FAIR WARNING:
The Miss Daisy Chronicles are a stand-alone group of
stories set in the same universe as Cannibal 4H; a
universe where, as the result of "The Great Disaster,"
humans are used as livestock and cannibalism is the
accepted norm.
The Miss Daisy Chronicles contain graphic descriptions
of sex in many and varied forms, some of which
selected people might consider deviant and perverse.
It contains violence, death, family tragedy, the
raising of humans as livestock and the consumption of
human flesh.
Be aware children are not spared in this tale! They
often meet a grisly end. This series, like C4H, is
not for the timid or squeamish. NOR IS IT FOR MINORS.
If you are a minor go away. If reading this story
would in any way violate the local laws, rules,
regulations, morals or customs where you live go away.
There are many other more edifying stories to be found
elsewhere, stories that would be more appropriate to
your age and legal status.
Let me restate this one more time: the story that
follows this caution is intended for mature,
consenting adults only and should only be accessed
and/or downloaded if doing so would not violate any
legal edicts adhered to in your locale or your own
personal taste.
If you are a parent and you find your child has
downloaded this story or other material you find
objectionable, sorry but you need to do a better job
of being a parent.
Consider moving the computer into a room where you can
see what is on the screen. Only let your children go
on-line while you are at home or Google "parental
control software" for a full listing of available
filters and programs. If you don't know how to
"Google," your kids will.
Previous chapters of The Miss Daisy Chronicles: Making
Miss Daisy are available at
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Eurytion/THE MISS
DAISY CHRONICLES/MAKING MISS DAISY/
and www.bdsmlibrary.com
Previous chapters of Cannibal 4-H are available at
www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Eurytion/C4H/
And
www.bsdmlibrary.com.
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is
copyright with all rights reserved by its author
unless explicitly indicated. Reproduction except for
personal use and reposting without the author's
written permission is prohibited.
Finally this saga is for Miss Daisy. She knows who she
is.
Eurytion@yahoo.com
THE MISS DAISY CHRONICLES: MAKING MISS DAISY
"I don't know what your destiny will be, but one thing
I know: the only ones among you who will be really
happy are those who have sought and found how to
serve." Albert Schweitzer
CHAPTER TWO:
BEDROOM EYES
IT WAS A DAMP, CHILLY DAY as the bus pulled into the
dairy yard, its tired wipers smearing the falling
light mist into sepia lines on the windscreen. Dressed
in slickers or holding umbrellas, the class slowly
descended from the bus their excitement and
nervousness obvious as they formed two lines, boys in
one, girls in the other. Their tours would be
separate but equal.
Experience had shown that better order was kept that
way. Less sexual sniggering meant more open
questioning during the tour. Even with the boys in
the back of the bus and the girls up front, divided by
a row of chaperones, there'd be enough lewd talk and
jokes on the bus ride home. No reason to encourage it
during the class.
Greeting the visitors was Previn Shaw, manager of The
Paladin Dairy, whose job included personally
conducting all tours of the facility. With Shaw was
Doc Anthony, one of the regular farmhands. While Shaw
handled the girls' tour, the farmhand would shepherd
the boys about. His earthy descriptions of the milking
and the cows were more suited to the boys' ears and
besides, he'd let each of the boys get a "forbidden"
feel of a tit before the cows were hooked to the
machine. He'd been young once too even if no sign of
that youth remained in his craggy face.
There were more to these walkabouts than the obvious
public relations benefits. Each visit helped to
identify and track potential human cattle, one reason
why Shaw wasn't surprised to see Mrs. Patel the school
counsellor in the group. After the tour was over
they'd get together and compare notes on which of the
female students showed the most promise for a
different way of life.
Shaw was surprised though to see Morgan Dashwood
standing next to one of the students, a young female
endowed far beyond her years. A wry smile playing
across his face, he reflected that Morgan hadn't lost
his knack for picking them. If Morgan had an interest
in this girl, Shaw would keep a close tabs on her. No
one was better at nosing out prime stock than "Shaky"
Dashwood.
Returning his attention to the class, the manger went
into his well-practised spiel about the history of the
dairy, one of the oldest, largest and most modern in
the area with over 200 cows on milking status at any
one time although only about 60 would be milked during
the time the students were there.
On these tours, Shaw made it a point to answer every
question he was asked, sometimes providing a response
the more repetitious inquiries before they could be
asked. "Sorry to tell you this but while our herd is
naked you won't see any cows being bred here." Audible
moans of disappointment from both sexes were heard
after this announcement.
"Paladin is strictly a milking dairy, not a breeding
farm. While human cattle did need to be pregnant to
lactate or give milk, it's easier for us to use
regular injections of hormones to mimic pregnancy,
rather than have a herd of swelled heifers milling
about."
Yes, the cows' teats were very large. Size, he
explained, although not the only criteria, was very
important to the quantity of milk a cow produced. No,
the cows couldn't talk. These weren't humans, as they
would see; just dumb farm animals. Yes, some of the
cows were converts of formerly free humans and no, you
couldn't tell the difference and no, he wouldn't tell
which was which, but don't worry about seeing someone
you used to know. Right now, all our cows are from
outside the area.
That's right, the cows did get physical pleasure out
of the act of being milked, which would be obvious
when they saw the milking take place. If they weren't
milked on a regular schedule, their udders would swell
to the point they became very painful for the animal.
That didn't happen at this dairy. Here all stock was
treated humanely.
Sorry, the diary did very little hand milking, and
none by volunteers. With the large number of cows they
milked, mechanical milking was more effective. Yes,
they would get a cup of fresh milk at the end of the
tour and no they couldn't have it directly from the
teat.
"Did your mother wean you too soon son," Shaw
responded to the laughter of the group.
Generally the average age of the cows at Paladin was
from 16 to 28, although they'd had cows as young as 15
and as old as 32. It really depending on how good a
producer they were. But seven to ten years was the
normal expectancy for a milker.
What happened to the cows after they were no longer
producing milk? Well, if they had dried up entirely
they were usually slaughtered for food. If the
production had just dropped off to the point it cost
more to feed them than they brought back in milk
money, and if they were good producers to begin with,
they'd be sent to a breeding farm to produce the next
generation of propagated cattle.
Now, if there were no more questions it was time to
start the tour. The boys would begin in the milking
parlour, while the girls would go to the tank rooms.
As he began the tour, Shaw noticed that both Shaky and
the counsellor were staying close to the kid with the
big tits, not near enough that she would think they
were hovering over her but close enough to gauge her
reactions to what she was seeing and hearing.
Shaw explained the workings of the tank room to the
girls. All pipes and tanks were stainless steel as
were the pipes in the parlour. Before and after each
milking the pipes and tanks were disinfected by
running water-diluted bleach through them, followed by
a flush of fresh water to remove any traces of the
bleach. Health inspectors made weekly inspections of
the dairy for cleanliness, which meant that everything
that touched milk was thoroughly sanitized on regular
basis.
A pipe, running on the right side of a large glass
window, came from the parlour into the tank room. The
window, with an intercom box on its left side, allowed
the tank room operator to observe the farmhands doing
the milking and give instructions if necessary. The
pipe was movable. Depending on which way it was swung
the pipe would attach to one of five tanks.
Each of the tanks was double-jacketed, a pump on the
top of the tank circulating cold water between the
skins to keep the milk cool. A motor on the top of the
tank operated a paddle stirrer inside the tank, its
purpose to keep the milk gently agitated to prevent
the cream from separating from the rest of the milk.
Every other day the tanker truck came from the co-op
to haul the milk to the processing plant.
As usual, most of the girls had a hard time listening
to his lecture, their eyes drawn to the door into the
milking parlour. Several even bounced up and down on
tiptoe to try and see through the window. Morgan's
girl, for that was how Shaw had pegged her, wasn't one
of them. Instead she had paid careful attention to his
every word, even placing her cheek against the outer
jacket of one of the tanks when Shaw invited them to
see how cool they were.
The intercom buzzed twice, the signal that the boys
had left the milking parlour and were helping to walk
the herd back into their stalls. As Shaw opened the
door into the milking parlour, the next thirty cows
were just being brought in for their turn on the
machine.
The parlour was divided into fifteen milking stations
on each side. A one and a half-inch pipe ran above the
stations merging into the single three-inch pipe that
went into the tank room. At each station a half-inch
flexible transparent tube ran down from the larger
pipe connecting with the stainless steel milking
machine that sat on the floor of the station.
As the girls watched the farmhands cleaned each cow's
breasts with a washcloth soaked in light soap and a
gentle antiseptic, the cows shivering at the rough
touch of the fabric. This was the chore Charlie let
the boys perform, under his close supervision of
course so no real liberties could be taken. The
washing was followed by a rinse of clean water. There
would be no contamination of the milk at Paladin
Dairy.
Milking vests were attached to the cows. Custom-fitted
for each milker, the vests were made of a soft but
strong white plastic with lined cut-outs in the front
for the pendulous udders to hang through. Each vest
had a series of three rounded ledges under each cutout
to help separate the teats from the rest of the
heifer's upper torso. The vests ended just below each
milker's navel.
A single strap at the bottom of the vest and two more
crossing shoulder straps secured with Velcro in the
middle of the animal's back. D-rings attached to the
top and bottom of each side of the vest allowed for
the cow to be hooked to short chains that would hold
her in place during the milking.
Guided by the farmhands, each cow made its way up a
short ramp leading to the milking platform. Without
hesitation, each cow took her position on the
platform, bending over to place its palms flat in
indentations on the front of the platform, knees on
the back portion, spread wide apart to expose the
pouch of its her hairless vagina. The platform itself
was padded in several inches of high-density foam
covered the same plastic as the vests.
As the cows were being positioned for their milking,
Morgan observed Tansy as an anthropologist would a
member of a newly discovered tribe. Ever since she had
gotten her first good glimpse of the cows, Tansy's
eyes had looked like those of a sheep gazing on a
verdant meadow, waiting for the shepherd to lead her
forward into the promised land.
The breasts of all of the cows hung low towards the
platforms, most of them descending almost half-way
below their elbows, engorged nipples distended ever
further downward. After carefully squeezing each
nipple until the milk began to flow, the milking cups
were attached, one on each breast.
The cups were of a standard design, although
manufactured in a variety of sizes. A circular tube of
flexible polymer centred in the cup surrounded the
nipple while the remainder of the cup covered the
lower fourth of the udder. The cups were held in place
by denture adhesive, low-cost, effective, non-
irritating and easily cleaned. As the milking cups
were stuck in place, the open nether regions of the
female cattle began to soften with moisture, as were
the pussies of several of the schoolgirls.
After making sure the milking cups were securely in
place, the pumps of the milking machines were powered
up; each pump making a rhythmic pulsing noise, "shoop,
shoop, shoop, shoop," as they began to suck the milk
out of the grateful cows, the transparent tubing
filling with white foamy fluid, breast collapsing and
expanding in time with the pumps. While all of the
women in the room, young and old alike, were in
various stages of arousal, Morgan noticed that Tansy
was the most affected of all of them.
Despite the warm temperature of the barn, kept in the
high 70s for the comfort of the animals, Tansy's
nipples were as engorged as if she was riding a
snowmobile in a silk nightdress. Mouth gaping open,
the child was rubbing her thighs together in time to
the beat of the pumps. Her neck and face were suffused
with a bright carmine flush of blood; her breath
expelled from her body in a series of short bursts.
Leaning forward as though she intended to offer to
take the cow's place on the platform, Tansy's body
began to quake with involuntary tremors. Chest
heaving, with a loud gasp she stumbled back, to lean
shakily against an equipment locker while she tried to
regain her composure.
Morgan looked up from his observation of his niece to
see Shaw smiling at him. With a nod of his head he
returned the gesture. Looks like age hadn't dimmed
Vin's eagle eye, the manager had clearly marked Tansy
for special attention.
The other girls had been too busy with their own
stimulation to pay any attention to Tansy. Not so Mrs.
Patel who had been scanning the sexual excitement of
all the girls. Tansy was the only one to reach orgasm.
She was also watching the interaction between the two
men. Clearly Tansy's "uncle" had more than a passing
interest in his "niece," one that the dairy manager
seemed to be sharing. Well, they'd all have a little
chat before the bus left.
After the milking was done and the cups removed, Shaw
continued with his exposition of dairy farming.
Explaining any "dizziness" they might have felt was a
perfectly normal reaction in healthy girls to watching
a milking take place, Shaw explained the reddish-brown
liquid each breast was being covered with was an
iodine solution which would kill any germs and prevent
the breast from becoming infected and took a few more
minutes to talk about the need for hygiene at the
farm.
More time than the topic deserved but he wanted to
give the girls a brief time to settle down before
showing them the final step of the milking process.
It's not enough for the cows to have their breasts
emptied of milk, as nice as that felt to them. Dairy
cows at Paladin also got to enjoy the simplicity of
physical pleasure, something that not only gentled
them down but also helped to increase milk production.
Now, Shaw went on, this was something the boys didn't
get to see on their tour. At their age they had enough
ideas already without stimulating them to think up a
few more. If any of the girls felt they didn't want to
watch they could leave now and go over to the diary
bar for some milk and ice cream. No one moved.
Shaw cautioned the girls if they did stay they had to
remember that these cows were stock, not humans.
Sure, except for the size of their udders they looked
human but looks can be deceiving. These were farm
animals with no sense of higher purpose than to be
fed, washed, milked and pleasured afterwards.
As the last of the farmhands left the parlour, the
manager himself began the demonstration. Normally,
the hired help did this task and, if the girls had
been older 17 or 18, the hands would have continued
with a "special" break afterwards for the girls who
desired more "personal" demonstrations. But 13 and 14
year olds were, at least in this setting, off-limits.
On his walk over to Margo's milking station, Shaw
opened a cabinet, removing three items, a jar of
yellowish ointment, what looked like rounded blue
flexible popsicle about 5 inches long attached to a
wide base and, the strangest item of all, a purple j-
shaped device about 8 inches long with a square black
box on one end.
The main stem of the device had a dark purple egg-
shaped knob on the end, with a series of large ridges
like an accordion underneath. The protuberance at the
base of the j looked like nothing more than a fat, odd
hand and wrist with the thumb pointing perpendicular
to the other four fingers. The box itself had two
buttons, one with a triangle point forward and one
with a triangle pointing back. Beneath each button was
a rocker switch marked with a plus sign on one end and
a minus sign on the other.
The girls giggled uneasily as Shaw placed the items on
a bench next to Margo; one saying "I know what that
is," as she pointed to the purple device. "My mom's
got one of those hidden in her closet."
The air of the milking parlour was fragrant with the
scent of female secretions and not just from the cows.
Many of the students were being to display the same
signs Tansy did earlier, nipples making little, and in
some cases not so little, tepees in their blouses,
faces turning the carnation pink of a ten-year old's
vagina, breath as shallow as an asthma victim. Shaw
took a moment to single out Tansy, whose shining eyes
were focused, not on the instruments, but on Margo.
Starting with the purple implement, Shaw described the
devices to the fascinated girls. The purple monster
was a stimulator, the strange mini-hand vibrated to
provide direct stimulation to the clitoris while the
main shaft not only vibrated within the cow's vagina,
it also contained a motor to thrust in and out in
imitation of a bull's penis. The buttons and rocker
switches controlled the speed and intensity of the
machine's actions.
The ointment was a mildly antiseptic lubricant. While
the cows' vaginas always got very moist during
milking, a sign of the pleasure they received from the
process; a little extra slipperiness never hurt and
would make sure the movements of the stimulator
injured no delicate tissues, which could be quite
aggressive under high power.
The blue popsicle was an anal plug, designed not so
much to give the cows sexual gratification, even
though some seemed to enjoy it, as to keep them from
having a bowel movement during their orgasms. As
animals, they didn't have the same degree of control
over their bodily functions as humans did. "We use
these because I don't think any of you would enjoy
being sprayed with cow manure and I know I don't."
Approaching Margo, Shaw spread the cow's legs even
further apart; an action that raised its butt higher
into the air and slightly separated the lips of the
cow's vagina. More than one of the schoolgirls
discovered a new fantasy as his strong fingers gently
applied the lubricant to Margo's rectum and birth
canal.
Then came the butt plug. Margo shied away until her
anal muscles stretched enough to accept the thick
intruder as it slid its way into the puckered rosette
between her ample ass cheeks.
Satisfied the seating of the butt plug would prevent
any leakage, Shaw reached for the stimulator, slowly
penetrating the cow with its length. A press of a
button and the invader moved in and out with slow
rhythmic strokes. Margo responded to the delicious
sensation with shudders and a low moan, actions
mirrored by some of the nymphets in the crowd.
A click of a rocker switch and vibrations joined the
thrusting action of the machine, its hum growing
louder, but not quite loud enough to block out the
sound of excited women panting at the show. Shaw
adjusted the machine to its maximum setting, causing
Margo to twitch as though she was shaking off a swarm
of flies.
Suddenly the cow tensed, its vaginal muscles
swallowing the stimulator further into the recesses of
its cunt. Arching her back like a cat, the animal
gave out an inarticulate bellow then sagged down as
though bovine muscles had turned to gelatine, its
wilting mimicked by some of the randier schoolgirls.
As the class toddled off, some quite unsteadily, to
the ice cream parlour to restore their equilibrium,
Shaw indicated to Shaky to stay behind. The school
counsellor also invited herself to the confab.
Caught out and believing Mrs. Patel at least could be
a valuable ally in successfully completing his plan,
Morgan came clean. Within the year he intended to see
Tansy standing on the auction block, fulfilling her
destiny of becoming a champion milker. Patel nodded
her agreement; after all she had had Tansy under
observation for a number of years. Lord knows her
grades were only average and while the world didn't
need another slothful shop girl, premier diary cows
were always in demand.
For his part, Shaw settled on being given first notice
of when Tansy would be placed for sale Morgan refusing
to give him exclusive purchasing rights. Still, if
Shaky's instincts were as on target as before, this
girl would be something special.
That night Morgan awoke with a badly distended
bladder, the red digits of the bedside clock flashing
1:20 am, mocking his efforts at getting a full night's
sleep. Careful not to waken Flo, he put on his night
robe and quietly moved down the hall to the bathroom
only to be stopped by a pale swatch of light coming
from Tansy's bedroom.
The door to his niece's room was usually closed tight
not only to provide the young girl with privacy but
also to help muffle the noises broadcasting from Flo's
room when they fucked. The woman might act at times
like a timid little mouse, but she was as vocal as
they came. Earlier tonight, as Morgan used her body to
satiate the lust his trip to the dairy had aroused,
he'd actually had to put a pillow over her mouth to
silence her yelps. Putting his hand over her mouth to
quiet her only got him a set of teeth marks on his
palm, still throbbing from Flo's bite.
Cautiously he approached Tansy's bedroom as guttural
murmurings reaching his ear; clearly they were words
but words too muted to discern. The door to the girl's
room was slightly ajar, a three inch gap between the
panel and the jamb accounting for the faint
illumination spilling into the hallway. Taking care
not to be discovered, Morgan edged his way along the
wall until he could peek into the room.
There, bathed in the cool celadon green lambency of
her nightlight, Tansy was flat on her back, eyes
closed despite being awake. The daisy blanket and
sheets covering her bed had been pushed down to just
below her navel, revealing her nude upper torso to
Morgan's carnal gaze.
No longer restrained by a bra or concealed by layers
of clothing, Tansy's mammaries were all that Morgan
had envisioned. Full and heavy with areolas at least
three inches across, the bulk of their still firm
flesh overhanging the girl's ribcage without sagging.
These were already the ripe tits of a prime milker,
lacking only the hormones necessary to begin
lactation, tits that would only become larger and more
productive as the 13-year old child further matured
into a proper piece of chattel.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Morgan was
pleased to see that the visit to the dairy had
affected Tansy as well. Her left hand was caressing
her left breast, squeezing and moulding it in
imitation of a cow being milked, thumb and forefinger
pinching and pulling on the nipple while, under the
bedding, the girl's right hand was vigorously moving
between her thighs.
Emboldened by the sight before him, Morgan crept
closer until he was just inches away from the gap.
Now the mumbled words became clear: "Give me your milk
now, that's a good cow. Come on sweetheart, make sweet
milk for me. That's the way. Empty those aching
breasts and fill that bucket up to the top like a good
cow should."
As her hands worked her body and her thoughts worked
her mind, Tansy could feel the hot vibrations in her
cunt, tart liquid fire coating her palm, spilling down
her thighs, creating an ever widening puddle beneath
her writhing ass.
The youngster now was certain she wanted to be a cow.
Not a meat cow or a breeding cow, but a dairy cow,
whose gift to the world would be giving sweet milk to
the people of the town. She'd toyed with the idea
before but seeing all those milkers at Paladin's had
made her mind up for her. She longed for the suction
of a milking machine as a fire craves oxygen. She knew
he time had come to exchange her bedroom for a stall.
Her pussy opening and closing around her thrusting
fingers, Tansy shuddered violently as she came, her
legs shaking as she pushed upwards against her hand,
the sharp smell of her juices thick in her nose. Still
she wasn't satisfied, visions of being on her hands
and knees, foamy white fluid dripping from her hanging
teats to splash with a metallic plink on the bottom of
the bucket below her still excited her, spurring her
on.
She recaptured a nipple with her fingers, nails
pinching into its flesh, hardening it, making it swell
even more and then flicked it with a fingertip, the
short sharp pain making her gasp even as she tried to
draw milk from a dry tit.
Her crotch had become a steamy swamp, damp mossy hair
fringing the entrance to her gaping cunt. Lifting her
ass up of the bed, Tansy slid her little finger into
her anus, the middle three fingers working her vagina,
the outer lips thick, the inner lips wide open while
her thumb buzzed the engorged nub of her clit.
Thinking of dairies and farmhands and milking and the
purple machine used on Margo, she bit her lip to keep
from screaming. Intense pleasure again flooded her
body with spasms. Legs kicking, arms waving she rocked
from side to side, the bedding toppling to the floor
as she reached the peak of her orgasm, jerking upright
as her flesh turned to electricity. With a long
exhalation of breath Tansy slumped weakly back down to
the mattress, for the time being her passion quenched.
In the hall, Morgan too was shuddering but his tremors
came from the effort needed to stop from rushing into
the room. Quickly backing away from Tansy's door, he
walked stiffly down the hall to the bathroom, an iron
rod protruding from the junction of his thighs.
Untying the knot holding his robe together, Morgan's
hand flies to his throbbing penis. Unsure of which
excited him more, the sight of his niece in the nude
masturbating or the knowledge his plan was working to
perfection, he is sure he can't go back to bed with
this hard-on.
He closed his fingers around his masculinity, pulling
back on his foreskin until the shiny red tip of his
cock was exposed. Taking a firmer grasp, Morgan began
stroking, sliding the foreskin back and forth over his
slippery glans. After just a few strokes, drops of
pre-cum started to drip on the bathroom counter.
As he jacked off, Morgan relives the memory what he
had just seen, his niece Tansy jilling in the bedroom,
moaning about being milked. He'd milk her all right,
milk her good, and then give her the fate she wanted.
Making a little money for himself on the side, that
was just a bonus. He'd convert this heifer for fun.
Pumping harder, Morgan felt his nut sack banging
against the side of the counter, even as the cum
swelled in his balls, anxious to break free from its
confinement. His dick pulsed, once, twice and then,
before he could reach for a tissue, the sperm shot
violently from his cockslit, a vertical white
waterfall splashing against the mirror a good foot
away.
Unable to stop, Morgan continued to pound away at his
meat, coaxing two more strong spurts from his balls,
before his ejaculations oozed to an end. Hands sticky
with residue, he did a quick rinse and dry before
cleaning off the mirror, wiping away the snail trails
made by his cum sliding down the glass. Two more
tissues did for the puddles on the counter.
Opening the bathroom door, Morgan discovered a totally
dark hall with no inviting glow radiating from Tansy's
room. Just as well her door's closed, he thought, my
pecker will be sore enough tomorrow, it'd probably
fall off if I abused it anymore tonight. Pity to have
wasted all that seed but at least that won't be
happening any more. Tansy was ready for "the
game."
TO BE CONTINUED IN
THE MISS DAISY CHRONICLES
MAKING MISS DAISY
CHAPTER THREE:
COMING CLEAN
