FSE

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A whole day had passed with Trent and Mason in captivity. Being held overnight could've been worse. They were provided with food and water. Very little conversation however, apart from the quizzing they'd underwent when first captured. Right now, they couldn't tell the time — all personal effects had been confiscated, and no windows existed in the room they were currently held in.

Two guards (one male, one female) stood watch at the door, in full apparel. They stood glaring at the two captives as they sat, handcuffed via a chain to the desk in the middle of the room, both poor souls on one side facing the doorway. On the other side of the metal table was a huge empty chair.

They spent the night wondering who on Earth that was for.

Their answer arrived outside along with a cavalcade of heavy stomping. The big steel door opened, and Diane Kovax entered.

“Hello boys. Remember me?"

An audible gulp was their response. The massive creature laughed, the noise echoing through the room, and their eardrums. Diane turned and shared several words with the guards on duty, then walked over to the desk.

“Well you've seen too much for me to let you go free. What will happen next I wonder?"

Between them a look of terror developed. Mixed with the surreality of the situation and who was detaining them it made for an odd stirring of emotions.

“Now, now. We're not at that point yet!" she chuckled. “No sense getting ahead of myself. Moo! Problems need to be solved carefully, or not at all."

Her sinister sentiment was clear. Whether this was an act of hers wasn't. “As problems," she continued, “it's my responsibility to solve you."

“Luh—" Trent coughed, “ya mean...li...like...kill us?" He phrased his question cautiously, but anxiety made him stumble over his words, ruining his chances of being subtle. Not that it changed anything, she read them like an open book — their fear was palpable, it oozed from every movement, every shifting expression; it ruled their appearances.

“HAH! That's such a crude way of resolving this situation. Kill...bah! Not with the kinda leverage we can bring to bear on those who don't, or won't, play ball."

“Play...ahem...ball?" Mason wondered where this was heading.

“Let's not bullshit any longer. You two are a thorn in my side, because people waltzing through our land and seeing things they shouldn't means we have to take action."

“But we didn't see anything!" they protested.

“You would have, had you walked more than a couple minutes further along that hiking trail. And I don't have to explore the reasons why you had to see me. Rest assured, we're not letting you go unless we want to. And even then—"

“You're not gonna have us killed?"

Diane rolled her eyes. This looked very strange from the perspective of her prisoners, the mighty anthropomorphic bovine emoting just like a human, yet through an entirely inhuman visage. “No numb-nuts. I literally just told you I wasn't. Yet..." The cowgirl growled. “Grow a pair and quit freakin' the fuck out 'cause you're talking to...someone like me. I get enough of that from my staff!"

While Diane's position brought to her attention many issues regarding trespassers and other security breaches, the fun part only lasted five minutes before the shock sank in and left her captives a few IQ points lower than normal. She had no time for babbling and grown men acting like timid children. Her bestial side gloated over their lack of spine. Humans, she reminded herself, forgot how scared they could be. Can't even believe I used to be one.

She lumbered forward and pulled out the enormous chair that was tucked into the centre table. Trent and Mason watched her sit down, her hulking presence closer than ever as she scowled at them, wildness barely contained by civilised mannerisms. The cowgirl reclined, crossing her legs. Her hoof swung idly with the tilt and bend of her ankle. Briefly glancing at her feet, then back, she faced them head-on.

With a snap of her fingers she summoned one of the guards to her side. Her prisoners heard only guttural rumblings as she whispered something to him. The man nodded, his orders understood, and left the room.

“Let's get some things in order." Diane produced a tiny tablet computer from the upper breast-pouch of her armour. Tapping with her capped fingers, she prepared to take down notes, the striking of her tough digits on the touchscreen making a sharp, tangible sound upon contact. “Trent Westmann and Mason Maurice. Am I correct?"

“Yes."

“W-wuh-Westmann with two 'N's, by the way."

“Thanks," she replied sarcastically, “that helps a lot. My guys asked very little during initial interrogation, I aim to be more thorough. Much more." Mason looked away. Trent maintained a tense blend of confusion and growing nervousness — the longer he was in this room with her the worse it became. “We can skip the basics, I already know who you are and what you do, what I want to hear is what were you doing at the Colony perimeter?"

“So this is the 'colony'? Same as the writing on the guards' uniforms?" Trent asked.

“Shut up ya idiot!" Mason wished to shout, but limited himself to a fiery whisper. “Don't ask any stupid questions, or say somethin' to piss her off!"

“Your skills of observation are unmatched," she remarked in a dry fashion. “I expect that comes in handy when selling household appliances..."

“You know where I work!?"

“Y'know, we can keep this up...the stupid witness routine...or you can shut up, sit still, and follow my lead. Okay?" She waited for him to show signs of agreeing. A curt 'yes' fled Trent's stiff lips.

“Seeing as punishment is fresh on your minds — I'll make this simple: what were you doing in our lands?"

Neither of them spoke.

“Oh?" she piped up, “oh you're mutes now? MOO!!!" she roared. They jumped in their seats, the bite of cuffs on their wrists stinging their flesh as their bounds became taut. Her hands slammed onto the table, buckling the metal surface with the beast-woman's sheer strength. Her terrified audience shut their eyes and uttered a barely comprehensible plea for mercy.

“WHAT WHERE YOU DOING ON OUR LAND!?"

“WE DIDN'T KNOW!" Trent screamed.

“Didn't know what?"

“D-di-di-di-duh-didn't know it was yours."

“What did I say about playing dumb?"

“Stop!" Mason shouted. “Stop...okay...I'll tell you everything. It's up to you if ya believe us."

“Go ahead boys." Now we're getting somewhere.

Mason explained himself. Nothing he said was out of the ordinary, and seemed to back up their alibi. In passing he mentioned Kola Ridge, the town where he'd previously stayed, as he painted a picture of the immediate past for her. “Nice place. Scenic..." Diane remarked.

“It's where I was livin' 'till recently."

“Ah...I see. We kicked you out. Aww," she sighed, “this is kinda cute. First time I've had a chat with one of our many casualties!"

“Plenty of places before that shut down."

“All us I'm afraid," she cooed whilst wearing a guilty look, making light of his struggle.

“As for the salesman," she said, pointing at Trent, “cross-state business trip?"

“Yeah."

“We have your car in our possession. It wasn't any hassle calling the towing company to have 'em send it our way." Another nice piece of leverage, she thought.

“That's all we have to say," Mason said, “we'd no other means of travel."

“And you both thought it was a swell idea to take a shortcut? Unfortunate." She stroked her cheek. “Moo. I'm surprised more people haven't tried it. I suppose they made good on their promise to leave before we caught up to them."

“How...how did you know I was gettin' my car towed?"

Diane failed to reply. She'd heard his question, she just chose to ignore it. The guard she dispatched earlier returned — carrying documents under his arm, and some of the personal belongings of the prisoners. Including Trent's smartphone.

“Moo! Answers. And in the nick of time." She thanked her subordinate for the delivery and ordered him to return to his post at the door, alongside his fellow guard.

“I'll show you." She took his phone and unlocked it, Trent's PIN might as well have not existed with the ease she'd bypassed it. The hybrid searched the phone for relevant information.

“Two options are available to me. Firstly, I could follow the old-fashioned route, and have you both 'disappear' — interpret that how you will," she grinned, taking pleasure in their torment, “or (and this is the one you may like as it doesn't involve anything nasty) we conscript you into service. You don't get to choose by the way."

She held up the phone, displaying Trent's caller history and browser history. “I could be paranoid and assume this is an elaborate fake setup to help sell your story, and pass you off as a harmless pair of wanderers, but with what I've decided to do it no longer matters if your story holds true or not." She locked the screen and placed the phone on the desk. “I've picked option two." Laying out the documents at her disposal, Diane started scribbling on a few text-entry fields.

The chief of security noticed Trent's lips quivering, and the beginnings of a sentence hanging from them.

“Wanna ask me something?"

“Yu-you're a cow!"

Mason grabbed Trent's shirt collar, roughly tossing his head in a jerking forward motion. “...the fuck did I say 'bout stupid questions an' pissing her off!?"

“No but she..." he protested, “...she's not...human!"

“I was human," Diane interjected, “was." The large bovine female straightened her back and uncrossed her legs. “You're seeing the pinnacle of cutting-edge genetic engineering boys." She flexed her muscles. “I'm bigger, stronger, healthier, more quick-thinking, more disease-resistant, and — looking at the state you two are in — braver. It's a much longer list than that! Given enough time I'm sure I can outlive you, but I'm a busy woman, so I'm afraid I'll need a rain-check on that one."

She'd been transformed. Transmogrified. Taken from one corner of the great and vast kingdom of animal DNA and mashed into another — her human past a distant memory, her body warped by the shocking advancement of modern science.

“Now, are you going to pay attention to the words coming out of my mouth rather than the shape, size, and colour of the person to whom the mouth is attached?"

Her intent was clear as day. “You're trespassin' in my country. And I expect restitution."

Papers were presented to her two captives. Diane had taken the liberty of destroying their old lives. She had their signatures forged; contacted family, kin, places of work — surgically detaching them from the rest of the world as it sat in impotent ignorance of the goings-on behind Bovinex's new borders. She faked Trent's letter of resignation, a heartfelt change of pace he claimed to have needed, and his boss agreed. Mason was easier, as he had no fixed employer. Reading over the files Trent found his own handwritten name on documents declaring a change of address, authorising the sale of his car...it was extensive, the level to which she'd invaded their lives and established their futures.

“Time for the formal part," she quipped, adopting a businesslike tone. “I hereby offer you positions within the Bovinex agri-genetics corporation, in our land management and procurement division. Here are the contracts of employment, as well as all pertinent non-disclosure agreements to ensure the secrecy of our projects are maintained. You may sign here and here," she tapped each of their pages, “to accept this offer."

She motioned for them to come closer, and whispered: “I'd say yes if I were you. Option one is still on the table." Her voice boomed despite the hushed nature, her physical size raising its volume countering her attempts at softness.

They were hesitant initially, but they realised there wasn't a better choice. Diane observed them, waiting for the moment pen touched paper. The first scratch of nib on plant fibre played a melody most welcome. “Excellent! Boys, you've just save two lives today. And welcome aboard!" She jokingly put her hand out for them to shake. Neither of them looked in the mood for games.

It was settled. Trent and Mason were locked in. They would start small, helping others, working as extra labourers...it wasn't a good deal, but given the circumstances could they afford to refuse?

“We'll be keeping you under observation. You might get pally with some of the humans working for us, but don't forget: they'll be watching you — every last one of them. Either of you two drifters try to pull anything you won't be safe from me."

Diane rose from her seat, towering over them. “Like the sound of that?"

“If the alternative is...is...less good...then yeah."

Trent added to his companion's statement with enthusiasm: “me too!"

* * *

After Diane exited the room, Trent and Mason were left to their own devices. The guards remained at the door, so should they feel the need to discuss things they had to stay quiet.

“What did we just agree to?"

“Never mind that, what the fuck just happened in general?"

“Keep quiet!" one of the guards shouted.

“If this is where we part ways," Trent kept his voice low, “well, it's been a weird week, but I enjoyed your company, Mason."

“Same. Same..."

The guard sneered at them.

“Are you happy?" Trent asked.

“Happy?"

“I know this isn't the best time...but...maybe ya can stop runnin' from town-to-town." Mason eyed him curiously. “If that's not a bad thing!" Trent defended his prior statement.

“Hmm, ya might have a point there Trent."

“Please," his companion raised his hands, “after today, seeing as we may be workin' in different places and never meet again, you can go back to callin' me 'stranger'."

* * *

“Everything's in order ma'am," MacMullen said, handing back the papers she had them sign. He passed them on to Wilson for data entry while he escorted his commander outside.

He discussed the training and integration of their two new additions into the workforce. Their post-expansion manpower shortage meant the board of directors would love to get them working as soon as possible. Diane and MacMullen, though, had to be careful. “Intense observation period of six months, that's my suggestion, before we loosen our restrictions on them."

“Sounds about right. This ain't the first time we've press-ganged folks, and it sure won't be the last." Diane breathed the fresh evening air, stepping down from the converted trailer onto the cool grass. Her hooves planted themselves firmly in the soil, leaving distinct tracks as she walked away.

They're outta my fur now, and can be put to work.

MacMullen returned to the interior of Security Station Seven, not content to laze about. He made it past the door before Wilson burst through, dashing after Diane.

“Ma'am! Ma'am!" He called her over. “Ma'am, you forgot to sign this one."

“Mooh, knew there was gonna be one." She signed her name with a flourish. Wilson stayed beside her to check if anything else was amiss. Walking together, they came across Ray, having a smoke break. They greeted each other.

“I'm hanging it up for today," Diane said, “I assume you know what we're doing with those two?"

Ray nodded. Diane left her final orders with him and Wilson. “Done. I'm heading home. Dinner's waiting for me."

“This might be rude, ma'am, but, before you go I'd like to ask," Wilson's eyes burned with curiosity, “what's it like?"

“What? This? Hahaha. Aww kid, there's not enough time in the world to answer that!"

He looked disappointed. Diane decided to provide one nugget of information. “Diets can be weird. You have to change all sorts to eat properly."

“Oh, 'cause your a herbivore now?"

“Weeelll..." she hesitated, “not entirely."

Ray was interested now. “You still eat meat?"

“Fucks up my gut if I'm not careful, but hot damn if I'm gonna give up my medium rare."

“Should probably quit," he stated without emotion.

She snatched the cigarette out of his mouth.

“You first..."

“Fair."

Diane left her officers to find her parked 4x4 truck, custom-built for her thirteen-foot figure. Clambering into the cabin and shutting the door behind her, she took off on the country road, engine revving as she picked up speed and left a churned mass of muck all along the unpaved path.