The bucket

My hand returned to its work on Kimberly’s hanging breasts. Rhythmically I squeezed them each in turn to spray more and more milk into the bucket beneath her. Her hands gripped into the turf and she shivered.

“Patience girl. We’ve got orders to fill first.”

The bucket was half full now and I had no intention of stopping until either it was full or she was empty.

“Maybe I should get you all dressed up to go to market. How does that sound?”

“Moo,” her response was clipped and quiet.

“We could get you a collar to wear and a bell to hang from it. Maybe some knee pads to make walking easier. And some hoof gloves for that matter.”

Kimberly eyes were closed. I wondered if she was picturing the scene.

I smiled as I said, “Everyone will want to get a look at my prize cow. Her milk always tastes the best, they say. Hell, if the season is right we could probably auction you off to some studs. Or I could just fill you up myself and have you carry my load inside you. A cow isn’t ever satisfied unless she’s been bred, right? But first you have to prove your udders can keep up with demand. Nearly there, Kimberly.”

“Mmmmooooo,” the sound dripped out of her throat. Would she get **** enough to say what she wants? Or had she really replaced all of her vocabulary with one animalistic moan? One way to test that was to push her limits.

Even if those limits were a figment of my imagination.

I reached into my back pocket and grabbed something that I was sure had always been there. Something probably too big to have fit in my pocket, but that hardly mattered. It was a scrunched up piece of rubber. I shook it out a few times and held it in front of Kimberly’s face.

I said to her, “You’re doing well. I think it’s about time you look the part.” She stared right into the wide, black eyes of a cow mask. It was the kind you might buy at a costume store. Just a flimsy piece of moulded rubber, painted white with black splotches and a pink nose and lips. I could have conjured up something more serious and meant for a bit of bondage play. But I wanted her to look silly. I wanted her to know that she was going to look silly. My other hand stopped milking her and I pulled the covering up from under her chin, over her face, and back across her hair. There was a little slit up the back that her ponytail popped through. I held in my laughter as best I could and went back to squeezing her udders.

Kimberly was quiet. She hadn’t mooed once since being masked. Was she being passive because she had become more of a dumb animal, or was she just in shock? I was getting close to filling the bucket and I was ready to push it to the next level.

“Oh look, here come some loyal customers now.” I grasped Kimberly’s ponytail and tilted her head back. Her neck curved up and I could see at least one of her eyes was open through the hole in the cow’s pupil nearest me. Directly in front of her we could both now see a group of figures walking towards us.

“Boy, they sure look thirsty,” I said. “Do you think you can manage a crowd that size?”

Kimberly said nothing. Her legs and arms tensed underneath her. I kept her head still with a firm grip on her hair. Her silence stretched on and on as the crowd drew nearer, close enough now that individuals could be made out. I smiled as I realized who my **** mind had drawn into the scene. Kimberly’s family was walking towards us dressed in rustic clothing. Her mother was carrying a picnic basket and her sister Jenny had a gingham blanket under one arm.

Soon they would be able to see us very clearly too and there would be no denying that their daughter and sister was on her hands and knees, in a skimpy pair of cow print bikini bottoms, with her distended udders swaying back and forth over a bucket that was full of her own milk. They would see her for what she was; she’d be nothing but a cow to them.

I was rock hard knowing that I’d done it to her. Kimberly shivered. From excitement, or from fear?

If this didn’t make Kimberly break character, nothing would. But was she going to bolt? Or would she bear it?

“Mmmmuh-huh?” Kimberly froze in place. She didn’t look away when I released her hair.

“What’s the matter, Kimberly? Are you not comfortable being a dairy cow in front of your own family?” She shivered despite the warm sun on her naked back.

“Well, the way I see it, you’ve got three options. Run and hide before they know it’s you. Stay as you are and hope they don’t recognize you. Or take off the mask, tell them what happened, and hope that they are mad at me instead of ashamed of you.”

As she knelt there on all fours her father waved at me and called out, “Howdy Michael.”

I nodded my head in acknowledgement. “Howdy Carl. I’m almost done with my chores. Go ahead and get yourselves set up.”

“We thought we’d have lunch outside. A real family picnic,” said Annette, his wife. She smiled warmly from under her broad straw hat as she set down the basket.

“Good weather for it,” said Adam, their younger son, as he helped his sister Jenny spread the blanket out on the grass.

“Perfect!” agreed Jenny as she plopped down. She tucked her legs underneath her and helped her mother pass out the plates and cutlery.