[Story] The Nose Ring - Cow Transformation (Patreon)

Brent didn’t expect to come home with anything more than junk, but the stall caught his eye. The man behind it looked like he hadn’t moved in hours.

“This one’s not a toy,” the vendor said, holding up a thick brass nose ring. “Belonged to a hedge witch. She had bovine familiars. Said anyone foolish enough to wear it becomes part of her herd.”

Brent bought it on impulse.

Later that evening, he showed it to Casey, dangling it between two fingers. “Look what I found. Apparently cursed. Turns you into a cow.”

“Let me see,” she said, and before he could stop her, she snatched it from his hand and clipped it onto her septum with a grin. “Bitch, I’m a cow! Bitch, I’m a cow!” she sang, referencing Doja Cat’s song. 

“Casey…”

She blinked. Reached up. Tugged.

“It’s stuck,” she said, frowning. She pulled harder. The ring didn’t even shift. “It won’t come off.”

Brent moved toward her, trying not to panic. “Here, let me—just hold still.”

He gripped both sides and pulled. Her head jerked forward with the force, but the ring didn’t move. It was fused—as if it had been driven through her flesh and healed instantly.

“God, what is happening—” Her voice cracked mid-sentence, dropping lower. Deeper. She froze.

“Your nose,” Brent whispered.

Casey turned to the mirror—and gasped. The tip of her nose had ballooned outward, the bridge flattening. Her nostrils had widened dramatically, soft and wet-looking. The skin was turning pale pink, textured, almost shiny.

“No no no—no,” she growled, grabbing the ring again and yanking with both hands. She twisted it, scratched at it, tried to wedge her fingernails underneath. Nothing. The metal wouldn’t budge. It was firmly embedded in her swollen septum.

Two dull aches throbbed at the sides of her skull. She gripped her head, wincing—then froze again as she felt them push through. Slowly, inexorably, two horns curled up and outward from just above her temples. Thick, ridged, unmistakably bovine.

Black fur broke through her skin—first on her face, then down her neck, across her arms, her chest, her back, her legs. It spread fast. It itched. It burned.

“Brent!” she shouted, spinning toward him. Her eyes burned. “This is your fault!”

Brent was going to defend himself, point out that it was her who snatched it and put it on. But he kept his mouth shut. She seemed to realize it on her own.

“I didn’t think—mOOOOOOO!!!” she began to mutter but then that bovine cry erupted.

Her breath hitched. The wave of rage washed away, replaced by shame. She turned away, grinding her teeth, nostrils flaring wide with each breath.

She was back in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection: her nose—her snout—massive and pink, framed by a new forest of black fur and crowned with horns.

She touched her nose and recoiled at the cold, damp sensation. 

She grabbed for the ring again, desperately tugging at it. But of course, it didn’t budge.