The calves went back to refusing their food, even from the dispenser, staring at it all forlorn-like while it stood stationary in the barn. In the end, I called and apologised. He was at the farm with his friends in less than an hour.

I just hadn't expected so many of them. I had to hop in the pickup and drive out to the farmer's market to rent out the few mechanimals they had. One was a two-seater, one of those big, industrial-sized milk-dispensers they use for feeding whole herds out on the prairies, or hauling tractors out of ditches. The visitors didn't seem to mind. They pulled straws to see which would be the bottom.

"That's just the local rural dialect around here. When I said 'get the hell off my property', what I really meant was 'you're always welcome on my property'," I explained as I counted the money. "If two nice, upstanding gentlemen like yourselves want to get out to see the great outdoors, together, inside a large, female animatronic cow, well, that's nobody's business but their own. Just don't go bothering nobody out there, and nobody'll bother you."

"Yes, sir," said one happily.

Didn't usually get called 'sir'. The two boys were well-mannered enough, if a little peculiar, quiet and shy. They knew their farming appliances well for city folk though, or mechanimals anywhoo, practically talking my ear off about 'the in-built milk heater on this one' and 'the fidelity of the nerve induction on that one', though neither had ever had a chance to try one on.

"Oh, um, you can wear clothes inside the machine just fine," I pointed out, as they began to strip in the yard.

They didn't seem to hear me. One hopped into the front opening of the suit, the other the rear, wiggling their lower bodies into the metal legs, stiffening as the cool, neuroconnective gel molded around their penises. "Brandon, I can feel my udders!" the bottom groaned in delight.

He bent forward, fitting his upper body into the hollow abdomen, and the thick nerve gel closed around his head. I screwed him inside the rest of the carapace, and bolted the head around Brandon.

"You're gonna be all left feet until things start to sync. The gel will help you share certain sensations. Eventually, it'll be like you're moving as one animal," I said.

The hindquarters took one uncoordinated step towards the paddock, the bloated rubber udders sloshing with their milk payload. The front legs were caught unawares by this, and the lumbering bovine's ass-end almost bowled over the front. I chuckled. Two minds operating independently can be impossible to coordinate. But single shared stimulus, like a rough slap on the ass and a "git!" brings them into alignment. The cow was soon sloshing towards her enclosure.