Never go Cow Tipping at MT Farm

                                 

He sniggered quietly as he heard the innocent, placid mooing of the cows in the pasture. It served to egg Dylan Diabolus on as he exited from his '94 Chevy and slammed the door shut behind him. The desperate teenager  had recently moved to rural Kansas, and in an act of adolescent  mischief he agreed to tip a few of the neighbor's cows. He had waited for the young man to go inside and slipped out from his truck, leather boots-the kind that you could buy in the city stores so that you didn't look so out-of-place in the country, though everyone pretty much knows anyway that you're foreign- stepping on the ground as he adjusted his jeans and belt before slamming the rusted door shut.

He immediately regretted this, thinking for just a second about the fact that the large, open pastures would conduct the metallic sound of the car door closing and awaken vengeful, rifle-toting farmer. This did not occur, however, and after a few minutes of trepidation he proceeded to approach the fence. A careful scaling of the four lines of razor wire left the flannel-shirted man safely on the other side, hands scraped up. Running one of those scraped hands through his short crew-cut of black hair, Rob took a breath and prepared to commit the-at least in these parts, anyway- heinous, carnal crime of cow-tipping.

The tanned child took a look around to make sure there were no bulls before finding a cow that looked ripe for the picking, a real fat heifer, one of the few that was still standing at this time of night and standing here, jaws moving in that stupid grinding motion. Eyes glassy and staring ahead, the human grimaced as he flipped on a small flashlight and saw a bit of half-digested grass flop from the cow's jaws. She didn't even look at him.  He clicked his tongue, laughing a little bit before holding the small flashlight in his teeth and bracing his boots against the ground, hands pressing against her side.

A  "hnnnfff!" of exertion escaped his chapped lips as he pressed against the cow, forcing her over. A panicked moo escaped the throat of the cow, 'voice' breaking once in terror as she made a dull thud on the grassy ground beneath her. An unexpected bloom of heat diffused through the male and he shivered, a little disappointed at the anticlimactic occasion. As he turned around to begin running the heat suddenly got worse, like someone was taking a hot blowtorch to his chest and belly. "Aaaah!" he roared, collapsing to the ground.

"What's happening?!" He breathlessly panted, his eyes wide, panicking. He was answered by nothing but the distressed moo of the felled cow next to him, and the pain struck him again. He could hear a strange sound, almost like his mind was removed from his body, and he realized that it was his clothing that was stretching around him, his shirt seams and pant linings stretching, popping and snapping.

He was horrified as they burst from his torso, revealing a chest lacking nipples and apparently now a pale white? He wasn't sure what was happening, and suddenly realized that it was a coating of fur over him. He became very pale, one hand shakily reaching up as he saw characteristic black splotches overtaking the white. What was happening to him?! He yelped in horror as his jeans similarly burst from their swelling contents, and to his horror he lacking a penis anymore.

Where once rested a hefty, 10-inch long, uncut malehood now had a pair of thick cunt lips that throbbed needily; he whimpered quietly, eyes closing for a moment in sheer panic as he felt his belly begin to ache. As he wriggled upon the ground he noticed that his belly was swelling in a terrible, disgusting way; he watched as a lump appeared, furless, and grew larger, larger before his eyes. No. No, it couldn't be.

Everything fell together all at once for poor Dylan, as he realized that this pink monstrosity growing upon his belly like an alien was an udder. Six nipples instead of the usual four donned the thing as it swelled upon him, and he watched in disgust as it expanded like some terrible, terrible organic balloon, veins riddling the fleshy mound as a moo escaped his throat. "Nooooo!" He cried out in terror, a sound reaching his ears. Small crunching noises.

All of a sudden they became loud as bells in his ears, and with a strange feeling he realized he could twitch his ears. He could feel the sensitive things flicking as the farmer approached him, and he went cross-eyed with pain as a pair nubby horns pressed up from his skull, his face pushed out into a soft pink bovine snout, large nostrils flaring once as the young farmer grinned a sharp-toothed smile. He didn't say anything, obviously just enjoying the sounds of the frantic and panicked mooing.

Speaking was beyond Dylan Diabolus at this point and he sputtered controllably, trying to make words with vocal cords that weren't his own. He could feel his legs snapping and cracking beyond his sizable belly though actually couldn't see them as the knee switched directions with an awful 'Crrrrnnnnch!'. Feet melted down, flesh hardening into tough, bovine keratin that split in the middle. 'This is what they must feel like when you nail the hooves on.' He thought once, eyes blank. It was his last conscious thought as the fur overcame that part of his body as well, and he flailed upon the ground with his arms as a tufted tail, thin and flicking, slithered out from his tailbone and considerable haunches.

His throat made a pathetic whimpering sound as he lifted his arms, the once-burly things now thin, his fingers already half-blended as his joints simplified and his hands fused. Finger met finger, fingernail sunk into flesh as it all got a polishing coat of that black, hard keratin; in a last-ditch effort he gave a roll of his huge body, 'mmmmrrooooo!' ing helplessly as he flopped back onto his side. He could feel his intelligence sapping away, like it was leaking from his ears into the ground, similar to the fierce burning, like a poker jabbed into him, as each of his huge, easily two inch long teats began to dribble milk.

"Mmm...Yet another one." The farmer murmured, laughing. "A real fat one, too. Too bad you had to go cow-tipping." He said quietly, hooking arms underneath the feral cow, feeling the new bone structure solidify. He heaved upwards and forced the male onto all fours, and the final blow was delivered in the form of a tender handful of grass held out to his mouth. Seemingly from nowhere, the strange farmer produced a brand that glowed with heat-pressing the thing into the cow's rump, a 'Magic T' brand, plus the farmer's logo, was forever imprinted into his flank.

"Mroooo!" He mooed, though by now the frantic thing was no longer a protest of what he had become but of the simple pain of the brand burning hair and flesh. Eyes were that same glassy nature of the cow that he had tipped, and his tail flicked at a fly that was buzzing about the place. A pat between his horns earned a happy sound as a slight movement made his udder jiggle erotically, the swollen thing eliciting a snigger from the farmer. "Excellent. I'll hook you right in with the milking regiment in the morning, Daisy~" He cooed happily, then picked up the other cow, biceps bulging in an inhuman manner as he tugged the other animal onto all fours.

In the morning a cowbell was looped around his neck and he was led into a titanic barn; K-Nova, Grade-A milk  was getting pumped into gallon and liter containers, cows mooing orgasmically as liquids other than milk dripped from behind their udders to the ground. Their udders throbbed as they were milked, and Daisy was brought to the far stable. Suction cups were added to each of her thick teats, and as they began to suck her own mooing song was added to the cacophony that echoed from those that had thought that cow tipping was fun.