When I received the email titled “Collector sale tonight!”, I was more than a little skeptical about the wares. It had been five years since the Bankruptcy Reform Act had been enacted, and selling people who were in heavy debt still had its drawbacks. Namely in the state of those that had accumulated such debt in pursuit of costly vices.
Nevertheless, I was intrigued, and had cash in hand to participate. I closed my laptop, grabbed my keys and a leash, and headed to the location. I didn’t expect to find anything of use there, but fortune favors the bold.
I arrived at the venue, a once dilapidated warehouse now converted to a government auction block for those wayward souls who had no choice but to declare bankruptcy. I had apparently arrived just in time for the auction pieces to be delivered, as a line of chained individuals was unloaded from the armored bus. Some looked fearful, others defiant, but all wore the same look of resignation as they marched into the processing portion of the auction house.
I kept my eyes on the potential prospects as I handed the doorman my printed invitation and entered the doors leading inward. Once inside, I joined the group watching eagerly at the processing window to see what this new batch of debtees had to offer.
We all watched as the standard procedure began. First, the pieces were unchained from each other and made to stand in line facing forward. Then the processing team had them remove all jewelry, clothing and anything that would make them feel like a person. Most complied, but a few had to be reminded that they no longer had any choice. One very vocal candidate demanded to speak with the supervisor, that this was a mistake, the usual sort of thing that happens now and again. She was quickly silenced with a well strapped ball-gag and promptly stripped of her belongings.
The next part of the process was possibly the most difficult for them, but the most exciting for those on this side of the glass: tonight’s theme. A loudspeaker hummed to life and began the traditional prerecorded message.
“Welcome to the Collectors Auction! Those of you here by invitation are welcome to enjoy the sights and sounds of our lovely establishment! We only ask that you maintain peace and civility during these precedings, and try not to over endulge in the spirits we offer. And for those of you currently in the processing pen, welcome to your new role. You are here to settle the debts you accrued in your past life and to help the economy in your own special way. Once your collars are placed and your numbers assigned, you will no longer be who you once were. You will become so much more, as property collateral to settle your various fees, fines and financial hardships as per the Bankruptcy Reform Act. You are no longer part of the problem, no longer a burden on the economy, you are the solution. You are the future. You are now property, and will be auctioned off accordingly. With that out of the way, tonight’s auction will be once again themed to help drive the sales of these items and to help rebuild the economy of this great nation. Without further ado, tonight’s theme is…”
The recording trailed off to allow the banner to dramatically fall, revealing the big bold letters of the night’s event. It summed up everything in one word: “HUCOW”.
I was intrigued by this decision. Many patrons gasped in delight, others looked on in confusion. The evenings auctioneer took this moment to explain what a hucow is and their uses and roles. Once explained, everyone turned to the items with renewed interest, and with ideas running through their minds. The soon to be auctioned pieces looked with stunned silence and defeat.
At once, the items were brought to the stage and lined up side by side, where their collars were permanently attached and their number codes clipped to the collars only loop. The gagged cow met this with a certain level of hostility. Trying to break free, it was quickly detained and held in place by cuffs pre-attached to the floor. Once that situation was settled, the items were instructed to prepare for inspection and to pose however they felt would guarantee their purchase. They seemed to understand, as they had heard rumors of what happened to those who don’t clear their debt. Once the pieces were in place, the potential bidders were clear to investigate their future property.
I started walking the line, seeing what I had to work with. Each asset had an accompanying handler, with a brief one page description of the items debt value, strengths, weaknesses, and overall health conditions. While the other bidders stared, fingered, stroked and prodded their possible investments, I began from the first and moved to the last, keeping my thoughts to myself but critiquing each in my own way.
“Too old to be a good milk producer.”
“I don’t really need a bull.”
“How did this 18 year old gather this much debt for its opening bid?”
“This one won’t fetch much due to its drug use”
On and on down the line I went. Honestly, any one of them could be useful, though I wouldn’t openly admit it. My true criteria for choosing an item was easy. I went with the theme. Any one of them that was striking poses, talking to entice buyers, acted like it was still a person in any way failed to me. It should be clear to them and the buyers that if they truly understood the theme, they’d be better appealing as cows.
I had all but lost hope of getting a good purchase in when I saw it. One of them was on all fours. I could hardly believe it. I walked over and quickly scanned its description. Item # 25-2081-14-25, a former transgender woman now hucow. 29 years old, long curly hair, 5’7, brown eyes, lots of freckles on its face and shoulders, not large, but not skinny either. Little A-cup udders with potential for growth and a small clitty hidden in the shadows of average size testicles.
Fascinated by this creature, I decided to forgo my usual look don’t touch approach and took a pair of black latex gloves offered by its handler. Circling it, I carefully moved my fingers along its back, tracing the muscles to its hindquarters, feeling each relax and contract with my touch. Good tone, well cared for and very responsive. As I moved my hand towards its buttocks, I noticed it subtly parted its legs and made a sound. Curious, I leaned over, and asked quietly, “What was that? Did you say something?”. The response I got was what I hoped for: “Moo”.
This one understood what the theme was. What it was supposed to be doing to ensure its purchase. With a knowing smile, I continued my examination. Applying some lube offered by the handler to my gloves, I gently probed the opening the cow had provided to gauge its response. A shudder of pleasure rippled through it, and as I looked down, I noticed a puddle had been growing on the stage between its legs and its clit was almost fully hardened. I knew I had found my prize for the first time.
After the buyers had gotten their fill of testing out the items, some a little too enthusiastically, the auction was ready to begin. I waited patiently in the back, sipping my drink coolly as one item was purchased after another. Some were harder to sell than others, as the opening bid would always be the collective debt they had established prior to their bankruptcy. Not surprisingly, the once loud protestor had the most money out of all of them to collect. Luckily, its udders were natural 44DDs, and ripe for milking. It was eventually purchased by a local dairy farm in search of a new high production milker, for almost twice its value. It was lead off stage, a look of shock on its face and a line of drool trailing past its gag and down its udders.
Then the moment finally arrived. My future prize was lead on stage. Walking on all fours, it was brought up to the spinning pedestal, looking anxious and shaking. The buyers listened to the auctioneer’s assessment, but most had already had their purchases or lost what they had wanted, so the crowd was much fewer than at the start. A good sign for me, at the least.
Once the bidding started, I calmly kept my bid in pace with the other buyers. In their haste to own it, it seemed I was the only one noticing how the calfling was reacting. It was clearly nervous, and anxious, but it also was growing its clit in size and I could occasionally see drops falling from it. That was more than enough to get me to take more initiative. With an overwhelming eagerness, I announced a bid twice the highest at that moment, and when no one challenged it, the auctioneer’s gravel hammered down, sealing the little hucow’s fate and bringing me much satisfaction.
I met with the staff backstage to finish the payment portion, filling out the required paperwork. When asked how I wanted it delivered, I simply pointed to my vehicle, and the trailer behind it. It was lead without much difficulty, on its hindquarters this time, and attached with a lock to the inside of my trailer. “Enjoy your purchase, and we hope to see you again soon!”, I heard as I climbed in and drove home.
I pulled in to the drive, got out and unhooked my new pet. Bringing it inside, I decided to test and see if it could follow commands. Once inside, I said “Fours”. It understood quickly, and dropped on all fours immediately. “Oh yes”, I thought, “This is exactly what I’ve been needing”. I brought it to the kennel I had set up had it climb inside, and locked the door. It mooed sadly at me, but I explained that I needed a shower, and I wouldn’t be long. It quieted down, and started my shower. Once I finished, toweled off and got a drink, I unlatched the kennel and allowed it to explore its new surroundings. I settled on the couch, pleased with how the night had gone. I took a sip of my drink and looked down at a now eager, happy calf. Remembering the inspection I performed before, I smiled and began to grow hard.
It seemed to notice, and after a questioning look and a quiet moo, I smiled bigger and nodded. Quickly but carefully, it enveloped my stiffening cock in its mouth, warmly resting it on its tongue. Feeling the heat of its mouth made me groan loudly, and I gently placed my hand on the top of its head, moving it back and forth. Slowly, methodically, it embraced every inch of my throbbing member, seemingly savoring the taste. After quite some time of this delightful pleasure, I decided to try another command to see if it could follow.
I stated “Present”, which produced a quizzical look from my cock-sucking pet. “Guess we’ll work on that later” I said to it. I gestured for it to turn around, which seem to enlighten it to my intentions. It turned around and raised its rump to the sky. I smiled, saying “That’s a good girl”. She seemed to enjoy the praise, which I noted for later, and mooed in delight. Her mooing soon turned to moaning however as I mounted her from behind. Her saliva made for excellent lube as I slowly slid my cock inside her, pumping into her with ease as she clenched me from the inside. As my thrusts got deeper, so did her clit grow in size. Reaching down, I moved my hand up and down her throbbing clit, moving in time with my thrusts. I felt her tightening up, ready to explode, as was I. I roared in pleasure as I drained my balls inside her, while she released an equally volumed moo as she climaxed in my hand. We collapsed, both out of breath and sweating heavily. Despite the rules of the BRA, I decided right then and there that even though she was property, she still deserved a name. “I think I’ll call you Bethany, my little calfling”. Smiling, she looked back with joy and satisfaction, saying simply “Moo”.