Bovinity School

Darleen lay in her mother's lap, suckling. On one hand it was a Sunday morning like any other, on the other her world was about to turn upside down. Today she was 16. Today she would take her first step to adulthood, her first step to becoming a Cow. And if she did well in high school and was passed by the lactation board she'd attend Bovinity School.

A nun sat with them in the milking room. Sitting quietly while Darleen sucked. But presently her mother eased her off, gave her a kiss. The nun prepared the injection, a cocktail of hormones, stem cells, and an alphabet soup of chemicals Darleen couldn't pronounce.

When the nun had left they returned to the milking room. Darleen had never been in there with her mother during milking. It was a private, dare say a religious function. But today she joined her mother. She fitted the cups to Darleen's breasts. Fitted cups to her own. Her mother gave her a few minutes to get used to the sensation, then handed her a set of beads. They prayed aloud for one round, her mother guiding her; although that was unnecessary. Ever since hitting puberty and developing breasts of her own she'd been a devoted Bovinian.

When her mother concluded the session they processed her milk together. It was very much like processing herd cow milk, but with extra attention to cleanliness and ceremony, kind of like being kosher.

Her father had milked the herd cows. He'd left a note saying he was taking the bull on a stud call. Her mother snickered.

"Any excuse to miss church, hey?"

On the way to church they dropped off her mother's milk. Bovine milk sold at a premium. Sales of her mother's milk actually provided most of their income. Soon Darleen would be able to sell her own milk, but that money would be put aside for school. It was better than flipping burgers, something which offended her on so many levels.

Darleen's life was as normal as any other teen's, at least for a while. Although there was kind of a don't-ask-don't-tell policy word gets around. The Bovinian girl just turned 16 and you know what that meant. What that meant was that her breasts would soon be enormous and, as rumor had it, she'd be one of the 'easy' girls. Which was true as far as it went.

Her mother encouraged her to date, encouraged Darleen to encourage the boys. Their breast fixation was perfectly normal and, besides, in the Bovinian church it was a form of religious worship. There was a line of course. In order to be accepted at Bovinity School she had to be a virgin. And not just a virgin in a technical kind of way. Her hymen had to be intact and she had to have had no contact with semen, which would alter her Bovinity and the purity of her milk. So her dates were limited to necking and copping a feel.

She graduated from high school (with honors), turned 18 that summer, and now stood with 40 other girls in the gym at Bovinity School. There were about 15 boys. This surprised her. Although their religion had priests, it was a Cow-centered faith. It made her a bit nervous and judging by the giggles she was not alone.

She stepped into a room. There was a nun and a priest. Darleen opened her blouse, the nun affixed the cups to her breasts, the priest started the timer. While they milked her the priest spoke to her about the path she about to embark on. About how being a Bovinian nun carried with it enormous responsibilities. It was a talk she'd heard before, but she kept a serious look on her face and let him carry on. When the pump made that noise that said 'finished' the priest stopped the timer. The nun measured Darleen's milk and the priest made a note.

A week later she received the acceptance letter. And, because of her prodigious output, she'd been given a scholarship. Not a free ride, but it went a long way. This only made sense because, as a nun, sale of her milk would fund the church.

Bovinity School was like any religion-oriented, two-year school. It had your basic liberal arts curricullum and a healthy dose of Bovinism. While the girls were relegated to p.e., the boys had sports, of sorts. Some ran track. Boxing was popular, too. A way to work off the sexual frustration no doubt. Their tennis team did well, made it to the state finals now and then.

The students were encouraged to interact. Learning to deal with the opposite sex in a controlled environment was better than leaping with both feet into the community at large.

With a 3-to-1 ratio, the boys were kept busy. Masturbation was encouraged for both sexes. Still, there were a few dropouts, including one pregnancy. The fetus was, of course, aborted. The injections changed a girl's physiology, making it more bovine-like, not so much on the outside, but on a cellular level. While there had never been a deformed baby, the church took its responsibility seriously. And because of the school's rigid testing program, the pregnancy was discovered almost immediately. The girl was given what amounted to a morning after pill. Once the injections were stopped, her body would revert to wholly human in a few months.

It was Darleen's final semester, the home stretch. She had been called to the nurse's office one day. After her yearly exam. She lay back, her feet in stirrups. The nun opened a small case. In it was a brown shaft, roughly of penis size and shape, and the implement. The nun lubricated Darleen's labia and with not a word pushed the shaft fully into her. It hurt. She'd expected it to, but it really, really hurt.

The nun manipulated the shaft for several minutes, all the time explaining to Darleen the correct use of both the shaft and the implement. She was to use the shaft twice daily for a month. It would take that long for her to completely heal. There was a sheet of paper in the case with instructions for the implement.

It looked like one of those torture devices: a segmented shaft with a screw running down its middle - turn the screw, the segments expand. The instructions were very explicit. Darleen was to use the implement for an hour, three times a day. The nun impressed upon Darleen the importance of adhering to the schedule both as to size and duration. The point being to be able to accommodate the penis easily and still provide enough friction to induce ejaculation.

When she came out of the infirmary one of her classmates gave her a wink. The running joke was that the girls would get the shaft before the home stretch. Who said nuns didn't have a sense of humor?

Darleen said goodbye to her parents. A nun opened a door. They walked down a short hall where the nun led her into a small room. Darleen and the nun said their beads while they waited. Darleen could hear the other nuns praying. The priest spoke, the nuns answered. Much of the service was familiar to her, some not.

The nun stood, the double doors opened, two nuns led Darleen into the center of the chamber. The other nun removed Darleen's robe.

The nuns led Darleen to the altar; a large, sturdy, wooden framework stood before it. She climbed onto a stool, knelt on a narrow bench. Her lower legs were fixed with a pair of straps, her thighs likewise. A wide belt secured her waist. The stool was removed.

The priest at the altar said the new prayer she'd been taught, Darleen responded appropriately. Somewhere off to her right the nuns gathered.

The sound, when it came, confused her. Darleen had expected the clop of hooves on tile, but this was more of a thud, like a heavy boot. She felt its presence. It was very close and very large. The frame shook and now it was on her. She could feel it's heat, feel the hair on its chest.

It rammed into her. Darleen screamed. Not so much from pain, but at the sheer surprise. Yes it hurt, but it was the mass of the thing, the pure, primal force it radiated. Shrieking grunts echoed off the stone walls and some part of Darleen's brain noted that it was she herself.

It ended as quickly as it had started. Darleen felt a gush of warm, sticky fluid fill her, run down her legs. Another and another. The frame creaked with the force of the spasms. Then ... nothing for a long moment, silence save for her gasping breath.

The gathering joined in prayer, there was the thudding sound of retreating steps, two nuns replaced the stool and removed the bonds. They wiped her clean. A third nun held up the robe, the pale tan acolyte's garment. A fourth bound Darleen's breasts. A bra would have been more functional, but this was the traditional way.

On the next day and the next Darleen was bound to the frame.

On the fourth day, alone in her cell, Darleen looked at the calendar. It was mid cycle, a time when her body was primed for procreation. Bovinians believed that when humans were ready the mating would produce ... what? They didn't know. A Bovine with human intellect? A human with true Bovine nature? Something totally other?

Whatever the outcome, Darleen looked at the calendar, counted the days, and prayed.

03.10.11