Gromet's PlazaPonyGirl/PetGirl Stories


by Megan Law

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© Copyright 2022 - Megan Law - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF/f; cowgirl; outdoors; collar; sold; nosehook; piercing; bodymod; gag; reluct; XX

Continues from


43 skittered through the barn, her cloven hooves finding little grip on the straw scattered over the wood floor. Her fingers were already beginning to ache, wedged into the narrow hoof gloves, but she was used to aches by now. It wasn’t until she was out of the barn being led across the barnyard by one of the milk maids, possibly 18 or 22, until she realized she wasn’t bitted or blinkered.

The temptation to speak almost got the better of her. It had been a year since she had last not had something obstructing her mouth and tongue, and in all that time the only verbal response she had ever been permitted was moments ago, when she said “Yes.”

Yes. Yes! She had agreed to at least six more years of his... control, and his perversions, and… she realized she wanted it, almost more than she wanted her sister to have this opportunity.

She watched the milk maid ahead of her, clawing her way through the muck of the barnyard in her tiny short skirt, her rather large breasts swaying far enough side to side 43 could see them from the back. The girl wore stiff leather boots to the very top of her thighs, the knees did not seem to flex much. The inevitable tormentors dangled between her legs, swinging and bouncing as they slipped and slid along. 43 did not have to imagine what those tormentors were doing inside the girl, she knew in intimate detail.

After walking around the big barn and past a large shed where several trucks, tractors, and other pieces of farm machinery were in various stages of repair, the milk maid opened a gate and they stepped into a grassy pasture. Several other human cows, some white with black spots, some all brown, were clustered under a small shelter to one side of the pasture. The milk maid led her past the herd towards a small barn.

As they approached, one of the stalls on the side of the barn opened up. The milk maid walked 43 into the stall, unsnapped the lead from her collar and hung it on a hook near the inside door of the stall, then exited back out to the pasture and closed the door behind her.

43 looked around the stall, squinting a bit, she was never allowed to wear glasses or contacts while a pony, and didn’t expect to as a cow either. She could hear a few small noises coming from the barn, and a low hum that almost sounded like human voices. When nothing happened for several minutes, she paced the inside of the spacious stall, trying to look out into the barn or into the adjoining stalls. The top of the stall walls had a latticework on them, but it was above her eyes and there was no way she was going to risk a jump in these hooves, so she paced the stall, getting the measure of it, and remained quiet.

Eventually, she heard footsteps approaching. The top of the inside stall door opened, her milk maid was back, along with the creepy vet’s assistant. She obediently walked to the stall door and waited patiently, hoping this was the right thing to do; it was expected of ponies. As she approached, she could see the tag on the front of the milk maid’s collar, it was 22.

The vet assistant had another of the clipboard/tablets, and was poking at the screen. “Forty three, what a delight to see you! And I see that we have you for at least six years, well, won’t that be a treat?” He looked at her expectantly, as if wanting a reply. When he looked back down at his tablet, he saw 22 smirk slightly.

“I’m here to check your brand, apply some salve, and instruct you on caring for it. The Master will be most displeased if you manage to deform your brand before it heals.” Oh how lovely, he was concerned for the form of the brand, not the searing pain growing in her flank.

He unceremoniously snapped a lead to her collar and backed her as he opened the bottom of the stall door, then led her across the barn to a stall in the corner, 22 trailing along pushing his work cart. As he opened the stall door, 43 spotted a structure made of heavy metal tubing in the center of the stall. He walked her to this structure, turned her and backed her against a part of it. 22 left the cart by the stall door and obediently approached her. At a nod from the vet assistant, she knelt and placed a board across the front of 43’s hooves, neatly trapping her feet in place. Next, she adjusted the height of the bar behind 43’s legs, to just below her knees. The vet tech, still holding the lead, said “trust me” and pushed her shoulders back.

Unable to move her feet, her fore-hooves flailing, 43 fell backward. A little bit. The tubes across the apparatus caught her mid-back and shoulder blades, the collar and farthingale kept her head from falling back. “Now we can finish the work the horses don’t see.” Turning towards the cart with a chuckle, he said to nobody in general “The Master wants them to think the cows have it easier.”

He turned back to her with a thin leather strap with two shiny hooks at the end. He placed the hooks in her nostrils, still screaming in pain from the ringing, and draped the strap up over her head. Next he took a small shackle and shackled her collar to the apparatus behind her head, then released her farthingale from her harness. Then he threaded the thin strap through something above her head, and pulled sharply. 43 suppressed a scream, difficult to do as your mouth is being dragged open, not wanting to incur punishment for “complaining.”

When he had her mouth stretched wide open, he turned back to the cart and returned with something that looked like a small science fiction toy; a round spaceship with stubby wings. He inserted this contraption into her mouth, pushing her tongue down and out of the way, then put lip retractors on her left side and picked at her teeth for a few minutes. He finished up there, moved to her right side, and repeated the procedure. Using a dental mirror, he inspected his work, then slowly slacked the nose hook strap while tightening her farthingale until her head was again seated against her collar.

43 probed at the device with her tongue. Other than blocking her speech, and probably eating, she couldn’t figure out what it was for. Once he had her snugly against the collar, he said “Repeat after me. I am a cow.”

She looked at him, horrified.

“Cow 43, repeat after me! I am a cow.”

“Ooo ooo oo wooo.”

“Very good. Say ‘Milk.’”


“Perfect. Let’s get this finished, I’m hungry.” He turned back to his cart, gestured to 22. When they turned back, 22 had a series of small cowbells in her hands, as well as an… ear tag?

The tag was gold colored plastic, with her number, 43, clearly printed in dark numerals on both sides. She relaxed as much as she could while he quickly pierced the ear tag onto her left ear, then pierced one of the small cowbells onto each earlobe.

Next, he moved down and pierced a small cowbell onto each nipple. 43 shrieked with the pinch of each nipple, unable to resist; it came out “Ooo!” “Ooo!” He quickly moved to her navel, adding a fifth cowbell, this time raising a wailing “Oooooo” from the poor cow.

Panting and heaving, trying to hold still but unable to, she gasped in terror feeling his next touch. He had opened the covering over her sex, the hard shell that kept her from feeling anything except the probe. The vet assistant slapped her sex and barked “Hold still! You really don’t want to pull against this.” With that he bent and she felt searing pain as intense as the punch in her nose, as he pierced the sixth tiny cowbell through her clit.

He splashed alcohol over all seven piercings, the cow squealing and “oooo”ing in pain with each splash. He turned back to the cart, dropping the piercing tool and picking up an odd-looking oval and a felt marker pen. He returned to her and fitted the oval over and around her face, not being particularly gentle with her bridle hardware or the nose hook. Parting her hair, running his fingers through it, he made a mark on either side of her head, then took the pen and the oval gauge away. When he turned back, he had a small razor in his hand.

43 watched terrified as she realized what was next. He shaved a spot on her scalp around each of the marks, then placed the razor back on the tray and returned with a plastic wand that was plugged into something. Placing heavy eyeglasses over his eyes, he gestured for 22 to turn around, then moved around the shaved patches, touching her scalp in several places; he was debilitating the two patches on her head with a laser.

When he had cleared both patches, he returned the laser to the cart and came back with an odd little metal frame, a circle at the bottom. 43 watched as he aligned it over one of the dots, then felt a “thunk” and a pinch as the frame slammed something into her head. As he moved to the other side, she felt a trickle at her scalp–blood, she guessed.

He repeated the process with the frame on the other side, then returned that to the cart. When he turned back this time, he had two small metal disks in his hand, and another tool. He handed one of the disks to 22, then wiped the spot on her head with an alcohol wipe, more burning. He placed the disk on her head, placed the tool on top of it, she felt another “thunk,” this one much firmer, and a shot of pain. When he lifted his hands away, there wasn’t any residual pain. He quickly repeated this process on the other side of her head, taking the disk from 22, then returned his tool to the tray.

When he turned back from the tray, he had two small golden horns in his hands. 43 recalled with a star that the cows in the pasture had horns also; of course they did. He looked intently at the bottom of the horns, swapped them, then placed one on her left and one on her right. Each horn was inserted into the disk, then turned partway until it locked with a solid click.

The vet assistant said “You’ll remain in the stock for tonight, we can’t have you tearing anything out. You’ll be stood up in case you are sick to your stomach. Cow training begins tomorrow. Moo once if you understand.”

43 tried to say “Fuck you,” but it came out “Moo ooo.”

The vet assistant slapped her across her left breast, the tiny cowbell jingling merrily. “I said once, stupid cow.” With that, he slipped a lead back onto her collar, unshackled it from the stand in the back, and brought her up to standing. He looped the lead over the top of the frame and hitched it with no slack whatsoever, then adjusted bars to push against her lower back and shoulder blades. She would spend the entire night fighting for balance, her hooves locked in place and not able to lean back.

He exited the stall, 22 followed him pushing the cart. The stall door closed, the overhead light went out, and 43 prepared for her first night as a cow.

The Herd

The night did not pass well, or easily. 43 found she could sleep for a few minutes at a time by leaning to the left, until the pressure on her throat would wake her and force her to start upright for another interminable eternity. Even after the rooster overhead crowed loudly, it seemed hours passed before she heard doors opening and people and stock moving around the barn.

When the stall door opened, 43 was too tired to try to see who it was. She hung against the lead, certain she would die from the pain. Her head throbbed from the horns and the nose ring, her nipples, navel, and clit were sore from their torments, the brand had become a constant dull throb, and even as restrained as she was, the intruders STILL manage to work on her sex and her ass almost non-stop.

When Master stepped in front of her with 22 in tow, she jerked, as little as she could, and tried to straighten. A surprised “Moo!” echoed her attempt to say “Master!”

“How is my little cow this morning? I’m guessing: sore and tired and hungry?”

She tried to reply “Yes” but it came out “Ooo.”

“Well, it’s never too early to start learning your new life. One moo for yes, two for no. Clear?”


He smiled, and her heart leapt. “Good little cow. Are you hungry?”


He laughed “Okay, okay! We couldn’t feed you last night, in case you were sick in the night. You’ll be able to start adjusting to your new diet today.” He reached out to 22, who handed him a table/clipboard. He touched the tablet display, showed it to her, and said “2 weeks, are we ready.”

She looked at 43, not him, and said “Yes, Master, we have all the supplies and the vet is fully briefed.”

He grabbed the ring on the front of her collar, pulled her to him, and pulled her into a deep kiss, one that went on for several minutes. At first she remained rigid, leaning towards him from her toes, but as the kiss went on she crumpled into him, eventually wrapping her arms part-way around his chest.

When he broke from her, he pushed her back upright gently. He said quietly “This changes nothing about how I feel about you, and I won’t allow it to change how you feel about me.”

She stared into his face, his eyes, and said “Yes, Master.”

Master pointed at 43. “You are in charge of her training and her care. You know how important this is.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good girl. Come to me tonight. For as long as you are 43’s caretaker, you will get me every day I am here, except on breeding days.”

She sobbed, once, quietly. “Yes Master. I love you.”

He smiled and cupped her face “I know you do, as you should. You have never failed me, and you won’t in this either, will you?”

“No Master, I will never fail you.”

His hand still on her cheek, he turned to me. “Do everything she says, with exactitude, immediately and without hesitation. Do not fail me, 43.”

He left, banging the stall door closed, leaving 43 staring at 22, who was staring after him as he left.

22 turned slowly towards her. “It seems you have been chosen to be a very special cow, 43. It won’t make your life here any easier, it may in fact make it a fair bit harder. Nevertheless, I’m to take care of you, so let’s see that you’re introduced to the herd properly.”

22 unlatched her lead from the apparatus overhead, using a small step stool kept in a corner of the stall to reach the frame. She stepped gingerly, clinging to the frame as she climbed up and down, when she reached the top of the step stool 43 could see her feet were locked in en pointe boots with no heels, past her knees.

Once 22 had returned the step stool to the corner of the stall, she led 43 out of the stall and into the center of the barn. From there they walked past stalls on both sides, eventually passing the stall closest to the office, where the door was open. They stepped out into a grassy pasture, the herd was gathered around a feed trough on the opposite side of the pasture.

22 led her at a gingerly place, both their agitators swinging and chiming, several of 43’s bells ringing with each step. As they approached the herd, it split into a roughly semicircular shape around them.

22 cleared her voice and spoke up “This is your new herd sister, 43. As you can see, she is the Master’s cow. Take good care of her.” 22 unsnapped her lead, turned, and slowly made her way back up the slight incline, taking tiny steps to avoid slipping on the grass.

One of the cows approached her. As she came nearer, 43 was surprised to see she appeared quite well used; her large breasts sagged, stretch marks adorned her stomach, breasts, and buttocks when she turned. 43 looked at her ear tag and was startled to find this was 7. 7! That would mean she had been here… more than thirty years?

7 leaned forward, placed her right cheek against 43s, and “Moo”ed quietly. One by one, the rest of the herd passed her, each placing a cheek against hers and mooing or lowing gently. When they had finished, they returned to the feel trough, 7 indicating 43 should follow her.

Once at the feed through, which was about the height of 43s nipples, she demonstrated lowering her face into the trough and drinking. 43 tried this, and stood up quickly; the liquid in the trough was watery-tasking milk and really not at all good. Several of the cows nearby laughed and mooed, then went back to feeding. 7 nodded towards the trough, encouraging 43 to take some more, which she did. After a few sips she realized it wasn’t terrible, it just wasn’t very good.

Once the herd had finished feeding, a few of the younger cows moved across the pasture, trying to get some exercise. 7 nodded that 43 should follow then, so she dutifully did, stepping carefully. Her pony hooves had been quite stable, even on grass, the cloven hooves now felt like they wobbled with every step and she had no way of getting back up if she fell.

As she approached the younger girls, she started trying to place faces and personalities with their ear-tag numbers. 39, a luscious, full-bodied blonde with very large breasts, seemed to be the ringleader, and was probably close to 43 in age. She realized with a start that 41 and 36 had to be sisters, at least, possibly even twins. With raven-black hair that hung straight from a severe ponytail, and ice blue eyes, their cow accessories were also jet-black. Both held their tails fairly rigid, and seemed to manage a grace in walking that eluded the other cows, encumbered as they were.

32 seemed a bit older, perhaps in her 30s. Stretch marks indicated she had some experience here on the farm. All of their breasts seemed quite full; 43 had always been slender and nothing much to comment on up top.

After a moment of silence at her approach, they surrounded her. 32 leaned close, the other bodies pressing into her, and whispered hoarsely “ih hoo hifher hoo ha haah a hihhll.”

43 considered this carefully, then tried back “hifher?” Whisper.

32 smiled “Moo.”

43 whispered “hah Moo if hef.”


43 was hit with the realization she was going to be reduced to this, a stupid cow standing around in a field trying to figure out how to talk to other stupid cows, for years and years and… suddenly she was overwhelmed.

The other cows watched it break over her face, and in her posture, they all knew intimately what she was feeling. The cows circled front and back and to either side of her and would not let her crump, their forehooves caught at hers, and at her harness, they kept her standing, while she collapsed into a crying heap.

After she had cried herself out, the girls stood her up, showed her how she could clean her face in the water trough that was always full, then started trudging back up the hill. 41 and 36 raced up the hill, their hobbles and agitators snapping and clanking, giggling and gasping by the time they reached the barn. 43 watched as, one by one, each walked to a milking stall at the far end of the barn, where several milk maids waited to attach them to milking stalls. There were 12 stalls, one of each of the cows, and 22 was waiting for her at the end stall. She dutifully walked to the end, not really able to see what was happening to the other cows.

22 hooked a finger through her collar loop and walked her around to the rear of the milking stall. “You enter from the back, here, then I hook your collar here.” Pulled to her knees and bent forward over a bar, her collar was clipped firmly to the bar, her forehooves resting on the bar at the wrists.

22 dipped her hands into a cup of what looked like runny butter, rubbed them together, then rubbed them across 43s breasts. “The udder butter helps keep your breasts from chafing in the milkers.” She wiped her hands on a towel, which she tossed over her shoulder, then reached for a pair of funnel-like devices. “We won’t get anything from you today, of course, but it’s important you join the herd in every way, and the stimulation will help your milk come in.” She placed one of the milkers over 43s left breast, flipped a toggle on the milker, and it sucked itself against her quite firmly. “Mooo!”

22 laughed “yes, it’s a bit uncomfortable, you’ll get used to it and even find it comforting quite quickly. With that, she placed the other milker, flipped the toggle, eliciting another “Moo” of surprise, then patted 43s butt. “Now you’re a real cow.”

She turned away, then back to 43, staying out of her sight line. “This will help your milk get started; Master said to go full throttle, so we’ll have you lactating within a few days. You may be a bit weepy and emotional, but who isn’t in your situation?” With that, she stabbed the large needle directly into 43’s left breast, just above the pump cup, eliciting another pained “Moo.”

As she slowly pushed the plunger in, she said “This is domeperidone, it will help you begin producing milk, and produce bigger volumes once your milk comes in.” Withdrawing the syringe, she picked up the other and moved to 43’s other side. Stabbing this hypodermic into her right breast, she said “this is prolactin, it will force you to start producing milk right away. We will continue the doses for some time, both will help with breast growth and milk production.”

Withdrawing the needle and placing it in the sharps container, she continued “You may find your breasts getting itchy, that’s just the growth. You can let the other cows play with them, though they will be tender, and keeping moving, keeping your breast swaying, will be good for them during this rapid growth phase.”

43 was on the verge of tears again when 22 reached for the bottom of her harness and touched something. Both of the probes came alive inside her, not painful, just enough to make her wiggle and squirm in the milking stall. 22 petted and kneaded her back and shoulders as the milkers pulled at her, and she allowed herself to succumb to the touch and the tickle and slipped into a doze.


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