The morning of Clarissa's third day in the barn started in the same way as her second. Kirsten asked Clarissa if she was thirsty -- Clarissa knew she was just asking as a formality, since obviously from her own experience she knew Clarissa would wake up parched -- and when Clarissa nodded, Kirsten got up with that practiced rolling motion, walked over and dangled her engorged breast over Clarissa's mouth. Clarissa made sure to switch breasts, knowing it was helping Kirsten feel better to start emptying both of them, and soon Karen was nudging Kirsten, impatient to get the same relief Kirsten was getting. Kirsten moved aside and let Karen stand over Clarissa so she could suckle; once Clarissa had had her fill, Karen and Kirsten shared with each other, after which they started the bucket brigade again, bringing grain from the feeding trough and dropping it into Clarissa's mouth. By the time all three girls had finished breakfast, Wendy was already there, milking all six girlcows, complimenting all of them on a good night's production.

After Wendy left, that third morning, Karen stood over Clarissa and smiled. "How are your legs feeling?"

Clarissa understood immediately by this time that the question referred to four limbs, not two anymore. "A lot better. A little sore, but the throbbing is gone."

"Think you might want to try standing up?"

Clarissa grinned. As daunted as she had been a few days ago at the prospect of learning to walk in her new body, her enforced inactivity since then had left her with a craving for physical action. "I'll try. How do I get there?"

"We've done this before, with the other girls here, over at Dad's, and usually what's worked best is to get you sitting first, then get up from there. You've been seeing how we get up from a sit, right?" Each girl sat upright against the wall of the stall when the other was suckling at her breasts.

"Yeah. Is that harder than it looks?"

"Not really, but it does take some practice using the right muscles at the right time." She looked at Kirsten. "Want me to do it?"

Kirsten nodded, and Karen moved to stand directly behind Clarissa's head.

"Lift your head a little, Clary." As Clarissa complied, Karen slid the hoof of her right foreleg underneath Clarissa's head.

"Push your head back against my leg, and lift yourself a little higher." Karen slid her foreleg further in, as Clarissa's head rose higher. Once she was in underneath far enough, she gave Clarissa a strong push, helping Clarissa sit up.

"Hold it, I'm dizzy."

"You've been flat on your back for three days, Clary. Close your eyes, breath slowly. Not too deep."

After a minute, Clarissa said, "Okay, I'm better now."

"Okay, I'll keep my leg here so you can brace yourself against it. You've been watching how Kirstie and I get standing, right?"

"Yeah. You just lean forward really fast, right?"

"Not just that, you have to concentrate on shifting your weight forward. You won't know exactly what I mean until you do it. Try it."

Clarissa leaned ahead, but didn't feel anything shifting. She wished she could use her forelegs, but they didn't reach the floor when she was sitting. She tried again, and seemed to feel something start to pivot.

"I think I've got it. Let me try again." She sucked in a quick breath and threw herself forward. She felt her contact with the floor start to shift along her hind legs, towards her hooves. Suddenly her butt was off the floor for a moment, then fell back with a thud. She said excitedly, "Yeah, that's it! I know what to do!"

She took another breath, then threw her upper body ahead. She felt her hind legs take the weight, and kept moving forward. She put her forelegs out automatically as her movement continued, and winced as her still-tender front hooves hit the hay-strewn floor.

She spun her head and looked behind her, panting with exertion. "I did it!! I'm standing up!"

Kirsten shouted "Yes!" Karen beamed with pride.

Clarissa sighed heavily, then put out her right front hoof. Wincing again as it touched the floor, she shifted her weight and brought her left hind leg forward. Shakily, she took several paces forward, and grinned. "It doesn't exactly feel like crawling, does it? The way a baby does." There was too much friction between her rubber-tipped rear hooves and the rough floor to want to drag them along the surface, the way a baby might drag her knees along the soft carpet. She found she had to use her hips as much as her thigh muscles, swivelling them back and forth as she walked, lifting her hind legs off the floor as she swung them forward.

She beamed at her sisters, her relief immeasurable as one of the worries about her conversion faded, unreasoning as it had been.

In ten minutes, she was prancing all around the stall, grinning from ear to ear. Karen looked up. "Don't walk all the way around us, Clary. You're starting to get our collar chains all tangled up."

Clarissa followed Karen's gaze upward. "Oh, yeah, sorry." She backed off and retraced her steps. She suddenly looked over at the feeding trough. "Oh! I can feed myself! You guys have been so great, feeding me, so don't think I'm saying you didn't do enough, but I'm hungry already. It seems like I'm hungry all the time!"

Kirsten laughed. "Well, you know why that is."

Clarissa looked down at her breasts, dangling down beneath her. She could tell they were bigger than yesterday. "How long, do you think?"

Karen squinted, considering Clarissa's boobies. "I would have said you'd still need a few days, but they're so big already. Wendy might give them a try tonight and see if anything comes out."

Clarissa had walked over to the trough. "This is so great! I've felt so helpless the last few days. I want to DO something. Do I get to go out on the walk this afternoon?" She bent and took a mouthful of grain from the trough. "Which nipples are fruit juice?"

"Sure, if you want to. Oh, the red ones. The black ones are water."

Feeling an immense sense of accomplishment, Clarissa relished eating her first meal on her own as a girlcow.

Later that morning, Karen and Kirsten stood at the gate of the stall when Wendy opened the barn door. Karen called out, "Wendy, got something to show you." Kirsten giggled conspiratorially.

Wendy came to the gate, looking puzzled, and grinned when she saw Clarissa coming up behind them, already looking very comfortable ambulating around the stall. "Clarissa! That's great! I thought it might be another day."

Karen laughed. "We can't stop her. She's been parading around the stall for two hours."

Jenny called out, "Let us out, Wendy, we want to see Clary walking." A chorus of "Yeah" followed.

Wendy said, "Okay, okay," and unlocked the two other stalls first, keyed open the padlocks to the collar chains and attached the leashes to the four girls. She stood in front of Clarissa's stall. "So you coming with us today, dear?"

"Yeah! Can I, please?"

"There's no reason why not. Hold on just a minute."

After she'd unlocked the gate and the collars, Wendy reached up on the shelf for the leashes. Clarissa shivered with a sudden perception of the enormous change in her status: just a few days ago she had been in charge, leading her sisters on leashes out to the field to do their daily duties for the farm. Now, she herself was about to be led on a leash. She had given up all control, and would spend the rest of her life as a farm animal. She understood that it was a family tradition, and that her family needed her. But she still felt frightened, for the moment, at the degree of her powerlessness.

Once the leash was attached, though, she felt a sort of warmth flowing from it. The other end was held by someone who loved her.

Wendy held all seven leashes as she led them out from the barn towards today's field. She actually had to give a few rare gentle tugs on the leashes to keep the girls moving -- the problem wasn't resistance, but the confusion of bumping of naked flesh and stumbling hooves as all of the girls tried to be next to Clarissa. Exasperated, Wendy finally threatened to take them back to the barn and lead them out one at a time, and at last they separated and started keeping up with the pace Wendy set for them.

Once they reached the field, again Wendy had a hard time getting them separated, as they all wanted to stay together and talk. A sense of duty finally won out, though, and the girlcows set off for various scattered parts of the field.

Clarissa felt nervous, not sure she'd be able to do her part, though her bowels felt bloated by the remains of all the food she'd been putting away. In all her memory there was no time she had done anything like this: standing (whether on two legs or her current four) and eliminating her wastes outdoors in a field. But she spread her hind legs, closed her eyes and tried to relax, and push. It came out easily, and she felt at once the physical joy of a good bowel movement and the satisfaction of doing her part to help Tom do his job.

Wendy called the girls back together and snapped the leashes back on, and Clarissa trotted back with her sisters to the barn, giggling self-consciously as she stood over the upturned faucet at the barn entrance for the first time. With Wendy working the valve, Clarissa gasped as the cool water struck her crotch, then shivered as a tingle of pleasure shot through her body. She groaned when Wendy cut off the flow of water. "Wendy, I was just getting into it!"

The other girls laughed, and Monica said, "Come on, Clary, your butt's clean! Give the rest of us a turn!" Clarissa moved aside reluctantly, watching wistfully as Jill took the next turn.

Today was also the day of the full bath, and the girls spent the better part of an hour in the big tub in the corner of the barn, rubbing each other and laughing as Wendy did her best, given her condition, to get them cleaned up and shampooed. Jenny insisted, "Wendy, it's really not fair if Clarissa stays with Karen and Kirsten every day. Couldn't she be sort of a floater, and take turns with all of us, at least until she gets a partner?" Karen glared at her, but the other girls agreed. Wendy sighed and said, "I'll have to see if Tom's got time to put another collar chain in each of your stalls," and four girls shouted, "Yes!"

Tom installed the new chains late that afternoon. After dinner, after Wendy had finished milking the girls, Jenny reminded her about the promise to let Clarissa move around to other stalls. Wendy nodded and unlocked Clarissa's collar chain, asking, "Ready to try out a couple of new roommates?"

Clarissa replied, "Sure." She turned to Karen, then, and told her, "I don't want you to think I'm not really grateful for everything you've done for me the last couple of days. And I'll be back soon!" She kissed both Karen and Kirsten, and trotted over to the next stall. Gwen and Jenny nuzzled their cheeks against hers from either side, Gwen saying, "So you're really one of us now. It's neat to have our little family over here getting bigger."

Clarissa shook her head. "I don't know if I'm one of you yet. I'm not making any milk yet."

Jenny laughed, looking at Clarissa's breasts, now nearly as big as those of any of the other girlcows. "What do you think is in there? It just hasn't found its way out yet."

Gwen was looking at their size too. "Wendy, don't you think she might be ready? Look how full they're looking. Don't they feel ready to pop, Clary?"

Wendy looked doubtful. "It really seems like it ought to be a couple more days, at least."

Clarissa looked down and said, "I don't know a good word for what they feel like, 'cause I've never felt it before, but they're kind of... throbbing. They were like that when they first started growing, but they felt back to normal yesterday. Now it's back. I don't know, I guess there's something in there."

Jenny said, "That's pretty much how I remember feeling when I started. It just took longer to get there. Why don't you try it, Wendy? Is that okay, Clary?"

Clarissa said "Try... oh! Yeah, I guess."

Wendy put one of the buckets under Clarissa's left breast -- she had to lift it to get the bucket under it -- and sat awkwardly on the milking stool. "This might hurt a little, Clarissa."

"A lot of stuff's hurt in the last few days. Let's try it." She shuffled her hind legs, her stomach full of butterflies.

Wendy took Clarissa's breast in both hands, very gently massaging it with her fingertips -- not trying to milk her, just wanting to get her relaxed and used to the feeling. Clarissa closed her eyes and sighed. When she'd stopped fidgeting, Wendy changed her grip, pulling and kneading.

She saw a bead of thick, yellowish fluid well out of the nipple. "I'm getting something." As she continued, more of the fluid appeared -- and suddenly two little jets of milk splashed into the bucket.

Clarissa gasped. There was an immediate feeling of relief in her breast, and a need to continue. She grinned at Jenny with sheer delight. "I'm doing it!"

Immediately the girls in the stalls on either side shouted, "We want to see! Let us come over, Wendy, we want to watch!"

Wendy, still bent over in concentration, replied, "Hold on, let me get the other one started. I think Clarissa's going to be really uncomfortable if I don't." In a few minutes, she'd produced a steady stream from Clarissa's right breast.

"Okay, Wendy, you've got to let us come see."

"Okay, okay, I'm coming. Oh, could you help me up, girls?" Jenny and Gwen came and stood by her side, and Wendy put a hand on each one's shoulders and, with a grunt and wince, levered herself up out of the stool. In minutes, the four girls from the other stalls were crowded into the middle one, complimenting Clarissa on her development, looking into the bucket at the puddle of milk from the newest girlcow, and almost knocking Clarissa over in their eagerness to get close to her. The six girls had been together as Tom's team for two years. Having a new member excited them almost beyond limit.

Jill shouted, "Clary, can we have your first milk?" She looked up at Wendy. "Is that okay? All of us could have some?"

Wendy shook her head. "You know how Tom is about the daytime milk. You know you'll get some eventually."

"But it won't be the same! It won't be her first time. And you know you weren't expecting her to make any today. So this is just extra."

Wendy bit her lip, not sure how to win that argument. After a minute she finally said, "Okay. But just five minutes for each pair, and any left goes in the bucket."

"Yeah!" The girls all started crowding in towards Clarissa.

"Wait!" Clarissa laughed. "I've got milk, but you know I don't have six boobs. Karen and Kirsten go first. I just owe them so much. Then Jill and Monica, because I haven't been in their stall yet. Gwen and Jenny go last, and I know there might not be much left by then, but I'll be with them all night and they can have my milk in the morning. Okay?"

All the girls nodded, and Karen and Kirsten grinned. Karen said, "Thanks, Clary. You need to sit up, though. We can't reach down under you. You saw how we sit, right?"

"I think so, let me try." She sidled up towards the back wall. She lifted her left hind leg, fell sideways and twisted, but misjudged it slightly, her head hitting the back wall with a painful bump.

"You okay, Clary??"

"I'll be okay. After the ringing stops. I guess it just takes more practice. Okay." She waved her forelegs at her two oldest sisters.

They approached her on either side, and opened their mouths. Clarissa closed her eyes and sighed as they began sucking. It was almost like sex -- very quiet, low energy sex, but nearly as satisfying. She felt the built-up pressure slowly releasing. With her forelegs, she rubbed the sides of her sisters' heads as they suckled at her newly-functional breasts.

The two girls reluctantly backed off when Wendy said it was time for the others to have a turn. Once they had all tasted her, Clarissa felt as peaceful, as satisfied as she had ever felt. She kissed all of her sisters before Wendy led them back to their own stalls for the night.

After Tom had dimmed the lights, Gwen's eyes suddenly lit up, and she grinned at Jenny. "I just thought of an improvement on our bedtime ritual."

"What's that?"

"With three, we can make a triangle."

Jenny looked mystified for a moment, then laughed as she understood. "Yes! That'd be great!"

Clarissa looked back and forth. "What? What are you guys talking about?"

"Just stand there where you are, Clary. I'll get behind her, Jenny, you get in front." Gwen approached Clarissa from the side, her head next to Clarissa's buttocks. She moved her hind legs away from Clarissa so that she could look around Clarissa's buttocks and lick her pussy from the side. Jenny, meanwhile, positioned her own pussy in front of Clarissa's mouth, and turned so that she could reach Gwen's pussy with her tongue, completing the triangle. All three girls started licking and sucking, all moaning loudly and shivering with arousal. Clarissa came first, but kept licking Jenny until she and Gwen both came, almost screaming with excitement.

All three girls laughed and kissed, and after Clarissa had laid down on the mattress, awkwardly, following instructions from Gwen, the other girls got down on either side of her each snuggling up against Clarissa from opposite sides. After the long day, all were asleep within minutes.

By the end of the week, Clarissa found it hard to remember she had had another life before joining her sisters in the barn. But on Friday, after the morning walk and bath, Tom came into the barn -- unusual for him in the middle of the day. He stood in front of Jenny's and Gwen's stall, Clarissa's home for the day -- she had completed a full rotation of the stalls now -- and smiled. "Want to go on a little trip, Clary?"

"What do you mean?" She could only picture the daily morning walk out to the field, but they'd already done that.

"Oh, thought we'd go into town for the afternoon."

"What... oh!!" She knew what the trip was for.

Tom nodded. "Yeah, I've got to register you as a slave."

Girlcows, technically, were slaves -- admittedly a highly specialized type, but by law, they had to be registered as such within the first week after acquisition, whether by purchase or by voluntary submission.

Suddenly, the memory that she HAD had a previous life came back to her. "T-tom, I don't know if I'm ready for people to see me yet. I mean, family is one thing, but there'd be people I know, and..." She gave a quick look over her much-modified body. She had never even been naked out in public before, and she felt her girlcow body would attract much more attention than mere nudity would generate.

Tom shook his head. "Nobody's going to think it's any big deal. It's not like they don't see girlcows every day."

"Well... that's part of it, but everybody knew about me wanting to go to the Academy. I mean, I love what you and dad have planned for me..." She saw Jenny looking at her curiously, and remembered nobody knew about that yet but Karen. She was reluctant to tell the others -- she wanted so much to fit in, and wasn't sure how they'd react if they thought Tom was giving her special treatment with his promise to hang her. In the old days girlcows were beheaded with a single stroke of the axe; these days a laser knife was used, but the procedure was as straightforward as always. And in any case, they were usually snuffed at forty. Even allowing Clarissa to be snuffed and eaten early might cause jealousy, let alone the more exotic method.

Tom understood her hesitation and returned to the main subject. "Clary, you know we can't legally wait more than a week. And if I don't register you, they could take you away to one of the state farms. Or sell you to the highest bidder. I'm pretty sure that couldn't be me. I can't afford what you'd bring."

The thought of being taken from her family was unbearable to Clarissa. Dimly aware he had paid her a compliment by hinting she would bring a high price at an auction, she said in a tiny voice, "Okay."

After he unlocked her collar chain, he reached up onto the stall's shelf -- not for one of the usual leather leashes, but for one she hadn't seen before: made from very thick steel chain links, it couldn't be cut except using tools that most people don't carry with them casually. Just one more tribute to the high value placed on an experienced milker, and their susceptibility to theft. He locked it to the front of her collar with an equally strong padlock, and led her out of the barn, after locking the stall gate and barn door, with the other girls shouting "Stay safe, Clary. See you soon!"

As they reached the pickup truck, Clarissa momentarily forgot herself and started to head for the passenger door. Tom gave her a gentle tug on her leash and led her to the back of the truck. He pulled out the long ramp that slid out from under the truck bed. After she'd walked up the ramp into the truck bed, he locked the loose end of her leash to a ring just behind the cab.

After he'd slid the ramp back under the truck and slammed the tailgate closed, he started to get into the cab, then stopped and slapped his head. Reaching in, he picked up the water bottle off the seat. He straightened up and came up beside the truck bed. "Sorry, Clary, I should have asked before we left the barn if you needed a drink. Thirsty?"

Girlcows, with their milk-oriented metabolism, were always thirsty, and always hungry. No girlcow could go for two hours without water (except during their night's sleep, from which they always woke up parched), and Tom knew never to travel with one of the girls without a water bottle. Clary nodded. "Yeah, kind of."

He held the bottle in front of her, tilted down towards her mouth, and she opened up to receive the oversized nipple. She sucked and swallowed until about a fourth of the quart bottle was gone, then nodded and let the nipple slip out of her mouth. "Thanks."

He patted her shoulder and said, "Always ask if you need some," then got in the cab and started the engine.

Clarissa was a little scared as the vehicle started moving, but her low center of gravity kept her stable enough, and by the time the truck had pulled onto the road she was enjoying the experience. It gave her a bit of a rush to look out from behind the cab as they were moving and feel the strong wind in her face, ruffling her short hair.

Her nervousness returned as they approached town: the highway widened to four lanes, and several cars moved slowly past in the next lane. She imagined herself being stared at, but a girlcow being transported in a pickup truck was much too common a sight in this area, and she soon realized that drivers and passengers were only giving her passing glances.

As they began passing people standing on the sidewalk, though, her intense self-consciousness at being naked on display returned, all the more intensely because the truck was changing speeds more often, so that she had to spread her legs farther apart to keep her balance. As the truck pulled to the curb and slowed to a stop in a parking space, butterflies went mad in her stomach: even if girlcows were a common sight, she knew people would be looking at her body, evaluating her, making judgments -- some with a professional eye, some with pure male fascination with undressed females that no amount of familiarity would suppress.

Once Tom was out of the cab, she felt better -- she wanted to be as close to him as she could get. He held up the bottle, and her thirst won out over her embarrassment at sucking on a huge nipple in front of strangers. She was glad when the edge was off her thirst sufficiently that she could nod at him to put the bottle away.

As he took down the tailgate and pulled the ramp out from under the bed, she faced her next challenge: walking off the truck and descending to sidewalk level, now to be fully exposed. She felt sure she couldn't make herself move, and not until Tom had unlocked her leash from the ring and given a gentle tug on it, saying "It's okay, Clary, I'm right here" was she able to open her eyes, let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding and take her first steps to the ramp and down to the street.

Once on the sidewalk, she quickly went behind Tom to the building-side of the walk, away from the street, forcing Tom to make a quick change of hands with the leash to keep from having it wrap around his legs: she wanted him between her and anyone else.

The police station was located in the middle of the block. Tom opened the front door and led Clarissa in. There were short corridors with doors to the left and right, and signs on the wall indicating the direction to various offices, but the door Tom led Clarissa through was immediately across from the front door. A bored-looking uniformed male officer at a desk was filling out a form; he looked up when Tom cleared his throat. "Help you?"

"I want to register a new slave."

"Purchase or self-submit?"

"Self."

The officer handed Tom a form and went back to filling out his own. Using a pen attached by a chain to the desk, Tom began filling out the form. After finishing, he held it down to Clarissa. "Did I miss anything?"

Clarissa looked it over, hardly able to register the fact that it officially marked the end of her freedom -- she knew that was gone already. She read it with a distant feeling, as if it had no relation to her.

OWNER'S NAME: Thomas Martin

ADDRESS: Box 18, RR 30

SLAVE NAME: Clarissa

SLAVE CLASS: Milker

AGE AT TIME OF SUBMISSION: 18

HAIR COLOR: Brown

EYE COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: N/A (Body mod)

WEIGHT: 80 lbs

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Large breasts, body modified for milker

LEAVE THIS SPACE BLANK

Willing ________      Resigned ________      Hostile ________

SIGNATURE OF OWNER ___________________

Clarissa nodded. "I guess that's it. Don't forget to sign it."

Tom did so, and handed the form back to the officer, who by this time had completed his own. He nodded to Tom. "One more thing and you'll be all set." He pushed a button on his desk. Clarissa could hear a bell ringing faintly, behind a door at the rear of the office.

After about thirty seconds, the door opened, and another officer, in plainclothes, a large, grim-looking man, stepped into the office. The desk officer handed him the form without comment. The new man glanced at the form, nodded, and came around to the front of the desk. Reaching his hand out for the chain leash, he said, "I'm Detective Warren. I'll need to talk to her just a minute."

Suddenly realizing the man was going to take her away from Tom, Clarissa shied away, rubbing up against Tom's leg, quivering, whispering, "No, please..."

Tom knelt next to her and stroked her back. "Clary, it's okay. He just needs to ask you a question, and I can't be there when you answer it. Go with him, okay?"

Her voice tiny and quivering, she said, "I want to stay with you."

Still stroking her, he shook his head. "You can't, sweety." He rarely used any sort of endearments. "This is really important. Do it for me, okay?"

She stared into his eyes, and saw the encouragement she desperately needed to have. Barely audibly, she said, "Okay."

He kissed her on the lips, the first time he had ever done that, and patted her shoulder. "Good girl." He straightened up and handed the leash to the detective.

Without speaking, the man walked back around the desk towards the door -- there is no need to tell someone "come with me" when you are leading them by a leash. Clarissa looked back at Tom, who was smiling at her, as she followed the man through the door.

By the time Detective Warren had closed the door and they entered a short corridor to the right, Clarissa, who had never suffered any form of claustrophobia, found herself experiencing either the real thing or a very good substitute. She had never imagined it was possible to feel so vulnerable: naked, physically incapable of defending herself, alone with a muscular, unsmiling complete stranger leading her by a leash to a collar around her neck... There was no trace, right now, of the bright, confident (a little over-confident in hindsight) high school graduate who had walked into the Hanging Academy for her interview just a few weeks earlier. She felt alone and terrified, as the tears streamed down her cheeks and her nose began to run.

By the time he had led her into a room halfway down the corridor and closed the door, she was sobbing and near panic, backing towards the door and nearly choking herself as she tried to pull away from him. "Let me go, let me go, I want to see my brother, please let me go..."

He knelt in front of her and gently cupped her chin in his hand. She found herself looking up at him. While not exactly smiling, he had managed to soften his features somehow. It was enough to stop the spiral of panic.

In a kind voice, he said, "I just need to ask you a question, and I'll write down the answer and take you back to your brother. Do you know what it is?"

As she stared at him, sniffling violently, trying to clear the snot out of her nose, he looked around and spotted a box of tissues. He pulled one loose and held it to her nose. "Blow."

She suddenly remembered an identical scene with her mother, years ago. She'd been crying after a backyard fight with Jill, and her mother held her, held a tissue to her nose and said "Blow." She could never confuse this man with her mother, but the memory calmed her. She blew her nose, forcing most of the snot out, sniffled back the rest and said, "Thank you."

He crumpled the tissue and threw it in a trash can. "You know what I need to ask you, right?"

Wiping her right eye with her right foreleg, and repeating the same motion on the left, still sniffling a little, she asked, "Is this the part where you ask if it's really voluntary? If I'm really a willing slave?"

He nodded. "You know how it is. Guys used to bring in girls, claim they'd submitted to their ownership, and the girls would say Oh yeah, I've volunteered to be his slave. And half the time it was because the guy had threatened to whip them later if they didn't. Or worse. Whatever would scare her into lying. So now we ask the girl alone, out of the owner's presence."

Clarissa had known all about registration, or thought she had, but she hadn't heard about this part -- the private meeting. She guessed she might have talked to some of her older sisters, but somehow the subject hadn't come up. It was general knowledge that the police did treat willing and unwilling slaves differently in case the slave was stolen or ran away. As a rule, a slave-owner was responsible for securing his property. A registered willing slave, reported missing, remained the property of her master, and would be returned if found, after the owner paid a fine for the trouble of finding her. An unwilling slave became the property of the state, and would usually be sold at auction. The former owner could bid, but it cost much more to get her back than the "willing slave" fine.

"B-but doesn't the owner still know what the slave told you? He could still whip her later or whatever." One last sniffle finished clearing her nose. She was sure her eyes were red, but they were dry now.

The detective shook his head. "We don't tell. The answer goes in the file, and the information is used if the slave actually does go missing. But other than that, the owner doesn't know how his slave is classified. By the way, I didn't ask you yet. You willing or not? I could check the box for willing, resigned, or hostile. 'Resigned' is treated the same as willing for a stolen slave, but not for a runaway."

"Oh! Willing, put me down as willing, please! Tom is my brother! Why wouldn't I be willing?"

"You'd be surprised. He looks like a nice guy, and you've probably got a very good family. Trust me, they're not all like that." He looked down at the form, put a check mark on it and scribbled a signature underneath. "Well, you ready to go back?"

Her face lit up. "Oh yes, please. I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That I was so... you know. I just didn't know what was happening. You probably think I'm just..."

He shook his head. "A lot of slaves are scared when they come back here. Why do you think I have a box of tissues ready?"

She laughed, finally. "Anyway, I'm sorry. And I want to go back to my brother now."

Back in the front room, Clarissa leaned against Tom's leg as the desk officer handed him a tiny medallion. "Here's her pass tag. Number 10426. You'd better put it on her before you go anywhere."

A pass tag allowed a slave to be out in public without her master: wearing the tag on her collar meant that she had her owner's permission to be where she was. "Here's the key."

Tom took the miniscule key for the tag. "Has it got that new security feature I heard about?"

"Yeah. Tiny transmitter inside. If anybody breaks off the tag, it sends a signal with the code number, and we can get the location. If we have an officer in the area, sometimes we can make an arrest right then. These new tags haven't been out long enough for us to have much experience with them -- we haven't even had a slave stolen in town since the tags came out -- but they've found slaves this way a couple of times around the country. Works pretty well, really. At this point, most people don't know about the transmitters, so they'll just clip off the tag without thinking about it, and then they're caught. And if the thief does know about it, he's got a choice to make: either leave the tag on, with its identifying information that proves she's not his, or break it off and call the police right then. If I had a slave, I'd sure want one of these things on her. And of course, if you don't put it on her, she's a runaway and the state takes custody."

"How's the tag know where it is when it's broken?"

"Well, the tag doesn't, really, but the receiving towers can tell how far the signal is coming from, and we can triangulate on the position."

"Couldn't it just send a continuous signal?"

The officer shook his head. "Maybe before long they'll make a battery small enough to power it for that, but for now, all it can do is store up enough charge to send a signal once. Keep your eyes open for news about improvements, though. Now, I just need to brand her, so her number matches the code in the transmitter, and you're all set."

Clarissa looked up in alarm. She knew about the brand, since all her older sisters had one, but she'd wanted a little more warning to prepare herself. "Is it going to hurt?"

He shook his head. "Not really, just sting a little. Don't worry, haven't lost a slave this way yet." He grinned and pulled an electrical cord out of his desk, which had a plug at one end and a small device at the other. The device somehow reminded Clarissa of the date-stamps used by librarians to mark the due date of books. The officer adjusted it, so that the device would brand her five-digit code on her skin, and plugged the cord into the outlet, to let the metal digits heat up.

From the same drawer he pulled a cotton ball out of a dispenser, and a bottle, which he opened and inverted over the cotton ball, soaking the ball with the liquid inside. "Just a novocaine derivative. Makes your skin numb for a minute or two." He swabbed her shoulder with the wet cotton.

As she looked away, scrunched her eyes closed and gritted her teeth, he pointed the code number device at her shoulder and pressed it briefly into her skin. She gasped, but more from released tension than from pain. He'd been right, it stung, to about the same degree as getting a shot, but nothing like she'd imagined. She examined her shoulder, and could see a red "10426," a wisp of smoke rising from it. She suspected it would soon turn dark brown, like the ones her sisters had.

Tom knelt in front of her and attached the pass tag to the ring at the back of her collar, locking it in place. "That all, officer?"

"That's it. If she turns up missing just file a report."

Tom nodded. "Thanks. Let's go, Clary." She felt intense relief as he tugged on her leash and led her to the door.

As Tom led her back onto the truck and gave her another drink, she asked if they were going home now.

"Not quite yet. While I'm here I need to pick up some supplies."

"Okay." She braced herself as the truck started moving, but it was easier now than it had been before. He drove a few blocks and parked near the general store.

"Need a drink before you get out?"

She shook her head. "I don't get thirsty that fast." He led her down the ramp again, to the sidewalk. She was adjusting to the idea of being on public display -- and realizing that the public didn't care all that much. She padded after him towards the entrance to the store.

He stopped in front of a horizontal metal bar that ran for ten feet along the front of the store, near the entrance. "Okay, I'll just be about half an hour, maybe." With a shock, she realized it hadn't occurred to her she couldn't go in the store with him. She was right under the sign that read "NO PETS OR SLAVES ALLOWED," with smaller letters underneath that said "Except seeing eye slaves." She had known the store, as did most stores, had that policy, but had not given the slightest thought to it applying to her. She'd been in the store hundreds of times.

Breathing hard, she felt like begging Tom not to leave her there, but she knew he had to go in, and that she couldn't. Grow up, Clarissa, she told herself. You'll be safe here. You'll be safe here. You'll be safe here... Indeed, it would really be unusual for a girlcow to be stolen in broad daylight, on a public street with passersby who would all rush to prevent a screaming girlcow from being snatched -- most of them had girlcows of their own, or at least felt a kinship with any farmer who did.

Nevertheless, it never hurt to take precautions, and Tom wrapped her leash around the bar and locked it in place. He patted her shoulder absently and walked into the store.

For the first few minutes she tried to look every direction at once, but gradually began to feel safer. Each minute, as the afternoon progressed, she was becoming more conscious of the fullness in her breasts. She was starting to get used to the clamps, but she knew none of the girls were very good at handling the buildup of milk as the day went by, and it was hard for her to get her mind off it. Several people went in and out of the store, paying greater or lesser degrees of attention to her -- it was mostly the younger men who seemed really to notice her, and she tried, with moderate success, to smile at the ones who smiled at her. Then came the moment she dreaded: someone she knew came towards the entrance. It was Gail Chesney, who had been in the same graduating class as Clarissa in high school.

Gail squealed in recognition. "Clarissa! I haven't seen you in like forever!" The girl knelt in front of Clarissa and gave her a tight hug, then giggled, "I guess I don't need to ask what you've been doing!"

Clarissa smiled and shrugged. "What about you?"

"Oh, I've got a job in the library." She pointed down the street. "I want to go to college, but we don't have the money yet."

Try doing it if you have thirty-five sisters, Clarissa thought. "Are you still seeing Rob?"

"Oh, no, that's way over. I'm with Chuck Bartle. We're talking about getting married, maybe next year." She squinted in recollection. "Weren't you going to go to the Hanging Academy?"

Clarissa sighed. She loved Tom's and Dad's solution to the hanging problem, but old dreams still die hard, and she hated admitting that blot on her aspirations. "I... didn't make it. I guess they found all the noose-babes they needed for this year." She tried to sound light-hearted.

Gail frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry, really. I know that's hard."

Clarissa shook her head. "No, it's okay. Really. I'm enjoying this too." Other than the late afternoons. At least the police station was all over with.

Gail looked her over. "You really look good. I mean... really!" She reached out and stroked Clarissa's left breast. "If I had boobs like that, I'd have boys all over me!"

Oh, no, please, Gail don't do that! thought Clarissa, barely stopping herself from jumping on Gail, begging her to take the clamps off and milk her right there in the street. She knew Tom would have a fit, but she was almost past caring. Only her loyalty to Tom allowed her somehow to hang on.

Gail hugged her again. "It's so great seeing you, Clarissa. I've got to go, Chuck's meeting me at the Girlburger for dinner. But I'll come over and say hi when I get a day off, okay?"

Clarissa grinned at her. She felt good about being with Gail, now that the big admission was out of the way. "Sure. If you'll bring some pizza. We'll need to split it eight ways, counting you, but small pieces would be okay."

Gail laughed. "It's a deal. See you soon!" She waved cheerily and continued down the street.

On top of the pressure in her breasts, Clarissa realized now that she also needed to pee. It seemed liquids were always running out of her now.

Just after Gail vanished, a man came up to the entrance leading another girlcow. She was an older woman, and she smiled at Clarissa as her owner locked her chain to the rail and went inside.

"Hi sweety. My name's Glenda. I don't think I've seen you here before."

"I'm Clarissa. This is my first week as a cow."

Glenda laughed. "Well that's the long and short of it! This is my last week! I got converted twenty-two years ago. Just about exactly. I turned forty last Tuesday, and my owner's going to cook me on Sunday. In fact, he's inside now stocking up on barbecue supplies. Charcoal, lighter fluid. Been awhile since he roasted one of the girls."

"Oh! So I guess this is your last time here."

Glenda nodded. "Last time for a lot of things this week. Given a lot of milk over the years, but I figure it's about time somebody used some other parts of my body."

"Do you work with your family?"

She shook her head. "Started on one of the state farms. They figure a cow's past her prime at thirty, though -- little do they know! So about ten years ago they sold me to farmer Chris. He's a good fellow. Got thirty head of girlcows, but he treats us all real nice. I got lucky. You?"

"My brother owns me. We've had family farms for four generations, now that Tom's got his own farm started. My dad still has his, with twelve of my sisters and eight of my aunts making milk. And now I'm Tom's seventh cow -- all sisters. His wife is taking fertility treatments, so eventually his daughters will join us. That'll be awhile yet, though. None of them are born yet." She laughed.

Glenda smiled. "Well, that's really nice, a whole family thing. I kind of wish I could have been part of something like that -- but no, I'm satisfied with the life I had. I hope you will be too."

"Thank you. I think I will be." She almost mentioned that she would only do it for a few years, but held back out of admiration for this woman's many years of service. Clarissa knew twenty-two years of making milk was not her future, but she was glad Glenda had had a full, meaningful life.

Glenda shifted her hind legs closer to the wall, said "Excuse me, sweety," lifted her left hind leg and started to pee on the ground. Clarissa was relieved: she knew girlcow etiquette allowed for public bladder relief, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to do it. It made sense, of course: girlcows weren't allowed into public restrooms, so they had to go somewhere. Gratefully, she imitated Glenda, moving her own back end closer to the wall and lifting her leg. It was such a relief to void her bladder, though she still couldn't do anything to help her breasts. Glenda and Clarissa smiled as they finished, Clarissa feeling they had shared something special.

A man came up the sidewalk with an enormous dog, as big as Clarissa. To her intense discomfort, he tied the dog's leash to the same rail she and Glenda were locked to. Her discomfort increased as the man's gaze seemed to linger on her longer than necessary, but at last he directed an authoritative "Thunder, sit. Stay," and walked into the store.

Clarissa started breathing again once she'd determined that the dog, apparently Thunder, was sufficiently well-trained to obey his master's commands. He sat, facing the street, panting, watching the traffic, and ignoring the two women next to him.

A woman walked past them on the sidewalk, with a three-year-old girl in tow. The child pointed and exclaimed, "Look, Momma, look at the doggies."

Her mother patiently replied, "That's one doggy and two girlcows, sweetie. Girlcows are where your milk comes from."

The girl looked up and said with certainty, "No it doesn't, it comes from FoodMart."

Choking back a laugh, the mother responded, "That's where we buy it, but girlcows make it."

As the pair continued on, Clarissa could hear, just before they were out of earshot, "Mommie, can I have a girlcow?" She couldn't make out the mother's reply.

Clarissa and Glenda looked at each other and started giggling uncontrollably. Glenda finally choked out, "Well, that was worth the trip. We ain't animals, but some folks think we are. But the way I look at it, we're people serving people. Ain't that all you need in life?"

Clarissa nodded, still laughing. She admitted to herself, though, that while she was glad it was enough for Glenda, she needed more. She would live the life of a girlcow, with its occasional rewards and occasional humiliations. But in the end, she wanted to go out as a woman. A woman whose ending would excite men (and women too), would make them admire her and want her, before being eaten as a woman should be. She pictured being hanged in front of her family and friends. While it wasn't the same as being hanged as an Academy girl, specially trained to put on an incredibly arousing show, it would complete her. She was so glad her father and brother understood.

She spotted another girl she knew from high school, Cynthia Gersten. Clarissa had heard Cynthia was a bed-slave now, but hadn't seen her since school. Obviously the man leading her was her master. Cynthia was naked, with the traditional leash and collar, and it was clear her master was interested in bondage: she was wearing ankle-shackles with a two-foot chain running between them, so that she had to take quick, small steps; and her wrists had been handcuffed in front of her, then locked to the back of her collar, so that her elbows were above her head and her breasts thrown forward. Her master locked her leash to the rail, between Clarissa and the dog, and strode into the store.

Clarissa looked up at Cynthia, who was looking at the door of the store. "Cynthia! How have you been?"

Cynthia didn't reply or even act as though she had heard. Clarissa was about to nudge her when Glenda said, "Don't think she has permission to speak, darling."

"Oh!" That hadn't occurred to Clarissa, but she could see now that all of Cynthia's attention was firmly focussed on the door of the store -- that is, that last place she had seen her master. Obviously she was trained for such an attitude, and attempting to get her to break any rule set by her master would be rude.

Clarissa said, "I'm sorry," and turned to Glenda. "I just wasn't thinking. My dad has a bed-slave. He bought her just before Mom was roasted -- Mom helped him pick her out, in fact. He doesn't make her act like that, though. She goes naked, of course, but she does work around the farm, and she laughs and talks with the girlcows, and the younger girls who aren't cows yet, and whoever else comes by. I guess I'm more used to that."

Glenda nodded. "It just always depends on what the master wants. There's all different kinds. Your dad sounds like a nice man."

Clarissa smiled. "He's the best. Well, I mean, I've never had any other dads, so I can't really compare, but yeah, he's a good guy."

Tom came out the door, carrying one heavy bag of seed and a sack full of smaller items. "Who's a good guy?"

Clarissa grinned. "Well, you can't possibly think it's you. Tom, this is Glenda. She's going to be snuffed and roasted on Sunday. And over there is Cynthia, but don't talk to her, okay? And the dog's name is Thunder."

Tom nodded at Glenda, ignoring Cynthia automatically. "Nice meeting you, Glenda. Thanks for keeping my sister company. And I hope you taste good."

Glenda beamed. "Thanks. I hope so too."

To Clarissa, Tom said, "Let me toss this stuff in the truck, and I'll come back for you."

As he walked to the truck, Clarissa said to Glenda, "I'm glad you were here. And I'm glad you'll get to be part of people you love."

A tear appeared in Glenda's eye. "I guess I do love them. Hadn't thought of it that way, but it's true. And good luck to you. May you never be plugged up."

Impulsively, Clarissa kissed Glenda. Glenda at first seemed surprised, but held the kiss as long as Clarissa wanted to.

Tom cleared his throat. "Ready when you are."

"Oh! Didn't know you were back. Okay, I'm ready." Tom unlocked the leash and led her back to the truck. From the truckbed, Clarissa called out, "Bye, Glenda!" She turned to Tom. "I am SO thirsty. And hungry too. Is there any food in there?"

Tom shook his head. "If you can hold out till we get home, at least I've still got water."

"Okay." As she sucked from the water bottle Tom held tilted in front of her, Clarissa tried to organize her memories of the day. She wanted to remember every detail so she could tell her sisters that evening. When she'd had enough water, she asked, "Can I come with you to town sometimes?"

"If you want to. I'll ask the other girls if they want to come -- none of them have ever said one way or the other."

"Thanks. Anyway, I'm ready." She was looking forward to feeling the wind in her face again.