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“My fellow Unimericans I am not happy. Not happy. Not one bit. I will not be happy until we put an end to these corporations grabbing another inch of soil from this beautiful state of ours. That land belongs to Barson folk, not to those with the biggest wallets!" The man on the radio's declaration swamped the interior of the vehicle Diane piloted, headlamps blaring ahead into the pitch-black night, the tired hybrid navigating her way home on the lonely road. His angry words filled pages, a firebrand speech whose choice excerpts were being played by a late night news broadcast.

“That was state senatorial hopeful Tim Grissim, with some strong remarks on the recent seizures of land—"

In an instant the radio went silent. Static — garbled junk fizzing and wailing in the tumult of electromagnetic interference — took the newsreader's place. Distance to the transmitter was the likely culprit, Diane having traveled far enough into the countryside to lose the signal. Far enough into the Colony's territory to forget the world outside.

The notion of a politician taking umbrage with Bovinex did nothing to phase her. She knew the balance of power was tilted heavily in her and her species' favour. Mr. Grissim would find himself facing the might of one of the most powerful corporations in Unimerica today, dead set on maintaining the secrecy of their transformed population. This wasn't idle musing — she would be involved as a high-level member of the Colony's security operations. What was more important to the security and safety of the Colony than warding off potential government intrusion? A bribe, she reckoned, just from the way he sounded, estimating the best means of neutralising him. Moderate bribe — nothing expensive. She refined her options. He's the type of guy who cracks quick. Talks a big game. All bark and no bite.

Her modified pickup truck rattled, its chassis shaking as it crossed a particularly rough patch. Its suspension should've handled that better, and she was left worried her 4x4 needed a check-up. Great, another to-do for my list...

She received the offroader as a company benefit years ago. An alternative to hitching a ride to-and-from work everyday on the Colony bus line. It surprised her how fast they'd built everything up, to the point of running a fully-functioning public transit system. This would sometime soon be extended to their new acquisition in the state of Barson — a great chunk of the state had become theirs, and theirs alone. No more meddling humans...and Bovinex still hungered. Beyond the state. Would its neighbours fall under their influence in time?

Her hands gripped the steering wheel, while her hoof pressed the gas pedal, applying carefully-considered pressure. The angular body of the large vehicle hummed, its sleek dark green coat shrouding it in an accidental camouflage, invisible save for the white and red lights it projected in front and behind respectively. Diane, out of boredom, fiddled with the radio, switching stations until she found something to pass the time.

Very few stations were accessible from her location. The most audible was a talk show between two hosts — arguing over the hottest topic of these times: her employer. Here we go again. It got frustrating listening to the same complaints made over and over by ignorant humans. What did make it worth something was the amusing conspiratorial bent many of the arguments eventually morphed into, converging into carbon-copy fever dreams. Diane enjoyed those theories, as nothing so far had been as outlandish as reality.

This time the humans were discussing eminent domain and its role in the land buyouts. And no, this was not a well-rounded dialectic on the role of government and what limitations were appropriate. Nope. This was two yahoos with a microphone, hosting nothing but glorified yammering and shouting at the sky. Well, it was apt for this time of night.

Diane listened in...

“...and they've been awarded another government contract, for use of the land..."

They decried the secrecy and lockdown of a chunk of the state.

“...now I know they're sayin' it's to protect their intellectual property, but that excuse stinks to high heavens..."

Over the course of thirty minutes, the radio hosts clued themselves in to the big conspiracy centered on the agri-genetics corporation itself, and its myriad of subsidiaries and shell companies, all doing their part to try and mask the extent of what was happening. This was nothing Diane hadn't heard before. A nice change was the inclusion of a debate over partnerships Bovinex had engaged in with other mega-corporations. Huh, she thought, they've now discovered one twentieth of the plan...at this rate we'll be running the country before they finally learn the whole truth.

The Colony had nothing to fear from these two. She decided to keep them on, see what else might be brought up.

“...this is unprecedented."

“Now you say a lotta land has being cordoned off, but it's a big state, right? Don't see the problem in allowing these corporations to buy the land."

“Jack—"

“Lemme finish here! It's investment. Looks like these guys want to redevelop our once-great agricultural sector. Most of this land has been left wild for decades!"

“That's not the point. I'm asking why this investment isn't being given to the people already living here, instead of corporations moving in and bringing all their own folks? Huh? Where's the benefit for us?"

“The benefits, Bill, is that we have money flowing through the hinterlands again. And yes, you raise the issue of who gets jobs. Fine. I'll agree with you on that one. But the land buyouts — from what I can find — are market rate...they aren't stiffin' folks. As bad as emptying towns is, people are movin' to the cities. That drives growth. And if new workers come to farm the land and replace those leaving, then even better! They spend their earnings here."

“You say that, but I'm still skeptical. I'm not one for trustin' the Governor's office any more than I can throw 'em."

Diane listened to the pundits drone on for several minutes. The pros and cons were bandied about. She couldn't quite get a handle on who was arguing in favour of who...as time passed the voices on the radio merged into a soup of political messaging. Jack appeared to be okay with the lockdown, as long as it improved the economy. Meanwhile the other talking head, Bill, was obstinate — refusing to consider it a good thing unless he was shown concrete proof that the downsides were nowhere near as bad as claimed. Both voices fused together, a screaming squabbling mass that threatened to lose itself in its furor.

“We now have some callers. Let's go to our first..."

“Hello Jack. Hello Bill. My name's Gracie."

“Hello ma'am. You've been listening to the whole show so far?"

“Oh yes...yes."

“Great. Then you know the gravity of what's been happening?"

“I do. I do. Half the state is what they say."

“Half the god-damned state," Bill piped up.

Jack jumped in to head him off: “what is it you want to say about it?"

“Well I've been gettin' offers on my homestead for weeks. These people from Bovinex (or whatever the company's called) have been callin' me. Askin' me to sell my home!"

“Disgraceful. Absolutely disgraceful."

“Settle down there Bill, let's hear everything she has to say."

“They got to talkin' to my neighbours too. And some of them feel like it's an opportunity to move and find a nice place elsewhere. Now I don't wanna sound old-fashioned, but isn't there somethin' for keepin' communities alive? I wouldn't like it if all my neighbours disappeared and left me all on my lonesome — which I what I've read has happened to some poor folks."

“It has indeed Gracie," Bill said, “citizens are findin' their towns deserted. Since last year the buyouts have been non-stop. Now the roads are being shut down and people can't travel! It's a statewide emergency and nobody in the Governor's office has any balls to step in."

“That's how it starts," she added, “small...an' then they get greedy. I don't believe for one second that Bovinex (or whatever the company's called) is honest with us."

“I agree. I agree. And I think it's a disgrace! Because you're right. They aren't being honest. They're hiding behind the law, keeping all us good folk in the dark..."

“Bill—"

“Again and again we're letting big businesses walk all over the little guy. What do we get as an explanation...nothing!"

“Bill, let me—"

“Governor Ellison has done nothing to resolve the situation. Hey...how about an investment programme to redevelop these abandoned farms as small, family-run enterprises? No, we get a BLEEP you!" The censor had a fast finger, stabbing the profanity button at the right moment. “Instead, she's relyin' on lucrative private contracts with corporate entities. Our tax dollars goin' to a bunch o' fat cats. I mean...where's the sense in that?"

“None," Gracie said, evidently on Bill's side.

“Let me throw somethin' into the ring here ma'am," Jack's voice crackled as Diane drove beneath a bridge, “if you had to — an' I mean this hypothetically — if you had to sell, what would be the limit?"

“Oh I don't think she wants to answer tha—"

“Nothin'."

“Really?" Bill sounded surprised.

“I ain't sellin' this. No sir not ever!"

Jack wanted more. “Where is your property ma'am?"

“It's a ranch and several acres outside o' Flattesville, ten miles from the interstate that crosses Bellington."

“Oh, wow, then you've got first-hand experience of the road closures."

“Yeah, they shut down I-87 earlier this week. That was the first this whole land buyout stuff affected me. Before then I'd seen reports on the TV but I ain't given them much of a thought."

“And what were the offers Bovinex and its subsidiaries were making?"

“I'll tell you something fellahs, I never even looked at the god-damned things. When they called I started hangin' up. When they mailed me I tore 'em up. They ain't got around to sendin' suits to my fronch porch, but if they do I'm slammin' the door in their faces!"

Bill congratulated her for figthing back. “That's the real Barson spirit! Not givin' in no matter how much the other guy pushes you. Gracie, ma'am, I wanna say thank you for stickin' it to 'em, no matter how many hundreds of thousands of dollars they seduce honest rural folk with."

“..."

The line went silent. There were some confused mutterings on the broadcast.

“Ma'am?"

“...how much?"

Diane laughed. The caller was muted, and accusations of trying to fan further argument, of keeping the rage flowing, ensued. Jack blamed Bill for cutting the line, Bill blamed Jack for muddling the poor woman's mind. More 'discussion' (if you could call it that) emerged after another call-in was fed to the verbal meatgrinder. To her the bleating humans on the wireless had devolved completely into gnashing their teeth and foaming at the mouth. Their words were now incomprehensible, mangled like the soil tossed by the wheels of her offroader. Furious yet unaware of the truth.

She turned off the radio.

“Idiots."

* * *

“Sean. I'm home!" Diane called out from the front hall. Her stomach rumbled, desperate for nourishment after a long day at work. Coming home to the tantalising scent of a home-cooked meal made all the hours she put in worth it.

“In the kitchen Diane," a male voice hollered back.

Diane ditched her luggage (a small bag) and cleaned her hooves on the welcome mat, stamping the ground to shake loose any dirt she'd accumulated trekking across fields. Her uniform felt weighty to her tired muscles. Discarding that next, she shed the composite armour plate and heavy array of straps and padding, revealing a plain shirt covering her top half, and blue panties on the bottom. Both of which were sized appropriately for a hybrid like herself. She put away her gear and shuffled along to the kitchen, where the source of the voice lay.

“Hope it tastes as good as it smells!"

She entered the kitchen. Sean — her husband — stood watch over the stove. He was a smaller specimen than most bulls, with a lither build and not much muscle. Diane was taller than him at thirteen feet compared to his nine. That did nothing to distract from his gentle and caring nature, a stark contrast with the types of bulls she saw other cows fawning over. In fact, it only made her appreciate him more. She did the heavy lifting, and bore the tough exterior; he supported her with his defusing personality.

“Hey girl, you like what I'm cookin'? It tastes fine."

She had to stifle a laugh at her husband adopting a street accent. From such a softie it seemed so out-of-character. “Like your new lingo," she said, coming closer, “learn that from your 'crew' out on the 'street'?"

“Shut up...I'm not a complete sap."

“Oh but I married you because I wanted a sap," she hugged him from behind, her stomach fluttering as she went gooey over him. She stepped back, letting him get on with preparing dinner.

Sean hummed as he went his merry way, his wife watching. The slender bull was naked except for a thick apron that suited a girl more than a boy. Then again, it was Diane's — just on loan. His mauve-tinted fur covered him in a slight fuzz that she could only assume came from when he showered earlier — he still had that 'fresh' look about him. From hoof-to-head he was every bit as handsome as the day they'd married. He had been twenty-two...she twenty-seven. The age gap didn't bother them. Neither did the culture gap; Diane was formerly a human, whereas Sean was 100% purebred bovine, coming from a family in the old counties — lands owned by Bovinex before the Colony grew to encompass most of the state. Now they'd been together for almost six years, quite an accomplishment given the promiscuous tendencies of other bovines to spread their love among many herd-members. Eyes only for one another. A monogamous holdover from her human days she was glad she could reconcile with a lover.

Diane sat on the counter-top. Spying his manhood dangling carefree she smiled. He may be a smaller male, but he was no slouch when it came to pleasing a woman. She watched him work. His ears flicked when he was thinking (so cute!). That tush of his is a crime, she drooled over him, someone should arrest him for an ass that juicy!

Wait, she thought, I'm in charge of security here. I CAN arrest him!

Her gaze traveled up his spine, settling on boring through the back of his head. She decided to join him in nudity and start a bit of fun. Her panties dropped to around her ankles, and the muscular hybrid roughly pulled her shirt over her head to join the growing pile of garments at her hooves. Her bra was next. Unhooking the capacious sling she let her breasts fall where they may. Proud mounds, pert and plentiful.

The hungry female crept up on her unwitting target and pounced!

“As an officer of the law, I'm afraid I'll have to strip search you," she murmured into his ear, so close as to brush the bristly hairs with her lips.

“Ah-ah-ah!" Sean slapped her touchy-feely mitts away. “Save it for later sweetheart."

“Fine," she harrumphed. Food first.

They settled in to eat.