Aspiring Cow
I should've realized when I first met you that your silly little jokes had more behind them. Then, of course, that Doja cat song about bitches being cows had just come out, and many girls like you were leaning into the new fad. But no, this wasn't a fad for you. This was an opportunity. You'd always felt this strange kinship with those fat farm grazers, maybe even envy. Their lives were simple: eating, milking, breeding, and getting fatter. The complexity of society wasn't something they had to deal with, and you wanted that for yourself.
At first, you started adopting cow print lingerie into the bedroom. I didn't mind, it spiced things up, and you seemed more enthusiastic. It wasn't until you started drinking heavy cream that I realized a bit more was going on. I still remember that embarrassed look on your face when I caught you that first time and questioned what you were doing. You kept the reason to yourself, too ashamed, so I let it go. And then you let yourself go.
You'd always been a skinny girl, but you gave that up quick. I loved your new curves' softness, so I couldn't complain. So much more to grab and play with, and your libido was rocketing. A curvy little cow in the bedroom was a welcome sight. But you didn't stop at curvy. You had blinders on looking only forward, sucking down your cream like a little calf every day, ambitious in your growth. I'd never had a chubby girlfriend before, and I was surprised I liked it so much, but that chubby girl wasn't there to stay.
You got fat. Really fat. So fat my friends started talking, asking why I was staying with you. I'd always dated skinny girls with bodies you had when we first met. Yet, I couldn't stop being with you. I was intoxicated with your fatter body. It was like I was fucking someone completely different every 10 pounds you gained. Never in a million years did I think I'd be with someone as fat as you were getting, but I liked it. This other side of you was getting completely out of control, and your desires were becoming mine.
It wasn't until you were truly comfortable with me that you started mooing during sex. That first time, I was surprised as I was pounding you from behind. Your favorite position on all fours. Yet, when you did it again, I fucked you even harder. It was like my skinny little girlfriend had gone and transformed herself into a submissive, fattening cow. You never seemed more like yourself.
Now I know what to call you to get you in the mood. My fat cow. It's not derogatory; it's endearing. I see how your eyes light up whenever I play into your fantasies, letting your mind slip away to the bliss of bovinehood. You want nothing more than to eat, grow, and be bred. The lactation pills you've started taking have also made you a more productive cow since I've started milking you. Your new favorite accessories are that cow tail and cow ear headband I bought you. It makes you come alive in the bedroom while you moo and moan for me. Though my girlfriend has become a fat cow, I'm happy to be her bull.
