Some small room, but you need to buddy up!

The class reaches the next station. There is a row of seats connected to a row of padded benches. In the connection between them are what looks like milking devices, two for each seat. Mr. Minchest announces, "To get a better feeling what this is about, ladies, please all take a seat."

You and the rest of the girls sit on the seats. Since the are quite low, you need to basically kneel, putting your calves below the seat in the cushioned places for them. The other girls do likewise.

"Boys, please each find a girl.”

You look up and it isn’t long before Tyson Myers sits on the bench opposite you. A number of Minchest Farm Employees also appear and sit in front of the girls without a male partner.

Mr. Minchest walks around and hands each boy a small bottle of some kind of ointment.

“OK boys, I want you go ahead and kneel behind your partner. Make sure that you don’t trip on any of the equipment and be sure to use the ankle strap.”

Tyson gets up, his huge bulking body lumbering behind you. You hear a thud as his knees hit the floor.

“Now, your female classmates are enduring quite a bit of discomfort right now. This discomfort is occurring in their breasts. They are wearing such tight blouses that it feels like their chests will explode.”

‘Spot on,’ you think to yourself with a smile. At least he understands what you’re going through.

“Now, we want to do them a favor and go ahead and take those blouses off for them. Help them breathe and get more comfortable. Go ahead and take off those blouses - and, don’t worry about damaging the blouse. Rip to shreds if you’d like! The girls won’t be needing them anymore, and I can certainly tell you that they don’t want to wear them again either!”

‘2 points to Mr. Minchest!’, you think with a giggle. ‘I’m fine if I never wear another shirt again! This blouse is suffocating me!’

You feel Tyson reach around you, his thick biceps pressure against your arms and pinning them to your sides. His calloused fingers try to undo the top button on your blouse, but after 30 seconds or so he lets out a tongue click of frustration and decides to just grab your blouse and pull it apart down the middle. You hear the fabric rip as each buttonhole is torn to the edge of the shirt. He then pulls it backwards, finally releasing his clamp on your arms so he can take off the blouse.

The cold air blasts your nipples and, as Tyson tosses the wasted blouse against the wall, you consider covering your breasts but eventually decide against it. Who cares? All the other girls have their tits just hanging out. Why can’t you? You turn back to Mr. Minchest.

“I want you boys to go ahead and open up that cream. You guys can then liberally apply it to your girl’s breasts. Don’t be bashful, make sure to thoroughly coat those boobs! I encourage you to use the whole bottle! You really should make sure to work it in though, so rub vigorously and maul that titflesh. And before you girls voice your apprehensions: I can assure you that this will feel great. I’m just doing what I can to help since you guys are suffering from some breast discomfort. This ointment will get rid of any itching or burning those pesky bras and blouses were causing you.”

You smile in gratitude. You will admit, you weren’t sure about having Tyson aggressively **** you, but Mr. Minchest only wants what’s best for you.

You feel a cool sensation as Tyson’s hands coated in ointment make contact with your breasts. He begins to ferociously knead your tits, spreading the ointment in. His rough fingers dig into your sensitive flesh, causing you to bite your lip. The ointment settles into your skin, creating a sensation of static buzz on your skin. You rip out a moan as Tyson reaches your areolas and pinches your nipples. You shudder and feel a slight surge of girlcum lubricating your pussy.

“Ok boys, I want you to continue rubbing in that ointment, making sure to empty the tube. I’m going to have a little demonstration up here to show off our many different types of hucows here at Minchest Farms.”

You see three workers lead in a few women, some on all fours and some not.

The first woman looks like a part cow part woman creature. It’s a human woman, of course, but she’s dressed extremely bovine. She is on all fours, wearing white hoof boots on all 4 limbs. She has a yellow ear tag, a cowbell, a gold nose ring, a cow tail on her ass (do you want to know how?) and her body is painted white like a Nellore cow with barcodes on her breast on rump. You also notice a scar on her buttock that can only be described as a cattle branding. Her eyes look glossy.

The second woman is obviously human. While she too is walking on all fours, she wears a tight latex bikini. She has a cow horn headband and a cowbell, although hers is yellow with a large barcode on it. She still has the branding on her rear. Her handler tugs on her leash and she trots forward, her glazed eyes looking off into the distance.

The last one actually looks like a real woman. She is wearing a one piece swimsuit that has openings for both her large milky breasts and her puffy pussy lips. She is alone and walks to the front without any guidance. You notice that her eyes are not glassy.

A particularly harsh twist of the nipple elicits a moan from you and you remember that Tyson is still tweaking your breasts. You look around and see that all the other girls are also biting their lips and stifling gasps.

“Okay!” Mr. Minchest announces, gaining everyone’s divided attention, “Here at Minchest Farms, there are 3 main types of cattle. They are Hyperbovine, Semibovine, and Abovine.”

The names swirl in your head but don’t stay long. He must be a doctor of farmingology or something. Those words sound all technical!

Mr. Minchest talks for a little bit about the three brovin-s or whatever, but your mind is distracted by Tyson’s ministrations. Before you know it, the cows left the room and the class is gathering to follow Mr. Minchest out of the room. You undo your ankle straps and slowly get to your feet. You look at the complicated machine and wonder if you will come back and use that thingy later. You poke your shiny breasts and giggle and the electric volt it sends through you. As you leave the room, you suppress a laugh at the wet spot showing on some girls’ tights, totally unaware of yours.