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  1. #1
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    Working the Hucows

    Working the Hucows
    by DiscipleN

    [A lifestyle romance in the classic definition. An erotic, hucow tale about the farm and its farmers, more than it's about fucking.]


    Part 1

    "Don't be lazy, Bessie." I switched her haunches, and she lurched forward into her stall. She gave me sad eyes. I smiled, "You'll like the machine." I had mail-ordered it from an independent manufacturer of milking devices. I figured they knew what they were doing, their factory being in Ohio.

    My family was from that state. We moved to California when I was a toddler. Our farm had to be sold to pay off debts. We would have fallen into poverty if the local grange hadn't put out the word. Word came back of a good job out west. So we packed up the truck and hauled a few belongings to Sonoma county, arriving on gas fumes. Dad sold the truck to the towing man in exchange for a lift to Camber Morgan's Dairy Farm. It was the last farm of its kind for a hundred miles. The surrounding vineyards sounded like laughter when wind rustled their great leaves.

    Camber Morgan shook hands with my dad, welcoming the family. We were promised a roof over our heads and plenty of honest work for as long as we could do the work. Camber had no grudge against migrant workers, but he wanted employees. Dad thanked Camber. "I'm Paul Billings. This is Elizabeth." He pronounced Mom's name, 'Elisabet.' "And my son, Scott Billings."

    "Aw, you can call me Scooter, Mr. Morgan." I kicked a dirt clod and watched it roll three feet. I wasn't too happy about moving and losing my friends. He seemed like an okay guy though.

    Mr. Morgan knelt down. "Look me in the eye, Scooter." It wasn't a suggestion.

    I pouted and, looking up, glared. "What?"

    "Scott!" Mother snapped.

    "It's okay, Mrs. Billings, your son's got strength behind his eyes. This new life won't break him. If any of you had weak eyes I'd put you all on a train back to where you came from." He lifted his eyes from mine, stood, and told my father. "This farm needs strength to manage and strength to work. I'm not talking about lifting and hauling. There's plenty of that too. I'm talking about character, will, grit. If you don't have it, this farm will eat you like snared rabbits. If you have it, my land will make you stronger.

    We didn't sleep that night until we had unloaded our belongings into the small but stalwart shack that would be our new home. We bid the tow man farewell. He bid my father, "Morgan's a good man, Mr. Billings. He'll do your family right. But he's a fool who thinks this valley should be full of cattle instead of grapes. Save what you can before the valley folk make his land too expensive to operate."

    "What did he mean, Daddy?" I asked after the tow man took the last thing of value from my folks.

    "A lot of rich folk own private vineyards around here. They got their money from companies in the city, and they spend it like you and I piss, without a notion for where it splashes."

    "I'll marry a rich girl." I told my father.

    He offered his hand, and I shook it. Dad's thick, calloused fingers buried mine. "It's okay if you don't, Scott. Mr. Morgan is no fool. Our boss's hand was as rough as anyone we knew back home. The only fool to worry about is a lazy fool."

    "This is our home." Mother declared.

    Dad took off his clothes and got in bed with her. They fucked while I turned away on my sleeping pad and dreamed of the rich girl I would marry.



    ...to be continued...

  2. #2
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    Re: Working the Hucows

    Part 2

    Five years of honest work put strength in my bones and in my flesh and in my heart. I stood, crying openly over Dad's closed coffin. Mom gripped my hand with a power twice her husband's. I didn't feel anything but loss. Mom gripped hard to forestall the tears behind her eyes. There were strangers around us, gravediggers, a pastor, and neighbors we hardly knew who wanted to 'support' us. Camber Morgan kept between them and Mom and I. The box sank into the earth. Shovels heaped dirt down over it.

    I led Mom back to our home. Halfway, she unclenched my hand and let her flood loose. "Paul!" She sobbed. "I'm broken without you."

    "Mother!" I snapped. "The cows need milking." I trudged off to the barn. She caught up in time to help me haul the full, stainless steel jugs onto Mr. Morgan's flatbed truck. Night had fallen, and it was cold enough to prevent spoilage. Camber would drive the milk to the fancy, organic foods company that was ever challenged to meet a swelling demand. "Those idiot city folk saved us," Mr. Morgan smiled after signing the first contract a year after he'd hired us. Had he known?

    A year after my father's death, we moved into Mr. Morgan's house. He was a generation older than Mom, but when he proposed she didn't hesitate. I know for a fact their first fuck was on their wedding night. Mom slept with me until that day. The three of us worked too hard to allow shenanigans.

    It was the work that tied the knot between Mom and Mr. Morgan. We woke early and toiled late, every day, together. The pride we took in it wasn't selfish. It had married them long before speaking their vows to a pastor. For the same reason, I accepted him as my example of manhood.

    "Never call me, Father, Scooter. Yours may be in the ground, but he'll see you become a man." He offered his hand. "You're not my son, but you're not my employee anymore either. Be my apprentice."

    I shook it with a grip that would make Father proud. "Yes, Sir." I agreed.

    -------------

    I became a man when I was fourteen. I was nearly six feet tall and still growing. I had a frame that could work from first light to last. That's not what made me a man. Camber Morgan died of colon cancer. He was fifty six, and I inherited the responsiblity of my life.

    The hospice people helped to dig his grave, having bonded with my father-in-law on his deathbed. Mother refused to see the body. She had his coffin buried between his first two wives and one daughter.

    Two strong men and one stronger woman could keep up with the farm's work. I had worked harder than any man might expect of a young teen, but chances were missed. Mistakes were made. Not three weeks after Camber's passing, a representative from the organics label paid out our contract's early termination fee. "We can't afford a farm with declining output."

    "We'll hire migrants." Mother promised.

    "Mrs. Morgan," The man sighed. "It'll take a year to bring unskilled laborers up to the job. Your cows are aging and aren't calving enough to sustain your herd. The price of dairy cows is astronomical because they are so rare in Sonoma. Wealthy people here own them for pets. You can't afford to buy more, and there isn't a bank in the world that would lend sufficient capital to sustain your business, given your financials."

    I knew this man, not well, but Camber had trusted him. He was being straight with us. He hated what he said, but he was a good man to say it.

    "What do you suggest?" I asked.

    "Sell." He didn't talk down at me. "Your father never took a dollar in debt. The land and herd and property are free and clear. Invest the money. Live closer to the Sierras where its cheaper to live. It'll put you through college and let your mother retire early."

    Camber wasn't my father, but I accepted this man's respect.

    "We'll think about it." Mother ended the conversation.

    We waved goodbye as he drove off in his electric powered car.

    Returning to the house, Mother broke down. I got out the farm's books and tried to figure out some kind of plan. An hour later, Mother hadn't stopped crying. I went to her. "Mom?"

    "I'm pregnant, Scott."

    The first six months of carrying didn't slow her down. Her heart slowed her down. In the middle a day, every few weeks, she'd stop, catch herself on something stable and bawl her eyes out. By then we had culled our herd, selling the oldest half and putting a couple in the barn freezers. We'd found a few local markets, upscale, which had a market for fresh, raw milk. Mother drove the milk, as far as a hundred miles sometimes, until the truck engine cracked. She called the house from sixty miles away, sobbing.

    We scrambled to find a replacement. I bought one from a neighboring winery. The woman was happy to sell it cheap. I looked it over, drove it around a bit, and bit her hook. The transmission seized up a month later. I went to speak with her, but she came to the door with a pair of dogs. "Don't blame me, if you can't tell a lemon from a grape." Her sneer was accompanied by growls.

    I crouched down and looked at them dogs until they stopped growling. I reached out my hand, and they licked it. "You're right, Mrs. Vale." I stood and turned my back on her.


    ...to be continued...

  3. #3
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    Re: Working the Hucows

    Part 3

    Mother was seven months pregnant then. "We don't have cash for another truck." She didn't cry, but her eyes were misty. I consulted with the garage that had employed the man who once towed my father's truck. He had been killed by a drunk diver one night, while hitching a BMW to his truck. A woman ran the garage now, Ms. Theresa Paiyu.

    I called her, and she promised, "I'll put a call out for a replacement transmission, Scooter. I'm not surprised it failed after only two hundred 'K'. These vineyard folk can afford fancy brands and replacing them every three years. The only quality the British manufacturer of your truck sells, are dreams. Brits lost everything except their dreams of empire, after World War II."

    I grinned and scratched my neck. "I don't know much about other countries, Ms. Paiyu."

    "You missed an education, but you're a better man than any boy in school."

    "That's kind of you, Ma-am. Peace and prosperity to you and your family." I drove away on my compact tractor. It was the only operating vehicle the farm owned. Took two hours to return to the farm.

    Mother accosted me that night. "If we can't get the milk to market, it'll spoil. And we can't dump it, or the farm commissioner will cite us for polluting the watershed."

    "Worry about the baby, Mom. I'll handle it."

    "Maybe, we should buy a truck on credit."

    "Would Camber do that?"

    She didn't answer. She retreated to her room. She kept a full box of tissues there.

    I looked up at the stars, not sleeping that night. While pacing the land in moonlight, I heard mother. I went to her window. The curtain was closed but I heard her orgasm a second time. I left from embarrassment, but that didn't stop me from jacking off behind the garden shed. I needed a woman. I wasn't yet fifteen. There were no women in the valley who would abide me.

    The house phone rang, the next day. It was Mrs. Vale. "I'll write a check for what you paid for the truck, Mr. Billings. Please come pick it up." She sounded imperious.

    "No, thank you, Ma-am." I hung up and went to work. The first day, we filled all of the freezers with milk. I called every market who bought from us, to discuss the situation. Most of them had greater troubles to deal with than a family supplier. Some took the extra effort. I wrote down their names on a pad of paper. I hired a few migrants who owned small trucks to drive milk to those few remaining businesses who had cared enough. We took a small loss on every delivery, but the milk flowed.

    "My father wants to thank you, for the side work, Senor Billings." Bartoli Stemo bid me.

    Lopez Stemo replied in proud Spanish and waited for his son's translation.

    "He wants to invite you to our home. There's a party tonight. Your mother is welcome too."

    "Thank you. I'm grateful for your family's help, Bartoli."

    Mother told me afterwards, "I don't want no Mexican tom-foolery. Tell them, I'm too heavy with child."

    I shrugged and left her to do the evening chores.

    "Frieda is my matre." Bartoli Stemo introduced me to her, his two sisters, five cousins, two uncles and an aunt who looked like an older sister. "Lena Alvarez." She wore a black shirt. It didn't darken the party one bit. When you're poor, living in a bunkhouse with a wood stove and two ice chests, every night is a party. I drank tequila that night. They gave me the worm. Awful stuff. Bartoli had driven me to the vineyard who had hired them. Lena drove me home after the party.

    "Why the black shirt?" I asked stupidly.

    "I lost my husband, Lopez' brother, last year. It is for mourning."

    "Shit. Sorry."

    "Lopez does thank you for the work, Mr. Billings-"

    "Call me Scooter."

    "I need to tell you, the party was for me. I didn't have a child. I'm family, but I didn't take their name. They want me to seduce you."

    "Hell, yeah!" I leaned in for a kiss. I fell on the driver's seat.

    Lena had quickly exited the truck. She walked around the cab, shaking her head. "Mio Dios." She opened my door. "Let me help you to your manor." She walked beside, steadying me with a hand on one shoulder.

    Mother met us at the door. She had waited up. Her face was grim. "Scott?" She stepped onto the porch. "Is he alright."

    "Your son is too young to drink, no?"

    "You and your family should know better."

    "Si, Mrs. Billings." Lena let me slump into my mother's arms. "Don't blame him. My brother in-law, like my late husband, is a mean bastard." She stomped back to the truck and drove off, dirt spitting from the wheels.

    "A woman like that will give you a disease, Scott." She told me the next day, for maximum impact when my head was splitting.

    "Ain't no harm done." We went to work.

    A mercedes drove up to the house in the evening. Mrs. Vale knocked on the door, to no avail. Snooping, she found mother and I in the barn, unhooking collectors from teats. Her nose twitched upon entering. She strode up to my mother. "I don't want to be known as a cheat, Mrs. Morgan." She held out a check.

    Mother accepted it. Leaving, the vineyard owner flashed me a proud look. There was something else in her eyes too. I nodded thanks.

    We spent the money on a reconditioned transmission for the truck with enough left over to pay Ms. Paiyu to overhaul a few other of its critical parts.

    Mother returned to delivering milk to a reduced number of small time markets. We were barely making ends meet.

    At eight months, Mother went into labor. My brother was stillborn. She had to stay in the hospital for a week. Fortunately, we kept our insurance paid up.

    I offered Lena the work. We started fucking on the third day. It happened in the barn. After unhooking my cows from the milker, I held up one cup to Lena's breast. "Those are begging for children." If she had slapped me, I would have apologized.

    When mother returned home, I drove Lena into town and introduced her to Ms. Paiyu. They fell into rapid-fire Spanish. I imagined the mechanic was a matador, leading a bull to slaughter. Quite the opposite, she hired Lena. Mrs. Alvarez moved into a room above the garage. I helped her carry her things. We fell on the bed for a goodbye fuck.

    Mother was a wreck. She slept long hours, only did housework. I missed several deliveries the next week. I hired Bartoli to drive the milk after that. "You are smarter than my father believes." He confessed. He didn't have a permit to drive anything but farm equipment, but I trusted him. The dairy resumed bleeding money.

    Property taxes came, and I scrambled to pay them. I had to sell a cow. Mrs. Vale saw my ad. "She's adorable." She told me but didn't touch it. Her migrants herded the tame beast into a trailer meant for horses. It was a tight fit, but the drive would be short. "If you ever miss her, Scott, please do visit." I caught her meaning. My time with Lena taught me what was in her eyes. I didn't have the time, and I didn't like her calling me, "Scott."



    ..to be continued...

  4. #4
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    Re: Working the Hucows

    Part 4

    Winter hit us with powerful cold, that year. Two of the barn heaters failed, and we lost a calf. I cursed my luck. Mother had recovered somewhat. She could work the garden as well as the house. I came to bed, dead tired every night.

    I rose early, every morning, to keep the dairy operating.

    Bartoli arrived in the spring with his two uncles, Amos and Cal. "They will work for bed and food." The rest of his family went to the San Joaquin valley, until next fall's grape harvest.

    I installed them in the cabin that had been my first home on the dairy. Bartoli remained with them. I paid him cash, and let him borrow the truck when needed. He got his driving permit before summer.

    Mother complained awful. "They making our first home a sty, Scott. Why do you let them ruin the memory of your father?"

    I had never raised my voice to her. "They work hard and are grateful for it. We made a profit, this quarter. I would have had to sell another cow. They work harder than you, Ma."

    "I'll recover my strength by summer. You wait and see. I'll show you I'm worth more than two wetbacks."

    "If you ever say that again, I will send you to your family in Ohio." I swore.

    "Your latino bitch has turned you against me!" She cursed.

    I had never been so angry. Camber Morgan would have done the right thing. I found myself dragging mother to the barn and tying her up in a stall. "You'll sleep with the other cows, tonight."

    After an hour, I went to the barn and untied her. "Sorry."

    Mother kept quiet. She went to her room. I heard her crying.

    I hadn't seen Lena since our goodbye fuck. I drove into town the next day. I found her with Bartoli. He had taken the bus early that morning. It was an hour's walk to the bus stop from the dairy. She was happy to see me. She made hot chocolate for us and talked about learning the mechanic's trade. "Ms. Paiyu is a good lady, but new cars have too many electronics for her. The garage is not very busy."

    Bartoli shook his head. "All these rich wine makers buy the latest cars." I saw in his eyes, he didn't want me here. I guessed why.

    I thanked Lena and drove home. I was horny. I took a side road and ended up at the Vale Winery.

    "I came to see you, Mrs. Vale." I told her plain at the door.

    We fucked in her hot tub. I fucked her again in her bedroom. "Where is Mr. Vale?"

    "I don't know, fucking someone in the city I assume." She petted her dogs from the bed. She looked me in the eye. "He would be okay, if he found out."

    I felt stupid then. I left soon thereafter.

    When I returned to the dairy, Mother was yelling at Amos and Cal. "You lazy fools! If you don't mind me, I'll run you back to your stinking country!"

    "Mother, I need to speak with you in the house." I told her, livid red.

    Inside, she sputtered, "They were bending the milk tubes!"

    "I never assign them the milking, Mother. Why did you?"

    "You weren't around, and it was time."

    "You could have managed, if you're recovered."

    She looked away. Tears crept into her eyes. "You don't understand."

    "I understand you were abusing the help."

    "I'm not sorry." She hissed.

    That earned her first full night, tied up in the barn.

    The next morning, I couldn't tell if she was penitent or not, but the dairy's operation resumed without serious incidents.

    Mrs. Vale started calling, every few days. I told her to stop after the third week. I fucked her once during that time.

    "I'll divorce my husband." She tried to bring me back to her bed.

    I left immediately thereafter.

    After telling her to stop calling, I slammed the phone down. It rang.

    "Scott! Something terrible!" Lena cried. "Bartoli stole the garage's money!" That was the tip of a terrible iceberg.

    The garage was bound to fail. After losing its ready cash, Mr. Paiyu divorced his wife and took the kids, accusing her of embezzling the money. She almost was convicted.

    Lena arrived soon thereafter like a thunderstorm and flushed the two Stemo brothers out of the cabin! I didn't think that was fair, and I told her so.

    "I'll work harder than both of them, and I'll figure out your machines." She wanted the same deal her brothers-in-law got, room and board. After her 'nephew's' betrayal, the entire family was blacklisted from working the wineries in Napa and Sonoma.

    I was now fifteen and a half, and my balls were still making stupid decisions.

    The police did catch Bartoli. He had been dumb enough to return to his family in the San Joaquin. The money recovered was just enough to pay the garage's debts and a little more. Ms. Paiyu, drove up in her Toyota truck towing a cattle carry. She needed my help to lead the animals within to the barn.

    "Scott, I don't what I'll do here, but you're the only person in the valley who I trust. Accept this bull and two cows, and give me work. Lena said I could live with her." The stronger truth was, no one in town trusted her. However exhonerated by the law, she was still indigenous. I trusted her.

    "Call me, Scooter, Ms. Paiyu." I held out my hand.

    "Theresa." She shook it.

    Some of Mother's strength did return, but she'd lost her head for the dairy's attention intensive chores. I had to rely on Theresa and Lena's affinity for machines when I was busy elsewhere. I told Mother to double the size of the garden. That would save some grocery expenses.

    One happy surprise, I began to enjoy handling the business side of the dairy. I spent incremental hours, driving to every small market in every small town up and down three agricultural counties, flogging our milk. I established a network of pick up points until Mother only had to drive the milk cans to the closest markets. They kept extra in their refrigerators. Markets farther out would buy some of the cans for a reduced price. They hauled and bottled it, at their sites.

    Margins were razor edge thin, but slowly, our business grew. Morgan Billings Milk became a favored brand across the vine ravaged countrysides and valleys.

    During that time, I had affairs with women grocery owners or their wives, hotel maids, and the occasional waitress. I didn't think it was right to be fucking permanent employees, however randy they were. The desperate one was Mrs. Vale, or as she wanted me to call her, Julie.

    "I miss you, Scott, and want you terribly." She would text. I had bought a smartphone. How she got my number, I didn't know, but I assumed everything about me was public knowledge on the internet. Theresa helped me to tame that computerized beast, over the course of a year.

    When I turned sixteen, output at the Morgan Billings dairy dropped by a third. I had to miss an early property tax payment. I planned to pay by the late fee deadline and cover the fee as well. Before then, I needed to figure out the problem.

    It turned out, everyone, including Mother, had been burning themselves out to maintain high output. Upon wrecking their physical limits, their work suffered. Efficiency plummeted. The cows produced as much milk as ever, but a lot more of it was spilled, contaminated, or left unmilked. The cows suffered too.

    At first, Theresa had implemented several improvements to the workflow. These produced significant boosts to our output. But the processes she invented were a little tricker to perform. Mistakes were magnified. Mother was unable to comprehend some of them. She harbored increasing resent for her darker skinned, more educated peers, but she knew what would happen if she expressed them.

    After consulting with the three women, I called every market and told them, Morgan Billings was taking a holiday.

    That didn't mean work stopped. We spent days cleaning everything, fixing everything broken, even resorting to milking the cows by hand. But compared to the average operations day, it was a vacation.

    We reconsidered the processes we were using and found compromises that helped to ease the workload. We wouldn't produce as much, but hopefully we could sustain production for the foreseeable future. When the dairy resumed shipments to the markets, some of them wrote us off. A few didn't like that we weren't 100% reliable. I wrote them off as people I didn't have to fight anymore for business. Most of them were the children of hippies, expecting a lot of privilege from mother nature.

    Our lower overall output of milk was just enough to supply the reduced demand. Morgan Billings settled into a steady business.

    Something struck my bedroom window in the middle of the night. I woke. We didn't own guns. We couldn't afford them. I opened the curtain, standing fully naked, looking out the window. Mrs. Vale put her hands together. "Please, I need you, Scott."

    I told her to leave. She refused.

    Julie found herself tied within a stall, in the stench that still wrinkled her nose. She cursed at me. The cows didn't care. I slept well.

    "Why is a white woman tied in the barn?" Lena met me before breakfast.

    "Is she awake?"

    "I didn't wake her."

    "Finish loading the deliver truck. Get Mom to help if you want." I marched to the barn. Lena wouldn't want Mother's help. Mother glared at them when I wasn't around. She would do the work, but never without contempt.

    "Get up." I untied Mrs. Vale.

    "No. Scott. I beg you." She clung to the rope still tied to the stall. "You can take me here. I want it. I don't care. All I can think about is being your woman."

    I don't know what came over me, then. I remembered tying my Mother here. Julie was only slightly younger. I took Julie from behind and filled her cunt with my cum. "I shouldn't have done that." I chided myself after releasing my pent up need.

    "I could have you arrested for rape!" Julie hissed. "I won't. I promise, never. I'll come back, here, if that's what you want. I'll do it, anytime of day." She looked into my eyes, perfectly serious. "You make me feel owned."

    I could have fucked her a second time, but I had to help Lena. Mrs. Vale drove away.

    "I bet you needed that." Lena smirked, closing the tailgate. "Now that you can get white pussy, I guess my dark one is less acceptable."

    "I don't fuck the help."

    "That's not what I remember."

    "You were here for a week."

    "It was a good week. I've missed it." She took the keys to Mother. The day's full work began for us.

    After the evening milking was finished, I showered and dressed for supper. Lena didn't show up at the table.

    Theresa chewed on a spoonful of stew and mumbled. "She needed to do something in the barn."

    I searched for her after eating. Damn if she hadn't tied herself up in a stall. She had even prepared a speech. "I heard what the white lady said, about you owning her. Well, I'm here to tell you, if I didn't have this job, I wouldn't have anything. You own me more than you own that rich bitch."

    "Is this some kind of protest, to get a raise." I looked grim.

    "Yes." Lena exhaled. "But not of money." She lifted her skirt. Naked beneath, she bent over.

    "Good, because nobody on this farm is getting a salary." I unzipped my pants and enjoyed Lena's cunt from behind.

    We rested together in the hay. Mother found us clothed but obviously compromised.

    "Don't think I'll bless you marrying this slut." She spat and turned. I caught up with her and stopped her in her storming tracks. "Apologize, Mother."

    "Never!" She threw an evil look behind her.

    Lena approached. "Mrs. Morgan, I will never marry your son. I don't want to own him or anything else of yours. Beyond that, what we do is OUR business."

    Mother glared at the ground. I released her. Lena went to eat. I headed out to check on the farm. Mother stopped me with a sob. "Scott! I know I'm terrible, but you're all that I have. I've lost everything. I can't even work like I use to." She looked up at me. "If I lose you, I'll die."

    "That's no excuse for being rude."



    ...to be continued...

  5. #5
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    Re: Working the Hucows

    Part 5

    Mother didn't come out of her room the next morning. I went to her. She lay in bed. "I feel useless."

    "Take the day, Mother. Tomorrow, I want to see you in the garden. I can't trust you to drive the milk anymore."

    "Yes, Son."

    I felt like a resting that day. I conferred with Theresa.

    "We can handle little hiccups." She referred to Mother's lapse. "But we'll need to replace the heaters which didn't fry last winter. How's our cash on hand?"

    "Low. I just paid our property taxes and the late payment fee."

    "We could bring the calves into the main house." Theresa smirked at me.

    "What?" I knew she was kidding. I meant what's her deal, and she knew I meant that.

    "Now that you're using the barn for house activities." Her smirk changed to a grin. "Lena tells me everything."

    So much for what her and I do being OUR business. "Jesus, I expected you to be the adult around here."

    "You know, I'm a lesbian." She tested me.

    I felt stupid then. I knew what the word meant, but I didn't know shit about women loving each other. "You were married. You had kids." I babbled.

    I didn't hate Hortense, not until the end, but never bring up my children, Amigo."

    I backed away. She softened.

    "Lena's a free spirit. I knew that when I hired her at the garage. I'll admit, I hired her for the sex, but I paid by teaching her how to fix machinery." Theresa scrutinized me. "How's that for being adult?"

    I blushed. "This farm is screwed."

    "Don't confuse fucking with screwing, and you'll be fine, Scott."

    "Fine." I changed the subject. We stuck to business for the rest of the day.

    The next time I figured Lena and I had time to fuck, I invited her to my room.

    She refused. "Your mother's in that house. I couldn't do it in there, and I won't do it where Theresa and I live." We ended up fucking, missionary position, in the barn's attic. It was a nice change from a stinking stall. This time, nobody troubled us.

    "I never got pregnant when I was married, but that doesn't mean I won't." Lena confessed her concern.

    "I once told you, 'those breasts are begging for children.'"

    "Don't joke about that." Her eyes steeled. "I wanted children when I was married. And that's not a hint."

    "My father once said, 'a house isn't a home, without children.'" I told Lena about Mother's two lost babies.

    "I'm sorry. I know she's suffered."

    I interrupted. "That's no excuse for hate. I told her that."

    "If I marry anyone, I'll marry Theresa. The kids will be ours. She wants to bear children, but she would love any children."

    "We'll leave it up to God." I took her in my arms and kissed her.

    Julie was the first to show up, showing. That last time had been enough.

    "It's yours. There was nobody else at that time." She offered to prove it with a gene test. I let her swab my mouth. The results were mailed to the dairy a week later. I was going to be a father.

    Julie did the most evil thing yet. She told me, "I'm going to have an abortion."

    I gave her a stone face. That was against God, I believed. I kept silent. I also believed He gave us free will. The sin would not be mine.

    "But I won't - if you promise to take me." Her eyes flamed with desire. "I'll even let you have the brat for as long as you keep me." By 'take' and 'keep', she meant fuck and keep fucking.

    I told Lena before I told Mother.

    Lena swore in at least four languages. I thought she only spoke two. "Conniving bitch!" Lena finished and thew up her hands. "This is on you. I appreciate you telling me. Respect, Cholo." She punched my shoulder. "I have no claim on you, after telling you my children would be Theresa's. Do what you need to."

    I was so angry, I tied Julie to a stall and marked it with her name. I hadn't yet told Mother. "This is where you'll live when you're on my property, Bitch."

    "Don't I get time in the pasture?" She sneered, pretending it didn't bother her.

    I answered her with a hard fucking. Mother found us en-flagrant. She turned bright red and fled. That night, while I rested in the common room, Mother confronted me about it.

    "You should marry her, Scott."

    "She's already married, and I don't want to."

    "Remember, when you were little. You promised you would marry a rich girl."

    "You're disgusting, Mother." I growled. "Her money would ruin this place!" I told her that she was carrying my child."

    "That's even more of a reason. She doesn't have children with her husband. The divorce would be quick. She would get half, and you can stop sinning with that Mexican slut."

    "Shut up!" I stood and almost marched to my room but I wasn't the one intruding.

    "I'm going to be a grandmother." Her eyes didn't see me.

    I was tempted to tie her up next to Julie, but the lesson would have been wasted on her. "No, Mother, she's going to have an abortion."

    "Scott! You have to stop her! It's the worst sin!" Mother ran out to the barn. "Murderer!" She yelled at Julie. I grabbed Mother's arms from behind. "You're embarrassing everyone. Wake up, Mother. The world is a challenge, to everyone. You have no right to accuse her. You gave up after Camber died."

    "It's not right!" Mother bawled. I dragged her back to her room and shut her inside. "Don't come out until I call you. Piss in a pan if you need. I supplied a large pan."

    I returned to the barn, to untie Julie. Lena was there. "My wife and I will take your baby. You'll hurt Scott if you kill it."

    "I don't need your charity, Cunt." Julie hissed, but when she saw me. "I'll do whatever you decide, Scott."

    "I just want to sleep." I headed for my bed. "Untie yourself."

    Business dragged on. We barely made ends meet over the next few months. Lena got pregnant next. Theresa was so happy, more than Lena. She even joked, "I'm tempted to have a baby from you, just so Lena doesn't get all the easy jobs."

    "Everyone works equally, baby in the oven or not." I promised.

    Theresa glanced at Mother weeding the garden. She didn't say anything.

    "Mom, the lettuce is full of bugs. I don't mind eating them, but I hate leaves with holes." I scolded.

    "But you don't want me to use poison!"

    "The garden is your responsibility. Don't fuck it up."

    "Yes, Scott." She cried.

    Another month passed. There were fewer bugs in the vegetables served, but they had an odd taste. "What's this flavor, Mother?"

    "It's a mix of chili oil and garlic. I couldn't wash it all off. I'm sorry." She frowned deeply. The mixture did drive away pests.

    "That's fine, Mom." I continued eating. My mind mulled our struggling accounts.

    Julie drove up, no longer pregnant. "Scott, I divorced my husband. Wait! I gave him a bargain. He pays me a stipend for the rest of my life. If he dies, his estate will set up a fund to continue payments. It's no more than a plumber makes. So here's what I'm offering. I want to rent that stall in the barn, and I'll pay for my meals. Charge me a fair price, as if you were renting it for a neighbor's cow, and as if - you were running a family diner. I won't bother you or the farm's operations, I promise." For the first time, I saw backbone in the woman instead of privilege.

    Her meals proved more expensive than the stall. With her rent for room and board, we replaced all of the barns' heaters that year. I even rented unused stalls, during the winter to pet cows from four wineries. I managed to pay my taxes without fees. Long before then, Julie did disturb the business, in a way no one expected.

    She didn't eat in the barn. I invited her to share our table. She had taken to wearing full length, linen shifts and a cord to tie it around her waist. She was naked otherwise, as if she were a nun in a strict order.

    Lena called out, "Are your breasts staining your robe?" She point out two off white patches of wetness.

    "It's premature lactation." Mother almost growled. "Cows get it, when they miscarry."

    Theresa agreed, more agreeably. "It'll go away, once your hormones settle. But you'll want to wash your clothes more often." I let Julie use the house's washer for free.

    "No wonder my breasts have been sore. I thought it was something I'd need antibiotics for." Julie sounded almost grateful.

    "Don't do that. It'll ruin the milk." Mother kept her eyes on her food and resumed eating.

    The table was accustomed to her rudeness. I was nearly sick of it. That night, I went to the barn. For the first time, I wanted to fuck Julie when I wasn't driven by need. I couldn't afford to find relief in town, and I don't mean prostitutes. Our expenses were so tight, gasoline and wear and tear on the truck was prohibitive. But that night, I genuinely wanted to show Julie some appreciation.

    Instead, I found her tied naked to the stall, all four limbs. Theresa wore blue, sterile gloves while squeezing milk from our tenant's tits, into a glass bowl. Julie groaned. "Get your lez bitch hands off of me. I'm only here for Scott!"

    "Theresa!" I snapped. "Explain this."

    She was the one woman on the farm who never backed down from me. "I'm milking her. I looked up how much human milk is worth. It's ten times cows' milk. I wanted to see how much Julie produced. I'm not doing it for pleasure."

    "You don't have the right to touch her against her will." I asserted. "And I doubt you're not getting pleasure from doing it."

    "Scott, normally, you would be right. I would never force myself on another person. The way I see it, Julie stopped being a person when she chose to live in our barn, and by 'our', I mean you and I are partners, Scott. I'm fine if she's here for your pleasure. You may have rented the stall to her, but you should have consulted with me. In my mind, a female in our barn should expect to be milked. As partners, my perspective is as valid as yours."

    There was a reason I valued her partnership. She proved it that night. "It seems I own both of you an apology. I should have consulted with you, Theresa. Julie, I'm sorry I didn't consult my partner before renting the stall. I'll forego this month's rent, if you choose to leave."

    Julie lapsed into her dominant personality. "You're just going to let this lesbian milk me while I'm rent this shit box! So I can get an angry fuck from you every now and then?"

    "I can assign Lena, if you don't want Theresa." I supported my partner over this once rich bitch. Still, I saw her side. She was not a cow. "It's your milk, Julie. If we sell it, you'll get a share of the profits. We can dump it in the garden as fertilizer, if selling it bothers you. But if my partner insists on having you milked, you'll be milked as long as you rent here."

    A flame appeared in the bound woman's eyes. I had seen it before. She was hot for a fuck. "Then I want you to milk me, only you and in private."

    Theresa waited for my decision.

    "I'll go wash my hands and put on sterile gloves." Theresa followed me, describing the very strict, USDA and FDA regulations regarding Mother's Milk. Technically, we should have an autoclave for every implement used in the process. Theresa documented a way to use steam from a boiling pot, directed into an empty milk can to clean what we used on Julie, and the bottles we stored it in. She had steam cleaned the bowl before using it to catch Julie's milk. She left to steam a few bottles. They had to be sold the next day by sundown.



    ...to be continued...

  6. #6
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    Re: Working the Hucows

    Part 6

    Julie got better than an angry fuck from me that night. After milking her, I was in a powerful need to unload my cum into her hot cunt. She screamed at me to fuck her harder!

    We got lucky, that first time. One of our regular merchants, in town, knew of a new mother who couldn't afford a nurse maid. He paid us half of what it was worth according to Theresa and only one bottle's worth. We had to pour the other two bottles into the garden.

    The following day we sold him all of the bottles. On a good day, Julie could produce four full bottles, half a gallon. I honestly enjoyed fucking her every night. For maximum production, I had to milk her four times a day, but I only fucked her at the end of the day, to avoid being distracted from work. I gave Mother the job of cleaning the wares we used.

    Julie agreed to a twenty five percent cut of the profits, which I deducted from her room and board. It made the accounting a lot easier.

    It was more of an experiment than a real business opportunity. And it seemed to lift everyone's spirits, doing something so unabashedly beyond the pale. All except mother. "We're all going to hell."

    "Believe what you like, Mother, but make sure those bottles and bowls are sterile, every day. Our customers are trusting their children with our milk. Oh, and the garden's looking much better. Thank you."

    "I try." She cooled a little.

    Mother's milk couldn't be other than an experiment, as we expected Julie's milk to dry up any day. When it didn't, after a month, Theresa got suspicious. "Are you pregnant?"

    "I'm not sure. I only missed one period, and I haven't felt very sick."

    "Jesus, woman! Why aren't you on the pill? Scott is more fertile than all of Wine Country!"

    "Theresa, be kind." She had invited me to witness Julie's interrogation.

    "I didn't want to taint the milk." Julie gave an unexpectedly rational answer.

    I made a special trip into town, with Lena, to buy a box of pregnancy test kits. I wasn't going to be the one to buy them! Lena was showing six months into hers. I assumed she knew everything about it.

    The cashier didn't assume that. "Um, Ma-am, I don't think you need these. I know a baby bump when I see one."

    She related the story on the way back. I laughed hard.

    Mother hadn't needed a test result. While we were away, and Theresa was looking after the business, Mom pleaded to Julie. "Keep the baby. I'll raise it. I'll love it as much as I love Scott."

    Julie told me about it the next time I milked her. "Can I trust her?"

    "I'm sure Mother wants to raise the child, but she's not the strong woman who raised me, not any more."

    The next day, the kit saved a rabbit. I'm not sure what that means either. Mother said it. Julie was gestating our next child. We talked in my room, after dinner.

    "Scott, if I abort, you're just going to get me pregnant again, unless you use means to prevent it."

    "You're right, Julie. The onus should be on me. I'll stop fucking you."

    "Jesus, you're such a hard-ass! Condoms are 98 percent effective when used right, and you're not one to make mistakes. That means, after one year of use, two women out of a hundred got pregnant. You take greater chances driving that truck every day!"

    "It's not the risk, Julie, I'm fine with keeping you knocked up. But you get the same veto. Pregnancy is a great burden when you don't want children. If you want sex from me, bare sex is the only kind I'll consider. If you go on the pill or one of those injections, we'll throw out your milk."

    She left my room, in a huff. I wasn't being reasonable. I prided myself on my rationality, but I accepted the sin of pride when it came to fucking. I accepted being unreasonable in this matter, but I can't say it didn't bother me. I was in the wrong.

    We worked the farm. We made a living. The farm cops arrived one day and nearly put us out of business.

    "We have evidence that you are selling mother's milk in the markets. Our files don't show your farm ever having received a license. We can confiscate your entire business."

    Theresa came to the rescue. "Our sales are legal under the emergency clause, for babies who can't use substitutes. Also, we have applied for a license." She had phoned the two mothers who were buying our special product, to support her claim. The cops checked and never bothered about it again. The license was approved two months later. I refused sex with Julie the entire time.

    When Lena found out, she offered to suck me off whenever I wanted. I could even fuck her, when she thought it wouldn't hurt. She probably saved me from myself. Lena was damn good with her mouth! Then her milk came in, after eight months. She insisted on selling it. Theresa added a bowl of her milk twice a day to our production.

    Word got around. Merchants we had written off asked to resell our mother's milk, but honestly, we made far more money from cow's milk than from Lena and Julie.

    A beat up van drove onto our grounds. A young woman and bearded man, wearing hippy clothes, approached me. "Are you Mr. Billings?"

    I knocked my hat back and inch. "I am."

    "We heard that you're selling mother's milk." The woman began. The man continued, "And the demand is greater than you can satisfy." She concluded. "I want to sell my milk."

    I had noticed that she was heavy in the chest. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your names." Protocol had been disrespected.

    The man gulped. "I'm Jim." The woman said, "I'm Aliese."

    "You can call me, Mr. Billings." I wasn't taken by their familiarity, but that didn't stop me from exploring an opportunity. "What birth control are you on, Aliese?"

    "Nothing, Mr. Billings. We don't believe in polluting our bodies." A five leaved pedant hung from her chest. A patch sewn on Jim's vest showed a version of the same leaf in green.

    "Are you pregnant, or did you miscarry? I'm sorry if it's the latter." She didn't look pregnant.

    They gave me blank expressions. She woke first. "Oh, it's not like that, Mr. Billings."

    Jim understood then. "Aliese is a natural. She produces milk as long as she is regularly stimulated."

    Surprising him and I, Aliese backtracked the conversation. "Jim uses condoms."

    The conversation was destined to ludicrous territory. Should I seriously consider their offer? "By the look of your van and its smoke trail," which hugged the road like a gaseous serpent. "I can see you might have good reason to sell milk. But this is a professional business. We have to follow strict procedures. I don't know either of you. So I can't claim you're not able to fit in here, but I doubt very much that you are."

    "Sir, with respect, you judge us right." Jim admitted. "We won't beg, but we will ask, let us prove ourselves. I'm not adverse to work."

    "And I'm willing to follow whatever procedures you require." Aliese promised.

    I called Theresa to meet us in the living room. She was more optimistic, which surprised me. I thought I was the romantic one. She grilled them for an hour, until she was actually convinced. One bonus, they lived in their van, and it was in better shape than its engine. He offered to work for their meals. She offered to help where she could, between milkings.

    I then explained the reality. "Jim, look me in the eye."

    I didn't see weakness when he met my steady orbs. "Okay. If you had weak eyes I'd send you two and your van packing. This farm needs strength to manage and strength to work. I'm not talking about lifting and hauling. There's plenty of that too. I'm talking about character, will, grit. If you don't have it, this farm will eat you like snared rabbits. If you have it, our land will make you stronger." His eyes wavered. I almost sent him packing. I'm glad I didn't.

    "I'll do my best, Sir." He must have been ten years older than me. I shook his hand. "Theresa, I'll leave Aliese' duties to your discretion."

    "Is that because I'm a woman?" The young hippy angered.

    Theresa chuckled. "Yes, but more importantly, I am the one who manages the farm's, mother's milk operations.

    Not done with the strange day, I went to the barn. There was no more time for Julie.

    "The calendar says, next week ends your first trimester. The law says you can abort during your second, but I won't allow you to stay, if you delay any longer than next week."

    "You mean, I have to bear the child, if I don't abort next week."

    She surprised me then. "Scott, don't you want to have children? You would be a better father than any of the parents of my old friends, and far better than my friends."

    She deserved an honest answer. "I've never allow myself time to think about it." I turned the question around. "What kind of mother would you be, living in a barn? I'm never going to marry you or live with you."

    "I promised to let your mother be our child's mother, if you decided to be a father."

    We parted, having both resigned to think about it.

    "I miss you, Scott." She held out her arms. "You can't make me more pregnant."

    I left her, feeling uncharacteristically awkward, and went to Lena. She only sucked me, but I needed that release more than I needed to be a father. My orgasm surprised me, as Lena gave head to me, I found myself imagining kissing Aliese.

    The next day, I told Julie I would be the child's father, but again I left her for Lena. The once rich woman had to understand, I might never have sex with her again, even if she bore my child. I had to keep my independence.

    Jim lasted a month. I took it easy on him during his first week. One good thing about hippies (they never called themselves that, and I never called them that) neither blinked when they learned of Julie's submission as a milk mother. Aliese batted one eye when they heard Julie was pregnant with my child. She batted the other eye when Lena told her she carried mine as well. The strange circumstances did not affect their efforts.

    Jim was a hard worker but not a good one. I spent half of my time helping him to correct his mistakes, or worse saving a cow's life from a terrible bungle. I took the kid gloves off the next week, always working beside him, a young adult working as hard as a man in his physical prime. He kept up, and made fewer mistakes. He flagged in the third week, complaining about aching joints and sore muscles. That was my daily experience as part of the job. At the beginning of the fifth week, the van coughed raucously to life under dawn's magnificent twilight. It left a fresh trail of black smoke, in an attempt to hide his failure. Aliese ran out of the house, pulling up her jeans. He had left her in the john. "Jim! You fucking bastard!"

    I found her sobbing. She clung to me. "It's my fault, Mr. Billings." She explained, "I refused sex with Jim when you weren't satisfied with his work. "I thought it would motivate him." She bawled. I held her in my arms for a very long time.

    The next week, a merchant forwarded a customer's complaint. "This bottle tasted off. I always taste them before feeding my child." I apologized and refunded that whole order. We tracked the bottles, it was one from Aliese. I confronted her.

    The demon weed grew wild, here and there on the farm, a legacy of growers who once hid their crop in the nearby hills. "You'll have to leave, Aliese. I can't afford to refund any more of your milk." I told her my suspicions.

    "But I haven't, honestly! I stopped smoking, as we agreed in the beginning." She was flush with innocence.

    "I ought to slap you for lying." I felt angry then. "Mother saw you the day before yesterday."

    Aliese was a smart one. She didn't dare play the victim or call Mother a liar. "Where did she see me and when?"

    "It was mid-morning. You were in the far pasture, trying to hide behind a cow, but it moved and you were too stoned to keep up."

    "Ask Lena where your mother was, that day, mid-morning. Ask Theresa where I was."

    I consulted with both of them. They confirmed Aliese' innocence. We agreed, Mother was guilty of something far worse than lying.

    "Come with me, Mother." I led her out of the house.

    "Good. I want to witness you sending that devil girl away forever!"

    I led her to the barn and tied her in the stall next to Julie who looked at me as if I was a devil. She knew better than to say anything, especially as the other three women arrived. Mother clamored, "What's the meaning of this? Scott, are you out of your mind?!"

    I accused Mom in front of everyone. "Not only did you lie, in an attempt to ruin Aliese' reputation, you put something in one of her milk bottles! Admit it."

    Mother had no grit left in her. She blubbered a full confession. "Your soul's in mortal peril, Scott. I'm the only one who sees it. I have to save you! It's my duty as your mother."

    "No, Mother, your duty is to save the farm. You promised that to both of your husbands when we began working here. This is the last straw, Mother! I can't trust you to do anything anymore. I'm going to tie you up here, for the night. In the morning, you can decide where you want to live, here or anywhere in the world except this county. I'll buy you a one way bus fare and plane fare." By 'here', she knew I meant the barn.

    She bawled and bawled like a calf who lost their mother. I let Julie sleep on the couch in the living room that night. I woke up in her arms the next morning. She took care of my waking wood by riding me. It was the only time that ever happened.

    We went together to the barn. I told her I needed to tie her in her stall, if she wanted to see what happened between me and Mother. She agreed. We found Mom but also Aliese.

    Mother kept silent as I tied Julie to her stall. She looked like she hadn't slept. She looked worse than miserable. Red faced, cheeks puffy, eyes bloodshot, she only whimpered when I finally confronted her. "Decide, Mother." I felt incredibly sad to see her like this, when she was still an attractive woman whenever she took the time to present it.

    "I did a terrible thing." She looked at Aliese who was stirring out of slumber. "I deserve this." She sounded repentent.

    I accepted her judgement. "Julie, look after her, should you have a mind to."

    "But your child?..." Julie worried, touching her baby bump. Mother was now clearly unable to handle that responsibility.

    "I'll be the mother." Aliese had been tending Mom through the night. Perhaps she had been the greater factor in Mother's change of heart. Aliese knew the score between Julie and I.

    "You're still on probation, Aliese. You have two more months to prove yourself. I apologize for accusing you of lying yesterday. Please accept my forgiveness, but that doesn't include ignoring your bed mate's failure." She and Jim weren't married. I looked at Julie. "There are adoption agencies."

    "You promised you would be the father."

    I had. "We'll figure something out." I conceded. Later Aliese revealed that Mother had apologized, fully and humbly, but said not to tell me because I might consider leniency.

    I found myself reaching for her, resisting the urge to kiss her. She accepted my hug without a hint of enjoying it.



    ...to be continued...

  7. #7
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    Re: Working the Hucows

    Part 7

    Lena gave birth. It was a horrible, noisy, bloody affair. I swore twice to rush her to a hospital, but Aliese drove me out of the house. She yelled the ultimate insult, "Jim would have had more nerve at this, than you!" Lena delivered in Mother's bedroom, a girl. "Hanna." She named her. "Hanna Billings."

    We took her to the hospital, the next day. The women, including Julie, handled the paperwork, I stared at the baby like a dumb ass when the nurse held Hanna for the doctor's examination. Julie had her pregnancy checked. The women didn't let me see the receipt but promised our health plan covered most of it.

    We returned home and showed Hanna to Mother. She wept and swore she wasn't worthy to touch it. "Bless you, little one. May you get to be much stronger than your stupid grandma."

    The women returned the baby to Lena in mother's old room. I knelt beside my mom. "I don't know what to do with you." I cried.

    "Don't be a baby." Mother growled suddenly. "I'll walk to the Pacific and swim out until I drown if you ever give me cause to doubt your judgement. You imprisoned me here, Scott. It might even do me some good, or so I tell myself. Because you are the rock that keeps this ship's keel steady. I'd rather be a cow than your mother if you can't sort out a problem like me. Last night, you were faced with what being a man really means. If you can't handle it, let a stronger bull take charge."

    She meant Theresa, and by bull, she meant bull dyke. Mother hated gays as much as she hated Latinos.

    Winter hit with full force. Not one of the heaters failed, except the one in mother's old room. I had let Aliese borrow it until spring. She had to spend her milk earnings for it, though. It snowed once. Aliese knocked on my door, just as I was falling asleep. "The heater's out in my room." She hadn't planned it, but I ended up spilling my seed in her belly that night. A sleepy young man is a stupid young man.

    She knew me well enough to not bring it up the next day. "I'll go in to town and get a heater. A cheap one should last until spring. I have some money saved."

    "Thank you, but charge it to the family card and buy a good one." I kept eating, chewing my food carefully. I didn't want to appear rushing to get to work. Aliese turned to start breakfast for Mother and Julie. I woke too early to disturb the cattle.

    I should explain that the women who lived in the barn, ate their meals at the house and spent a lot of time walking around, outside. Only Aliese was allowed to work, mostly tending to the garden. They took to reading books, which Lena or Aliese fetched from the town library, depending on who drove the milk shipment that day.

    I kept my promise. I always milked Julie in private, but she allowed Mother to be present if Mom wanted. They had taken to calling each other, Mad Cows. "What does a cow care, watching a man milk another cow?" She laughed.

    Baby Hanna took a significant bite out of our mother's milk supply as expected, but I knocked on the worker house, the instant I discovered a discrepancy. "You're cutting your milk with cow's milk, Lena. Stop it." The figures didn't lie. The amount of Lena production should have dropped more.

    "You're right, Scott, and you're wrong. I add cow's milk for variety, not to keep my 'production' up. I'm producing more milk, because Theresa knows how to stimulate me."

    I felt stupid again, and Theresa had earned more merit. I thanked Lena for explaining.

    Not angry, but not happy, I drove into town and met a woman in a bar. I didn't return until morning. I did use condoms with strangers.

    I needed to find my true self again. I had been losing my sense of who I was, as I matured into an unorthodox lifestyle.The work and expectations placed on me, the baby, and Theresa's obvious strength conspired to deprive me of all that had made me strong. Like fear, I faced the challenges, head on, except I was unaware of the obvious distraction from and greatest disruption to my focus. I butted lesser matters.

    I worked harder. I took council from my co-workers. I spent more time with the baby. I faced Theresa. "What you're doing for Lena, can you do it for Julie and Aliese?"

    She sighed. "I could, but that would hurt Lena. Scott, it's not a big secret. I'm only doing what you stopped doing with Julie." There were no secrets on the farm. It wasn't a rule - it just worked better that way for everyone.

    "Is the extra milk worth it?" I was considering doing the special effort myself.

    "It has nothing to do with extra milk. It has everything to do with being who you are."

    I left, contemplating her hint for days instead of asking right out. I ended up using an excuse to make up my mind.

    "Aliese, your three months of probation are up today. You're a full employee with full benefits." By this time, we knew she hadn't caught from our one night together. She had used a second kit out of Lena's original purchase.

    "Thank you, Scott." She had always called me Mr. Billings. "I love it here."

    Her ernest and firm response slugged me in a place that had no armor. I was suddenly an awkward sixteen year old, inexperienced in one of the most important aspects of being human. I heard myself sputtering.

    "Aliese, I-I love you." None of the other things: work, expectations, even little Hanna, Mother, or Theresa, had set me off kilter. It had been Aliese. "Do you love m-me?"

    She acted as if a ghost had crossed her shadow. "I-I didn't want you to think-"

    I put my arms around her and kissed her. She melted in my grasp, conforming to my hard, young shape. We didn't leave the house that day. At noon, we asked Lena bring sandwiches to Mom and Julie, with the good news.

    That night, Julie tried to start her car. It hadn't moved in a year. Mother came to the door. "Put your pants on, Scott. We have a problem."

    She let me talk with Julie alone. Julie screamed at me. "It's still my second trimester, damn you! Why won't this stupid, expensive fucking car start?"

    "You promised, Julie." I yelled back.

    "I didn't promise to let that granola slut twist you around her finger."

    I stopped arguing. I wrenched the door open and dragged her out. I took her to her stall and bound her there. "Don't let her go, Mother. I will in the morning." I told Julie, "I'm not going to stop you, except for tonight. I'll jumpstart your car in the morning, if you want. Tomorrow isn't too late to kill the baby I trusted you with."

    "Fuck her, Scott." Aliese called from the barn door. She shivered in the shirt she wore. It was all she wore. "I mean it. You've been neglecting her. You let her get surly, and I bet her milk has weakened too."

    I didn't argue. I was too angry. Julie threatened the life of one of my babies. Now that I had one, I understood how precious they were. I still believed it was Julie's right to choose, but she was not in any mood to decide something as horrific as abortion.

    I nearly made the mistake of simply accepting Aliese' command. What saved me, was all the fucking we had done that day. My dick was as limp as a willow frond. I stilled myself and my thoughts. "Aliese, come here and get me ready."

    "Yes, Scott." She unbuckled my belt and pulled down my pants. In my rush to confront Julie, I hadn't donned underwear. My cock hung free behind Julie's smock.

    "Mother, you can sleep in the house tonight."

    "I won't, Son." I hadn't told her she HAD to. "Aliese is right, you've neglected the poor thing. She's carrying your child, after all. I want to be here, for my friend."

    I didn't need Mother to tell me what was right or wrong, or Aliese, for that matter. I needed to listen to them. Now let me tell you something about the power of love. Aliese' hand roused my fucked-out prick hard in ten seconds. Mother turned away for it but turned back when Julie grunted. "Get your hard cock out of me, Scott! I hate you!"

    "Julie, you need this." Mother told her.

    I fucked the angry bitch, without malice. "I promise, I won't stop you, tomorrow. But I'm going to take care of you tonight, as I think is right."

    My mother, and the love of my life, made sure I didn't skimp on caring for Julie all that night. Starting the next dawn, I didn't get an erection for two days.

    Julie slept until noon. She woke untied. I had hung her keys on a hook in the stall, after jumpstarting her car and running it until the battery recharged. Aliese had packed Julie's few things.

    Julie wept upon waking. Everyone on the farm sat in the main room of the farm house, waiting, drinking tea and coffee. The door opened and Julie entered, wiping her tears. "I can't believe how low I've sunk." She gave the keys to Mother. "I promise, Scott, I'll never use your babies against you, ever again." She knelt before Aliese, "Can you forgive me?"

    "I love you, Julie." Aliese kissed her cheek. They hugged. I stood. "Let's get to work."

    Spring rains turned our fields to mud. We ran out of winter hay the day I mailed the last of the farm's money to the IRS. The cattle would starve until the sun restocked our fields with green. I had to barter our milk for feed. It was the only way the herd would survive. Our income plummeted, except for the few bottles of mother's milk that had come to command fifteen times the price of cow's milk. The mothers who could afford or who had to buy it for their infants had begun to talk. Their babies hadn't gotten sick during the winter, not one of them. I figured it for dumb luck, but that was the best kind. Even a high price, for the ten bottles we filled each day, amounted to less than enough to feed three women producing milk, let alone three other adults, two who worked a dairy sixteen hours a day. The garden was as drowned as the pastures.

    We felt the effects of starvation, after two weeks of steady rains. A cow sickened and I decided to slaughter it. I hated myself that day. It had been with child, but the mother would have died a month before the calf was viable. We buried the unborn calf. The six of us ate its mother's delicious meat. My mother made sure we blessed every meal. Only Aliese refused to partake in saying grace. She muttered, "We should be praying to the cow, not to a spiteful god."

    I was a dairyman, not a preacher. I kept the farm working. The sun returned. Grass grew. Mother acted bored when I spent time with Julie. Mom could have walked in the sun while I brought Julie to several climaxes. She said it was her duty to make sure I didn't cheat Julie. I had a vague notion that Mom meant I might have used a dildo instead of my tried and true cock. Theresa talked too much about dildos. I hadn't known they existed until the first week my business partner joined the business.

    The great dildo conspiracy unraveled soon thereafter. I always took my time, to enjoy fucking Julie's eager cunt. I didn't just fuck her. I used my hands and my mouth to stimulate those places that worked best for her. I didn't play with her nipples, directly. They were usually sore after being milked. Julie loved a massage while we fucked. My hand were coarse from massaging a cow to get her udders to firm up. I left red marks on Julie's back. She claimed the rougher I massaged her, the better her orgasms. I must not have been rough enough that day. Julie didn't yell so much as gasp and moan when she came on my sperm spewing cock. Hot cum injected into her cunt always sent her over the edge. That day, I heard another gasp and moan. Pulling out of Julie, quietly. I peeked into the next stall. Mother huddled behind the short wall, lips tight, trying to hold back her exhortations while she plunged a fat, silicone dildo in and out of her hairy pussy. I turned around and walked all the way into my house, where I took a long shower.

    Aliese giggled. "It's okay, Scott. Your mother is a human being too." Then she surprised me. "I use a dildo sometimes. Occasionally, I just want to enjoy myself by myself."

    I had never heard of such a thing. I was always ready to make love with the woman I loved. Fortunately, I'm not one to worry about loving her enough. She hadn't lied or wanted to hurt me. She told me straight. She liked masturbating in addition to fucking me every other chance we had. That didn't mend my broken brain from having seen my mother have sex with herself. It was even weirder, because she masturbated while I fucked Julie. I was helping to get my own mother off. I shuddered, whenever I recalled the sight. I also got quite hard which disgusted me further.

    "Oh, and Scott, I'm pregnant." Aliese added with a ridiculous smile. I wished I could have fainted. Of course I congratulated her, until I ran out of congratulatory sperm.

    Luckily I always had work to distract me. It was my religion. Calving began. Julie was the first to give birth. Once again, Theresa threw me out of the house when I was totally grossed out and threatened to call an ambulance helicopter.

    The next morning, Julie's labor had been very long, she introduced me to Camber Billings. I hugged and kissed her. I held my son and thanked God. He looked perfect.

    The doctor agreed that afternoon, after my family had waited three hours in the emergency room. We had called in advance, but there had been an accident at a winery, and a dozen migrant workers had been rushed to the hospital. I told my son, unfortunates were more important than those with better fortunes.

    The police arrested me before I could claim my son from the ER.

    It wasn't even a scandal. I was booked, charged, tried, and acquitted of bigamy and/or polygamy. They tried me for both. Theresa dredged up a lawyer who was well acquainted with the county's more esoteric laws. Politicians were always adding laws and forgetting ones already on the books. I couldn't be a bigamist, because I wasn't married. I couldn't be a polygamist because having babies with employees was specifically exempted by an 1852 statute. The rancher who owned nearly all of the county's land at that time, told the politicians to write it into law. Locally, that rancher's surname is twice as common as the next most common.

    Now, if I hadn't reached sixteen, nine months before Hanna had been born, the cops would have arrested her for child abuse. Basically, I may have dodged a bullet, but I was permanently marked on their radar.

    Spring was a time of great change, in nature and the life on our humble dairy farm. We had three strong calves that year. Two were female. Mother started expressing milk about the same time.

    Dildoes weren't the only conspiracy she had joined. For the last six months Mother followed a program of stimulating her nipples. Apparently, soon after Aliese began working for us, Julie dismissed Mom's ability to lactate as, no big deal. When Mother asked why, she explained that most women could fire up their milk glands if they stimulated them often enough, especially if they had previously breastfed a child.

    I held a company meeting, without Mom or Julie, to discuss the situation. I didn't trust my judgement, and I wanted everyone to witness if not partake in the discussion.

    "I understand how gross the idea is to you, Scott." Theresa grinned. "You're a man, a rather ignorant one concerning women, by which I mean no disrespect. To the rest of us, breasts are more than a sex object. I'm a lesbian. To me they are sex objects, but I shouldn't digress. Breasts are meant to feed babies, first and foremost. You placed your mother in a strange position in our, I'll say the F word, family. The farm broke her, but you saved her by confining her to that stall. Of that, I'm devout. She is still part of our family, however lowly placed. She loves you, and her hate for us hasn't manifested since you put her there."

    Aliese added, "She's there by her own will. I've offered her room to her, which you agreed to, but she continues to think the barn is in her best interest."

    Lena drove the final nail into my stigmata. "She wants to be part of the farm again. She doesn't trust herself to return to work. This is the way she wants to contribute, Scott. I'll be happy to milk her. You need never think about it. It'll just be more milk in the supply."

    I chose not to think about it. Milk production increased, but not by much. Mother's breasts weren't driven by the full hormonal engine of having and feeding a baby. She barely managed to fill a bottle a day. I tried not to think about it. That was difficult, when every few days, I spent half an hour plowing Julie's empty but fertile field while mother masturbated. She must know that I learned about her self abuse. Nothing was secret for long on the farm.

    Milk revenues decreased. Hanna and Camber had needs that outstripped our most worthy customers. I invited Julie to feed her son, but she refused. "Aliese is his mother. I'm just a cow. If her mother can't make enough, you're welcome to bottle feed Camber with my milk. I won't let him near by breasts." Mother also tried to convince her. Julie stymied both of us. It was almost as if she didn't have a nurturing instinct, but that wasn't possible. Was it? I kept myself too busy to find out.

    Aliese could have fed three Cambers. Her milk doubled upon latching the boy to her breast, but he drank a bit more than Hanna. I once confessed to the women, "Treating your milk as a farm commodity will never feel right to me." They laughed. One could make the observation that I treated them as a farm commodity, but not without their consent. I still met with Lena for bi-monthly sexcapades. Neither Theresa nor Aliese wasted energy rolling their eyes. It was just a part of how the farm worked.

    Aliese lost her baby in the first trimester. She insisted that we bury it next to the unborn calf buried at the start of spring. I could barely hold my shit together. She had to console me. "Scott, this is not unexpected. It was my first baby. There's a one in four chance of miscarriage. Our next child will have a much better chance. That doesn't mean she wasn't sad. She offloaded several chores in the weeks that followed, to grieve.



    ...to be continued...

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    Re: Working the Hucows

    Part 8

    I've spent a lot of time talking about mother's milk, but the dairy's major income was still bovine based. That primary source made little profit however, and it was our major workload. Not that the business could sell off our four legged herd and focus on mother's milk. The few gallons we produced each week wouldn't cover property taxes, but it did cover living supplies for our family.

    Theresa looked into government subsidies. I spit on the hardwood floor when she mentioned it. She snorted, "Save your saliva, Scooter."

    I had gotten used to being called Scott or Mr. Billings. Suddenly my nickname sounded like an insult. I frowned but waited for my partner's explanation.

    "We could apply for and would probably get farm support from the feds. I can't recommend that, because then our operation would have to comply with federal regulations. We already comply with USDA requirements, but I'm talking about the family." She snickered, "You would have to marry Aliese and stop impregnating everyone else. Conservative politicians in all parties would love to flush out a hippy-redneck-bigamist to take pot shots at.

    I would have married Aliese, but she hated that (according to her) patriachal, social construct. "Then why bring it up, Partner?" I tried to match being called 'Scooter.'

    "What we should take advantage of are price support measures and tax breaks." She explained. "Hell, two years ago, I knew everything about cars and nothing else. I'm in unfamiliar territory, government grants and such."

    "Why didn't Camber Morgan use those?"

    "Because they're new, enacted after he died, and mostly for Vermont dairys. We can save tens of thousands of dollars."

    That's how we ended up selling milk to the government whenever the market price was depressed. The bastards would even pay to have it shipped!

    The next time Theresa brought up an important matter, her face was burning red. "Lena doesn't want another baby." She was furious! She meant that Lena didn't want to bear another child. Hanna's birth had been precarious, and Theresa wouldn't pressure her lover, but she had fallen in love with being a mom for their child. Theresa wanted another one. "One of my own."

    She couldn't afford a test tube baby. She could afford betraying her homosexuality, like she had in her marriage. Exept at that the, she hadn't understood her nature. "Lena said you were my only real chance. She meant it as a joke, but I'm not laughing, Scott. I'm not getting younger, and now that I have a taste of being a mother without a shithead for a husband, I'm craving the full, goddamned package."

    "I rely on you too much as my business partner, Theresa. Don't tell me that having a baby together wouldn't complicate it."

    "You're right, but we've dealt with bigger problems. Do you trust me?"

    "I do, but creating a new life and being responsible for it is a huge deal." I might have been close to seventeen, but I was already twice a father.

    "I'm in my fertile time, right now. If you got me pregnant today, I would still have nine months to figure out how to fit another baby into the family without endangering the business."

    Theresa was an incredible business person. I bet she could find a way in half that time. We shook hands. Then she led me into the barn. Mom and Julie looked on dumbstruck as the family lesbo began taking off her shirt and overalls and boxer underwear. "I don't want no fucking romance, Scott. I can't stand the thought of having a man's dick in me." She entered a stall. "Get some straps and tie me here like an angry cow, wrists and ankles. Gag me with my shirt."

    This was her operation. I was but a worker. I performed as she instructed. Somehow I nutted harder into her womb than I'd ever cum, even more than into the woman I truly loved. Theresa yelled and hollered into her gag, hating every second. She didn't hate me though. After I untied her, she hugged and thanked me. I was wise enough to let her leave by herself.

    "What the actual fuck?" Julie stared at me.

    "I predicted it." Mom was full on smug.

    An hour later, I barrelled into the barn and tied up Julie. She screamed and shouted with orgasmic abandon as I ravaged her hot cunt. Mom was crooning too in her neigboring stall as she brought herself to climax with her favorite dildo.

    Aliese met me at the door of our house, led me into our bedroom and proceded to rouse me twice more that night. Love can do that, no matter what the circumstances. You just have to have the right kind and enough of it. The woman I loved most of all, loved everyone equally.

    Theresa was slow to catch my seed. She hadn't been kidding about her age. She was nearly forty. For five days out of each of the ensuing, seven months, I would have the most intense sex with a woman who hated it. After that first time, Lena came to console her and take her to their home. Theresa always thanked and hugged me. I felt guilty as hell, but none of the women in our family judged me so.

    Mom spelled it out after my first dozen attempts to impregnate my business partner. "Scott, your place on this farm is to be the fucking bull. Mother had never sworn casually before. God wanted men to fill all the Earth with people."

    "It's pretty damn full, from what I hear."

    "Full of idiots, yes." Mom took my hand and knelt before me. She had called me to her stall, after Julie had fallen asleep from our latest, hot tryst. "I was a foolish bitch, once. No more, Son. I now believe that we are doing God's work here. This confinement has opened my eyes the love that fuels our lives here When I accepted it into my heart, I discovered it equal to His love. I-I want to love you, Scott."

    Doe eyes sharpened by faint crowsfeet, looked up at me. Her hands lifted, stretching out towards my belt buckle.

    I tore out of the barn like a chicken chased by a racoon. I ran across the fenced fields. I ran uphill into the oak stands. I stumbled on loose leaves and fell, choking from shame. I couldn't catch my breath. No one heard me sobbing.

    Mother resumed tending the garden, the next day. The other women included her in their occasional banter. Aliese found me holed up in our truck, and told me to get to fucking work.

    Ms. Carlile Fontana introduced herself some weeks later. "I'm a reporter for the Berkeley Gazette, Master Billings. On a tip from a father indebted to your sideline of mother's milk, I began investigating your company. When I read your arrest record, I came to see for myself and get your story."

    "My story is, I have no time for gossip makers." I brushed her off. "This is private land, and you're not welcome."

    She relented but only until Aliese drove out with that day's production. The reporter ambushed my love at a delivery point. Aliese returned with Ms. Carlile Fontana tied in back of the truck. "I accepted a proven milker, Mr. Billings." She lead our new cow on a leash, to the barn and locked her into an empty stall.

    Everyone stood outside, huddling, staring. Aliese appeared, "Less gawking and more working, people."

    At dinner, she explained, "The bitch wouldn't take no for an answer. So I made it worth our while. I got her to sign a one month contract to produce milk. I even got electronic signatures from her superiors, right up to her gossip rag's chief of human resources." Aliese sneered. "I don't know if it's legal, but I told her we wouldn't talk until after she had satisfied the contract, and that she was free to leave at anytime."

    Theresa's jaw gaped wider than the rest of us. "Who the hell gave you executive decision power?" She wasn't actually angry, but she was concerned.

    "I didn't do it to gain anyone's favor, Theresa." Aliese sighed. "I did it because I'm pregnant again. We're going to need the milk." She spun her head to me. "I wasn't sure until this morning. I would have told you right away, but you were working the far field." She grinned at the family. "Call me a raging hormonal woman, but I went with my gut. That cow is going to be something special."

    "Can she actually produce milk?" Mother wanted to know.

    "I sucked it out of her teats myself." Aliese was as close to a mother nature high priestess as any in these hills. Testing the milk directly from a woman's tits was just business. "Aparently, Ms. Fontana was drawn to our story because she has been donating to California's Mother's Milk Bank. She wants to know what a commercial operation is like, and I can tell you she came with lots of prejudice. That's why I told her we're going to treat her more like a real cow than a woman. If she can't handle it, she can write any story she wants. If so, we can say that she agreed to giving us a chance and bolted before honoring her promise."

    "Gods," Theresa wailed. "There is no way, no matter how in-the-right we are, that we can out-media a reporter. If we can't dissolve her contract, we're fucked."

    "Julie, I need your help." I stood up from my chair and got my coat. Julie walked with me to the barn.

    I greeted Ms. Fontana and introduced Julie. "Are you comfortable?"

    "That heater is making me sweat." She had taken off her business jacket. Her breasts were larger than I remembered.

    I pointed at Julie's stall. "That's where Julie lives."

    The reporter's eyes zeroed in on Mrs. Vale. "I thought I was being foolish to accept living in a stall for a month. How long have-"

    "Two years going on three, Carlile." Before the reporter reacted, Julie told her, "Cows only have single names."

    Our new milker snickered. "Is this some kind of BDSM commune?"

    I had no clue about what she was talking about.

    "Two plus years ago I was a millionaire living a privileged vinter's life. BDSM was an escape from reality. That stall, my beloved home, is reality for me. I've never been happier in my entire life." Julie could also snicker. "Your mileage may vary."

    Carlile actually sneered at me. "You're paying her to say that."

    Julie turned around and went to her stall. "Scott, don't give this ignorant cow the time of day. I need your attention here." She began tying her ankles to iron rings. Then she pulled up her woolen shift and exposed her bare behind to me. The angle between her and the reporter's stall provided a hay bale and a wood fence to cover her modesty, but Julie would have given the full view without a snit. "There's nobody here but you, me, and cattle, Scott. Aliese will question your manhood if you don't do the work assigned to you."

    Calling my manhood into question wasn't the inspiration that got me unbuckling my belt. I wanted to fuck this hot slut in front that sneering bitch.

    Afterwards, Julie told me to return home without a glance at our new cow. Mother joined them in the barn not long thereafter. She brought a woolen tunic for Carlile. None of them related their ensuing converstaion, but the next morning, Aliese found the reporter dressed and ready to be milked. That night, upon my return from Julie's stall, she and I celebrated our new pregnancy, holding each other dearly until we fell asleep.

    I quickly lost my curiosity and concerns about Ms. Fontana. She was in the capable hands of the women. I did feel considerable amazement when our production rose by thirty percent. Carlile was a breed above human milkers.

    However, on each of the five days of still trying to impregnate Theresa, I was so nervous, I got barely hard enough to penitrate the willing but unhappy lesbian. I confessed to her after a mediocre climax.

    "Don't worry about what that cow is going to write. I've been talking to Aliese about it, and I've come round to her thinking. Did you know our hippy chick has a degree in public affairs? This might actually push our business over the next hurdle."

    Our company was finally plodding along comfortably. "What hurdle?"

    "Expansion." Theresa then reminded me that I had originally inherited a much larger and more successful farm. "We're living too close to the margin, Scott. We need that headroom again. Our emergency savings are a pittance."

    Saying that aloud was all it took to nearly ruin us, but in truth, I was to blame. I went and applied for a security loan, funds to draw upon in a real emergency. (At sixteen I asked a judge declare me independent.) The bank checked our records. They found out about my arrest and my 'family.'

    "For ethical reasons, we can no longer do business with you." The balding, company VP informed us in a letter.

    Camber had been banking with them since his father took out their first and only business loan, which they paid off as fast as humanly possible. Without a bank to secure financial transactions, we would have been ruined in a month.

    "I'm such an idiot!" I growled, head bowed to my business partner.

    "Yeah. Maybe your mother will console you, but I have to put all work aside and get new financial tools, ASAP." She left me grovling. Theresa was raised in the nearby town. She knew that if one bank rejected us, all of them would. She got advice from Julie. She even asked Carlile who simply said, "Moo."

    Theresa went into the city. She went online. She almost went nuts. "There's no way in hell that I'll contact any of the interstate banks. They're all corrupt and don't give a shit. Some local banks are viable, except we're too remote to work effectively with them. The internet is too risky. The amount of money our company moves is just enough to entice hackers who lurk in the shadows, and not one of us know shit from shinola about cybersecurity."

    Mother did better than console me. She saved us. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" She wrote a letter. The bank's president drove out to shake my hand. "Please, Mr. Billings, I will happily punish the idiot who insulted you. Do not take your business away from us. I will grant you a personal loan, to cover a modest emergency. A handshake is all I need, but I will draw up any documents you desire."

    A nod from Mother spurred me to shake the president's hand. I told him. "Please forgive your man. These times have seen weird and sudden changes in what's considered right and wrong. I have to ask my partners time and again, to understand why most of the changes are important."

    "Any person who speaks freely and keeps their word, without harming others, is always welcome at my bank." His eyes darted briefly at my mother before excusing himself and driving away.

    Everyone in front of the main house regarded my mom as if a halo had suddenly appeared over her head. She never explained how she did it, but over time we pieced together some of her slipped comments. Aparently the closets in most small towns are filled with skeletons. Mother had been married for six years to Camber. Camber had tracked the local town's pulse for decades. She must have learned something incredible about the bank's president.

    The next potential crisis arrived on time but before anyone was ready for it. Ms. Carlile Fontana walked out of the barn on a Thursday afternoon. "It's been 31 days, Mr. Billings. I'll have your story now."

    She interviewed the entire family. She asked embarrassing questions and terrifying questions. During her time as a cow, she had been impressed that each of us would honor the contract she had signed in milk.

    I couldn't read the reporter's reactions. Theresa said the same, after her interview. Mom said, "Piff." Julie looked like the cat who ate the canary. Lena was quivering in her work boots.

    Aliese drove away with Ms. Fontana sitting shotgun. My true love returned and declared. "It's up to the goddess."

    We went back to work.



    ...to be concluded...

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    Re: Working the Hucows

    Epilogue

    Twenty years passed.

    "This mouth feel okay, Bessie?" I attached the next, glass collector on her right teat. "Not too cold?"

    "You're the best, Sweetheart." She gripped the hand bar and pushed out her behind. "Help me to start a flow."

    I switched on the machine. I moved behind her and unzipped my trousers. As the milker hummed, I pushed her tunic aside and pressed my erection into her wet sex.

    "You must like not wearing condoms anymore."

    "You always say that, Mother." Elizabeth picked out her cow name, Bessie, when I first made love to her. It was a day I had been adamant against, until the herd cornered me in what must have been the strangest intervention of all time. They accused me of allowing my bias to weaken our business. They were damn right I had. Except for Mom, I was fucking all of them, including the two mother milk cows we'd hired since Ms. Fontana's article hit the presses and went viral over the internet.

    "Mother's Milk Makes Mighty, Money, and Morality." The title declared. The extensive article described almost nothing about the business or its operation. Her account was a patchwork quilt of interviews. It concluded. "I've experienced first hand a miracle. Rednecks, Dykes, First Americans, Communists, Atheists, Catholics, Capitalists, and Fundamentalists, of different races and colors and political affiliations. All have bonded over the most human expression of love, feeding a child naturally. I've been donating my good fortune of spontaneous breast milk, to a great cause for years. I will continue to donate to the Mother's Milk Bank, but from time to time, I will earn pizza and beer money from a farm near a small town, by working as a cow and reveling in the grace which that miraculous company nurtures. Moo."

    Her article was bullshit anyway you sliced it. You'd know it if you had lived the truth. Necessity to survive was the glue that kept our mottled farm alive. Screw diversity. Each of us were honorable humans struggling to keep above a tide of greed and privilege. The article did wonders for the company's bottom line, however.

    As I was saying, I was fucking our miraculous herd, a farmer's duty to cultivate abundant crops. Fucking all except my mother, for reasons easily understood. The herd intervened and presented evidence that a well fucked cow makes more milk. I would be slacking if I didn't include her in my 'rounds.'

    Mother declared that day that she would abandon her dildo. "It's not the same!" She implored. She had loved real sex with her husbands. The herd almost resorted to tying me in her stall, to spur me to do a bull's duty.

    I told them that I would wear a condom or I would sell the business. Mother agreed, even though she considered herself too old to conceive. She wasn't too old according to science. She was just unlikely to. Her milk production increased but not by a significant amount. I had been bamboozled into Mom's one, ungodly fantasy.

    In time, I learned that our maternal bond had strengthened very significantly. One day, I orgasmed inside the condom and began sobbing, apologizing for cuckolding my Mother's sex life. On a little dairy farm, far from a population center, I was the only man she had the opportunity of taking as a lover.

    "I love you, Bessie."

    "Thank you, Sweetheart. May my milk be fortified by it."

    I glanced at the collectors. Both hummed emptily. Mother had stopped producing milk over a year ago. That didn't matter to her. She hated the idea of being put out to pasture, to rot in a small room in the main house. She enjoyed the stall with her name on it, regularly roaming outside and tending to our garden.

    My body mated with hers, my mind joining hers, our hearts beating rapidly together, until we both came more than once. Afterwards, our hearts ever stronger, we parted and resumed our chores.

    Over time, fucking cows other than my true love, Aliese, diminished to a bull's chore. The second exception was Mother. Making love with her proved equally special in different, joyous ways.

    When Mom died at the age of 93. We buried her under the barn.

    When Aliese died, of a virus, I retired and moved in with our first daughter who we'd named after the reporter.

    My Carlile's family runs a franchise dairy in Ohio, near where my parents once farmed. No one laughs when my daughter brings out the old bull to service their cows.

    I laugh. I have grown a little mad in a carefree fashion.


    The End

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