Greenfield Farm

Greenfield Farm was a sports training camp in eastern Pennsylvania that specialized in providing strength and endurance training for female athletes. Their unique regimen guaranteed amazing results in as little as six weeks. So, it wasn't surprising that their waiting list was huge.

It was only by pulling every string she had that the coach of the Harvard women's volleyball team was able to secure a handful of spots for her players. It took five hours by chartered bus for the team to make the trip from Massachusetts to Pennsylvania. The mood on the bus was boisterous. The girls were excited to be off on an adventure, and were eager to get to Greenfield to start their training.

The bus pulled up in front of the dorms a little after 3pm on a sunny April afternoon. They were met by a young woman dressed in brown coveralls and black Wellington boots who introduced herself as Becky Thomson, one of the trainers.

The first girl off the bus was Cassandra Jansen, the team captain. Cassie was a tall, muscular girl, with a thick rope-like braid of blonde hair that hung straight down her back almost to her butt. Like most of the girls on the team, Cassie barely had any body fat. Her tits were boyishly tiny; when she didn't wear a bra, they barely jiggled.

The second girl off the bus was Cassie's best friend, Sarah Weiss. Sarah was the smartest girl on the team, which was saying a lot, considering that this was the Harvard team and all the girls were smart. But the edge Sarah had over the others was her drive and ambition. She was studying to be a lawyer and was very diligent about her schoolwork. Sarah was almost as tall as Cassie, but had more delicate proportions. She was built more like a ballet dancer than an Amazon warrior. But, also like Cassie, she barely had any tits at all. She hardly filled out a B cup, and most of the time she didn't even bother with a bra.

After they got off the bus, the girls collected their bags from the cargo compartment underneath. Cassie had brought a backpack, but Sarah had a rolling suitcase that she had to wrestle across the muddy ground to the dormitory building.

Becky escorted the new arrivals to the dorms and gave them time to settle in before taking them to orientation.

The dorms were disappointing. The girls had been expecting something like the rooms they slept in at Harvard, but instead what was waiting for them looked more like old cattle stalls—because that's exactly what they were. Greenfield had been a dairy farm before it had been converted into a training facility. The "dormitory" was just the old livestock barn. The new management had left the cattle stalls in place, bars and all. They merely had added an air mattress to each stall. There weren't any amenities like dressers for the girls to unpack their clothes into. All they could do was pile their luggage in one corner. That unsatisfying process constituted the entirety of "settling in." Cassie and Sarah were thrilled to get stalls next to each other. When they lay on their air mattresses, they could see each other through the bars.

After the girls were done putting away their luggage, Becky blew the whistle she wore around her neck. That was the signal for the girls to gather outside. Once they had assembled, Becky led them away for orientation and registration. It was a short walk from the "dorms" to the "social hall"—another big barn-like structure.

Becky walked quickly, taking long strides in her big black boots, and the volleyball players had to trot to keep up with her. By the time they reached their destination, they were sweaty and out of breath.

Dozens of metal folding chairs had been set up inside the social hall facing a big screen at the front of the building. The girls filed in and found seats. Then a smartly-dressed middle-aged woman walked to the front of the hall and clapped her hands to get their attention. She introduced herself as Dr. Ward, the director of Greenfield Farm, and explained that they were going to watch a short video about life at the farm.

The screen flickered to life displaying a bucolic scene: A dozen naked women in collars were frolicking in a grassy meadow.

"These are cows," Dr Ward explained. "They're simple mindless creatures

without a thought in their heads. Their lives consist almost entirely of 'grazing'

in the pasture and waiting to be milked. They're completely dependent on human beings to survive. On their own, they can't even feed themselves. Stupid cows."

The scene on the video changed from the women playing in the meadow to the same women lining up outside a barn. There was a long metal trough outside the barn, and a man appeared with a bucket and poured some sort of feed into the trough. The cows crowded around, making deep mooing noises. Then they dropped down on all fours and started to feed. They stuck their faces directly into the trough and ate without using their hands. It was a messy process and most of them wound up getting food on their faces.

When feeding time ended, the man blew his whistle, and the cows followed him into the barn. Inside the barn were milking machines. The man led each cow into her own individual stall, and clipped her collar to the bars to prevent her from moving around. Then he attached a pair of suction cups to her udders. The suction cups were connected to a vacuum pump with long transparent tubes. The cows dropped down on all fours again after they were hooked up, their full udders swaying underneath them with the suction cups attached to their nipples. After all the cows were connected, the man switched the vacuum pumps on. Then he walked down the rows between the stalls, patting the cows on their bare upraised rumps to encourage them. It wasn't long before the fresh milk started to flow, little white trickles appearing in the tubes. From the expressions on the cows' faces it was clear that having their udders drained felt really good. Before long the milking hall was filled with the sound of dozens of cows mooing contentedly.

"Cows are stupid and obedient," Dr. Ward said. "They don't wear shoes or clothing. And they don't think or talk. The only sound they make is 'moo'. And their only purpose in life is to make milk. A healthy cow can produce about a quart of milk a day."

The video concluded with a shot of the farm's logo superimposed over a herd of naked women.

Dr. Ward continued after the video cut off. "Thank you all for your polite attention. I hope you now have a better idea of what your life will be like during your stay at Greenfield Farm."

"Research has shown that living as a cow is an excellent form of physical conditioning. Going everywhere barefoot and exposing your naked skin to the sun has huge health benefits. Plus, the physical demands of milk production will do wonders for your stamina and endurance. The female body is made for this."

"While the Greenfield regimen may seem a little unnatural to you at first, you will quickly adapt to it. What's more unnatural is how you've been living up to now. Spending your days naked and lactating is the most natural thing in the world for a young woman. I hope I can convince the Harvard coaching staff to participate in the training program alongside you players. As well as building team spirit, I think that adding some older cows to the mix will help you young heifers adjust more quickly to your new routine."

Dr. Ward turned her attention to Harvard's head coach who was sitting in the front row with her legs crossed. Jane Talbot was a handsome, athletic woman in her mid-thirties with dark, curly shoulder-length hair. A former Olympian herself, Jane was ardently devoted to the sport of women's volleyball, as well as to the Harvard team. She was respected as both a mentor and role model by her players. Today she was dressed in her normal coaching attire—track shoes and a gray warm-up suit over a Harvard tee shirt. From her close-fitting outfit it was clear that even though she was approaching middle age, she still had the physique of an Olympic athlete.

"What about it, Coach Talbot?" Dr. Ward said. "Can I count on the participation of you and the rest of the Harvard coaches? If so, can I convince you come up front and lead your team in their first moo?"

Jane was uncomfortable at being singled out like this. Nevertheless, she did as she was asked. She rose from her seat and went up to stand next to Dr. Ward at the front of the room.

Dr. Ward looked Jane up and down, and addressed the audience.

"Coach Talbot is being a very good sport, but can anybody tell me what she's getting wrong?"

Immediately Sarah Weiss raised her hand. When Dr. Ward called on her, she stood up, so she could be heard by the whole room.

"She still has her clothes on! A cow doesn't wear shoes or clothing," Sarah said in a loud voice, echoing what she had just heard during orientation.

The girls all looked at their coach, wondering what she was going to do next.

Jane shook her head ruefully and began taking off her clothes. She started by unzipping her warm-up jacket and handing it to Dr. Ward. Next, she removed her track shoes. Hopping awkwardly on one foot at a time, she slipped off first one shoe, then the other. Then, she peeled off her little pink golf socks, and stood barefoot on the dirty wooden floor of the social hall.

Next to go was her Harvard tee shirt. She pulled it off over her head. She was wearing a sports bra underneath, and she pulled that off too.

Now she was topless. While Coach Talbot had seen her players naked many times, this was the first time the that they had seen her unclothed, and a ripple of shocked whispers traveled through the social hall. The coach's breasts weren't very big—only about a handful—but she did have thick, dark nipples. The thrill of being exposed in front of her players had made them hard, and they were standing straight up. Jane was embarrassed and badly wanted to cover herself, but she had the feeling that wouldn't be very cow-like, so she resisted the impulse. Instead, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her warm-up pants and pulled them down. She hadn't intended to take her panties off too, but when she pulled down her pants, her underwear came along for the ride. Both pants and panties dropped around her ankles.

Again, she resisted the impulse to cover herself, so the entire volleyball team got a good look at the thick patch of brown hair between her legs.

Squaring her shoulders and pulling herself up to her full height, Coach Talbot used her most commanding voice to address the room.

"Okay, ladies, the director has asked me to lead you in a moo. Everybody, stand up. Let's show them our Crimson spirit! We'll go on the count of three, okay?"

Sarah's hand was in the air again. "Should we moo with our clothes on, coach? Or should we all be naked like you?"

Dr. Ward answered the question.

"You don't have to take clothes off, but being naked will definitely help you get into the proper cow state of mind. So, I guess the answer is yes, take them off."

This prompted a flurry of activity among the audience, as the girls hurried to shed their clothing.

Always eager to please, Sarah was the first one undressed. She pulled off her shorts and left them on her folding chair along with her panties. Her dark bush was shaved into a narrow little strip that didn't hide anything. Her slit was completely on display, the prominent lips of her pussy clearly visible between her legs.

Cassie was naked too. But unlike Sarah, Cassie's bush was natural, a messy blonde tangle, as thick and lush as the hair on Cassie's head.

Seeing the two of them standing side by side, you never would have guessed that the two friends were straight-A students at an elite university. They both exuded such a profound aura of raw physicality. They were like two thoroughbred fillies—perfect specimens of young female animals.

Once all the girls were naked, Coach Talbot started her countdown: "ok, ladies, here we go! Three! Two! One! Moo!"

"Mooo ...!" The sound of the whole team mooing in unison was astonishingly loud. The girls really put their diaphragms into it—just like they did when they had a group cheer before a big game.

Becky appeared and blew another tweet on her whistle.

The young women gathered around her, and she led them out the side door of the

hall into a wide grassy meadow. The other trainers had set up a registration table on the other side of the meadow, and Becky herded the new cows over to it. This was the first time many of the girls had walked outside barefoot, and they picked their way cautiously over the muddy ground, wincing from time to time as as their bare feet sunk into the gooey muck.

Within ten minutes, the entire Harvard women's volleyball team was milling around the registration table. Atop the table was a collection of heavy leather collars and numbered plastic tags. As each girl approached the table, a young man in brown coveralls would fit her with a collar and lock it tight around her neck. This process was particularly embarrassing, because the young man often allowed his hands to wander, enjoying his unrestrained access to the naked bodies of so many attractive young women. As the collar was being cinched around her neck, the girl might suddenly feel the boy's rough fingers stroking her nipples, or feel his calloused hand squeezing her pert little bottom. The girls didn't dare complain, because after all they were just dumb little cows and had to be obedient, even if it meant being felt up by some random guy.

He paid particular attention to Cassie when it was her turn. After he had collared her, he slipped his hand between her legs and ran his coarse fingers over her hairy little pussy.

"Hey Becky," he called out, "This one's wet! She's going to need to be serviced soon."

"Are you volunteering?" Becky responded.

"I wouldn't mind," the young man said. "She looks like she'll be a hell of a ride!"

"There will plenty of time for that later," Becky said. "Right now. We need to get all these heifers tagged. "

The young man picked up a numbered plastic ear tag from the table and matched it to the number on Cassie's collar. "Number seven!" he announced.

Then he used a piercing gun to attach the tag to the top of Cassie's left ear.

Having her cartilage pierced made the young woman burst out in tears. Sarah was immediately at Cassie's side, stroking her friend's arm to soothe her. She then embraced her, giving her a full-body hug. She had never hugged another woman before, and it was a little strange to feel Cassie's naked body pressed against hers. It actually felt really good, and much to her surprise Sarah started feeling aroused. Her pussy was getting wet, and she had this uncontrollable urge to rub up against Cassie. Their torsos were pressed tight together and Sarah could feel the other girl's nipples brushing up against her own.

Cassie had one leg slightly forward, and Sarah straddled it, grinding her crotch against her friend's muscular thigh.

The young man with the piercing gun stood off to the side and watched, clearly enjoying the blatantly sexual encounter taking place between the two fit young women.

Becky intervened eventually. She took the piercing gun, and gave Sarah a tag of her own in her left ear

"Five!" Becky announced

The pain of being tagged was sharp and bright, and Sarah clung to Cassie and whimpered. If I'm going to be a cow, Sarah thought, I'm glad Cassie is in my herd. That was the only thing that made this experience bearable.

Becky and the young man worked their way through the rest of the volleyball team, collaring and tagging everyone.

Coach Talbot got a collar and an ear tag too, along with Laura Winston, the Harvard strength coach. Laura was a lean thirty-something woman with hairy armpits and a bellybutton piercing. She didn't seem to mind being tagged, and Coach Talbot endured the ordeal with quiet stoicism.

It was late afternoon and the girls were getting hungry. The last time they'd had anything to eat was at a rest stop several hours ago in New Jersey.

Becky blew her whistle and led the newly-registered cows over to set of communal troughs underneath a sheet-metal shelter. The ground around the troughs had been trampled into a mucky mire by all the cows who had previously fed there.

Two young men in coveralls were hard at work filling the troughs with some sort of lumpy brown food. It looked like sticky bread pudding and smelled delicious. The girls were so ravenous they couldn't hold back. They immediately dropped to their hands and knees in the mud and stuck their faces in the trough. It was quite a sight. The entire Harvard women's volleyball team was down on all fours naked, shoulder-to-shoulder greedily gobbling their dinner from a livestock trough. It was a very immodest posture. In order to eat, the young women had to raise their hindquarters high in the air. The young men standing behind them had a perfect view of their private parts. Not only were their pussies on full display, but also the tight little puckers of their assholes. It was a humiliating way to have dinner.

Cassie heard the click of cell phone cameras. The young men behind her had their phones out and were taking pictures, probably to jerk off to later. Cassie had occasionally let few boyfriends jerk off to her, and the thought of it happening again gave her a warm little tingle in her cunt. She was getting wet, and she wondered if that would show up in the photos. Would her pussy lips be shiny? Would it be obvious how much she wanted dick?

That was what was running through her mind as she finished her dinner.

After the team finished eating, Becky blew her whistle again to get them back on their feet.

Both Cassie and Sarah had round little tummies from the filling meal.

Becky herded the cows back to the dorm. They had to walk across the muddy pasture to get there, so by the time they arrived, their bare feet were filthy.

The girls filed in, found their stalls, and flopped down on their air mattresses. They were totally exhausted from their first day at the farm.

Sarah dragged her mattress into Cassie's stall and lay down next to her.

Tenderly, she reached out and touched the tag in Cassie's ear.

"Pretty number seven," she said softly under her breath, and leaned in and kissed the other girl on the lips. Cassie kissed her back, using her tongue.

"Sweet number five," Cassie whispered, and stroked the side of Sarah's hip.

Sarah opened her legs. The invitation in her big brown eyes was clear.

Cassie slid her hand down Sarah's tummy and touched the other girl's pussy. Sarah was wet and ready. Cassie found the hard little nub of her clit, and teased it with her fingertips.

"Does that feel good, little cow?"

"Moo," Sarah said, grinding her pussy against Cassie's hand.

I can't believe they're actually going to milk us," Sarah said.

"I wonder when we'll start making milk," Cassie said.

"No idea," Sarah said. "Maybe tomorrow. Try sucking my nipple, and see if I've started yet."

Cassie bent her head and took Sarah's left nipple into her mouth. She latched on with her lips and teased it with her tongue. She started sucking, trying to coax the milk into flowing, but nothing came. The whole time, she was playing with Sarah's clit and working her fingers in and out of her friend's sticky little cunt.

Sarah stroked Cassie's head tenderly. "That feels so amazing," Sarah said. "I can't wait until my milk comes in, and I can nurse you for real. I love the idea of you having a tummy full of my milk."

Cassie kissed her way down Sarah's torso.

"Open your legs wider," Cassie said. "I'm going to eat you out."

Sarah opened her thighs as wide as she could. Then she reached down and spread her lips with her fingers.