Zoe the Maid, Part 11

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Summary: Zoe accepts a job as a maid. Contains: Female: udder, multi-breast, cow-girl, pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, multiples, weight gain, stuffing, and more.

This story is a work of fiction. As specified throughout the story, all characters featured in this work are 18 years of age or older.

Previous Chapter

-

Zoe hurried into her bedroom, closing the door and locking it behind her. She then leaned back against it, gasping for breath as she continued to stare at what was happening to her. She had a real, functional udder. It was big, engorged, and now dripping actual milk.

She did her best not to hyperventilate, but she knew she was becoming a sobbing mess. Staggering over to her closet, Zoe grabbed a towel off the door hook, and clutched it against the udder, so to mitigate the spillage of milk onto the floor.

She then stumbled into the bathroom adjoining her bedroom. She gripped onto the sink edge with one hand, hunching there as she gasped for breath. She just took a moment to breathe, and steady herself, willing the tension in her body to subside just a bit. She tried to gather her racing thoughts. She could get through this. It wasn’t the end of the world. She just had to calm down. Again, she sucked a long breath in, then let it out. Even as she felt the towel against her continue to dampen with the warm, creamy fluid.

She dumped the towel in the sink, her milk now splattering onto the floor. With clumsy hands, she pulled off her uncomfortable clothing, and climbed into the tub.

Zoe sank down in the corner of the basin, staring blankly as the wall tiles as milk continued to seep out of her.

-

When at home, Zoe couldn’t be bothered with discretion. It was too exhausting and uncomfortable.

It was a few days later, and she was wearing a beige spandex jumpsuit made from a soft cotton material, and though not tight, it held her body snugly, following every curve so that she felt quite comfortable despite how revealing it was.

Her body was so unbearably sensitive, her engorged breasts and udder all feeling heated and as though they were throbbing. As if that wasn’t enough, the skin under her breasts had only gotten more sore and tender. The area felt puffy, and she suspected she was getting a rash there.

Overall, Zoe was doing her best to acclimate to her unusual bodily changes. Once she finished up with her degree, she would certainly have more power and autonomy. But presently, as a broke college student, she was ultimately at Garrett’s mercy, and she wasn’t sure there was any way to fight her status as his experiment.

When she looked at herself in her full-length mirror, she couldn’t help noticing how much she had changed, even outside of the strange growth of the udder. Her hips were wider, her backside rounder and sticking out. Her thighs had filled out and now rubbed together. Though not fat, she had gotten curvier. Zoe turned to her side to study her profile, her eyes following the line of her bloated abdomen.

It chose that moment to grumble. Zoe sighed.

As usual, her appetite was insatiable. She had just gobbled down two 12-inch sub sandwiches not an hour ago, but it wasn’t enough. Normal meals could no longer assuage her hunger.

Zoe did her best to ignore it. She was trying to train her body to heed her and no longer demand constant feedings.

She did her best to clear her mind, even as her stomach started to grumble again. Searching quickly for a distraction, she realized that she was overdue to attend to her maidly duties. There was little that Zoe found more immersive than a methodical, deep cleaning.

Zoe gathered her supplies, turned on her headphones, and got started in the living room, dusting the furniture, vacuuming the couch cushions, sweeping the floors, then proceeding with mopping. She went into each bathroom, one at a time, scrubbing the tubs, washing the counters, cleaning the toilets, and wiping down mirrors. She took her time, getting lost in the music and the satisfying monotony. When she got started in the kitchen, somehow she didn’t allow herself to get distracted. Instead, she took her time to clean out cupboards, wipe down counters, and sweep and mop the floor. By the time she finished cleaning the whole house, Zoe felt exhausted, but in a satisfying way.

She soon found herself sprawled across the living room couch, breathing heavily as she gazed at the ceiling, watching her chest heave in her peripheral vision. She thought, facetiously, that she ought to start paying Garrett for letting her clean.

Just as Zoe dozed off, her stomach grumbled again, this time with a stinging ache. She squirmed but refused to open her eyes. It would pass. She refused to be a slave to her growing addiction to food.

“Slacking off?”

Her eyes snapped open. She spotted Garrett standing in the living room entry way, glowering down at her sleepy, sloppy form.

She struggled her way upright, grimacing at the tenderness of her breasts and udder. Her cheeks heated as she remembered what she was wearing. Just skin-tight spandex that revealed everything.

“I just cleaned the house,” she retorted irritably. Sure, maybe she shouldn’t have put her feet on the couch cushions, but it wasn’t exactly a hotel. She liked to think of this place as home, and had never hesitated to let her guard down.

“I made you a snack,” said Garrett, and it was only then Zoe noticed he was holding up an unknown beverage, the glass wet with condensation.

She sat up a little straighter.

“It’ll help with your energy,” Garrett went on, stepping forward to offer the drink to her.

Zoe narrowed her eyes, feeling dubious about his intentions. At the same time, he had caught her in a vulnerable position. She felt so very hungry.

She knew she should reject anything he suggested, but then a sweet scent reached her nostrils, and she was already salivating. Her stomach grumbled again.

“Take it,” said Garrett, simply but authoritatively, like he thought she was one of his interns. She felt a twinge in her groin.

She was supposed to be avoiding the man. He did strange things to her brain chemistry. Because right now, she wanted to do whatever he said, ill-advised though it might be. She scowled, but accepted the large glass, cradling it between her palms. Maybe it would be best to stay in her landlord’s good graces, she reasoned to herself.

The beverage looked thick, like a milkshake. It was a muddy beige color, and there was a bright green boba straw protruding from it. Zoe closed her lips around the straw, and took a pull. It took some force.

Her mouth was flooded with a sweet, delicious fluid. The first several gulps were divine, but then she was acquainted with an odd aftertaste that wasn’t so unpleasant that she was dissuaded from drinking more. After all, it was quieting her hunger. Zoe continued to suck from the straw, each gulp of the milkshake hitting her stomach in a surprisingly heavy way. The more she drank, the more nuances she detected. There was a greasiness to the beverage when she rolled it between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. There was something chemical in the scent when she breathed in through her nostrils. But it took her only seconds to finish the glass, after which she was breathing heavily, leaning back on the couch, feeling much fuller than she should have been after just one milkshake, yet her stomach was gurgling contentedly, so she couldn’t complain.

“There’s more in the kitchen,” said Garrett. “If you want.”

She didn’t trust him, or even like him. Yet she was as addicted to Garrett as she was to calories.

On top of that, she was still at the height of a sugar rush, the dopamine causing a warmth that washed all over her. Her stomach was full and happy. She was satisfied, and buzzing. “Yeah,” she said without even thinking.

She stood up with a groan, her hands clutching the udder through her tight jumpsuit. After she followed him into the kitchen, she sat down as he went to the fridge. He retrieved an even bigger glass than before, putting it on the table in front of her. Zoe peered down into the beverage. The glass was full, and looked three times the size as the prior one. It seemed more like cookware, or a small bucket. Had Garrett placed it in her hands, it would have surely slipped free.

Suspicious though she felt, Zoe only mumbled, “That’s a lot,” as her belly gurgled.

Garrett shrugged in a way that he never did--all casual. “You don’t have to finish it.”

She slid the glass closer, closing her lips around the straw and taking that first suck.

It was as tasty as the previous shake, if not sweeter and richer. She detected a hint of honey. “What’s in this?” she managed after her first gulp, drawing in a long breath, her skin tingling.

“A mixture of things,” Garrett responded as she went back to drinking. “Your body is expending a lot of energy. I mixed in cake batter, heavy cream, some chocolate bars, cornmeal, custard, protein powder, cookie dough, wheat germ, butter, lard, bovine growth hormone…”

Zoe’s heart plummeted. She pulled away from the straw, abruptly queasy. She breathed heavily, her body tingling as disgust took the place of all the pleasure she had been experiencing. Looking down at the glass, she saw she had already gotten halfway through it.

“You might as well finish it,” said Garrett, who was still standing off to the side, watching her. There was a subtle amusement in the curve of his lips.

“You’re disgusting,” Zoe spat, bracing her hands on the table’s edge, and standing.

She felt a wave of dizziness, a small belch coming up her throat. She was flushed and sweating, still trying to breathe evenly. Why had she trusted him, even for a moment? She turned and made her way to the bathroom, feeling a little unbalanced until she had gotten inside, closed the door, and found herself gripping the sink.

Her stomach lurched. Zoe hurriedly ducked down to the toilet, hitting her knees as she leaned over it, and retched.

Nothing came up.

Her insides heaved, causing her to retch again, but it was as though the contents of her stomach refused to come out. She moaned and slumped down against the tub, her hands cradling her over-packed belly. It was even more bloated than before. What the hell was Garrett trying to do to her?

She rested there for a while on the bathroom floor, fatigued. By the time she got herself up and returned to the kitchen, Garrett was gone. But her half-finished glass was still sitting on the table, as though waiting for her.

She found herself staring at it, her lips parted. Something came over her. Before she knew what she was doing, Zoe had completed the few strides to the table, lifted the glass, and brought it to her lips, tilting the gelatinous fluid towards her mouth.

The straw fell to the ground. She poured it into her mouth directly. She chugged it, the substance more like pudding in consistency now that it was warming. It was rather sickening, but she drank it regardless, forcing it down as she breathed heavily through her nostrils. Some of the substance even rolled down her chin.

Zoe lowered the empty glass, her body flush and heated, her thighs shifting against each other. She felt incredibly horny, her clothing constraining, pasted against her by sweat and tightness, as she stood there, fidgeting. Her cleavage was pinching against her circular neckline. Zoe grabbed at the fabric, pulling it away from her as she breathed.

She felt as though her whole being was pulsing. Dazedly, she wandered out of the kitchen and found herself in the living room. The TV was on. She walked over to face it, standing just feet away from the 85-inch screen.

Of all things, it was a nature documentary. She panted as she stared.

The television displayed a fat mother pig with her mountain of suckling piglets, each creature seeming to be fighting the ones around it, fighting to nurse greedily from the limited number of teats.

Zoe was transfixed. Nature was truly disgusting. The channel changed, seemingly of its own accord. Now the display featured a plump goat being milked by hand, its udders fat and significantly bloated, not unlike hers. Her face warmed as she stared, almost dazzled by the bright images. She didn’t know why, but it had her rapt focus. Her mouth was ajar, a bit of drool leaking from the corner.

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