Feeding the Cow
By Parry Yak

	I spend every day anticipating feeding time. My internal clock always let me know when that door was going to open up. The yellow light that hung over the locked basement door was polluted by blue light from above. Master’s hooves would smack down on the stone staircase. He’d have a bucket, sometimes two when he was feeling generous, and poor them in the trough on the other side of my room. He’d then open up my cage, clip the leash to my collar, and lead me to the long wooden feeding dish. Then he’d tie the leash to the end of the trough so tight that I couldn’t pull my head from it. 
 	I knew it would only be a matter of minutes.  I was on my hands and knees. My white and block spotted belly dragging on the long pillows I slept on. I believe they were oversized pet beds, but they were the perfect size for the cage he built. Two of them together could fit my massive bovine body and give me enough room to stretch. The rest of the eight by ten cage was covered in newspapers for me to expel solid waste; liquid waste was expelled in the drain that poked out between the two. Then there were toys. Large ones, mostly equine-headed. If Master or any of his friends wanted to us my holes, he insisted they be ready. 
	The creak of the door alerted me. There he came, the dark reddish brown furred stallion.  I saw his ankle underneath the blue denim. Then his toned abs just above his waist line came into view. I could tell from the way he wiped his sweat from his brow that he had been hard at work. I had long since forgotten what it is he does for a living. Though odds are I wasn’t the only plaything he kept around the house. He was specifically seeking out live in slaves when we met. He wanted men and women who would give up everything and become his.
 It didn't start like that with us. I knew what he wanted when I first answered his advertisement, but I told him that I needed to make sure it was what I wanted. We agreed to date a little bit first. Then he would have me over for weekends at a time, giving me little tastes of the life he wanted for me. I was hesitant to have myself locked up the first weekend but true to his word, he let me out Sunday evening at exactly seven thirty. Within a year, I trusted him with my life.
	He had three buckets with him today. I guessed my flabby body wasn’t quite to his liking yet. The rolls underneath my breasts were just starting to form. My arm flabs were just starting to hang over my elbows when on all fours. My thighs were always thick but I wondered if my cunt could even be seen with my large buttocks hanging over it.  
	Then the fence door opened. I crawled out so that he didn't have to enter my dwelling. As my belly crossed the wide metal bar I heard the click of the least on my neck. I tried never to look directly into his eyes unless I was invited to.  The pets between my small horns counted as an invitation, so I turned up to see his compassionate smile. I could tell he loved me, or perhaps what he was helping me become.
	Then he stood up, jerked the leash twice, and signaled me to walk.  My breasts and belly dragged on the course concrete.  I moved in small steps. Every time I brought my knees up they grazed the dragging gut. I placed my neck over the rim of the trough and he tied it tight. He poured the three buckets in, one after the other. The third one splashed back on my face, neck, and upper breasts.  Usually, I waited for the signal, but with the mess of gravy and table scraps just a few centimeters from my nose.  I couldn't help but start lapping up the slop. 
	He grabbed the back of my collar and pulled me back from the slop. “Did I say you could eat yet?” he asked.
	“No sir,” I said, gasping, “I’m so sorry.”
	“We do what we are told here,” he said, “Maybe a day without your supper will teach you that.”
	“No, sir, please!” I said, my big belly grumbling in protest.
	“Beg more,” he said, “I like hearing you beg.”
	He did, and in that moment I would do anything to get my tongue back into that disgusting broth of leftover food, gravy, and weight gain powder. He released some of the tension from my neck but he still kept a hand on the collar. Normally I would find this act of self-debasement humiliating but I couldn’t even think of the embarrassment. I just needed to get another taste.
	“Please sir,” I said while remnants of slop ran down my chin, “Please let me eat my meal, so that I may become bigger and fatter for you! I will do anything if you would just let me have another taste.”
	“You already do anything for me, “he said, “But I see your point. But I can’t let this go unpunished.”
	He let go of the collar. I waited for his approval before eating again. He grabbed my tail and pulled it high.  Then I felt a cold piece of metal against my backside. I had been with him long enough to know that if he hit me, I had to count off. So I shouted “one” as the metal paddle broke capillaries on my rump. After four my ass was hot and sore.  Even the slight stirring of air caused by the paddle moving back seemed to pull on the hairs and sent pain splintering through the roots and into my fat and muscles. 
	“So, think you’ve had enough?”
	“No sir,” I said with tears running down my cheek, “I deserve at least ten more for my disobedience.”
	“I appreciate your honesty,” he said in a loving tone, “So I’ll only give you three.”
 "Thank you, sir," I told him, hiding my tears, "I am not worthy of your kindness." 
	Three hits in quick succession. I heard the sound of metal clattering against the floor. My ass was pulsating outward from where the paddle hit. He stepped back and left me in my pain. I waited patiently as I could. I adjusted my legs, first bringing them inwards, then outwards.  I was trying to get a little more comfortable, but also display my body in a way that encouraged him to come back over to me. He wasn't biting. He waited for an entire five minutes before he said: "Okay, you can eat."
	And I did.  I lapped the mess up so fast that it splattered back on my face. When I got to a Solid bit, I munched it down. I think at one point it was a donut. All I could taste was a bit of sugar, bits of gravy, and soaking wet bread. The last little piece fell out and I tried to get it back up with my tongue. I couldn't keep myself from inhaling little bits of the liquid mess into my nose. I stopped eating when I felt two hands on my tortured ass, spreading my cheeks.
 He had me insert a large butt plug sometime last week. It had been in there so long I had stopped feeling it. It was probably three inches in diameter. I stopped keeping track of the size of his plugs after two and a half inches wide. His two hooved fingers slipped around the circular base. I felt it coming out. I let out a bit of a cry as he forced it out of me. My vocal outburst led to a soft slap. Compared to the onslaught I had just received, it was easy to endure.
 My asshole was stretched wide for him by the toy. It had a slight quiver and large gape to it. It made it easy for him to just unzip his pants, lined up the large equine cock, and push right on in. My hole had just started to contract and he forced it wide again, three and a half inches. His package slid in. My large ass cheeks slapped against his sides.  His hands gripped onto my buttocks while he pushed in and out. The pressure from his fingers felt like tiny pins being pushed under my skin in all directions. He pounded mercilessly.
 	And I just ate. He usually fucked me while I ate. Sometimes he was rough like now, but other times he was quite gentle. For the first few weeks, he would make sure I orgasmed so I would associate eating from the trough with sexual ecstasy. Which is why I was always so eager for feeding time. It was always a sensual occasional. My stomach becomes full, my nostrils invaded with the scent of food mush, at least one of my holes pulled and stretched. My senses were always overwhelmed this time a day. I lost track over every aspect of the work around me. I didn't even recall what I looked like, only what I was feeling in these moments. 
	He reached below and started working my vagina with his fingers. He put both of the split hooves inside of me. He thrust back and forth like his fingers like he was churning butter inside my cow cunt. My hole tightened around his fingers, then widened from the pressure. I was contracting like crazy.  I could feel his excitement too, lubing up my asshole while he used it to warm his cock. I never stopped being surprised by how much he leaked before he would cum.
	He didn’t keep his fingers in me too long. He pulled them out and left my hole stretched.He slowed down and squeezed clamped his hands down on both of my cheeks. I pulled my head up from the slop and let out a large, painful cry. Little bits of solid food were flung upward by the sudden jerk. He pulled his cock from my ass and moved it down to my aching, quivering hole. He grabbed both of my hands and pulled me back as he pushed forward.  
My chin smacked against the wooden trough. I couldn’t finish the rest of the slop. It was hard enough for me to reach the bottom with the short leash. Now, with my arms being stretched as if he intended to tear them from my body, it was impossible for me. My breast smacked back and forth between the front of the trough and my oversized stomach. He was bringing me to my climax, but he didn’t seem to care too much about that.  Not in the way that most lovers did. He understood that I didn’t want a man or woman to make love to me.  I wanted to be taken, used hard, and left a quivering, messy pile of sex. 
I came before him. I let him know through a series of moans and cries. He pulled one of my arms over the other so he could grip both wrists with one hand. His pull didn’t even loosen for a fraction of a second. With one hand he held me up by my arms, pulling me back far enough that my own collar was trying to force its way through the back of my neck. The cool air that normally filled the makeshift dungeon in his basement seemed to be gone now, as heat burned into my fur from all directions. Sweat was building between my flabs and dripping down in small puddles.
“You want me to cum inside you? Breed that fat slut hole of yours?”
“Yes,” I said through labored breaths.
He pulled his cock out of his bovine sleeve. “No, I don’t think so.”	
I turned my head back so he could see my pleading eyes while I begged. He loved it when I begged for him. I couldn’t turn back all the way and my eyes were stinging with sweat. But I swear I could see every single pulsation running up that long, thick, equine cock. Bits of cum were dribbling down the flared head. He was ready to explode. 
“I know I’m just a pathetic cow slut, and I don’t deserve it,” I cried, “But please, I’m begging you, fill me with that stallion seed.”
He pushed his package in. It didn’t take more than two thrusts for him to cum. Each throb pressed against my insides and shot a long stream of jizz inside my accepting hole.  He pulled out at the end of a stream. One shorter stream shot out as he pulled back and hit the very top of my slowly contracting asshole. Little bits of it ran inside of me.  He took some of the cum from my asshole, ran it around the entrance, then shoved it into my mouth.  I sucked it off and licked his finger when he pulled it from my mouth.
Then he grabbed my aching shoulders, turned me around, and pulled the trough over. Whatever remained turned the white fur on my back brown.  It ran between my legs, with little white bits of horse semen running down with it. He rolled his massive meat back into his pants and admired his handiwork for a moment. Then he pulled a phone from his pocket- my phone, which I had given up to him, and took a photo. 
“So, who gets the photo today? An old girlfriend? Your ex-husband? Maybe a cousin?,” he said, scrolling through the contacts list, “Let’s just pick one at random.”
He put the phone back into his pocket. Somebody I loved, or even somebody I didn’t, now had a picture of me growing fat beyond recognition, tied to a trough, soaked in sweat, semen, and slop, with embarrassed red cheeks and subtle look of satisfaction on my face. In the beginning, he asked me to delete any numbers belonging to friends and family I rather not see me like this. I declined the offer outright. I was humiliated, but not exactly ashamed. 
“Now, you know my rule about wasting food,” he said, “Finish all that up, and then I’ll hose you down."