A battle, but nothing that will save you

The sound outside grows closer and louder by the second. You hear screams and shouts, mostly wugs, but you also hear humans. It seems there is a battle ranging outside. Dangling in the stockade with a belly full of wug eggs and a pussy full of monstrous cum you have no insight on who is winning the battle. You don't even know that you want the humans to win anymore. You have been so bombarded by the cow lifestyle that the thought of the humans defeating your masters and freeing you from bondage is strangely distatesful. You are at least lucid enough to recognize that these emotions are a result of the influence of your masters.

Suddenly most of the cries stop from the wugs. It seems a counter attack has been mounted by your captors and the humans are in retreat. The milk tenders behind your exposed ass and drooling pussy have left. Or at least you think they have, it is impossible to look back and see with the stockade holding your head in place. You remain like that, your last hope of freedom fading. All you can do is wait for something to happen and pray that it will not hurt too much.

You wait and wait and wait some more. The eggs in your belly are growing and getting heavier, your womb is distended, the pain nearly unbearable. Your bladder empties onto the floor, but it has already happened so many times you feel no more shame. The incessant sucking on your raw nipples is the only pleasure you experience. Your mind cries in mute despair as the sounds of the human voices recede. They must have retreated, you realize. Hope is fleeing from the futile battle against your captors and your human mind begins to fill silent in the face of your humiliation.

You sleep restlessly, hanging limp in your stocks, your dangling breasts constantly being milked into the cauldron. You awake to a feeling of intense pressure in your stomach. You know that the eggs of your masters develop quickly and as the squirm and shift you cry out in pain. While you were asleep the girl beside you has given birth and is resting in her bonds. The dreamy sounds of her pain still echo in your mind as you think of your own impending labor. Soon you hear the wugs gathering to help you with your first delivery and you realize there is nothing you can do to stop it.

There is a scooting sound and you imagine the wugs positioning the birthing ramp beneath your distended loins to guide the squirming wuglings into the spawning pool. You feel a gush of liquid and the first of the wriggling wuglings stretches and pushes its way out of you. The pain is mixed with the perverse pleasure of the milking that seems to have accelerated as the birthing begins. Your pussy stretches and tangles of slimy wuglings begin to wriggle out of you and slip and slide down the ramp. You can hear them plashing into the pool where they will grow. You feel pride and tears of joy spring to your eyes as the wugs use their fingers to roughly pull more of the hatching spawn out of you.

The birthing goes on and on though and soon is a physical trial of intense pain. The next hour is the most painful of your life. Every wug that comes out of your body is progressively more painful as the egg casings irritate your birth canal and the wug midwives handle you roughly and sometimes you wooden tools that scrape against your inner walls. You lightly shake in your stocks, and cry out again and again. Finally by the time it is over you hang limp.

Gasping for breath, your surrender is complete. It's over now. You are a cow. Your humanity has been lost. This pain will be a regular thing for you, and the milking will never end. Exhausted, sleep finally overtakes you, and you hang in your confining bondage.

ONE YEAR LATER

You awake to the familiar pull of suction on your milk-fat udders and you open your lips and groan to receive your portion of sweet cream. You plead like an animal for more of the hot milk down your throat and you are rewarded and savor its creamy taste. You plead with your eyes and your smacking lips for the affection of your masters and you eagerly shake your ass, begging to be fucked. Today you are rewarded with a wug cock up your ass. A real treat and you enthusiastically moan and rock back against it in the stocks, your udders swaying beneath you as you beg to feel the wug release inside of you. The other cows look at you jealously, but you've grown into one of the favorites of the wugs, a fine birther always eager to please.

The wug spills its warm load inside of you and pulls out, its spunk bubbling from your ass and slopping down over your drooping cunt and onto the floor. You're heavy with eggs again and you wonder if it will be tonight or tomorrow that the wuglings burst from their eggs and squirm out of your pussy.

You resume mooing and shaking as the milk production speeds up. The creamy liquid that emerges from your breasts is thicker and much richer than most of the other cows. Your body is much better adapted for milk giving. It is a great source of pride for you. But beyond that it is a source of pleasure from the thought that you are useful to your masters. You hope your sweet udder provide for them for many months to come, but the thought that you will run out of milk in time scares you. You don't want to stop being useful. You just hope they find a good use for you once your milk runs dry. Even if it means being eaten.

In the afternoon a new cow is brought in. She is bloodied from battle and she screams and cries and talks in a language you can't understand any more. You strain to comprehend as the wugs secure her in her stocks. She says something about running away from the dark one's hordes. Mentioning that the war is not going the humans way. That doesn't matter to you. This place is not of much interest to him and you will be meat on the wug's fire long before that.

The new woman's annoying talking finally stops. Later you watch her loaded with her first batch of eggs and she hangs limply in her bonds, dazed by the experience. You wish you could remember those exciting first days, but the only thing you can remember is your day to day life. Your name, your past, your family, none of those exist in your mind anymore. Your masters do seem anxious about the dark lord so you increase your determination to get them to fuck you. It will be relaxing for them.

You groan and cry out for affection, your fattened body quivering in the stocks. Beauty does not concern you anymore. Cows are cows. And you are a cow.