Downs Farmstead Pt 03

Please read all previous chapters, or nothing will make sense.

All players are over eighteen years old.

This chapter has the sensitive issues of kidnapping and torture; please be advised.

No foul language in comments.

Kind regards Dogfart11.

Mr. Jones was in his study, as his wife knocked on the door, and entered the room, holding a cup of coffee, and placed it on his desk. As he peered over his steel-rimmed glasses, "Thanks, my dear," he said, in a harsh, stern voice. He was reading books on the occult and sorcery on his laptop.

She was younger than Mr. Jones, and she was Paul's stepmother. She did not care what her husband did, as long as she was kept in posh surroundings and clothes. She always wore red lipstick and black eyeliner, with her fuzzy, messy, shoulder length black hair, and piercing green eyes.

"James, I am going out tonight with friends, would you like to come with?" she asked, in a husky, sweet voice.

She was once was a man who owed him a great debt. She was the first one to use the T-pill, which transformed him to a her without surgery, some kind of magic. She had no memory of her past life, and now depended on her husband James. She could not fall pregnant and had large sexual urges, with men and women.

They had attended swinger parties, which they hosted from time to time. She was his pride and joy; she had the body of a big-boobed pornstar. She loved showing off her charms and curves, not leaving much to imagination.

"No, cannot tonight. I have a meeting later, but you go and have a good time, dear." He went back to reading something on his laptop.

"No probs, baby. See you later." She bent over in her black-leather corset dress, pushing her large cleavage together, making them jiggle, kissed him on cheek, and left the study. She was a total air-headed bimbo. She just would do anything Mr. Jones asked, whatever it was.

Adam was on his laptop, sitting at his bedroom desk. He was angry about being used by Mr. Jones, and about hucows or human cows. He would play along with it at the moment; then would strike when he was not expecting it.

Maybe use his own pills against him and his son Paul, and his so-called stable boys; he had to think of a plan quickly.

He made an account under the name Mr. Farmer, as he was making money from the web shows, about five thousand pounds a night. He was thinking about selling the nuns at auction, instead of selling them to Mr. Jones. He went on to the auction website, looking to find out what he needed to do, and where they were held; he had an idea about getting back at the Joneses.

He received a email with time and place of auction:

Howcow Auction all afternoon. Saturday 12th of December. Please download your personal key code for entry. Make sure your Hucow has been checked for any defects and STDs. Thanks for using the Golden Milk Company.

Location will be sent to the phone we have on file, the day before the Auction.

Kind regards, Howcow Golden Milk Company.

It was crowded in the club, as Toni, short for Antonia Jones, entered her private room, Sitting there, was her stepson, Paul Jones, with a black suit and tie. His hands were around the waists of two women, both kissing him on neck and lips. Both had massive cleavages on tiny frames, dressed in tight, black dresses with no bras or panties on.

They had been both male, till until they took the Transformation pill, making them empty headed Bimbo's empty-headed bimbos, and not hucows, which they could not become--a side effect of the pill.

"Having fun, Paul, with Melons and Juggs?" Antonia asked, in her husky female voice, referring to their new names because of their engorged, milky breasts.

Paul did not know that Antonia and his two air-headed girlfriends were all once male. The worst thing, though, was they did not know, either. They were kept in a separate compound on the farm in kennels, like human pets for their master's pleasure.

Melons and Juggs stopped kissing Paul's stubbled face and chin, when Antonia sat down opposite him, with his stubble head and chin. And started to embrace each other passionately, their long pink tongues lapping in each other's mouth, hands undressing themselves of their tight, black dresses.

Once naked, they started groping on each other's large, engorged, JJ-cup breasts, teasing with their palms on the large dark areolas, twisting each other's nipples with petite hands; kneading and pulling on their massive over-sized breasts swinging perfectly--the true effects of the transformation brought on by the pills.

"Yes, Antonia. How can I help you?" Paul asked, taking a swig of neat whiskey, and putting the bottle back on the table.

"I think your dad might be losing his memory, and he has stopped taking his meds, which the doctor prescribed a few weeks ago. His mind is gone. I think you should do something for him, Paul." Antonia said, pouring herself a whiskey in a glass goblet.

"Yeah, I know. He tried to get my friend, Adam, as one of his farm hands or stable boys, in this case."

"What happened?" Antonia asked, as she bit her lip.

"He gave him some pills, which he should not have. I saw his will, and he has left the Farmstead to Adam's family; we will not see a penny and be on the streets, or worse." He took another swig of the bottle of Jack Daniels, as Melons and Juggs were sixty-nining in the corner, both panting for more.

"You must do something fast then, before we lose everything. And I would be very grateful for it." She winked at Paul with her long black eyelashes and pure green eyes, as she got up and left the club. She had no idea that Adam was coming up with a plan, and it might be sooner rather than later.

Mr. Jones had a fax come through for his meeting with other small, local business owners, with similar interests as his own; all were quite wealthy people, who had funded the Downs Farmstead. They were saying that there was a new hucow breeder, known only as Mr. A. Farmer, who was wanting a meeting with him and his partners, saying they would be in touch soon by text, and it was the Howcow Golden Milk Company.

The Meeting with Mr. A. Farmer was taking place in an old, empty farm, which had been unoccupied for at least ten years. As Mr. Jones and his associates arrived, a few stable boys as his security, followed behind in their black Toyota Forerunner SUV, wearing brown suits and ties.

The searchlights lit up and encircled the empty farm compound, as they all got out to enter an old barn. Several shots flew out, and everyone was shot, and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Some figures came out of the shadows from behind the bushes with tranquilizer rifles. They had knocked them out, and not killed them,

A cattle truck came out, and they loaded up the totally limp bodies into the back of the truck. A couple of the security boys were shot in the back of head, and taken into the barn, where wild pigs were waiting for the dead flesh--to get rid of any evidence that they were there...

The sedated men woke up a few hours later, with foggy brains from the effects of the tranquilizer. They had been gagged with dirty oil rags stuffed in their mouths, their hands and feet in bronze manacles and chains, sitting on steel chairs drilled to the ground.

Three large male figures, their faces hidden behind black balaclavas, wearing black body suits, and holding electric cattle prods.

"Mr. James Jones, we are here on behalf of our client, a Mr. A. Farmer; he wants you gone for good. Do you understand what we want?" He took his cattle prod and put it between Paul's legs, slowly rubbing it up and down on his groin.

"What do you want with me and my son and his friends?" Mr. Jones nervously asked, shaking in terror, sweat dripping down his pale face, which was paler than normal.

"Mr. Farmer wants your land and properties. We have the letter here for your signature and then we let you and your family go."

"To prove we are not playing about." The man in black grabbed one of his stable boys, stripped his trousers and boxers down, and stuck the electric cattle prod right between his butt cheeks. With it on a low voltage, he pressed the button.

The poor boy was instantly in pain, crying in pure agony, his body twitching with the electric pulse flowing through him; causing him to lose control of his bodily functions all over the floor from both ends, before falling unconscious.

"You have no friends now that can rescue you. No one knows that you are even here, except our boss. So do the right thing and sign the paperwork, before you taste your blood being shed." He reached inside his dark bomber jacket, his gloved hand retrieving the letter and a pen; his other hand put a gun to Paul's head. He relaxed as Mr. Jones signed the papers under duress, the older man's hands shaking in pure terror.

"Now, one more thing, drink this." He held Mr. Jones' nose, forcing him to drink the water. And they did the same to Paul. Within seconds, their bodies started to change-- their figures shrank, their faces became more feminine, their hair grew long; even their penises disappeared, and their chests expanded to C-cup breasts. Their minds totally became mush; they could not remember anything.

"Right, ladies, follow me. We are taking you to your new home." He uncuffed them, and put them in the back of the cattle truck, under the guard of two bench men, as they started a journey to a new life of servitude, under the new owner Mr. A. Farmer--the new breeder and owner of Downs Farmstead.

To be continued