You Brainstorm About the Milking Machine's Owner While Asking More

“Hold on, does a human cow mean what I think it means? They exist?” You ask.

“Mhmm” she says, turning back around and taking a step out of her discarded pants. “I’m a milk producer for my farm. So can you tell me more about where exactly you found the backpack? Maybe I can narrow down who it belongs to?”

“Wait, wait.” You clutch your head, though your eyes are still a bit busy training the generous curves of her hip, and the way that the string-like thong digs into them. “So you’re telling me that the government has an actual license process for human cows?”

“Well, they don’t like to advertise it, but they’ve been giving out licenses to dairy companies for a few years. The way it works is that those companies can approach women and offer them cow status. That means that their body legally belongs to the farm. They can fuck me, milk me, breed me, anything. I have to ask for approval for where I live, what I eat, when I’m allowed to fuck. They also give you a bit of mental conditioning, mostly to make you docile when they need to handle you. Code phrases, stuff like that. And the big thing is that they change your breasts…” she holds up her tits, their mountains of flesh strain against the top despite the fact it looks to be made out of sturdy material.

“Into udders. Milk producers. And they are the owners of everything that you produce.” She straightens up her posture and crosses her arms to obscure your view. “Now then, my question?”

“I found the backpack in the Quad a few days ago,” No reason not to answer. “I’m not sure who left it, but considering it’s color I’m pretty sure it was a girl. I also saw a few of the people who were in the area at the time, but I can’t say for certain who left it.” She doesn’t need to know about your crush.

“Hrmmm. That would make sense. It might have been one of the other cows, but if it is then they’re breaking the rules big time.” she puts her hands on her chin.

“Why would you give yourself to the barn?” You ask, breaking her chain of thought.