The first thing that James Bartholomew Wilson Junior noticed when he got home from college was how big the family farm was. He knew, intellectually, that it was big. But, during his time away from home, a part of him had come to think that maybe that was just childhood memories exaggerating things. That, after spending five years in a big college town studying Agricultural Sciences, he would go back home and it’d feel downright cramped. Or at least not quite so wastefully huge.

But then he got back home and no it was just as big as he remembered, with just as much wasted space. The farm was vast, both vertically and horizontally. Well beyond what they could ever use for even the biggest industrial-scale farming operation. Massive fields used for growing enough grass and hay to feed every single cow on the farm a hundred times over and still have leftovers. Towering silos that rivalled some skyscrapers that were never even close to their capacity. A set of massive multi-storey warehouses, each one the size of a small town, used for aging cheese and fermenting yogurt, which they used a fraction of. The same applied to the set of equally large refrigerated warehouses for things like ice cream and butter and anything else perishable.

His father called it future proofing. That was something they’d never really seen eye-to-eye on. The argument always played out the same way. Junior didn’t think it was worth wasting the resources banking on winning the lottery when you could be focusing on a smaller market and making more profits. Jim Sr. countered that putting your profits back into the farm couldn’t possibly hurt and that if they did win the lottery it was better to be ready in advance. And then the conversation went in circles from there. That was, he supposed, a big part of why he ended up going into Agricultural Sciences. He wanted to prove – to his father and to himself – that his ideas were right. That his approach would work, and would work better than his father’s.

It took some doing, but eventually he convinced Jim Sr. to give him that chance. Invest heavily in his son’s vision while he and Ma treated themselves to an extended vacation in the Bahamas. They were, of course, still going to check in from time to time. This was still Farmer Jim’s Dairy Farms, not Jim Junior’s, or at least not yet. But, until their vacation was over, the farm’s continued existence hinged on his vision. He’d bet everything that his family had built over the past three generations on it.

The first big change, of course, was to better utilize the space they had. He wasn’t quite as averse to his father’s future-proofing as he’d been when he was younger – one thing he’d learned in college was just how expensive and time-consuming building all that infrastructure actually was. If you did win and you weren’t ready then you wouldn’t actually be able to capitalize on it. Suddenly all that potential profit goes down the drain. But, in the meantime, the land was there so you might as well make use of it. More cows, other types of livestock, a wide variety of cash crops. You name it, it was in the Plan, which was the key difference in approach. Take everything he’d learned, use it to make a plan, then stick to that plan like glue as it carried him to massive financial success and in the process prove to his father that he wasn’t just a weak egghead.

And then he’d actually won the lottery almost immediately, throwing a colossal spanner into the plan. A colossal spanner named Sophie.

“Nice t’meetcha, Jimbo! Can I call you Jimbo?”

“I prefer Junior. Or just Jim.”

“Jimbo it is!”

Sophie was what was known as a Giant Bovine. Like a cow except bigger. Much, much, much bigger, a fact that Sophie conveniently demonstrated by casually picking up a truck so she could take a bite out of one of the bales of hay it was carrying. Obviously, there weren’t a lot of Giant Bovines out there. There just plain wasn’t the space in the world for a lot of Giant Bovines. They lived peaceful, quiet lives far to the west, among forests and mountains that were supposedly big enough to dwarf even their gigantic inhabitants. Or maybe the Bovines were normal sized and Easterners were exceptionally small. Jim didn’t really know for sure, nor did he care. That kind of semantic difference was best left to philosophers. He was much more interested in the practical side of things.

And that practical side was that they generally stayed in their homes, for safety’s sake – too many Bovines in one place was just asking for a city to get accidentally crushed underfoot. Only a few were permitted to go out to work in the tiny half of the world, hence the lottery. Every year, Bovines and companies alike put their names into a big metaphorical hat, and then those names would be metaphorically drawn and literally paired together. It wasn’t just farms that participated, either. Dairy was obvious, but there were a lot of industries that could benefit from two hundred foot tall workers. Construction, demolitions, mining, shipping, and probably many more that Junior was overlooking because, obviously, he was mostly interested in farming.

And, well, it was impossible to deny that Sophie was going to be extremely useful for a dairy farm. She was, again, very big, in all the relevant ways. To be extremely blunt, her breasts were huge. Not just in terms of raw size, but proportionally to her body. If you took Sophie and scaled her down to around six feet tall they’d still be the size of her head, maybe bigger. Junior didn’t have enough experience with women to even hazard a guess at their exact cup size but also Sophie very obviously didn’t wear a bra so it was kind of a moot point. The text on her white tee shirt was slightly but obviously deformed – “HEFTY HEIFER” it read, in all caps.

Which was, if anything, an understatement. The shirt left her pleasantly plump stomach bare, while her stockings accentuated thighs thicker around than any of the farm’s silos and her daisy dukes might as well have just been panties. Although he was, at least, pretty sure she had panties on under it, even if she didn’t bother with a bra. They were skimpy enough that he could see what seemed to be underwear slightly poking out of the edges and corners. Maybe. Again, Junior didn’t really have much in the way of experience with women. He knew what panties looked like, of course, he wasn’t an idiot. But he couldn’t get a good enough look to be entirely certain whether the glimpses of white he could see were lingerie or just part of the daisy dukes.

And, obviously, he didn’t want to allow himself to get too enraptured staring her crotch. It was just a little bit creepy, and anyway it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to get to see her naked on a regular basis. That was one of the realities of being a dairy cow. The farmers were going to be seeing your tits, and probably the rest of you too. Which also meant that he was going to be seeing plenty of Sophie in the buff. Which was another good reason not to let himself get too distracted by her body. As though he needed any reasons other than ‘staring at people is kind of creepy’.

He quickly pulled his gaze back up, past the shelf of her tits, to look her in the eye. Or at least as best as he could. Given the angle and the sheer size of her breasts, it was hard to see anything besides them until the larger cow leaned forward slightly – as if she’d intuited what was going on. Which, honestly, given the knowing smirk and slight blush, wasn’t out of the question. He decided not to think too hard about that, instead focusing on maintaining eye contact.

Her eyes, much like the rest of her, were very pretty. Somewhere between hazel and a deep, forest green. Junior couldn’t put his finger on the exact shade – he wasn’t exactly creatively inclined. All he knew was that they looked nice against her long, wavy golden hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back almost to her ass.

She also, he noticed, had a tag in her left ear with the number 80085 on it. That wasn’t his doing, so presumably it was some sorta strange fashion choice. Similarly, the collar with a cowbell on it had been on her before she arrived at the farm. And it was one hell of a cowbell, big enough to give pretty much any clocktower or church a sense of clinical inadequacy. Definitely bigger than he was tall. All of her clothing was colossal, by necessity. In spite of being skimpy, there was probably enough fabric there to clothe a small town. The buttons on her flannel top were big enough to be used as wheels for a tractor and her baseball cap was probably big enough that you could use it as a small house. Which begged the question of where she got the fabric for all of that, but Junior didn’t really care about the answer all that much.

“Y’like what you see, Jimbo? I can show ya’ lots more~”

Junior decided not to rise to the bait. “First off we’re going to have to do a basic physical inspection.”

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘yes, please, Sophie, show me more!’”

Technically she wasn’t wrong about that. Correct in the letter, if not the spirit. Junior did his best to maintain a professional atmosphere, in spite of Sophie’s best efforts to undermine that. She intentionally moved with agonizing slowness, gently tugging and teasing at the knot holding her flannel top closed. Drawing the process out as long as possible, less like stripping for a physical inspection and more like a striptease. Well, actually, not like a striptease. It was just flat-out a striptease. “We’ve got a lot to do today, so please try to go as quickly as possible.”

“Oh, my, so eager!” Sophie, pointedly, did not actually speed up all that much. She still took her time, and still did her best to flaunt her ample proportions. Just very slightly quicker than she had been. She undid the knot and slooooowly pulled the flannel down over her shoulders before discarding it entirely, burying several trees completely. Next came hooking her thumbs underneath the hem of her hefty heifer shirt, pulling it what felt like inches at a time – though, of course, given that she was two hundred feet tall and her breasts were very large, it was probably closer to multiple feet. She kept that pace up right until the shirt got up to just below her nipples.

She held it there for just long enough to think that maybe she was doing it on purpose before, in one go, pulling it the rest of the way. Her fat tits flopped heavily against her torso, bouncing slightly as they collided with her body. It was hard not to be mesmerized by the way they sloooowly wobbled into place. Junior did his best but, well, they were very large. “There we go! Next is-”

“That’s, uh, that’s enough for now. We only need to inspect the udders.” Technically, he should really probably have been doing a full inspection of her entire body, but he honestly didn’t think his heart could take it. Not that he was going to say that out loud, of course. Somehow, he got the impression that this had become a contest of sorts and that admitting his attraction would be akin to admitting defeat. And he was not willing to admit defeat.

Even if there was a part of him that really wanted to admit defeat.

“Are you sure? I’d’a thought you’d want to see the whole package.”

“I’ll see it all eventually. For now, let’s just stick to the important bits.”

“Well, you’re the boss!” Sophie replied with a shrug. Junior decided, after a moment’s deliberation, not to allow himself to become enraptured with the way that particular action made her boobs move. “In that case, let’s get to inspectin’!”

“Right.”

They stood in silence for just about long enough that it started to feel awkward. “Would you like a closer look, Jimbo?”

“Uh. Right. Yes.” He was still not particularly pleased with being called Jimbo, but decided not to push his luck. Besides, he found his focus somewhat stuck on Sophie as she moved to give him that better look. Once again, she seemed to be going out of her way to move as slowly as possible, though in this case he didn’t entirely blame her. She shuffled backwards and knelt down in one fluid motion, moving carefully so as to not knock down any trees or squash any errant farmhands. Once she reached her knees, she scooched back further and then, after quickly making sure that no one was in the proverbial line of fire – whud! – flopped forward onto her belly with enough force to knock down anyone insufficiently prepared. Which was basically everyone present except for Sophie.

“Looks like I swept y’all off your feet!” Sophie said with a chuckle.

“Mnf,” Junior grunted as he pulled himself back upright. That was something he’d have to be more aware of in the future. Two hundred feet tall was a lot of feet, after all. Sophie was big, and that meant she had a lot of weight behind her. If she wasn’t careful, and he got the impression that she wasn’t a very delicate cow, then just existing in the wrong place could cause a lot of damage. Thankfully, all the infrastructure had been built with that particular issue in mind – his father’s future-proofing rearing its ugly head once again.

But even if the buildings were probably safe from Sophie’s day-to-day presence, the people still had to be careful. That was something he hadn’t considered. Maybe implement some sort of coaching program to teach people how to deal with the tremors caused by Sophie moving about? Which wouldn’t be cheap, of course, but it was necessary. Of course, he wasn’t too worried about budgeting for that kind of thing. Sophie’s mere presence all but ensured that profits were going to go up, at least assuming he utilized her correctly.

“Ahem. Shouldn’t you be inspecting my boobs already?”

Oh yes right that. The inspection. The entire reason that she had caused that minor earthquake in the first place. He’d gotten so distracted by his transparent attempts to not think about Sophie’s boobs that he’d forgotten that no, this was the point when he could no longer avoid Sophie’s boobs.

He had been hoping that, once he got to the actual inspection, things would have felt more... clinical? Like, there wasn’t anything sexual about this. This was strictly platonic ogling, purely business. No matter how much his libido said otherwise. Like, okay, yes, they were very big. He wasn’t going to deny that they were big, that would be wilful ignorance. A Sophie who was the same size as him would have breasts easily bigger than his head. But that right there was the kicker. Not only were they bigger than his head, they were quite probably bigger than anyone’s head. Well beyond the point where it would be practical. So big that there was no fucking way she’d even get anything out of it and the only thing he’d get would be squashed.

But, well, logic didn’t exactly mean much in the face of tits the size of buildings. He could tell himself over and over and over all the reasons why getting intimate with them was a terrible idea, but that wouldn’t change the fact that they were Extremely Large and his animal brain immediately equated Large with Good.

“Ahem,” Sophie cleared her throat a bit more emphatically this time. “The inspection?”

“Right, right.”

Slowly, Sophie tilted her head to one side. “Wait, wait. Don’t tell me. Is... Is this your first time doing this?”

“Of course it is, we’ve never had a Giant Bovine on our farm before.”

“Okay, but y’all’ve gotta have at least learned how to do this at some point, right?” Junior didn’t respond, and Sophie’s quizzical tilt slowly morphed into a mischievous smirk. “Well, in that case, lemme give you some first-hand experience.”

Junior’s immediate gut instinct was to say something along the lines of ‘no thank you actually I think I’m good’. He did not actually say that, however. As much as he was extremely uncertain about the direction this situation was heading, he did actually need to inspect Sophie at some point. And anyway, he wasn’t exactly going to deny that there was a part of him that was very interested in getting up-close and personal with Sophie’s breasts. There was that colossal size difference to consider. But, again, the part of him that was fixated on Sophie’s breasts saw that size difference as a positive.

So instead he just didn’t say anything, which Sophie clearly took as an invitation to go further. Which, to be fair, it kind of was? Regardless of that, Sophie reached down and plucked Junior off the ground by the back of his shirt in an extremely impressive display of manual dexterity. “A-ah, hey!”

“Don’t struggle, I don’t wanna drop you.” That was entirely a fair point, and Junior was already doing his best to hold still. Sophie, moving slowly and carefully, carried him over to her breasts. “The rest of y’all should get over here, too, this ain’t a one-man job.”

The collection of various farmhands stood their ground awkwardly. Which, really, Junior elected not to blame them for that considering he’d done the exact same thing. Besides, he was technically the boss here, not Sophie. As much as she was very clearly in charge of the situation, he was the one that signed their paycheques. “She’s right,” he shouted over at them, still dangling from her hooves. “There’s a lot of ground to cover, so get to work.” Besides, most of them were old hands at the job. Likely none had ever dealt with a giant bovine before, but they still almost certainly had a lot more first-hand experience than he. Also, something about their presence made this feel a bit less like a strange sexual encounter and more like work. Which was good because it actually was work.

Although, admittedly, that feeling was severely undercut by the fact that he was still very much being held aloft by Sophie, feet dangling unceremoniously in the air. Thankfully, the farmhands were all professional enough to not say anything. Which made it very, very slightly less massively embarrassing.

At least, he supposed, work was getting done. Some of the farmhands were doing a visual inspection while others were preparing tools to weigh and measure them Obviously, no ordinary measuring tape was going to be able to even reach a fraction of her chest, let alone measure the whole thing. And even the industrial-sized scales they used for measuring cargo would likely not be adequate for weighing them. They’d need specialized equipment – once again, Junior had to begrudgingly admit to himself that his father’s future-proofing had come in handy.

“And I suppose y’all’re gonna supervise, then?”

“Something like that.” Junior’s intention was to carefully watch the inspection unfold and from there learn how to do it himself. The odds of ever needing to do an initial inspection on another giant bovine were, of course, not exactly high. But he was absolutely going to need to inspect plenty of regular bovines, and this was invaluable experience in that regard.

“Well,” Sophie said, her voice tinged with mischief. “In that case, let’s give you the best seat in the house!”

Really, he probably should have seen this coming. Sophie moved quickly, closing the remaining distance to her breath in an instant before unceremoniously letting Junior go. Thankfully, he didn’t have far to fall, and his landing was soft. He ended up exactly where he expected to, right in the cleft of Sophie’s cleavage. She quickly reached down and pushed his body deeper, leaving only his head exposed. “What do you think? Comfy, right?”

“Hmph.” Junior decided not to dignify her with a proper response, though his sullen grunt only elicited a mildly amused giggle from the massive moo. “... Let’s just get on with the inspection.”

“I’m sure the boys can handle themselves just fine. In the meantime, you need to lighten up a bit!”

“This is work.”

“You’ve still gotta enjoy yourself. Being miserable at work is unhealthy!”

“I’m not miserable, though. I’m just taking this seriously.”

“You can take work seriously and still smile once in a while, big guy!” Sophie retorted with a laugh, pressing her arms against her breasts to squeeze them together around Junior. He could feel a light blush spreading across his face. Hopefully, between the bad angle and his fur acting as a barrier she didn’t notice, because he was absolutely certain that she would take it as free license to tease him even more. And, quite frankly, he was already getting enough teasing thank you very much.

As if she could sense what he was thinking, she squeezed her boobs again. From the outside it probably looked incidental, and a part of Junior was thinking that maybe he was reading too much into things? But a bigger part of him countered that she had shoved him into her cleavage, so we were well past the point where you could read more into things than was already on the surface. Besides, there was something about the way she was doing it, the rhythm and the direction of the squeezes. Rubbing and jostling his body in a way that felt calculated. Kind of... Well, he obviously didn’t have firsthand experience with the real thing, but he kind of got the vibe that these were boobjob motions. Just, you know, scaled up significantly and applied to his whole body.

... Okay, maybe he was reading too much into it after all. He couldn’t really help it, though, considering his position. They were very soft and warm and smelled very nice. Sort of sweet and floral and also, unsurprisingly, kind of like milk. He didn’t really mind that, though. He’d always liked the smell of milk. Maybe that was just some universal trait that all people who grew up in dairy farms had.

Or maybe it was the fact that he was almost completely buried in cow tits. One or the other.

Junior decided that he should probably stop thinking about the aforementioned cow tits and focus on work. Though, on the other hand, it was a bit too late for that – the inspection seemed to already be well underway, damn. There went his plan to try and learn how to do it by watching. He’d already missed a big chunk of the work, which meant he’d have to learn this skill from a book. Which, considering that this whole situation had been one big object lesson in why book learning was useless without practical experience, was a bit disappointing. Oh, well. He was certain he’d have plenty of opportunities to get practical experience in the future, he was sure. Besides, even if he’d missed the start, he still had front row seats for the rest. Although there were two enormous obstacles in between him and the action.

Still, he did his best to keep track of what he could keep track of. It looked like they’d finished the initial visual inspection and found no problems, and were in the process of moving to the physical inspection. “The fun bit!” Sophie interjected, interrupting Junior’s internal monologue.

“Please try not to have too much fun while I’m in here.”

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of padding.”

“I’d rather not run the risk that it’s not enough.”

“Fine, if you’re gonna be a killjoy about it.”

Still, he couldn’t really blame her for getting into it. It wasn’t exactly professional of her? But, well, breasts were an erogenous zone. And she had an awful lot of people getting up close and personal with them. According to his books, getting a little worked up – or even a lot worked up – by things like inspections or milkings was perfectly normal for a giant bovine. Really, he wouldn’t even mind too much if she hadn’t shoved him into her cleavage. They were, and he could not stress this enough, very big. Softness aside, he questioned how much that would mitigate the possibility of being smooshed if she got too antsy.

Though, really, he didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about the possibility of getting smooshed. Partly because he really did wanna focus on the inspection, partly because he understandably didn’t want to dwell on the worst case scenario. Although, it was kind of hard not to dwell on the worst case scenario considering the way Sophie was wiggling eagerly. Which was kind of odd – Junior would have assumed they were too much smaller than her for her to even notice. Maybe he was underestimating how sensitive her boobs were, maybe the sheer volume of people examining her made up for how small they were individually, or maybe she was just playing it up to mess with him. He wouldn’t put it past her, to be honest, though he also didn’t want to judge her too soon. To be fair, there were a lot of people crawling all over her boobs like ants, searching for any suspicious lumps or imperfections.

Still, if this was her reaction to just getting touched, he didn’t look forward to her getting weighed or measured in the slightest.

Speaking of which, it seemed like they were moving on to the latter. As he’d implied, normal sized measuring tools were obviously out of the question and so instead they needed specially custom-designed tools. They wheeled out something that kind of looked like a cross between a scissor lift and a gigantic set of calipers mounted on a big motorized platform. “I’m probably gonna have to move a bit,” Sophie said. “Hold on tight. Make sure you get a nice firm grip. Don’t worry about being too firm, either, I won’t even notice.”

That confirmed that her boobs probably weren’t extra sensitive, then. “Maybe you could put me down?”

“Nah, this way’s more fun.”

“I could just climb into the-”

“You could,” Sophie replied before he had a chance to finish. “This way’s more fun.”

“Hmph.” Still, Junior decided it was better to take her advice than try to object. What else was he going to do? Attempt to leave and end up falling or getting squashed? As much as he wasn’t sure how he felt about this situation, he wasn’t quite willing to take the risk. He grabbed on to some fur and held on tightly as Sophie shifted back to a kneeling position. “I should probably get off before they weigh them, though,” he insisted. “I don’t want to skew the measurements.”

“Aw, it can’t possibly make that big of a difference.”

“Precision is important.”

“Well then you can sit on my shoulders or something, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Don’t shrug with me on your shoulders.”

“I’ll try. You should hold on tight, though. Just in case.”

Junior didn’t need to be told to hold on tight, or at least not again. Even kneeling, it was a very long way down from Sophie’s boobs to the ground. Not the kind of fall that you can bounce back from. He moved slowly and carefully, making sure he had a firm grip with the one hand before even considering letting go with the other and moving it higher up. Ideally he’d also have a firm grip with his feet but that obviously wasn’t an option – he was a cat, not a monkey. He just did the best that he could with what he had and made his way from cleavage to shoulder.

Which was a hell of a lot more of a trek than he thought it would be. It turned out that there was a really, really big difference between someone who was six feet tall and someone who was closer to two hundred feet tall. Maybe she had a point after all – he wasn’t really big enough relative to her boobs to make all that much of an impact. But, well, he’d already started moving. Sunk cost and all that. He frowned, steeled his nerves, and resumed his epic journey. Really, it wasn’t all that far in terms of raw distance. But the fact that he had to freeclimb it, something he had exactly zero experience in, made it take much longer than it would have taken to just walk the same distance on foot.

“Mnf,” Junior grunted. “... Could you maybe just pick me up and move me?” He had very pointedly avoided bringing up that possibility until now because, well, it was kind of absurdly undignified. But being in her cleavage was honestly even more undignified and anyway it was very clear that it was going to take minutes to get to her shoulder unaided.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good plan.”

“Actually you could probably just put me back on the gr-”

“Nah.” Well, it was worth a shot. At least she did, in fact, pick him up and put him on her shoulder. A small part of him had honestly been expecting to end up back in her cleavage, so this was at least a bonus. He’d kind of prefer to be back on the ground? But that obviously wasn’t going to happen without Sophie’s assistance unless he wanted to climb his way down. Which he didn’t – the distance from cleavage to shoulder had already been a challenge. Somewhere out there was a man who was capable of freeclimbing his way down a giant bovine’s body without falling to his doom. Junior was not that man, not even slightly.

“You should still make sure you’ve got a good grip, by the way,” Sophie said. “Things might get rough.”

“Why would things get rough?”

“Things might get rough,” she repeated. Junior could hazard a few guesses as to what she meant, but decided he didn’t want to think about it too hard right now.

Instead, he turned to the workers down on the ground and shouted. “Okay, we’re good to go. Get to measuring.”

“He says that you can get to measuring,” Sophie added helpfully. Junior made a mental note to invest in a good, robust megaphone. Especially because, now that he thought of it, he got the impression Sophie was going to be putting him in her cleavage a lot in the future.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, no problem.” Sophie gently patted him on the head as much as she was capable of given the size difference.

The workers on the ground, meanwhile, quickly got to work, moving the industrial measuring machine in slowly and carefully. It was, given its shape and purpose, just a little bit precarious. Thankfully, given its sheer size, it was a lot more robust than a smaller scissor lift would be. But it still wasn’t unheard of for a careless driver to approach a boob at the wrong angle and end up breaking the thing with some poor motherfucker stuck on top. It took things one tit at a time, starting with the nipple and then the areola before finally measuring the whole damn thing and then sloooowly backing up and moving over to the other one. “Ooh, that tickles~” Sophie cooed. Junior didn’t really pay too much attention to what Sophie had to say, though, as he was a bit more focused on trying not to think about the fact that her nipple was bigger than he was and her areola was the size of a god damn food truck. He didn’t even try to contemplate the raw diameter of her whole-ass boob because it would probably break his brain.

Instead, he focused on keeping his balance without falling off. Sophie was being kinda wiggly, wincing slightly every time the measuring device brushed her sensitive bits. He didn’t really blame her, he supposed. So long as it didn’t throw off the accuracy. “Next is weighing them. Bring out the scales.”

“He, ah, says to bring out the scales.”

The worker driving the measuring device lowered it before driving out of the way, allowing for another worker driving an even bigger truck to pull in. Attached to the back was an industrial-grade scale, designed specifically to measure giant bovines and their bits. “Make sure to get the whole thing properly seated in place. We want our measurements to be as accurate as possible.”

“Right, of course.”

“Left, then right, then both?”

“Sounds like a plan, bossman!” Sophie leaned forward, carefully hefting her left udder into place. After a moment for the workers to note it down she carefully lifted it back out and replaced it with the other, in the process gingerly biting her lower lip. “Sorry.”

“So long as everything’s accurate,” Junior reiterated, trying really hard not to think about why she kept squirming and biting her lips.

“It’s very cold,” she clarified, making Junior briefly consider that maybe actually he was misinterpreting things? Maybe? But then he went back to trying not to think about her boobs, which were apparently more than a hundred metric tons each. Once again, he found it safest to just put all his focus onto keeping his grip. Not only did it keep his mind away from dangerous topics, but it was also probably not the worst idea in the world to keep his mind on not falling off. It was, he reiterated to himself for what had to be the fifth damn time, a very long way down.

And, regardless of the cause, Sophie was still squirming, making the ground beneath him decidedly unstable. He hunkered down, grasping as firmly on the pale orange fur of her shoulder as he could manage. “Are ya’, ah, are ya’ sure you don’t wanna check out the other end, Jimbo?”

“I’m sure,” he replied. “Unless you think there’s something we need to see?”

“I just think it’s prudent to be thorough, is all.”

“I suppose that’s a good point,” Junior replied. Ironically, his current position made him a lot less reluctant to give the go-ahead for Sophie to take her daisy dukes off. He couldn’t see anything sensitive aside from maybe a glimpse of her butt that would honestly probably not be that much more thorough than what he’d already seen. “Okay. You, uh, you get on that while we set up the milker for an output test.”

“Get on what?” Sophie said with a mischievous smirk.

“Removing your pants so that we can inspect the rear and lower half. Just a visual inspection for now.”

“I thought we were being thorough?”

“Well, we’re probably not going to be breeding you so-”

“Okay yes that’s a good reason to not be super in-depth about it.”

It felt weirdly good to catch Sophie on the backfoot, but he decided not to dwell on that. If this was a battle to stay professional, then gloating about making her uncomfortable was as bad as admitting to being attracted to her. “Anyway, could you please let them know to get the milker ready?”

“Jimbo says to set up the milker, boys.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem! I’m kinda looking forward to this bit, to be honest.”

Junior almost – almost – managed to resist rising to the obvious bait. Almost, but not quite. “Looking forward to it?”

“Getting milked feels good,” she replied with a shrug. “Oops, sorry.”

“If you’re going to make me stay on you, please try to be more careful,” Junior replied tersely, redoubling his grip on Sophie’s shoulder.

“I’ll do my best,” she said, this time not accompanying her words with any kind of gesture. “I am going to have to move a bit to get my shorts off, though.”

“You could always put me down, you know.”

“Anyway, aside from the obvious fact that your tits getting attention feels nice, when you go too long without getting milked it can get uncomfortable, you know? So getting milked is a relief.”

“I’m sure it is. A little steadier, please?”

“You’ll be fiiiine, just hold on.” Which was easy for her to say, but she’d stood up and bent over forward as she shimmied her pants down. Staying in place was taking a lot of effort on his part. At least, he supposed, he wasn’t still in her cleavage – he would absolutely have fallen to his doom by now. Thankfully, Sophie seemed to have decided not to make a show of it this time. “There, they’re off. See, that wasn’t so bad, now, was it?”

“Hmph.” Junior pulled himself back into a more stable and comfortable position on her shoulder and tried not to think about Sophie’s breasts dangling when she bent over, nor of the view from behind.

“Panties next. I promise I’ll be more careful about them~”

“Please do.”

To her credit, Sophie was in fact more careful about the panties. She still had to move about a lot, but she made an obvious effort to keep her torso upright and steady. It wasn’t perfect, and ideally he’d be on the ground, but at least he didn’t find the ground beneath him suddenly going completely vertical.

Sophie idly discarded her panties over her shoulder, which was really a bit more careless than Junior would prefer her to be. They were, after all, the size of a god damn circus tent. What if they landed on something important and broke it? Or worse, what if they landed on someone and hurt them?

They were, he idly noticed, white with a cute pink bow on the front. He only barely registered that fact, though, before forcibly yanking his train of thought back to the potential property damage or injury. “Try to be more careful with your clothes in the future. We don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Yessir, Jimbo, sir!” Sophie gave a small mock-salute and playfully stuck out her tongue.

“Please take this seriously.”

“Ah, looks like the milking machine’s ready. Shall we get going?” Sophie didn’t give him a chance to further chastise her. She turned and walked over, jostling her hapless passenger with every step.

The milking machine was one of those things that Junior had perceived as wasteful back when his father had it installed. There was no reason, he had said, for them to bother with such a complex and expensive piece of infrastructure when a much smaller scale milking apparatus would suffice. Now, of course, he was a little glad that his father ignored him back then.

Only a little though – it was useful, but it was way more than they needed even now that Sophie was around. The average milking machine was, essentially, a set of vacuum pumps attached to a big metal jug. There were other considerations, of course, like the comfort of the cow or milking more cows at once or transporting the milk once you were done with the milking. But, at the end of the day, the only difference if the cow you’re milking was a giant was the size of the tubes and the jug.

The machine his father had installed, meanwhile, was decidedly more than pumps and jugs. Even calling it a milking machine was a bit inaccurate – it was more like a milking complex. Yet another massive warehouse with a complex system of tubes and pumps and vats built into it. It could handle about two hundred regular-sized cows or six of the giant variety at once, which was about five more Giant Bovines than they would ever have on staff at once. There was a large communal milking area inside, along with private rooms for the regular cows, and infrastructure for outdoor milkings for the Giant Bovines.

It was overkill, not just for a small farm but even for a big one. Too big, too many moving parts, and didn’t see enough use – their normal cows generally just used normal milkers. But it was also what they had. It was either use this or don’t milk Sophie at all. And, obviously, the latter wasn’t even slightly an option, so he just had to hope that nothing went wrong (though he wasn’t exactly confident on that front.)

Sophie, for her part, did not seem particularly worried. Likely she didn’t even know or care about how many potential points of failure this kind of milking machine had. She moved into position and settled down, making sure to jostle Junior just enough to be kind of annoying. “Okay, girls. Let’s get rich!”

“You’re probably not going to get rich off of one test milking.”

“Hush, let a girl dream.” The farmhands got to work on moving the milker into position, using cranes to carefully manoeuvre suction cups the size of NASA-grade satellite dishes and tubes big enough that a full grown adult could easily fit inside. “That’s practically the whole reason I even signed up for the lottery, you know?”

“To get milked?”

“To get rich,” she replied. “And then to use that money to buy nice clothes. Back home, we generally just wear whatever clothes we need, you know? Anything beyond the most practical stuff you’ve gotta get custom-made. Which is expensive when you’re as big as me.”

That made sense. Junior’s mind wandered back to the sheer volume of fabric that Sophie’s outfit required, in spite of how skimpy it was. “So you signed up to the lottery for fashion?”

“That’s just a part of it. Did you know that you can see your cities from all the way in the mountains? When I was young I liked to look at all the lights and imagine what it might be like. They looked kinda like stars, only down here on the earth. I’d imagine all the glitz and glamour and attention I’d get.”

“Well, we’re still kind of a ways away from any glitz or glamour,” Junior said. “But you know what? Once we get some income flowing we could probably buy you some outfits.”

That seemed to catch her off guard, as evidenced by the slight blush. “Oh! You don’t need to do that for me.”

“Ah, it’s not just for you,” Junior clarified. “It’s marketing.”

“Marketing?”

“Well, look at it like this. If we just milked you then we’d have a lot of product to sell, but that doesn’t mean we’re guaranteed to sell it all. And if we don’t sell it all, that’s a lot of waste.”

“That makes sense. So you dress me up in cute outfits and put pictures of me on the bottles and stuff?”

“Exactly. Sex sells.” Junior paused, realizing what he’d just said. “And, um, I mean-”

“You think I’m sexy then?”

“Hrm.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of knowin’ that too much.”

“Please don’t take advantage of it at all.”

“Are you admitting it?”

“Have they got the milker in place yet?”

“Almost,” Sophie said with a wry smile.

“Okay well then let’s focus on that for now.”

“Yessir!” Sophie did a mock salute that, once again, jostled Junior just a bit more than he’d prefer to be jostled (which was not at all). The farmhands continued to carefully adjust their aim. It was a time consuming process, but an important one – misalign those suction cups even a little and you run the risk of damaging the milking machine or, worse, injuring the cow. And it was much harder to align the suction cups for a Giant Bovine than it was for the regular kind. Better to be careful than to rush it, as much as Junior really wished they’d maybe hurry up. “I can help them finish it off, if you’d like.”

“Be careful not to break the machine, it’s much more fragile than it looks.”

“Duly noted, bossman.” To her credit, Sophie did seem to be very ginger when she grabbed the suction cups and moved them the last few feet into place, pressed firmly against her fat teats. “Ready for a good milking, boys!”

One thing about a macro milking machine that Junior hadn’t really considered until this moment was the noise. Normal milking machines weren’t exactly quiet to begin with. And that lack of care for soundproofing scaled up to two hundred feet meant that the engines were loud. They should probably invest in some ear protection in the future, Junior thought idly to himself. It wasn’t quite to the point where he felt like his hearing was in danger, but it might be worse for the farmhands and anyway it was better to be safe than sorry. Yet another thing they’d not quite properly prepared for. That was fine, though. So long as he didn’t make the same mistake twice and so long as no one got hurt he could just call it a learning experience.

Those were all concerns for the future, though. Right now, most of his focus was, once again, directed towards not falling off of Sophie. She wasn’t a particularly steady surface at the best of times, and this was obviously not the best of times. Much like when she was being weighed and measured, the stimulation made Sophie restless.

Very restless, more than either type of measurement had. Not quite as bad as when she’d been moving about and nowhere near as bad as when she’d removed her bottom. As long as the ground beneath him wasn’t rendered near-vertical, he could probably handle it. Though, on the other hand, the constant motion certainly did a good job of keeping him off balance. Once again, he found himself having to crouch down and grasp at Sophie’s fur to keep from falling over and falling off. And, once again, it was a very long way to the ground.

“Mnn, sorry I can’t keep still, Jimbo. You know how it is.”

“I really don’t.” Although, he supposed, he could hazard a few guesses. He didn’t really have any direct experience with getting milked, obviously, but he did have experience with doing the milking. Granted, it was all on a much smaller scale than what was happening to Sophie right now, but he figured that it couldn’t be that different. “Just try not to break anything, okay?”

“I’ll, ah, I’ll do my best, boss!”

The milking started off slowly, thin trickles of white liquid flowing through the translucent tubes of the milking machine, before picking up exponentially. Trickles became a steady flow became a veritable torrent of the stuff. “Moooooo~” Frankly, Sophie didn’t seem to be trying her best at all. She was, at least, keeping her hands away from the expensive milking equipment. Instead, she seemed focused on rubbing her thighs.

“Try not to get too excited while I’m up here.”

“I’ll, mnnn, do my best, boss~” Once again, Junior got the impression that she wasn’t going to be doing her best. The bare minimum, perhaps. She kept right on rubbing her inner thighs – if anything, she got more intense about it, practically giving herself a massage while wiggling her hips and pressing her legs together, rubbing them back and forth. Which, in turn, made her shoulders move back and forth. While he was still standing on them. Or kneeling on them, clutching on for dear life, as the case may be. It still left him getting jostled with increasing intensity. He had to put all his focus into holding on, which is why it took him as long as it did to notice the crunching, grinding sound of the milking machine’s engines going out.

“Ah.” Sophie sat in awkward silence for a moment. “What happened?”

“I assume that necessary maintenance wasn’t performed as regularly as it should have been,” Junior said. “It’s very temperamental, and we don’t have cause to use it often, so I’m not surprised.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fine,” Junior lied. “This was only a test milking. I’d rather find this out now then when we’re actually properly working.” Though, of course, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be selling the results of the test milking. “Now that we know this is a problem, we can pay special attention to it in the future.”

“Okay, but what are we gonna do about now?”

“Now? We fix the problem and then attempt another test milking later.”

“How much later.”

“That depends on how long it takes to fix the engines.”

“Oh. Mnf.”

“It might be a while, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sophie said, though judging by her tone of voice she was also lying. “I’ll just, um... Here.”

Sophie moved surprisingly quickly, given her size. Once again, Junior found himself surprised at her dexterity. Certainly he wouldn’t be able to pick up an ant off his shoulder by the scruff of its neck and deposit it on the ground without injuring it. “Sorry, Jimbo, but it’s probably going to be a bit too dangerous for you on my shoulders. I’ll try not to waste too much milk.”

“What do you- oh.” Junior probably shouldn’t have had to ask. He definitely didn’t need to finish asking, because Sophie made her meaning obvious. “Don’t make a mess,” he said, face flushed as Sophie started to rub at her crotch.

“I’m not gonna promise anythin’, Jimbo.” She punctuated her statement with a wiggle of her hips and a wag of her tail that just barely missed knocking over a tree. Junior struggled to avert his eyes and failed miserably. Once again, Sophie was Very Big, and so there wasn’t anywhere to look without making it obvious that he was trying not to watch her escalating masturbation and losing the unspoken contest that he had mostly made up. So instead he just watched and tried not to think too hard about it.

“Mmmmooooooo~” Which was harder than it sounded because he was, in fact, right in front of her crotch. The air was already tinged with the sweet and salty scent of her fluids, getting more and more intense as she rubbed her clit with her thumb. Junior tried not to think about how it had to be nearly the size of his head, how her slit had to be almost as long as he was tall, how he could absolutely fit his entire body in there. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault the milking machine broke down.”

“No, no, I mean- mnf.” Sophie reached down and picked up the tanker part of a tanker truck. Effortlessly, in spite of it being more than fifty feet long. It had a capacity of more than thirty tons of milk, though thankfully it was empty – he was pretty sure that particular tanker was going to be a complete write-off at this point. “I’ll give it back when I’m done.”

“It’s very expensive.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. I’ve got a vested interest in not breaking it.” Not exactly reassuring, though he supposed she did have a point. He wasn’t in the mood to give her that bit of credit, though, not when she was aiming a very expensive heavy-duty tanker truck at her crotch in preparation for using it as an impromptu sex toy. Junior made another mental note to buy Sophie a proper dildo or two for emergencies. Hopefully that wouldn’t break the bank, although he felt like not breaking the bank was no longer an option, in spite of all the future-proofing.

To her credit, Sophie did seem to be making a concentrated effort not to be too inconvenient. She kept her hands away from her chest, for one. It didn’t make much of a difference – the aborted milking meant that the flow had already started, but she wasn’t actively making it worse.

Just passively making it worse. Twin waterfalls flowed down her chest, clinging to the contours of her breasts. And, even though she was making an obvious point of not squeezing her boobs, every insistent press of the tanker against her puss made the flow get ever so slightly more intense. Probably hundreds of gallons of potential profit, seeping into her fur and the grass beneath her. Oh, well, it was probably good for the plants, he told himself. It also smelled nice. Likely very high quality, once they actually managed to properly milk some they’d likely make a lot of profit off of it.

Still, it was surprisingly difficult to feel particularly forlorn about the wasted product. It was hard to feel anything in the face of the sheer raw spectacle of a two hundred foot tall bovine masturbating mere feet from his face. He felt that most people would have a hard time feeling anything were they in this particular situation. It was a comprehensive assault on all of his senses at once. There was scent, obviously. Musky and spicy, augmented with the sweet scent of her milk. Sight and sound were also obvious. Considering the sheer size of everything involved, it practically filled his entire field of vision, and he was pretty sure people could hear her soft moans of pleasure for miles. He could even feel and taste it, the air was so thoroughly suffused with her desire.

At this point, the truck had slid inside of her. Once again, to her credit she was obviously being careful not to break it. It was still going to take forever to clean it, though. The wheels were definitely gonna get all gummed up with cum. Or cummed up, but even just idly considering that pun filled him with a deep sense of profound regret so he decided to pretend he hadn’t.

Now that Sophie had actually put the truck in, she began to rapidly pick up the pace. In and out, faster and faster, her rhythm deteriorating into wild but paradoxically gentle thrusting, deeper and deeper and deeper. Her body shook, every muscle tensing in anticipation of the coming release. And, of course, Sophie’s body shaking meant that the ground also shook, which in turn meant that everything shook.

Including Junior, who quickly found himself losing his balance and falling onto his rear. From that position, Sophie somehow managed to look even bigger. Overwhelmingly gigantic. As though she wasn’t already overwhelmingly gigantic. Her breaths came fast and shallow, and her hips bucked – obviously involuntary. “A-ah! Fuck! Gonna- g-gonna... Fuuuuuuuck~”

There was something deeply profound about witnessing a two hundred foot tall cow orgasming mere feet from your face. Junior couldn’t quite put it into words exactly – he was a farmer, not a poet. It was definitely big, at least. That much was obvious, but it was also true. That assault on his senses climaxed into a full-on sensory overload. It would probably have been enough to knock him off his feet had that not already happened. Thank god she wasn’t a squirter or he might very well have just fucking drowned right there.

All of her efforts to not cause too much commotion turned out to have been moot – her hips bucked wildly on reflex, slamming into the ground beneath her over and over, hard enough to leave a dent. Thankfully, it seemed like the farm buildings had enough structural integrity to survive an earthquake of magnitude Sophie. If they hadn’t, then he’d probably have had to throw in the towel right there and then. As it was, there were probably significantly fewer trees on the farm than there had been twenty minutes ago.

Sophie spent a few minutes sitting quietly, breathing heavily as she recovered from her climax. “Hoof. Sorry. Had to get that out of my system or I wouldn’t have been able to think straight!”

“I’m taking any repairs that truck needs out of your paycheque.”

“Fair enough! Speaking of which...” She sloooowly pulled the tanker out of her. It seemed intact, at least, just coated in a thick layer of translucent liquid. “Looks fine to me!”

“It’s going to take forever to clean that up.”

“Completely fine!”

“Any milk we transport in that is going to taste like cum.”

“You can deduct the cleaning fee from my paycheque too, they count as repairs.”

“We might just need to buy a new one.”

“You could probably treat that as a selling point, depending on the market! Sex sells, remember?”

“Not when it comes to food. I don’t want the FDA on my ass.”

“... Okay, fair enough. I probably deserve that.”

“It probably won’t be that expensive. And in the meantime I’m going to be investing in some, ah, actual stress relief for any future emergencies.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“I imagine that a truck probably wasn’t very comfortable.”

“Country cows make do.”

“I- Yeah, okay.” That was pretty much the last straw for Junior. Here he was, on his ass, the air still saturated with cow-cum and fresh milk, with a naked Sophie looming above him and still very much leaking. “Fine. You win.”

“I win?”

“Yes.”

“Win what?” Sophie tilted her head slightly in confusion. That made sense, he supposed – the ‘contest’, such as it was, had been entirely in his head.

“I’ll explain later,” he said, pulling himself up to his feet. “In the meantime, you should go clean yourself off. I’m going to go help fix the milker.”

“Okay?”

“There’s private bathing facilities in the barn.”

“Okay then,” Sophie said, still audibly confused but also obviously resigned to not getting a proper explanation. She slowly pulled herself to her feet, and Junior reluctantly allowed himself to watch her shapely body all the way from the ground to the barn. She was, he noted before getting up himself, just as endowed from behind as she was in the front. He took a deep breath through clenched teeth. It was only the first day of Sophie’s time on the farm, out of a whole year, and already he was thoroughly overwhelmed.

“Let’s just focus on fixing the damn milker,” he muttered to himself. It was going to be a very, very, very long year.