Over time, their constant diet of grass and field greens turns their teeth a shockingly bright shade of green. You can tell how long a hucow has been a zombie by how green her teeth are — that is if she still has any of her teeth left.
The first horror in the zombification process is the falling out of the teeth. It’s a sudden loss. One day a zombie will have a mouth full of bright green teeth. The next day she’ll be a toothless decaying mess.
The mouth devoid of teeth. It’s the point of no return in the zombification process. The point at which a zombie can never be a normal hucow or human again. She is a pure zombie, unable to eat her grassy diet, doomed to have her flesh rot off her bones gradually over the course of days, weeks, or months, depending on how many men she can hunt and consume.
Zombie hucows need to be milked. They are still hucows after all. Only, they don’t allow their farmers to milk them anymore. If they come across a male, be he farmer, hubull or pretty ponyboy — any male at all — they will consume his male essence until they have drunk the life out of him. If they come across a female, they will feed her their tainted milk to transform her into a zombie hucow, further increasing the numbers in their ranks.
Zombie hucows milk each other. Each morning, they gather together on the green grassy hilltops outside the farms and drop down to their sides. They form long winding daisy chains where they first lick each other’s wet slits to stimulate their milk flow. Then, once their let down is triggered, they latch on to each other’s breasts and drink one another dry of their milky bounties.
How do I know this? My best friend Bella told me.
She was one of the few zombie hucows to be captured, experimented on, and ultimately returned to her normal human state. The scientists who helped Bella transform from zombie back to human told our farmer that she can never be made into a hucow again. In her hucow form, the draw for her to go back to the zombie herd would be too great. She would never be able to resist the herd’s powerful siren call.
Our farmer was so grateful to have Bella back, that the day she returned he took her into the farmhouse to live with him. Within a few short weeks, the handsome young farmer fell deeply in love with my beautiful flaxen haired best friend and made her his bride.
She is the farmer’s wife now — and she is doing a wonderful job of rubbing pleasure into my wet slit. With the insistent urgings of her fingertips, she is helping me to release a record amount of cream into my milking machine’s collection jug.
Chapter 2
Daisy
Bella’s fingers slide skillfully up and down the slick line of my pussy. She traces her fingertips in tiny circles over my needy opening. I gasp as she dips the tip of one finger into my hole. I know this is her signal for me to start expressing my gratitude to her.
She has already helped me to release a plentiful amount of milk into the milking machine’s collection tubes. I should be thankful for her help. I should moo out my gratefulness like a good hucow would.
‘Moo,’ I want to moan.
Bella loves it when I moo. The farmer loves it when I moo. I even love it when I moo. But, I like to be a naughty heifer and give my best friend a hard time even more than I adore the pleasurable vibration in my throat as I release a long deep ‘moooooo’ from the depths of my hucow soul.
Bella rips her fingers away from my pussy.
She keeps me inside the milking machine, suspended in mid-air with my belly facing the ground. Furious, I throw a tantrum, shaking my body violently against the metal cage of the milking device. My arms and legs remain strapped down, so I have a limited range of movement. But, I express my displeasure at the sudden lack of sexual stimulation by tugging at the leather straps binding my wrists and ankles and rattling the entire metal skeleton of the milking box.
My writhing around inside the machine causes the stainless steel milking globes enveloping my tits to increase their suction. The soft balloon-like lining inside the metal milking bowls deflates, and I feel the hard, unyielding pressure of steel. I yelp and buck downward with my chest as the metal clamps squeeze tightly, gripping my tits in their hard embrace.
The steel breast bowls are not connected to the metal cage. They hang free-flowing from the rest of the machinery but, pressed firmly against my chest well. They are attached directly to my breasts via a leather corset that straps intricately behind my back.
No matter how forcefully I twist or turn my torso inside the milking cage, I cannot escape the machine’s hard suction. It just keeps sucking. It's two metal bowls tug relentlessly, pulling more and more streams of milk from my still full-of-cream tits.
“What does a good cow say?” Bella questions.
I want to scream out ‘moo’ but instead, I slam my lips shut, eager to make my former barn mate earn her keep as the farmer’s wife. Also, if I'm completely honest, I crave the creative punishments she delivers whenever I play the role of the rebellious human farm animal. She may not be a natural dominant, but Bella plays the part of farmer’s wife masterfully.
Smack!
Red hot pain erupts over my left ass cheek and bolts up the nerve fibers along my left flank and lower back.
Smack!
I cry out in agony as the farmer’s large hand comes down hard again on top of my tender ass. I feel the surface of my abused flesh burn as it flattens and jiggles with every strike. I yelp. I scream. But, still I refuse to moo.
“Obey my wife, you disobedient heifer!”
My lips twist up into a grin as my usually honey-tongued farmer shouts out his fury from behind me. Nothing gets him hotter under the collar than when I refuse to follow Bella’s instructions. He’s hypersensitive to the fact that not so long ago she was just another one of the lowly human animals on his farm.
Only three years ago, Bella had been less than a pet to him. She’d simply been a nameless hucow who’s tits he’d suckled at whenever the idea had amused him.
He’d never even taken her pussy before she’d been returned to him by the government scientists. Back then she was just another one of his dairy producing hucows, not even worthy of dipping his dick inside.
Now Bella is the farmer’s wife — his pride and joy.
His desperation to help her earn respect and successfully make the transition from submissive to dominant shows in moments like this one when he loses his temper.
Smack!
The metal machinery of the milking device clanks loudly as his swats pound into my ass cheeks and force my body to convulse in a mix of agony and twisted satisfaction. I buck against my restraints. The metal domes enveloping my breasts pump my milk out roughly and my tender breast tissues alternately tingle and throb in response.
“This is your last chance,” my farmer threatens. “Obey my wife.”
“Awooof,” I howl loudly like a wolf to keep myself from giving in to Bella’s demand to moo, even though I secretly long to do exactly as she commands.
“I’ll teach you to obey my wife, you rebellious cow!”
I hear the farmer unbuckle his pants as I feel Bella part my ass cheeks and squeeze a cold glob of lubricant onto my clenched asshole.
“You are a cow,” Bella instructs.
She places her middle finger at the entrance to my tight hole.
“The cow says moo.”
Roughly, she thrusts the full length of her finger inside my dark cavern, ripping her way through my clenched ring of muscle.
I yelp from the indignity of being anally penetrated by my best friend's dainty finger. Yes, there is physical discomfort, but it’s nothing compared to the humiliation of knowing that my best friend in the world has her finger completely buried deep inside my dirty asshole.
“The cow says moo,” she repeats as she twists her finger from side to side, keeping it completely stuffed inside my tight rectal opening.
“The cow says moo,” the farmer laughs and pushes the wide thickness of his cock’s head against the bloom of my pussy’s sopping wet opening.
“Say moo,
” Bella laughs as she slides her finger halfway out of my abused rectum before plunging its length back inside with such force that my insides spasm.
“C’mon, you can do it. Moo for us, cow. Say moo.”
Bella finger fucks me as she laughs. Then the farmer laughs too. I imagine them both throwing back their heads in glee as they howl and mock me with their taunting words and laughter.
"You are a cow, so moo. C'mon, moo for us Daisy," Bella badgers in a snarky tone she's never used with me before.
Pain. Searing pain stabs at my heart at the mere mention of my name. My breath shutters and my chest locks up tight.
You've both gone too far. The thought strobes in bright red neon at the front of my mind. My name has never before been used for punishment, only praise.
The two lovebirds don't even acknowledge that they're dealing out the harshest punishment I've ever received in my seven years on the farm.
I listen as the two lovers swap spit behind me. The farmer thrusts his cock forward, impaling me with its thick hard length, and I gasp. He drives his dick balls deep inside my pussy with the second thrust. Reluctantly, my throat releases a whimper then a groan. My seldom used hole stretches wide with the surprise of being so quickly and so completely filled with thick cock.
I’ve never felt the farmer’s dick inside me before. His girth is massive. Quite frankly, the sensation of being spread open by such a huge cock is less than pleasurable. My insides burn as they stretch to accommodate his enormous girth.
I’d fantasized about enjoying a double penetration like this for years. I’d even shared with Bella my fantasies about experiencing a rough dual fucking like the one I’m receiving now. But, now that I’m actually being fucked into submission, I feel sorry for myself.
I wish I’d mooed like a good hucow when my best friend had first asked me to. Best friend. I had to question my use of the phrase. Do I still even have a best friend? My best friend would never plunge her finger inside my dirty asshole and then fuck me with it so cruelly. My best friend would never laugh at me or turn my suffering into a joke.
I weep as I come to the realization that the woman thrusting her finger inside my rectum is not my best friend. She isn’t my friend at all. She is simply the farmer’s wife and nothing more.
“Mooooooooo!” I give in to the farmer’s wife’s command, open my throat and groan out the loudest moo I’ve ever uttered.
Both she and the farmer ignore my mooing. I hear them continue to kiss as they administer my disciplinary fucking. I feel my sore and weary breasts completely empty as the milking machine sucks and drains the last of the milk from my mammary glands.
“Moooooooo!” I scream then weep bitterly, my entire body sore from the harsh discipline and rough fucking.
“Good girl. That’s a good cow, Daisy.”
The farmer’s wife ignores my tears but finally acknowledges my moos. She slides the fingers of her free hand forward and over the hard slippery nub of my clit. While she rubs pleasure into my sensitive flesh, the farmer slows his rapid thrusts and begins to fuck me at a more genteel pace.
To my surprise, pleasure blooms inside my pussy while the farmer and his wife fuck me this way for several minutes.
First, I hear the wife shout out her orgasm. Then I feel the farmer’s cock twitch inside me as he floods my pussy with his hot sticky load of seed. Then, within seconds, I come. It’s a satisfactory spasm. But it’s an ecstasy that has come too late. The brief, fleeting pleasure of my orgasm is not enough to keep me confined here inside this barnyard of loneliness.
“Mooooooo!” I hear the zombie herd cry out as if they were directly responding to my pain.
My heart lurches forward threatening to burst free of my chest. I feel the deep vibrating sound of the zombie hoard electrify every nerve ending in my body.
Their mooing no longer terrifies me. It comforts me. My hucow sisters and friends call to me. Their soulful song consoles me and offers me a place to belong.
“Come, join us,” the sweet melody croons. “Come, take your place in the zombie hucow herd.”
"Moooooooooo!" my heart cries out to them. "I will join you soon my friends."
Chapter 3
Daisy
“Good cow,” the farmer crooned while stroking my long wavy Hereford brown locks with the cup of his hand. He sat in front of me, legs splayed wide open on his milking stool, occasionally fisting chunks of my brown hair in hand. Whenever he felt the urge, he’d tug on my locks playfully, pulling my head upward to look him in the eye.
The farmer and his wife had already unstrapped me from the milking machine.
Right now, I’m kneeling on my hands and knees still dirty and naked on the hay-lined floor of the barn. My knees ache, but I kneel dutifully as the farmer tells me how important I am.
Per our usual post-milking routine, he calls my milky bounty liquid gold and tells me how much my nutritious cream is enjoyed by all who have had the privilege of drinking it. As usual, my milk will be auctioned off by the ounce to the highest bidder. As the last non-zombie hucow, I’m a national treasure. My farmer reminds me of this truth after each and every milking.
The farmer’s wife picked up the jug of my precious milk and left with its contents approximately four or five minutes ago. Usually, it's the farmer who carts my milk away, not her. But today she was in a hurry to leave, rushing out of the barn the moment she and the farmer had released me from the milking cage.
Today is truly a day unlike any other. Usually after my morning milking, Bella — I still long to call her by her hucow name — would stay in the barn with me and we’d bathe together in the barn house's showers.
The post-milking shower had always been a social event for us hucows. We’d bathe one another and express our fondness openly for every single member of the herd. We’d play games. My favorite game was: say one kind thing about the hucow showering next to you. Bella was brilliant at that game. Every day she’d think up the sweetest and truest compliments for each of the other ninety-nine members of our herd.
We’d wash each other’s backs while we’d chat about the goings on of life on the farm. After we’d bathe, we’d sit in the wide open tiled showers letting our hair condition. We’d laugh about how the ponyboys were always trying to out prance each other, and how the mean-girl hupigs were always vying for prime seating in their steamy mud baths and luxurious hot spring pools.
Even after the government scientists returned Bella to the farm absent her hucowness, we two continued the social ritual of bathing together. Each morning after my milking, but before Bella would leave to complete her wifely farming duties, we would shower together, embrace and pleasure one another as friends — temporary equals, if only for a few stolen hours out of each day.
“We’re renovating the barn,” the farmer’s words shocked my mind out of its foggy reminiscing state. “I apologize, but you won’t have use of the barn facilities during the renovation. However, you won’t need them, not for the next several years, at least.”
He paused and swallowed a lungful of air. “Now that I’ve decided to breed you, you’ll be spending most of the day with Hamma, Bella and me, near the farmhouse.”
The sound of the farmer apologizing to anyone, let alone apologizing to me was so foreign to my ears that it jolted me out of my reality as a hucow. For a short time, I forgot who I was on this farm, broke my required silence and allowed a flood of questions to pour from my lips.
“What? Renovating? Why?”
The farmer cleared his throat as he gently tugged at my hair, slowly angling my head up to face his.
“Because I want to breed you, Daisy.”
My pulse stopped dead, then sped up again at a racing gallop. The farmer rarely called me by my name. He usually referred to me as hucow, or sometimes as girl when he felt like speaking politely. I grinned widely and blushed, honored that the all-powerful farmer had chosen to speak my name aloud.
Then I slammed my lips shut. I was still furious
about the harsh discipline he and Bella had subjected me to. They had laughed at me and humiliated me in a way that I was unaccustomed to.
I was accustomed to being a pampered national treasure. I was used to getting everything I wanted, when I wanted it, and in the exact way that I wanted it. And right now – as foolish a desire as it was – my heart burned to make the farmer suffer for taking part in humiliating me.
“Would you like me to breed you, Daisy?”
There he was, speaking my name again, allowing the two syllables to roll off his tongue in deep sexy tones. Involuntarily, my pussy clenched and I became hyper aware of an uncomfortable, itchy sensation slipping down my cunt and inner thighs. It was the drip of the farmer’s seed as it trickled out of my much-abused hole. I fidgeted in place for what felt like several minutes while the farmer’s fluids tickled me, torturing me with their slow descent down the sensitive folds of my pussy and tender inner thighs.
When I could stand no more tickle torture, I abandoned my hucow stance. Shifting position, I squeezed my thighs together tightly. Then I wiggled my ass from side to side, trying my best to scratch at the itch without using my hands.
“Allow me to help you with that Daisy.”
A stifled breath escaped my lips. I was taken aback by the gentleness of the farmer’s words and the sweetness of his smiling expression as he spoke them. This man grinning down at me was not the farmer I had known for the past seven years.
This was some other man. A man I might like to get to know better or go out on a date with if this were another life. But it wasn’t. In this life, I was a hucow, and he was my best friend’s husband and the domineering farmer and the owner of this vast estate. Plus, he was the man who had just humiliated me. He was the man I was furious with.
The grinning giant before me unfisted my hair, stood and pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket. I could feel the hay shift under my knees and hands as he strode behind me and knelt down.
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