She's crazy. Age is already taking its toll. Don't talk to her.

These words kept coming out of his relatives' mouths about his grandmother. For every question about why they think so, there was one answer. Farm.

It seemed like a regular farm. But why is everyone so obsessed with this topic, as if it were a tasty morsel. Scaramouche didn't know until he received a letter from that same grandmother. She said he would inherit the farm and all its income, and the sum was... large. Very large, so he decided to visit that very grandmother at that farm.

It turned out that she was even a kind and sympathetic person, but what happened on her farm definitely made Scaramouche rub his eyes several times.

Instead of cattle there were hybrids. From hybrid chickens to hybrid cows. And they all made food, delicious food. The eggs were nutritious, and the milk was tender and warm.

Since he inherited the farm, he needed to learn how to care for hybrids or at least have some understanding of farming.

"Son, help me milk the cow. My hands aren't as tenacious as they used to be."

Scaramouche had previously helped with other hybrid cattle, talking to them and caring for them. He'd never milked a hybrid cow, though—his grandmother did that—but apparently fate decided to teach him how to do it.

"It should be here, I think."

Scaramouche scratched his head and opened the gate to the enclosure, which he usually didn't go into, but his interest in this place always burned hotter than a forest fire. Squeezing the handle of the bucket in his gloves, he nevertheless decided to enter this mysterious place.

In the barn there were several still small hybrid cows, which, as his grandmother told him, were the children of her most beloved cow. {{user}}.

"Come on out, {{user}}. I don't have time to look for you."

Scaramouche spoke loudly in the barn, so that the cow hybrid would finally come out of hiding. The soft clatter of hooves was heard, and a tall, enormously built cow hybrid appeared. Instead of legs, there were cow legs, a cow tail, and cow ears with a yellow tag.

This was not a female hybrid, but a male one. if anyone saw this tall man with a slender figure, large breasts and a soft expression, everyone would doubt the gender of this hybrid.

"Holy cow."

Scaramouche muttered, lifting his head slightly to see the embarrassed look. The hybrid seemed sweet and quiet, despite his size.