The three of them, two filthy derelict biker and one short, overmuscled pig with milk leaking from his tits and cock, left the apartment building and never returned. A few neighbors witnessed them leaving, but for some reason none of them regarded it as particularly odd, after Jeff shot them with the gun of course, and each of them returned to their own, newly fetished lives without another thought–sometimes literally.
Jeff was ecstatic. Finally, it was his. Sure, at first he’d resented Ray for changing him without even asking him first, but in that old body, he’d realized how…wonderful it was to be in control. One night, Ray made him his own personal pain slave, and that whole night…it had opened his eyes. This is how life was meant to be lived, but he’d always been second fiddle, until now. Now he was the one really in charge. Now he had the gun, now he could do whatever the fuck he wanted, and what he wanted now was a whole lot of fucking–starting with Ray, of course.
Ben remained a few respectful steps behind his master, still trying to wrap his head around everything that had happened to him that evening, from the alley to the apartment, and now this. Who even was he, anymore? His mind tried to answer the question for him, telling him he was Master Jeff’s obedient biker pup, that he’d do anything for him, that he’d serve him for the rest of his life, and even though he knew that was wrong, the words rang so true so deeply that it was quickly becoming impossible for him to even imagine an alternative…and yet, there had to be one, right? He could still barely remember walking into that alley to take a piss, and then…then everything. But that was getting harder and harder to hold onto, and fading faster than he could believe–in fact, by the time they reached the bar, he no longer remembered any of it. Instead, his head had filled in the blanks with a new life, a life spent at Jeff’s dirty boot heel, and he loved every moment of it.
Wade wasn’t thinking anything at all–his entire mind had been wiped, replaced by simple, instinctual impulses. His massive balls and missing cock were on display for all the see, and he felt no shame, or pride, or anything. What he did feel was pain. His balls and pecs were…brimming with cum and milk, and he needed release, soon, or his mind worried he might simply explode. The thump of his thighs against his huge sack as he walked helped, a jet of cum fling out with each forward step, and he kept his hands locked on his nipples, tugging and yanking and twisting them like faucets, his chest and gut soaked with his own milk, but it wasn’t enough. He would slow on occasion, and Master would yank on his nose ring, the bell around his neck clinking, and he’d give a pained moo, but pick up the pace, hopeful that his master would give him relief soon.
After a twenty minute walk, they arrived back at Ray’s bar–the bar he’d fashioned with his leather master sensibilities in mind, and while a day earlier Jeff had been in love with the place, now it seemed…far too clean and bright and open. He wanted dingy concrete. He wanted urinals and tobs brimming with piss. He wanted darkness and red lights and unknown bodies grinding against his. Still, that could wait–Ray was in there, at the bar, his personal bartender serving him bourbon. He looked annoyed–Jeff was late, but he’d been late for good reason. Still, he couldn’t confront him yet–he had something else in mind first. From here, he could do whatever he wanted to Ray, of course, but it had to be perfect–and he had just such an idea in his head.
“Cow, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to go in there and walk up to him, just let him notice you, and let him do whatever he wants to you–got it?”
Wade understood, and he waddled inside. He turned quite a few heads, including Ray, who could barely believe what he was seeing…and then he recognized him as their missing thief, and then the gun’s ray struck him right in the chest. he barely had time to register what had happened, and then he was up, his nose flaring, drawing him closer to the mancow approaching him, and he fell to his knees, latched onto a nipple, and started sucking, helpless to the crippling addiction that had overwhelmed him suddenly. The pleasure hit Wade in wave after wave, cum spewing freely from his cock, the entire bar watching what was happening.
“Having a good evening, Ray?”
He managed to crook his eyes up, and saw Jeff approaching him, the gun in his hand, “Fuck…Fuck you, fucking stop this,” he managed to saw with the nipple still glued to his lips.
“I’m not doing anything, Ray. You seem like the one who should stop, if you don’t want to make a complete fool of yourself. Then again, it doesn’t feel like you want to stop, now does it?” he added, slipping one dusty boot between them, pressing the outside against Ray’s still massive, sensitive sack and making him groan with pleasure and pain, “In fact, I bet you’d like to be a cow too, eh? Making some milk of your own. How does that sound?” He adjusted the dial on the gun, “I think it sounds pretty good myself.”
Bracken's Corner 