Heavy Udders

By Morgan Synatra

A pair of whimsical and humorous hucow tales. The first involves the transformation of Beth into the hucow Ginger, and her competition at the county fair against other hucows. The second, taking place in a fictional town in 1957, where the main industry is Harney's Hucow Farm, weaves together the stories of three main characters in Hooterton- Bobby, who works in a gas station, Candy, a retired hucow who works at the local hucow drive-in, and Dotty, the mother of Bobby's best friend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Morgan Synatra
• Release date: Jun 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227684868

Morgan Synatra

Morgan Synatra writes erotic short stories in the genres of dystopian sci fi, Master/slave, hucow (human cow), and sissy transformation. These stories are intended for adults over the age of 18. Morgan also loves a steamy erotic romance story with powerful, handsome heroes, evil barons, and women who like their men hard and deep. You can contact Morgan at [e-mail] Or visit Morgan's web site at https://morgansynatra.wixsite.com/morgansynatra-com

Book preview

Chapter 1: Ginger the Hucow at the County Fair

Igrew up on a dairy farm in a rural part of Iowa. Dad runs a herd of one hundred Holstein dairy cows, and a smaller herd of twenty hucows- the human cows. While the cows get the bovine milker, the hucows use the lighter and less powerful goat milker, lest their udders get damaged. I was raised on hucow milk.

Every year as a kid growing up, the highlight of my summer was always the county fair. My older brothers joined the local 4H club when they were old enough and competed in the county fair each summer. Lester always showed his quarter horse, while Brett showed the best producing hucow. Being the youngest of the brothers, I was the last to join 4H. When I turned ten, dad bought me my own quarter horse. I named him Cochise, after the famous Native American Apache chief, and spent hours each day grooming and riding him.

When I turned thirteen, I entered Cochise in the county fair. It was a proud moment- I felt special, now a competitor instead of just a little kid who was only a spectator. I spent every day at the week-long event, grooming Cochise and partaking in the other events that the fair held. There were carnival rides, lots of food and drink, agricultural exhibits, livestock displays, competitions, music, and lots of people from around the county.

Being a farm boy, I naturally gravitated toward the livestock displays- something I knew a lot about. Every year, they set up rows of huge tents filled with stalls and pens. You could wander around the stalls and see cows, horses, sheep, goats, rabbits, chickens, and even exotic species like alpacas and the shaggy Scottish highland cows. I was mostly interested in the dairy species. We have four dairy breeds in our county: cows, goats, sheep, and hucows.

I wanted to learn more about goats, so one day, after feeding and watering Cochise, I went into the goat exhibition tent. The bucks, or billies as they are sometimes called, have a really rank aroma. The does are used as a common milk source. Organic goat cheese is a popular choice among many chefs. I have a cousin who’s allergic to cow milk, but he can take goat milk.

As I walked around, I learned that there are many different breeds of goats: white Swiss Saanen goats, brown Nigerian Dwarfs, brown and white Nubians, and many more. Some had floppy ears, some straight; some were sweet, and some more rambunctious. I went from stall to stall, reading the name plates and taking pictures. I used my phone to look up the various breeds, learning about how to raise and milk them. In the far corner of the tent I came upon a stall that held a cute golden-colored goat. The sign on the stall door read:

"Name: Goldie

Breed: Guernsey

Owner: Beth Smollet"

I leaned my arms on the gate and peered at the goat over the top. She looked at me and bleated softly, chewing on some hay. She was smaller than some of the other goats, buff-colored with ears that stuck straight out, and shaggy in the hindquarters. She looked friendly and had large udders hanging down between her hind legs. Goat udders come in pairs, with each side ending in a long, thick teat. I noted how much it looked like our hucows’ udders, only with thicker and longer teats. This one looked like she could put out a lot of milk.

I made a kissing noise with my mouth and held my hand out to the goat.

Hey, Goldie. Come here, girl.

The goat came up and nudged my hand. I scratched her between the ears. She seemed to like it. She nudged me again, looking for food.

Sorry girl, I don’t have anything for you to eat.

I heard a noise behind me and turned to see a girl standing there. She looked to be my age, around thirteen, with long, tangled red hair. She was slightly chubby but not fat, with pale white skin and freckles covering her face, wearing blue jeans with cowboy boots and a 4H t-shirt. She was really cute.

She seems to like you, she said.

Oh, hi. Is she yours?

Yes. That’s me, she said, pointing to the sign. Beth.

Hi, my name is Jimmy. I live on a farm, too. I have a horse entered in the fair for the first time this year.

It’s my first year, too. Do you like goats?

Honestly, I don’t know much about them. Are they hard to milk?

No, it’s really easy. Goldie is sweet. I just hook up the milker and she waits patiently until I’m done. I think she likes it, actually. We just have the one goat. Dad runs a dairy north of here. He has cows and hucows.

My dad’s a dairy farmer, and we have cows and hucows, too, I said.

Where do you live?

We’re in the north county too, maybe not far from you.

I’ll be in Lincoln High School next year, said Beth. What about you?

Me too! Maybe we can be friends.

Okay, she said, smiling brightly.

Cool. Where did you get the goat?

My dad bought Goldie for me as a gift last year. Mom uses the milk for cooking and baking. She puts out a gallon and a half a day.

Wow, that’s a lot for a small animal.

I feed her well and try to make her happy. When they’re content, they put out more milk.

Beth had a cute smile, and I found myself staring at her. I don’t have any sisters, so I wasn’t used to talking to girls. She got embarrassed and laughed, her face turning red. I got embarrassed too, and turned back to look at the goat.

I’m about to milk her, she said. Want to watch?

Yeah, I’d love to.

Beth opened the gate and stepped into the stall. I followed.

I use a commercial goat milker back home, but here it’s easier to just hand milk her. I assume you know how to hand milk?

Sure, with cows. I guess it’s the same for goats?

Exactly the same.

She pulled a stool and a stainless-steel bucket from the corner