The Farm

By DX

Copyrighted, 3/2025, all rights reserved.

 “Emma is demonstrating our new, Cowgirl line!”  

 Candice called out like a circus ringmaster and reeled in the meandering crowd.  “Take a look, folks!  Emma is happiest when she has a crowd to watch her get milked!”

 Emma smiled gently, and placed her teats, the size of her thumbs, into milking nozzles.  As the nozzles began to suck, Emma felt the thrilling, erotic sensation flow though her.  She masked her emotions with sheer will, and only smiled pleasantly at her audience.  She gave her head a shake to get her wild, red hair out of her face, as she cast her emerald eyes to the approaching gaggle of people.  She shrugged her shoulders back to help her back with the strain of her heavy, milk laden teats. 

 “First her nose ring,”  Candice went on.  “which not only insures obedience, just give a little tug and she'll follow you anywhere, but also insures her unobstructed breathing; which comes in handy when she uses that nanite enhanced mouth and tongue to keep the farm hands happy.  An O-chip at the back of her tongue keeps her coming for more!”

 Emma longed for a farm hand, or suitable cock, and her eyes searched the growing crowd for one.  As her teats were being suckled, her hormones raged, and only the smooth feel of a delicate skin against the back of her tongue could bring her the wild pleasure she needed to orgasm.  It was maddening!  

 She could only smile as the audience stepped closer for a good look.  There were no farm hands, or suitable cocks.

 “The collar around her neck insures her only sounds are gentle mooing.”  Candace explained.  “For her primary feature, her breast shield, nanites have surgically separated her nipples into four, then stimulated the breast tissue growth giving her four breasts.  The naturally occurring sugars in her produced milk can be adjusted to give each breast a different flavor: Regular, chocolate, strawberry and banana. These can be customized to your cow.  Other options include the above, plus: whole, 2%, heavy cream, and Beer.”  Candace brandished a sloshing mug of foaming beer and took a long pull.  “Mmmm!  You won't believe it until you try it!”  She exclaimed with her beer mustache. 

 Emma smiled, and nodded to the crowd, while she clenched her teeth and prayed that once, just this once, the milking machine would let her come, and not insistently tease her.

 “Of course, Emma's package is finished off with a Chasti-Permalock Vaginal Shield, so none of her pent up energies are wasted!”

 Emma couldn’t help but wonder if that were true; that an orgasm wasted a hucow’s energy.  It sounded silly, implausible, but they showed her the science, the research.  Every thing indicated that a chaste cow produced a higher yield and better quality milk.

 “Its our most productive Chasti product to date!”  Candace wrapped up her presentation.  “Order yours now and become the Cowgirl of your dreams!”

 The machine shut off and Emma pulled her teats from the nozzles.  She pulled up her bra and shifted it in place.  It was tight, and she looked lovingly down at her nanite enhanced breasts.

 They were getting bigger.  Much, much bigger.  With her arms outstretched, she could barely reach her hands around to touch her finger tips together.  Soon, she wouldn’t be able to do that.  Soon, she would be unable to reach her own teats and would need a farmhand to do it.

 Preferably a farmhand with a suitable cock.

 Assuming there was a farmhand with a suitable cock left in the world.  With a population of 1,331 to 1, female/male ratio, finding a male, with a suitable cock, (suitable; meaning still worked and wasn’t in permalock chastity) was like finding a unicorn. 

 Still smiling, Emma meandered into the crowd and took pictures with the potential customers, while Candace signed people up for orders.  

 Home hucow milk production was all the rage.

 When they announced the fair was closing for the day, Emma packed up as Candace took a couple final orders.  With a huge smile on her face, Candace took Emma’s leash and led her to their trailer.

 “We have exceeded quota, kid!”  Candace exclaimed stepping inside.  She smiled brightly as Emma closed the door behind her.  “And that is thanks to you!”

 Emma mooed.  Then mooed again, looking at Candace’s data-pad.

 Her face flashed with confusion.  “Oh, you want to see the numbers?”

 Emma shook her head.  She mooed, and looked at the pad.

 “Oh, you want to talk?”

 Emma nodded.

 Candace laughed.  “Well, why didn’t you saw so?”  She accessed the bio-lock on the pad and handed it to her.

 Emma typed.  “It time.”  The pad spoke her text to voice with a British accent.  “Tape, please.”

 Candace’s face drained.  “Are you sure?”

 Emma nodded as she typed.  “Tape.  You measure.”

 Candace hissed angrily and took the data-pad from Emma.  She held it up and tapped the screen, first of Emma’s front, then Emma’s profile.  Her face lost all emotion as she looked at the results.  “Yeah, you’re right.  You’ve made quota too, in a way.  Your contract was until you grew to a pre-determined volume size, and you have met that size.  Hucow stage 2.”  She looked up determinedly.  “Listen, we’re a good team here.  I can talk to the guys upstairs and get an extension…” 

 Emma shook her head, and looked at the data-pad.  Reluctantly, Candace handed it to her.  “It’s happening.”  Emma typed.  “I can feel it.  I can feel my mind slow, become hucow.  I would like to go to the farm now.”

 Candace wrestled with her thoughts.  “You have that right, but would you be happy as a hucow?  I mean, a real hucow?”

 Emma brightened.  “Yes!  It all I want.  It will soon happen and I am excited.”  She looked at her partner affectionately.  “Time now.  I feel the nanites are in my arms.  They will soon be gone.  Hucows don’t need arms.  Soon, real hucow.  Soon happy.”

 Candace conceded.  “Yeah, well you deserved it.  You’ve been an excellent partner.”  She sat on the couch and patted the cushion beside her.  When Emma sat, Candace took the data-pad and tapped on its screen.  “Well, let’s see where you are going.”  She brought up the address.  “Blah, kinda dark.  One of those industrial places.”

 Emma shrugged.

 Candace sighed sadly.  “Emma, you’ve become more than my co-worker.  You’ve become my friend.  I just want you to be happy.”

 Emma hugged her, as Candace’s face swept with tears.  

 Candace wiped her face with the back of her hand.  “Right!  Let’s do this properly.”  She announced, determinedly.  “I’ll contact the factory and…”  Her eyes focused on the web page’s publicity photos.  “Oh, oh.”  Candace murmured, pointing to the screen.  “Look at that set up!  Their milking machines only handle hucows with two teats.  Not four.”  Her fingers flashed on the pad.  “I’ll send them a text and ask if they can handle you.”

 Long seconds passed before a response came.

 Candace looked at Emma, her face slack.  “I’m sorry, Emma.  Our tech is so new…”  She brightened.  “I’ll search on line.  There has to be someone…  someone not so dismal.”  Her fingers flashed, and her head knocked back as she looked at a response.  “Novelty cow?”  Her fingers pounded against the board.  “You are not a novelty cow!  Argh!  They’re looking at only your milk production and not counting your other flavors.”  She tried accessing a real-person.  Failing that, she paused to think.  She looked back at Emma.  “We’ll get this sorted.”  She said reassuringly.

 “Moo.”  Emma said, smiling.

 As Candace tapped on the screen, a response popped up.  ‘Did you try Farmer Brown?’

 “Will try, thanks.”  Candace messaged back, and brought up Farmer Brown’s info.  There was a picture of a man with a graying beard spread across his chest like a bib.

 Emma peered in close, and Candace shooed her back.  “Settle down, you.  It’s just a logo.  I seriously doubt it’s a man running the farm.”

 “Moo.”  Emma said, excitedly.

 “The chances of him having a working penis is a billion to one, literally.”  Candace frowned as she fanned through the farm’s images.

 Emma and Candace watched a video tour.  Farmer Brown smiled and waved, his face a little embarrassed.  The narrator was a woman, who talked about the advantages of organic farming and free-ranged hucows.  She panned the camera and showed hucows walking through a shady glenn.  Their udders were magnificent!  Giant breasts tens of thousands of CC’s in size.  As the narrator made her way through the field, the hucows slowly approached her, mooing happily for attention.  Within moments, the narrator was holding the camera above her head and panned down, showing a beautiful, raven haired woman being surrounded by tit flesh and giggling hucows.  “Come to Farmer Brown’s farm!”

 The video ended.

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Copyright, 3/2035, all rights reserved.
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Justice

By DX

Copyright, 2/27/2025, all rights reserved.

 The prosecutor had given us a sweetheart deal.  My client, born Amelia Carpenter, Fugsbitch, as she preferred to be called, was an accessory to a string of homicides, but I had argued in preliminary that she was just a victim, forced through the brutal tactics of her gang to be complicit with their rampage of terror.

 No one believed that.

 But prosecution had eighteen other defendants and not enough resources to handle it all.  Any other day, Fugsbitch would not see the light of day for at least thirty years, but the deal they gave us was zero jail time, ten years supervised probation, and mandatory anger therapy.  To sweeten the deal, the State would pay for the laser removal of Fugsbitch’s tattoo, “Cum Dump”, from her face.

 All she had to do, was when the judge asked: “Do you agree to the terms and conditions of your release?” she reply, “Yes, your honor.”

 I coached her on it.  “Just say those words, and I’ll drive you home.”  I told her.  “No jail time, no tracking bracelet.”

 She gave a non-comital tilt of her head.

 “All rise!”  The bailiff called and the judge swept in.  

 Words were spoken, papers were shuffled, someone cleared their throat, and the deal was read into the record.

 We stood, and I held my breath.

 When the judge asked if she agreed to the conditions of release, Amelia “Fugsbitch” Carpenter went off script.

 “You mother fucking white piece of shit.  Fuck you and your fucking robe, I’mma gonna go to your house and take your daughter to my man so he can impregnate her with his man seed, then I will cut off her hands and feet and lead her around like a bitch dog, pooping out babies for my crew, and living off the cream she can suck from my pussy, your honor.”

 The silence in the court was horrifying.

 Judge Victor James Junior blanched, but didn’t change his expression.  “The court will accept the defendant’s comments as her acceptance to the pre-stated conditions of release.  Court adjourned.”

 The gavel sounded like a gunshot.

 “What just happened?”  Fugsbitch asked, looking around confusedly.  “Ain’t I goin’ to jail to be with my man?”

 “One, that’s not how jail works,”  I said quickly, grabbing up my papers and stuffing them into my case.  “and two, we’re leaving.  I’m taking you to your mother’s house.”

 “Fuck you, you ain’t.”  She protested.  “I wanna see my man.  Bitch, don’t you get it!  I will be ten times more powerful with my crew in jail!  I will own that mother fucker!  Take me to my man!”

 “Amelia, he’s in jail without the possibility of parole.”  I took her arm.  “I don’t believe what just happened, but they’re going to let you walk out of here, so we’re going.  Once I drop you off at your mother’s, you can do whatever the fuck you please.  Just meet with your probation officer on Tuesday.”

 “No I ain’t.”  She folded her arms across her chest.

 “Then do as you please!”  I barked.  “I’m in no obligation to do you any favors.  I’ve put up with your shit for months and I’m done with it.  I’m leaving.”  I turned and walked towards the parking lot.

 She ran to catch up.  “Wait!”

 I didn’t wait.  I wanted to be as far away from court as possible.  Judge James Senior would have had Amelia in contempt so fast it would have made her head spin.  Judge James Junior had a different way of doing things and I didn’t want to press my luck, nor remind him what I looked like.  My client humiliated him in his court room and I didn’t need him associating me with a memory that would not soon be forgotten.  A good lawyer knows the law, and great lawyer knows the judge, and Fugsbitch just made a new enemy.

 I did ask her if she wanted to change out of her prison jumpsuit and she declined, thinking them a badge of honor.

 I my car, Fugsbitch cranked my radio.  I turned it off.  She cranked it again.

 As I switched it off, a car slammed into us from behind, and with squealing tires and busting glass, pushed us forward into a van.

 The airbags exploded in our faces.

 Stunned, smoke everywhere, I remember something hit my car door and it wretched open with a hollow crumple of metal.  I turned to respond to the emergency service, ready to quip about how fast they had arrived, but I looked up into a face of terror.

 Worse, he had a knife.

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Copyright, 2/2025.  All rights reserved.  Story may not be reproduced without pervious permission from the author.

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First night forever.

By DX

Copyrighted 12/2000, 1/2025, all rights reserved.

 Roberta checked her appearance in the hall mirror.  She made sure her little cap was properly pinned to her hair, and that her latex uniform was properly shinned.  

 Mistress was a stickler for appearance.  

 Roberta looked closely at the sparkling chrome plate that was bolted onto her lower face and checked for smudges.  It was seamless, and perfectly sealed her mouth.

 She tugged on the way to short skirt to pull the wrinkles out of her black latex maid's uniform, almost causing her heavy breasts to pop out of the already strained corset.  

 As her springy boobs bounced back up, her eyes couldn't help but notice the flash of steel when her skit hiked up and showed the plate that obscured her genitals.  

 A flawless chastity device, permanent and complete.  

 Her hand was drawn to it.  She touched its cold, smooth surface, an absolute barrier preventing any stimulation, while hiding her true identity.

 When so long ago it Roberta used to be Robert, and the first night of his chastisement.

 Robert felt the vodka slide down into him like a warm, fiery oil.  "Oh, Candice!  That’s what the doctor ordered."  He moaned as he sipped, while his wife's delicate hands helped him take his wet trench coat off.  She had met him at the door, her hair down, her makeup done right, wearing a most provocative red dress that was illegal to wear in public in several States.

 She kissed him with a slow bat of her eyes.  “How was your flight?"  She asked dreamily, as she hung up his coat.

 He sipped his drink.  "Uneventful."

 She draped her arms around his shoulders, and blew gently in his ear, tickling him.  "Gone a whole week… how I missed you."  She kissed his ear.  "You don't have to work anymore, now that you're a rich man."

 Robert shrugged, and wrapped his arms around her slim waist.  “Candice, you know I like to make my own way.  I didn't marry you for your money."

 Candice smiled.  "I've given the maid the night off."  Her gaze smoldered.  "I made dinner."

 He breathed deep as her perfume consumed him.  "I think we can skip dinner."

 "You'll need your strength."  She smiled coyly and slipped from his grasp.  “I'll get things ready.  You relax and enjoy your drink…  aaaaannnnd, there are some insurance forms on the coffee table that need to be signed."  She touched his nose with a playful finger.  "I figure we'll get them out of the way,”  She smiled seductively. "least we get distracted and forget."  Her eyes sparkled with mischief before she turned and sashayed into the kitchen.

 Robert sipped his drink and found the forms laid out on the table.  Boring!  He thought as he pen whipped them and headed for the dinning room, while his mind filled with visions of his wife's callipygous body poured into that dress.  

 He sat at the table.  Candlelight sparkled on the fine china and silver, and he felt like a king on his throne.  

 He sipped his martini, and noticed underneath the plate before him, the place mat was a blown up photo. 

 He lifted the plate.  

 It was a warm summer day.  A couple sat at an outside cafe in Soho.   He was a handsome, mature man and she was a beautiful young woman.

 Ice suddenly balled in the pit of Robert's stomach.

 He had met her four months ago while in New York.  She was so charming, so intelligent, so beautiful.  

 She was a very wild ride in bed.

 He visited her almost every weekend.

 "Well?"  Candice's voice was like a spear.

 Robert looked up, his mouth hanging open.  “It's not what you think."  Was his reflex answer.

 Candice tilted her head in wonder.  “It's not?"  She picked up an envelope and pulled out photos, then tossed them before him.  His naked lean body against hers, his hands cupping her ample breasts.  Her head back in silent orgasmic scream.  “I suppose this is a misunderstanding?  Perhaps we should get both sides of the story."  She looked up.  "Wynn?"  She called.

 Robert felt the hand of death reach into his chest and grab a firm hold of his heart as Wynn, the woman from the photos, walked out of the kitchen.  “Hello, Robert.”  She looked grim and disappointed.   "I thought you said you were soon to be divorced, not newly married."  She laughed breathlessly.  "And there I was, freshly divorced from a cheating husband, and as vulnerable as they come."  She shook her head, then looked at him with eyes of disgust.  "You made me the other woman, you bastard."

 He looked up to Candice for appeal, but her eyes were filling with tears.  "Daddy had you followed.”  She explained.  “He never liked you."  She wiped a tear with the back of her hand.  "You promised this would stop after we were married!"  She squeaked.  "You said you'd be faithful!"

 "They all do."  Wynn mumbled.

 Robert looked away, unable to face them.  "I'm sorry.  I can't help it, I..."

 Wynn snorted.  "Save the lame excuses."

 Robert nodded.  "I guess I better go."  He whispered.

 “No, you won't!"  Candice shouted.  "You're not getting a divorce.  That pre-nuptial agreement would leave you a rich man."

 Wynn leaned on the table.  "We've had a little time to cook up something more appropriate for you."

 Robert set his jaw as defiance flared.  "Excuse me?"

 Candice's tears were gone, her sorrow replaced by anger.  "Daddy laid a trap for you and you took the bait.  He's been monitoring that account you've been embezzling.  Those forms you signed, one of them is a confession!"

 Robert suddenly jumped up to get the documents and tear them up, but his legs gave away and dropped him to the floor.  He struggled to roll over and look up.  The room was spinning.  

 Wynn smiled as she knelt down beside him.  "I'm sorry Robert, did you forget I'm working my way through med-school as a pharmacist?  I might have accidentally slipped something into your martini."

 Candice stood over him, the forms in hand.  "There is also a document of agreement that indentures you to me to work off that ‘Loan' you procured.  It should take about ninety-nine years, maybe more.”  She held up another form.  "This one is a request from you to me.  It asks my help in your sexual reassignment surgery.  Yes, Robert.  You will undergo permanent, sexual reassignment.”  She smiled as if she tasted something delicious.  “See, we feel,”  She motioned to Wynn.  “that you would think the worst thing in the world to be is a woman.  You have no respect for women, and you think we are only on this planet to serve your cock.”  Her eyes flashed.  “Wynn and I think, that your worst nightmare is to wake up one morning as a woman; but, not just a woman, a cock craving sissy slut.”

 She smiled happily.  “I can see the absolute terror in your eyes, you misogynist bastard.”  Her eyes hardened.  “You really think so little of us!  That we’re brainless playthings for you.”  She tilted her head to Wynn.  “Well, we think that you will make such a pretty little girl for us.  While you were on your…”  Her lips twisted as she spat the word.  “Business” trips, Wynn and I have discovered that we have more in common than just a cheating louse."

 Wynn rose, and slipped an easy arm around Candice.  “What’s good for the goose,”  She said softly, and Robert watched the two beautiful women kiss, their tongues twirling.  

 Even in his drugged state, Robert felt his manhood swell.

 Candice broke with a gasp.  She looked down.  "She is a much better kisser than you!  I could kiss her all day, but we have work to do.”  She held up another form.  "This one gives me power of attorney over you.”  She fanned the documents before him.  “All these need now is to notarize them to make them legal."

 "Oh, I can do that for you, Can."  Wynn offered.  “I am a licensed notary public.”

 Candice smiled prettily.  “Oh?  Could you Wynn?”  Her voice dripped with sarcasm.  “You're so kind."  She watched as Wynn started signing the forms, then glanced at Robert.  "That's your life in a legal nutshell, Robert.  I think the real reason I'm going to change you into my little bitch is because I'm enjoying having such power over you.”  

 She leaned over him, and he could see his reflection of fear in her eyes.  “You’re going to be my personal slave, Robert.”  She whispered.  “But don't worry, it will be anything but dull.  Wynn and I have come up with a way to make you feel the pain that you put us through."  

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Copyrighted, 12/200, 1/2025, all rights reserved.
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