Ass-Fed Beef

Author's Note:

The idea for this story is so dumb. Long ago, I saw jerky that proclaimed it was grass-fed, but my mind dropped the "gr." I'm not sure why I didn't stop myself, but this is the result. I am so sorry.

Clara Sommer groaned as she woke up. The groan sounded strange, but she quickly realized that wasn't the most important thing about her situation. With a start, she was suddenly searching the prison cell she now inhabited. And also trying to find something to cover up her naked form. The most she could do was cover her udders with the twin French braids she didn't remember having her dark hair in earlier.

Putting her feet on the cold concrete, which caused her to make another odd-sounding groan, she desperately tried to remember the last thing she'd done. She'd been interviewing the new owners of Skylark Dairy for the county paper. She walked in and then found...

It suddenly clicked. She'd been greeted by Reggie Porter, the county's recently arrived mentalist.

Figures,

she thought.

The last time I felt like this, he'd let me snap out of his hypnosis.

For that little trick, she'd gone to shake his hand in front of the audience, then the next thing she knew, she'd been standing in front of the audience with a cowbell choker on her neck. Obviously, something similar had happened.

She then became aware of something resting on her chest. If her udders had been existent, it would have been bouncing on them. Instead, she could feel the metallic shape on her breastbone. It was attached to a heavy leather band fastened around her neck.

Great,

she thought,

I'm wearing the cowbell again.

Her feet slapping on the cold, cement floor, she walked to the foreboding metal door, the bell tinkling as she walked. Something about the sound was... soothing.

Fighting the strange sensation, she examined the door. There was no handle or hinge on her side, so she couldn't even attempt to open it or force her way out by picking at the hinge. There was a hatch, probably to put food through.

Should I try banging on the door?

she thought to herself.

They put me here, so there's no way they'll let me out, but they might respond. Playing the helpless, frightened victim might get whoever put me here to tell me something. And knowing something is better than what I know now.

As if to answer her question, the hatch in the door opened and deposited something on the ground. Clara ran over to the door. "Hey!" she yelled. "Porter, is that you?" Slamming against the door, she put her ear to it. "Who are you? What do you want?"

For a long time she waited. On the other side, she heard neither a response nor the sound of feet walking away. "Answer me!" she yelled. Then after a few long seconds of silence, she screamed "ANSWER ME!" while banging the door.

After a while, she sighed. For some reason, she wiped her face with her arm. That's when she found the nose ring.

What the fuck?

She thought.

Did someone give me a piercing like I'm some kind of fucking cow?

An odd shiver pulsed through her at the thought. She noticed that, but not that she was rubbing her thighs together. She looked down and saw that the lumpy object, or rather, objects, were clothes.

If you can call them clothes,

she remarked to herself acidly.

On top of a very abbreviated pair of daisy dukes were cow-print thongs, with matching bikini top and stockings. On top of those lay a black headband that, if she put it on, wouldn't be visible in her hair. But the horns attached to the headbands would be.

She picked up the headband and held it in her hands, feeling the horns. The band part was definitely plastic, with some odd raised lines where it would touch her head, but the horns felt an awful lot like bone.

Creepy,

she thought, ignoring the images playing in her mind and how they were making her needily rub her legs together.

I'm going to put this down.

Her body, however, had other plans. "No-!" was all she managed to get out before the headband was on. Then, a searing pain shot through her skull where the horns were. She fell against the door, steadying herself, groaning in distress all the while. Eventually, there was a pop, and the plastic headband snapped into pieces and leaped off her head.

However, Clara still felt an odd weight on her head. Reaching up with both hands, she felt the horns, now jutting out from her head as if they'd grown that way. Even more disturbing, through the horns, she could feel her hands. She groaned in distress. Then she realized her "odd groans" were actually more like mooing.

"Nnnnnooooo," she mooed, trying to dislodge her new body part. But images of being a cow began to flash in her mind. At first, she just became more and more distressed. Then, slowly, her hands began to move down to her non-existent udders and her cunt. Her mooing was still frantic, but for different reasons. Once the stroking and pinching began, she was lost. All the fear, all the resistance, gone.

Staggering back, she fell on the bed. There, she finished. She let out a loud moo in release and shuddered in pleasure. Leaning back against the wall, she shuddered in pleasure, her mind a black-and-white cowspot haze.

Slowly, however, her mind began to clear.

Fuck me...

she thought.

I lost myself. I... wait. My ears...

Looking back, she realized that during her calm-down, her ears had felt itchy, and as if they'd been folding in on themselves. She reached up. Instead of human ears, she felt cow ones.

"Nnnnooooo..." Clara mooed as she stroked the velvety fur of her newly changed ears. In her head, she thought,

Bad enough that I'm being physically changed. Every instinct in my body is saying I should like this.

Her hand began to stray to her clit once again as it started to throb.

No!

She admonished herself.

I can't play with my pussy. Or my udders. I mean my tits.

She frowned at this. In her mind, there were other words that she probably should use for those things. But she couldn't remember.

Whatever,

she thought,

I've been hypnotized. And there might be something more. But touching myself will accelerate it.

Her eyes were drawn to the clothes on the floor.

Well,

she thought,

I can't stay naked.

Clara walked over to the pile of clothing and picked up the underwear. She stared them, especially the two rubbery white dildos for her asshole and pussy. "Something's..." she said, as a fog settled over her mind.

Yeah, that's right,

she realized.

This thong is way too big. Luckily, the dildos are also pretty big as well. I can clench them down and my slutty little panties won't fall off.

She mooed happily at this logic, ignoring the alarm bells in her head that were telling her something else was wrong. Instead, she began to pull up the panties. When they were almost up, she suddenly realized how hard it would be to get them into her cunt and asshole.

Why am I thinking about my body in these terms?

she wondered, as she guided the front dildo into her sopping pussy.

Aren't these words demeaning? Wouldn't only a slutty little cow use them about herself? And why are these strange symbols etched into these dildos? And why am I doing this?

Then the head of the white plastic cock parted her lower lips and she mooed in pleasure. The only thought she was able to complete was

Oh. That's why.

Before, she had been convinced that she'd have to be constantly clenching to keep the panties on. But now, the pressure in between her legs and on her clit and g-spot were doing weird things to her brain. The one coherent thought was that she should probably put the rest of her clothes on. That meant inserting the rear plug.

Bending over and leaning on the door for support, she began to guide the plug into her asshole. If she had any thoughts in her head at that point, she would have cursed herself for not using her pussy juices to lube it. She'd have remembered the one or two times she'd experimented with putting a finger up there, and that it had been nothing like this. She'd be surprised at how she was able to stand and push the large floppy cylinder up her but with only minimal knee shaking. But the fullness in her pussy didn't let her think about anything other than the pleasure she was feeling. So she kept pushing, mooing and grunting all the while.

After the plugs were in, she straightened up. Then nearly collapsed from the sensation of the two plugs seemingly so big they were pressing against her through the walls of her pussy and anus. Adjusting her stance to be significantly more bow-legged, she moved on to the stockings, bikini top, and daisy-dukes, the plugs sending jolts of pleasure through her body with the slightest movement. She sat there for a while in her too-big yet extremely skimpy clothes for a while, nothing in her head except contentedness at how

full

her nethers were.

Wait,

she thought, the thought being dragged out slowly like she was almost drunk enough to black out,

shouldn't I be doing someth-

As if purposefully cutting her off, her entire body began to tingle. Especially her udders and her asshole. She looked down to see her udders begin to inflate. She touched them through her bikini and was rewarded with a jolt of pleasure.

As she bucked her hips and pawed at her udders, Clara was vaguely aware that her udders weren't the only thing growing. Her thighs were thickening, her hips were widening, and her ass was inflating almost as fast as her udders. Also, she could sense that the butt plug part of her underwear was fusing to her, and something was growing out of it.

Clara looked between her legs. There, poking through a hole in her daisy dukes, grew a cow tail. It was already down to her knees, hence why she could see it over her udders. Removing her hands from her udders, she began to stroke and tug at her new cow tail. If she was thinking straight, she would have wondered why the tail was simultaneously separate from her yet acting like a part of her body, as she was able to feel the plug in her ass fighting to get free every time she tugged, yet also could feel with the tail and would occasionally make it flick from side to side.

There was a brief moment when she realized that she wasn't thinking in words anymore, which caused a slight bit of unease. However, it was immediately consumed by the dull pleasure she was immersed in. She continued to stroke her tail, smiling blankly.

Eventually, though, she just stopped. Her hands at her sides, she briefly and wordlessly wondered why the pleasure wasn't as intense anymore. Then, the task too demanding of her new cognitive functions, she simply sat there.

After a while, the door opened. If she had the mental capacity she'd had when she had woken up, she would have recognized Reggie Porter, stage hypnotist and new owner of Skylark Dairy. If she still had the ability to form words, she might have addressed him as Master. Clara could still recognize him, though. And she was able to form simple mental associations.

She associated Reggie with the feelings she'd gotten when her body had been transforming. More importantly, she associated Reggie with the feelings that the dildos in her underwear had been giving her when they'd been vibrating.

"Clara," he said. Clara responded to her name by straightening up and mustering her limited ability to concentrate on Reggie. Reggie smiled and dropped a pair of cowboy boots on the concrete floor. "Put these on."

After a second spent on processing the command, Clara stood up from the bed, walked forwards a few steps, and then stepped into the boots. The only thing that ran through her mind was how soothing the cow bell's ringing was as it was bounced on her udders.

Reggie walked around Clara in a circle, eyes traveling up and down her body. Her face was still the same, which was what he'd wanted, though the horns and cow ears put it in a radically different context. And so did the blank look on her face.

The rest of her body had been changed dramatically. Reggie had conditioned her at the show to think of her breasts as udders at the hypnosis show whenever she put on the cow bell collar. They'd only been bee stings then, now they were huge, as well as being hugely sensitive. The glowing red runes he'd inscribed onto them and hypnotized her into ignoring were gone. They'd done their purpose, she'd be productive. The spandex, in response to the growth, struggled to contain the tits.

Her waist only had a small amount of fat as before, but her hips had been widened and her ass expanded. The daisy dukes, which Clara had had to hold up before, were now so tight around her ass that the zipper was slowly lowering due to the strain, showing the cow-patterned thong through the fly. Both thong and shorts conformed to the curve of her ass, sinking into her crack. Her cheeks were slightly spread by the plug, the tail dangling down and flicking occasionally.

Her thighs had also grown from thin sticks to large and curvy with a noticeable gap. The tops of the cow print thigh-highs sank into the now-squishy flesh. All in all, Clara made a most pleasing sight.

And Reggie was pleased. He clipped a lead to Clara's collar and led her out of the cell. Clara mooed softly and followed, her new hips swaying. Eventually, they came to a room full of couches.

If she was capable of talking or wondering, Clara may have asked how she knew that lying down face up on one of the couches would lead to pleasure. But she did.

In response, Reggie unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Then he pushed his pants and underwear down so they were around his ankles. Clara had watched the process intently, her now-limited mental facilities telling her that something good was about to happen.

When Reggie lowered his butt onto her face, Clara knew what she had to do. Her tongue poked up and her hands guided Reggie into position by his thighs. As soon as her tongue penetrated his asshole, the dildoes in her own ass and her pussy began to vibrate.

As she mooed in pleasure, she massaged Reggie's thighs, her hands slowly working towards his crotch. As her master sat on her face, she tongued his asshole and stroked his cock. The warm weight on her face and the pulsing in her holes soothed her empty mind.

If she could have formed the concepts, she would have wished that the experience could never end. However, there was a small part of her that realized something was ending. That she realized this was something of a miracle as she didn't even understand what was happening, apart from that whenever Reggie said some variation of "Good girl," or if the long, hard thing she was gripping shuddered and something hot and sticky, the things in her holes would vibrate even harder and she'd shudder with pleasure. And that shuddering was the only thing she lived for now.

Reggie stood up somewhat shakily. "Well," he said, "I think that went well." The only response from Clara was a slow, confused blink. Reggie laughed. "I really did a number on you, huh?" he said as he pulled up his pants. "Anyway, time to get you back to your cell."

And, in a strange coincidence, as Reggie laughed, two letters fell off a nearby sign. On the dirt road to Skylark Dairy and Grass-Fed Beef, a G and an r fell off and landed in the dirt. And Reggie would never replace them.