Page 78 of M!lked For His Pleasure

Finding out that all the other women in the barn were born and raised here had shocked me. They knew nothing of the outside world, human or alien.How fucked up was that?

The woman beside me had chosen the name Anna after I’d explained that calling all the cows Loralei wasn’t the way names worked. At first, she had been very hesitant about breaking the “cows only moo” bullshit the farmers fed us, but once she began talking, she hadn’t stopped. As soon as the farmers were out of earshot, she would question me about how other humans lived.

Every day that I was here, more and more of the women I shared pasture time with wanted to hear about life outside thebarn. The farmers continuously tried to shut down our talks, but the women would wait for them to walk away and then start up again. They ate up my stories and were learning how messed up their situation really was.

The funniest was when I explained that on Earth, we didn’t eat grass. They would watch wide eyed while I would describe poutine, burgers and butter tarts, my favourite meal. The sad thing was, they had nothing to compare any of our food to. All they’d ever eaten was grass. Yes, the grass was genetically modified to have various flavours, but the texture was always the same. And it was healthy for us. There was nothing fun about it.

My tales spread throughout the barn, and that’s when things started getting interesting. The women, when they learned about human rights, wanted to know more, and I gladly told tales of riots, freedom marches, strikes and walk-outs. I planted revolutionary seeds and let it play out.

Anna loudly declared, “No, you won’t get any more milk from me until our demands are met!”

I laughed loudly at Zatorg when he took a step back and moved his hands through the air as if unsure of what to do. “But you must let us milk you. You like it.”

“We want actual food. Cookies,” a woman yelled from down the row. “And pie.”

“And I want to watch Dirty Dancing,” another shouted.

“We’re on strike!” A tall redhead proudly proclaimed.

Zatorg turned in my direction and let out a growl. I smirked at him as more women named their demands. The funniest wasone who shouted that she wanted to use the toilet like a real human because she was sick of peeing while on all fours.

Farmers stood in shock, not knowing how to stop the women from lining up. The barn was in total chaos, and I was loving every second. How dare these dickheads treat these poor women this way?

“Teraso,” Thuldar roared. “Do something!”

“It’s mass hysteria,” Zatorg spun in a circle. “She’s incited the entire herd.”

When we headed for the exit, a farmer stepped in front of us but quickly changed his mind and moved out of the way. Us women outnumbered the farmers by a hundred to one.

The women who were outside quickly joined us as we marched around the nearest pasture. “No more milk! No more milk,” was our chant. As we marched around the nearest pasture, farmers tried to grab women, but they were swiftly swarmed and pushed back.

“I want to go to the beach.”

“I want to learn to drive a car.”

“I want to go to earth and be a free cow.”That one needed some work, but hey, they were trying.

“No more milk. No more milk!”

A loud screech sounded from the front of the pasture, followed by a bellowed, “What the fuck is going on here?”

The women all stopped at once. I stood on tiptoe to find the source of the disruption. Three very tall figures were striding through the women. Each one wore a hooded robe in a different colour. Red, yellow and blue.

The one in yellow had horns coming out of the side of its head. Was I in hell this whole time and now I was about to meet the devil?

“Thuldar, report,” said the one in front.

I turned to Anna. “Who are they?”

Her eyes were wide, and she was pale. “The owners.”

Thuldar ran to stand beside the three newcomers.

“What is going on here? Why are the cows running amuck,” asked the one in blue.

“It’s the wild cow, 3592, sir. She’s upset the entire herd,” Thuldar replied. “Mass hysteria, we think. They call it ‘on strike’ and refuse to allow us to milk them.”

The one in red scanned the crowd. “3592, come here. Now,” he demanded.

---