Pep Rally

Note: This is a story-prompt for Noeh Varviille.

$20 Patreon Directory

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Sam sneezed.

“Hun, are you coming down with something?” her father asked in concern.

“It’s barely a cold,” Sam responded, not even looking up from her laptop. She wanted to finish her English essay before tomorrow’s pep rally so she could do her routine clear-headed. “Though I appreciate your concern.”

Her father frowned slightly, then returned his attention to his newspaper. Her mother continued to bustle about the kitchen. She was trying out another new dinner recipe.

That evening, Sam went to bed, feeling oddly bloated. She shrugged it off, and fell asleep almost instantly, more tired than she had realized.

The next morning Sam awoke to a surprise.

Her body felt off as she got out of bed. She felt even more bloated than before, and her stomach was noticeably sticking out.

She went to her bedroom mirror and was shocked to see that her nose was much wider than it had been the previous night. Her face was rather flushed, and her breasts were noticeably larger. So was her gut. Sam stared down at the way it stretched out her pajama top.

“Sam, did you oversleep?” said her mother, barging right in, and Sam instinctively hugged herself. “You’re going to be late for your—oh—oh dear.” She covered her mouth, staring at Sam with wide eyes. Sam’s dad poked his head into the room, and became equally stunned.

It was apparent to the small family that Sam had developed a genetic disease last seen in one of her distant cousins, who was twenty-years her senior. The disease caused the victim to develop into a human/cow, and suffer spontaneous—sometimes constant—pregnancies.

After recovering from her shock, Sam’s parents embraced her. They had always discussed the possibility of this. Sam had been prepared, even if she had never thought it would actually happen to her.

They refused to mourn the disease. In fact, Sam’s mother looked at Sam’s gently bulging belly and got a little teary.

“We’ll need a crib, and baby clothes, and—oh, we don’t have any supplies. We don’t have much time. Don’t worry about a thing, hun. Today I’ll go shopping.” And her mother hurried off.

Sam’s father squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. “We prepared you for this, Sam. I don’t want to see you crumble under this.”

Sam swallowed, and nodded.

“Ready for your pep rally?”

Not at all. “Yeah,” said Sam, and she forced a grin, until it became genuine. Her dad was right. This disease changed nothing.

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Throughout the school day, Sam was growing rapidly. It was hard enough being a high school senior, without dealing with uncomfortable pressure, tender nipples, and a weird, achy development beneath them that made her squirm and fidget through her lessons.

During a stop in the bathroom, Sam lifted her bloating breasts, and examined herself. As she suspected, there was a secondary pair developing beneath the first one, heaving them up. Another characteristic of the disease. Her pubic region had grown bloated and hot, and she was too scared to look at it. That would be her udder coming in. In the mirror, she could see that her nose looked even larger, more square, and had taken on a dark hue.

It was uncomfortable. Sam fidgeted constantly, tugging down her clothes as she progressively outgrew them. She wished she had thought to bring something better to wear than her largest T-shirt. She had taken for granted how fast things could go. Her stride slowly descended to a waddle, her belly blew up, her breasts heated and fattened with milk, and the pink mound above her groin filled her panties to the point of tearing. She could feel the nubs—her teats bulging out, wiggling slightly with the bobbing milk mound. She couldn’t believe how awkward this was. All around the school, people were staring at her.

Sam tried to remain chipper, and explained the disease to her friends. They commiserated over her, but she assured them that she was completely fine. She wasn’t sure if she was lying.

By the time of pep rally that afternoon, Sam was panting and sweaty, and could barely squeeze into her cheer uniform. Her belly was already so large, she looked eight months pregnant. A flash of her udder consistently poked out beneath the skirt of her cheer outfit, and her newly massive EE-cup breasts were barely contained by the top. In fact, some of the flesh of her lower breasts was pushing out at the bottom.

You can do this, Sam reminded herself, her fellow cheerleaders goggling her black cow-nose as she nodded to them. She was ready.

They marched (or waddled) out to the pep rally to cheers, then gasps, then compete silence. Sam wobbled her way to the front of her squad. She could feel her insides lurching and tried not to think about what they contained.

Then she started her routine, with less elegance, but as much enthusiasm as ever. She danced, rocked, and maneuvered herself, at times grabbing onto a squad member to keep her balance. She could feel the others marching and clapping behind her. She could feel her mounds jiggling, her belly heaving, and back straining to support the new weight of it all. God, she felt like she might drop.

And yet she was loving every moment of it. At that moment, Sam knew her dad was right. This disease changed nothing.

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