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Blue is a cow.
He has a cow's tail and a cow's ears and his tits - as his master likes to tell him - are the most perfect tits for milking. He makes more milk than any other cow on the farm, which is how he earned his nose ring, and so there is no other place for him but the farm.
It took a lot of time for him to see that.
He has faint memories of the Before. He remembers someone who he thinks might have been his mother, pressing a tearful, wet kiss to his forehead and saying, "never let them break you Satoru. I'm sorry I couldn't keep you safe longer."
He doesn't know how that memory connects to the rest of his fuzzy past but that doesn't matter. Whoever it was was wrong: there was nowhere safer than right here on the farm, in this barn, where his master comes by to take care of him as he has done every day since Blue came here.
His master gave Blue his name. He thinks Blue's eyes are pretty. He loves Blue's tits and likes to remind him that that's all Blue is good for.
Lovely, sweet milk and Blue makes so much of it. He never stops producing and his tits just get bigger and bigger until the pressure is so painful, all Blue can do is like there and moo pathetically until his master comes to hitch him to the milking machine. His master loves to test the limits of what Blue can take, and one time he was left alone for a week with only the automated feeding trough for company, and his tits produced two and a half tanks.
Once upon a time, three days without a milking would have been a punishment, something Blue would have received if he'd been naughty. Now it's practically the norm and the buzzing, all-consuming pain that comes with it gets more and more manageable each time. Especially when, more often than not, his lets Blue hold his cock in his mouth while he's milked and there is no greater joy in Blue's simple life than that.
Being milked, cock in mouth, being nothing more than a mindless cow.
Being filled with milk helps to remind him that's all he is. He can't milk himself - he can barely move his fingers anymore, after his master had bound them for so long, so he'd remember they were little more than hooves - and so he has to wait for his master, his better, to come and do it for him.
Like now.
The latch to Blue's stall flicks open. Blue - who'd been massaging his chest idly, the only thing that gives him a semblance of relief when he's so full - looks up at once with wide, hopeful eyes.
There is his master.
Once upon a time, Blue hated and feared his master in turn. He can't remember why, not when his master is so kind and generous to the animals under his care. Everything he's ever done has been for Blue's own good - the binding, that made his feet and hands as useful as hooves; the punishments when Blue tried too hard to be human; the cage around his useless little cock because one day, Blue will be big and fat with a calf and he'll never need it.
He wonders if he'll produce more milk while pregnant. He hopes so. That would make his master so happy.
"Hey pretty Blue," his master says with a grin - he's always grinning at Blue - but when he steps in, he doesn't close the gate behind him.
Blue moos in pleasure at seeing him, both because seeing his master is always a pleasure and because the milking is always the best part of his day, but eyes the open gate suspiciously. Was someone else coming today?
"Aw, you're a little full today aren't you?" his master says, reaching down to take one of Blue's nipples between two fingers and squeeze.
Blue lets out a broken moo as milk squirts out, just a little enough to turn the edges of his vision white and have his tail flicking. It's enough to bring him into the moment and realise just how badly he needs to be milked. It's been three days, hasn't it?
His master's hand moves to scratch behind his ears, a nice gesture but far from what Blue wants. He scrambles a little closer to press his tits into his master's leg, to moo lowly and look up at him through his eyelashes, and though he knows his master likes it when he does that, when he moves to act on his purely animal desires, this only gets a light chuckle out of him.
"You know what I was thinking," his master says, detaching himself easily from Blue's begging. "It's been so long since you've been outside, and I thought to myself, that surely can't be good for him."
Blue can't remember the last time he left this stall. His master has always been so careful with him.
"So!" His master whirls around and in his hand is a long rod; a cattle prod, Blue realises. "Today, we're going out."
At first, Blue doesn't realise that he means now. For a moment, he thinks his master means that he'll be milked and then they'll go outside, but his master is marching around behind him and the metal prongs of the cattle prod are pressed between his shoulder blades.
He has all of half a second to process what's happening when a blinding, sharp pain wracks his body.
He jerks and his tits jiggle, and he's brought back to just how badly he needs to be milked. Each moment he's denied that relief, he feels the need more intensely.
"Now, pretty Blue," his master says, sounding amused, and slowly, Blue leans forward onto his hands and knees, unable to stop the feeling of betrayal from sinking in. He's been so good, doesn't he deserve to be milked?
No. Of course not. Those are human sorts of thoughts: cows don't deserve or not deserve anything. They're just mindless cattle who go and do as their masters please.
Their good, perfect masters who know what's right for them.
Slowly, Blue starts shuffling towards the open gate. Each movement aways his heavy tits, and they rub against each other and biceps and each little change of pressure makes him want to turn around and beg his master - as prettily, as dumbly, as he can - to please milk him first.
But Blue is always so bad after milkings. His limbs go floppy from the orgasms that are wrung out of him and his master always gets a little distracted afterwards, rewarding him for being such a good boy, because Blue always tries his hardest to be a good boy for his master.
The only time they can go outside is before, when Blue can still move, and his master - always so clever - must have realised this.
He's almost shuffled past the door when the prod gets stuck into the flesh of Blue's ass and the shock is longer and more painful than the last.
"Come on baby, you can go a little quicker."
So Blue does. It makes the horrible pain-pleasure-but-mostly-pain in his tits worse, the quicker he moves, and every few meters, his master decides he's going too slowly and pokes him again. By the time they reach the open barn door, he can feel his knees and palms getting torn up from going so quickly across the rough concrete floor.
"A little bit more sweetheart," his master says and then they're facing a small paddock field with grass that's an inch or two high. It's not big and there are no other cows out, which gets explained to him as his master drops a hand into his hair and scratches him in that pleasant place behind his ear. "It's a little overwhelming if the whole is there, isn't it? I thought I'd let you enjoy your first time out in a while on your own. Come, let's do a few circuits."
Blue doesn't need the cattle prod to step onto the grass, though he gets it anyway, and he presses first one hand and then another down. It's so soft.
It's been so long since Blue was outside but he'd forgotten what grass feels like. He re-acclimates now, to how different fresh, green grass feels from the coarse hay or uneven concrete of his stall.
His master smacks him over the spot where the cattle prod has poked over and over, and it stings as it jiggles the flesh.
"Come on Blue, the grass isn't just for looking at. I want you to go around at least three times. Now you're being such a good boy for me, we need to get your exercise up."
So Blue shuffles a little further and-
His tits hang low - they're big and heavy, and if they were a little bigger, they'd drag along the ground while he walked - and they hang, as he discover, so that the grass just tickles his nipples.
He moos at the sensation, long and low. After the journey here had made his tits more tender than he can recently remember and with his nipples red and swollen and dripping milk, this added stimulation has him keening as a dry orgasm wracks his body.
It's painful and frustrating. None of the stimulation that brought him here has ended and now, every subtle movement adds that tickling to his oversensitive nipples.
His face is wet.
"Damn," his master says, sounding almost impressed, "I didn't think you'd react so well." Another smack to the same spot on his ass. "Come on Blue, let's get this going."
So, they do.
The paddock hadn't looked very big when he'd entered but now it does. By the time they finish their first lap, Blue has unwillingly orgasmed three times already and each time his master had smacked him or poked him with the prod to get him to keep moving.
He pauses when they get to the gate and turns hopeful, tear-swollen eyes to his master. Maybe, if he looks sweet enough, docile enough, obedient enough...
He gets a chuckle, followed by a sharp smack. "You're a pretty thing Blue, but if you don't keep going, I'll keep you walking until you pass out."
That gets Blue moving again.
They almost make it another two loops. About twenty meters from the end, an orgasm hits too suddenly and he bowls over, head first into the ground. The sudden pressure of his tits smooshed into the grass wrings another orgasm out of him in quick succession and he moos brokenly as instinct takes over and he starts humping the ground with his chest.
It doesn't actually do very much. It's painful more than it brings him any pleasure but it's the only thing his addled brain can think of to do.
Maybe this...
Two large hands grip his waste and hold him still. He wriggles, pathetic and weak, in their grip before finally going limp. The overstimulation is starting to wear on him.
"What a bad boy you are," his master says in a scolding voice and at once, Blue feels himself tense. His master: he was meant to be a good boy for his perfect, amazing master, and he'd failed. "Unless..."
One hand stays where it is while the other runs down to the base of Blue's tail and lifts it up.
"You're so very wet down here Blue," his master says and Blue makes sure to keep his tail up as his master runs a finger around Blue's slick-soaked rim. "Were you trying to offer yourself to me? Were you trying to be good?"
Yes. Yes. That's what Blue was trying to be. His body is completely and totally his master's, and he wiggles his hips (and the rub of his chest into the mud has his tiny cock jumping in it's cage) as enticingly as possible.
Please, he tries to say with just his eyes and his high, desperate mooing. Do whatever you please with me Master.
His master releases his waist entirely to smack his flank. "You're just an animal, of course. The only reason you'd want to get fucked is for your own pleasure, not for mine." His fingers dips into Blue's hole and he shakes with the effort it takes to not thrust himself back on the finger: all that overstimulation means nothing in the face of his master's personal attention. "Still, you look too delightful like this not to use you."
There's the sound of a zip pulling down and Blue, coiled tight and still as obediently as he can manage, wiggles his hips. Enticing. He's enticing and good. All he's good for is producing milk and being a hole for his master to use as he pleases.
The familiar weight of a cockhead is pressed against his still tight hold, dripping slick but unstretched. It's going to burn - a punishment for Blue for...whatever it was he did, although he's sure he deserves it - and Blue tries to relax.
It hurts as his master thrusts in, getting down to the hilt in one go. He groans as Blue feels himself begin to weep openly, breathy, broken moos falling unwilling from his mouth.
His master starts thrusting without leaving Blue time to adjust. Sometimes his cock brushes over the sensitive spot inside him and sometimes it doesn't, and when it does, it mixes with the intense feelings everywhere else. His breasts being rubbed against the ground in time with the thrusting, his own little caged cock occasionally brushing the fluffy hair on his stomach, his nipples rolling under the pressure of all of it.
He keeps coming, again and again until he doesn't know where one starts and the next begin. The pressure in his tits is so intense and it's making everything else light up the region of his brain that markets pleasure.
He begins to feel the darkness creeping in on his vision as it becomes too much for his brain to cope with. His master is going to fuck him into unconsciousness...
But maybe that would be bad. Maybe his master would consider that bad (especially since it would mean he'd have to get Blue back to the stall on his own) and then Blue won't be milked for...for weeks. His master might abandon him for good.
No. Blue is the best cow on the whole farm. He blinks heavily and rolls his hips back, chasing the feeling rather than letting it happen. He won't pass out.
His master laughs, a little breathy. "You're so eager pretty Blue; you really are a little whore. I bet you'd love to be tied to the breeding bench to take cock up your ass all day every day."
Blue doesn't care. The only cock he cares about is his master's and the only opinion he cares about is his master's. If he tells Blue to get in the breeding bench, he will, and if it's his cock that Blue gets, then he'd do it double speed.
Blue moos and clenches as another of his countless orgasms wracks him, and his master comes at the same time. He fills him up - Blue can feel it pouring, hot and real - and when he pulls out, Blue can feel it leaking down his legs from his loosened hole.
"Such a good hole," his master praises, swiping a bit of come off his leg and pushing it back in, "but don't think I've forgotten your bad behaviour. Back to the stall now, pretty Blue."
And Blue - despite the fuzziness, despite how fucked out he feels, despite the overwhelming amount of sensation - struggles back up to his hands and knees. He can see his pale skin is covered in mud and grass stains, and can see the come dripping out of him, but he ignores it all in favour of walking the last, painful twenty meters to the gate without collapsing.
His master herds him back to the barn and his stall just as he'd herded him out. It's worse and better than coming out had been as he's more sensitive than he thinks he's ever been before and he's still sobbing, each movement agitating his tits, but he's also starting to acclimate. He's being good, for his master, who's already angry at him for...
Being a whore? Yes, that sounds about right. He tells Blue he's a whore a lot, a cow who's only thoughts are about sex and his own pleasure. It would make sense that he's being punished for that.
Blue gets pushed over the boundary of his stall - the familiar four walls of his stall - by one last poke of the electric cattle prod, that has him mooing brokenly as he stumbled forward, and then his master follows him in and latches the gate shut.
"Look how dirty you've gotten," his master says, reaching down to take Blue's chin in one hand. He flutters his eyelashes, in the way he knows makes his master pleased, even as that small touch lights his nerves on fire. "Let's clean you off."
His master makes him kneel in the middle of the room and Blue feels himself floating off, listless, as his master goes through a box of his tools. He turns back around with a packet of antiseptic wipes and the gloves that Blue hasn't worn for ages.
"Aw, don't look like that sweetheart," his master says, kicking the milking stool a little closer. "Your hands are hurt - I hadn't thought of that. You don't have callouses like the other cows so your hooves are all hurt."
His master reaches out and takes one of Blue's hands, resting obediently on his thigh. Blood and cuts and mud mis together on the palm and Blue watches as his master tears open a packet with his teeth and pressed it against the injury.
If he wasn't already crying, he'd start then. It stings painfully as his master drags it over the broken skin and it confuses his body. He's too overstimulated for the pain to cut through his arousal and so it just mingles with the rest of his feelings. When his master presses against the cuts - to get out the dirt that's got in deep, or so he tells Blue - his body twitches and another painfully dry orgasm wracks him. He didn't know he still had it in him.
His master finishes on that hand and takes out the glove. It only has stubby little finger holes and so Blue has to curl them up to fit them in. It's uncomfortable, even for Blue who's fingers has long since got used to it, and he tries to beg his master with his eyes not to do it.
"It's alright baby," his master says, reaching out to scratch hard behind his ear (Blue was right; he can orgasm from being touched there). "It's just to keep your hooves from being hurt like that again."
Oh, his master is so kind. Blue sniffs, still crying but accepting the glove as it's forced onto his hand - no, his hoof. Hands were for humans and Blue is a cow. A cow who's only good for his milk and for being a hole for his master. A whore who only wants a dick in his ass, no matter what.
The other hoof gets the same treatment. Cleaned and gloved, Blue places them on his thighs, trying to get used to the slightly painful sensation again. Thankfully, he's in such a state of arousal that all it does is add to the undercurrent of good, bad, pain, pleasure.
After his hands, his master takes a wipe to the rest of him. He shoved a few fingers in Blue's mouth as he wipes off Blue's face, the cold feeling of the wipe like static against his skin, and Blue automatically sucks on the fingers as his body thrums and twitches through pleasure. Blue isn't even sure if it's an orgasm anymore or just arousal so intense it feels like it.
His master keeps his fingers there as he wipes down, over Blue's delicate neck down to the pale skin of his shoulders and then down over his breast. Blue suckles (the fingers are girthy and they're his master's, even if nothing beats sucking his master's cock) as his master kneads his tender, oversensitive breasts as he wipes, but the arousal is starting to give way to a fuzzy peace.
As his master wipes over his nipples, as he does every time he's going to milk him, Blue settles in happily. He's going to be milked. Yes, yes, this is all he wants. He wants the pain-pleasure-but-mostly-pleasure of the suction cups on his nipples, he wants to have his master's cock in his mouth, he wants-
His master slips his fingers out of Blue's mouth as he turns away, to the corner of the stall where the milking machine is. Blue watches him, pleased and content and so ready for what's coming, but that feeling fades as his master turns around.
He's holding a bucket. Was he going to milk Blue by hand? Was he going to-
He drops the bucket in front of Blue, the metal clanging against the concrete, and then he drags the milking stall a few meters away, so he can sit while leaning against the edge of the stall.
"Now, Blue," he says, as Blue looks at him; the pleasant fuzz in his brain is starting to fade as the expected milking doesn't come, "remember the field?"
Of course Blue remembers the field. His ass throbs, from the cattle prod and the smacks and the hard fuck, and still leaks his master's cum. On an instinct, he clenches, because letting it all leak out feels wrong somehow.
"You were a bad cow, weren't you?"
Yes, he was. He was a whore, a cow with no self-control, who seeked only his own pleasure and didn't care about doing what his master wanted. He'd just wanted to be fucked and laid himself out wantonly for his master.
That's what his master had told him and his master was always right.
"I know how full you must be now-" Blue moos, in desperate agreement, and pushes his leaking tits together to present them to his master to please, please milk, "-but do bad cows deserve to be milked?"
They didn't. Bad cows didn't deserve anything. Bad cows were left to writhe in the hay until they'd learned their lesson. Bad cows got their tits milked until they were dry and then kept being milked until they passed out. Bad cows-
"But, y'know, pretty Blue," his amazing, fantastic, perfect master says, "I'm feeling a little lenient. You're always so pretty when you beg for my cock and you always take me so well, so if you can do something for me, I'll hook you up to the machine and give you what you want."
Anything, anything at all, Blue promises and tries to relate this to his master with wide, wet eyes and a broken moo. He would do anything to be milked.
"Milk yourself."
Blue feels the pit of his stomach fall out.
"When you can fill this bucket, I'll hook you up to the milking machine," his master continues, as if this isn't impossible, as if Blue's hooves are able to do things as complex as that even without the gloves on. "I'm sure you can do it, pretty Blue."
Oh, and Blue loves it when he calls him pretty even as he sobs harder. He shakily shuffles closer to the bucket and hangs one tit over where it drips, a single drop barely making a dent in the space still needed to be filled. The bucket is so big and Blue is certain he has enough milk in just one of his aching tits to fill it, but he doesn't know how to get it out.
Another drip of milk falls.
Blue can feel him master watching him and he kneads at his breast with his gloved hands. It doesn't do anything to push milk out but it does heighten the arousal that had softened earlier. He's orgasming again, he's sure, but all his desperate mind can focus on his trying to push milk out.
Fill the bucket. Please his master. Get milked.
Milk is all he's good for. Milk and being a slutty little hole to tempt his master with. He has to get the milk out or else-
Another drip but not the satisfying stream that comes when his master tugs at his nipples with his skilled, human hands; just what little gets pushed out by his tits being full to bursting.
His master sighs, disappointed, and there's a slight scrape of wood against concrete as he stands, stretching.
"Well, I guess you need some time to work it out." His master looks at him, and Blue hunches over the bucket to get both his nipples over the top, kneading his breasts together to hopefully stimulate something.
It fails.
His master sighs again. "Well, I'll come back later to see how you've done. At the rate your leaking, I guess you have about a week or so if you don't work out how to do it."
Seven more days...Blue sobs, the sound coming out as a broken moo, and keeps desperately kneading at his tits. Perhaps if he pushes two hooves either side of a nipple...?
All that does is wring another orgasm out of him. The meaning of orgasm is now lost on him, murky among the pain and pleasure and sheer desperation now clouding Blue's mind.
His master pats him once in the head before leaving him there alone.