Comfy strained against the weight of his own breasts as he heaved the filled buckets into the air. It had been a couple years now since his 'incident' with Summer Solstice, and while with the aid of the farm he'd been employed under he'd been able to recover most of his mental faculties - though not all, it had to be said - other certain biological alterations remained impermeable. Namely, in this instance, his crotch-tits. He'd always had teats to go along with his boy-pussy before the change, but they'd swollen to the size of proper milk sloshers when he'd been turned into a stupid, mooing colt-sow.

Now that he was back to living a semi-normal life, they provided as much fun and pleasure as they did annoyance. Such as today, where the way they loudly sloshed and plapped against his thighs made the task of transferring milk much more of a pain. But here at least, in charge of the female and cunt-boy cows, he didn't need to worry about relapsing. The smell of their fertile juices, especially when in heat, would always get him more hot under the cowbell, but unlike bull musk it didn't send him into full on estrus.

After he'd recovered over several long months of re-training his addled brain, undergoing magical procedures, and taking psychological and physiological tests, the farm had re-employed him. He wouldn't be a simple milk maid though, not with his new productive bovine features. Breeding and impregnation proved too much of a risk to his fragile mental state, but they could still extract milk from him as part of his job. He got a not so inconsiderable cut of the profits from his own milk too, which was nice. The milking process itself however could sometimes have him going back to dumb, slutty moos, but it would end once the extraction did, so no harm to his long-term well being was chanced.

Clamped between his teeth, he set down the two buckets filled to the brim with fresh cream. In its proper station, it would await the unicorn employees to bottle it more efficiently. The whole routine was streamlined like that, ponies selected for the role that would best suit the assembly line, so to speak.

And with that done, so too was his first shift. His second was to attend to the cows themselves, make sure they were all doing well, eating as they should, being happy and stupid as they were meant to.

Outside of the barn interior, the early afternoon sun warmed his gentle pink fur. His tufted tail swished happily behind him, and he made his way to the fields.

When he arrived, he froze, wings asplay and wide-eyed. There, mere feet separated from him was the bull who had claimed him all that time ago. She was in the midst of burying herself nuts-deep into a plump cow-snatch, one he recognized as a former co-worker of his.

A million questions ran through his head. What was she doing here? Who let her out? Bulls weren't scheduled for mate-pairing until next month. Had Summer gotten herself out?

Those questions, useless, fell by the wayside when the bull noticed him. Her nostrils flared before her eyes moved, head turned. The first thing she recognized about him was his scent, still familiar after all that time.

He tried to run, or fly, but when he could finally will himself to move his damned tits got in the way. And then she was on top of him, huffing and slavering lustily. He tried to push her off, tried not to breathe in her feral stink, but he knew it was no use.

Before he could process what was happening, Summer's face was above his boobs and her crotch dripping sweat and liquid musk onto his face. He could only hold his breath for so long, and once she aimed and plunged her hoof-thick fuckstick downwards to fill his gullet that effort was rendered in vain. The untainted air was driven from his lungs, leaving his choice for breath singular in purpose - to fry his brain and turn him back into livestock, possibly forever.

But, the first intake soothed his worries. Why was he so afraid of that anyway? Sure, this hung, virile, gorgeous, perfect, amazing, wonderful bull was now battering his face with her overbloated floor-dragging balls, raping his throat with her ungodly monstrous bullcock, suckling and biting at his teats and gulping his milk. But why did he not want that? It felt good.

Instinctively, he half-mooed, half-moaned around her girth. Getting his puppies drained had that effect, and it felt that much better when his mate, his lover, his bull-goddess was doing it.

He fell into a natural rhythm quite quickly. His eyes fluttered closed - no point in having them open while she brutally slammed her beanbag ballsack against his skull. He pursed his pouty lips, vacuum-sealed them around her maremeat, hollowed out his cheeks, and lashed his tongue about feverishly where he could.

It didn't take long before Summer was unloading her own special brand of cream right into his tummy. She'd already been about to knock up another sow, who in the meantime had crawled over to the 69'ing couple to paw at the ground impatiently, waiting for her turn. Summer snorted at the intruder, tipping her head forward massive horns included to tell her to back off. In bovine language she made it known, this was her cow, and she'd get around to everypony else when she was done with him.

He hadn't a chance of keeping her climax down. It was positively volcanic, just the first shot alone visibly ballooning his tummy. The second expanded it further, third more, and fourth he couldn't keep down. It spilled and burst through the seal between his lips and her cock, splattering his face, Summer's swingers, and the ground with fuckreeking bullslop. More, more, more, more, more, until he grew so big his cumbelly forced Summer off of him.

And just like that, after nipping his ear and kissing him goodnight, he fell into blissful unconsciousness. Through his drowsy gaze, past the pink wall of his gut, he could see however barely his mate mounting the other cow again. He smiled, mooed, and fell asleep. He'd be lucky if he managed to recover again, but honestly?

He didn't want to.

Author's Note

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