An old (2008) story resurrected following repeated requests for Cow stories. It involves non reversible modification so please don't use this as a text book or if you do ensure local customs and laws permit the practices hereby described and in addition ensure the consent forms are properly signed before a competent and sober Judge.
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The Princes Cow pt 1.
Prince Faisal stood framed in the palace doorway, a handsome bronzed figure dressed in the finest flowing white robes with gold and diamond jewellery.
“Miss Haines, good of you to come, come through to my office please,” he requested.
I felt dowdy in my ankle length blue skirt, my shirt buttoned to the neck and my blonde hair covered with the mandatory headscarf.
He half bowed to me, smiled and invited me to sit, the office was like everything he owned, magnificent expensive paintings ringed the walls, dark oak panels and hand carved furniture added to the feeling that money was no object.
“We have a problem” he announced, “Only minor, easily resolved.”
“What’s wong.?” I asked. “Is it the girls, have the authorities complained?”
He shook his head, “No not that.”
“I understand you share a suite at the Hilton with Mr Grey?” he continued.
“Adjoining suites, not share.” I corrected.
“But I am told you shared a bed.” He continued.
“No, No never.” I protested
“Never the less,” he insisted “A complaint has been made, you do know the penalty for adultery here?”
I nodded, death, for poor women or a big fine and five years in jail if one had money.
“It is your choice,” he continued, “but reclassification would resolve the situation.”
Reclassification, the loop hole which allowed our girls to work as concubines, whores, prostitutes within the laws of Arabia, the loop hole I myself had identified, the description of Infidels as animals, and the registration of our girls as domestic animals, and not servants.
“As what,” I enquired knowingly.
He smiled his winning smile. “Domestic animal like the others, I suggest," was his predictable suggestion.
“Perhaps I should just return to London?” I countered.
He shook his head, “No I have a sacred duty as Prince to arrest you, I would be in breach of my religion's teachings, but it is only a piece of paper, Miss Haines, we will soon have this problem resolved.”
I knew the form very well, to be a domestic animal merely required signatures of the previous owner and new owner on the requisite form, and a declaration of the purpose of the animal, milk, in the case of the girls I brought over.
Faisal’s secretary Ibrahim appeared silently, with a sheaf of forms, my own name already neatly filled in as previous owner and also as name of beast, Faisal’s signature also filled the boxes, only my signature was required to complete the formalities.
“If I don’t sign, I get arrested?” I queried.
“That is correct,” Ibrahim re affirmed, “You will be listed for trial as soon as is court time shall we say three months, and of course you will be held in custody until then.”
“We have a one hundred per cent conviction rate,” Prince Faisal added.
I had no choice, I signed the forms, four copies, one for my owner, one for the records at the state registry, and one for me as previous owner and one for my Domestic Animal file.
Faisal took a chain from a long jewellery box and handed it to me, “Put it on please.”
Gold and diamond and ruby flashed as I took it from him, a tiny bell tinkled.
“It displays your status, as required by law, you may loosen your collar and bare your head as well if you wish.”
It was warm and humid despite the air conditioning so I took the scarf off and loosened a few buttons and Faisal helped me to fasten the clasp.
“Shall we discuss business now?” I asked, but he shook his head.
“Ibrahim," he ordered, "Take Monica to a guest room and have her things sent over, would you please.”
Ibrahim indicated I should follow, and we walked through the marble floored passage ways deep into the Palace before taking an elevator to the third floor.
The room was unspectacular, three star not five, a desk, a computer, TV, drawer units, lockers and places to hang robes, single bed, and an en suite bathroom.
I checked the computer, it was hi tech satellite broadband download but no upload, I read my emails in frustration, unable to reply.
Ibrahim called me to eat, I sat at a long table in a room by the kitchen with the domestic servants, they seemed cold towards me, speaking in Arabic when I knew they all spoke fluent English.
My cases awaited me, and as evening came Ibrahim brought a servant girl, Nadia, to help me. “Is there anything else?” he asked.
“I need to send emails, can you do anything?” I asked.
Nadia went away and when she returned she had a little Flash drive memory stick and she promised to transfer the data to the palace system and get it uploaded to the net for me, she explained the upload was very slow, they were working on it, but said I should keep messages short.
I could see way over the city from my window, the Minarettes, the Hotels and beyond the desert.
I enjoyed the rest, for the first few days, Ibrahim explained that I ought to remain in the Palace until the receipt of the paperwork was confirmed by the state registry,
The days started to drag, Nadia came occasionally, knocking to tell me it was time to eat, she called me Monica which irritated me, I preferred Miss Haines, and no one seemed to empty my dirty laundry basket.
I decided to complain, but before I could I had a visit from Ibrahim.
“We don’t have a vaccination certificate for you.” He explained.
“Its here,” I announced showing the page from the file in my case.
“No, it must be signed by a vet, I have Mr Dimonious in suite three seven, he will do the necessary.
I followed Ibrahim to suite to meet the vet, it was a sham, the vet just pricked the girls skin a tiny bit and issued a certificate.
Dimonious was made of sterner stuff, he had little English and less bedside manner, and he had me undress down to my panties and bra before checking my hair closely for fleas and lice, he was considerate enough to get Nadia to check my pubes for lice, still a horrible experience, and then he gave me an injection.
I woke an hour or so later, my breasts throbbed, I realised he had mistakenly given me the introduction treatment for lactative production, the hormone stimulant injected into the breast tissue to fool the breasts into thinking their owner was about to give birth and that they should start producing milk.
I guessed it was a simple misunderstanding, easily rectified, but my breasts throbbed drawing my attention constantly.
Nadia took me back to my room, she sat with me and listened sympathetically as I explained what had happened. I guess I kept fiddling with my bra trying to get comfortable and she suggested I should leave it off for a while.
It was better but I found it hard to concentrate when I sat at the computer, my mind wandered, I realised it was ages since I last had sex, irony that I was accused of adultery but had not had sex for weeks.
I usually paid Daniel, a Tennis pro, to fill those needs, five hundred for the evening was money well spent as he made me feel good, and it was clear who called the shots, sometimes we went for a weekend and I insisted he brought no money or cards, I paid for everything, I needed to be in control.
I always hoped that Daniel liked me for myself, he seemed to enjoy out time together but ws it me or my trappings of wealth, I almost suggested we should have a proper relationship but I was not ready to risk rejection.
Nadia brought my food to eat in my room, she could see I was uncomfortable, and I remember no more until next morning.
Nadia woke me, she had found a bra for me, with holes to allow my nipples to poke through, it was wonderfully comfortable, and I felt much better, although it was hardly beautiful, apparently made from white canvas.
I asked about my washing, my laundry basket remained obstinately un emptied. Nadia blushed “The housekeeper says they are only fit for whores, she will not wash them, but she will send appropriate attire for you if you wish.”
I thanked her and soon she returned, the panties she brought were again hardly beautiful the simple garment tied with a wide soft draw string around the waist they had no sides and just covered front and rear, but were surprisingly cool and comfortable.
Nadia offered to put my dirty clothes in store for me.
“You should ask for a robe” Nadia suggested that evening, “You get so hot in western clothes, it is not good for you.”
“Ok” I answered, “Who do I ask.”
She grinned conspiratorially and produced a simple black robe from a bedside locker then she helped me undress to my underwear and to place the robe over my head.
Surprisingly it had no hood, just a vee neck, Nadia explained tentatively that it was because of my temporary status, my bell must be visible.
My three hundred dollar dress shoes looked ridiculous and I had discarded pantyhose as soon as I arrived because of the heat so when Nadia produced sandals for me I found them a welcome improvement.
I remember eating supper and then Nadia helped me off with the robe, tucked the bed covers around me and removed my ear rings and I particularly remember her looking at my watch.
I must have slept for ages, Nadia had my breakfast, she spoke kindly, “Ibrahim says you should please not wear your watch and ear rings because they are out of keeping with your registered status, something about a problem at the ministry, do you mind.
“Oh,” I replied.”
“But he sends these for you.” She showed me the beautiful golden discs, lettered in Arabic, a beautiful inscription, I later learned it said Monica, property of Faisal Prince of Aragan Number 378.
I tried to put them on, but needed Nadia’s help.
Ibrahim came to see me, “More problems, I am afraid Miss Haines.”
Miss Haines again, this sounded serious.
“They dispute that you are here to lactate, they claim you are a slave and thus should receive the ultimate penalty, but my master says that as you inadvertently received lactation hormone we could simply continue and prove you can lactate.”
I felt a huge chasm of fear open inside me, the hormone was also a sedative to reduce unnecessary brain activity, I told others the effect was minimal and temporary, but I had doubts.
“Is there nothing else I can do?” I asked. He shook his head.
Dimonous the vet was waiting downstairs, once again he gave me an injection in my arm and I woke an hour later.
I felt very strange, my breasts felt hugely heavy, straining at my bra straps, but I was so tired, I don’t know how I got to bed but I woke next morning feeling awful.
Nadia helped me shower, she undressed me washed me dried me, dressed me again, even fed me, I was too tired to care, I sat and watched TV, I was going to check my emails but I could not be bothered.
My breasts seemed huge, swaying around like great big udders, I asked Nadia but she said they had just used some liquid injection to bulk them out to fool the ministry inspector.
My breasts were very tender and I started to support them with my hands whenever I moved.
Somehow days seemed to slip by, Nadia was there when I woke, and when I went to bed, she slipped away when I watched TV but I got used to her, she would cut my food up and feed it to me so I could support my breasts with my hands, take the weight off my shoulders, stop the bra straps digging in.
I barely noticed but my breasts were both swelling and sagging at a frightening rate, I was used to seeing other girls swell and sag but Nadia was so skilful in changing my bra for a larger lower one almost every day that I barely noticed.
I remember the day when Ibrahim came and they said the inspector could be stalled no longer and they had to check my breasts.
Ibrahim brought a woman I recognised as Sita, my on-site cow girl supervisor, she did not say hello but instead she ushered Ibrahim from the room then without a word she helped Nadia to remove my robe.
I was shocked at her attitude as she treated me like some inductee not like her employer but I decided to have words later not embarrass her in front of Ibrahim, and I allowed her to continue as she felt the weight of my breasts, “lovely, do you need milking, do you think?” were her first words to me.
She rolled my left nipple between finger and thumb and then she dropped to her knees and started to gently suck.
It was like a dam breaking as the milk flowed, a drip at a time then faster and faster as I felt her love flowing in to me as my milk flowed to her mouth, then Nadia took Sita’s place and Sita was initiating my Right breast, it was the best, so much better than sex, two girls making love to me, I realised my pussy was wet, crying out for attention, but the sensations overwhelmed me and I experienced the first of several orgasms.
I slowly came down from my high, they left me to rest for an hour or two then Sita gently woke me to show me a new robe she had brought for me, instead of sleeves it went over my shoulders and allowed my arms to slip down inside and hold my breasts, also there were openings like pockets so I could pass my hands through at waist level, she helped me to put it on.
Nadia came to feed me my evening meal my breasts throbbed as I ate, I needed something to relieve the sensations so Sita brought an electric breast pump for me, she connected it up and it was a great relief. Sucking quietly away.
I think that Nadia brought me the feeder around that time, a cylinder where you put liquidised food with a suction valve, so when you suck food comes through, it saved Nadia having to help me eat and she got me a water feeder so I could eat and drink unaided as I watched TV.
I ought to have realised what was happening, I had approved the same measures for my girls, I arranged for the sedative and hormone levels to be tightly controlled, following the Debenham formula, and although I did not realise at the time, of course my brain function diminished, so I slept and otherwise I spent all day watching TV while eating and being milked.
Sita said something about some tests one day and she disconnected the pumps and asked me follow her, I tried to walk but after a few short steps the weight of my breasts made it hard to keep my balance and hurt my shoulders, so she suggested I rest while she found a wheel chair for me, and that is how they delivered me to a room I had not previously visited, a room laid out like an operating theatre.
A small smartly dressed man with a clipboard stood talking to Mr Dimonious, Sita introduced him as Mr Amati, “Mr Amati is from Ministry of Justice and wishes to see you lactate.”
I thought this is getting seriously kinky, but I held by breasts so my nipples protruded from my robe and Sita knelt in front of me and began to suck gently then as the milk flowed she started to milk me with her hand, my milk splashing into a small pail which Nadia held. It felt horrible, I felt like a great ugly cow.
Mr Amati watched and wrote on his clipboard and then he spoke to Dimonious once more.
Sita took me back to my room, and hooked up the pump again and I was able to watch TV and feed again.
Sita came to talk about my mobility “I know it is only until your registration is confirmed but I think you should have your breasts done at least temporarily,”
It came as a sort of bombshell, but when I realised that unsupported my breasts almost rested on my thighs it was a huge shock. “I don’t know about that” I answered.
“Or why not permanently then you can have a lovely boob job in Harley street when you get home?” she suggested “That will satisfy the ministry Man.”
“I suppose so,” I agreed and she immediately thrust the papers in front of me, I signed, but the pen felt awkward and my signature was barely legible.
The operation was a success, Dimonious seemed to have done most of the operation, although a doctor I recognised was in attendance but the gave me an Injection and I knew nothing for three days.
I looked at his handiwork when I woke, although I would hardly say I looked beautiful, at least I felt comfortable, even if the bruising looked like I had been in a car wreck.
The scar ran from my breast bone to my pelvis, I should have known what to expect, but still it was a shock, my chest was as flat as a teenage boy yet breasts now sprouted from my Tummy, I know I had arranged for so many other girls to have this procedure but still it was a shock, but at least the Kevlar bands secured internally seemed to hold my breasts firmly in place now.
I shuddered when I saw the small dummy nipples on my chest, and the yellowish skin around them, Chinese imports, from some executed prisoner probably, carefully tissue matched and grafted in, I knew the colour would normalise but it was a real shock, especially the lead times, someone had planned this well in advance.
My head ached from the mental effort so they sedated me again, feeding me through an IV drip.
They kept me there for a few days, and then they allowed me to try to walk,
It felt so strange, but at least I was more stable. Less top heavy.
Mr Amati came, he made notes on his ministry notepad and went away.
Sita came and explained there was still a few details to be resolved. I signed some more papers, the next few weeks became a blur.
“Its reversible, but I am afraid the ministry will not accept you without it.” Sita said.
It was a hell of a sacrifice. “Are you sure its reversible,” I asked incredulously, but still I signed the form, well death was the only other alternative.
I failed the regulations through an excess of bodily orifices it seemed, I knew the operation had been done successfully hundreds of times and I remembered I had been told it was completely reversible so I signed the form.
Dimonious was waiting as I was wheeled in to the operating room, he smiled as he injected me and that was the last I knew for several days,
They let me regain consciousness eventually, a huge dressing like a diaper covered my lower regions, and the pain was intense, catheter tubes led from its lower edge and they wheeled me back to my room like this, feeding tubes and waste tubes and milking tubes I was like some strange alien Sci Fi machine or creature but soon enough I began to heal.
Again Amati came, another detail, they changed my gold bell for a full size copper one on a leather strap, then he disliked me talking so Dimonious made a splint they could fit to trap my tongue to silence me when Amati came to check.
I never knew that I had agreed to my lower legs being amputated, the forms were in Arabic, but they hacked them off and kept me sedated for weeks while they did the operations and let me heal and somewhere during the same period they chopped my fingers back to the joint next to the knuckle, every finger and both thumbs, but they kept taking me away and sedating me before doing some more alterations.
They changed my medication, they laced my food with it and very gradually I came to appreciate something had changed, I grew used to the fact that my legs finished at the knee, but when the dressings came off my hands and the sedation wore off and there were no fingers, just stumps, I felt sick.
Finally Amati came a final time, Sita wheeled me down in the wheelchair. Amati inspected me, and shook his head, speaking in Arabic.
Sita explained, “You have the hair of a whore, if it is shorn and your number tattooed or branded he will sign.”
I looked at her with disbelief “Do you agree?” she asked.
They hacked at my hair with scissors and then finally a razor, the tattoo took ages, pricking away at my scalp inking in the number 378 and then I was ready so I thought, but they needed to show Amati the changes to my lower body under my dressing.
He went away while Dimonious and Sita removed the dressing and tubes, they told me I had healed fully so it seemed and they placed me on the operating table and removed my robe and my special low slung bra and finally the complicated dressing leaving me naked except for my dressing covering my lower body.
They made me lie down despite my curiosity and then they strapped little boots to my leg stumps, finally Dimonious tattooed 378 on my thigh in two inch high black letters.
Finally Amati came back, he smiled and inspected my intimate parts then they took the dressing from my hands and he could see there were no fingers, I fainted, when I realised what had been done, but they revived me with a slap and Amati had Dimonious lift me down to the floor.
“Show me the stable, I must approve the area where this beast is kept.” He ordered.
Sita clipped a leash to my collar and led me towards the door, I tried to resist and squealed but she slapped my backside with a cane and I had no choice, I crawled as fast as I could, I felt strange, and hideously embarrassed, there were servants, and ladies covered from head to foot as required by law yet I was being dragged naked past them.
They took me to the cow-shed, the ultra modern facility I had developed from the Debenham human-cow cow-shed model, the rows of stalls, the feeders, the screens, the different sections where the fresh arrivals were separated from the long term residents who produced the prized hormone free human-cow milk once their bodies had stabilised.
They took me to a small stall, bare concrete walls four feet of so high screened me from the other girls yet the roof was twenty feet or more higher, the floor was smooth sand, a pair of feeders attached to the far wall.
“I hope you like kids” Sita chuckled as she removed my leash and pushed me through the door. I looked around, ten feet by ten feet, my new home, my prison.
My breasts throbbed, I needed milking, but they were already gone, Sita, Nadia, Amati, Dimonious, everyone.
The throbbing became intolerable then suddenly my door opened, an old Arab stared at me then he carefully placed two goat kids on the floor and walked slowly away after closing the door.
The goats looked at me with sad eyes, we needed each other but it was not until I managed to express some milk into the palm of my hand for them that they got the idea.
It was such a relief, their furry little bodies tickling me gently as they suckled.
The full extent of the changes to my lower organs slowly became apparent, I tried to feel with my poor mutilated hands and tried to see but I could only imagine, and it frightened me. I prayed it was reversible but knew it could never be.
I was there for several weeks, then Prince Faisal arrived with a visitor, a woman clad entirely in black.
They stood watching as the kids who were now pretty enormous fed from me.
“What do you think Julia, is the punishment suitable?” He asked.
I looked at him, punishment what punishment. I remembered acting as Julia's chaperone taking her to and from her UK school, I never intended to be cruel, I liked her.
“Punishment father, why father.” The girl answered.
“She was cruel, you said she was cruel.” He insisted.
“No, that is, ah, was, Miss Haines she treated me with great kindness," Julia replied, "It is the one they call Sita who was cruel to me."
I watched Faisal’s poor face contort in horror. “Oh my, what have I done, fetch Dimonious right now, now I say.”
She ran from the stall as he started to weep. “How can I apologise, I wanted to show Julia how much I loved her” he kept repeating.
Dimonious arrived and immediately he removed my tongue splint, I tried to speak but nothing coherent came out.
Then Faisal kissed my cheek. It was like an electric shock.
“I had such high regard for you," he said, "I felt betrayed when I was told you were cruel to Julia.”
Even through his robes I could feel his erection against my thigh.
My juices churned, “My Prince,” I whispered “I am yours, your cow, you can you know.”
“What?” he asked
“Fuck me.” I replied,
“Ah.” he replied and I felt his fingers at my ass hole, “Have you tried, ah since”
Since they sewed my cunt up and remodelled my internals like a cow he meant.
I shook my head “Be gentle with me,” I requested quietly.
He slid in easily, My asshole slippery with cunt juices, but the new chamber was confusing to us both until he discovered which was my vagina and which was my bowel and then he thrust deep within me, thrusting humping banging.
I screamed, He stopped, worried. “Carry on its won-der-ful” I insisted, sensations raced through my body, my clit may have been moved several inches but it certainly still worked, and then a kid decided it was a good time to feed, fucked up the ass by a Prince and suckled by a goat things were seriously weird yet it was the best sex I could ever remember.
I think I curled up and slept afterwards.
Dimonious was waiting when I woke. He was fascinated to hear details of his success in remodelling me, he had evolved the procedure from simply deleting the vagina to introducing a chamber so that both bowel and Vagina were retained both accessed by the anus, I explained Prince Faisal had problems finding my Vaginal opening within the remodelled rectal chamber and next thing Dimonious’s fingers were inside checking, probing, in the cause of medical science.
He did further checks with a wooden shaft, inserting it in turn in my vagina and bowels, I almost collapsed with the pleasure, he explained my clit now nestled between bowels and vagina walls so either vaginal or anal sex should give intense pleasure.
I guess the fact I was a quivering sweating mass after each penetration rather reinforced his assurance that he had improved on nature.
Suddenly the door opened and Prince Faisal stood before me, “How are you?” he asked.
"Content," I admitted, "Will you fuck me often?"
"Yes," he said, "Or shall we try to have you made whole again?"
"When I am old and ugly and do not please you perhaps?" I agreed.
"And Sita?" he asked, "She knew everything and said nothing."
"Yes, Sita," I agreed, "May I have a few hours to think how she might be repaid?"
"Yes, as long as you need," he said, and I began to dream glorious day dreams of how Sita might pay.
Faisal’s secretary Ibrahim
Mr Amati Ministry Man
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