"Well," Dot tells you with a smirk and a shrug of her shoulders. "I don't have enough sod in the kitchen to get you another meal."
You feel your shoulders droop before the disappointment hits you fully. You're still really hungry, you still really wanted another taste of that sweet, sweet grass.
"Hey, don't get sad, my little herdmate! You're a growing cow, and I am gonna take care of you."
"P-please don't call me a cow," you answer meekly, glancing away in shame. You're just not sure what you're ashamed of yet. Are you ashamed that you're turning into a cow, or are you ashamed that you're not cow enough yet?
"Not gonna do that, sweetheart. You are becoming a cow, you're going to become a cow, you might as well get used to it. Now follow me."
She walks towards the front door, and you find yourself dutifully following. You're hungry. Oh, your stomach hurts. Hurts in a way it never has before. In a place it never has before.
"My tummy," weird - you never call it a tummy.
"Oh, I remember that feeling. You're growing a new stomach. Can't have just one, after all."
"Ugh, feels weird," you groan, and you're pretty sure your voice feels a bit deeper. You're outside now, out in the cool night air, heading towards a fenced in area you had noticed in your way in, but hadn't thought anything of it. Now, you can't help but notice everything about it. It's smallish, but big enough. But most importantly, the grass inside is long and green and thick.
Dot opens the fence for you, and you run in, dropping down to hands and knees and begin voraciously grazing. Mouthful after mouthful, and it is so good. Perhaps even better than the sod.
You eat uninterrupted for several minutes, blissfully unaware of Dot watching you, blissfully unaware of your clothing feel considerably tighter than when you put them on, and of the slight pressure in your shoes. You didn't feel that last bit at all until Dot reaches down and forcefully yanks your shoes off, and a feeling of relief emanates from your legs on up.
"Enjoying yourself?" Dot asks, and you finally pause, looking up to her.
"Grass tastes gooOOOooood," you say, then suddenly stop, wide-eyed. Not only was your voice sounding deeper, almost as deep as Dot's, but...
"Your first moo! Congratulations!" Dot said, clapping her hands together.
"Didn't... mean to mooOOOoo," you say, surprising yourself by doing it again.
"I know. Cow-brain is kicking in. Plus, take a look at your feet."
You turn around, looking to your feet behind you as you hadn't gotten up off your hands and knees yet. Those certainly weren't human feet. Not anymore. They were rounder. Darker. Toes were fading on the sides and getting bigger and thicker in the middle.
"HooOOOOOooves?" You ask, unsure if that was the right word. Wasn't it?
"That's right," Dot nodded her head, sighing wistfully. You didn't understand why she seemed sad all of a sudden, so you stood up to step towards her, feeling the need to be compassionate and supportive of your herdmate.
"YooOOOOoouu sad?" You ask, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I make yooOOOOoou sad?"
"Oh, honey, no. It's not your fault at all. I'm just a little disappointed is all."
"Diss a..." you frown. You should know that word. You did know that word, right?
"I was hoping you'd be smart like me. Cow-brain's getting you hard," she said.
"I... stooOOOOpid?" You ask, nostrils flaring a bit.
"Like a good cow should be, sweetie," Dot said. This makes you feel better, prideful even. It's okay to be stupid. A cow should be stupid. You feel the need to be a good cow.
"You're not gonna understand, but I used to be a genius. I could make... things. Plants that were bigger and better and tastier. But then I came here. I'm still smarter than any other cow, but I can barely read anymore. That's why no menus in the diner. Can't read 'em."
"Huh?" You ask, as all of that flew over your head.
"Oh, just go back to eating, hun," Dot said. "You still have a lot of growing to do."
"MooOOOooo!" You low excitedly. "I be gooOOOood cow for yoOOOoou."
And then you are back down to it, devouring that grass with an eagerness that can't be contained.