Cow Girl III, Part 20

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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.

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“If you’ll lie back and pull up your gown.”

Laura did as instructed, groaning at the way her weight shifted against her torso, leaving her breathless and flushed. She gingerly lifted the gown, exposing her belly to the cool air. She could feel the way her udder was bulging from the overly-stretched granny-panties she was wearing.

“How have you been feeling?” said Dr. Greene neutrally.

“Okay, I guess. Kind of whalish.”

“Whalish. I will notate that on your chart.” Greene’s sarcasm did not taper. He moved the stethoscope to her chest, then helped her sit up. He wrapped some sort of monitor around her belly, then listened to her lungs. “In cases like—yours—we generally don’t run a sonogram. It’s indecipherable at this stage in medical technology, and infected offspring generally do not have any medical problems or abnormalities—well outside of their expected anomalies.”

Laura looked at the doctor as though he was an idiot. How scrupulously could one person avoid the word “cow?”

“Any recent changes?”

“The udder was sudden,” said Laura. “And…er…some growth spurts. Now everything’s just sore.” She wrinkled her nose at the way her belly weight was pushing against the rubbery pink mound.

Greene nodded. “Everyone develops differently. You can expect any number of slow-paced, rapid, or even instantaneous changes, including but not limited to—” he trailed into a perfunctory monotone, “—weight gain, breast growth, lactation, abdominal swelling, the development of deformities such as bovine ears, udders, tails, noses, fur, skin patches, up to four additional breasts, and various other things.” He paused. “How far along are you?”

“Four months,” said Laura. She was stunned to hear herself say it. Big as she was, she looked as though she could go into labor at any moment. She looked due with twins. It was hard to believe how much her life had changed in such a short span of time.

Dr. Greene did not seem too surprised. “It makes sense. Some women give birth after a full nine months. Some go into labor in as early as three.”

“Three!?” said Laura in alarm.

“Indeed,” said Dr. Green with a wry look. “And regardless of gestation period, they always produce healthy offspring. As I said, everyone of these pregnancies develops differently. It’s entirely arbitrary and scientists are still trying to catch up.”

Laura released a sharp hiss as Dr. Green prodded at her swollen EE-cups.

“Engorged. It looks like you’ll start lactating any day,” he noted, and scribbled something down on his chart. Afterwards, he heaved a sigh and met Laura’s eyes. “Your mother wanted me to speak to you about the option of…abortion.”

The remark immediately pulled Laura away from the uneasiness about her aching chest. Suddenly her full attention was on the doctor.

An abortion appointment had been what she’d wanted from the beginning. Yet now, after everything she had been through with her body, the thought of aborting just seemed bizarre. Even then, she could feel the creatures squirming inside her, pulsing, growing. “I…I don’t—”

“It actually isn’t an option,” Dr. Green spoke over her. “Nor would it have been an option during any stage of this process.”

“O-oh,” Laura stammered. The monitor wrapped around her abdomen was starting to feel uncomfortably tight. She fidgeted, arched, and spread her legs wider to shift some of her weight off her udder.

“Attempts have failed in the past. These pregnancies are impervious to disruption. And with the medical community still so early in our understanding, I’d say it’s hardly even legal.”

Laura was numb. The belt with the monitors only seemed to grow tighter.

“Most women in your position eventually come to terms with their litters. There is a whole community of support, and—”

“Yes, I know,” said Laura dazedly, her face flushed. “I—ohh—it’s squeezing me,” she groaned.

Dr. Greene’s eyes shot down. “Oh!” he said in surprise, before quickly unbuckling the monitor from around her flushed mound. The belt left an imprint, and his fingers lingered on her plump flesh. “It’s fascinating to see how rapidly some of the growth occurs.”

“Can I go now,” said Laura, tugging down the gown, her mind still spinning.

Dr. Green raised a brow, but nodded. He opened the door to give Laura some privacy to get dressed, but the moment he did, her parents shuffled in.

“Has he spoken to you about the procedure?” Laura’s mother asked hurriedly. She turned from Laura to Dr. Green.

Laura fidgeted, suddenly feeling like a child again. “He said…um…”

“It’s just not done, Marth,” said Dr. Greene to her mother, the hint of smugness in his tone. “Surely you’ve read the studies? The likelihood of a successful abortion is about zero percent.”

Bother her parents’ faces fell, vacillating between shame and frustration. Eventually it gave way to anger.

“Get dressed,” said her mother stiffly. “We’ll be in the car.”

Her father didn’t meet her eyes as he left. Dr. Greene sent Laura a faux-commiserating look as he followed her parents out of the room.

The ride from the clinic was awkward, Laura feeling cramped in the back seat, fidgeting awkwardly, trying to keep her weight off the udder, flinching every time her mass bumped the seat in front of her.

But Dr. Greene had said her—spawn—were durable, weren’t they? Apparently cow-creatures were always born healthy regardless of circumstance. She was pretty sure that she had heard on the news that they were even unaffected by alcohol consumption in-utero. Laura didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed. None of this information really helped with her discomfort—her stinging nipples, aching udder, stiff back, and the profound heaviness she was now responsible for lugging around until she was ready to burst.

In the front seats of the car, her parents were having a heated argument. They turned on the music in an effort to cover it up, but Laura still heard remarks like “huge,” “creatures,” “her future,” and “horrible mess.”

Laura could see that they weren’t driving her back towards her college campus, but to their house in the deep suburbs. She knew a huge shouting match was impending, and couldn’t stand the thought of taking part in another of their two-on-one arguments.

A glance at her phone notified Laura of a text from Kim:

What are you doing tonight? I’m hitting this club downtown. A cow spot.

The volume of the car radio went down.

“We want to have a word with you, Laura,” said her mother dourly.

“How could you be so irresponsible?” Her father’s voice broke. “You look—you look like a—”

“Stop the car,” said Laura.

“What?” said her mother in confusion.

“Stop the car!” Laura screamed.

The car came to a screeching halt, Laura jerking forward, her belly bumping the back of the passenger’s seat, to no apparent effect. Cars screeched to a halt behind them. There was a litany of horns honking cumulating in a wailing cacophony. Her mother adjusted the rearview mirror to meet Laura’s eyes with her stunned ones. “Are you alright? Is—is it—are you in—?”

Laura opened her door. “I have to go,” she said flatly.

“Laura—”

Her breasts wobbled as she struggled to get herself up. Once she was standing, her belly heaved up and down, huge and swollen, protruding in front of her in a way that was still intimidating. She stepped gingerly forward, grimacing when she realized it was nearly impossible now not to waddle. She made her way down the sidewalk of the busy road, feebly trying to cover herself up where her shirt had burst open over her belly, and where her udder was cradled beneath it atop her shorts. She could see cars slow down as they passed her, people staring. Some honked their horns twice, this time in appreciation. Laura could hear her parents calling out to her through their own car window, but their voices were blissfully fading with her progression. She examined the nearby businesses on her phone GPS, and found that there was a small shop that catered to cows only a few blocks away.

It felt as though the cow community was growing by the moment, and she didn’t know whether to be pleased or unnerved. She thought of how her college town was steadily being corrupted by construction and development, industries blooming from nowhere, neighborhoods transforming from poor to rich. It was kind of like that. The world was adapting, communities undergoing drastic changes seemingly overnight. She thought of the cow-girl birth rate—how many estimated it would be more than ten times the regular birth-rate in only another few years. Would she be considered “normal” by then? And would it be something that she could be content with?

She was flushed and red by the time she made it to the shop, her insides lurching and rocking, and making her loins hot. Her nipples were even larger than normal, the size of grapes, and bulging visibly through her shirt. Her udder was in significant discomfort, twinging and burning. She felt overheated, her body covered in a sheen of sweat. She was heavy, achy, and utterly exhausted from the weight above her hips.

The shop was much smaller than the one that she had visited previously. It was a little out of the city, and Laura was grateful that there were only two or so patrons occupying it. She didn’t think she had the energy for much interaction that evening.

Grabbing several articles of clothing, some of them at random, Laura waddled her way into a dressing room and plopped herself down.

She grunted, and adjusted herself. She spread her legs wide, allowing her udder to sink somewhat. Her belly squished hot and heavily against her lap. Her top felt uncomfortably tight at her chest, flesh squishing through the buttons. She hastily undid them, and watched the four mounds surge free like rising dough.

She panted quietly, shifting, and adjusting herself, but no position was quite comfortable. She took about fifteen minutes to catch her breath until an attendant started knocking on the door.

“Are you okay in there, Miss?”

“Fine,” said Laura in irritation. She heaved herself up and tried on the first dress.

Thankfully the mirror was in the dressing room, so she didn’t have to debut the fit to anyone else in the store. She stared at herself and was a little stunned by her reflection.

The dress was short and tight, but still covered what it needed to, the material clinging to her flesh but not necessarily squeezing her, in fact, leaving room for growth—hopefully room that she wouldn’t need.

It showed off her shapely legs and her large ass, with a low back, and a deep plunging V-neckline that dipped down to display the cleavage of both her first pair and second pair of breasts.

If she wanted to wear it, she would have to go braless, but Laura knew that it hardly mattered. All four of her breasts were round, perky, and plump, not sagging, looking almost too-perfect, rocking nipples practically staring at her through the mirror.

She turned slightly, continuing to examine herself. The way her breasts stacked on her belly, the lower ones shelving the upper ones. The way the hem ended just beneath her ass, her voluptuous hips and long legs on full display. She eyed the massive bulge of her belly protruding out in the dress material, looking wider than she was at that point. She couldn’t believe how huge she was getting.

She smoothed her hands against the mound. The dress would do. First choice, she mused, admittedly relieved that she hadn’t had to go through the process of changing several times.

The only issue was her udder, which bobbed every time she moved, and felt unpleasantly unsupported without the aid of her shorts to prop them up. She felt as though the pink mound would fall away from her somehow, or pop out under the hem of the dress.

Laura looked at the pile of clothes she had brought into the fitting room, her eyes falling on the odd article of lingerie she had picked up.

Sliding her dress up over the mound of her belly, Laura grabbed the lingerie and carefully pulled it on. She slid it up her legs, the elastic belt clinging to her hips as the large, strappy cup in the front shifted to cradle her udder and hold it up as a sort of harness.

She hissed slightly as she adjusted the mass to her comfort, the pink numbs—or rather teats—only looking larger by then, protruding through the straps, wiggling with her movements like stubby fingers.

It still freaked her out a little. She stroked it lightly, then shuddered and retracted her hand. It she wasn’t careful she would make a mess of herself.

After carefully tugging the dress back down to her upper thighs, Laura lifted her phone and returned to Kim’s text. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and responded:

So where are we meeting?