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As absurd as the concepts of hucows and ponygirls are, I tried to take them quite seriously, to delve in the psychology of a hucow or a ponygirl and her owner, in search of what these admittedly strange fetishes mean, 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.
All kinds of feedback are appreciated, especially those about grammar, as English is not my first language. Also, if you decide to give me a low score, please, take a minute of your time and tell me in a comment what you did not like! Thanks!
14. Breaking news
In the following months, Fudge was finally broken. Her training was as backbreaking as Ava was inflexible. At the end of her sessions, especially in the first weeks, an exhausted pony, badly sore from the whippings, often found herself lying on the mat, staring at Ava both intimidated and pleading, until her horse breaker knelt beside her, still looking at the pony with a mixture of disappointment and encouragement, and fucked her with her hand, not diverting her cold stern eyes from the girl’s for one second.
“One day you will please me, I promise.” she often said, or “This will be your fuel!”
Then, gradually, she began to open her legs from time to time and sit on the pony’s face, letting the pony eat her pussy. Fudge worked really hard on her vagina, as if it could compensate her shortcomings in her training.
Ava, on her part, let her have a modicum of control on the act only at the beginning, and usually, after a minute or so, she started rocking back and forth with her pelvis, rubbing her pussy all over Fudge’s face: she was riding her pony. And she was committed to this imagery too: on top of those she got every day because of the training, Fudge’s body acquired new welts from the crop also during sex. In general Ava seemed to care very little about the young girl’s comfort when she fucked her that way. This notwithstanding, after a couple of weeks, the horse breaker was able to dangle her own pussy as a reward, only rarely being the active partner herself. For the life of me, I could not figure out what she had between her legs to achieve such an impressive influence on girls.
I, of course, was interested in only one girl in particular: even though Cupcake had stated that she did not like Ava anymore, after our snooping, she tried to lure her back. With a huge effort, I agreed to help, by parading our mended relationship in front of the woman, without any result. One day we found out why:
“Stop looking at me like that, Cupcake. I’m fucking only Fudge.” she hissed, exasperated.
So it had not been our fight what had driven her away! It had been all Fudge’s fault, if you could call it that way. Fortunately, Cupcake did not take it as bad as the first time. Actually, she shrugged it away, managing to piss me off and make me happy at the same time. She explained later that she was just interested in the sex.
At night, more frequently the first weeks and then progressively more sporadically, we would often hear Fudge’s muffled crying from her enclosure, where she had to spend her free time all alone. We did not have much contact with her, but we all still wanted to do something. We did not know what, until Cream Pie revealed to us that she had been a cheerleader for a while and had come up with an idea.
So, one night, at the beginning of her second week with us, Fudge was distracted from her own misery by three cows mooing “We are the champions” and doing cheerleader moves with pompoms, made by inserting straws in the holes in their hooves that hosted their fingers. The next day, she hugged all of us before our gym session, making Ava frown and whip us all. Little by little, our performances grew more involved and Fudge would clap with her hooves and whinny happily. They had separated us, but we became a team nonetheless.
A big part in making her life better was played by her relationship with Penelope. After a few weeks, she started to visit her horse every day. Aidan’s wife would sit in the hay with her and praise her for her accomplishments, with much more generosity than Ava, or sometimes play the disappointed mentor when she failed, albeit, once again, in a gentler and more understanding way than the horse breaker. She consoled her pony and encourage her until one day Fudge gave Penelope a timid, tender kiss on the lips. That day Penelope brought her in one of the free breeding rooms and, we guessed, she fucked her pony’s brains out, because when Fudge was back, she had an endearing dreamy look.
Some time after she had started to be Penelope’s personal pet, Fudge began to be pimped out too. I could see that she was scared by it, but also determined to do well in order to please her owner, so in the ankara eve gelen escort end she adjusted well to her breeding duties. I guessed that pleasing the authority was a big part of her personality, considering how she had got in trouble with performance-enhancing drugs in college. According to the little I knew about her, she was the embodiment of the stereotype of the overzealous Asian but, after all, this is the whole deal with stereotypes: they give you the wrong impression of knowing all you need about somebody you hardly ever met. Indeed, the stereotype would have never predicted her sluttiness, which I doubted was to blame only on the hormones or whatever they put in her food to make her so horny.
I could sympathize with her: I knew all too well what it felt to do the inconceivable for love. In spite of myself, I began to understand and approve what Ava and Penelope were doing to Fudge. Penelope was not really selling her lies, even though that was what she had intended to do at the beginning. Indeed, as time passed, it became clear what Ava had meant when she had put Penelope in her place, during their secret conversation. It was pretty obvious that the woman was not faking anymore with Fudge. She was destroying her marriage all by herself. Aidan was not even annoyed by the amount of time she was spending with her pony and that was a wonderful sign: I just had to wait now and he would be mine!
As the situation evolved, so did the pony. She became increasingly committed in her training, bordering on obsessed. She also became more confident: Ava would sometimes tease her with sarcasm, having a dig with her, until, one day, she jumped down off the trotmill and jabbed her fore-hooves into her chest out of anger, shoving her on the mat next to it. We were appalled by that attack and feared the worst for our pony friend. To our utter bewilderment, Ava yelled instead:
“Yes! Finally, Fudge! That’s the wild horse I want, that’s my champion!”
Fudge was almost as petrified by her gesture as we were, so, when Ava got up again and began kissing her, she just stood there, unable to move. It did not last long, because a few moments later, the horse breaker was fucking her hard on the mat.
After that episode, their relationship changed. It became more physical and somewhat violent. Ava encouraged all of that, repeating that a frisky horse was a winning horse. Soon, the pony did not need our encouragement anymore. On the contrary, she appeared to be thoroughly enjoying her days, becoming more restless and competitive.
“She wants out.” Ava told Penelope proudly “She needs wind gusting through her mane. She’s a wild horse now, she’s not meant to live in a stable.”
“Soon, my dear.” promised Penelope scratching her mane “I bought a carriage for us. We will have such amazing rides in the fields!”
A carriage? I mooed quizzically at my fellow cows. While Cream Pie was flabbergasted as me, Cupcake nodded with a smile, assuring us that it was possible. We just needed to wait and see.
The arrival of Fudge, brought somehow a wind of change in everybody at the farm, besides Penelope and Ava.
Contrarily to anyone’s belief and, quite frankly, any signs from her, Kam had managed to get date with Daria, Ava’s friend. As he told an astonished Aaron, while we all pretended to sleep, he had found out during the party that, in order to succeed, he had just to be himself. An unprecedented discovery, I might add. Apparently, after her umpteenth sneering quip about his attempts to impress her, he had given up by grumbling something along the lines of “You’re just like this bunch of assholes.”. She had took offense and demanded an explanation. Kam had replied that everyone there felt better than him just because he was not rich, to which she retorted that she was in the same league as him: a lot of the guests had admired her while she was a pony and now they would not even look at her. After that, a long, earnest conversation had ensued and… Well, he had done it!
So we began to see a lot more of Daria around. Her excuse was that she was visiting her friend Ava, but her intentions were clear from the fact that she was always around when Kam was about to finish his shift. The craziest part was that Daria did not mind about Kam having fun with us, albeit that happened much less frequently now. She even asked him if they could have a threesome with us cows. We were all invited exactly once, just for the fun of trying us all, I assume. I had to admit that Daria knew very well how to please a woman. The sex I had with her and her boyfriend was amazing. I also found out, tattooed on her lower back, her ponygirl name: “Cunt Loose”. I had found it hilarious, and she had appreciated.
Aaron’s social life, as it so often happens, took a hit after Kam’s feat. He hanged with us even more. On one hand, it was nice, because you could tell that now gaziantep escort he deeply cared about us, to the point that I started to consider him a friend. On the other hand, I felt a bit sorry for him and, on a more selfish note, I was a little disappointed that he did not fuck us as he had used to anymore, and when he did, he had a clear preference for Cream Pie.
As for us cows, Cupcake’s confession about her past, pushed us to talk more about our previous lives. Nothing fancy or deep at first, just little details as, for example, our birthdays. Cupcake’s was on May, while Cream Pie’s was in November, the same date she had tattooed on her biceps. Caught by the cheerful atmosphere, I joshed her a little about it: I brought my fore-hoof to my chin, miming someone pondering about a hard question, then I pretended to have a sudden inspiration and, after tapping her tattoo, I blew air around as if there was a birthday cake in front of me. All this to say something like “did you need a tattoo to remember your own birthday?”. She gave me a wry smile and I immediately knew that there was something wrong. Indeed, she explained to us that one of her friends had overdosed during her seventeenth wild birthday party. I wished the ground would open and swallow me. I clumsily apologized and tried to show my sympathy, but Cream Pie did not seem offended and ended up assuaging me, when it was probably supposed to be the other way around.
Apart from that, the rest of our conversations were much lighter. We found out, for example, that Cupcake’s favorite food was chocolate chip cookies. To tell us that, she put stray on the floor to form a circle and patiently pushed her dreads from under it so that they stuck out only with their tips, to represent the chips. With a crunching sound made by her mouth, we understood immediately.
One of those days in which Fudge was crying, she asked us if we were happy, lingering on me for a little longer. Cream Pie told us that now she felt safe and was glad that she was far away from drugs. She also added that we were the best friends she ever had, making us moo in a very “get out of here!” way. Somehow I had the feeling that she was withholding something.
Anyway, I said that I was very happy, for I was in love with my man and also I enjoyed being a cow and the simple life it meant and, last but not least, because it allowed me to spend my time with Cupcake and Cream Pie. We were interrupted by Fudge’s sobs and we decided to do our little show. When we went back to sleep, Cream Pie dozed off immediately between my legs, her head resting on my tummy. She liked that sort of sofa position. I and Cupcake remained awake for a while longer, allowing me to ask her if she was happy. She thought about it, then looked at me with a shy smile and tapped us both, nodding afterwards. I was happy too, knowing that we were together, but, as she kissed me tenderly, I could not help but wonder if she had just evaded my question.
After the dam had been broken, we all soon learned much more personal things about the others. All of them required many sleeping hours spent in careful and painstaking miming, but we did not mind. We had plenty of time for napping during the day anyway. Apparently Cream Pie had tried to get clean after her friend’s death, without results. The problem was, she kept gravitating around addicts, partly because most of them were her friends and partly because she sold drugs for money, being already deep in debt with the people who provided her with the product. Her modeling job had been an attempt to break the cycle by raising cash without being tempted all day long to trash all her progress in recovery.
Cupcake understood addiction, because her dad was himself addicted to something, even though it was not a substance, but gambling. He had always enjoyed it, but a vice had slowly become a real problem, until, one day, she overheard her parents discussing the danger the family was in. She had stepped in the room, demanding more explanations and had fought with her dad. He had wanted to make a last bet, financed with a scam, and try to win big, but she and her mother were convinced, of course, that it was the stupidest idea ever. Enraged, he had provoked Cupcake by asking if she had a better idea to milk that kind of money out of someone fast. She knew all about hucows, her parents being both enthusiasts of pet play, and that choice of words had given her the idea. Her mom tried to convince her otherwise, but her dad agreed that it was a good idea and so she had gone through with it. In four years, she would be able to repay all of their debts. Cream Pie asked her if she would be out in four years, then, and she answered that she would probably go back to being a human a little after, just to have some savings once she was back in the outside world.
On my part, I was asked by Cupcake about my love story with Aidan. Cream Pie seemed to be very ankara gerçek resimli escort curious too, finding it quite romantic. So I told them how I slowly found myself madly in love with him, how I was supposed to run the farm (which made both of them moo surprised) and about my failed attempt at stealing him from Penelope. When I arrived to the point in which I convinced Aidan to make me his hucow and not give up on our love, Cream Pie wanted to know if he had fought the idea. So, I explained that he had not taken me seriously at first and that I had had to convince him, albeit without much effort, as he was really into hucows.
It was perhaps this moment of reflection on our pasts that prompted us to think about our lives in general, between the distractions of our day to day life. I often found Cream Pie and Cupcake staring blankly at the prefab office, perhaps because it was the most beige and thus the less distracting item in the barn. If possible, I grew even closer with Cupcake, to the point that she had begun to intrude a little in my private moments with Aidan on her own accord. I did not mind though: as I said, I wanted them to grow closer too. Moreover, after the debacle with Ava, I had the impression that she was feeling lonely again.
For what concerned me, the idea that in three years and a half Cupcake would be gone, made me muse about my progress with Aidan. Would I have to be a cow without her? Or would it be vice versa? If I stopped being a cow before she did, I would become her farmer, and it would have to be different between us. On the other hand, it was hard to imagine my life without her around all the time. So, when one day Aidan was complaining in bed about Penelope, I asked him what was going on with his marriage, mooing quizzically as I licked his wedding band.
“Ah, I don’t know, really. It seems that she has eyes only for Fudge now, but I’m in no position to criticize, am I?” he replied, smiling at me.
“Sometimes I wonder if it makes any sense, you know, marriage and all. We were happy once, but then things in life got in the middle. We could not have children, for example. Our careers kept getting in the way of our love and she has grown bitter in the last few years, always dealing with her clients.” he explained.
I mooed my very biased agreement.
“I keep thinking that if our relationship had been about the simple things, like the one I have with you, we would have never grown apart.” he went on, chuckling in the end “Maybe I’m not made to be with women, maybe I’m made to be with cows!”
I assumed my cutest curious expression, as if I asked “cows like who?”, mooing at him from upside down, on his lap. He kissed me lovingly. Then, all of a sudden, as if he had had an epiphany, he became serious and raised my head. My heart started to beat fast. He took my left hoof in his hands and knelt on the floor beside the bed. Holy cow!
“I’ve just had the craziest idea.” he whispered “I don’t know what is going to happen with Penelope, but fuck that. Our relationship has made me happy like I’ve never been, it’s perfect, you are what I need, a wonderful, cute cow and I don’t want this to ever end. So, no matter what happens, will you be my cow forever? I mean, until you stop producing milk?”
I brought my fore-hooves to my mouth, gasping. Then, with tears running copious on my cheeks, I mooed loudly yes and hugged him. He was practically marrying me! No, better, because he did not believe in marriage anymore, but he did believe in the relationship between a cow and her farmer! I was so happy! He was too: he lifted me, grabbing my hindquarters, and kissed me passionately. Beside my fellow cows, he was the only one who did not just use my mouth for fucking. He usually flipped my bull ring when he wanted to kiss me, but this time he kept it there, I guessed for symbolic reasons. His tongue danced around it, while mine met it through the hoop, sometimes getting stuck with the tongue stud. Somehow all these complications made it all more exciting.
I was having these thoughts when he shoved me violently on the bed, but I was ready for him: exploiting my momentum, I pulled my hind legs towards my shoulders and blocked them there with my forelegs. From that position I saw his magnificent cock, as swollen as ever, rise as a purple sun between my enormous udders, which concealed most of my body. I mooed lewdly like the cow I was. Aidan’s eyes were ravaging me and with a salvage grin he tugged mercilessly my tail out, sending a shock-wave of pain through my body. I welcomed it: he would fuck me in the ass, because that was the cow’s way. He pushed my hind legs further apart and shove his member in my still aching fuck-hole. I wanted to kiss him again, but I knew that he was just making his way to my udders, so that he could milk me and bring me to climax that way. Soon I found myself mooing in ecstasy. His rhythmic pounding moved my whole body back and forth, so that the nipple that he held in his motionless mouth only through suction was continuously pulled to and fro, making me go crazy.
I came shortly after him, knowing that I had done it, I had won, he did not even care about what was going to happen with Penelope, I was the only certain thing in his life now!
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