Author: Julien Sorel (juliensorel61@hotmail.com)
Title: The Reluctant Cow, Part Three
Summary: The drug that transformed Maggie into a girl/cow doesn't
seem to be wearing off....
Keywords: MF, nc, humil, transformation, lactation

Maggie knelt in the grass, behind the white picket fences that
marked the boundaries of the clinic, and grazed on the lawn. She
was accustomed by now to the taste of grass, but she had never
learned to enjoy it. Each time her head dipped to tear out
another mouthful, her massive breasts crushed against the ground.
It was a painful sensation: even when she'd been milked recently,
there was always pressure building up inside her now.  But the
pain was accompanied by a pleasant tickle in her teats as they
scraped along the grass. The loud clanking of the cowbell
attached to her collar accompanied every move she made.

It was a sunny day, and much of the staff was outdoors, milling
about or working with the animals. No one took much notice of
Maggie, though she was recognizably a naked human female, albeit
a very large one.  Maggie had the impression that the clinic
workers were uncomfortable around her, and preferred to pretend
she wasn't there.  But lately she didn't care much whether anyone
paid attention to her or not.

It had been much longer than six months since Maggie had been fed
the full dose of the drug that had transformed her, and its
effects showed no sign at all of wearing off. If anything, Maggie
had become even more cowlike over the course of her time at the
clinic. She had given up hoping for anything.

A minibus of grade school children, on a field trip to see the
animals at the clinic and its attached farm, pulled up on the
road outside the fence. Paul's pretty young assistant, dressed in
the silly farmer's daughter outfit that she wore for the public,
met the children at the van's door and gathered them into a
group. Maggie gave an involuntary moo as she chewed. She knew
this routine. She had never grasped how desperate Paul's business
was for funds until she inadvertently became one of its main
attractions.

The children were led onto the lawn and formed a circle around
Maggie. In complete contrast to the staff, who averted their gaze
whenever they passed her, the children stared with wide open eyes
and mouths.  Maggie didn't feel like giving them a show, but she
couldn't stop herself from eating grass when she was hungry. And
she was always hungry.

"Is she happy?" asked a girl.

"Yes, she is," said the assistant. "This is the life she wanted."
Maggie wearily mooed her disapproval.

"She's got a pretty face," said another girl.

"Can we pet her?" asked a boy.

"Yes, but be gentle," said the assistant. The children edged
toward Maggie, and one after another put their hands on her pink,
plump body. Maggie mooed, but knew it was no use. The children's
shyness was starting to wear off; one bold little girl wrapped a
hand around Maggie's left teat and yanked.

"Moooo!" yelled Maggie, still chewing.

"Don't do that, children," said the assistant.

"Why are her breasts so big?" asked the bold girl.

"Because she gives us milk, just like all the other cows." said
the assistant. "And she prefers that you call them udders, not
breasts." Maggie mooed in disgust.  Everyone at the clinic knew
perfectly well what had happened to her, and yet they had all
gradually adopted the comforting belief that she had transformed
herself on purpose.

"Stop it! Stop that right now!" said the assistant in a harsh
tone. Two mischievous little boys had gotten behind Maggie and
were poking a long blade of grass up into her private parts,
causing her to bellow in dismay.

"It's almost time to visit the creamery and get a treat," said
the assistant, wanting to end the visit before the children
became too unruly. "Who wants their picture taken with Maggie
before we go?"

"Me, me!" screamed the children. The bold girl ran up to Maggie
first and put her arm around her neck.  Maggie wasn't interested
in the photo opportunity, and kept grazing.

"If you want her to look up, put your thumb in the soft spot
under her chin, and push hard," said the assistant. "Don't worry,
you won't hurt her."  The bold little girl followed the
instructions with enthusiasm, getting a bellow of pain from
Maggie but forcing her to pose.  One after another, the children
took their place beside Maggie for a picture, forcing her to look
at the camera.

"Can I get on her back for my picture?" asked one of the
mischievous boys.

"All right, but be quick," said the assistant. The boy
leapfrogged onto Maggie's bare back and straddled her happily. In
his excitement, the boy dug his shoes deep into Maggie's
milk-filled tits.  Maggie's moos were horrible, but the assistant
thought it best to let the boy do what he wanted and get the
picture taken quickly.

The children were led away to the creamery for an ice cream,
leaving Maggie alone again in the field, grazing dejectedly. In
the afternoon, two stable boys attached a rope to Maggie's
collar, pulled her up onto her hands and feet (a strenuous task),
and led her off to the barn for the evening.

In her stall, Maggie was tethered and pulled up onto a wooden
block that supported her arms so that her back was level. The
stable boys, who were in fact grown men, proceeded to wash her
with sudsy, lukewarm water (Maggie could somehow getting pretty
dirty when left outside to graze) and brush her down.  While they
worked, they amused themselves by making incredibly vulgar and
debasing comments about Maggie, seemingly unaware or unconcerned
that she could understand everything they said.

Peter, wearing a lab coat and weary from an unproductive day with
potential investors, entered the barn with a clipboard in his
hand and walked over to Maggie's stall.  He had gotten out of the
habit of addressing Maggie directly over the months, and Maggie
too no longer bothered lifting her head from her feed bin when he
visited.

After inspecting Maggie for a few seconds, Peter asked the stable
boys, "Did you take a stool sample?"

"Not yet," said the older of the two, scrubbing Maggie without
concern for the tenderness of the parts he was working on.

"You're supposed to take it first thing," said Peter coldly.

"We'll get it," said the younger man.

"Andy took a stool sample last night," said the grinning older
man. "You can just scrape it off his condom."

"That's the only place you can get any traction on her," said
Andy with a smile. "She's got a twat like a horsecollar."

"See, for some of us that's no problem," said the older man.
"She's just the right size for me."

"Shut up! Shut up, both of you!" yelled Peter shrilly. The men
stopped talking, but smiled at each other. They didn't seem to
take Peter very seriously. "I don't want to hear anything like
that ever again.  She was my girlfriend, for Christ's sake."
Peter removed his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief.

Peter's blonde assistant walked briskly into the stable and stood
by Peter's side. The stable boys began to move more quickly when
they saw her.  The blonde looked down at Maggie's udders.

"She needs milking," said the girl.

"We're supposed to take a stool sample first," said the older
stable boy.

"Oh, that's not important, is it?" asked the girl, looking at
Peter. He continued to clean his glasses and didn't respond.
"We'll take her into the milking room," said the blonde to the
men. "You take care of Ginger for now, and finish up with Maggie
later."

The men left off brushing Maggie and went to groom a real cow.
The assistant untethered Maggie, pulled her off her block, and
led her to the milking machine, with Peter following. When they
were out of earshot of the stable boys, she whispered excitedly
in Peter's ear, "I talked to the Japanese."

"Carla..." said Peter.

"I think they'll take her," said Carla, expertly attaching
Maggie's teats to the milking machine and switching the unit on.

"No, Carla, no. I refuse," said Peter wearily.

Carla pulled Peter away to one side of the room as Maggie's milk
began to spurt into the machine's tubes. They weren't quite out
of Maggie's hearing, but it was difficult to be careful about
that all the time. "Peter, we're talking real money here! Do you
realize what we can do with that money?" she said.

"But the drug might still wear off," said Peter. "I can't
just..."

"Darling, we're not doing anything to help her at this point,"
said Carla, putting her hands on Peter's shoulders. "And you've
accomplished so much with this clinic! If we can just get the
money to keep it going, I have such faith in what you can do with
it!" She pulled Peter down into a passionate kiss, not too
concerned about Maggie, who could see them plainly.

Peter returned the kiss, but turned Carla sideways, so he could
stare at Maggie while kissing her. Without breaking the kiss,
Carla immediately grabbed Peter by the hair and pulled his head
down so he couldn't see Maggie anymore.

For Maggie, the drama of treacherous lovers, and even the
prospect of being sold off to the Japanese, meant less to her at
that moment than the exquisite ache in her teats as the machine
manipulated them, sometimes brutally, sometimes teasingly. This
indescribable feeling was what she lived for now; it was by far
the most pleasurable sensation that her strange new life had to
offer. She mooed softly, looked down at the vast, pink curves of
her tortured udders, and felt the hot buzz in her face and neck
that signalled the slow arrival of an orgasm, the first of the
milking session.
