Marketing Success: Loud moo forward (Monthly tale - 21) X

(Woman into cow)*

Bright lights - from the cameras and the spotlights above the stage.

Sitting in a chair next to the female presenters desk wearing a perfect dark dress, she crossed her long, soft, pale skinned and shaved legs, gold hair, blue eyes, a slightly wrinkled red smirk.

Very slightly for her age.

Madonna Louise Ciccone.

Just Madonna.

The Madonna.

The Queen of Pop, self-proclaimed and maybe still so in her own right.

A sigh filled her chest, the lights were so bright, the shadowy faces of the crowd.

A sea of eyes in front of her as always.

Eyes that had constantly made her shudder.

They made her afraid of things that erode with time or become worse: Fame, age, the crushing sensation of slowly becoming irrelevant after being on top of the world.

The intermission came to an end and the presenter spoke, taking Madonna out of her thoughts.

“And we are back with the Queen of Pop!”  - applause - “We were talking about your next tour, weren’t we?”

Madonna leaned back, making herself comfortable.

“Yeah.”

“People are quite impatient for it after you had to cancel the last one, what do you have planned for this one? Something shocking? Something sexy?”

Laughter from the public.

The blonde queen nodded gracefully.

“A bit of both, as always, I have a big surprise planned for the very end of it, you could say, the last surprise that anybody may ever have.”

“Uuuuuuh... intriguing words! Does it have something to do with the theme of the tour? What was it this time...?”

“Oh, something new, a witch, the wickedest of them all, getting what she deserves, the classic, I am right?”

Laughter.

…

Some days after the disastrous interview, inside the bowels of a large portentously gold and marbled mansion, Madonna lay down on a dark brown leather couch.

She didn’t sit, she lay, like a true diva, wearing only a gray robe that barely covered, to vastly exaggerate, the total nudity hiding under it.

The silhouette of her breasts or the darkness of her pubes were clearly open to be seen and enjoyed by some of the many lovers she had roaming around and having fun around the halls of the mansion.

But her interest was on the enormous plasma TV that was in front of the couch.

They were running that ad.

The ad.

It was the first time she had seen it, but her bored blue eyes weren’t too interested to begin with.

Soft music accompanied Kim Kardashian, or more exactly, Kim Kardashian’s butt as it opened the scene, the camera spun to show the woman’s full body, she was wearing a body fitting black dress with a long skirt, a pearl collar and her hair tied up in a top bun.

Kim spoke to the audience with a broad smile and excruciating confidence.

“Sometimes it’s so hard to be a woman...”

Madonna was already frowning and those words made her roll her eyes, she would have changed the channel... but her hand stopped when Kim’s lips darkened for the camera.

Her jaw dropped slightly, her eyes widened, she knew what the ad was for already, she was aware of the rumors, but seeing it was another matter.

"Sometimes a lady just feels like... going all wild...”

Kim’s ears were stretching, becoming pointy, Madonna’s fingers had found their way to Madonna’s crotch.

It wasn’t some cheap CGI effect, she was really transforming into something, some wild beast and they were just filming it.

Madonna was stiff, she gulped, witnessing Kim’s vanishing humanity, the last womanly moments of a woman, a woman that was rubbing her changing body with gloved hands.

“That beast that all women have inside...”

On the TV Kim’s nipples were stiff and hard, on the sofa Madonna was fingering herself.

Kim snorted several times as her nose expanded into the beginnings of a muzzle.

“Hmmmmmppphhh... We just can’t control it, we need to... liberate our reins, become them... roar, kick, scratch and stop worrying about anything that isn't sweet, sweet pleasure...”

Madonna was full on masturbating on the couch as the fur grew on Kim’s wet skin.

“That’s why the... hmmmmm... wonderful people of Shift Inc. have created the new.. and fantastic... Savage Africa Line, for women like me... and you, that need an extra rush in their lives...”

White with black stripes, horse ears, a zebra, Kim Kardashian was transforming into a zebra.

“Tell me, friend... are you a proud lioness... a powerful hippopotamus... a smart elephant... a graceful gazelle... a h-horny-y... snort... zebra... then... now, you can truly feel like one... become one...”

The pleasure made Madonna close her eyes and miss some of the action, she heard a kick, splashes and rolling glass.

When she opened them again an exuberant half-zebra Kim Kardashian was standing on top of a box, turning her back to the public as she pulled down her dress, a mane of striped fur covering her spine from her head to the tail poking out from the top of her large shiny furry ass.

“Shift Inc., products for women that want to awaken their inner beast a biiIIIIIIIIIITIHI!”

The shift Inc. logo appeared on the screen over the smiling zebra-woman at the edge of becoming a horny beast.

Madonna’s toes curled as she came hard.

She missed several ads, shaking with pleasure, when she looked at the screen again there was one about cars, always cars.

The diva queen didn’t give a damn about that one, she was sweaty and satisfied, her legs still spread, one on top of the couch, fingers dancing around her crotch.

It had been like lightning and thunder in her brain, she had just had the best idea ever.

…

“It’s the worst idea ever!”

Her manager’s voice resounded with anger and disbelief in his ostentatious office with its walls lined with framed golden discs.

Madonna was sitting in front of the mahogany desk wearing a red dress, with her legs crossed and confidence radiating from her face.

“It will be perfect.” she said calmly.

“It will be the end of your career! Not just that, the end of your...!”

“All things end, dear, the point here is having an end worth remembering.”

“But there’s no need, you still have some good years in front of you!”

“To see myself dwindling? To become even more of a joke? The Granny of Pop? No thanks!” the diva shook her head. “That’s not how The Madonna ends, Madonna is the one that chooses that.”

The manager recoiled in his chair, squeezing his brain to find a good counter argument.

“What about your family? Your reputation? If you do this... I... I will quit!”

He failed miserably.

“My dear, I’m not going to need a manager once I am a big dairy cow... Unless you want to represent me at the country fairs?”

“Dear lord...” sighed the manager.

Madonna chuckled.

“Sure I’m going to be a blue ribbon one, so you may still scratch some pennies if you keep representing my fat furry ass!”

“This is crazy...!”

“Insane! That’s why nobody has done it! Not willingly at least and nobody would do such things! That’s why it will forever burn in their memories! Just make sure to get all the Shift Inc. shenanigans ready.”

The manager was rubbing his forehead.

“And why this Greek crap name? Argos...”

The diva’s smirk sharpened and her eyes shone.

“Argus, Argus Panoptes, a giant with infinite eyes or something from the myth of Io, a daughter of a river, She also became a cow before becoming a true goddess, It’s the brightest part of this brilliant idea, let me explain...!”

…

From luxury planes to luxury buses, from five star hotel to five star hotel, the tribulations and hard work of a tour that moved between three continents and several countries.

Madonna felt the exhaustion in her bones long after those three crazy months had ended.

Constant travelling and very little rest mixed with a permanent tingle of excitement and anticipation, both in her spine and her crotch, for the last show of the tour, her last concert.

At the very least for sure her last as a woman.

Shift Inc. quickly and eagerly agreed to her proposition but despite her manager’s protests everything was set, sealed and ready.

The only thing she didn’t manage to get was a bull for her scenario, a pity in her opinion, but everything else had been agreed, it was no coincidence that the tour would end in some rural American town in the middle of nowhere.

The diva didn’t want to make the final twist obvious, but she gave some clues here and there, odd comments in interviews, unusual fashion choices, a photoshoot for a magazine in which she only wore a cowbell.

It was always the main thing in her head, that spectacular end of the tour and her career.

Gradually she stopped the interactions with her social circles, giving vague admissions of what she was going to do, she also stopped her activities with her many lovers, certain that they couldn’t fulfill what she now craved.

During those long trips she spent time alone in her private areas to masturbate with the video of Kim Kardashian’s transformation into a zebra. 

She had managed to obtain a high quality copy of the full metamorphosis that showed what didn’t appear in the ad in delightful detail and her main hobby had become to touch herself while watching that video.

The fear and desperation in the woman as she realized her doom, the denial of living your last moments as human, the sexual intensity... she wanted it all for herself…

A bright instant of pleasure…

Madonna also gathered other videos of equally lucky or unlucky women playing around with Shift Inc. products, a Midwest mom attacking some strays in an alley, a cop lady joining the mounted division, a teacher becoming a class pet, women flying too close to the sun and losing it all.

But the zebra remained her favorite and the first and last in all of her sexual cinematic sessions.

The zebra now lived in a zoo, the place where she belonged, a day before the final concert of the tour a video of the beast mating with a male in front of a crowd of visitors to the zoo was released.

Needless to say, Madonna didn’t sleep much that night.

She couldn’t wait for her turn.

…

Sweat and heat, the bright lights above her head.

Her hand holding the mic at the end of a raised arm.

Feet on the floor of the stage.

Chest rising and falling.

A deafening standing ovation from a gigantic audience of many hundreds, infinite eyes looking at her.

Madonna was in the middle of the stage, in a large stadium full of people, she was wearing a fancy white mix between a kimono and a Greek tunic with an elaborate belt, long sandals whose straps covered her legs, hair curled, braided and tied, lots of jewelry.

The Queen lowered the arm, moving the mic closer to her lips that were painted blue.

“Thank you! Thank you all! I don’t have enough love to give!”

More roaring cheers and thundering claps, yet Madonna’s was the only voice.

“Not enough, but all things have to end and this was my last, I know, I know, but it’s for real...” holding the mic with both hands she held it close to her chest as a soft melody sounded in the background. “Let me share a tale before going... In old, old times gods were everywhere and rulers were gods, Inachus was one of them, a noble god hero king, a ruler that governed his lands with justice, but this tale isn’t about him or any man, it’s about one of his many nymph princesses, the oldest of them all, the most beautiful... Io...”

She extended the shudder she had down her spine to the public when she said that two letter name, under the skirt of her toga her thighs pressed together in anticipation.

“Smart, daring, bold, a woman among women, her biggest mistake, her unforgivable sin, was to attract the sight of another god king, the king of all gods, Jupiter, Zeus lord of the lightning, the Olympians and the storms.”

Madonna was trembling, she took a longer breath and her voice became sensual.

“From the top of the clouds and with the form of a cloud the god descended in front of the sisterhood of nymphs, the youngest one ran away, but Io, oldest and wise, stood in front of the king of gods, defiantly defending the retreat of the others as if Zeus had any interest in them.”

One of the diva’s hands stopped holding the mic and began to rub it’s owners hot body.

“Eyes sparkling, Jupiter laughed... myths say that Io was forced by duty or strength, but I like to think that she was the one to put down the godly god. That she took control and rode him, that the god obeyed and was led, that they had a taste of love on the shores of the river and in the green bed of the pasture...”

Such a sensual tone resounding across the stadium, an echo of sex, Madonna’s free hand pulled and one of her tits came out of the toga, a hard nipple caressed by needy fingers.

“But it had to end too... as does everything, Zeus had a sister and a wife, Hera, and Hera was suspicious of that dancing cloud over the pastures and the moans that came from inside. The king of gods felt it and fearing a shadow of hate over his lover decided to save Io... or perhaps give her a gentler punishment than the one that would come from his wife...”

Smoke began to pour from the sides of the stage, slightly surrounding Madonna, but not enough to hide her body or how she rubbed her naked tit.

Male dancers with muscles and large bulges, covered from head to toe in lycra bodysuits that matched the shade of the smoke, danced around the diva as if they were part of the cloud.

“He stripped her with his power!” roared Madonna with the sound of thunder.

She spread her legs and opened her arms in a crossed stance, the dancers gently surrounded her.

“Of her clothes...!”

The dancers raised the diva, they began to undress her, starting with the belt, following by pulling off of the clothes.

“Of her dignity...!”

Madonna’s nudity was softly revealed, both her breasts, her pubic hair, her warm pale skin.

The dancers began to remove the jewelry, piece by piece.

“All of it...!”

All of it they took off, raising her legs they removed her sandals, even her hair was a bit looser when they put her back down on the floor, only the mic in her hand remaining.

She stood totally naked surrounded by the silhouettes of bulky men, the smoke flowing around, but not hiding.

“Io was bold, but not dumb, she asked what was going on and Zeus gave a clear answer. She was bold, yet she became terrified about the horrid news, about what the king of gods was going to do...!” Madonna’s voice changed in tone once more, this time to that of a frail and scared maiden. “No, please, not that! NOT THAT!”

The Queen dropped to her knees, truly begging, holding the mic with both hands, making the public gasp.

“PLEASE!”

On her knees Madonna leaned her head back and her body forward, opening her mouth wide.

Four dancers surrounded her and put their hands over the open hole between her lips, each one let a drop of the substance into her mouth, each drop five times the necessary dose to trigger a metamorphosis.

Madonna closed her eyes.

The dancers recoiled.

The smoke remained.

The nude diva swallowed with her eyes closed, took a moment to taste, then she rose up again as the heat built up in her crotch.

Silhouettes of hunky masculinity moving away from her, she stood in the middle of the stage as the smoke moved lower and her splendorous well aged nakedness was free for everybody to see.

Her nipples rock hard.

Her breathing gaining speed.

Her stomach roared softly.

Madonna felt it starting to spread, her lubricating vaginal lips sparking, her spine pulsating towards her brain, there was no going back now.

“Such twisted humiliation! Such a shameful fate! A woman that should have been forever a queen...!” there was a tremble in her voice as she began to speak, a crumbling in her confidence as the heat built up. “A cow!” she yelled. “Dairy stock, that was the fate that he had chosen for her without her consent! Reduced by a god’s dictum to a farm beast! Such... such wasteeeooooh...”

The tone of her words melted into the moan, her back bent forward slightly, closer to the eyes of the public.

There wasn’t any attempt to resist, her left hand freely moved and began to fondle her vaginal area, slippery sounds enhanced by the mic in the other hand.

Moans, pleasure, it was way too good for anybody to resist.

“Oooooh... Oh, goodness... Yes...”

The Queen of Pop masturbating live on the stage, at the very end of her career, at the edge of something even more outrageous that was about to happen.

She fondled and rubbed, her need so big that for a moment the mic played around the leaking pussy, it even slipped inside.

“Sooo... good... Poor Io... such a doom, she didn’t want to... but...” the flow of her tale as uncontrollable as her sexual need. “She was going to transform into a cow... Nothing could stop it... Hera was so close... Hmmmmmmmmm!”

Her knees bent, red in heat, tears falling down.

“Please... Do not worry... W-worry... at the end she... she became a go... goo... Goouuu...! GOOOOOOUUUUUUUH! MROUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”

Her neck was stretched, her eyes wide open as she made that beastly sound to a crowd of hundreds.

Her heart, her breath, they all stopped for a long instant, even her fingers - despite how crushingly horny she felt.

The loud pitiful bellow of a woman pretending to be a bovine before truly becoming one.

There was no going back and the world was going to see it.

Naked in the middle of the stage, in front of an ocean of eyes, her cheeks blushed and she felt so old and small.

And also somehow still getting more and more horny.

The boiling of her hormones surpassed the critical point and the so long desired metamorphosis began to the woman’s distress.

A loud growl came from her belly, the crowd held its breath in anticipation.

Madonna tried to speak, but once more.

“MRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”

Her ears flickered under her hair, her pussy opened and closed, a couple of dizzy steps.

Flesh began to expand, filling with fat, her hips widened to the left and to the right, her buttocks started to spread, she bent her neck to look forward and saw her own swollen anus exposed.

“Good... goddessh.... Thish ish...!”

Her ears stretched at the sides of her head, she touched them with her free hand.

Growing inch by inch, in weight and size, some of the fat concentrated around her breasts, the soft spheres inflated gradually, growing veiny.

The nipples grew thick, the areolas spread wide, very pink, very sensitive.

She grabbed one of them, the left one, with her hand, she pinched the stiff fleshy appendage, she bellowed and the left nipple split into two between her fingers.

“MOOOOOOOOH!”

The diva was now clearly fat, in her hips and in her thighs, also in her belly, bigger than the heavy boobs that rested on top of the inflating sack.

Below her belly her crotch was growing exponentially more hairy, the lips of her needy wet cunt spreading, turning rough, leathery and black.

Her nose and lips had also become darker, visible even under the blue lipstick, and not just that, they had also widened like the rest  of her body, slightly, but noticeably, altering the beauty of her face into a more chubby look.

A blunt nose mixed with the long flapping ears poking out from her blonde mane, making her already seem quite bovine.

It was the pinch of the birth of a tail, her spine elongating beyond it’s confines above her immense rear, that made her break into a sob and start to panic.

Heavy, chubby, slow, her heart racing, her tits so swollen.

“Whooot I have duuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUHM?!”

A fat Madonna, something the world would have never even considered, not just that, fat as a cow while becoming one, the wildest of country-fair spectacles.

As the lump on her rear sprouted it began to swing from one side to the other, blond hairs growing at the end, the long tail to swipe flies from her ass, it made her think of paparazzi for some reason.

The mic fell from her trembling hands and rolled making loud sounds, the bones of her wrist snapping in front of her eyes.

She wasn’t going to have hands for much longer, she regretted doing this... or at least doing it in public... but she didn’t have any more pride to swallow.

It wasn’t at all what the Diva Queen had envisioned, it felt even more bizarre than anything she might have come up with, but she wasn’t going to waste it.

Bending, knees spread and her back forward she squatted so she could reach her big meaty pussy under her fat belly easily with her hand.

Her tail swung as she penetrated her own shifting sex with her swelling fingers.

This time her grunting bellow truly sounded bovine.

“MOOOOOOOOOO!”

From the shadows of the stage the dancers watched as the massive rear of their boss restructured into a desirable sight for bulls, most of the guys felt very odd and confusing erections as they saw that ass that they had desired or even tasted mutate beyond human grasp.

Even those who were not lured by such an impossible erotic vision would never forget having witnessed as under that raised cow tail a well aged human vagina became a meaty bovine cunt.

Tail, anus and cunt in line on a flatter surface.

Brownish fur extending over her expanded back,onto her floppy ears, the bridge of her wide nose.

The other hand was hugging her torso across her massive belly and under her massive boobs, one hand fondling the enormous pink breasts with their doubled large teats, both tits now sported two pairs of those.

Past the midpoint, more beast than queen, her back covered in fur, the middle fingers of her feet and hand enlarging in an astonishing way, dwarfing the round bones of her wrists and ankles.

The hubris of her arrogance, the naivety of her lust.

Her head - massive and heavy, wider across the forehead on which a couple of sturdy horns were emerging, the crown covered in the same brown fur that was taking over every inch of skin, with just some of her blonde hair remained on top.

The bright pink and overly inflated breasts began to move, sliding down towards her crotch, just another indignity in a roller coaster of humiliations.

No longer could you honestly say the donna part of her name.

A bovine amalgam with very little of the diva remaining.

Frustrated by the forming hooves she shook her arms that were now more legs and let herself drop forward onto all fours as the four teated udders moved between her legs.

She slapped her furry ass with her tail.

A final wave of changes, barreling the chest of her immense body outwards.

The cow did the only thing she could as her self-inflicted future was realized in front of an ocean of eyes.

She bellowed.

“MUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

Indeed a prize cow stood on the stage, on four sturdy hooves, big and fat, a large udder, brown fur with hints of some blonde on it’s head and at the end of the long tail, a desirable addition for any reputable dairy line.

A sad looking cow, just as Io was.

Silence in the stadium, the logo of Shift Inc. appeared above in a large screen atop the stage.

No claps or cheers.

The cow lowered her ears, her tail, ashamed of how exposed her still throbbing sex felt.

She lowered her head too, and closed her eyes.

…

Another morning of routine at the farm began with the rooster singing for quite some time before the spectacular last tour of the Queen of Pop.

From the brown cow’s stall door hung several ribbons that had been won at many fairs.

A couple of calves had come and gone.

The nice farmer entered the scene with a loud yawn.

“Good morning girls!”

Some of the cows raised their heads, the brown flickered her ears.

The farmer went directly to her stall.

“Ready for a good milking, Ma?” he chuckled.

Ma nodded as he opened the stall.

Farmer and cow moved to the corner with a bucket and stool as the other cows munched their breakfasts.

The cow stood, the farmer sat, a low bellow when the man’s hands grabbed her udder’s teats.

“There garl, calm, take it easy...!”

It was so nice, such a relief of her sexual needs and the weight in her udder when those strong fingers squeezed her thick teats and the white milk splashed into the bottom of the bucket.

Whistling the farmer turned on the radio on the phone in his pocket, Ma still loved music even if the only singing she could do now was a bellow.

It was one of those radio shows more interested in the singers than their songs, the young voice of the man was interviewing some famous diva.

“Your last song seems to be breaking all the charts, how does it feel getting the throne and the crown, Lady Gaga?”

Hearing that name made the cow raise her ears and stiffen her body, the farmer noticed it and tapped the side of the beast’s furry fat belly before continuing with the milking.

“There, there...”

Ma imagined the smug big nosed face of that posh, vain, frigid woman and all her cheap glossy glamour, it made her snort.

“It feels good, as you can imagine,” answered Gaga. “I’m not a Lady for nothing.”

Laughter from the interviewer.

“Indeed, indeed! A total Lady! But you know, I heard a very spicy rumour...!”

Gaga interrupted him.

“About my partnership with Shift Inc.?”

“Oh, yeah, well... Yes, that’s the rumour.”

“It isn’t a rumour, it’s true.”

“Some bold claims, are you going to...?”

“I indeed have plans to transition from humanity at some point in the future.”

"That's some transparent honesty from a bold woman, but are you sure? Even though it seems to be pretty in vogue at the moment?"

“I guess, some frivolous rich bitches like making a spectacle of their lustful depravity. Nothing against it, let’s be real, just the idea makes me crazy horny too, but I think they are doing it for the wrong reasons, when I give up my human form will be for something with some meaning.”

“What do you mean?”

“Becoming a pet in your house? A zoo attraction? Some livestock on a farm? Please, that’s zero risk, something you do to pander to your own ego. Lady Gaga is above it, I have it already clear in my mind, when it comes to my turn I want to become a whale.”

“A whale? Is that even possible?”

“There’s already hippo and elephant hormones in the market, aren’t there? The point is, I may do it because I’m a lewd idiot, but at least then my transformation serves something, the world could use some extra female whales instead of empty self-congratulating shows about...”

Lady Gaga was interrupted by the stomp of the cow.

“Okey, geez!” the farmer changed the radio channel to one with music.

Ma swung her tail, it had been a while since she had felt such indignation.

Her moment of glory lasted quite a while after the end of that last tour, there was talk, controversy, her transformation was still top on those online sites where such things are appreciated.

Quite a lot of fans came to her first fair, there were a few imitators... but as time passed…

She became background noise, yet it took her a while to realize that her worst failure as a woman was her interpretation of that myth.

The giant with many eyes was always looking for the next Io and the first Io was remembered because she didn’t want her bovine fate.

Desiring the giant was a hard to swallow endeavour, but now it was too late for that lesson.

Ma lowered her big head to chew some hay as the farmer milked her teats.

The wooden ceiling above her horns wasn’t Bright or glamorous at all, but it felt pretty safe.

She didn’t miss the many eyes of the giant, not very much, but she didn’t feel like a goddess anymore, never again would, because she had made herself into just a dairy cow.