Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I suppose I can take him off your hands,” the large besalisk said coolly. Obi-Wan squirmed. He was naked and hogtied in a small cage barely big enough for him. There was a gag shoved into his mouth, drool sliding down his chin. How long had he been like this?  He didn’t know where he was. The last thing he remembered was Master Qui-Gon saying something, what had he said? They had been on a mission–

He winced. It was too hard to remember right now. He had obviously been drugged. He tried to filter it out with the Force, but he couldn’t concentrate with it so thoroughly in his system. He felt a large hand reach through the bars of the cage and press down affectionately on his head. 

“Now, now, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” the besalisk promised. He turned to the person behind him that Obi-Wan couldn’t see. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. He’s pretty, but he’s a nasty little fighter. I hope you’re patient. Disciplining him will be a chore.”

Slavers. Stars, he was caught by slavers. He tried to press against the bars of his cage, but he could do little against them. 

“Well you gave me a good deal. I’m sure I’ll be able to do something with him worth the coin. Our business is done.”

Obi-Wan glared up at the besalisk.

The besalisk grinned down at him and gave him a quick wink. 

The seller finally left and the besalisk did a strange little victory dance. 

“I can’t believe that sucker! Didn’t even know what he had.” He leaned down to look at Obi-Wan his grin even wider. “Hello there little one. Aren’t you a sweetheart.”

Obi-Wan growled through his gag, struggling with his bonds.

The buyer isn’t perturbed by his defiance, in fact he “Awws,” like Obi-Wan did something cute. 

“Pure Stewjoni cattle for a song!” His grin somehow got even bigger. He crouched down so that he was eye level with Obi-Wan in his small cage. His voice went high and patronising “Hello there Little Red, I’m your new owner. I’m going to take good care of you, I promise.”

The cage was unlocked and Obi-Wan was manhandled by four strong arms. He struggled as much as he could, but cramps and fatigue burned through him, and he wasn’t able to struggle free. This only seemed to amuse his buyer. 

“You’re going to be a fine little cow, aren’t you sweetheart?” The beskalisk sighed. “I’ve heard Stewjoni make the best producers.”

Cow?! What did he mean cow?! Produce what?! 

Obi-Wan was shoved into a wooden box on all fours. A collar was snapped in place attaching to the box and his feet and hands were shackled, then the lid was placed over him. He was in darkness other than the three pokes of light that he supposed were to act as air holes. 

The besalisk chatted with someone and then Obi-Wan felt himself being lifted and moved onto a hovercart. He tried to look through the holes and could make out a pickup speeder which he was loaded onto.

He tried to get his bearings. Wondered what planet he was even on. From what he could see it was nothing like the cold icy planet he remembered being on not long ago. This was mostly dusty farmland. Fields of blue grass. 

He tried to work at his bonds, but he got nowhere. 

It was hours until they finally stopped. Obi-Wan tried and failed to hold his bladder and was now kneeling in his own urine. He felt sick from the bumpy speeder ride and the smell and the worry.

Cow. What did that mean? They were treating him like livestock. Not uncommon for slavers, but most slavers didn’t shove their cargo in boxes when chains or collars or chips would be just as effective. He was deliberately boxed and trapped, like an animal. 

Despite the drugs and pain he tried to fall into meditation, but didn’t get very far with it. 

When the box was finally opened again. Obi-Wan’s arms and neck were badly cramped. There was a large human beside the besalisk now. He had brown hair and wore a labcoat. Some kind of healer or doctor? 

“You got a Stewjoni?!” the human looked astounded as he looked down at the shackled Obi-Wan. 

“I got a Stewjoni!” the besalisk sung with all his sharp teeth on display. “Idiot didn’t even know. Harder to tell with the male presenting ones, but still. I couldn’t believe my luck! They probably would have sold him to a Zygarian pleasure house for four times what I paid if they knew what he was! Got him so cheap because he’s been difficult!” The basalisk clicked his tongue and turned his triumphant smile down to Obi-Wan. “But that’s nonsense, isn’t it Little Red? You’re going to be a good cow for Daddy.”

Obi-Wan's stomache soured as he glared at him. He struggled with renewed effort against his bindings, trying to force it with the Force, but he couldn’t draw his focus with all the aches and pains and drugs that were still slowing his mind. 

“Little Red? Very cute,” the human said approvingly. He reached down and petted Obi-Wan’s hair like he was an animal that needed consoling. “He does seem feisty though.”

“That’s what I hired you for,” the besalisk said cheerfully. 

“Well let’s get him on the table.”

Obi-Wan was unleashed. He kicked out, hitting the besalisk directly in his belly. His buyer let out a wheeze of surprise.

Obi-Wan manages to get on his feet. He scanned for a weapon, reaching for a heavy looking bottle when a burst of electrical energy ran through him. He screamed, all his muscles clenching. He fell hard on the ground.  

The human tutted. He held up an electroprod. Quickly the besalisk moved to scooped him into his arms and transferred him onto a table locking him in place.

“Fiesty indeed,” the human laughed.

“Ugh, strong kicker,” the besalisk grumbled. He rubbed his large stomach, then leaned over Obi-Wan and playfully pinched his cheek.

“Point made little darling, we won’t underestimate you anymore,” he said condescendingly. 

Obi-Wan tested his bonds. It was less of a table and more an odd chair. Obi-Wan was positioned lying on his belly with his back arching. Semi-lying supine. His legs straddle down and were locked to the sides of the ‘chair’and his arms were cuffed behind his back. Three bands of metal were locked around his back and waist so that he was locked into place. A hook was brought from the ceiling and clipped onto his wrist binders holding him in a painful steady position. 

Just under Obi-Wan’s chest the chair ended and it was perfectly on display, a lot of his upperbody’s weight resting on his arms.

The gag stayed in his mouth.

“He looks very healthy,” the human said in admiration. He started feeling Obi-Wan’s body. He squeezed his calf muscles, checked his teeth, even reaching under and weighed his cock in his hand. Obi-Wan squirmed angrily. Red with embarrassment and outrage.

“Look at these nice lean muscles. He’s a little underfed, but not enough to be concerned. We’ll be able to fix that problem soon enough.” The human ran his hand from Obi-Wan's neck down to his ass and hummed in satisfaction. "Beautiful." 

Obi-Wan struggled hard against the restraints in a burst of agitation and panic. 

“Good boy, good Little Red. It’s okay, the vet is going to help you,” the buyer cooed. “The seller had him for two weeks and was drugging him unconscious for most of it,” the besalisk said sympathetically. “Probably starving him and dehydrating him for the auction.”

Two weeks spent drugged? No wonder he could barely recall what happened. The most he remembered was an icy planet and some sort of chaotic attack and maybe falling? He didn’t have his lightsaber… where had he lost it? The slavers must have picked him up and when he fought they drugged him. Did they not know he was a Jedi? His cold weather gear and lack of lightsaber they must have assumed he was just an unlucky passerby. 

The human–the ‘vet’ started rubbing at his chest and pinching at his nipples, his hands were cold and firm. Obi-Wan protested behind the gag, but the human only made some patronising sounds. He went to the side and brought back two large needles. Obi-Wan struggled but there was nothing he could do. Both nipples were pricked with the needles and bright pink liquid was pushed into his system.

“There, there, now, that wasn’t so bad, was it sweetie?” The besalisk said not actually expecting a positive reply. He sounded strangely anxious on Obi-Wan’s behalf. 

The human rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, it’s a little uncomfortable, but not overly painful, I know you don’t like them suffering needlessly,” the human said, reassuring to the besalisk and not Obi-Wan himself. He massaged Obi-Wan’s chest until a warm tingling sensation began. It felt unpleasant and hot, growing hotter. The area became swollen and red. 

“They don’t understand,” the besalisk said, like Obi-Wan wasn’t right there seeing exactly what they were doing. He was afraid he understood all too well. 

The human snorted in amusement. “Well, that’s the point, isn’t it?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I suppose, boss. Heh, I can already tell this one’s breasts are going to get huge.”

“Hear that Little Red? Nice big tits for Daddy! Oh, I’m so excited for you. You’re going to be perfect!”  

Obi-Wan shook. 

The human started humming to himself. He reached up and out of Obi-Wan’s view, pulling something down from the ceiling. A large phallic looking object, the ‘nozzle,’ bright red. The human gestured and the buyer ungagged Obi-Wan.

“LET GO!” It’s all he’s able to get out before the nozzle was thrust towards his open mouth. He quickly closed it. The human booped his nose in amusement and then pinched it shut. Obi-Wan shook his head angrily doing his best not to panic. He ran out of breath and cracked his mouth open as shallowly as possible, but it was enough to force the device in. He tried to spit it out. It was a hard rubber. Parts of it swelled. His teeth were caught in a grove making it impossible to get it out. He tried, but he couldn’t bite through and he couldn’t open his jaw wide enough to pull off of it. He made more angry sounds.

“Dinner time little guy,” the human said cheerful as he pushed a button. 

A thick goop started to slowly fill his mouth. He wasn’t able to push it out and had to swallow. It tasted salty-sweet and was unpleasantly warm. 

“There we are, eat up, honey,” the human said. He stroked his head as Obi-Wan was force fed the terrible tasting slop. His chest was sore and hot. He felt more pricks of needles pierce his arms and ass, but the two seemed to have done this plenty of times before and didn’t explain what they were forcing into him. They made relaxed conversation, every-so-often commenting on what an amazing find Obi-Wan was and how pretty he was. 

Obi-Wan swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. He was beyond overfull. His stomach felt like it would explode and everything would be retched up. 

When they finished it felt like hours later. He was too full and in pain to do much more than the token struggle which the two of them found extremely sweet like he was a tooka kitten attacking a mousedroid. 

The besalisk rubbed his stuffed belly and Obi-Wan couldn’t restrain a pained whimper.  

“There there Little Red, I know it’s hard, but you need your energy. Your body will adjust to it soon. Then you won’t be able to get enough of it.”  

The feeding cock was taken out and quickly replaced by another gag. Obi-Wan wasn’t able to try and talk, he was too focused on not retching. He did throw up but the gag was already in place and he was forced to choke it back down again.

“I know the cud is unpleasant baby, don’t worry, by tomorrow it’ll settle.”

Obi-Wan was picked up and taken to a side room. He was placed into one of several empty human-sized cages that one might find at an animal shelter. His hands were kept tied behind his back and another shot was administered. 

He tried to fight it. His chest was sore and his stomach over-full. He still stunk of his own urine and the gag stretched his mouth painfully. Despite that the drugs did their work and he fell into a restless sleep. 

The next day the besalisk appeared. 

“How are you feeling, Little Red? Ready for the day?”

What he felt was bloated, but nothing has passed out of his system except he pissed himself again during the night.

“Oop, naughty boy,” the besalisk teased, noticing the wetness. “Maybe I should have called you Puddles. No, no, I’m only joking, I don’t expect a cow to know to hold its bladder, and I didn’t put you anywhere you could go. Don’t worry. It’s easy enough to clean you up.”

He pulled a hose from the wall and freezing spray showered him. He jerked, trying to curl away from it, but he was stuck in the cage. The besalisk pressed in until he was thoroughly rinsed.

“Look at you all wet.” He opened the cage. Two of his arms restrained Obi-Wan while the other two rubbed him down vigorously with a towel, then he was expertly wrangled back into the examination room with the strange chair. He was placed in the same position. It was a few minutes until the human entered.  

“He got all fluffy.” 

“I might let it grow out more, even though it’s easier to keep them clean and brushed when it's short,” the besalisk mused. He rubbed Obi-Wan’s head. “But this and this need to go.” Obi-Wan felt a tug to the nerf tail on the back of his head and then to his braid.

He swallowed around the gag. 

It was only hair. He was a Jedi. It was only hair. 

The human passed the besalisk a pair of scissors. First the nerf tail, and then his braid. 

“Kind of cute,” the human said. “With the beads you could make it into a bracelet.”

“Oh! I like that. A present from Little Red to his new daddy,” the besalisk cooed, taking on his patronising voice as he tickled Ob-Wan’s cheek with the end of his severed Padawan braid.

Obi-Wan stayed still, trying to be stoic. It was just hair. He couldn’t be focused on hair. He needed to do something. He needed to escape. 

The human reached around his head, and the gag popped out. 

“I am a J–” his rusty voice began. He had expected the feeding nozzle, but in a swift motion a robot arm with sharp blades forced its way into his throat. He screamed around it as it rearranged his vocal chords. Something spraying at them. 

He coughed harshly. He expected blood to pour out, but there was only spittle. He gasped looking at his captors wide-eyed. 

“Alright, worst part is over,” the human said. “It’s better this way,” he scolded the besalisk, who was looking on with large pitying eyes. “No more need to gag him all the time and hurt his pretty mouth.” The human caught Obi-Wan by the chin, looking into his mouth, inspecting his throat before releasing him. 

“Mooooooo!” Obi-Wan bleated. He was trying to tell them he was a Jedi. Or tried to say anything. “Mooo!” He tried again asking what they had done, but even though it felt like he had formed the words, what came out of his throat was a low moaning bellow a bantha might make. “Mroo!” he said again in frustration.

The worry faded away and the besalisk started giggling as Obi-Wan got more and more frustrated trying to form proper words. “That’s right, little one, go on,” he encouraged.

“Moooo!” 

“Vocal.” The human smiled looking just as amused. “Alright. Now the brand and then all the hard parts are done.”

“MROOOO!”

“I know sweetie,” the human chided. “But we need to make sure no one tries to steal you and resell you.” He moved out of Obi-Wan vision to a spot behind him. He could hear something humming to life as he struggled and mooed, trying to protest, trying to speak, but only grunting and moans were able to come out of his modified throat.

“Besides, all cows need to be branded,” the besalisk took his place at Obi-Wan’s head. He wrapped his lower arms around him, petting him in a mockery of comfort. “You don’t want to end up on a factory line. I’m a family owned operation. You’re going to be happy and have grass and friends. You won’t be locked into a machine and milked until you die of infection like some of those places.” 

“Mooooooooooo!!!!!!!” Obi-Wan wailed as a hot brand was pressed into the flank of his ass. The smell of his cooked flesh filled the small room.

The besalisk hummed and tried to comfort him as Obi-Wan whined and cried at the pain which was intended to be a string of foul expletives. 

Finally, he felt the human’s cold hands rubbing bacta over the burn. Then he gave a playful slap to his other unbranded cheek.

“There, that wasn’t that bad, little cry baby.” 

“Mooooooooo.”

“I love the mooing, it’s one of my favourite parts,” the besalisk giggled. “They’re so sweet when they start mooing.”

Start mooing? They modified him so he could do nothing but moo!

The human went about doing similar things to the previous day, rubbing at his chest, giving him more injections. He shook, the heat so overwhelming. The flesh had puffed up and raised. He whined as the sore area was squeezed.

“His tits are coming along nice. So much progress already!”

“Stewjoni cows are the best,” The besalisk said smugly. “His production will be at least twice that of a regular cow’s.”

Tits, cow. Force. 

“Oh, can you feed him while I continue?”

“Of course!”

“Mooo, mooo!” Obi-Wan shook his head, he couldn’t go through another stuffing. He hadn’t even gotten yesterday’s out yet! 

“Moooo–” His protests were cut off as it was stuffed back in, expanding widely, locking his mouth in place and his head stuck in a painful straight posture, his back arched and the beginnings of his new tits jutted out. The human poked and prodded them, gave them more injections. Rubbed and massaged. 

“Nice big udders for such a little cow.”

The goop was pushing into his mouth and down his throat again. 

“Ooooooo!” he moaned.

The besalisk chuckled. "There there now. You're being so good. Doing so well." His large hands stroked down Obi-Wan's back, tickling his spine.  

His chest burned more than yesterday and he was full in the first five minutes of his force feeding. He could feel more needles, and then the human went in behind him again. He could feel latex covered fingers inserted and cold cream. They slowly worked him open taking their time. First he felt something like smooth glass. 

“Temperature is good.”

Then the fingers returned. 

“Tight little thing. He’s stuffed up good. But that just means all the nutrients are being absorbed as they should be. There’s not much fibre in the feed, but what there is tends to get stuck with the rest of his feed being so optimised for absorption. We’ll start with his daily washes.”

The clicking of another hose from the ceiling came down, and something was inserted far inside. He tried to clench around it, knowing what was about to happen. Hot liquid pushed into him filling him up from the other side. His cramps became overwhelming. He couldn’t help groan around his feeding tube. The besalisk petted his head and back speaking nonsense. “I know Little Red, you’ll feel better soon.” 

The liquid was suddenly released and he felt everything that was stuffed up flow out of him. The painful enema repeated several times until it finally stopped. The hose was removed, but a large plug was pushed in place. 

Tears ran down his cheeks in pain and humiliation. 

“Poor darling, I know it’s a big change, but you’re going to be so happy. Don’t worry you’ll get cleaned out every day. No more cramping like you had to deal with last night.”

“Speaking of happy.” The human brought down a pair of headphones and placed them over his ears.

Obi-Wan’s sound was completely blocked off. He couldn’t hear the two anymore even though he saw their mouths were still moving. The sound of white noise started with different tones, then a soothing voice.

“Cows are good,” it told him sweetly.

Oh no, he thought. Are they trying to brainwash him now?

The odd whitenoise and music continued with the voice sporadically telling him how “Cows are good.” 

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the pain in his chest, the forced food flowing down his throat, the uncomfortable position, the hands petting, stroking, prodding, and inserting things into him. 

There was the sound of an animal mooing. 

“Cows are good.”

“Cows are good.”

“Moooooooo.”

“Good cow.”

“Cows are good.”

“Moooooo.”

“Cows are dumb.”

“Moooooo.”

“Good cow.” 

“Sweet cow.”

“Cows want to be milked.”

“Mooooo.”

“Good cow.”

It went on like that. Boring, repetitive, and Obi-Wan knew, malicious. Trying to program thoughts into his brain. 

Obi-Wan sunk into meditation. He was startled to consciousness when the feeding tube was pulled out of his mouth. He coughed and even though he felt like he wanted to wretch, nothing came out this time. He expected another gag to be forced into his mouth but it wasn’t. His mouth was left free.

He supposed that didn’t matter though since he could only moo pathetically at his captors and when he did it only delighted him. They kept their fingers well out of reach of teeth. 

The earphones were removed and everything felt loud all of the sudden away from that calm whitenoise world they constructed around him. He could barely understand what they were saying for a second. Everything was so much.

“He can meet the others tonight, I don’t want to leave him all alone again. Cows need friends. They’re social creatures. Especially Stewjoni cows.”

“You’re obsessed.”

“I always wanted one. Now that I have one there’s no way I’m going to let anything bad happen to it.”

Obi-Wan scoffed, glaring at him, he was the bad thing happening to him! The besalisk pretended not to notice his angry look. Obi-Wan was removed from the table and allowed to stand on shaky legs. He moaned as his cramped muscles protested. The vet rubbed him down with a cream which seemed to help, then strange boots were forced on his feet. They were black and made him to walk on his toes. He realised they must be meant to limit his movement and ability to run. They weren’t particularly stable on the bottom and slid on the tile floor, clicking against it.  Force, they were supposed to be hooves! It took everything he had to keep balance after being still for the majority of the day.

A collar with a large bell was fastened around his neck. It clunked dully as he struggled against the leash that Owner tugged. His arms were bound behind his back tightly in black leather, forcing his sore chest to stick out for balance. Owner and Vet looked him over and were both pleased with the effect. 

He couldn’t stop himself from bleating stupidly a few times in protest as he was led out of Vet’s office on shaky legs. He tried to memorise his surroundings for when he had an opportunity to escape. It wasn’t complex. A hall and then outside past some low buildings that might be for supplies and a very small gated pasture to a large red building. A barn. 

Owner opened the door and rubbed his head affectionately. Obi-Wan’s heart stopped. There were other beings. Five of them all milling around. They looked over to where he and Owner had just entered. 

“Hello my beauties. Look, I have a new friend for you just like I promised!” Owner said jovially. He pushed Obi-Wan forward with his lower hands holding his shoulders with his upper. 

“Moooooo, mrooooo,” was the answered reply.

There were two humans, a very large twi’lek, and two zabrak. All of them were naked and wearing the same boots as Obi-Wan. He finally got to see what the brand looked like. Stylized letters that had no real meaning to him. There were plastic tags piercing their ears, and the twi’lek’s lekku that were numbered 1-5. They all had large round breasts. The twi’lek and zabraks also had cocks, but all three were caged. The twi’lek’s was huge, but the zabraks tiny compared to average. Their horns had been sheared off except for two on the front of their foreheads styled into small blunt nubs. They all had thick collars around their necks. Some of them had bows, some had fabric flowers, Obi-Wan was the only one with a bell it seemed. At first Obi-Wan thought their hands were bound as well, but it turned out they were holding their hands behind them in position. All of them sported large rings strung in their noses.

Obi-Wan looked each of them in their eyes, but there wasn’t any fear or desperation. There’s a strange sort of happiness and animal curiosity.

He really had turned them into cattle. Obi-Wan shivered, feeling his situation hit him hard for the first time. He didn’t even know what planet he was on, or where his Master was. Had he been captured as well? Sold in the auctions as a Force sensitive? He was bound and being drugged and his control of the Force hazy because of it. No one knew where he was. They probably didn’t know if he was alive.  

They wanted to turn him into a cow. 

He tried to take a step back, but Owner held him. He tutted.

“Don’t worry, your new siblings are very friendly. This is Honey and Goldie,” Owner held onto Obi-Wan tightly with his bottom arms pushing him closer as the two human women approached. Both of them had blond hair although they didn’t seem to be related Honey was chubby with a round face, Goldie was tall and muscular. Honey’s hair was in braids. Goldie’s was shorter and just had enough for silly looking nerftails. They mooed softly. With his top hands Owner removed the rings from their noses. 

“And these two are Ginger and Cutie.” 

The zabraks acted similarly, approaching with curiosity as their names were called. Their rings were also removed.‘Cutie,’ who was small and orange, tried to nose closer, but Owner gently pushed him back. Ginger was yellow. He was broad, but not tall. He tried to bump his forehead against Owner’s hand. Owner chuckled and gave him a scratch behind his ears. Ginger mooed happily. 

“And we can’t forget Big Bull.”

Big Bull was an apt name. Everything about the blue male Twi’lek was huge. Unlike the others’ docile mooing he was more insistent at shoving in closer to Obi-Wan.

Owner clicked his tongue. “Give Little Red a moment, Bull.”

Owner rubbed Obi-Wan’s head as if to give him some comfort. Obi-Wan only felt himself more terrified seeing the results of what was being done to him.

“You treat him nice, you hear?” Owner continued to lecture his cows. Bull was still trying to get his head in Obi-Wan’s space.

Owner laughed. “Alright, Bull, I’ll leave you all to get acquainted. Be good Little Red, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Obi-Wan was finally released, the leash unclipped from the collar and hung on a hook in the wall. The barn door shut behind him and before he could try to communicate with his fellow captives he was swarmed. Obi-Wan bleated in surprise as all of them surrounded him, dipping their heads towards him. He backed up toward the door. He didn’t want to hurt them of course, they obviously weren’t in the right mind. He tried to kick out, but he wasn’t used to the boots, and found himself falling. The others followed him down.

Obi-Wan gasped. The five started licking and sucking his already sore chest. Bull gave a bellow at Cutie and the zabrak quickly scuttled to his other side. The four nuzzled and licked and nibbled on his left. They took turns at sucking at his nipple. Bull got his other nipple to himself.

“Mr–mroooo!” Obi-Wan tried to protest, tried to tell them to stop. The gentle touging soothed the sore tissue but the stimulation to his nipple made him squirm. It might have been pleasurable overstimulation in some way if the situation wasn’t so horrifying. 

“Moo, moo, moo!” 

The others continued to suckle him, pressing him to the ground, holding him with only the pressure of their heads because they still hadn’t moved their hands from behind their backs. 

Obi-Wan calmed down a little. It was uncomfortable and awkward but they weren’t really hurting him now that he was over the initial shock. The focus on his nipples made him shiver and his cock hardened. He observed a blind happiness to the act of sucking his breasts, even just the skin around the nipple. Bull noticed him looking and pulled up. He gave a smug smile and a satisfied “Mooooooo.” Then he noticed Obi-Wan’s lower interest.

Don’t you dare! Obi-Wan tried to communicate.

Bull ignored the stern gaze and dipped his head down. His lekku pressed against Obi-Wan’s thighs to keep them spread and he started licking and sucking his cock like he had the nipple. Honey and Cutie went to his right.

S-Stop. 

“Moooo, moooooo,” Obi-Wan moaned. It didn’t take long for his climax to be pulled out of him. Bull continued licking at his cock like he had just been given a treat.

They went on long enough that the zabraks got a taste of his cum both of them licking his shaft and balls in eagerness seeing how Bull had done it. 

At last they tired themselves out, and pulled away all looking dumbly satisfied. Ginger even licked at his hair! Goldie gave a little moo and started licking at her lips as if she enjoyed stimulating them. All of them moved off of him and went towards a pile of straw all carefully curling up around each other.

Obi-Wan didn’t move. He stayed by the door, watching them wearily. 

But Bull was dissatisfied. He bellowed pointedly at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan didn’t move. 

Bull scowled, his lekku twitched in annoyance. He nudged the others off him and stood again, moving toward Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan shook his head. He didn’t bother trying to talk, but Bull either ignored or didn’t understand. He leaned down and gently butted Obi-Wan’s shoulder with his head in the direction of the pile of naked beings. 

Now that he wasn’t being swarmed he did feel cold. Still, he didn’t want to join the pile, but Bull insisted. 

Perhaps he was called Bull because of what a bully he was. Obi-Wan thought sourly as the big twi’lek continued headbutting him, getting more frustrated and forceful. 

“Moo!!!!” Obi-Wan grunted sharply in reproach. 

It was the last straw. Despite not having the use of his arms, Bull started pushing Obi-Wan on the floor, biting his shoulder just enough to hurt to corral him. 

Obi-Wan gave in. There was no point fighting. He butted his own head sharply against Bull, which stunned him. Then Obi-Wan moved to where the others were watching. None of them seemed overly concerned, but they were quick to pull him down into their cuddle pile when he hesitated. Bull came up behind him and blanketed himself over Obi-Wan’s back. He gave a satisfied rumbling moo and rubbed his cheek against him. 

Obi-Wan kept perfectly still through the oddly affectionate gestures. They might be wishing each other goodnight. The others also started nuzzling and licking him and each other, although much less insistently and this time not his sore chest before they started to drop off to sleep. 

The terror of it all washed over him. He needed to get out of here.

It felt like he had only just drifted off to sleep when the barn door opened and light burst into the darkened barn. The others were still piled on top of him, so Obi-Wan wasn’t able to try to make a break for it. With a start he realised he was being suckled again. Cutie licking his chest and Goldie and Ginger both mouthing at his cock. He squirmed, trying to shift them away. 

“Aww,” Owner’s voice went high with affection when he saw them. “I see you all like your new brother. My good little sweethearts. “Now stop that Bull!”

Obi-Wan twisted his neck to see what Bull was up to. The large Twi’lek was suckling Cutie’s breasts, white liquid dripping down past his lips. 

Bull started trying to drink faster. Owner angrily marched over and pulled out the stun stick, jabbing Bull with it in his flank. The entire pile gave cries of pain, the electricity passing through Bull into all of them.

Bull twitched having received the bulk of it quickly moving away. 

“Now, now, you know I don’t like to punish you, Bully, but you know that sweet milk isn’t for you.” Owner took the nose ring out of the front pocket of his jacket and put it back through Bull’s nose, then went about putting them in the others. 

Obi-Wan observed Honey trying to subtly get at Goldie, but the ring seemed to get in her way, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how, maybe it was the conditioning rather than any sort of actual physical deterrent. 

Owner booped him on the nose. “You don’t need one yet, baby.”

Obi-Wan tried to bite the outstretched finger.

Owner pulled his hand away quickly and grabbed him by the back of the neck. “Still so feisty even after two treatments. That’s alright, we have lots of time, we can go at your pace, Little Red.”

Obi-Wan watched as other ‘farmers’ entered and started to lead the others away. They followed, utterly docile, some even affectionately bumping their handlers with their foreheads. 

Obi-Wan was pulled up to stand and a leash was attached to his collar. He took a deep breath, trying to focus. If he could just release his arms he would be able to fight and make a run for it. 

He tried feeling out his bindings, but the Force wasn’t for delicate lockpicking. He felt his centre of calm disintegrate the closer they got to Vet’s room. 

They were about to enter, and Obi-Wan couldn’t be delicate anymore. With all his might he shouldered Owner, knocking him over. He let go of the leash and Obi-Wan began to run. The toe boots made it awkward and painful, but he ignored the cramping and the click clack against the concrete walkway and the way the developing lumps on his chest jiggled. He turned his head to gauge if Owner was following, but he was only shaking his head and watching. Why wasn’t he–?

Obi-Wan bellowed as pain burst around his neck and through his body. It stopped and then started again. He tried to push through it, but he found himself on the ground, the sound of his own begging moos mixing with the sound of buzzing. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Owner slowly made his way over. The electricity pumped on and off until the discipline shocks finally stopped. He shivered and twitched, his muscles spasming. He had pissed himself again . 

Owner knelt down and gently petted his head until he stopped shaking. 

“Alright, there we are, there’s a good Little Red. Good cow.”

“Moo,” Obi-Wan denied quietly, his body ached from the shocks. He was pulled back up to his feet and his leash taken back in hand. He wasn’t even chastised, just a gentle tug and he was being led into Vet’s. The point was made. He didn’t have the strength to try and fight. It took everything he had to keep upright.

Vet frowned. They put him into his usual set up. He startled as a beam was flashed into his eyes.

“He’ll be fine.” 

“I’ve never had a Stewjoni before. What if it was too much?” Owner asked, sounding repentant.

“There’s no signs of any lasting damage. No injury that you wouldn’t see on a base-line human.” Vet took a wet cloth and clinically cleaned off the urine that Obi-Wan had on his legs. When was the last time Obi-Wan was able to control how he used his bladder? He asked himself in dull humiliation.  

He stayed still and felt gentle hands petting his hair. He didn’t fight the soothing feeling. He was so tired and scared and he wanted to go home. 

“How did his first night with his herd go?”

“Hm? Oh, it was fine. They already had him in the pile. I took pictures. It was cute. They went for his cock though, so we’ll have to do something about that.” 

“They certainly stimulated him,” Vet said, cupping his chest. The skin felt soft and loose. Fat was forming. Breasts. He was really growing breasts. “He’s coming along very–” the rest of the sound cut out. The headphones were placed over his ears. He shifted his head, trying to shake them loose, but a pressure on his back made him stop. 

The feeding tube and cleaning tube were inserted front and back. Obi-Wan felt frustrated tears fall as the terrible process began again. Being stuffed and force cleaned, having no autonomy over his bodily functions. 

“Mooooooooooooo.”

“Mooooooooooooooooo.”

“Mrooooooooooooooo.”

“Good cow.”

“Moooooooooooooooooo.”

A wave of sound crashed into him. Too much sound. He winced in pain. His stomach and ass ached and there were babbling voices above him. 

“Little Red,” he recognised. 

“Mooooo,” he moaned in protest, forgetting he couldn’t communicate anymore. 

“There there,” there were more cooing words after he couldn’t quite parse. He felt disoriented.

“Medication—” something… something medication. Drugs. They put more drugs in him? Gave Little Red something—ngh.

“Mooo!”

Large hands rubbed his head and he was guided off the table. Cool cream was rubbed against his sore legs. He gave another frustrated cry trying to get his bearings. 

He felt a tug at his neck. The cowbell clunked. It felt too loud and distracting. He winced. 

“Moo!” 

“Come on now, Little Red,” Owner tugged again. This time Little Red–Obi-Wan moved. He breathed, reality starting to make sense again. It was hard to think straight. He felt loose. Dopey, like he was on some kind of pain medication. It was making it hard to concentrate.

“That’s it sweetheart, good cow.”

Obi-Wan felt a spike of happiness. Good cow. Yes.

No. No, that was nothing to be pleased about. 

He was taken back to the barn and to the other cows. The herd looked happy to see him. Once again Owner took off their nose rings and he was bullied into a corner so the others could suckle and lick his sensitive udders. He whined, but they wouldn’t stop, too eager to try to get milk out of him that he didn’t have. Why didn’t they go after each other? Why were they so eager to torture him? He noticed their own nipples had covers over them now, so that they couldn’t cheat like this morning.

His tits felt so raw, but the wet tongues and lips and teeth felt good. Natural. He bit his lip and quietly mooed in pleasure. He started to go hard, but found something tight around him. He blurrily looked down. He had a cage around his cock like Bull, Cutie, and Ginger. When had that happened?

He tried to focus. Was it smaller than usual, or was it just compressed by the cage locked around it? 

He was distracted by Bull licking his nipple with a rough tongue. The bud went hard and sensitive and soon he was squirming trying to move away. Bull happily straddled him, his lekku pushing him down more firmly. He enjoyed making Little Red moo pathetically. Honey lapped at his other one mindlessly. She wasn’t as deliberate. It was gentle and delicate licks that didn’t match Bull’s determined ones. Bull looked very pleased with himself as Obi-Wan quivered. Precome dripped out of Obi-Wan’s cock and Ginger went to inspect him with a long curious tongue. 

Obi-Wan shook his head. Don’t, he wanted to tell him, but only bleated. Ginger began to lick through the cage and Obi-Wan whimpered. His cock tried to harden, but the cage was too restrictive. It went from pleasant to painful. The plug in his ass was being pushed into him by the angle he was positioned. 

He shivered as the herd’s saliva cooled on his body. They had moved off him, but Bull was still beside him. Obi-Wan didn’t struggle. He awkwardly shuffled to the cow cuddle pile voluntarily and collapsed partially on to Cutie who instantly started trying to lick his hair. 

Once again Bull got to be on top of everyone happily using Obi-Wan as his pillow. 

Obi-Wan was too exhausted to fight sleep.

Little Red knew he was having trouble with his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how long he had been on the farm, or how long he had been a cow, but he still clung on to the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be a cow and he didn’t want to be a cow. 

Vet was very happy with him today squeezing his tits and nipples. Milk squirted out in a long stream. Little Red’s udders were very big. The size of lovely melons Owner had said at one of the times where it was easy to understand Owner. 

Owner dipped down and palmed his tit and brought it up. He gave a gentle suckle, and hummed in appreciation.

Little Red flushed and squirmed. The herd had been suckling him all night the moment Bull pulled out the first drop of milk. His udders couldn’t take it. He teared up.

“Good cow, Little Red,” Owner said, petting him with his free hand. Little Red leaned into the comforting touch despite knowing he shouldn’t. It felt so good to be good though. Owner smiled at him happily.

“Tasty,” he pronounced and said a few more words before booping Little Red’s nose playfully. 

“High quality,” Vet agreed and Little Red didn’t quite understand what that meant but knew it was good and he was good for it. 

Little Red opened his mouth wide, pointedly. He was hungry. He felt like he was starving and instead of being fed the two of them kept squeezing his udders.  

Owner burst into jolly laughter. Owner laughed a lot. Little Red didn’t like it. 

Owner said some things, but finally his feed was shoved into his mouth. Little Red gulped it up greedily. He didn’t particularly like the taste, but he was so hungry. He felt the cleaning tube inserted as well, and then the headphones that made the world a little less complicated and easy. It shut out all the extra noise and he was able to listen to nice sounds.

“Moooooooo.”

“Moooooooo.”

“Moooooooo.”

Babbling voices. Words he didn’t understand. He used to understand them.

They told him he was good and sweet.

“Moooooooo.”

“Little Red.”

“Mroooooooo.”

Thinking was hard. He wasn’t supposed to think too much beyond being a good cow and producing lots of milk. A good useful milk cow. 

“Mooooooooo.”

“Good cow, good cow.”

“Moooooooo.”

“Dumb cow.”

“Mooooooo.” 

“Moooooooo.”

“Sweet dumb cow.”

“Good cow.”

“Stupid cow.”

“Little dummy.”

“Mooooooo.”

“Little Red.”

“Moooooooo.”

A lot of the words that were longer, that explained how cows don’t have hands and that cows couldn’t understand language and cows were obedient and docile for their Owner faded and it was just simple things. Mooing, being called good and sweet and dumb and his name being uttered gently. He liked that better than the hard words anyway.  

He blinked when the noises went away and tried to follow the tube as it was pulled out of his mouth. He was still hungry, although the feeding had helped. 

Owner said something gentle, but he didn’t really know what it was. Something about proper feed and milking.

Yes, milking. He was for milking. 

Vet started rubbing his head. He looked sad for some reason. Little Red could only parse that he thought Little Red was a good cow. It felt nice, although Little Red didn’t like Vet, but he allowed the petting since it felt good. 

Owner spoke in a sympathetic manner.

“It’s not like you won’t see him again.” Little Red tried very hard to concentrate on the People words.

“I’ll miss seeing him everyday,” Vet admitted. 

“Moo,” Little Red said shortly. He was trying to say he wouldn’t miss Vet, but both Vet and Owner just made awwing sounds. 

“See, he’ll miss you too!”

No he won’t, Little Red mentally grumbled. 

There was more petting and then his head was being held still. Something about full grown and appetite. He gave a surprised bleat as something hot was stabbed through his septum. A heavy ring which fell against his top lip. Then his head was tilted and more pain on his ear. A tag. 

1-5, he remembered vaguely. So he was … he would be.

One… something, something, something—numbers were hard. It didn’t matter. He knew his tag matched the rest of the cows.  

He had had enough and started trying to squirm away. There was more coddling, but finally he was taken off the table, rubbed down and led back toward the barn. He was used to his tits feeling overstimulated, but now they also felt full and itchy. He expected Owner to go along with the usual ritual, but he didn’t. He just spoke in an excited voice and gave Little Red more pets before leaving. He hadn’t removed the others’ rings. The others looked unhappy about this turn of events as well. Bull, always determined, tried to get his lips around Little Red’s udders anyway, but the ring seemed to get in his way. 

Bull gave an irritated grumble. For the first time Little Red wasn’t swarmed after it was clear to the others they couldn’t get at his milk.

It was funny. They had done so much work to pull it out of him, but only got one night to savour it. 

But he was hungry. Despite being fed constantly he hadn’t gained much weight. He was a little bit rounder, but most of the fat had developed into his large milk tits. 

He shook his head, trying to think properly. It was the first time he wasn’t being forced on the ground so he was able to wander the barn and inspect it. He nudged things gently with his head, trying to see what might move. It was all solid. It would be easier with hands. He didn’t have his usual arm binds, but then he remembered that cows don’t have hands.

And he’s a cow.

He sighed, going back to nosing at the door. His stomach rumbled. The others had moved over to a trough that was full of the blue grass that covered the landscape of the outside. He watched as they munched at it.

He quickly moved before they finished it all and got a mouthful for himself. It was sweet, but was very much grass. The non-cow part of himself protested this fact, but his stomach rumbled again and he took his second bite. He had to chew enough so that it was soft enough to swallow. When all the grass was done between the herd he wasn’t as hungry, but he was far from satisfied. No wonder the others had been sucking at his tits so desperately. He eyed Bull’s own lovely blue udders. He cautiously moved forward. Bull watched, but didn’t get aggressive. Little Red pressed his lips against Bull’s nipple, but he couldn’t figure out how to navigate the ring out of the way.

Bull started licking his head. Little Red huffed in frustration and moved towards the sleep pile. Bull was right behind him. He was still as affectionate and possessive as ever, wrapping as much as his body as he could around Little Red, which was a lot. There was a reason Bull was Big Bull and Red was Little Red. He understood that Bull had decided Little Red belonged to him just like how Honey belonged to Goldie and Cutie belonged to Ginger. It irritated him, but when he tried to make space for himself Bull would shove his cold nose into his neck and be annoying until Little Red paid attention to him or let him have his way.

Mine. Mine. Bull was thinking happily. Little Red was sure he was. He bit Bull’s lekku, but the bigger cow only started nibbling his neck and rubbing his caged cock against his thigh. Ugh. Stupid Bull. 

The next morning was not the same schedule as usual and it put Little Red on edge. Owner arrived with the other People as usual, but instead of leading little Red out of the barn he was led through a door that went deeper inside with the others. There were stations set up with complicated looking machinery. 

He shuffled anxiously, but he also noticed a feeding tube was included in the array and realised he had started to drool stupidly from hunger. 

Owner laughed. “Something something hungry baby? Something something.” 

Owner’s heavy hands were on his shoulder as they watched what was happening to the others. The set up wasn’t too different from Vet’s office except the cows weren’t locked in place. They all opened their mouths obediently and the People put their feeding tubes in. Little Red noticed that it wasn’t locked in place like Vet’s and the cows were allowed to suckle at their own pace. Then their cleaning tubes were placed. Honey and Goldie’s seat had a large phallic device that they slipped onto with ease. Little Red noticed that the empty one also had one of those. He tried to think of why. Little Red didn’t have a cunt, did he? 

He could, something deep in his mind supplied. Hormones. Stewjoni biology–right. He was a little Stewjoni red. 

Right… so… that meant…

He tried to put the jumbled thoughts together but he couldn’t quite string them into place.

He looked down at his little cock. It had grown smaller during his transformation into a cow. Owner had played with it and called it cute whenever he cleaned it before locking it back in place. It was sensitive and he didn’t have much control over it. He wished it wasn’t caged. He wanted the others to lick it again.  

The two zabrak cows didn’t have cunts, but that didn’t seem to matter when their cleaning inserts were in place. They moved in and out of them rhythmically as they tried to press their own little caged cocks against the benches. 

Bull’s large cock was released and there was a place in his bench to slot it into. Well that wasn’t fair–

He jolted a little, noticing Bull was looking at him while he fucked into it eagerly. 

Owner found that amusing. 

Little Red tried to understand what he said, but he only understood ‘Big Bull’ and maybe impress? Impression? What did that mean? 

All the cows were properly in place. Having their feed, being cleaned, being fucked. Little Red expected to be guided to the place that was obviously his, feeling both terror and also eagerness for the food that would also be given, but they waited. He tilted his head up at Owner. Owner petted him but didn’t talk to him. Owner didn’t really talk to him beyond his cooing words much now. Owner didn’t expect him to understand anything. Little Red still understood some things. He knew this was wrong. He knew he didn’t want this even though he also wanted to be a good cow. He wanted to be a good cow, but he also didn’t want to be a cow. 

Eventually the feeders were pulled away even as the cows tried to chase them. They were given pats and belly rubs. Then the People attached clear cups to their udders. There were tubes that connected to bottles. The cows eagerly mooed, thrusting out their tits for better purchase. When everyone was properly hooked up the machines started. The cows all mooed and groaned and started fucking themselves harder against their various devices.

“Mrooooooo, mooooooo! Moooooo!” None of them held back in their pleasure at serving their purpose.  

Little Red felt the sore itchy fullness of his own tits. He gave a little moo without thinking. 

“That’s right, my little cow,” Owner said. “Milking time.”

It all clicked and Obi-Wan tried to fight, but Owner was holding his leash and he couldn’t tug away. His mind was panicked he wasn’t a cow he wasn’t a cow he didn’t want to be a cow he was a Jedi he–

The People–farm hands–Slavers dragged him to the milking bench. They forced his legs apart and he screamed feeling the new hole in him spread. It was sensitive and small compared to the automatic fucker they were pushing into him. Then the cleaning tube shoved into his ass, more phallic in shape than before. It started fucking him too even as it squirted hot water into him to clean him out. Owner watched with a little concern as Little–as Obi–As the cow continued to tremble and cry. 

One of the People asked. He could only recognise a question and not the meaning, but Owner shook his head and gestured for them to continue. 

The cleaning out was done, and cleaner and the dildo started fucking into him in earnest. He was being held in place by the People. One of them grabbed the feeding tube. They were all cooing and making soothing sounds and he was being fucked and it was all too much.  

Owner came up and petted him and Little Red tried to bite, but the feeding tube was shoved in his mouth. He was about to spit it out when he felt the weight of food on his tongue and his stomach lurched. He was so hungry. Without meaning to he suckled at the feeder and the goop he was used to squirted into his mouth. He swallowed. He meant to spit it out, but once he started he couldn’t stop and as he drank it down he felt himself calm. Many hands were petting him and making soft sounds to him. A feeling in his cunt was painfully building, and his cock was leaking through its cage from the cleaner hitting a particular spot inside him. Soon he was caught up in the motions and sensations, his heartbeat rapid, but he couldn’t hold on to the panic that had fueled him moments ago. 

“There there,” Owner said, looking relieved as Little Red felt his emotions dull and his eyes droop stupidly.

Owner said something to the other People, but wasn’t saying it to the cow so the cow only continued eating and rocking and fucking. 

Little Red’s feeder was pulled away and he mooed in desperate protest. He was still hungry. They put it back, perhaps wanting to keep him calm. 

It felt like he had only blinked and suddenly the Vet was there, inspecting him, saying big complicated words. His udders were being weighed and then the Vet smiled. All the People looked intrigued. Little Red was allowed to keep sucking down food and that was what mattered so he let himself drift into the rhythm of it again. He felt the People touching his udders, he wanted to protest, but he was too busy with other sensations and let them do their work. Then the machine was turned on. 

He gasped, choking on his feed. It seemed Vet expected it because the feeder was removed from his mouth quickly and he was thumped on the back. The cud came back up and he swallowed it back down painfully.

“Moo.” He said, a little panicked. “Mooo!” 

It felt so good. The vibration and suction. He felt himself rocking harder on the fucker and sticking out his udders. 

The People were all smiles as he seemed to settle and he hated them for it even as he fucked himself as he was milked. The others were done by now, but he was milked for longer. It felt like longer. The others hadn’t been milked this much had they? 

Finally, it felt like empty suction, nothing was being pulled and the machine was taken off him. His tits were sore and sensitive as usual, but they didn’t feel like they were about to burst anymore. His Owner was talking in rapid delight. There were lots of milk bottles in the crates beside him. More than there were beside the empty stations of the rest of the herd. Owner was ruffling his hair in delighted affection. 

“Good cow, I knew you would be a good cow.” 

“Moo,” Little Red said tiredly. He felt a strange drowsy satisfaction, but he was also hungry again. 

His leash was attached to his collar, the bell clonked pleasantly as he was led. Clonk, clonk, clonk. He was surprised to find that he was taken outside to a fenced area. The others were there. Some of them were lazily lying in the blue grass. Others were idly chewing at it.

Oh, that might help. 

He was petted some more and Owner said words that were either too complicated or upsetting to understand, and then he was released into the little pasture. Bull was soon at his side, snuggling against him while Little Red knelt down and ate the blue grass. It made him feel better, the motion of chewing. It made everything a little farther away. It was grass. He was eating grass. 

Yes.

Chew. Chew. Chew.

Cows like to eat grass.

Chew chew chew.

And he was a cow, so of course he would eat it. Sinking his teeth into it, pulling it out of the ground, chomping and chewing until it was soft enough for him to swallow. Grinding it between his flat teeth. 

The sun was warm. It felt nice. When he felt satisfied he let himself flop on his side and bask a little. His tits flopped to the side, his large udders made lying on his back or front too uncomfortable. It had been a hard, confusing day, but perhaps he could console himself knowing he was a good cow. 

He huffed. It didn’t quite feel like enough. It didn’t take long for him to get hungry again either. He shuffled back up so he could tear at the grass with his teeth.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

Good little cow. Good Little Red.

Later, Owner came and sat with them in the pasture. The others all went to nose at him in greeting because they loved Owner for some reason. Little Red kept eating grass. 

He heard his name being called but he ignored it until he felt a gentle buzz around his neck. He quickly pulled himself up and jogged to his Owner, his tits bounced at his effort.

Owner was laughing at him, as usual. He patted Little Red’s cheek and pushed him down to a kneeling position. 

“Something something hungry, Little Red?” In that annoying baby voice. 

Little Red looked balefully at his Owner. After a moment he opened his mouth wide, thinking that might get his point across.

Owner’s low hands moved to his pants and pulled at them a little, exposing two fat cocks. At first Little Red stared at them stupidly, but then some of his logic kicked in. Same shape as the feeding tube. He leaned forward and swallowed one into his mouth, testing if he could pull feed out. It took a bit of effort. It was less of a sucking and more of a pushing, but eventually something was seeping into his mouth that tasted somewhat right. It was actually a little better than his usual feed. He continued and was rewarded with a burst of feed. It surprised him and he lost some, but was quick to lick it up. He moved down to the second one and tried the same methods. It worked perfectly, and Little Red felt quite smug. 

“Good Cow. Something something treat?”

Little Red tried to put his mouth around the other one again, but Owner gently pushed his head away and pulled his pants back up. Little Red felt faint horror as he remembered that those weren’t feeding tubes.

“Sweet little cow. Good cow.” 

The compliments eased him, but he still felt deeply ashamed of himself. He quickly moved away and went back to the blue grass hoping to get the taste out of his mouth. Bull came up beside him and started getting in the way, licking at his face. 

“Moooooo,” Bull bellowed, licking his own lips. 

“Mooooo,” Little Red said nonsensically. He had just felt like it. He did it again. “Mroooooooo.” 

The farmer was so pleased. His little Stewjoni cow had smashed all his expectations. He was three times the yield of the others and his milk was easily the best quality. He was still a feisty little thing, still too smart for his own good. Hanson the vet said he wasn’t sure why. The process should have completed properly. They even gave him a few more sound lessons, but it didn’t make much difference. Hanson had asked other vets that had dealt with Stewjoni cattle before, but most of them were from factory farms and all the cows there were stressed stupid. Sometimes they didn’t even ease them into the mindset and just attached screaming cows that still knew basic onto their machines.  

He had seen factory cows before. They were utterly stupid, broken things from all the pain and stress they endured. You were lucky if they reached forty before their hearts gave out.  

His cows were lovely dumb little creatures, but they weren’t stupid and he made sure that they weren’t stressed. They had wants and desires and could be clever when they wanted to. Bull in particular had methods of getting his way, but Little Red had a shine of true intelligence to him. Sometimes he seemed to understand words outside the usual words cows knew. Sometimes it looked like he was trying very hard to work through mental problems. One day he had figured out the lock on the fence and got into the kitchen before he was found out. 

He chuckled in amusement. His poor Little Red was very food motivated, but Hanson explained it was because of how his body configured to milk production. Stewjoni bodies and hormones were highly efficient. With his treatments almost all the food he was given went into producing his highly nutritious vitamin rich milk. He felt starving because less of his food was fueling his own body. Luckily they kept a close eye and made sure he was given the right amount of food for his milk and for him to remain healthy. He didn’t want a skinny starving cow.  

He was going to need to see if he could get another Stewjoni at this rate with how well Little Red’s milk sold on the black market, although he wasn’t sure if he could deal with two of them the way Little Red was still getting into mischief. 

He leaned back as Red nuzzled his groin pointedly. Ah, but Little Red was his favourite too, for all the trouble he made. He was a sucker for him, always giving him extra treats. Little Red gave a happy moo like he was thanking him and started to suck him off. 

He sighed, patting his cow’s head. He tried to be fair and give the others a turn, but he knew he favoured his Stewjoni Red.  

“Such a little sweetheart when you want to be. Daddy’s favourite.”

Cutie wandered over and took his bottom cock. The two cows suckled at him for tasty cum treat.

That had been a little perk. He was told the feed had a similar quality to cum and the hungry cows were eager for it. He had no problem training them to see his own cocks as extra treats to suckle when they were being good (or cute). 

When he was done with his treat, Little Red put his chin on his thigh and sighed in contentment letting his owner pet his soft red hair. He had let it grow into a longer tangle that was all soft and pleasing curls. It would sometimes get in the cow’s face and he would try to right it in irritation without the use of hands. It was beyond adorable so he couldn’t bring himself to shear him short or tie it up like he did for Goldie and Honey.  

Bull came tromping over. He never liked being far from his Little Red. Sometimes it irritated the little cow, but most of the time he allowed Bull’s pestering. Bull had taken to watching little Red when he got to fuck his bench obvious lust in his eyes.

He hadn’t planned for Bull to be… well a Bull, but the big twi’lek had been somewhat of a moment of opportunity. A customer’s body guard that had tried to double cross him. He killed the buyer, but couldn’t help but love the idea of making the proud bodyguard into dumb sweet cattle. Break the man of his sentience. Have him moo at him with wide innocent eyes. 

He was the first male they worked on though and the hormones ended up making him bigger instead of smaller, but his breasts developed nice and big and his milk came in properly and his lost all ability to think beyond being a cow, so it wasn’t much of a problem. They figured out the process properly for his two sweet zabraks. Little Red they weren’t sure, as a Stewjoni they could naturally alter their sex features. The cunt wasn’t necessary, but it was a cute surprise and it matched nicely with the adorable little cock he now sported. 

He was considering breeding them. It might up Red’s milk production even more, and it would be cute to see the independent cow pregnant with his Big Bull fussing over him. Then again, a pregnant Red would probably eat him out of house and home.

It was a lot to consider. He wasn’t sure about raising a calf up, and there was something heartbreaking about selling Little Red’s baby. 

He laughed at himself as he petted his cow. Not sure why he was so squeamish. He turned pretty young sentients into dumb animals for a living.  

Oh well, everyone had their line and their amount of money. He would look into it. See if there was profit to it. He heard there was technology from Kamino that might speed up the growing process. He was a mostly cruelty free farmer compared to the factories, but not organic with the amount of drugs it took to transform his cattle. He couldn’t believe anyone made a living off organic, but there was a market for it apparently.  

“How would you like to be a mama, Little Red?” He asked the sweet cow.

There was that shine of intelligence again. Red’s eyes narrowed. 

“Maybe it would be good for you,” he rolled his eyes at the stubborn little thing. The cow pointedly squirmed away, his large tits jiggling as he trotted off to find a free patch of grass to nibble on.

He shook his head fondly. He was glad the blue grass at least kept his smart trouble maker calm. The others got completely blissed out on it. He watched idly as Goldie rolled around, mooing dazedly. 

Cutie nuzzled him for attention and he pet the cow gingerly, careful of his cute little horn nubs. 

“You’re nice and dumb for Daddy, aren’t you Cutie?”

Cutie registered his own name and pushed against his hand. Maybe he should get another zabrak. The suppliers told him they weren’t very expensive since the male population where they got them was totally enslaved. They took well to being cows and their little horn nubs were so adorable. He had enough space for at least twenty cows total, and now that he was making a name for himself it would be worth getting more. Maybe a red one. 

Bull was on top of Little Red now, badgering the poor thing. His cock was caged, but it didn’t stop him from trying to get at that little cunt sometimes.

He snickered. He knew he shouldn’t encourage it, but it was so darling to watch him try. Bully never learned. Little Red would get red and flustered and reach a point of annoyance. He was small compared to the others, but he wasn’t a pushover. He moved skillfully to tip the balance and Bull ended up prone on the ground. Rather than go off to another corner, Red sat on Bull’s back instead looking annoyed. He had that look to him that meant he was trying to puzzle out something. He supposed Little Red was trying to figure out how he could keep Bull pinned and still eat grass. The cow rolled his shoulders, but luckily didn’t figure out hands. He would rather not have Red break through that layer of conditioning. He’d have to keep him tied up all the time or risk a cow with opposable thumbs. I would be a pain and Red would probably hate it.  

Little Red had a flash of inspiration. He wriggled to lie on his belly over Bull’s back and leaned down so he could get at the grass, problem solved. His pert little bum was perfectly on display showing off his tail plug. 

The tail plugs served a purpose. It was easier to keep them plugged and clean them out with the machines than clean up after them, but the tails he thought were a nice little detail. He made sure the colour matched Red’s hair. Orange for Cutie, yellow for ginger, his two girls had gold, and Bull’s was blue.  

Bull, lovesick idiot he was didn’t move despite being able to easily push the smaller cow off him. 

“Stupid beast,” he muttered affectionately.

He sighed. As much as he liked spending time with his cattle there was other work to be done. The farm was really more of a hobby. Mostly he oversaw a smuggling network of arms and slaves, but he was at an age where he was slowing down. He had enough money he could do as he pleased. If he had his way he would go full time into dairy farming.

The next step to that plan was coming soon. He had arrangements to make for the fair. He eyed little Red. He had his quirks, but he was sure that cow would win a blue ribbon.

Little Red had a bad feeling about this. 

After milking he wasn’t let out with the herd to graze, instead he was taken to a little room and made to stay still while Owner washed him off and groomed his hair. Usually he might be happy for the occasion as his hair was a common source of annoyance for him, but this wasn’t the usual grooming time. Grooming time happened every second day and they were all in the same room together and usually it was the People that did it, not Owner unless Owner felt like ordering a different style for them or putting ribbons in their hair or on their tails.  

It wasn’t a grooming day and Little Red was all alone. 

After he was all washed and towelled off, Owner caught him by the chin and examined him thoughtfully, then he shrugged. He tugged Little Red’s leash and led him to a little box. 

Oh no. No way.

Little Red backed up. There was no way he was getting in there. He didn’t like little boxes. He vaguely remembered the last little box from the Before. 

“Red,” Owner’s voice was sharp, but Little Red was stubborn and in the end Owner had to shock him for being bad. He grabbed him and shoved him in. Owner was big and had four hands and Little Red was small and had none so it wasn’t much use. 

Owner grumbled and said something about grooming. Little Red mooed angrily trying to push the box open with his head, but there was no give. He starts to feel panic. What did the box mean? Last time the box moved him from one place to another. Where was he going? He didn’t want to leave–no–he did want to leave but he didn’t want to leave in the box! 

Owner cooed and Little Red started ramming at the door. Eventually Vet came and poked him with a needle he couldn’t avoid. Everything got more floaty. 

When he comes back to himself the box opening–

It’s a bad place. There’s so much fear here. He gives a small bleat and tries to stay in the box which Owner scolds him for.

He’s dragged up and out and onto his feet. Owner holds his leash tightly and combs out his hair again. 

“Good cow.”

Little Red’s heart beats fast. He’s good. It calms him a tiny bit and his leash is yanked. He follows his Owner, his bell cheerfully clunking at each step. His hooves clicking on the path. There are people looking at him with interested, hungry eyes. There is the smell of dung and urine and fried foods.  

He moves, docile at Owner’s side. He might have tried to pull away at a new place, but not this place. He watches as other cows are pulled on leashes… not just cows. There are those that crawl on the ground. They must be tookas or four-legged strills. Some of them look like People except they have no clothes and they’re terrified, or broken, or resigned. Some are being displayed and spoken about, some are being touched and inspected. There is a wall where only heads stick out and mouths are forced open and everyone is free to fuck them. 

This is a bad place.  

Someone comes up to his Owner and they get into a conversation. There is no fear from either of them, they’re both happy and excited. This place is for them. For their enjoyment. They enjoy it a lot. They like seeing all the animals and eating the food and listening to the cheerful music.  

“Something something pretty,” Stranger says to Owner.

Owner responds with pride. He turns to Little Red. “Little Red, mooo. Moo Little Red.”

He moos very softly and the two laugh at him and coo and say Cuties’ name even though Cutie isn’t here. 

Owner lets Stranger pet him and Little Red is too stressed to try to understand his People words, but then some slip through.

“Something something go home with me little cow?”

Little Red bleats in terror and presses up against Owner, quivering.

Don’t sell me! Something inside him begs. It could be worse it could be worse. He gives little pleading Moos. Owner is shaking in mirth.

“Something something sweetheart? Stay with Daddy something something?”

“Moo, moo.” 

The stranger doesn’t look offended. He looks just as delighted at Little Red’s fear as Owner is. 

“I don’t know,” Owner says in a considering tone. “Something something mischief. Something something food.” 

Little Red pushes his head against his Owner’s fat stomach and quivers. Don’t sell me.

Owner coos at him. “Now now. Something something Teasing. Little crybaby.”

Stranger is talking animatedly. “Something something dumb. Something something animal.”

Owner is joyfully replying as he pets the cowering Little Red. "Something something. Stewjoni cattle something best. Something something perfectly. Something meant to be a cow."  

Eventually his leash is tugged and Stranger is gone and Little Red is still with Owner. His eyes are sore and probably red from tears. 

They come to a strange stable. Rather than wood it’s made of transparisteel on all sides so that the cows inside can be seen at all angles. There are other cows mooing here. Some of them reek of fear and pain and Red is at ill ease again. Owner clicks his tongue and gestures at a particularly scared looking cow. It’s making strange noises. Not moos. Not People words though. Ahhhh ahhhhhh! Like that. It presses its hooves against the glass until its own owner grabs it and binds them into proper place behind its back. Then it’s whipped for bad behaviour until it finally starts mooing properly tears running down its face. It isn't a good cow, but it is a cow. 

Owner scoffs. “Something no chance.” He pets Little Red’s head affectionately and looks a little guilty when he sees his red eyes and tears.

He babbles to Little Red in a soft voice. “Something mine. Something factory. Something don’t worry sweetie.”  

He is taken into one of the strange stables and Owner strokes him until he feels a little calmer. He brings out a bag with a portable nozzle that’s full of food. For once he doesn’t feel like eating, but he feels better when Owner forces it into his mouth. After he’s properly eaten Owner strokes him some more and says some words that he can’t parse except: “Be a good cow.”

Then he closes the glass and walks away.

“Moo! Mooo!” Little Red protests, but Owner doesn’t come back and disappears into the crowd.  

He feels panic rising. He thinks maybe it’s been a whole day since they were home, and he hasn't been milked because his tits feel full and itchy. Is he being sold after all? Most of the cows are also afraid, but there are a few that are just blank, dazed, like this is a normal occurrence.

He wishes that cows could talk. 

For the next passage of time there are Strangers that walk up and peer at him through the glass. Their eyes trail over his body in consideration. Some circle around. A few laugh and point at his tail. Some of them look impressed. Some snap, trying to get his attention, or moo at him until he moos back. There are lots of flashing lights. Taking pictures.  

The original Stranger that Owner was talking to passes by and gives him a little wave and makes baby talk at him before wandering off again. 

“—Wan?” A quiet voice whispers. He shakes himself out of his fear and looks up. There is a tall Person wrapped in a long brown cloak. He is not Owner, but he is Master.

Master. Master. Master! 

“Moo,” Little Red says desperately locking eyes with the Person. He knows the Person, but the only word that comes to him is Master and the feeling of safety. This was who he should really belong to. Not Owner. This was Master. His Master.  

Master has an expression that Little Red can’t understand. He talks softly to him. His voice is full of sorrow and regret.

“Wow! Something good cow!” Someone interrupts obnoxiously. Master startles. His expression becomes smooth and cold. 

“Something, very fine cow. Something something owner?”

Little Red feels his heart drop hearing that. Cow. He was a cow. He was a Cow and Master thinks he’s a Fine Cow. That should be good, shouldn’t it? 

But something in him is screaming no. 

He can only stutter out a Moo. 

“Something something.”

“Something something for sale?”

The other Person laughs. “Something something. Stewjoni cattle. Something something probably not.” 

And then Owner appears. He is in a fine mood. A short time ago Little Red might have been happy to see him, but that was before Master appeared. 

“Hello!” he greets the Person and Master. “Admiring Little Red?”

“Little Red?” Master repeats. He glances at Little Red and Little Red feels a terrible sort of embarrassment. 

“Something something name. Something something cute,” Owner replies. 

“Yes, something very cute,” the Person agrees. The Person leans forward and wiggles his fingers at him. Little Red pouts, his eyes shift to Master, but Master isn’t looking at him anymore. 

“Can he talk?” Master asks, Little Red is concentrating as hard as he can to understand their People words. 

Owner laughs. “Cows don’t talk. Do you, Little Red?”

Little Red involuntarily Moos and Master’s face is blank, but Little Red is sure he’s disappointed and he fills with shame. Master doesn’t want a cow. Master will leave him to be Owner’s cow. 

He’s good at being a cow. 

“He’s going to get me the something ribbon,” Owner says. “He makes the finest milk something tasted. Be sure something taste something!” Owner nudges the Person and the Person nods eagerly. 

“His tits are huge.” 

“Stewjoni make the best cows. Something something milk.”

Owner seems to like Person a lot so he opens the stable and enters. He gestures to Person and Master.

Person eagerly reaches out and gently squeezes his udders. He says something then looks at Master expectantly.

Master’s face is completely blank as he starts weighing Obi-Wan’s other tit, his large hand firm and gentle.

“Somehing, something docile,” Person says. “Something something?”

Owner seems to agree to the question and Person reaches over to gently pet him. Little Red stays perfectly still, his eyes downcast. 

“He’s shy today,” Owner explains. “It’s his something fair. Something something my little troublemaker. Aren't you Little Red?”

"Moo." 

Master has let go of his tit, but he is being urged to stroke Obi-Wan’s hair as well. He does, his fingers linger on a spot by his cheek. Little Red looks and sees the beaded bracelet Owner has and wants to weep in shame, but doesn’t want Master to see that.

“So soft,” Person sighs in admiration.   

Owner and the Person get into a conversation. Master stands nearby politely as he listens to the description of Little Red’s life as a milk cow. 

Humiliation fills him. Master looks considering. Every now and then he glances at Little Red. He probably agrees that Little Red became a good cow. 

“Something something Judges,” the Person points at a crowd of people that have been pulling cows out of their glass stables and bringing them to a fenced area that Little Red doesn’t have a clear view of. The three of them leave Little Red’s glass stable and stand on the outside again.  

“Something something sale?” Master suddenly asks. 

Owner laughs in his face.

“You’d love to sell him to me,” Master repeats and his voice lilts and there’s a pull to it. Owner’s face slakens and he seems to actually consider it, but then he shakes it off when the Person shoves him again and repeats the word “Judges.” He is excited and Little Red hates him. 

“No way,” Owner says to Master. “Little Red is my favourite cow.” 

Master sighs but his expression is good natured. He shrugs as if it doesn’t mean much to him. 

Little Red looks at Master wide-eyed, but Master gives him a small shake of his head. He walks away to look at other cows. 

He wants to cry, but Owner has opened the glass and has started squeezing his breasts and pinching his lips and calling him a good cow with deep greed and eagerness lacing his tone.

That’s all he is, Little Red crumples. Master left him because he’s a good cow. 

He stands head bowed as his collar is replaced with a bow holding a new bell that sounds brighter. It’s grating, but Little Red can’t bring himself to care. He’s just a cow, why should he care? 

He’s led out by the group of Judges and brought to the area he couldn’t see before. A milking station, although there’s no food nozzle or cleaning tube.

He also notices there’s a large crowd around the milking station looking with interest. A feeling of eagerness and lust and cruelty. They’re going to watch him. 

Master is there in the crowd. He watches Little Red’s purpose. Little Red is a good Milker. The best one. He doesn’t stifle his moos as he’s mounted on the fucker. The Judges take their time to feel his body and weigh his breasts in their hands. Stroking his hair and back.

"Something something something," a Judge comments.

One snaps his fingers in front of Little Red. He moos not sure what he wants.

The judges chuckle at this. One of them seems to be directly saying something to him, but Little Red doesn't understand the words. He's a cow he's not supposed to understand words, but his uncertain headtilt makes the judges happier. 

"A completely empty headed cow. He's perfect," the Judge might have said except Little Red can't understand words. 

Owner stands off to the side. He is buzzing with nervousness. The cow doesn’t bother trying to understand. Cows don’t need to understand. Understanding hurts. 

Milkers are pressed against his udders and the fucker is turned on and he bellows loudly. 

“Moooo moooooo!” 

He can’t bear to look at Master, but he inadvertently sees the look of shame on his face and Little Red can only moo louder. Master is ashamed. Ashamed of Little Red! He tries to lose himself in the motion of the fucker and the suction of the milkers. This is what he is for. He’s a good cow!

He fills up bottle after bottle until he feels hollow with hunger. Afterwards the Judges are all talking with interest, surrounding him. Weighting his breasts again. Petting him. Good cow, fine cow, best cow. They squeeze his ass and thighs and arms. Tug at his tail and push it back in. Laugh and say moo until he moos back. 

He is led back to the glass stable. Owner is talking to him, still nervous but also delighted. 

“Good Little Red. Good. Something something. So good.”

“Moo,” the cow replies. He wants to go home. He doesn’t want to be here anymore, but Owner leaves him in the glass case alone again. There are far more people coming to gawk at him now. Good cow, fine cow, milker, tits, udders, Stewjoni, beauty, cow, cow, cow. 

Master doesn’t come back. 

Owner eventually returns and he is joyously happy. He takes Little Red’s leash and guides him to the middle again. The milk station is gone, but there are two other cows on the stage. They aren’t afraid. Not like him. They’re empty. Stupid dumb creatures. They were good cows. He isn’t a good cow. He isn’t he isn’t!

“Moo–”

Owner pulls him to stand beside the other cows. One of the Judges starts to talk. He talks a lot. He stands in front of each of the cows and talks about milk and shape and beauty about each of them. They’re being compared. Judged. That makes sense. 

There’s a rising excitement and the Judge’s voice goes up and then: “Best Cow is… Little Red!” 

Little Red startles. The crowd claps. A blue ribbon is pressed against his breast and sticks with some kind of glue. 

Owner is ecstatic. He shakes each Judge’s hand. 

“Best Cow,” is repeated over and over.

Best Cow.

He wants to cry. He starts to moo instead. Everyone likes it when he moos. They smile and laugh at him cruelly. He’s led back to the glass stable. More people come to look at him. There are leftover bottles of milk from his milking and Owner is selling them and everyone is eager.

The cow looks to see if Master is there, but Master isn’t there. Master has left. He’s decided Little Red is better off a cow. He’s the best at being a cow.

Even so he waits and he hopes, but Master doesn’t appear, even when Little Red is shoved back into the little box. He doesn’t fight so no Vets come to give him a shot. He’s loaded up onto a hovercart and then put into the back of a truck. He waits and waits, but Master doesn’t come.

Bull was ecstatic when they returned in their victory. The farmer laughed at the brute’s eagerness. The big cow was instantly in Little Red’s space licking and nuzzling and nibbling him. Dumb beast, it had only been two days. Little Red didn’t put up a fight. He had been off since the fair, but the farmer put that down to the strange place and the amount of people. Even his little rebel got spooked. Maybe it will put him in a mind to behave. He was certainly scared when he pretended he was going to sell him. He was so cute, pushing against him, and mooing so gently. It was gratifying. His cow really did love him with a dumb animal loyalty.

Everyone was very impressed by that too. How well Little Red showed off his behaviour modifications. Afterwards there were a lot of interested farmers asking what methods he had used to make him into a proper animal.  

Not only did his little beauty win the whole thing, but they were able to secure new buyers. Even some willing to pay triple to have Red’s milk specifically.

Not to mention the business opportunities. A lot of breeders had approached him. He admitted not knowing the first thing about it, but they were happy to explain. Best if he can get another of the same species he could make ten times as much off offspring. They agreed a tester wouldn’t go amiss when he brought up Bull. They explained away his worries about losing Little Red in a pregnancy explaining Stewjoni pregnancies were one of the safest in the Galaxy. They were optimised for it. One even claimed he had successfully mated a Stewjoni with a gundark. He wasn’t sure if he actually believed that, but everyone he spoke to all said if anything getting him pregnant would be good for his prize winning cow. 

And there was that one that was even willing to put money down to buy a stewjoni-twi’lek crossbreed when he mentioned it in passing. 

He considered taking Bull’s cage off then and there with all the excitement the big cow was in and the Farmer’s own enthusiasm, but Red didn’t look very energetic. He looked tired and stressed and strangely sad. 

“Too smart for your own good, baby,” he clucked at his sad little cow. “It’s alright, we’ll get you back into our routine and you’ll be causing trouble for me in no time. Maybe I should call you Little Blue, I doubt this is going to be the only ribbon you win for us.”

Red leaned into his hand as he stroked his soft curled hair, obviously seeking comfort. His heart melted. For all the little behaviour issues his cow really was happy with him.

“Alright, Bully, leave him alone for now. You’ll get your chance. Soon. I’m sure you’re eager to be a daddy, aren’t you?” 

Bull didn't have Red’s occasional bursts of understanding. He rubbed his head against him when he heard the word Daddy, probably thinking he was talking about himself.

He let the cows graze. Little Red curled up in the sun. Every so often he pulled a mouth full of grass, but his usual appetite wasn’t up to it. 

Maybe he’d call the vet. He didn’t think of his little cow as delicate, but the travel really had worn him thin.

He put on such fine show though. The judges couldn’t stop talking about how fine his udders were, how pretty his face was, how obedient he acted, how throughly empty-headed he was, even how how cute his moo was. Tails was hit or miss. Some people loved them, some thought they were tacky. He liked them so they were staying. Best of all though was the amount of milk he pulled during his showing.  

He really was the perfect cow. Stewjoni all the way. 

He had a lot of offers for him too, not that he would ever consider selling his golden cow, but there were a few tempting ones. Big numbers. Enough to buy twenty sentients to alter. There was only one he almost said yes to. It was funny though, he couldn’t remember what number he offered, just that he was tempted. The tall man had been very interested in Little Red. 

He frowned. In retrospect, he wasn’t sure if it was even a farmer. He only nodded along when they were talking about attributes and milk production and temperament. He got pretty interested in the dumbification process and conditioning, but thinking back on it he wondered if the guy just wanted something pretty to fuck without even thinking of all the utility the little cow had. He kept staring at Red whenever he thought he wasn’t looking. 

Giving treats was one thing, but properly fucking your cow, no matter how pretty it might be, was just a pile of bad ideas. It just lead to treating them like body slaves instead of commodities. The fucking machines were important. They sweetened the milk, but fucking yourself was just messy and unprofessional.

He understood on some level. Little Red was an extremely pretty cow and it might play into why he got so many treats from his owner. 

Oh well, he didn’t agree, and it was for the best, Little Red was happy here with his herd. 

It wasn’t hard to sneak onto the property. It sent Qui-Gon’s teeth on edge. No guards. A place that treated sentients as cattle, and yet it was treated like a normal farm. 

There were cameras and alarms, but they were easy enough to get past for a Jedi Master. It gave him time to think.

He tried to keep in the moment, but he can’t help but go back to the broken look on Obi-Wan’s face. The young man’s fear and shame only able to make a broken mooing sound. A plea for his Master to rescue him.

He shuddered remembering the ‘milking’ how the crowd cheered. How they greedily drank the milk that was forced out of him. How they touched him and led him like a collar. Put him on display as an amusement. An animal. 

He had wanted to get him then and there, but it was too crowded for just himself. There were a lot of trails being followed and rescue operations that would have been put in jeopardy if he had jumped in.

He had still wanted to, but Qui-Gon didn’t have a way out with his Padawan so incapacitated and all eyes were on the blue ribbon ‘cow’ for the rest of the day. It had been his first actual lead and he couldn’t burn it. He couldn't risk losing the trail again, so he had to watch his Padawan guided like an animal into a small crate as the odious slaver told him what a good cow he was. He could feel the despair of his Padawan in the Force. He had tried to send reassurance, but Obi-Wan didn’t seem able to register it properly.  

The tracking device had worked though, and had been undetected. He had a ship and back up and a healer on standby. There would be arrests tonight. This whole operation would come to an end and the man behind it would face justice. 

He couldn’t stand to think what was done to his Padawan. His body and his brilliant mind reduced to cattle, but the changes to his body they would be able to fix, the healer reassured him of that… as for his mind…

That was less certain. They spoke to an expert on the deconditioning of dehumanised slaves. Sometimes it worked fully and sometimes little progress would be reached. It had been almost half a year, it was a long time to live as an animal. The mind breaks and reforms to protect itself. He might never be the same.

No, Qui-Gon had to believe in him…

And if there was nothing to be done, he would be cared for. 

He was finally able to get to the barn. Carefully he unlocked the door and entered. He stiffened. There were five beings. It wasn’t unexpected that there would be more, but he didn’t think they would be stored together loose.  

The others shifted and made anxious mooing sounds, but as soon as Obi-Wan saw him his blue eyes flickered to life. He awkwardly pulled himself up to standing, arms behind his back. His large breasts jiggled as he jogged over in excitement. The strange boots he wore clicked on the floor and a cowbell cheerfully clunked at each happy step.

“Moo, moo,” he said, then looked annoyed at himself. “Moomoo,” he said more slowly. 

“It’s alright, Padawan. It’s okay,” Qui-Gon reassured. He was glad to see he hadn’t been overly optimistic about Obi-Wan recognising him the first time he found him.

Obi-Wan softly butted his head against his chest, but then his shoulders started shuddering.

“Oh Padawan,” Qui-Gon whispered. His poor boy. He hugged Obi-Wan to him tightly. “I’m sorry I had to leave you there. I’m sorry I lost you in the first place.”

“Mooo!” the large blue twi’lek approached.

Anger.mine.stranger. 

His emotions in the Force were clear but simple. 

The other three were all huddled together, unsure and afraid.

Obi-Wan turned towards the large Twi’lek and stared him down.

The other man made an unhappy sound but didn’t come closer. That sorted his Padawan pushed back in Qui-Gon’s arms, nuzzling him.In his joy he even licked him. Qui-Gon ignored it for the sake of his Padawan’s dignity. The younger man started to quiver. Qui-Gon let his cloak drop and awkwardly wrapped it around the younger man. He had some trouble because Ob-Wan didn’t seem to want to move his arms from behind his back, but eventually he got it slipped on and tied in place. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. Obi-Wan fidgeted. He looked uncomfortable, but didn’t try to get it off. 

“I’m getting you out of here. All of you.” He wasn’t about to leave anyone behind in this place. He had expected at least a few. The wretched man who had held Obi-Wan’s leash had mentioned having ‘cows’ plural. 

Now the only problem was getting all of them out without setting off alarms. Qui-Gon knew a bunch of farmers, no matter how sinister their production wouldn’t be hard to fight off, but there was a chance they might harm the captives in the crossfire. Qui-Gon took out his comm and sent the signal that he had found Obi-Wan and they should be on hand if there’s trouble.

Obi-Wan slowly pulled out of his arms. He seemed to be trying to listen to what Qui-Gon was saying. Force, he could barely understand basic.

“It’s alright little one–”

Obi-Wan flinched at the word ‘little.’ Qui-Gon winced. “Obi-Wan,” he corrected. Large blue eyes met his trying to comprehend.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon repeated gently. 

Obi-Wan shakily moved his head up and down. A nod. Like he had forgotten how to do it, but it was definitely a nod!

Hope flared in Qui-Gon’s heart. His Padawan wasn’t lost to him yet. His mind was strong, he was in there, fighting.

“I need to get them to follow me,” he said slowly, then gestured at the other captives. 

Obi-Wan squinted. His head cocking to the side in concentration. 

Slowly he shook his head. He didn’t understand. 

Simpler. Alright. 

“We go.”

A nod, more confident and forceful this time. 

“Moo.” Obi-Wan blushed in embarrassment when the moo passed his lips. 

“All of us,” Qui-Gon said, gesturing big to the others.

Obi-Wan slowly nodded. He rolled his shoulders and then had a frustrated look. He moved over to a wall where a bunch of leather leashes hung. He caught one in his mouth and pulled, bringing it over to Qui-Gon. 

Qui-Gon frowned, holding it awkwardly.

Obi-Wan waited, and then nudged Qui-Gon’s hand with his nose and showed his neck. 

“There’s no need for that, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan looked confused again. 

“No,” Qui-Gon said, but it put a look of panic in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“It’s alright it’s okay,” Qui-Gon said. “I’m not leaving you. We just don’t–you don’t need a leash. You’ll just come. I don’t–”

But it wasn’t getting through. Finally Qui-Gon snapped the leash onto Obi-Wan’s collar. Obi-Wan’s panic settled. Obi-Wan tugged on the leash and led him to the other ones that hung. Alright, that was the plan apparently. He took the leashes down.

“Moo.”

“And they’ll be…?” obedient. The thought made him sick, but he felt the fear in the others. If they panicked or started to make louder noises…

The large twi’lek man stood stubbornly in front of the others. He kept making nervous eyes to Obi-Wan’s leash and to Qui-Gon. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to save you.”

But the others didn’t have any recognition of his word at all. 

He remembered what the owner had said. 

“They become so sweet and docile. You talk to them gently. Call them good cows. Give them pets, and they melt. Little Red is my troublemaker, but even he’s essentially just a sweet dumb cow.”

Qui-Gon took a breath and silently begged for Obi-Wan’s forgiveness. “It’s okay, good cows.” He started to gently stroke Obi-Wan’s hair. It had grown long and curly.

The betrayed look hurt. 

“I want them to understand,” he said slowly, trying to send his intention to his Padawan through the Force.

Slowly the pained look cleared. Obi-Wan glanced over at the others and then he pushed his head against Qui-Gon’s hand.

“Good cows,” Qui-Gon repeated slowly. The others slowly shifted their guarded stance. The big one didn’t move, but a zabrak eagerly approached and softly butted against Qui-Gon’s other hand. Qui-Gon stroked the man’s head. His heart clenched seeing the damage done to the man’s horns. How they had been shaved down far past what was comfortable. 

Cautiously, seeing Qui-Gon’s gentle touches the others followed suit to get their own pets. All of them allowed leashes to be latched to their collars. The big man was the hold out. 

“Moo,” Obi-Wan said to him directly. He gestured with his head. “Moo!” 

The man didn’t move.

Obi-Wan tugged at his leash that Qui-Gon had still been holding. Qui-Gon blushed and let go. His Padawan softly approached the bigger man and nudged him with his head. 

The bigger man finally capitulated and approached. 

“Good cow,” Qui-Gon repeated over and over. He stroked his lekku and the twi’lek relaxed. Finally he was allowed to leash the last person. Obi-Wan caught his own leash in his mouth and passed it to Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon wondered if it was for the others’ benefit or even with him fighting against the conditioning he felt the leash had to be held. 

It could be resolved later.

He gently tugged them. There was an uptick of nervousness, but none of them tried to pull away. 

“Good cows,” Qui-Gon whispered, hoping to keep them calm.

They made it a good way through, but herding six mentally incapacitated beings wasn’t easy. One of the human’s feet crossed an alarm trigger.

The loud alarms blared, and the captives started to panic, including Obi-Wan. Loud mooing joined the alarm rings. 

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF MY CATTLE!” 

It was the man he met at the fair. The one who had broken his Padawan and made him into an animal. 

There was a cock of a blaster rifle. Qui-Gon pulled out his lightsaber. That was enough to startle the besalisk, but he knew what kind of trouble he was in if a Jedi was here. He started firing. The captives panicked and started running. Some made it as far as the gate before suddenly jolting and falling to the ground, twitching and bellowing in pain. 

Shock collars. They must automatically activate when they get past the gates. 

Qui-Gon wasn’t sure if he was worried or overjoyed to see Obi-Wan was still at his side. He placed himself in front of Qui-Gon, which to Qui-Gon’s surprise stopped the incoming red bolts.

“Little Red!” the slaver said angrily. “Get over here right now. He’s trying to take you away from me! Don’t you want to be a good cow for your daddy?” 

Obi-Wan quivered, but with careful deliberation shook his head. 

The man sighed with a heavy regret. “Always too smart for your own good.” He raised the blaster.

Qui-Gon quickly twisted his Padawan out of the way and deflected the bolt. It was thrown back and struck the man squarely, but it was a stunner. Apparently he wasn’t willing to kill his prized cow. 

“Don’t do that again,” Qui-Gon scolded. It was almost like normal. The brat smirked at him. Like he might open his mouth and give a witty rejoinder, but instead there was only a small moo that twisted Qui-Gon up inside. 

Lights filled the area. The others had arrived. He ran to the gates and sent his lightsaber through the collar controls. The med team was quickly looking over the injured prisoners. 

Qui-Gon turned and checked at Obi-Wan’s own collar. It wasn’t even locked. They were so sure of their conditioning that they didn’t even need to put a lock on the shock collar, they knew their prisoners wouldn’t be able to use their hands to remove them. He took it off his Padawan and threw it to the side. He wanted to stomp on it and let out some of the building frustration, but he wouldn’t let himself lose control, not when Obi-Wan was looking at him hopeful and confused and ashamed.

“There’s nothing for you to be ashamed of,” Qui-Gon frowned, feeling the emotion radiating off of his student, but Obi-Wan didn’t try to understand him this time. Instead he just moved in close and put his head on Qui-Gon’s shoulder. The feeling of safe and keep and desperation.

“I’m not going to leave you. I promise.”

The cow’s name was Obi-Wan now. It was hard to keep it in his head, but Master reminded him when he needed to be reminded. He was separated from the others, but Master told him safety, and he trusted Master. 

He was taken to a place of light. There was no fear here like the last place he had been taken to outside the farm. This was a good and familiar place, but then he was taken to a less good and familiar place. A vet. 

He didn’t want to, but Master insisted.

Master didn’t pet him like Owner did. Little Red wasn’t sure if he wanted him to or not.

Vets came in and checked him over, although strangely they didn’t squeeze and fondle his tits like Vets usually did. All of them had very carefully blank expressions, but Obi-Wan could see they were unhappy with him for some reason. He looked toward Master. He didn’t want to disappoint his new Master–no his old Master. 

Master didn’t look disappointed though, he just looked concerned. 

The Vets spoke to him directly, and it wasn’t the cloying coos and subtle cajoling his usual Vet did. They were saying: “Obi-Wan something something now I’m going to something something.” Then they would slowly touch a part of him, waiting to see if he would pull away. 

“Obi-Wan,” the head Vet said. She looked familiar. This was his old Vet. He didn’t like Vets as a rule, but he liked her maybe. She then gestured to her mouth and opened wide.

Obi-Wan tilted his head in thought, but realised what she wanted. His stomach rolled. He glanced towards Master, but Master only had an encouraging look. 

He sighed. Well, he was a cow after all, and maybe their feed would taste good. He opened wide, sticking out his tongue and waited for a cock or feeder to enter. Instead careful hands poked in with something flat and a bright light was flashed in. 

Oh they were just inspecting him. Usually Vets just grabbed his jaw and forced it open. 

He didn’t like Vets on principle, but these ones were a lot better than the last one.

The Vet finished looking in his mouth and looked relieved. “Something something fix it.”

Master looked relieved to hear that too. 

His stomach chose that moment to rumble. It surprised both his Master and the Vet. Master smiled awkwardly.

“Something food soon,” the Vet promised. 

Well, that was good news at least. 

The Vet poked him and took blood and did eventually inspect his breasts, but didn’t paw and squeeze. Then there was some pausing where the Vet was trying to talk to him, but the words she used didn’t make sense no matter how he tried to understand.

“Obi-Wan, something something something?”

Her eyes looked pained when she asked, but he didn’t know what she wanted. He did his head shake trick. He had been very pleased with himself. It wasn’t exactly Person talk, but it was nice to be understood.

The Vet said something to Qui-Gon, then they all looked uncomfortable and sad. They don’t pet his head, but they squeeze his shoulder. He likes it so he allows it, even though it’s a Vet.

“The cosmetic and hormonal modifications can be mended,” Master Che explained. “His throat was modified so that he can only–” She paused and looked so tremendously sad and angry. She was a Jedi Master though and she pushed through. “I can fix that,” she reassured Qui-Gon. 

They made it so that the only sound he could make was a moo. It wasn’t just behavioural. How long had they forced his Padawan to act like a cow before they made him believe it?

“I didn’t want to push him too far today, but we’ll have to check the … rest of him over soon.”

“Of course.”

“A mind healer and an expert on this kind of brainwashing are going to see to his mind, but they’re already hopeful. The expert has never seen any of the people that have gone through what Obi-Wan has able to learn to nod independently on their own and understand concepts and words beyond…”

Qui-Gon nodded. He knew what she meant. Beyond things like ‘good cow’ and other nasty terms of endearment.

“What about the others?”

“They’re varied. Some of them seemed to have lived like that for years. None of them show the same sense of understanding Obi-Wan has, but they know what they’re doing, they have hope.”

“How long will…”

“He might never be the same, Qui-Gon. Even if we properly break the conditioning and heal the damage done to his mind.”

“I know.”

“We’re trying to be optimistic. We think he might be able to communicate in a few months.”

“Whatever he needs,” Qui-Gon said. “I want to help in any way I can.” 

“Of course. There are a few other things,” She sighed. “They did a number on his body. Like I said, I’m able to fix it, but it needs to be slow. Until then we need to…”

She looked extremely uncomfortable.

“To what?”

“He’ll need to be milked, and we’ll need to feed him a similar diet to what they had been giving him.”

Qui-Gon shook his head but forced himself to be rational. “We need to?”

“If he doesn’t get milked it could cause bruising, pain, and in extreme cases even death.” She doesn’t sugarcoat it. “Stewjoni are able to change their sex when certain hormones are triggered. I’m hoping the natural process will help us ease his body’s transition back to baseline. He might be stuck with feminine features for a while longer after that until it’s safe for him to go back to male presenting features if that’s what he wants. As it is right now he isn’t able to consent to anything we do. I’ll need you to sign off.” 

“He really doesn’t understand?”

“I think he knows we’re trying to help.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Alright.”

They bring him to a room. There are children. They talk to him softly and position him and he realises he’s still a cow. 

“Something something, Honey.”

He’s not Honey, but this Vet is confused and calls him by Honey’s name. They stroke his hair and use the baby voice. 

Then he is positioned and younglings are suckling his breasts. 

“Good cow,” his Master smiles, stroking his hair. “Useful.”

I don’t want to be a cow! He wants to cry.

“Mooooooooooooo,” he agrees instead.

They tried their best, but he’s such a good cow, they don’t want to fix him, or maybe they can’t fix him. Master is disappointed. He strokes Obi-Wan’s hair.

“Good Padawan,” he says, but doesn’t really mean it. 

“Be a good mommy,” a familiar voice tells him. It sounds like Owner, but Owner isn’t here. 

“Mooooo,” he bleats stupidly.

He feeds all the children and then he is strapped to the milker. Instead of sucking the feeder first, he sucks Master and anyone else that wants him to. They like to give him treats here and make sure he’s a good useful cow that produces lots of milk.

The Vets give him more shots and he’s able to feed all the babies and fill enough milk to send to the agricorps. 

Then his Master realises how foolish he’s been.

“He’s a cow, he should be on a farm.”

The Vet of course agrees. She coos and pets his hair. “Such a good cow belongs on a farm. The agricorps will something something.”

He tries to shake his head but he can’t remember how. 

He’s branded with a lightsaber so that they know he belongs to the Jedi and he’s put in a little crate on a spaceship that’s falling apart. There are hutts there and they laugh at him and offer money for him, but he needs to go to the agricorps where he has always belonged.

When he arrives there is an Owner who looks at him in delight. 

“What a fine Stewjoni heifer.” He is taken by his leash and dragged in front of the man. He bleats in panic. No, he doesn’t want to be a cow, but Master looks so happy to find a good place for him.

“He’s a beautiful cow. He produces a lot of milk. He eats grass and best of all there’s no thoughts in his dumb little brain. He’ll be so happy here, doing what he does best.”

“Mooo!” Obi-Wan tries to deny.

“Hush now, Obi-Wan,” the Owner chides him. Then pauses. “That doesn’t suit him at all!” He laughs heartily. 

Master tilts his head in thought, then nods in agreement. He ruffles Obi-Wan’s hair.

“How about Little Red? It suits him better, doesn’t it?”

“MOOOOOO.”

“Perfect,” Owner grins. “Alright, come on then Little Red. We have a nice big bull ready to breed you. You and your children will feed so many with the milk you make.”

“MOOOO! MOOO!!” he cries.

“Good cow,” Master laughs. “Such a good useful milk cow. I almost feel bad, but honestly you’re perfect like this. Vet said there was a way to fix you, but I decided not to. You’re a much better cow than you were a Padawan. The best cow. You’ll get us lots of Blue Ribbons, won’t you?”

“He’s very good,” Owner smiles. He shakes Master’s hand and then gives him the credits for his purchase. Master walks away and Owner tugs Little Red toward the barn.

No no no!

“Moo! Moo! Moo!”

“Silly thing.” Owner is suddenly standing above Little Red as the cow looks up wide eyed and stupid. He kneels and Owner strokes his head. 

“Cow’s can’t talk.”

“Moooooo!”

“Cow’s don’t have hands.”

“Mooo!”

“Cows grow big udders.”

“Mooooo!”

“Cows are dumb.”

“Moooooo!”

“Cows don’t even understand words.”

“Mooooo!” He’s more desperate.

Owner talks but he doesn’t understand People words anymore because he’s cow. 

“Good cow.”

“Moooooooo”

“Good cow!”

“Moooooo!”

“Something something sweetie, something something.”

“Moo, moo.”

“Something something baby, something something.” His leash is firmly taken in Owner’s hand. He docily follows, unable to struggle. 

Cow. Cow. Good cow.

The barn door opens. There’s a large blue bantha.

“Something something mate! Something something breed Good cow! Good cow!” 

He’s forced onto a breeding bench, the bantha bellows behind him. 

“NO!” Little Red jerked awake–no no no.

He panted, his chest heaving, then he realised he wasn’t in the barn. He wasn’t being bred, he wasn’t cuddled against other cows–people.

People.

They were all people.

He closed his eyes and let the Force soothe him. Let the fear float away. He was home, he was safe.

He was also cold. He usually slept naked and above his covers now. His body was sensitive to fabrics rubbing against his breasts and cunt. He stood and went to the little fresher attached to his private room. Right now everyone was very careful to give him space and let him make his own decisions. 

He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was back into its padawan cut. His braid was shorter, but rewoven. He wiped his face quickly, noticing he had been drooling in his sleep. 

Obi-Wan.

“Oooo-aaaan,” he said slowly. People words–speaking Basic was still a challenge, but it had only been a month and his healers assured him he was making remarkable progress. He could understand most conversations now, although he had to think about it and tune in. His eyes drifted down. His tits were a little smaller. He realised he was holding his hands behind his back, pushing his breasts forward and quickly brought them to his sides. There was an uncomfortable freedom to hands. As a cow–when he was captured he would have liked to be able to touch his own body, explore his new sensitive skin. Now it felt like enjoying anything of the body forced onto him was a betrayal of himself.

He tentatively pinched his nipple. Arousal flared in his cunt and a little milk leaked.

The Healers all reassured him his body's urges weren’t his fault and dealing with them were healthy while they got him back to a proper baseline. He was given… tools to help ease things. 

Now he was a cow that could fuck himself and milk his own tits, what did he need a farmer for? He thought to himself bitterly. He reached over and got the little milker to ease his morning ache. At least it wasn’t as much milk anymore. 

They didn’t tell him what they were going to do with it. Part of him hoped they threw it down a drain, and part of him hoped it was bottled for the younglings that were still weaning. Cow or Jedi he hated the thought he wasn’t useful. 

The machine started its gentle suction. Unlike the milker machines on the farm it wasn’t unbearable pleasure-pain, it was pleasurable, but manageable. His cock and cunt were both reacting with interest now. He closed his eyes. He had thought about asking for a cock cage so that he wouldn’t have to suffer through arousal at the stimulation, but he was too humiliated to ask.

He looked down at his cock. It was still small, only slightly bigger. A cute tiny bow in front of his sweet little cunt Owner–his captor liked to gush.  

Obi-Wan snapped back to attention hearing himself make a small little pleasurable moo. He clamped his mouth shut and glared at himself in the mirror. He had been drooling again. 

The milker finished and he put the bottles in a little crate. Force they probably were using the milk, Jedi didn’t like to waste things. He was sure they would stop if he told them to. Maybe they had even asked and he had misunderstood and gave them permission. 

They probably had. 

They talked to him gently now. It wasn’t the baby voice, but it was near enough sometimes he felt like screaming. He tried to communicate it to his mind healer, but until he could make proper sentences he would be the dumb cow padawan that everyone was afraid of breaking. 

He closed his eyes. That wasn’t fair. Everyone was doing their best to respect him. Master was- Master Qui-Gon was reassuring, and didn’t get frustrated when Obi-Wan couldn’t do something that used to be easy. He wasn’t able to help much with the physical or mental healing, but he patiently had slow and painful conversations, learning to understand Obi-Wan’s half formed words and sentences. He went through slow physical training, getting him reacquainted with his awareness of his mind and body in the Force. It helped. It helped a lot. 

But also he found himself eager and overly delighted for Master Qui-Gon’s praise, and his Master wasn’t stingy with it, wanting to be supportive and kind to his Padawan. ‘Well done, Padawan’ had a similar feeling to ‘Good cow, Little Red!’ Sometimes he had to stop himself from mooing happily when his Master praised him.

Obi-Wan sighed and went back to his bed. He reached over to the vibrator he had been issued. He gave a little gasp when he turned it on, then he reached down to his little cock and gently rubbed at it. His nipples hardened in the cold. He tried to think about things that used to make him aroused, but he sunk back into his new fantasy. On all fours, unable to speak as he’s given to the agricorps farmers who are absolutely delighted to have such a fine milk cow. They all praise him and babytalk him. He’s flushed with humiliation. He relaxed into the fantasy. He doesn’t have to think and they take care of him. He doesn’t have to try to be a Jedi anymore, or be a human. They milk him and fuck him and care for him.  

Obi-Wan comes. Faces his shame. Lets himself moo stupidly in the darkness. Tries not to miss the bodyheat of his herd. 

He was still a cow. A cow stuck in a human’s body. It was the worst thing about this. He wanted to be a cow again. He wanted to not have to think of all the things that were done to him. The shame and fear and humiliation. The context of what it was to be a made into a milk cow. An animal with no autonomy. 

How could I want to be that? He asked himself angrily even as he fantasised about chewing grass without having to know he was eating animal feed, or milking without having to know he was making a luxury product that sold for thousands of credits. Not for its taste or quality, but because beings got off on idea that someone had taken a sentient being and turned him into an animal and kept him naked in a barn without a thought for his dignity.

Obi-Wan felt his arousal peak again. 

He closed his eyes and started massaging his breasts, pretending they were People hands inspecting how big his udders had grown. 

“Good cow,” they told him. “Good little Red.”

They sounded like Owner.

“It doesn’t matter that they can teach you to talk, and use hands, and understand words. You’re still my dumb cow. You’re going to be my dumb little cow forever.”

“Mrooooo,” Obi-Wan agreed as his orgasm spiked again.

He cleaned up his shameful mess and went back to sleep, forcing himself to pull the itchy covers over himself.

He was a human.

Even if it didn’t feel like it. He would be a human again.