by Big Kahuna
“How did you know?”
Janice smiled, her dark eyes almost liquid in the soft light. “It’s funny the things you learn if you know Spanish. I overheard the janitorial staff talking about you a week after you’d quit: your almost hourly trips down here, oatmeal cookie crumbs on the carpet, and most especially how you terrorized some of their people. They even had a name for you: La vaca blanca—the white cow. I had them show me your locker. I was surprised by what I found in there, but then instantly realized that I shouldn’t have been, given your curiosity, not to mention your diet and your expanding boobs. And then there was that question, ‘does a cow enjoy being milked?’ So now you can tell me. Does a cow enjoy it?”
“I—” Melissa began, finding speech difficult, as though her tongue were locked in place again.
“Come on, Mel,” said Janice, reaching up and turning the deadbolt on the door. She moved further into the room, tossing her purse onto the scratched coffee table, her expression an eery reminder of the coyotes that had almost killed her. “I’ve been dying to know for months. Did you enjoy it?”
Melissa reflexively took a step backwards, her back coming to rest against the bank of lockers. She could retreat no farther, a fact which Janice was aware of, her languid smile broadening into a expression of triumph.
Melissa looked down into her own cleavage, unable to meet Janice’s eyes, feeling all but paralyzed under the beautiful Native American’s gaze. “I—I have to go home,” she said weakly, surprised that she had actually managed to speak. She could see the darkness expanding on the front of her dress now, her rapidly beating heart forcing more and more of her product through her teats, the denim absorbing her milk like a sponge. “I need—”
“I know what you need.” Janice’s voice was low but strong, confident and assured. “You need to be milked, Melissa. Let me milk you.”
Melissa closed her eyes and swallowed, trying to catch her breath. God, her dress felt so tight, her udders—no, her breasts!—straining against the Kevlar mesh confining them. She opened her eyes to find that Janice was standing directly in front of her now, her rail-thin body less than a foot away from her own heaving bosom. She looked up at her, unsure exactly what she was offering. “Do…do you still have the machine?”
Janice’s dark eyes sparkled. “I’ve got it, but we won’t be needing it. If there’s one thing I know it’s how to milk a cow.”
Melissa felt rather than saw the tab of her zipper being pulled down, looked down to see more and more of her pale cleavage being exposed to the light. Oh, no, she thought, panicking, she’ll see my skin. She’ll see my tattoos!
“No, Jan, you don’t—”
“Easy, girl,” Janice replied smoothly, drawing the zipper down to just beneath her navel. She brought her hands up beneath the heavy milkers, testing them, weighing them. “My God, these are real, aren’t they?” she said in wonder. “I thought sure they were implants.” She ran a hand across the smooth expanse of titflesh that wasn’t covered by Kat’s handmade brassiere. The skin beneath her hand was warm, almost hot. It was also trembling. “Relax, girl. Janice knows what she’s doing.”
Melissa whimpered as Janice’s practiced fingers brushed at the fabric of her bra cup, then shuddered when the taller woman dragged a long fingernail across the swollen teat denting the Kevlar mesh. A moment later she felt both flaps being released simultaneously, the massive milkers practically exploding through the triangular harness, milk spraying everywhere.
Both women looked down to see that the front of Janice’s white silk blouse had been wetted by the spray, her own nipples poking through the material. Janice laughed, which caused Melissa to laugh in turn, the two women giggling like schoolgirls, right up until Janice leaned forward and sealed Melissa’s mouth shut with a blazing kiss.
“Mmmh…!” murmured Melissa, surprised by Janice’s invading tongue. What was happening? Janice wasn’t gay…was she? No, she had a boyfriend, or at least she’d had a boyfriend months ago. Or had she? She couldn’t recall that Janice had ever showed her any pictures of him. She didn’t even know his name, come to think of it.
She felt a tug at her teat, the sensation of milk spraying from her engorged nipple causing her to further melt into the kiss, her tongue wrapping around Janice’s, any worries over sexual orientation instantly buried under an avalanche of pure pleasure. She closed her eyes, not out of shame or worry, but because she wanted to luxuriate in the feeling. Janice was absolutely right. She did know what she was doing.
Another tug, another spurt of milk, and Melissa’s knees weakened. Half-dazed, she felt herself being guided, as though she and Janice were slow-dancing. A moment later she felt something pressing against the backs of her knees, a rocking chair. Melissa allowed herself to be lowered into it. Panting slightly, she opened her eyes just as Janice kneeled down in front of her and settled her slim body between her spread legs, bent forward and took an erect teat into her mouth.
“Ohhh….” lowed Melissa, as Janice began fervently sucking her milk from her, not as efficiently as she was used to, but vastly more pleasurable. She sat there, groaning and bucking while Janice kneeled over her, milking her using her mouth and hands. Melissa was in seventh heaven, her mind in a state of ultimate bliss, at least until she felt Janice’s hand push aside her panties and slide two milk-lubricated fingers inside her hairless snatch.
“OHHH….” moaned Melissa again, arching her back, uncaring at her volume as her friend continued her oral/manual onslaught on her tits and cunt. Shockwave after shockwave racked her body as Janice expertly milked her, using tongue, teeth, and fingers, each spray of milk into her friend’s mouth like a mini-gasm.
Half-delirious with ecstasy, Melissa let her head loll forward so that she could see Janice’s face. The dark eyes were closed, as though she were lost in a rapture all her own, her face dotted with drops of cream, her mouth moving up and down along the fat nipple as if she were deep-throating a fat cock. But the most sensual image was that of her lustrous black hair, perhaps the Indian maiden’s most striking feature. It was now wet and tangled, as though she had just emerged from a milk bath, or at least a shower. Melissa had never in her life seen such a beautiful woman.
Janice opened her eyes in time to see Melissa gazing at her. She gave her a slow wink, her eyes sticky with her lover’s cream, then closed them again so that she could concentrate on her sweet work.
Melissa let her head fall back, reveling in the sensations, every suck, every slurp, every brush of a finger across her clit driving her pleasure, making her forget her conscious body. Janice was by far the most skillful lover she had ever known, but it was her milking experience that made the difference. She knew exactly how to handle a milk-full tit, and how to get the most out of it: squeezing, sucking, licking, and tugging on the shining teats so that they yielded up every last drop in the most enjoyable way possible. Melissa grasped the arms of the chair as she felt a breast orgasm coming.
But not just one. Melissa had had breast orgasms before, but never in both breasts at the same time, and certainly not combined with a clitoral one to boot. She screamed when she hit the trifecta, so loudly that Janice rolled the tit she wasn’t sucking on upward, muffling her unbridled shrieking. Melissa’s hoarse screams continued for more than a minute, the warmth spreading out from her erogenous zones completely engulfing her, until she slid from the chair and onto the floor, her whole body as limp as a wet rag.
It took several minutes for Melissa to come down from her multiple orgasms, her heavy breasts warm and tingling. Janice took the opportunity to lie down too, using Melissa’s body for a mattress and her right breast for a pillow.
“That was…” Melissa started to say, speech coming with some difficulty, “…that was...”
“That was delicious, Mel,” Janice finished for her. “Goodness, but you’re fattening. I’m going to have to run a couple extra miles tomorrow morning just to work off your cream.”
“Don’t blame me. You were the
one who said she didn’t swallow.” The two women laughed, both of them relaxed and happy in the afterglow of a good milking, but a thought nagged at Melissa.
“I had no idea you were bi, Jan.”
“Lez,” Janice corrected, absently running her fingers up and down the erect nipple across from her face. “Always have been.”
“But I thought—”
“—what I wanted you to think, what I’ve always wanted everyone to think. It’s tough enough being an Indian in Texas, Mel, much less a lesbian Indian.” She sighed, deep in thought apparently. “I was just getting out of a relationship when you up and disappeared, though I suppose dumped is a more accurate way of putting it.”
“You got dumped?” said Melissa incredulously.
“Lyn was beautiful and busty, though nowhere near as busty as you used to be. She was also the jealous type. She discovered a picture of you that I had on my cell phone—”
“You have a picture of me?”
“Yeah. It was the day you were wearing that blue polka-dot dress. I snapped the picture when you weren’t looking. Creepy, huh?” Once upon a time it might have been, but Melissa’s creepiness bar had since been raised a few dozen notches.
“Anyway, after she found that pic on my cell phone, things went pretty much downhill from there.” Melissa felt her breast move, Janice shaking her head in self-disgust.
“But what about you, Mel? I always got a strictly hetero vibe from you before, but in light of, well….” She let the sentence trail off, an unspoken invitation for her friend/lover/mikmaid to finish it.
Melissa looked down at the long, fat nipple between Janice’s fingers, deep in thought. A pearly drop of cream formed at the tip and then spread out over the erect teat and flowed downward; a milky Mount Vesuvius. “I don’t know what I am anymore, Jan,” she said after a minute.
Janice snuggled her head further into the flesh pillow, as though making herself at home there, or perhaps to create a memory that she could treasure should it be the last time. “Something happened to you, Mel,” she said gently. “Your skin is so pale, like you’ve been sick, though you look better than ever. Did he do this to you…or did you do this for him? I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”
Melissa sighed, unsure what to say, but then decided. “I’m not going to tell you what happened, at least not today. If I tell you, you’ll feel sorry for me, and I don’t want you feeling sorry for me.” She wriggled out from beneath Janice and stood up. “Would you close your eyes please?”
Janice sat up, her silk blouse all but transparent and her suede skirt dark in spots where Melissa’s milk had stained it. Both women knew it would have to be tossed. She closed her eyes as requested, her face upturned in curiosity.
Melissa quickly stripped to the skin, tossing her clothes and the blonde wig onto the nearby couch, though not her heels, which she put back on. A little sexy never hurt. “You can open your eyes, Jan,” she said. Janice did so, her lips parting in amazement.
Melissa stood there in all her bovine glory. She watched in apprehension as Janice shakily got to her feet, obviously shocked at her lover’s transformation.
“This is what I am, Jan,” Melissa said, doing her best to keep her voice level. “It’s all right if you can’t accept it, but I’m not going to hide anymore.” Nor was she. If Janice couldn’t accept her as she was, well...there was always porn. She did not have any expectations, but even so it surprised her when tears began running down Janice’s cheeks.
“Y-you remind me of Bossy,” Janice said, sniffling. “She was a great cow.” Melissa came up to her and put her arms around her, allowing the taller woman to lean on her.
“I-I want to see you,” Janice said after minute. “All of you.” Melissa smiled and stepped back, turning her body a full three-sixty, rather enjoying the feeling of Janice’s hand as it trailed over her.
“What’s this?” Janice asked, her hand lingering on Melissa’s flank. “Is this a brand, Mel?”
Melissa gulped and nodded. She had forgotten about that.
“Well, we’ll have to get that removed,” she said sternly. “I’ll be damned if I’ll have someone else’s brand on my cattle.”
Melissa smiled, her own eyes growing watery. “Your…ca—”
“Um-hmm,” Janice nodded, reaching down and removing the double-loop belt from around her waist. It was more decorative than functional, although it functioned perfectly well when loosely cinched about Melissa’s throat. “I don’t want you running off again, Mel.”
“Buttercup,” Melissa corrected. “Call me Buttercup?”
Janice smiled. “Abso—”
Both women turned as the door’s deadbolt clicked over, the door bursting open a second later to reveal a red-faced Mrs. Masterson flanked by her slack-jawed husband and a passel of others, cell phone cameras already recording the festivities.
“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS GOING ON IN HERE, MISS PARKER?” bellowed Mrs. Masterson, her already scarlet face turning purple in apoplexy.
Janice was taller than everyone in attendance, but she actually seemed to grow a few inches in height. She turned to Melissa and smiled. “I guess we’re both done hiding. Shall we?”
A welcome feeling of calm came over Melissa at that point, one she hadn’t felt in weeks. She reached over and retrieved her purse from the floor and then picked up her discarded clothes from the couch, though she did not bother to put them on. She doubted that she would need clothing ever again.
Janice unhurriedly grabbed her purse from the coffee table and swatted her new cow on the rump with it. “Vamanos, girl.”
Melissa moved forward, her bizarre body causing the people blocking her path to back away. Janice followed her out into the hallway, still holding the lead, the translucent blouse molded to her body making her look almost as naked as her newly gained livestock.
Together they walked out to the elevator, the confused gawkers behind them following at a respectful distance. Melissa stood in front of the closed doors while Janice pressed the elevator’s call button. She knew she was being stared at, but found that it didn’t bother her in the slightest. She missed that feeling.
When the elevator doors opened, Melissa and her new owner stepped inside and turned about to face the crowd. Janice pressed the button for the parking level, then shook her head at the assembled crowd.
“Did you ever see such a pasty-faced bunch of assholes, Buttercup?”
Melissa smiled in agreement as the doors closed. They descended in silence, for about four seconds, at which point both women burst into bouts of hysterical laughter. They were still laughing when the elevator doors opened onto the parking level.
“Oh, my God,” Janice said, her voice shaking with laughter, though Melissa thought she detected just the faintest trace of worry. “What did I just do?”
“I think you just quit your job, Jan.”
“I guess I did at that.” She led Melissa out of the elevator to more stares, more cell phones coming out of pockets and purses, disbelieving passersby documenting the strange sighting. The beautiful Native American held her head high as she passed by them, unconcerned and uncaring. Melissa was proud of her. She had chosen a good owner.
Sadly, she thought of Rance. He had been a good owner, sure. He had protected her and fed her and kept her clean, but despite his promises he had never given her what she needed. Yes, she had needed to be milked, but cows—or more accurately hucows—needed more than that. They needed love, too.
There was no doubt in Melissa’s mind that Janice loved her. Milking, for her, was not an act of exploitation or debasement. It was an act of love and care and tenderness. Janice, unlike Rance, would give her precisely what she needed, and in return she would give Janice everything she had to give: love, devotion, and all the milk she could ever want. It was the essence of a mutually beneficial relationship.
Janice led her new cow to her car, an older model Jeep that Melissa was happy to discover was quite roomy in the
rear, especially after she folded the back seat down. She crawled in and lay down on the floor of the cargo area without waiting to be asked.
“Oh, well,” Janice said, buckling up, feeling free to talk now that they were outside the hearing of others, “I guess I’ll start looking for a new job tomorrow, after I run those few extra miles of course. Pity, it was a good j—” Janice stopped, the giggling coming from the rear of the vehicle giving her pause. “What…what’s so funny, Mel, er, Buttercup?”
“I was just wondering, Jan,” Melissa said, sitting up so that they could see each other via their reflections, “how would you feel about going into the dairy business?”
Janice laughed. “Dairy business? With just one cow? Hardly a going concern, Butter—”
“Seven cows,” Melissa corrected. “Think about it, Jan. Your very own herd.”
“Seven…?” repeated Janice, her eyes unfocused.
“Um-hm. They’re just a phone call away. I also happen to know of a little dairy that’s coming up for auction soon. In fact, I might even know someone who could dig up a customer database.” She beamed at her owner, secure in the knowledge that she would make a good dairywoman. On that score she had no doubt, especially with seven hucows to help show her the ropes. But something was missing.
“By the way, Jan, do you know any foreign languages, aside from Spanish?”
Janice smiled at the mirror and spoke a few words, none of them even remotely recognizable to Melissa. Was it Comanche? Some other Native American language? Melissa didn’t know. All she knew was that she felt an indescribable sense of peace, of contentment.
She lay back down on the floor mat while Janice put the Jeep in gear and pulled out of her parking space. Soft singing emanated from the front of the vehicle, a lullaby it sounded like. She closed her eyes and let the foreign sounds waft over her, her black and white body swaying softly as her new owner negotiated the twists and turns of the parking garage. Had she ever been so happy, so complete?