chapter 7 (1/2)

Greg stopped as they reached the corner of the block and looked up at the building next to them. Heather did the same and was surprised by what she saw.

"Why are we at a tattoo parlor?" Heather said with a puzzled tone.

Greg laughed, "For tattoos obviously. You'll see," Greg gave her a reassuring kiss and grope of her side, then led her in. "You sit down there," he pointed to the black leather sofa in corner, "I'll get us set up."

Greg talked with the heavily tattooed woman behind the counter as Heather heaved her giant body over to the sofa, and dropped it onto the unsuspecting furniture. The metal frame groaned with the initial blow but stopped creaking once she had gotten settled. The lady called to the back of the studio and Greg smiled at his beautiful bovine girl as he walked over to her.

"I met a friend at university that works here. He's one of the best artists in the whole state. I just hope what I asked him for isn't below him," Greg laughed and rubbed Heather's thigh, "don't worry. You'll love it."

She knew she would. Greg always knew what would make her happy.

After a few minutes of waiting, a man that looked more like a biker than an artist came out and walked over to Greg and Heather. Greg and he shook hands and then pulled together for a quick manly embrace and pat on the back.

"So, this is your girl," the man said with a gravelly voice befitting of a Harley rider.

"Yes it is. This is Heather," Greg turned to look back at her, "and Heather, this is Sampson."

Sampson nodded his head and smiled, "Nice to meet you little lady."

Heather giggled, "There ain't nothing little about me."

Greg turned back to Sampson, "I see that the new place is doing well. A lot of farmers and football players need a guy who can give them a bad-ass tattoo."

Samson laughed, "Well, I didn't get that business degree for nothing. Being able to tattoo doesn't mean anything if you can't figure out how to keep the doors open. Man, I had to get out of that old place. The owner was a ***, emphasis on the ass."

"Speaking of ass," Greg gave Heather's butt a good, loud smack.

"Woo, that's a nice sound," Sampson said with a whistle, "Now, what was it that you needed done?"

"I had something special in mind," Greg handed Sampson a folded piece of paper, "Nothing too detailed, but it's a big job. Think you can handle it?

Sampson laughed and gave Greg a punch to the shoulder, "Of course. Have you seen some of the stuff the college kids get these days. I do whole sleeves in a day. This will be a piece of cake."

Heather's mouth watered at the thought of cake.

"C'mon, follow me in back so I can show you my lair," Sampson said with a playful ominous laugh.

Heather's sides brushed against the small door frame as she entered the studio space. Along the walls were pictures of Sampson's previous works. Beautifully intricate designs next to full body murals in a collage of tattoo masterpieces.

"What could Greg possibly want me here for?" Heather thought to herself.

"C'mon, have a seat Honey," Sampson patted the black leather body rest in front of his stool.

Heather looked to Greg then back to Sampson and once more to Greg.

"Me?" she said pointing to herself.

"You're the only sweet lady worth calling Honey in this room," Greg patted her on the ass and she walked over to the table.

"I'm going to need you to take of that cute little top of yours missy." Sampson said.

Heather blushed and looked back at Greg for approval; he nodded. Heather untied the knot above her belly and handed the shirt to her lover.

"And the bra"

Heather could not get more red, but she did as Sampson requested and obeyed Greg's wishes. Heather's breasts were now bare and hung like full sandbags from her chest.

Sampson whistled, "Those are sum huge tatas you got there." He took a short pause, "Actually, I'm going to start from the bottom up so I have some more to hold onto. The legs should be easier while your rear isn't stinging."

Heather had no idea what he was talking about: legs, rear? What was it that Greg had in mind for her? Heather took off the rest of her clothes, per his request, and covered her huge body with her hands as best as she could.

"Funny how someone that sits around bottom and topless all day feels embarrassed when she's stripped," Greg kissed her flushed cheek and half-whispered into her ear calmly, "It's okay Babe. You have nothing to feel embarrassed about. Cows don't need to wear clothes."

Heather felt better hearing his voice. She let her arms fall to her side and send ripples through her paunch and thighs, then laid down on the table. A dull groan could be heard as she put her weight onto it, but it was made sturdy. Her belly fell to each side like bread dough.

"Now this will sting a little," Sampson motioned to Greg, "but your man here will keep you comfy while I work my magic."

Heather felt the felt tip of the body marker as Sampson covered her entire body with what seemed like arbitrary shapes of random sizes. She could not quite make out what he was drawing and did not have a good enough angle of the mirror in the corner to see behind her. Once he had finished marking her from her feet to her neck, he turned her over and got working on the other side. Heather tried to look down, but Greg covered her eyes from behind.
"No peaking," he said playfully.
Heather mooed and pouted.

Once Sampson had finished marking her front, he patted around her legs and arms, turning them each way to see all around and make sure he and Greg were both content with the layout. After turning her around again, he put the felt pen to the side and picked up his needle. He dipped the tip into one of the many containers of black ink on his tray and brought it to life. The buzz made Heather nervous. She had never got a tattoo before; her skin was a flawless milky white, but holding Greg's hand made her feel so much calmer. She stared at his verdant eyes, but her focus was pulled away from them as she yipped in response to the needle biting her flesh.

Heather did not dare flinch at the pain of the needle. She did not want to upset Greg or mess up Sampson's work. As the minutes grew to hours, she got used to the feeling, but with each new spot, the fresh sensation struck her again. It was especially painful once he had gotten close to her nipples. However, it helped that Greg had been feeding her donuts, cupcakes, and cute, animal marshmallows from the desert shop next door.

"What a godsend?" Heather thought, thanking the forces of the universe for the convent sweets.

It took Sampson all day, and Greg a dozen trips to the confectionary, but the job was done. Heather lifted her sore back from the chair as Greg led her to the mirror. She waddled, futily trying to keep her raw thighs from rubbing together while Greg continued cover her eyes. Finally, Greg removes his hands and heather blinks her eyes, adjusting them to the light. Before her, she sees a gorgeous hucow with cow spots all over her massive, fat body. She turns her hips from side to side, getting a good look at her new pelt. She then turns her back to the mirror and sees that they reach all the way up to her cute, bunned hairline. She keeps twirling and giggling, looking at her big, pink udders sway with the momentum of her spin and smack together softly. Once she has had her fun, she looked over to Greg, grabbed hold of his broad shoulders and gave him a deep kiss, mooing while doing so.

"I told you you would like it," He said, making sure to be careful where he puts his hands.

"Be careful getting her home," Sampson said, "It's not everyday someone gets their whole body done at once. She'll be sore laying down."

"Good thing cows sleep standing up," Greg laughed.

With Greg's help, Heather pulled her clothes over her now plastic and ink covered body. Her heavy, sexy strut had been reduced to a waddle, but eyes followed her nonetheless. It was night by now and many people were off of the street, but that only made Heather that much more noticeable. Once they had made it back to the parking garage, she was spent, and as soon as she sat down, she was out.