1964 The Dairy of DesireChapter 46 Return to Normalcy
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The Dairy Godmother free porn video
The Dairy Godmother by Throne
Artie was crashing at his buddy Joe's apartment. He had been living at
his girlfriend Belinda's place, but she had tossed him out the night
before. First, she accused him of being too bossy. He didn't have any
good defense, mainly because it was true. Then she told him she was
tired of his focus on her boobs. She said it was as if she didn't
exist, above the neck, for him. Well, those knockers were magnificent,
not only humongous, but also so round, and with such big nipples. He
had tried to explain that, hey, he was just a breast man, but she had
exceeded her tolerance level, and nothing he said won him any
forgiveness. He gathered most of his meager belongings and showed up
at Joe's door, late in the evening, with a six-pack and his sad story.
Joe had obviously not been thrilled. He reminded Artie what a terrific
girl Belinda was, and said that, if he was in his pal's position, he
would do anything to hold onto her. Still, Artie's inflated ego had
been stung and he stubbornly refused to even call her.
Now, Artie was lying on the couch, where he had slept. Joe was running
some errands and would be gone for a while. Artie had an issue of one
of the big-tit magazines he was consumed by (in fact, it was the one
called Big Tits), and was in the process of fishing his dick out of his
boxer shorts, when there was a knock at the door. Didn't people have
to get buzzed through the street entrance? Artie got up, straightened
his shorts, and stuffed the magazine under one of the couch's cushions.
He grabbed his ratty old robe, which he had kept handy in case it got
cold during the night. Shoving his arms through the sleeves, he tied
the belt and went to the door. When he opened it, he was puzzled by
what he saw. There stood a short woman, middle-aged, with a round face
and her greying hair in a knot at the back of her head. She had on a
dowdy dress and clunky shoes that buttoned up, like with a buttonhook,
as if she'd gotten them from an exhibit of antique fashions.
"Hello, there," she said, her voice high and musical. "I'm Granny
Goodly, your fairy godmother. Sorry if I'm a bit late."
She slipped by him. Still rattled by her unexpected arrival, he turned
and watched her go and plop herself down on the couch.
He said, "Um, I'm not Joe. I mean, this is his place. Are you here to
see him?"
"No, dearie. You're Artie and it's you I came for." She had a
battered, old shoulder bag. Raising its flap, he fished around and
came out with a notebook in her pudgy hand. "Here we are. You wished
for a puppy on your ninth birthday. If I'd been there, you would have
gotten it. Or at least a kitten. Maybe a hamster. But I still owe
you one wish fulfillment." She reached down and took the corner of his
magazine, which he had neglected to push all the way into concealment.
"What have we here? Oh my. You like big boobies, do you? Well, I can
manage that."
Artie was about to try shooing her out of the apartment, along with her
fairy godmother nonsense. She must be some kind of looney. But then
Granny Goodly startled him by floating up off the couch and hovering in
the air, at the level of his eyes. She rummaged in her bag again and
produced a crooked wand, which she gave a few practice waves.
"Um..." He had a vision of her gifting him with a hugely busty girl,
like Belinda but minus the complaints. "Okay. Whatever you say,
Granny."
The magazine rose up and opened itself. The levitating woman observed
its pages as they magically turned themselves. She said, "Oh, here we
go. This one's just a drawing. Rather larger than what we might find
in real life. But you've left a residue of sexual energy all over it."
Her brow creased. "And some other residue, I see." Her pink cheeks
swelled as she smiled and gave him a wink. "No matter. Now you can
have the real thing. All ready?"
Whoa. The next person to walk through that door would be a toting a
pair of bodacious tatas, that would put Belinda's to shame, he told
himself. He assured Granny that he was more than ready to receive his
wish. She waved her wand in his direction and he froze where he stood.
The little lady uttered what sounded like random syllables. All at
once his chest started to tingle. She nodded approvingly as his
pectoral area began to swell. No, no, no. She wasn't giving him a
girl with knockout knockers. She was growing tits on him.
"Listen," he said, but that was as far as he got.
She jabbed the wand at him and said something that might have been,
"Pick pock." Then she put a finger to her lips. "Had to silence you,
sweetie. Can't have any interruptions while l'm working. Don't worry.
I understand that you want a supersize bust. Usually when I get wishes
like that, it's girls or guys who want only a limited number of inches.
But I can tell from your reading material... or rather, viewing
material... that you want the special deluxe treatment. Now let me
concentrate."
She closed her eyes. He wanted to yell at her. To grab her and pull
her down. To talk sense to her. But he couldn't do anything as his
new boobs expanded, pushing aside the halves of his robe. Artie was
able to turn his eyes downward and watch their progress. They formed
deep; cleavage and parted the top of the robe enough to free
themselves. He got a look at his dark-pink nipples, which protruded an
inch, and the widening, more lightly colored halos around them. His
burgeoning breasts passed bra-buster dimensions and swelled into the
OMG range. They were halfway down his ribcage and stuck so far out
that their weight was unbalancing him. Granny at last opened her
emerald-green eyes.
"Oh, they're delightful. You must be so thrilled. Let me just tighten
up your pectoral muscles, and give them some added tensile strength, so
they'll never let you sag. There we go." A pass of the wand released
him from his paralytic state. He took an unsteady step forward. His
hands went to the undersides of his bounteous boobs, as if he could
support them that way. They were warm, really a part of him, and
seductively soft. Their nipples pulsed and he felt an urge to touch
them. With an effort, Artie restrained himself.
He said, "This is wrong. Can't you tell?"
"Well," she said thoughtfully, "I have left you top-heavy. It might be
difficult to walk with those chest-warmers. Let me fix that."
She floated around behind him. Though he couldn't see it, he could
feel his buttocks ballooning out. As if responding to a silent
command, he shrugged out of his robe. His shorts were straining to
contain those mushrooming nether cheeks. He got the elastic waistband
down over them before it became impossible, worked the underwear down
his legs, and stepped out of it. It was embarrassing to stand before
the magic-user naked, but that was the least of his concerns. He had
to get her to reverse what she had done.
Artie protested, "Now it's even worse."
She nodded agreement. "Let me do some fine tuning."
Granny ran the wand from the top of his head, down to his toes. His
biceps, which weren't that well developed to behind with, slimmed down.
His legs became shapely, like a woman's. And his dick! Why was that
rippling sensation filling it? He reached down and got a grip on
himself, or rather, on his penis. As Artie held it, the formerly proud
length of manhood diminished steadily in his encircling fingers, until
nothing was left but a nub. He groped around and discovered that his
balls were proportionately tiny.
"You can't leave me like this," he insisted.
"No? You want more?" She pursed her lips. "I know. You're one of
THOSE. A special-needs subject. Of course. It makes perfect sense.
Just being made over with a voluptuous figure isn't enough. I know
exactly what you crave. Now, I haven't done one of these before, but
some of my sister fairy godmothers have described them to me. They
joke about how I'd probably get it wrong. Or give it to someone who
doesn't want it." She chuckled. "They have a running joke about how
I'm supposedly getting things wrong all the time. Those silly girls.
Okay, I have a mental picture of what you need." She raised her wand
high. "This might tickle."
As the magical instrument slowly came down, his scalp itched, his face
felt odd, and patches of his body twitched. He tried to say something,
but the only sound he could produce was a sad lowing.
"Perfect," Granny congratulated herself. "Let's give you a look at
yourself." She drew the wand from side-to-side, and a shimmering
surface appeared before him. It resolved itself into smooth,
reflective glass. "Do you like what you see?"
He gazed into the magically produced mirror. Stupefied, he looked into
the image of his own eyes, which were now large and wet and brown.
There were two short horns growing from the top of his head, curving
inward toward each other. From between them spread a thatch of hair.
His features were softened and feminized. Scattered around his body
were irregular patches of black, like you would see on the sides of...
a cow. When he tried to object to being turned into a human Holstein,
with titanic udders, the only sound he could produce was a mournful
mooing. His tongue, wide and pink, lolled from his mouth.
"Ahh, you're trying to thank me. It's really not necessary. In fact,
because your original date for a wish fulfillment was so long ago, I'm
going to grant you something extra. Not only will I elevate your sex
drive, so you can enjoy your new form that much more, but I'll cast a
love spell, so anyone coming near you will be drawn in and unable to
resist your rather non-traditional charms. And it will give all your
future partners added sexual stamina. They'll be able to keep going
and going." She gestured with the wand. His nipples suddenly yearned
to be touched. He switched his tail -- TAIL? -- and wished for someone
to invade the sensitized spot below it. "There you go, my lovely he-
cow. Why, I wouldn't mind taking advantage of that fat tongue myself.
But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. Besides,
someone who will be delighted to find you here, is coming to the door
even as I speak." She gave him a conspiratorial wink. "Have fun, you
sweet seducer."
She blinked out of existence, taking the mirror with her. All that was
left behind was a faint scent of ginger. Artie turned slowly, to face
the door. The knob turned and it opened. There stood Joe, with
disbelief written all over his face. He took a step back. His
expression suggested revulsion. But then, by degrees, it remade
itself, until his features were a mask of lust.
Joe said, "I don't know who sent you here, princess, but I'm sure glad
they did. Look at those milk-bags. Holy crap." He closed the door
gently, as if afraid to disrupt the vision before him. He locked it.
"Now it's just you and me, Elise. We have all day and night, and my
battery is suddenly supercharged."
The apartment's renter went to his transformed friend and put his hands
on Artie's shoulders. He applied just enough downward pressure to
signal what he wanted. The human cow's sexual temperature rose by the
second. Artie sank to his knees. With eagerly quivering fingers, he
undid Joe's belt, lowered his fly, and tugged his pants down. Then he
worked the overheated guy's shorts to his knees. Out came Artie's
broad tongue and he gave the waiting organ a few laps. It rose
immediately, to its full length and thickness, which were considerable.
Artie thought of his own member, so shamefully diminished, and gave a
sad moo. Despite his penis envy, and the acute shame that gripped him,
he couldn't keep from giving Joe a few more slurps, making wet noises.
Then he took the rigid rod into his mouth. Having it there gave him a
reassuring sense of rightness, as if he was bred for this task. He
sucked hungrily. Joe reached down and got his fingers on those mammoth
mammary glands, finding the long nipples and lightly tweaking them. He
switched to an unhurried milking movement, which drove Artie to mouth
him harder. They were locked into a cycle of mutual stimulation that
went on and on.
"That's it, Elsie," Joe coaxed. "Just a little more. I'm going to
feed you something special. You know you want it."
Joe grunted, jerked his hips, and blasted out a load of thick spunk,
spurt after spurt. Artie greedily gulped it all down. He was a
contented cow, with the knowledge that he had made his Master happy.
At the same time, his own needs had not been met. His reduced penis
throbbed in frustration. All the sexual energy that should have left
him via an ejaculation, was rerouted into an even stronger sense of
wanting to satisfy others. Granny had certainly done a thorough job.
Joe got his shoes, pants and shorts off and moved them to the bedroom.
He sat on the edge of the bed, for an instant replay. Then he lay on
his back, so Artie could crouch over him and suction his cock in once
more. Finally, Joe got up and staggered to the living room, stuporous
but satiated, at least for the moment.
His intercom buzzed. It was Belinda. "I have some junk that Artie
forgot to take. Is he there?"
Joe stumbled to the wall-mounted speaker. He pressed the button and
said, "Sort of. Come on up."
"Okay, but I'm not alone."
Artie was in a tizzy. The last thing his old self wanted was for
anyone else to see him like this. He put his hands defensively over
his pointing nipples. Oh my! That felt incredible. Minutes later,
Joe unlocked the door to admit Belinda. With her was Mark, the guy she
had dated before. Just the thought of them together made Joe insane.
Now they came in holding hands, very much like a couple again. Pangs
of jealousy seized Artie. As soon as they saw the cow-boy standing
there, those immense jugs an invitation to bedroom bedlam, they dropped
what they were carrying. His backpack hit the floor and several more
issues of Big Tits, along with one of Boom-Boom Boobs, slid out.
Belinda came to Artie as if hypnotized. She took one of his breasts in
both hands and exerted enough pressure to make a drop of milk appear at
the end of the nipple. What? He was lactating? He wanted to be a
stud bull, but instead was a milk cow. She sank down and fastened her
lips over the spout and sucked, being rewarded with a jet of warm sweet
goodness. Mark rushed to her side, took the other heavy hooter, and
did the same. Artie mooed happily, but with undertones of need, from
his ongoing lack of release. They drank heartily. It was as if what
they consumed made them as aroused as the human/bovine crossbreed who
was providing it.
Mark detached his mouth long enough to say, "This is very Island-of-
Doctor-Moreau. And I'm so turned on that it hurts."
Belinda took a break from suckling. "Same here. Can we herd Bossy
into the bedroom?"
Her reinstated boyfriend looked at Joe, who was again slumped on the
couch. "Okay with you, man?" Mark wanted to know, though he was
already coaxing Artie toward the hall.
"Sure thing," Joe said. "I won't need Elsie again for... well... a
short while, anyway."
"Sounds good," Mark told him.
Belinda grabbed Arties's hand, to tow him along. Those dairy-providers
bobbed and his double-wide ass jiggled enticingly. They hustled him
into the bedroom and onto the bed. The young lovers undressed each
other, exchanging fervid kisses as they did. An attack of envy hit
Artie. Getting him on his knees, they positioned themselves. Belinda
was on her back, legs spread, offering easy access to his impressively
long tongue. Mark knelt behind him, under the love spell, and rubbed
himself erect against the pillows of Artie's ass. Mark was even better
equipped than Joe. Artie's rear access-port generated lubricating
juices. Belinda pulled Artie's face down against her moist pussy.
Mark held Artie's tail up and pressed the end of his cock insistently
against that tight pucker. Artie had never used his mouth on Belinda,
but he did now. His tastebuds were sensitized and the flavor of her
feminine center overwhelmed him. He wanted more, more, more, lapping
and probing to get it. Mark shoved the thick head of his tool through
the narrow ring, and followed it with the lengthy shaft. Artie licked
and mooed and pushed back against the invading rod.
It was a lively and noisy three-way, that went on for nearly an hour.
Artie was disgraced by how enthusiastically he participated, but
couldn't regulate himself at all. He gave Belinda a trio of orgasms,
sucking down her plentiful fluids. Mark pumped him full of semen,
twice before they were done. In the end, the trio were sweaty, slumped
against each other, and the air was redolent with the smells of sex.
That was when Joe appeared at the door and said, "Hey, can I fit myself
in there, somewhere? I'm ready to hump some hamburger, if you know
what I mean."
"Sounds good," Mark said dreamily.
"Help yourself," Belinda encouraged, heedless that it was her EX who
was being so well used. She remembered the name for what he had
become. "That's what hucows are for."
*********
(If you like this theme, I have a story on the free page, Deviant Art,
titled FROM HUSBAND TO HUCOW. Please leave comments, both here and
there. Thanks.)
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