The ringing of a small bell roused Ken from his slumber. The border collie looked out the window and saw the orange sun just beginning to peek through the treeline. It couldn’t have been later than four, maybe five o’clock in the morning. The bell rang again, more insistently this time. Dolly must have meant business! Dolly, the bell-ringing holstaur was downstairs in the barn, squatting against the side of her calving stall. Unlike her proud minotaur ancestors, Dolly had lived a life of domestication here at the ranch for as long as she could remember. She provided milk for her owner, Ken Brown, to sell, and she had also provided him more than a dozen healthy calves over the years. Some of her daughters stayed here at the ranch with her, and a few of them were even starting to provide Ken with calves of their own. It was a simple life, and she never wanted for anything: She had space to roam, a warm, cozy stall, and of course Ken took great pleasure in milking, grooming, and looking after her. He also looked after her other needs, seeing as how there were never any bulls at Ken’s ranch. He told her he couldn’t afford them, that it was cheaper and easier to get bull seed from an outside source. Dolly rang the bell again, tugging the string by the door that lead to Ken’s loft upstairs. She needed him here now, while the calves inside her were still trying to figure out who was going to be born first. She wasn’t summoning him because she needed the help – she’d done this so many times she could probably do it in her sleep. She needed him because like everything else on the ranch, the calves inside her belly belonged to him and him alone, and he needed to be here to welcome them! She let go of the string and paced along the wall, one hand on a wooden railing for support and the other hand clutching her belly. Warm amniotic fluid dribbled down her thigh. She felt a contraction building and stopped in her tracks, hunching over with a pained lowing before she broke into a series of quick, high breaths. The udders below her belly began to dribble as her guts twisted themselves into knots trying to squeeze the first calf out, but she was determined to ride it out until Ken got there! The collie was busy dragging himself out of bed as quick as he could given the ungodly hour of the morning. He didn’t normally sleep above the barn – this was mostly an office space. The single-room loft had a cluttered desk near the window, and a fold-out couch where he or one of his stablehands slept while on calving watch. This was a special delivery, though, and Ken purposely took the watch himself. Not only was Dolly carrying twins, a rarity among her kind, but Ken had decided that these were going to be Dolly’s last calves. The matronly cow had served him well for decades, but she was obviously in the twilight of her breeding years. Calvings were becoming more and more difficult, and he didn’t feel he could take the risk of supporting her for another year only to be rewarded with a dead cow or a stillborn calf, not with finances as tight as they were. He cared for Dolly, of course, but when it came down to it she was just another piece of farm equipment – once she stopped working it was time for her to go. Ken grabbed the calving kit by the door, then grabbed the rifle from under the bed and checked to make sure it was loaded. With a heavy sigh, he grabbed a few extra rounds just in case. He didn’t want to be cruel and leave her lingering. He threw a flannel button-up top over his chest, leaving it undone, and walked down the stairs to the barn still bottomless. Ken heard Dolly’s lowing echoing off the walls of the shedrow. He walked up to the calving stall and set the gun down out of sight before walking in with the calving kit. He stared at her for a moment, shadowed against the wall, her short black-and-white fur barely visible in the dim light. Her mammoth frame was accented by peeks of pink from both the breasts on her chest and her plump udders nestled between her legs. She looked back, long ears flicking, and beheld him similarly silhouetted in the door. “Ken,” she moaned tiredly, “it hurts!” Even by the tone of her voice the collie could tell she was exhausted. It made him feel strangely satisfied, and he knew he was right to bring the gun. “Let me see,” he offered, nonchalantly stepping into the stall and leaving the kit by the door. Dolly slid down onto the ground and spread her legs wide. Unfortunately, her udders had gotten so swollen and fat that they obscured her vagina entirely. “Dolly, I can’t see,” Ken told her slowly and simply, “You need to turn over.” He was profoundly calm. He knew that whatever happened in these walls, Dolly was going to die and there was nothing she could show him that would make things any worse. “Oh god, it hurts!” she repeated, clutching the wall to try and roll herself over. “I’m trying, just . . . give me a minute . . .” Ken waited. The holstaur’s movements were painfully slow, but she eventually managed to heave herself onto her hands and knees, where here udders dangled almost low enough to touch the sawdust-covered ground. He reached under her tail and felt familiar plush lips, covered in a thin slayer of slippery fluid. Inside those slick folds he felt the nose of a calf and a warm, sticky tongue. He pulled and pinched the slimy muscle, feeling the calf pull back. Still alive, he thought, unsure whether he was happy about it or not. He almost would have been happier if it were dead, then he could dispatch the cow with a clear conscience and save her from suffering any longer. “I can feel the nose, the first calf is doing just fine,” he announced, leaving his hand between her legs. Dolly enjoyed feeling him there, helping her stretch. “Oh, come on, baby,” Dolly sighed, bowing her head and arching her back. Ken felt the baby tense up slightly as the vaginal walls closed in around his hand, but it stayed firmly stuck. “Take your time, girl, you’ve done this before.” Sighing turned into gasping and panting as the holstaur leaned down to rest her head on her hands, bum still sticking in the air as her ropy tail flicked back and forth against Ken’s wrist. The farmer pushed his fingers gently in and out under the calf’s chin, rubbing against Dolly’s engorged clitoris. This sort of ‘assistance’ wasn’t strange or new to either of them. Ken was quite hands-on during his deliveries, often using sexual contact to stimulate both Dolly and her calves. “Ooh,” Dolly lowed, “Ooh, it’s getting worse,” She gritted her teeth and wrinkled her big black nose as another contraction thundered through her body. “Ugh, I can do it,” the bovine reassured herself, “I can do it, I can do it, I can do it! Augh!” The calf moved as Dolly grunted, and Ken stilled his hand for a moment until the contraction was finished. “The calf’s not moving down very far,” he announced, and Dolly let out an exhausted moo. “I’ve been at this for hours,” she insisted, “I didn’t get any sleep, I’ve been pushing all night!” “Well, your calf is just fine,” the collie reassured, “It won’t be long now, alright? Here, why don’t I give you something to distract you a little?” He stood up and put his hands on Dolly’s bony hips, rubbing his bare crotch against the calf’s slick nose. His red rocket was beginning to peek out of his salt-and-pepper sheath in no time at all, and he dipped inside Dolly’s gaping birth canal as birth pains wracked her body. “Ungh,” Dolly grunted and pushed, her strength coming in waves as Ken quickly filled the widening space with his swelling member. He could feel the calf’s head moving slowly against him, back and forth, heaving further out with each loud, wet grunt. The contraction ended and Dolly started to wobble. The calf still wasn’t far enough out to pull, and the holstaur was losing strength. Ken pulled out and pushed his fingers into the calf’s mouth again, feeling it gag. “Calf’s still okay,” he announced, walking around to face Dolly head-on. He would have loved to stay and fuck her from behind, but she needed something more urgent to take her attention away from the calf. It was a position the two of them were intimately familiar with: Dolly on her hands and knees, her head perfectly level with Ken’s private parts. “Clean me up,” he urged, pushing his slimy red member against her nose. The holstaur didn’t need much more encouragement. With a tired groan she guided his red rocket into her mouth and started to suckle, her tongue sliding slowly back and forth along its length. “Good girl,” Ken praised, running his hand along her nose and forehead, “Just worry about me for a while, okay? Forget the calves.” Dolly grunted as another contraction seized her, but Ken roughly ran his hips into her nose to snap her attention back to him. The holstaur moaned in frustration and tried to keep from clenching her teeth, but the contraction was almost overpowering. When she stopped sucking Ken grabbed under her chin and started rocking his hips back and forth for her, roughly using her mouth. “MmmmNNNnGH!” Dolly drooled as Ken’s knot swelled behind her teeth. Her nostrils flared and her eyes began to leak tears. She shut them tightly and tried to focus on her owner’s meat gently stretching her jaw instead of the searing pain between her legs. She tried to alleviate some of the pressure in her mouth by leaning in and taking him deeper, the tip of his member almost tickling the back of her throat. When the contractions threatened to overwhelm her, Ken was right there to snap her back. He ran his hips into her muzzle when she tried to cry out, nearly bloodying her nose. As rough as he was, it forced her to deal with the more immediate issue of the knot in her mouth than the calf dangling between her thighs. After a few more contractions and more forceful reminders, the collie rancher dumped his load right down the holstaur’s throat. She tried to cough but Ken roughly pulled the knot out and pushed up under her jaw, forcing her head up and her mouth closed. “Not a drop,” he warned, “Good cows need their protein.” When she was still having issues getting it all down, the collie started rubbing the front of her neck, forcing her to swallow. She gagged, grimaced and eventually surrendered. When he was sure she had gulped it all down, he released his grip and began stroking her cheek. “Good girl,” he praised again, “good girl!” Dolly managed a weak smile as she looked at her owner. She liked being called a good girl. Her big brown eyes were red with tears. It hurt so bad. She was so tired. “I can’t . . . I can’t do it,” she croaked. “You’ve done it before, this time’s no different,” Ken lied. “I can’t push anymore,” “Yes you can,” he countered, shaking his head, “You have to!” “I can’t!” she sobbed. Ken grabbed her under the chin and forcefully kissed her. That shut her up. Dolly’s eyes widened and then gently closed, the bigger girl calmed by the sudden gesture of affection. “I did not keep you around for this long just to have you give out on me now, alright?” he stared her down with his piercing blue eyes. Dolly hesitated. Ken stared. “. . . Alright,” she croaked. “Good girl. Now let’s get up and get to work,” Ken ordered. Dolly nodded, wincing as she shuffled backwards. She could feel the first calf between her legs but had no idea how far out it was. Stranger still, she could feel movement inside her as either one or both of the calves squirmed and fidgeted. They wanted this to be over as much as she did, but she couldn’t figure out how she was going to birth even a single calf, much less two! “Over to the railing,” Ken insisted, “Up you get!” He grabbed Dolly by the wrists and hoisted her up. The holstaur followed as best she could, shuffling slowly on her knees through the sawdust, but Ken felt like he was dragging dead weight over to the side of the stall. After stopping halfway for another gruelling contraction, the pair made it to the railing where Dolly changed position into a deep squat, leaning heavily on the bar. Empowered by this new position, she grunted and bore down with renewed vigour. “Yes, Dolly, yes!” Ken cheered, squatting behind her. He was staring under her tail at the calf’s entire head! It was mostly black, with a white patch over her right eye. Fluid trickled down from the emerging mouth and nose, and the calf’s lolling tongue was a healthy shade of pink. Dolly pushed fiercely, bouncing up and down as if she were trying to shake the calf out. Her udders dangled and knocked together, leaking little droplets of cream onto the sawdust. “Come out!” she pleaded, reaching one hand back behind her to pull her tail up and out of the way. Ken watched, unblinking as the calf rotated like a screw before a shoulder and hand slowly emerged. He’d seen scores of calvings in his time but they never ceased to amaze him. It was a magical experience watching these normally placid anthropomorphs dig into their dormant, feral strength. Dolly let out a primal groan and the calf suddenly fell out of her up to its hips. Before Ken could react, the bovine quickly finished the job in a final, explosive push that propelled the calf into the sawdust with a wet thump. There was a tense moment of silence punctuated only by Dolly’s heavy breathing before the newborn gurgled and coughed, apparently too startled by the impact to cry. It was covered in slick black and white fur just like its mother, and a purplish, chunky umbilical cord trailed loosely from its belly to between Dolly’s matted thighs. Ken was silent, reserving his joy or disappointment until he could see whether Dolly had given him a girl or a boy, respectively. A girl calf was a great investment – If they were properly fed and sheltered through their childhood they would pay dividends through milk and more calves of their own as soon as they grew up. But there was never any money in a bull calf. All bulls could do was donate seed, and he had a good source of that already. All that a bull calf could hope for was to be put down before they became a burden. “Well?” Ken asked insistently. Dolly slowly turned around, still shaking and panting. She was hesitant to look. If the calf was a boy, she knew that Ken would just take it and shoot it, and all her hard work would have been for nothing. She pulled one scrawny leg aside and saw an array of flat, pink udders on the calf’s underbelly as well as an engorged vulva nestled between her legs. “It’s a heifer!” she announced proudly. Ken nodded approvingly and patted Dolly on the shoulder. “Good girl,” he praised, patiently holding out his hands. Dolly shuffled down to the sawdust and picked up the baby by one leg, using her other hand to support herself. “Congratulations,” she smiled as she handed the calf over to her owner, “She’s so beautiful!” “She is,” Ken crooned, taking the dripping newborn by the leg and holding her up for a better view. “Were you having fun in there? Looks like I interrupted something, didn’t I?” He put the newborn into his lap and ran his hand over her enlarged vulva, feeling the sticky flesh rub against his fingers. The new calf coughed wetly and kicked out with her smooth white hooves. When she didn’t try and cough again Ken flipped her over his arm, rubbing his hand over her back vigorously. “Out with it,” he encouraged, “C’mon now, you didn’t put momma through all this just to give up now!” The newborn kicked again and stretched out her little arms before giving a mighty wail. “There we go, that’s better!” He flipped the infant around again and pushed his muzzle to hers, swishing his flat tongue around inside her mouth and spitting out the fluid that remained. The collie liked the feeling so much he did it again and again, noisily making out with the new calf while Dolly recovered and prepared for the second twin. “C-can I see her?” Dolly asked. Ken licked his lips and shot her a look as the calf let out a much cleaner-sounding cry. “You’ve still got work to do,” he replied over the calf’s fuss, “You can have her when you’re done. I think I’m going to call her ‘Bella’.” The collie opened the calving kit and found some string to tie off Bella’s umbilical cord in two places before slicing through it with a small razor. Dolly leaned her back against the wall and huffed, looking down at the cord between her legs. She sure didn’t feel any lighter for having delivered that massive calf! The contractions hadn’t abated either! She could feel the second calf squirming deep in her guts, fighting back as her womb clenched around it like a fist. She was so tired, but she steeled herself. She could do this – she had to do this! “Ken-” Dolly groaned as more fluid dripped from between her legs, “Ken there’s more . . .” Ken turned and smiled. “Right back to work, girl? You’re handling this like a trooper!” Dolly managed a pained smile of her own. “I need . . .help,” she winced. The collie’s smile faded. Dolly never asked for help. He remembered the rifle sitting right outside the door, but then reconsidered. The least he could do was pull her final calf. She deserved that much. “Okay,” he nodded, “Turn around.” Dolly suddenly felt frozen. The contractions just wouldn’t stop! “I . . .I can’t,” she moaned, shutting her eyes tightly. Ken stepped closer and grabbed her by the wrists. “Take a step,” he insisted. Hesitantly she agreed, taking one pitiful step forward away from the wall. “Another,” Dolly’s pendulous udders wobbled as she obeyed, only to have her owner step back and force her to put one hoof in front of the other a third time. “Good, now just fall onto your knees . . .” Dolly wobbled and collapsed, pulling her hands away to stop her fall. She ended up landing in the sawdust on her hands and knees, quivering like a fawn. “There we go,” Ken said soothingly as he slowly let go. The collie walked slowly around behind the holstaur and saw not the angular head he was hoping for, but a round rump and a sticky, ropy tail. This calf was breech. “Good thing you asked for help, this one’s trying to trying to cannonball its way out of you,” he noted, feeling around with his fingers. He felt her jump as he pushed upwards, but didn’t feel anything he could grab on to. “Dolly, you’re gonna have to help me out here,” he ordered, tapping a hand on her hip, “It’s too high up for me to pull.” Dolly panted, still trying to catch her breath. “I’ll try,” she whined, putting every last bit of strength she had into what felt like one last push. If Ken couldn’t pull it, she didn’t know how she was going to keep this up! The feeble push wasn’t much help, as the calf’s rump only slid out a tiny bit. But it did reveal a bulbous scrotum and a slimy, flaccid penis as the calf rotated. Ken sighed. It was a boy. There was no point in finishing the delivery now, he thought, the stress would probably kill Dolly and he would have to cull the bull anyways. He might as well put them both down before this one was born and save himself the extra bullet. But now he had a new problem. He glanced over at Bella, nestled cozily in the sawdust, and shook his head. The centuries of selective breeding that reduced the mighty minotaurs to docile, placid holstaurs like Dolly had given rise to an unfortunate genetic mutation known as “freemartinism.” Ken didn’t understand precisely how it worked, but he knew anytime a holstaur carried both a male and a female calf at the same time, the female would be ‘contaminated’ with the bull’s hormones and rendered infertile. It occurred so often that freemartins were a considered a sex and gender of their own, neither boys nor girls. So not only did he have to cull the unborn bull, but now the ‘heifer’ he delivered a few minutes ago might not be a heifer at all! “Is it alive?” Dolly asked, interrupting Ken’s thoughts. It seemed a cold question to ask, but Dolly knew these weren’t her babies. “I’m not sure,” Ken replied honestly, circling his finger under the calf’s rump before pushing his finger up underneath his tail. The calf clenched suddenly and then slowly relaxed, allowing the collie to twist his finger slightly. “Yeah, the calf’s fine,” he replied with a chuckle, “Very responsive!” “Good,” Dolly replied with a sigh, “I’d hate to think this was all for nothing!” If only you knew, Ken thought, if only you knew. Ken kept twisting and curling his finger inside the bull calf’s tailhole, watching as his tiny little member jumped and twitched. “You really like that, don’t you?” he teased, turning his hand to cup his little sac. It was a shame he wouldn’t get to play more with it, he thought, bulls did make fun toys while they were small and harmless. He pulled his finger off before he got too invested and wiped it off on Dolly’s thigh. “I need another big push, Doll,” he called out. He didn’t want the little guy to slip back in! Dolly did her best to oblige, grimacing and grunting until finally Ken could hook his fingers in where the calf’s legs were folded up. After a few seconds of fiddling he managed to find the hoof he was looking for, and pulled down slowly. Dolly lowed in agony as the calf’s body stretched her birth canal to the breaking point, but the pressure quickly subsided as the bull’s legs were extracted, leaving the calf dangling half-in and half-out. “Okay, Dolly, that’s enough,” Ken sighed, rising to his feet. “It’s not out yet!” Dolly protested. Ken wondered if he should tell her. She’d probably take the news well, he figured. After all, she had had a very long and fulfilling life and provided many, many healthy calves. On the other hand, she might be dreadfully ashamed that she ended her run with a bull calf. After some quick deliberation the farmer decided to let Dolly meet her maker with no regrets. “I know,” he answered, “But you need a break. I’m just going to grab some water, I’ll be two seconds.” “Hurry back,” she insisted, “I want this over with!” She didn’t suspect a thing. Ken walked out of the calving stall and turned the corner, grabbed the rifle, then turned around, bringing it up in one fluid motion. “Dolly?” The holstaur looked up predictably. “Wh- BLAM! As soon as the bullet ripped through her skull, “Dolly” ceased to exist. Her life, her memories, her laugh, her favourite colour, all of them were shredded in an instant as the lead slug reduced her brain to oatmeal. There was only a Dolly-shaped slab of meat left. The holstaur’s legs folded under her and her body dropped straight down onto the sawdust like a sack of potatoes. Her ears and tail flicked rapidly back and forth as she settled onto her side, her belly still round and fat with calf. It was a clean kill, at least for Dolly. The bull calf would take a little longer to expire, but there was no reason to waste a bullet and rush the process. The report of the rifle startled Bella, and she began to cry, kicking her feet up and pulling her arms into her chest. Ken sighed. She was so innocent and clueless, the little ‘girl’ had no idea that the collie just executed her mother and brother. “Aww, did I scare you a little?” Ken cooed as he walked over and plucked Bella out of the sawdust. He started to wipe her off with his hand. “That’s okay, you won’t hear it when it’s your turn,” he reassured her. “I’ll let you nurse for a bit, maybe that’ll quiet you down. Count yourself lucky, it’s more than your brother’s gonna get. It’s all his fault, you know!” Ken stepped over to Dolly’s corpse and rolled it over onto its back with his foot. Her right arm crossed her chest and flopped onto the ground, exposing her full, heavy bosom. One of her legs weakly kicked up as the last of her nerves fired, and then she was still again. Blood flowed gradually from her nose and leaked out the side of her mouth. “I already killed you,” Ken responded by kicking her in the ribs, “Get over it and hold still.” Dolly replied by staring wordlessly past him, gazing at something or other on the ceiling. She didn’t even blink as the kick rocked her body, making her thighs and breasts wobble slightly. She didn’t look offended, just bored. “Yeah, I know, I know,” the collie replied to Dolly’s imaginary complaints, “I didn’t let you finish calving. I just didn’t want to put you through any more of that torture, especially not for a bull calf. It just wasn’t worth it, trust me!” He sat down beside her, cradling Bella back and forth to try and calm her down. “I understand that you’re upset now, but I know eventually you’ll see it was the right decision.” Ken shuffled around and placed Bella on Dolly’s midsection, trying to aim her towards one of her breasts. “Here you go,” he encouraged as the newborn calf found the nipple and began to root, “Your first and last meal while I deal with your brother.” The unnamed bull calf was protruding up to his waist face-down, his upper body still trapped in his mother’s corpse. “Still with me little guy?” Ken asked, pulling gently on his slimy tail. The calf pulled one leg in and then slowly relaxed. “Good.” Dolly’s heart was probably still beating, Ken thought, meaning the calf would likely be fine for a few minutes. When his lifeline gave out he would start to suffocate, and then linger a few more minutes before finally dying. “You seemed to like what I was doing earlier,” he mentioned as he peeled his sticky sheath back and pulled the calf’s tail up with the other hand, exposing his reddened pucker again. He pushed his barely-visible member into it and held the calf there as it swelled heartbeat by heartbeat, gradually filling the tiny space as it plowed deeper and deeper. The calf kicked out and struggled, but his tiny member jumped to life again, starting to throb in the sawdust. “You like this a little too much, Ken teased, “A subby bottom like you would make a terrible breeding bull! Good thing you’re never going to become one!” He pulled the calf’s left leg up, turning him sideways and exposing his sticky little cocklet. He could feel the bull’s tender ass clamp him in place and then relax, and each time the collie drove his member in a little bit deeper, only to feel the bull clench again. “Easy does it,” he encouraged, “You think this is bad, think of your mother felt trying to push your whole body out!” Ken’s reassurances did little to ease the bull’s struggles. He fought more and more the deeper the collie drove until he was barely relaxing at all, just kicking and flailing! The stimulation did wonders for the rancher, who kept pulling the leg towards him, impaling the breech baby until little his fur was matted with blood. “Keep kicking, little guy!” he encouraged, already feeling his knot beginning to swell. He yanked the bull’s leg and pushed the swelling bulb into the bull’s colon before it became too big to shove in. He could still feel him squeezing, barely, but his also felt the bull’s fragile hips creak and groan under the strain. The emerging calf’s cock trembled and he voided his tiny bladder, spilling clear urine all over Dolly’s inner thigh before his legs went limp. “Don’t give up now,” The collie urged, tugging the baby’s leg again, “I’m just about to c-cum!” Ken howled as he buried his bone deep in the calf’s guts, flooding his intestines with seed that would never find root. Rope after rope of sticky cum slathered his insides, and the rancher did feel one last pathetic tug as he unloaded, but nothing more, not even when he jammed his thumb between the prongs of the calf’s hoof. Ken tried to pull out, but the knot was lodged deep behind the calf’s battered pelvis. He could feel the bulge inside his groin when he ran his hand along the calf’s belly. There was no movement from him anymore – no squeezing, no kicking, no nothing. Either his mighty canine knot had scrambled the calf’s guts beyond repair, or it asphyxiated. However it happened, the deed was done. “You ready to come out now?” he asked, feeling the calf dragged along with him as he tried to pull back again. The pressure on the base of his knot was enormous, almost painful, but it kept the collie from going too soft. The calf emerged little by little, dragged out with a series of unsettling squelches as the canine shuffled backwards. As soon as Ken saw the pale umbilical cord emerge on the calf’s stomach he pinched it, searching for a heartbeat. “Yeah, you’re dead,” he confirmed, feeling no pulse at all. He patted the still unnamed and unborn calf on the belly. “Probably for the best – like I said, you’d have made a terrible bull. But don’t get me wrong,” he continued, reaching inside Dolly’s birth canal with his fingers to free one of the bull’s arms, “I’m not mad at you. Not everyone is meant to be a breeding bull, and you made the best of a bad situation by being a great little toy while you could!” The canine kept pulling until the shoulders were free with only the head still trapped inside. The bull had a large black patch over the left side of his chest that covered his entire left arm. He grabbed the calf’s limp hands and prepared to pull the rest of him out. “Ready to meet me?” Ken asked, and shuffled back a little more. The was firm resistance from inside. “Oh, don’t be stubborn now,” he frowned, reaching in again. The bull’s angled head was flexed in the wrong position. If Dolly were still alive, he could re-position the calf and get her to push it out, but unfortunately the rancher was on his own. “This is because I told Bella it was all your fault, isn’t it? I was just saying that to make her feel better!” “I’m not leaving you stuck in there,” Ken huffed after a pause, “Let’s work together.” He reached into Dolly’s birth canal again and found the calf’s chin. He had to shuffle closer to give himself more room, but he quickly succeeded in finding the bull’s mouth and hooking his finger in. “Alright, one more try,” he insisted, shuffling back while using his free hand to maneuver the head into a proper position. He winced as the pressure on his knot became enormous but eventually the head popped out and flopped onto the sawdust, a gush of stale amniotic fluid immediately following to further soak the stillborn’s matted fur. Dolly’s belly deflated. “Wow, you’re beautiful,” Ken marvelled, looking at the new calf. His head was almost entirely white, as was his lower body. His nose and ears were pallid from the lack of blood, and a pale tongue hung languidly from his mouth. His eyes were softly closed, as if he were merely sleeping. His penis was flaccid and flopped between his thighs, resting on a velvety sac. With great difficulty, Ken managed to wrench his knot free of the tiny calf after a few minutes of observation. A small river of blood-streaked cum followed, almost like the boy had given birth himself! “Ugh, can’t let anyone see that mess,” Ken huffed, staring at the bull’s bloody gape. “So much for giving you to the butcher. How about this,” Ken offered, holding the dead calf up under his arms, “I’ll let you be my little toy for a few days since I was so rough with you. Will you forgive me then?” He nuzzled his nose into the calf’s neck and tenderly licked his cheek. The baby’s head rolled limply back and forth. He wasn’t putting up much of a fight! “Good boy,” Ken encouraged, “Time to kiss and make up!” He reached out with his muzzle and wrapped his lips around the boy’s floppy tongue, sucking it further into his mouth until their noses met. He lapped at the roof of the boy’s mouth in a deep, perverse embrace before slowly pulling back, a thick strand of goo hanging in midair before snapping and landing on Ken’s chin. “You know,” Ken licked his lips, “Your mom can’t be mad at you because she was going to be culled anyways. The only one who really has reason to mad at you is your sister. Why don’t we to go talk to her?” he shuffled over to where Bella was still nursing off of Dolly’s fat teat, and plopped her unnamed brother beside her on his back, leaning on Dolly’s side in a semi-sitting position with his head flopped back and his jaw slack and drooling. “Alright Bella, that’s enough for a first meal,” he insisted, plucking the girl off the nipple much to her displeasure. “Let’s have a look at you.” Before he euthanized Bella, Ken needed to make sure she was actually a freemartin. The signs were easy to see, even in newborns. Freemartin calves often had an enlarged clitoris, and their internal anatomy was often horribly skewed, their reproductive parts either shrunken, malformed, or even absent entirely. If he wasn’t sure he could always let her grow up a little bit until the signs became clearer, but that wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. With Bella held against his chest, he reached between her legs again and fondled her puffy lower lips. He pushed his index finger roughly inside and scraped against a very stiff clitoris before quickly running into a dead end. There was no cervix or anything, her anatomy just stopped dead at his finger’s first knuckle. He knew from experience that he should have been able to go much deeper than that! “I thought so,” he sighed over Bella’s crying as he pulled his finger out and wiped it on her belly, “Your brother ruined you! See what you did, boy? Now your sister has to be culled, too! He turned back to the wailing freemartin in his arms. “I know, it sucks having to be euthanized. Can you forgive your brother for me before you go?” He laid Bella face-down on the sawdust with her head in the bull’s crotch, and tried to aim her nose at his flaccid dick. As he hoped, she mistook it for a nipple and sucked the whole thing into her mouth, instinctively latching on and trying to tease the ‘milk’ from it. “Aw, you do forgive him! What a good gir– well, I guess you’re not really a girl, are you? No you’re not!” While the two siblings were getting to know each other, Ken cut the bull’s umbilical cord, leaving it as long as possible. Bella lost interest in her brother fairly quickly, frustrated at the lack of ‘milk’ she was getting. Ken grinned and picked her up under her arms, putting her to his chest. He looked down at Dolly and her unnamed son piled up on the sawdust. The unnamed calf would be easy enough to dispose of after Ken was done with him, but he needed to call up the butcher and sell what was left of the freemartin and his prize heifer. Even in death, they would be money in the bank. “I know, Bella!” He suddenly exclaimed, “Why don’t you help me clean up while I call the butcher to come deal with you and your mom? Would you like that? Of course you would!” He picked up the dead baby boy by an ankle, shouldered his rifle and adjusted his grip on Bella before heading back through the shedrow towards the loft. “What a treat this is,” he cooed to the newborn, “you girls don’t normally get to come up here, at least not when you’re still alive! . . . Oh right, you’re not a girl! I keep forgetting!” he patted her naked bum affectionately. “And you’re dead,” he reminded the boy dangling upside-down by one leg, “You don’t count.” When he reached the loft, sunlight was now streaming through the window. He dropped the bull calf on the bed and threw open the curtains, letting the light pour in. Bella winced and started to whine. “I know, it’s bright,” Ken responded, bouncing her lightly in his arms, “But it’s the only sunrise you get to see, so enjoy it!” He placed the newborn freemartin on his bed beside the crumpled body of her brother and smiled down at her. She was so cherubic, so naive . . .and her legs were spread so far apart, like she was begging for the knot. Her chubby lips and stiff little pearl looked almost too big for her relatively tiny body. “You’ve got nothing to offer down there,” Ken reminded her cruelly, running his thumb over her vulva, “But you’re still gonna help out, okay? Just because you’re not worth being fed doesn’t mean you can’t be useful for a bit!” Ken picked up the phone, sat down on the bed, and began to dial. He dragged Bella over to his lap and teased his messy sheath near her nose in hopes that she would latch onto him like she did to her brother. Predictably, she began investigating the perky red member with her lips, trying to grab it with her mouth. The collie let out an embarrassing gasp just as the butcher picked up the phone. “H-hello!” He stammered, quickly recovering, “I’ve got a job for you. No, it’s . . .it’s Dolly,” he explained flatly. “She had problems calving and I had to put her down. No, she just, uh, she couldn’t get up afterwards. Probably some nerve damage. No, her calves didn’t make it either.” He patted Bella knowingly on the head. She was busy trying to tease milk from his stubborn sheath, cleaning off the mess left by her mother and brother. Ken’s hand trailed down her neck and along her back as he chatted away to the butcher, his lecherous fingers cupping her bum and sliding up between her legs to slowly rub her groin. “. . . No, I tried, the bull was dead as a doornail. There was a freemartin too, and – yeah, I’m sure. No, she made it out alive, but I put her down shortly after I p-pulled her out.” Bella was really digging in with her tongue, teasing his member into her angular maw. “Yeah, like I said, I had to shoot her. I know, it sucks, but that’s how it is sometimes. Dolly earned her keep, though, she had a good life. So, her and the newborn. No, not the bull, he was D.O.A. . . this afternoon? Wonderful! Bye!” “Hear that?” He asked Bella as soon as he hung up the phone, “You’re already dead! The butcher’s gonna come carve you up and take you away! And I’m going to get some good money from your tender veal! He’s not going to see what I did to your brother, though, that’s going to be our little secret!” With the phone down, he pushed his free hand on the back of Bella’s head and pushed her mouth deeper around his twitching member until her little nose pressed against his turgid knot. He couldn’t knot her mouth like he did with her mother otherwise he’d break her jaw for sure, so he settled for this. Bella started fussing immediately, the calf kicking, flailing, and shutting her eyes tightly, but the wail died in her throat. Instead, the noise came as an urgent gurgle as Ken sprayed his third orgasm of the morning right down Bella’s neck. The freemartin coughed and began to retch. Her small body was unprepared for the thick, sticky seed pasting her throat! “Cough it up,” Ken encouraged, letting go of her head. “But don’t spit up on my bedsheets or I’ll have to kill you!” He laughed a little at his own joke while Bella choked. “Just kidding, I’m gonna kill you anyways!” Bella seemed like she was trying to kill herself out of spite before the collie could get to her. She continued to choke, gurgling cries punctuated by wheezing gasps before no sound came from her open mouth at all! “Don’t you dare,” Ken warned, slinging her over his shoulder and patting her back. Bella stubbornly let out the tiniest of squeaks before returning to silence. She seemed determined to go out on her own terms! After a minute of patting her back, Ken pulled the floppy freemartin off his shoulder. Her lips were blue, and her chest wasn’t moving at all! “You little shit, you’re really going to make me work for it, aren’t you?” The collie laid her down on the hard floor and pushed his lips to hers, trying to suck his own cum out of her throat. After a few unsuccessful attempts, something wet hit the back of Ken’s mouth and he spit it right back onto her chest. “There,” he huffed, “Are we done playing around?” Bella was silent and unmoving. “For fucks sakes, this again?” Ken grumbled, pushing his mouth to hers but this time pushing a mouthful of air in. Usually a breath or two was enough to get stubborn calves to breathe on their own, but some were a little more stubborn than others. He hammered two fingers against her small chest in between breaths, watching her small body jiggle slightly with each artificial heartbeat. Eventually the little calf sprang to life again, kicking up and letting out a shrill screech as if nothing was wrong. “You little shit,” Ken cursed, “The butcher will never take you if he thinks I didn’t put you down the proper way! Are you trying to cost me more money?” He flicked the calf teasingly in the chest. “Lets get you back down to mommy before you make any more trouble!” With Bella in the crook of his arm again, he bid his new bull toy farewell, leaving him nestled in his sheets for later, and headed back downstairs. The calving stall was silent, and Dolly’s body was still there in the middle of the sawdust, her dry eyes staring at nothing in particular. He shifted Bella up to his shoulder and reached down to grab Dolly by the feet. Bella was mostly quiet while Ken dragged her mother out behind the barn. The butcher would be here shortly, and he’d need a lot of space to work. “I know you want to be back in the big cozy stall,” the collie reasoned as Bella began to fuss in the cold morning air, “But the nice butcher needs to work outside!” He shifted her down again, lowering her to the cold grass. She looked up with big, brown eyes and cooed, reaching up at him. “Ready to eat lead?” He asked with a deceptive grin on his face. The collie lowered the rifle and to his surprise, she grabbed it with her little baby hands! “Aww,” Ken cooed, “you want to help out! Okay Bella, where do you want it? In the head? In the heart?” He loosened his grip as Bella aimlessly moved her hands, shaking them about before trying to raise her legs and tuck her hands into her chest. “Alright, you got it!” BLAM! The newborn calf let out a startled “ulk!” as the projectile tore through her ribs and turned her heart into ground beef. Her eyes clenched tightly then widened in shock. Her little hands released the barrel of the gun instantly and flopped to her sides. There was a quick, high gasp as the grass around her turned red, but her eyes never fluttered shut like Ken suspected. Blood began leaking out her nose and mouth as her chest heaved and she made one final, bloody gurgle. “Yeah, it’s a bit startling, isn’t it?” Ken soothed, running his hand over her forehead. “But it’s over now and you never have to worry about it again!” He nudged the dead newborn closer to Dolly with his foot. “There we go, mother and not-quite-daughter, together again,” he smiled, “I’ll just leave you two here to wait. Oh – and don’t tell the butcher about all the fun we had, alright? That’ll be our little secret!”