Gemma Becomes A Hucow Ch 04

CHAPTER FOUR - EPILOGUE

"Good morning, Mr Mayor."

Elizabeth Foulter warmly greeted her visitor with a firm handshake. "I'm glad you could accept our invitation to return to this particular facility. As I said on the phone, I particularly wanted you to see one particular cow, the one whose processing you saw last time. Back then you seemed quite interested in the general welfare of our cows, so you'll be able to see the progress this individual has made in six months, as well as observing conditions here."

"Thank you for having me back, Ms Foulter. Your commentary last time I toured your facilities was fascinating, so I'm more than happy to make time to come back."

His broad smile revealed just how much he was looking forwards to his visit, Elizabeth noted.

They walked in slowly through the main entrance to the farm and across to one of the barns. Inside its tall wooden doors, he took a deep breath, savouring the aromas of straw, of bodies, of milk, and of aroused femininity. All around them there was an almost hypnotic hissing chorus of pneumatic machinery slowly pumping, holding and then releasing, sounding like a slither of sedated snakes.

Ms Foulter, who as the new Regional Manager was now in charge of both the processing facility within the city, and all the farm sites in the district, led him forwards into the bower. Ahead of them, on either side, were the bare heads of cows, protruding from their cages, their chins resting on small padded shelves. Each scalp bore a large barcode lasered into a shaved strip on their scalps, in addition to the plastic tags hanging from their ears. Some of the heads regarded the visitors in a disinterested way. She noticed the mayor gazing intently at the cows.

"Yes Mr Mayor. These are term cows, so their barcodes are conveniently sited where we can scan them. Then, when they return to normal living, their hair will cover the barcode. Not even their hairdresser will notice it, and the ink is designed that they will fade in time. On this side we have the 5-year cows, and on this, the 10-year cows."

Each girl had suction cups attached to her nipples, and those were connected to ascending translucent polypropylene tubes that formed a common line above their heads. The rhythmic pump and release of each girl's cups was quite soporific, he thought, as he watched little spurts of milk frothing up the tubes and away to be processed.

Further on, where the row of stalls finished, there was a single crude wooden dais in the centre of the aisle, really just a large crate, right in front of one of the thick timber poles supporting the roof. On the dais was a cage, and in it, motionless, was 398P.

The mayor recognised her straight away. She was on her hands and bent knees, just as he had seen her six months ago. But now she was almost unrecognisable. For a start, she was heavily pregnant, her belly swelling out to each side, as well as hanging ponderously from her torso.

But at the same time that his gaze was absorbing her state, and her presence, his eye caught another sight, beyond where the crate was. Further down the barn there were several cows strung up, swaying gently in the currents of air that wafted through the building. Attached by their wrists and ankles, their bodies hung limply from chains that attached to the rafters. Their heads hung back, their mouths open. They looked lifeless. He looked quizzically at the superintendent.

She followed his look. "Oh, them? That's a tranche of cows that have reached the end of their milk producing time. They will....move on.....soon, but we find this suspension helps relax all the joints and in effect it renders them unable to struggle when the time comes to transport them away. Several days fasting in this suspension has proven ideal to leave their flesh supple and cleansed within. We sluice them out at the beginning and then again before they are transported. Our people also think that it helps them adjust to the fact that their time with the NRS is over. Actually, from memory I think they are due to be shipped out today, so they will have been given their final muscle relaxant injection this morning. They will remain quite limp while being handled."

She looked at the mayor to check his reaction. "Last financial year, this income stream contributed almost 15% of our overall profit, so we manage it carefully. These animals are prized in the whole, and most clients are wanting them for special occasions, so they need to be carried or led into the kitchen alive but passive. In fact, we have one special client who likes to make them walk from his estate gates all the way up to his mansion and into the kitchen under their own power, all the time knowing what fate awaits them. Quite a power-trip for the client, no doubt. It takes a special animal to do that, and I'm thinking that 398 is going to be a good candidate. The client is already following her progress, looking ahead a few years."

The mayor only now realised there was a large bucket placed beneath each female, and they obviously were compelled to evacuate in situ, so to speak. While he was still struggling to absorb the implications of this compelling tableau, the Superintendent took his shoulder authoritatively and returned his attention to what was before them.

She grasped the corner of the cage and rotated it slowly through 360 degrees for the mayor to examine. At the cow's rear end the cage had only a low padded wooden bar, on which her ankles were resting, and 398P's engorged pussy, reddish-purple, and slippery with juices, protruded just beyond the confines of the timbers. The padlock she had been fitted with while he had watched was gone now, but large holes remained in her grotesquely stretched labia.

As the cage continued to rotate, 398P's head came into view. The two metal nubs looked spectacular, thought the mayor. The button-shaped knobs were probably around 40mm in diameter, and stood at least that far from her scalp. The large heavy ring in her septum was currently being pulled upwards, with the tip of her nose showing through centre of the ring. The ring was attached with cords to both metal nubs on her skull, pulling her nostrils back up into a wide flare.

A bit like a pig, he thought. She looked just like an animal. In fact, it was hard to consider this 'thing' as having been a human once, but it certainly was an erotic sight. He felt his groin stir, his shaft pressing against his trousers.

Below the cow's flared nose, her tongue protruded from her open mouth. The tongue piercing was now occupied by another ring attached to a short, stout chain, which was clipped into a fitting on the shelf below her chin. Her mouth was flaccidly open, a steel tube disappearing into her throat. He noticed a reservoir bottle mounted above their heads, with a small pump incorporated in the line. There was a thick, sluggish stream of saliva dribbling right down her tongue onto the shelf.

The Superintendent gestured towards the tube and the bottle. "So the cows are fed a special paste containing not only something to keep them happily pacified, but everything they require to thrive, including maintaining their hydration levels. At present 398 is on a customised formula to support her pregnancy, as well as maintaining her milk output. She is bearing triplets as a result of our IVF regime, although she also receives mechanical penetration regularly to stimulate the normal hormonal processes and improve the chances of the IVF taking. "

Although she could not understand what the humans were saying, 398 could remember that occasion with pleasure, and thought of it often. The feel of the white lady's rubber-gloved hand in her tunnel, stretching it widely as she squeezed a syringe of warm semen into 398's cervix, had been delectable. 398 had drooled and moaned softly throughout the insemination. As a bonus, she had been rewarded with the vibrating thing for quite a long time afterwards, even though it had not been inserted far enough to allow her to thump it against her womb, which 398 was always itching to do. But for the last few weeks she had become increasingly aware of the young ones inside her moving and occasionally kicking against her abdomen, and that occupied most of her attention.

"We are delighted that the ultrasound we imaged last week shows she is bearing three healthy future milkers, the result of quite a lot of work behind the scenes over the past few years. You must agree, Mr Mayor, we do go out of our way to optimise the wellbeing of our animals. After all, these 'special' cows will produce so much more if they are content and feeling good within their bodies."

Ms Foulter continued confidently, "Mr Mayor, as an aside, I am sincerely hoping that when we shortly lodge our plans for expansion of the site, you will not only be able to publicly discharge your support for the country's national objectives, but you will know in your heart that you are supporting a good cause."

The mayor did not answer immediately. After some moments he gave a vague grunt of acceptance to what the Superintendent had said, but it was obvious that his attention was completely diverted. He had crouched in front of the cage, gazing at the cow.

Gazing at its face.

For 398 had no expression at all on her face. Her half-closed eyes looked ahead, motionless, with no recognition that another being was looking directly at her. The mayor had been looking for evidence that the facility was doping the girls to their eyeballs, but thought to himself that she looked calm, content even. Her eyes seemed larger due to her cloudy enlarged pupils, probably from the hormones, he thought. They would have surely been pinpricks if she was being doped.

But there was more -- he was struggling to think of a word that reached the feeling he sensed.

Then he got it -- beautific. 398 looked beautific. Like a female Buddha statue.

He turned to the attentive Superintendent. "She looks so calm!"

And then he had a pang of guilt. "I probably shouldn't talk about her like this in front of her."

Ms Falkner smiled gently. "Don't concern yourself, Mr Mayor. 398 can't understand anything we are saying. From her perspective, it's as if we are just humming, just making a droning noise. The cranial procedure you observed was quite successful; she lost the ability to speak and comprehend within a week. We performed another newly-introduced procedure later, lasering her eyes to blur her vision somewhat. Without being able to process her sensory stimuli in these areas, her dehumanisation has been rather more successful than previous candidates, reducing her dominant senses to taste and touch. The piercings help to support that process.

To some extent, 398 has been a test-bed for development. She's such an example of modern technology that on several occasions she has been transported elsewhere, including back to the receiving point where she self-indentured, to illustrate to interested parties what we are doing in our development programmes. She's been a marvel for recruitment. And she behaves impeccably. Some of the other girls would probably shit all over the floor, but she's trained well and waits until she's outside. We'll be sorry to lose her, but these permanents don't last many years. On one hand the constant milking and pregnancies take their toll. And then we have to consider their final value, which drops off with age."

As the mayor pushed up from his knees into a standing position again, the superintendent added, "Of course she can still see and hear, but it's probably as if she just gets outlines of things, like being extremely short-sighted and having tinnitus. She still seems to respond to us calling her number though, which is handy....."

Ms Falkner stopped her commentary suddenly, because the mayor was obviously still totally preoccupied. He slowly walked around the cage several times, regarding the cow carefully. Pausing behind 398's encaged form, facing her rump, he looked questioningly across at the Superintendent, his hand gesturing forward.

"Feel free. She will love some attention. Don't be alarmed if she starts wriggling frantically with pleasure though, because her sex tissues will be very sensitive."

His hand tentatively stroked and moulded around her plump labia, then after several moments he parted them and investigated her hot, slippery depths with his thumb, more confidently, while his fingers teased her engorged lips and clitoris. The cow jerked slightly at recognition of his first touch, then made low groaning noises and pushed back hard against his exploratory invasion, arching her back to present her sex better, as if willing him to go further. Inside, his fingers found the ridges in her tight tunnel were prominent and rigid with arousal, and his digits came away coated in thick juice, as the cow appeared to whimper softly in frustrated arousal.

Ms Falkner smiled to herself as she noticed the growing bulge in his trousers and his flushed complexion, and realised what the mayor was probably thinking. She indicated a discrete box of wipes on the side, and turned to walk away, speaking over her shoulder.

"There's no need to wear a condom this time, Mr Mayor. I'll be in my office when you are finished."

She knew from experience that at some point during getting his pleasure, the mayor would realise that there was a whole barn of young cows looking down the central aisle, looking at 398 enviously. She had seen it happen to other guests on the surveillance cameras several times. And that realisation would probably make him come even harder!

That planning application was sure to be approved!