Red Ring
by Limerick
Chapter 2
* * *CAROLINE MILPITAS. CREVOLA: 12
BASINDORIUM: 141 IQ: 212STAMINADOS: 60 REMALTA: 87SPELLS: POWER OF THE TWELVE GODS+ABILITIES: MILK OF THE TWELVE GODS
Aline bundled her out of town just as her hooves finished forming.
Caroline was finding it hard to hang on to her various worries. She figured that the issue was how many there were—they flitted against each other, like friendly fireflies, and couldn’t gain a powerful grip. Her attention span had seriously degraded, and it just had to be a result of overflow. For example—how could anyone worry about both growing cow hooves, and also causing a major schism in the local Church?
Especially when it was so nice to just laze around in the hot summer sun...
“We’re here,” the Priest said, knocking on the stagecoach door. Gruffly, at best. “Come out, but keep your robes on. We’re not safe until we get to the Church.”
“Oh, okay!” Caroline said. She adjusted her hood on top of her horns. She was growing fond of them. Anyone would, the way they felt. As pleasurable areas went, the heft of her big new jugs was best, followed by her reliable but ever-ready pussy. But the horns were a close third. Although there were interesting possibilities recently emanating from her butt, especially as her tail finished growing in...
Surely there was time for another handplay session...
“Miss!” The Priest threw the door open. “Is everything okay? I heard... things. As we rode down.”
“Um..yes! I was deep in prayer, probably!” Caroline said. At least the locals were still easy to fool, compared to her sophisticated otherworlder self. She’d given herself over to self-pleasure a few times. Just a dozen. That, too, had to be a coping mechanism against the worrying truth that she was apparently a sort of Isekai Martin Luther. Her existence called all doctrine into question.
Priestess Avine had given a powerful sermon, evidently, against her continued existence.
Ending with a dramatic toss of her habit, to show her furred and striped self. She had claws, whiskers, tail, and all. Set against this, Prince Ricard was literally baying to have her turn the rest of the knightly order into a zoo.
Meanwhile her ongoing efforts to promote intellectual development had dwindled considerably. She’d drawn a picture of an air conditioner, but, even she had to admit, it was just a box with CARRIER written on it.
“Careful,” the Priest said, as she stumbled out. He made no move, Caroline noticed, to take her hand. Her feet had fused into black, stubby hooves. A layer of dark keratin had formed over the bottoms, and her toes were just an indiscriminate mass. She did miss them. She liked flexing them after she came. No more.
Her entire gravity was an adventure. Not just the hooves. Her body was still expanding both fore and aft, turning grass and dirt into heavy fur-covered slabs. The efficient and logistically-convenient body she’d arrived in was long gone. She was thicc and hungry.
And yet... how bad could it be, really? Her body kept telling her that. Her body certainly still liked the idea of converting Ricard’s crack knights into big-dicked anthro boys. She’d probably cum with each squad. Why had, her tits asked her, she accepted Avine’s offer to flee to the countryside? The hot boys were back there.
But at least now the sun was on her, and that always made her lazy, and horny...
There was a large, unkempt pasture to the side of the Church.
They were a day’s journey from the crown, south, through the fields with their struggling rows of crops. All watched by men with swords, jealously guarding sad, small tomato-like plants. Caroline had been fed on the trip on small, stale chunks of bread. Even that was clearly more sustenance than the daily norm.
It had struck Caroline, once she had some slow-spaced hours now necessary for thoughts to percolate, that she was the only cow she’d seen. Or any edible beast. Too hard to protect from the Demons, she guessed, or too much luxury for the calories.
And yet... despite eating comparatively well, despite knowing she should hide in the cool of the stone Church, her tummy rumbled...
Caroline stumbled over the fence. The priest had gone inside, or—actually, she didn’t care where he’d gone. It was unclear why there was a fence at all—it protected nothing but tawny-gold grass. Caroline stared at it. Although she had a tail, and horns, and her hair was almost done turning a bovine white, to match her fur, she hadn’t ever just sat down and ate grass.
She wasn’t an animal.
Her status window confirmed that she was a hefty level twelve, with a prodigious IQ, and magical power from hoof to horn. She was a heroine and a crackerjack logistical analysis supervisor. She certainly wasn’t about to stuff handfuls of raw stalks into her flat-toothed mouth. She was not hoping that her tits would leak more milk, she didn’t want to eat and eat in the sun’s warm glow.
She certainly didn’t want to birth a bunch of calves. She didn’t. She had NOT jerked off to the thought, on the trip.
She was so, so hungry.
Caroline pulled the first few handfuls out. But the taste was sensational, and her hands stung from the nettles, so it was easier to just lower her mouth and chew. Contentment immediately ticked over, filling her, pushing the worries and concerns into a small and shrinking box. What remaining wits she had turned to rationalization. She was not putting a guilty drain on a limited food supply. She was being clever, a very clever girl, turning waste grass into food. She was being efficient.
She was rubbing her clit as she chewed. Unnoticed, behind her, Caroline’s tail slipped out of her clothes, and took the opportunity to grow the rest of the way.
Occasional panic filtered through the dull masticating haze. She was on all fours, after all. Clearly something wasn’t going well. She should be turning the pasturage into an industrial park, or at least a zoned-commercial lot, and filling it with medieval Starbucks and fast-casual restaurants. She should be explaining how microwave ovens worked to admiring scholars. She shouldn’t be nuzzling at grass, and lowing with delight at the occasional delicious flower. Certainly she shouldn’t be squirting over an orgasm so strong it sent her haunches to the ground.
She needed to—needed to—the thoughts weren’t even coming. It was all silly, all her thoughts. After all, what everyone needed was food, not the incandescent bulb. But all she could give them was power, wrought from animal-inspired bodies with powerful libidos. She’d been selfish, hadn’t she? All her aims had been to show off her own flashy, otherworldly knowledge. She should’ve been working on feeding them, not showing off.
It was a startling, shocking revelation.
She’d been a bad cow.
“The King fears... YOU?” a voice said.
Surprised, Caroline sat up. A fully-formed tail whipped at her backside, alarmed. Thoughts moved, nonetheless, with agonizing slowness.
Herbivores were slow and simple-minded.
In front of her was a—bat. A woman, with leathery wings, strapped in a leathery outfit. She had tall, taut ears, big enough for satellite reception, and such little tits that Caroline felt immediately sorry for her. Her own felt so heavy, so full.
“Moooooo—ummm,” Caroline said. Was she dreaming? It was very possible—it was dark out, and she knew she’d embarked from the coach in bright sunlight. Unless she’d just spent a half-day mindlessly eating grass. “Hi?”
“I do not intend to underestimate you,” the bat-girl said. A demon, part of Caroline shouted at her. A cute lil bat lady, her brain responded, and wanted to giggle. “I’ve seen your power. I’ve seen it drawn from the Lord, pulling him down from his rightful heights. And yet. Look at you. Do you shit as you eat?”
Had she? Surely not, right?
The bat-girl paused. Caroline ruined the moment with a slow, hesitant smile. Why couldn’t she get her mind in gear? “Go ahead! I’m listening!” she prompted, which just made bat-girl scowl.
She was a real cute girl, although Caroline couldn’t help notice that she was sadly short in the tits department. And her cheeks were drawn and taut, and her bones were too-defined underneath the leather.
Caroline flopped her own boobs out of the folds of her robes. It felt immediately better to have them underneath her, teats facing down. With all the other changes she’d barely appreciated the growing and surging flesh of her own new boobs. A real shame, as they were getting very large, and had big brown nipples.
Bat-girl, by contrast, had just two nubbins behind a leather brassiere. It was sad. And she had too much visible collarbone for Caroline’s liking. Girls were cuter with soft layers of fat, she felt.
“I also see that you are alone,” the girl said. “And you require others to bestow your stolen gift.”
“Yeah, I’m a support class, it sucks,” Caroline said. Although...
She needed to help bat girl with her bad boob situation.
“So in the name of the twelfth—”
“CAST!” Caroline said.
It didn’t hurt that casting always sent the yummiest orgasm rippling through Caroline. Drool flooded past her flat teeth and out her mouth, and she beat her hardening hooves into the grass. Even as a soft-bodied half-cow the gift flashed her vision into the divine. The bat-girl, interestingly, was part nickel, but heavily red, a crimson scourge in the metallic version of all creation. But there was plenty of room for more, and the familiar red whip started with her tits, wrapping around and around.
“You—youuuuu—” and then she was back in mundanity, watching bat-girl hold her fast-growing chest with dazed confusion. “Youuuuu put—the GIFT in me?”
“Yay, your tits!” Caroline said. Funny, she didn’t feel the same compulsion to munch, this time. Perhaps because she already had a tummyful of grass, or perhaps she’d just leveled past that need. Her hair did seem to be faintly turning an even more ashen white, and there was a sympathetic surge in the already heavy weight of her boobs. And a sudden pressure.
A heavy and growing pressure.
Caroline put her hands on them, hesitant, and was only a little surprised by a sudden spray of milk. At high pressure, enough to douse the spasming and overwrought bat girl with fluid. Her eyes, already unfocused, seemed to roll around. She licked her face with a long tongue.
Caroline was definitely unsurprised that the spray of milk felt good. Everything felt good. She’d half decided it was all a dream, not just the sudden titty-happy bat girl, all of it. She was learning an important moral lesson, in her slumber, about humility, about food transport, about that first logistical lesson of all, that of sharing with new friends.
She’d been wrong. It wasn’t a horny isekai, or a humor one, or an adventure, or any of the recognized subgenres of the subgenre.
This was a shitty isekai. A badly written isekai.
And the most urgent, endlessly-repeated lesson of any crappy, poorly-written Isekai crap was the importance of friendship.
She held up her milk-sloshing tits. “Are you hungry?” she said.
The girl stumbled forwards, her limbs half-working, and latched on, as Caroline cooed.
CAROLINE MOOCOW. CREVOLA: 15
BASINDORIUM: 212 IQ: 292STAMINADOS: 48 REMALTA: 111SPELLS: POWER OF THE TWELVE GODS+AURA OF THE TWELVE GODSHEALAGATAIL FURYTHICK FATSCRAPPYABILITIES: MILK OF THE TWELVE GODS
When she woke next her hands were tied behind her back, and she was being carried, like the side of beef she was.
Caroline searched for some responsive fear. Or at least some—the word took a long time to arrive, in a soft and milk-scented head—apprehensiveness. While she waited for her vocabulary to come around, Caroline ran a tongue along her fat, soft lips, and admired the white glow of her hair. Although she had some trepidation about doubling in weight, and overall bovineness, the hair was adorable. Very heroine, and it framed her horns beautifully.
It felt nice—although everything felt nice—to realize that her body had some overall plan in mind. She wasn’t just a patchwork cow. She was pristine, with a white-spotted fur and long white hair. A sacred cow, she realized, and giggled to herself, excited. She was the type of heifer they put a wreath on. The sun had already crested, and her fur felt very good, warmed up by the fantasy-world rays. Hard as she tried, Caroline could not find reason for concern.
And that WAS strange, she considered, lazily flicking her tail. After all, her IQ was undeniably up a million points, her status window had no reason to lie. So her mind should be racing a mile a minute, not just analyzing her situation but designing the world’s first toaster. Instead it was thinking—why did her titties have milk? Was it magic, healing milk? That’d be nice...
It’d also be nice to rub her tail between her legs...
“Are you awake and RUBBING YOURSELF?” the bat girl said, in disbelief.
Caroline decided to see how it would feel, to say it. It already hung in her mouth, on her leaf-eater tongue, on her grass-touched lips.
“Moooooooo,” she said, and giggled again. Her milk-tinged mind came up with a few feeble rationalizations, out of habit. She was going on a heroine’s journey. Nothing bad would happen to her, in her own Isekai world. And if anything tried, she’d Cast it into a horny, dripping mess.
The bat girl shouldered her down. She hadn’t suddenly gone from bat to rabbit, or anything similar. But she had very much filled in. The little hard breasts had sprouted into big demon orbs, and her hips now slouched back and forth, nearly hitting the wide leather expanse of her wings.
“I gave you big boobs!” Caroline said, pleased.
Bat girl rubbed at her face. She was very much trying to look in command of the situation, and it was adorable. Caroline had given up on that, as well. It hadn’t gotten her any more grass.
“Listen,” the bat girl said. “I wish to be clear on this. You are food.”
“No, it’s Caroline. Oh—do you think I’m a cow because Caroline the Cow? What’s your name? Is it Betty?”
“It’s—Taveris,” Taveris shook her head. Her lips were a glossy black, newly puffy, and Caroline delighted in the sight of them. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me. You are alive because you are nourishing, and for no other reason. If you—attempt to use your Eleven-infected magic—”
“I know you like your boobs,” Caroline said. “You’re touching them right now.”
Taveris, right-hand of the Demon King, pulled her hands away with difficulty. Her nipples, Caroline noticed, were the same black-red as her lips. It was super cute.
“Your gift comes with a harsh price,” Taveris said, sitting on her hands. “Nourishment in this land must be torn from other’s hands. I myself must feed on rare berries, and the land of the demons is fit only for grass and mud. And now I must somehow find food for these—” her emphasis was a good excuse to shake her tits again, so she did so. And tweaked her nipples.
Taveris looked increasingly exasperated with herself. Caroline figured she was having trouble reconciling a lifetime of dark-fantasy hunger with a new need to endlessly fondle her tits.
“But you can suck on my tits,” Caroline concluded. She was pleased with herself, for helping. “Wait—it’s that, right? That’s the food, right? You’re not going to butcher me?” She was, probably, richly marbled. It was true her otherworlder mind wasn’t exactly coming up with technological bangers lately, but her rump was definitely wagyu quality. She felt vaguely proud of it.
You’re a good cow, she told herself, and briefly recoiled. No, she was just... the heroine. Not a good cow, a very good cow with a great butt. It was hard to recall why she cared.
“I take you to see the Demon King,” Taveris pointed towards a distant peak. It was very forbidding, and wreathed with a crackle of dark clouds. “I return his power by returning you. You are in his image, you know. Your horns, your tail, reflect his glory.”
“He has a horn and tails?” Caroline said. She perked up at this. “What does he, um, look like?”
“He is seven foot five of dark god!”
“Ooh. And horns. Does he have hooves, too?”
“Of course!” Taveris glared at her. “And black, where you are matted with white.”
‘Moooh,” Caroline said. “You know what they say about black fur.”
“Enough!”
“And he wants these?” Caroline said, hefting her tremendous tits. She had only briefly felt some trepidation about having oversized boobs. Now, they were, very literally, her cheat skill. Huge tits were, after all, also a cheat skill back on Earth. It was a good comparison, and Caroline congratulated herself on making it.
She was being such a good cow, even though of course she wasn’t one.
“It is—it is—” Taveris swallowed... “..it is true that your breasts contain a stolen nectar of precious—of precious—”
“I can feed you,” Caroline’s eyes welled up with sudden tears. “I was just thinking about this. I’ve been so selfish since I got here and—here! Drink! I bet it makes me level up again!” She idly summoned her status window, to check. She’d reached level 15 at some point. And there were a number of new spells and abilities. She’d have to check them after getting her titties sucked.
She ran, fearlessly, like a true good heroine cow, into the close danger of a fully-grown demon woman, with all her talons and fearsome skills, and offered up her tits to suck.
Taveris had spent her entire life hungry.
All demons did. The taming of hunger, the use of it, was the core of the demon experience, and had been turned into religious material out of necessity. Hunger was a burn, the core of the drive. Subduing it was the daily struggle. A true demon only knew satiety on the day of adulthood, and, in a solemn rite, to mark a rare pregnancy. And she knew that, even with the milky bounty suddenly offered to her, stuffed in her mouth, it was important to never completely fill her shrunken belly. To not lose her edge.
But it tasted so warm and creamy and sweet...
“Mooooooooooh!”
CAROLINE MOOOOOCOW. CREVOLA: 20
BASINDORIUM: 431 IQ: 350STAMINADOS: 24 REMALTA: 159SPELLS: POWER OF THE TWELVE GODS++AURA OF THE TWELVE GODS+HEALAGATAIL FURYTHICK FATSCRAPPYABILITIES: MILK OF THE TWELVE GODSBIG YUMMY CUMMIES
“Caroline!”
She’d been alone for days, making her way to meet a Dark God. With hooves and horns. Caroline felt silly, vaguely recalling her days of enforcing a six-foot standard on dating apps. She’d been selling herself short, literally. There was a seven foot-plus god out there eager to meet her.
Taveris had greedily drunken her fill, on both tits, and then had some sort of personal crisis. She’d muttered various things about how Caroline was a sweet trap, slathered in honey, and so on, and so on, and finally fled from her, new boobs bouncing. Caroline had caught a glimpse of her bat friend flying, far in the distance, and had been pleased to see that her new titties were visible even from very far away.
Since then Caroline had—slowly—made her way south.
Very slowly. Grazed her way south. The world now shone with tasty things on every tree and bush, and Caroline was excited to taste them all. The brown and broken grass had a nutty flavor, and the stunted trees occasionally had a growth of what looked and tasted like wine-soaked strawberries. She wasn’t making very good time, but, then, that part of her that had lived to the clock, that had yelled at delivery drivers for minute delays, didn’t seem to be currently turned on. It had gone quiet.
A lot of her had gone quiet.
But she was still certain that she was being a very clever heroine, and not just a silly moo cow. Caroline had slept, at night, underneath the shelter of her status screen, covered in a stolen moss from one of the blighted trees. That was smart. And when a slavering beast had sprung at her, all teeth and spikes, she had Cast it so full of tits it had run away, crooning for a lover. After that nothing had bothered her, even as the surrounding countryside turned a pale shade of general green, and the air eddied with troubled, magical winds.
“Caroline! Ah, bless the eleven, we found you!”
A large dog and a fuckable chicken were loping towards her.
Cecia especially had gone through some changes. As far as Caroline could remember she’d only ever cast on the girl once. Nonetheless she had grown in her feathers very nicely and very thoroughly. It was possible it was just her losing the long black mage robes for a scant few strips of cloth.
The one over her bosom wasn’t doing much of a job. She had fat chicken tits.
Her thighs were especially plump and juicy, and Caroline felt an immediate kinship over it. They were thigh sisters.
She was panting, exhausted, but Prince Ricard was hardly at all out of breath at all. His tongue lolled out of his mouth. He’d acquired a short, sharp snout, his canines fitting into neat rows. He’d apparently shaved his hair into a mohawk, of all things, which looked undeniably cool between his upturned dog ears.
“Heroine, I smelled you,” he said, happily. “I’ve been following your scent for day after day.”
“Ooh, what do I smell like?” Caroline said. She tugged at her tunic. For no real reason she’d kept her clothes on. They were now a tight-fitting wrap that occasionally squeezed some milk out, and a baggy sort of belt. The belt preserved a little modesty up front, although her ass was completely exposed.
“Ummmm,” Prince Ricard said. He averted his eyes. “Earthy. Yes. You smell quite... earthy, in a very heroic way. And, of course, uniquely, uh, wholesome in a place such as this. Heroine, you stand in the depths of the Demon King’s domain.”
“It’s outside though,” Caroline said. She stepped on the ground.
“Ordinarily anyone here is torn limb from limb, stripped for parts and THEN killed,” Cecia said. She looked about to bawk-bawk at any time, her crop quivering. “They say humans are shared thirty different ways, and our fingernails are used for soup. Not that we... not that we have finger—buck.. buck... ba-CAWK! finger... CAWK! CAWK! FINGERNAILS anymore.”
Was it her imagination, which was still as fertile as ever, or was Cecia adding extra feathers as she talked? Caroline gnawed on her lip, her new favorite activity. It was very cute, if so.
“Perhaps we’re in disguise,” Prince Ricard said. “Our bestial selves, our animal scents... you know, Cecia, you yourself smell like...”
“Prince!” Cecia said, blushing furiously.
“Well. We are all redolent of the barnyard.” Prince Ricard had kept scraps of his own finery—this fine pants had burst at the knee, revealing powerful and hairy legs. His velvet coat with its golden cord was a melange of remaining fabric scraps. He had bright yellow eyes.
He looked like he was having a blast. Possibly due to Cecia, who, despite trying to put a stern, serious look on her face, was definitely getting fucked very regularly.
“Caroline. The capital is not safe. Members of the faith fight hand to hand. The demons take with impunity as we war among ourselves. We need you to return, to birth a new age. An age of strength.” He licked at his teeth, throughout the speech. Caroline could swear his tongue was getting longer. She vaguely wondered if she should mention her new aura-thingy. Oh well.
“Oooh, so I really kicked off like a, umm... like a Reformation thing, huh? Like a kind of hottie Martin Luther King Jr.?” Caroline said. She picked at her broad, flat nose. “Like I really did some stuff to your scriptures, huh?”
“It’s been...” Prince Ricard turned to look at the distant human lands. “Theologically challenging.” His tail, already fairly long, was adding a flair of long brown fur, matching his mohawk.
“Fires in the Castle. I clu-clu-cluck—I was kicked out of the mage’s guild,” Cecia said, as unhappy as a large, anthro chicken could be. “Even after I threw a fireball the size of three men.” She pulled at her throat, unconscious of the rest of her red wattle growing in.
“Cecia, enough,” the black mage was silenced with a single sharp look. “And yet others know, we cannot continue as we were. If the price of power is a mouse tail, or a bird’s wing, or, for some of us, a hunger for corn kernels, even if on the ground...”
“Ricaaaaaaaard,” Cecia moaned. She looked heated, and not just from running there. They both did. The AURA OF THE EVERLASTING GIFT probably had something to do with it, Caroline concluded, and felt very smart for making that connection. She was the only one who had cottoned on.
Certainly, Cecia didn’t seem to have noticed that she was growing brand new feathers, down the sides of her wings.
“I welcome it! I have taken no grain from our dwindling store!” Prince Ricard declared. Hot breath steamed from his muzzle. Caroline had gone a few days without significant sexual activity, outside of some idle handplay, thinking about strong Demon Kings with enormous horns. “I ran here on the sustenance of squirrels and voles and gophers! All of us can live on the bounty of the land. You offer us all we have ever needed, a way forward! My cow—lady. My lady, return with us!”
Cecia’s legs were cocking forwards as she stood, her knees reconfiguring into something more suited for pecking.
“I don’t know if I wanna go help fight the Thirty Year’s War or whatever. I was gonna go see the Demon King,” Caroline said, pointing southward. “I think that’s what normally happens at my level? I’m like, level twenty now, I’ve got all sorts of spells and shit. I made a beast totally cream herself.”
Prince Ricard’s canine eyes widened. “You seek to challenge him... you, a simple cow... as the prophecy foretold...”
“Mooooooh, a prophecy?” Caroline said, perking up. She had been harboring some doubts, that she was just looking for demon dick.
Cecia seemed to have noticed that her changes had sped up, and wasn’t sure what to do about them. She’d dropped on to her butt, and was examining the formation of her retrograde knees. It all seemed to be accompanied with Caroline’s usual blast of overwhelming horniness. Prince Ricard was practically swollen with it. His nose was blasting air, sniffing her.
“Yes... the prophecies said...” even as a large dog, Prince Ricard could declaim in a knightly tone. “...That The Demon King Would One Day Be Defeated.”
Caroline waited.
“Anything else?”
“No... no, it is indeed a short one. And yet, we stand on the precipice of it.” Caroline wondered where else her magic was having its way. He seemed just about done, a perfect blend of human and canine. Although, she thought, if his tail was growing, it stood to reason, so was his dick.
“Prince, she’s—bawk, bawk, BAWK—there’s—” Cecia was having trouble getting used to her new knees.
“I confess, I was prepared to take you in my mouth and drag you back to the Kingdom. But this... this is GENIUS.”
Caroline beamed.
It was as good a time as any. As far as she could blearily remember, from so many half-recalled light novels and manga adaptions, she was actually way behind on fucking the Prince. Fucking the Prince was a level ten event flag, and she was already strong enough to turn girls into chickens, on vibes alone.
She waddled forward, eager. Sure enough, the cock that emerged from his threadbare pants was a perfect blend of musky canine prong and big human dick. It seemed to pulse and surge as she looked at it.
“Pri-pr-Prince!” Cecia said, finally getting to her feet. They were fusing over into yellow beaky talons as she struggled. “I don’t—I have followed you, and turned into a meat bird for you—and taken your dick so many times—and—and—”
“CAST!” Caroline said, waving her hand vaguely in Cecia’s direction. She deserved this. She’d been a GOOD COW. Cecia collapsed in a pile of feathers and arousal, digging at herself. Her tail feathers were fast growing in. Prince Ricard didn’t seem bothered by it. Whatever he was scenting, off of Caroline, it had his full attention.
“I have a tech-no-log-ical innovation for you, Prince,” Caroline said. Her own voice startled her. It was dreamy, and surprisingly deep. How big was her throat? She supposed all that grass had to be put somewhere. “Status!”
It fizzled in front of her, the numbers on it still whizzing back and forth. She’d leveled up yet again. Staminados kept going lower and lower, although her actual stamina felt perfectly fine. She was pretty sure she could fuck Prince Ricard for a full day, for instance. Caroline grabbed the window and maneuvered it until it was at waist height, facing down. She laid down on it, her tits squishing out on both sides. Fresh milk squeezed onto the rippling list of abilities. There were eight of them now. She’d only bothered to read the first five.
“You lie on the air itself, heroine,” Ricard said, wondering. But otherwise he didn’t hesitate, grabbing her expanded rear with both sets of claws. They stung only briefly. Caroline flicked her tail in his face, playful. “Cecia, this is required by our new religion, think nothing more of it. You are still my chicken boo.”
“It’s just—just—oooooomooooooooo my PRINCE!” Caroline gushed. There was a perfect cock thrusting into her. And she was perfectly wet for it. The only issue with getting out of the grass was that she couldn’t stuff grass in her mouth while he fucked her. But the extra leverage was worth it. “Moooooooohhhhhh Prince Ricard!”
“I pledge—I pledge myself—god you smell like such a fuckable cow SLUT,” he growled, and bottomed out deep inside of her. Their respective furs rubbed together. Underneath her, Caroline’s IQ stat was growing so fast the numbers whizzed about. It didn’t surprise her. She’d come up with SUCH a super-smart idea. “You’re a WHORE of a heroine, you know that? I’ve been following your pussy scent for a full WEEK.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Caroline gushed. She’d been worried it was her butt. She gave her man an extra wriggle. With her added ass padding it translated into a very fun ripple. She was feeling particularly good at having sex. Maybe one of the ever-changing numbers underneath her was her fuck skill, or perhaps she’d unlocked a new job class.
Either way, milk spurting, butt pounded, Caroline was finally starting to feel like she understood what class she was. It wasn’t Artificer or Mage or Bard. She was a Fuck Cow, and she was gaining crazy amounts of levels.
Above her, his chest growing deeper and thicker, Prince Ricard looked up and howled his orgasm. Caroline felt the first of his jets fire into her, and moooo-ed her own delighted cum. Her pussy clamped down on each spurt. It was an almost perfect moment, excepting only the frustrated bawks and clucks of Cecia, who couldn’t quite rub her own slit with her grown-in wings.
CAROLINE SLUT COW. CREVOLA: 23
BASINDORIUM: 431 IQ: 430^^^STAMINADOS: 13 REMALTA: 214SPELLS: POWER OF THE TWELVE GODS+++AURA OF THE TWELVE GODS++HEALAGATAIL FURYTHICK FATSCRAPPYABILITIES: MILK OF THE TWELVE GODSBIG YUMMY CUMMIESPUSSY JUICY
The Priestess Avine intercepted them underneath the bulk of the castle. Alone.
She wore her full regalia. Unlike the other three, whose rags had become ever more performative, she was dressed in habit and wimple. Caroline was immediately curious about what she had under her robes.
“I stand for humanity,” Avine declared, by way of greeting.
“That’s great!” Caroline said.
“Yes,” she looked at Caroline. “And that means, accordingly, against you, as you are no longer human.”
“Humanity,” Ricard growled. His jacket had burst apart entirely, and was just a set of sleeves with some piping attached. It made it easy to rub his puppy tummy, so Caroline liked it. “A pale and pink experience, spent on an empty belly.”
“Easy for a predator to say,” Avine said, withering, pointing to Cecia. It was true, Caroline had to admit, that Cecia had gotten a poor draw in the Cast game. She was covered in a downy set of feathers, brightened only by a multi-colored set of tail feathers. She had, at least, gotten properly fucked by Prince Ricard, once he had gotten done with his new cow. Sloppy seconds, but chickens ate out of the mud, and she had seemed fine with it.
“Leave me—buck buck—out of it,” Cecia said, through her bright beak. “I’m just a—buck-buck—part of his flock, or herd, or whatever the FUCK-FUCK this is.” She kept pretending to be annoyed, which Caroline didn’t believe at all. Both of them had enjoyed fresh-squeezed Caroline milk, and Cecia begged very cravenly for regular doses of dog dick.
“The Demon King’s corruption runs deep,” Avine said. She paced in front of them. She had some sort of staff, although Caroline had no idea how she intended to stop the three of them. “It flaunts itself, turning us into craven beasts. The fabled red-metal whip, tarnishing the golds and silvers of the gods.”
Avine’s tail had crept out of the folds of her robe, as she’d declaimed.Her whiskers were getting longer, too. Caroline wondered if Cecia could levitate Avine away, or something. For all her awkward buck-bucking she now had the raw magical power to bring down the moon.
“You, a driven dog,” Avine said. “You, ridiculous poultry. Myself, a common house cat. And you yourself... Caroline... I reserve pity for you, even as you spread your crimson scourge. It has reduced you from intelligent woman to moronic cow. I see you are now dripping with milk.”
“Moronic!” Caroline said, indignant. She stood up. While Avine had her big speech she’d sat down to eat. True, she hadn’t been at her intellectual best, lately. Prince Ricard had gently reminded her to go to the bathroom away from the camp, as she kept forgetting. But any girl would be a little dazed, upstairs, after getting regularly fucked by nine inches of dick, and spraying milk on the regular. “I am level twenty-something or another, Miss Kitty! I have spells I haven’t even read yet! My IQ stat, I will have you know, is through the darn roof! Which this silly civilization barely even has!”
“IQ,” Princess Avine said. She furrowed her kitty brow. She looked truly adorable. Her wimple slipped down, revealing a pair of cat ears, still finishing up formation on the top of her head. Her remaining humanity was mostly in her hair, and even that was colored calico. “What do you mean by IQ?”
“Right here!” Her status window was mostly a prop for sex, lately, and for her morning milkings, but it certainly worked. “My IQ is like, ten bajillion!”
“IQ... IQ... I believe you are... could you possibly be referring to Ignitas Quotilian?” Avine said. She seemed genuinely confused at where the conversation was going, as did Cecia and Prince Ricard.
“Sure! It’s great!” Caroline said. “It’s like, totally high, and there’s two green arrows next to it!”
“In the old tongue Ignitas Quotilian refers to, ah, femininity. In the sense of fertility and receptiveness to sexual advances,” Cecia said. “Buck-buck-baKAWK!” she added.
Her fuck stat.
And breeding skill. It glowed, on the screen, with three-digit healthy vigor. “So what’s the ancienty word for intelligence?” Caroline said. She didn’t have a small voice anymore. She was too much of a big horny cow, and was made for lusty mooing. But she would’ve, if she still had one.
“Staminados,” Priestess Avine said.
“Staminados,” Prince Ricard said.
“Yeah, Staminados,” Cecia said.
Her Staminados stat hadn’t gone down very much lately. But, then, there was little more it could go down. Caroline turned to look. Just then, the number creaked down, one last -1. To twelve.
“Ooooomooooooo,” Caroline said, dismayed. So, she’d been leveling herself stupid, it turned out. A twinkling dust of -1 Staminados all those times. She’d cum her brains out, JRPG-style.
But... no. She didn’t have smarts anymore—very possibly they’d been turned into tits—but whatever Caroline used for thinking fought back. “No, no!” Caroline insisted, shaking her sloshing tits. Priestess Avine was now breathing hard, and loosened her robe without really thinking about it. “Look, I may not have book smarts and stuff, and yeah, maybe I never could tell you rustics how cars go vroom vroom, and phones go beep beep, even when I was a smarty-pants, but I am here in this world and I am going to HELP! For the first time, EVER, I’m gonna HELP people, okay?”
“What’re you gonna do, mrow-mrow? Slosh milk at the Demon King?” Avine said. Perhaps she wanted to be sarcastic, but it came out genuinely curious.
“I don’t even know!” Caroline said, proudly. “Maybe! But we are going up to THAT castle and I’m the HEROINE cow whore who is gonna beat the Demon King, maybe by sucking his dick, and YOU are not gonna STOP me you silly little kitty!”
It was a big speech for her, especially with her new lips and teeth and tongue. Hard to spit out, and she’d drooled throughout it. Her tits, confused by the surge of emotion, decided to spurt out some milk.
“You’re—mew—going to—STOP the Demon King?” Priestess Avine said. Her robe could no longer fit on her changing frame. It was falling off her narrowed shoulders, barely catching the tops of her tits.
“Well, YEAH!” Caroline said. “I mean, we’re not stupid, Avine!”
Oh, right, it turned out she was stupid.
Caroline tried to summon up a ball of fear and concern, and gave up right away. Perhaps that was something only smart people could do. But it hardly mattered, did it? She wasn’t going to heal this world with her brains, after all. She was now too dumb to have any self-deception.
She was going to heal it with her tits.
“Hold on,” Caroline said. “Guys, hold on. I think I just had a cool thought. Something—about—my boobs—and it’s gone. It’s completely gone. Oh well. Avine, of COURSE we’re—are you CRYING?”
She was crying, little sad kitty tears. Caroline’s wisdom stat, although negatively impacted, was still intact. It had to have been hard, leading a church schism, and learning everything she believed was a lie, and also turning into a big horny anthropomorphic sexy cat. “I thought—” Avine blubbered. “—I thought you were just gonna... betray humanity... and I was... I’m SO SORRY.”
“I’m gonna lay an egg soon, and I watched my boyfriend fuck dozens of girls, and you didn’t see me turn on the waterworks,” Cecia muttered.
“Wait—” Prince Ricard whispered. “You’re having a chick? Did I get you—chicken pregnant?”
“Avine, would it help if I pet you?” Caroline said.
She’d been wanting to pet Avine for awhile. Since the first whiskers had popped onto her face. Caroline wasn’t really a dog person, except when it came to getting vigorously dicked down by one. She was a cat person, who was now a cow person.
She approached with caution. When she reached the still-sniffling Avine, she reached out, with her black-furred hand, and ran it down the top of Avine’s head, and all the way down her back.
Avine purred. She tried to hold it back, with the few remaining threads of her human dignity, and failed totally. She arched her back into it, and made a deep, murrrr sound of complete feline satisfaction. Her robe was dirty, and she had to have run, for a long time, on an empty stomach, to get ahead of them. She deserved a nice pet.
“Moo, there you are, see?” Caroline said, pleased. She stroked the holy woman’s head again, with more confidence. “Isn’t this nicer than theology and shit? Just getting stroked? No more god stuff, no more—mmmoooo!”
The Priestess pounced. The rest of her robe gently fell off her chest. Avine was furred all over, excepting a patch on her stomach, and the tops of her tits. The rest of her was patched with auburn and white. She had a tail just like Caroline, just missing the tassel, she had soft fur just like Caroline, and her tits were, if not the same size, in the same ballpark.
She seemed to want to be kissed and pet, at the same time.
“Okay, yeah!” Caroline said. “Good, we needed a healer for the party!” Her tits were rubbing right against Avine’s and it felt nice. The cat girl was making up for lost time, when it came to fur-on-fur contact. She had abandoned all holy restraint, just pressing her entire self up against Caroline. Luckily, Caroline thought, she had plenty of space to go around.
Nearby, Prince Ricard was celebrating incipient fatherhood by fucking his chicken wizard.
“DPS, healer, tank...” Caroline rubbed at her own stomach, her only non-furred section. Inevitably Avine had found the nub to her teats, and was sucking away. “...and support! We’re set! Gosh, I’m really looking forward to this, it turns out! Ooooommmoooooooooo Avine, that feels so fucking good!” The kitty girl had gone between her legs, and was lapping with a pretty pink tongue. She looked up, eager for Caroline’s approval, her nose wet with cow pussy juice.
CAROLINE SUPER SLUTTY COW. CREVOLA: 24
BASINDORIUM: 451 IQ: 489STAMINADOS: 12 REMALTA: 224SPELLS: POWER OF THE TWELVE GODS+++AURA OF THE TWELVE GODS+++HEALAGATAIL FURYTHICK FATSCRAPPYABILITIES: MILK OF THE TWELVE GODSBIG YUMMY CUMMIESPUSSY JUICYASS WHORE
“Gosh, Prince, is this too easy?” Caroline said. “I don’t want you to be bored! We can take a fuck break or something!”
“A foursome? With all of you competing for my penis?” Prince Ricard considered this, gravely. “We are in the very middle of the Demon King’s castle, keep in mind. In a hallway, as well.”
“Well, YEAH, but you haven’t gotten to do cool fighting moves at ALL!” Caroline said. “And Cecia, I haven’t seen any of your fireballs, and Avine, you haven’t had to reattach any of our limbs... I just feel like... well... we have to shake it up!”
“I do appreciate your concern for us,” Cecia said. She’d gathered herself, but kept going full chicken from time to time. A spasming state where she bucked, and flapped her wings, and generally made a big deal of having Prince Ricard’s dick in her. She orgasmed like a hungry farmer was eyeing her coop.
She’d added a glorious red comb underneath her chin, and a cockade of scarlet feathers to the top of her head. All typically male attributes, but Caroline had big horns, so she was one to talk. The bottom line was, she looked great.
The Demon King’s Lair was very Bowser. Long stone hallways, fantastical chandeliers, broad red velvet carpeting. Drafty. And no opposition at all. Well, there had been a brief sortie at the gate, with a squad of demons and demonesses bellowing and shaking their jaws. Caroline had zapped them all with bigger boobs and larger cocks, and they’d moved through.
Since then, it had been a very quiet castle.
“Should we make a plan for the Demon King?” Prince Ricard said, half-heartedly. He swung his sword, also without much conviction. In his other arm he had Avine cradled up in a compact kitty ball. She kept sneaking in licks or kisses, depending on how catlike she was feeling, at that exact moment.
It was mostly licks. Avine had discarded her clothes, her previous attitude, her holy orders, her stern humanity, and thrown herself completely into the role of desperately horny catgirl. Her tail was still finishing up, under Caroline’s aura, and she occasionally gave it an experimental flick. She meowed a lot, like she was making up for lost time. Otherwise she was a contented pile of anthro cat, piled in Ricard’s arm, and ignoring Cecia’s many dirty looks. Their chicken girl was starting to waddle and sweat, and they did have to hurry, in case the egg was on its way.
“Okay, big double doors,” Caroline said. They were ten times her size, reinforced with iron bars, and satisfyingly big-boss tier. “CAST!”
Nothing happened.
“Did you expect the door to grow tits?” Prince Ricard said.
“Well, everything else does!” Caroline huffed. “I don’t know! Maybe some doorknockers?”
The door extended above them, impassive and boob-free. The ceiling itself curved up to give it extra room. It seemed impossible to open, and heavy rust had formed on the hinges. Caroline had to imagine actual visitors used some sort of side entrance. The only good news was, there was definitely a Demon King behind the doors. Caroline tried to think of impressive ways to banish the rust, but she had to admit, all she had upstairs was sex and milk, and contented dreams of fields of grass.
“I mean, I guess we’re done?” she said. “I guess we failed? That’s a big door.”
“Allow me,” Cecia said. She summoned all the gravitas a large big-boobed chicken could summon. She extended a bright white wing. “FIREBALL!”
The roar of fire threw them all backwards.
It left the fur all over Caroline charcoal-scented. It was by far the largest blast of flame she’d ever seen. Small embers of past Caroline, excited by the smoke and burn, vaguely recalled some stuff with metal she could do, with sufficient heat. Caroline firmly stuffed those thoughts all back down, to make room for calming images of men suckling at her teats.
“Wow, Cecia,” Prince Ricard said, impressed. He’d stood his ground against the fire, and his eyebrows had paid for it. Avine had scuttled to the safety of Ricard’s back. Cecia—
“Oooooh,” she said, wobbling. “That felt—odd.”
Cecia had laid an egg. It was an ovoid volleyball, and brown-spotted.
“The baby!” Prince Ricard said, as Cecia, dazed, settled onto it. “Oh, Cecia, you—I half-thought you were joking—oh, but can we nest in the very lair of the great beast?” He shrugged off Priestess Avine, who fell without catlike grace to the flagstones. She looked very affronted. Cecia, despite passing an enormous stone, and lacking most of the facial features to do it, managed to look smug.
Momentarily unnoticed, Caroline smelled something—familiar.
The scent of the pasture and the barn were through the door. They wafted towards her.
Alone, she followed her nose in.
He sat on an iron throne, and he smelled fantastic.
His great horns sat heavily on his head, and he had to lean, against the backboard, to keep upright. Despite being a steer he had a great gray beard, and a heavy red-gold ring thrust through his snout. Taveris, her bat wings tersely folded back, mopped at his brow with a cold rag. A yellowed eye opened.
“Ah. My successor,” he rumbled.
“Uh, hi?” Caroline said, paddling in. Her nostrils flared, again. Yes, he smelled great, and he was definitely some sort of cow. A bull.
Her bull, her body told her.
“I knew you would come,” the Demon King said.
“Oh, like dozens of times, today alone!” Caroline said.
“Y—yes. Ahem,” he exchanged a look with Taveris, who shrugged. Her own new bat boobs wobbled around. “You bear my gift and my form. You see, heroine, when the gods were brought forth, to have their power ripped and granted, and my doom assembled, I joined with them. I am the Twelfth God, after all. And I saw a chance.”
Caroline followed her nose even closer. Yes, it was all of him. Not just any pasture, but the great green pasture, with the longest blades of grass. And the barn was clean and well-kept, and a brook ran through it, and they’d sleep underneath the stars. She drew closer.
“My kin, the demons, live on their hunger. A bull could only give them war. But... I thought... a cow. A cow with warm, nourishing milk. A new goddess that would provide, instead of fight. And so I didn’t give some of me. I gave all of me. To you. You are the promise of my ten thousand and five, my—”
“Can I suck your dick?” Caroline said.
She interpreted his shocked silence as assent.
Taveris, wholly confused by what her gods were up to, backed away. The Demon King didn’t resist as Caroline unbuckled an ancient belt, and reached into an old and worn loincloth. As a God, he did not disappoint. She drew out, triumphant, a mahogany-dark cock.
“Oh, it’s soft,” she said. “That’s okay! I haven’t licked it yet!” It was, even mostly limp, the best-smelling thing of all. A dick for her, made for her, intended to fuck baby calves into her.
“I—uh—I fear my time is short, much less my ability to—heroine, are you—oh my. Yes, right there.”
“Mmmmm its nice. Can you get hard for me?” Caroline said, hopefully, as she licked. This had been the plan for some time. She’d tried to come up with others, in case the Demon King turned out to be a mean guy, but fucking him had dominated plans A through D. She’d put all her remaining logistical talent into figuring out how to seduce a towering figure of darkness and night. Although, in the event, she’d just walked up like a stupid slut and dropped to her knees.
“I—ahhhh—I would if—heroine, what are you doing with your tongue? Some sort of—divine—” he arched his back. Caroline felt bad for him. She wasn’t giving particularly good head. Her new herbivore mouth had a slow, flat tongue, and none of the eager predatory mouth of an Avine. And it wasn’t working. He was still exhausted, soft.
But that was okay. This was an Isekai. And she had a cheat skill.
“CAST!” Caroline thundered, taking the Demon King’s dick briefly out of her mouth.
The metal overlay shone in her eyes.
The Demon King was all red, but not the simple scarlet she’d half-expected. He was brass, and bronze, and iron, and copper, and not a little mercury. All of it shining red in a world of tamer yellows and silvers. A subdued red. An exhausted red. It flowed in and out of the simple metallic band attached to his snout, pumping to the tired beat of his heart.
She put her left hand on the metal. The real metal. It was warm to the touch. He’d given very much, she could tell.
Caroline took the beaming vermillion inside of her, her god-gift, and shoved it up into him, pumping it in through his prick. She rubbed it, fondly, back and forth. His cock had been lubricated with a generous squirt of milk from her tits. The power extended through him, burning hot through his limbs, until it spread along the red ring in her left hand.
Her vision cleared.
In front of her, nearly steaming, majestic, arose the perfect cock of her steer-god, her bull-lord. The Demon King.
“Mooo,” she cooed at it. It twitched.
Caroline hopped on, the impossible length fitting through divine grace. Two rejuvenated hands found their way to her tits, giving them a casual but firm squeeze. Life-granting milk squirted out of both breasts. A perfect food for all demonkind, for everyone. Incredibly nutritious, and ever flowing, especially when she was getting bottomed out by a god. Caroline glanced back, to the stern face of a King, his beard already turning back a burly brown. She reached over to give a loving tug on his red-gold ring.
“Can I have one of these?” she said, coy.
His answering thrust took her breath away. Eventually the Demon King stood up, for the first time in generations, so he could fuck her more thoroughly. The walls cracked and the ceiling shook, and the demons cringed and prayed where they’d hid themselves. But it was just Caroline getting her back blown out, pinned against a wall and her bull lover, and in absolute heaven.
“D-don’t waste any,” she managed to say, watching her boobs drip golden milk to the floor. “It’s—mooo—it’s sooooo—moooooo—oh GOD you’re such a hottie!”
She clamped her thighs shut, just as the Demon King started to cum. It should’ve blown out her ear drums. But she was kinda-sorta a goddess too, and it just made her orgasm, as well.
CAROLINE SLUTTY MILK GODDESS. CREVOLA: 50+ [NG+ READY]
BASINDORIUM: 750 IQ: 999STAMINADOS: 9—REMALTA: 530SPELLS: POWER OF THE GODDESSAURA OF THE GODDESSHEALAGATAIL FURYTHICK FATSCRAPPYMILK SIPPERABILITIES: GODDESS OF MILK AND FUNBIG YUMMY CUMMIESPUSSY JUICYASS WHORE
He’d built her the fence and the barn. He had also made her a nose ring, just like his, and installed it through her septum. A dainty ring, to match his massive one, and the same brass-rose color.
In exchange she’d given him a name. He did have one, from when they were the Twelve, floating in some sort of boring and formless void. But when he’d been cast out—there was some long epic story about it, Caroline hadn’t paid much attention—he’d thrown his name in to the ground itself, blah blah blah blah. Since then he’d gone by King or Lord, which was a title, not a name.
She’d considered many different names. Ferdinand had floated through her simplified, milky head, from who-knew-where.
In the end she’d named him Tank.
Tank fucked her in their favorite position—bent over her status window, elevated to accommodate his nearly eight-foot frame. It meant she couldn’t eat as they fucked, but, for god dick, Caroline was willing to make certain sacrifices. Even so, the sweet-scented grass tempted her, mere feet from her always hungry tummy. Tank did his best to make her forget, thrusting his impossibly long, indisputably divine cock into her pussy. He told her that when she came, which was a lot, her tail nearly stuck straight out, like it had been magnetized and electrified.
As always her bull roared when he came. She always joined in, even if she was mid-orgasm, with a cooing, sultry moo.
And then it was back to milking.
Caroline had only fuzzy memories of her past life. A sexless and dull existence, spent stressing about something called ‘spreadsheets’. She vaguely remembered staring at something called a phone, which made her both happy and sad.
But one thing that had stuck around was a preference for routine. It surprised visitors, who saw a pasture, and expected a slow country approach to time. But Caroline had so much to do. She awoke in the throne barn and immediately sucked Tank into godly tumescence. That first fuck wasn’t strictly necessary, since she was definitely fucked full of calves, but it got her tits going and was also a wonderful start to the day.
Then two and a half hours of eating and milking.
The demons were losing their scant, hungry looks, filled to the brim with her milk. They had too many splines and incisors to nurse directly, most of them, but Taveris’ milking squad extracted just about as much as was possible. Not a drop was wasted. Caroline liked to watch them drink, their stomachs sometimes bulging out, as a Demon formerly fed on bad dreams and northernmost moss just got to drink their fill. They looked happy, and that made her happy.
The milkers crept in, now that Tank had withdrawn his dripping, golden cock. Cum dripped down her ample backside. The demons were sure that milk drawn right after a fuck session was the creamiest and best. Taveris leaned in and took a firm hold on her always-heavy tits. Her pussy quivered. Two small demons came in with big buckets. Nearly everyone on the Taveris squad had big beautiful tits, inflated by Cast.
“Oooooomoooooomoooooooo,” Caroline moaned, as they started to squeeze. White-yellow droplets rained into the bucket. She’d checked her stats, and Staminados had even found a way to go down a little more. These days it just made Caroline giggle. She was using nearly every part of her body. It was fine if her brain didn’t have to work. If she could turn them into more tits, she would. Another round of giggles sent her enormous boobs waving, and the demons had to maneuver their buckets.
At noon she held audience, befitting her new status as Demon Queen. Since she was not in a position to render much advice, this was generally a time to eat and doze.
But a surprising number of humans had made their way down south. Avine had gone back to preach a new creed. Humanity could return to when the good way of life wasn’t painfully scratching the earth. There was an alternative. She preached the virtues of an hour of eating berries and/or mice followed by enthusiastic and regular mating. Primitive but happy. The converts lined up, to become big-boobed deer or ducks with big dicks or otherwise reborn.
“Ooh, what does the world look like now?” Caroline said, to the latest applicant. She had grown black and yellow bristles and bulbous bug eyes. “Do you think you’re like, a queen bee, or just a regular bee?”
“Caroline, give her a moment,” Cecia instructed. Her royal advisor. She slept quite a lot, nestled on the top of her egg. But when awake she gave excellent advice. “She’s still cumming.”
Their Captain of the Guard was out, patrolling the perimeter. He had a habit of ambushing the new prey specie girls, especially anything furry and squeaky, but was otherwise fully devoted to his growing chicken family. Apparently whatever chicken-dog hybrid, growing in the egg, would be tenth in line for the throne.
The sun was high on the horizon. Caroline remembered that one, even as geography and algebra and so many other useless things had trickled out of her tits. When there were no shadows, it was time for her noon fuck.
Long days stretched in front of her. For the last time, she drew a car, in the dirt, with her clumsy finger. Caroline erased it. They really needed to plant more grass. She’d mention it to Tank, when he came to fuck her.
And there he was, right on schedule.
Tank wore a red velvet cape, and nothing else. He was already hard for her. He grabbed her nosering and tugged it gently, to bring her over to where he wanted to fuck. Caroline followed, lowing softly.
This soon after casting, she could still see the red line connecting her to him, and then back again.