Chapters The Book of Milk Chapter 23
As Sandra fell unconscious in her memory, she regained her awareness in the present. To an outside observer, only a few seconds had passed in which her eyes had glazed over and her face had become even more slack as usual, a strand of saliva running down her chin. But now her eyes widened as she realized that she could see every single person sitting in the large tent, from the front row to the top of the bleachers, looking at her expectantly. So many people, here for… her? She couldn’t concentrate. The hurricane of emotions and memories was still raging in Sandra’s head, and it wouldn’t stop. She wanted to bring her hands to her drilling temples… but then she realized her arms were gone.
Of course they were gone. Sandra remembered how she had woken up and noticed that. Wait, she remembered learning it multiple times? She also remembered everything that had followed, how she had first become Cow 87 in her mind, then Puffycunt. How her mind had been reshaped by the implant until she was no more than a dumb, submissive animal willfully dependent on her “Caretakers” and eagerly waiting for the passing touch of this man she knew as “Owner”.
The worst thing was: she still was Puffycunt, but she was Sandra too, the two sides of herself waging war inside her head.
NO! She was Sandra, she decided, no matter what had been done to her! And she needed to get out of this nightmare, somehow. There was only a slim chance, but maybe the people in the audience didn’t know she had been abducted, that she had been a human being before… No! That she was a human being still!
She stumbled forward on her hooves, which suddenly felt unnatural and odd to her. Her bell rang out loudly and her ridiculous udders felt foreign, swaying on her chest as she approached the audience. Glancing behind her, the Owner (no, one of the assholes who did this to me, Sandra corrected herself) just stood there, hands behind his back, a smile on his face. She turned back towards the audience and tried to look into the eyes of the men standing just behind the enclosure.
“B…bleeeez…” she blubbered. Her enlarged lips were moving only sluggishly and the fact that she had only been mooing for weeks had atrophied the musculature of her tongue so it flopped around the words like a dead fish. “Uhhh… youuh… hhhhave… to mmmmhilgh… mmmmmilk—”
She shook her head violently, and spittle flew left and right. “Nnnnhooo…. ahhh… mmmhean… you have to… hhhelbh…. mmh… mmoooOOO!” She had the impulse to cover her mouth with her hands, but of course her round shoulders only twitched. The whole crowd laughed, whooped and hollered, and Sandra’s hopes were dashed. There were no sympathetic eyes to be found in this circus.
She tried to concentrate, tried to speak, but every time she got even close to the ‘mmm’ sound, her voice seemed to take on a mind of its own. “I’mmmMOOOO— NO! I… I nnnhodh a… cow! I’mmmh not a cow!” Sandra screamed at the entranced spectators.
“Well you awfully sure do look like one, missy!” Owner’s voice flowed like butter through the loudspeakers and was answered by another wave of laughter by the audience.
Blushing, Sandra couldn’t help but look down at herself, see the absurdly large breasts keeping her bent forward like an animal, splotched in white and brown. They were so full, so tender, and Sandra’s thoughts strayed towards the feeling of milking. It felt so good…
Distracted, glassy eyed, she suddenly felt the chill of drool drip on them, which again prompted a few laughs and Puff… No! Sandra remembered seeing her new face for the first time. She sobbed, full of desperation. She couldn’t go back into a classroom like this, or even go home like this! How would she even open the door? She was a freak for life now! How would other people react when they saw her?
Like the farmer! Oh god, that poor man! She suddenly remembered how she had pissed all over his wife’s carpet like the dumb animal she was. No, she wasn’t! A deep blush painted her colored cheeks and she slowly and awkwardly walked backwards again, looking left and right, wanting to hide from all those eyes in the audience while also feeling strangely excited by being watched like this.
Nothing made sense anymore!
Suddenly she sensed Owner (no, the guy, the bad man) next to her and froze. Out of fear. Or excitement. It was hard to tell. In a low voice he talked directly into her big cow ear: “Look at them! Look how excited they are to see you! You, Puffycunt the cow, full of delicious milk and ready to be fucked, not that boring, prudish girl that loathes herself and is full of doubt. Let Sandra die, my cow, she doesn’t deserve the pain of witnessing this, don’t draw this out for her, Puffy!!”
“Moooooooo!” Sandra had wanted to shout “No” but her stupid muzzle (no, mouth!) had betrayed her yet again. But that didn’t matter now. She had to escape, had to get away from this man. Being near him made something happen in her head, something large and scary that she had to avoid at any cost. “Owner did something to this cow’s head!” she thought. She didn’t even correct herself this time. Instead, she collected all her will together and started to run.
It was more of an awkward jog, her swinging udders making her body sway left and right as if she was drunk. Her hooves were making clopping sounds on the hard-packed dry earth, throwing up small clouds of dirt, as she slowly increased her speed and her cowbell also clanged loudly with every step. The audience, without a doubt thinking this was all part of a predetermined program, actually cheered her on.
Sandra tried to ignore the racket and concentrate on getting out. If she could only reach the point where she had come in, she was sure she could escape. She was running along a wide circle around the Own… that asshole, dreading his strange influence over her. She was unaware that this way it looked like she did it for the benefit of the audience even more.
She had only managed to round him halfway, however, when he suddenly bellowed: “PUFFYCUNT, STOP!”
By the time Puffy… Sandra had consciously processed the order, her feet had already planted themselves in the dry dirt as if stuck there. Yet she had been running as fast as she could! The inertia of her movement drove her forward and before she could react in any way, the ground suddenly raced towards her as she fell forward, with no front hoo… arms to break her fall. In the last split second, she managed to turn her face upwards, which probably spared her from a broken nose at least, but she still met the ground with her chin and her jaws banged together painfully. If she would have had any teeth left, some of them would probably have been broken, but instead she felt the impact through her whole skull. Her cowbell clanged once as it hit the floor ahead of her and she had to choke as the heavy collar was driven stiffly into her throat.
Luckily, her head and neck didn’t have to bear the whole brunt of the impact, because something else hit the earth first, her massive udders. They were painfully contracted and she mooed in pain before she could stop herself. To add insult to injury, due to the sudden impact pressure she actually squirted milk out of her long nipples into the dirt, which was met with a roar of applause from the gleefully watching spectators.
“They like this cow…” she thought as she was numbed by the shock of the fall, curling up, bearing the intense pain in her tits. But then, slowly, her mind cleared again and she scrambled with her legs, first getting one, then the other knee under her body.
Just as she pushed up her lower body so that her ass was pointing skyward, she felt someone ram his hand against the back of her heavy collar and push her upper body down. “It’s Owner!” she thought, “he touches me! It feels so g— NO!” Puffycunt tried to twist sideways, but suddenly his other hand was between her legs, quickly wandering past her twitching tail, her bloated asshole, and finally landing on her hot, wet labia.
His touch down there first made Sandra freeze completely, then shudder uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through her. “Mooo… Ahhh… noooo… not…. there… toooo… muuuuuooOOO….” Her eyes were wide open, her pupils rolled back into her head so that nearly just the whites showed, her cheek smashed into the dirt. Her tongue hung out her open muzzle and she drooled onto the dirty ground, where quickly a small puddle formed.
Meanwhile, her owner was deftly rubbing his fingers up and down her engorged labia, occasionally entering her pussy with several fingers at once, before pulling them out again to flick her massive, ringed clitoris playfully. Sandra had stopped trying to talk now and could only moan, although it sounded a lot more like mooing.
“Doesn’t that feel good, little cow? Hmmm? Oh, I know it does, I can see it, you’re just dripping from both ends. And that’s what you want to throw away by insisting on staying “Sandra”? Have you ever felt pleasure this intense before I gave it to you?”
“mooo….nooo…ahhhh…nooooot…..coooow…”
Now he started to use his whole hand to plunge it deep into her birth canal, pulling it out quickly, pushed the now dripping wet fist into her inviting asshole, then back into her pussy, fisting her loose holes with increasing speed and power. A shy virgin student she was no longer.
Somewhere, smartphone cameras clicked.
“MMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
“But you sound just like a cow, darling. And you look like one, too. And you’re dumb like one as well, it seems. Just think about it. Would you rather be Sandra, trapped in a constantly horny, armless, dehumanized body? Or do you want to be Puffycunt, my simple, happy little cow, my good cow? Because guess what? I have decided not to sell you. I will keep you at my ranch with the ponies I’m buying after this charade. I will milk you myself, everyday. And yes, I will also fuck this puffy cunt of yours many, many times. Can you imagine how my dick will feel, filling you?”
Puffycunt’s thoughts raced. “I… no… yes…I… not I… dis… dis kow… want dis…. want Owner… fuk dis cow! Dis kow… is goot… goot kow! Ownaw’s goot kow!”
Suddenly, the confusion, pain, and sadness were swept away and her mind returned to its blissful state of dumb, forgetful submissiveness and permanent horniness. To Puffycunt, it felt like the purest happiness, a wave of wind kissing the long field grasses, brushing away everything else, everything wrong, so wrong. Only goot. Goot kow.
Owner pulled his hand out of Puffycunt’s puffy cunt and wiped it on her right asscheek, giving it a friendly slap. Puffycunt was sad that he had stopped, but Owner had said he would fuck her another-when, hadn’t he? She could be a good cow and wait for that when. She was sure of it, or as sure as she could be of anything about Owner. Like how sure she was that he was her Owner. Her stomach filled with fluttering anticipation of all the whens they would be together. With surprising strength, he pulled Puffycunt up by her collar so that she was standing on her hooves again, her pussy’s heavy flow of juices brought on by Owner’s fist cascading down her legs to mix with the milk she had spilt in the mud.
Then he switched the headset back on and addressed the audience.
“Dear fellow colleagues,” he continued while his now-dry hand gently stroked and patted Puffycunt’s bald head, “what you have witnessed here is a simple paradigm: The brain doesn’t like contradictions. And just now, what this woman has been before and what she is now, these two states were in direct conflict with each other, in unstable superposition. She has memories of the last eight weeks, yes, that and unbelievable shame about what she has accepted eagerly since then, and that tension was intolerable to the girl she used to be, intolerable for her psyche.
“Now, one would assume that her original mindset would have asserted itself quickly. And it would have, if her personality was different, it would clamber up that mountain and rewrite every neuropathway to get back to her idea of ‘normal,’ given the chance. But we here at the Anything company always take a great deal of care to only choose girls with a high submission index, an inherent longing for a simpler life, servitude and care, even an acceptance toward humiliation they rightly see as well-justified; girls who know deep down that they are worth less than other humans. This way, even with a second chance like I just gave our little pet here, their subconscious will always decide that the life as a dumb animal is the only right way for her to exist. As you can see with Puffycunt here. She is simply happier being a good, productive cow rather than an ordinary, boring girl. She made that decision here in front of you all.”
Hearing her name, Puffycunt looked up at Owner with tears in her eyes. She tried to blink them away but they kept coming and coming, dripping like her milk in the dirt. Were they tears of sadness… or tears of joy? If someone would have asked Puffycunt, she would have surely answered with only a long, enigmatic…
“MMMMOOOOOOOOO!!!!”