chapter 8

It has been a little more than a year since heather became Greg's full time dairy cow. Her massive tits continued to grow as the daily milking engorged them even fuller with milk. As they did, so did her belly. She had ballooned to a weight over five hundred fifty pounds and was weighed weekly. Walking from the barn to the house had become a huge labor for her. She was thankful for such wide doorframes now that her hips were wide enough to fit four of her skinny self and still have a little room to spare. Other than walking to get weighed and go to bed, when she was given permission to sleep inside, and the constant breeding sessions, Heather got almost no exercise. She was always being milked, mounted, or both.

Greg had improved Heather's pen to make it more comfortable for her. She now had a rest for her arms and trough in front of her to eat out of. She was hardly without food in her mouth. Even when she was being mounted from behind, she would be chewing between moos, and plenty of food meant plenty of milk. She produced buckets of milk that were collected both by hand and by one of the milking machine Greg had installed in the pens. The suction tubes were positioned right under her enormous, full udders that hung from her morbidly obese body. Heather loved the feeling of soft pressure on her huge nipples. However, her body and living quarters were not the only things that changed.

Once Heather had fully accepted her roll, Greg brought in one of the few friends he trusted to show his prized cow to and had him perform hypnosis on her. She could now only communicate in the way befitting of a heifer like her. She was now only able to moo. Even if she tried to form words, they would only escape as unintelligible sounds or distressed moos themselves. The only time that she was given back the ability to speak was when Greg took her out to show her off and treat her to a night out on the town. Although, that had become more difficult since walking tired her out so quickly and going to a restaurant meant she had to either sit in a booth or use two chairs to accommodate her gigantic rear. Despite the booth seemingly being the more comfortable of the two, even that proposed its own problems. Her belly stuck out so far in front of her that it squeezed her tightly between her seat and the table, making in almost impossible to slide in or out of.

When they went out, Greg always made sure his hucow was dressed nicely. Her wardrobe was filled with nothing but cow print and plaid for when she dressed casually, and almost everything was stretchy. She often wore special made-to-order dresses to cover her sea of cellulite covered flesh and her thick, blubbery body filled ever bit of them. She had a set of specially made bras with milk pads to keep her leaky teats from soaking her clothes. Despite everything being so large, her fat still spilled from wherever there was an opening, fighting against the elastic. To complete each outfit, she had a matching cowbell and plenty of black heels for her hooves. Wherever skin was not covered, her cow spots could be seen. They were her badges of honor as a true hucow. People could not help but stare at her when she walked into a room. She was incredibly beautiful, morbidly obese, and had a gorgeous hide covered in spots. There was no other girl like her in town. She was the labor of Greg's love and dedication.

Even though she had a closet filled with sexy, beautiful, and comfy outfits to wear, she felt most comfortable naked. She spent so much of her time being milked and bred that she did not even need clothes around the house. The mirror in her bedroom was very useful now as she had trouble seeing over her mountain of flesh and it was much easier for her not to move much during sex. Greg did all the work for her and she enjoyed watching him pleasure her massive, fat body as she fondled her heavy, milky udders. She loved putter her pink teats into her mouth, squeezing them, and lapping up the rivers of milk that she produced. She always left a pool of milk and sweat behind afterwards and her sheets had to be changed often. Greg still made sure to clean between her rolls thoroughly during her sponge baths. She could not even fit into a normal sized tub or shower without filling the whole thing and leaving any room left for a sufficient amount of water. Heather enjoyed the feeling of the soft, damp sponge washing the sweat and oil from her heavily cushioned hide. Sometimes Greg would even take her outside and hose her down like the cow she was. The best was right after a meal when her food droppings were smeared all over her rack and belly. She did not just stop caring about making a mess of herself; she enjoyed it.

Heather's life could not get any better. She had a fiancé who loved her, a farmer to take care of her, and a mate to ***. She woke up each day whenever she wanted, ate whatever and whenever she wanted, and was fucked even when she did not think she wanted. She was a pampered cow queen with a gorgeous body and plenty of tasty milk and cushion to give. The only thing that could make it better was having a few calves for lover and to drink some of the gallons of excess milk that weighed down her tits and made them ache. Her life had changed for good and she did not want to ever go back.