You slowly open your eyes, as if returning from a long sleep, and you can feel things are wrong, very wrong, but you can't tell exactly how. You vaguely remember a hospital, nurses, doctors, pain, a lot of pain, but not much from before that, like it's a long time ago. Now you feel discomfort and disorientation. You try and speak, but you feel something down your throat, perhaps a feeding tube, maybe you’re still in hospital…

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mina,” I say, a smile in my tone.

With difficulty, you bring your eyes to focus, and you see me, standing in front of you, as you lie on… it feels cold and hard, like concrete. You feel light-headed, and you raise your hand to your forehead, but something stops you. You see your hand before you, but it’s not your hand… it’s a… hoof? But it’s at the end of your arm!

“I know you’re probably a little confused at the moment, but if you get up on your hands and knees and turn around, I’ll explain.”

Groggily, you try to get up, but your legs don’t seem to work correctly, they’re trapped somehow… You manage to get up onto your hands and knees, but when you try to rise further, something prevents you moving your arms up, or straightening your legs… Wondering what is going on and feeling a little alarmed, you look around hoping for some answers, and see…

Instinctively, you know it’s you, but… how? The creature in front of you has horns, large black ears sticking out horizontally, a large, flat, white nose, just a… hole where the mouth should be…  You’re on your hands and knees, but your hands are inside hoof-like gloves, your knees capped by hooves with your feet locked back against your thighs… Your body is dappled black and white, all over… except for your breasts… your breasts are huge, flesh-coloured udders, swinging below you, almost touching the ground…

“You’ve had some very expensive work done, Mina, I hope you appreciate it. Laser hair removal all over your body, several breast enhancements, and the distinctive Friesian colouration and patterning across your body isn't a suit or temporary paint, it's done with all-over body tattoos, permanent. Those ears are grafted onto your own, genuine cow’s horns screwed into your skull, and that mask is custom-made to your exact features and surgically attached – that’s not coming off. You might feel the tubes in your nose – those attach to the nostrils on the mask, so your fully connected, wouldn’t want the mask getting all gunked up with your snot. Oh, I must show you this feature.”

I reach forward and poke you with the cattle prod, sending a brief burst of electricity through you. You instinctively let out a scream and…

“MMMOOOOOOOOOOH!”

“Perfect! That device in your throat changes any sound you make into a moo! Neat, huh?”

You stare at your reflection, utterly dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what has been done to you or why. You turn slowly, looking at yourself from different angles, until you see the tail.

“That’s a technical marvel,” I explain, “it’s attached to the butt plug filling your rectum, which detects when you need to evacuate your bowels, breaks it all down and expels it so that you can drop nice, runny pats just like all the other cows. And the tail automatically raises when you shit! Like I said, no expense spared!”

I smile as you continue to stare at your reflection, your eyes wide with fear and incomprehension.

“You’ll be kept here, in the cowshed, fed and milked in the morning, then put out to graze with the other cows. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to graze properly, but a feeding tube can be attached to your voice changer, and you’ll be fed mulched grass with added vitamins. I know you have a little fantasy about being as dumb as a cow while remaining fully aware, so we’ll be feeding you a high dosage of Ritalin, which should dull your senses fairly dramatically. And there will also be a cocktail of experimental drugs and hormones to promote lactation.”

I pick up a tag-punch.

“Just a couple of last things. This is your EU livestock tag – this means that you are, legally and officially, a cow!”

I grab your ear and punch your earlobe, leaving the yellow plastic tag hanging there, making you scream in pain, filling the shed with the sound of… a calf in agony.

“Don’t worry, Mina,” I say, holding the ring through your cow nose, which is now, just your nose, and looking intently into your eyes, “you won’t mess up your mask by crying – your tear ducts have been cauterized.”

“And this.” I hold up the smoking hot branding iron so that you can see the reversed letters, ‘JH’.

“Obviously with your ear tag, this isn’t strictly necessary. But I just want you to always be aware of who did this to you.”

I grab you as you frantically try to get away, and drive the iron against the your white rump. I enjoy the smell of burning flesh and the sound of your wild howls, gradually subsiding to forlorn lowing.

“Oh, and Mina? This is the last time you’ll ever hear your name. No-one here knows it and I won’t tell them – you’re just a dumb animal now. Why don’t you go and meet your new friends?”

I open the shed door and point to the grassy field and, when you don’t move, encourage you with the prod. As you shuffle away towards the herd, mooing miserably, I wonder idly if this is your dream or your nightmare…