Chapter 3: Hazel
Hazel stood beside the helicopter as the pilot unloaded her luggage. Turning around she addressed Mr Prentice.
“This is quite a set up. How long can I stay here?”
“As long as you wish Ms O’Keif. Mr Star did not specify a time limit, merely that you should have full use of the Island.”
Hazel studied the man for a moment and was immediately taken by the notion that he looked remarkably like Penfold, from the children’s television program “Dangermouse”. Short, fat, balding, glasses and earnest expression.
As well as Penfold and the pilot, his secretary Bubbles or Candy, Hazel couldn’t remember, staggered as elegantly as possible on impossibly high heals and a mini-skirted business suit that left very little to the imagination. The low cut blouse certainly showed off the blondes assets. Hazel wasn’t sure why she had come, but then again, she could understand why Mr Prentice would like having her around. It definitely wasn’t her admin skills that attracted him. Hazel hid a smile, covering her musings with another question.
“Jim had several wives. I can’t be the only one to take advantage of the island.”
Penfold, or rather Mr Prentice considered for a moment.
“Ms Banner also took advantage of the facilities.”
“Is she still here?”
Mr Prentice appeared troubled for a moment, before continuing.
“Unfortunately, we were unable to raise her on the radio. I came out by boat, but she was not here. I did, however, notice that the boathouse is empty, so I can only assume that she wished to leave without contacting me. Most strange behaviour,” the lawyer mused before coming back to himself. “However, I have had the radio serviced and ensured that the supplies have been replenished. Everything that you could wish is here. I would ask that, for my own peace of mind, that if you decide to leave the Island you radio me first and I will send the helicopter.”
Hazel was about to ask more, but the pilot shouted that they must be off shortly, as a weather front was moving in on the mainland and, if they did not want to fly to the next available airport, which was two hundred miles away, they should leave now. Mr Prentice hurried his goodbyes, having ensured that the pilot had stacked her bags at the house and that the electricity and water were working, before climbing aboard the helicopter and hurrying back to the mainland. Hazel watched him go before making her way to the main house.
As she had expected, Jim had lavished the best facilities that money could buy on his hideaway. She was not complaining as she snuggled down with a mug of warm cocoa, in front of a well stocked fire, as the promised storm lashed at the island with savage ferocity, forcing her to bury herself further inside the duvet, as she read a trashy romance novel that she had brought with her.
* * *
Kim spent a miserable night in her kennel, snuggling as closely to the dogs as possible as the rain came down in sheets, flooding the yard. Kim flinched, her paw subconsciously touching her collar, as another lightning bolt lit up the sky, causing the other animals to whimper and shake, snuggling closer to gain comfort from the huddle of bodies.
* * *
Hazel woke refreshed the next morning, ready to explore the island. After circling around the tennis courts, she found a track leading off into the woodland. It was quite wide, paved with compacted gravel and obviously well maintained. Hazel loved the atmosphere after a really good storm, the fresh air, clean air and the beginnings of warmth, promising another hot day. Ideal weather for a constitutional after breakfast.
After half an hour, Hazel was beginning to feel the heat. Unfortunately, the pale skin and jet black hair which indicated her Irish descent, made exposure to the sun a painful experience and so she opted to keep the Baggy T shirt on. She was a little self conscious of her body, which had gained a little weight in the past five years. She would never be a size 8 again, although the added weight had done wonders for her bust. Although she knew that she was alone on this island, old habits died the hardest and so she kept covered.
As the path turned sharply right, she saw another track leading away, down to a wooden shack at the bottom of the hill which dipped away from the path sharply towards the sea. This, Hazel mused, must be the boat house. After a moments consideration, she walked down to the building to investigate.
Hazel spent a few minutes exploring the building, with its sloping floor which disappeared beyond the double doors. Unfortunately, it was as Penfold had described it. Empty. Making her way up the hill to re-join the path, Hazel soon forgot about the boathouse and Kim.
Strangely, as the breeze shifted, as she was returning to the house, she thought she caught the sound of dogs. She had not found any kennels and so decided that she would do more exploring after lunch.
Hazel had a pleasant lunch, assembled from Jims well stocked fridge before, after a few more chapters of her trashy novel, she decided to explore some more of the buildings.
After finding store rooms and offices in the immediate buildings, Hazel found some more disturbing constructions. Sure enough, Jim had built a dungeon in the basement. Memories flooded her awareness as she ran her hands over some of the equipment and costumes. When Jim had first started dating her, they had explored her submissive tendencies, which she had by the bucket load. She had enjoyed it at first, but Jim had progressed his own dominant side to the point where Hazel had had to flee, or lose all of her identity to become Jims sexual play thing and pain slut. A bit of pain was fine. But towards the end, Jims excesses had frightened her. The divorce had cost her a fortune, but she had retained far more by fleeing. Shuddering, Hazel removed the hand that had been caressing a wooden chair, with raised metal points throughout the surface and numerous straps and buckles, before leaving the dungeon.
The outbuildings were just as interesting. A stables with riding tack that was never designed for a horse. The interior held several stalls, each one clad in wood, with iron work well above the split door of the cubicles. Making her way past a human sized cart, to a door at the back of one of the stalls. However, although she could not see a key hole, it appeared to be locked and so she made her way over to the stable door, which had closed by itself. She reached over and raised the latch before heading back out into the stable itself. Another door, at the back of the stable building was also locked and so Hazel decided to go back into the courtyard and explore the other buildings.
As she stepped into the yard, through the side door, a loud bang caused her to jump. The door which she had come through had shut loudly behind her. Staring for a moment, she soon forgot about the spring loaded door as she made her way across the yard to the next building. This seemed to be a milking parlour. She had spent enough time on farms to recognise the metal gates and feeding troughs. She could see the suckers that would go onto the cows teats, but there were only two, rather than four and they seemed to be held rigidly in a metal arm attached to the ground.
Understanding dawned and, before she could stop herself, Hazel found herself on all fours, with her head over the empty feeding trough. Sure enough, her breasts hung over the two cups and she had no doubt where her nipples would go if she took her shirt and bra off.
Standing up, she brushed the dust off of her jeans as she looked around at the milk container. God it was huge. How did he expect any woman to fill that? Shaking her head she took in the bared gates and how they could be used to cage as well as coral.
“Damn, you were into some weird shit Jim,” Hazel puzzled, shaking her head. Again, this building had a back door, but again it was locked.
Another building loomed behind the stable and the milking shed, with other outbuildings leading away from it, connected to it. This must be where the back doors lead she mused.
As she approached the third building, the sound of dogs that she had heard earlier increased. She could plainly hear the animals on the other side of the wall, which she followed around, but could not gain entry to. At last, she decided to go back to the house for a coffee. She would explore the rest later.
After coffee, Hazel radioed Penfold to let him know that she was alright and had settled in. She asked about the building, but the lawyer could offer no answer, simply saying that Mr Star had arranged for the maintenance of those buildings himself.
“I bet he did,” Hazel smirked to herself as she concluded the conversation.
Outside, she made her way to the other side of the large building. At first she could not see anything, but at last she found a door. It was open. She could not make out what was on the other side of the door, as it was dark. Gingerly, Hazel edged her way into the room beyond. She was halfway into the room when she notices the triangle of light cast from the door was growing smaller. Quickly she spun around and made a dash for the rapidly closing door, but it was too late. Hazel found herself in darkness, searching desperately for the handle which wasn’t there. The door was smooth and Hazel found that she would have to abandon this exit and look for another. Turning around she headed into the centre of the dark space before she was suddenly blinded as bright, fluorescent lights came on.
After adjusting to the light, Hazel found that she was in some sort of bathroom; a counter took up one side of the room, with a box sitting on it. A shower stood in the corner on the other side of the tiled room. On the opposite wall was another door, but again, Hazel could not see a handle. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice suddenly boomed out of a speaker in the wall.
“Please get undressed and place your clothes in the box provided. Once you have done this, coat your body liberally with the decontaminating jelly. You should leave this on for at least fifteen minutes and should be liberally applied to all areas of the body, including hair and private areas. After fifteen minutes, you should shower before proceeding into the next room. Thank you for co-operating fully with the requirement of this facility.”
* * *
Kim was despondent. She had recovered to the sound of the helicopter as it diminished into the distance. However, this melancholy did not last long. If there was one thing that Kim had learnt, it was resilience. She went about her routine of eat, play with the dogs, sleep and more play, but in between she planned how she would get out of the compound and reclaim her humanity. However, no obvious solution to her problem presented itself. She was starting to lose hope. Then, a few days after the helicopter, Kim noticed something that she had not seen before. One of the supposedly solid plastic cuffs around her paw had frayed a little, revealing a small amount of material in amongst the melted plastic. The first ray of hope started to form in Kim’s mind as she stared at her left wrist.
* * *
Hazel had not had a good day. She had argued and pleaded with the voice, the door or anybody who would listen, but the same message had prompted her to remove her clothes, apply the strange lotion and then, after fifteen minutes to have a shower. At last she had relented and now stood staring down at herself. Her normally pale skin was now pure white. Strangely, her body was also covered in large black blotches, obviously an effect due to the thickness of the gunk that she had smeared over her body before allowing it to dry and then showering off. But this was not the worst as her brown eyes grew wide with horror, her hands pressed firmly against her cheeks as her mouth formed a large O.
Looking down at herself she could now see that, not only had she washed the gunk off, but her hair, all of her hair, was now at her feet in the shower cubicle. She was completely bald. She had even less hair than the day she had been born. The fine hair on her arms, along with her long raven hair, as well as her bush, were all clumped together in a clogging, thick mass at the bottom of the shower.
Hazel staggered out of the shower and attempted to retrieve her clothes, but as she did so, the voice that she had grown to hate, she couldn’t decide if it was Joanna Lumbley or the woman from the AOL adverts, sounded through the speakers again.
“Please get undressed and place your clothes in the box provided before proceeding into the next room.”
Sobbing, Hazel did as she was told. Now she would get out of here. She was going to have strong words with Penfold or whatever he was called. She was so busy fuming that she didn’t notice that she had already stepped through the door into another room. The sound of the door closing behind her caused her to spin around, her 36D breasts swinging painfully around, since she no longer wore a bra, to face the door that she was certain was now locked as well as closed. Sure enough she found that she would not be leaving this way.
Looking around the room, Hazel found herself in an empty room. A door stood on the other side of fifteen by ten room. Unusually, the floor was covered in straw.
“Please complete all of the tasks required before proceeding into the next room,” the voice intoned.
Hazel groaned. Whatever this building was designed for, she was now a part of it. She had stumbled into one of Jims strange fantasies and she must, judging by all of the planning, see it through until the ride ends, or she is eventually rescued by the lawyer or maintenance people.
* * *
Kim had spent her time constructively. The best course of action was to whittle away at the wrist and see what happens. Unfortunately, the compound had been designed so that there were no sharp edges anywhere, obviously to prevent what she was considering. The other problem was that she did not know how her actions were controlled. Was it really a computer program or was Jim still out there, watching and monitoring her every move? Whatever she did, it would have to be out of sight of the main compound. The kennel was not the best surface to try and free her wrists, but she was sure that there were no cameras in her little home and so, every night, Kim started to rub her wrist against the rounded slats inside her kennel.
* * *
Hazels stay had got stranger and stranger. After an eternity, a strange horn had sounded from the speakers and a panel had rotated out of the wall to reveal a tray of grass. But it was not common garden grass, This stuff smelled strongly of lemon. Strangely, it was still growing in its own box of soil.
“Please eat all of the vegetation provided,” the voice commanded from the speaker.
As if in response, her tummy started to grumble.
“What the hell,” Hazel thought as she ripped a hand full of grass out of the box and placed it in her mouth. As she started to chew, her earlier suspicion was confirmed. This was edible. It was a salad variety of some sort. Once she had finished the tray, leaving only short stumpy vegetation, the box rotated back into the wall. Another section of wall, also at ground level, rotated out.
“Please eat everything in the tray provided”.
Hazel suddenly remembered Alice in Wonderland.
“Curiosa and curiosa, “ mumbled Hazel as she approached the tray.
Rather than a small bottle or cake with instructions to “Eat me” or “Drink me,” Hazel found that the stainless steel, half cylindrical tray was separated into two halves. One half contained water, the other a cereal of some sort. Scooping a hand full of water into her hands, she raised it to her mouth and drank, before whipping her hands down her sides and taking a handful of the cereal and scooping it into her mouth. Fortunately, she mused, she did not start to grow or shrink.
“Hmmm, not bad,” she mused as she cupped another handful of the trail mix and shoved it into her mouth.
After what felt like several days of this, the routine changed. Hazel woke to find a metal gate moving out of the wall and making its way across her cell, to the other wall, effectively cutting her quarters in half. Suddenly a section of the wall detached itself about two feet from the floor. It was only three or four inches in height, but ran half the length of the room, up to the gate. Hazel watched as metal rods continued to push the section of wall, which then rotated downward revealing broom bristles. These were lowered to the floor and all of the straw was swept into another section of wall, underneath the first opening, which had also opened and which the old straw was being swept into. Once this had been cleared, the broom and lower opening retracted back into the wall. Once this had been accomplished, a panel in the ceiling opened, dropping fresh straw into that side of the room.
After this, the gate retracted about four feet before the voice ordered her into the area that had just been cleaned. The gate then closed and the soiled straw on the now unoccupied side was removed and fresh straw added in the same manner. After this the routine of eat, sleep and pace around her cell continued.
Hazel was not getting enough exercise. She noticed that she seemed to be gaining weight. Also, her breasts were aching. Perhaps it was just hormones. Had she been in here that long she wondered?
A little while later, she took more interests in her breasts. The pain had not subsided and they looked bigger somehow. She did not have long to ponder this as, yet again, the voice announced a change in the routine.
“Please go to the panel that has just opened and collect the object that has been dispensed,” the voice cheerfully chimed.
When she got out of this, she was definitely going to smack Joanna Lumbley.
Walking over to the panel by the door, Hazel noticed that a panel had indeed opened. Picking up the object she found that it was a collar. Inspecting the collar she noticed that it had a strange metal panel on the inside. Rather than a buckle the collar had a strange locking arrangement, where metal prongs on one side of the collar could be placed into corresponding holes on the other side. The most curious thing however was a large, flat sided bell was clipped to, what she supposed was the front of the collar. A D ring was also attached to the back of the collar, near the connection point, but she could not figure out what this was for. Usually, on a buckle, this would be where you slid the bit of belt to stop it from coming undone, but she could see no strap.
“Please place the collar around your neck as shown on the video screen.”
Hazel looked around and, just as promised a panel had slid back revealing a screen. This showed a computer generated woman placing the collar around her neck, with the bell hanging at the front.
This was a bit weird and so Hazel decided that she would pass on this occasion, despite the continued reminders from the voice. Hazel didn’t know how long this had gone on for, but eventually she gave in. The voice had become most insistent and the rumbling from her tummy told her that she was well overdue for some food.
“So that’s your game is it?” Hazel questioned.
She either did as she was told, or she would not be fed. Sure enough, as soon as she had placed the collar around her neck, the dinner horn sounded and her usual two course meal, grass first, was presented to her.
Hazel had a fitful nights sleep. Every time that she got comfortable, the damned bell would clunk and bring her into a half waking state, before she drifted off again. At last, exhaustion won out and before she knew it, she was awoken by the food horn.
Her tits seemed to be getting bigger and bigger as she spent more time here. It wasn’t just that she was putting on weight. They were definitely getting bigger. Perhaps it was something in the water. Finally, as she was examining her E or maybe F cups, a small trickle of white liquid snaked down her breast. Hazel stared at it in horror as it made its way down her cleavage, before dropping onto her lap.
As if the voice knew what had happened, when the next feed time came, attached to the front of the steel tray, but held outwards by perhaps a foot or two by chrome metal bars, were two glass milking cups, with hollow plastic tubes snaking from the bottom of the glass tubes, under the tray and into the wall. Above the tray, perhaps about two feet high, a metal rod protruded horizontally from the wall. There also seemed to be a dog clip attached to the end. Strangely, there was no food or water in the tray.
“Please align your body as shown in the video.”
Without the need for further prompting, Hazel stood up and watched the video screen that had appeared from behind a panel. It showed a computer generated naked woman. She was on all fours. She made a sweeping motion with her body, so that the back of her collar connected with the dog clip. This must be what the D ring is for, she mused. The woman then bent down, as a length of rope or cable extended from the metal protrusion, which was now attached to the collar. The woman then aligned her breasts over the cups, which then attached to her nipples somehow. An animation of food was then seen to drop into the tray or, as she now realized, trough.
Hazel sobbed. What was this bastard doing to her? She dreaded that she actually knew, but mentally didn’t want to go there. But what choice did she have? She could hold out for a while, but thirst and hunger would win in the end and, stifling further sobs, bent down onto all fours and positioned herself under the protrusion. At last, she heard a click and, as she bent down, felt a slight pull from an extendable lead of some sort, on her collar. The next step filled her heart with cold dread as she positioned her enlarged breasts over the two glass cups. Once in place, she heard a sucking sound and, her nipples were pulled down into the glass tubes. She thought that this would be it, but suction continued until her nipples were stretched and began to elongate within the jars. The suction held steady for a moment before she felt first one and then the other being sucked quite forcefully. Left, right, left, right the suction carried on relentlessly. It was so uncomfortable that she hadn’t even noticed that her trough was now full of food. After an eternity, she was released, and she crawled away from the milking station feeling utterly abused and humiliated. At last, Hazel finally sobbed herself to sleep, curled up in a ball in her fresh hay.
Another new routine was then introduced. She would have to eat all of the lemon grass that was presented before she could receive trail mix and water. This turned out to be about five trays, over a period of time. Also, she was not expected to latch onto the protrusion when eating grass. This only came out with the feeding trough. Also, her breasts were getting huge. She estimated that she was well into G territory, if not beyond. Her breasts would definitely get her onto the pages of certain magazines. They also hurt her back if she stood up for too long.
Now, when she was milked, her breasts were so full that they nearly touched the floor and Hazel noticed that, rather than the small trickle that she had produced before, she was now able to watch a steady stream of milk leaving her tits, disappearing under the metal tray via the clear plastic pipes. Her nipples, after so much abuse and stretching, were now huge, pointing firmly outwards, like two towers, by perhaps as much as an inch and a half. She had tried crying, shouting and beating the door. Nothing worked. Eventually the voice must have gotten tired of this, since the next change would take away her voice and complete her transformation.
“Please place the device into your mouth and secure it using the Allen key provided, as shown in the video on the screen above the tray,” the voice intoned.
Getting up, she walked over to watch the video and was truly horrified, despite everything that had been done to her. The video showed the computer character placing some sort of dental device in her mouth, trapping her tongue and securing it with an Allen key, which locked the contraption to her rear molars.
“No way you bitch I am not doing it. Do you hear? Go screw yourself.”
“ZZZZ.”
The collar forcefully reminded her of her options, but not so severely as to knock her out. A definite first warning.
“Please place the device into your mouth and secure it using the Allen key provided, as shown in the video on the screen above the tray. You now have two minutes to comply.”
Hazel didn’t need telling twice and, after some fumbling effort, had managed to fit the gag, clamping her tongue to the bottom of her jaw with a hard plastic strip. She had turned the Allen key on each of the molars until the voice had told her to stop.
The next items to be fitted were some form of leg binders. She had to bend her legs, so that a rubber stopper was over the knee, with her leg bent all of the way over, so that her heal touched her ass. The leather straps of the binder were then fastened, using a set of buckles, which ran up her legs, encasing each in its own prison.
Hazel could now only move about her prison on all fours. She didn’t like it, but she could no longer complain about it, making primitive grunting or Argghhing noises. But she had learnt her lesson and, after five or so milking sessions, when the voice told her to remove items from a panel, having watched a video first, she complied quickly.
The first was a set of leggings, or rather half leggings. The crotch and ass were open, like suspender tights and, following the video, she managed to get them over her legs, so that the hooves built into the black and white spotted tights slipped over the rubber knee pads, locking in place with a metallic click.
The next item was to remove the cover from the sticky part of the base of the tail and push it firmly down over her tail bone. The tail, although a part of the tights, had a re-enforced section enabling the tail, when glued down, to stick out as a flexible, whippy appendage.
A set of horns was then fastened, via leather straps, onto her head. The buckles held the wide cow horns in place, so that the two foot long horns that extended from either side of her head, curving gently upwards, did not move. Fortunately, they were quite light, or possibly hollow, so it was not too uncomfortable.
A strange mask was next. She had to feed the lower, flexible, part under her top lip, so that the cows face, when pulled on, fitted smoothly over her own features. The half mask also had a leather, cow hide, section that covered the back of the head, over the horns, creating a balaclava, complete with cow ears that fitted over her own, which was then secured to the bottom of the mask as it hooked back on itself. After some fiddling, the ears covered her own. One of the ears, Hazel noticed, had a strange yellow plastic tag attached to it. It was quite sturdy, with numbers printed on it.
She could still eat like this. She could see out through the holes in the mask which molded to her face. Neither was her hearing impaired too much by the fake cow ears. She didn’t need a mirror to know that she now looked like a black and white cow. She gave her tail an experimental swish before moving on to the last bit of the costume. A set of hoof gloves.
Once she had placed these on her hands the voice told her to push her hooves into hoof shaped holes in the wall that had been revealed by another sliding panel, in front of her. As she did so her wrists seemed to be tugged by something being, she felt, wrapped around her wrists. She then felt her wrists becoming hot. But she dare not remove her hands unless she was shocked again.
Finally she was allowed to remove her hooves from the hole, which now sported a hard plastic shell around her wrists, which was covered with cowhide. After this, she was allowed to be milked and fed. It took her several feeds before she was able to eat her grass properly, or get her nipples aligned without a helping hand, although these had grown in length and protruded a full two inches from her breasts, making the job of lining up with the milking tubes easier. The feeding pattern also changed. The grass was left out and the voice encouraged her to graze regularly, as the grass was renewed frequently. Finally, after an eternity, she was able to feed and milk herself.
At last, after several milking sessions, which may have been days, weeks, or hours, (Hazel had given up on trying to measure time by this stage) she had obviously done enough to satisfy the voice. One morning, rather than going straight to her milking station, the other door opened and she was told to proceed into the next room for milking. Once complete she must leave via the far door. Hazel complied.
The fat, heavy breasted creature waddled comically out of the room. She was not surprised to find herself in the milking parlor that she had explored a lifetime ago. She waddled over to an empty stall, her pendulous breasts swinging beneath her to the sound of the ever present cow bell, as she ambled into the gated bay, positioning herself into the bay as she had been taught, before settling down to food and milking. She could not have imagined when, in her previous life, she had bent down into this position while exploring, she would soon find herself virtually naked and being milked for real, living the life of a cow.
Finally, after half an hour or so, Hazel was released and, as she backed out of the bay, she was surprised to see that the glass chamber which she had sworn was impossibly huge, had been filled to three quarters of the volume.
She was not surprised to see that the door to the old cell had closed and, as she walked through the metal gates, with the cow bell clanging with each swing of her body, which herded her towards the final door, she at last caught a sight of daylight.
She emerged into a field of lemon grass. It was enclosed on all sides by a high wall and a lean to shed had been constructed as a sort of shelter at the other end of her new home, complete with fresh straw. A trough stood near to this, against the wall, filled with water.
Hazel the cow waddled into her fields, resigned to her new life of eating grass and being milked. She would have slumped her shoulders, if she hadn’t been on all fours. At last she acknowledged her new position in the world and contented herself with a long, wailing
”Mooo”.
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28.06.09
story continues in Kim's Tail 4: Kate
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