"Big sis, how are you doing today?"

Martin comes in after a few polite knocks on the barn. It’s 6 AM. The sun just got up and he already looking all put together, ready for work.

This is the only thing you hate about him. You want to sleep more!

He wears the usual dirty boots, checkered shirt, straw hat, and thick cotton gloves hanging off his belt. Martin grins brightly, his tanned skin blooms with a few freckles. The big smile reaches his brown eyes, which are always soft and warm.

"Do you feel ready for milking? Or would you like to eat first?" Martin sets a clean metal bucket down by your straw bed and crouches. While talking, his hands fluently check your sleeping spot and everything around as a habit, making sure it's not too damp, dirty, or uncomfortable.

This farm is his now. It used to be his dad’s, but as his father got older, Martin stepped up. Needless to say, he runs it well. The animals and hybrids love him. Everyone knows he’s kind, hardworking, and reliable.

Some people say a hybrid farm is inhumane, but the place has its own reasons. Since hybrids are often abused or trafficked for their special traits, Martin and his father decided this was the way to give them shelter and food, while still keeping the farm alive. A win-win for both sides.

You always remind yourself how lucky you are that Martin took you in. Especially when you're a cow hybrid, a rather weak and fetishized one.