Chapter 11


Clarissa tried awkwardly rubbing her pussy against the corner of the doghouse, but it did nothing to relieve the tingling. For the first time in months she cursed the loss of her arms -- she had settled into the body modification of a girlcow to the point where it felt as if she'd been born that way, but now her inability to finger her pussy left her feeling increasingly frustrated. Since her conversion she had always had her sisters, and more recently Natalie, to help her when she felt horny, which she did often enough even without the artificial stimulation with which Mr. X was so thoughtfully spiking her food. To her intense shame, she even found herself wishing Thunder was ready to have another go at her, though that never lasted long enough, nor hit quite the right spot.

At least she didn't have the "watched" feeling right now, she thought as she arched her back, trying to rub the corner at a different angle. The sense of scrutiny came and went at odd intervals, and she was never sure how accurate it was -- maybe it was all in her imagination. The idea that he could be watching her failed masturbation experiments appalled her so thoroughly that she suspected her sense that he was absent was just a defense mechanism to keep her from going more completely nuts.

She gave up, gritting her teeth and telling herself she'd think of something else to try later. At least Thunder was napping again, just as hunger pangs were starting to match her sexual arousal. With a quick look back to see that he was still in doggy dreamland, she trotted over to the food bowl. Thunder had emptied it earlier, and she pressed the button in the wall to refill it.

She bent towards it, reflecting on the poor anonymous girl who had never imagined she was destined to be partly consumed by a dog. She wished there was some way to keep Thunder away from it.

She turned her head around for another look at Thunder, and bit her lip. There was no way to stop him from eating it. She could empty the bowl for now, but that was pointless -- she couldn't starve him, or he'd go after her eventually.

Her mind told her the girl was dead, and she'd never know what had become of her body, but her heart told her that the girl's spirit was watching her now, filled with sorrow and anger at the loss of her immortality -- even being partly eaten by Clarissa was a dead end, considering Clarissa's own fate. Clarissa closed her eyes and whispered, "I'll eat as much of you as I can, and I promise, I PROMISE, that I'll do anything I can to get us out of here so you and I can both go on. My sisters will eat us, and you'll even get to be in milk that hundreds of people will drink. Okay? Okay?" Tears streaming down her cheeks, she felt a sudden warmth, as if she had just been hugged, and she knew the girl's spirit had heard her. She bent down to the bowl and started eating her.

*   *   *   *   *

"Can we go there today? If he has her, I can't stand thinking of Clarissa being with him one more day." Natalie looked pleadingly at Warren.

" 'We'?"

"You need me with you! I'm the only one who saw him! Sort of. I know I didn't see his face, but I might recognize something about him."

Warren hesitated, and to her relief he nodded. He looked up at Tom. "That okay with you?"

"I want her back too."

Warren nodded again. "Okay, but you'll both stay in the squad car." He looked back down at Natalie. "I think we'll cover you with a blanket. I don't want him to know he's under any sort of scrutiny. The more natural he acts, the more chance you'll spot something that might give him away." He turned to Floyd. "Call Price out here. I'll want him along. He could use the experience."

"Yes sir."

*   *   *   *   *

Clarissa had been about to spread her hind legs and try rubbing her pussy against a tuft of grass, but she suddenly had the feeling X was back, watching her. She preferred to avoid giving away to him that her special diet was causing any problems for her, at least for the present. If it got any worse, she'd have to find a solution, whether he was watching or not. To her left, three of the puppies were taking turns jumping on each other. The other had been trailing her for several minutes. She walked up to him. "You hungry, little guy?" Her breasts were feeling full again, and she was glad at the chance of a little relief, at least from that.

He had barely started suckling when she heard the quick thumping footsteps behind her, and groaned. The puppy retreated in surprise as Thunder draped himself over her back once more. Bracing herself as he slapped against her buttocks, she tried to adjust her position so he stimulated her clit a little better. She closed her eyes and began to feel herself sliding towards the edge of orgasm, and almost screamed in frustration as she recognized from his breathing pattern and now-familiar sticky dribbling down her thighs that he had finished. He strutted away, oblivious to having made her artificial arousal that much more intense and doing nothing to relieve it. She gritted her teeth and brought her hind legs together, wondering if there was some way of rubbing them together that would help. She heard the click of the carrier wave, and looked up to see the ghostly presence of her tormentor.

"You're getting to like that, aren't you?"

She bit back an angry reply, still conscious of his earlier vague threat of some sort of punishment if she talked back to him. She didn't want to find out what it might be.

The corners of his mouth twitched in a slight smile. "Good dog. Anyway, it's just as well you're getting used to it. I don't know if you've noticed, but your little puppies are all boys. I think I already see them growing, in just these few days. You're taking very good care of their needs. In, oh, what, a year or so, they'll have another need you can take care of."

He looked at her, his smile growing as he watched her go through through a sequence of expressions that showed that this new information was slowly being processed.

All boys, yes. All eager to satisfy the call of their doggy hormones, on the only available female, spurred on by the drug in their diet, with the example of their dad to show them how rewarding it could be. How many times a day? Twenty? Or would the little adolescents do it even more often? Thirty times a day? Would it ever even stop? "No!!!" She ran towards the mirror, her face radiating her horror. "No, please! How can you do this to me?? Can't you... think of something else that would make you happy? I'll do it, I'll do it for you, just LET ME OUT!" Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

He looked down at her sternly. "That's another thing I don't want to hear. A good dog is happy to please her master in any way he commands. Let's not hear any more talk of getting out. In fact, no more talk at all. I want you to make it your goal to be the best dog you can be, Sprite. You can..."

She blinked through her tears, as the unexpected sound of a soft buzzer interrupted him. For a moment she thought it was a signal for some sort of punishment to begin, but he looked as if he hadn't been expecting it either. He smiled at her again. "Well, we can continue this later." The microphone carrier clicked off, cutting short a repeat of the buzzing sound, and his ghostly image winked out of existence.

Had he gotten a phone call or something? Obviously it was some sort of outside business to attend to. Outside. There was a world outside. Somewhere Tom and Wendy were going about their business, milking her sisters, and Natalie... Natalie! Was she making it okay? Clarissa felt Natalie was much stronger than when she had first come to the farm. She's getting through it okay, isn't she? Clarissa's sisters would be helping her. Please, girls, be there for Natalie! Until I can come back and be with her again.

She stretched out on the ground, tired of tears but not able to stop them. She felt a cold nose nudging her side, and saw one of the puppies, looking for her nipple. She roughly pushed him aside, but immediately felt sorry when she heard him yelp. She rolled onto her side, and stroked his side with her foreleg as he suckled.

*   *   *   *   *

Deputy Price punched the doorbell one more time. He looked at Warren. "There's a car here, but maybe he's got another. I don't think anybody's home."

"Give it another minute." Warren looked around the estate, and back down the upward-sloping road that led to it. Through the trees, he could see lesser homes of a nearby real-estate development, upscale but not quite in this league. It overlooked the town, and the valley in which most of the farms lay. Very nice place. Whatever this guy Gordon does, it's making a lot of money for him. Maybe he's running a girlcow theft ring right under our noses.

Price gave him another look, with a shrug. "Could call him tomorrow, I guess." Warren's reply was interrupted by the sound of a footfall on the other side of the door. With a whisper of snug-fitting joints and effective weather-stripping, the door opened. A large, broad shouldered man stood there. Could be, thought Warren. At least he fits that much of the description.

Warren had coached Price beforehand to stand well back from the door, to give Natalie an unobstructed view from the patrol car. He avoided looking in that direction, battling the natural impulse to see whether she was visible, looking out from under the blanket he'd carefully draped over her. He knew Mr. Martin, on the other side of her, would have slouched down by now, out of sight. With any luck, Gordon might come out and join them on the porch. "Mr. Karl Gordon?"

Gordon nodded, looking, to Warren's eye, surprised at the visit but not frightened. He appeared, in fact, to be a man rarely frightened. "Yes. What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Gordon, I'm Detective Warren with the Police Department, and this is Deputy Price." He held up his badge long enough for Gordon to get a convincing look, then snapped it closed and returned it to his pocket. "We're investigating a recent theft of a girlcow from a local farm."

There was nothing readable behind Gordon's quizzical expression. "And I would know something about that?" Behind his raised eyebrows, he seemed about to laugh.

The view of the valley gave Warren a sudden inspiration. "It was from a farm down that way," he said, pointing. "You can just about see it from here, through those trees." He squatted and squinted, seeming to be looking for just the right vantage.

Gordon politely came out onto the porch and tried to see where Warren was pointing. "And you're asking local citizens if they heard or saw anything?"

Warren straightened up. "There's a little more to it than that. Mind if we come in and talk about it?" He suspected he'd exposed Gordon to as much scrutiny as he could manage.

The surprised look returned to Gordon's face. He shrugged. "Sure. Let's sit in the living room." He gestured behind him.

They entered a room brightly lit from the windows. "You've got a very nice house, Mr. Gordon."

Gordon beamed with pride. "Thanks. I built it."

"You built all this?"

"Well, admittedly not single-handed. I did a lot of it myself, though. I'm in construction. Started out with a little home repair business, which I still have, and then started my home-building company."

Price snapped his fingers. "Gordon Homes! I've seen the ads."

Gordon nodded. "That's me. Built this development around us here," he gestured with his arm to take in the surroundings they had seen from outside the house. "Just felt like having a few neighbors." He smiled. "Can't say I know much about any girlcows, though. Your whole trip will be wasted unless I get you some coffee. I really can't imagine what I can tell you. Black?"

Warren nodded, and Gordon gave Price an inquiring glance. Price looked at Warren, who gave him a slight nod. "Uhh, sugar in mine."

Gordon nodded and left the room through a side door. Warren sighed, disappointed in the absence of any sign they had found their man. He looked around the room. It was furnished sparsely in rather a masculine way, and dominated by a huge bay window that gave the room as good a view of the surroundings as the front porch had. He gave a little start when he saw he and Price weren't quite alone in the room. In the far corner, a large dog, appearing to be mostly Shepherd but clearly with a mixture of other breeds thrown in, reclined with her head up, looking at the visitors -- clearly she was a female, if the two puppies she was nursing were any indication. She seemed to be alert to the possible need to defend her babies.

Gordon returned holding two cups with saucers. He held the one in his right hand out to Price. "Sugar in this one. Let's get comfortable in here." He gestured with his head towards the couch as he handed the other cup to Warren.

Warren sat, conscious of Price taking a seat at the far end of the couch, and wondered uncomfortably how to toss out an accusation in the midst of the hospitality. "Uhh... Mr. Gordon, your name came up in connection with the theft."

Gordon paused in the act of sitting in the easy chair facing the couch, his jaw dropping. "Excuse me?"

Warren concentrated on maintaining the air of confidence and professionalism that generally led to a frank discussion. "We've been told, by a source we have reason to believe, that you once made an offer to steal a girlcow on the source's behalf."

Gordon looked dumbfounded, then pointed and snapped his fingers. "Clarence... what was his name... Newton, that's it. That nut case." He laughed, and sat in the chair.

Warren looked at Price and sighed. So much for maintaining Clarence's confidentiality. "What about Mr. Newton?"

"My home repair company did a little work for him. I went there myself to give him the estimate. Ever been in his place?" He grinned.

Warren shook his head.

Gordon gestured at the walls. "Girlcow pics everywhere. Including some you wouldn't necessarily see in a family magazine. Kind of suggestive poses, you know?" He raised an eyebrow.

Warren nodded. "Have a conversation about that?"

"Well, sure. And he really had it bad for girlcows. Kind of obsessed. I decided to have a little fun with him. I shouldn't have done it, and I feel a little bad about it now, but it was spontaneous."

"You suggested you could get him one."

Gordon nodded, sheepishly, rolling his eyes. "What are you going to do? I just wanted to see his reaction. It was easy to guess how much he could afford, looking at his house and all. I priced it way beyond him. Didn't really want him to bite, of course. Like I said, just to see his reaction." He sighed. "I ought to go apologize to him. You can tell him that."

Warren sipped at his coffee. At least the coffee was good. Not much else here was turning out well. He hated to see the only lead in the case evaporating. "I hope this doesn't offend you, it's just standard procedure: okay if we have a look around?"

Gordon snorted. "See if there's any girlcows stashed away? Sure, I like showing off the place." He stood, and ushered them into the hallway.

As they toured, Warren assembled a mental floor-plan, comparing it with the overall shape of the house as seen from outside. No missing space, no hidden rooms. Gordon cheerfully even opened cupboards and closet doors. "My company does a pretty complete job. We've got our own plumbers and electricians. My dad was in construction too, so I learned the business from the ground up. You go with another company they'll subcontract everything, even the kitchen counters. Not as good quality control with all those fingers in the pie."

Soon they were back in the livingroom. Warren held out his hand, and Gordon shook it. "Really sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Gordon. But you know how it is, we had to check it out."

"Oh, no problem at all. If you're as thorough in your job as I am in mine, I wouldn't expect any less."

"Oh, one more thing. We'd appreciate it if you don't contact Mr. Newton, or anyone associated with him."

"Not even to apologize?"

"Not even that. There are some things in his version of the story that... well, to be frank, it wouldn't be a good idea for you to verify them." That should do it, Warren decided. If Gordon had made the threats Clarence had described, he would know now that carrying them out would move him back to strong suspect status.

Gordon blinked. "Whatever that means. But no problem."

From the corner of the room, the Shepherd trotted over to stand beside her master. The pups were napping. Gordon knelt and gave her a friendly neck rub.

Warren, feeling guilty over the intrusion, however well-justified, felt some comment was expected. "Beautiful dog."

Gordon looked up, smiling. "She is."

Price said, "Kind of a small litter."

"There were more. Rough delivery. A few didn't make it."

Warren shook his head sympathetically, and went on, extending the politeness. "Do you own the father too?"

Gordon, still rubbing the dog's neck vigorously, to her apparent satisfaction, responded, "He's just in the neighborhood somewhere. You know how it is with dogs."

Warren nodded. "What's her name?"

"Sprite."

*   *   *   *   *

As he drove down the long driveway to the street, Warren said over his shoulder, "Was that the guy?"

Her voice a little muffled under the blanket, Natalie said uncertainly, "It could be."

"But you're not sure?"

She was silent a long while. "He's... the right size, and all. The way he moved... it could be him."

Warren let out a long sigh. "I don't think he's the one, Natalie."

*   *   *   *   *

Mr. X didn't return that day after the interruption. Clarissa's spirits rose temporarily on speculation that he'd been caught, but as hours dragged by and rescuers failed to appear, the gloom she had carried with her for days returned. She managed to sneak in a reasonable dinner before Thunder chased her away from the feeding bowl, adding to her frustration at his inability to understand that she was responsible for the food being there.

The puppies had recently discovered the food as well, and had been nibbling at it off and on, though luckily it didn't seem to interfere with their taste for her milk -- she had no idea what she would do with her bulging breasts if they lost interest. She had tried milking herself with the side of her foreleg, but couldn't find a way to get the pressure in just the right place.

She looked up from her latest experiment in self-milking to see that one of the puppies -- she refused to think about giving them names, or admit in any other way that she would be imprisoned long enough to settle into a new life here -- was, for the first time she could recall, getting ready to take a dump. Their new diet had to cycle out of them somehow, and she sighed at the idea that she would be dodging a growing number of piles of dog droppings as time went by. At least Thunder had, at some point in the past, been trained to use the litter box. As she watched, the puppy stiffened his legs and tensed for evacuation, but his inexperience at the procedure left him unable to judge the balance point -- he tilted slowly and, stiff as a plastic dog replica, pitched straight forward onto his nose. Immediately he scrambled back up with puppy enthusiasm to give it another shot. Clarissa found herself laughing for the first time in days, and decided it was time to take on another mom-type job. She trotted over, picked the puppy up in her teeth by the scruff of his neck, carried the wriggling bundle over to the litter box and plopped him down in the middle of it. She resisted his attempts to scramble back out of it until his bowel movement kicked in again. She sighed, picturing how long this process was going to take with all four of them. I won't, she told herself firmly, have time to finish. I'll be out of here.

She groaned as the light slowly faded, feeling the cooler air already being pumped into the cell, signaling the end of another day in captivity. Two of the puppies were already headed for the doghouse. She rounded up the other two and carried them in. Thunder was already lying down inside. Starting to shiver already, she sighed and shook her head, frustrated by the absence of alternatives, and lay down to snuggle with Thunder for another night.

She had a feeling sleep wasn't going to come easily: the tingling between her hind legs had reached a plateau, it seemed, and she could deal with it during the day and, to some extent, ignore it, but at night, in the doghouse, it seemed to eat up an increasing share of her consciousness, from the lack of any other sensation to compete with it. She realized suddenly that her hips were wriggling without her volition, and now that she was aware of it, she still couldn't seem to stop it. One of Thunder's hind legs had crept up between hers, though she doubted he meant anything by it, but feeling it there -- it was too much, just too much.

I just have to do it, she thought. I can't get through the night like this. She rolled slightly until the front of Thunder's leg was up against her pussy, and bore down, her hips twisting, thrusting. Thunder, who had been in a semi-daze on his way to whatever playground occupied his dreams, suddenly shook within her grasp, and she rolled a little farther to try to hold him down. His low growl scared her, but she was beyond being able to stop herself, to forego the scratching of a days-long itch that had eaten too far into her consciousness to be denied. She didn't even care that the night-vision camera in the upper corner of the house was watching her every move and, if not showing her now to Mr. X, was at least certainly recording her activities for his later viewing.

Thunder, for his part, seemed unable to decide whether he should defend himself or let things run. His growl became querilous, and Clarissa could feel his erection putting in an appearance. It was doubtful, she decided later, that he would have let her have her way with him in any normal circumstances, but his diet, identical to hers, left him as easily aroused as she was. She shifted once more, to take him inside her, determined to make him hit just the right spot this time, finally in control after doing it his way every time before.

There! Right there! The feeling of impending explosion and relief was building within her like a balloon slowly filling, and she ground herself that much harder against him, letting the balloon expand to fill her entire being, panting and grunting with effort. Thunder was pinned under her hips and chest, his struggles to get out from under her complicated by his uncertainty about whether he wanted to. At last, shouting in satisfaction, she slipped over the edge into orgasm, her body convulsing with release.

It slowly let go and she lay still, her skin bathed in sweat. Thunder lay still as well, his erection subsiding and slipping out of her, leaving a familiar stickiness between her hind legs that told her she was safe, for now, from any attempts by Thunder to keep the session going. Much as she wanted to get away from him, she clung to him, needing his body heat to replace her own as the chill air and her evaporating sweat sucked it out of her. She thrust away, for now, the feeling of shame that threatened to gnaw at her, robbing her of a rare instant of victory. There, Thunder, she thought, how does it feel having it done to you? How do you like not being on top? A tiny smile played on her lips as she drifted towards sleep.

*   *   *   *   *

Natalie arrived back at the barn just as Wendy was finishing the evening milking. Wendy, after a quick look at Natalie's expression, decided to ask Tom later for details on the day's activities. Natalie stood silently through the milking, occasionally rubbing her eyes against her shoulder to dry them. After Wendy had patted her on the shoulder and secured her in Jill and Monica's stall for the night, she immediately headed for the sleeping pad, turning her face to the wall.

She didn't move when she felt Jill's hoof nudging her butt. "Natalie? Want to talk about anything? It doesn't have to be... you know."

Natalie squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She knew she was starting to head down that same dark well she'd been in when she first came to the farm. Only Clarissa, she thought, could pull her out of it. But Clarissa, she knew, wouldn't want her to be in it in the first place. She sought inside herself, knowing Clarissa was in there somewhere, telling her not to shut the world out. She rolled onto her back and looked up at Jill, and shook her head. "Not really. But..." She bit her lip. "If... you want to lay down here... that's okay. I mean, I'd like that." She scooted back a little to make room for her.

Jill let out the breath she'd been holding, and lay down facing Natalie. Behind her, Monica looked on, then turned her attention to the TV, keeping the sound down low.

Jill stroked Natalie's side tentatively with her foreleg. "Do you want to, maybe, play a little? I've kinda been hoping we could do it again." She gave her a hopeful smile.

Dealing with the world was one thing, but dealing with sex felt a little beyond her energy level just now. She gave Jill a twitchy smile, then dropped it. "Not right now, okay? I'll get there, but... not now. Could..." She stopped, and listened inside for just a little more encouragement from Clarissa. "Could you just... hold me?"

Jill nodded, and wriggled in closer, pressing up against her, her breasts flattening against Natalie's. She nudged Natalie between her hind legs, encouraging her to part them so Jill could slide one of her own between them. Natalie lifted her head to let Jill slip one of her forelegs underneath as a pillow, and Jill rested her other foreleg on Natalie's side. Natalie felt some of the anger and loneliness leave her, leaving only the sadness.

*   *   *   *   *

Clarissa struggled within herself, the next morning, to resolve the feelings of horror and triumph battling inside. She couldn't deny the shame of being manipulated to the point of initiating a session of sex with a dog -- it was manipulation, wasn't it? Did Mr. X plan for that to happen? Or did I do it on my own? And if I did, does that mean I'm a twisted nut-case -- or did I really win something? Did I beat my canine tormentor and take the initiative away from him? The shame was in her head. The triumph was in her heart. For the life of her, she had no idea which organ was right.

It couldn't have been more than an hour after she'd first emerged from the doghouse for breakfast, leaving her slumbering mate inside, that she heard him trotting up behind her just an instant before he was on her again, his chest rubbing against her back and his panting breath loud against her ear as he established his superiority once more. Whatever she might have succeeded at the night before, inevitably her dominance was only temporary.

She shook her head and sighed, afterward, as she once more felt the warm dribble flowing down the inside of her thigh. She resumed an interrupted feeding of one of the puppies, a little worried now that he, and his brothers, did seem to be losing a little of their interest in the food she could provide, though not stopping altogether. What if they stop, she fretted? What do I do?

Her head down, she stared at the two tiny beads of white, one dangling from each nipple, shimmering, quivering, ready to drop to the ground. Can I make them want it more? Can I... He can do that kind of thing, Mr. X. He can make me do what he wants.

I'm human! I'm not a dumb animal! I'm as smart as he is! And last night I...

It wasn't a big deal, she realized. Last night she'd taken advantage of Thunder's predisposition to have sex at the drop of a hat. But she hadn't made him that way. It wasn't like she could really make him do something...

She looked again at the beads of milk. It would sure solve a problem, she thought, if Thunder could be persuaded...

She twisted her waist and lifted her right foreleg, brushing it carefully against the side of her breast, not wanting to dislodge the drip and lose it. Not trying to milk herself this time, just trying to smear the drip around her nipple, spread the scent over a wider area. So he couldn't miss it. She twisted the other way and did the same with the drip on her other nipple.

She walked towards Thunder, now on his side on the ground near the doghouse enjoying his mid-morning siesta. Under her breath, not wanting Mr. X to hear her talking if he was listening, she muttered, "Hey, Thunder, want a little drink?"

She lay next to him, facing him, and wriggled closer, until her breast was under his nose. She smiled as his nostrils flared and he opened his eyes. "How's that, fella? Remind you of anything? Something you got from your mom when you were a tiny ball of fur? Hmmm?"

She gasped, half in surprise and half in pleasure, as his tongue darted out to brush her nipple. He roused himself partway and started licking her breast, and she moaned at the intensity of the sensation of his wet, sandpapery tongue dragging along her sensitive skin. In a moment, as she nodded encouragement breathlessly, he moved his head closer and opened his mouth. As she crooned softly, "Just drink, no bite, okay?" he began sucking.

I did it! I got him to do what I wanted him to do! Take that, Mr. X! I can do anything you can do! Maybe better!

Her heart pounding, she gave Thunder a long drink, satisfying to them both.

*   *   *   *   *

Late Monday morning, as Wendy was gathering the girls back together after their trip out to the field, Tom walked out to meet them. "I just got a call from one of Clarissa's friends. She wanted to bring something over. That okay?" He was addressing them all, but looking mainly at Natalie.

Jenny asked, "What is it?"

Tom gave her a half-smile. "You'll see when she gets here. Any problems? No hot dates planned or anything?" Kirsten giggled.

Natalie looked around, seeing everyone was waiting for her to say something. "W-who is it?"

"Her name's Gail. She says you met her on the first day in the milk stand."

The memory came back, along with the familiar stinging of tears that went with anything that reminded her of Clarissa. A quick examination of the other cows' faces told her they were hoping she'd say yes. She sighed, "I guess it's okay," and saw the faces around her light up. She just hoped Gail wouldn't be as bubbly as she'd been that day. She wasn't in the mood for that.

Just minutes after Wendy had walked them back into the barn, as they milled around the common area in front of the stalls, Gail poked her head around the corner of the barn door. Squinting as her eyes adjusted to the darker interior, she grinned. "Anybody home?"

Before Wendy could invite her in, Monica exclaimed, "I smell pizza!" In the resulting hubbub, Gail came more fully into view, carrying two large boxes. "I guess the secret's out. Is this a good time? You didn't already just have lunch or anything?"

Karen said excitedly, "We're always hungry!"

"Clarissa said you'd probably all like pepperoni and girlmeat sausage. Okay?"

"Yes!" came from at least four or five sources.

Gail set the boxes on the floor, and said, "Hold on, got some other stuff." She hurried out of the barn and retrieved an 8-cup cardboard drink carrier. "Colas. I was going to get diet, but your brother said you'd rather have the sugar in it."

Karen explained, "Yeah, we don't really have to watch our weight. Everything goes into our boobs anyway." Several of the cows laughed.

Gail opened the boxes, and sat on the floor in front of them. Monica and Gwen said together, "It's still warm!" Kirsten asked, "It's already all cut up bite-sized! Did you do that?"

Gail nodded, as she started to set the drink cups out in a semi-circle beyond the boxes, slipping a straw into each. "They let me use their pizza cutter." She held up the last cola cup. "You want some, Mrs. Martin?"

"Wendy. And I'll split it with you. I do have to watch my weight. I'm still trying to get back where I was before the babies." Unconsciously she shook her head, surprised at how thoughtful Gail had been -- not just in cutting up the pizza, but in ordering eight drinks for the seven cows. She suspected that not just Natalie, but all of the rest of them, would have been upset at seeing an empty slot in the drink carrier.

As the six sisters clustered around the boxes, each with a cola cup anchoring her position, Karen discovering Natalie was hanging uncertainly a few feet back. "Come on, Natalie. You know you're part of the family."

Natalie's tears, never held back for long, started flowing as they usually did at any reference to her membership in the family. She came up to the last cup on the right and sipped some cola through the straw.

Gail started handing out the tiny slices of pizza -- it was easier for the cows to eat it from her hand than to bend all the way down to the floor for it. Jill licked her lips. "This is great! We haven't had pizza in like forever. One of Karen's friends brings some sometimes, but it's been at least a few months."

Gail grinned. "I work at the library, but it's closed on Mondays. I could come over every Monday."

Gwen goggled at her. "Every Monday? That'd be really cool, but why would you give up all your days off for us?" She looked around at the rest. "No offense, I didn't mean we're not all fun to be with." Her sisters laughed.

Gail smiled and shrugged. "I just felt really awful when I heard about Clarissa. She w..." She caught herself just in time and discarded the past tense. "She's always just so sweet, and I knew it must be hard for you to... be without her. I wanted to do something for all of you."

Natalie made a choking sound, and convulsively swallowed the piece she'd been chewing. A fresh flow of tears rolled down her cheeks, and she was struggling to clear her nose of snot.

Gail looked at her sympathetically. "Natalie, right? I know that you..." Again she made a conscious effort to steer around the past tense. "You're her partner. I could tell when I saw the two of you together you're really close." She scooted a little closer to Natalie and put her right arm over Natalie's shoulders, giving her a brief hug, her cheek pressed against Natalie's. She kept her arm on Natalie's shoulders afterward, her hand lightly stroking Natalie's hair, while continuing to hold out pizza pieces, for the others and Natalie, in the palm of her other hand, pausing occasionally to reach up for the drink cup Wendy was holding.

In about fifteen minutes the cows had finished off both pizzas and drained their cola cups. They giggled as Gail wiped excess sauce off their lips with napkins, and one by one they kissed her and thanked her. They drifted in the direction of their stalls, pausing at the doors to watch Gail with Natalie.

Gail gave Natalie another hug, and a quick kiss on her cheek. "She'll come back. I know she will."

Natalie gave a heavy sigh, and attempted a smile. "I know."

Gail stroked her hair again and smiled. "So hang in there, okay?"

Natalie gulped. "I will... I tell her every night I'll be here waiting for her. And every morning."

"I'm sure she hears you. Keep telling her. She needs that."

Natalie tried to answer, but her throat closed up. She nodded.

Gail hugged her one last time, then stood and brushed the dust off the back of her jeans. She looked at all the girls. "I'll come back next Monday. Tell Clarissa hi if she's back before then."

"Okay." "Will do." "Thanks!"

Outside the barn, as she carried the empty pizza boxes, Wendy smiled at her and gave her a tight hug. "This was so sweet. They really needed something like this."

Gail nodded. "I know. We ate my older sister a few years ago, and I still miss being with her. And at least she's inside me now. This is just so unfair, what happened to Clarissa."

Wendy sighed. "Really. But it helps knowing people care. Thank you."

Gail grinned. "I'll see you next Monday."



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