Cow Girl III, Part 8

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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.

-

Brad lightly shook himself, and tore his eyes away from her.

Laura held her belly, breathing heavily. She was a little regretful about her display of self-indulgence, but at least Brad looked rattled. She watched her belly heave up and down, tight, and pressurized, an uncomfortable squirming within.

“I was thinking…” said Brad. “Just because we can’t have…intercourse…doesn’t mean we can’t pleasure each other in other ways.” He grinned.

Laura glared at him.

“Strictly for therapeutic reasons. Nothing romantic.”

“So you’re starting to realize,” said Laura.

“What?”

“That you’re nothing but a huge cock and a decent body.”

Brad’s expression darkened. “Yes,” he said compliantly.

Laura smirked at his lack of self-respect. “Good,” she said. “Now get the check.”

-

Laura’s breasts were getting so round and plump, they were almost sore. Sitting up in bed, she gently slid her hands along the full masses, and winced. She hesitated, then shifted her hands to the heated flesh against her ribs, directly beneath her breasts.

The fat was really collecting there. It was almost like she was developing…new mounds. Laura allowed her thumbs to brush each of the pink…moles…directly centering the mounds. Her shoulders trembled. Who am I kidding? Laura thought in dread. She knew what happened to many of the women with her affliction. They developed extra—extra breasts. She had been in denial for so long. And now it was—happening! Oh god oh god oh god!

Brad sat up on the bed behind her, the sheets falling down his nude body and collecting at his lap. He reached around and gently stroked the new mounds, his bare chest pressing into her back. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I think they’re beautiful.”

“D-don’t touch them!”

But now Brad was leaning over to kiss them. He kissed, nipped, gently flicked the new pink nubs with his tongue.

Laura’s body continued to throb with waves of arousal. It’s okay, they're barely visible, she told herself, her heart pounding.

Laura heard a short buzz. Pulling herself out of Brad’s despicable arms, she leaned down to the nightstand and lifted her cell phone. It was Ms. Clark from Group Therapy. The message informed that the session scheduled for that evening would be taking place at the nearby hospital instead of the library—room number 427.

Laura blankly stared at her phone as Brad read the message over her shoulder. She suspected she knew what this was about.

Brad frowned at the uneasy expression on Laura’s face. “Do you want me to come with?”

“Of course not!” Laura snapped. She climbed off the bed and started getting dressed.

Laura had not done her laundry in a while. She was stuck wearing a too-tight T-shirt that left some of her five-month-pregnant-looking belly exposed. Her sore, tingling DD-cups, simply refused to be contained in a bra, which left her large nipples protruding against the semi-transparent white cotton of her shirt. The sensation of her tender pink nipples rubbing against the inside of her shirt left Laura hot and moist. They became uncomfortably, almost unnaturally erect, and her cheeks reddened. But it was still better than dealing with a bra.

Few of Laura’s pants fit her anymore, so she pulled on a short black spandex skirt that showed off her very-plump ass as Brad gazed at it in appreciation. Laura didn’t bother with panties, since the skirt material was quite tight, and she absolutely despised panty-lines.

With that, Laura slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops and walked out of her dormitory apartment, ignoring as Brad followed after her. She breathed heavily as her plump DDs gently wobbled in her shirt. The sensation of them rocking and pressing against the mounds beneath them was entirely distracting.

Laura froze when Brad snatched her keys from her hand, and went to the driver’s seat of her car. Laura sighed and rolled her eyes, before climbing into the passenger’s side.

As Brad drove off, slow and steady, much the way a centenarian might, Laura found her hand consistently sliding up to cup one of her breasts. She squirmed uncomfortably, and every so often, Brad would throw her a glance.

To distract herself—and also because of her stomach’s grumbling—Laura pulled some chips out of the glove box and began to stuff them into her mouth. Her car seemed to be constantly stocked with snacks. Laura didn’t put much thought into it. She didn’t want to. She was chronically hungry, so the presence of snacks seemed like a convenient enough circumstance.

The car finally stopped, and Laura heaved a sigh. Brad began to unbuckle his seatbelt, but she glared at him warningly. And so Brad stayed put, and watched, frowning, as Laura got up.

“I’m looking for room 427,” Laura said at the counter once she had ridden the elevator up to the fourth floor.

“Oh, Mrs. Sanders’ room.”

Laura winced. She had suspected that this would be about Gina Sanders. Last Laura had seen the woman, she had been truly massive. The lawyer had looked far beyond the point of popping. It had actually been a bit disturbing to watch her, between struggling beneath her girth, fumbling with her phone, and arbitrarily stuffing handfuls of food into her mouth. With her four massive breasts, and the bulging mound of what Laura could no longer deny was an udder, Gina had looked as close to a cow as Laura could imagine a person being! Her belly had quavered, and shifted, and seemed to be constantly swelling, even as she struggled to endure the meetings, practically sitting in a puddle of her own sweat.

“Yes,” Laura managed. “Her.”

The nurse pointed out the direction of door 427. Laura swallowed, and walked off. She dragged her legs, one after the other. She finally reached the door in question, to hear some quiet murmuring beyond it. Taking a deep breath, Laura pushed herself inside.

There was a small crowd of people—the therapy group—all cluttered around a single bed. There was Ms. Clark looking quite pleased with herself, and bull-boy, his arms folded uncomfortably. Wendy looked extremely nervous, her skinny, petite body absolutely struggling to carry the massive mound of a belly attached to it. Her belly was wider than she was, bigger than a beach ball, and Laura couldn’t even imagine how Wendy had managed to negotiate it through the door. Laura unconsciously held her own stomach. Still, she felt a stroke of resentment as she noticed that Wendy had not developed breasts, primary or secondary, at all.

“Mmgghhh…” Wendy groaned quietly as she leaned heavily on the wall. She wasn’t in labor, just absolutely straining. Who knew how her body accommodated it all. Laura absently wondered why no one had gotten the girl a wheelchair.

Swallowing her nerves, Laura stepped passed Wendy, bull-boy, and several others within the odd group. There were wobbling breasts, bulging udders, swollen bellies, and the occasional tails. Laura gently nudged her way through them until she finally caught sight of the bed.

It appeared that Gina, indeed, had had her baby. She was sitting up, a hospital gown hanging around her shoulders. Her torso was exposed, and her four massive basketball-sized breasts were contained in what looked like a pair of bandeaus. They quavered strangely, flushed, swollen, and bulging from the material that struggled to contain them. The front of the bandeaus were wet, and fat nipples the size of D-batteries protruded evidently against the stretched material.

Laura could hardly see what had become of Gina’s stomach, her breasts were so plump and large. They hoovered over a throbbing cushion-sized mound in Gina’s lap, that was presently covered by a sheet.

Gina forced a smile at Laura, though the woman looked weary, and rather foggy. Her cheeks were puffed out as she mechanically stuffed what looked like donut-holes into her mouth from a massive bowl sitting beside her on the bed.

“I think that’s everyone,” said Ms. Clark, beaming around at the group. “Thank you all for coming. I know it was a very abrupt change of venue, though I thought this would be a good experience for you all, especially for those of you still having trouble accepting your conditions.” She gave a pointed look at Laura, who reddened. “I proposed this to Gina, and she was happy to welcome the group—and so soon after delivering. Please feel free to ask her questions. You can find out what to expect in your own deliveries. As you can see, Gina is doing quite well. She couldn’t be more ecstatic.”

Gina gave a feeble and unconvincing nod.

Laura was stunned. “Where’s…the baby?”

“Oh, the babies…they have a room to themselves,” said Gina, her voice muffled as she chewed. “My husband’s seeing them now. Though I can’t be apart from them for too long…” As if on cue, Gina’s four breasts quavered. She cupped her lower left breast and released a quiet groan.

There were uncomfortable shuffles, especially amongst the pregnant women in the group. From the wall, Wendy moaned quietly. And then there was that freak, Violet, who had no abnormalities, and was gazing at Gina in envy. Laura resisted the urge to strangle her.

On further examination of Gina, Laura noticed that Gina’s face seemed fuller, her arms and legs softer, and she was starting to develop a double chin. The lawyer continued to eat, almost frantically. In fact, a nurse came in and changed Gina’s shrinking bowl of dough-balls with a full one.

“The hunger is normal,” Gina explained nonchalantly. She coughed a few times, but still continued talking with her mouth full. “The doctor said my body needs extra calories for the nursing. I had a heavy litter. Anyway, my husband and I are thrilled.” Everything was said with the monotony of her profession.

“You wanted this!?” Laura burst out before she could stop herself.

Gina frowned. “Of course this was planned.” She winced as her bandeaus moistened more, and the fabric began to drip milk. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to…”

“No worries at all,” said Ms. Clark indulgently. “In fact, would it be okay if the class—?”

“Of course,” said Gina. With that, Ms. Clark helped her off the bed.

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