A tale of pure fantasy. Enjoy.
Please no foul comments, and please read the previous chapter, or nothing will make sense.
Adam took a deep breath before knocking on Mr. Jones' door; it was quite late, as the moon lit the cobbled path beneath his feet. The door opened, and it was Mr. Jones, himself.
"Come on in, Adam. How can I help you tonight?" he asked, as he ushered him in, and turned on the hall light.
Adam was standing there.
"Take your coat off, and we will talk in the study."
He took his jacket off, and hung it on a coat stand at the front door, as he followed Mr. Jones into his study. The room was full of bookcases packed with books, where Mr. Jones pulled out his chair from behind his large, wooden desk, and sat down reading a book.
On the wall was a screen showing the barn with the hucows or human cows were being milked in customized breeding machines. "So Adam, how can I help you tonight." He did not even look up at him. It made him feel really uncomfortable. Mr. Jones had that air about him.
"Come boy, the cat got your tongue?" he snapped at Adam, tapping his fingers on his desk.
Clearing his throat, Adam asked, "Sir, how do I start my own hucow breeding farm?"
Mr. Jones got up, and took a few books from the shelf behind him, and passed them to Adam. "There you go, my boy. Read this; it will explain a few things. Paul, my son, was never a reader, but hopefully, in time, you will be, my boy."
"Thanks for the books, sir," Adam replied.
"Before you go, these are some pills which have different effects, which can transform females into air-headed bimbo girls." As he offered him the bag, "Be careful with them. And who you use them on. Because they will forget everything from their previous lives and will be dependent upon your every word. Their behavior will be pure animalistic urges for a sexual partner; not caring about anything else, except their master's pleasure."
Adam picked up the backpack full of the new pills, put it onto his back, and headed back to his car, which was parked on the curb outside the main iron gate, overgrown with weeds. He got in his car and drove home, with the pills locked safely in his boot.
His mum and Debbie were in the living room milking their own breasts, which were over a JJ cup in size, their nipples oozing with each touch. Touching and sucking the milk out of their engorged, over-filled boobs pressed together; they giggled as the webcam filmed them, with people paying lots of money to watch them play together.