“Moo.”

“Moo.”

The word sort of hung there in the air between us. I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly.

“Moo?” I asked.

Kimberly slid off the lounge and onto her knees. She put her hands behind her head and thrust her chest towards me. Her fantastic breasts, each with a drop of milk slowly tracing a path down to her stomach, looked wonderfully inviting. But I only glanced at them for a second because Kimberly was still holding eye contact with me.

“Moo,” she said again.

Curious, I walked up to her. I reached down to grab one of her tits and gave it a squeeze. A stream of milk shot forward and splashed little droplets across the pool deck.

“Are you a cow now, is that it?”

“Moooo,” she said, making the sound deep in her throat. It sounded less like a word and more animalistic. I suppose that was the point. I squeezed her other tit and it produced the same stream of lactation.

“Well what am I supposed to do with a cow?” I asked. “What does anyone do with a cow?”

“Mooo,” was all she would say.

I looked around and spotted a metal bucket filled with ice and some bottles of water sitting on a patio table. I took a few steps towards it, then picked up the bucket and dumped the contents onto the ground. Icy water spilled out, chilling my feet as it spread around them. The ice cubes tumbled against the grassy lawn that had replaced the deck and the water bottles rolled away back under the table. Now I was standing in a large pasture with no sign of the pool having ever been there. Instead of my swimsuit I was wearing jeans, workboots, and a flannel shirt.

I went back to Kimberly and placed the bucket in front of her.

“I suppose you milk a cow.”

Her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face.

I bent down on one knee and put my hands on her breasts. I gave each one a squeeze in turn while pointing her nipples down. The streams shot straight into the bucket with a soft, satisfying hiss. Kimberly started to moan but it quickly morphed into yet another long “Mmmoooooo”.

Taking hold of her hands I slowly led her to place them on the ground so that she was on all fours with the bucket underneath her. Her tits hung down so low that they nearly touched the rim. They really were udders now.

I started milking her again, alternating left and right. Kimberly stayed stock still as the bucket began to fill with her creamy liquid. I got into a good rhythm and started feeling more and more the part of the farmer. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that her bikini bottoms were no longer purple, but had changed to white with black splotches on them.

“Well now,” I said, attempting a Southern drawl, “I s’pose she is one fine heifer. But I don’t think I could ever sell her, no sir. She needs a good milkin’ every day. Otherwise she gets ornery. Don’cha girl?”

“Moo,” she agreed.

At least I think it was agreement.

Her breasts felt larger in my hands, as though they were getting bigger as the milk was drained form them. I could spread my fingers out as wide as I could and still not cover the length of her pendulous mammaries. Not only that but the flesh was softer than when I started. With every squeeze the skin of her breasts would ooze out between my fingers, in a cartoonish way. Dreams get weird sometimes.

Kimberly was now letting out little “moos” every few seconds. Her eyes were closed and I could tell she was enjoying this.

“Oh course, cows are good for more than just milkin’. Ain’t they? You know what else cows are good for?”

“Moo?” Kimberly said as she looked up at me over her shoulder. She actually managed to sound worried.

“No, not eatin’. Not a proper dairy cow. Dairy cows are good for two things. Milkin’…” I moved one hand from her breasts to the small triangle of cow-patterned fabric covering her sex, pressing my palm against her, “… and breedin’.”

“MooooOOOOOOOO!”