Island Retreat 8

Maggie’s gaze held on Selma’s breasts. Selma’s awareness of that gaze was heating her up, making her already-difficult thoughts get slower, awash in arousal.

“Drink,” Maggie said.

She was advancing, coming to the bed with her hands held at her sides, elbows bent, hands dangling limp and useless. Something was missing from her eyes. She was aware, there was an intense look on her face as she crept close, her movement made strange by high steps. When she bent over Selam, the former chaperone knew what that missing elemnt was – Maggie’s humanity. Her look was that of a curious animal, not a human being capable of reason. Selma tried to warn her off, but all that escaped was another low moo.

Selma squirmed toward the end of the bed, hoping to throw herself to the floor, to flee before Maggie could achieve her obvious aim, but her body was too sluggish and slow to answer her commands. Maggie’s svelte form hovered over Selma. The young blonde looked at Selma with that distant understanding once more and then she lowered to Selma’s breast.

Before Maggie’s lips touched Selma’s nipple, Selma mooed. The anticipation was too great. While her mind refused to accept her body’s quivering need, she knew the moment Maggie’s mouth closed on her she would lose whatever remained of her will. She needed to have someone suckle at her breast. No, not breast, she knew. Her udders. Her big cow udders. That’s what she had. Because she was a cow. She wanted to weep, but then Maggie’s mouth fulfilled its promise, and the younger woman moaned with want. Teeth bit down firmly at the tip of her nipple and then she was sucking. Milk leaked for the first time from Selma’s udder, and she mooed again, this time with pleasure.

She didn’t want it to feel this good, but Selma could not deny it. Her pussy flooded, eager to be used while she felt the bovine joy of her udder being drained of its milk. Her shame and sorrow at being reduced to this state emptied her with the milk until her mind had become as docile and compliant as her body. Soon, she was mooing, the sound free of all distress. She urged the girl to drink more.

Maggie’s mind was all but gone, and feeding from the cow only reinforced her new persona. She felt a similar arousal, and that arousal woke her most dramatic change. Between her legs, positioned above her wet labia, a newly-fashioned cock stirred. There was no way Maggie could be prepared for the strange sense of arousal that came with a penis, especially in her compromised state. She could still remember something of her life before, but it was a faint echo from a dark cave. The world ahead of her made so much more sense. She was a pony. Not just a pony, but a stud. She would have her pick of the other ponies, to run with and stud. As she imagined one of the tan-skinned ponies presenting themselves for her, her new gland rose to its full length and she found the throbbing of her cock to be almost as distracting as the sweet milk she drew from the cow. Had she known the cow before? There was a name somewhere in that cave of memory, but it would not come to light. And what did it matter? She was just a cow after all. A sweet-tasting cow, helpless and horny on her back. Maggie could smell her lust. While she was made to please the other ponies, the scent of the cow’s pussy was irresistible. Nd it was easy to detach from the cow’s udder and position herself between the cow’s legs. Her cock was hard and ready.

The cow saw that hard muscle waiting for her. Her udders were globes of milk radiating erotic pleasure, and her pussy hungered. When she saw the futa pony’s cock rising, her pussy responded. Something in the pool of her memories wailed and warned her of the wrongness of this desire, but it was quickly drowned by the cow’s milky, horny need. She found it hard to make her body move with any grace on the bed, but she could scoot her swollen body down until her pussy gaped at the end of the bed. She was dripping, her natural lubrication leaking onto the sheets.

Maggie’s hands never left their raised pose at her sides, helpless, useless hands still as she used her hips to find the cow’s slippery hole for the first time. When she found the proper angle and her tip eased inside the cow, Maggie’s eyes rolle dup. the animal growing inside her was freed by the sinking of her futa cock in the cow’s canal. She whinnied. A high, happy sound inspired by the wet grip of the cow’s cunt. She pumped, her pony pussy leaking along with the cow’s. Her pert tits were tipped by hard nipples, her hips moving in quick rhythm. While she was not yet bridled and no bit blocked her tongue, speech was beyond the pony now. Language fled her with the last of any shame. The cave of her former life now shut to her, and all that was was the present and a hazy notion of a life of green fields and sun on her skin.

The cow came, mooing loud as her body found its purpose in the act of being bred by the pony. Milk from her udders, cum in her pussy, that was all the cow needed or wanted. When the pony climaxed moments later, the cow’s eyes were heavy-lidded, reflecting the empty mind behind her wide, brown orbs. The pony slid its cock free of the cow and whinnied happily. The two regarded each other stupidly, no more recognition than that of any animal seeing another.

Marla watched the coupling from the office. Closed-circuit cameras were installed in each of the rooms, allowing the new island’s caretaker to enjoy seeing her work fully realized. The futa cock worked, and seemed to give Maggie great pleasure. In time, she might even make semen of her own, but that would be a long-term project. She had the bull for breeding the cows, and she could offer a pregnancy-free stud service for incoming ponies. A new taste on the menu of the island’s delights. While she considered having one of the dolls please her to celebrate the success, and to ease the arousal that mad eher body tingle, she was more eager to take Selma to her new home.

Bare feet moved down the hall and she opened the door of the shared guest room. Maggie whinnied when the door opened. She stood naked and happy near the bed. She would need to be properly outfitted for her new life, but she had adopted the habits of her new equine persona fully now. She waited patiently while Selma hooked a leash to the fat collar around Selma’s neck.

“Come co,” she said and gave it a tug. She found joy in seeing the former chaperone and resident prude struggle to roll onto all fours, her heavy udders practically dragging on the sheets. The tips of the udders were wet with milk and saliva, though Selma-cow showed no sign of awareness of that lewd appearance. She staggered off the bed in an awkward slump. She steadied herself and plodded behind Marla on her hands and knees, her big tits swaying and beading with pearly droplets of milk.

Out the double doors, across the grass to the barn. Inside, the dolls worked to tend the cows and the single bull. Marla took Selma-cow herself to an empty milking stall. One of the black-clad dolls came near and did the work of attaching the suction cups to Selma-cow’s udders and running the strap over her back to buckle and fix in place. Selma-cow waited patiently, blinking slowly, only stirring when the doll caressed her udders in the service of affixing the milking cups.

Once that operation was done, the doll turned on the milker. There was a hiss of air and the suction began. Selma’s eyes widened at first and then fell back to the half-opened state as the suction pulled milk from her. It splashed against the cups attached to her in steady pumps, milk squirting from her udders to the cups and then ino the tube. Marla watched the hose turn white with milk as the cow offered her bounty, observing until this cow’s milk found its way into the tank shared by the rest of the herd.

Maggie took a step out of the stall, closing the door. She circled the stalls and walked along the row of cows, enjoying the serene look they all shared. She paused at Selma-cow’s stall to see the same expression on her face as the others. That made her smile.

“Enjoy the milking, Selma. I have a pony to take care of. Until next time.”

She left the cow in the capable hands of the dolls, who would keep her clean and fed until Marla conceived another use for her.

Maggie hadn’t moved much. She was standing nude in the room, her new phallus dangling above her pussy, flaccid but an impressive length. The fact that it worked as well as it did made Marla elated. What she could do with a futa pony…

“Maggie?” she ventured.

The pony tilted her head, curious.

“Are you my good futa pony?”

Maggie lifted a leg and brought it down on the floor with a swipe of her toes. A single stomp indicating an affirmative answer. One for yes, two for no. The only communication beyond her whinnies that she would ever need.

“Good girl. You are gorgeous.”

Another stomp, one that made Marla laugh. “And humble,” she added. “Good, be proud, pony. You may well be my prized possession. I’ll get you in your tack soon enough. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see your body this way. Exactly this way,” she added.

Marla circled the pony, caressed her bare shoulders, exposed now that her hair was pulled back in a single long braid. She could admire without concern the shape of Maggie’s body – the thinness of her waist, her lean legs and arms, the small, perfect breasts. Her nose turned up ever-so-slightly over a narrow mouth with full lips. Marla kissed those lips and grasped one pert breast. The pony shivered at the touch.

Marla’s hand slid between the pony’s legs and grippe the newly-formed cock. It was a marvel of science, a convincing phallus that even now grew under Marla’s touch. The older woman had desired Maggie for so long, had imagined her hands on the younger woman’s body in just this way. And now she possessed her, mind and body. The pony’s obedience was a tangible thing, lusty with the stroking of her futa cock, but created to please and to serve.

“Pony want to fuck me?” Marla whispered and kissed the pony’s lips again. The pony’s dick was hard. Marla wanted to feel the length of it for herself.

It was easy to bend over the edge of the bed and lift her skirt, gathering it and pulling it over her waist, exposing her ass and bare pussy.

“Go on, pony,” she urged, “fuck your Mistress.”

From behind her came a whinny and a rough snort, and then she heard the creak of boards as the pony approached. She hissed wen the tip of the pony’s cock pressed against her wet lips, and then Maggie-pony thrust. As any animal might, there was no foreplay or tenderness in it, only the brutal act of  coitus. It was all she could expect and all Marla wanted. The pony had a taste of her cock’s pleasure and now chased it, fucking Marla hard and fast.

The new caretaker reached behind her, pulling the pony close to send the ponycock deep, impaling her while Maggie-pony pumped with no agenda but to climax. Marla’s needs were only a minor concern in the hazy mind of the pony. All it knew was how good it felt to fuck, and it wanted more. The older woman’s pussy was tight and slick, and the pony loved its second use of its new cock. It whinnied and shuddered inside the woman before Maggie-pony came, a seedless climax that nevertheless made the pony feel lethargic and pleased with itself.

Marla continued to ride the cock until her own orgasm caught up, a mind-blasting climax that had her clawing the milk-wet sheets of the bed. With the reek of sex and lactation in the room, she idly reminded herself to have the dolls thoroughly clean the room before a guest could see it. Once she’d panted her way to consciousness again, marla rose and straightened the skirt of her dress so that she looked presentable, though no unaltered humans remained on the island. Still, she thought, one must keep up appearances.

“Come,” she told the pony.

Maggie-pony followed, happy to obey its owner. Soon, it would be given its tack and join the other ponies.  But, for now, it merely obeyed.

The newest statue sat in the hall just outside Marla’s bedroom. Carmen’s body was beautiful and made an enticing display. Sometimes when she passed by, Marla would run her fingers over the warm flesh, admiring the stone-like appearance achieved by the dolls as they converted the former caretaker. Caremn never acknowledged the touch, of course. Her mind was still, a ripple-free pool of water. The very stillness of her life brought her pleasure, just as she was programmed.

Marla followed the process early in her tenure at the island, watching the dolls place the statue in a case where wastes was expelled, and a tube inserted in the statue’s mouth fed her needed nutrients. Marla saw the eyes closed so it could rest in darkness only to find it back where it was on display the next morning, returned by the dolls who kept the essential functions of the island running.

This morning she moved to the trail outside the front door. The pink doll trailed her, a near-constant companion. Marla found its company welcome, and enjoyed its pleasures. As they moved away from the house and toward the dock, Marla saw the cows in the field. Selma was among them, though her name was lost now. She was simply one of the herd, her udders sweeping across the high grass as she crawled across the ground. Somewhere, in the fields beyond, Maggie would be running free with the other ponies. Or, perhaps, she rutted with one of the ponies. She shared that in common with James. The first of the cows to use his breeding as a feature of their stay would be arriving today, and the hope was for the guest to return home pregnant after her stay. For that purpose, James made a fine bull.

The ship was still a ways out, but Marla could see it on the horizon. The sound of its engine was hidden by the roll of waves onto the rocky shore. A happy stillness filled her as Marla pet the pink doll’s smooth head. There would be new arrivals and new fantasies to fulfill. That gave Marla meaning. And inspired the sly smile creeping over her face. Fantasies fulfilled and new experiments to master. It would be a good life here.