An expensive sports car turns up the gravel drive before one of the largest, most modern farms in the state. Green lawns and white fences line the long driveway in front. In distant fields beyond tidy red barns can be seen small forms grazing a bucolic hillside.
On the grassy front lawn at the main building, several tall, well-muscled young men toss a football, running very fast and laughing in their low voices. Their shirts are off, each one is broad-shouldered and handsome with six-pack abs.
The silver-haired man steps from his exotic car. Life has been good to him, at age 57 his craggy good looks and tailored suit denote a man of success, wealth, and power. His polished black shoes step purposefully up the path to the main entrance. He is met at the door by a smiling woman in a white lab smock with Nurse Reardon embroidered on the pocket.
"Good morning sir. Do you have an appointment?"
The confident man is not rushed, smiles, taking in the nurse's bountiful bustline, the buildings, the white fences, the barns and green fields.
"I have a friend," he says quietly, "Gerald Clark."
Understanding lights the nurse's eyes. "Ah. Then he's given you a code?"
The man nods pleasantly.
"I am Nurse Reardon. Please come with me."
The nurse leads him with graceful hips into a spacious office. When they are seated, the man notices how generous are the nurse's bosoms. An undone button of her lab smock reveals rich cleavage. Her face is also quite lovely, for someone not much younger than he.
The nurse removes a file folder from her desk. With a smile she says, "and your code is..."
"VT 7835," the man replies with an easy smile.
She refers to a sheet of paper in the folder. "Of course, Senator Broward. A pleasure to meet you, sir. Everyone will call you Ron here, for confidentiality. Will that be acceptable?"
He grins, the same wide, friendly expression seen so often on statewide television news. "My name is Ronald, so yes."
"Now, Ron, here is our deluxe menu." She slides a printed list across the desk. It's a list of services available at the Farm, and most would be shocked at the prices. Ron is not.
"Since this is your first visit, you would probably appreciate a brief tour?"
"I don't have a lot of time today. I'd like to make a selection now, if I may."
"Certainly. What interests you on our list of services?"
The man does not look at the list, which resembles a fancy restaurant menu. "My friend said you have a pregnant one. Marilee. Can I see her today?"
The nurse consults her computer. "Marilee is one of our most popular little cows, but yes, I penciled you in on Mr. Clark's suggestion, so she can be available. Shall I call her?"
The man nods. He hides the fact that his fingers tremble.
"Fine. I'll call her to meet you. Now we have the matter of some forms to sign." She places a sheaf of papers before him, holds out a pen. This he waves away, taking a glittering Rolex from his coat pocket.
The paperwork is extensive, but his friend had warned him not to be critical or ask questions. All a formality, his friend had said.
"Thank you," Nurse Reardon says at last, when his paperwork is signed, his form of payment provided. She walks him to the exit. "Please wait at your car. Marilee will meet you shortly. She will take you on your tour, but you may choose any girl you like. They are polite, well groomed, perfectly healthy young women who love to be with men. If you want more than a taste, ask them. Each little cow will communicate her own rules. No rough play or force is allowed, unless the little cow lets you know she likes that."
With a professional smile, the nurse turns to go. She will courier his package to the Farm's attorneys.
Alone, the powerful man has a moment of terrifying doubt. His colleague Jerry had told him of the feminine delights available on the Farm, and the story had made his head swim. It was his lifelong fantasy about beautiful, large-breasted, lactating young women. Now on the brink of experiencing it for himself, he feels an inner terror, stage fright, like a teenager taking off a girl's panties for the first time.
Ron had listened raptly to whispered stories his friend had related. "I know you are into your nursing fantasy, Ron my man, but she may be willing to do other things, such as mutual spanking. I've heard some girls let men use their vagina or ass. Some girls do not want their anus touched, but dick sex or spanking is okay. A few of the little cows allow only nursing while they are in their fertile period, because particular studs have been chosen for breeding them."
Standing beside his swoopy automobile, Ron sees in a green field the cluster of white tents Jerry had mentioned. Each has a long banner flowing from its central pole, different colors blown into sinuous form by the warm wind. And walking his way from that direction is the most lush feminine form he could imagine.
In spite of the senator's wealth and power, he experiences a sensation of vertigo, as though his every flaw and insecurity is magnified and on public view. A full-bodied woman, mother-naked, coming directly toward him.
As the woman draws closer, Ron sees that she is young and very pregnant. Her belly is big and her breasts flow over her big round tummy. Her pale body is a collision of large jiggling spheres. She is close enough now that he sees she is a redhead with a long ponytail. Soon he can see that her little Vee is shaved bare, a bald peach split by a prim vertical line that could belong to a child. But her body is all woman, and her dancing green eyes are anything but childlike. She reaches for his hand.
"Welcome, Ron. I am Marilee."
The tones of the girl's voice are so musical that for a moment Ron cannot speak. She is a lovely young redhead in late pregnancy, just prior to giving birth. Her large, purple-veined breasts show droplets of white on fat nipples. She regards the senator with intelligent eyes.
She smiles, not letting go of his hand. Her grip is soft and warm. He feels his dick twitch in his pants, and gets a surge of doubt. She is so close, her breasts so full and beautiful, to think that he might be able to touch and suck from them sends his brain into a whirl of vertigo. Although he has paid, he knows this is still an interview. She has not yet accepted him.
