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Curious, you ask what the price on the cow-girl’s contract is.

The mistress cocks an eyebrow at you, but dutifully flips through a few screens on her slate before making a tsking sound, nibbling on one of her big crimson lips. “Poor little Reaha here was in pretty deep, but she’s been working here for a while, so she’s cleared a good chunk of her debt. Let’s see... hmm, the boss’s got a note here, looks like she’ll take five grand for the cow. Pretty good deal for what we paid for her. So what do you say, hun? She in your price range?”

Five thousand is... actually ridiculously cheap for a servant, especially one with a lot of gene mods. Reaha must have been working awfully hard to work her debt down that low. You pull out your codex and tap open your banking application. “Done deal,” you say, wiring over the five grand. The mistress gives you a look of surprise, eyes wide for a moment before she composes herself.


“Well, that’s... great,” she mumbles, looking down at her slate. “Huh, what do you know, it actually went through. Well, I guess I’ll go get Reaha for you. Here, just sign this, and initial here,” she says, handing you her data slate and a stylus before trudging off into the lower levels. You shrug and start reading over the debt contract. Standard stuff, mostly: you agree to feed and water your indentured servant, set reasonable means of her earning her keep and paying off her debt, and not expose her to unreasonable harm. In a footnote you see that Reaha herself has agreed to be used sexually, which probably is what landed her here in a brothel to begin with. As you scan through the document, you find a picture attached: the slut herself, massively endowed with breasts that seem to pin her to the floor under their sheer weight, hooked up to milkers as she’s being pumped from behind with some kind of pink aphrodisiac. They certainly got their money’s worth out of her: the milk those udders must make alone would probably be worth the cost of her contract.

You finish signing the contract just as the mistress returns, guiding the exceptionally busty "servant” in front of her. Bare-naked, Reaha’s human at first glance, save for the pair of cute little cow-horns just poking through her long, strawberry hair. Her curves, though, are certainly the product of gene-mods: an ass and hips to die for, butt jiggling lewdly with every step, hips sashaying seductively as she approaches. Her breasts, though, were clearly her goal in modification: her arms are hooked under the obscenely large, perfectly shaped orbs for support, though nothing can stop them from bouncing with even the slightest motion. They’re not nearly as big as your first look suggested, though; perhaps they change size if she’s milked or not? Interesting.

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Reaha stops about a foot in front of you, looking sharply away from you as the mistress takes back her data slate and reviews the signed contract. “Hmm, alright. Everything looks good, Mister Steele. Alright, then, she’s yours. And now I can finally start moving the new girls in downstairs,” she adds with a note of satisfaction, starting to gather up her belongings from the desk.

As the mistress works, you turn your attention to your new servant, looking her over. She continues to meekly avoid meeting your gaze, though the bare slit of her womanhood is clearly dripping with excitement. Finally, after a long moment passes, you introduce yourself. “I’m Gavin,” you say, “You’re with me now. Understood?”

“Yes, master,” Reaha says, staring pointedly at her feet. She takes a long breath, barely holding back a shudder as the mistress accidentally brushes her bare skin.

Turning back to you, the mistress takes out a long metal box and hands it to you. On the top is a cartoonish label of a massively endowed brevan male surrounded by fawning women of a variety of races. “Aphrodisiac patches. Less invasive, though perhaps less effective, than the direct injections we’ve been using to keep her quiet. Make sure to keep up with changing them or she’ll likely become... agitated. The same goes for milking her, unless you like your cow-sluts nice and immobilized by their giant tits. The patches help with that, too. She gives her best milk when orgasming, we’ve found. Isn’t that right, cow?” she asks, pinching one of Reaha’s big nipples hard enough to make her whimper and wince — and draw forth a big drop of milk, which the mistress wipes off on her tit.

Suddenly, Reaha looks up from the floor, finally meeting your gaze. “Master, may I speak freely?”

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With the fiery look in this cow-girl’s eyes, you reckon she’s about to explode. You could tell her to get it off her chest this once, and then it’s back to being a meek little milk-whore for you; or, you could give her blanket permission to speak her mind from now on. No sense in her keeping thoughts to herself while she plays the slave, right? Right?


“Sure,” you say, “I’d rather you speak your mind from now on.”

“You’re going to regret that,” the mistress snickers.

“You got it,” the cow-girl says, just a moment before practically hoisting her erstwhile mistress over the desk by the collar of her blouse. “Listen up you bimbo piece of shit, I am sick and fucking tired of being called a dumb cow or a big-titted whore. I did NOT sign up for this to be hooked up to a bunch of machines and pumped full of drugs until I could barely think, and then left to rot for days between some horny john coming in and using me. My contract said I was down to fuck, not to be whored out. And I am really sick of your shit-eating superior attitude, slut. You are NOT fucking better than me, and no amount of latex fetish-wear is ever gonna change that. Oh, no... you are the lowest form of life in this fucking universe; and even with all these gene mods, you’re a hell of a lot less human than I am. You had better thank your dear and fluffy lord I am getting the fuck OUT of here, because the next time I got my hands free, I was coming for your smug little bitch ass. And if you call me a cow again, so help me I will come down on you like the hand of God. Do. You. Get. Me?”

With a face etched with clear and present terror, the mistress slowly nods. Scowling with contempt, Reaha lets the woman go, and she flops to the ground as the naked cow-girl turns to you and says, “Sorry about that. Can we go?”
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With her clearly heart-felt farewells out of the way, you take your busty cow-girl out of the brothel and back to the ship. It’s a long walk, and she gets no shortage of looks and cat-calls as she walks naked down the corridors, but she refuses the offer of a jacket or robe even from passing strangers, and after a while you can clearly see the excitement dribbling down her thighs. Looks like she gets off on it. Kinky.

As you get back to the docks, Reaha finally breathes a short sigh and says, “So... sorry about the outburst. When I went into debt, I didn’t think the ‘yes, I’m okay with sex' check box meant ‘please whore me out and pump me full of sex drugs till I’m a mindless fuck toy begging for the D from strangers.' Fuckin' assholes. I’m probably going to be addicted to that shit forever, now. That’s great,” she grumbles, tearing open one of the aphrodisiac pads and slapping it on her shoulder. She shudders and sighs as she walks, clearly becoming more aroused and relaxed by the second, breath ragged by the time you get to the dock.

You’re near the airlock now, and you punch in your access code as Reaha sighs, planting her hands on her hips. “Aaaaanyway, you seem like an alright guy. Thanks for letting me at least speak my mind. Playing the horny slut for a couple years was pretty brutal. I guess some guys are into it, though. So yeah, umm... thanks for that,” she says, awkwardly offering you a hand. You shake it as the airlock finishes cycling, and guide your new crew member aboard. You find an empty cabin and guide her in. Sparsely furnished as it is, the smile on Reaha’s lips tells you it’s a big improvement over being shackled up in a dungeon.

“Nice. So, uh, you’re not gonna tie me up or anything, right? Not that I mind a little rope play, I mean, but... let’s not do the whole handcuff me to the wall for hours at a time, okay? With all these fucking patches, I gotta wank it like, all the time or I’ll go crazy.” You nod your agreement, and Reaha positively beams, “Oh man, I can FINALLY fap and milk myself! Thank god!” she cries, practically jumping with joy.


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“Oh, speaking of milk,” she says, cupping her big, squishy breasts, “Just shout if you want a little cream in your morning joe, or even by the glass. It tastes like normal cow milk, I promise; the human stuff’s icky. Although... I spent like, a bajillion creds on these things, but... if you happen to run into something that, say, changes what milk I’d make, I’m totally into that. You want me squirting honey or chocolate milk or whatever, just gimme the mod. Otherwise... I’m all yours... Master,” she says playfully as she stretches out on the bed.

You nod, and tell her to get settled in.
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