Cow Girl III, Part 16 (Patreon)

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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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That night, Laura could hardly sleep. She didn’t know whether it was anxiety, or…something else.

She spent the night tossing and turning—as much as her bloated body would allow her to. She squirmed and fidgeted, feeling overheated, and uncomfortable. The things were moving inside of her, but not enough to keep her awake. It was a queasy, unpleasant, squirmy sort of rhythm. It was how she knew they were inhuman. Her heart pounded, and she turned over one more time, skin hot, loins throbbing. And then she noticed that the sun was out beyond her white bedroom curtains.

Laura got dressed, hastily, without really looking. When she finally faced the mirror, the results made her blanch slightly.

It was the sort of thing she would have worn prior to ending up pregnant. A long-sleeved fishnet top hugged her body, beneath which she had pulled on one of the dual-bras in black, showing off her swollen breasts. The top hugged her form, as did the calf-length skirt, which proudly displayed her swollen ass. It was all unpleasantly tight and quite revealing, but Laura didn’t allow herself to become overwhelmed by it.

She was huge by then. She looked as though she was eight months pregnant! There was no hiding her condition, and the concept was just silly. She probably wasn’t fooling anyone. And if she was, it probably wouldn’t be for much longer. Laura sucked in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and counted back from ten.

Once she was finished, she grabbed up her purse and slid her feet into a pair of black high heels. If she hadn’t known how to walk in them since middle school, she was sure she would have toppled over. Balancing herself expertly despite the awkwardness, Laura made her way towards the door, trying her best not to contemplate what she was about to do, because then she would probably back out.

Her heels clicked with each heavy step she made, her four breasts jiggling in turn with her movements. Finally, she was outside of her bedroom, trying for nonchalance, but diffidently looking down.

She could hear Veronica’s drawling voice pause mid-sentence in a conversation she was probably having on her cell phone. She could hear Mindy gasp.

Laura looked up.

Both of her dorm-mates were staring at her, their mouths hanging slack.

“You’re a cow!?” said Veronica with no pretense of politeness. Her eyes were bulging as she looked Laura’s swollen body up and down.

“Oh my!” said Mindy, inane as she always was. “Oh wow!”

Laura gave a slight one-shoulder shrug, and the three fell silent again, if just until Veronica burst into laughter.

“Oh my god,” Veronica said, as she recovered her cell phone from the couch cushion beside her. She pressed the device to her ear. “You wouldn't believe this. My roommate—she’s as big as a cow. I noticed she was blowing up, I just hadn’t realized she was actually becoming one.”

Laura grimaced and rolled her eyes, before gingerly making her way towards the exit of the dorm.

“Oh Laura, let me help you!” said Mindy, flinging herself in Laura’s path, and immediately beginning to wrestle Laura’s bag away from her.

“Leave me alone!” Laura screeched. Things were bad enough without dealing with her slut roommates.

After successfully tearing her bag out of Mindy’s claws, Laura reeled slightly, but managed to stay balanced. With that, she gave an exaggerated “hmph” and made her way out of the dorm.

As Laura walked around campus, she ignored the stares. People were blatantly gawking at her. Students muttered, gasped, tripped over their own feel—one actually walked into a wall. It shouldn’t have been so significant. The cow-gene was practically epidemic by then. But it was so fucking taboo still, and the government had hardly acknowledged it. Laura wondered what other cow-women were doing as their conditions became evident. Probably attempting to hide the condition, becoming reclusive, or even trying to pass it off as a regular pregnancy.

There were choked coughs and sharp intakes of breath when Laura entered her Economics elective. There were more stares than she could count. Students leaned over to whisper to those in neighboring desks. A young man actually got up and ran from the room, clutching his textbook to his crotch.

Her cheeks burning hot by then, her breasts bobbing with her heavy breaths, Laura made her way to a seat, and just before she could ease her ass down, the professor strolled in, did a double take, blushed, then cleared his throat.

“Miss Wilson? A word? Outside?”

Resisting the urge to scowl, Laura gave a curt nod, and slowly followed Professor Paulson out of the room, her ass rocking, breasts wiggling, and belly heaving. She could hear a student take a shuddering gasp in her wake.

By the time she was out of the corridor, she was breathless and flushed. “Is there a problem sir?” she managed.

Her professor frowned then bit his lip. “Yes. I just wanted to have a word with you about your…erm…” His eyes trailed down her body, then up again, over her transparent shirt. “…unique choice of attire today. Though I appreciate each student’s belief in self-expression, I’m not sure your clothing is exactly classroom appropriate.”

Laura blinked a few times, then pressed her lips. “I’ve worn it before.”

Professor Paulson frowned in confusion.

“This exact outfit. Well, not this exact one. But this in a smaller size. I’ve worn it several times in the past and I’ve never gotten a complaint from you before.” She wrinkled her nose as her stomach lurched.

The professor was disconcerted. “I—w-well—you see—”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t.” Laura cut him off. “I will not be fat-shamed.”

“You’re not fat, you’re—you’re a—”

Laura felt her chest tighten. “What? Pregnant? A cow? What type of discrimination should we call this, exactly?”

Paulson was speechless. He briefly looked horrified, then quickly fixed his face with a neutral expression. “What? No, of course not. You misunderstand. I was simply suggesting that your attire might not be…er…climate appropriate,” he grasped at straws. “You as well I as know how cold it can get in this room. Just wanted to make sure you’re being mindful of the delicacy of your condition. Also, I think congratulations are in order.” He grinned in a sycophantic way.

Laura gave him a disgusted look. “Thanks,” she deadpanned, and then she turned, and worked her way back into the classroom.

She felt oddly empowered by her small triumph. Maybe this openness thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

-

For the next support group meeting, Laura donned a pair of jean shorts that barely covered her swollen ass, and some thigh-high black boots with no heels. She also put on a boyish button-down shirt that miraculously hung loose on her rapidly-swelling body, and left the top several buttons undone so that the pressed folds of her sweaty cleavage bulged through visibly. She finished the outfit off with a large pair of sunglasses and a black fedora that made her look like a hipster, leaving her long wavy hair to hang around her shoulders.

When Laura arrived and discreetly shuffled to her seat in the circle, she looked up to see Ms. Clark beaming at her.

“Oh Laura, I’m so proud of you!” Ms. Clark gushed, causing Laura’s cheeks to redden.

After that, most of the meeting was dedicated to Ms. Clark blathering about how Laura was finally coming out of her shell, what great progress Laura had made since she started attending the (mandatory) meetings, how healthy Laura looked, and so on. Laura privately wondered if Ms. Clark derived some sick pleasure from watching cow-girls blow up around her week after week. Women periodically disappeared from the meetings, no doubt from giving birth and having to be stuck attending to their terrible cow-children. New people correspondingly arrived, sometimes by choice, and sometimes by court order. The new girls stared at Laura with the same sense of trepidation with which Laura had stared at Gina, and several others, when she had first been forced to join the group. Laura gulped and tried not to think about it. She didn’t contemplate about how women were cyclically swelling to bursting then discreetly disappearing. She didn’t wonder whether that would happen to her as well.

The adjournment was the most popular part of the meetings, if just so the fatsos could make their ways to the snack table. The table in question was so heavily laden with food, the legs creaked and strained beneath it. After suffering through an hour of the maudlin blathering of her supposed peers, Laura made a beeline for the table, and diligently stuffed her mouth. She seemed to stay later and later every week, if just to gulp down food with the urgency of a starving orphan. She ignored the way her lower breasts were beginning to get big enough to properly shelve the upper ones, and the fact that lower ones were undeniably growing, and quite rapidly. She ignored the increasing bloatedness of her smooth pink pubic region, and the interminable tension in her belly. Instead she just focused on eating.

“Hey,” someone said, nudging her in the side with their elbow.

Though Laura usually made an effort not to make eye contact with the other attendees, she reluctantly looked up from her fried chicken leg and into the face of her solicitor.

It was the redhead.

“You,” said Laura awkwardly, as her mind had gone blank.

“Yeah,” the redhead grinned as she stuffed some donuts into her mouth. “I’m Kim. Heh, sorry. I can’t stop eating.” Kim rolled her eyes as she continued to fill her mouth. “I’m becoming a total cow.” Her voice was muffled as she jammed mozzarella sticks between her lips, despite that her mouth was already occupied by words and partially-chewed donuts.

“I know…” Laura had to agree, now munching on what she suspected was just a ball of lard, both of her cheeks puffed out. She was somewhat cagy around the other girl, as she found it odd bumping into her again. Though admittedly, they were at a cow-girl support group, and the cow community was rather concentrated to venues such as this one.

“I’ll tell you what though.” Kim swallowed, with some effort it seemed. “My sex drive has been out of control. Since last week, I’ve been thinking about cock day and night. Even that meathead with the horns has started to look good.” She shivered and nodded towards one of their fellow group-members.

Laura bit her lip. It was like Kim could read her mind. Her loins just tingled at the thought of Brad’s enormous, atrocious, bull-cock. She snapped out of her reverie and tried to snuff the thought away.

“You look good, by the way,” said Kim, surveying Laura’s outfit. “Better.”

Laura shrugged. “Thanks. You too I guess.” Kim was wearing a low-cut spandex blue dress with spaghetti straps. The hem of it went only just below her plump ass.

“That shop is such a lifesaver.” Kim rolled her shoulders and arched her back, making her abdomen stick out even more, her four breasts wiggling. “I’m there at least twice a month. These little shits are absolutely blowing up.” She cupped her belly fondly.

Laura swallowed. Little shits indeed.

“So…” Kim frowned at her now-empty snack plate. The rest of the table was being rapidly demolished by the hoard. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Laura hesitated. It had been a while since she had done anything remotely social. And she had made that promise to herself to stop being such a recluse. Looking back at Kim, Laura fixed her face with a smirk. “Why not?”

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