The cow in scrubs shuffled into her modest apartment and flipped on the light, casting a warm glow over the darkened space. She let out a weary sigh, dropping her keys onto the small side table near the door before kicking off her Crocs. The scent of the apartment was warm and familiar, a faint mix of lavender air freshener and lingering spices from meals past. She set her grocery bag on the kitchen counter, finding an empty spot among the clutter she had yet to clean. The apartment was cozy, with pale yellow walls and shelves adorned with framed photos of friends, family, and a few scenic landscapes.
She tied her tangled brown hair into a loose bun, revealing the gentle curve of her horns, then washed her hooves at the sink. The cool water refreshed her, rinsing away the grime of a long shift. Glancing at the clock, she realized it was already past eight. Her stomach growled in protest, urging her to get started on dinner.
Reaching into the grocery bag, she pulled out the package of ground beef, the jar of marinara sauce, and the box of spaghetti. She set them on the counter and opened a cabinet to grab a pot and a frying pan. The pot was filled with water and placed on the stove to boil, while the frying pan was prepared with a drizzle of olive oil.
As the water began to heat, she turned her attention to the ground beef. She opened the package, the scent of raw meat filling the air as she dumped the contents into a mixing bowl. She grabbed a handful of breadcrumbs, sprinkling them over the meat, followed by an egg she cracked with practiced ease. She seasoned the mixture with salt, pepper, garlic powder, and a pinch of parsley, her movements methodical despite her fatigue.
Her hooves worked quickly to blend the ingredients, the cool, sticky texture of the mixture clinging to her fingers. She rolled the meat into small, even spheres, placing them neatly on a plate. Once the frying pan was hot, she transferred the meatballs into the sizzling oil, the sharp crackle of searing meat breaking the quiet of the kitchen.
The cow hummed softly to herself, echoing a tune she had heard on the radio during her commute home. She turned the meatballs with a wooden spoon, ensuring they browned evenly on all sides. The savory aroma wafted through the apartment, making her stomach rumble again. When the meatballs reached the perfect golden-brown hue, she poured the marinara sauce over them, letting it simmer as the flavors melded together.
By now, the water in the pot was boiling. She broke the long spaghetti noodles in half and dropped them into the bubbling water, stirring gently to prevent them from sticking. As the pasta cooked, she leaned against the counter, letting her tired body rest. Her mind drifted to her shift at the clinic, the patients she had seen, and the rare day off she had to look forward to in a few days.
When the pasta was al dente, she drained it and plated a generous portion, topping it with the rich, flavorful meatballs and sauce. She sprinkled a bit of grated cheese over the dish, the final touch to her homemade meal.
Carrying her plate to the small dining table, she sat down, her socked hooves tapping lightly against the floor. The first bite was heavenly, the meatballs tender and perfectly seasoned, the sauce rich and tangy. She let out a contented sigh, savoring the meal she had made from scratch.
As she ate, her eyes drifted to the package of ground beef sitting in the trash can, the label now crumpled and unreadable. She had no idea that the meat she had just enjoyed had once been part of a man named Jeff, a being whose choices had changed the course of history forever. To her, it was nothing more than dinner, a comforting end to a long day.
After finishing her meal, she rinsed her plate in the sink, scrubbing away the last traces of marinara sauce before drying her hooves on a dish towel. The kitchen, once bustling with the sounds and scents of cooking, now returned to silence, save for the quiet hum of the refrigerator. She wiped down the counters, tossing the empty spaghetti box into the trash before heading to the couch.
Sinking into the plush cushions, she exhaled deeply, allowing her body to relax for the first time that evening. The spaghetti dinner had been exactly what she needed, a warm and satisfying meal to soothe her after an exhausting shift. She scrolled through her phone absentmindedly, the glow of the screen casting soft light across her fur. Her eyes grew heavier with each passing moment, and soon, sleep took hold, pulling her into a deep and restful slumber.
Meanwhile, within her body, the remnants of Jeff began their final journey. The rich meatballs she had savored now found themselves immersed in the acidic depths of her stomach. Powerful digestive enzymes broke them down, dissolving muscle fibers, fats, and proteins into a nutrient-rich slurry. The rhythmic contractions of her stomach muscles churned the mixture relentlessly, ensuring every last bit of Jeff’s former form was reduced to something her body could absorb.
Over the course of several hours, this mixture passed into her small intestine, where her body took what it needed. Amino acids, iron, and essential fats seeped into her bloodstream, carried to her muscles, tissues, and organs. Jeff’s nutrients fueled her, replenishing what she had lost during her grueling shift. His proteins repaired the slight wear in her muscles from standing all day, his energy reserves stored for the next long shift at the clinic. Though he was gone, pieces of him remained within her, now part of a body that had no idea he had ever existed.
By the time the remains of her meal reached her large intestine, there was little left to extract. Most of what had once been Jeff had either been absorbed into her body or converted into energy. What remained was waste—indigestible fibers, excess water, and the last unrecognizable traces of a once-intelligent being.
A few days later, morning light streamed through the blinds, casting golden streaks across her apartment. Dressed in her usual blue scrubs, she stood in the kitchen, sipping from a warm mug of coffee while scrolling through her phone. She enjoyed these quiet moments before heading to work, using the time to mentally prepare for another long shift.
However, her body had other plans. A familiar pressure built in her abdomen, signaling the inevitable. She sighed and set her mug down, frustrated that she needed to relieve herself so soon after showering. Still, there was no use in delaying it.
She made her way to the bathroom, closing the door behind her before flipping on the fan. Lowering herself onto the toilet, she relaxed, letting her body take over. The process was effortless, a natural conclusion to the meal she had enjoyed days before. Soft plops echoed in the small space, accompanied by the unmistakable scent of waste. Her digestive system had done its job, extracting everything useful and now discarding what was no longer needed. Among the expelled matter were the final remnants of Jeff—tiny, unrecognizable particles that had once been part of a living, breathing man.
She grabbed some toilet paper and wiped herself clean, checking the sheets out of habit before tossing them into the bowl. Little did she know, embedded within the brown smears were the last molecular fragments of a being who had once thought, spoken, and acted, now reduced to nothing more than waste. She flushed without a second thought, washing her hooves at the sink before returning to her coffee, feeling lighter and ready to start her day.
For her, it was just another part of life—a routine necessity before heading to work. For Jeff, it was the final step in his transformation, an unceremonious end to a journey that no one would remember.