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Part 1

George Bush, director of MoM’s development department, discussed with Rainer Mayer, his agent for Africa. “Okay, Rainer! I like your concept! When we get through this, we’ll be the first on the market to make a big realm. It amazed me at the enormous demand for human breast milk worldwide. What progress have you made in your negotiations with the chief?”

“So far it’s not going very well. There is no time pressure with Kaoli and so far they have made only bad experiences with whites. The chief has developed a great appetite for white cows after we gave him Birgit Janssen. This is his only known vulnerability. He has nothing against producing us white cows. However, he doesn’t give out Makala, not to mention the recipe. We can hire huge stables in Ukraine and keep thousands of white cows there if only we had enough Makala to feed them.”

“Yes! Our Birgit Janssen, the horny little slut! What fun we had at her forking, didn’t we?” They remembered with a broad grin. “But keep going! We would need some samples for our laboratories to produce Makala by ourselves, right?”, his boss asked.

“The medicine man prepare it fresh every day. After sixteen hours, it’s rotten,” said Mayer.

“How distant is the new village from our mine?” Bush asked.

“Well, for about an hour! Ah, very good! I can sense what you’re going for,” Mayer replied.

“Exactly! We’ll set up a lab on-site and take our best men. It would be a joke if MoM couldn’t get what it wants,” Bush said in his arrogant, American manner.

“Lena! Come in!” A six-foot-tall, slender blonde came in. I compared Claudia Schiffer or Heidi Klum to this top female, Cinderellas. Everything about her was just right. She was a real sex goddess. Mayer was staring at her, just stupid.

“Mayer, if you have found your jaw again, welcome our new partner Mrs Lena Gutbrod. Lena, please have a seat. I informed you about our project beforehand, and you could listen to our conversation. To what do you think you could help us?”

“Well, I was in Uganda at one of our meetings with the Kaoli. I arranged for the chief to run in my arms. He thought I was a tourist, and he took good care of me. Things went well. He wanted to take me within his village. I had to leave the following day, alas. He promised to pay all the costs if I came to him. This fish is hooked.” she reported.

“Sweetness is bold if she knew the fire she was playing with!“ Mayer thought and but he said:

“Hello, Mrs Gutbroad! Pleased to meet you. My name’s Mayer, with ay. You’re aware of the risks, I hope?”

“Well, the profit we can expect will make the risk manageable. If the Kaoli has turned me into one of their cows despite all the precautions, our chemists will be able to restore me once they get some fresh Makala from me. It can only be a matter of some plant active substance that makes women dull. All this is not magic, I trust that our science is more effective than these savage creatures”, she said with arrogant ignorance.

“Dream on,” thought the men, both of whom had fun at Birgit Janssen’s forking.

“In two weeks, our lab will be ready with the staff. Contact the chief, you want to visit him at his costs. Mayer is on location and holds the line. Good luck!”



At last in Kitgum. It’s been an uneventful trip so far. I just wanted to take a shower, get something to eat and a big ice-cold gin and tonic. After I passed through customs, a hotel attendant received me and told me I could drive to the hotel without worrying. He would take care of my luggage there and took my hand-luggage. All I needed to carry was my handbag with the money, papers, and makeup. To my amazement, HE, my chief, was there at the taxi stand and took me in his arms, beaming with joy. I am a reasonable 175 cm tall woman. But besides him, I looked like a little mouse. I became boiling straight away and didn’t even notice how he took me from the taxi stand to the parking lot. Two warriors stood next to a car. He gave me a gentle kiss, lifted me and tossed me to them like a feather. One of his gorillas grabbed me, tore off my dress and threw me naked and defenceless into the trunk. The flap slammed shut, and it became pitch dark and roaring hot. I was naked on a rusty baking sheet, like a roast in the oven. Then we left. Some fresh air flowed in through the rust holes and made my condition a little more bearable. A few smaller potholes transferred to me one-to-one with no cushioning. We drove in the Kaolis tribe’s direction. However, my luck did not last long, for soon the road turned into a evil dirt road, shaking and pushing me without mercy until I became unconscious. Dazed, I perceived how we stopped. The trunk flap opened and one gorilla dragged me out by my hair. Must have emptied while I was unconscious. I smelled like a pig and wanted to sink into the ground with shame and disgust. Two women grabbed me and dragged me into a big hut to the furthest corner. They put me on a wooden lattice and washed me, giggling. I was so thirsty I wanted to drink the water from the troughs, but the women tore me away.

“Tuba say you don’t drink water, water makes you sick, you never drink that!” Mm-hmm. So that’s their knowledge of English. They took me to a fat mat, the Kaoli equivalent of furniture. After the ordeals in the trunk, I was dying of thirst. I drank, contrary to better knowledge, a bowl of Malaka. And it tasted superb, still giving it to me several times. Well, I just couldn’t stop drinking. Malaka not only had an anaesthetic, healing effect on the body but also made my mind more and slower and cumbersome. The contusions and crushes I had contracted in the car’s trunk disappeared before my eyes, and at this point my willpower, too. They gave me a tasty porridge to eat, for lack of cutlery I gobbled it with my right hand, my left was for my ass, they taught me. Again and again, I drank Malaka. They handed it to me, and I drank it. It was just automatic.

Soon I lay on a mat. I was out of it. Two women left, and right from me approached my hair, another woman turned to tattoo me. From time to time there was something like resistance in me, but then the women giggled and I lost my interest in it, also silly giggling about it. I fall asleep when they kept ‘beautifying’ me.



Damn, I wondered where that woman was. The bellboy had welcomed her at the airport and taken care of her luggage. While she went to the taxi ranks to drive to the hotel. Since then, she had disappeared. Supposing she would look around Kitgum, I checked every shop and restaurant to find her. I gave up my unsuccessful search in the evening. I sat at the hotel bar with a whiskey and was thinking about other places to look for that stupid cow when a uniformed policeman came in.

“Sir! Are you Mr Mayer?” he asked me. I nodded. “You’re looking for Lena Gutbrod? We found a lady’s handbag in the airport parking lot. It was empty, but in the dust, we found a business card from Lena Gutbrod. Looks like they abducted her.”

“Damned! Have you found any other indications?” I asked.

“Well, a well-known drunkard claims to have seen three savages kidnap her.”

“Then it could only have been the Kaoli. I had an idea,” I said and had a sustained, pecuniary conversation with the civil servant.

Part 2


When I woke up, wedged between two sturdy white cows, Ngana and Luba. Their owner was the chief, as he owned me now. They called me Tampu, and I thought,

“Shit! Shit! Fuck! Shit! Shit! Fuck! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Stupid bitch, I walked right into the Chief’s trap.”  The drug had lost its effect, because I could think halfway clear again. The tattoos burned like hell. But on my scalp, once my lovely blond hair was, it burned so bad that I screamed out in pain.

Ngana and Luba, my two companion cows, woke up and infused me with Makala until the pain disappeared and also my awaken mind. I was a stupid barn cow again, living in the stable with my kind comrades. Naked and without shame, I followed the other beasts onto the wooden grid and emptied myself.  I got to eat my porridge and drink even more Makala. We trotted down to the river to bathe ourselves. Mirroring myself in the water, I had a good look at my new beautifications, at the large tattooed parts of my body, arms and legs. Except for two plate-sized areas reaching from the crown of the head to the ears, I was bald. They tattooed on my new bald spots, as on my whole face, small, different geometric patterns. I was a new branded cow. Like cattle, I noted all this with the same interest.

They gave me another big jug of Makala, and we met the medicine man. In his hut I knelt before him, he painted something on my face and I fainted.

When I woke up, I wore my yoke, my lip plate, which marked me as the chieftain’s possession and the once beautiful blonde hair of mine were now golden and wide cow horns pointing downwards.  Like a Kaoli heifer, I already had fat udders and a fat ass. That was nothing compared to an adult Kaoli cow, but I was just at the beginning.

Full of gratitude, I crawled on all fours to the medicine man; I licked in his asshole till it shone pink and clean. With the same passion, I turned to his well-filled balls. His penis had grown to its full glory during my loving surrender. It was huge! I circumnavigated his penis with my tongue, which felt somehow thicker and longer. I needed three attempts to get it in my mouth with no tearing in my lips. My jaw skin stretched and my upper and lower jaw shifted to give more room to my changed tongue and his penis. I sensed him coming, and he squeezed his dick deep into my throat while it exploded. An enormous amount of his sperm poured into my stomach. The rest splashed out of my nostrils and the corners of my mouth.  Now my longer cow tongue slides over my face to catch even the smallest drop of his delicious sperm. Licking his cock and balls clean was my dessert, to which I devoted all my delight. In the meantime, he could recharge.

I stretched my ass towards him, and he rammed his bolt through the anus in my intestine. The pain when he pierced my virgin ass made me breathless.  Soon the pain subsided as I felt myself widening at the bottom, pressing my female genitals and pelvis further behind me. My only piece of clothing, the loincloth, was now decoration, because everyone who saw me from behind not only saw it all, but with my two holes, it was pleasant now to mount me. 

Having thoroughly washed in the river, on the way back to our cowshed we passed a jeep with four armed uniforms on it, while a fifth was arguing with the chief. The chief pointed at me. The uniformed man grabbed me by my yoke, pulled me into the back of the jeep and tied me up like cattle. In Kitgum, they tossed me into a dirty, dark prison cell. And there I sat as my worst nightmare began. My body went through even more changes to become a real kaolicow. It was a night of incredible agony.

The next morning my pain had become a little more bearable and my mind was working again. As I had spent the whole night on the dirty ground, I tried to take a seat. I was sitting on, was my cunt. A cow didn’t need any furniture, and I knelt down in the dirt again. A cow must understand where its place is, where it belongs, I thought and cried, deeply humiliated. 

Gathering up all my bravery, I touched my modifications. In its special way, my yoke fascinated me, only massive at the neck and at the edge, but light as a feather and filigree. A mystery to me how the medicine man got my head through this small hole. As wide as my shoulder, my hands could reach only up to the little bells on my new horns.

Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! My beautiful blond hair was now two solid gold cow horns. I noticed how my lip plate jumped up and down. Of all the things they did to my body, this was the worst: on my lip plate was the sign of the chief. It not only made me his property, I was no longer the Mrs Lena Gutbrod, but the Kaolicow Tampu. Something inside me said that I could never remove it again. A terrible pain went through my breasts and hips. It became unbearable, and I fainted in a relieving way. 

When I woke up, Mayer was standing outside my cell. The chief explained to Mayer: “This heifer will not survive the next night. Either you give me back my property or it dies and your company pays me reasonable compensation.”

I only heard, wrapped in a mist of pain, but with an alert mind, heifer and compensation. He talked about me like I was some kind of animal.

“I can’t give her back to you. Mrs Gutbrod belongs to herself,” said Mayer.  Fierce rage was visible in the chief’s face, and he turned to walk. In my desperation, I mooted as loud as a cow, and he turned back to me.

“When my heifer Tampu wants to return to its stable, then moo.” 

The pain tormented me and devastated to the very foundations of my existence, deprived of my human dignity and ready for anything that could release me from these terrible tortures. I was mooing again and again, and between by I roared to exhaustion:  

“Please release your heifer from these pains. Let me be your cow, your cattle. Please, please, please!”

Mayer said: “I guess it’s no good anymore! Security guard, return the chief’s cow.” He opened and my owner grabbed me by the yoke and pulled me, like cattle, behind him.

Thanks to my restored mind I became aware of my humiliating situation again. I was Lena Gutbrod and aware of my humiliating situation. As a wealthy executive of a big company and with an academic degree in economics, it was now my destiny to end my days as a cow as blunt cattle?

For the very last time I tried to resist and screamed through a mist of murderous pain: “Chief, please, I will pay you any price if you turn me back and set me free.” 

In my arrogance, I still believed I could loot his country to my advantage with impunity, just like my ancestors did.  But he just laughed at me and said:

“Shut your mouth, you stupid cow!” 

My owner fed me with a full pot of Makala. The calm of a dull cow surrounded me and I realized, soon I would be a magnificent cow with udders bigger than my head and full of good milk.  With my wide, birth-friendly pelvis I will bear sons for my owner and be his happy cattle. He opened the trunk lid and threw me in. Shutter. Dumb stuff!

Moo! Moo! Moo!