Hucow Weddding

By DX

Copyrighted, 8/2025, all rights reserved.

 As the sky blushed with dawn, the auto-car rolled grouchily down the long, rough road to the little farm.  As the driverless auto-car made its way, I peered out the window and noted the lush green fields, trees, and giggling brook, as if I had never seen them before, even though I had.

 That moment, it was all new.  That moment, if all went according to my fantasy, everything would be new.

 “Hildy?”  I called my computer assistant.

 “Yes, Doctor McCoy?”

 “Stop the car.  I will walk from here.”

 “But Doctor, it is half a kilometer to the house from here.”  Hildy cautioned.

 “I know.”  I confirmed.  

 The auto-car rolled to a stop at the security gate.

 “I must warn you Doctor.”  Hildy went on.  You are about to enter a working farm.  A farm can be a very dangerous…”

 “I am aware of all danger.”  I stopped her routine speech, having heard it a thousand times before.  “Open the door, please.”

 “The road is suitable, and I can drive us to…”

 She was being overly impertinent.  “Open the door, Hildy.”  I ordered.

 “I am required to remind you that you will be unchaperoned and…”

 “Yes!  I know!”  I barked.  “I am aware of the three meter law.”  Chastised, Hildy unlocked door and I got out.  “You may discharge the car.  If I need one, I can call.”

 “The data-signal here is very poor, Doctor.  The car has a boosted…”

 I cut her off.  “How much time on the set alarm?”

 “You have one hour and twenty-three minutes before the new law takes affect.”

 “Thanks.”  I closed the door and walked to the gates.  Sensing me, they magically swung open.  From behind me, I heard the car start up, make a complicated U-turn, and drive away.

 I had been too nervous to sit in the car any longer, and Hildy was being… too Hildy.

 If all went well, I was going to be married to a wonderful man and live on a beautiful little farm and be a very happy woman.

 As I approached the barn, I watched as the Hucows slowly made their way to the field.  They were level four through six.  They were armless, a common practice to keep them out of trouble and save on superfluous calories.  They walked majestically, back arched, and shoulders rolled back so their bodies could support their massive breasts.  They were yawning, and blinking the sleep from their eyes as they stepped out of the milking stalls and toed into their slippers.  One saw me and ran over towards me, mooing happily.  She was level four and could speak, but chose not too, a common occurrence at that level.  As she advanced in levels, and her breasts grew larger, her Hucow brain would slowly take away her power of speech, and she would only moo.

 Like a cow.

 There was a time, before the eco-terrorist’s bio-manufactured plague killed the oceans, and the resulting storms blew the top-soil away, that there where actual cows, roaming around farms and giving us milk; but those days were long gone.  Instead we have chemically modified women, and some men, who have become Hucows.  With their mammaries massively enlarged, they lactate.  Their milk, harvested several times a day, would be processed into protein chains suitable to make, well, anything.

 To feed a planet with no food.   

 “How are you this morning?”  I asked her.

 “Mmm!”  She replied happily.

 A few other Hucows also wandered over, stopping just shy of the electric fence.  They were all beautiful, strong, and well exercised.  In the early morning light, I could see their bodies glisten from freshly applied sun-block.

 “Hello, Doctor.”  One said.

 “Hello, Mable.”  I replied.

 She turned and showed me her butt cheek.  There was a square self-adhesive bandage stuck there.  “Boo hurt.”  She said with a little pout.

 “I will look at it later.”  I told her, knowing it was a simple bug bite.  “Why don’t you go play?”

 She smiled, and walked off.  She would spend the day walking through the meadow with the other Hucows.  When she was ready to be milked, she would wander into the barn and stand in the stall were the auto-milker would attach hoses to her swelling teats and drain her.

 It was a most pleasurable experience; and I would know.  

 As a level two, my Hucow brain does make me a little slower mentally, but doesn’t impede my ability to be a licensed doctor and veterinarian.  I produce a good amount of milk from my heavy, sometimes too heavy, breasts.

 I watched the Hucows as they began to wander the field.  It was a good life for them, simple and quaint, an oasis in a world of horror and chaos.  The little farm was quiet and isolated.  One would never know out in the world there were cities of starving people willing to riot and kill for a bowl of rice.  We lived in a paradox of too many people, yet not enough population to sustain them.

 “Doctor McCoy!”  A man’s rumbling voice called out a greeting, and I watched Farmer Brown make his way out of the barn.  “Didn’t we just see you?  Is there a problem?”

 His baggy overalls couldn’t hide his powerful frame.  He was a bulk of a man, made hard from farming, and his arms were coiled with scars earned from the war when he was a soldier.

 Although his beard was greying, and his smile was warm and gentle, he moved like a predator.

 And my heart quickened.

 I had a speech prepared.  I had an entire plan carefully laid out that included a spreadsheet with data and precise calculations.  I had even practiced how I would turn, brush my scarlet hair back with a casual flick of my hand, bat my polar blue eyes, make sure the morning sunlight was on my face, and smile, knowing my dimpled cheeks would show.

 It all went out the window.

 In all my preparation for that moment, I had completely forgot to add: ‘milk myself’ to my checklist, and suddenly it rose to the forefront of my mind.  Seeing the other Hucows, my Hucow brain took over and I stammered like an idiot.

 He only stopped precisely three meters away and waited as if he had all the time in the world.

 I quit trying to talk, and instead, tried to hide my blushing face with my hand.  I decided to stop fighting it.  “May I borrow your stand-alone?”  I finally managed to ask.

 He gave a quiet laugh.  “Of course.”  He motioned with his head.  “Have at it.  It’s ready to go.”

 “Would you…”  I struggled to speak.  “install me in it?”

 He paused.  He knew I knew how to use the machine, I had done it a billion times before without any help, but he only nodded.  He knew something was off, but he didn’t ask.  

 “Sure.”  He said.  He reached into the front pocket of his overalls and took out his data-pad.  He tapped on it, held it up to catch my image, then tapped on it more.  

 My data-watch chirped and I tapped it without looking at it.  

 When his flashed green, he took a tentative step forward.  When no alarm sounded, he came over to me.

 I looked down at his mud splattered boots and I could feel his closeness.  At that moment I was not a doctor, I was not a woman, I was a Hucow, and he was not a man, but a Farmer, and as a Farmer could now come closer than three meters.

 “You want to follow me?”  He asked, confused over what was happening.

 I took his hand.  It felt like tree bark, and as hard as gravel.

 It was wonderful.

 Still looked down at our feet, I could see his face of utter surprise in the edge of my vision.  He didn’t know what I was doing.  Neither did I.

 We had never touched before.  It was illegal for a man and a woman to show any display of affection.  Although we both wore our State mandated chastities, standing close, or worse, touching, was a violation.

 But he wasn’t a man, and I wasn’t a woman.

 He was a Farmer, and I was a Hucow.

 “Are you okay?”  He asked.

 “Mmm.”  Was all my Hucow brain could manage.

 He lead me into the barn.  

 Along the far wall were the stalls for the level seven through nine Hucows.  Their breasts were several meters in diameter, and because of the magnificent weight, they could not walk.  For efficiency, their legs had been removed, and their bodies had been plumbed directly into the system so their milk could be continuously harvested.  They had stainless-steel plates permanently epoxied over their mouths connected to hoses so they could feed, and video goggles so they could watch cartoons or listen to music.

 Commercial farmers wouldn’t spend the money for such luxuries.  At level seven through nine the Hucow brain couldn’t process too much information, if any, so they often spent their lives staring at a blank wall—often in darkness.

 But that’s not how Farmer Brown did things.  He believed happy Hucows made happy milk.

 It was one of the reasons I loved him.

 These Hucows had become too old for profit and were designated for slaughter, but Farmer Brown rescued them, cared for them, and kept their brains working.  

 And their production and quality went up.

 Imagine that!

 He led me to the stand-alone.  Because the State accounted for every drop of precious milk, if I used one of his other stalls, my milk would be added to his production and the State would see an unexplained increase in his totals, and a suspicious deficit in mine.  To save a lot of brouhaha, it was easier to use a stand alone, account for my production, and then ‘sell’ my milk to Farmer Brown.  A slight hassle for him, but he seemed to welcome such things.

 As he programmed the machine and waited for State approval, I undid my blouse. 

 Slowly, so he could see.

 He didn’t look.  He was a professional.

 Another reason I loved him.

 When everything flashed green, the stocks on the stand alone opened like the petals of a flower.

 I held out my hand.  He looked at it confusedly before he took it, and helped me keep my balance.  I carefully stepped into the stocks, and as I found my position, the bar automatically swept up and locked my ankles in.  I then leaned forward and set my wrists and neck into the lunette.

 I shivered when they locked in place.

 The gag armature swiveled up, and I opened my mouth wide to get it in.  Farmer Brown then pulled the restraining strap around my head and it automatically tensioned for a snug fit.

 I was locked in, secured, helpless.

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Copyrighted, 8/2025, all rights reserved.