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This story has been inspired by the premise of another one about hucows in this website that I unfortunately cannot find anymore (if you know it, please write to me to help me provide a proper credit). While the very beginning in similar, the rest (a whole novel) is what I find a more satisfying development. Here’s the third chapter. Since I already completed the whole story, from now on I will post regularly.
As absurd as the concept of a hucow is, I tried to take it quite seriously, to delve in the psychology of a hucow and her owner, in search of what this admittedly strange fetish means, 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. I hope that the result is an original and refreshing take on the matter.
All kinds of feedback are appreciated, especially those about grammar, as English is not my first language.
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3. The fair
Where do you buy cows? In a country fair. Well, it turned out that this was valid also for hucows. In this case a fair was more like a convention of enthusiasts, but Aidan assured me that everyone tried their best to adhere to the fantasy. A few days after my dream, he asked me to go with him to buy (the technical term for “hire” in this context) the first two cows of his herd. I was beyond excited: it would be just the two of us for a couple of days, and I was coming as future manager of his farm. It was time for my move. We were in the middle of summer and it was sweltering outside. So, between that and the fact that we were going to a sex-themed event, I had plenty of excuses to dress as slutty as I could.
I was wearing a dark purple cowboy hat that contrasted beautifully with my pink hair, cut in a bob and matched perfectly with a short-sleeved blouse with a pink and violet tartan pattern, knotted and partly unbuttoned in such a way that it covered only my bust and showed my cleavage and my tummy, where I sported a brand new dream-catcher belly piercing. For the occasion I hade made myself a pair of very short denim shorts out of normal jeans. They had a very low waist, and I cut out the inside of both the front and back pockets, so that you could see a slice of my butt and thighs. I had also bought a couple of red cowgirl boots. Needless to say that, while we were traveling in Aidan’s sports car, he had a hard time not being… Well hard!
“So, how does it work?” I was asking, while licking mischievously a shocking pink lollipop.
“The girl who wants to become a cow signs a contract that obliges her to wear her attire at all times, except when there is an emergency of course, and establishes what her farmer can and can’t do. Typically, how often she must have sex with the customers, if she wants to do anal and that sort of things.”
“And this is legal? Is it not, like, slavery?” I asked, a little perplexed.
“Oh, you’d be surprised what is legal these days!” Aidan chuckled.
Well, I said by myself, I better find out what exactly is legal these days if I want to stay out of prison!
“So, when you say buy, you just mean hire, right?” I checked, just half-ironically.
“Yes, or buy someone else’s cow, if it is allowed in her contract. Formally, it is just a change of employer, but it goes a long way in making the fantasy more realistic for the woman.”
“And how long do these contracts last?”
“Usually a year and they can be renewed. Sometimes the renewal is automatic unless one of the parties disagrees. There are a lot of women who just want to forget all about human stuff and live as cows as long as they can. You’ll see.”
I wondered what it would be like living like that. Aidan had explained to me that between the hormones, the milking and of course the sex, an average hucow had a bunch of climaxes every day. If you forgot for a moment the whole humiliation and prostitution thing, it almost seemed alluring. You were paid a ridiculous amount of money to not have a worry in the world, being pampered and cumming all day. After having that thought, I remember that I blamed it on my anxiety about the future and my horniness. I do not still know if I was right or if being a cow was already an unspoken desire of mine.
When we arrived, it seemed to me that we had just traveled to a parallel universe. The fair was hosted by a big ranch. We parked in a graveled open space, and we headed for a big field filled with marquees, little corrals and a couple of food trucks. It was all like a normal fair. What I was not prepared for, despite knowing full well what the fair was all about, was a couple a naked girls getting off a horse-trailer. They were unmistakably hucows. On their feet they wore the craziest shoes I had ever seen. They were basically heelless calf boots where the platform was a very realistic cow hoof. The rest of the shoe was madeo fcow hide. Their arms were similarly canlı bahis decorated with sleeve gloves, that encased their hands in a cow hoof. For some reason I had imagined that hucows would be fat, but all these girls were perfectly in shape and almost lean, a fact that greatly enhanced the impression that their huge boobs made. They were as big as cantaloupes! A man who seemed their owner, corralled them towards the fair, lazily swishing a crop on their buttocks, already quite red. As if this scene was not already shocking enough, every time he hit them, they mooed. Now, when I say moo, you may imagine a person actually uttering the word moo. You could not be more mistaken. These hucows emitted a sound that was eerily similar to a cow’s call, except for the fact that was less powerful and maybe more high-pitched.
“What the fuck?..” I mumbled without even noticing I was speaking out loud.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot!” Aidan said, slapping his forehead “Women who are actually serious about becoming cows have a little device implanted in their upper respiratory tract that, whenever they use their vocal cords, forces the air to go out from the nose and not the mouth.”
I must have frowned because he felt that I needed a practical example: he opened his mouth, took my hand and put it in front of it and mooed. I felt that no air had passed through his mouth and I understood and tried myself. I could moo too!
“So, wait, they cannot speak?” I suddenly asked.
“Nope, as real cows.” he answered in a revering tone.
As we approached, I could have a better look to these “serious hucows”. Even though they were periodically whipped, they seemed to be enjoying all of it, to the point that I had the distinct impression that they slowed down on purpose just to make the crop lash at them.
“Good cows only move when they are prodded.” Aidan commented in a low voice, accompanied by the sound of the cowbell they both sported hanging from a big leather collar. Despite the height of the heels, their gait was quite confident and regal, as if they were extremely proud of themselves. As we were passing them by, I noticed that they had a bull ring passing through their nose septum, so big that it reached halfway between their lower lips and their chins. Another tinkling sound drove my attention to their pussies. Their outer labia each displayed three big rings. The weirdest piercings of all, though, were two big triangular yellow tags on the top of their ears. Aidan, one again, answered my mute question:
“They are tags containing the serial number of their contract, a QR-code of their limits and an ID number to identify them.” he explained and then pointed to the tattoos on their buttocks and their backs “These are also branded, for further safety. They probably have microchips too, all to ensure that their contracts cannot be modified in a second moment to their damage.”
I had to admit, these people were really committed. A part of me wondered who they were actually protecting by making the contracts unalterable. I could see how this ensured that the hucows did not have to do things they did not agree to, but at the same time it made sure they could not change their mind afterwards.
As we entered the fair, we were welcomed by a rather festive atmosphere. Everybody seemed to know everybody. There were shops selling cow attire, both for professional hucows and amateurs, milking machines, themed sex toys, the most expensive cheese in the world (my mouth actually gaped at its sight) and of course, milk. However, most of the space was occupied by various farms showing off their cattle. Aidan, taken with his enthusiasm, took my hand (I think that my heart missed a beat), and we headed confidently toward a stall called “Redhead Angus”. Behind a stall displaying milk bottles and assorted produce, there was a small corral, where three hucows, all redheads and in attires similar to those we spotted earlier, were accommodated in what seemed to be a portable version of Aidan’s milking stands, only without the part that supported the head and shoulders. They just rested with their elbows on the fence or on dedicate supports. Two of them were being milked and were mooing loudly in what seemed to me an unequivocal O-face.
“Aidan!” called a burly man in his fifties, with ginger hair and a cowboy attire “What brings you here? Should I worry?”
“Eoin!” Aidan greeted him cheerfully “As a matter of fact you should!”
The other did not seem to take the news well as he reached us.
“Not because I’m not a very satisfied customer.” excused himself Aidan, raising his hands “I am opening a farm of my own!”
As comprehension dawned on Eoin, he returned to his previous upbeat tone:
“Good for you, I should’ve known!” he said and then, addressing me “And you must be his new cow! Came here for the transformation?”
While I was busy blabbing an embarrassed “no” and blushing, Aidan introduced us:
“No, this is my ward, Leah. As a matter of fact, she is going bahis siteleri to help me manage the farm! And this, Leah, is Eoin, my supplier.”
We shook hands, but Eoin did not seem to understand the source of my embarrassment:
“Well, sorry for the misunderstanding, but you really are a dazzling, you would make a wonderful cow.” he said.
“Thanks!” I mumbled, adjusting pointlessly my hat.
Behind him I saw another girl, with a burgundy fringe leather jacket, bellbottom pants and a cowboy hat letting a man in the fence and pointing to one of the hucows. While she was heading in our direction, to my dismay the man approached the hucow, unbuttoned his pants and, after jerking off a little, started humping her. Just like that, in front of everyone, even though I was probably the only one who bothered to look. On her part, the hucow did not even bother to turn her head, but merely half-closed her eyes and bit her lip, seemingly enjoying herself. By the time the unknown girl reached us, the hucow was mooing, clearly enjoying herself while the man was grunting with a horny expression on his face.
“…starting with just two. Maybe I’ll call you from time to time, for some advice.” Aidan was saying, when she interrupted the conversation:
“Dad, there’s a guy who wants to know if he can buy milk, but we are all reserved, right?”
“Who, the one humping Bessie?” asked Eoin, turning around.
“Tell him no. I think we are going to have some spare, but I’d rather give it to old customers, like Aidan here.” instructed Eoin “Oh, and this is my daughter, Fergie.”
Fergie was a pretty girl, probably my age, with flaming red hair in a long braid that danced behind her back. Her face was round, quite pale and sprinkled with cute freckles. Her blue eyes lingered on me far longer than they did on Aidan, while we introduced ourselves.
“She is going to join her sisters after the fairs! I bet her milk is going to be delicious!” Eoin was saying, very proudly. His daughter rolled her eyes in embarrassment and gave me a shrewd sneer:
I think I managed to keep my face perfectly still, because she kept looking at me in a friendly way.
“Hey, why don’t you show Leah, here, how we rear our hucows, while we arrange the transportation of Aidan’s? She is going to manage Aidan’s farm soon!” proposed Eoin.
“Wonderful idea!” approved Aidan.
Apparently happy to get out of the spotlight, Fergie gestured to follow her and I hurried after her, noticing that she had a really nice ass. All of a sudden I realized that I was about to think “she is going to be one fine hucow”. Damn! How much did it take for me to start thinking as a farmer?
“Sorry about my dad, I’ve always been the rebel one and he wasn’t sure I would decide to follow my sisters’ path. Then, when I turned eighteen and started attending the fairs with him, I made up my mind, so now he’s acting all proud and excited. Well, how much do you know about hucows?” asked Fergie, as we approached one of them who was being milked.
“Very little.” I answered, a little distracted by the loud smack that the man mounting Bessie made when he slapped her ass. (Mounting? Seriously Leah?)
Fergie seemed bewildered and I blushed.
“Well, it’s all Aidan’s idea. He mostly wants someone to oversee his employees, but I do want to learn more about hucows.” I replied, a little defensive, concentrating on the hucow in front of us, who was staring me curiously.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to criticize.” apologized Fergie with a smile “It’s just unusual to meet anyone here that is not in the scene. Anyhow, this one being milked, here, is Princess.”
You could see how Princess was Fergie’s sister: they had the same eyes and a similar build. Anyhow, the hucow was a few years older, her face was a little more triangular and her lips were pouty. Her breasts were a little smaller than those of the hucows that I had seen at the entrance, but maybe it was an impression due to their hanging attached to two big transparent cups, sprinkled with milk and connected to the pump.
“You see, there is no more milk in her udders.” said Fergie and then, with a smirk at my frowning “Yeah, udders: would you call something this big a boob?”
Princess mooed proudly and Fergie caressed her curly hair fondly.
“Now I am going to unplug the pump. Don’t expect your hucows to warn you when they are empty: they are so horny and sensitive that the mere pumping makes them have micro-climaxes sometimes” she explained, showing me how to do it, while Princess grimaced with her tongue out, bumping on her bull ring. I noticed that she had a big tongue piercing. Fergie probably spotted me looking at it, because she said:
“Yeah, that’s one of the standard piercings. Guys like the sensation of a big barbell when the hucow gives head and it makes it harder for them to try to articulate words.”
“What’s the purpose of the other piercings?”
“Well, the bull ring can be used bahis şirketleri to lead them and sometimes tie them, but it’s there mostly for aesthetic reasons. As for the rings on their outer labia, they make it possible to lock their pussies, when you are not sure that the customer will use a condom.”
I was aghast:
“What?” I half-shrieked.
“Ah, don’t take it too hard, we do it for the cows. You see, the point is that, in order to produce milk, they must be fertile. There will always be the idiot who thinks that he can pull out in time and it’s not that complicated to get away with it. The cow may not notice the absence of a condom and the customer can hide from the cameras behind her.”
Princess mooed seemingly in agreement, rolling her eyes.
“How can they not notice that there’s no condom? And if you lock the pussy…” I started.
“Traditionally hucows should be fucked in the ass.” explained Fergie, while Princess leered at me “And as for their sensitivity down there… You have any idea of the number of cocks they see?”
She then proceeded to the next hucow, named Spot, apparently because she had a big birthmark on her shoulder, and let me unplug the milking machine, to see if I had learned. At first, it was awkward to touch a stranger’s boobs, but then I remembered that I had to think of them as udders and everything came more natural to me. Moreover, Spot did not seem much interested in me.
“Where do you buy milking machines for hucows?” I asked, when Fergie patted me encouragingly for my good job.
“Nobody produces them, of course. There are people who adapt goat pumps, though.”
Much to my relief, the man that was humping Bessie had reached climax and was now fastening his belt.
“Everything alright Bessie?” Fergie asked her, patting her cheeks. Bessie looked fine and mooed with a sleepy smile.
“In a moment we are going to clean you, ok girl?” added Fergie. Bessie mooed again, this time with a pleading face.
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked worriedly.
Fergie then confidently grabbed the hucow’s udder, nodded to herself, took my hand and placed it on the udder:
“Squeeze a little. Can you feel that it’s full?”
“Yeah.” I confirmed, shamelessly lying.
“See, Bessie here needs to be milked. Wanna give it a try?”
Well, I had learned how to unplug the milking machine, I did not see why not learn how to plug it.
Fergie meticulously got me through the procedure, but before I started, she looked back at her father with a bratty smile and, once she was sure he was not looking, she stopped me:
“Hey, wanna try it the natural way?” she proposed in a whisper. At first, I though that she meant to milk Bessie by hand, but then she made herself more clear by sticking a thumb in her mouth and sucking it.
“What?” I whispered astonished.
“Come on!” Fergie teased me “I do it all the time and my dad is taking Aidan to our trailer!”
And then, without notice, she put her lips on one of Bessie’s udders and gave two powerful sucks, closing her eyes in pleasure, while Bessie mooed softly above us. Fuck it, I tried it too! Bessie’s nipples, as the other cows’, were really long. I never had another woman’s nipple in my mouth! When I sucked it, a trickle of warm milk entered my mouth and it was the weirdest thing ever! It did not taste quite like normal milk, but I liked it.
“Shit it’s good! How much was it worth?” I asked grinning to Fergie, who was quite satisfied with her successful corruption attempt on me.
“You don’t wanna know!”
After I successfully fastened the milking machine to Bessie, who seemed quite eager to be emptied, we headed for the opposite part of the fence, apparently to clean her.
“Isn’t your dad pissed that you drink his milk?” I asked, now that I and Fergie had bonded with our little mischief.
“He’s never caught me and it’s not a big deal. Our main revenue comes from him pimping my sisters out.” said Fergie lightly, so that I felt bold enough to pop the big question that had been buzzing in my head until then:
“So, these are all your sisters?”
The cowgirl did not give any sign of being fazed by the topic.
“Yeah, I mean… No, two of them are my half sisters, but I don’t pay attention to such silly details. Oh, and I also have a brother, who managed to skip this fair leaving me to do most of the work!”
We entered the corral and we were now facing three asses in display. I noticed that each of the hucows had their name tattooed on their lower back in ornate letters.
“What name are you going to choose you become a hucow? I mean, I assume that Spot was not the original name of your sister.”
Fergie was wearing a pair of working gloves, not unlike those used by common farmers in appearance, but I could see that the fabric was very smooth.
“The hucow does not choose her name.” she said, examining expertly her sister’s asshole “But my father, in his excitement, revealed to me that I’m going to be Cheeky.”
“I think it’s perfect!”
Fergie sneered and slapped Bessie’s buttock:
“Yeah, no shit.” she commented and then, with louder voice, she said “Hey Bessie, come on girl, squirt it out!”
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