“Miss Wicke, might I say you look radiant as always.”

The Aether branch chief laughs away your compliments, though you’re fairly certain you spy a certain burn to her cheeks. “You’re always such a charmer,” she says with a wave of the hand. “If you think that’ll make us kick more funding your way, it’s not going to work!”

You smile at her riposte, but you meant what you said. Wicke truly is a lovely woman—curves in all the right places accentuated by her close-fitting Aether uniform. Her lavender turtleneck and matching catseye glasses complete the look, and her perfectly coiffed mane of raven’s-wing hair doesn’t hurt either. With her hint of alluring plushness, heavy curves, and round face, she is the epitome of a big beautiful woman.

She’s also been your main contact; you and Aether have been working on a project lately.

“So how goes the research into Tapu Bulu?” Wicke says as the lift hums around you. “Any luck?”

“Some,” you rejoin. You’re an Alolan folklorist, and after the incident with Ultra Space (which the foundation is admirably taking complete responsibility for), the tapu seem to have become agitated. Aether has asked you to look into their history to try to find a way to appease them; Bulu in particular seems a tough nut to crack. “Your suppositions proved correct, Miss Wicke. Bulu was worshipped as a fertility god in ancient times.”

“It’s hardly surprising,” she murmurs as the lift stopped, opening up to one of Aether’s conservation areas. Even after all this time, the foundation’s resources still blow you away. Not only did Lusamine have the means to construct her own personal floating island, but she also bankrolled the vast expanse of grass and trees and meadows sweeping out before you—acres and acres of perfectly-maintained wild space, made exclusively for the benefit of endangered pokemon.

You follow Wicke out into the conservation area; she often prefers to hold your meetings here, where even the sunlight and breeze feel real, rather than cooped up in an office or lab. “Tapu Bulu is the guardian of the wild,” Wicke continued. “Reports indicate he causes grass to grow by his mere presence. That sounds like fertility to me, doesn’t it?”

You nod in agreement. Not to mention the sheer fact that he is a bull is also a big indicator. Many ancient cultures considered bulls to be sacred animals and they celebrated them as icons of virility and procreation.

“We’ve appeased the other three tapu,” Wicke said with a sigh, curling a lock of dark hair around her finger absentmindedly as she talks. “But even though Bulu hasn’t acted against us, we should remember what happened to the Megamart when they roused his wrath…”

“Better safe than sorry,” you agree. The foundation is right to worry. Bulu can be capricious and vengeful. “The thing I wanted to talk to you about is actually that I managed to hunt down an ancient text in an old library. It says that those who sought Bulu’s blessing participated in a rite of fertility…”

INDEED.

Wicke jumps with a squeal at the voice; even you can’t help but start a bit. There, manifesting in the sky over the grass, is a pocket of viridian light. It coalesces into a shape: Tapu Bulu.

“A-ah! Great tapu!” Wicke says with fright, fidgeting with her glasses to keep them from falling as she starts with fright. “We—ah—”

I KNOW WHAT YOU SEEK. MY FORGIVENESS. The great bull huffs a snort through its nostrils. DESPITE THAT YOU ALLOWED GREAT PERIL TO THIS LAND.

“It was an accident, great Bulu!” Wicke says, prostrating herself in the grass. You follow her lead and kneel respectfully. “We offer anything to earn your forgiveness.”

ANYTHING? The ancient voice peaked with what might have been amusement. EVEN PARTICIPATING IN MY RITE?

Wicke gulps. You know what she’s thinking: the rite of fertility can only mean one thing. And it was Lusamine who had done this, not Wicke herself… still, she swallows again and soldiers on. “If—if that’s what it takes, great Bulu!”

The voice rings out again. AND YOU?

Was the tapu asking if you would participate? You aren’t even an employee of Aether, so this hardly seems fair… but then, if you have this ritual correct, you’ll get to have sex with a woman who is clearly mutually attracted to you, so. You meet Wicke’s eyes and she nods. “Yes,” you say, anticipation rising in your heart.

THEN PARTAKE OF MY BLESSING.

Bulu vanishes, but the ambient sense of his power remains, settling down like an invisible rain onto the conservation area. The streams rush and burble just a little bit more gladly; clover flowers in the grass as the stalks lengthen, greener than ever; you hear the distant song of happy pokemon as they begin to mate; and a prickling heat settles into your body, quickly encompassing your entirety.

And you begin to change.

You feel Bulu’s power settle in your fingers first. They become weirdly stiff and sluggish; you wiggle them a few times and watch as they suddenly fuse together, forming an unmistakable hoof. That’s far from the only change. Short tan fur crawls its way across your body, cloaking your whole form in a comforting sheen. There’s a pressure around your collar as thicker fur, colored like mulch, tries to grow there; your clothes fight back valiantly but ultimately give way, ripping to show off your new ruff of fur. Bulu’s blessing thankfully makes the whole process painless, and you watch it unfold with fascination.

“Wh—what’s happening to you? What’s happening to me?” Wicke’s astonished voice draws you out of your reverie and you turn your gaze. The branch chief is also changing. Even though her body is still mostly hidden by her outfit, you can already tell she’s grown shorter and plumper. Fur is covering her body as well: pink, with intermittent black spots. One of her hands has shifted into a hoof and even her face is beginning to change, her nose lengthening into a snout and growing black and wet. Her glasses rest askew on her face; you’re vaguely impressed that they’ve managed to stay on. She looks at your own changes with wonderment. “Why aren’t you more surprised?”

“I… saw this coming,” you reply, and you’re surprised at how much gruffer your voice sounds, how hard it is to force out words. You feel Bulu’s power ripple through your whole body and you sink to all fours with a groan, the rest of your clothes ripping as you settle on four bovine hooves. You can feel your own face lengthening like Wicke’s, and a pressure building on your temples must be your horns starting to grow. “The ancient texts say that the recipients of Bulu’s blessings became cows like him… I thought it was a metaphor, but evidently not.”

“C-cows?” Wicke squeals. “I can’t be a—a—ohhhhh…” She groans as she changes more. Her own outfit is starting to rip and tear, and she hunches over, face scrunching, then squeals as a tail rips its way out of the back of her skirt. It’s long and tipped with a black orb on the back. As you observe, you feel your own tails starting to grow: three of them, tuft-tipped, whipping and thrashing through the air. The tear seems to have been the last straw for the branch chief’s outfit; it slips off her, thoroughly ruined.

Blushing with embarrassment, Wicke tries to cover herself with her two hooved hands, but there’s little point. Anyone could see her new squat form, pink-furred and hooved and unmistakably bovine. There’s still some parts of her left: her glasses have somehow stayed on her muzzle, and instead of a Miltank’s usual cap of black fur, a smaller mane of her old hair is still there, shiny and dark as always. But the rest? She has the pink hue, the long tail, the hooves… and yes, she has a plump, round uddered belly with four teats. As her hooves brush past one, it dribbles milk, and she blushes and moans despite herself. Her voice sounds lower.

“Is this,” she said, voice increasingly husky, “what we have to do to please Tapu Buluuuuuuuuuuuu—t, t-tapuuuuuuuu… m-mooooooooooo… moooo? Mooooooooo…”

And with that, the transformation is complete. Wicke is now a Miltank, lowing and mooing; you chuff a Tauros’s response, your three tails whipping in the air. She toddles over towards you uncertainly, evidently still getting used to her changed new form. You snort. At least she’s still bipedal.

As Wicke approaches you, the divine voice rings out one last time. YOUR NEW FORMS PLEASE ME. NOW, TO COMPLETE THE RITE, LET ME BESTOW ONE FINAL GIFT.

More power settles into the two of you, and suddenly you feel it. The urge to breed.

Amidst your transformation, your cock had found itself safely enveloped in a sheath between your legs. Now, with the tapu-impelled arousal falling on you, it comes forth. If the rest of you has grown as part of your transformation into a Tauros, then your cock has especially benefitted from the change. Already impressive as a human, you now boast a thick, eye-catching erection. Your penis must be as thick around as your old human wrist; tapering slightly further out, but only just, and with a broad, flat tip. It’s out within seconds and soon you are lowing in need, pawing the ground with your hoof behind the inexorable command to breed.

Bulu’s gift is settling on Wicke as well. Before, the scientist-turned-Miltank had seemed uncertain and shy. Now, it was clear to see the arousal (or was that heat?) settling into her. Her eyes are lidded, her pink-furred cheeks darkening with a blush, and she coos out a wordless moan. Her four teats grow stiff and begin to dribble milk, and the smell of a female’s arousal punctuates the air. Almost lazily, she reaches a hoof between her legs and begins to stroke, her voice emerging in a husky moo.

Your instincts impel you to mate, but you’re still you in there, so you wait until she’s ready. After a few minutes of watching Wicke stroke herself, voice mooing into the air, she draws back a slick, juice-coated hoof with a shudder. Blinking aware, she locks eyes with you.

The two of you have been casually flirting almost since Lusamine had set the two of you working together. It was impossible to deny a mutual interest. And she had nodded her assent before you had agreed to Bulu. Of course, neither of you had known it would be like this… but as trades gazes with you, a moment of mutual, wordless understanding settles on you both. Each of you know that while Bulu might have given you a little extra help, in the end, what you do here is yours.

And seemingly over her shock and hesitancy, Wicke turns her back to you, drops to all fours, slaps her plump Miltank rear with her black-baubled tail, and moos invitingly. And really, that’s just about all you need.

With what you feel is admirable self-control, you trot over to her. Wicke is short and plump, smaller than you, but your species are counterparts. Positioning yourself for sex feels like coming home. As you mount her, you find that she can hold your weight quite comfortably with a Miltank’s deceptive strength, and her shoulders seem perfectly situated for you to drape your hooves over. Her tail winds around your rear legs, keeping you there, and your thick cock rubs enticingly across her stomach and udder. Feeling the arousal starting to crest inside of you, you saw your hips back and forth, delighting in the drag of your cock against Wicke’s body. She seems to like it too, mooing happily and quivering under your weight. After a few strokes she pushes back against you, whining, clearly desperate to get rutted. Part of you thinks that’s quite hypocritical after she made you wait while she masturbated, but the rest doesn’t care. Hitching your loins, you drag your cock back until the tip is nestling against her pink-furred folds.

You contemplate going slow and luxurious, at least at first, but then Bulu’s impatient voice rings out again: BREED.

And so you do just that.

You slam home into Wicke, her muff already slick and inviting from her previous self-attendance, and she parts around you as her voice moos delightedly over the enclosure. If you’d wondered about your new thickness being a problem, you shouldn’t have. Maybe it’s Bulu’s blessing at work or maybe Miltank and Tauros are simply that well made for each other, but there’s no trouble in entering her. Wicke’s Miltank pussy is tight but inviting, the perfect size for bull cock, and you grunt, slamming all the way into her in one smooth glide, feeling your broad-headed tip touching her innermost sanctum. Her tail tightens around your back leg; glancing down you can see her cheek is in the dirt, a blissful look on her face, those lavender glasses still somehow in place.

You swing back and she keens, pushing back against you, desperate for dick, and you slam home again, the motion smooth and tight and perfect. You sit there in her for a moment, both of you panting, your voices low and husky and animalistic—and then she squeezes around you and your whole world melts away in favor of this incredible sensation on your cock. It’s impossible to think that anything could have ever felt this good! She clenches again and you bellow, pawing the ground with a forehoof, and feel a tiny bit of precum dribble out into her.

You’re going to fill her with more than just that.

The two of you are creatures so you fuck like creatures, raw and wild. No more holding in there, no more coy games. Quickly your lovemaking becomes an extended moment of wild sex, your pace breakneck. You slam into her again and again and again, reflecting that the feel of her walls against your thick bull cock just feels so right, and Wicke’s voice has quickly devolved into senseless, triumphant moos. She quivers happily in the grass underneath you, head down and ass in the air, taking your cock like a champ. At some point you glance at her and realize that her hoofed hands are fondling her udder, squeezing milk out of her teats. Is it just you, or does she look a little fuller in her udder than she did before?

Whatever you’d had in mind for bedding Wicke—her coyly inviting you to her chambers, peeling off that alluring outfit to show off her voluptuous body underneath, then making love on satin sheets—it pales in comparison to this. This is more raw, more intimate, and you realize just why the ancient texts considered it a blessing.

Fucking Wicke as a Tauros isn’t just the best sex of your life; it’s also an intimate act beyond either of your wildest dreams. And when you finally spend yourself, cumming in her, gushing your Miltank lover full and leaving her baying with happiness, you reflect that maybe the old gods had been onto something after all.

---

The two of you rest there in the grass, you settled on your four hooved legs, Wicke leaning against you. Her udder is round and tender and you busy yourself by drinking from it. She moos happily as you do so, running her hoof through the ruff of dark fur around your neck in an intimate, strangely human gesture.

And you fuck more. Of course you do. You’re a Tauros and Miltank in the midst of heat; one session could never satisfy you. You fuck her a few hours later, fuck her later that night, fuck her first thing when you wake up the following morning. Each time she eagerly takes your cock, getting more and more practiced at it, sometimes deliberately clenching when you hilt in her to bring you both the maximum amount of pleasure.

It’s on the eve of the second day that you smell the change in her. Wicke is pregnant. It’s not that much of a surprise; this was a fertility rite, after all, and Bulu had explicitly told you to breed. Still, as you wake one morning to find your Miltank mate lovingly stroking her tummy, eyes wide with happiness and wonder, you reflect on how unforeseen it all was.

There are other pokemon in the conservation area as well, of course, and you and Wicke get to know them intimately as well. More than once you’ve seen her resting on her side, sighing happily as a Furret or Totodile nursed from her. For her part, she doesn’t seem to mind you taking the initiative to breed other pokemon, pinning down Vaporeon or Ponyta and fucking them full of kids.

You’re not sure how long it has been before you begin to wonder about the state of things. A few weeks, maybe a month. Wicke is visibly round now, and smells of children. She’s probably halfway along. How is the world beyond Aether? Are you ever going to get back?

Like that, Bulu’s voice returns to you. THE RITE IS LONG COMPLETED. YOU HAVE PERFORMED ADMIRABLY. I WILL RETURN YOU TO YOUR OLD SELF WHEN YOU WISH IT. THE WOMAN WILL HAVE TO BIRTH THE YOUNG SHE CONCEIVED IN THE RITE FIRST BUT THEN SHE, TOO, WILL RETURN TO NORMAL IF AND WHEN SHE IS NO LONGER SATISFIED AS A MILTANK.

Well, that explains it. You would like to go back to your old life… but not quite yet. You spend one last night with the pokemon, spending hours and hours laying with your pregnant mate, Wicke, rutting her one last time, delighting in the sensual slickness of her body, and then the following morning, you think at Bulu that you’re ready.

And in a reverse of the original sensation, you return to your old self.