You must be 18 to read this story, and be aware that this is a work of fiction, nothing in this story resembles real events or real people.
This is the first time I write something and submit it to nifty, that's why I wrote a small chapter to see if I catch someone's attention.
If you like it I will be glad to hear from you.
This is the story of Joe, the cowboy, set on a dystopian future where no one knows why or how, domesticated animals became extinct. Some believe was caused by pollution, others by disease, but maybe it was by what modern men call the "time of decay", war, pandemics, pollution, even global warming had to do with it.
It started with the mysterious death of cattle and poultry, then with other farm animals, no more meat, milk, honey; by the time the food industry was about to collapse, governments around the world had to take harsh measurements because people started hunting for food as wild animals weren't affected by this disease, that's when the war started.
The food industry couldn't take the demand on everyone turning vegan, scientists looked for bigger and faster production leading to genetic modified crops. Climate change didn't make it easy, thousands of crops were lost in the way of salvation and millions of human lives were lost.
Cowboy Farm
I wake up at dawn and sit over my bed, a comfy mat on one corner of the barn, I stretch my arms and yawn grasping for morning fresh air. I stand up and look around, same old barn, same simple life on the farm. My name is Joe, and I'm a cowboy.
I push the door and step out, I look at the rising sun starting to cover the long line of crops and cover my face with my hand. I turn to one side for the trough where every morning I lean and scoup some fresh water. As soon as I drink and pour some over my face I start my daily routine, kneeling on the ground and moving along the line of crops taking weed from it.
If you look at me at the distance you would say I'm a young guy, perhaps around the 18 years old if I was a regular boy, slim but toned frame from the life in the farm, white slightly taned skin from the daily walks under the sun and brownish buzz cut hair. You would tell the difference from a short distance by the jugs between my legs. As I move from plant to plant kneeling on the ground, the two full jugs of cowboy milk would swing right under my teat, that until I hear the farmer come out of his house for my milking.
I stand up no matter if I'm halfway or finished the weeding and walk towards him, farmer Harris is a 60 year old man and he owns this farm and everything on it, including me. He puts a stool right outside his house and brings a small jar with him
"Good morning Joe", he sits wearing his usual overalls with flanel shirt, sleeves rolled up his arms and unbuttoned shirt showing some chest and arm hair.
"Good morning Sir", I say smiling, glad to see him one more day, I stand in front of him, totally exposed, there's no concept of "naked" when you are cattle even though cowboys and men look so much alike, I open my legs and put my hand behind my back.
"How are those jugs today?", he says refering to what any men would call his testicles, or 'balls', but cowboys have jugs, thats where the cowboy milk is made, he holds them, big as oranges, "wow, they seem full today", says handling them, gently massaging the big sacks, "do they hurt?".
"Yes sir, a little, I was tempted to milk myself last night... but I know how you don't like to waste...".
"You are right Joe", he takes his cap off his head and looks up at me, his face is wrinkled and full with a gray beard, I smile back, with my young smooth face, "You are as obedient as your father was...", I can't help but lose my smile at the reminder of my dad, he passed away a few years ago, he died as a mature cowboy, as a man he would have been 40, but as cowboys, men dont count our age that way, we are born to be calves, then young and finally mature cowboys, "and just as handsome as he was...", he compliments me touching my cheek with his rough hand and sliding it downwards my neck and travel though my fit young cowboy body reaching to my flat navel, "I really think we could win this year at the fair, this is going to be your first one, your dad won a few, he brought home some good ribbons".
"I know sir", I smile again, "I hope I could be as premium as he was".
"I'm sure you will Joe... now, lets get some fresh cowboy milk", I straighten and let farmer Harris handle my teat, that is no longer flacid, it grew with anticipation while we where talking reaching its full 6 inches.
To get cowboy milk, you have to stimulate the engorged teat between the livestock, it may took some time but with patience you'll get your reward, farmer Harris has big rough hands but is considerate enough to use 'milking grease', a smooth white cream that makes the milking a better experience, and not like one of those milking facilities where they plug cattle to a machine.
I cant help but make noises, the milking experience is pleasurable, I bite my lower lip as the farmer strokes my throbbing teat, I know I'm close as he keeps doing the massage, his other hand holds on my jugs and squeezes gently, stimulating them.
With heavy breathing I lean my head backwards looking to the sky, my body tenses, my thighs, my butt, my abs, my jugs even lift themselves by reflex, that's when the farmer knows he is about to get the precious warm liquid. He strokes the teat downward, and with his other hand holds the jar. My face blushes, and I moan clenching my eyes as the first stream of milk comes out, followed by several more thick loads, "good!", the farmer exclaims "so good Joe!", he says while he keeps stroking, squeezing my teat trying to get as much as posible.
As the small jar is half full and the flow is lower farmer Harris takes my still hard teat and puts it in his mouth, I groan as he sucks milk direct from the source, my moans of pleasure are equally compared to his moans of delight, "you make such good milk Joe, so sweet, that's because you eat so much fruit, unlike your father's, he prefered to eat vegetables".
I stand there trying to recover and catch my breath, farmer Harris stands up and tells me to freshen up, that there's work to do.
I walk to the small barn that is more like a big shed where I sleep and take the hose that is on one side and wash myself.
Mr. Harris is a good man, and a great farmer, he takes care of the place, though is not big, only for local produce, he knows how to handle everything. He used to have help from my dad, and knowing he wouldn't have him for long he arranged my breeding with a neighbor's cowgirl, I never met my mom, but dad took good care of me, even Mr. Harris taught me many things, things that only human boys should learn. Dad always asked him to stop doing that, that I didn't need to know how to read or do math or learn about history, but that helped me understand many things, such as how there is men and cowboys and others 'subspecies', as he called them.
Turns out, a long time ago, men 'harvested' animals, and ate them and get different things from them just for greed, after the 'decay era', men needed different sources of protein and experimented with their primitive science, learning that they could produce their own protein, that lead to the creation of the cowboy/cowgirl subspecies among other subspecies to help them in what decay era animals served them for.
I rinse the dirt and sweat out of me and turn off the water, I try to dry myself but let the sun do its work as I walk to the cargo are, today is market day, I should help load the dray with crates full of crops, that's when I catch eye on them, they always amaze me, the two muscled horsemen pulling the empty dray.