Making a Herd. A short story about bull transformation and virilization

 This is an excellent transformation story with a somewhat slow pace, but ends with a hot buildup of rapid musclegrowth, beastly sexual urges, eating sperm, and forced sperm milking. Tell me what you think in the comments section, with your favorite parts, and what you wish to see more of in the future.

 

Making a Herd
Written by Leo_Todrius
Commissioned by Panzermaus
Based on "Making an Ass" commissioned by Canine80

A warm afternoon wind blew across the well groomed pasture land, the green grass contouring to the gentle hilly slopes before running up to the golden yellow and orange leaves of the maple trees clustered into groves. It was a marvelous view, one that had earned the Golden Groves cattle ranch its name. Summer had been particularly rewarding to the ranch, its owner managing to turn a profit despite a tough economy. While Texas was experiencing a terrible drought and selling off many herds, other states were faring better and holding in there... and Simon was particularly glad that he had the luxury of staying afloat in hard times. The owner leaned against one of the many fence posts cordoning off the area for the livestock to graze, watching the herd in silent appreciation.

While there were many cattle farms in the states, few bred Belgian Blue cows, known to most around the world as super cows or monster cows due to their inordinate size. While colored black and white like the stereotypical bovine, they usually stood as tall as the farmers that raised them and weighed a metric tonne. Their nicknames hadn't merely come from their height and weight though; Belgian Blues were unique in one particular way, their double muscling. Every bull hulked around with excessive muscle and practically no fat, covered in incredibly lean meat. It was a unique breed for a unique man.

It was no shock that Simon had decided to go into the cattle business; his ancestors had worked with cows since coming to America. He even had a bit of the cowboy look about him. At twenty eight years old, he still cut a fine lean figure in his black pointed toe cowboy boots, well worn blue jeans and tight white wife beater tank top that clung to the muscles on his chest and arms. In the winter and fall he often wore a denim jacket or a plaid shirt, but the weather was warm enough that he liked feeling the wind on his hot muscles. In addition to the clothes, Simon looked the part. His brown hair was kept pretty short, his blue eyes were as deep as the skies above the pasture and his cheeks were covered with short but dense stubble. His hands showed the calluses of a man who worked from sun up to sun down, trying to do right by his herd... and that was what had brought him out to watch them eat, contemplating the strange events from the previous several days.

Simon leaned more against the fence, listening to the moos of his herd, thinking about how he had been roped into meeting with a college student from the state's capital about the future of his farm. He'd been hesitant at first, but there was something about the call that captivated him... the more he'd listened to the caller, the more he wanted to meet this 'Colton' fellow. He still couldn't quite shake the feeling. What he was offering was too good to be true... using the herd he had to increase his profit margins ten, even twenty fold in the first month of production without having to slaughter them. As much of a cowboy as Simon was, the idea of having to slaughter them had never sat right with him.

The cowboy's deliberations were interrupted as he heard an old truck rumbling up in the distance. He would have just enough time to get to the house by the time it got there. As Simon turned and left the field, many of the Belgian Blues turned their heads, letting out murrs as they watched their owner depart. Simon crossed the grassy fields, moving past the long barn as he saw the old orange truck pulling off the road. It was an old one, but it had been well loved and seemed in great condition. Simon had always admired men who took good care of classic cars... though as the driver stepped out, he was even less sure of everything that had lead up to the meeting.

The driver, Colton, was a young man eight years Simon's junior, no more than twenty years old. His black hair was buzzed on the sides, though the Mohawk he possessed was completely relaxed and hung off to one side, hanging down to his jaw line. Streaks of the hair had been bleached to a rich orangey color. A three inch goatee hung from his chin, the tip of that also bleached to the same color. He wore a tight black shirt and baggy black jeans, the boots he wore seeming much boxier in the toes, at least the bit of the boots that extended past the long cuffs. He even seemed to wear black mesh biker's gloves, his fingers exposed to the air past the material. Simon was completely taken back by the aesthetic. Before approaching Simon, Colton reached into the back of his truck and pulled out an aluminum keg, setting it down on the gravel before he advanced.

"Simon Graves?" Colton asked. Simon gave a big nod. If he had owned a cowboy hat, the gesture would have been even more fitting.

"You must be Colton." Simon said, looking the young punk over again. Colton came to a stop before Simon, offering his hand. Simon took it, surprised but appreciative by the strength in Colton's hand. Simon glanced over to the keg, "So, is that the stuff that's going to revolutionize my bank statement?" Simon asked. Colton nodded with a grin.

"Yes. The future, Minomilk. I brought you the retail version that goes national next month. It's not too strong, but if everything goes right you'll be the first one to produce the extra strength Minomilk." Colton said. Simon moved over, getting a grip of the handle on the keg before hoisting it up.

"Well, let's go inside. I'll have a glass or two, give it a try, listen to what you have to say." Simon said. Colton grinned wide, his flat teeth practically sparkling.

"That's all I could hope for." Colton said. Simon gave another nod before heading toward the house, Colton falling into step with Simon.

"So how did you get into the business of making a new kind of dairy drink?" Simon asked, moving up the steps and across the porch, opening the door to the house.

"Well farm life has always been close to my heart. Donkeys, horses, bulls, goats..." Colton said, "But I've always enjoyed the pleasure people can get when they drink something so tasty that it changes their life forever, and with a few farmer friends I was able to innovate ways to share that joy with others. It's been pretty popular, starting at several colleges." Colton explained as he entered the house.

"Sort of like Facebook? Universities first, then the world?" Simon asked.

"One can only hope." Colton grinned. Simon moved to set the keg on the kitchen island, moving to get two glasses. Simon came back around, moving a glass beneath the nozzle. He opened it up and thick white cream spilled out, swirling around. The scent was musky, nutty, almost spiced. Simon was impressed.

"So it's served warm?" he asked in surprise, "I would have expected cold... Milk, beer, people usually go for cold."

"I thought so at first too, but the natural flavors come out when it's warm and that just seems natural to those who drink it. They just love getting it from the tap fresh and warm." Colton said. Simon gave another nod, handing Colton the first glass before filling the second for himself. Once it was full, he gestured to the tall wood stools at the kitchen island. Colton moved to settle himself on one, smiling as Simon sat down at the other.

"Well, here's to trying new things." Simon said, offering his glass. Colton brought his to Simon's in a toast before watching Simon tip it back. The creamy contents spilled over the lip to the glass and over Simon's lips, the musky flavor blooming across his senses at once. It was a bit thicker than ordinary milk and the flavors were so robust that it caught the cowboy off guard. He savored the flavor, holding it on his tongue before he swallowed. Even that was blissful, feeling the cream slide down his throat like velvet. A dull, warm feeling began spreading through his body.

"So, what do you think?" Colton asked excitedly.

"That's damn good stuff... I thought you might have been full of bull hockey from all the amazing things you said, but this really is a revolution of taste..." Simon murmured.

"I'm full of many things, but not hockey." Colton chuckled, "And this is just the light version. If you sign up, we'll have you making stuff that is a lot stronger..." Colton said. Simon was about to ask if it was addictive, but there was a nagging urge at the back of his mind to merely push past his concerns. He finished the rest of his glass before sighing with delight, leaning over to fill it again... After all, he had grabbed the small glasses by mistake. He had to be sure that it was good enough to devote to, and that necessitated a bigger sample... Simon tipped back his second glass, letting tit spill into his mouth and swallowing it. Colton watched with a smile on his face, the cowboy's adam's apple bobbing as the Minomilk flowed down.

****

Simon murmured, rolling over in bed, his head pounding a bit. He pulled his blanket down, letting the cooler air wash over his muscles. They felt tight, not quite sore, but as if they had gotten a good workout. Then again, that made since. In the three days since Colton had visited, Simon had gotten more done than he had in the previous three weeks. His stamina was great, his strength seemed better and he just wanted to push through any obstacle. It had been amazing stuff, and Colton had assured him that it was high in protein... Not only that, but it tasted so good that Simon couldn't get enough. Colton had left the keg but that had been grained on the second day... but Simon knew he wouldn't have to wait much longer.

The sounds of the Minomilk team putting all their equipment in place drifted through the morning air. It felt incredibly odd to Simon to leave his farm in the hands of others, but at the same time they had done wonders at several farms across the country and Colton just seemed so trustworthy. Still, Simon was reaching the limit of his capacity to wait. Between his curiosity for how his farm had been changed and his desire for more Minomilk, he could wait no longer. He pulled on his tight jeans, finding them tighter than ever before pulling on his tight boots. He moved over to his closet, pulling out a blue t-shirt. Simon tried pulling it on, but the collar wouldn't make it down his neck right and the shirt was squeezing his shoulders too tightly before it was even on all the way.

"Fucking shirt shrunk..." Simon muttered in dismay, tugging it off again. He tried another shirt, much to the same outcome before finally pulling on a stretched out wife beater. Even that was snug, but at least his shoulders weren't being crushed. Simon looked over at the empty keg longingly before heading out of his room and down the stairs, moving out of the farm house. A glance around the farm didn't reveal anything catastrophically wrong. Many of the cows were grazing in the field, though feeding troughs had been set up and buckets of a nutrient feed had been stacked at one of the end of the barn. Throw the narrow horizontal slat windows into the barn, Simon could see that equipment had been hooked up inside. He had anticipated as much, it was milk after all.

One of the heavy duty trucks was pulling out and Simon gave a wave to them. They both seemed to be a bit punk themselves, relaxed Mohawks sticking up from their heads and hanging down along their neck line. It almost seemed like the manes he'd seen on some horses and donkeys before, but Simon pushed that from his thoughts. He moved up to the end of his barn, looking in. Stainless steel machines had been hooked up to the walls and then to each other, clear tubes running down into the pens. White liquid was already moving up the tubes, being collected. Simon was a bit intimidated, he was sure he had a lot to learn about homogenizing and sterilizing. He wandered along slowly, though as he came to a stop, he wasn't sure why at first. Something was wrong. After a long moment, the reason why hit him like a ton of bricks. The animals in all the pens were males, bulls... but... the machines were getting milk?

Simon was overwhelmed by confusion. Had everything he knew about cows been a lie? He moved up to one stall and threw it open, moving in. The bull was gyrating gently, not reacting to his presence. The cowboy saw the tube running to the machine on the wall and followed it down, under the legs of the bull... and to his massive shaft. Simon froze in disbelief, blinking his eyes, trying to do a double take. Every time he opened his eyes, the tube remained in place. The mechanism over the bull cock was partly transparent and partly obscured, but there was certain movement... Squeezing, rubbing, tugging. It seemed to attend to every point of stimulation on the bull, and his heavy bull balls seemed to be ushering forth an incredibly steady, long lasting flow of sperm.

The cowboy backed out of the stall and moved to the next. It had to be a fluke; some farm hand was doing things too quickly and mistook a bull for a heifer or cow... but every stall he moved into, it was the same thing... Every stall held a bull, a bull being milked... for a very different kind of milk. Simon backed up, leaning against the railing of one of the stalls, his mind spinning. Had it been based on bull cum all this time, or was it a scam? What if they were coming to make their own army of Belgian Blue bulls? Why did the barn smell so good? Simon all but groaned, confusion reaching tantamount.

Noises from outside filtered into Simon, bringing him out of his chaos. The workers were coming. Simon glanced around before spotting an empty stall. Simon moved and all but dove into it, easing the door shut just before the workers entered the barn. He peered out through the cracks, watching their boots walk by, listening as they moved up to one of the other stalls. They unlocked it, moving in to turn off the machine and bring the cow out to graze.

"What a good guy you've been, that was fantastic." One farm hand said affectionately.

"These are all good stock... and I'm sure their milk is going to be great too, best batch of Minomilk ever." The other replied. Simon contemplated. They really were 'milking' them for the Minomilk...

"Well, Colton already knew it was going to be. He said that this rancher is one of the best out there. Good attitude, good knowledge, cares about the animals. Happy bulls make happy customers." The first replied. Simon stayed still, watching the boots pass again, this time leading the gigantic hooves of one of the Belgian Blues. They were gentle, kind, respectful, everything he would have wanted. Simon waited until they were gone before letting out a long sigh, putting his back to the stall door before sliding down to the ground. He had been drinking the cum of bulls... mixed with something... It made sense now, the musk and tang... the thickness, serving it warm. It hadn't done him any harm either. It tasted delicious, it made him feel great... and he still craved it.

"What is wrong with me?" Simon muttered, all but bolting out of the stall he was in. He still wasn't sure what to do, but checking out the freshly empty stall seemed like a good place to start. It would be the last place they checked and it would give him time to think. He glanced both ways before darting up the aisle, moving into the freshly emptied stall. The air was still warm from holding the one ton super cow. Simon eased the door shut before he turned around, facing the equipment. The same wall mounted device hung up on the wood, the tubes connected to the other machines, one hanging down low where it could be applied to the bull. It all seemed so official, but it was for an act that Simon had never even contemplated before.

Simon moved over, running his hand over the business end of the milker. The metal and plastic were still warm from the bull, it practically radiated in his hand. Simon lifted the hole up, gazing inside, not sure what he would see. There seemed to be a rubbery interior used for the massaging, a hole where the collected substance was sucked away... though... there was still some residue inside... some hot, musky, thick cum. The smell wafted up into Simon's nose, inflaming hi senses. It was the same stuff that made up his favorite drink... and the machine itself ushered the drink forth with the most primal pleasure out there.

The cowboy gazed at the miler before he realized his hands were all but shaking. He had been subconsciously moving it closer to his crotch. He blushed, a bit taken aback by the action. He wasn't anywhere near the size of a bull after all, he probably wouldn't get any use out of the milker... although it did seem to inflate to be the right size. Maybe there was a pressure sensor and it could just tell. Simon blushed even more brightly red when he realized he was actually contemplating it... but... it was his farm, this was his equipment... he had every right to use it if he wanted to. Simon gazed in at the cum soaked interior before he shuddered. He wanted to use it.

Simon slowly unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them, opening the fly. His manhood nearly bust forth, the long shaft already achingly hard at being confined. Simon only then realized he had even forgotten his underwear. He was debilitatingly aroused and there were few options. He took a deep breath before he picked up the milker in both hands. The weight of his aroused shaft brought it parallel to the ground, jutting out in front of him. Simon watched with eager eyes as the round mushroom shaped head of his shaft disappeared into the rim of the device, more of his length sliding down. There was room to spare on all sides, rather disappointing, though as his shaft grazed the wet portions, the steaming hot cum of his super bull smeared along his shaft, saturating it with the sinful heat. Simon nearly drooled as he felt the cum of one of his animals on his meat. It was so wrong it felt exquisite.

All too soon, Simon felt the rim of the milker press against his bush, nuzzled tight to his groin with countless inches to spare between the head of his meat and the end of the tube and several more inches around his shaft. Still, he had to try. He had his pants down and was cock deep in a cum extractor, there was no where to go but forward. He reached out with one hand, reaching to the connector at the base of the milker where it connected to the tube. There was a small control ring there that activated the device. Simon took a deep breath before he pressed the button. The machine over head started to whir and vibrate before the rubber inside the milker started to push out.

Simon shuddered, feeling as if a dozen fingers were examining his cock, touching and tracing along it. Slowly the pressure built, the imaginary fingers coiling around his shaft, spreading the cum all over his meat until some leaked out at the base around his groin, but the pressure grew so tight there that Simon couldn't remove it even if he wanted to... he was stuck, the milker squeezing onto his shaft so tight. Simon gasped when he realized, giving it an experimental tug. There was no luck... but he was actually relieved. There was no excuse to even try and resist... at least that was what Simon thought, neglecting the fact that a button to turn the milker off was right within his reach.

The machine strokes and squeezed, tugging and working his length more and more. It felt one moment like the best hand job of his life. The next it felt like the bull cum was saliva and the rubber tube was working him as well as any mouth could. Simon braced against the stall floor, letting the machine work his shaft. He didn't need to hold his cock or the tube; it was all set up for a bull to stand there and take it... and that was just what Simon was doing. He moaned and lifted his head, his moans sounding almost like moos. His balls began to tingle, throbbing as his body was pleasured so. There was little he could do to keep up with the sensation, it was building so fast.

"Ugh... Mmm... Moooore... Moooooore!" Simon called out against his better judgment. The milker kicked up into high gear, tugging and squeezing and vibrating around his meat, working the bull cum into his shaft. Simon had never been so turned on in his life. It felt as if all blood had left his brain, heading for his cock to make it harder than ever. His fingers dug against the ground as his shaft felt stretched beyond its limit. The cowboy groaned, feeling his coc tugged on so hard, so long. What he failed to realize was that his manhood really was being stretched beyond its limits.

In the confines of the metal and plastic tube, the skin of Simon's shaft was getting darker, taking n an odd tan hue as the blood rushed in. The skin itself was getting thicker, but every time it would thicken enough to become less sensitive, the milker would stretch the cock out longer and thicker. The way the milker hung from his groin, it truly felt like he had a huge log. While he had woken up with a six inch member, it was already nine inches with no sign of stopping. As long as he was, the girth was even more impressive. The rubber portions of the machine had returned to their default size after Simon's cock had swollen to four inches across.

Simon continued to make all manner of beastly noises as his cock was stretched to ten inches, then eleven, reaching a full foot long and continuing past it. The transparent portions of the machine displayed the proud, almost gray meat inside. Simon couldn't control himself, he was a man ruled by his member and that member was more powerful than ever before. Simon continued pawing at the ground before letting out another moo in shock as he felt his cock ram into the far end of the tube, his meat at least fifteen inches long. Sensing resistance, his shaft wasn't trying to stop yet. The mushroom shaped head wedged against the drain slit, but as the cock pushed in behind it, it began to morph the length. The mushroom shaped head was soon blunted, growing fat and wide.

Every square inch of the machine had been filled by bull penis, as was its purpose. Having achieved full erection, the milker stared a new phase. The vibration amped up and the pleasuring changed. It caused throbbing pleasure to flood deeper into his body, stimulating his prostate and his sack. His balls had already been churning seed in anticipation of the pleasure to come, but their work was heading into overdrive. They began throbbing as if they were being juiced, swelling, producing even more sperm. Simon let out another deep 'moo' as his balls began inflating. Before long they were the size of gold balls, then plums, then peaches. The skin around the balls grew to be tougher, supporting them better.

With so much new flesh and sensation, it was impossible for Simon to hold back. He felt the surge building and tried to fight it back, but it was too strong. His orgasm washed over his brain a millisecond before it entered his love organ. Simon's eyes rolled into the back of his head as his balls tugged up tight to his body and his shaft pulsed before thick, copious amounts of cum were sucked away by the machine, drawn into the collective pool, mixed into the Minomilk that was going to be consumed by people across the country. Realizing that, Simon came even harder, realizing that his sperm was going to be consumed by many others. The idea filled him with undue delight.

Sweat beaded across his muscular chest and matted his hair, getting an incredible workout from the machine. For minutes in a row he came, offering up all of his bounty, but at last even the sophisticated machine could work no more out of him. His cock stopped spraying its seed and the flood of bliss in his mind ebbed away. Simon collapsed heavily onto his hands and knees, but the machine was still working his hyper sensitive member. Shivers ripped through Simon's body like lightning before he reached and turned off the machine. The pump stopped sucking him off and the rubber retracted tightly to the walls. Simon gave it a tug, then another. His member was wedged in tightly, but on the third try he managed to succeed and the tube slid off with a wet, satisfying plop.

Simon fell in a slump on the hay, panting and moaning for some time. He felt better than he had his entire life, as if he had found his new life's purpose. It was so close to perfection that he struggled to contemplate a way of making it better, but he did eventually come up with an answer... a good drink. He was still craving the Minomilk. His eyes slowly returned to the milker, looking at the tube. It had Minotaur cum inside... at least it did when he started. He reached over and lifted the tube, gazing in once more. As soon as he set eyes on the white cream inside, he couldn't hold back.

The milker was brought to his lips, his tongue plunging in. it swirled around the rim, collecting the incredibly salty and musky seed from inside. He licked as much of the machine clean as he could, but it wasn't enough. He wanted more, he needed more. Simon dropped the milker to the ground and stood up, his fifteen inch cock flopping down part way to his knee. He licked his lips clean before taking a step, nearly tripping. His jeans were around his ankles and his boots were no help either. He hastily tugged them off, leaving them in the corner before pushing out of the stall, no longer caring about being caught or seen. All he wanted was more Minomilk, to guzzle it down deep into his throat.

The cowboy moved along the stalls, following the machines, studying ho they were connected. They all seemed to lead to the southern end of the barn, farthest away from the house. Simon emerged, looking up. All of the pipes came out and led down to a large white holding tank. It was wide and mostly rectangular, though the top had a wide hatch that could be opened. No doubt it was to collect samples r test temperatures... but Simon's hands were almost twitching as he imagined all the glorious musky bounty inside. He moved up, wearing only his tight shirt. Blood was already returning to his massive bull meet, the length looking quite out of place on a cowboy.

It only took a moment to figure out the locking mechanism and with that, it was open. Simon hoisted the lid to the tank up, seeing the vast sea of sperm collected inside. The tank was almost overflowing, filled to the brim. Simon licked his lips, letting the smell fill his senses before he leaned down. His lips and nose broke the surface of the Minomilk, his lips opening to let the cream flood inside. He lapped it up and began gulping, the hot white cream smearing all over his face. As soon as he got the first thick gulp down his throat, he grabbed onto the side of the tank to hold on, gulping even more. Each gulp sipped down his throat like an explosion of heat and manliness, settling in his stomach like the ambrosia of the gods.

Once more Simon felt the familiar warmth of Minomilk filling his body, getting his heart pumping, but it was stronger than ever before. This was the seed of his Belgian Blues, his super cows, the most muscled and manly bulls on the planet... and Simon felt manlier just by drinking their tainted seed. The heat filled his shoulders, relaxing them, baking away the immense pain that had been filling his spine and bones. His white shirt was stretched to its limit as his arms nearly spilled out of the sides. The fingers holding onto the edge of the tank grew thicker, the palms flaring out wider and longer until they seemed as big as small dinner plates.

As much as Simon craved the Minomilk, it seemed his body desired it anymore. The white salty cream washed over his teeth, blunting them, but another change was unfolding. His entire face was throbbing hard, but slowly his jaw began to stretch and extend, his lips pushing forward. Simon hadn't noticed in the slightest, but it was getting easier to drink the sperm. His nose began stretching out as well, keeping up with his lips. As it lengthened, the divot that was the bridge of the nose angled more, creating a steady slope from his brows to his nostrils rather than the normal contours a human had. His lips started to widen as his jaw continued to stretch, the flat of his nose turning up. Simon was developing a distinctive muzzle.

The flow never seemed to be enough, every gulp creating even more desire in Simon. He felt as if he had been dying of starvation and was finally getting the meal he so rightly deserved. His triceps were the size of melons, his biceps were even larger. His stomach strained the shirt around his body, not with fat but with muscle. As his ribs widened and his stomach pushed out into the ribbed texture of abdominal muscles, the shirt simply couldn't handle anymore. The white cloth strained and a tearing station came before the entire shirt burst, falling in tatters to the ground. In its place, Simon's well tanned and tough skin glistened in the skin with more definition than ever before.

In a matter of minutes Simon had put on over a hundred pounds of muscle to his upper body, a disparity his legs were not unaware of. His legs quivered and struggled, trying to keep the cowboy up.... But at last the heat spread past his hard bull groin and down to his lower body. While Simon had a flat but for most of his life, it soon rounded and pushed out with layers of muscle. The muscle all but spiraled down his legs, forcing them to swell out and grow. His calves surged wider, his thighs becoming obscenely huge. His legs were thickening into heavy, thick trunks of muscle and the only thing let as it had been were his feet, but they too were showing the first signs of change.

While Simon had been wriggling his toes in time with his pleasure, they had been losing more and more mobility. At first they were moving independently of one another but then they had been moving in unison, all the toes moving up and down. After a few moments, even that became hard. The toes stopped moving, the flesh growing together between the toes. The independent digits disappeared, becoming a web of skin and then merely a flap. The toenails on the joined flesh began to stretch longer and wider, spreading out and thickening as it went. The boney keratin spread to the very edge of his feet before slipping over, sweeping back. Simon's ankles began to contort and shift just as his heels began to dissolve, disappearing, forcing his center of balance onto the front of his feet. The keratin swept around the back and met up with itself, capping the man's feet with a thick layer of hoof. It bulged and cured, shifting to look far more natural, much like the feet of the cows he had on the farm.

While Simon had been oblivious to so much of his change, feeling his entire posture changing in response to his feet was enough to return his focus to reality. Simon withdrew his head from the tank, thick strings of white creamy cum dripping off of his long muzzle. As the cum ran down his face and dripped back into the tank, thick stubble became visible emerging from his skin, covering his cheeks and chin, ringing his mouth, rising high on his cheeks... but his face was long, abnormal, animal. As his massive body digested the cream, his features were still changing. His eyes grew a little larger and repositioned in his larger skull, an intense pressure building in his head. His buzzed hair seemed shorter but denser, matching the stubble on his cheeks.

New hairs began pushing out, moving up from his cheeks and down from his hairline, moving around his eyes and across his ears as his entire head was soon covered with a thin layer of fur. Simon grunted, reaching up with his huge meaty palms to rub at his skull. There was so much pain in his temples. He could feel something beneath the surface, nubs on either side. He stumbled away from the tank, groaning. A new heat was building up in the midst of his chest and spreading out. He had taken on the muscles of a professional body builder, but as his arm and chest hair was starting to get thicker, his muscles were starting to grow again. His pectorals jutted out as if he was growing another muscle group directly beneath the first. Thick cords of muscle moved up his neck, supporting his large muzzled head. The round muscles on his arms swelled out wildly as new spheres of muscle began growing beneath. Just like the Belgian Blues, he was becoming double muscled.

Simon's legs surged and spread, each massive length becoming as wide as his entire body had been before, if not even wider. The formerly lean cowboy was becoming a bit of a behemoth, a behemoth in a bit of discomfort. He all but clawed at his head with his hands, his fingernails becoming thick and dark but not fusing into hooves. As the pain in his head reached the breaking point, it was the skin that broke. Two ivory nubs of horns curved out and up from his skull before the thicker base began emerging. Simon let out a long, lingering sigh of relief and lust as his horns grew in. Inch after inch, they seemed to spill out of his head until they were eight inches long on either side, then ten, then twelve.


The massive hooves beneath Simon spread larger and thicker and taller, morphing to support his huge body. Even now, his muscles weren't showing any signs of slowing. Veins bulged along his huge arms and legs. His nipples were bigger than sausages, resting on globes of muscle more powerful than anything he had contemplated before. A sudden surge of pain ripped along his backside as his spine and flesh conspired together before a long, whip like tail emerged from his hind quarters, a puff ball of hair emerging on the tip. It swung around, fur spreading along its length before crossing his round butt cheeks. The fur also spread down his neck from his head, the hair on his chest and arms becoming a thick cow hide.

All over Simon's body, his flesh was coated with fur that was becoming a rich black and white, the black almost looking Blue in the sunlight. Simon whipped his tail some more before he experimentally moved his arms. They were immensely heavy, but his muscles were strong enough to make that weight feel as if it was nothing. He gave a few good flexes and contortions before a huge grin spread over his muzzled lips. He was all male, all beef, all muscle. It was the most wonderful he had felt in his entire life. It was as if he had finally realized who he was meant to be, as if he had joined his own heard of Belgian Blues.

"Now that's what I call good stock..." Came a confident voice from behind. Simon turned around, surprise crossing his bovine face. The voice had come from a figure standing near by, a figure wearing the clothing of Colton... but much like Simon, Colton had undergone a transformation. He stood on two hooves of his own, his skin covered in creamy butterscotch and tan fur. His face was stretched into a long muzzle with a smirk on it, tall and fuzzy pointed donkey ears rising up from his head on either side of a black Mohawk with orange streaks. The tall ears were lined with countless piercings on either side, looking like a punk even as a donkey. Even his goatee remained, hanging down from his equine chin.

"You knew all this would happen?" Simon asked, almost stopping before the en of his sentence when the depth of his own voice surprised him. It almost sounded as if he was speaking with thunder...

"One way or another it would have happened, but like a good farmer you had to figure out what your herd was experiencing. It turned out pretty well, didn't it?" Colton asked with a grin. Simon nodded softly, a smile creeping back into his muzzle. Colton laughed happily, "Good. Now... I'll teach you how to change back into a human form when you have to, although you'll certainly prefer this form from now on. Oh, and one more little bit of protocol... I think I should call you Sim from now on." Colton said.

"Sim?" Simon asked in surprise. Colton nodded.

"Yeah, Sim. Seems a lot more masculine, and there aren't many on this planet more masculine than you." Colton grinned, "Let's go get a drink big guy; I want to introduce you to my mate Xaie." Colton said, clapping Sim on the shoulder. The giant minotaur lumbered along, following the much smaller donkey man back to the farmhouse.