Cow Girl III, Part 23

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Summary: Sequel to Cow Girl II. Decades following Lucy's ordeal, the cow-person condition is becoming an epidemic. Laura has the misfortune of contracting the gene. Contains: Pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, multiple breasts, udders, lactation, and more.

Previous Chapter

-

Kim and Kurt were blatantly kissing and groping, even with the awkwardness of Brad and Laura sitting in silence on the opposite side of the booth.

Laura didn’t have any qualms with staring. In fact, she took morbid interest in the display. Beside her, Brad fidgeted, and gave a few emphatic coughs, but Kim and Kurt were entirely absorbed in each other.

The face of Laura’s phone lit up. She glanced down at it and frowned.

“My roommates,” she grumbled, looking around, until she spotted two figures by the elevator, abnormally slim in the room of otherwise voluptuous figures. Laura waved until her roommates spotted her and began to make their way over.

“I’m going to get a drink,” said Brad, sliding out of the booth. “Do you want anything?”

Laura shook her head. Brad walked off towards the bar just as Mindy and Veronica arrived at the table.

“This place is disgusting,” said Veronica, wrinkling her nose as she looked around. “It’s full of—weirdos,” she said, as though ‘weirdos’ was an improvement on ‘freaks.’

Laura rolled her eyes. She shifted somewhat, one of her offspring sitting awkwardly in her hips. She rubbed her swollen abdomen beneath he table. Veronica’s eyes flitted down to it. By then, Laura looked as though she had a beach ball hidden under her dress.

“I love it,” said Mindy, grasping her hands together. “This place is amazing.” She actually spun, her red hair fanning out behind her.

This time Veronica joined Laura in rolling her eyes.

“Here’s the spare key,” said Laura, dropping said key on the table. “Well, my spare. Not the one we keep hidden on top of the doorframe.”

“Are you serious?” said Veronica in shock.

“I forgot about that one!” said Mindy brightly.

“And you had us come all the way here?” Veronica demanded.

Laura gave a nasty smile. “I just wanted to see my two favorite people,” she said sarcastically.

Veronica looked irate, whereas Mindy seemed entirely flattered.

“Let’s get out of here,” Veronica growled. “No, first let’s get a drink. Several.” She gave Laura a pointed glare before dragging Mindy off to the bar.

Laura absently followed them with her eyes. She watched them notice Brad at the bar, Mindy gesticulating enthusiastically while Veronica gave what had to be a snide remark. Brad offered the two of them a controlled smile, before paying for his drink, then making his way back over to the booth.

Laura didn’t take her eyes off of him.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he said softly.

It was such a ludicrous, utterly cliché remark—never mind the presumption that she would actually want to spend time with him outside of the sordid venue—that Laura was momentarily startled. “Yes,” she heard herself say.

Brad slowly smiled, downed his drink, then offered his hand to help her to her feet.

“Have fun, kiddos,” Kim called, as Brad guided Laura off.

Laura didn’t look back.

Soon she was helped into Brad’s car, and the two were speeding off. It was only moments before they were both inside Brad’s small, but cozy-seeming, apartment.

“New place?” said Laura, as she looked around. Brad brought her a beverage. A glass of milk, to her disappointment. All the same, she sipped it.

“Yeah,” said Brad with a short laugh. He looked nervous. “I just couldn’t do the roommate thing anymore.”

“You’re graduating soon, aren’t you?” said Laura thoughtfully.

“Yeah. I have enough credits, so I’m taking off a little early. No ceremony, but I could always participate in the spring.”

Laura nodded absently as she looked around. There were boxes still sitting around against some of the walls. There was a couch, a coffee table, but a distinct shortage of furniture. She wondered how furnished the bedroom was.

Suddenly Brad was against her, facing her, his hands on flanks. There was no music or club scene to rationalize the contact. “I’ve missed you.”

Laura swallowed. “Mmm, I’ve mmm…mmissed you too.” She blinked as she struggled with her syllables.

Brad gave a short laugh. He looked nervous, but he pressed closer all the same. “I’ve missed doing this.” He kissed her with little warning and no ceremony. He had to press closely, against her, lean over her belly, but he managed to press his lips against hers in an almost too-polite kiss.

“Brad,” she murmured.

Suddenly their hands were all over each other and her belly was pressed hard into the wall, Brad fingers reaching under her dress. He explored her hot moisture, her breaths coming fast and shuddering as they escaped her. Her chest heaved and her breasts wobbled with the movement. She wanted Brad. She wanted him inside of her. She told him as much, and he paused.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, wistful; breathless.

“Yes,” she insisted. “Yes, Brad, I need you.”

“But you—”

“Don’t—care—mmmm…” she groaned, quivering as he stroked her. It was a bad idea, but it would be so so worth it. She was hot and seeping, her swollen body throbbing with heat, need, and possibly growth, as she wantonly pressed herself harder against his hand. Her nipples were dripping, leaking, milk rolling down her four breasts. She felt him guide himself to her, tentatively pressing into her with his massive gender.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, words husky as his lips ghosted her earlobe. “Tell me again.”

“I’m sure,” Laura insisted. “I need you,” need you, need you.

It was Brad. It had always been. She wasn’t sure why she had never seen it before. She groaned as he finally, forcefully, thrusted into her.

He fucked her slowly, in long, torturous strokes, as he shoved her tight body even harder against the wall. “What if you…”

“I don’t care,” Laura grunted out. “I’m a fucking cow, and I’m tired to resisting it. I’m tired of resisting—you.” She was flushed and breathless. Even then, she could feel herself tightening, swelling, nipples giving gentle squirts with his more powerful thrusts. He had yet to even release, and the anticipation frightened her almost as much as it excited her.

“Ungh…” he groaned.

Her body shivered. Her dress was pulled up over her swollen ass, Brad massaging the globes, riding it higher, until finally, he let go, forcefully, relentlessly. He exploded inside her.

Her body arched. Every muscle tensed and tightened, her breasts pushing out from the low cut of her dress, as she swelled, everything swelled, her belly assailed with a tight ball of tension. It blossomed outwards, until her belly advanced, proceeding forward, pressing against the wall so hard she felt as though she might pass out.

They sunk together to the floor, her belly still shoving forward and outward in jerky surges of growth. Her dress continued to stretch, sliding over her bloated flesh, as she squirmed and shuddered, nipples gushing, and loins throbbing, as Brad massaged what he could of her, as his seed continued to pour. He grunted and she groaned, then finally, they both sagged down.

She felt as though she was being crushed by her belly. It was a large ball pointing upwards where she was sprawled back against Brad. Her trembling thighs were spread wide to make way for her swollen udder. It was the size of a basketball by then. Her teats burned, and she could feel warm fluid splattering against her legs. She gasped for breath, feeling flushed and exhausted.

A kiss pressed against her sweaty temple. “You know I love you,” said Brad.

She closed her eyes. “I…mmm…know,” she admitted. She always had.

His hands idly slid over her round belly, wide and heavy, far outgrowing her flanks. Her belly was almost as large as she was. She marveled at it apprehensively. “If we keep this up, I’ll be as big as Wendy,” she joked.

“Who?”

“Doesn’t mmmatter.” She grimaced at her language flaw, then glanced up a Brad, who was wearing a small, knowing smile. “Why am I…mmmmm…doing that?”

“I think it’s a compulsion.”

“What?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

Laura gave him a dubious look, as he shifted her carefully forward, her belly placing pressure against her udder that made her give a low hum Milk splashed forward, her thighs twitching and unintentionally clamping it worse.

Brad comfortingly rubbed the side of her belly. “Let’s get you up.”

“Mmm…mokay,” she agreed.

He pressed his chest to her back, the pressure helping to stabilize her. She braced her feet on the ground at the point where the wall met the floor. Slowly the two of them eased her to her feet, her knees feeling weak, threatening to buckle, as she was acquainted with the full weight of all her developing children, older and younger.

Her hand automatically darted down to her udder, which was substantially outgrowing the harness she had propped it into, now heavily bulging out of it. Her breasts were sticking out, nipples spurting every time the mounds bobbed with her movements. Her dress was pasted to her skin, and now only pulled down as far as covering her navel. Her belly button was outlandishly the size of a tennis ball, and as Laura observed it, it gave a visible twitch.

“Shit!” she hissed, clutching it, and feeling horrified by the new development.

“Movement,” said Brad, looking amazing rather than disgusted.

As the distended nub gave another twitch—more of a wiggle this time—Laura swiftly jerked her hand back.

Brad’s palm took its place. He gave a light chuckle as Laura squeezed her eyes shut, trying to tolerate the sensation.

“I think of it as a sort of greeting,” said Brad.

“Yeah, well you try…mmmm…dealing with it,” said Laura.

“Not exactly how my mechanics work.”

“Weak excuse.” Laura continued to lean heavily back on him. In fact, she was sort of afraid of him letting her go, of being acquainted with the literal and metaphorical gravity of what she had done to herself. Her back was straining badly, hips tense, and wide, ass quivering and only seeming to rouse the interest of Brad’s own body. Her thighs had thickened over the past few weeks, but were in no way equipped to handle something as considerable as her mass.

“You’re fine,” Brad assured, sensing her nervousness. “You’re strong. You’re beautiful. We’ll get through this.”

“Yeah…” Laura responded, with little conviction. With a deep breath, she pulled her weight free of Brad’s support.

For a moment she thought she was losing her balance. Brad’s hands stabilized her. She stood there for a moment, frowning, fidgeting, rubbing her hands on her tight hips, then shifting them to the underside of her belly, as though to support it. But it made little difference.

“There are devices, to help,” Brad offered, awkwardly, yet he continued to marvel at her.

“Yeah, I know,” she responded breathlessly. She tentatively moved forward, to find her waddle more pronounced than ever before, more of a wobble now.

She deeply wanted to find a mirror, to see the true extent of the damage, to see if she and Wendy were actually comparable now.

And to her utter shock, her groin was still hot and tingly, her loins fat and engorged, clit plump between throbbing lips. The need overwhelmed her. It seemed to leech on her sanity, because she said, “Brad.” She was breathless. “I think I’d like to see your bedroom.”

There was a pause behind her. “Of course.”

-

Leaning heavily on the bar, Violet took another gulp of her drink.

She hadn’t been able to go through with it.

She glanced back at Jared’s table. The young man, dubbed “bull-boy,” was leaning back with a cagy look on his face. On one side of him, a redhead was leaning on him, yammering enthusiastically as he stared at her, almost as though in fear. A scowling goth girl was lingering over the table sipping a drink. Every so often, she would throw a scathing remark, halting the one-sided conversation, until the redhead picked it up again.

Violet turned back towards the bar, and the pimply bartender who was determinedly trying no to catch her eyes. She blinked back some tears.

She was tired to struggling with her freakishness, of being an utter normal, not one cow feature to speak of in a family of bloated, bountiful women.

Downing the rest of her beverage, Violet pulled out of cell phone and scrolled through the contacts. She paused on the designation, Dr. Speal.

Speal was famous, or rather, infamous, for this rather unorthodox specialty—cow-girl fertility. As far as the medical community was concerned, the subject was a non-issue. Fertility problems barely existed in the cow-girl community, and there was hardly a need to address it. Cow-women were excessively fertile. The world was slowly becoming congested with more cow-children than it could handle, women routinely popping out litters of eight, nine, even ten children.

Speal was considered a crock and a danger to public safety. The media called him a lunatic, but Violet was desperate and inebriated enough to press the Call number under his name.

The office voicemail picked up. No surprise there, what with it being the middle of the night. “Hi,” Violet drawled. She sniffed. “My name is Violet Flowers, and I would like to make an appointment.”