Maid, Part 2 (Patreon)

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Summary: A woman is hexed by her employer and develops a small, growing udder. Contains: Female: udder development, breast expansion, possibly more.

Previous Chapter

-

The mound stood out from her now, looking terribly odd. It seemed no longer a rash, but some sort of growth. A bloated pink mound, with small bumps scattering it like insect bites. There were four in total, tender but aching to be touched, almost like an itch. Anna found herself continuously stunned by what was happening to her body. It made her anxious about her ongoing employment for Mr. Wallace.

The pay was good. More than good, actually, considering her meager qualifications and the simplistic duties. The day before, Anna had opened her first bank account. To think, she was actually beginning to save money.

She decided to keep going with the job; see how things went. So far, the growth didn’t seem to be hurting her in anyway. It was an embarrassment more than anything else. Perhaps that was Mr. Wallace’s goal.

Thankfully her dress included layered skirts, to hide everything.

Anna continued to diligently do her work every day, but now found herself stiffening when the rough cotton of her panties dragged on her pubic region. She shivered when she bumped the mound just so, the fat jiggling slightly against her, and she would need a moment to collect her composure.

Indeed, the mound seemed solely comprised of fat, and was only getting fatter.

She was assigned farm work from time to time, and she didn’t like the animals, but they seemed very fond of her. Especially the cows, which continuously bowed to be pet, or annoyingly nudged at her shoulder, her chest, and abdomen. Sometimes even the subtle bump in her skirts. It was bothersome, to say the least.

It was still steadily growing. She was beginning to feel the weight of it, and the odd heat that seemed to fill it.

It now rocked slightly as she moved about, and the bumps that decorated it were getting larger. They were distending, not widening, but slowly inching forward like little nubs. In fact, the mound, as a whole, was beginning to resemble a…

Oh god.

She was growing an udder.

The realization was surreal and nauseating. Thankfully it was after a work shift, and she spent the night trying to contain the panic and horror swelling inside her as she paced, then cringed every time she felt it rocking. She would reach down to still it, then quickly retract her hand, before following up with more pacing and thin breathing as she tried to cope with whatever she was becoming.

In the early hours of the morning, she realized that she had some choices to make. She could continue her regular duties while maintaining a collected outward façade, or she could leave now and never to return to Mr. Wallace’s compound. Both prospects frightened her. The thought of leaving was incredibly temping. She didn’t know what Mr. Wallace was doing to her, and she didn’t want to find out what else he was capable of.

On the other hand, if she left now, she might be even worse off than she was. She was under a year-long contract, and the information would already be publicly available to any of the businesses in the country. If she violated her contract by leaving the job prematurely, it would be nearly impossible to get a new one. In addition to that, she had the odd mound—the udder—to contend with. If a new potential employer found out about it—figured out what it was—they would never hire a freak such as her.

Anna took long even breaths as she thought everything through. What would be the harm of giving the job another few days? Her situation wasn’t as horrible as it could have been, if she really considered it. No real harm had come to her. She just had an additional body part. Just an udder. Her stomach twisted.

Her mind made up, Anna began to get washed and dressed, as it was already late enough that work would be starting in another hour or so.

Her hair was combed neatly, her dress and apron crisp and clean and properly fitted. She smoothed her hand against the curve under her layered skirts in an absent, self-conscious way. Then she steeled herself and left her small quarters.

As she scrubbed dishes, floors, walls, and every surface she could think to, she felt more warm and flushed than usual while working. It was from anxiety, she supposed. So she focused solely on work, and quickly lost herself in the pacifying tedium. She was pulled from her meditation when another servant tapped her shoulder. Anna looked up from the mashed potatoes she had been stirring.

“Mr. Wallace has requested your company for dinner,” she the other maid, looking rather disapproving.

Anna made a conscious effort not to frown. Instead she handed the pot spoon off to the other maid, carefully shed her apron, and walked to the dining room in a neutral manner.

Mr. Wallace didn’t have to gesture. She took her usual spot. She gave a quiet greeting, her eyes down, and was fully prepared when two servants arrived, setting a large platter down before her.

Anna began to eat without hesitation, determined to get it through with as quickly as she could. She felt Mr. Wallace observing her warily, so focused on eating, and not him, or the heated mound tingling against her thighs. She stuffed down steaks, potatoes, pastas, rich gravies, and a bloated mozzarella salad, even though her stomach was still throbbing from the heavy breakfast she had been forced to endure. She wondered if this routine was all just part of the transformation. Any which way, she ate in stride. She was not going to allow Mr. Wallace to intimidate her.

By the time Anna finished, her stomach had started to ache. She felt warm, heavy, and absolutely gorged. A strange tingling sensation was lapsing over her udder. She waited for Mr. Wallace to excuse her, then dragged herself back to her room.

-

A few mornings later, Anna was groggily getting dressed. She cupped her wobbling udder as she wrapped it, as she did every morning now, carefully but firmly, in the coil of bandages she had purchased at the chemists. It was so very tender, and getting awkwardly heavy against her. She finished up, breathing heavily, and absently caressing the strange weight above her groin.

Anna continued to don her clothing. She noticed that top of her dress was tighter on her chest than usual. Ordinarily, she never bothered with a bra, but now her chest felt uncomfortable against the tight fabric, her nipples irritated by the roughness of the material.

Anna frowned, but continued to get dressed, buttoning up, drawing up her socks. She fluffed her skirts repetitively, smoothing her hand against the growing curve.

She now daily joined Mr. Wallace for both breakfast and dinner, which seemed to be getting heavier every day. She didn’t know how she had managed not to put on much weight, though the udder continued to progressively swell. She constantly felt sluggish, and found she had to push herself to maintain the regular pace of her duties.

The worst was when she had to help cook her own meals, knowing all the oils and sugars being pumped into each dish, then having to serve herself, to lower the overburdened trays, one by one, in front of her seat at the table.

In another few days, Anna’s uniform was not fitting well at all. The buttons were straining at her chest, the fabric even beginning to part between the buttons. It was not appropriate, and she truly had to strain to close the fabric. She couldn’t believe how quickly it had tightened. With uneasiness, Anna went to the kitchens early that day, and had a word with the head maid. The environment didn’t offer much in terms of privacy.

“I’m in need of a new uniform,” she said sheepishly, nodding to her chest.

The head maid “tutted,” as she looked at Anna with disapproval. “We’ve all been working our butts off, and you’re sitting comfortable enough to put on weight?”

The other servants tittered around them, not even pretending that that weren’t eavesdropping on the conversation.

Anna felt her cheeks redden, but she did not respond. She didn’t know how she could.

“Hmph,” said the head maid. “I’ll have a new dress put together for you. It’ll take a few days.”

Anna mumbled her gratitude, then drifted back, with her head down, hoping to disappear. She barely heard the duties she was assigned that day, but was pulled out of her reverie when she was summoned to breakfast with Mr. Wallace as usual. She walked mechanically through the door, pretending not to notice the sour looks the other maids were giving her.

-

It was soon nearly impossible to hide the bump, especially when she was seated. She could feel Mr. Wallace watching her over dinner one evening. She tried not to fidget in the uncomfortable fit of the uniform she had on. The new one still had not arrived, and this one was really beginning to squeeze her. She would have made her request earlier. She just hadn’t expected to be growing so fast.

Uniform requests didn’t usually take more than a day or so, and Anna knew that hers was intentionally being delayed. But she didn’t want to have a confrontation with her superior about it. She knew that it would only make matters worse.

So instead she waited, uncomfortable, bloated, and clearly in Mr. Wallace’s control. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of knowing how profoundly he was affecting her, but it was getting rather…tangible, rather impossible to hide—bulging as she was. She squirmed.

The meal was unbearably, almost torturously prolonged. Serving after serving, she forced food down her throat. Just when she thought it was over, even more food was brought out from the kitchens and settled in front of her. Mr. Wallace comfortable sipped his coffee, and she could hardly hold herself from protesting. She could barely hold all the food in. She felt stuffed to bursting, her belly curving under the strain.

She was hot and flushed. Anna took a gulp from the fifth large glass of warm milk to be set in front of her. She contained a whimper as she reached down to discreetly cradle the warm udder perched beneath her clothes.

“You’re dismissed,” Mr. Wallace finally said, only after her milk was finished.

Anna was pained and fatigued, but she forced herself onto her weak legs. She managed to stagger off with as much composure as she could muster. When she got to her room, she just wanted to slump down on the bed, but she stopped herself, and struggled out of her uncomfortably tight clothes. She groaned in discomfort and relief as the tender udder was released from the supportive bandages. Then she stood there panting, and idly appraised herself in the mirror.

The udder was fully developed, soft, round, and jiggling with her heavy breathing. It was somewhat smaller than a cow’s, proportional to her own body, but still—it was an udder, intrusive, sticking out from her, fat and girthy.

Her breasts, meanwhile, had rapidly blossomed to C-cups from the tiny A’s they had been originally. They were soft and round, nipples dark, swollen, and aching.

Anna gingerly eased herself down on the bed, groaning as her sore body and packed stomach carefully twisted into a more comfortable position.

She felt as though her eyelids had only just managed to drift shut, before she heard an impatient knocking on the door that awoke her with a start.

It was morning, and time to get back to work.