Darkness.

Darkness, and the faintest smell of something sweet. It smelled almost floral, like the scent of a freshly plucked honeysuckle, but not quite. It was understated, too - almost pleasantly so.

These two things were all there was to greet Amaranthine, once she woke up. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she yawned, fresh from a deep and restful slumber. Being a thestral, though, it wasn't exactly surprising or disconcerting to wake up to the dark, but simmering was different. Wrong. It wasn't the soft and welcoming cool of her Princess' night flooding through her window's blinds, nor that of a room simply shut off from outside - or inside light, for that matter - but the enpty pitch black of space. It wasn't simply the absence of light, but the absence of its very *concept*. Something was wrong - very, very wrong - that was all she knew, all she could use to describe it. She *knew* she had fallen to sleep in her room just that morning, in her bed, as Equestria's diurnal population began instead to wake up, and although she didn't know where she was, she knew she shouldn't have been there.

Then, she realized, with no small amount of herror, that she couldn't move. She could feel a dull, warm, almost comforting tingle around her wrists and ankles, and although it was far unlike the freezing kiss of metal shackles that she might have expected, it did nothing to calm her nerves. Her eyes narrowed, gaze shifing from straight ahead - where she *should* have been able to see the rise and fall of her chest from underneath her sheets - downwatds. What greeted her did not surprise her, but was no less disheartening. Both her arms were held up in full view, stretched out before her in what seemed to be stocks of magical origin, glowing a soft pink that lightly illuminated what little of her body she could see. Strangely enough, though, despite the implicatated position of being in stocks of *any* kind, she didn't feel any real discomfort. She *knew* she was likely bent over at some awful, uncomfortable angle, but it didn't *feel* that way. It almost felt, if anything, like she was floating.

Takimg in all that she could, Amaranthine started to panic as the information she could glean from her situation fermented in her mind. This wasn't any sort of physical plane - at least, none that she kmew of - and just as ephemeral wsre her current arcane bindings. Magic *wasn't* something she was capable of breakimg, and neither was this dimension something she could escape from of her own means. For all her muscle and physical strength, she realized she was utterly powerless to escape the situation, and so, even as her fear began to overwhelm her, the urge to escape amd run, somehow, despite the impossibility, the only thing she could do was wait, reflect on her situation, and possibly determine who and why someone would put her.

Although it was all but a few minutes, it felt more to her like hours had passed. The only thing her mind could focus on, other than escape, was why she was here, and she wondered, however briefly if she had died. She quickly composed herself, reminding herself that such a thing was impossible: ludicrous, but her thought yet circled with innumerable, dark ideas of what was to come - if anything were to come at all. It was a common tactic of torture to deprive one of contact from the outside world, and even other people, and she began to wonder how long she might be there - alone, with no one to tall to, and nothing to see but an emdless black void and what she could make out of her body. Would it be days, months, weeks?

... Years?

She shudde5ed at the thought, and quickly dismissed it.

Still, she couldn't understand why she was in this situation. Had she been kidnapped,taken prisoner? By whom amd for what? And for that matter, why waste the time and energy to keep her in magical stasis, when all it would've taken was a simple sealed stone room? Then again, even *that* might at least stand a slim chance of escape, but not here, not without magic to counter it. Even a unicorn suppressed by a magic nullification ring could, with time, could thin the strength of magical bonds, but Amaranthine didn't even have that luxury, and no amount of time, save the centuries length decay of this spell, would see to her freedom.

So she waited. It was ultimately better for her own mental wellbeing to simply focus on other things,  whatever those were, despite the crushing dread sitting at the very pit of her stomach. She had had nightmares before - vivid ones. Perhaps this was but another of those, and soon she would wake up, back to the real world, where she fell asleep, and where she belonged.

A part of her *wanted* to believe that, anyway.

It was only after another agonizing silence that she heard a voice. Distimctly feminine, sharp and almost regal in cadence, but soft and sickeningly sweet when it spoke.

From all around it seemed to emanate, all around and all at once without and with direction. Once it had gotten her attention, though, it seemed content to speak with her more directly, buzzing inside her skull, making her brain feel numb.

"My sincerest of apologies, dearest. I'm sure you must be *so* confused right now. But worry not that pretty head of yours. I can't have you burning out just yet. You will understand in due time anyhow."

*Of fucking course I'm confused!* Ama grit her teeth with a snarl. The sheer, *disdainful* condescension was evident in the speaker's voice, who she could only assume to be that of a woman's, made the blood in her veins boil with rage. It was like being talked to like a child. Someone stupid, naive, *lesser*, and that thought made her grow all the more hateful. *Fucking cunt.*

"Ah ah aaahhh~ Do see to yourself that that *foul* mood of yours is kept under check. Such a temperament is so ... *unbecoming* for one of my future sales."

The response stopped Ama in her tracks. She hadn't spoken that - just *thought* it. But then again, given the undeniably complex magics and arcane mastery needed to create such her ... seemingly extradimensional prison, it really shouldn't have surprised her. Whoever this mare was, she was clearly far more powerful than any unicorn she knew of, and such magical prowess was certainly not to be underestimated, much less trifled with. As much as she hated the thought, she would bite her tongue. For now. There was, however, one thing she didn't understand.

*Sale?*

"Oh yes. I'll make it as simple as I can for you, but you see, I happen to find my calling finding and ... breaking, certain people my clients desire me to. It's a long and arduous process - thought I've rarely had one of my toys last any longer than a couple weeks. I'm sure you can imagine how difficult it must be to fundamentally twist someone's body and mind to smither's will, but, alas, it's what pays the bills. Not to say I'm wanting for money of course, but-"

*Get to the ff- ... Get to the point already.*

"How rude. Well fine, if you want to know so badly. I'm im the business of sex trafficking. You'd be surprised just how much people will pay for a mindbroken sex slave. There's a whole underground industry for it and everything, of which I am, of course, the kingpin. Or would it be queenpin, in my case?"

The voice chuckled, and Ama's blood ran cold. Sex slave? An entire industry? No, no. This shouldn't be possible. But it was, and there was nothing she could do - or say - about it. Not here - not now. Knowing, however, that she could communicate with this ... *person*, even if it was through unconscious thought, gave her some small amount of hope for her odds. However remote the chance, she might be able to convince whoever this woman was to set her free.

That hope didn't last long. The voice laughed, as if it were one od the funniest things she had ever heard. She could almost see her wiping away tears as it setlled to a quiet titter, even as she spoke.

"Let you go? Oh, my dear, sweet darling, let you *go*? There is nothing - *nothing* - you could *possibly* offer me to grant you your freedom. My client has already offered a hefty sum for your ... oh, how should I put it ... 'submission', as it were, and I fully intend to see my end of the deal through. And honestly, what would I even tell them were I to show for nothing? How could I *possibly* explain myself without looking like an utter fool, or an untrustworthy swindler? That I somehow managed to be so incompetent as to let a simple bat pony to escape, despite all my magic? Not only would I be wasting my time on someone like *you*, with nothing to give but a flimsy promise of keeping your mouth shut - which I would be stupid to ever believe - and far less money than I would receive otherwise, but I would be absolutely *humiliating* myself in front of my peers! My colleagues! I would be laughed out of the business for such a historic failure. Really, you must be even dumber than I thought to ever think you could convince someone of my skill and status to let *you* go."

The more she spoke, the angrier Amaranthine grew. Her blood had risen from a boil to a rolling fire, and all she could see was red. She felt powerless, but her muscles tightened, her fists clenched, and her teeth bore a vicious, predatory scowl all the same. She already couldn't stand this woman's voice - the arrogance, her endless blither prose, her mocking tone. It was made only worse still by her patronizing, insulting words. Briefly, images filled Ama's mind of escaping this godforsaken hell and making full use of her brute strength on the woman. She hadn't even the slightest clue what she looked like, but that didn't stop her from imagining herself beating her skull against the ground. The moment passed, though, as quickly as it had begun, and she was once more left in despair. There really was nothing she could do.

She heard a clap, and her ears flattened against her skull, the beginnings of tears stinging at her eyes. The sound was loud - too loud - and she could hear her ears ring in the aftermath. Whether it was a deliberate action on the speaker's part, or from being the first real sound she had heard since waking up, she couldn't be sure, but it wouldn't surprise her if it was both.

"Ah! It's good to see you finally realize the *futility* of your efforts. Perhaps you won't be so difficult to work with after all. Now then! I think I've gone on long enough, so why don't we go ahead and get this ball rolling, hmm?~"

Just as Amaranthine felt the urge to respond, to assure this woman she was going to put up as much of fight as she possibly could, to make her job a living hell, a dull, thrumming sensation filled the space between her legs. It was barely present enough to even be noticeable - at first - but as the time matched slowly on, the feeling became stronger. With each passing moment, warmer and warmer it grea, and she felt her loins begin to stir as a result. Ama was at once hit with the realization she was utterly bereft of even the most simple of clothing, leaving her limp cock free to bloat and swell from whatever danske dammable spell has taken a hold over her. Ama squirmed in place, unable to make much movement other than impotent straining, flexing, and wriggling, which only seemed to exacerbate the magic in her veims, burning hotter with ever move she dared to make. Involuntarily, the captive shemare bit her lip in am futile attempt to stifle any sound of pleasure, not wanting to give her captor even the smallest sense of victory. But the unrelenting buzz in her most private of places had a different plan in mind, overriding her best efforts to let free a low, guttural groan of frustration and pleasure.

Had the magic not suddenly taken root in her mind as well, thrumming endlessly away as it did in her cock, she might have been able to resist the urge to voice her pleasure. As it was, however, whatever spell had taken its hold over her mind seemed intent on making resistance impossible. If anything, any concerted effort made to stifle her instincts only made it more difficult to fight off, as if it somehow *knew* it was being fought against. All the while, Ama's tool pulsed faster and harder, each throb resounding from her kegals to her thighs, bringing with it a further surge of flesh from her open sheath. Inch by inch of dark cockmeat slid out from the sensitive pocket of skin, and in turn her balls began to swell with the production of thick batmare spunk. It was unbearabl, almost *painfully* aroused as there was nothing she could do to pleasure herself on her own terms, the struggle of her body against its restraints making it worse than were she to simply hold still. Try as she might, though, she couldn't stop herself from moving and attempting to pull away from the torturous, overheating pleasure in a desperate, purely instinctual response.

"You know ... for such a brutish mare, you're actually rather cute." A hand - or at least the feeling of one - brushed against Amaranthine's furred cheek, causing her to shift her head in the opposite direction, cringing away from the unwanted touch.

"F-fuck off." she spat. All pretenses and attempts at civility she had briefly considered earlier were quickly dropped, the glare of her amber eyes strong and defiant despite her quiet gasps and moans, or her intermittent bucks and thrusts. By now, the mare was fully erect, her cock standing long, thick, and proud at a little over three feet, reaching beyond her knees as it idly throbbed, veins visibly bulging out like grotesque, obscene ridges along the jet-black flesh. Her balls, too, were nothing to scoff at either, hanging low and full somewhere below mid-thigh, leathery and smooth, the skin pulled taut around each roiling orb of cum like a profane royal purse.

"Now now, there's no need to be snappy." The voice paused then, and though Amaranthine heard nothing more from the woman, she could tell she was thinking.

"Humm. You really are quite the specimen, actually. I knew you were attractive from the moment my client told me about you, but ... this ...~" The sensation of another soft, delicate palm passed along Ama's body, trailing down her firm belly to her crotch, cupping as much as one of her swollen nuts as it could to give it a gentle, but firm *squeeze*. The voice giggled in a fashion that reminded the bat of some haughty, stuck up richmare, amused as they so often were at all the things they considered quaint and childish. Like a child. Like a toy to be played with and used for little more than passing entertainment. "... is quite impressive. I really must admit~"

More hands came, more than one this time - more than even two - all along the wide girth of her exposed shaft to idly toy with its heft. Some stroked and rubbed while others held it up at various points along its underside, and still more tickled and squeezed, slender digits digging in and massaging the hard, spongy flesh, while others traced every intricate little detail of the beast, following every vein up and down until it came to an end, only to find another and repeat the process all over again.

"Mh-hnngghh ... s-stop ..." Ama groaned, trying to roll her hips away from the ceaseless touches, only to involuntarily thrust mire of her cock into their eager grip. The primal, bestial need for more pushing her on desire her conscious wishes, succeeding only to push and pull back and forth.

The mysterious woman didn't even bother to humor the mare with a response that time. If anything, it felt to Ama as if she had inadvertently *encouraged* her as she seemed to double her efforts in torturing her sore pole. In any other context - or, at least, any other *consensual* context -  Ama might have considered this all to be rather enjoyable - wonderful, even - but under her current circumstance, trapped with no company but her captor, with no way of escape or reprieve but for the improbable mercy *of* her captor, and under threat of having her will and very mind brought to heel - however intense it was intended to be she didn't know - it was easily the worst and most helpless she had felt in her life. Briefly, the thought flashed through her mind to simply feign her eventual 'submission' - to offer up some verbal resistance here and there, up until it gradually made way to her 'obedience', but she had little doubt in her mind her mysterious jailor would catch on to her schemes without much effort.

"I would, by the way."

There was also the fact of the matter that she could read her every thought - conscious or not. Even the briefest, most fleeting of ideas would be laid bare to this woman. The more time went on, the more Ama began to realize just how hopeless her situation truly was. It made her want to scream, to cry, and for a brief moment her vision was overcome with black, crippling despair that held her chest in a crushing vice-like grip. Her spiralling psyche was quickly cut short, though, as the same magic that had taken a hold of her cock had now also seen fit to her exposed, dark nipples, all the while her monstrous jawbreaker of a dick continued to twitch and jump from the teasing of a maddeningly countless number of hands. *Too* many hands. *Too* many fingers. Too many for her to reasonably count, especially not in her current fallen state. There was just *too much in general.* 

Her balls suddenly seized up into her body, and all at once her sack tightened around its two plump foalmakers in anticipation of the inevitable, a reaction helped along by the palms softly massaging and bouncing her nuts in the air. It was enough to make her--

"No. Not yet."

Just when Ama thought she had reached her limit, just when it had become too much to bear, both from her nipples and between her thighs, the magical appendages vanished back into the endless, infinite void. Her orgasm had been so close, so *tantalizingly* close, only to be ripped from her grasp at the last moment, just when she felt her sack ready to release its hot, steaming contents. A long, pathetic mewl escaped the mare's throat, and her hips twitched and violently *jerked* forward, looking desperately for the touch that had only just been torturing her. She wanted it. *Needed* it. She *needed* to cum, but she refused to beg for it.

"Hmhm. Not yet, at least, but you will~"

Her cock jumped again, a feeling similar to a light electroshock causing the veins to bulge out and her flare to spread, then contract. She knew, somehow, that something had been done to her, but she had no idea as to what. As if to answer her question, the hands returned in full force - the same actions, the same patterns - but even faster, more merciless, and the orgasm that had been so cruelly stifled came swiftly rising once more. The same uncontrollable twitching of her cock, throbbing of her veins, the pulling in of her overgrown cumsacks - but it stopped. Again. But the hands kept touching. And the orgasm didn't come.

*W-what the f-fuck?*

"Ah, and there it is. My lovely little magic trick. Try as you might, my darling - no matter how much I stimulate you, or how close you get, you will *never* cum. Unless, that is, if I give you permission. But you'd have to *beg* for that."

That wasn't going to happen. Not yet, anyway. Not while she still had some dignity left. Though she feared it might not be long before she gave that up. Before it became too much to bear, and she debased herself, pleaded for release like some pathetic, simpering bitch. The thought, on one hand, filled her with disgust and refusal, but another part of her seemed to find the idea ... *highly* appealing. She supposed, for the moment, all she could do was grit her teeth and bear it all, for as long as she equinely could.

And endure it all she did. She surprised even herself at her endurance, for how long she was able to bear before giving out, but just as her captor had said, and planned, she did, eventually, submit.

Her balls hurt, swollen beyond reasonable belief, three times their normal size from the constant buildup of clogged marejizz. Her cock, too, ached, painfully bloated with blood so that each and every vein, even the smallest among them, was grotesquely visible from the surrounding ebony dickmeat. The pain pain, ultimately, was what broke her resistance. Naybe, just maybe, she could have held out just a little while longer, but by the *gods* it hurt.

When she finally broke, tears had long fallen and soaked the gray fur of her cheeks, her eyes red from painful denial, and sore as fresh, salty tears whet her face again and again. She had wanted to be dignified in her plea - as dignified as she could be, anyway - but the constant, horrible mix of pleasure and agomy had shaken her to her core after what felt like years. The pauses in between didn't help either, only serving to give her time to reflect on her utter loss of control, and to dread when her  Mistres-- her *captor* came back to continue her horrid 'work'.

Sniveling, the words came warbling out from her lips, quivering in a pathetic plea for sanity.

"P-p-please, I-I can't handle it anymore. P-please l-let me cum. I-I can't do it a-anymore. I c-can't, I can't I can't I j-jist *can't*. Please ... I can't. J-just l-let me cum ..."

The woman answered with an upbeat cheer to her voice, Ama's mind so shaken now that she interpreted the false pretense of concern as genuine.

"Oh, my poor baby. You've been so *strong*, and for so long, too. You know, most reach your point after only a few days, but you? A whole *three weeks*? Might impressive, I must say. But ... I do question your conviction. How can I be sure you *truly* want this?Honestly, I think you could stand for just a bit more, don't you?~"

Hot tears began to stream down her face in amother fresh cascade, the mere *idea* of being forced through even another *minute* of this torture enough to shatter her grip on reality right then and there. Audibly sobbing, she screamed back, pleading like a helpless child.

"N-n-no, PLEASE! P-please d-d-don't! I-I'll be a good girl, I-I promise! Please just please please oh g-god please d-don't make me ... d-don't ..." Amaranthine blubbered, trailing off into more sobs. The whole of her body shook violently with the stress of it all, the salt from her tears burning painfully into her skin, making it itch almost as much as her cock and balls.

"I just don't know if you're ready ..."

"I-I'll do a-a-anything, ANYTHING! Anything y-you want I'll do it! I promise! J-just please let me f-fucking CUM!"

"Well, if you insist ... but only on *one* condition."

"Anything. ANYTHING!"

"For now until I say otherwise, *I* am your mistress. *I* control you - your body just as much as your mind - and you answer to *me* and me *alone*. At least until you're ready for my client. Am I understood?"

"I'll d-do it! I'll do it! I just wanna cum! I wanna c-cum s-so bad I n-need to-"

A finger snapped, and just as soon Amranthine's inane stream of babble was cut suddenly short. The magical hold upon her cock was released, and the very *second* it disappeared, she released. Screaming, eyes rolling back into her head until all was a prick of black in a sea of bloodshot, pinkish-white, she came. And came. And *came.* It lasted beyond what should have been possible - but then again, the voice supposed, most others didn't last nearly as long as Amaranthine did either. With so much time and effort spent, she might just have to charge her client an extra fee for all her hard work. This one had certainly been tricky, but as she observed jet-like ropes of pure white nutsludge slung endlessly out from her victim's bloated cock, out into a void of her own making, she knew she hadn't much work left to do. A satisfied smile crept onto the woman's face as she thought of what was shortly to come. A bit of transformation here, some mental alteration there, and Amaranthine would be the perfect, eager slut fit to her client's specifications to a T. She was, after all, the *best in her business*.

At that moment, though, the poor and abused shemare's hips thrust ever forward, almost a blur now as over and over again they bucked, and she continued to cum. Her scream by now had died to a mindless, wet gurgle, bubbles of saliva rising from her throat and dripping from her open mouth. Ama wasn't even capable of thinking at that moment, too overwhelmed by the blessing of her orgasm - the blessing that her ... Mistress, had so graciously permitted her - to do anything more than shoot nut and burble in pure, mindless obscure. All of it went into the void, of course, disappearing off into the endless black, never to be seen again. Had the room been physical, though, she likely would have painted the floor - and likely the wall - completely white with tar-thick, stinking spunk, concentrated enough to make a mare pregnant from the very air it tainted.

It was a while longer before it stopped - a countless number of gooey spurts, wild thrusts, and gargled moans - but the endless tide of cum did eventually subside. In the aftermath of it all, Ama hung limp, utterly still but for the occasional twitch of a limb or the throb of her cock, pushing out whatever last few dregs of nutgunk there was left to spare in her emptied balls. Her chest shuddered, drawing in ragged, shaking breaths as she came down from her mindmelting high of an orgasm. Even as she did, though, the weeks of enduring constant torture, both mental, physical, self-inflicted and otherwise, had finally seen to the erosion of any resistance from the mare. It was, ultimately, better to submit anyway, wasn't it? At least if she obeyed - *truly* obeyed - she could get out, she could be 'free' again, whatever freedom meant anymore.

"I think you're ready for my more ... *extensive* changes now, don't you, *pet*?"

She hesitated. Pet? ... She ... she didn't want to be. Not really. Or, did she? ... Whether or not she did, though, it didn't really matter. The result would be the same, and if she wanted out, to see anything other than infinite black, feel another's touch - someone's *real* touch - to smell, to breathe fresh air, she knew what she had to be. A pet.

"Y- ... yes ... Mistress."

"Now that's a good girl. You'll feel a little lightheaded now, but don't you worry that pretty little head of yours. It'll be too empty to worry about much of anything soon enough."

Had she not been so utterly exhausted, so thoroughly beaten down, she might have objected, but she didn't. Some small, dwindling part of her *wanted* to, but what was the point? Besides ... having an empty head, not having to worry about anything sounded ... nice. Especially after everything she had been through.

She nodded, weakly, and the far-off sound of a flash echoed in her skull. Suddenly she felt ... dumber. It was the only way she could think to describe it. Slower. Like she couldn't process certain things like she used to. She *could* still *think*, but she truly hadn't the words to describe it in any real detail, funding her descriptive ability mired now im a thick fog. Had she the ability, she might have said it to feel not unlike a sort of general malaise, like she had just woken up from a long night's sleep, rested up and perky, but slow, still half-asleep, mumbling slurred words and swimming through passing thoughts that trailed off as soon as they started. It was so much easier now to simply go along with whatever her Mistress had planned. Why even *try* to fight back? It was so ... so much *easier* to just obey. It felt nice, too, and she found herself yearning to be praised again for her submission. To be called a good girl, a wonderful obedient little pet.

"Now now, dearest - you'll get all that and more in due time, but for now, there is much, *much* more ... *work* to do.  Because while you do have a *lovely* body, you could always be so much *more*, and of course, my client has her own ... *modifications* in mind. So let's not waste any more time and get your transformation  underway. I guarantee you're going to *love* your new self."

Ama could hardly contain her excitement, and actually found herself quickly growing hot under the collae despite her recent 'purge', her body already preparing for the changes to come, changes which Ama had no doubt were for the better. Now that she was truly ready in mind, it only made sense that her body came next.

The first tingle didn't start at her cock though, and she was momentarily confused as to why it would start anywhere else. Why *would* it? It seemed like the obvious choice, but then she remembered she was dumb anyway. She wasn't supposed to think. It wasn't like she *could*, anyway, even if she wanted to. No, no, of course not - thinking was for Mistress to handle, for Mistress to worry about. She was just a dumb, stupid animal. An obedient, submissive shefaggot. A mindless ... 

Cow?

Ama moaned, low and breathy, which subtly turned into a moo. A cow. That's what she was. A dumb cow, perfect for milking, perfect for fucking. It felt so *right*. She was too busy focusing on that thought to notice the cute little pair of horns that had sprouted from her head, nor the dark gray blotches of fur that had begun to spread all along her coat. When she finally did though, she mooed again, her eyes once more rolling back into her head, the feeling of weight in her brain increasing even further. It was just so hard to think, and she loved it. She didn't know how or why she couldn't put more than a few simple words together, but she couldn't find a part of her that cared. She was so scared before, and she couldn't remember the reason why, but she was happy now - dumb and docile, like a good cow.

To her delight, Amaranthine felt a hand ruffle at her mane, giving a happy coo and wiggling her hips in response. Yes. She was a good cow. Mistress even told her so - in her head? She didn't understand that, but she didn't care. She was just too happy to serve Mistress and be the best mooslut she could be.

"Now just look at that, the little cow has already taken so well to her role - her *proper* place."

To put emphasis on the word, Ama felt a hard smack of her Mistress' palm against her toned ass. She mooed at first in response, but then frowned. Her ass didn't seem to jiggle that much. That didn't seem right. She was a cow. She should be soft and jiggly, not hard and toned. The very thought that her body wasn't what it should be, that it wasn't a proper representation of a cow's supple physique made her pout, and then start to cry. No, no, nonono, none of this was right. She couldn't be a good cow with this body. Even her tits weren't nearly large enough! They were big, sure, even soft! But they weren't a *cow's*. A cow's tits should be fat, massive, even, full of sweet, yummy milk that made them slosh and jiggle with even the most minute of movements. She should have nipples bigger around than a cork, but she *didn't*. How could she ever be a good mooslut for her Mistress with ... with *this*?

The hand came down again, stroking through her datk hair as another came up to reassuringly rub at her chin. Despite how faat her chest had begun to pound, how much her head began to hurt, how fearful she started to become, the touch of her Mistress began, slowly, to calm her down. It would be okay. Everything would be okay. Mistress would take care of it for her.

"Shh, my darling, shh. Your body isn't where it should be yet, but that's alright. I'll fix it for you. Juuuust relax~" And despite herself, she did. Her beeathing slowed, her heart rate fell to normal, and then slower again, and her taut muscles began to loosen.

The feeling didn't stop, though, and Amaranthine watched in awe from the corner of her eye as her muscle tone receded - slowly at first, but the longer time went on, the faster it seemed happen. A dying inner voice watched instead in absolute horror, and the sudden, violent emotion made her neck *twitch* and her brain sting with pain. The remaining shred of the mare - the *true* Amaranthine - gave up as the muscular form she had worked for, *trained* for for *years* became soft, weak, and *powerless*. The thought lasted for all of a second before it was swiftly snuffed out, silenced finally and forever by the greater part of Ama that had given in. It felt *amazing*, watching those disgusting, *awful* muscles give way to ultrafeminine plush.

She wasn't fat, though. She hadn't *gained* any weight, or evem fat, but had simply been drained of all her hard-earned muscle. She was still tall, of course, but that was okay - cows could be tall, just not muscular. No no, that's what *bulls* were for, whether they lie on the feminine side of things or the masculine, *they* were made to *fuck* cows like her. Even if she *did* have a massive cock that went past her knees, that wasn't for her to use. It waa just another tool for her Misrress to toy with and to milk. Just like her breasts.

That was the next thing that began to change, along with her thighs, hips and ass. All the meat from her muscle had to go *somewhere*, and it made all the sense in the world it would go to all the perfect places to be fatter. Mistress was so smart like that, always knowing just what to do, always knowing what was best for her. A long and guttural groan left her lips, turning to a moo, and then to a wet, happy gurgle as she watched in absolute ralture the swelling of her breasts. It was like watching magic - which, ultimately, it *was*, but that waa of no matter to Amaranthine. Her tits, her beautiful, wobderful tits blossomed out from her chest and into her visuon, hanging low and fat from her body and weighty enough she could feel it tugging her down. The idea of being immobilized was too much for her, and with another whorish moo, she came from both ends. Her breasts filled, sloshed, and churned with an obscene payload of milk just like her balls did with cum, shootimg out from both her engorged nipples and her yawning urethra in streams.

Though her second climax didn't last nearly as long as her earlier orgasm, it laste d for a good few gouts of milk amd cum alike, the sheer amount of the former making her heart swell with pride. But as overjoyed as she was to pump oit so much milk, she smiled even wider as tne rest of her body followed suit with her breasts. Dopy and staring down at her engorged teats with vapid bliss, she didn't have to look to know what was happening. She could *feel* her curves expanding, feel her thick thighs grow plump with added fat, enough that, even with her legs spread apart, they still rouched. Her hips and ass were soon to follow, the latter widening, fanning out with a noticeable, motherly flare that one could have easily mistaken her for a mother of ten, extending far past her shoulders: the perfect handles to grab while being rammed from behind. And what a behind to ram it was - even before the changes, her toned ass still had plenty of meat to it, though notably lacking in the wobble departmemt - but now, each hefty cheek of assflesh had grown to an absurd degree. It wasn't flabby, either; for all the excess fat that had relocated itself to her ass, it still retained its pleasingly spherical shape. If anything, it had become even *rounder*, enough that, were it not for the way it conformed to any physical force, or the general pliability of each cheek,  it might have looked plastic to the untrained eye. Not that *plastic* surgery was a popular form of cosmetics in Equestria - at least not with magic in the picture.

"Look at you! You're really starting to shape up nicely, aren't you?"

She nodded, a broad, vacant smile on her lips, tomgue falling over the edge. Her pupils had become crossed by that point, unable to focus on much of anything for longer than a few seconds, and the constant tingling in her new milky udders was too much for her to keep her eyes open, or her mouth closed, for that matter. She was the spitting image of a cowpony. Hands came up again to each of her plush, creamy tits, fingers of magic pushing deep into their giving flesh, each grope and *squeeze* causing spurts of milk to squirt out from her nipples. It seemed that no matter how often her udders were milked dry, there was *always* more to give. Yet, even so, her transformation had only just begun.

The ever familiar tingle of change came again, between her legs as it had before, but not quite the same. Her tool still reacted with high eagerness, standing forward proudly with enough stiffness that it hit her now soft, smooth belly with a heavy, meaty *slap*, but the area of focus was not her cock, or even her balls. Instead - it was her ass. Between her bubbly, jiggling cheeks lie a taut, tight ring of flesh just beneath her tail. It was clear she hadn't used it much for sexual activities, but that would soon enough change. The feeling wasn't just present on the outside, either, but it seemed almost to go deeper, to settle in the walls of her asshole and even her prostate, growing more intense with every throb of her meaty fuckpole.

Ama, meanwhile, mooed with glee. Yes, *yes*, this was *exactly* what she needed. A good cow like her wasn't just for milking, but for *fucking* by a strong, even more well hung bull. What caught her interest, though, was her plump ponut seemed to be growing, both fatter, and softer. It remained tight, but snugly so, tight enough to grip and pleasure a dick, but not so tight as to cause any pain. In contrast, the ring itself pushed and swelled out with every beat of her heart, in tune and rhythm with the pulse of her cock, pushing her bubbly cheek wide to better expose her entrance. Though the flesh itself was already pleasantly soft and puffy, it became even more so, like a ringed pillow eager to suck in any flare that pressed against its winking hole. And then, it began to drip.

Clear, slick liquid began to slide out from her ass, seemingly secreted by her prostate itself, not unlike a pussy. The prospect of her asshole being turned functionally into some broodmare's wet, eager *cunt* made her squeal with joy. Thoughts of endless cocks pounding against her ass, the slap of hips against her ever-wobbling butt, milking her prostate as its owner's hands milked her tits was enough to make her cum, *again*, from both her heavy udders and bloated prick. Her Mistress' voice returned to grace her ears, and she whined as another wave of spunk and breastmilk shot out from her shaking body.

"Ohoho, look at you! So *eager* that even just a little stimulation makes you cum your brains out. It's kind of funny, really. You've cost me so much time and work to break you, but now that I have? Well I might just hazard to say you're the most obedient little *faggot* I've ever turned out. You're going to make my client a very, *very* happy customer~"

Ama didn't respond, only shuddering and continuing to cum and squirt from her breasts, and now even her ass, a deluge of sticky lube splurting out her ass again and again. The feeling of emptiness in her asspussy began to take hold over her mind, though. It wasn't enough. The urge, the *need* to be filled and stuffed to bursting with cock causing her to thrust and wiggle her ass back into the air, desperate for a bull that wasn't there to take her.

"Mh-moooo ... M-Mistress g-give ... cock? Cow need cock ... Asspussy s-so horny, need cock ... Cow will be g-good girl. B-best girl! J-just need cock in assp-pussy ..." Ama begged, vocabularly reduced to little more than a child. All she cared about in that moment as being a good slut, a good cow, a good pet for her Mistress so she could have her bull's cock in her meaty cow butt. She couldn't see it, but somehow she knew her Mistress was smiling at her, proud of how much of an eager bitch she had become. Her udders were still being milked by her Mistress' hands, and again another came to pet her head and ruffle her hair with a loving titter, and on the occasion they brushed against her horns, accidentally or otherwise, she mooed again.

"Of course, my little cow. You've been *such* a good girl for your Mistress, I couldn't think of denying you such a well-earned reward, but I think you deserve even *better*~"

Ama didn't understand at first what that meant, but when pink, swirling magic coalesced into the form of a behemoth cock before her very crossed eyes, she knew, and opened her mouth obediently for its pulsating flare. All the same, the tip of another pressed against her drooling, sloppy asscunt, and all she could do was push her butt back against it in eager anticipation. She didn't have to wait for her prize, either, squeaking with joy, and then giggling, as both cocks violently shoved themselves into either end of her body, both visible through the obscene stretching of her throat and belly as they pushed in deep, then deeper. Ama gurgled, moaning around the jawbreaking girth of the rod pushing into her throat, her tongue circling around the fleshy underside in a desperate attempt for that salty, sweaty taste, yet ass her ass was slammed from behind, feeling her bull bottom out deep in her donut from the weighty nuts slapping her cheeks, she felt a tingle again in her lips.

Despite herself, she managed to roll her eyes back from her head to look down, seeing as her lips became swollen with plump flesh just like her ass. At first it just looked a little swollen, like a bee had stung her lips, but it continued to pump up and pout with added cushion for her bull's cock. Even better was the tingling didn't go away - if anything, it only became stronger, as she quickly found her lips' nerves screaming in pleasure just like her ass - or more accurately by then - her *cunt*. It tingled with pleasure, and she found herself subconsciously suckling in to pull the shaft even deeper down her gullet, until the balls attached rested against her squirting udders, and almost just as swollen with spunk as they were milk. Drool began to pool in her mouth, filling her cheeks and spilling out the sides of her lips, now fat enough they could hardly be classified as a mouth, and more properly as a facial fuckhole.

Her bulls began to speed up in their thrusts, now having hilted to the base as they grew restless to truly fuck both her cunts. Her cockpillows pushed together, sucked and pulled at the same time as her asshole, the focus she had briefly regained to watch her lips swell rolling back into the sky, pupils the size of pinpricks and crossed far enough to give the shemare cow a headache. Faster and faster they pushed in, pulled out, and repeated the process all over again, spunkbags slapping against her breasts and her ass to form strings mixed with her bulls' pre, her own spit, and slimy assdrool.

She didn't know how long it all lasted - how long her bulls fucked her senseless, but she didn't care. She only wanted more, and by the end of it all, even her Mistress had left for her other duties. Mistress was a busy mare, after all - she couldn't just keep watch over her dumb little cowfag, as much as Amaranthine wanted her to - to pat her head, ruffle her mane, and tweak her horns. Countless times she had reached climax, unknowable gouts of shecum, creamy milk, and lube from both her cunts leaving her a sticky mess, damp with her own juices and the pink magical residue of her bulls' own jizzloads. Her belly swollen, bloated well beyond triple the size of her udders, audibly sloshed and bubbled with gallons of steaming ballsnot.

When the two cocks finally retreated, leaving Ama's respective holes, stretched and abused, with sloppy, wet *pops*. The only sound she could manage was to wetly gargle the mix of hot cockslime and her own mouthcunt's juices choking her own throat, increasing in volume and intensity as the cork in her ass, holding back a white tide of cum, was pulled free. As if on queue, the very moment the flare left her puffy ponut hole, a thick stream of white gushed into the void a gallon a gout, and Ama hit her limit for what must have been the hundredth time that day, whatever a day even meant to her anymore.

Her stomach slowly deflated with each squirt of cum from her slimy asshole, but even once her body had finally stopped expelling her bulls' excess nut, her belly still groaned from the weight of  countless other gallons. She was exhausted to such a point then  that she hadn't even the energy to lift her head, to open her eyes, or to do anything more than to involuntarily twitch an errant muscle. The body itself, though, continued endlessly to produce its own natural lube. Her lips sopped with spit, her nipples beaded with milk, her cock buhbled with pre, and her 'pussy' leaked with sweet-smelling assjuice.

She was still aware enough to know, at some point, that she had fallen asleep, and when she finally woke to her Mistresd' melodic voice, she saw the real world once again.

She was kneeling on a polished marble floor, the stone refreshingly cool against her coat, and the first real sensation she had felt in ages. Before her she saw her Mistress - or what she assumed to be her Mistress from her voice. Her gaze trailed up from her hooves to her long, slender legs, her svelte form and full breasts, to her soft, serene feace. She looked down at her, smiling, and crouched down only just at her level, and Ama undeestood exactly why as her Mistress' hand - her *real* hand - cupped her chin, tilting her up to look into her vibrant, magenta eyes. She knew her Mistress would not be her true Mistress forever, and though the idea made her sad, she knew it was for the best. Her Mistress was so smart - so much intelligence behind those eyes. Whether or not she would always be her Mistress, that didn't mean she couldn't trust her, or that her Mistress was any lesser for it.

Once more, her Mistress' voice reached her ears, which perked up instinctively to hear the gospel of her better. It was simple, sweet, like the chime of bells and the soft blow of an afternoon breeze. It was like being spoken to by a goddess made flesh.

"Hello, Amaeanthine."

"M-moooo ..."

Her Mistress chuckled, ruffled her mane, and stood back up, beckoning her newly minted slave to her side.

"Come now, little cow. Your true mistress is waiting."

Ama could only moo in response, crawling after her with the same wide, vapid smile.

She couldn't wait to meet her.