All characters in this story are adults.
June let her foot off of the gas as she drove past the entrance to the area's largest, most prosperous farm. She had no idea how or why The D Ranch D was so spectacularly successful when her farm, and most of those that surrounded the Double D (as most locals called it) constantly lived hand to mouth.
The trouble was that no one could wrangle an invite to the proprietor in order to learn what he did differently from everyone else! He was a secretive man - or so the local gossip went. Many afternoons in the diner were spent speculating about this man, and he had swooped in from far out of town, no one knew exactly where, and had simply landed and turned what had been a farm like theirs - constantly on the edge of disaster - into a success.
Yet, how? His livestock mixture was similar to theirs. His feed was similar to theirs. His machines were similar to theirs. None of it made any sense. She wanted to drive up his road and park in front of his house, barging in and demanding an explanation.
But instead, she drove past his place and headed to her farmstead. The moment she was beyond his lands her mind returned to the never-ending pressure of living day to day. There was a payment past due on a big tractor repair that had been required; where would she squeeze out the money for that?
***
Of course Paul had named this obstinate cow Bessie. June was seated and performed the soft gentle squeeze-and-pull routine on her udders, obtaining her milk. She had wanted to get one of those fancy machines that did the milking for her, but Paul's heart attack had killed those thoughts with the same finality that the seizure had taken his life.
In the predawn darkness, June toiled at her routine, daily tasks and fought the bitter tears at his loss. Nearing one year since his passing, she felt his loss more acutely than ever. He had been taciturn, so it wasn't like they conversed while she milked the cows and he did his things. It had been his presence, and losing it left her feeling utterly alone and vulnerable. Those were feelings that she hated.
With her mood already black, the envy that she had once felt solely towards the success of the Double D was now aimed at several neighboring farms. Even the stupid witch of a woman Shannon was driving around town in a brand new pickup. Shannon had bitched longer and louder than all of her neighbors about their woes, and now she was driving a goddamn pickup? A new one? How the fuck was that even possible? The envy drove her thoughts darker and darker.
What could it be? How could Shannon (whom June had always privately considered to be a cow) have tasted success while she struggled in the dark just to pay the bills? How could Shannon be eating at the diner two or three times a week while June was relegated to once-monthly lest she run out of money. The life insurance policy on Paul had eased all of her burdens, at least in terms of prior debts, but the crushing reality of a spartan, lonely existence weighed heavily on her again.
June shifted, and her body shifted with it. She looked down at her thick, heavy breasts and looked at Bessie and muttered an oath that Paul would have been shocked to hear emerge from her mouth. She was a prim, god-fearing woman, or so Paul had always said. Hearing his wife curse that vilely would have likely turned his stomach. But June was struck in that moment at how cow-like her own body was. She had great udders of her own, and like the solid, thick cows that roamed her property, she had a solid, thick lower body. If she tried to stuff herself into pants, she would feel more like a sausage than woman. So she wore loose-fitting shifts and eschewed bras because they were expensive to purchase, they were uncomfortable to wear, and at 4:30 in the fucking morning it wasn't like she had to withstand the ogling stares of her farmhands.
They still stared, of course, when she wore her dress and put a loose shirt overtop of it and strolled through the yard. Some days she felt a raging fury at their open wide-eyed stares. It wasn't like she looked to the heavens and prayed to God that he might bestow these massive tits upon her! Other days she felt a mild stirring of something that might be called arousal. But her worries were such a constant pressure upon her mind that she had no space to host something as futile as sexual arousal.
Bessie mooed and June released her, and prepared to move onto the next girl. She patted Bessie's solid rump and told her to move along before she was carved into steaks. As if Bessie understood, her head slowly looked back at June and June saw disapproval in those eyes. She patted the rump again. "Move along, girl. Gotta do the next!" she told the animal. It gave a soft moo and stepped forward. The next girl stepped up, and June's experienced hands went back to work.
The day promised to be one of those godawful hot ones that too often built thunderheads that might drop a twister to the ground. She wore a wide-brimmed hat as she emerged from her kitchen, noting that a moving cloud of dust indicated that she had a visitor. She stood on her porch awaiting the car's arrival, and saw with some pleasure that it was her good friend Trina. Katrina, some called her Kat, some called her Trina, but she was a good, decent woman and a good friend. She killed the vehicle and got out of the car, waving at June. June's face split into a grin as she waved back, and she ducked inside to fetch the pitcher of iced tea.
By the time she returned, Trina was sitting in one of the rockers, wiping her brow of sweat.
An odd thought hit June then, and it was all the odder because she never paid much attention to the shape of a woman's body much, but it sure looked like Trina's boobs were bigger than she had ever seen them.
"To what do I owe this honor?" June asked with a smile.
Trina, accepting the glass of tea, took a sip and then held the drink politely in her lap, crossing her legs and beginning the rock. "Do I need a reason to visit my best friend?" she said.
June chuckled. "No, of course not, but you usually call before dropping in," June said.
"I forgot," she said absently. "I just needed to come sit here and be with you," she said as she turned and smiled warmly at June.
The women exchanged idle chit chat for about twenty minutes. They were the sort of friends who might not run into one another for months, but within seconds were back on track and caught up to speed. But June did notice that Trina seemed distracted in her replies. She often had her gaze fitted out to the west, not exactly in the direction of the Double D but close enough; Trina's family ranch was located behind her home. So staring wistfully in that direction was not possible, but June did notice that every time Trina's eyes flicked in that same direction, a flicker of a smile crossed her lips.
"Anything new going on in your life?" June asked. She had spotted a bright pink band on her wrist that looked very much like a fitness watch. Trina had never been much into fitness. So the watch was another item sparking curiosity.
That brought Trina's head around slowly. Her eyes seemed to clear a little but her face settled into an uncomfortable expression. Like there was something that she wanted to say with desperation but could not form the words. "Lots," she said as her face smoothed. June noted that Trina's face was looking healthier as well. She rambled on for a bit about her husband Bob and her three boys. Her youngest Devon had recently been offered a scholarship to the state university and Trina was quite excited about that. But her tales ran out of steam, and once again she peered off into the distance towards the west, that wistful smile back on her face.
"Trina, what's out there?" June finally asked.
"Out where?" she asked, her voice distant and dreamy.
"Whatever you're staring at," June clarified.
"The answer."
"To what?"
"Our worries," she said dreamily again.
June spoke gently. "Katrina, honey, you're not making sense," June said.
