The busy, frenetic sound of female conversation meets your ears as you approach the milker. Leant back on the looming apparatus, Carrie is chatting with her sister Cora. Her eyes and smile widen as you mosey up; the chatter dries up and the expression is mirrored when Cora turns around.

“Sup, girls?” you grin.

“Nothing,” they titter almost simultaneously, sharing a look as they do. Cows aren’t capable of slyness, but something does pass between the two busty redheads there; a soft thoughtfulness, perhaps.

“Reckon I’m gonna go for a walk,” says Carrie. “Stretch my hooves a little.”

“I’ll look after your post,” Cora offers.

“Wanna come with, big guy?” Carrie smiles brightly.

>Sure

You slip your hand into Carrie’s own small, warm mitt and stroll with her beyond the barn and up a little trail leading eastwards.

It really is extremely pleasant on New Texas. There’s a timeless quality to the prairies and vast sky stretching out in all directions, as if nothing could possibly trouble you so long as you empty your mind and let your thoughts drift into the dusty green and powdery blue. Every huge, widely spaced building you can see looks well used, cared for... well, except that one.

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing at the derelict skeleton of concrete and leaning wood.

“It was gonna be the semen bottling facility for Big T’s ranch,” sighs Carrie, kicking at a pebble. “We export the stuff you know, it’s almost as prized as our milk in the Beyond. But the bulls who were constructing it got transferred to Berylhead and nobody’s picked it up since, cuz there aren’t really enough bulls ‘round here to justify it. So now it’s just me and my dinky lil’ milker.”

It hurts you on some deep, profound level to see a heavy lifting job like that left unfinished...

>Build it!

Puffing your robust chest out, you proclaim that you will complete the bottling facility. Hell, it might take a while - and you don’t know where you’re going to get the equipment—

“No! I can take care of that,” says Carrie excitedly, pushing her soft boob into your side. “Big T will happily dole out a loan if he knows it’s going to be paid back, and if you’re in charge and pitching in the labor...”

She trots off in the direction of the ranch, and you roll up your sleeves.
Next
You measure the existing framework with your codex and then take an inventory of the rot-resistant wood, tools, polymers and fasteners that are propped against the half-finished walls and scattered around the site. Seems as if most of what you need is already here, but there’s still umpteen things that need to be replaced and ordered, planks that have to be hauled, concrete that has to be mixed... you just tinker with little things, deliberately not looking at the size of the job you’ve taken on to begin with, but eventually - as you sketch and hoist and hammer and fit - the building takes shape in your mind, and you see how all the little things will fit together into a hugely satisfying whole.

Being hard at work like this, getting sweaty under New Texas’s beaming sun, fills you with a contentment that’s almost beyond words. You forget for long spells that there is anything beyond this, the profound satisfaction of using your bullish strength and technical ability to make something appear in front of you, and when you do it’s with a sense of irritation.
Next
Carrie comes back with a loaded hamper basket after... how long has it been? Sweat is pouring down your back, but when you stand back from the building site you see you’ve barely even begun. You just want to keep going.

“Steady now, big guy,” Carrie laughs, sitting herself down on the grass. “Have a bite to eat.” As it transpires, almost all of the cold picnic lunch she’s brought is for you. “Course! I’ll be getting my vitamins a different way.”

You lean back upon a half-constructed wall a little bit later, gazing beatifically up at the giant sky as Carrie hollows her cheeks around your animalistic shaft, pulling and kneading at it in her warm, saliva-coated embrace with ardent bobs of her auburn head. Her slurps and lusty hums meld with your approving groans the further she manages to get her lips down your throbbing length, and you scritch her behind a flat ear every time her rough, wet tongue slides over a particularly good spot, a tactic that makes her flop at the grass with her tail happily. You glove your glans in her unresisting throat with firm, gentle pushes time and again, glorying in the tightness there whilst her tongue flicks over your cum-engorged gonads until it eventually becomes too much, and you unload gloriously, fluming spooge directly into her gut with heavy, juicy pulses.

You plump the cowgirl’s belly out, withdraw to fill her mouth with slick approval, and when she can’t swallow anymore she milks the rest out with firm kneads of her smooth hands.

“Yeah,” she says, after she’s obediently licked your sensitive cum-slit clean, “I don’t think output is gonna be a concern. Why don’t you go catch a shower now?”

>Next

You do so, luxuriating under the hot water in the shower block. Void, this is all just so gratifying. You do good work in the sunshine and then you get a blow job from a bouncy cowgirl and then you can work in the sunshine some more. The prospect stretches out in front of you, as glorious and endless as the prairies themselves...

You pause as you leave, grinning at the muffled strains of Horisha ruthlessly going at Peck with a strap-on (they put it on just for you, you’re sure). In the near distance, you can see your half-constructed building. A dozen things immediately stand out to you that need doing. You could go back. I mean, you haven’t got anything else that needs doing, do you?