Morgan's Year, Part 2: Daniel and Caitlin (Patreon)

Part two of my current ongoing story!

Morgan the Witch decides to summon her old high school bullies before her, years after she developed her shapeshifting magical powers. Daniel, Caitlyn, Sasha, and Pete are in for a surprise, as she twists their forms in karmic rays, ranging from the more human, to the freakishly alien. Of course, there may be a chance for one of them to return to normal again. But just one.

Previous Part Here 

Morgan’s Year, Part 2: Daniel and Caitlin

Daniel

Daishi moaned as her lord husband entered her. Her thin fingers grasped the railing as his cock slid into her depths, and she couldn't help but moan softly in response. It was an experience she was well-used to by now, and made no attempt to delay it, instead giving in to the moment to savour the feminine pleasure she was given. She helped part her kimono, hiking it up to allow him easier access, and bending forward so that her immaculately straight strands of long black hair hung in curtains parallel to her knees.

Strong hands gripped her taut belly, and she gasped not just from the pleasure of his thrusting but also from the life within shifting, perhaps startled.

“It is not long, my darling wife, until you gift me the first of our children.”

Not long, Daishi thought, until I find out if this is my life for good or if I can be the man I once was.

Her husband began to thrust, his large penis parting her lower lips, and she shuddered in response. The first time had been the hardest, not just because her body had been a virgin, but because  it was such an alien feeling. To go from the penetrator to the penetrated, from dominant to submissive, from the powerful man to the weak and shy woman, it was wrong.

Now, to her embarrassment, she relished the feel of him entering her. She knew she should not feel this way, that it was the result of Morgan’s curse, but still she shivered in delight at the feeling of being ravished by her husband.

***

Daniel had often been cruel to Morgan, but then he was pretty cruel to many girls. He understood that, with the benefit of hindsight. A macho man through and through, Daniel was a horndog, one with a new girl on his arm every month, and a proclivity toward stepping outside a relationship on the sly to catch some tail he fancied. He liked his women pretty and submissive and especially Asian, and took great pleasure in dominating them during sex and holding them protectively afterward. He was the kind of guy who disliked when girls took the lead, and loved it when a pretty girl bent herself over backwards to look pretty for him, and acted all traditional and submissive in all ways.

And so it was, with strange, aggressive, self-assertive Morgan, he picked the wrong target by repeatedly calling her a bitch and telling her to start being a “real girl”; one who needed to just find a man to “knock her up with some sense”, as he put it. After all, he figured that once she got a proper lay from “a real man” then she would “start acting like a real woman should.” More than once, he’d even mentioned how “hot Japanese chicks were the kind to know that a man should take the lead.”

Morgan hadn’t taken kindly to Daniel’s statements, and so it was when she froze him and the others, he already had an idea of what her ironic punishment would be. When she clicked her fingers, he felt his body pinching in odd places, a tugging sensation in his crotch, and a ballooning sensation in his buttocks, thighs, and chest, even as his spine cracked, height dwindling, and hips snapped out wider. Out the corner of his rapidly changing eyes, he could see his sometime-girlfriend Sasha bloating up, her skin becoming dark green. Caitlin seemed to be going white, a portal sending her to a field somewhere, while Pete’s back began to sprout odd developments. Then the white light glowed in full, and he felt his still-changing, ever-softer body falling, falling, falling backwards through space and time.

Feudal Japan as a beautiful native woman was a stark contrast to Daniel's former experience. He awoke in an elaborate futon, before being bathed and dressed in a fine kimono by house servants as he confusedly tried to make sense of his new situation. When he asked his beleaguered questions, he was astonished not only at his soft, lilting voice, but also the fact that he spoke perfect Japanese. He tried to recall his English tongue, and found it was utterly absent. He could read kanji, but the common English alphabet was beyond his reach.

It was confronting beyond all measure. Daniel had gone from a tall muscled white man to a demure, short Asian woman with startling beauty who could barely look another in the eye without bowing. Where he was once brash and took the lead in any social situation, now he was forced to be quiet, submissive, and play the role of an obedient woman. And, to Daniel/Daishi's horror, also the role of a soon-to-be obedient wife.

Only a week after his transformation and time travel, Daniel was made to take part in a betrothal ceremony with the powerful daimyo Lord Odacha. Already, the former football star had been punished for his headstrong nature and refusal to submit to his male elders. Several attempts to escape had brought harsh treatment from her new ‘family’, while his actions to rail against the elaborate beauty standards of a young feudal Japanese noblewoman ended in hidings and lack of food.

By this point, he knew to disobey would bring worse consequences. Worse, it was like her mind was betraying him; the idea of just ‘going along with it’ began to feel increasingly enticing.

Eventually, the wedding occurred, and Daniel had no choice but to wear a gorgeous kimono dress and swear his devotion to his new husband. He bowed before him, letting him take his hand, despite every impulse desiring to run. The footballer saw no way out, however; his new body lacked his toughness, and his mind was tainted by a constant low-level compulsion to be submissive.

That night, his new husband took him, and Daniel was shocked at his own soft moans and pleasure from the act. In the days and weeks that followed, he slowly began to think of himself as she, particularly since his new husband was so insatiable, and Daniel/Daishi was expected to play the role of the dutiful wife. As time went on, he was shocked to find comfort in his husband's arms, and even appreciated the great beauty of the Japanese landscape, its rice fields and ocean view, and the gorgeous architecture so different from his modern western reality.

Still, most evenings, even as she became better practised in acting the role of a Shogunate-era Japanese noblewoman, Daishi spent many hours looking out across that ocean, across space and time to her former life.

Those wistful dreamings only became more common when she found herself vomiting and nauseous in the morning, and incredibly tired by evening. She was terrified at first; was she dying to some medieval disease they had no cure for? It ignited a great fear, and a need to return to being a powerful man at the centre of the universe, rather than a weak and helpless woman. In many ways, the true matter of her condition was even worse. It did not take long for the house staff to inform her she was blessed with child. How could she not be? Her lord husband was as lustful as Daishi had been as a macho linebacker. He’d had pregnancy scares with hot girls before, and now she was the hot girl, in an age where contraception was borderline non-existent. He’d become the very kind of knocked up chick he’d always made fun of, or threatened to leave if they didn’t ‘deal with it.’

There was no ‘dealing with it’ now.

Her belly slowly swelled with the fruit of his seed, and what fruits they had borne, for as the months passed, the family physician determined she was pregnant not with one little heir, but in fact a pair of them. It was a blessing celebrated by her husband, though she could not claim to see it that way. Her history as a modern man was in bedding women rather than experiencing the consequences of being a woman bedded and unprotected.

She grew, and Daishi was startled anew everyday with how feminine she was becoming. Her petite form gained more womanly curves, her thin breasts became sore and slowly filled in, and her belly dominated her body. Where once she had a strong core, now her stomach muscles had seemingly evaporated to help accommodate the two lives growing within her.

It would be a long time - if ever - she would get to handle a ball again. The closest thing to a ball was the domed sphere of her own belly, and her babies within that constantly shifted and kicked and kept her up at late hours when she wanted nothing more than to sleep. Her husband Katsuhito - Lord Odacha - loved those moments. He would snuggle against her, his strong arms around her rounded belly, and he would laugh as his unborn children thumped against her organs and belly button. In truth, much as the former male of the 21st century hated to admit it, she had begun to find it a comforting experience, and nearly every day she found herself cradling her belly in the classical image of a ripe mother-to-be, smiling softly at every little jostle within her.

“My little akachan,” she found herself saying, “I might never be a linebacker again, but it seems you have inherited my athletic talent!”

It made her giggle. Like a coach past his prime, she imagined teaching them her old sport when they were older, and experiencing the game again vicariously through them. In fact, she would often have to bite her lip and frown, forcing away the natural bliss of the moment, and trying to focus on how much she hated that bitch Morgan for doing this to her.

***

“OOhhhhh . . . ooohhhhh husband!”

Daishi cried out in orgasm, and felt her husband spend his hot seed inside her. In the afterglow of their copulation, she once more imagined being a young male stud again. How different her life had been. She was interrupted from the thought when her husband reached his arm around to grasp her swollen form. A strong jostling from within startled her, and her hand flew instinctively to her rounded belly.

“Oooh, husband, you have woken them.”

His eyebrows raised in interest, and he pulled her gently closer, placing his masculine hands upon her very pregnant stomach.

“Here?”

She sighed, gesturing to her midsection. “Everywhere now. You have cursed me with a full belly, lord husband.”

He laughed, his hands feeling out several kicks which did not so much hurt as feel slightly unsettling for her, particularly when they pressed against her bellybutton. Soon, his hands travelled north, feeling up her now-bare chest.

“Mm, you’ve grown, I think.”

Daishi grunted as another kick visibly distended her stomach slightly. “As I said, you have cursed me with a full belly, lord husband.”

Another chuckle. “A curse? Hardly. A blessing, and one my darling wife is worthy to carry. But I was not speaking of your marvellous belly, my koibito, but your chest.”

He cupped her breasts in his hand and lifted them, forming an impressive cleavage that Daishi would have been proud to fondle back when he was Daniel, in the far future. She shivered as his thumb passed over her pink nipple. They had enlarged in recent weeks.

“Ah, careful lord husband. They are most sensitive.”

She internally sighed at the syntax and speech she was compelled to use.

Katsuhito kissed her tenderly on the cheek. “Not long until your mother’s milk arrives, I think.”

She frowned, sure that he couldn’t see. She was growing used to her strange new life, but talk of milk and breastfeeding brought forth the stark reality that in little over a month’s time she would be giving birth. Birth in feudal Japan no less.

“Ahh.”

“Is everything alright, my koibito?”

She nodded demurely - that was a behaviour she was primed to perform due to Morgan’s magic, but she now suspected was one she performed instinctively with no compulsion at all.

“It is alright, lord husband. They are just at an odd angle inside me.”

“Where are they now?”

She never could have imagined it possible, but she could now sense for the most part where a child was angled - a tauter press against her stomach was often a head, a repeated tentative pushing at her lower side likely feet. She told her husband this information, and his eyes lit up.

He shifted in front of her, tracing his fingers over her swollen belly, and Daishi couldn’t help but feel a flash of heat surge through her, the spark of attraction renewing itself. Morgan’s magic had changed so much of her life; had hurled her into the distant past, had transformed her into a dainty little Japanese woman, had made her the wife of a powerful daimyo, and placed certain knowledge and behaviours into her head to help her adjust. But oddly, one of the strangest experiences was simply finding herself suddenly very attracted to men, particularly her lord husband. Women certainly still intrigued her, but men’s bodies - their strong muscles, their musky scents, their chiselled jaw, their chest and facial hair - they intoxicated her.

“We have a full day ahead of ourselves Daishi. Many visitors from afar wait upon our hospitality, and you will be tasked with showing your distant noble cousins from the north our estate.”

She nodded, eyes downcast to indicate her own submissiveness. A strong hand grasped her jaw.

“Which is why we must be quick. Get on your hands and knees, and pleasure your lord.”

She nodded, a deep yearning to feel his embrace, to be entered, guiding her actions. But even as she moved carefully, breathing heavily for a moment as she tried to keep balanced with her ever-more difficult centre of balance, a bright light glowed, enveloping her. She gasped, feeling a familiar surge of magic flow over her, and the briefest of glances at her frozen husband before she was whisked away.

She might be finally changing back.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn woke, as she always did, at the rooster’s crow at the crack of dawn. Wearily, she rubbed her eyes and lifted herself, her heavy form taking a moment to right itself. As always, she felt overheated in the morning, and in need of feeding too, her stomach growling audibly with pangs of hunger. Rory the horse raised his head and regarded her silently as she trotted forward.

"Yeah, morning to you too, buddy," she said as she exited the stable.

It was a warm day, and she was absolutely ravenous - having several stomachs will do that - but she was adamant ever since her change that she would never give up her humanity, at least not in spirit. So, instead of moving to the farmstead for breakfast, she made her way to the hose first  Her udder pulled heavily between her hind legs.

"Ugh, why am I so full of milk this morning?" she muttered, "it usually takes a few hours before I feel like this."

The Cawlton family had kindly helped supply her with a crude showerstand with which she could wash herself. It was little more than a pole onto which was affixed a water hose with a sprayer at the end, and a curtain she could draw around a metal railing. Still, it gave her some privacy from the household. Not that she stripped off any clothes - Morgan’s damn curse had seen to it that Caitlyn couldn't be anything but at best scantily dressed - but it did allow her to soap herself and wash the areas under her breasts without feeling too vulnerable.

Before placing her glasses on a nearby tray, she checked herself in the mirror that Martha had set up for her. She sighed in resigned disappointment at the view that had greeted her for a year since Morgan’s curse had transformed her. Her upper half remained, thankfully, mostly as it always had been. She still had her perfect dark skin, her luxurious black hair,  piercing eyes, her glasses, her pretty face and gorgeous cheekbones. All the features that had made her social media feed go wild with followers. Except, of course, for the horns that jutted from her scalp. Still, with a hat, she might even look like a normal woman, were it not for the enormous changes down below.

Cairlyn groaned. “Why did I have to call her a fucking cow?”

***

Caitlyn had always been a follower before she became a local Instagram sensation. Not interested in academia or sports, she enjoyed leeching off of the success of others, particularly her best friend Sasha, who was the most popular girl on campus. Caitlyn had always had admirers - how could she not? - but as Sasha’s confidante and friend her popularity skyrocketed, and she reaped the rewards of not only handsome men’s attention, but the ability to push around anyone she wants, provided Sasha disliked them too. It had been easy to pick on Morgan. The girl wasn’t really all that unattractive - in fact, she was quite good looking - but her constant eye-rolling and lack of respect towards Caitlyn and Sasha had made her a target. Sasha felt, given Morgan’s apparent lack of family, that she was destined for single motherhood, a bit of trash popping out babies one after the other. Caitlyn on the other hand saw the way she ate, and enjoyed calling her a cow. That particular insult only became more common as Caitlyn found herself gaining a following for insulting the ‘ugly bitches.’

Caitlyn would never admit it, but she liked calling Morgan a cow because despite the woman’s drab attitude towards everything, she had a smoking rack, the one feature that the lithe Caitlyn could never boast. So it made her feel good to mock her ‘udders’. Little did Caitlyn know that she would soon be getting some ‘udders’ of her own.

When Morgan revealed herself as a witch to the frozen Caitlyn and stated that each transformation and punishment would be ironic, it didn’t take an English major (which Caitlyn had failed) to figure out what might happen to her. She tried to plead, but a bright light enveloped her, and she felt herself hurtling through space, landing in a farmer’s paddock in the middle of nowhere. She barely had time to be confused by her surroundings, or the four figures on the horizon approaching her, when she experienced a deeply unsettling pressure in her breasts, scalp, butt, and spine. She called out for help as the farmers ran toward her, but already her form was beginning to warp and bloat. Blood trickled down her forehead as bony horns pushed from her skull. Her ears ached as they moved further up the sides of her head, extending to flop at her neck, with pinpricks accompanying the growth of soft fur. The farmers - a family, consisting of an older man and woman, and a son and daughter roughly her own age - stopped in shock.

"Dad, it's a girl, and she's changing!"

"I can see that, stay back Curtis. You okay lady? What's happened to you?"

"He-help mmoooooo!"

She clasped her mouth, shocked at what’d she’d just done. But then she felt a sudden shift in her chest. It rapidly expanded, breasts ripping open the buttons of her top, steadily growing from AAs, to Bs, past Cs and DDs and Es to a truly staggering size.

"Don't look Curtis," the mum said, but the son named Curtis stared hard at her new bountiful cleavage.

"Wow."

The mother stepped forward. "What's-what's happening to you dearie?"

Caitlyn went to reply, but instead buckled over as the pressure in her pants and chest became unbearable.

The daughter gasped. "Oh Jesus, look Ma, look Pa, look at her pants!"

Caitlyn tried to look too, but her massive new melons were in the way, affecting her own gravity. But she did feel the rapid swelling, the ripping of her pajama bottoms as two strange, alien new limbs pushed out from either side of her ass, her lower half extending and reshaping and becoming bulkier, so much damn bulkier. Her own legs twisted and buckled, toes melting and giving way to something hard and unfeeling. And still she continued to swell. A pain in her ass, and a third new limb pushing out, ropey and long. The family continued to gape, stepping back.

"Holy shit Martha," the father said to his wife, "she's turning into a cow."

She looked at them, tears in her eyes. "N-noooo, ahhh!"

Someone large and heavy began to form between her legs - her back legs - as her rear set of hips widened considerably. Cowhair began to fill in all over her form, until her lower half had become that of a dark-furred heifer.

"Jeeze, she's done grown an udder too! A big one!"

Caitlyn gasped, knuckled her fists as a tightness came over her, followed by a need to release that was impossible to deny. She grunted as all at once there was a final swelling of her overall form, a final growth of her udder and lower half. She stood there, panting and in shock and horrified in front of four strangers, and before she could say a word her tail raised automatically and laid a fresh dump on the paddock ground.

***

Caitlyn washed down her form. Ultimately, the transformation - Morgan’s curse - had left her a cow centaur. A cowtaur, as Sarah Cawlton, the daughter of the family, liked to call her. The spell had ensured her lower half was that of a healthy heifer's, complete with a sizable udder that constantly generated milk. Her upper half was mostly normal, but for her short little cow horns and droopy fur ears. And, of course, her boobs.

The spell had also given her megatits, as she preferred to call them. Not just content with changing her lower half and even the contents of what sprang from her skull, her once-petite breasts on her thin frame had expanded like fleshy balloons, hanging off her chest in an exaggerated way, pert and large and perfect, were they not much too large for her humanoid frame. They also produced a lot of milk.

She could already feel them starting to leak.

“Damn things.”

She dried herself up and put on her simple top. It was a flannalette shirt that was tied in the middle, like a sexy cowgirl. A sick joke of Morgan’s, no doubt. She gritted her teeth at the sheer fullness in her udder, and trotted out.

"Well now, that's a cowgirl."

Caitlyn rolled her eyes at the pun being vocalised. "Funny as it ever was, Curt."

The twenty-three year old son of Martha and Bill Cawlton just grinned, as was his habit. He leaned against the nearby fencing.

"So what'll it be this morning, Miss May? Feedin’ or milkin’? You certainly look like you need the second.”

"Yeah, well you'd be one to fucking look wouldn't you?" she snapped.

Curtis only grinned further. "Someone's definitely a little too full this morning. I'll get the pump."

She crossed her arms, inadvertently lifting her massive tits above them, and trotted over to the pumping station, udder wobbling somewhat painfully between her hind legs.

"For what it be worth," Curtis said, "my sister wishes she had as big a melons as you do."

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, wincing only slightly as the young man attached the four separate pumps to her sensitive teats.

"Sarah hates me."

"'Cause she's jealous."

"Of these?" She gestured to her heavy bosom. "She can have them. They're a fucking bitch on my back. They weigh like ten pounds each and they get even moo-re mooosive when it's time to be - MOOOOOOoooohhhh! Oh, that's - moo! - that's good."

The machine was on, and the pumping underway. Already she felt better, and she couldn't help but savour the sweet release of the produce from her big milk bag.

"Still,"  Curtis continued, "Ma likes you something fierce."

She whipped her tail at some flies gathering around her flank.

"That's because I'm the biggest fucking producer on your little farm, Curtis. Your 'Ma' likes the finances a lot more now that I'm here."

"Still."

She breathed some relief as yet more of her produce was extracted.

"Gee whiz girl, you're full today, ain't you?"

She crossed her arms over her full breasts, where her own ministrations to empty them awaited.

"D-Don't remind me," she grunted.

He chuckled and slapped her udder, an action she did not appreciate, before running his hand along her flank as he approached her.

It would be so easy to put a hoof through his skull, she mused.

Instead she twisted her humanoid half to look at him. "This one of those times?"

"Oh boy, yeah."

"Yeah, I can see your pants straining from here."

Another smirk as he eyed her form, particularly those utterly engorged breasts.

"Well, I have a particular taste in cowgirls, it seems."

The pump continued its work.

“Fine, just cop your fucking feel and be done with it before your fucking mother sees us.”

He chuckled, elated. Curtis took her lazily extended hand as she helped pull him up onto her back, as if he were riding her like a horse. His hands moved quickly to palm at her soft shoulders..

"Jesus lord, you are pretty."

“Gross pervert,” she spat, before breathing tightly as his thumb traced her swollen nipple. “I d-don’t deserve this. I was p-popular.”

“Yeah, I saw your Insta page. You were a real cutie. A lot flatter though. I like the way these big heiffer tits feel. And you like it too, don’t you?”

He whispered the last part in her furry ear. She could feel herself becoming aroused, as always, particularly as he began to stroke her neck a little.

“I can stop though, if you want to,” he said, drifting his hands back down to cup her full breasts. The flesh overflowed his waiting palms.

She shook her head. “No-no. M-m-moo . . . more, you bastard.”

“I love it when you moo for me, Cait. I love the way you can’t help it. A big change from being that high-minded high-fashion city girl, I bet.

“Bastard. Just finish m-me before MOO-artha sees us.”

His fingers continued to stir, drawing forth bursts of ecstasy.

"I'm pretty sure she already suspects. I know Sarah does."

"Oooohh, mmhhmmoo . . . great. Just great. Are you going to keep playing around or suck on my fucking cowtits already?"

She could feel his grin behind her back, but relented as he shifted, and she twisted, lifting her gargantuan left boob so that her distended nipple guided gently to his waiting lips.

"J-just be c-careful when you - Mooo!"

He rubbed his tongue over her long dark nipple, before clamping down and suckling like a babe, his face smooshing into the softness of her mound. He gripped her other breast around her other side for support, fondling it slowly yet passionately. Caitlyn lifted a hoof and placed it back down, trying not to let her powerful lower body squirm. She could feel even the teats of her udder hardening with arousal as Curtis drew the warm milky produce of her breasts out, and continued to swallow.

She orgasmed softly as he continued to fondle and suckle, coming again several times as he switched to her other breast. When he was done, he pulled her in and kissed her on the neck. Despite herself, and her hatred at her situation, she couldn't help but coo, then moo.

"Like I said, I love it when you moo for me."

She grunted, indicating it was time for him to stop palming her stupidly oversized breasts. He just shrugged and dismounted.

"Got some stuff to deal with today. It involves you and your role on the farm. Thought I'd give you some lovin 'fore we get to brass tax."

Caitlyn rotated to face him, her udder jostling. Already, she could feel her milk production beginning to thin a little.

"Dad'll explain it, but I want you to know I got your best interests at heart. You know I'm sweet on you, and those find milky udders if yours. But it makes sense, you chewing on our cud and all. We all need to pull our weight in our own ways."

She was confused and a little bit concerned as his father Bill approached from the house.

"Didya tell her?" Bill said. He was, as usual, making a point of trying not to ogle Caitlyn's 'milkers' by looking just about anywhere else.

"Not yet," Curtis said, "'fraid she'd kick my head in, Pa."

Caitlyn folded her arms so that her breasts flowed over them. Bill gulped below her - everyone was shorter than her now - yet she felt quite vulnerable without knowing why. Bill took off his hat. Caitlyn shifted on her powerful hooves. Bill only took off his hat when he was heading into the house, or when delivering bad news.

"See, here's the thing, Caitlyn,” he said. "It's getting to breeding season, and it's not been a kind year for us. There's a lot of extra expenses to support you. Curtis and I have been talking, and we've both agreed it's time you got bred."

Caitlyn stepped back on all four hooves, her heavy udder jostling with her movement.

"Wha-what!? That's not fair. Don't I give you all my milk?"

Curtis nodded grimly. "You do that, and we're well appreciative. Best damn cow's milk around, and it sells well too. For a cow. Y'see, youse ain't a cow though. You're a cow, and a woman, right? So's we got overhead with you we don't get with a regular bessie."

" And normally that's fine," Bill continued. "We was happy to help you. Still are. You a regular part of the family as much our herd. But like I been saying, it's been a bad year, and in bad years we all gots to make sacrifices."

Caitlyn shuddered, unable to believe what she was hearing.

"I can't fucking believe this, is this a prank?"

"No prank, bessie," Curtis pitched in as he walked by her flank, running his hand across her hairy hide. She moved to see what she was doing, but then his father unexpectedly placed his hand at her 'hip' - the area where her humanoid half flared out to join with her bovine half. It took her by surprise; Bill clearly loved his wife, but the man obviously had a fetish for large breasts which he tried to avoid confronting. It was not a problem his son had.

"I'm sure surprised yer so resistant Cait, Curtis here done tell me you been in heat the last few weeks anyhow."

She blushed. God, had she? Was that the strange feelings she had in her cow nethers lately? She had found herself staring at bulls the last few weeks, with no idea why. The understanding now horrified her; her body had wanted to be mounted by one of them.

She flung her hands out in protest, and her bosom wobbled immensely, catching Bill’s eye.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m a human being, I have rights!”

“You ain’t human no more kiddo. And I knows you want to keep your privacy by staying with us on this farm.”

“This was Sarah’s idea wasn’t it? I know she hates me!”

“Calm down bessie,” Bill said condescendingly, “I knows you and Sarah got some beef, and she did have a bit of input on this, some, but we’re all agreed that it’s high time we got you calving. This’ll be your way of contributing to the farm and that new stable we’re building you with all them ‘amenities’ you go on about.”

“I already give you all this fucking milk I can’t help but make!”

She lifted her chest and let it wobble heavily once more. Bill blinked, before scratching the back of his head.

“That be true, that be true. But you’ll also be making a lot more in those udders of yours when you’re calving, and be hopefully supplying us with some more dairy cows while yer at it.”

"I told you, I got cursed by a witch! Fucking Morgan! And it's only for one year!"

Bill smiled, and nodded at something behind her.

“Well, you don’ have nothin’ to worry about then, do ya?”

She was about to scream further obscenities when her entire body went rigid. Suddenly, something entered her through her most sensitive parts.

“This is fucking - MOOOOOO!”

She twisted her torso in shock as the large protuberance was pushed quickly into her bovine tunnel, the feeling both pleasurable, alien, and horrifying. It was Curtis, inserting what she recognised as a cow inseminator well over a foot into her body. All she could do was moo in fear, grasping the horns atop her head in shock as the farmhand began to turn it on.

All at once, there was a flash of bright light, and she was elsewhere.

To Be Continued . . .