“Honey! I’m home!”

“Welcome home, dear! Dinner is on the table. It’s your favorite.”

“Smells delicious. Say, what’s this? This isn’t my normal drink.”

“Oh, that’s new Milktec Brand Milk. It goes great with any meal. Give it a try!”

“Mmmm, you know, I think for once you might be right.”

“Drink Milktec Milk! Find yours at a local, licensed grocery today!”

—

“Another cup of coffee?” the cook asked as he dropped a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast on the counter..

Elliot folded his newspaper as he eyed the plate, “Oh, please.” The diner was starting to fill, and the smell of frying bacon grew stronger by the minute. With each jingle of the bell on the door, a fresh blast of cold air swept into the diner, causing the patrons to clutch their coats around them. Elliot dropped his newspaper on the counter beside his badge. The cook returned with the pot of coffee and glanced at the glinting metal.

“Never seen a badge like that,” he said in a gruff voice. “Cream right? Here you are.” He pushed a small jug of cream down the counter to him.

Elliot had been in the diner for about two hours, drinking coffee and reading. He had noticed the cook glancing at his badge and thought when the man would finally get around to asking about it. “I’m with the Bureau for the Control of Human-Affective Chemicals.”

The cook smirked, “Oh yeah? I’ve heard about them. What is it they call you guys? Hacks?”

Elliot smiled back cordially, “Affectionately, I’m sure.”

The cook greeted a new patron, throwing down another cup of coffee. “So, what’s a fellow from the H-A-C doing here? Thought your type hung out around the big farms.”

Elliot munched on his toast and sprayed a light rain of crumbs as he replied, “Most of us do. You’ve heard on the radio reports though, about the things going on. Gangs have started stealing BV-69 and selling it on the black market. A few of us have been investigating reports of improper use of the substance around the country. Mostly to appease little house fraus worried about their precious young girls becoming too worldly. I was in St. Louis last week for a three day investigation that turned out just like that. Some girl wanted to run off with her boyfriend. I got called in mostly to scare her straight. Had to fine the family $200 for wasting a government agent’s time.”

The cook whistled, “Jeez, why would they go and do a thing like that? And you say it happens often?”

Elliot gulped down a swallow of coffee, “It’s not usually a false report like that. I mean, it’s a damn shame, but once these kids turn eighteen if they want to run off and join a milk farm, that’s their choice. Those types of calls are the majority of what we have to sort out. Parents want to lie about birth certificates and get their kids pulled out of the Milktec programs. Shame, but we have no jurisdiction.”

“So what brings you out to Pelican Falls? Pretty quiet town.” The cook crossed his arms and looked over to a few men sitting at the end of the bar.

Elliot wiped off his mouth and took another gulp of coffee. “Same thing that takes me everywhere these days, rumor and misinformation. You wouldn’t have heard of anything strange going on in town, of course? Young folk causing trouble or strangers passing through?”

The cook shook his head, “Only stranger we’ve had in years is right in front of me.”

One of the other patrons piped up, “Now hang on a minute, what about that fella that was up at the Singleton house last month. That fella was as strange as they come.”

The cook rubbed his chin as he wondered, “I suppose so, suppose so. Ms. Singleton’s husband died in the war. Just her and a daughter now. Couple of spinsters really. The fella said he came by way of Kansas City. Tim had a word with him didn’t you, Tim?”

Another man from Elliot’s left spoke up, “Oh yeah that fella. I sure did. Strange type. Not the unusual kind of strange, but you know, the sort of run of the mill strange. Off, some might say. The way I understood it, he was in Gary Singleton’s unit over in Europe. Wanted to go pay respects to the widow and daughter. Took him up that way when I headed out to Moose Pointe. The road past the hardware store, go on about three miles and then look to the left. Can’t miss it. Careful though, we don’t clear the roads up that way more than once a week.”

The cook eyed Elliot closely, “That the kind of thing you normally go check in on?”

Elliot took out his wallet and dropped a twenty on the table making the cook’s eyes widen. “It might be worth my time.” He stood up and put on his coat, realizing almost everyone in the diner was watching and listening to them. “Good coffee,” Elliot said with a smile.

The cook cleared away his plate almost immediately, “It’s the cream. We make it locally. You have a nice day there Mr. H-A-C.”

Elliot put his hat on and nodded to the cook. He flicked his eyes to several of the men as he left the diner. They all looked the same, burly and wrapped up in coats making it difficult to discern any of their characteristics. As Elliot stepped outside, he didn’t think their attire that unusual as the wind cut through his thin suit instantly. He pulled his overcoat tighter and made his way to his car.

Snow had piled up on the windshield, and he spent a minute scraping it off. The small town slowly stirred to life. Other bundled up figures opened shops and scraped off sidewalks. Elliot appreciated the warm food in his stomach as his finger tips turned numb from the cold. He had been dispatched out of Chicago after a local sheriff reported seizing a canister of BV-69 outside of Fargo. The trail led Elliot to Pelican Falls, but came to a dead end soon afterwards. He hated these goose chases and intended to simply wait it out for a few days before heading back with empty hands, but couldn’t think of a good reason not to visit the Singleton home.

He cranked up the car and rumbled it out into the street. Inside the diner, the cook and other men all watched him drive away.

***

Elliot never minded driving in snow until he left the city. It wasn’t uncommon to simply lose the road entirely and drive across a snow field for twenty minutes before realizing the highway was somewhere else. The road up to the Singleton home was luckily more or less bordered by forest, so it would have been difficult to get lost without hitting a tree. The car whirred and groaned as it rolled over snow, and Elliot worried about the long term damage. The bureau didn’t like paying mileage and loved to bog down any filings for repairs in paperwork. After almost forty minutes due to the snow, he made out a tall house a little off of the road and beyond the line of trees.

He turned and his wheels skidded slightly before the engine chugged to a halt. “Oh come on,” he said as he slapped the steering wheel. He turned the ignition but it only grumbled slightly and then clicked. Confused, he looked at his gas gauge. Empty. “Huh, I filled up last night.” Elliot looked around him. The house was about 100 yards away up a slight hill. He ruled out walking back to town immediately. Maybe Mrs. Singleton would have some spare gas. Resigned, he bundled himself up and opened the car door.

He didn’t feel nearly as cold, as he plodded through the snow. Must be the virtue of a warm cup of coffee and what little sun could break through the clouds. By the time he reached the porch of the Singleton home, his cheeks were ruddy and his hair matted to his brow with cold sweat. He knocked on the door and waited.

“Who’s that out there?” came a woman’s voice from inside. “You lot know you shouldn’t come round till — oh, hello.” A small face peered at him through the door window. “Can I help you, stranger?”

Elliot held up his badge, “My name is Elliot Spencer. I’m from the Bureau for the Control of Human-Affective Chemicals. I’d like to ask you some questions and uh, maybe use your phone. I seem to have run out of gas just at the end of your driveway there.” He pointed over his shoulder to the car, which had already gained a light coat of flurries.

The door opened with a groan. A woman in a plain, red dress stepped into view. She was middle aged, but buxom and vivacious. Elliot had expected a frail war widow. “Name is Carol Singleton, and this is my farm. Come on in if you’re who you say you are.” She spoke with a quick, commanding tone, and Elliot was happy to get out of the snow. “Take those shoes off and let them dry. Socks, too, or you’ll catch your death. Where are you from, anyway, coming out here dressed for a summer afternoon?”

Elliot let the warmth of the house wash over him. It wrapped around him like a warm blanket. He smelled spices on the air and something sweet. “Born and raised in Tennessee, but I’m out of Chicago now. That’s where the main office for the Midwest is.”

Carol hung up his coat and eyed him up and down. “They not believe in proper coats in Chicago? Scrawny thing, you are. Have you had breakfast?”

“Oh yes, thank you. At the diner in town, but you wouldn’t happen to have a cup of coffee or tea, would you? Maybe some of that local cream they have in the diner?”

Carol smiled, “Hah! I might have something like that. Step on in the parlor there. Warm up by the fire, and I’ll be right in.”

Mrs. Singleton disappeared toward the back of the house, and Elliot stepped into what she had called the parlor, a small, sparse room with no curtains or carpets. Elliot sat down on a couch near a roaring fire. He’d seen old houses before, but this one may have been his oldest. It had been modernized as best it could with a radio set in the corner and several more modern looking pieces of furniture. Overall it was furnished for comfort. The couch was soft and covered in blankets, the lighting was dim and warm. He could have easily drifted off to sleep.

Carol entered the room in a sweep of red. She carried a tarnished silver platter which she deposited on top of the coffee table. After pouring two cups of black coffee, she passed a small jug over to Elliot, “Not cream, but milk. Fresh as this morning, nothing better in the whole county.”

Elliot smiled at her. The coffee smelled rich, and the milk was creamy and white. After he poured a generous amount in his coffee, he took the last drop from the spout onto his finger and licked it into his mouth. It tasted wonderful and made him feel warm all over. Catching his rather unusual behavior, he cleared his throat, took a long swig of the hot coffee and said, “Thank you very much. Certainly helps get the chill out.”

“What’s all this about then?” Carol said, ignoring his cordiality. “That HAC stuff has nothing to do with us around here.”

“Ah, well, we had heard some rumors about a few canisters of BV-69 being found around here. As you may or may not know, BV-69 is a highly controlled substance. It’s my job to make sure none of it has fallen into the hands of someone it could potentially harm.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, “Harm? What kind of harm?”

Elliot leaned back into the couch, amazed at how soft it felt. The brisk trek up the hill left him hot. His clothes clung to him, wet and heavy. “Well, ma’am, most people don’t really like to discuss the specifics of—”

“I’m a married woman with a child. None of that stuff is shocking to me, now out with it. Why have they sent your round here? What’s the danger?”

Elliot cleared his throat, “Rapid physiological change in both male and female. Hyper sexualization. Long term psychological effects including memory loss, states of euphoria, and personality change. Several studies have demonstrated that subjects under the influence of BV-69 can actually reproduce enzymes of BV-69 in their, uh, bodily fluids that can affect others.”

Carol nodded along, “Like getting other people sick with the measles.”

“More of less, that’s right,” Elliot said, pleased he had made sense. “Now, ma’am, do you know anything about some of this substance being distributed illegally? I heard you had a visitor a while back. Did he happen to mention anything about BV-69?”

Carol Singleton smiled politely, “Yes, he did.”

Elliot didn’t notice her response at first. “I beg your pardon?”

Carol smoothed out her dress, “The man that came round. He wanted to sell BV-69. Apparently my daughter, Myrtle, had found him. She took her father’s death pretty hard and got wrapped up with a bad crowd. Myrtle was a good girl, a little misguided, but good-hearted. She sought him out, and he came around with the stuff, looking to make a quick sale.”

Elliot didn’t know what to do. He’d investigated dozens of claims, but never actually found an attempted sale, “Ma’am is your daughter home now? I’ll need to speak with her. And I’ll need to use your phone to make some calls.”

Carol blinked at him, “Are we in some kind of trouble, Mr. Spencer?”

He laughed incredulously, “Ma’am the trade of BV-69 is highly illegal. If you purchased or solicited its sale without a license, that’s a federal offense. Now, I can understand these may be extenuating circumstances. I’ll be happy to include that in my report if you explain it all to me.

Carol smiled at him condescendingly. “Of course. The phone is in the kitchen, but perhaps you’d like to go speak with Myrtle first. I think she’ll be able to offer you a better understanding of the situation.”

Elliot felt strange. He’d not stopped sweating, and his clothes raked against him like sandpaper. His eyes lingered on Mrs. Singleton’s chest as she spoke. He watched her surprisingly youthful bosom heave up and down as she breathed. He could imagine her breasts spilling out over the top of her dress as he hoisted the hem up to her hips. He shook his head, “Uh, yes, I think that would be alright. Could you, um, I think I need glass of water. I may have warmed up too quickly.”

Carol had already moved towards the door. “Have a drink of the milk. It’s ice cold and good for you.”

Elliot felt dizzy, but picked up the jug of milk and drank. Carol was right. It was ice cold and thick, but delicious. It filled him up and calmed him. He gurgled down the entire jug and smacked his lips in satisfaction. “That is…just delicious.” The pleasant warmth overcame the sweaty panic, soothing his body. As he placed the jug down, he realized his cock was half erect. He adjusted his trousers as he stood up. “Lead the way.”

They walked further into the house and up a staircase to the second floor. Elliot followed his hostess cautiously, more preoccupied with the strange sensations coursing through his body. His heart beat rapidly one moment. In the next, a cold flush of adrenaline flooded his gut. And in the next, the pleasant, warm calm would return. His head swam with thoughts of sex and he had flashbacks to his time in one of the legal hucow pens in Chicago.

All HAC agents spent an allotted time at one of the farms for educational purposes, and to test for susceptibility. Hucows were difficult to resist under the most sterile and unpleasant circumstances. Elliot remembered one hucow in particular, a redhead with a sweet face. She must have been new at the time because her teats looked smaller than the others. Her physique was certainly changed, but she seemed so unaware of the changes. Elliot took the time to ask her some questions. She answered them with eager excitement. The girl spread her legs and showed him an engorged clit, asking him to touch it. Elliot had known such an act would get him immediately dismissed, but he’d done it anyway. He remembered the feeling of the little nub, and the way her body shook when his fingers grazed over it. Then he’d slid his middle finger deep inside of her, and she mewled for more. Protesters broke in at that moment. It snapped him back to his senses and saved his career. But the memory was not so easily forgotten.

His eyes followed the slow sway of Carol Singleton’s ass as she walked down the hallway. He imagined pinning her to the wall, ripping her dress and shoving his cock deep inside of her. “Here we are,” she said as she stopped in front of a door. Elliot had not noticed, but this area of the house was much different. Fresh paneling covered the old wooden walls. Tile replaced the wooden slats along the floor, and the ceiling looked like the new insulation tiles from his office back in Chicago.

Elliot loosed his collar and tried to clear the water from his eyes. “Mrs. Singleton, I apologize, but I think I’ve had something bad to eat or maybe caught a bug.”

She reached over and placed her palm on his forehead, “Hmm, you do have a bit of fever. That’s probably because of how quickly it was introduced. Most of the men in town adjusted over the course of weeks, but you’ve had several strong doses in only a few hours. Even the last inspector had a full night before he came sniffing around here.”

Elliot tried to make sense of what she was saying, “Last inspector? You mean someone from the HAC has been here already?”

Carol smiled at him and opened the door.

***

A wave of warm air washed over Elliot, and he almost fell to his knees. He stepped into the room instinctively and tried to understand what he saw.

The room he expected to be a bedroom was bare other than a bed against the far wall. In the center of the room stood a device he recognized as a modified milking machine. On the bed, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen laid in repose. Myrtle was a fully fledged hucow. Her massive tits looked like pillows topped with dark nubs. She rested on her side, her own fingers lightly playing with her pussy. Elliot could see her engorged clit, protruding angrily from the crest of her pussy. Her skin was smooth and bald above her pussy, slightly wet from the spread of her juices. Myrtle had a pretty, innocent face with large, brown eyes. She stared curiously as the stranger entered her room.

“Momma? Who is this? I wondered I was getting Gary today.”

Carol replied, “This here is Elliot. He’s another one of those inspectors. I think he’s considering joining our little farm. Maybe you could show him what his role would be. The advantage package, I mean.”

Myrtle sat up, her massive dugs swaying on her chest. Elliot felt drunk, salivating at the sight of her teats. His cock strained against his pants, desperate to cum. Myrtle stood and walked over to him, astounding him with the shape of her body. Her frame flared out broader than any normal woman, thickened with muscle to support her massive breasts and wide ass. “Are you sure he wants that?” Myrtle asked.

Carol smirked, “It’s up to him. Do you figure out, Mr. Spencer? I’ll have a contract waiting for you downstairs if you decide to sign up. Our stock receive a special blend of BV-69. It’s a little bit harder on the mental faculties. You see, we like our cows to be dumb and our bulls to think of nothing but fucking. Cuts out those pesky human problems like jealousy and monogamy a little easier. It’s my own little invention. Well, I did the chemistry, but Myrtle here had the vision.”

Myrtle was inches away from him. “Oh, I just wanted tons of bulls to fuck. You cannot have one, after all. Elliot, would you like to take off your trousers?”

The agent nodded, his thoughts swimming with conflicting desires. He knew he should back out of the room, arrest the mother, and call for backup. But he so desperately wanted Myrtle to touch his cock. She unfastened his belt, and his pants fell down to his ankles. His boxer shorts had a damp spot from precum. Myrtle ran her thumb over it and brought it up to her mouth. “Mmm, I can already taste the change. How much did he take?”

Carol shrugged innocently, “He was supposed to have the one dose in his coffee. I think the boys at the diner played a little joke on him and gave him extra though. Right before he came up, he swallowed a whole jug of it.”