[Story] Werecow GF Thinks About You During TF (Patreon)

The moon glared through my window, fat and unblinking, and I felt it start again—that slow, hot twist in my gut. I’d locked the door hours ago, told him to stay away tonight. My boyfriend didn’t need to see this. I could barely handle it myself. The change was coming, and with it, that wild, unbearable ache I could never shake.

I stumbled to the bed as my body shifted. My skin prickled as patches of soft fur bloomed across my thighs, my chest heaving as my frame thickened. Horns nudged through my scalp, small but sharp, and my tail flicked behind me, restless. I collapsed onto the sheets, my breath ragged, heat pooling low in my belly. God, it was too much. Every time I turned, this insane horniness hit me like a freight train.

My hands moved on their own, sliding down my stomach, past the faint line where skin met fur. I spread myself open, my pussy already wet, throbbing with need. A moan tore out of me, loud and shameless, and my mind snapped straight to him. His dark eyes, that crooked smile, the way his fingers would dig into my hips when we fucked. “Oh fuck, I wish you were here,” I gasped, rubbing myself harder, imagining him above me, inside me, taking me apart. I could almost hear his voice, low and teasing, egging me on.

But then my rhythm faltered, my tail twitching against the mattress. I couldn’t let him see me like this—half-woman, half-beast, snorting and desperate. He’d said he didn’t care, that he loved me anyway, but what if he actually saw me now? Nostrils flaring, body hairy and trembling, lost in this feral mess? I wanted him so bad it hurt, but the thought of his eyes on me like this made my chest tighten. No. Better he stayed gone tonight.

I arched my back, chasing the release anyway, his name slipping from my lips in a broken whimper. The pressure built, coiling tight, and then it snapped—my whole body shuddered as I came, a loud, throaty “moo” bursting out of me, raw and unstoppable. I collapsed back, panting, the sound echoing in the quiet room. For a moment, I just lay there, sticky and spent, his face still lingering in my mind. It’d have to be enough.