by Big Kahuna
Having completed this task, he did the same thing with the video camera in the vent that overlooked her bed, humming while he worked, a snatch of song escaping his lips every so often.
When he was finished with the camera, he went into her bathroom and checked her supply of pills: fenugreek, blessed thistle, and goat’s rue. Everything seemed in order, the level in each bottle showing that she was following the dosages precisely. He had thought that she might send them to someone, to check that they were really what he said they were. It was just possible that his charm—or the subliminal messages buried in the music he had sent her—hadn’t worked. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, the pills he had sent her were the real thing. She trusted him, and that was good to know. He replaced the pills in the bottles with lookalikes, much as he had done with the original supplements she had bought, although these more aggressive versions would improve her output on a much greater scale. Melissa didn’t know it yet, but her life as a human cow was about to become quite a bit more interesting.
His work almost complete, he knelt down beside the contented cow again, placing a squat leather bag on the floor beside him. He monitored her milk flow into the tubes until it was effectively zero, at which point he gently pressed a finger into her nearer teat at the base of the teat cup, breaking the vacuum. He pulled the chrome tube off of the distended nipple, whistling in admiration at the length of it.
“Now that’s what I call a teat, girl.” He inspected the elongated nipple carefully. It looked healthy and pink, and was shiny with her expressed milk. He knew from experience that they would shrink a bit once milking discontinued, but there would no going back to the petite little nipples Melissa had once had. Not without surgery at least.
He tugged downward on the distended teat while giving it a squeeze, and was rewarded with a jet of milk squirting into his cupped hand. He tasted the fresh milk, slurping a bit as he did so. There really was nothing better than milk straight from the cow. He wiped his hand on his bluejeans and then slid the teat cup back on, after which he repeated the process with the other udder, finding it to be just as healthy.
There was only a few minutes of music left, time to move on to the next phase. He reached into the leather bag and retrieved a small case, which he opened to reveal a pair of syringes, already full. Buttercup gave a “mmm” of approval when she felt the cooling sensation on the underside of her right udder, her owner rubbing the heavy dug with a funny white ball. The cool feeling was replaced a moment later by pain as the Man stuck a needle into her tit. She bucked slightly, making a whimpering noise deep in her throat, but the Man held her in place, forcing her further back onto the bull cock that was attached to the bed.
She whimpered again when he did the same to her left udder. “That’s my girl,” he whispered into her ear as he withdrew the syringe from her depleted udder. “You’re gonna be my best producer, Buttercup. This is what you were made for. You were born to be a cow.”
Buttercup rubbed her head against his hand; the pain in her udders was already fading thanks to his soothing voice and kind manner, not to mention the fat prick in her cunt. This Man was a good owner. Yes, he had hurt her, but she understood that he had done it for her benefit, for her health. She wasn’t a stupid cow.
He patted her and rubbed a hand along her side as he put his tools back into the squat leather bag. Once everything was packed away he stood up, one hand resting on his overlarge belt buckle. “I’ll be seeing you again real soon, Buttercup, and it’ll be for longer than half an hour. That’s a promise.”
Buttercup watched him turn and leave the room, idly wondering where he was going, and when he would come back and stroke her. She liked the Man. He was a good owner, and he was good to her. She would do her best to make lots of milk for this Man, to repay him for taking care of her. It was what cows were for.
___________________________
It took several minutes for Melissa to realize that the music had stopped, and a few more to realize that the milking machine had ceased draining her all-important tits. She shook her head, feeling slightly dazed, and then shook her fanny, which made her realize that she was more than slightly full.
Oh, my God, she thought. I did it! She craned her neck sideways to see for herself, but the hood of her robe impeded her vision, as did her ample fundament. The simulated testicles pressing against the backs of her thighs confirmed the truth well enough, however. The fullness inside her felt heavenly, but it was possible to have too much of a good thing, especially when that good thing was stretching you out beyond human endurance.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she allowed herself to drift forward, groaning softly as her slick cunt was deprived of its welcome guest. When it was halfway out she brought a shaking knee forward, followed by the other, until she was no longer connected to her bed via the neoprene dildo. Then she fell over.
She lay there for a while, wondering if she shouldn’t just spend the night on the floor. It would be easier than getting up. No, she couldn’t do that. She had to put her milk in the fridge, as well as clean the equipment. Life would be so much easier if she had someone to take care of her.
She got up as quickly as her body would allow, which wasn’t very. Once she got to a sitting position she took stock of herself. She felt good, though a little tired, which she put down to having taken a telephone pole inside her. Her udders also felt a little sore, which she put down to overuse. Rance said that overproduction could damage a cow. She hoped that wasn’t happening here.
She broke the suction on the teat cups and carefully slid them off of her teats. Everything looked okay. She raised her right milker up and sucked the shining milk from her engorged nipple. So big, she mused, swirling her tongue around the pebbled flesh. Almost like a small penis. She did the same thing with the left teat, going down on the nipple rather than sucking it like she normally would. It felt good doing it this way, though one could get wrapped up in it. She could understand why guys liked having their dicks sucked so much.
Her nipples cleaned, she turned to the plastic jug and received a shock. “Forty-four ounces?” That was a half a cup better than her best! Was this due to the slow suction of setting number three, or because she had diddled herself with King Dong? She would have to experiment and see.
Maggie the cat came loping into the room, her eyes instantly locking onto the industrial-sized milkbags resting in her roommate’s lap. Melissa reflexively put an arm across her udders, feeling an almost instinctive need to protect them from the carnivorous feline. The last thing she wanted was to feel her cat’s rough tongue licking her long nipples. Well, maybe not the very last thing.
“But I shut that door,” she said softly, trying to remember if she had, or if she only thought she had. She hoped she wasn’t losing her mind.
Chapter 7
Mad Cow Disease
“Mel…?”
Melissa looked up from her hoagie to find Janice standing on the other side of the lunch table, an expression of disbelief etched across her tanned features. “Hey, Jan,” she said around a mouthful of the Greek-style veggie sandwich she was inhaling for lunch. “Siddown.”
“I will if I can find room.” It was meant as a joke, but it was quite close to the truth. The table was littered with the detritus of Melissa’s lunch: a sandwich wrapper from Billy Bob’s Sandwich Ranch, an empty potato chip bag, a partially-eaten bag of oatmeal cookies, and a sixty-four ounce gut-buster soda cup that looked almost empty. “Christ, Mel, this is enough food for two. Did you eat your date, too?”
Melissa laughed, putting a hand over her mouth so that she wouldn’t spray her friend with bits of fried eggplant. “It is a bit much, isn’t it? What can I say, I was starving.” That was true, but it was not all the truth. It had begun at 2:00 a.m., when she had awakened with her chest practically on fire and her stomach growling to beat a hard rock band. She milked herself much as she had earlier that evening, save that she eschewed the dangling dong that was still affixed to the foot of th
e bed. Instead she scarfed down some oatmeal crunch cereal straight out of the box. She would have preferred milk with her cereal, but not at two-fifty per ounce.
The same scene had replayed itself at six in the morning, Melissa absolutely ravenous when her chest had awakened her. She milked herself again, this time gorging herself on some leftover pizza she had in the fridge. She usually detested cold pizza, but her hunger had outweighed her taste preferences.
“Are you feeling all right, Mel?” Janice asked, removing a yogurt and a banana from her paper sack and placing them on what little space was available to her.
“I’m great, Jan,” Melissa replied, smiling, a bit of green bell pepper sticking out from the side of her mouth. “Don’t I look great?”
Janice smiled back at her friend, though without green pepper or warmth. “It looks like you’re binge eating. You’re not getting bulimic on me, are you, girl?”
Melissa put down her sandwich and wiped her hands on a napkin, then brought them up and hefted her hefty bosom with them. “Do these look like I’m getting bulimic?”
A thud sounded off to the left, causing both girls to turn their heads. “Are you okay, Johnny?” Janice asked.
Johnny from Geology got up from the floor, nodding and holding a hand to his forehead, presumably to hide the knot that was growing there. Janice turned back to Melissa, who was smiling mischievously, this time without green pepper. “No, I guess bulimia is right out, but something’s going on with you, Mel, and it’s more than your newfound ability to make people walk into doorjambs. I’m worried about you.”
Melissa reached across the table and took her friend’s hand, her enlarged bosom pushing her empty soda cup forward as she did so. “You don’t need to worry about me, Janice. I’m doing just fine. Better than I ever have in my whole life. If you want to worry about someone, worry about Johnny. I’m pretty sure he’s going to have a goose egg on his forehead as big as his boner.”
Janice half-snorted at Melissa’s joke and shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe you are okay. You’re more confident, thinner, and more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you.”
Melissa was taken aback. To be called beautiful by Janice was high praise indeed. She squeezed her friend’s hand. “Thanks, Jan. And I think—”
“But there’s something going on with you, Mel. At the very least I’d say your tits are going to get somebody killed someday. You mark my words.”
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Melissa returned to her desk after lunch, feeling decidedly strange. She liked Janice, but her friend was behaving so odd lately. Yes, of course there was something going on, but it was for the better—couldn’t she see that? She had even commented on it herself, saying that she was becoming more confident, thinner, and even more beautiful. Hardly bad things.
It was sweet of Janice to worry, but quite unnecessary. Everything was going well now. She was over her funk, and best of all her numbers were improving. Forty-six ounces at her last milking. One hundred and fifteen dollars—and she’d made that during her break!
But it was costing her, no doubt about that. She was drinking water practically by the gallon, soda pop, lemonade, whatever she could get her hands on. She taste-tested her product after each milking, licking off what small amount was left on her teats, to make sure that her intake wasn’t adversely affecting her milk.
And then there was the constant hunger. Of course it made sense; the milk wasn’t going to come from nowhere. If she wanted to make milk, lots and lots of milk, then she was going to have to consume the raw ingredients. She sometimes wondered if grass tasted good.
She got back to work, which was mostly tidying up everybody else’s work. She would occasionally dip into her lower desk drawer and take an oatmeal cookie from her private stash, eating them one at a time, glancing about to make sure no one was looking her way when she did so.
As the afternoon wore on, she found herself growing increasingly distracted by her breasts. They felt so huge, like they were growing even more. She could feel them becoming more compressed inside her custom made harness-bra. It made sense, she supposed. The more she pumped, the more she made. The more she made, the more she would have to eat and drink to make the more she was pumping. It was a vicious circle, one that was making her insanely huge milkers grow ever more circular. Life would be so much easier if she could just sit at her desk and have Rance’s little machine slowly pump her tits while she worked. Talk about multi-tasking.
When three o’clock came she couldn’t leave her desk quickly enough. She stuffed her bag of cookies into her purse and grabbed her water bottle, and headed off to the Mothers’ Room, where she received an unwelcome surprise.
Whirring sounds came from within the room as she approached the open doorway, rapid Spanish being spoken. Melissa looked inside the room, fearing confirmation of that which she already suspected. A man and a woman were inside the room, janitorial staff apparently, the man operating a carpet shampooer while the woman stood by holding a clipboard. They were cleaning her stall!
The latina noticed her standing in the doorway and came up to block the entrance. She was youngish and quite pretty, and skinny to the point of anorexia. She was shorter than Melissa by almost a head, and her dark hair was pulled back into a short ponytail that looked almost painful. “¿Sí, señorita?”
“Um,” Melissa began, pressing her lips together out of nervousness and discomfort, that discomfort being caused by her already expansive breasts feeling like they were expanding even more. “Do you know how long it will be until…?”
The latina’s gaze was drawn to Melissa’s chest, mostly due to the fact that she was bouncing her bosom up and down in her agitation. “Lo siento señorita,” she said, smirking slightly as she brought her head back up. “Mañana.”
Tomorrow? No, this couldn’t be happening to her. Why hadn’t she received an email?
“¿Qué está pasando?” the man operating the carpet shampooer asked. He was looking back and forth from Melissa’s bouncing rack to the latina, who Melissa assumed was probably his supervisor.
“Esta vaca rubia necesita que la ordeñen,” the latina said over her shoulder, her smirk broadening slightly.
Melissa’s Spanish was sparse to say the least, but she picked out one word easily enough—vaca—which she knew meant cow. That did it! Melissa pushed her way past the little latina, actually bumping her barely restrained milkers into the smaller girl’s face in order to gain access to the room.
Her anger building, she found that her locker was blocked by several large cartons of toilet paper, obviously relocated so that they could clean that section of the carpet. “Oooh!” she snorted, a nasal bellowing sound that caused the man who was shampooing the carpet to narrow his eyes at the tetas caminando.
Melissa stamped her foot, enraged beyond words. She had over two hundred dollars worth of milk in that locker, the milk that she had made during her workday—almost three-quarts!—which would not last overnight with only the single cold pack to keep it from spoiling. With a grunt, she pushed aside the cartons that were blocking her locker, sending the topmost one to the floor where it landed with a dull thud and split open.
Uncaring at the commotion she was causing, Melissa got her keys out of her purse, opened the lock, and retrieved the cooler containing her day’s milking. She briefly considered grabbing her milking machine as well, but what would be the point? This room was the only place she could use it, and she couldn’t use it here. Sure, she could milk herself in the bathroom, in one of the stalls, provided there was power, which didn’t seem likely. The only other option was the restroom sink. She could just imagine old lady Masterson walking in on her, bent over the sink, tugging on her tits, white milk splashing into the basin. The old bitch would fire on the spot, or else demand that Melissa keep the break room fridge stocked with her milk, rather than that shitty non-dairy creamer the company provided.
That only left one choice—home. Could she possibly make it?
Melissa closed the locker and relocked it, then turned and left the room, pausing only long enough to snort again at the two Mexican workers, causing them both to back up a step in fear.
Wasting no time, she got back to her desk and logged out of her computer. She wasn’t leaving all that early, and nothing vital ever came in after three o’clock anyway. The important thing was to get out of here before her tits exploded, or before that latina called her supervisor to complain about the vaca loca that was rampaging about the fifth floor. Fearing that the latter might happen, Melissa quickly gathered her things and left the office.
It was while she was in the elevator that she began to replay the scene in her head. Had she really behaved like that? What was happening to her?
‘They also get agitated when they go too long between milkings,’ she remembered Janice saying. Was that what this was? She did need to be milked, but stamping around and snorting at people? Knocking things over like a bull in a china shop?
It was too much to think about. Right now the most important thing was to empty her udders, which were uncomfortable at present and on their way to becoming painful.
When she got down to street level she began to feel the first signs of panic. Could she stand a half-hour bus ride in her condition, stopping and starting every block, not to mention the ever-present babies that would be there too, howling and crying to be fed, baby bottles shoved in their faces, the constant suck-suck-suck of little mouths on rubber nipples as they drank—
“Ohhh…” she moaned as a wave of pain hit her tight udders. No, she could not take the bus. But what did that leave? Was she going to have to milk herself in an alley, tugging up and down on her tits like Rance had in her dream? Perhaps she could find a building with a day care center within walking distance. Goodness knew she could feed every baby in the place and still have enough left over for a football team.