Camp III

Note: This is a story-prompt for tom.

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She gave double knock. “Um…I was sent to this room…” said Laura awkwardly, her belly preceding her, so heavy and round, that it took her a moment to really see the contents of the room, as she stood there, breathing heavily, breasts and udders gently rocking.

Laura broke off. She was stunned to find that she was in a large room full of…people like her. Similar to her in the regard that they were bloated to considerable proportions, with round, massive bellies, swollen breasts, and hugely fat udders straining their taut bikini bottoms.

There were at least a dozen of them, some flushed and sweaty, some sprawled back resigned in some corner.

One cow girl was slumped back in a chair with her limbs akimbo. She had a suction-type attachment adhered against each of her breasts and her udder. The suction cups were attached to slim hoses, and those to a machine on the ceiling with a large tank. There was an unpleasant sucking hiss, and white fluid…what appeared to be milk…was coursing through the hoses, to be deposited in the filling tank.

In short, she was being milked.

Laura had to sit down. As if foreseeing this, another girl waddled quickly to pull out a chair.

“What’s going on here?” Laura managed faintly as she sunk into the squashy comfortable seat.

A blonde wobbled came over, frowning sadly down at Laura. “Isn’t it obvious? This is the milking room. We’ve been genetically modified with cow DNA. You’re pregnant. We all are.”

Laura cupped her belly absently. She had suspected. But denial had been so easy. “Oh god,” was all that she could manage. She looked at each girl in turn, each seeming at different stages of pregnancy. One had a bump that looked to be six-months along. Another looked as though she had a flesh-colored beach ball attached to her torso, and was squashing her where she was sprawled beneath it on a beanbag.

“It happens rapidly,” the blonde admitted, patting her own swollen gut. “But we’re all changing.” It was only then that Laura noticed the cow horns protruding from the top of the blonde’s head.

“What do I do now?” said Laura dazedly. She grunted as one of her teats squirted.

The blonde motioned to a set of suction cups, descending from the same machine on the ceiling. “It looks like you can use a milking.”

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“So that’s it? I’m becoming a pig?” said Beth in shock.

“We all are. I’m Fran by the way,” a brunette comforted.

“But you’re…” Beth couldn’t help noticing how slim the other girls were. Sure, they had two, sometimes three pairs of breasts, but they had not gotten nearly as fat as Beth was.

Fran sighed. “I know what you’re thinking. But you’re wrong. We’ve been stuffing ourselves just as much as you have been—probably worse. It’s all just part of the process. Here, I’ll show you.”

Fran got a hose that came out of the wall. The nozzle was wide, and flattened into a suction-like attachment.

“Attach this to your stomach,” said Fran, handing it over.

Beth hesitated, but did as ordered, stuffing the hose into her swimsuit so that it attached to her soft round belly. It felt odd, but not unpleasant.

Fran pressed a button on the wall. She and the other girls watched as a machine hummed and Beth felt the strangest sensation of…sucking? She groaned, her legs quaking, until she found herself sinking to the floor, her body tensing and pulsing as something was pulled out of her.

Someone shook her shoulder. It was over. Beth slowly uncoiled from her position on the floor. “Oh god,” she said, looking down at herself. Her body was slim again, all of her fat sucked out by the machine. She looked at the other girls, and her jaw dropped.

The 7 other girls in the room were feasting, even Fran, all of them desperately shoving food into their mouths from a massive, disorderly pile that resembled a trash heap and took up most of the room. And the girls were rapidly growning, asses filling out, breasts bloating, and bellies surging with growth. As Beth watched, more food sprinkled down onto the pile by a conduit in the ceiling. And even as she stared at the meat chunks and stale loaves of bread that littered the pile, Beth couldn’t help noting how hungry she felt. She started to salivate. She knew she shouldn’t, but controlling herself was a vain effort. Soon Beth was also tearing into the food heap.