Hunting for Cows (FGO Cowgirl TF) (Patreon)

Hey folks

I'm sorry to say, but whatever virus I caught only got worse - probably helped no end by my refusal to lay down and rest during the holiday period and exhausting myself like a fool. It has been a pretty unpleasant time, and even now I'm barely capable of getting out of bed long enough to post up this week's update.

I've already paused subscription payments, and they won't be resuming until I've caught up on all of the shorts and other commissioned works. I can't say how long that will take at the moment (I've already been way too optimistic about my recovery time this month, and I don't care to repeat that mistake) but I will get it done. I'm very, very sorry for the delay.

In the meantime, here's a story I had prepared just in case of this very sort of occasion! (I don't have many of these, so I likely won't be posting again until I have your shorts ready.)

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Francis Drake was a powerful servant, and she knew it. One of the most famous pioneers of her age, even if the history books had her gender wrong (a common problem for servants, that. They’d started a club in Chaldea for it), she was an adventurer who triumphed over gods and laughed in the face of danger. The impact she’d had on the world in life was matched only by the legend she’d left behind after her death. And as such, she was one of the few servants entitled to lead the Wild Hunt.

That was no small thing. The Wild Hunt was a legend that roamed across the northern parts of Europe, even extending to the Americas, through a massive swath of human history. It collected famous figures, spirits, and storms into its ranks like a vacuum cleaner sucking up dust. A powerful thing in its own right, an army of mystical power that could destroy any target it was aimed at, yes, control of its reigns was a valuable prize indeed.

So if Drake was alone in possessing such power, she would likely be one of the most powerful assets Chaldea possessed – able to stand toe to toe with gods easily, and cast down the greatest of foes with little difficulty. Thus, alas, it was quite unfortunate that she did not have the sole possession of such forces. There were other qualified candidates to rule the hunt, after all, and its power was split between them. Unless measures were taken to undo that division, the Wild Hunt would remain but a spectre of its true self.

Drake didn’t care about any of that, of course. She was far too free a spirit to give a damn about assembling the pieces of a divine army. That just seemed like hard work, and not really her kind of thing. What did bother her, though, was the fact that she possessed a piece, a fraction, of a treasure… And that the other pieces were so close by.

She was a pirate, after all. Treasure was very much her business. And knowing that the rest of it was almost within her reach, oh, it made her pirate nature itch something fierce. No, there was no two ways about it. Francis Drake would had to defeat the other leaders of the Wild Hunt, and then claim it all for herself. There was just no other way!

And it seemed she wasn’t the only one who’d reached that conclusion. For when she strode into her first rival’s room at Chaldea, said rival was already waiting for her.

“I’ve been wondering how long it would be before you came.” King Arthur – another member of the ‘How did the historians miss tits this big’ club – stood before her, her expression serene. Specifically, it was the Altered Lancer version of her, Lalter for short. Yes, it was a silly nickname, but when there were so many of you that you could field your own football team, nicknames got silly quickly. “Have you come to challenge a fellow King of the Hunt, Sir Francis Drake?”

If the Lancer expected battle, she hadn’t come dressed for it, the pirate noted. Instead of her dark armour, she was wearing just the bodysuit from beneath it – black leather that stretched itself tight around her curvy frame, and left a wide window over her stomach, presenting a great deal of underboob for any interested observers. Honestly, such a massive gap in one’s armour was just asking to be struck, in the pirate’s opinion.

“Well, I don’t know about that…” Drake whistled innocently, folding her arms behind her head – and surreptitiously reaching for the guns she had strapped on her back. “I mean, I was planning on sneaking in and stealing what I was after – but I guess if you knew I was coming, we can do this the old-fashioned way...”

In a flash, she’d drawn her flintlock, pointing it straight ahead and snapping back the hammer. “Hand over the goods, or I end your life~” Her smile was fierce, eyes flashing with the promise of steel, befitting of the pirate queen.

By contrast, Lalter was as calm as ever. “You are far from the first to try to steal a throne from me,” she answered with a smile, even as she raised her hands in seeming surrender. “And I’m afraid you’ll be no more successful than they.”

Drake snorted. “That’s- Hey, what are you doing?”

She brandished her gun threateningly, but she was too late to stop the Lancer’s move… Though, honestly, a moment after she’d done it, she wasn’t sure she would have bothered to even do that much if she’d known what her rival was planning. “Uh. Well now this is quite a surrender, King of Storms…”

For as the blonde’s hands had been rising into the air, they’d suddenly darted back, thumbs hooking into the wide window on the front of her body suit and pulling it down – exposing her substantial chest for all to see. Before she even knew what was happening, the pink haired pirate was left staring at milky pale tits without even the flimsiest cover to protect them.

Ancient kings, apparently, did not wear bras.

And even now, the alter looked smugly self-assured, even as she raised her hands back into the air. “Far from a surrender, Navigator of the storm. Do you like what you see?” She bounced on her feet, giving her chest an extra jiggle, obviously proud of her bounty.

“Heh. Now a pirate like myself’s never one to turn down a good show,” Drake grinned, clearly appreciating the view. “But if you’ve not noticed, I’ve got my own cannonballs to watch over.” She pushed her own chest out, still bound under her red jacket. “And if you think a pair like that’s going to impress me, I’m afraid you’ve already lost.”

“Is that so?” Now there was a vicious spark in Lalter’s eyes as well, as she looked her rival up and down. “If you’re so confident, why don’t you show me?”

Drake raised a pink eyebrow. “Show you?” She laughed. “I think you misread the situation here, Lancer. I have you dead to rights. All I want is your command of the Hunt. Why would I flash you my tits?”

The blonde shrugged – her chest taking advantage to make another pleasing motion that the pirate found oddly difficult to look away from. “I suppose you needn’t, if you’re willing to accept your inferiority…”

The ploy was so blatant that it was almost galling. And in truth, that only added to its effectiveness. Drake could see what her rival was planning. Get her to lower her gun with an attack on her ego, so that she could take advantage of the distraction. But what she didn’t realise…

“Who’s inferior?!” The pirate ripped her jacket aside with one hand – accidentally ripping off the buttons in her enthusiasm – exposing her chest while keeping her gun steady. “Don’t think you can walk all over a pirate’s pride and get away with it!”

… Was that Drake could have her cake and eat it too!

So then, why did Artoria look so amused. “If that’s the full extent of your pride, then I know I have nothing to worry about.”

What.

Drake’s eyebrow twitched. “If you’ve something to say about my tits, King of Knights, then out with it. No need to be coy.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” There was that smugness again. “After all, why should I be coy? The results are plain for all to see. I enjoy a King’s bounty, while you possess… Well, I suppose your treasure isn’t bad for a mere privateer…”

Oh that bitch. The pirate’s eyes narrowed. “I think it’s quite plain that the opposite is true,” she stated, her voice steeled in irritation. “I clearly carry the weightier chest.”

“Your time at sea must have addled your senses. Mine are bigger without a doubt,” was the Lancer’s swift reply, as the blonde slid her hands under her breasts and lifted them up, presenting them with pride – and then dropping them to bounce and jiggle once again. Drake blinked. When had she lowered her arms…?

But that wasn’t important anymore! Growling, the pirate strode forward, casting her gun aside, her own chest bouncing mightily with each step. “Then try to prove it, King of Knights! I’m right here!”

Artoria was grinning as she marched forward as well, matching her rival step for step, jiggle for jiggle, until both women were pressed right up against one another, their breasts squished together tightly. And the results…

“Hah. There. I told you I was bigger.” Drake grinned, victorious (if not by as much as she would have liked). Pressed up against one another like this, there was no mistaking her advantage, she was sure of it!

And yet Lalter still looked just as smug as ever. “Truly, Drake? Look again. Look closer.” She pushed in, a steep, soft canyon of boobflesh growing between them. “Look deeper.”

“D-deeper…?” The pirate did as she was bidden, unable to stop herself from stammering. There was something about her rival’s intensity, her authority, that refused to let her disobey. Perhaps that should have worried her, but right now she was far too busy staring into the marshmallow pit to think about it. “But… But I…”

Squish. Squish.

It was a surprisingly captivating show. The way their chests flattened against one another, slickly inflating and squashing as the two servants drew close, and then apart. The pirate had never quite seen anything like it – even with her hedonistic lifestyle when she was alive, she’d never met anyone with a figure so close to a match with hers to measure against…

Squish. Squish.

And there was something so devastatingly heavenly about feeling their breasts rub against one another. Each brush was a surge of pleasure mainlined directly into her brain. Her chest had never felt so sensitive before, but right now, the touch of Artoria’s body was so distracting…

Squish. Squish.

Almost against her will, she found her gaze diving deeper, slidingly helplessly down the slick, slippery crevice in their cleavage, sinking lower and lower into the jiggly, warm confines of heavenly flesh… Until she couldn’t think about anything else. Just boobs, filling her brain, slowly, softly, squishing everything else out of her head.

She barely even heard her rival as she leaned forward to whisper. “There is more to being a ruler than just combat skills, Drake. I thought you were aware of that – but I’m happy to teach you again.”

The pirate’s only response was to drool, a small river spilling down onto her chest, and following her mind to vanish into titty-filled oblivion.

“That’s it…” Soft, gloved hands stroked her hair, gently soothing any last embers of will and guiding her further into a bouncy round trance. “Deeper and deeper. That’s a good girl. So deep into my breasts that you never need to return. It’s so much nicer and warmer in my tits~”

The altered servant chuckled, enjoying her rival’s slackjawed expression. “You know, you may have been right. You might be a little bigger than me. But you didn’t have a perverted court wizard teaching you all manner of tricks you can do with that size, so it didn’t really matter, did it?”

Drake had no answer for her – unless one counted nodding as she continued to track Artoria’s bouncing chest, before returning to mindlessly drooling. But that was an answer of its own, really.

The blonde stroked her fingers through pink locks one more time, before retreating a step and looking over her defeated opponent. “You were a fine sailor, and a savvy fighter, but as a king, you are lacking. And in the Wild Hunt, there are only two kinds of servant: Leaders, and the led. Hunters, and prey. Kings… and cattle.” The ancient king’s lips quirked in amusement. “It seems that you fall into the latter category. Here, I shall show you your proper place.”

Then she stepped forward, roughly seizing the back of the pirate’s head, and then shoving her face directly into her chest.

“Gyuhuuuu…” It was hard to describe the noise Drake made as her mind was plunged into pure, mind melting pleasure, but it certainly made Artoria smile, and force her in deeper.

“You wanted to have the biggest chest? Very well. Then you shall have the biggest tits in all of Chaldea – and an appropriate role to go with them!”

Tits wrapped around the pirate’s head, squishing and massaging, and each sensation fried her brain with pleasure. She couldn’t stop her tongue from lolling out, panting in blissed out ecstasy.

“Let’s take that idea of you taking command of the Wild Hunt – and all your other ideas, for that matter… And squeeze them out of your head.”

Tits squished in, pressing on either side of her head, exerting direct, unthinkable, undeniable pleasure pressure on her mind – and her mind gave in, squashed between two unstoppable spheres. Her thoughts, her memories, her adventurous spirit and wild nature, all of it was flattened between two titanic tits, pulped and mashed in a mammary massacre, and then squeezed out of her head like she was an orange being juiced. Flowing out, and down to…

“That’s right. Out of your head, and into your tits. Let them grow and swell, let them gorge on your thoughts, and fatten on your mind.” The King of Storm’s smile flickered with lightning, a rarely seen passion written clear on her face. “After all, a cow like you doesn’t need any brains~!”

Cow…

Cow…

Cow…!

The word plunged into Drake’s soft, shrinking mind, backed up by all the authority of the King, and engraved itself on her core. No longer was she a sailor of stars, or a defeater of gods, no. Now, she was just pure, simple, utter, cow.

“Mmmuh… Mmm-MMMOOOOOO!!!”

The word bellowed from her lips as her tits swelled up like beachballs, doubling, tripling, quadrupling in size as they gulped down every last ounce of sense and intelligence out of her head. Even the rest of her body got in on the action – her pants splitting and tearing away as her behind plumped, a black and white tail growing just above her ass, tipped with a tuft of pink hair, while small horns poked through the top of her skull.

But nowhere was the change more pronounced than in her own head, where a great human hero was melted by pleasure and massaged into the shape of a simple, dumb, beast of burden – and nothing more.

By the time Artoria finally released her, letting the new bovine babe fall to her knees – no longer suited to walking upright – there wasn’t even the faintest glimmer of intelligence in her thickly glazed eyes. Only basic animal instinct – and obedient joy for her conqueror, as she stared up at the blonde with mindless love.

A moment later, and warm, white fluid began to drip from her incredible teats. What good was a cow, after all, if it couldn’t be milked?

With a victoriously smug grin, the Lancer knelt down and took a sample, drawing a taste – and a delightedly brainless “MmmmmOOOOOO~!!!” – from one of the cow’s teats with her lips. It tasted deliciously creamy, and the King smacked her lips contently.

“What a wonderful cow you make,” she said at last, stroking her new pet’s head and rubbing her horns fondly. “A fine addition to the Hunt. Your milk will make our warriors strong and vital.”

“Mooo~”

“And who knows,” the alter continued, speaking mostly for her own benefit – since, obviously, it was all in one ear out the other with her cow. “Maybe I should recruit a few other servants as well, to bolster our strength. I didn’t think we needed any more warriors in our ranks, but…” She looked over the former Francis Drake again.

“There are other roles that they could serve…”

Wild times were ahead for Chaldea, that was for sure…