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From: "DB_Story" <DB_Story@att.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Encounters: CowGirl {DB_Story} (M/F, rom, furry, fantasy, size)
Date: Tue, 20 May 2003 07:10:04 -0400
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ENCOUNTERS: Cowgirl
By DB  ( DB_Story@att.net / http://home.att.net/files/Authors/db_story/www/ )
Copyrightc 2003 by DB.
ASSM (M/F, rom, furry, fantasy, size)

(This story contains Constitutionally protected material intended 
for adults over 18 years of age in the United States of America, 
and whatever passes for adult status in other countries.  If you 
are under legal age, acting under legal age, not allowed to view 
such material in your area, or easily offended, please do not 
continue.  This is not for you.

(The only rights granted are to view this story.  You are not 
allowed to reproduce, post, or otherwise redistribute this story 
without permission, except for non-profit Usenet archiving sites.

(To purchase for publication, place on your web-site devoted to 
this style of fiction, or for permission to link to my posted 
material, please contact me first at the above email.)

- - -

Author's Note: Encounters stories involve relations between 
humans and animals in various guises and transformations - all 
different.  Proceed at your own risk.

This story is inspired by the Doug Winger illustration 
http://home.att.net/files/Authors/db_story/www/xprsuslf.jpg - used here with his 
permission.

A special thanks to Gorgo his excellent and much appreciated 
proofreading.  All remaining mistakes are mine.

- - -

Croatia is an exceptionally beautiful place of green hills, rich 
valleys, enchanted forests, majestic castles, and old legends.  
I'm sorry to say that I appreciated very little of this.  As a 
young man due to enter college in the fall, my parents had 
shipped me off to spend the summer with my never-seen maternal 
grandparents in the old country.

"It's for your own good," they told me.  "You need to connect 
with your heritage," I heard.  "There's a whole world outside of 
the United States to experience and explore."  "You should be 
happy about the collapse of the old political system which opened 
all this up to the world again."  "Everyone goes to Europe to 
find themselves."

So with these words, and too many others like them, I was 
unceremoniously shipped off to some broken-down, post-Communist 
country I'd never be able to find on a map to spend the summer on 
the farm of a couple of relatives I'd never met, couldn't care 
less about, and were too unmotivated to get out of there while 
they could.  It was either this, or pay for college myself when I 
returned.  Unlike most of my friends, my parents knew who still 
held the power.

It was a long flight to the east with two plane changes in 
foreign airports, every passing minute taking me further away 
from my friends, all the hot summer movies, any music worth 
listening to, and every other modern convenience essential to 
civilized life.

And to put the icing on the cake, the last part of the trip was 
by train.  Can you imagine that?  I mean, who in their life 
travels by train?  I was lucky that an older couple who spoke 
almost intelligible English helped me out.  That was great, since 
I couldn't read any of the signs.

When I finally arrived at the station, my grandfather was 
waiting.  He recognized me immediately.  "You have your mother's 
eyes," he commented.  "And your father's chin."

Then he drove me back to the farm in an actual horse-drawn buggy. 
 I knew life had been rough under Communism, but this was a real 
eye-opener.  These people had nothing!

When we got to the farm - if you can call it that, I'll explain 
later - grandma had a surprisingly good dinner waiting.  We ate 
by candle and lamplight while I answered their few, polite 
questions with monosyllables.

Travel is hard and I was exhausted.  As soon as dinner was over I 
sagged in the chair until they roused me enough to lead me to the 
softest bed I can ever remember.  A mattress of feathers I 
figured out just before I fell asleep.

- - -

For the next couple of days I was so jetlagged that I didn't 
notice much of anything.  Grandma always seemed to have food 
available when I would get up and wander in, and not too many 
questions to bother me with.  Maybe she already knew what I was 
realizing, that flying east across multiple time zones is a much 
bigger deal than the time I'd flown to Hawaii a couple years ago. 
 That's if Grandma had ever seen an airplane, that is.

And this isn't to mention the culture shock I was experiencing.  
That is remarkably exhausting as well.  It took those couple of 
days before I finally felt like paying attention to my 
surroundings.  Once I took a look around I really started to 
realize just how beyond belief this place really is.

I'd best describe my Grandparent's home as the dwarfs' cottage  
from Snow White, right down to its stone walls, wooden window 
frames, floors, and furniture, and thickly thatched roof.  It had 
an absolutely medieval look and feel to it.  My grandparents did 
have electricity.  They just preferred not to use it most of the 
time.

"Not necessary," my grandmother commented.  "And unreliable," she 
added, though perhaps she was referring to the earlier days when 
the Commies were running things.  Old prejudices die hard.

To call their place a farm seemed strange because there was only 
one small, plowed field adjacent to the house and seemingly 
capable of little more then raising more vegetables than I would 
ever want to eat in a lifetime.  A small barn on the other side 
housed the horse that seemed as old as my grandparents - not that 
they weren't proving themselves to be sprightly and energetic.

Keeping with the Snow White motif, off in the distance was a 
castle on a hill.  Right behind the house was about a square mile 
of dark, dense forest.

Otherwise there didn't seem to be any close neighbors, with open 
land surrounding us.  When I looked carefully I could see the 
church spire in the small town at the base of Castle Mountain.  
At night I heard wolves howling in the distance.

- - -

The third morning I finally awoke at daybreak, full of energy.  
After another great breakfast my grandfather put me to work.

This actually turned out to be fun.  My grandfather led the horse 
drawing the plow and I broke up any big clods and tossed out the 
rocks that turned up.  I like the smell fresh earth and didn't 
mind getting a bit dirty.

When we broke for lunch grandma had a crockery jar of the best 
tasting lemonade I've ever had.

Afterwards I expected to go back to the field again to finish the 
job, but instead was asked to help my grandmother clean the 
house.  I never would have done this at home, but like all my 
friends I'll do things for other people that I'd never do for my 
parents.

To my surprise, my grandfather slung an old gun over his shoulder 
and set off into the forest just as my grandmother handed me a 
wooden broom like a witch might ride to start sweeping.

The afternoon went faster than I though it would because my 
grandmother seemed to knew every fairytale in existence.  What 
was interesting is that my grandmother always seemed to know some 
detail to the story that I'd never heard before.  That Snow White 
had a daughter who went back to live with the dwarves.  How 
Cinderella had forgiven her stepmother and stepsisters and moved 
them into the castle where they eventually became some of the 
leading citizens of the kingdom.  Or about how Aladdin had to 
keep making trips back to the Cave of Wonders to pay for all the 
benefits he insisted on bestowing on his people, until he got 
careless one day and it killed him.  And she told several stories 
that I've never heard before.  Before I realized it, the sun was 
going down, the house was spotless, and grandfather was coming 
out of the forest with a hunched-over figure.

That hunched figure was a woman so old that it made my 
grandparents seem positively middle aged.  My grandmother came 
out and greeted her as a lifelong friend, before inviting her in 
for dinner.

The old woman didn't say a word to me the entire evening, but she 
had dark eyes like an eagle and seldom took them off of me.  She 
ate her meal carefully and formally thanked my grandmother 
afterwards.

When my grandmother looked at her questioningly, all the old 
woman said was, "Of course he is.  How could you ever doubt it?"

My grandfather took down a lantern and escorted her back to the 
edge of the forest.  To my surprise she went on alone, even 
though there were wolves were howling nearby, not even taking the 
lantern.

- - -

The next morning I was sore everywhere.  So much for hard work 
being good for a body.

Because I'd done so much yesterday I thought I'd get a day off.  
I was wrong.

"Work to finish.  Solstice Festival in three days," my 
grandfather said gruffly without further explanation.

As we worked on the field some of the stiffness did abate.  When 
I looked back late in the morning I felt good about all we had 
accomplished.

Several times that morning men or women walked by the field as we 
worked.  Some waved towards us and I started waving back, often 
getting smiles in return.  They were all dressed much like my 
grandparents and most were carrying large loads.  All disappeared 
into the forest behind the house.

We finished preparing the field by lunch.  Afterwards my 
grandfather pickup a large package grandma had made for him and 
set off into the forest himself.

I wanted to go with him, but no one had invited me.  Instead 
grandma had a second package for me to deliver to town.

"You've got plenty of time before dark if you don't dawdle," she 
admonished as she gave me exact directions.

I was clearly expected to walk, so I did.  This was also new.  In 
the past I wouldn't walk two blocks to the grocery store when I 
wanted something.  It was either drive me, or I'd go without.  
But the way this was put to me there wasn't any way to refuse.

I set out and got some great views of the castle along the way.  
It only took a couple hours to get there and I had time to think. 
 I delivered the package as instructed and was given another one 
to take home.  Except for the people passing by the field, these 
were the first people I'd encountered other than my grandparents. 
 There were even some younger kids playing, although they looked 
at me suspiciously and kept their distance.

I might have stayed and explored further except that the sun was 
well into the afternoon and I didn't want to get lost on the way 
back.  I hurried home and arrived just as my grandfather came out 
of the woods himself.  He waved, and I found myself waving back, 
before we both went into the house for dinner.

- - - 

The next morning my grandfather surprised me by taking the 
package I had brought from town and immediately heading into the 
forest.  A lot of things seemed to be going on in this stand of 
trees.

I looked so longingly after him that my grandmother kindly said, 
"Just wait until tomorrow.  That's the festival."  Then she set 
out baking pies and cookies until the house became a child's 
fantasy.

I used to help my own mother bake and grandma let me do things 
for her like sift the flour.  As a reward I got to eat the 
remaining bits left in the bowls.  Finally she announced an end 
to it because they couldn't carry anything more.  Then she sent 
me outside with a book for the rest of the afternoon.

Although it was in another language, it was mostly illustrations 
of the fairytales I'd heard.  It was easy to see the details of 
each story in intricate illustrations.  Soon I was leaning 
against the tree dreaming of far-off lands and exotic creatures, 
the book forgotten on my lap.

My grandmother finally had to come out and get me for dinner.  My 
grandfather didn't return until late that night.

- - -

"Festival morning," my grandmother greeted me with at the break 
of dawn.  I didn't know what that meant, but it sounded 
interesting.

My grandmother must have worked into the night because there were 
three large packages waiting for us.

"Let's go," she said, handling the smallest one to me.

Instead I took the largest one and replied, "Yes, let's go."

My grandfather took the lead into the woods.  Though there was 
hardly any trail visible my grandfather confidently led the way. 
 In moments there were trees everywhere and I was completely 
lost.  Though in later times I would be able to walk this trail 
myself with complete assurance at midnight with my eyes closed, 
today it was all new.  There were birds singing and the rustlings 
of creatures just out of sight, but everything all felt friendly 
and my grandfather had left the gun at home.  We crossed a couple 
clear streams burbling merrily along over ancient moss-covered 
rocks before taking a sharp right and heading up a slope.  More 
twists and turns before we suddenly stepped out of the forest - 
and into another age.  My first impression was that I had stepped 
out into the biggest Renaissance Faire in existence.

Although it seemed a small village with outlying farms in sight, 
it was chock full of happy people.  Compared to my grandparent's 
peaceful farm, this place was alive with energy and merriment.  
And when I looked closer - more.  A festival was clearly in 
progress with brightly colored pennants and entertainers.  I felt 
drab compared to the colorful clothes I saw around me.  

And it wasn't just people.  Over to one side I saw a couple of 
what I could only describe as ogres.  At least that's what I'd 
say having never actually seen an ogre myself.  And in the 
distance it looked like a centaur trotted through.  As we walked 
forward I began to see the kinds of creatures only described in 
fairytales.  People - normal people - still predominated, but I 
saw a variety of other forms that told me I wasn't in Kansas - 
make that Croatia - anymore.  I later learned that these mixed 
beings were referred to as cross-overs and were seldom seen in 
the village except at faires.  They kept to themselves mostly 
otherwise since they are not generally accepted by the common 
folk.

As we walked forward my grandparents seemed to know everyone.  We 
were constantly being stopped and greeted, and I was constantly 
being introduced.  I didn't understand the warm welcomes I 
received at the time.  Only later would I realize they were 
welcoming a new citizen to their town.

Soon we were through the town and suddenly I saw a familiar house 
ahead.  It was identical to my grandparent's farmhouse.  I didn't 
understand until we actually went up and into it that it was my 
grandparent's house on this side.

Once inside my grandmother opened one of the packages.  Inside 
was an outfit for me to match any I had seen.  By the time I had 
changed into it they had changed into festive clothes as well.

The other packages contained food that we contributed to the 
celebration.  For the rest of the day we walked around, ate, 
drank, danced, and sang along with the infectious atmosphere 
created by the various performers.  My life became a whole lot 
more interesting as I finally met others my age who were as 
curious about me as I was about them.

None of the games we played were fancy like those my I play on my 
PS2 back home, but that's okay.  And as night fell the 
enchantment grew as paper lanterns lit every tree while giant 
fireflies drifted through the air.

Finally it became very late.  As things were winding down we 
returned back through the forest to the farm.  Despite the thick 
trees, the forest seemed to glow and my grandfather easily found 
our way home.

- - -

The next day first thing, even before breakfast, I took off to go 
back again.  This was better than anything I could have ever 
imagined.  The forest path looked dark, gloomy, and confusing, so 
I just ran around the edges to the other side - and found nothing 
except more land like that around our farmhouse.  I kept walking 
until I came back around to the farmhouse again, without finding 
any indication of the village.

I'd started that trip with a hundred questions, and thought of 
another hundred along the way, but by the time I finished my walk 
I somehow already knew most of the answers.  The old woman had 
known that I was a person who could walk to the other side.  It 
was in my blood and heritage.  I knew now why my grandparents 
lived where they did, and why my parents had sent me over to see 
them.

My grandmother saw me arrive and called me in for breakfast.  I 
could hardly keep still long enough to eat.  But my grandfather 
wouldn't guide me over until both he and I were done eating.  
After that he took me into the forest and started teaching me the 
hidden paths within.

With his help I started spending a lot of time on the other side, 
and soon was able to find my way alone.  Most days over there 
weren't like the Solstice Faire, but I was finding even the day-
to-day life there fascinating.

I asked why we didn't move over there full-time.  They told me it 
was important to keep a foot firmly in both worlds, hence the 
farm they maintained.  Though I didn't agree with this view, I 
was willing to help them out in return for visiting this new 
world nearly every day.

The forest could be a scary place to the uninitiated.  Most 
intruders quickly got lost if they ventured in.  For myself, none 
of that applied.  It was like my own private Fantasyland, and was 
where I learned that most people everywhere are good if you give 
them a chance.  Life is always lively on the other side and 
everyone accepted me because of my grandparents.  I knew there 
were some lines that shouldn't be crossed, but I never worried 
about them.  This "summer vacation" that I had wanted over before 
it started, I now wanted to never end.

Then came the day of the annual livestock faire.

- - -

The faires were the best times.  The solstice had been the big 
one for the summer, and a great way to get introduced to the 
village.  But the rest of them were also all worth attending for 
the food and gaiety.

This one reminded me of country fairs I'd attended back home.  
People brought their prize livestock to show and compete with, 
and I wasn't much into that.  I was just there for the fun.  I'd 
arrived late since I wanted to get my chores out of the way 
first, and the first events of the day were already complete.

I wasn't paying attention, being focused on a big ice cream cone 
that I had just watched being made the old-fashioned hand-cranked 
way.  Then I saw her standing on the stage -- and I was in love.

At first I didn't realize she was a cross-over.  Her glasses and 
clothing fooled me.  Nobody had been willing to tell me how 
cross-overs happened and it hadn't really mattered until now.  I 
did know they were usually raised as their animal side dictated, 
so seeing one dressed like this was unexpected.

Despite her absolutely amazing bust, it was her eyes that first 
got my attention.  Large and soft brown, her glasses gave her an 
intelligent look that I found immensely appealing.  Her face had 
an exotic shape like I'd never seen before, with high cheekbones 
and a very kissable pair of lips.  Her dark brown hair was nicely 
attired around a pair of small horns and large velvety ears that 
begged to be stroked.

I tried to ignore her bust as I admired her shapely tanned legs 
below the ultra-short denim cutoffs while I wondered if she had 
feet - or hooves - inside those out-of-place athletic shoes.  
(The shoes shouldn't have surprised me.  Most people here at 
least have contact with both worlds.)  Her strong, tufted tail 
seemed exactly right for her.

Although I was trying not to stare, even with the extra height of 
the stage her short stature put those barely contained udders at 
face level.  They were wrapped in a shirt that must have once 
belonged to a giant.  Obviously bras are not part of this 
medieval age.  It was too easy to see her multiple bovine 
inspired teats pressing tightly against their confinement.

She was here as the undisputed winner of today's milking contest. 
 That might be a turn-off to most people, but I was finding her 
very erotic.  I wished I'd been there for the contest itself, 
which must have provided an even better view of her assets.  I 
made a note to self to pay more attention to these events in the 
future.  Her pouty expression barely concealed her satisfaction 
at her victory here today.  She'd done it, and she knew it.

The overall impression I got was that she was about my age - just 
entering her sexual maturity -- though I did know that most 
cross-overs tended to mature at the faster rate of their animal 
side.  As such she might only be a few years old.

I was daydreaming a bit just thinking about what it would be like 
to hold her against me and stroke those soft ears while kissing 
her inviting lips when I was pulled out of my reverie by two 
older women in front of me.

"Isn't that disgusting," the first one said.  "Don't they know 
their place?"

"I'm sure it's just for the show," the second one retorted.

"Don't bet on it," the first one shot back.  "Although they keep 
her in the barn where she belongs, I have it on good authority 
they treat her like a daughter."

"Shocking," the other replied, before they both put their noses 
up and marched off in self-righteous indignation.

Life in this side runs by its own rules and the attitude just 
expressed is not uncommon.  But I didn't have it in me because I 
hadn't grown up here.  Besides I was more intrigued by the 
comment that she had been raised as a daughter.  Some cross-overs 
were reportedly as smart as any person.

With the women gone I realized I was the center of attention of 
those lovely eyes.  And in my rapidly pounding heart I just knew 
this girl was special.  There was one way to be sure.  But I 
looked around carefully before I tried this to be sure I was 
alone first.

Then I walked boldly to the edge of the stage and said, "Hi," in 
my most manly voice.  "And congratulations," I added.  Then I 
held my breath to see what would happen.

Though she looked right at me when I spoke, for a frozen moment 
it appeared that nothing would happen.  It was the longest moment 
of my life.

Then she smiled at me and replied clearly,  "Thank you, kind 
sir."

Yes! I thought to myself.  After another nervous glance around to 
be sure no one had noticed I tried to act casual.  "How's it 
going?" I asked

"Okay, I guess," she replied sweetly.  "But you're the first 
person to talk to me."

"Really?"

"Yes," she said, making a pretty moue.  "Most people don't have 
much to say to me."

"Those ladies ahead of me seemed to have a lot to say."

I regretted those words the moment they were out of my mouth.  
But she just nodded at me and added, "Yes they did," so I figured 
she wasn't upset with me.

"You're beautiful," I impulsively said to her.

She half turned away at that, but I could see her blushing.  And 
her teats seemed to tighten under her top.

"Thank you," she said softly, still looking away.

I wanted to say more, but just then I heard the noisy crowd of my 
friends approaching.  In moments they'd see me here.

"Take care," I said quickly, turning to slip away.  "I've enjoyed 
talking to you," I added over my shoulder.

"Me too," she replied to my rapidly retreating back.

- - -

I hooked-up with my crowd again after that and spent the next few 
hours roaming with them, but I couldn't get the cowgirl out of my 
mind.  She wasn't anything like what I'd been told a cross-over 
is supposed to be.  I couldn't understand why no one else had 
spoken to her.  I did slip away a couple times to try and see her 
again, but the stage had been cleared and she was gone.

That night I could barely sleep despite the soft bed.  I kept 
waking up hoping I'd find her next to me - but she never was.

I didn't realize it was so obvious, but the next morning my 
grandmother knew immediately that something had happened.

After watching me eat breakfast for several minutes she asked me, 
"Do you want to talk about it?"

My first thought was to try and pretend that nothing had 
happened.  Fortunately I didn't go with that first reaction.

It took me several halting attempts before I could get it out, 
but her reaction was completely positive.  That's the way my 
grandparents are - nothing like those two disapproving ladies 
yesterday.

Then she told me something that had me out of the house like a 
rocket, racing back through the forest.

- - -

I ran all through the village looking for my Grandfather.  The 
faire was concluding today and it was quite crowded.

Once I found him I spent the next few minutes talking as fast as 
I could to convince him of my need, and my plan.  I probably 
oversold the whole thing since there was no time during it that I 
felt he was against me, however I wasn't taking any chances.

"Enough," he finally said with a twinkle in his eye.  "But don't 
go overboard on this or you'll never work you way out of the 
hole."

I promised him I wouldn't, and then listened as he gave me 
several important pointers I hadn't even considered in my haste.

I was literally hopping one foot to the other to get to it before 
he finally finished with, "Now go, if you are going to make this 
happen."

I went.

- - -

Typical of many faires of this type, Grandma had told me that the 
livestock exhibited at the faire would be auctioned off on the 
last day.  Grandpa had agreed to advance me the payment against 
my future work for them, and given me some suggestions on how I 
should proceed.  The first thing he told me was where all the 
animals were being kept during the faire.

I rushed in to the barn and down to her stall with my last bit of 
breath.

"Hi," she said brightly upon seeing me again.  She treated my 
arrival as if I'd only stepped away for a few minutes, rather 
than the cowardly way I had slunk away yesterday.

"I'm going to buy you," I managed to gasp out, still trying to 
catch my breath.

"I'd like that," she said, giving my heart a leap of joy at those 
words.  Then my whole world suddenly sagged when she added, 
"Although the ice cream maker has also said he plans to buy me."

I didn't know what to say to that.  "Why?" I finally managed to 
get out.

"He likes the quality of my milk," she said as if it was nothing 
special.  "He has been buying it from my parents for awhile now. 
 He says it makes his best ice cream ever."

That left me thinking about the ice cream I'd eaten yesterday.  
It momentarily gave me a queasy feeling, although it made perfect 
sense in this world.  It brought another question to mind as 
well.

"Why are your...parents...selling you anyway?"

Though that question seems incredibly weird to me, she answered 
it as though it was the most natural thing in the world to be 
discussing.

"My parents are an elderly couple.  They found and adopted me 
when I didn't have a proper home otherwise.  But I know it's been 
hard for them to take care of me lately."

"So they're selling you now?"

"Of course.  This way they know I'll go to a good home."

I was just getting my mind around this concept when another 
thought intruded.  I tried my best to ignore it, but I realized 
my conscience would never leave me alone if I didn't do the right 
thing right now.

I looked at the lovely female longingly while I worked up the 
efforts to get the words out.

"Who...would you rather have buy you?"  I asked her, dreading the 
outcome.  "The ice cream man - or me?"

She did not have nearly as much trouble with her answer as I'd 
had with my question.

"I want you to buy me," she said softly yet firmly, and my heart 
jumpstarted itself again.

Then she made a suggestion that had me running out of the barn in 
frenetic search of the ice cream man.

When I found him I talked even more rapidly than I had to my 
grandfather.

I may have bent the truth a bit a bit when I said my grandfather 
had given me all the barter I needed to win any bidding contest. 
 I may have even felt it was true that grandfather would give me 
more if I needed it.

I deftly avoided his question on just how high I planned to go, 
thanks to my grandfather's wise counsel earlier, and instead 
assured him that any bidding war between us would only hurt us 
both in the end.

Then I went in for the kill with my cowgirl's suggestion that if 
he didn't bid against me, I would give him exclusive rights to 
buy all her milk at a good price.  A price, I didn't mention, 
would also quickly pay off my loan to my grandfather.

In the end he agreed that it was really the milk he wanted and we 
shook on it.

- - -

At the auction itself a couple other people made half-hearted 
bids for my lovely cowgirl, but the ice cream man kept his 
silence.  My determined quick upping of each bid quickly silenced 
the competition.  My friends had found me there, and were tugging 
on my shirt and trying to ask me just what was I doing.

I ignored them and concentrated on the auction stage.  My cowgirl 
up there only had eyes for me.  Well before I spent all my 
grandfather had agreed to advance me, the auctioneer's hammer 
fell and she was all mine.

There was a rope loosely around her neck and they handed me the 
other end of it.  My friends stood there with their mouths 
hanging open as I led her down off the stage and away from the 
auction.

- - -

Once we were out of sight I looked at her and shook my end of the 
rope.

"Do I need this?" I asked.

"Only if you want it," she replied, giving me the feeling it 
didn't matter to her either way.

I quickly pulled it off over her head and took her hand instead, 
leading her across town to my grandparent's house.  They told me 
I could use it for now.

It seemed like the longest walk in the world to get there.  She 
easily followed me, but we didn't talk.  She didn't say anything, 
and I couldn't think of anything to say.

As we arrived and I turned in towards the house she suddenly 
pulled away out of my hand and walked towards the barn.  I ran 
after and quickly caught her.

"Where are you going?"

"I wanted to see where I'm going to live," she replied.

I took her hand firmly again.

"You're going to live in the house with me," I told her.

Although she looked confused for a moment, she then replied, 
"Okay," and docilely followed me up the couple stairs to the 
porch and into the house.

Once inside and in private everything rather ground to a halt.  
My plan had succeeded marvelously, but I hadn't had time to think 
about what would happen next.  It wasn't that I didn't have a 
pretty good idea of what I wanted.  I just hadn't had time yet to 
decide how to go about it.

I ended up just looking at her standing there, all mine.  Again I 
was struck by how self-assured she seemed.  I felt she had a much 
better idea of her place in the grand scheme of things than I 
did.

Her sexuality was overwhelming.  I wondered if she was aware of 
it.  Dressed as she was, and with her glasses and lipstick, I 
couldn't imagine how someone could improve on those looks.  The 
alert way she watched me seemed at odds with her domesticated 
manner otherwise.  With that body and those looks she should have 
been able to command any relationship she desired, yet she 
allowed herself to be led around on a rope and planned to sleep 
in the barn.  This really is a different sort of world.

She didn't seem the least uncomfortable with our situation, or 
the hungry way I was looking at her, which made me even more 
uncomfortable with what I had in mind for her.  I finally had to 
say something, since she wasn't going to initiate anything 
herself.  So I asked the obvious question.

"Do you have a name?"

"No," she replied, as though it was completely normal for her not 
to have one.  "At least if I do," she added, "No one has ever 
told me what it is."

"I'm going to call you Mesha then," I told her, naming her after 
a girl I once knew whom she actually reminded me of rather 
strongly.

"Me...sha," she said, trying it out.  Then she flashed me a 
bright smile.  "I like it.  You are so kind to me."

This...woman...was just so easy to please.  Maybe it was time for 
me to quit being my own worst enemy.

"Mesha," I asked, "May I touch you?"

"You're my owner.  Why would you have to ask?"

"It just seemed like the right thing to do," I stammered out.  My 
heart was pounding again.  I realized that my pants were 
uncomfortably tight.

"I'll take that as a yes," I said, waiting then a long moment for 
the protest that never came.

I stepped over to Mesha and carefully reached to touch one of her 
short horns.  That seemed the safest place to start.  It was as 
hard and smooth as it looked, though completely non-threatening. 
 Mesha didn't protest or move away at all.

That got my hand right next to those remarkable ears.  As if by 
accident my hand moved down to stroke the top of the closest one 
ever so lightly.  It was soft with very short fur on the back.  I 
gave it my gentlest touch and she seemed to sigh slightly and 
lean a bit closer to me.

This encouraged me to walk around behind her and give her other 
ear the same attention.  I could tell she enjoyed it as much as I 
did.

I spent a couple minutes just on her ears before moving my hands 
tenderly down to her smooth, warm neck.  She quickly gave a soft, 
lowing sound and leaned even closer.

A girlfriend had once told me how sensitive a woman's neck is, 
and had as my first lover, and made love to me time I had stroked 
her there.  Mesha seemed to respond the same way.

I might have continued there much longer except that suddenly her 
sturdy tail thrashed against me.

I quickly stepped back, concerned that it might have hurt her to 
hit my legs that way and she turned to me in concern.

"I'm sorry," she said with her eyes lowered.

"Don't be," I quickly replied.  "I was only concerned that I had 
cramped your space, or something."

"It's okay," she replied, still not looking at me.

I though for a moment, then asked, "Have you ever been kissed?"

"No," came the short reply.

"You're going to be now," I said, reaching over to lift her chin.

Her eyes rose to look at me in a way I could only describe as 
wondering.  Has nobody ever found this creature alluring before?

As I looked into those beautiful eyes and stepped in to carry out 
my intentions I finally encountered her exceptionally more than 
ample chest.  I had been trying so hard to avoid paying too much 
attention to the obvious (based on another girlfriend's advice) 
that I had ignored it just a little too much.  I was stopped 
inches short of my goal.

While I was trying to sort out the problem, Mesha took things 
into her own hands and pushed herself firmly up against me while 
leaning forward to get her promised kiss.  Automatically my hands 
went around to hold her close and tight.

For someone who said they've never been kissed before, Mesha 
seemed to know exactly what to do.  Her eyes closed as her mouth 
opened slightly and her soft lips caressed mine as no woman ever 
has before.

Our kiss went on and on.  She made no effort to pull away or do 
anything except match her lips to mine.  It was only after a very 
long time that I finally became aware of other things again, like 
those impressively tight breasts pressed so firmly into my chest.

It was only when I finally admitted that I was having trouble 
holding this position any longer that I reluctantly broke it off 
and released her.  Her tail was swishing again as she stepped 
back only a couple of inches.

"That was...wonderful," I managed to get out in acknowledgement 
to her as I reached over to lightly brush her neck again.

She much have enjoyed it too because she looked somewhat dazed 
and it took a few seconds for her eyes to focus on me again.

And in what I really liked, again she made no effort to move away 
from me in the least, although we were still so close I could 
feel the heat from her body.

Then she reached out and took my hand lightly and pulled me even 
closer towards her.

"I can learn so much from you," she said softly.

I didn't need any more invitation that that.

I reached out and stroked her neck with one hand while running 
the other now boldly over the thin fabric of her top.  Her large 
teats pushed hard against their confinement as I squeezed each 
one through the fabric.  They were a huge turn-on.  I looked at 
her face and saw she had a dazed look as her tail started to jerk 
again.

I took a moment to remove her glasses, so they wouldn't get 
broken with what I had in mind next.  She didn't stop me.  With 
them off I felt whole focus was now on me.

I put one hand on each breast and rubbed in a circular pattern, 
bumping over those multiple teats.

She was swishing her tail back and forth regularly now as I 
realized this should continue in the bedroom.  I took her hand 
and led her there.

Once there I ran my hands down and back up her smooth, warm legs. 
 Then I closed my hands around the base of her fascinating tail. 
 It jerked in my hands as I slid them down to the tuft on the end 
and I could tell that she had completely lost control of it.

I should have given her more foreplay, but I'm only a young man 
of eighteen and patience isn't something I have much of yet.  
Besides Mesha certainly wasn't complaining.

Taking off a girl's top is always a heart stopping moment.  For 
many it is the final surrender to the moment.  Twice I've made 
love to girls who let me undress them completely except for their 
bras.  

With Mesha's amazing chest and responsive nipples, I didn't know 
how she'd react to that.  So instead of that I slipped a hand 
down and opened the single button on her shorts.  That gave me 
just enough space to slide my hand down inside and between her 
legs.  She jumped a little as I reached her sensitive area, then 
pushed herself up against me as I found her already very wet.

I stroked her briefly there, then easily slid a finger just 
inside her.  She seemed as ready as she could possible be.

I took a moment to look at her face.  Her eyes were almost closed 
and she was panting through those lips I'd been kissing only 
minutes ago.  She saw me looking and put her arms around me for 
the first time to pull us together for another kiss.

That was it!  I pulled my hand out, unzipped her shorts, and 
pulled them down her legs.  I got her shoes off at the same time. 
 Next was the single button holding her top together.  I had it 
off  in moments.

Mesha's breasts truly are amazing, but I didn't take time to 
admire them because I was too busy hopping around trying to get 
my own pants off.  Then I led her to our bed.

She first climbed on it doggie style.  But I wasn't having any of 
that.  This was as soft as the other one and I guided her down 
underneath me.  She squirmed for a moment getting her tail 
arranged before I climbed between her legs.

I took only moments putting my eager erection easily into her 
warm, wet sex.  I had time to see a look of surprise on her face 
as I thrust into her the first time before I was too overwhelmed 
to notice anything more.

Though I wasn't a virgin, this felt like the first time I'd 
really had sex.  I don't know how long it lasted except that it 
seemed endless at the time.  I could hear Mesha making sounds 
that sounded like pleasure while her whole body jerked.  I felt 
her keep clenching my own shaft tightly and I hoped she was 
enjoying it too.

In the end it seemed that she had.  After I finally shot my load 
in a thunderous ejaculation that went on until it emptied me 
completely and I started to pull out, she quickly reached up and 
pulled me back into her.  I couldn't manage any thing more right 
now despite her encouragement, so I just lay there atop those 
magnificent breasts breathing as hard as she was.

Finally she released me enough so that I could roll off her onto 
my side.  Eyes still closed she turned to face me and we put our 
arms around each other, holding each other tightly until we both 
dropped off to sleep.

- - -

I awoke a couple hours later to find her softly snoring beside 
me, still holding me loosely against her.  Just feeling her warm 
skin against mine and looking at her nude body started to arouse 
me again.  However it was pleasant and controllable this time.

Her cow-inspired nipples continued to fascinate me as I reached 
over to feel her firm, exposed breast.  Taking the closest nipple 
gently in my hand as to not awaken her it quickly stiffened under 
even this gentle attention.  Wanting to be fair, I paid equal 
attention to the other three on this breast, bending over to lick 
and suck on the last one.

Though she still didn't awaken, she did stir and pull me tightly 
against her again.  That temporarily put her mammaries out of 
reach, so I contented myself with running my hands down her 
smooth back, over her ass, and teasingly around the base of her 
tail which quivered even now.

When she shifted position one more time to put one leg over me, I 
reached down to gently rub her sex.  I don't know what dreams she 
was having, but her tail told me they must be good.

I dozed off again and we woke together to the sounds of a rooster 
announcing morning.

- - -    

Now I'm not nearly as good a cook as my grandmother, but I did 
managed to put a credible breakfast together for the two of us.

Afterwards we sat together on the couch with my arms around her 
chest idly stroking her breasts in a way which she seemed to 
really enjoy, while talking.

She surprised me - and pleased me very much - by saying, "I 
always hoped I'd find someone who likes me the way I am."

Though Mesha isn't much for talking, perhaps because very few 
people ever talked to her to start with - and this would never 
change in her - she could say a lot with a few words.

She told me how cross-overs come about.  There's this special 
plant that grows only in secret locations that both creatures 
have eaten - often accidentally - prior to intercourse.  And 
there's also a certain magic that allows it to happen.

She had been born to a bovine mother who wasn't really suited to 
take care of her.  And she was very nearsighted from birth, which 
had made her appear stupid to the humans she had come in contact 
with.

"I was lucky," she explained in her soft voice, "That the old 
couple understood my problem and adopted me.  If I had stayed 
with my original mother I never would have become anything more 
than she was.   But my adoptive parents brought me glasses from 
the other side so that I could see and did everything they could 
to raise me properly."

"But they made you sleep in a barn," I protested in outrage.

"That was okay.  Their house is very small and the barn was quite 
comfortable.  Also this way no one ever bothered them about how 
they raised me.  Humans can be cruel to cross-overs," she added.

"I'll never be cruel," I said.

"I know," she replied, snuggling up to me.

- - -

We talked more that morning, and I slowly learned about her life 
growing up.  I realized she had been very lucky indeed to be 
raised as she had been.

Though already I was learning that she would usually only speak 
in response to a question, she suddenly turned to me and asked, 
"Are you going to milk me now?"

I jumped so much in surprise to that that I nearly bumped her off 
my lap.

"Milk you?"

"Yes," she said as calmly as everything else she had told me.  "I 
need to be milked at least every other day."

"Can't you do it yourself?" I said without thinking.

"Not very well," she said.

I thought about this for a moment.  Obviously owning Mesha 
entailed certain responsibilities.

"Okay," I said resignedly.  "What do I need to do?"

Although she said she couldn't do it herself, she easily showed 
me what to do.  How to get each nipple stiff.  Then how to pull 
properly while squeezing to express the milk.  She even had me 
suck on her nipples to help things along.  I got pretty good at 
it by the end, and with her laughter, was shooting her milk 
around the room.

I could feel the pressure lessen in her breasts by the time I 
figured we were through, but only at the end did I finally notice 
how dazed her eyes had become.  She really enjoyed this.

In fact as I looked over her now open legs and twitching tail, I 
realized she had enjoyed this a lot more than I had realized .  I 
reached down with a finger to gently rub her crotch.  It was 
every bit as wet as last night.

She reached over one hand to paw at my own crotch and I didn't 
waste any more time in getting out of my shorts and taking her 
again right there.  She loved it, and again pulled me against her 
for more when I first started to withdraw.  This time I was 
spurred me on to renewed effort until we both were exhausted.

When we were done and somewhat recovered she explained in her 
limited vocabulary how good milking has felt to her since she 
came into her maturity, but because last night had been her first 
sexual experience, she had never realized the connection between 
that feeling and what it could lead to.  She said she hoped we 
could do it again, and I assured her we would - often.

Afterwards she told me that I could get a milking machine built 
for cross-overs like her from her parents to make the job much 
easier and quicker.  I started to ask why she hadn't mentioned 
this in the first place, but realized she had wanted me to do it 
this way first.  She likes it so much - especially the sucking -
that I'll always do it by hand for her when we have time.

- - -

The next couple of days were our honeymoon before the 
responsibilities of the world again asserted themselves.

We quickly got on a schedule that included milking Mesha and 
delivering the milk to the ice cream man, who also makes cheese 
and other dairy products from it.  He soon was proclaiming that 
the quality of her milk was better than ever.  Maybe the 
certainty of sex after every milking session helped.  Mesha is 
certainly a contented producer.

I also went back to working for my grandfather harder than ever. 
 I had incentive now, and soon he was praising my efforts.

Mesha wanted to be more than just a milk provider for me, so she 
went to my grandmother to see if she could learn cooking and 
other things.  I'm proud to say that grandmother accepted her as 
if Mesha were her own daughter, and Mesha worked as hard at her 
tasks as I worked at mine.

At first my friends didn't come around.  I wondered if I had 
become an outcast.  But if I had, sleeping cuddled up tight 
against Mesha every night made it all worth it.

Soon though one came by.  Though he had trouble actually 
including Mesha in the conversation at first, soon enough he was 
chatting with her as much as with me.  Mesha adored the extra 
attention.

The rest gradually came back as well, and as Mesha's cooking 
skills improved my house soon became the popular place to hang 
out.  Especially since I had an essentially unlimited supply of 
ice cream as part of the milk deal.

Eventually I started taking Mesha out with me to the village.  
Though she always stayed close by, often holding my hand, I made 
sure that no one was allowed to mistreat her within my earshot.  
The two ladies from the faire got quite an earful one day when 
they saw us together and started to comment again.  I don't 
remember everything I said, however I never heard a peep about it 
again from either of them.

And while I came to realize that Mesha had inherited virtually 
full intelligence from her human father, whomever that was, she 
maintained a simple, contented outlook from her bovine mother.  
Mesha is a complex woman with a simple outlook who insists she 
doesn't have any need to be more than she already is.

After hearing that enough times I finally gave up trying to 
change her, which was the smartest decision for both of us.

- - -

As a result of all this, I have become a full-time resident of 
the other side.  This decision went over far better with my 
parents back in the good ol' USA than I had ever imagined it 
could.  Turns out they wanted me to take over the family farm, 
which will now happen some day - though not for many years I 
hope, since my grandparents are also my best friends and no where 
near ready to retire - or die - yet.

I will go to college now to learn the important skills I can't 
learn here, and bring them  back to benefit our whole village.  
But I'll arrange it so that I'll never leave my cowgirl for long.

Despite the disapproving ladies, virtually everyone here has 
accepted us because I did it right and married Mesha in front of 
the whole village.  This has already changed many minds about 
cross-overs.  I didn't do it for that reason, but I'm happy with 
the result.

We're expecting our first child soon now, and I can't wait to see 
how she - our local witchdoctor told us it's a girl - turns out. 
 With luck, she'll be everything her mother already is.

<end>

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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