Sold to the Farm: An Erotic Hucow Farm Short Story (Wasteland Hucow Ranch Book 3) by Sally Moose

Author:Sally Moose [Moose, Sally]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2024-08-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

I wake up in the barn, the scent of hay and musk surrounding me, the morning light slipping through the cracks in the wooden walls, casting beams across the room. My body feels foreign, different, like it no longer belongs to me. I stretch, my limbs stiff and heavy, and that’s when I feel it—the weight on my chest, the uncomfortable fullness in my breasts. They’re so swollen, aching with the need to be relieved, the skin taut and sensitive. I lift a hand, but it’s not quite a hand anymore. The fingers are thick, almost fused together, and my nails are hard, darkened like hooves. Panic flares up inside me, but it’s muted, distant, like the transformation has numbed my emotions, softening my resistance. I try to stand, but my legs buckle under the new weight, my hips wider, thighs thicker, almost too heavy to lift.

Mr. Owner enters the stall without a word, his presence looming. I glance up at him, and there’s that smirk, the one that tells me I’m no longer a person in his eyes, but something else, something to be used. "Get up," he orders, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. My body responds before my mind can catch up, and I manage to rise, wobbly on my legs that now feel less human, more like those of the animals I’m becoming.

I follow him, my heart pounding as we make our way to the milking room. The machine is there, waiting, its metal tubes gleaming ominously in the dim light. This place is becoming familiar, but not in a comforting way. It’s intimidating, cold, a place where I’m reminded of what I am now—his property. He and Trent work in silence, preparing the machine, and I stand there, feeling exposed, the cool air chilling my bare skin. I’m guided to the machine, and I’m too drained to resist as they attach the suction cups to my swollen breasts. The machine whirs to life, and the suction is immediate, forceful, drawing out the milk with a mechanical rhythm that makes me shudder. The discomfort is there, but it’s laced with something else, something that makes my breath hitch, a twisted pleasure that comes with the humiliation. I want to hate it, but my body betrays me, responding to the sensation with a warmth that spreads through my core, leaving me feeling ashamed and satisfied all at once.

Once the milking is over, Mr. Owner wipes the sweat from his brow, his smirk still in place. "Good girl," he murmurs, patting my cheek in a condescending way that makes me flinch. But then his expression changes, becoming more serious, more intense. "Now it’s time for the next step in your transformation."

My heart skips a beat, dread pooling in my stomach as he continues. "You’re ready to be bred."

I don’t understand at first, not fully, but then I see them—Trent and another man, Luke. Luke is bigger than Trent, more imposing, with muscles that strain against his shirt, his face hardened with no hint of kindness.

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