FSE

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So many things are unreal to her. So many things a fog, a jumbled mess. She knows this. She thinks this even now, but damn it all, if she won't push those ideas to the side, letting them yammer on just so she can take what little enjoyment she can out of this moment.

It may not be the end, or it may be. Who the fuck cares right now? It's real, whatever “real" is, and she'll take it and cherish it.

And cherish… Rhannah.

Egg-and-spinach omelet. How can Halia screw something as simple as that up? No, the question now is whether she can make it something special. It has to be special… or wait, does it have to be? She props her phone up against the wall, letting the cooking show play over and over again, the screen caking with food particles all while the horse makes sure if she put in just the right amount of spices. Were these spices right? Rhannah had them ordered, but it didn't mean the the horse's boss really wanted them in everything, right?

Then there's the French press. It's a pinch of salt and four scoops of coffee? Or was it three? 16 ounces? 8? So many numbers and so many sources say different things.

Halia snorts and claps her hoof against the tiled floor.

Did last night really happen? Of course, it did. It was hot. Of course, she got up out of bed that morning, seeing the cow still laying there, her hair all messed up, curled up, and so delicate, despite being such a strong, confident woman. Halia can't wrap her mind around how this businesswoman would get on her knees so quickly and just…

She shudders, and a pop and sizzle bring her back to the skillet.

A yawn breaks her attention back up from the salvaging of the eggs. There is Rhannah, draped in a robe, walking up and sniffing the air. “Ah, well, isn't this a nice surprise. I didn't even have to tell you to make something today. I was going to get you a nice treat."

“Ah, well, I mean, this is my job and all, and…"

Rhannah approaches Halia, hands upon her hips, her robes dangling dangerously off of her shoulders. “Now, now, let's not talk like that. I want to know what you're feeling right now. You're alright, right?"

“Uh, yeah?" Halia says, plating the omelette. “Why wouldn't I be?"

“Because what we did last night wasn't exactly typical, and I just want to make sure I wasn't overstepping anywhere."

Halia snorts. “Oh, no, ma'am. Everything was perfect. A fucking fairy tale dream come true. Top it off with “they all lived happily ever after and call life done. Let me the coffee." She walks past Rhannah, but Rhannah holds her hand out, not touching the horse.

Halia stops, looking to the extended hand. Her hands tremble, and her mouth gets dry.

Somewhere along the tumble of emotions and actions, the plate was safely deposited upon the counter. The cow finds herself up against the wall. Even as they embrace and they kiss, and they breathe and moan and writhe.

Their mouths part, and Halia stares at the half-lidded eyes of the beautiful bovine in front of her. The horse runs fingers over Rhannah's cheek and presses her forehead against Rhannah's.

“I can go to work," Halia says. She rolls her shoulders, and she nods. She grabs the cow by the small of her back, dipping down and locking lips with her again in some grandiose gesture. Rhannah holds onto her, giggling and feigning a swoon before Halia directs her over towards her seat. “Now, mistress," Halia says, only half-sarcastically at it this time, “You have breakfast ready for you."

“I certainly hope you aren't neglecting yourself," Rhannah says. “A happy pet brings a happy mistress." With that, she takes her first bite.

“Mmm…" is Rhannah moaning at the delicacy she's consuming, or planning something mischievous and lewd for the day ahead? “As for work, why don't we make things more interesting?"

Halia turns, pouring the coffee into the mug with a stare partially that of “don't you dare" and with a smidge of “Oh, please, tell me more!"

Rhannah takes another slow, laborious bite from her omelet and chews, letting Halia stand there a minute. “I'll assign you a series of challenges throughout your shift. Complete them, and you'll be rewarded with additional favors tonight. Fail to complete a task, and you will owe me a favor tonight."

Halia saunters over to the table and holds out the coffee mug to the cow. “A game, then? I could hardly keep it together when I was taking work seriously."

“Perhaps that is the crux of the issue, or at least it's one I am willing to test. Of course, we'll establish a safe word for you to use. Then you are free to finish the rest of the shift without any other stipulations or without owing me a thing tonight."

“Just like that?"

“Just like that."

Halia takes a deep breath, rubbing her fingers over her jaw. It's quite clenched, she's just noticed. She stretches her mouth a moment, and then she says. “Alright then, what's the word?"

“A safeword isn't just chosen at random," Rhannah says, picking up her emptied plate and taking it to the sink. “It must be chosen with a sort of care. Clean up and get ready for work. We'll talk about it on the drive over.

“Drive over… it's hardly a few minutes."

“Well, I said it had to be carefully considered, not laboriously delegated. We'll have something ready in a jiff, I'm sure."

—

The drive starts out quiet enough, with Halia's mind racing with potential ideas. She grips tight to the wheel, focusing her thought and attention on the road.

“So," Rhannah finally says, turning from her glance out the window to face her driver. “Have you figured a word yet?"

“Me!?" Halia says. “Why do I have to figure it out?"

“Well, you are the one who will have to say it," Rhannah says. “But if you insist on me making something up for you, I can figure it out."

“I got one," Halia says. “How about “YOu try that again, and I'll rip your intestines out, tie them to a car, and drag you."

Rhannah shakes her head. “Oh, no, no, no!. It would have to be something you would never ever say under any other circumstance…"

Halia shrugs. “Worked for me before, but we'll do it your way."

“How about 'Nixie Six?" Rhannah suggests.

“I'm going to assume that has some meaning that'll make me look like a total ass if I said that in front of people."

“Oh, not at all. People might think you're a strange clock aficionado, if they think there's any meaning behind it at all. Besides, the girls know I like to play some silly games sometime. If you're so embarrassed to be with me, then I suppose I underestimated you." She shrugs at this.

“Embarrassed? You're my boss. We're breaking all kinds of laws just talking about this."

“Ridiculous," Rhannah says. “What we did last night was grounds for a civil lawsuit. What we're doing right now is talking. Feel free to exercise your legal rights all over me if you wish."

Halia pulls the car up along the dairy and slumps back when she parks. “Now, you don't have to be like that," Halia says. “But, we need a reason for this safe word to exist. What the hell am I supposed to be doing?"

Rhannah takes a deep breath, unbuckling herself. “Well, then. You will have twenty minutes to do this task. You see, the girls will be in there messing around, I am sure. You will need to make sure each of them are hooked up and ready to go. Not a single word to be said the whole time by you. Get them corralled, stripped, and pumping milk by the end of the time period, and I will grant you a gift tonight. I'll let you think about that. Mess up and take too long, and you'll have to help Beth out with her nervousness by working with us in the nude yourself. It is, after all, unfair that she has to strip down and you do not."

“A gift's pretty damn vague, if you ask me," Halia says.

“Hm, perhaps…" Rhannah adds. “Perhaps, I could treat you to a nice dinner somewhere? Or, I could give you some delicious milk straight from the tap, or, oooh, there's that new toy I ordered that should be coming in any day now… I was going to use it on you, but if you win…"

“Twenty minutes should be plenty of time," Halia says, unbuckling herself and trying to hide her blush.

“Oh, what do you mean?" Rhannah asks, her lip curling up.

Halia pauses with the door halfway open. “Oh, no, you don't. What trick are you pulling on me this time."

Rhannah wags a finger in front of Halia's face. “Tick Tock, Pet. I said, 'twenty minutes' when I first started talking. You have about fourteen now."

“Fuckin' shit!" Halia rushes out of the car and into the dairy. Rhannah, meanwhile, chuckles to herself and takes a leisurely stroll inside. After all. She's not in a rush.

—

The cows all stand around the break room. They chatter among themselves before the shift starts when the mare bursts in through the door. Halia places her fingers in her mouth and attempting a whistle to command attention. Though her fingers fit into her muzzle like they should, the way her prosthetic pushes air through makes the sound come out in a pathetic fart.

The cows stop and look over towards her, the horse burning up, but she has no time to think about her limitations now. She has to think about the timing and the reward, or the punishment. She claps her hands together, points towards Bertha, and then to her station.

Bertha shrugs and gets up, walking on over towards her station without another thought. Some of the others get up and follow her, but Clara stands there, her hands upon her hips. “Oh, so what's your big deal this time, huh? Running out on us and now thinking you can boss us around."

Rhannah walks in, passing her station and heading to the break room herself. Clara smirks and nods with a quick “Mornin', boss."

“Morning, Clara," Rhannah says, looking over her shoulder towards Halia.

Halia shoots a glare at Rhannah. It is a glare that the cow has to turn around to look away to compose herself from.

Clara turns back towards Halia and shrugs. “Well, the shift isn't ready yet, and the boss doesn't seem to have a problem with me. What the hell is your problem?"

Halia snorts, clopping her foot and pointing to the station.

“Got a few minutes left," Clara says, looking up at the clock.

Halia sees the same clock. There's more time before the shift starts than there is time left in her challenge. She narrows her gaze and folds her arms over her chest. It's a game they're playing, but she's not about to lose. Rolling her eyes, she then marches over towards Clara, sighs, and gives her a sorrowful look, then looks to Rhannah, tilting her head towards the cow.

Clara bites her lip, tilting her head. “Hm… well now, I don't know what the boss did to whip you into shape, but I think I like it. If you ever feel like talking and not being an ass, you know where I'll be."

Clara walks on over towards her station, and Halia sighs in relief. That's when the bell chimes.

Nailed it.