As absurd as the concepts of hucows and ponygirls are, I tried to take them quite seriously, to delve in the psychology of a hucow or a ponygirl and her owner, in search of what these admittedly strange fetishes mean, at least to me. Therefore, beside the tropes of the genre (kinky sex, humiliation and de-humanization), you will find the musings of a young girl who chooses to become a cow in a quest for true love and a place in the world.
All kinds of feedback are appreciated, especially those about grammar, as English is not my first language. Also, if you decide to give me a low score, please, take a minute of your time and tell me in a comment what you did not like! Thanks!
15. Winning life and whinnying for the wife
That night, when I dropped the good news, I got exactly the reactions I expected. Cream Pie let out a loud moo of congratulations and clapped her hooves. Cupcake stood with her mouth open for a few seconds, then she gave me her unmistakable “holy cow!” look and finally hugged me tightly. Later, as we went to bed, I was spooning Cream Pie and she was spooning Cupcake. I waited for the first to fall asleep, I got up and crawled to the latter. Tears were glittering in the darkness on her cheeks. Feeling cornered and caught, she just looked at me: her eyes were sorrowful. So I bent over and began to kiss away her tears.
I knew perfectly well how she felt, because I felt the same: now that I knew exactly what the future held for me, namely at least a couple of decades spent in that very stable, producing good milk, we both had the certainty that one day we would have to say goodbye to each other. Soon I began to tear up too and we found ourselves whining softly in the hay in each other’s arms. While Cream Pie pretended politely to be still asleep, Cupcake told me that maybe she could stay too. I replied that nothing would have made me happier, but I wanted her to be happy too and it did not seem that being a cow was giving her the joy it gave to me. She nodded and gave me a tender kiss.
A week after, I was brought to the main building. Aidan had suggested a small, but meaningful ceremony to make our union more official. As things stood, every year I would have had to meet a person in charge of checking that my contract had not been breached and whether or not I wanted to rescind it. The idea of spending the next twenty years or so assuring somebody that I was not being kept against my will kind of put a damper on our romance. Fortunately, there was a way out. After the first visit of said inspector, I could put someone I trusted in charge of his job for what concerned me. So, Aidan had arranged an appointment with the inspector a little earlier to allow me to nominate a guy that Aidan trusted and I, of course, did not really know. He would not do any inspection at all and submit all the proper papers every year. That way, he would really own me: like a real cow, I would finally cease to have any saying in the matter.
I could not wait for it! Yes, I know how it sounds, but I felt like I had just won the game of life. Before becoming a hucow, I knew that I would spend the rest of my existence in pursuit of happiness and, whenever I would find it, it would be just a fleeting moment, because that is the very nature of human life. Nothing ever stays the same, all is in constant turmoil. Living is like running with a panicked crowd: we live in a complex society and other people’s choices inevitably yank us to and fro all the time, ruining our expectation, spoiling our projects and compromising long-term happiness. It was not for me, I could not bear the idea of fighting all the time until I died. So, I just decided that I was not part of that mob anymore, I cast myself out becoming a cow: I had found my little corner of happiness and it would stay the same for many many years to come.
As I entered the main building of “Milk ‘Em and Shake ‘Em”, I began mooing a little uneasy, looking around.
“I know, I know, it is a strange place for a cow to be, but soon you’ll go back to your stable, I promise.” Aidan said, beaming, leading me by pulling my bull ring.
I knew he would appreciate me showing discomfort and I mooed reassured. We entered an office that would have been mine, a lifetime ago. Two men were waiting for us. One, balding, probably fifty, with square spectacles and a nice suit, looked at me utterly unimpressed, maybe even a little bored. He had to be the inspector. The other one was younger and reminded me a little of Aidan, if he had had more Nordic features and been less handsome. I guessed he was the replacement for the first man. I noticed that a camera was recording us.
“Alright…” drawled the official, reading a note “Gumdrop. You already know your new inspector, Mr Larsson. If you want to make yourself comfortable…”
I mooed yes, as Aidan had instructed me. Since it would have been inappropriate for me to sit like a person, I just stood. Aidan looked at me proudly and I smiled at him.
“Well, alright. First, let bahis firmaları us do our interview. You requested for your mooing device not to be removed at this instance, so we will use a code for yes and no. Knock with your right fore-hoof for yes, with the other one for no. Do you understand me?”
“Are you aware that, if you want, you can come with me immediately and interrupt your working relationship with your owner, with no negative consequence for you whatsoever? Knock several times if you want to take these options.”
Yes and, of course, no!
“Good. Have you been mistreated or has your contract in any way been breached?”
I had no idea of what my contract entailed, but I answered no.
“Do you wish to keep working here for at least one more year?”
Yes, for many more years!
“Do you wish to change your supervisor and put Mr Larsson, here, in charge of that job?”
“Perfect, we are done, unless you want to add something.”
Suddenly, I had an idea. How could I not have thought about it before? I knocked yes. Aidan looked surprised and the inspector imitated him. Why had he asked, then?
“Ok. So… What do we do here? Let’s see, maybe you can write? Let’s free your writing hand.” he drawled.
Aidan quickly came to my side and started undoing the complicated locking procedure that trapped my right hand in my hoof. For the first time, I saw how it worked. The cow hide could be detached from the hoof by opening several tiny locks, revealing padded waterproof protections on the back of my hand and several straps tying it to the hoof. After those were undone too, my man gently freed my hand. Even though it was cleaned every day, there was a slimy look about its surface. It was so weird being able to move my fingers! The holes in the hoof were made in such a way to leave them with some wiggle room, to prevent atrophy, but still they felt stiff. Aidan massaged my palm and, after a few minutes, I had acquired back most of its functionality. I was ready to write down a couple of requests.
When I was finished and my dispositions were executed, my hand was inserted back to its rightful place and the inspector took his leave.
“Well, Stephen, thank you for your services!” said Aidan, addressing Mr Larsson, “I believe you deserve my token of appreciation, just don’t trash my office, alright?”
As he kissed my forehead, murmuring a sweet declaration of love, and then left, Mr Larsson started to undo his jeans. I mooed happily: I had always wanted to do it in an office!
Having relinquished all of myself to the man I loved had turned me so on that, as Stephen or whatever was his name, slid his cock in my pussy, I was already wet. He proceeded with a rather standard fuck: he took me from behind, as I bent over on the desk, and then, just before he came, he face-fucked me to completion. When he left, Aidan came back in, to do me properly. He shoved me on his desk again, this time on my back, and unceremoniously pulled out my pretty tail, making me moo-whimper. His cock was invading my asshole, when he trapped my forelegs in his hands. I loved how he was being rough, it seemed perfect for the occasion. Lulled by the continuous slap of his thighs on my buttocks, my cow bell ringing happily, I felt like I was in paradise. Aidan seemed possessed. With a sudden move, he grabbed me by my ass and, as soon as I hugged him, he lifted me and slammed me on the bookshelves, sending a bunch of unseen objects clattering on the floor. With the advantage of my weight partially supported by one of the shelves, he began kissing me and slid his thumb in my soaking pussy. His stimulation of my clit was harsh, unforgiving… I came loudly and so did he. With both our strengths depleted by the savage sex, we slowly flopped on the ground. Aidan’s hand was ready to scoop up his delicious milk when he unsheathed his shaft from my butt-hole, allowing me to clean it greedily, soon followed by whatever he collected from my insides.
When we headed back to the stables, I decided to make that day even more special, pissing myself just before we walked out of his office.
“Oh, no, Gumdrop!” he complained, hardly able to contain his enthusiasm for what had just happened, and he swatted my butt cheeks “Bad cow!”
I mooed in a fake timid apology, while he pushed me back on his disheveled desk and began punishing me with his crop. When he was finished, I walked down the aisle, chin up, tears on my cheeks, wearing proudly the fresh welts on my hindquarters as a badge of honor.
Back in the stables, I was met by my herd mates, who had foregone their nap to wait for me and the tale of my “cowedding”. They both expressed their happiness for me, Cream Pie honestly, Cupcake trying with all her might. When I was finished, I sighed, ready for my next, delicate revelation. First I asked my spotted friend not to be angry with me, assuring her that I loved being a cow with her. She frowned worriedly. So I added that I believed that being a cow should be a free choice. The last word was particularly kaçak iddaa hard to mime and I opted with the classic “option 1, 2 or 3” scene, putting one, two and three strands on the bare floor, pretending to ponder and then tapping one at random. Finally, I told her that I had my earnings as a cow be sent to her, so that she could get out of the farm in two years, instead of four, if she wanted. As she gasped with Cream Pie and began tearing up, I quickly added that it had been hard for me, because I wanted her with me for as long as possible, but, eyeing back to the strands still on the floor, I wanted it to be her choice, not an obligation. She nodded and I knew that I was not misunderstood, because she immediately lunged towards me and kissed me. After that, I had the weirdest sex in my life, and, as it should be clear by now, my bar was pretty high in that matter. We kept whining and giving pleasure to each other, kissing and wiping with our tongues the tears streaking our faces, incapable of distinguishing those prompted by sorrow from those resulted from climaxes. It was both magic and heart-breaking.
“Jeez, what’s up with you?” dared to ask Ava.
We stared at her so fiercely, that she raised her eyebrows and hands and headed towards Fudge’s enclosure. We stopped only when we could not possibly go on any further, letting Cream Pie cuddle the both of us until it was time for milking.
After our exercising session, we were distracted from our conflicting feelings by the sight of our cattle door open: we would be able to graze again! Even if it was still a little too cold outside, we did not let the occasion slip. There had been improvements on our corral, which was now slightly bigger, and there were more trees and flowers around. Also, a gate was now present just behind the barn.
Even more excitingly, we were finally joined by Fudge, who, after taking a while to find us due to her blinders, came sprinting in our direction, as thrilled as we were. If, when she had joined us at the beginning of the winter, she had been in great shape, now she was positively sinewy and yet still shapely and lean. By the way, Ava had been right: she was a magnificent horse now. I could not have possibly imagined that one could run on high heels, hooves actually, with the elegance, the speed and the naturalness that she showed. Amazingly, when she suddenly stopped in front of us, she raised her fore-hooves and whinnied, making us moo in cheerful awe. I noticed that, in doing so, her hind hooves had changed their shape. After we had greeted her with a lot of kisses and hugs, she proudly showed us her body, for the first time up close, really.
Upon a closer inspection, we found out that the similarities with us were only superficial. Her hind-hooves and knee-cuffs were masterpieces of engineering. They had all sorts of springy shock-absorbers, ergonomic padding, perspiring fabric and mechanic constraints, concealed in the hoof and the hide. Similarly, the fore-hooves were designed to allow a better protection in case of a fall, while her butt-plug was a little soft. As we suspected, she had eight teeth removed, so that now her mouth really looked like one of a horse, with space for a bit before the molars. On her part, Fudge was curious about our udders and she even caught us by surprise sucking milk from one of Cupcake’s nipples. We immediately looked around for witnesses, but we had been extremely lucky and found none. Trying to be polite and not to give in to anger, we explained to her how forbidden and dangerous it was for us to share our milk with anyone but clients or our owners. She apologized mortified, so, to relieve the tension, Cream Pie passed her tongue on her lips and mooed quizzically. Fudge replied that yes, the milk was very good, even rubbing her fore-hoof on her belly.
Later, we gave her a tour of the outside enclosure, showing her how to listen to music, which she appreciated greatly, and we invited her to play our game of spitting water on each other. Needless to say, she was a pro. She could outrun us all, but we made an alliance of cows and evened the ground. We got her so riled up, that when we decided to rest on a mound of hay, she preceded us trotting and, with a somersault that made us all moo in panic, she jumped on the hay, neighing playfully. She seemed to have endless reserves of energy. Glad to have this new dynamic playmate, we joined her and bathed in the sun.
Cupcake received permission to play with her nipple rings, for the enjoyment of both, while I and Cream Pie examined the various braids that Penelope had done on her mane, wondering if we would look good too with them. In passing, I noticed that on her inner left biceps a new tattoo had appeared: a script surrounded by flowers that read “Penelope” and a heart just beside it. Fudge noticed my stare and smiled, blushing a little. Then she kissed her tattoo and I realized that it was supposed to be close to her heart and yet in a position that granted a modicum of privacy. I nodded understandingly: I knew perfectly how she felt. However, I could not help kaçak bahis but wonder if it was the same: according to Ava, that love had been engineered, had it not? But was not all love engineered anyway, with seduction and compromises? I, for one, had gone through similar lengths to secure mine.
Those thoughts were interrupted by none other than Penelope herself, who was heading in our directions, accompanied by Ava. Fudge jumped immediately on her feet and went running to Penelope, whose face lighted up in a way that I had never seen, if not sporadically with Aidan. The pony hugged her and lifted her from the ground, kissing her as they spun, inciting an astonished moo on our part. Aidan’s wife got back on her feet, chuckling and announced:
“I’m happy to see that you are enjoying the outside, finally! And I’m going to either, because guess what! We are going for a ride!”
Now the horse was literally jumping for joy. I noticed a proud smile on Ava, clearly happy about the results of her work and, at the same time, some sadness on her eyes, maybe longing. She really must have missed her days as a pony.
We were all curious about the ride, and so we followed the three women to the new gate, in front of which there was now a carriage. It was very small, essentially a seat for the conductor with two big wheels and a sunshade, but its minimal design and the numerous flowery decorations, in a style that reminded me of Art Nouveau, rendered it elegant and slick. Now wearing her bridle and bite, Fudge was led to the harness that would host her. A big strap was fastened to her waist, while Penelope fixed a beautiful plum on her forehead, that the pony seemed to love. The bridle was then replaced with longer reins and a strange device that connected each of its ends to the corresponding nipple ring. We all looked at each other, thinking the same thing: Fudge would be led, not only by forcing her head to turn, but also by pulling her nipples! Kinky!
When it was all set, Penelope, who was sporting a beautiful, finely embroidered turquoise dress with a long, voluminous skirt, hit her pony with a loud, painful lash of her short whip. The pony whinnied in pain and began to pull the carriage. Even though it seemed as light as possible, with materials chosen for their low weight, we all assumed that it would require a lot of strength to make it move. We could not be more wrong. As soon as the horses legs moved, so did the coach and, within a shockingly low amount of time, Penelope was faring at a nice pace in a small dirt road that winded through the fields, her whip swishing periodically, immediately followed by a neigh.
“There is an electric engine that powers it, you know?” said Ava, from behind our backs “It is made in such a way that it does not activate without the pony’s pull and when it is, it always puts on her a heavy, but bearable amount of resistance.”
We mooed in comprehension: now it made more sense!
“We all know that we would not be able to pull a coach for long without it, but boy, it makes you feel good to carry your mistress around, her weight still on your legs, somehow.” she continued with a nostalgic tone.
Despite my reservations about her, I could not avoid feeling a little sympathy for her, and apparently Cupcake too, for she mooed in a consoling way.
“Shit! Hey Cupcake, still hungry for my pussy?” she said, as if she regretted having lowered her defenses
Immediately the cow replied with a moo that clearly meant “always!”
“Alright, but it is a one-time only offer and Fudge must never find out!” she warned her, as she pulled her bull ring and led her to the stables.
Her tail was definitely waggling with happiness and I could not blame her: today Ava’s attire, always provoking to say the least, was even sexier than usual. She was wearing a black suede waistcoat that did not close at all, barely covering a little more than her sides and was kept in place by lacing, showing her belly and, of course, most of her boobs, for which it acted as a support. It had a three rows of fringes, that were actually chains. Her miniskirt was instead just three wide leather country belts sewn together, decorated with studs and big buckles. The amount of skin she showed, allowed me to find out her pony name, that was not “Nasty Horse” as I first understood, but “Nasty Whores”, as pointed out by her tattoo on her lower back that read, in three lines,
“Compared to me
Cupcake took her time, but still finished her job much before Penelope’s arrival, that happened when we were with clients. Indeed, as I returned to the stables for cleaning, I found Cream Pie kissing gently Fudge’s hindquarters, now covered with welts, along with her outer upper thighs and most of her back. After my cleaning, I sat beside her. She was lying on her stomach on a lump of hay, with her eyes closed and her chest still heaving at a high rate. I mooed in a consoling way, as I kissed her forehead. I expected that she had been crying, but when she opened her eyes, she seemed quite cheerful. I frowned and eyed at her rump, but she whinnied in a reassuring way. Actually, she seemed quite proud of its state. Once again, I sympathized with her: a good horse gets whipped, it’s just the way it is.