the cattle prod she was beginning to drift again, so he zapped her a second time. She jerked awake. 

"How have you been, Mabel?" he asked, and she didn't even seem to notice the name he used. 

"Fine," she said. "Happy."

"Okay. Fine. Happy. So you still like your life as a dairy cow?"

"Happy cow," she sighed. 

"You're so far gone," he noted. "I wonder how much of you is even in there anymore." He stepped around her to survey her magnificent bulk covered in the thin, dark hair that would no doubt soon become fur. "You're really shaping up to be a lovely cow, and you're making so much milk." He stroked her side as she spoke, and he noticed red circles flush on her face. He wasn't sure if it was because the touch made her horny or because she was proud of her ability to contribute to the farm's output. 

In her mind, she had the perfect thing to say to him. She would tell him how peaceful her life was, how amazing the sex had been, how exquisite it felt when the machines tugged and teased on her tits. 

"Happy cow," were the words that came out again. Then, "I'm a happy cow." 

Jeff laughed. "I suppose I should have known better than to expect much." 

"Hurt," she added, surprising him. "Back sore." 

She was fighting the urge to pass out again from the drugs, and he lit into her ass again with the prod. She spasmed to life again and gazed at him with heavy, tired eyes. "Ouch."

"Sorry," he said. "I can't think of any other way to keep you awake so we can talk." He dropped the prod to his side. "Your back hurts."

She nodded. "Tits so big. Hurts."

"I bet. I suppose I should dial back your dosage on the hormones."

She shook her head. 

"No?" he asked. "You don't want them to get smaller again?"

"Better stall. Need better stall." 

She was drifting again. This time he pushed the cattle prod under her belly and shoved the business end right against her left breast, close to where the pump cups held the nipple in its constant connection. 

That did the trick. She squealed and screamed out a loud "Fuuuuuuuuck!" as she gained full awareness. For how long though, he had no idea. 

"Are you talking about the stalls for heavier cows? Do you need to move to the A-barn with the bigger girls?"

"Yes," she said clearly, speaking without a slur for the first time since he had come down to visit. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I need the wider belt to support my back thanks to these huge boobs."

As she spoke, her head bobbed a little and it shook the tag on her collar. She felt it but couldn't read it.

"You tagged me?"

"Just on the collar."

"I have a number?"

He knelt in front of her still beautiful face and held the tag against his palm. "Yes. When I officially loaded you into the system to take care of you, it assigned you a number. This tag identifies you as heifer number HF006205062022. We have three new ones after you, so you're not even the newest number for livestock anymore."

She nodded, her eyes looking heavy again.

He raised the prod to electrify her tit again, but she forced herself to perk up and stay alert. 

"It says I'm property of Hanson Farms, I guess. I belong to myself."

"You belong to the farm, silly cow," he said, smiling. "Since when can a cow own a farm."

"Oh," she said, scrunching her face up in thought. "I guess that's right. Since you're my husband and co-owner of the farm, I guess I belong to you."

He grinned. "Tax, tag, and title, sweetheart. According to all the records on file, you're my property, just another one of my average-producing dairy cows."

"Average?"

"Yeah, you do well. You're making money for the farm with your sweet, creamy milk." 

Her face flushed red again. This time he was certain it was pride. 

Then she made a quick startled expression.

"Something wrong?" he asked. 

She shook her head again. "Just the shot. I'm getting another dose. I'm sorry, but I'll probably fall asleep again in a minute. It doesn't take long once it goes in."

"That's okay. But while I still have a few minutes with you, I want to ask you a question or two."

"Sure," she said. "But first, shock me again. I want to stay awake for another minute for you, honey." 

He smiled. Then he dug into her soft, flabby breast fat with the leads of the prod and held the button for a full five seconds. When he stopped, she was sweating and her front legs were shaking. It dawned on him suddenly that he had called them her front legs, not her arms. 

"That hurt?"

"Like a bitch, but it did the trick."

"Okay. So first, are you ready to change back, or do you want to continue living like one of my cows?"

She smiled. "One of your cows. That's cute. I like the sound of that. Would that be for better or for worse?"

"Stop goofing around. I'm serious. I can remove you from the system still. It will take a while for you to stop lactating, but I'll help you through it."

Mabel shook her little cow head. "At this point, I'm too far gone, Jeff. My boobs are huge. I'll never make it through the pain of letting the milk stop coming in. And I've been so messed up by that ramming bull behind me that I won't ever be able to enjoy sex as a normal woman again. Hell, you could probably shove your whole arm inside me now without any problems. 

Jeff made a mental to try that at some point. 

The idea made his pants fit tighter. 

"But," she continued, "I do need to move to the stall for heavier females. Could you find me a space in there so my back wouldn't be so sore?"

He nodded.

"You know what that means, right?"

She gazed up at him, trying to think, but not quite getting there. 

"The program running there is for the more effective milkers and our grade-A livestock. We still take extra care to keep them identified."

She still wasn't getting it.

"If I move you in there, you'll be controlled by that program, not the one that takes care of you now." 

She nodded, but her eyes still revealed confusion. He was losing her.

"Do you really want to move to the grade-A barn, Mabel?"

"Yeah," she said, then added. "Who's Mabel?"

"You are," Jeff said, pointing at the tag. 

"Mabel. Cute," she said. "You named me."

"I did. You're a very special cow, Mabel." 

About then the pumps activated and Mabel squealed again. He waited and watched as her excitement grew and her hair, ever-growing cow body shuddered and shivered with what looked to be an intense orgasm. 

Then he got an idea.

A wicked little idea. 

He manually retrieved one of the unused nipple cups and pushed it into her flabby cow cunt, shoving it against her glistening clit. Then he pushed the button that turns on the pump, and the cup sucked at her clit like it was trying to get milk out of it. Of course, that wasn't going to happen, but it wouldn't stop her from bucking and shaking in the collar and belt like a beast possessed. 

He grinned and told himself he could still do something for her after all. 

He kept it turned on until she had wracked her body through two more orgasms and then when he turned it off, she was totally spent. 

She gave him a smile, and as he stroked her face, she licked his palm. Then she was asleep again. 

The next day, he arranged for Mabel to be moved to the A-barn. He was a little concerned, but she had requested the change, and he would honor her wishes. She knew better than anyone what the move to the top-performing barn would mean for any cow going in. After all, she had given the program parameters to the installers. 

Since Mabel could stay awake to move herself, Jeff had her sleeping form loaded on the back of the Gator, and he drove her across the field to the new barn. Rather than try to carry her heavier body himself, he instead loaded her into a wheelbarrow and rolled her into an open stall. The stalls in A-barn were a foot or so wider and instead of a leather belt the cows were supported by a leather strap two feet wide that allowed the cows to rest on it if they grew tired. 

That was the one thing she really wanted out of the move, more support to protect her back from the massive weight of her huge, full teats. 

Mabel was becoming a big girl. 

He locked the collar around her neck. Then he worked the bigger belt under her belly and hooked it in place on the other side of the stall. It lifted her until she was just touching the ground with her toes, but her front legs hung limply, fully supported by the strap. 

Satisfied that she was secure, he zapped her with the prod, this time right up in her pussy. He needed her awake. 

She gave him her full attention, fighting the tears from the electrical torture. 

"Sorry, Mabel," he said. 

"Mabel," she repeated. "You don't even call me Helen anymore." 

"Because you're not Helen anymore. Helen is my wife. Mabel is my cow."

She grinned. "You make it sound so simple."

"Well," he continued. "Anyway... I need to know if you still want to go through with this because once I activate you for this barn, you're gonna get the full treatment. I can't change the programming just because you used to be my wife."

"I'm still your wife, silly," she said. 

"You can be. It's your choice."

"I told you. I can't go back. Not now. I'm too far gone. I'm too fat. My pussy is too wrecked. My tits are too full of milk. I'm not really a cow, but I need to keep being treated like one."

"Well, it's your choice."

"It's my choice."

He lifted her face by her chin and kissed her. Then he looked deep into her eyes. "Is the sex really that good? That and the pumping?"

"It really is. I'm so spoiled and ruined that I couldn't be a good wife for you anymore, Jeff. I'm just a selfish cow. But I promise I'll be your selfish cow, and I'll keep making milk for your farm, and I'll belong to you, and..."

He was losing her again. 

He kissed her one more time. Then one last time. 

And he exited the stall, leaving her hanging half asleep on the strap. He went to the control panel near the door and logged into the system. He opened the form to complete the transfer of HF006205062022 from barn C to barn A. The screen offered him an opportunity to be sure he wanted to transfer an average milker to the premium program. He let his finger hover on the back button, but in the end, he abided by her wishes and clicked yes to proceed. 

The machines whirred to life down in stall fifteen. A hose with a syringe jabbed into Mabel's ass and started to pump a much higher dosage of milk-producing hormones into her bloodstream. A brand new dildo, the same brand, and size as the previous one, readied itself behind her, waiting to be put to use. The milking cups found her nipples and clamped on, never to be released unless the new cow was removed from the program. Another milking cup attached itself to her clit with a little help from Jeff. It wasn't easy to change its programming to search for milk, but he had done it. He owed it to her to help give her the best climaxes possible. And now it too would remain in place, and every time she was milked, that third cup would suck on her clit, desperate to find milk that would never come in, but it would continue to suck and pinch and pull and tease, and he knew that would send his horny heifer over the moon and back. 

But that wasn't all. 

No, he knew there were two other special privileges for barn-A livestock. 

A robotic arm found her right ear, and it clamped shut on the lobe. She squealed and when it unclenched from her ear, she was tagged with a transmitter. Now, should she ever get loose of get lost or god forbid get stolen, it would be simple for Jeff to track down his missing property. 

But the worse was still to come. And apparently, Mabel had awakened just enough to remember what that "worse" was. She sniffled and begged not to have it happen, but she knew as well as he did there was nothing now he could do to stop it short of destroying the program -- something neither of them wanted. 

So she looked deep into his eyes and he watched as the tube suctioned itself onto her fat, cute ass of brown fur. There was the sudden sound of a hiss, followed by the searing of skin, and after about ten seconds, the tube retracted. 

Just seeing the brand of Harbin Farms permanently mark Mabel's ass got Jeff perhaps stiffer and hornier than he had ever been. He almost jizzed in his pants without having to touch himself.

"You're perfect, Mabel," he said.

"Perfect Mabel, she mumbled. 

He couldn't help himself. He pulled out his cock and put it next to the cow-girl's face and began to stroke it. It was an embarrassingly short period of time before he shot his load all over the cow. But she didn't even know. She was already lost in the bliss of her next milking. And judging by the sounds she was making, the new clit pump was doing exactly what it was intended to do. 

Jeff waited until the milking was over, and he watched her pass out from the sheer excitement of the multiple orgasms it have given her. He didn't offer to clean her face. The machines would take care of that every few days. 

"You certainly do look like a very happy cow, Mabel," he said, then he shut the door and locked it behind him. 

Nearly another eight months went by before Jeff stopped by to look at Mabel in her new home. But it wasn't a visit, not anymore. A visit meant some way to relate to each other. No, thanks to the increased dosage, the clit pump, and the extra two fuckings per day added to her program, there was precious little Helen left inside Mabel. Her tits had been massive before but now they were almost impossibly gargantuan. They were comically huge on her form, even though that form had picked up an extra thirty-five pounds thanks to the new feed and the tens machine that triggered her muscles to prevent atrophy. With just the right program adjustments for the tens, he could make her run in place as she hung in the strap. He never tired of watching that on the screen in the main office. When fully emptied now, those teats looked more like beef jerky than human breasts. But never for long. Her milk was relentless. It was torturous and amazing and awful all at once. And she was, like the other grade-A milkers, on a regimen of six milkings a day. 

Her brand had healed nicely and it showed up clearly against her new, thicker brown fur. In fact, thanks to the new hormones, her coat had grown long enough to actually look like fur instead of a woman's downy hair. 

She was most definitely something "other" now. There was little other than her basic two arms, two legs figure to indicate she was human. But that didn't keep her from being mysterious and alluring and even sexy. If anything, all the changes made her far more desirable, and he spent most evenings masturbating to still pictures of his prize heifer that he had captured from the monitors. 

She hadn't said an actual word in four months, and her communication was mostly low growled moans during sex or milking. He could swear she was lowing and even mooing. Of course, the mics and speakers in the video system couldn't be trusted completely. Still, it didn't hurt that when he imagined her while he jerked off, she always mooed, never spoke. Her milk production was far above what it had been in barn-C, but she was still the second lowest producer in barn-A, but he was sure she had pretty much peaked at the level a human cow could produce. Regardless, she was still a top earner for the farm in terms of her output. 

She took no notice of him, none, as he stared at her. 

If he had thought her gone before, he knew now he had been mistaken. She was only partly gone then. Now, she had so retreated into her orgasms and drug-induced lethargy that he wanted if she could even form a thought beyond "happy cow" -- not that she could ever say the words. 

He had started dating a new girlfriend, Bianca, and she spent several nights a week at the farm in his bed. A lovely little redhead who looked nothing like the woman his cow had been. She was great in the sack, and she fit him like the two of them were designed to go together. She loved cows and had grown up on a farm, and she loved to go into the barns and pet the cows and check on them, even learning them all by name. 

But not barn-A. Never barn-A. Not yet. 

Maybe one day. 

Jeff told the zoned-out Mabel all about Bianca and how maybe one day he'd introduce her to his new girlfriend. He went on and on about how she loved him for him and she always put his needs above her work. She even had a slightly submissive streak, but not too much. She was pretty much perfect for him, even though he still loved the memory of Helen. 

All the while, in those brief moments of lucidity, Mabel remembered snippets of a woman she used to be. And she almost purred at the familiar, comforting voice of her former husband. He was such a nice man, and he seemed to love her a lot. She didn't know what a Bianca was, but that didn't matter. There was fresh feed in her trough, a new injection around the corner, a great big bull cock to fuck her, and most of all, all those wonderful milkings. What else did she need?

Sure, maybe there was more to him and to life than that, but when she tried to remember, the pumps kicked on, and her clit and nipples ramped up with electricity and lust, and she was lost again in yet another rapidly building orgasm. 

As she started to disappear, she had one more fleeting thought. 

This had been not just her own fault, but all her own decision. 

And, as the bliss took over both her mind and body again, she was perfectly happy with that. 

Part Two. 

Six months passed. 

Mabel's production remained in the top tier of the green zone, and she was out-producing nearly seventy-five percent of the natural-born heifers. Between the clit pump, the teet pumps, the giant dildo, and the hormone shots, the human cow was mostly blissed out, at least according to the readings from the automated system. 

Because he was sure she was healthy, Jeff hadn't been by to visit her other than a cursory walk-through for general observation of all the livestock since he had ejaculated in her face so many months ago. 

She was a happy, flabby cow, and her fur had grown in nice and thick, at least for a human. It had gotten long enough that the system had registered her as needing a trim for the first time, though she had slept through the grooming. 

Because she was a top producer, the system had tagged her ear with a bronze clip that marked her as such and it had injected her with a chip in case she got loose or stolen so she could be found via GPS and returned to the Harbin Farms. That had made Jeff laugh more than he should have, just knowing how far down this rabbit hole -- well, bovine hole -- his wife had gone and how much she was almost totally now no different from the rest of the livestock. 

From behind, her ass was so fat now and hairy that someone passing by would most likely not even notice she was human, not unless they saw her from the side or the front. But from behind, she was just another dairy cow hooked up to the system. 

He had thought about trying to talk with her, or at least to her, to see if there was anything of Helen even left in her addled brain, or if there was only Mabel, the happily blissful, high-producing dairy cow that belonged to the farm. But in the end, he had decided not to. Those attempts tended to be wasted, he remembered, and that was before the increase in hormones to fit in among the cows in barn-A. He could only imagine how one-sided such a conversation might be now, and it was probably better not to disrupt her pattern. 

She was a happy cow, a perfect Mabel, she had said, and he still loved her enough to leave her that way. 

Besides, he had Bianca to keep him company. And they were talking about her moving in and helping out with the farm -- after her day job as an account manager for a grocery distribution chain. 

That was how they had met, after all. She had been his account manager, and she had marveled at the consistent production from his farm. And they just kind of hit it off after she came to tour the facilities and check out the automated system. 

But before she actually moved in, he would have to tell her about Mabel. He would have to tell the truth about what had happened to Helen, that she hadn't just left him, that she was still with him on the farm, just not as a wife anymore. 

That night, after a fancy dinner prepared at home, they had grabbed her suitcases and box of CDs and DVDs from her car and carried them upstairs. Then, they kissed, and she made love to him in a way that proved to him how much she believed moving in was the right thing at the right time for their relationship. 

It was only after that, lying in a post-coital calm, that he told her, "Listen, if we're going to live together, there's something you need to know."

"I don't care if you're a murderer," she joked. "I still love you." 

He laughed. "Well, regardless, after I tell you, if you still want to live together, or even just see each other, I'll be surprised, but if you don't, I'll understand. I'll be devastated, but I'll certainly understand."

"Wait," she said, suddenly serious. "You're not really a murderer, are you?"

He laughed again. 

"No. I'm still married."

She shrugged. "I know that, dummy. That bitch won't give you the divorce yet."

He shook his head. "It's not that. We're not really separated, not in the way most people think anyway. But we are separated in a way that's deeper than most."

"I'm confused." 

"I'm sure."

And then he came clean about Helen's accident, about her refusal to endure the pain needed to end the milk production, about how in the end he had hooked her up again to the system and how she had chosen to remain there by her own free will.

She, of course, didn't believe a fucking word of it. 

At least until he showed her the cameras. 

As expected, when seeing Mabel from the rear, Bianca told him to stop trying to fool her and that "Sure, it may be an odd-looking cow, but that's still a cow." But when he pulled up the cameras from the side and front, she gasped. 

Her next words surprised him. 

He had expected her to leave. He had expected her to call him a monster. He had expected her to threaten to call the cops. Anything that would suggest he was the monster he tried every day to believe himself to be. 

Instead, she said calmly, "I want to see her." Then she took his hand. "I want to see her now." She squeezed his hand. "Please."

So he took her to barn-A to meet Mabel. 

His wife-turned-dairy-cow was getting pumped and having her clit stimulated when they entered and she was moaning softly. It was amazing to him now how much her moans came out like moos. As far as he knew, she hadn't spoken a single human word in the past six months, at least nothing that triggered the sensors and turned on the speakers to record. The only sounds she had uttered on the video log had been those of sexual ecstasy while being fuck or milked. 

And those weren't words at all. They were the lowing moos of a happy, blissful cow. 

"This is Mabel," he said, making a wide sweep of his arm. "Well, Helen, but Mabel now. She's so far gone that I don't even think she remembers her old life as my wife. I mean, she wanted this, like I said. "It's still weird though."

"Holy shit," Bianca said. "Her tits are massively huge." 

And they were. It was as if watermelons hung from her, but the wide belt under her belly kept the weight of them off her back. 

"Can I... Can I... You know, pet her?"

"Sure. Go ahead. I don't think she'll notice."

Bianca stepped forward and stroked the human cow's fur. 

"Oh my god, she's so soft. I expected her to be coarse, like a regular cow because it's so thick. But it's not. It's still soft, like human hair."

The beautiful redhead continued to rub Mabel's haunches. 

"I could do this all day. It's so relaxing."

"It probably is to her too," Jeff said. 

"That's it," she said. "I think I'll come out and brush her every day." She glanced to Jeff with a pleading expression. "If that's okay with you, I mean." She traced a circle in the dirt with her sneaker. "She is still your wife, after all."

"She's my property, actually. Look at the tag in her ear or the brand on her ass or even the tag hanging from her collar. But thanks for asking."

The woman stopped making designs in the dirt and stepped behind the cow to inspect the brand. "Wow," she said, "the hair won't grow there so it's still visible."

"The brand burns out the follicles. And besides, we treat the area with a chemical to disable hair growth there. Can have our brands hidden, can we?"

"I guess not," she said. "So, can I?"

Jeff laughed. "Absolutely. You can come out as often as you like and brush her. Hell, try to get to know her if you want to. You'll be disappointed if you want to get to know her as Helen, but I'm sure after so much time alone in her stall, maybe Mabel might appreciate a friend. 

"I wonder..." she started, then let the idea trail off. 

Jeff didn't ask. He was already getting hard from the idea of his girlfriend caring for his cow-wife.

And Bianca was true to her word. Each morning before she left for work, she would visit Mabel in barn-A and brush her. She would tell the cow all about how she and Jeff were doing and not to be concerned about him, that she was taking care of him too and not just her. She stroked the hair between Mabel's ears and under her chin, even training the cow to take feed carefully from her hands. 

It astonished and excited him just how easily Bianca was domesticating his wife. She had gone from wife to cow, then to top-producing wild cow, and now to tame cow, essential a pet to his girlfriend. 

The idea made him need to jack off, and he did. 

Two weeks later, a package arrived with Bianca's name on it. When he asked about it, she said it was a surprise. So he let it go. The next day another package arrived, and she said it too was a surprise. 

It was Saturday when she called him on the cell and told him to come to the barn to see Mabel.

He gasped out loud when he saw his wife. 

Her muscular legs were no longer bare but encased in a brown boot that matched her fur. Only the boot didn't end in a human foot. They ended in a hoof. 

Her arms were encased in the same kind of boot, but designed to fit her thinner arms perfectly. These get her extra inches of distance so that her front and back legs were of similar length. 

She looked more like a cow than ever with those boots. 

She lowed as Biance brushed her sides with a rubber-bristled brush. As she did, she raised her head and Jeff heard the sound of a bell. 

Bianca had fucking belled the goddamn cow. Fuck. 

"Isn't it awesome?" his girlfriend asked. "I love to hear her swing the bell. I think she likes it too. It's like a new toy for her. She keeps making it rattle every time I come to visit her." Bianca reached under Mabel's chin and scratched. Mabel mooed. "That's right. Good girl, Mabel." 

Holy shit. If he had thought Bianca was taming her as a pet before, then the effect was doubly sure now. 

"She needs exercise too," Bianca said. "She produces well, but I can tell she's too dependent on the belt to keep the pressure off her back. She needs to get outside some and exercise to strengthen her legs and back. It'll probably do her production good too."

"You can't take her outside. What if someone sees her?"

Bianca laughed. 

"I'm serious," Jeff said. 

"So am I. If you want her to live a nice long life as a dairy cow, then she needs to work those muscles."

"Shit. I didn't think about that. Wouldn't the belt relieve the pain? Does she really need to leave the stall?"

Bianca grinned. "Sure, silly. The belt takes the pressure off her back, but it doesn't keep her healthy. Her human body isn't designed to carry that kind of weight, so we need to build up her muscles to as close to a real cow level as we can. Thankfully, the hormones are helping that, but we still need to exercise her in order to see results."

"Shit," he said. 

"It's okay," she said. "We'll wait until the late afternoon after I get home. I'll take care of it, okay? I mean, I want to be the one to do it?"

"Why?" he asked. "I mean, why are you so concerned about the woman you're replacing?"

She laughed again. "Honestly? Well, the longer she remains a healthy, production cow here on the farm, the more I have you all to myself, Jeff." 

He laughed. 

"Not just that though. I'm intrigued. I want to keep an eye on this, like an experiment. I don't see how she could be doing this well in these conditions. I'm certain that most wouldn't. It has to have something to do with her wanting it. It's the only way she would accept the treatment and welcome the changes. I mean, she's just a regular woman who can make more milk than most of the heifers on this damn farm. That's not normal, Jeff."

He didn't respond. He wasn't sure how to anyway. 

"So that's why I want to monitor Mabel and keep the experiment going. If she wants to be a goddamn dairy cow, then she needs someone to keep an eye on her and take care of her. 

It was then that her milking cycle began and she bellowed in a long, loud moan. 

"That clit pump is either brilliant or the meanest thing I've ever seen," Bianca said. "She obviously enjoys it, and it gets her good and primed for the big dildo, but damn if I can't even imagine what that must feel like."

"We could always hook you up for a trial run," Jeff said with a laugh.

"Hell no. I'm a girlfriend, not a goddamn cow."

As the pumps kept sucking milk from her teets, Bianca kept brushing her fur. 

"I never get tired of watching all that milk flow," she said as the pumps maintain a steady stream of creamy white through the clear tubes. "So much fucking milk."

He nodded. He moved a position in front of Mabel and squatted to see her face. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was tense from the raw sexual energy the clit pump was triggering. She kept chewing whatever she had been munching on prior to the milking tubes activating. 

He kissed her on her forehead and wiped his lips when the fur there tickled him. 

"God, she smells so much better. Are you washing her?"

"I'm not, but the brushing between washes keeps most of the stink and filth away."

"I hope the other cows don't get jealous," he said. 

"I don't think they have the ability to get jealous." She brushed near the cow's belly. "Hell, I wonder if even Mabel has that ability anymore." She couldn't resist gently caressing the cow's teet. "She's so blissed out all the time I wonder if she actually actively thinks of anything."

"Happy cow," Jeff said. "Those were the last words she spoke to me, and that feels like a lifetime ago." 

"Happy cow," Bianca said. "Apt."

She put down the brush and walked over to Jeff. He stood up and faced her. 

"Let's make love," she said. 

"Now?"

She nodded. "Right now. Right here. I want you to fuck me while that giant fake cock fucks her. I want her to watch us fuck each other."

"You're wicked, you are," Jeff said. 

"She's just a cow," Bianca said, and she petted Mabel's back. "Not only that, she's quickly becoming my cow."

"I know," Jeff said. "Do you know how sexy that is to me?"

"Show me," Bianca said as she stripped out of her t-shirt.

He did. 

They lay in the straw and dirt and fucked like wild animals while Mabel glanced over. She only watched after the pumps stopped and before her bull activated. Then she too was lost in the sensations of getting mounted and mated. 

"Look at me," Bianca said, as Jeff thrust at her pussy. "Not at the cow. At me."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. 

The next afternoon, about an hour before dusk, he turned on the camera to find Mabel wasn't in her stall. It took him a minute to remember he had given permission for Bianca to walk her. He just hadn't expected it to happen until after work on Monday. Still, what did it hurt to start a day early?

He went outside and found her in the field that was mostly hidden by the woods. Good. He had planned to recommend that one to her. Bianca had Mabel on a short, leather leash, and the two were making their way very slowly, still barely twenty feet from the barn Mabel called home. 

"How's she doing?" he yelled to them.

"She's really out of shape," his girlfriend answered. "It's gonna take a while to get her moving regularly. At least the boots help her with a better center of balance. For a quadruped, I mean. The look is just a side benefit. Mainly it helps her use her shoulders and rump and thighs to support her bulk instead of just her back. She still needs to strengthen her back though." 

He noticed the recently milked, deflated watermelons dangling from her chest. 

"I bet." 

"But we'll get there," she said. 

"Is she okay," he asked as he drew closer to them. At his new distance, he could see the strained expression on Mabel's face and the tears flowing from the corners of her eyes.

"I'm sure she's hurting, but she doesn't get to decide what's best for her. She the cow. I'm the owner. Well," she corrected herself. "You're the owner, but I'm the master, the trainer, whatever, and I get to decide what she needs to keep her healthy, whether she likes it or not, whether she wants it or not."

"It's not like she's gonna remember once she gets hooked up again in her stall anyway."

"Right." Bianca grinned. "So, a little pain now for all the benefits later is worth it." 

After only two weeks, Mabel was already showing progress. To reward her, Bianca had started to feed her sugar cubes, like a horse, and she must have really enjoyed those. Jeff couldn't get over much like a pet she had become. 

Taken for walks. 

Brushed and cared for. 

Fed treats for rewards. 

Being petted and doted on.

And each time he saw them together, it made his dick hard. He couldn't help it. The very idea that his dominated wife had lowered herself to become the pet cow of his mistress, for lack of a better word, excited him like nothing else ever had. 

One afternoon, almost a month into Mabel's new exercise routine, Jeff found Bianca out in the field sitting on a bucket. As he got closer, he noticed that she was milking Mabel by hand into a second metal bucket.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"It's my fault. I kept her out too long. I could tell she was hurting and I didn't want to mess up her routine."

He noticed the bucket beneath the cow was almost full. 

"I'm almost done with the milking," she said. 

He took a peek at the cow and saw that she wasn't the least bit bothered by what was happening. God damn, he thought. 

"I'm not going to have time to get her installed again before the fucking though, so I'm gonna have to do that the old-fashioned way too."

He looked at her confused. 

Bianca grinned and stood up, then walked behind Mabel's massive but increasingly toned ass. She rolled up her sleeve and made a face. Then she shoved a few fingers inside the cow's stretched-out cunt. They went in far more easily than she had expected. She pulled them out and made a fist and shoved that inside just as easily. Then she pushed her forearm in and out while Mabel moaned and breathed heavily.

Instantly, Jeff's khakis made a noticeable tent.

"Watching your girlfriend fist your wife in a field gets you off, baby?" she asked with obvious sarcasm.

He couldn't answer thanks to the embarrassment. 

"Don't answer that," she said. "I can already see the answer is yes." She laughed and continued to pump her arm in and out of the loud, stimulated dairy cow. "I bet you never in a million years imagined you see something like this on the farm, did you?"

He shook his head. 

"Hey, Jeff?" she asked. 

"What?"

"After I'm done with Mabel here, what do you say you and I tie her off to the fence and get busy ourselves?"

"You just want to make love in front of her again."

"Yes. Yes, I do. Is there a problem with that?"

"Not at all, baby. Not at all."

Mabel continued to moan, lost in the feelings of the rigorous fucking the woman was giving her. Truth be known, and she couldn't really explain why, but she had come to enjoy her trips outside with the woman. She was sweet, and she took such good care of her, always brushing her fur and feeding her sweet treats. 

But the woman had never fucked her. Even so, she was as good at it as her bull was. And as big. It didn't make sense how the woman could be so big and so good at fucking her but it was difficult to think about it -- or about anything really -- too much. 

And the man, her husband, or he had been. But none of that mattered now. She was about to orgasm and her brain was telling her to stop thinking about other things, to focus on the wonderful tingling in her slimy cow twat. 

She brayed loudly as the climax wracked her body. 

Then there was a wet plop as the woman removed her arm from inside Mabel's pussy. 

The woman led her to the fence. It would have been painful before but now, after so many days of walking outside and being released from her cage, she didn't hurt so much when she walked. Her new feet were helping, she figured. Just how though, of that, she had no idea, but such thoughts were beyond her now.

The woman wrapped her leash around the top of the fence, and when she pulled away, Mabel found that she was stuck. She would stay at the fence until the woman released her. So she stood there and enjoyed the crisp air and the taste of the grass in the wind.  

Then the woman took off her clothes. 

And so did the man. 

And then he was on top of the woman and she was spreading her legs and then he was fucking her as if the cow at the fence wasn't even there and didn't matter at all. 

After fucking, the man and the woman lay together in the field. Every now and then one or the other would look over at her and smile. Through it all, her teets were filling up with milk and causing her back to hurt a little from supporting the weight of them. 

Eventually, the man and woman got dressed and the man walked away, stopping first to stroke her side. She mooed at him to say thank you for the kindness, and then he was on his way, walking back toward the house. 

The woman came over to her and untied her leash from the fence and gently petted her head between her ears. Such a sweet woman. 

"Hey, Mabel, did you have a good day outside that dirty old stall?"

Mabel grunted and enjoyed the feeling of the woman's fingers scratching her hair and hide. 

"Your legs are getting so much stronger now. And your coat is so thick and beautiful. If it wasn't for your face, you'd look like a regular old heifer now."

The woman moved to scratch and rub her flanks. 

"And look at this big, fat ass. I've seen the pictures Jeff put away. You were so beautiful and athletic, but I think you're far more beautiful now as a cow. You have such awesome huge tits and that ass... I just want to squeeze it or spank it or hell, I'd love to watch it get branded again."

Her words washed away almost as soon as they were spoken, but the tingles where her nails made contact with her skin -- they meant something to Mabel. They meant love. They meant affection. They meant she mattered beyond just her ability to make milk. 

She knew she had become a sort of pet to the woman. She knew the woman was fucking the man. She knew the man had once been her husband. But none of those things mattered to her. 

Her teets told her she would need to be milked again soon. 

And that mattered more than anything. 

The woman led her back to the barn, inside, and then back to her stall. She fastened the small belt around her neck and the larger one beneath her waist. Then the machines did the work of supporting her bulk. 

The woman pushed a few buttons, and the automated system sprang to life around her. The milking cuffs zeroed in on her nipples and attached. She wished they would start milking, but she knew she would have to wait. The injection tube stabbed her ass and she felt another dose of her medicine pump painfully inside her. Her bull took up its position behind her, waiting for its turn to take her again. Finally, the woman attached the finally pump to her clit. It pulled just enough to create suction, and she moaned low and throaty. 

"There you go, Mabel. That's a good girl. That's a sweet cow," the woman was saying. "You're doing so well. You're making so much milk. You make me and Jeff so proud of you."

The woman smiled at her sincerely, and Mabel felt warm inside. 

"We're just getting started, though. I hope you know that. Now that I've tamed you, I'm going to keep you. When I'm done with you, going back to the way you used to be won't even be an option."

There was something sweet in the tone of the words, but the words themselves didn't sit well with Mabel. Still, it wasn't her concern, and she leaned down to take a bite of feed. She couldn't believe how hungry she had gotten from walking around with the woman. 

"I just still wish I could do something about your face. Short of giving you a mask of some kind, I just don't know what is possible. You just don't have a long enough snout to pass as a real cow. We could give you more of the stuff that makes your hair grow, and that could cover her face almost completely, but your eyes and your lack of a snout would be a dead giveaway to anyone who saw you."

All the while, the woman kept stroking her flank. 

"But I do have some ideas to try in the interim."

Even if Mabel had been concerned about those ideas, she wouldn't have been able to worry about them, because at that point the milking cups started up and drove any other thoughts from her mind. 

When Bianca told Jeff what she wanted to do, he yelled, "You want to do what?!"

"Did you or did you not tell me Mabel was mine to take care of?"

He shrugged. "Well, yeah, but..."

"But nothing. If I'm going to train her then I need to ring her."

"But when has she been a problem?"

"She hasn't," Bianca said. "And that's just the point. The more she feels free, the more she is allowed out of the pen and the machines, the more likely she will become defiant, and I don't want to allow that to happen."

"But isn't that going to hurt?"

"You had her branded."

He looked away. She was right. And the more he thought about it, he thought of her less and less, not just less and less as human, but less and less at all. Mabel was just a cow in the system, and the only time they interacted was when he encountered Bianca walking her in the field. If he really had to be honest with himself, Bianca took up his thoughts now the way Helen had before, but Mabel, well, Mabel really had become almost nameless property. If it weren't for her "nickname" popping up beside her livestock number on the weekly reports, he might never even think of her at all. 

"Fine," he said. "She's your cow now. Do what you think is best. I've got a farm to run." 

"Thank you," Bianca said. 

He was gone when the work was done, out at another convention about system upgrades. While he was boozing it up with the company executives and getting wined and dined in order to sell him on the new products and services, Bianca had one of her oldest friends, a boy, now a man, she had dated in college, come to the face to do Mabel's makeover. 

"This is going to hurt, Mabel," the man said to the cow-woman. "But it's going to heal quickly and then the pain will go away." 

"Except when I pull on it," Bianca said. "Right, Stuart?"

"Right. Are you sure she wants this?"

"You saw the videos."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but I still can hardly believe it. It's just so fucking weird."

"To each her own," Bianca beamed through her smile. 

"I suppose so." Stuart laid the copper nose ring on his knee and picked up the little piercing spear. "And she can't talk anymore?"

"As far as we know. If she can, she just chooses not to. Hell, she probably won't even feel anything while you pierce her. She's so drugged up on the hormones, and worn out by all the milking and fucking, she mostly stays chill all the time."

"Damn," he said. "I'd love to fuck that fat ass myself, but she probably wouldn't even feel me."

"Probably not. Well, maybe her ass. I think she may still even be a virgin there. I don't know what she and Jeff did before I met him."

"Okay. Do you still want the horns too?"

"Oh absolutely. Anything to make her even less human. If she wants the full experience, I want to be able to give it to her."

"You're the boss, Bee."

"Damn right," she said, looking directly at her helpless cow.

When Jeff returned, he didn't see Mabel for several days, and when he finally did see her walking the field, he was shocked. Seeing her from behind and noticing small horns protruding from her head, he assumed Bianca was taking one of the other cows out for some exercise. But when she turned the cow to face him and walked her toward him -- her much stronger legs moving at a brisk pace now -- he saw that indeed it was Mabel, and she not only had horns but was also being led not by a leash connected to her collar but connected to the ring in her nose.

"Holy fuck," he said. "Just... Shit. God damn. Fuck."

"I know. Right? If we could do something about her face, she could pass for a real cow to almost anyone now. Well, she'd be a few udders short, I guess." 

He strode to his cow-wife and touched her face tenderly. "Does it hurt?"

"Only when I tug on it. And I only do that if she doesn't obey my commands."

"Is she very disobedient?"

Bianca shook her head. "Not after me showing her how effective that nose ring was, she isn't. The biggest issue was to get her to walk faster. She still wants to amble, but I need her to sort of trot so we can keep building up those leg muscles."

"I noticed she was faster coming across the field." 

"Yeah, I only have to jerk on her ring a few times for her to realize I meant business."

"What about the horns?"

"Well, lots of dairy cows have horns, and I figured she'd appreciate how it made her more cow-like since that's what she wanted."

"Damn."

He was getting hard again just seeing Mabel so changed. 

"I see you like it too. Here, want to take her?" Bianca asked, offering the leash to him. 

He took it and started walking. He didn't have to tug, because she followed and caught up to walk beside him.

"I taught her to heel. I know it's a dog command, but I figure she's still smart enough to learn a few of those. I wouldn't expect her to do calculus or anything, but some simple commands can still make sense to her addled brain."

"Shit," he said, and Mabel turned to look at him. It looked as if she were gazing at his erection. The longer he stared, the more obvious it became to him that she was doing just that. Something in her must have still seen him as a man at least, and maybe even her husband, something somewhere deep, almost lost in her cow mind. 

Bianca tugged hard on the nose ring. 

"No, no, Mabel. Bad cow. That's not yours anymore. That's mine."

As she spoke, Bianca walked to him and rested her palm on the erection.

"Does this flabby old cow get you more excited than me, baby?" she asked. 

He laughed. 

"Maybe," he said, and she slapped his chest playfully. "Or maybe it's just seeing you tame this flabby old cow. Maybe that's what gets me hot."

"Good answer," she said and kissed him hard on the mouth. "Hey, listen," she said when the kiss was over. "I noticed that since the weather is getting warmer, the flies are bothering her more when she's outside. Keeping her brushed and clean helps, but even that doesn't keep them all away."

"Oh, yeah," Jeff said, looking at Mabel's ass. "She doesn't have a tail."

"Right. And that's how cows swat away those pesky flies. But poor Mabel doesn't have any way to protect her cow pussy from them. I noticed she's even started getting stung by the mosquitos right on her lips down there. And that has to itch, if not actually hurt."

"Sure," he said. "But what can we do about it? Even if we shoved a tail up in her ass, she still couldn't use it to swat the flies away. It would just be decorative."

"I've been thinking about that, and I ordered something from a kink shop."

"Whatever," he said, wringing his hands. "Like I said, Mabel's your cow now. You do what you think is best." 

"You know just what to say to get me turned on, Jeff," she said, grinning.

She dropped to her knees in front of him as Mabel looked on. Jeff hung on to the leash as Bianca unbuttoned and unzipped his green Dockers and peeled out his cock. Then she took it in her mouth and sucked him off right there in the field as Mabel watched, lowly with what sounded to Jeff to be a jealous moan. 

Later in the week, two more packages arrived, both marked for Bianca, and Jeff could only assume that was what Bianca had referred to. She took them directly to the barn though and told him he'd have to wait to see them until she and Mabel were ready to show them off. 

The next morning, he found a note on the table beside his empty coffee mug.

It read:

Mabel would like to show off her new look. I left her in the field. Go tell her good morning. You'll either need to milk her by hand or return her to the stall by nine-thirty so the machines can do it. 

Love, Bianca

He filled his mug with coffee, added a little milk, then went outside to see what the big surprise was. When he reached the field, he saw several cows out that morning. Two Holsteins, three Red Angus, and a Hereford. But no sign of Mabel. 

He went into the barn, wondering if Bianca was pranking him, but Mabel wasn't in her stall. 

So we returned to the field. This time he figured he'd look around to see if his girlfriend hadn't put the special cow further along in the field to make him work for it and keep her away from the others, but again there was no sign of her. 

It was only on the trip back to where the others were grazing that he noticed one of the Red Angus heifers wasn't grazing, as if her neck wouldn't let her reach the ground. 

Only when he got a few feet away did he notice the cow's human eyes. 

Holy shit! How the fuck had Bianca pulled that off. From a distance, even a professional dairy farmer like he didn't recognize his wife as anything other than just a cow grazing in the field. He had to get up close and personal to see any difference. 

Now that he was beside her, he could tell where the skull cap and fake snout were attached. The cap covered her head and ears in a strip that gave her cow ears. There were holes for Mabel's horns to poke through as well, and the whole thing appeared to be glued to her face somehow. The same for the snout. From the top, it looked like a typical cow snout. The bottom, however, was open so that there was easy access to Mabel's nose ring for training and Mabel's mouth for sugar cubes. 

Bianca had even dyed her coat a deep reddish-brown to match the other Red Angus. She had cut the hair on her head so short it was no longer than the fur of her coat.

Beneath her, hanging from where her distended belly met her chest, was a fleshy bit of costuming that gave her an additional pair of udders. These were purely ornamental, but they looked authentic and helped to sell the illusion Mabel had always been a piece of livestock. 

But the coup de grace, the crowning bit of the new look, was the flicking and swatting tail protruding from her furry ass. As he inspected it, he watched it dance to and fro and up and down, actually swinging similarly to a real cow's tail. It was effectively swatting at the flies and keeping most of them away from Mabel's tender bits. He couldn't resist tugging on it, and it pulled -- which solicited a whine from the cow -- but it didn't threaten to come out. 

The butt plug end inside her must have been huge to hold so tightly. 

"Fuck," he said loudly. "You really are just a fucking cow now," he said, stroking her back. 

He sat with her, admiring what a beautiful cow she had become and how natural she looked as long as one didn't inspect her too deeply. It's funny, he thought, he could put her in the field with a group of cows right beside the road, and not one person driving by would have ever suspected she wasn't the same species. 

The idea triggered another erection. 

The cow noticed. 

He thought of dropping his pants and fucking Mabel then and there but decided not to. It wouldn't be fair to either her or Bianca. Besides, she was as fully cow now as she could probably ever be, and he was a man. Men didn't have sex with livestock. Well, not the kind of man he wanted to be, anyway. Maybe it had been fine when she still seemed to be a human playing cow, but she wasn't playing anymore. She was a cow, plain and simple. Her outsides were finally matching her insides. 

As he sat in the field stroking his cock, he noticed her start to groan as her udders hung full and heavy. 

But instead of milking them by hand or returning her to the stall, he got a wicked little idea he was sure Bianca would appreciate. Taking the leash attached to her nose, he led her past barn-A, then past two other barns, and finally to the outside pen reserved for the livestock with new calves. 

One of the heifers had given birth last night and died because of a breach, but the calf had survived. He had taken the calf to another mother to nurse, but she already had an older child, and that one wouldn't let the new calf feed. 

So, he tugged Mabel into a wide, dirty stall with fences for walls and open to the outside. As long as she looked so much like a cow now, it wouldn't matter if she was seen from a distance, plus he hoped the riskiness of it would give her the thrill of really being treated like a mother cow. 

She looked at him with a confused gaze, then winced at the pain in her breasts. 

"Hang on, Mabel," he said. "I know just what will help you with that." 

He closed her in the pen and went to get the calf. When he returned, he placed the baby beneath her. She shook her head violently, which only shook her bell and made the effect ironically comical. 

"You're a cow, Mabel," he said sternly. "And this calf needs a mother. Now are you going to do as you're told, or do I have to make you?" He tugged gently on the leash and she groaned loudly. "You don't want this poor baby to die, do you? Aside from being inhumane, that also will cut into the farm's profits, and I know you don't want that. This little guy will grow up to be a good-sized bull for the slaughterhouse."

She looked at the ground. 

"Now you be a good girl, Mabel, and let this sweet baby enjoy your delicious milk," he said. 

He lifted the calf's chin and helped him locate Mabel's teat. Then nature took over and the calf knew just what to do. He sucked at her udder like he was starving to death, and he was probably close to that. 

Jeff exited the pen and left Mabel and the calf together, him sloppily nursing and her moaning at the pressure on her breasts. 

When Bianca returned home that afternoon, Jeff took her directly to the pen and showed him the new mother and adopted child. The calf was nursing again, but both of Mabel's udders were filled to bursting. The little fellow just didn't drain them the way the machines did, and she was probably in a lot of pain. Bianca beamed at him and kissed him deeply. 

"This is awesome," she said. 

"I thought you might like the idea."

"I love it. 

Mabel lifted her head to look at Bianca. Bianca waved at the cow.

"Hi there, Mabel." Then she turned again to Jeff. "So, did you like the makeover?"

"It took me thirty minutes to find her. I just thought she was one of the Angus heifers." 

"That makes me so happy."

"That's the only reason I brought her down here. I figure if I couldn't tell the difference it would be safe to have her more out in the open, even this close to the driveway."

"Are you intentionally trying to get me horny?" she asked. 

He grinned wickedly. "Maybe." 

"Well, Mr. Farmer-boy, it's working."

Bianca returned to the pen each morning to brush Mabel and check on her. Without the automated system monitoring her, her vitals had to be checked manually. it had taken about two weeks for the swelling and bruising to fade from her tortured udders but she had made the poor cow endure that. It was the only way to let her milk production slow down enough to make what was needed for the calf and not the massive amounts required to reach the quota for barn-A. 

It hurt, but it was necessary. Not so much for Mabel. Her pain was the farm's gain. But it mattered for the farm. She would be used as she was needed. That's what happened to livestock. 

Of course, once she eventually returned to her barn stall, she would have one hell of a time building back up to her quota. 

Not that it would happen anytime soon. She was raising a beef cow, and that meant six months of nursing. Six months of living free in the more open pens. Six months of being a mommy cow. Six months of not getting fucked by the huge phallus. 

That, Jeff figured, probably bothered her the most about her new arrangements, the lonely ache in her empty and hungry cow cunt. 

But livestock didn't get to choose its purpose. And for the next six months, her purpose was to be a mommy, not to be a dairy cow. She could return to that soon enough. 

Not one visitor to the farm noticed anything different about the Red Angus nursing in the pens. Not that Jeff or Bianca brought them close enough to really inspect her. Still, there was no need to. It was a dairy and beef farm, and cows were everywhere. What reason would any visitor have to check on one happy mother cow nursing its calf? 

After three months off the hormones, Mabel's milk production was stable and always up to the task of taking care of the calf. But they were seeing a few side effects as the chemical injections left her system. 

Their first clue was the morning Bianca was brushing her and the cow said, "Jeff."

Bianca stopped, startled. 

"What?!"

"Jeff."

"Mabel?"

The cow looked up at her and nodded. 

"Where Jeff? Want Jeff."

"Oh, no," Bianca said. "You don't speak. Be a good little cow and shut up, Mabel." 

"Want Jeff."

"Sorry, honey. This is for your own good."

Bianca pulled hard on the nose ring and held it extended for a full ten seconds. Mabel squealed and when the woman let go of the bronze ring, the cow was sobbing out loud. 

"Hush that noise. Cow's moo." Bianca hadn't let go of the ring. "Or do I need to pull this again?"

Mabel shook her head. 

"That's a good cow, Mabel." 

She let go of the ring. 

"I was expecting this eventually, but I wanted to see how long it would take. I figured without not just the hormones, but without the regular fuckings and milkings to distract your mind, you would eventually start feeling more like your old self."

Mabel nodded.

"Well, that's too bad, cow," Bianca said. "You see, Jeff is mine now, and he has given you to me to train and to take care of as I see fit." 

Mabel stared at the woman and then winced as the calf latched onto her teat again and began to suckle. 

"Aw," Bianca said. "That's so sweet. The little guy loves you, mama cow."

Mabel turned her eyes to the ground for a moment, then looked at Bianca again, eyes pleading.

"Fine, fine. Go ahead. I'll let you speak just this once. But don't you dare ask for Jeff. I told you, he gave you to me. You're my cow now."

"Thank you."

"What's on your mind, Mabel?"

"Not happy cow."

"No, I imagine now. After all, you signed up for all this so you could get your rocks off on the pumping machine and the huge dildo that fucked you in your stall."

"Go back."

"Can't yet. You've got three more months to take care of this sweet baby."

"Please."

Bianca shook her head.

"No can do, Mabel. We're gonna get a lot of money for this fellow when he grows up."

"Nother cow."

"Nope. You."

"Milk me. Please."

"Sorry, sweet girl." Bianca stood in front of the pet cow and lifted the tag in her ear. "This thing here identifies you as HF006205062022. That means you are livestock. You are property. You belong to Hanson Farms. That means we, me and Jeff, get to make the decisions about what happens to you. You gave up your humanity, remember. I've seen the videos. Every time you wanted to go deeper, Jeff gave you the opportunity to get out, but no, you wanted to be a cow. Well, now you are. And I'm sorry, but all those opportunities to make your own choices, well, they're over now. You do what we say. And right now, that means nursing this cute little fellow. In a few months, that might mean we put you back on milk production. Or maybe just have you raise another calf." She winked with an evil grin. "Or put you in line with the beef cattle. After all, that's just another automated system. No one would ever know. Just like no one knows they're drinking human milk after you get processed with all the others. You get your meat all mixed up with the others, well, nobody would ever know it wasn't all purebred cow.

"Please. Not happy cow."

"I bet. No fucking makes Mabel a sad heifer. Well, too bad."

Bianca scratched the cow on its nose where the real one attached to the fake snout. The cow made a happy sound with lots of mmmms.

"Not a happy cow, my ass," she said. "Anyway, we're going to come to a compromise, you and me. One. No more speaking. I don't care how fucking clear your addled little cow brain becomes. Not one more fucking word other than moo. You talk, even once, and I'll have you pulled around the farm all day by your nose ring on the motorized carousel Helen and Jeff used to walk the horses on when they kept those. And you can be damn sure it won't be slow. You'll be in pain all goddamn day, getting your nose jerked and stretched. Do you understand?"

Mabel nodded.

"Good cow." Bianca petted as she continued. "You do that for me, and I'll start giving you the hormone shots again. I'll do it by hand, and that way you get to be blissed up again in dreamland, but I'm not going to put you back in the stall with the machines. You'll have to wait."

Mabel looked at her sadly as the calf continued to feed. 

"But, I will come and milk you by hand since the shots will make your milk come in stronger."

"Fuck?"

Bianca jerked at the ring and tugged it hard. 

"No talking, Mabel. That's your part." 

The cow stared at the ground.

"And no fucking. Not until the little cutie gets weaned. Then we'll see." 

Since the cow wasn't allowed to speak, she tried to use her eyes, and they seemed to say 'please' for her. 

"Sorry, Mabel. It's your choice. Obedience or punishment. Be a good cow, or be dragged around by the nose all day. Your call."

Mabel's eyes grew wet.

"You may speak this last time to answer me."

"Good cow," she whispered.

"That's a sweet girl." Bianca pointed up at the cameras and the speakers. "I know you know we can see and hear everything, so don't think about trying to get away with anything while I'm not here with you keeping an eye on you."

Mabel nodded. 

The calf let go. 

Bianca smiled warmly, almost lovingly. "Let me go get that first shot for you." 

True to her promise, though more likely from fear of punishment rather than a desire to be obedient to her trainer, Mabel didn't utter a single word during the next three months. Even when it was just her and Jeff, which was rare, she kept quiet and only made pained moans and groans as her calf nursed. Its teeth could be very painful on her tender, tortured udders. 

She wanted to tell him she was unhappy. She wanted to beg him to put her back in the barn and return her to the rapture of the pumps and the matings. But she dared not. Bianca was her owner now. Bianca would make sure she paid for doing anything un-cow-like, especially toward Jeff. So, no, she could only pretend to be the happy cow she had been for a little more than a year in the barn. She could only wait for the day Bianca decided to return her to that world. 

It wasn't fair. It wasn't even that she wanted to be human again. She loved being a cow, but to her, that meant being a dairy cow. That meant being hooked up to the automated system. That made her a happy cow. But she wasn't a happy cow now. She was a bored cow. A very, very bored cow. 

Even so, her new life as a mother wasn't stressful. All in all, it was pretty relaxing. And Bianca had been right. Her calf was super cute. She thought of him as Billy, even though that name might be more appropriate for a goat. He was her calf and he was a Billy. Period. 

On the day Billy, not so little anymore, was taken away from her, she actually cried. And she cried the entire afternoon. Bianca visited her only to relieve the pressure in her udders and offered her several sugar cubes to help her feel better from the loss. 

"Go ahead, Mabel, it's okay," Bianca said as she stroked her side between pumps. "I know you'll miss the little guy."

It didn't help to know the little guy would become hamburger meat. 

When dusk finally came, Bianca returned and clipped the leash back on her nose ring. Mabel gazed up at her, curious, but the woman said nothing, just gave a single, soft tug, and the cow got the idea. Follow, and do it now.

She led Mabel in silence until they reached the crowded pen where the beef cows were gathered. It attached to a ramp that would lead them into the automated slaughterhouse. When she was Helen, Mabel had observed the process many, many times, watching the cows first put down with a blow from the bolt pistol and then hauled up by their back legs and moved through the system to be skinned and inspected before the computers decided whether the animal would become expensive steaks or the cheaper ground beef. 

Mabel mooed quietly, hoping Bianca understood her unspoken question. 

If she did, she didn't respond. Instead, she tugged the cow to the fence and tied her to the top rail. 

"This always fascinates me," she said, stroking Mabel's flank. "I'm learning so much helping Jeff out here on the farm. For example, dairy cows rarely are able to produce for more than five years, and then the milk isn't safe to drink. So, at that point, it's off to the processing plant. That's all they're good for anymore. Hamburgers. Steaks. Roast beef. All very delicious. 

"I wonder how long a special breed like you will be able to be useful," she said, still stroking the soft fur. "I wonder how long you'll be able to earn your place here on the farm."

Bianca pointed at the metal double doors that lead into the slaughterhouse. 

"That right there... just on the other side of that, the machine grabs you and holds you still so the bolt gun can shoot you in the head. A clean, painless kill, and then you're just gone. No more milk. No more raising calves. No more nothing. After that, you're just meat."

She came around and kissed Mabel on the top of her head, between the fake cow ears. 

"Just right through there. Where all the old cows end up eventually." 

Bianca scratched under Mabel's chin. 

"Even special ones."

Mabel mooed loudly. 

"Good girl. I figured you wouldn't be able to hold back that time. Or maybe the hormones are whacking you out again. Doesn't matter either way really." 

Mabel stared at Bianca then at the metal doors, then back at the woman. 

"You keep being a good girl and keep doing what you're told, and keep producing, and we won't have to find out your expiration date for a long time. Right, Mabel?" The woman beamed a wide smile at her. "But you open your fucking mouth just one time and we'll just see how fast you can disappear during the night. You'll be yesterday's news faster than you can say 'ground chuck.'"

Fuck, Mabel thought. It sounded like Bianca really meant business. It sounded serious enough not to put it to the test. 

"But I'm sure my sweet Mabel will keep being a very good cow and even when she's not a totally happy cow, she will certainly act like one."

Bianca leaned in close and rubbed the fake ear. 

"You're never getting him back," she said. "Ever." 

Truth be known, Mabel didn't want him back, at least not as a husband. As an owner, fine. As someone who talked to her and spent a little time with her every now and then, even better. But her days of being a wife were long gone. She was happy to be a cow. She just wanted to be a loved cow, not a terrified one. 

But mostly what she wanted was to be fucked and milked. 

She was learning the downside of becoming a cow. She didn't get to call the shots. She didn't get to make decisions about her fate. She did get to experience the life she wanted. 

No. Her owners called the shots. The farm determined the decisions about her fate. Jeff's new girlfriend chose the experiences her life would include. 

The property was never the boss. 

The property might or might not get what it wanted. 

Livestock was property. 

She was livestock by her own choice. 

Bianca had been right about that too. Every time Jeff had offered her a way back to humanity she had chosen to be livestock. And now the choice had been taken from her. No more chances. 

She had made her bed of straw, and now she would live in it.

"You want to stay out of that building? Then you be a good cow, Mabel. You know that Jeff doesn't even check the cameras to keep an eye on you anymore, right? How long do you think it would even take him to know you were missing at all? He could be chomping on a good ol' Mabel-burger before he even had a clue anything had happened to you. Or maybe I could treat him to a filet-o-Mabel or a Mabel ribeye when he came back from a trip away. He'd tell me how delicious dinner was and eat every bite, never knowing he was eating his most unique cow. I wonder if you would have the most unique taste. Hmm. Hopefully not like chicken." She laughed. "You do understand me, right, you silly cow?" 

Mabel nodded. She would be a very, very good cow. She would do as she was told. She would raise calves. She would produce milk. She would do whatever Bianca wanted her to do. She would never give the woman a reason to send her to the processing plant. She would never do anything to have the bolt gun visit her and make her a gone cow. 

She nodded again, this time vigorously. 

She made a mental note never to say a single fucking human word again or to give Jeff any indication there was a human personality still around beneath all her fat and fur. She would be the best goddamn cow Jeff owned. 

"Good cow," Bianca said. "You do right by me, and you'll be a happy cow yet." 

With that, Bianca untied the leash from the fence and led her away -- finally -- from the slaughterhouse pen. Mabel breathed a sigh of relief when she could no longers see it in her peripheral vision. She turned to head back into barn-A after so many months away but was surprised to find Bianca leading her not to her old stall but further away from the house. 

The only barn down on that end of the farm was... was...

Shit.

The artificial insemination stalls. 

She looked at Bianca with wide, scared eyes. 

"I wondered if you still remembered what this barn was," the woman said. "I can see by your eyes that you do." She kept tugging, and though it was the last place she wanted to go, Mabel remembered the looming fear she had felt staring at the door doors to the slaughterhouse, and she followed obediently. "You did say you wanted a good fucking, I believe. So it sounded to me like you wanted to get pregnant and have a little calf of your own." 

Mabel knew that wasn't biologically possible, but she also knew the process that went into getting the heifers pregnant. And that went a lot farther than just a sound, rough fucking by a monster cock. 

Bianca tugged her along into the white barn in the back corner of the farm. Rows of females stood in narrow pens framed by metal bars. Each was barely wide enough to hold the cow and there was no room to move backward or forward or to either side. The mechanism that locked their head in place above a feeding trough ensured no movement up or down as well. 

That was crucial, as the automated system had to have easy, convenient access to the cows' vaginas. 

With her extra weight, nearly an additional one-hundred pounds now, Mabel's ass pushed against the bars on both sides as Bianca pushed her into the tiny stall. 

"Wow," she said, "your fat ass is a lot fatter than I thought. You're wider than most of the mothers-to-be in here with you."

Between the two of them, Mabel was forced forward and thrown off balance as her head went into the locking mechanism. It cinched shut with a loud click, and Mabel found herself stuck fast in the cage.

Her ass-end was the only part of her not covered by the metal bars. 

"Now, let's get you in the system."

Bianca disappeared for a few minutes, then came back with a hand scanner. She lifted Mabel's ear tag and scanned it. It beeped once, then twice, and then made a three-note musical tone. 

"There you go," Bianca set. "All set." 

Together, Mabel and her owner waited. 

"Not long now," Bianca said after a while. "It has to take the cows in order, and you're still three away. But don't get impatient. You'll get your chance to make a baby too, Mabel."

The last thing Mabel wanted was to make a baby cow. Of course, she couldn't, but she didn't relish the thought of having her uterus forced open and copious amounts of bull semen injected into her womb. She wanted the joy of being pummeled by the giant cock, but this was all the baby-making without any of the fun sex to go along with it. Sure, she would have several different things shoved into her twat, but none of them enjoyable. 

As they waited, Bianca ignored the trapped cow and played around on her phone, checking social media. 

"Pregnant cows are happy cows," she said absently as she scrolled. 

Mabel begged to differ. 

The apparatus reached the cow next to her, and a tube pushed itself inside the Holstein's vaginal canal, applying the proper pressure to convince the uterus to open up, at which point a second, much thinner tube traced the same path and the cow lowed softly. Then the machine retracted and moved down the line... To Mabel.

She could only hear the monster behind her because her head and body were trapped in the artificial insemination cage. 

There were several clicking and hissing sounds, and Mabel felt a thick tube shoved inside her cunt. It pushed and pushed past where a cock might normally go and it applied pressure to what felt like the uttermost tip of her pussy. She felt a mild pinch and her body reacted without her permission. Almost immediately, the smaller tube joined the larger one but it went past the fresh opening and directly into her uterus. Then there was the sensation of warm goop being squeezed into her and she squirmed helplessly in her cage. 

Then the tubes withdrew and she was free. 

"You have the promise of the farm's future inside you, my darling cow. I only wish you could actually get pregnant from this process. Still, it's enough to have you endure it."

Her body ached to feel something. There had been no sexual stimulation during the exchange, just the cold, clinical of opening her womb to inject warmed-up, previously frozen bull semen inside her. 

Bianca swatted her ass and hooked up the needles and other items that would monitor her vitals and check her blood and discharge for any indication she was pregnant. Then it would update and maintain her injections until she was able to become pregnant. Only then would the system set her free and deliver her back to the regular pens. 

Of course, that would never happen, so the system would keep her locked up in the cage and fill up her womb with bull cum every day until it either decided she was a bad cow and needed to be either put down, sent to slaughter, or taken to an auction as part of a lot of bargain-priced, low-quality cattle. 

She would be almost ready for anything else to happen long before that. 

Bianca walked up behind her and traced her fingers along the circle of her labia. The lonely cow moaned at the touch, and her owner laughed. 

"Oh, don't get excited you silly cow. I'm not trying to fuck you. I'm just checking for ovulation. Maybe I need to apply some additional chemicals to activate your estrus cycle first."

She wiped her fingers on the cow's fur, then went to the little closet at the front of the barn. She came back with a syringe and injected a cream-colored liquid into the walls of Mabel's pussy. 

The poor cow howled in pain but never broke character by speaking. 

"Such a good girl," Bianca said. "Maybe once we get you ovulating, then maybe some of that ol' bull goop will give you a little calf of your own." 

Then she swatted the human heifer once more and returned the syringe to the closet. When she left the barn, she flipped off the main lights and left on the single row of dim ones on the floor so the waiting mothers-to-be weren't left in complete darkness. 

Bianca showed up every day for the insemination process. Always on time to watch her pet cow get pumped full of bull semen. Then she'd follow it up with a shot to trigger Mabel's estrus. After a few days, when the woman ran her fingers along the edges of the cow's vulva and labia, she came out with a sticky stream between her index finger and middle finger. 

"Oh, look, Mabel." Bianca wagged her goopy fingers in front of the cow's eyes. "You can finally get pregnant. Hell, you're primed for it."

The machine was still a few cows away, and Mabel was so bored she just leaned into the trough and took another bite of feed. She had become pretty adept at getting mouth to the feed in spite of the fake snout that got in her way. She could even use it as a scoop to pull some toward her and then bite from the top of the little pile she made.

She was still eating when the tubes entered her. Since there was no stimulation, there was no need for her to react. 

She was so, so, so bored. 

The other cows came and went. She had three neighbors in two weeks. Two on the right and one on the left. Happy little pregnant cows, Bianca had said. 

But not Mabel. 

Poor Mabel was failing as a cow. 

The only thing she was good at was making milk. But Bianca wouldn't let her back into her stall for some reason. She was trying to break her, it seemed. Only, the woman didn't realize she had already succeeded. Mabel was broken. 

She was absolutely willing to endure anything at Bianca's hands. 

Only without words, there was no way to let her owner know that. 

So she kept on torturing her. Kept on breaking an already broken cow. Kept on taming the tamest cow she could have had. 

Three weeks later, Bianca was standing in front of her holding a clipboard with a few printed pages on it. She flipped back and forth through them and shook her head. Then she reached into her pocket and took out a sugar cube. The tame cow took it thankfully. 

"You make a great pet, Mabel, but when it comes to getting pregnant, you're a total failure. You know our best performers have had at least one calf before going back on the hormones and if this is the best you've got, I just don't see how you're going to get back into your old stall. I mean, we're trying everything here but your fat little cow body just refuses to cooperate."

Bianca leaned under her and brushed at her flimsy udders with the back of her hand and they waggled back and forth. 

"And look at these poor udders. They're shriveling up into beef jerky. How are you ever going to get enough milk into and out of these to live up to your previous performance?"

She tugged on one and the cow groaned. 

"I guess you had a good run while it lasted, but getting pregnant is kind of your last shot at getting back in as a top milker."

Mabel wanted to tell her that she knew better, that they both fucking knew that after a month on the hormones again with the pumps going regularly throughout the day, she would be full of milk and back in prime condition, that they both knew she was only treating her this way out of spite and meanness and some kind of misplaced jealousy. 

But she didn't, couldn't say a goddamn thing. 

Bianca offered her another sugar cube, and she took it. 

"The reports say to give up on you. The projections say it's time to send you to the processing plant."

Mabel glanced up with sad, wide eyes. 

"Oh, don't worry. I think you deserve another chance. What do you say? Let's give it another three weeks of shots and insemination. Then, if you're still failing to get pregnant, we can revisit what to do with you."

Bianca hung the clipboard on a hook at the front of her cage. 

"That's my good girl. Don't you worry. I know you can do it. We just have to work harder. I think I'll move you up to two runs per day instead of one. Maybe that will do the trick. Maybe you just need more bull jizz in your little cow uterus."

She patted Mabel on the head. 

So her boredom continued for three more weeks. Her days in the silence or the gentle lowing of her neighbors as they responded to the treatments. The coming and going of the cows who were able to accomplish what she couldn't. The daily visit from Bianca. The taunting. The threats to turn her into ground beef. The useless and painful shots inside her pussy. And twice daily injections of warmed-up bull semen to mingle with her own human eggs and never once make a baby.

At the end of three weeks, Bianca appeared with another few pages. 

"Well, sweetie," she said. "It looks like it's no use. You just can't conceive." 

She stroked the cow's flank tenderly. 

"What do you say? Do you want to be sold as a damaged cow? Or just put down?" She leaned in closer. "Or serve the farm one last time and march bravely into the slaughterhouse? I promise you'll get a regular old send-off. Jeff and I won't even make a fuss about you to make you feel embarrassed."

The cow started to cry.

"Oh, don't cry, Mabel. You tried your best. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Some cows just can't reproduce. It happens. But you can still be useful." 

Mabel whined and then said softly, "Please."

Bianca's eyes burned rage at her. 

"What the fuck did you say, cow?"

"Please don't kill me."

"What the fuck did I tell you about speaking?"

Mabel shut up.

"Oh no, you dumb animal. It's too late."

Within minutes, Mabel was released from the insemination cage and was being led by the nose out of the barn. She hadn't stopped crying. 

"Nobody needs a fucking talking cow," Bianca spat. 

They walked past barn-A. Then past barn-B. Even barn-C. Next were the calving pens. They passed those as well. The only farm left was the fields and the processing plant. 

When Mabel tried to beg again, Bianca jerked hard on the leash, and it felt like her nose might just come off. She tried again softer, but her owner had enough and wasn't going to put up with anything more. She pull tight on the leash and kept it taut so the poor cow couldn't focus on anything but the pain centered in her face. 

She didn't even realize she was at the pen outside the slaughterhouse until Bianca released the leash. 

"In," Bianca said, opening the gate. "Get. The. Fuck. In. The. Pen." 

Mabel shook her head. The woman was just crazy enough to do it. Hell, she was doing it. If she was trying to scare her, she had accomplished it. There was no need to go further. 

"Fine. We can just skip the line and go straight through the front door," the woman said and reached for the leash again. 

Mabel shook her head again. 

"The get the fuck in the pen, Mabel. I won't tell you again."

"Please," the cow said again. 

"Not another fucking word or in you go. Do you understand me?"

Mabel nodded. 

"Now." 

Mabel entered the pen, where she stood with seventeen other cows. She recognized some from when she had been a milker. They must have been past their primes and were ready for the supermarket. 

Just like she would be if Bianca had her way.

The woman motioned with her finger for the cow to come over to the fence. She did. 

"You say one motherfucking word and I swear I'll march you inside those doors myself."

Mabel nodded. 

"But if you can keep your fucking mouth closed and be a good girl, I'll go back to the house and have a good night's sleep and think about it and see if I think you deserve another chance or not."

Mabel was still nodding. 

"Now, I may come back out here in the morning and set you free. After that, I don't know what the fuck I'll do with you. But I may now. I may just let the system round you up with these other bits of beef and you'll get in the queue and take your turn."

Mabel stopped nodding. 

"But I'll tell you this. The best to guarantee a trip through those doors is to say a single, solitary, goddamn, motherfucking word tonight or ever again. Keep quiet and you've got a chance. Say anything and you're hamburger. Do you under-fucking-stand?"

Mabel nodded.

"Good."

And Bianca left Mabel in the pen with the other doomed cows. 

Mabel couldn't sleep. All she could think about was how in the morning at seven o'clock, the system would boot up, and by eight all the cattle in the pen would be guided closer to the ramps as the main gate squeezed them together. Each cow would take a position in line to avoid being pressed against the others, never realizing that the line they were forming was leading to death. 

She still had enough of a mind left to jockey for a place in the back, but even that would keep her from avoiding the inside of that awful place and the fate Bianca seemed determined to inflict on her.  

And she was also remembering to keep her goddamn mouth shut no matter how afraid she was. 

  Around sunrise, she saw Jeff walking the farm, and as he passed the Doom Pen, as he called it, he glanced in and told the girls goodbye and thanked them for their service to the farm. But he didn't notice her among them. She desperately wanted to cry out to him to save her, but she also knew what would happen if she did. 

Sure, he might save her this time, but at the next opportunity, after convincing Jeff it was just a joke and that she would never have actually killed and processed Mabel, Bianca would strike, most like during one of Jeff's trips. 

She just couldn't risk it. 

So as he passed by and disappeared into one of the barns, she kept her eyes peeled for Bianca. The woman who seemed to hate her was her only hope now. 

Bianca hadn't shown up when the machines inside the plant whirred to life at seven and the computerized system booted up the day's plans. 

At eight the gates began to compress the cattle into a mass so tightly together there was nowhere left to move. When the little gate to the ramp opened, the cows closest were happy to escape the pile and went in willingly just to get some room to themselves. 

The gates continued to compress the livestock. They moved closer to the little gate again. Soon it was full and the little gate slammed shut and made a loud clicking noise. Then a conveyor belt beneath the cows moved forward and they jerked toward the metal double doors. 

One-by-one, they passed into the abattoir. The air was filled with the sound of the bolt gun popping and air valves hissing, and the jerking of corpses as they were hoisted into the air to have their throats cut in case the gun hadn't worked. 

And lots and lots of loud mooing as the confused cows showed their displeasure at being compressed.

When the last of the cows on the belt was inside, the big gate pushed them together again. Mabel tried to get in the back, but a large former milker bumped her and she ended up in the middle of the pack. 

Not good. Not only would it push her closer to the front toward the ramp, but it also meant she'd be almost impossible to pick out should Jeff or Bianca come by. It would be far too easy to assume she had already been processed and just move on as if she had never existed. 

The little opened again and the cows loaded through onto the conveyor belt. Mabel realized she was way too close to the little gate when it slammed shut and locked. There would be no way to avoid being shuffled onto the conveyor in the next set of cows. 

She desperately looked for any sign of Bianca. 

Nothing. 

She fought the urge to scream out. Jeff was too far gone now, and she figured Bianca was watching the cameras so if she said anything, it would seal her fate. She would have to be brave and go boldly to slaughter. She could still be useful, as Bianca had said. She took a deep breath and watched the cows on the belt disappear inside. 

When they were all gone, the little gate opened. She managed to avoid being one of the first four, but since she was pushed and maneuvered by the other cows, she couldn't avoid being the fifth cow in the queue. Five more got in line behind her and then the little gate slammed shut. 

She almost lost her balance when the conveyor lurched forward, but the ramp was narrow enough to break her fall and keep her moving ahead. 

One cow went inside. 

She moved closer. 

A second cow. 

Closer still. 

A third cow. 

This time she moved forward close enough to see inside. 

The cow, a lovely Holstein, was locked in a tiny cage and its head was held in place by a metal harness. Then the bolt gun descended and pressed against its head. It rattled with a loud bang as the door closed. 

Shit, she thought. One more cow and that is going to be me. 

The doors opened. 

The brown cow in front of her went inside and the cage and harness clamped closed around it, trapping it. The gun descended. 

Beyond it, the Holstein was hanging from his hind legs. A large blade passed by its neck and it suddenly bled out all over the floor. 

The gun rattled and shot and the door closed. 

She took a deep breath and stood up straight. 

She would not scream. 

She could still be useful. 

She belonged to the farm. 

If the farm wanted her to be meat, then she would be meat. 

The doors opened. 

She would not scream. 

She was moved forward. 

She could still be useful.

The little cage clamped around her. 

She belonged to the farm. 

The harness locked her head in place.

If the farm wanted her to be meat...

The gun descended. 

Then she would be meat.

The gun pushed against her head.

She would not scream. 

Pistons and air valves hissed. 

She could still be useful. 

The gun misfired. 

She belonged to the farm. 

Her cage flipped over so she was facing the ground her hind legs in the air. 

She could still be useful.

Her own damn fault.

Something clamped around her legs and lifted her. 

She belonged to the farm. 

Her choice.

She was still alive and she was being carried to the blade. 

If the farm wanted her to be meat...

With her thin neck, it would slice her head clean off. 

Then she would be meat. 

She would serve the farm one last time.

The blade gleamed inches away.

Meat.

She passed out. 

Part Three. 

She awoke in her stall in barn-A as a mind-blowing orgasm reminded her of what she had missed for almost the past year. The pumps were hooked up to her teats. A tube and needle were plugged into her ass for hormone injections. The phallus was fucking her vigorously during the milking, something she hadn't experienced before. And, not to be forgotten, the clit pump was once again trying and failing to get milk from her center of sexual energy. 

The that wasn't all, she also recognized the familiar feeling of the insemination tube. That hadn't been in her stall before. 

She huffed and panted and stared at the bare wall in front of her. 

She was alone, and she was in her home. Had she dreamed it all? There was no way. She had been made more and more to look like an actual cow. She could still feel the nose ring irritating her septum. She had nursed a calf for six months. She had been unsuccessfully inseminated with bull sperm. And she had been deemed a worthless piece of livestock and sent to the slaughterhouse. 

But the bolt gun had jammed. 

And she had been prepared to have her neck sliced open before being ground into hamburger meat or cut into steaks and roasts. 

She knew it had all been true. 

She just didn't know how she was alive and back in her stall. 

When the orgasm had ended, her mind fogged over again and she drifted into her thoughts. 

Her old identity as Helen was so far gone now. She remembered the name, but it didn't really matter in the least. Whatever life she had lived as Helen Harbin, a wife, a lover, the owner of a farm, that was most assuredly behind her now, never to return. 

She had been Mabel the dairy cow for almost three years. She had asked for that to happen. No, she had demanded it. She had been so afraid to face a life without the pleasure of being milked and fucked and without all the stresses of running the farm. And she had been much happier as Mabel. 

She hadn't even minded when Jeff started dating. She had even liked his new girlfriend at first. Bianca had been kind to her. Bianca had gone out of her way to help her become even more like a cow. 

It was just that Jeff had gotten the idea to have her nurse her calf, Billy. After that, everything had gone bad for her. 

But her thoughts left quickly as the milking and fucking started up for another round. Had she really been lost in her thoughts that long?

She was moaning loudly from another orgasm when she gradually realized she wasn't alone. Both Jeff and Bianca were standing at the gate to her stall. She cocked her head to the side to see. She smiled, forgetting the fake snout hid it from sight. 

"Well, who's a good cow?" Bianca asked. "Who's a lucky girl to find a nice home like Yarbrough Dairy Farms?"

Her eyes tried their best to convey her confusion. The farm had been named after her. After her father. After his father.

Jeff smiled and reached over the gate to scratch her flank. 

"Yeah, since there is no more Helen Harbin, I've taken the liberty of putting the farm in my name. While you were in the insemination barn, I finally reported you missing. Technically, you're a missing person now, but I did go through all the paperwork to have a divorce go through. I gave you every public opportunity to show up and claim you still existed, but I think people still believe you ran off with someone else. I guess the folks around here still remember your wild youth a little too much."

She mooed. 

"I know. I figure you wouldn't mind. We couldn't go on hiding the fact that you weren't running the farm. Besides..." He turned to Bianca. "Show her, honey!"

Bianca lifted her hand to reveal a fabulously huge diamond ring. 

"We're getting married," they said together then smiled at each other. 

"See," he said. "Already perfectly in sync. "And we you partially to thank for that. It was your milk that helped earn the profits so I could get Bianca that ring."

"So, yeah," Bianca said. "Good ol' silly cow. Thank you."

Jeff was holding something behind him, and he decided finally to reveal it. He opened the gate and he and Bianca entered the stall. "A little something to commemorate Mabel, may she rest in peace," he said. 

Kneeling in front of her, he held up a photograph of her standing in the field with Bianca holding her leashed nose ring. A tin plaque glued to the glass read: In memory of Mabel. It also listed her inventory number and the date she had been entered into the farm's system. A second date must have been her "death" date. 

"That's the date you went into the abattoir," Bianca said. "The system took care of all of the information, and according to all our records, Mabel is now spread out across several grocers in the tri-state market in their butcher sections. The poor cow had a good run as a milker, but since she couldn't get pregnant we had to make the difficult decision to have her slaughtered."

Mabel was dead. 

Helen was missing, never to be found. 

But if Mabel was dead, then who was she?

"Luckily," Bianca continued, beaming her sunshine smile all over the automated stall, "we were able to find an awesome new cow to take her place, and that's you. With any luck, Matilda can make it a full five years before she has to be replaced."

"You see," Jeff said, as he hung the framed photo on a nail he had driven into the wall while Bianca had been speaking, "Dairy cows don't live long, human lives, so if the farm had records of a cow making thirty or forty or even fifty years, that would eventually come under some kind of scrutiny, so Bee and I figured out this plan to keep rotating you through the system in a way that doesn't make you stand out as anything other than just a normal cow." He stroked the side of her face. "Isn't that just brilliant, Matilda?"

Matilda. She would have to get used to that.

"Sadly for you," Bianca continued, "that means you have to go through all the processing again. That means tags and a new branding with the new farm name. It'll go right over the other one, so that should alleviate some of the pain."

Shit, Matilda thought. Not another one. 

"I'm gonna head back to the house, but I'll see you every now and then. Just like Mabel was Bee's cow, so is Matilda. I'm way too busy with the farm to have a favorite, sorry." He kissed his fiance, her owner, deep on the mouth. "Other than my favorite girl," that is.

He patted Matilda on the rump once more and then exited the stall, leaving her and Bianca together.

When the doors slammed shut, and he buzzed in on the walkie-talkie that he was going to check the feed, Matilda took the time to give a confused gaze.

"I'm sure you're confused, you silly cow. I sure hope you'll be more obedient than my previous cow. Poor thing's mouth got her in trouble."

Bianca left the stall and returned shortly with a bottle of blue liquid and a syringe. While Matilda watched, she pushed the needle into the bottle and pulled about an inch of the liquid into the syringe. 

"This should help you be a better cow," Bianca said. "It's a mild paralytic. I got it from a reputable vet online. It's to help for those rare times when an animal needs to have a local muscle group made inoperable. In this case, I'm going to inject it into your voice box. That way, when you can't keep your stupid cow mouth shut by yourself, you won't have to worry about pissing me off. As long as I keep the injections up once a week, abracadabra, no more talking cow. No speech for you. So, as I said, that should help, right?"

Matilda's eyes went wide. But held in the stall, there was nothing she could do to stop her owner from muting her medically. If that's what her owner wanted, then that's what she would do. Matilda would be a mute cow. 

"Oh, and there's another surprise you'll find. It should help you get over that whole not-being-able-to-get-pregnant thing that cost Mabel her life."

As she spoke, she pushed the long needle into the cow's throat and then squeezed all the blue medicine inside the flabby neck. 

The cow jerked her face and neck away out of reflex and started to cry heavy, thick tears. 

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Bianca said. "I'm sure that hurt a lot, but it shouldn't hurt long. It's supposed to be fast-acting. That way the side benefit of not being able to talk is that the feeling goes away quickly too."

She pulled Matilda's face back to her. 

"Now, you'll still be able to make grunting noise and things like that, but actual language, well, that's gone as long as I keep up the injections. But, honestly, who would want to be a talking cow anyway? Certainly not my sweet Matilda, right?"

However sadistic her owner had become to her, she was at least honest on this point. It only took about a minute for the pain to subside.

"Now, about that other surprise," Bianca said. "No doubt you noticed that we've had your stall upgraded to include the insemination machine. You special girl, you get your own private one. I asked Jeff for it, and he agreed it was for the best."

Matilda opened and closed her mouth beneath the snout. 

"Feels weird, huh? I bet. Anyway, I had it modified. You've got an extra tube now. One opens up your uterine wall like before, and the second fills you up with bull sperm, but the third one, the new one, it's going to inject unfertilized cow eggs into you. With any luck, you'll be a nice little incubator for that cow egg and that bull sperm. Now, don't worry. Even if they make a viable fetus, your body could never carry it. You just don't make the nutrients it needs. But, we can take those out and have them frozen. Do you realize how much labs will pay for cow embryos to use for research? So, it's a win-win-win. The system labels you as a successfully pregnant cow, and you get a full five years before being recycled. The farm continues to make money on your milk. And now, in addition to the money we make on your milk, we keep you happy and pregnant and sell off your fertilized embryos to the labs for even more money. Talk about being a top earner, Matilda."

Bianca stroked her side. 

"I almost forgot to tell you. You're not a Red Angus anymore. I dyed you again while you were drugged after the slaughterhouse experience. You're a Holstein now. Your fur is a lovely mix of white with black spots all over it. If anyone even suspected any connection between Mabel and Helen, they never search for you as you are now."

Matilda pondered her fate, her new changes. She would return to making milk and lots of it. But she would also be a womb to make babies. Lots and lots of babies. At least as often as they could be created and removed and then it would all start over again. But she would be milked. And her clit would be teased. And she would be fucked. 

She belonged to the farm. And in particular, she belonged to Bianca. 

If that was her place to serve her former husband's farm, so be it. 

"Oh, you probably don't realize just how close you were actually to becoming meat for the grocers, my little heifer. "Jeff and I were watching the whole time, but it would have been so easy for me to forget to retract the blade or to disable the bolt gun for your shot. It would have required one simple slip of my finger on the controls, and then bang, no more silly little cow. I hope you realize how lucky you are."

She grinned. Then the milkers kicked in again, along with the dildo. 

"Yeah, we synced those up for you."

This time as they pumped the only sounds the happy, horny cow could make were grunts and long m-sounds. 

"Now that Helen is legally gone, now that Jeff and I are free to get married, I think maybe I don't have to be as jealous of you wanting him back. I guess I was a lot more worried about you changing your mind than I should have been. But he's totally over you now, as Helen, as Mabel even. I wouldn't expect to see him much anymore. As far as he's concerned, his ex-wife is gone and the cow she turned herself into is gone too. One is missing and the other is meat. You're just Matilda. Just a cow. And you're going to make so much milk and so many babies, and so much money for the new farm."

Matilda could barely focus any longer on her owner's words. 

"Well, anyway, I need to run. Jeff's taking me out for steak tonight. I like to pretend it's one of yours. It makes the meat taste so much sweeter. I've set the system to start your new program tomorrow. It'll begin with the tagging and the branding. I don't know how many days it'll take before the incubation is able to be successful, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see." 

Matilda grunted as loudly as he could with her paralyzed throat as the orgasm washed over her. 

"Happy, little, stupid cow," Bianca said. 

And as Matilda's added cow brain started to wander, she knew her owner was right. 

Bianca had been absolutely truthful about Jeff. He only came to visit when Bianca made him -- when she had something new to show off, like the first time a pairing of egg and sperm inside her fake cow uterus. Other than that, he never came to see her. Ever. 

Even Bianca stopped coming by more than once per day, and then only to guide her out into the field for her walking workouts. She would feed her sugar cubes, as usual, and occasionally make small talk or tell what was going on with the farm, but often she just listened to music on her earbuds and walked the cow in silence. 

After all, what sane woman spent her time talking to livestock, Matilda had figured. 

All in all, Matilda had a good run. She had remained on the automated system at Yarbrough Dairy Farms for four years and seven months, a life cycle any dairy cow could be proud of. 

When it was time to go, Bianca led her back to the meat pen. She waited once again with the other cows. Then in the morning, she got pushed in line with the rest of them, still not in a hurry and trying to be are far back in the queue as possible. But ultimately, she was corralled into the runway and had to once again enter those double metal doors. 

The bolt gun thundered impotently against her, and she was lifted by her hind legs toward the blade, which she noticed this time retracted before she reached it. After that, she was diverted from the stripping and bleed-out sections to a side door where she was dropped roughly onto a cart and injected with a strong sedative. 

Her third life was that of a dark black milker named Belle. 

Her fourth was that of a brown and white patched one named, aptly, Patches.

Her fifth was a solid brown milker who went by Brownie.

Each of those got almost five years as well. 

As she grew older, she wondered how much longer she could remain a viable asset for the farm. She had only been twenty-two when she first stumbled into the automated system. And with Mabel's three years, Matilda's five, Belle's five, and Patches five, that made her forty-five now in human years. She only knew that because of the row of framed photos commemorating all of her incarnations throughout the years. 

She was now another Holstein, this one named Clara. 

How would Clara fare when the human biology inside her went through menopause? What would happen to her when her body couldn't produce milk anymore, even with the regular, massive amounts of hormones injected into her each day? Perhaps she could still incubate embryos for the labs. And if not, well, there was really only one option left. 

Jeff and Bianca had three kids now, a boy, Garth, and two twin girls, Ridley and Ripley. Garth had grown into a strong twelve-year-old who helped on the farm. Ridley and Ripley were driving already at sixteen. All of them knew about her, knew about the extra-special cow who had once been their dad's ex-wife. They knew she was happy that way, and that it had all been her choice. They all knew that one day when they took over the farm, they would have to figure out how to best make use of her for the farm. Even now the girls would take turns walking her, but they never treated her as if she'd ever been anything other than just another cow. They stroked and petted her, but primarily because she was soft, not because they felt they owed her any attention.

On the day Clara was beginning her fourth year in the barns, Bianca returned to visit her. It had felt like years since she had seen her former owner -- that title now given to the twins. The woman looked so much older, so worn out.

She held a folded piece of paper in her hands. 

She entered Clara's stall and sat on the ground in front of her. The woman was crying as she unfolded the paper and showed it to the cow. Her eyesight was worse now after years of darkness and the harsh overhead lights during the day, but she could still make out a photo of Jeff on the front. The words, though, were little more than a blurry line of black. 

"Zap her," Bianca said. "I want to make sure she can not just hear me but be aware enough to understand me." 

What felt like a thousand volts hit her left flank. 

"Can you see this, Clara?" Bianca asked. "I need you to let me know you understand what I'm telling you."

Bianca nodded, and the prod zapped her against in the same spot. 

"Can you see this?"

Clara nodded. She had learned long ago that speech was a thing of the past. 

"Can you read it?"

The cow shook her head.

"Okay. I'll read it to you."

And her owner did, pushing on through tears. 

Clara listened to the words, frequently jolted with the prod to keep her alert. In the end, she was crying too. 

"Do you understand?"

The cow nodded.

"He's gone. It was a heart attack. I hadn't planned to even tell you. I know you hadn't seen him in years, but he watched you a little bit each week on the monitors. I guess there maybe was still a little bit of Helen in his memories. So I figured you at least deserved to know."

Clara lowed sadly with her m-sounds. 

"I know," Bianca said, scratching under her chin as she had all those years ago. "I miss him too. I miss him so much."

Just then the welcome return of the pumps started, and the bull phallus plunged inside her. 

"Well, at least one of us gets a break from the grief," the woman said.

"Should I zap her again, mom," said a male voice Clara recognized as that of Garth.

"No, let her disappear again. I did my duty and let her know. No need to make her wallow in the pain of remembering. Ignorance is bliss." As she left the stall, the woman added, "Lucky little cow."

It was only a year after Jeff died that Bianca left the running of the farm to the twins and spent her time visiting the sites of the international world. That also happened to be the year the biology that had once belonged to Helen Harbin went through 'the change.' Within two months, her milk production dried up. The twins had tried to up the hormones. Even tried experimental fertility treatments, but nothing worked. After another month, they had to concede that Clara's days as a dairy cow were over. 

Unfortunately, a complication meant that a vet they knew who was good at keeping secrets had to come out and give her a hysterectomy. That meant no more womb to incubate cow embryos. One strike. Two strikes. 

The vet had been interested in and following her case since Belle. His professional and experimental curiosity kept him from spilling the beans about her, along with the guarantee that he would be the preferred veterinary provider for Yarbrough Dairy Farms. A nice retainer each month didn't hurt. 

He had helped out so many times, even volunteered ideas to make her life even more authentic. It was he who had grafted an actual cow tail to her spine and connected the nerves so she could eventually use it just like she had been born with it. He had been able to lengthen her tongue and reconfigure a real snout after breaking a resetting a few bones. He had removed her human ears and grafted cow ears decoratively high on her head. He had dyed her iris a deep brown to make her eyes look more naturally cow-like. With the exception of her human legs and her internal biology, her transformation to a naturally born cow had been completed at his hands. 

He never spoke to her directly, only to her owners, and she didn't even know his name. 

The farm took his advice very seriously before making any decisions about her care as she was getting older. 

On his last examination, he had shaken his head and looked at the twins sadly. Then they had all left the barn and that had been that. 

Then, two weeks later, Clara was led out to a trailer and loaded up. She didn't even try to resist. Her years of being livestock had made her a much more complacent animal. She followed commands without the slightest hesitation. She obeyed the leash as it tugged on her extended nose while clipped to the ring. The twins took such good care of her that she would follow them anywhere they called her to go. 

After all this time, she was almost convinced that she could even enter the slaughterhouse calmly, as long as either Ripley or Ridley was guiding her. 

But, this time, she was being taken away from the twins. She had no clue where she was going. Only that it was away from the farm. 

She stared through the holes in the trailer and watched the vet get into his truck. Then he cranked it up and drove off, hauling her to God knows where. 

It was okay. If the girls wanted to get rid of her, that was their choice. She belonged to the farm. But she would have enjoyed knowing what was happening to her.

The vet had her on the highway and drove for hours before he pulled into a small farm nestled deep into a wooded valley. Where was she? Why was she there? 

He hooked a leash to her nose ring and he guided her from the trailer and into a white concrete building. Once inside she noticed it was nothing like the stalls or barns she had been used to all her long bovine life. It looked more like a hospital. 

"I'm sorry to say this, old girl, but you're not in the shape you used to be," he said as he led her to a small white cubicle barely larger than she was. "But, give me a little time, and I can fix you up. I'm afraid I can't do anything about your milk or your womb, but you can at least live more comfortably." 

Then he administered a shot and she went to sleep. 

After that, there was a series of groggy half-images and visions of blood and blades and stitches. And memories of pain. So much pain. Then more blessed sleep. Hands moving her. Hands squeezing her. Loud buzzing noises. More sleep. More groggy visions. 

Until one day she woke up in a barn. She had been asleep on a wad of straw, and she awoke without the pain she had grown used to before visiting the vet's farm. 

As she got up, she felt a difference in the way she stood. Her balance seemed different. The pressure on her back was gone. She took a few wobbly steps and noticed the ease with which her limbs carried her sizeable bulk. 

She lowered her head to graze on the trough and realized she was reaching much lower than ever before. This feed was almost at ground level, and her neck had never allowed that kind of reach before. 

She also noticed that her udders weren't hurting. They were practically gone, just long-hanging nipples really. And there was a second pair of them, a matching pair. Not artificial. How had the doctor done that? There was no actual breast meat it seemed. Her chest looked far more cowlike in that respect. Of course, she wouldn't need big udders anymore now that she'd never be a milker again. 

She tried to grunt something to get anyone's attention, and a low moo escaped her mouth. Not a similar sound made by a human throat, but an actual fucking moo like a cow. 

And, for the first time in years, except for the grogginess that lingered, her mind was clear. Her memories were clear. The irony was something she could comprehend for the first time in several lifetimes. 

She was more human inside her mind than she had been in years, but she had become so much like a cow physically for that to happen. 

What the hell was going on?

She waited in her pen for the remainder of the day, slept that night on the straw, then waited again most of the following day before the vet returned to check on her. 

"Good morning, Honey," he said. "Yes, that's right. You have a new name and new life again. Poor ol' Clara was sold to my lab to study, and in return, I'll be providing a sturdy new cow to Yarbrough Dairy Farms."

He walked behind her. 

"This could feel weird," he said, and he shoved his gloved hand way up inside her pussy. He moved his hand around and then slid it back out. "Let me know how this feels," he said, and he squeezed her cow clitty.

She felt it, but not with any kind of sexual energy.

"Good, good," he said. "Very little reaction."

She looked at him with her big brown eyes, very confused. 

"Since you can't conceive, I had your clitoris deadened. There was no need to tease you with the anticipation of sex anymore. Besides, cows mate for breeding, not for love or pleasure, so it was just another step to becoming more bovine."

He squeezed her clit again, apparently for good measure. Nothing. No tingle. No desire. No longing to have it continue to orgasm. 

"But by far the crowing achievement is your neck and legs. You may not realize it but you've been here almost two years. I've done so many surgeries on you to help you become a cow. I broke and reset your shoulders and pelvis several times in order to move your pivot joints to the side to let you move and stand like a quadruped and not a woman on all fours. I cut off your arms at the elbows and your legs at the knee and had real hooves grafted in place. The hardest part was extending your vertebrae so that you could move your neck like a real cow. I thought we might lose you on the operating table several times during those surgeries."

He clipped the leash to her nose and jerked it softly to get her to follow. She did. She might be more aware now than ever, but she was still a tame, docile beast who knew her days of humanity were behind her further than they ever had been. 

He took her to a long mirror at the end of the barn and moved her in place to get the best look at her new body. 

Holy shit. There was no trace of a human woman left. Everything she saw looked like a natural-born cow. Her coat was thick and a golden brown color. Her snout wasn't as long as some, but it was long enough to pass as authentic. Her back legs connected at her sides, and her tail swished back and forth between what would be her round meat. Her forelegs did the same, her shoulders now displaced to her side to make a natural look at what would be her chuck meat. 

My name is Honey, she thought. And I'm finally a real cow. 

I don't need to fuck or milk or anything. I'm just a cow. 

I don't need to be like a cow. I simply am a cow. 

"You're a breathtakingly beautiful creature," the vet told her as he stroked her back. 

She remained with him for a while, not that she had any way of keeping track of time or days. He left her in the pen with the gate open and she went out into the field during the days, enjoying the sun and the grass, and each night she would return to her pen to sleep. 

Her teats didn't ache to be milked. Her pussy didn't ache to be fucked. Her mind didn't ache to be distracted. 

She thought of Jeff from time to time, and she would cry. But then she would remember their good times together and feel better. It was funny though, as important as Jeff had been to Helen, he had never been frequently in her life after Mabel's rebirth as Matilda. After that, her time had been with Bianca, who had grown to love her after all, when she learned Matilda the cow wasn't a threat to her new marriage. And there had even been more years with the kids, mostly the twins, than she ever had with Jeff. 

Some small part of Helen left inside her missed him, but eventually, she knew that her time with Bianca and the kids was somehow more special. 

She wondered when she might ever see them again. 

Her question was answered on a cold day when the doctor -- whose name she still hadn't learned -- loaded her onto the trailer again and drove her away from his little research farm and animal hospital. 

Ridley and Ripley were waiting for her and smiling as she exited the trailer. They both hugged her and introduced her to the boy at Ridley's side. His name was Simon, and he was her boyfriend. Of course, he had no idea she hadn't been born a real cow. No one would know, not without bloodwork or a DNA test. 

The girls guided her into the field and then locked her in. 

She wondered why she hadn't returned to a stall. 

Was she being retired to become a free-range heifer? 

Her first few weeks back on the farm were relaxing, living in the field and sleeping in a communal pen with other cows. She had been surprised one night when one of the bulls mounted her, but she endured. She had been able to feel the thickness of his cock inside her, but no pleasure. No pain either to speak up. Just pressure and rutting, and then he withdrew. He didn't even ejaculate inside her. Obviously, one of the teaser bulls to help stimulate the breeders. 

He made his rounds with the cows in the pen, and he had used her three times before she finally discovered her new role at the farm. 

Ridley and Simon found her in the field one day, grazing, and they clipped her on the leash and led her outside of the field and to a clearing outside one of the milking barns. 

They then tied her off to a post and went away for a few minutes then returned with a cart. They hooked her up to a yoke, and then hooked the yoke to the cart. They left her tied and went inside to gather crates of fresh milk to be processed. They loaded the cart with the milk crates, and when it was full, Simon went to her front and untied the leash, and pulled her forward. 

Thanks to her new leg joints and years of strengthening her muscles from the walks in the field with Bianca and the twins, she found that pulling the cart wasn't as difficult as she feared, and she knew even that would get easier the stronger she became. 

She only saw Bianca twice more, both times in passing. Her former owner didn't recognize her after all the surgeries and she didn't see the need to try to out herself. After that, she overheard that she had remarried and was living in Virginia with her new husband.

Life went on for all of them. 

She couldn't milk. She couldn't incubate. She was too old to be a pet. But she could still be useful to the farm that once bore her name as a working cow. 

So she did just that for many years, pulling carts, riding Ridley's, Ripley's, and Garth's kids on her back. Sometimes, they would hook a riding cart to her and have her take the kids and their friends for rides around the farm. She even tilled the soil when the girls decided to expand the farm to produce as well as livestock. As a working cow, her lifespan was much longer, and she could get a good twenty years or so before she needed to think about what came next. 

There was so much to look forward to. Watching the kids grow up and take over the farm. Fooling all the visitors who had no idea of her history. Having her picture taken along with the other cows for stories about the farm in local magazines or for the paper. Even getting mounted by the teaser bulls in the communal pen, not that she enjoyed the sex, just the attention. So much ahead to experience. Why waste time dwelling on the future?

Besides, by that point, she would be almost seventy and in no shape to work much longer. By that point, the twins' kids would be running the farm, and they had no idea who she had been. By that point, no one would have any reason to assume she wasn't just another cow or to treat her special. 

By that time, when her years were up, after a nice long life as Honey, she would look and feel her age both in cow years and human years. And, as long as she kept herself somewhat healthy and fat, she could look forward to serving the farm one last time. After all, it wasn't uncommon for an old heifer to finish out her life in such a way. One quick shot to her head from the stunner, or, if that didn't finish her, a slash of the blade across her fat neck, and then a long, long, well-earned, eternal rest. 

With any luck, they might not even sell her meat to the market. They might just hang her body in the smokehouse and let her continue to serve her farm, continue to serve her owners until there was nothing left to give.

And, with her mind still clear and her memories replaying as she enjoyed looking back at her life on the farm, she remembered that it had been her choice. 

All in all, even with the scares and the torments, it had been a nice life. It had been the right choice.

She wouldn't have changed a thing. 

She was Honey. 

And Honey, as Mabel had confessed all those years ago, was a happy cow.