Idnapped at the Farm

"That's it, take the bait you bastard," I think as I keep talking to the person on the other end of the line. My name is Blanca and I'm 22 years old. I'm a simple farm girl from New England, and I'm here to bring down the evil that is Cow's Milk Inc. And I think finally I'll be able to do it.

You see Cow's Milk Inc is a company that claims they are a farm. Oh, if you listen to their commercials you would think they are the farm that your grandparents live on. Every time I see or hear any of their commercials, I can feel my blood begin to boil just a bit.

Their main product is specialty milk which they market as gluten-free, hormone free and so on. It's the type that the farmer's market crowd goes wild over because they don't know anything. I've actually tasted it, once, and it's crap. I think powered milk tastes better. But because they say it's specialty they can sell it for like $20 for a half-gallon.

But all of us real farmers know what they are, and that's a damn sweatshop for animals. Companies like them pop up from time to time, where they try to get as much as they can from the cheapest animals. They hire idiots that don't know what they are doing and they use and abuse animals because they don't take care of them like they are supposed to. Sure, there are laws about such stuff, but there's just being a good human being too.

You want to know how we know something's going on? It's because they are keeping everything real secret. They don't allow anyone to visit their farm. No tours, no farmer-to-farmer courtesy, nothing. Only those who are hiding something do that as us every farm owner I've known will let you tour at least a bit of their farm.

For the past 4 months I've been trying to figure a way onto their property to try and see what's really going on. I know if I just got 5 minutes on site, then I would have all the evidence I need to bring them down. To put every single one of those bastards that dare call themselves farmers in jail.

But getting onto their farm has been extremely hard. I've been a farm girl all my life and all farms I have ever seen have been on are out in the open, with maybe a simple fence surrounding it to keep livestock in. Cow's Milk has a damn 10 foot stone wall surrounding their property like a freaking castle, making it impossible to even look in. The only way in or out is a manned gate that is guarded by several guards. And these guards aren't cheap rent-a-cops but hulking men that look like ex-military.

I've tried everything I could of to get inside. At first I called as a local farm hand to see if I could get a tour since I'm in the same industry. When that failed I tried to see if they gave tours to the public. After I tried to see about job openings, but they must use a service or something because I couldn't find a single job posted. I got so desperate that one night I drove their with a ladder thinking I could hop the fence, but their cameras spotted me and I got run off.

"Representative Miller?" the woman on the other end of the line asks upon returning to the line. Yep. That's right. I'm pretending to be a State Official. Called them up and said how I've heard some good and bad reports about the place and would just like a quick glance around to quell anything before it starts heading into the state congress. Said how I could be a great ally if everything is up to code or a terrible foe if it isn't. And boy, they've taken the bait.

"Yes, I'm here," I respond in my best fancy, high class tone. "I just spoke with the Joe Pine, our Head Farmer, which is what we call the CEO, and he would be delighted to give you a personal tour of the facility. How is noon for you today?" She says, her voice very friendly. As she says this, I think to myself, "yeah bitch, we'll see how friendly you are when you are wearing an orange jump suit and are somebody's bitch."

"That sounds utterly perfect. Thank you," I say, faking my friendly voice. From this she gives me directions to the facility and instructs me to go to the main gate and to park at the nearby parking lot. That once I get there, the Head Farmer will greet me personally and give me the tour.

When I get off the phone, I do a dance. It's a celebration dance. Finally! I got a way in! I'm finally going to take the bastards down! Not bad for a small time farm girl, is it? People think because I spend my day tending to horses that I'm not smart. Well no one else has been able to get inside.

Hell, maybe I'll be able to punch a few people while I'm there. I mean at 5 feet 10 inches I tower over most other females but I'm muscular thanks to working at the farm, so I'm not scared to throw down if needed against any guy. But I know I need to keep my cool. I have to pass for an elected person.

I look at the clock and rush to my bedroom when I see I don't have much time to get ready. Most of the time I'm comfortable wearing a sturdy work shirt and a pair of blue jeans without any makeup. But since I need to look like an elected official, I need to doll myself up.

Roughly 45 minutes later, I head out my front door looking rather good if I say so myself. I'm wearing my long black skirt, or what I call my "fuck-me" skirt, and my professional looking white blouse. I've put full makeup on, my lips ruby red, blush and a hint of shadowy eye shadow to make my eyes pop. On purpose I went with a "classy" look instead of sexy. But best of all, I have an old cell phone hidden in the waistband of my skirt, already recording. They'll never even know it's there.

Hardly able to contain my excitement, I drive towards Cow's Milk Inc's farm in my old pickup. I considered telling someone (or everyone) that I finally found a way in, but I think it's best to keep it a secret for now. If I did share it, one of the dumber ones might do something to get me in trouble, like post what I did online for the world to see before I get my evidence.

For what feels like the 100

th

time, I turn down the old road called "Milk Drive." Only this time I have been asked here instead of sneaking about. Going down it, there's nothing but grass and country landscape until you spot the huge walls of Cow's Milk farm.

Doing as I was told I drive towards the gate. The gate looks like a stone gate but I know that's just paint because I see the tracks. There's a guard booth right in the middle, and I bet there's one on the other side of the gate as well.

To the right of the gate is a very small parking lot meant for visitors. I find this very odd as I think maybe 6 cars total could fit in it. No way it could be used if they had a large number of visitors. Do they never have visitors? Very odd.

Trying to act regal, I step out of my pickup once I've parked and smooth out my skirt. Already I can feel the guards looking at me, to which I want to smirk but instead I feel very uneasy. I've never been this close to them and can now see something I hadn't before; they're armed. Both have a sidearm and a disposition that looks like they wouldn't mind using those guns either. This on top of the fact they both have the physique of a pro-wrestler, makes them very intimidating, so much so that I actually consider turning back and getting the hell out of here.

"H-Hi!" I greet as I approach the guard station. I try to keep my politician accent as I talk, but being nervous sort of stops it. As I approach the booth, neither guard reacts. They both just keep looking at me with stone face expressions with one inside the booth and the other standing next to it.

"Blanca Miller," one of the guards says, but not as a question. It's a statement. Like he knows who I am.

"That's Representative Miller," I say fiercely, sticking to my story. He doesn't react to this. He doesn't correct himself or even roll his eyes. Just keeps staring at me with that intense look.

Then I get a cold shiver of fear right up my spine. How do they know my first name? I never told it to the receptionist. I always referred to myself as

Representative Miller

. Or did I? Did I accidently slip my real first name in there? I mean, how else would they know it? I must have said it at some point.

I notice the other guard moving inside the booth. I assume this is to let the "Head Farmer" know that I've arrived. It's just I wish these guys would smile or at least act like they aren't prison guards as a very uncomfortable silence begins.

Finally, a loud buzzer goes off. When it does, the gate starts to open, with it sliding on the track to the right. It opens about 4 feet and then stops, like it doesn't want to open too far. Since the opening is too far from where I am standing, I can't see inside and I think it would give me away if I move to look.

A single man walks out. He's a very fit man maybe in his 50s with salt and pepper hair. I doubt he is the CEO because he's not wearing a suit. Instead, he's wearing blue jeans and a tshirt. Not to mention he has the build of someone that works the farm.

"Hello there," he greets in a very friendly manner as he walks towards me. He pats the one guard on the back as he walks by him in a way that seems to say, 'you are doing a great job.' His smile stands out compared to the guards as it seems to say everything is perfect.

"I'm Joe, the Head Farmer and you must be Blanca," he states. In an odd move, he stops about 10 feet away from me, like he doesn't want to get too close. Nor does he offer to shake hands. It's a very odd and rude move.

"That's Repres-" I go to correct him as I stick to my story, but he holds up a hand as if to say for me to stop. He even gives me a small shake of the head.

"Yes, yes,

Representative

, working for the state congress," he says as if this amuses him. "We both know who you are, and that's not an elected official. And dearie, you did a horrible job trying to pass yourself off as one too. A simple search online shows that there is no Representative Blanca. Heck, I doubt any official would be caught dead in that old hunk of junk you call a truck," he says, motioning to my truck parked in the parking lot.

My heart sinks and then pounds as my face flushes. Cold fear washes over me as an intense heat builds on my face. That cold fear washes over me, bathing me in that scary emotion. Crap. Crap.

Crap

. They know. They saw right through it. How stupid was I to think this would work?

"Fine, you got me. I'll go," I say in my natural tone, knowing that this is what he's going to say. But when I say this, he laughs as if he finds this very amusing. His laugh is very loud and powerful.

"No dearie, I don't think you will be," he says, a laugh still on his lips. At this I feel my brow furrow. Huh? What does that mean? Is he threatening me?

"You are Blanca Miller. A devoted local farm hand. A strong and willful female that loves horses, who doesn't mind getting dirty and doesn't take guff from anyone. And...a would-be leader of our opposition at all the other farms," he says, still in that friendly tone. To this, I gulp as it is very clear he knows who I am.

"We will be giving you

exactly

what you wanted, and that's to see the inside of the farm. To be able to see everything, from the farm hands to how we treat the animals," he explains. I stay tensed as it is the only way to keep my fear down. I know something isn't right. He has something horrible planned.

"Oh, you should know, whatever device you are using to record or livestream isn't working at the moment," he adds. I gulp again as I feel so stupid for thinking I was so smart. Of course, he would know I would be trying to record. Of course, he would see right through my attempt.

"We have these lovely devices set around the entire perimeter that disables nearly all electronics that do not carry our special RFID tag-chip thing," he explains, flooring me. Hearing this makes my fear level go even higher as that is some Star Trek level tech. I mean, I've never even heard of anything like that before. It must cost a hell of a lot of money to develop something like that.

"You can't scare me with all this," I tell him and somehow keep my voice firm even if what I'm saying is a lie. I am very much scared but I do refuse to let him think he can intimidate me.

"And my friends and I will bring you down," I add, showing my defiance by holding my head high. But after I say this, he laughs as if finding this very amusing. The way he laughs makes me feel like a little girl who is upset but her father just finds her too cute to take serious.

"No, I don't think you will Blanca. In fact, I think you will be joining us,

forever

," he tells me, wiping a laughter tear from his eye. It's now my turn to laugh as I would never join them, not even if they offered me 10 million dollars a year. I'd rather die.

"We are a farm. And despite what you think, we are very legitimate," he tells me as if he expects me to believe this. I respond by giving another fake laugh.

"But you see, our most known product, 'Cow's Milk', isn't what you would call our cash cow. In fact, it sells very poorly but...that works well for us because that isn't our main product. I guess you might call Cow's Milk a cover product, a way to fake our finances to the government. We are very secretive as you have seen because we don't want to alert the world to what our real product is," he explains. As he says this, I consider asking if he wants to go get a cat to pet so he can really look like a James Bond villain.

"What, guns? Drugs? Sex slaves?" I ask mockingly. A farmer making meth...how original. Or maybe I should have said he's making a lazer to destroy the moon.

"No Miss Blanca. Like I stated, we are a real farm. And our product is milk. Milk and breeding opportunities," he explains. I am very confused by this, as he made it seem like whatever they are into is illegal, but that's far from illegal. That's just being a farm.

"Mother's Milk is our number one selling product, but as you know it must be sold on the Dark Web or in very select markets that would be considered safe," he informs me.

"Mother's Milk? What are you talking about?" I tell him, wondering for the first time if this guy might be crazy. Mother's Milk is an old farmer's urban legend. It's the term that old farmers give to breast milk. You know, human breast milk that is produced in pregnancy.

"We produce very high-quality Mother's Milk. A few ounces of it sells for $200 dollars as our buyers know it's clean, pure and the best. There's a very bright future in it if I may be honest as the demand has only increased," he explains.

"Our second money-maker is more of a service, and that's our breeding services," he says. "We have a wide selection of candidates who have been tested, screened, and chipped, right down to a DNA marker test to find potential genetic markers," he continues, proudly.

All at once it hits me. I don't know why I finally put it together, but I do. When I do, the fear I felt increases. I can feel myself going pale as I try to convince myself that there's another explanation. That this place isn't what I think it is. That this isn't happening. The fear is so strong it doesn't allow me to do what my brain screams at me to do which is to run to my truck and get the fuck out of here.

"T-T-This....this is...." I stammer, stunned and scared. I do this a few times as he raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to finish. Only I can't say the words.

"A farm for Hucows, yes," he says as if this is a normal statement. When he says this, I sway for a money as I feel a tiny bit dizzy. This...this is a farm where you treat women as farm stock. Milking females for their milk and using them to pop out babies.

"And since we feel you are going to continue to be an issue for us, you are now going to become part of our stock," he informs me, his tone still causal and friendly. I hear him say this but I don't react. I just stare at him dumbfounded. The way he says it, I still wait for him to say, 'just kidding.'

"It would be easier for everyone, you included, if you did as you were told from this point forward. I mean, you could attempt to make a run for it, but the guards would taze you before you even turn to run. Heck, they might not even use their tasers as we have the legal right to shoot anyone on the property," he says as if making conversation. My eyes look to the two guards who still haven't moved. And by the look on their faces, he's telling the truth.

"And...the better you behave and do as you are told, the more rewards you get and receive less...

punishments

," he adds on, showing he dislikes having to give our punishments.

"S-Someone will come for me," I finally am able to say, my mouth dry. My words feel like the only thing I have to get me out of this. If I can scare them with words, then maybe they won't do this. Only when I say this, it's not the strong and powerful tone I normally have, but more of a scared girl.

For the first time in a very long time, my muscular frame feels small and weak. I know I can't make a run for it. Hell, even if I did, I'm in heels so I would need to remove them first which would telegraph what I am about to do. And this area is wide open with nothing to hide behind if they started shooting. I can fight, but not against two trained guards who are bigger than me. The best I can do is not make it easy for them.

"No, I don't think anyone will come for you," The "Head Farmer" who I think said his name was Joe replies after he considers what I said. I'm taken back when he says this after seriously considering it.

"I doubt you told anyone you were coming here as you would have liked the idea of revealing whatever secret footage you captured in a surprise and grand production. If you told anyone your plan, it wouldn't be a secret," he tells me his reasoning, to which I feel my face redden again as he's correct.

"And I'll have your truck towed off and sold as scrap so no one will see it, and well, you would be surprised how easy it is to get livestock to reveal personal information, such as Facebook passwords, email addresses and phone passwords to convince the world they have run away," he explains calmly. He explains not to scare me, but to show he's done this exact thing before.

"Now, if you don't mind, I do have a very important call at 1:00, so we need to move this along," he tells me apologetically after checking his watch for the time. He then pulls out his cell and starts to tap away at it, showing he doesn't even consider me important enough anymore for all of his attention.

"Go ahead and remove all of your clothing. Everything, including any hair bands or piercings. You won't need clothes any longer," he instructs without even looking at me.

My mouth drops open at the shock of this demand. For a moment I wonder if I even heard what I heard. Something like that is meant to be said by a creepy looking rapist, not a guy checking his phone acting like he has better things he could be doing.

"This is what I was talking about," he states after a few moments, sounding annoyed. He then looks at me sternly, making me think of a father scolding his daughter.

"You need to be quick and do as you are told once you are told," he says, annoyed. "Now...remove everything or else the guards will do it in their own painful manner," he warns. Right after, the one guard takes a step forward as if implying he doesn't mind doing it either.

Feeling like this is some sort of nightmare, I look down at my feet. In a single second I think a million thoughts to make up my mind about what I'm going to do. Knowing there's no way to win at this moment I decide I'll play along for just the right moment. Once that moment comes, I'll know it, and I'll get free.

Humiliated unlike I have ever been, I remove my heels. Next my trembling hands move to the button on my skirt. With a very red face, I unbutton the button and let go to which my skirt instantly falls to the ground, exposing my tab pantyhose and black panties.