Page 7 of Milked for the Holidays

Taking my scanner, I run it over, detecting nothing unusual. However, the closer it gets to her head, her face scrunches up as if in pain. I glance up at the screen, noting the rise in her pulse. Whatever it is, it’s causing her distress.

As I take it away, everything seems to calm down. “Hmmm. I wonder.”

Despite the agony etched on her face, I bring the strange object closer to her head, monitoring the output. If my theory is correct, whatever is in this thing is causing interference in the implant, rendering it useless. The closer I get, the more the readout wanes, confirming it.

“Destroy this. It’s causing all the problems. We don’t need it to wreak havoc on our ship.”

“Please,” Nagán sneers. “As if a bit of frilly metal can do anything to a massive ship like ours.”

With a sigh, I drag the lifeless object over to a medical container and stuff it in. “You keep underestimating humans. It will be your downfall one day.”

With a snort, he takes his own scanner out and frowns as he inspects the implant. “And your constant affection and need to coddle them will be yours. Unfortunately though, you seem to be right. Now that the object is quarantined, the signal is much stronger. We won’t know for sure until she’s fully awake.”

With a sigh, he glances up at me, his harsh expression tempering as he watches my movements. I can almost feel the pity pouring off of him.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to look at me like one of your patients,” I growl, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

“Patient? No. As my brother? I’ll always worry about you. Your obsession with humans is unnatural. The only reason I don’t say much more is because the amount of milk you produce is astronomical. Our ranch thrives because of you.”

“I can’t say it’s all because of how I treat them. Though, I do believe the happier the cows are, the more milk they produce. Unfortunately, I can’t tell how accurate that is. It could be I’m just good at picking stock.”

“Your ability is nearly uncanny then,” he murmurs, pulling out a computer screen. “Granted, none of the cows wanted to stay as your personal pet, but the few humans who want nothing more than an escape seem to be doing well in the milking barns.”

Pushing the morose thoughts out of my head, I give him a half smile. “It also doesn’t hurt that we share a collective, pooling our resources to maximize the cows we have. That’s really the reason we thrive. The Ranchers choosing to go at it alone seem to struggle the most.”

We sit there for a moment in tense silence, neither of us really knowing what else to say. Even though we’re family, my brother and I are as different as can be. We’ve never seen eye to eye, even when talking about the business.

All I can do is wait for my little cow to wake up. Unfortunately, that means my brother will soon be preparing her to become my heifer. Normally, I have no clue which Medical Rancher oversees this part of things, and it’s not a problem. However, the very idea of him touching her, priming her to eventually take my cock, grates on my nerves.

I shouldn’t care. She should simply be a source of milk and pleasure, and nothing more. However, for the first time since laying eyes on a cow, I want her solely for my own. As if he can sense the nature of my thoughts, Nagán slips on a pair of gloves.

His wolfish smile sends a frisson of anger down my spine, and I clench my fingers to keep from hitting him. Just like a younger brother tormenting the elder, he makes a great show of adjusting the straps around her hips, thighs, and legs. He spreads her open and straps her down again, leaving her immobile, yet vulnerable to his examination.

“You know she has to be looked at and prepped, right?”

An aggravated sigh heaves past my lips. “I know. It’s the same with every cow.”

“And yet…?” he trails off, giving me a knowing smirk.

“And yet, I want to punch your fucking face at the very idea of preparing her.”

Doing his best to stifle a chuckle, he shakes his head as he walks over to the door and jabs at the keypad. “There. No one will interrupt us. It’s not protocol, but I guess I can look the other way if you want to assist me.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Technically, no. Since this is a special pickup, we’re running light. I usually have another in here to assist me, but all the other medical personnel are with the other cows. Guess it’s just you and me.” He looks back over at her with a critical eye. “Though, to be honest, I’m not sure what you see in her. She doesn’t look all that different from the other humans. Older than the Collector usually grabs, but not so far past the age of ripeness to be useful.”

Gritting my teeth, I take the identification card from his hand. Jessica. What a pretty name for a human. It rolls around in my head, feeling right somehow. I scan a bit lower, looking at her age. Thirty-five.

Perhaps age is what I’ve been missing. All the other cows I purchased were in their early twenties. Young, vivacious, and with a full life ahead of them. Granted, thirty-five is not old, even in human terms, but perhaps she’ll be less flighty and more willing to settle down?

Nagán is right, though. My fascination is sure to be the end of me. But there’s just something about this one that doesn’t let go. It’s seared into my brain and onto my soul. We Icorians don’t believe in soulmates, and yet, part of me wants to believe, to hope.

It would be right to settle down with someone like me, but that’s not what I crave. True, pleasures of the flesh can be found with another Icorian, but the females aren’t the same. They’re not as soft or pliant as a well-trained cow.

It’s stupid. Foolish. I know this, and yet, all I want to do is make this cow mine. I want her milk to feed me, to nourish me, to drown me. I want our combined pleasure to be talked about as if it were a myth.

“Are we doing this, or what?”