The Pretty Little Cow

Dorothy admired your freshly branded and pierced body for a long moment in the mirror, her hands roaming possessively over the new silver tags on your nipples and the throbbing “Dorothy’s Slutcunt” brand just above your caged clitty.

Then she smiled — that slow, dangerous, maternal smile.

“You’ve been such a good leaking bitch, Slutcunt… but Mommy has decided it’s time for a new role.”

She turned you around to face her, one finger hooking through the O-ring of your muzzle.

“I’m going to turn you into my pretty little cow.”

She leaned in and whispered hotly against your ear:

“Soft udders that lactate fresh milk for Mommy every day… and a tongue that always hangs out like a dumb, drooling animal. No more complicated words. No more hiding that eager little tongue. Just moos, drool, and fresh warm milk whenever Mommy wants it.”

Two days later, the same heavily-tattooed modifier returned.

This time the session was longer and far more invasive.

First, he removed the heavy pink muzzle-harness and the paw boots. For the first time in days your jaw could close… but not for long.

He worked on your mouth for nearly two hours.

Using a combination of surgical threading and careful muscle modification, he shortened and repositioned the base of your tongue so it could no longer rest comfortably inside your mouth. When he was done, your tongue rested permanently outside — long, soft, and slightly thicker, always lolling out like a happy dog’s, constantly dripping with thick saliva. You could still speak, but it was slurred, messy, and humiliating. Most of the time you simply drooled.

Then came the lactation.

He injected special hormone cocktails directly into your chest and pelvic area. Tiny implants were placed under the skin of your pecs and around the base of your tiny clitty. Within hours, your nipples began to swell and darken. By the next morning, both your budding breasts and your pierced, caged clitty had started to lactate.

Clear, sweet milk beaded at your nipples and slowly dripped from the flared opening of the catheter where urine used to come out. The catheter had been modified too — now it only allowed milk to flow, never urine. Your bladder had been rerouted. You no longer peed like a person.

You leaked warm, sweet milk instead.

Dorothy removed the last of the restraints herself.

She stood you in front of the full-length mirror once again, completely naked except for the pink collar, the silver nipple tags, the Prince Albert and cage, and your fresh brands.

Your tongue hung out stupidly, long and soft, drool already running down your chin and dripping onto your swelling chest. Small streams of warm milk leaked steadily from your puffy nipples and from the pink catheter tube at the tip of your caged clitty, running down your thighs in thin, shiny rivulets.

Dorothy hugged you from behind, hands cupping your newly sensitive, leaking breasts. She squeezed gently.

A strong spurt of warm milk shot from both nipples, splattering the mirror.

She laughed delightedly.

“Ohhh, look at my pretty little cow~” she cooed, voice thick with satisfaction. “No more Slutcunt. From now on, you’re MooMoo. Mommy’s sweet, dumb, lactating cow.”

She squeezed your breasts again, harder this time. More milk sprayed out in messy arcs while your tongue lolled helplessly and drool poured from your mouth.

“Moo for Mommy, cow.”

You tried — the sound came out wet, broken, and pathetic around your permanently extended tongue.

“M-moooo…”

Dorothy moaned softly in pleasure and ground her thick cock against your ass.

“Good girl. Such a good, milky little cow.”

She reached down and squeezed the base of your caged clitty. Warm milk immediately squirted from the catheter in a steady stream, pattering onto the floor.

“Perfect,” she whispered, kissing the side of your head. “These udders are going to be milked every single day. Mommy’s going to drink straight from the source… and bottle the rest. You’re going to stay full and leaky for me all summer.”

She turned you around and cupped your face, thumbs wiping away some of the drool from your lolling tongue.

“No more complicated toys for now. No muzzle. No paw boots. Just my naked, drooling, lactating cow crawling around the house, leaving little milk trails everywhere she goes.”

She gave one of your swollen, dripping nipples a firm tug.

Milk sprayed across her chest.

Dorothy leaned down and latched onto your nipple, sucking greedily. The sensation was overwhelming — pleasure and humiliation crashing through you as she drank straight from your new udders.

When she pulled off, a thin string of your milk connected her lips to your nipple.

She smiled, eyes dark with lust.

“Crawl to the kitchen, MooMoo. It’s milking time… and Mommy is thirsty.”

Your tongue hung out uselessly.

Drool poured from your mouth.

Milk dripped steadily from your tits and caged clitty onto the floor as you dropped to all fours.

“Moooo…” you whimpered pathetically.

Dorothy laughed softly and followed behind you, eyes locked on your leaking, branded, ruined body.

The summer was no longer just about breaking you.

It was about turning you into her perfect, permanent, milky little pet cow.