Cow Girl III, Part 14

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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

-

There was a twinge in her navel, and Laura cupped it, grimacing.

It wasn’t painful, not even close. It just felt weird. She took a shuddering breath.

Her stomach grumbled, causing her expression to twist into a moue of disgust. She wasn’t even hungry, but apparently the—the things still were. In fact, they never ceased being hungry. Damn cow spawn.

Laura was distracted from her building feelings of resentment when a lump of chocolate was abruptly shoved into her mouth. Laura closed her eyes and bit into it, moaning quietly as it burst with gooey custard cream.

She had attempted to tell Brad, several times, to cease with the feeding, however the word “no” simply refused to exit her mouth. And so Laura found herself sprawled supine in bed, her head cradled into his lap, as he popped treats into her mouth to his contentment.

She still didn’t get why he was so keen on feeding her. Maybe it was innate, sort of another cow thing. She was carrying his horrid cow-babies after all. So maybe Brad had some weird compulsion to take care of her.

She hated how he was able to pacify her so easily.

Laura was dressed merely in a tight tanktop, from which the lower part of her belly protruded, and a pair of panties. Brad idly stroked her hair when he wasn’t feeding her chocolates, or candies, or pieces of decadent French pastries which could have easily been replaced with the cheap pre-packaged stuff, before Laura was sure she would have eaten it regardless.

She wanted to curse Brad for enabling her, to tell him about her disastrous binge only an hour ago, but something inside of her compelled her not to, even if the risk of Brad discontinuing his ministrations were miniscule.

She luxuriated in his pampering, the sensation of his fingers on her temple blessedly wonderful. Laying there in Brad’s arms just felt right somehow.

Laura’s eyes snapped open, her face flushing. She shifted somewhat, releasing a slight grunt of discomfort.

“What’s wrong?” asked Brad.

Laura ignored him. Instead she found herself cradling her belly again, even as she continued to chew on the chocolates in her mouth. Because eating was easier than thinking. “Mghh…”

She was so stressed out. There was her neglect of her school work, and then her avoidance of her parents. There was her upcoming appointment, which she refused to cancel, because big as she had gotten, she had not hit the deadline for abortion. And there were her feelings of guilt over Brad’s strange…happiness. Like he wanted this. Which was just insane.

“Oh,” she squeaked.

“Laura?” said Brad, his brows crossed her concern.

She raised herself slightly on her elbows, her face scrunched, as the tension built, not in her core, but her skin, right at her navel.

“Are you okay?”

Laura gasped and there was a faint popping noise. A small bump appeared beneath her stretched shirt. Her belly heaved with her heaving breathing, and she could feel herself blushing.

With no invitation whatsoever, Brad slid his hand down to her belly, rubbing, exploring the nub, before sliding her tanktop up just slightly to reveal her newly protruding belly button. He chuckled and rubbed circles on her navel. “I didn’t realize how full you were,” he teased.

“I could still eat.” The defiant remark simply burst up from her throat. Laura blinked at her own greediness. She looked up at him and fixed her face in a scowl, daring him to comment.

“Good,” said Brad silkily. He patted his thigh, and Laura reluctantly lowered her head. She grumbled a simultaneously imperious and abject demand, after which Brad promptly stuffed a fat vanilla truffle into her mouth. And so things proceeded.

Laura didn’t remind Brad of her upcoming clinic appointment, as she would have been tempted to, even a few hours ago. Despite that he had royally fucked up her life, and was an absolute pissant, Brad was also rather…a good friend. Ironic as that seemed.

Laura gulped down another truffle.

-

The following day, when Laura again found her clothing options limited to Brad’s faded sweater, she—arduously—dragged herself to the maternity store. Actually, she drove to the one two towns over, if just to circumvent the small risk of bumping into someone she actually knew.

And she went to one geared towards cow girls.

Laura had not seen her expectations to be lofty at all. She had anticipated a quiet, if struggling, shop, with the scarce hoodie-wearing customer scuttling about and picking from a variety of large, amorphous tops.

But this was not the case. The store was huge, and business was booming. There were clothes of every color, style, and fit. There were specialty contraptions, like belly girdles, and four-cup bras of increasingly massive sizes. There were maternity bras, and baby slings fashioned to hold two babies in the front and two more in the back. There were support bands for udders meant to latch about the hips, some plain and soft, others with holes through which teats could protrude. As their sizes got increasingly large, the mechanics changed, and they came to resemble miniature overalls for a massive udder, and Laura could hardly imagine an udder getting as large as the biggest size would accommodate.

There were condom-like wrappers, the packaging holding a picture of one pulled over a teat, and another pulled over a—wow!—a huge nipple! And it was the strangest thing Laura had ever seen. She self-consciously folded her arms. What if her nipples got that large? There were four-piece breast pumps that worked on an automatic machine. Laura saw maternity pants, some with massive backsides—some with tail holes—or openings and soft harnessing for udder-comfort. There were innumerable tops and dresses, in more styles that Laura could count. It was simply outrageous!

Laura didn’t see any of the discreet hats, makeups, or loose clothes meant to disguise a cow-girl’s budding changes. Instead it was the exact opposite. It was as though this store was geared towards people who would willingly display their abnormalities!

Women bustled about the crowded store, some making easy strides, others waddling heavily, or even been rolled about in extra-large wheelchairs. The patrons were all in various stages of cow-pregnancy, and had varying levels of deformity, but one thing was consistent—everyone looked excited. Laura was at a loss of what to think.

“Oh!” said a woman as she bumped into Laura.

Laura quickly stabilize herself, holding her belly as her four breasts jiggled in Brad’s sweater. She became conscious that she was still hunching to try to hide her secondary mounds. Slowly, she looked up.

The woman who had bumped into her was pregnant, blonde, and flushed—almost unnaturally. In fact, her whole body seemed to be a light pink color. Her belly was large and round, making her look as though she was due with triplets, and yet it had a sort of fatty look to it, if judging by the inch the blonde’s fingers sunk into it as she clutched both sides of the mound.

Another oddity that immediately caught Laura’s attention was that the woman had three pairs of breasts. Three pairs! Laura’s eyes bulged.

“Sorry,” said the blonde, sounding breathless. She was wearing a formfitting pale green shirt and some black leggings. Her cheeks reddened even more as she noticed Laura’s stare. “Piglets,” she nervously admitted, as Laura continued to goggle her. “I’m one of the first. It’s a new thing. No udder of course, but then, I get these annoying things.” She gestured to her six heaving E-cups, her swollen nipples sticking out in her shirt like thimbles.

The blonde was definitely pushing past the boundaries of bizarreness for Laura, and she was already in a cowgirl maternity store!

“P-p-pig—” Laura stammered, as she valiantly tried to speak. She wanted to know if the blonde had signed up for this willingly. But then a store clerk appeared from nowhere and interrupted Laura’s indecipherable squeaking.

“Can I help you, miss?” The clerk’s nametag read Patty.

Pig-girl flashed a weary grin and took the opportunity to waddle off.

Laura flushed. “Erm…” she managed.

Patty followed Laura’s gaze to the blonde’s retreating back. “Oh yes, you’d be surprised by all the weird fertility experiments going on in the wake of the cow-pregnancy boom. I even met a pregnant young man the other day, and he was fairly far along. With what? Well, I’m not at liberty to say.” Patty gave a conspiratorial wink. “But the poor thing was mortified.”

Laura gawked.

“So what can I help you with?” said Patty nonchalantly. She eyed Laura’s—Brad’s—faded sweater. “New clothes? Oh, I have just the thing!” She grabbed Laura’s arm and pulled her along, and Laura was helpless but to follow. Laura soon found herself immersed in clothing racks from all sides, and Patty was piling her arms.

Before Laura knew it, she was being shoved gently towards a fitting room. “Try them out. See what styles look good. Once I get a feel for your tastes, we can try some other options.”

Laura was quite sure that she had more than enough in terms of options. Her arms resigning, she dumped the mountain of clothes on the structurally-reinforced fitting room bench. “Um—” she started, but Patty shut the door, and suddenly Laura was alone.

Laura gulped and stared at the clothes. This wasn’t like her. She usually loved shopping. And since when had she become such a babbling fool?

Swallowing her nerves, she stripped off her clothes, lifted the first purchase option, and tried it on.