Chapter 2: Tainted Beef

By Honey Moon

Mission specialist Bluebell Guernsey, exo-botonnist, was very pleased with the new world. If it wasn’t for the simple fact that she was condemned to spend the rest of her life here, it would be a paradise! Not that she would know she was condemned for long.

Once the select Alpha, and a staff of volunteer support bulls were transported, her days as a sentient female were numbered. Clothing of any sort would be prohibited for her and the other sentient females. The bulls of course would willing abandon their own. It was just a matter of time before her tail would lift! Once she transitioned through Bovine Reversion Syndrome, she wouldn’t know anything except a bull’s prod, twice daily milking and which grasses tasted best.

She already knew the answer to the latter. The eight foot tall cow gracefully stooped. The lighter gravity was such a joy! Although somewhat smaller breasted than the average sentient female back home, a pose like this would have had her toppling over onto her face! She squatted down a little more and carefully leaned her head down.

She lipped up a long tuft of the strange coarse grass, and easily ripped it from the warm rich soil with her large flat teeth. She started chewing and drew it slowly into her mouth, soil and all. The flavor was a little sharp and peppery, but it had such a wonderfully high water content. She rather liked it. She had already confirmed the Space Agency’s initial analysis. All plant-life on Flora’s third moon was free of any mineral and biological impurities or toxins that would be harmful to higher life forms such as herself.

“Making yourself at home?” A gentle but firm voice asked. “Good for you!”

“Captain Walden!” Bluebell squeaked as she struggled up to stand at attention. Her face felt hot. She had let a bull witness her in cow-like behavior! Why didn’t she just grab a handful of the grass and prepare a salad like a proud sentient female should! “Just doing a quick taste comparison!”

“Bluebell, I keep telling you and the rest of the cows, pardon me, sentient females, to lighten up. This is your home. You should enjoy it!”

“Yes captain.” Bluebell said sullenly. “It’s a wonderful world.”

“Bluebell, this isn’t a military expedition. My name is Cassi.”

“Yes captain, um, Cassi.”

Bluebell watched the pressure suited ten foot behemoth stride off. No that wasn’t fair. Captain Walden was lovely. It broke several regulations, but she had a computation file hidden in her quarters. When out of the bulky pressure suit, Captain Walden was simply magnificent.

It was a short video that had been making the rounds among the bulls that looked up to her as a prime Alpha. Before launch, Bluebell had managed to secretly, to her deep shame, run off a copy.

The video was only ten minutes long. You didn’t have to note the over-bright, but poor lighting, and the way the camera constantly jumped about, to know it wasn’t a professional info/entertainment release. It was merely a record keeping file from the medical division. There was no sound, but none was needed. It was almost hypnotic to watch the huge muscles roll and move in well oiled perfection beneath her glistening black coat as the captain intensely used the weight machines to work her body to the very limit.

Wires and sensors were affixed to her body, but one soon didn’t notice them. The captain was completely naked! The sheen of sweat on her coat was somehow such a beautiful sight! The captain wasn’t unsheathed, thank the stars above, but the sight haunted her. She sometimes dreamed of those big beautiful horns, the modest, but quite large for a bull breasts, the thick heavy sheath, massive grapefruit sized balls, and the sweet innocence of the lovely cow-like vagina peeking from beneath. Even when not in heat, she awoke soaked between her thighs if she viewed the file before sleeping. Oh, why couldn’t seem to erase the insanely dangerous data?

If the other females knew she had such a contemptible file, they would ostracize her from the herd! What was contained in that sheath was something they all feared above anything else! In it, was the means of their complete undoing! Being butchered for your valuable beef was almost preferable. It was a quick clean end, as apposed to spending the rest of your natural life as a mindless dairy beast, churning out calf after endless calf!

Bluebell full well knew the danger. If she even suspected the video would show the captain unsheathed, she would never have dared to view the file! She knew what such a sight could do to her if she even thought about it while entering her heat!

The captain was a prime Alpha Bull! She knew her body would display an immediate instinctual demand for seed from such a perfect bloodline! If the captain happened to so much as catch even a glimpse of her with her tail raised, would mission protocol be enough to stop the bull from unsealing her protective garb and accepting the absolutely involuntary, but oh so sincere invitation to breed?

There was no one she could share her concerns and fears with. She tried to, when the selection committee ran her through a series of psychological tests. She held back, thinking it a meaningless joke. There were far too few of her kind for the Space Agency to be very picky. Those tests where intended for, and presented by bulls! In the end, she easily managed to keep her concerns over the file secret to herself. She felt she had to!

The rumors, untrue, not that she knew, said that being scrubbed from the mission meant being sold to the highest bidder. Any sentient female bought in the open market was reduced to a cow within one weather cycle! Too many bulls dreamed of the status gained from mounting such a treasured rarity! It was just too damn easy to force the issue!

Hell, all a bull need do is always keep the sentient female naked, and within her sight. It was just a matter of time before nature forced her to lift her tail! At least being chosen for the mission gave her a secret tiny ray of hope.

If only she had mentioned her concerns. The selection committee didn’t want to send any cows tainted even slightly by even the sight of their intended leader’s body. Captain Walden was sworn to never let her support crew see her out of the bulky sealed pressure suit. They wanted no preconditioning that may cause a disruptive tail lift before the fledgling colony was turned over to it’s new governor.

The bulls on the committee weren’t monsters. If they had learned Bluebell’s secret, she would have been placed in the special quarantine facility to await the establishment of the second test colony in a few weather cycles. It was thought being tainted by exposure to a bull she would have no possible further contact with, would not jeopardize a future mission led by a bull of an entirely different bloodline. She would have enjoyed a very pleasant extended vacation with the next batch of sentient female astronauts on a top secret bull prohibited island.

Heading back to the living quarters, which would all too soon be occupied by the Alpha Bull governor general and her staff, Bluebell ran into a co-conspirator.

“It has to be today.” Daisy Ayrshire told her the specified time. “The second moon eclipses us for approximately twenty-three minutes then. All communication, including the remote security optical receptors, will be in LOS for the duration. Ground control won’t be able to warn the captain, if they never see us put the plan into play!”

“Perfect. The captain always takes a nap after her mid-day meal.” Bluebell said softly. It was a wonderful gift of fate that the nap coincided with such a long loss of signal! It would make her distasteful assignment so much easier. “You know your task?”

“Of course. I lead the retrieval team in case of” She grinned and glanced at Bluebell’s tail “shall we say, unforeseen problems?”

“You better be ready.” Bluebell said angrily. “I’m putting my tail on the line for the sisterhood, literally!”

“Don’t get that tail in a knot, Bluebell!” Daisy snapped. “You’re not the bull of me!”

“Just be ready to get me out, okay? We’re not sure if the weapons are going to work!”

“Yasmin Sahiwal assures me they are flawless. She used the power supplies from four electric wands, and really amped up the output. One hit from it, and the captain is ready for the rendering facility! If she’s somehow still breathing, just use the ‘hammer’.”

Bluebell didn’t like this archaic device. It had nothing to do with carpentry. It saw common used long before it was decided simply slitting a cow’s throat was less barbaric. Yasmin, gifted machinist that she was, recreated one from scare stories passed around among the sentient females, and several sketches she dug up from obscure computation files in long abandoned nodes.

It was really very simple. While the originals were pneumatic, hers was electromagnetic. Similar to a railgun, it would fire out it’s single steel piston at incredible velocity. Placed against the captain’s head, it would blast through the bull’s thick skull and destroy her brain in an infinitesimal fraction of a second. Once it’s job was finished, the gore stained piston would retract like a sated prod back into it’s sheath. Bluebell shuddered at the mere thought.

“Not turning cow on us, are you?”

“Of course not!” Bluebell sneered. “I’m the eldest of the crew! Do you think I want to miss my chance to become futanari and be a bull? The infiltration expert just has to get me into the captain’s quarters!”

“Infiltration expert?” Daisy snorted through her broad nostrils and twitched one ear mockingly. She handed Bluebell a slip of paper with a series of thirty-two apparently random alphanumeric characters electronically embossed on it.

“What’s this?” Bluebell asked.

“Yasmin tricked the emergency override for the captain’s bio-metric lock from the manufacturer’s computation node before we even left Flora. That heifer is a regular black-horn artist! She can trick out any computation file, no matter how deeply hidden in the nodes! All you have to do is very carefully pry off the ‘Warning: No User Serviceable Parts Inside: This Means You!’ placard just below the retina and horn scanners. You’ll see a tiny keypad. Use a fine point stylus to punch in the cipher. You’ll be in no cow’s land before you can shake your tail! Now just don’t lose your nerve!”

“Never!” Bluebell vowed. “Where are the weapons?”

“In your quarters, where else?” Daisy sneered again. “Don’t wait for totality to start! Once in LOS, Yasmin will destroy all communications links. You have to move before the captain notices we’re permanently cut ourselves off!”

“Do I look like a mindless cow?” Bluebell said, but very softly as Daisy hurried off. “You act more like a bull than the captain, you two hoof mobile hamburger stand!”

Bluebell hurried to her quarters. Once again she felt joy at being able to move so freely. Inertia still was a force to be reckoned with, but there was far less chance of her falling on her face. Even if she did, the probability of injury was greatly reduce.

She had enough time. She felt she had to prepare herself. Looking carefully up and down the corridor, she saw no one in sight. Not that it mattered, but she was about to do something she had never dared do before.

She slipped into her, soon to be the governor’s, sleeping quarters and closed the door. It had no lock, since an Alpha bull had nothing to fear from the lesser bulls making up her cult of personality. Their current bull, no! The captain needed a lock to prevent a possible entry by a sentient female misjudging her heat and triggering an incident that could jeopardize their schedule. Bluebell carefully jammed a chair under the knob out of sheer nervousness.

Being casual week’s end, she untied her support halter. She unwound the yards of sturdy silk. In a moment, her breasts bounced free. To the eye of bull or cow, they appeared huge. Thankfully not as ponderous as the legendary sentient female the captain sired. It was said that Maggie Walden was the current record holder for breast size. Many bulls collected her picture from ‘White Gold’ milk bottles and cheese products. Bluebell felt the familiar little jealous spike at the thought of a sentient female with a huge following, and parading around with a damn bull’s name!

Bluebell knew her breasts were still large enough to be a dangerous visual stimulus for any bull. Once she flipped through the Space Agency’s fitness manual for young bull hopefuls. On a lark, she attempted something called a ‘Push-Up’.

When the size of her breasts permitted her to just make a tiny little dip before her hands actually left the floor, a not unpleasant heat infuse her face when the bulls remotely monitoring her workout session erupted into wild cheers and thunderous applause. Without her knowledge, her psychological makeup became further tainted.

It was extremely dangerous for any sentient female to begin enjoying the attentions of bulls. She raised both arms as high as she could, not very far, her physiology prevented it, and rested a moment on her breasts. It was fairly uncomfortable being on such a an unnatural incline. In a feat of strength few cows could muster, she drew her hooves up under her. Unwittingly in the classic ‘mount’ position, she even waved to the unseen spectators while balanced on upright hind legs, with her breasts obviously bulging from the pressure against the gymnasium floor.

An innocent, as most cows were in such matters, she had no idea that the recording was almost immediately copied and distributed at a very good profit for the Space Agency. Even though her tail was not raised, nothing in a bull’s mentality would prevent them from imagining that glorious detail.

Tail flaccid and calmly swaying, none would be able to bring themselves to so much as lay a finger on her if they were actually present during the recording. Imagination or not, the triggers behind a bull’s all consuming insemination drive needed the visual stimulation of a slender and delightfully sensual tail raising high to release the proper chemicals in their brains.

Bulls both young and old feel no such inhibitions toward stroking their own prods though. Self stimulation was eagerly practiced by one and all. For many weather cycles to come, untold thousands would spurt their seed while watching the file. Each would happily dream of disqualifying the beautiful cow from the space program when she tail lifted just for them!

The wonderful low gravity made it quite easy for Bluebell to slip out of her modesty pants. She tugged them down over her full round ass, and let them drop down her long legs to pool around her hooves.

She smiled as she stood on one hoof, then the other and kicked them aside. Back home if she tried that, she would surely topple right over! If the plan came to fruition, it would be a joy to live here!

She looked into the the large mirror intended for the governor’s use. She shuddered fearfully, but there was a tiny unacknowledged spark of pleasure. She admired her smooth pointed horns. She secretly used a high gloss clear enamel on them, and they looked simply adorable! Who cares if it was marketed to bulls? Why shouldn’t cows look their best too? She was prime Grade A beef, and knew it!

If the committee even suspected she was artificially augmenting her natural beauty, it would have been an immediate ticket to the island. Only a seriously tainted cow would begin taking the terrible risk of making herself more presentable to bulls!

Perhaps she would have been quietly left there as an instructor after the thousands of credits already spent on her training. After all, it was better economics to capitalize on her teaching value, over letting her become a dairy producing meat animal. The world was full of cows. They needed trained sentient females to keep the colonization effort financially freezable. Once she aged out and became a bull, she would be quietly sent back to civilian life and a long happy future.

Having no hint of the shining future her secrecy and tainted mind had denied her, She hefted her breasts and smiled. She jiggled them and giggled.

“I’d do me.” She said softly. “If I was a bull, I would do a prime cut steak like me in a second!”

She went to her storage locker and took out something that would make most sentient females scream in terror. The very artistic cow had stolen a length of thermoplastic tubing from stores. She filled the forty inch length with the flexible compound used in re-gasketing airlock hatches and sealed it closed. The flat smooth edged ‘head’ looked almost like the real thing, or so she assumed. She had never seen an actual prod in person before. Any sentient females that had, could never talk about it soon after.

It was smooth, stiff, and beautiful. The gasket compound made it a deep shiny black, just like Captain Walden’s coat! Using a special bracket she adapted from it’s original use, she attached her ‘bull simulator’ to the wall at just the right level.

Bluebell double checked her door was barricaded. She knew full well what she was about to try for the first time would simply horrify her crew-mates. Bluebell’s condition had finally brought about the ultimate symptom of being tainted. She had progressed beyond using her fingers to stimulate just the fleshy lips and little pink pearl of her vagina. She felt she needed the ultimate to steady her mind and body for the coming mission. She had created a way to simulate the act of being bred by a bull, without the risk of destroying her mind!

She started the playback of the captain working her body with such wonderful precision of movement. She set it to loop endlessly and picked up the end of her device. She gave no thought to lubricating it. There was no need. All cows produced an abundance of naturally slippery fluid to ease the pathway of any bull mounting them.

She watched the captain’s strong muscles roll, while she tried to figure out how to proceed. A bull would have absolutely no trouble positioning herself. The lifeless tubing would need her assistance.

As the captain sat on a bench with her muscular leg’s spread wide, Bluebell had the ultimate in dark fantasy. She imagined her construction emerging from the captain’s hefty sheath.

Bluebell trembled as she stared at the huge balls. She couldn’t seem to tear her wide open eyes away from their terrible beauty. They produced the microscopic means of her reduction. An expert on plant life, as a mere cow, she had only a very stretchy knowledge of her own reproductive biology.

All she knew was that the captain’s balls constantly produced millions of specialized wriggling cells called spermatozoa. Only one was necessary to cause her mind to unravel and go dark. One tiny thing, invisible to the naked eye, had such awesome power over her very assistance!

If only one reached a special cell called ‘egg’ within her and joined with it, her body would begin a change that no medical science could stop. The biochemical process of readying her body to cherish the ‘fertilized’ egg, would drastically and irreparably alter her brain and body. She would be doomed to spend the rest of her natural life as mindless livestock! She was frightened at the thought, but somehow also intrigued.

Bluebell was actually wrong. While unstoppable once begun, it could very easily be prevented. A very simple procedure called a Tubal-ligation would grant any cow the ability to enjoy a very happy and stunningly energetic sex life with multiple bulls, with complete safety. She would have the comforting knowledge that when the time came, she would safely transition to a futanari and full citizenship as a bull.

Since the technique was invented, bulls regularly used it to give themselves the freedom to decide just when they wanted to create another bull within themselves. It was far more reliable then the old way of encasing your prod in a very thin flexible and distressingly fragile rubber balloon, and reminding your friend to cross her fingers and hope it wouldn’t pop messily inside of her.

After undergoing the easily reversible procedure, bulls joyfully shared their bodies with other bulls in their social circles. There was nothing to prevent them from having a new lover each night, without harming their rightful ability to seed a cow whenever they had a chance.

Very strict and stringently applied laws barred any cow from ever being granted this good fortune. The heavy fines were not even needed. No doctor or veterinarian would ever risk the shame of causing such costly damage to another bull’s property. A cow unable to breed or produce milk would be such a huge loss of long term revenue!

Many a cow when learning of this medical marvel, would openly weep at not being permitted to benefit from it. It was best to be like Bluebell. She was blissfully unaware of yet another thing that could have so easily granted her the life of her dreams.

Hand trembling, she brought the lifeless tube up between her legs. She watched the captain squat repeatedly with a massive barbell braced over her exceptionally broad shoulders. She touched the flat head against her soaked lips as she stared intently at the muscles bulging in the captain’s powerful legs.

Bluebell was rapidly refining her unwitting and dangerous self conditioning. That muscular perfection was obviously of a superior bloodline! Why else would the Space Agency put her in charge of a bunch of unruly cows? Too deep into her twisted fantasy, she was oblivious to her tail twitching.

The image was not quite enough. It lacked the physical presence. The infatuated cow didn’t know it, but, the wonderful moving images lacked the one thing that prevented her from abandoning her quarters and seeking out the bull. It lacked the scent of the captain’s musky sweat. Bluebell was moving into her heat, and she had intensely aroused herself while staring at that image. If she couldn’t calm herself down, and fast, her vital mission was doomed to failure before it started!

Even in the lower gravity, her left hand was jarred when it unexpectedly struck the floor. Never intending to, she had dropped into classic breed stance for a cow! Legs still stiffly straight, her hindquarters still stood as they normally would while walking as a proud biped. With nipples a scant inch from grazing the floor, her arm now stood in for slightly too short foreleg. She was now perfectly aligned with her imaginary bull.

Even as her right right hand pushed the head to her dripping opening, her sentient mind rebelled! This was wrong! She should have never constructed her synthetic prod!

“I can’t!” She whimpered as her body shuffled backward all on it’s own. Her eyes nearly crossed. “Oh, I, I have to stop! I can’t do this! It, it’s going in me!”

Her long torso a considerable percentage of her overall height of eight feet, she had no trouble accommodating the over three foot plastic prod. Se moved as if under some insidious remote control. Shuddering fearfully as her rump closed in on the wall, she felt it sliding deeper and deeper towards her very core!

“What have I done?” She whimpered. She raised her free hand to cut the playback, but couldn’t reach! “I, I made a mistake! This is so wrong!”

She tried to will herself to back off of the prod and kill the view-screen, but just couldn’t! It just slowly sank deeper!

“No, no, no!” She gasped when her goriously sizable ass struck the wall! “It’s all the way in! Why, why did I do this?”

There was a resounding thump. Bluebell whimpered again. The sturdy wall actually shook when she leaned forward, and then struck her ass back against it a second time!

She closed her eyes tight, but her mind was blazing with images of the captain working her body into a froth of a sweat. She banged the wall again, unmindful of any crew-mate hearing. Soon, there was another sort of froth. Her copious lubricating liquid was being churned as she repeatedly rammed herself against the wall! Her greedy vagina was sloppy with it. The plastic prod glistened wetly in the bright overhead light.

“Please no.” She gasped, unable to stop. The words became somewhat strange as her mind raced and her body burned. “Captain, don’t seed me!”

A cow could readily ease the tensions of her body with her fingers. That gentle warm release wasn’t even a hint at what her body was going through now. If she had ever seen a cow being seeded, she would have recognized the powerful snorting and panting she was now going through as she took the plastic object into her completely, repeatedly, and powerfully.

Moving faster and faster, her traitorous body simulated the masterful pounding she would have received if this had been a living bull reaching her release!

“No, no, captain! She wailed. “Not inside me! Please don’t ruin me!”

Bluebell let out a cry as her body convulsed. She was experiencing something rarely felt by a sentient female without being triggering into Bovine Reversion Syndrome! She had received the only reward a cow would get for giving up her mind to be bred, without paying the terrible price! She shook with the power of her climax.

She staggered forward. Not trusting her shaking arms to support her, she sort of wobbled on her breasts when the obscene thing she had created finished slithering it’s wet length out of her. It took several minutes to get her labored breathing back onder comtrol.

“I should not have done that!” She said weakly “But I do feel much more my normal self.”

Pulling herself together, she managed to get back up into bipedal stance. Thank goodness she had finished herself in time. The eclipse was about to begin!

Not having time to clean herself up, she struggled into the one piece ship-suit she wore during their trans-lunar injection burn. The tight and supportive garment was designed to prevent the high acceleration from causing possible costly damage to future dairy production. She had great difficulty zipping it up. Her hips seemed to have widened, and her breasts seemed to be growing larger.

She realized to her dismay that she was going through her second stage development. Her maturing body was growing desperate to attract a virile bull to seed her!

Once cinched into the garment, she found her weapons stashed beneath the luxuriously thick foam rubber mattress of her bunk. The three foot thick protectively railed tower of comfort put one in mind of the old story “The Alpha Bull and the Milk Bottle”. Daisy should have found a better place! Bluebell preferred sleeping on her stomach, with a little help. The weaponry’s hidden bulk visibly distorted the custom molded indentations that lovingly cradled her breasts while she peacefully slept.

She slipped the ‘hammer’ into the large carryall on her webbing belt, and tucked the altered wand securely into a leg pocket. The modified hand-grip betrayed the greatly increased power supply. Tail safely tucked down the back of her right leg, she headed out.

The captain had her own spacious quarters in the prefabricated communications center that had been the first structure completed opon landing. Checking her wrist chronometer attached to her right sleeve, she saw that the eclipse had begun. She had moments until LOS. Bluebell hurried as fast as her hooves could carry her.

Several crew-mates waved at her in passing. She saw the fear in their eyes, but a couple gave her a nod of approval. Nothing like this had ever been attempted in Bovine history. Never had such a large group of sentient females been so completely isolated from the general bull population. If just the one, their captain, was, neutralized, they had a shot of forming a world and society of their own!

Bluebell was heartened by the silent support. She paused to rip up a large clump of grass and stuffed it into her mouth. She put the shame of what she had done with a length of tubing out of her mind. She was going to go down in history as the savior of the cows!

She suddenly grinned. What shame? Once freed, who was to say easing your body in such a way was shameful? Her creative mind fell on a wonderful idea. A synthetic sheath one could strap around the waist. Cows could service each other in total safety until they all became bulls and lived lives of perfect reproductive harmony!

She reached the communications center. The outer door silently opened when she turned the knob. She felt a spike of fear when she slipped inside. Down the corridor was her destination. The captain’s private isolation quarters. She tried to shove an intruding thought way down deep.

She would be the first to actually lay eyes on the captain. Also the last. Throughout their long training, the actual flight, and the months spent building colony buildings and landscaping the abundant plant-life into organized crops and well tended fields, none had actually seen her. They took instruction from a massive figure in a protective pressure suit with a darkly tinted visor.

Bluebell reached the armored door of the captain’s quarters. It was actually a security hatch removed when dismantling the shuttle that had deposited them here after their one way journey. She noted the pressure gauge. For reasons that brought vague alarm bells to the dark recesses of her mind, she noted that the captain kept her sealed quarters at a slight negative barometric pressure. Even the slightest atmospheric leak would be inwards. Why did that make her so suddenly nervous and jumpy?