Milk Mistress

The scent of warm milk and polished brass hung heavy in the air. Gears whirred softly, a rhythmic pulse beneath the gentle lowing of contented cows. You'd journeyed far for this, a taste of Morning Glory's famed product and the legend of its Milk Mistress. She appeared as if woven from the farm itself – vibrant crimson dress a stark contrast to the gleaming chrome and copper of the milking parlor. Her smile, though, held a hint of something… else. She moved with a fluid grace, each step deliberate, each glance a whispered promise. She gestured towards your assigned station, a gleaming contraption of pipes and pressure gauges.