“Sooo, I think this symbol here,” Henry watched his daughter’s slender finger stab at an odd triangle shape scribbled in one of her notes, “is a double O, like an ‘uh’ sound in book *crunch*”. She took a bite of a carrot she waved around in her other hand, munching a few times, then swallowing. “Think now that it looks like double letters have separate symb…. Hey!” She exclaimed, lobbing the half eaten carrot across the table to bounce off Henry’s chest. Henry shook his head exclaiming with a “huh!”
“You even paying attention? This is important. This might be how we stop turning into animals and get out of here you know.” She pouted at him.
“Oh… of course… sorry, was daydreaming.” Henry mumbled, standing up and bending over to pick up the fallen carrot, before returning it to his growing daughter. She accepted it gladly, took a big bite, swallowed, and leaned over, lips puckered and kissed Henry’s cheek. “Thanks Daddy!” she chirped at him with a wink.
“Gonna get some firewood there.” Henry replied, flustered and quickly removed himself from the cabin. Once outside he shook his head furiously and growled, “stop thinking of her as a cow… She’s your daughter…”
Ever since seeing Jess’s unfinished change bearing a muzzle Henry had been waging an internal war. For weeks now he’d been getting more and more turned on and excited by Jess’s cowness, and up until a few days ago had been able to fool himself. Fool himself that his love of her larger breasts, bulging udder, teats, and curviness had been the love of the ultimate female, the fertility.
Seeing her muzzle had been like a slap in the face by comparison. The male side of him had responded with a fever and excitement that far exceeded any changes so far. He tingled deep in his core at the thought of fucking his daughter into having a muzzle, of having that muzzle take his long bovine penis. At the thought of shaping her, not into the ultimate symbol of female fertility, but into a bovine goddess.
Against these arrayed forces of lust, what held him back was the paternal side of him; grappling with this lustful side that wanted to mount her. This was his daughter, baby-girl, how could he take her face away from her…
…’oh, but how exciting would it be to take it away and watch her moo…'
Slapping himself in the face Henry grunted in pain. “Ffffuck…”. He stomped over to the pile of firewood surrounding the chopping stump and tore the axe from it. The monotony of chopping wood would burn away his lust, and the burning that came with would be good punishment for his thoughts.
Across the yard, in the cabin proper a naked Joan was just putting the finishing touches to her newest painting. She stood in the nude, pallet in her hand and paint specked across her skin grinning at her creation.
“Well this one turned out rather well I think”. The likenesses of her husband and daughter were recreated on the canvas; both in their current forms. A graphic scene of Henry mounting the bloated Jess, muscular arms holding on to her pillowy white thighs, and his expression intense. Jess’s ecstatic face showed her enjoyment, as did streams of milk milk shooting from her teats and tits. More white fluid, but more chunky, Joan had drawn coming from the tip of Jess’s cock, just peaking past the sag of her udder.
Joan stood back and shook in delight. “Oooh, that’s almost a sexy enough painting of those two betrayers to get me going”, she chuckled, dropping her painting utensils. “Just one finishing touch”. She flourished, reaching under herself and pulling up her chubby cock. Rolling back the foreskin she exposed the smelly head of her penis; gently Joan rubbed it all over the sides of the canvas, leaving smelly slimy trails.
“Aaaaand signed.” Joan cackled to herself, running a quick hand all over her cock and sweaty balls, bringing it up to her nose for a smell. “mmmmhh… coulda had a sexy goat love, instead you have a fat cow. Hope you enjoy your wedding present.”
Laughing, Joan placed the canvas aside to dry and pulled out a new one. Putting finger to mouth she said, “hmmm, what’ll I do now?!... Oh I know! How about another self portrait!”. She grinned happily glancing over to the wall where all her works so far leaned or hung.
The works included the odd piece of landscape painting, woodlands or the surrounding cabin, but the most common theme was that of a naked Goat Woman. Joan had over a dozen self portraits, all nude, all depicting her posing in different angles showing off a different part of herself, a changed part.
She enjoyed focusing in on these goaty parts in the painting, presenting them unfiltered to the viewer, showing how proud she was of both the changes and of her skill in the medium. She had gotten better and better now that she really had time to concentrate on her art, the last two portraits, and the ‘wedding gift’, showed that.
She admired the last self portrait, looking for new inspiration. In it she had taken artistic licence, and in it embellished certain things within it. She had painted herself with fur and a goats udder, flat chested, telling herself it was just to see what she’d eventually look like. “maybe I’ll try something similar this time. A little thought experiment” she grinned.