Story: Farmer John’s Natural Dairy, Part 1

At the age of 19, Harper was a bitch, and a brat, and she thought she could get away with, because she had big tits, and gorgeous face, and because when Harper’s father had died at a young age, her mother Georgia had received a sizeable inheritance, enough to maintain both mother and daughter in comfort for the rest of their lives.

But when her mother remarried, shortly after Harper’s 19th birthday, Harper found that her new stepfather Nicholas wasn’t quite so tolerant.  He didn’t like that she was a bitch, or a brat.  He didn’t like that she refused to call him “daddy”.  He didn’t like her staying out late, and refusing to do her chores.  He especially didn’t like her casually insulting him whenever the mood took her.

It culminated when she came home late one night to find Nicholas and her mother waiting for her.

“I told you that curfew was 9 pm, you little cunt,” snarled Nicholas.

“You’re not my father,” spat Harper.  “Fuck you.”

“Georgia, I need to spank your daughter,” said Nicholas, without taking his eyes off Harper.  “Do you have any objections?”

Georgia, a natural submissive, said, “No, dear.”

“Get out your phone and film this,” said Nicholas.  “And make sure to get a photo of your daughter’s sluttish cunt, to remind her what a whore she is.”

What followed was a wrestling match between Nicholas and Harper, where Harper howled and screamed and beat at her stepfather with her fists, and her stepfather ripped off her skirt and panties, and forced her legs apart for the view of her mother’s camera.  Then he turned her over and began beating her shapely teenaged buttocks until her howls changed to weeping.

At the end he flipped her over again, and deliberately ran two fingers along the cleft of her pussy, as Harper’s mother filmed.

“She’s wet,” he spat, and then wiped his fingers clean on Harper’s face, leaving a smear of cunt nectar.

Harper’s mother made a sigh of disappointment.  “Oh, Harper, you really are a slut,” she said in a disappointed noise.

And then they left her there, crying and half-naked on the hallway floor.  And Harper knew, deep down inside her, that her stepfather was going to masturbate to that footage of her pussy – and maybe even share it with her friends.

The next day she went to him with a threat.  She said that from now on, he was going to do whatever she wanted, and stop cramping her style – and even buy her a new car – or else she was going to go to the police and tell them what he had done to her last night.  After all, there was even video footage on her mother’s phone to prove it.

He seemed to be frightened of her.  He told her he would do what she wanted.  She would get her new car.

The next day he told her he would drive her to the car dealership to pick out her new ride.  Foolishly, she got into his car, and, thinking he was broken, she spent the ride insulting him, and telling him what the new family order would be like, now that she was in control.

That was how it took her a long time to notice that they were not, in fact, going to a car dealership at all.  In fact, she only really became alarmed when he turned off a long country road onto a dirt track leading towards a dairy farm.

“What is this?” she asked.  “Where are we going?”

“I’ve arranged you some work experience,” he told her.  “Something suitable for a bitch like you.  It will maybe correct your attitude – and at the very least it will get your cunty little troublemaking tits out of the house, so I can enjoy time with your mother in peace.”

“My mother would never allow this,” protested Harper.

“Wouldn’t she?” asked Nicholas.  “Do you know we watched that spanking video of you together, last night, while I was fucking her?  And I told her she wasn’t allowed to cum unless she told me that her daughter was a stupid whore who deserved to be repeatedly raped.”

He winked at her.  “She orgasmed three times.”

Harper was outraged.

“You asshole!” she spat.  She undid her seatbelt, and opened the passenger side door, judging whether it was safe to jump from the moving vehicle.

But Nicholas was already slowing the car – and up ahead on the road, two muscular men in white uniforms were approaching.

“I thought about keeping you at home and training you to be an obedient whore myself,” he said.  “But after your threat about telling the police, I decided you were too risky.  Farmer John will know how to deal with you.”

Harper jumped from the car.  She hit the ground, and rolled, and came up running – but the men in white were running too, and they were faster.  Within minutes, one had tackled Harper from behind, and the other was attaching a device to her – a metal collar, latched around her neck, connected to a long pole that the man was holding. 

The other man was focused on ripping Harper’s clothes from her, leaving her naked.

“Wow,” said Nicholas.  “Look at those tits.”  He was staring at Harper’s exposed breasts.

“We call them udders, sir,” said the man with the pole.  “Is there anything we need to know about this one?”

“She’s an absolute cunt, that’s for sure,” said Nicholas.  “She’ll take firm discipline.”

“We’re used to that, sir,” said the second man.  “If you visit her in about a month, I suspect you’ll see real improvement.”

“I depend upon it,” said Nicholas.  He waved at Harper from the car.  “So long, Harper.  Have a nice life.  I think you’re going to make a very pretty cow.”

And he laughed, and pulled the passenger door shut, and then turned the car around, leaving Harper naked, collared, and in the custody of the two uniformed men.

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The men tried to drag Harper up the road, towards what looked like a distant farmhouse and a pair of barns, but Harper struggled and clawed at her collar, pulling away.

“Come on, cunt,” said one of the men.  “We can do this the easy way, where you walk up to the farmhouse with us like a good little cow, or we can do it the hard way.”

“Fuck you!” screamed Harper.  “You can’t do this to me!  I’ll tell the police!  You’re all going to jail, you perverted fucks!”

The man sighed.  “The hard way it is.”

He and his colleague moved in and grabbed Harper’s hands, wrenching them behind her back, and Harper heard a “snap” as a pair of cuffs were placed over them.  She was left with her hands trapped behind her back, unable to defend herself.

Then the second of the two men slapped Harper across the face – once, then again.  On the second slap her mouth popped open in shock – and the man forced a red rubber ball into her mouth.  It was a ball gag, and he quickly secured its leather strap behind her head, leaving Harper unable to speak except in muffled incoherent animal sounds.

“You need to learn that your body doesn’t belong to you anymore, cunt,” said the first man.  And to emphasise his words, he slapped Harper’s tits, three times – hard enough to make Harper squeal into her gag.  Then he pushed his finger between Harper’s legs, between her cunt lips, seeking her clitoris – and when he found it, he pinched it, painfully, making her squeal even louder.

Harper was in shock.  Her life had turned upside down in mere minutes.  No man other than a gynaecologist had ever touched her pussy before – and now this asshole stranger was casually squeezing her clitoris as if it were a switch that controlled her.

“Come along, cunt,” said the man, and pulled on the pole connected to her collar again – and this time Harper complied, and stumbled along after him. 

She hated that she was responding to being called “cunt” – as if that was a reasonable way to describe her – but what choice did she have?

==

There were two people waiting for Harper outside the farmhouse.

The first was a man, who she guessed might be in his fifties.  He was tall and fit, with close-cropped white hair and a short white beard and moustache.  He had the body of a man who had spent his life working the land, and he was clad in expensive-but-practical jeans and a tight white shirt.

Beside him was a willowy young blonde girl, of maybe 20 years of age, who Harper had to admit was stunningly beautiful.

Harper was brought to stand in front of these two.

The older man looked at the white-uniformed thugs – his employees, Harper guessed – who had brought Harper up the road.

“Any trouble?” he asked.

“Not really,” said the man with the pole.  “The cunt has an attitude on her, but she wasn’t difficult to tame, and her father didn’t have any qualms about turning her over.”

“He laughed about it,” said the second employee.

The older man nodded.  “Good,” he said.

He focused his attention on Harper.  “My name is John Gajacetic,” he told her, “but folks around here just call me Farmer John.  In the event that you’re allowed to speak, you can call me ‘sir’ – or just moo.”

The employees chuckled at this.  Harper tried to make a sound, but all she could emit were muffled moans through her gag.  She was aware that she was drooling, and that spit was running from around the edges of her gag and down her chin.

Farmer John went on.  “Now, I’m aware that back in your old life, you used to be called Harper, but we don’t encourage the cows here to retain their old names.  It prevents them from adjusting.”

He looked at the younger woman, and said, “Katy, what shall we call this one?”

The willowy blonde looked at Harper – pointedly staring at her breasts and cunt as she did so – and then said, “She looks like a Betsy, dad.  Let’s call her Betsy Milkmelons.”

“You hear that?” said Farmer John to Harper  “You’re Betsy Milkmelons now.  We’ll send down to your father to have him do the formal paperwork.  I don’t know who ‘Harper’ was, but she doesn’t exist anymore, you hear?”

Harper could only moan with horror and disbelief.

“Now, you’re probably wondering what all this is,” said Farmer John.  “And honestly, cows don’t *need* to understand, but I’m going to tell you anyway, so you should consider that a favour I’m doing for you, that you’ll be obliged to pay me back for.”

He gestured around with one hand.  “This is all Farmer John’s Natural Dairy.  It’s a farm for a special kind of cow – the sort of cows who used to think they were cunty little spoiled brats – and its primary produce is human breast milk.”

He looked at the girl beside him.  “You see, my daughter Katy here was born with a special condition.  She needs an enzyme found in human milk, on a daily basis, or else she gets real sick.  Now, sadly her mother passed away at a young age.  She can get that enzyme in an injection – but it’s never sat right with me that my darling Katy should have to stick herself with a needle every day, like some damn junkie.”

He laughed.  “Now, as it also turns out, my Katy is a queer.  She likes the girls.  Came as a shock to me, but I love her anyway.”  He reached out and ruffled the blonde girl’s hair with one hand.

“But not everyone was so loving, and when it came out at school that she was a lesbian, she took an awful lot of bullying – and from two girls in particular.  What were their people names again, Katy?”

“Carla and Stefany,” said Katy.  “But they’re Polly Cowcunt and Princess Udders now.”

“That’s right,” said Farmer John.  “They bullied her something fierce, until one day they actually trapped her in the school toilets and ripped all her clothes off her and took pictures and called her a… what was it, Katy?”

“A lesbian cow,” said Katy.

“That’s right,” said Farmer John.  “And that gave me an idea, you see?  I might look like a country rube, here on my farm, but there’s a lot of money in our family, going back generations.  So I went round to the houses of these girls, and I talked to their fathers, and I asked what it would cost to buy them.”

He laughed.  “Turns out these girls were bitches at home as much as they were bitches at school, and their parents were actually very open to the idea that these cunts might just vanish somewhere and stop bitching up their homes.  So I wrote them a big old cheque, and had some employees bundle the girls into a van, and the parents just told everyone that the girls had gone to work on a farm.  Which was true.”

“So we got them up here, and slapped them around until they behaved, and we took their clothes, and got them started on the Prolactin and the breast pumps, and told them their new job was to make milk for Katy, and lick Katy’s pussy – because it turns out they were the ‘lesbian cows’ all along.  Now, Polly Cowcunt took to producing milk straight away, but Princess Udders took her time, so I had my men take turns fucking her, five or six times a day, and soon enough she got pregnant, and that started her tits producing just fine.”

He laughed.  “She’s quite a milker now, and she looks pretty with her belly all swollen like that.  Should drop the baby about a month from now.  If it’s a boy, we’ve got a home lined up for him, and if it’s a girl, she’ll be raised to be a milker just like her momma.”

Harper was horrified.  This couldn’t be real – could it?

“Anyway,” said Farmer John, “I realised that these two cunts were actually making more milk than my Katy here needed.  But also, we’d gotten to know a bunch of other people that had Katy’s condition.  It’s not common, but over eight billion people on the globe, even uncommon conditions have a fair number of sufferers.  And they were all in the market for human milk, too – and prepared to pay a premium.”

He laughed again.  “Plus, if my employees wanted to fuck Katy’s schoolfriends, I figured others might pay for the same privilege, and that was a tasty side business all by itself.”

“Now, I’m not a monster.  I don’t just go around abducting women.  But some young women, see, are such bitches that they just make life worse for everyone – for their friends, their parents.  Just real nasty cunts.  And I keep an eye out for bitches like that who might have big juicy milkers on them.  And when I find them, I get in touch with their parents and find out how much it might cost to purchase them.”

He looked at Harper.  “If you’re wondering how much you went for, the figure’s in the low five figures.  Your daddy was just happy to get rid of you, mostly.”

Harper felt tears in the corners of her eyes.  It was beginning to sink in to her that this was real – it was really happening – and her stepfather had really sold her as a slave to a human dairy.

“Oh, don’t get all weepy,” said Farmer John.  “Save those tears for your first rape, Betsy.  You’re our ninth cow here at Farmer John’s Natural Dairy.  Now let’s get you documented, and then take you out to the barn to meet your fellow cows…”

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