Fiona (Patreon)

Fiona
By FC Punk

“Nooo, I don’t want to get up!”

Morning has broken in the Scottish city of Aberdeen. Scores of people are shuffling out of their homes and into their cars, getting ready to start God’s brand new day. The sun’s perpetual rays of light spread out, shining through a studio apartment’s window.

Fiona Stewart moans as the sun tickles her eyes and the cold morning air assaults her sensitive pale skin. She curls up, pulling the covers past her legs, only making things worse. Either these covers are too small or she’s too tall. Figuring there’s no hope in falling back asleep she attempts to get up. Yes, attempt is the right word.

Getting up from a prone position is quite the task for the Scottish girl. For she has two things weighing her down.

To say Fiona has big boobs would be an understatement. Fiona has huge breasts, two fun bags that are flabby and pendulous, her nipples are always pointing downward unless they’re contained. Purple stretch marks coat the pale skin of her breasts, obtained through her endless growth. Her nipples and areolas are very pink and pale, so much so they sometimes disappear in a sort of camouflage. Her areolas themselves are enormous, they take up a third of the space given on her chest.

Having such hefty floppers naturally made rising in the morning difficult, each tit had to weigh twenty five pounds. But somehow, even under the immense pain her back came under, she managed to get up, as she did now.

Sitting up right Fiona reaches for her hairbrush and starts to brush her hair while looking in the mirror on her mantle. Fiona’s face is rather plain, but not unattractive. Average, but perhaps with a bit of makeup her features could shine. Her hair is strawberry blonde and when she is standing it reaches down to her knees. She loves her hair very much, she considers it her finest feature.

Fiona is nude.

Due to having such burdensome boobs she prefers to not wear anything to bed. Seated, her sheets and blankets are pushed out by her sizable paunch. Indeed Fiona has quite the pot belly, it sticks out nearly three feet in front of her. There have been embarrassing moments where people have mistaken her for being pregnant. Asking her, “When are you due?” “My, are you expecting twins?” “You look like you’re about to pop at any moment!”

It’s a strange thing, aside from her enormous bosom and faux pregnant pot belly, Fiona is infact thin.

As she scoots off the bed she assumes full height. At six foot four Fiona is tall and gangly thin. A slender face with cheekbones, long trim limbs, with no ass to speak of, and her body is covered in freckles. Fiona cringed, moving to the kitchen, ready to make her breakfast. Each step she takes is horrendous to her back. Fifty pounds on her chest and several more in her mid-section is enough to make a difference in her back.

Why is her body so weird?

Fiona happens to come from a long line of busty women. A long time ago, in the 16th century Scottish clans, in an effort to ward off famine, began the practice of human dairying. Men would marry the women with the largest breasts and the most lactation. As the decades rolled on the selection and courting process morphed into systematic breeding, a primitive form of eugenics, where soon women were being born with the ability for longer periods of lactation and greater quantities of milk to be sold for profit.

As the centuries passed and the United Kingdom began to modernize with science and changing societal values, the practice of human dairy began to decline around the early 20th century and now in the 21st century is all but dead. 

The clans and families that once practiced it now look at it as either a family joke or a dark shameful secret. Fiona’s family, however, are one of the few families that still engage in human dairy. For the Stewart clan human dairy is a source of family pride. Stewart women are very full and bountiful when it comes to their mammaries and still sell their milk to the various alternate markets that take them.

Fiona is very much embarrassed by her family’s proud “tradition.”

To her it’s a backwards custom in this day and age for a country as advanced as the United Kingdom. Not only that but she feels such a practice is degrading, to use women as nothing more than glorified dairy cows. 

She can understand why it originated when it did, when you weren’t expected to live long, but this country is a first world country now, it’s just embarrassing that such a practice still exists, even as a shadow of what it once was. Maybe it would be more acceptable in a place like Uganda or Bangladesh, but not here!

Fiona has made her feelings clear with her family, much to their dismay. How could she? Doesn’t she care about tradition or family pride? No, she really doesn’t, she doesn’t want to be a dairy cow, she left her home and family behind to go to the University of Aberdeen, to become a professor of English Literature, and to have a much better life than her mother, aunts, and cousins ever dreamed of. To be something more than just a mere dairy cow.

As she opens the door to her refrigerator, she is greeted by a sight that causes her great conflict: five jars of milk, all her’s.

Aberdeen is an expensive city to live in. Fiona barely made ends meet and the cost of going to school is just as expensive as this small studio apartment. In order to survive and build towards a better life for herself, she has chosen to engage in human diary. She does this very reluctantly, well aware of the hypocrisy in the endeavor. But Fiona is desperate and desperation is a mighty motivator.

She takes out a slab of bacon, ready to start her breakfast. She would take the jars of milk to her contact later on today. But for now she has a hunger in her belly that needs to be sate. It didn’t take long for the bacon to be fried to perfection, dark brown and crispy she cooked half of the package, half a pound ready for her to consume.

She takes her plate of bacon, fifteen in all, to her seat. “Ahh!” Fiona lets out a loud gasp of relief  taking her seat. She really didn’t like being on her feet if she could help it, it was just too much for her back. Seated and slouched she places the plate of fatty pig meat on her belly. She puts a strip to her mouth, chewing slowly, eyes closed, savoring the salty taste, she loves bacon so much.

Five centuries of tradition have created certain standards and rules for producing the best quality milk. One of those standards involved Fiona’s diet. In order to produce top grade milk Fiona has to have a substantial amount of body fat. It’s not the average girl’s desire to let herself go and grow fat, but Fiona has no choice, her big buddha belly is the result of her diet. But Fiona can’t just eat anything she wants, there are restrictions.

She cannot eat spicy food, she’s forced to eat bland carbohydrates, greasy fatty foods, or just sweets, unable to spice them up even for flavor. Alcohol and drugs will affect the taste of her milk, as such she’s had to live a straight edge lifestyle, completely different from the average university girl her age. Putting on weight doesn’t come easy to Fiona, it all goes directly to her belly and tits, so she has to eat a ton.

“Urp!”

Fiona lets out a burp finishing her greasy plate. The carbs aren’t too bad, but you can only eat pasta and potatoes without any spice for so long, Fiona loves spicy foods so having to restrict herself bothered her. Greasy, fatty foods are much more enjoyable, flavorful, and most of all, easier to pork her up.

Rising from her seat her stomach pushes against the table, moving it nearly two inches. Fiona lets out a frustrated sigh, muttering, “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I can’t get used to being so rotund.” Now with her belly full of bacon Fiona moves to her closet, pulling out a pump contraption.

The device is made up of one machine with a large five gallon 5 gallon jug set inside it. One long tube is connected to it, the tube divided into two other tubes, ending in suction cups that will connect to her nipples. Plugging in the machine she gets herself ready. Fiona applies spirit gum to the cups, to keep them connected to her nipples. Ready to begin milking, Fiona gets down on her hands and knees, assuming the position.

Milking is always done in this posture, it’s yet another product of the standards set by centuries of traditions. Fiona can remember when she was very young, watching her mother be milked, observing her aunts, even an iconoclast like Fiona understood the importance of the milking posture. It simply had to be done this way, to do it any other way just seems wrong to her.

She switches on the machine and lets out a loud gasp and a moan.

“AH! Oh! Ohhhhh ohhh!”

The machine sends electrical charges up to her nipples, short low power that stimulate her breasts to start lactating. Creamy white milk exit her breasts and go through the tubes, collecting in the jar. “Ah! Ah! Holy shit!” Fiona grasps at the rug, continuing to groan and swear.

Being milked ranks up there in the most pleasurable things Fiona has ever done. It sits somewhere wedged between actual hard, wet, sloppy sex and carnal, sinful masturbation. Fiona squeezes her thighs together, all this stimulation her tits are getting is making her wet and moist.

She’d never admit it, Fiona would never admit that she enjoys all this. To acknowledge all this pleasure would be giving this practice praise, she was already a hypocrite for partaking in it, Fiona didn’t think she could handle the humiliation in admitting this felt fucking good. 

There’s a downside to all this though.

Filling up the jug generally takes a long time. It takes nearly a whole hour to fill up the main jug. For a busy young woman like Fiona this is a major pain. She has classes to go to, she has homework to do! But it’s all for a good cause, once she’s graduated from college she can stop milking and maybe even move far away from Scotland, perhaps emigrate to America. At least it’s pleasurable, it makes the time pass by quickly, after all, time passes when you’re having fun.

Finally the jug is filled up to the top, Fiona shudders when she hears the machine’s signifying ding. She feels as if she just had an orgasam. Perhaps she did, she’s certainly wet and sticky between her legs. “Ah! Ah!” she cries out, peeling off the suction cups slowly like a bandage.

She disconnects the jug from the machine before heaving herself up with a grunt, hauling the jug to the fridge, putting a cover over the top to keep it fresh. The jug in the fridge Fiona takes out her cooler and fills it with ice, before putting the five smaller jars of milk inside of it, the milk in the big jug would fill these smaller ones. These jars will be taken to her contact, to be put on the market, at the various alternate food stores.

Ugh, that’s right. Fiona has to go run errands today. Just the thought is enough to put an extra strain on her back and make her shiver. Thank God for her girdle, Fiona thinks to herself. Her maternity girdle, without it she couldn’t do anything, it acts like a third bra, giving herself more support. She finds it in her closet amongst her pile of clothes. The relief her girdle gives her, doesn’t come without it’s own issues.

Made out of heavy materials, it would overheat during warm weather and make her sweaty and uncomfortable. It took forever to put on, as is evident by Fiona’s current struggle. She hops from one foot to the other, trying to tuck her tummy into it, her breasts flopping about, slapping heavily against her stomach, those too will soon be contained with her triple H cup bra. Another problem is the way her girdle tightens on her after she gorges herself on a huge meal, it makes it just as hard to take off as it is to put on.

But finally her girdle is on, her bra is on, her clothes, capri jeans and a pink sleeveless top with the words “Keep Calm and Princess On” on the chest, are finally on. It may have taken nearly two hours, but Fiona is finally ready to start her day.

She huffs and puffs leaving the elevator. Her being thin, apart from her belly and boobs, should not be seen as an indicator of fitness. She’s just as unfit as the next fat girl. Just standing in the elevator tired her out, her fitness is truly sad and pathetic.

As she approaches the court yard of her apartment complex she can hear the sound of bagpipes playing. Great, she just had to run into him, Fiona bemoans in her head as she sees who's playing.

Shane McDougal.

At 21 Shane is three years older than Fiona. They see a lot of each other, passing by each other at the University, as well as living in this building. Fiona looks Shane over, he’s wearing his Doc Martins, an actual honest to goodness kilt, and a Motorhead t-shirt covered by his heavy leather biker’s jacket. 

His lips are puffed up to the mouthpiece of his pipes, his eyes closed in concentration as he blows into his instrument. He opens his eyes, seeing Fiona with her arms crossed, tucked under her gigantic funbags, her eyes glaring at him.

“Well good morning sunshine.” Fiona is unamused by his greeting “Shane, do you have to play those things? At this hour?” Shane rolls his brown eyes “Yeah Fiona, I do. I’ve got to practice. Better to do it out here than next door.” Now it was Fiona’s turn to roll her green eyes. “Really Shane? Bagpipes? And a kilt? Could you be anymore of a stereotype?” 

Fiona laughs at him, but Shane brushed it off. “It’s tradition, bagpipes happen to be a source of pride for us McDougals. I doubt a girl like you has any idea about pride or tradition.” 

Fiona’s jaw drops at this accusation. With what she goes through every day, the very nerve! “Besides, what’s a lass like you doing talking about stereotypes? Yeah, I may be playing bagpipes while wearing a kilt...but at least I’m not a ginger! What the hell kind of hair is that? Who the bloody hell do you think you are? That girl from Brave?”

Fiona’s eyes grew wide and her blood boils as Shane continued his verbal assault. “I mean, look at that hair! It’s down to your knees! You need a serious hair cut! I hope the hair on your front is much more trimmed than the hair on your back!” Shane crudely pats the front of his kilt, making Fiona gasp at the gesture. She quickly slaps him, “You asshole! Don’t talk about me like that!”

She had been standing for quite a bit and was quickly getting tired. She couldn’t stand that she had wasted her energy on this ass. Shane rubbed his cheek, snorting, “Yeah, yeah, I hate you too. Now just go, alright? I gotta practice.” Ugh, how could he be so nonchalant about this! He put his mouth back to his pipes and started to play again, Fiona stomping out the court yard gate and into her car.

As she grew and grew her car became smaller and smaller. Her waist exceeded the space in her seat, the space between her stomach and the wheel was quickly vanishing. There have been occasions where her mountainous mammaries would push against the wheel and honk the horn, a very embarrassing moment in her day. But she must endure the occasional embarrassment. It’s all working towards her goal, to be done with milking once and for all. 

Aberdeen is an old city, it’s foundation long before the Stewart Clan came about. Architecture going back to Shakespeare, roads a gift from the Romans long ago. How many have crossed the cobblestone roads? From foot to horse to car? Fiona’s just one more part of it now.

Despite how old Aberdeen is, it hasn’t been spared by the savage hand of modern times. Fiona drove past other motorists, on roads made since the War of the Roses, paved long past the Edwardian Era. She passes by drive thrus, the products of the United States. With the proliferation of American fast food cuisine, America’s mother Great Britain should be ever so proud. Fiona knew that she would be paying them a visit as they passed them by.

Fiona pulls into a park. Aberdeen is an oil city, the oil money brought lots of prosperity, including the building of parks like this. However, with the good times came the cruel avarice that swept through the city. It’s the reason why the standard of living is so high and why Fiona has chosen to become a human dairy cow. It’s why she is here, taking the cooler out of her car and approaching a young Indian woman sitting at a picnic table.

“I’ve got the milk right here, Sophie.”

Sophie Dutt smiles at Fiona showing perfectly white teeth, her chocolate brown skin contrasts Fiona’s vanilla white skin. Her black hair is put into a single braid, her face is just as trim as Fiona’s, but with a sharp jaw line. She is dressed very professional, a sharp black suit compliments her figure. She opens the cooler to see the jars of milk inside.

“Very good, Miss Stewart.” She speaks with a distinct Punjabi accent. She opens one container and pours just a bit of it into her palm, taking a sip. She smiles, eyes closed, savoring the taste. “Excellent flavor, Miss Stewart.”

Fiona moans, she could never get used to this process, how Sophie would test taste her milk. “I-I really wish you wouldn’t do that. It really creeps me out, I can’t imagine tasting my own milk.” “You mean you haven’t tasted your milk?” Sophie closes the jar and puts it back in the cooler.

“Tell me Miss Stewart, do you like sweet things? Cake? Ice Cream? Doughnuts? Biscuits? Do you have a sweet tooth?” Fiona blushes, her hand going to her pot belly contained in her girdle. Fiona does have a sweet tooth. Because she’s unable to indulge her desire for spicy food, she has to go in the opposite direction.

“A bit. It’s making me fat.”

Sophie giggles, reaching over she pats and rubs Fiona’s tummy, making Fiona blush even harder. “Yes I can tell. You’re getting very fat, having a fat body is important for milking, why you just get heavier every time I see you. But tell me, do you know why we have sweet tooths? Why we love sweets and sugar and why it tends to be our comfort food?”

Fiona bit her lip as her stomach was stroked, so embarrassed she couldn’t even swat Sophie’s hand away. She weakly responded “N-No I don’t.” Sophie played with her stomach, lifting it with her hands, stroking it, patting it before she explains.

“It’s psychology. You see, our earliest memory of food and taste is our mother’s milk. Mother’s milk is very sweet, so we tend to associate the sweetness of things like cake and pie to it and with that comfort.”

Her lips turned into a smile, saying “Your milk happens to be just like mother’s milk, nice and sweet and comforting.” Fiona gulps as Sophie pats her lower pot belly “Sweet and comforting huh? I guess that’s why my milk is so popular.” “It is!” Sophie starts to rub Fiona’s belly with both hands now.

The Indian capitalist rubs Fiona’s stomach slowly, intently. “Your milk is very popular with my clients, they can’t get enough of it. It’s really a shame there’s so few of you human cows around, the demand is so high, yet there’s such a low supply. So low in fact, I can charge as much as I want, and you get a very generous cut!”

Sophie spoke with a tone of greed in her voice, she values Fiona greatly. Fiona finally backed up from Sophie’s molesting hands, starting to ask “About that-” Before being cut off by Sophie shoving 3 £50 notes in her hand, 235 in total. 

“And here is that very generous cut! Just keep producing that milk of yours Fiona. You're like my golden goose, laying your golden eggs.” Fiona rolls her eyes, “Gee, what a wonderful comparison. If that’s the case, the value isn’t in me, but my so called golden eggs right?”

Sophie nods, “Good, you get it! This is just business, Fiona, and your milk is the product. You just keep it up and the richer both of us become.” Sophie checks her phone, “Well, it’s time for lunch.” She gives Fiona’s tummy one more pat, “I bet you’re hungry too. Would you like to join me at my mother’s curry house, Miss Stewart? We can talk more there and you can get a good meal.”

Fiona pouts. She absolutely loves curry and other Indian cuisine. But with her diet she can’t even have the mildest curry. “I-I can’t. I’m on the weirdest diet I’ve ever heard of. Carbs, fats, and sweets in large amounts, but absolutely nothing spicy or sour and I can’t drink or smoke, so we wouldn’t even be able to have a drink.” Sophie gives a sympathetic look, saying “Oh dear, I completely forgot about that. Very unfortunate for you.”

Sophie packs the jars of milk into a cooler of her own, telling Fiona “In any case, thank you for your continued partnership Miss Stewart. I sincerely hope it lasts a long time. Until next time!” 

She blew Fiona a kiss before taking the cooler. Fiona takes a deep breath and lets out a long sigh. “What a bloody awful woman.” Sophie is a mixed bag for her, she can be very amiable and nice, she pays well for her milk but...she’s so grabby!

She’s always touching and feeling and...making her uncomfortable. She treats her as if she really were a prize dairy cow!

Her stomach grumbles and rumbles, interrupting her thoughts. She hurried to her car, thoughts of burgers and fries filling her mind. As she drove to the Loch Ness Burger, an establishment almost certainly made to cater to American tourists, she made sure to sate her hunger pangs with treats from her purse, eating while driving. It isn’t supposed to be for her continued fattening, although it did have that benefit.

Fiona absolutely hates, hates, hates having to feel hunger, so she packs her purse with peanut butter cups, cheap chocolate bars, caramel candies, toffee, jelly babies, as well as little bags of oily crisps. Fiona knows none of this will do the trick, that this won’t have the same effect as the upcoming burger feast, but at least she won’t be hungry!

Out of all the sweets in her purse, she loved the peanut butter cups the most. She loves peanut butter in general, but when combined with chocolate, it creates a savage beast of flavor. Such flavor contained in very convenient small size. She can just pop them into her mouth so easily and it doesn’t interfere with her driving. Fiona blushed, remembering an incident two weeks ago.

She’d been eating a massive burger, the biggest burger Loch Ness offered, while driving home. The burger was so big, it required more attention than she should have been giving. It was a big distraction and, well...she nearly hit another car. She missed it just in time, but the experience shocked and shamed her. What a greedy glutton she’s becoming! That’s why she switched to candy, it proved to be more manageable.

“Five jumbo Nessie burgers, extra bacon, extra cheese, hold the peppers, six jumbo Nessie fries and two large chocolate Nessie shakes!”

The shakes are easy enough to manage. Just drive and suck, sit and suck, suck suck suck, like a real cow at a feeding line. The Loch Ness Burger bag sat in the passenger seat to her left, the bottom of the bag damp with grease. 

The Scots have always loved deep fried food, it’s been said the Scots that immigrated to the American South introduced that region to it’s love affair with deep fried anything. While it’s easy to understand why Fiona isn’t tearing into her Nessie burgers just yet, she doesn’t want a collusion for one, there is another reason.

Fiona’s girdle contained her belly and gave her support at the price of certain comforts. One of which is her eating habits. She can’t pig out while she’s wearing the thing. When she does so the girdle tightens and becomes like a torture device, as well as hard to take off. It’s even worse on warm days because then she’s sweating like a Scottish sow. The shakes aren’t too bad, but if she’s not careful and doesn’t pace herself, they can have the same effect.

After getting home (managing to avoid Shane), Fiona began taking off her girdle. Luckily she didn’t give in and pork out in her car, the process of removing the girdle is easier than putting it back on. She peels it slowly down her belly. She unclasps her bra and her pendulous breasts flop down, jiggling all over. Pulling off her panties Fiona is finally nude.

And ready to feast.

She had waited for this moment, all through traffic that Loch Ness Burger bag had been teasing her, mocking her, the inanimate bag knowing that it’s fate would not be had in the car. Nessie burgers are thick, with thick patties that contain enough grease to make the buns damp, with three strips of bacon to give it a nice salty flavor, six slices of cheese melted on top of each other, with juicy tomatoes, copious amounts of lettuce, and ordinarily peppers for spice. 

Fiona held the first Nessie in her hand, her jaw opening wide to take a big bite. The greasy fatty flavors of the patty, bacon, and cheese mix into a perfect storm of flavor. One bite and then another, one more, again and again. She’s really getting into it, the hunger in her belly demands it so. A ravenous bite and a mixture of ketchup and mayo is pushed out and land on top of her left breast.

It’s not her intention to eat like a slob. But with the way her stomach is yelling at her, she knew it was only inevitable that her eating wouldn’t be ladylike. Which is why she stripped out of her clothes. It would just make things easier. With two more bites she finishes her first one before moving on to the next.

Loch Ness went above and beyond trying to emulate the American style. These burgers are just so huge, but for a gobbler like Fiona has become, they’re just perfect. It’s quite the sight, to see Fiona’s mouth opened so wide, her cheekbones and jaw stretched to the max to accommodate the bites she’s taking. It is quite baffling to watch her, like her stomach’s in control, as if the rest of her gangly thin body is just attached to it, and not the other way around.

The second burger went down, more food dropping onto her chest. Her milky skin becomes a canvas for the various sauces, painting a slovenly picture. After the third one Fiona slows down, her belly full of meat. But even then she carried on, dumping all six packages of fries onto a plate and started to graze like the lazy milk cow she had turned into. She sat on her couch, slouched with her belly pushed out, putting fries in her mouth in a most slothful way.

One last fry and all the food is gone...with the exception of the stray food on her own body. Looking down at her chest Fiona is bemused. “I’m so filthy.” How she’s been able to let herself go and grow bloated and fat, as well as make a mess of herself, is something a past her would never have believed in a million years. 

“But it’s all for these.” She lifts her tits with her arms, her breasts flop and quivers over her thin arms as she lifts them up to her face, eating the bits of food off herself and licking her chest clean, an act she felt so naughty doing, but did it anyways because she could.

Fiona slowly rubs her stomach, her hunger finally sated. At that moment her phone buzzes. She lets out a petulant whine at the phone’s vibrations, it’s a reminder that it’s time for milking. She has put her milking on a strict timetable and even now she’s pulling the pump out. Why on earth is she doing this, she thinks, on a full stomach at that!

She assembles the tubes, once more applying the spirit gum.

Fiona assumes the position once more, getting do her hands and knees. Ordinarily this wouldn’t be such a problem. Oh sure, with the way her belly and tits hanged would cause her back pain, but the pleasure that came after acts almost like a pain killer. But that’s on an empty belly, a full belly spikes the back pain, she lets out a low moan, distorting her face in pain.

She flips on the switch and immediately feels the electrical charges. “Oh God! Oh fuck!” Fiona swears as milk is manipulated into the jar. “AH! Ah, so good!” She curls her toes and grips her hands. Slowly the jar starts to fill as Fiona is pumped.

Her pussy pulsates and moistens, sharp bolts of pleasure overtake her body. “Nnnnnmmpph, so much!” She pants like an animal in heat. The rate of electrical charges quickens, making her let out squeals of pleasure, Fiona lost in her own world of pleasure. As her body is washed in pleasure, Fiona starts to squirm, thrusting her body, her breasts slap against her belly, making loud meaty sounds. 

The milk in the jar rises to the top as Fiona squeezes her thighs tightly. The buzzing sound is
made as the machine turns itself off. Fiona shudders, she’s had another orgasam. Panting Fiona peels the cups off her nipples before getting up with a moan, moving to her bed where she collapses. It’s rather fitting for her new lifestyle as a human dairy cow, to fall under sleeping spells after a good grazing.

Fiona yawns rolling onto her side, falling into a deep slumber. As she slept her subconscious paints a scene. The Highlands stick out, seemingly touching the sky as they overlook a green field where there are various cows. The cows are happily munching on the grass, rich and green, filling their stomachs. 

Amongst the cows is Fiona, on her hands and knees.

Fiona slowly crawls along the pasture, her subconscious giving her a much larger form. To put it bluntly Fiona is fat, absolutely massive with beef. Her flanks have expanded into flabby rolls, she’s gotten six feet wider. Her forearms are broad and round, while enormous pillows of fat hung from her upper arms, every movement she makes causes them to jiggle wildly. Her legs are spread out from the sheer amount of adipose inside of them and her arse is huge, blubbery, and wide, it jiggled while she moved, just like everything else.

Fiona moves slowly, her belly and breasts, already fat and heavy, now drag across the grass like a prisoner's ball and chain. Moving about she hears a distant voice. It vaguely resembled a woman’s, cooing at Fiona saying “What a good little cow you are. Getting so big my baby calf, keep eating and getting fat.” 

The encouraging voice influenced Fiona to keep eating, taking bigger mouthfuls of grass. The more she ate the more she grew, her collection of beef increasing at a fast rate of minutes. It was then she heard an annoying sound, the savage noise made her raise her triple chinned face from the grass: Bagpipes.

She saw Shane McDougal walking atop the stone wall in front of her, clad in a kilt that kept on changing colors and his leather jacket that covered his shirtless body, all the while playing his obnoxious foul bagpipes. He opens his eyes and sees Fiona, putting down his pipes he laughs at her. “Ha! I knew you had some big titties.” He began to say before hopping off the wall “But my, you’ve just got big everything, don’tcha?” 

Fiona couldn’t see it, but she could feel hands, multiple hands that didn’t belong to Shane, feel up her body, stroking her beef. Shane came around to her front and started to feed Fiona Loch Ness burgers, massively huge compared to the average jumbo size, so big that Shane had to hold it with both hands. With each bite Fiona grew bigger, her rolls doubling, her chins multiplying.

With the way of dreams Fiona was having an almost out of body experience, as if she’s watching herself grow fat, fat, fat…

------------

“Fuck! I can’t believe I’m so late!”

It turned out Fiona’s initial food coma extended into actual sleep. She didn’t get the chance to set her alarm, so deep was she in that dream about the cows. By the time she woke up it was already near noon. And now here she is hurrying on campus, huffing and puffing, trying desperately to get to her class, hoping to not have missed much. In her haste she forgot a few things.

Her girdle being one of them.

She just didn’t have the time to tackle that struggle. Fiona didn’t even have the time to do her morning milking, her whole schedule’s thrown off! Moving her feet as quickly as she could she felt the impact of not wearing her girdle. Fiona felt the full weight of her stomach pushing down on her, the heft stabbing into the small of her back like a hot knife. Thank God she at least put her bra on, otherwise the pain would just be overbearing.

Finally in the building she wanted she happened to pass by Shane, in his tight jeans, his Clash t-shirt with an obnoxious skull pendant hanging from his neck, and American Converse sneakers. Ugh, she thought, not him, she didn’t want to deal with him, not now! She’ll just pass him by, yeah that’ll do, she’ll just ignore him. Passing him by he gave her a knowing smirk, it made her concerned.

What did he know? Did he know about her missing girdle? Is it that obvious? Was it...could it be he knew about her milking? No time for this, no time for paranoia, Fiona powers past him, opening the door to the lecture hall.

“Well, welcome to the class, Miss Stewart. Don’t worry, we’re only in the halfway point.” The Professor addressed Fiona who’s red faced and out of breath. “I understand how hard it is for someone expecting. Please take a seat.” A chorus of hushed snickers emit from the rows of seats. The Professor’s absent minded enough to simply think Fiona’s pregnant with her big perky belly and huge bed pillow mounds, but the rest of the class knew better, that Fiona’s just a fatty.

Oh how she hates these seats. These seats were not meant to be sat in by the obese or human cows for that matter. She could just manage to squeeze in with her girdle, but without it there was no chance, she’d have to lift the table part of the desk up. 

With it up it allows Fiona’s belly to sit comfortably. Thank God for maternity jeans, they don’t cut into her flesh like a cruel vicious beast would cut into it’s prey. However, there’s just too much belly to write and take notes, so she just sits there, fat and trying to catch her breath.

Pay attention at least, Fiona thinks, just listen to the Professor. There’s no reason to just sit like a dumb cow. Just pay attention, don’t blink, don’t you dare blink, don’t miss the important things the Professor is talking about. This analysis of Hans Christian Anderson’s work is too important to miss.

She tried to pay attention she really did. But she felt her innards churn and bubble. Her stomach produced a very loud gurgle, which made Fiona’s face turn a shade of pink. Oh God, did anyone hear that? Her stomach rumble was certainly loud, it would have embarrassed her greatly if anyone heard her gut’s petulant whine.

She crosses her thin gangly legs, lunch isn’t for a while and she didn’t get to pack any candy in her purse. She’ll just have to sit here and wait, hopefully her stomach won’t be so loud. Her stomach growls loudly like a vulgar animal. So much for that.

Fiona closes her eyes, shutting them is the only way to ignore the shifting eyes of her classmates and to shield herself from the embarrassment. Her whiny petulant stomach lets out one more rumble in it’s series of temper tantrums. Oh she’s so hungry! She felt like she could eat the entire cafeteria clean.

But she really just wanted curry. The no spice rule is the biggest thing about her diet that breaks her back, aside from her massive milk tits. She loves all kinds of curry and would it eat all day long if she could. But no, she’s forbidden from enjoying spicy foods, who knew that Capsaicin would affect the taste of milk that much. Sometimes it would be enough to make her cry into her pillow at night.

Possibly the best aspect of curry is the rice. You can do so much with simple white rice, it doesn’t matter if it’s a spicy or mild curry. Her favorite curry is lamb vindaloo, which is a spicy curry. The spice of the sauce tickles her lips, at times it even tortures it. But the flavor seduces her into putting more in her mouth.

Fiona prefers lamb over chicken. Not that there’s anything wrong with chicken, she loves fried chicken. But when it comes to vindaloo lamb is far superior. Lamb is just so flavorful, very rich in it’s taste. Plus it’s so soft and tender, making it very chewable, Fiona has a ball simply chewing the lamb bits.

But all that can’t happen. Not while she’s on this diet and being a big fat milk cow. Fiona shakes her fhin face, chiding herself to stop thinking about food! All it’ll do is make her stomach continue to bitch and moan. Not only that, but it’s distracting her from the Professor’s lecture about the use of symbolism in Anderson’s work and she needed to pay attention!

Fiona has found since becoming a human milk cow, that time passes slowly when she’s not eating. Her whole way of things have been thrown into disarray today, she lacked her girdle, she lacked the candy in her purse, it was a complete miracle that she even found clean clothes to wear. To top everything else she has to meet up with Sophie later today and hand the awful woman yesterday’s milk. This is a horrible day.

At long last the lecture is over with, Fiona hopes she can remember everything that was touched on by the Professor. Fiona grunts as she begins the act of rising from her seat. The girdle wouldn’t have made a difference in this struggle, her belly just had too much jelly. It’s much too round and heavy for it’s own good. “Ummmmph!” Fiona grunts, finally getting to her feet, a stab of pain returning to her back.

As Fiona moved out the lecture hall towards the cafeteria she couldn’t help putting her hand to her stomach. Much like a pregnant woman she did it for balance, to offset her heavy tummy, a task her girdle would usually take care of. But her mind turned to lunch. What would she want to eat today? Oh she’s become such a glutton, Fiona chides herself, she’s just so hungry!

Arriving at the cafeteria she didn’t know just what to eat. Burgers and fries? Maybe a baked potato. Perhaps a parfait? What about pizza? There is no way around it, she’ll just have to listen to her gut, let it lead the way.

But was that really such a good idea?

After all, if she listened to her gut, there’s no telling where it would take her. Like a plastic bag caught in an updraft, her stomach would take her to so many places. Places like the curry stand. No! No, no, no, she must use her brain, not her stomach, to make decisions. She has to eat something else, not something sweet, she’s had plenty of sweets lately, she wanted something greasy and carby.

Pizza it is.

It starts with just two large slices of cheese. She doesn’t want to give the appearance of being a pig, let alone the huge milk cow she is now, two is enough to start with. Isn’t cheese just the best? Fiona thinks so, she loves cheese on just about everything, especially on her pizza. Folding a slice she puts it to her mouth, her thin face in obvious pleasure.

Without her girdle she didn’t feel nearly constrained and didn’t pull back from her eating. She finished her two slices quickly and rose from her seat. Her belly pushed the table six inches forward, which made her blush. Back and forth she went from the pizza bar to her seat carrying two more slices each time.

By the time she finished her fourth plate, having glutted down eight in total, she was starting to feel full. Reaching the pizza bar she saw there’s only two slice left. Only two slices? Who ate all the pizza? It suddenly hit Fiona just how much of a glutton she had been.

So many eyes must have seen her going back and forth to get more food. Her gluttony couldn’t have been more obvious. Everyone could see her for what she is. Everyone could see Fiona’s a big fat cow. Her face turns a shade of red upon realising this, scattering off to her car to escape. 

Later on in the day Fiona brought her milk to Sophie. She had to return to her apartment to get it, but now the cooler sat in the passenger seat. She pulls into the park, seeing Sophie at her usual spot. Sophie sees Fiona pull up and smiles widely. It couldn’t be seen under her Ray Bans, but she has a distinct twinkle in her eye, seeing her big cow get out of her cow and waddle towards her.

“Miss Stewart! You’re a bit late, are you having difficulties today?” Sophie’s voice carried a hint of concern, something Fiona doubts is genuine. “I’ve been having a rough day, it’s thrown me off.” Fiona tells her, Sophie just nodding as she opens the cooler.

“I’ve had days like that believe it or not. When things just don’t go my way. Shit...happens, and it’s all up to us to just carry on. Keep calm and carry on, yes?” Sophie’s words would have meant something to Fiona, but Sophie just had to test her milk, making her cringe. 

“W-What did I tell you about tasting my milk?” Sophie giggled, Fiona’s sweet flavor still on the tip of her tongue, “But Miss Stewart, how else am I supposed to gauge the quality of your milk?”

Fiona huffs, tucking her arms under her bosom, “Well, you could at least do it while I’m not here.” Sophie shakes her head, “It’s much easier this way. Just indulge me, okay?” Fiona just sighs as Sophie giggles onces more as she puts the lid back on, “I just love that word, indulge. It’s such a naughty little word.”

Sophie extends her hands, touching Fiona’s stomach with Fiona once more becoming paralysed by embarrassment. “You’ve been very indulgent haven’t you? Eating and eating and growing like a good little cow.” Fiona groans, “Please stop Sophie! I don’t like it!” Sophie smiles as she ceased patting and petting Fiona’s beef “I’m very sorry Miss Stewart, that’s very unprofessional of me, isn’t it?” Fiona narrows her eyes, “I’d say! I’d call it harassment!”

“Hah!” Sophie laughs before adding, “Did you know there’s human dairy in India too?” Fiona raises a ginger eyebrow “Oh? I never would have thought of that. Aren’t cows suppose to be sacred in India?” 

Sophie nods, “Yes, but even then females have been bred for milking, it’s just out of necessity. In all honesty this country’s attitude towards the practice is just way too Victorian, the reality is we all need milk.” 

Fiona wanted to say something, wanted to throw this depraved, savage practice into Sophie’s face. But’s been a long day. A long, tiresome, horrible day and she’s in no mood for a debate. She’s put much thought into this practice she’s found herself in, so much time in her mind spent on human dairy. 

She could write a paper. She could write a paper on this practice and bring it up to the world, spread the word about this medieval, backwards “art.” But that’s for another day, another time where she’s not feeling fat and she’s not struggling to breath just from standing.

“Anyways…” Fiona swallows her disgust, wanting to move on “,,,I suppose it’s all for a good cause.” At that moment Sophie once more puts 235 pounds in her hand, “You’re bloody well right! I get paid, you get paid, business and profits the best cause in the world!” Slowly closing Fiona’s hand she adds, “Money makes the world go round.”

Such a vile woman, Fiona thought, she was positive if Sophie removed her Ray Bans she’d have 

signs for eyes.

“Money makes the world go round?” Fiona rolls her eyes “That sounds pretty greedy Sophie, if you don’t mind me saying.” To which Sophie beams, absolutely glowing as she crows, “I love greed! Greed get’s things done, greed motivates us into doing what needs to be done! Without greed our whole system would collapse!”

Fiona shakes her head, “Sophie, I just don’t agree with you. While I appreciate the money you give me for my milk, I don’t have the same mindset as you.” Sophie gazes at Fiona with an amused look, perhaps judging her as being naive, “That’s perfectly fine Miss Stewart, not everyone will see the same way.” Sophie looks at her phone, her mouth turning into a frown. 

“Oh dear, it looks like I’m running late too. I’d really love to stay, but I’ve really got to go! I hope you have a better day tomorrow, please take care!” She extends her hand giving Fiona one more belly rub, seemingly forgetting what Fiona had told her. After Sophie left Fiona took a breath of relief. “I’ve got to get out of this,” she mutters to herself as she gets into her car.

Fiona was burnt out by the time she got back home. What a horrid day, she made sure to set her alarm to correct her mistake. Setting her phone on her bedside table she started taking off her clothes, dropping her jeans to her thin ankles, peeling off her shirt and unhooking her bra, allowing her milk tanks to breath. As she kicks her clothes aside she caught a glimpse at her bottom in the mirror. Fiona has no ass to speak of, being so tall and thin, the quick glimpse turns into a long stare as Fiona observes something different that causes her to raise an eyebrow.

Do her eyes deceive her?

Her bottom is looking plump in her panties. Not overly plump, but there is a definite softness. Fiona reaches behind her, feeling her ass up with her hands. She rubs her hands all over her bottom, her tush has grown plush for sure. She slaps her right buttock and gasps at the feeling of her increased fanny.

Her face shifts into amusement.

Losing her figure and turning into a fatty is one of the many aspects of this lifestyle she hates. Getting her body back is one of the many things she plans to do once she gets out of this racket. Having a fat ass though, after having just her tits and belly balloon without end, is very much amusing to her. Now she won’t be so god awfully disproportionate, she thinks to herself as she stares at her rounding rump. Hah, she can actually call it a rump now!

Or the very least the start of one. Like a planted seed, given time and love and especially food, it would grow and blossom into something grand. But in the mean time Fiona’s having fun. 

Fiona grinned at her ass as she bent over and thrusts her ass out, shaking it left to right, her dangling udders mimicking the movements of her rump, moving like the pendulum in a grandfather clock. Fiona giggles and snorts a bit, she’s having so much fun shaking her beginner booty, she even finds herself humming the tune to Sir Mix-A-Lot’s vulgar magnum opus “Baby Got Back.”

The more Fiona shook her ass the louder her humming got. Sir Mix-A-Lot’s foul rap was building in her head, growing, inflating, until finally climaxing as Fiona yells out “Baby Got Back!” before slapping her right buttocks sharply.

Fiona laughs, before huffing and puffing, all this dancing and shaking her booty tore into her slug like fitness. She collapses into her love seat, her lungs wheezing, inflating and deflating at such a rate Fiona was sure she might crack a rib. Even her ass ached from shaking it so much, her underutilized hip muscles sore from the sudden unexpected bout of exercise.

Such a pitiful weak body.

It was as if in all of her dancing and prancing and shaking her beginner booty, celebrating the prospect of no longer being freakishly disportionate, she had ignored the signals her body sent to her. The signals at first were subtle but the more she danced the less subtle they became. It all lead to where she is now, lying in her love set struggling to breath, trying to get oxygen into her overworked body. It took her five minutes to catch her breath. Her stomach suddenly piques up, delivering unkind savage hunger pangs.

As she rose from her seat and slowly walked to the kitchen something came over her. She rubs her stomach, her hanging flabby milk udders slap against it as she moves. She’s been milking for over a year now. 

Her body ballooning in that time by the required fattening diet was not something she enjoyed very much. It wasn’t just becoming fat, it was just how disproportionate and uncomfortable she felt, all her weight went to this massive pot belly and these floppy heavy milk filled boobs.

But now she’s growing a fat ass, Fiona smiles at the thought. She’s growing a big fat ass. No longer will she be a big bellied, big tittied freak. She’s growing a big bottom that will even out her body. It makes her excited, delighted of the prospect of getting even bigger and eating everything in sight was becoming very appealing.

Teehee, she giggles, eat everything in sight, what an entertaining notion. She pulls out a package of chocolate chip cookies and starts to munch. One cookie, two cookies, three cookies went down, the cookies thick and easily breakable, crumbs falling onto the kitchen floor.

Before she even knew it she had plowed through the first sleeve, starting on the second. My, my, my, how she can eat, she can eat an entire sleeve of cookies.

But what about two?

Yes, two goes by just as fast as the first and so does the third. She disposes the package before moving through the pantry. More cookies? No, something else. Fiona went to the fridge and found plenty of things for her to eat. 

She found a cup of creamy tomato soup she had to finish, she puts it in the microwave to heat up. In the meantime she finds a parfait cup filled with instant chocolate pudding. She grabs a spoon and put the cup to her mouth, hungrily shoving spoonfuls of rich, lush chocolate into her mouth. 

By the time her spoon was scratching the bottom of her cup the microwave beeps, her soup ready. Opening the microwave and grasping the cup she finds the cup is too hot, so she’ll wait for it to cool down.

While she waits for her soup to cool she might as well help herself to some ice cream she pulls from her freezer. Double deluxe chocolate. She takes it to her seat, wanting to ease the burden her floppy udders put on her back.

Using the same spoon she used for her pudding she dug into the cold fattening goodness, spoonfuls going down her gullet. She grinds her butt into the chair as she feasts, giggling around a mouthful she remarks, “I hope this goes to my ass!”

She finished her ice cream within minutes, chocolate ringing her mouth she turns to her soup, now at a perfect temperature. She adds a dash of salt before spooning mouthfuls of creamy tomato soup. She had picked it up from a deli two days ago and it was still good. Thick and creamy, the deli made it the best, it slides down her throat with ease, filling her with a warm nostalgic feeling.

A loaf of bread accompanies her soup, Fiona dips the slices of bread into her soup, soaking them up with scrumptious creamy goodness. Before Fiona knew it she finished the whole loaf and was now looking at the empty soup cup, rubbing her swollen belly, her hand bracing against her right dangling nipple.

She wanted more. 

This is the first time Fiona has ever overeaten in a ravenous manner. Before she overate to adhere to the strict rules her lifestyle set, going through the motions. Now she’s overeating for the sake of overeating, she isn’t eating because she has to, she’s eating because she wants to! 

Fiona continues to go through her fridge, she ate entire packages of cheese, 25 slices down her gullet, she drank cartons of cream meant for her morning coffee, white cream leaking onto her milk tanks as she chugs. Looking through her pantry for something good to eat, Fiona can’t find anything else.

She hasn’t been grocery shopping in quite a while and all that’s left are just basic materials for baking. Fiona doesn’t have the patience to deal with baking right now, she wants to feast and gorge! As she tries to think if what to do an idea comes to mind: Take out! She has plenty of `Sophie money from yesterday and today, it would be more than enough to cover some Chinese!

----------

White rice is such a wonderful thing. Just about anything can be done with it. In this case, the rice Fiona ordered had been coated with sweet sauce. The box containing the 25 eggrolls now lay discarded on the ground, as well as numerous other boxes that once housed rice. In the love seat sat Fiona, stuffed to the brim like a Thanksgiving turkey.

“Burrrp!”

A belch rises, escaping her mouth that’s ringed with sweet sauce. The sticky orange sauce also coats her naked belly and tits. Fiona is slouched in her seat, her lungs doing their best to breath. But her belly is full of Mandarin pork and her tits haven’t been milked yet, they’re heavy and bloated, weighing her down with their heft.

She raises her fingers to her mouth, coating them with the sauce from her mouth before proceeding to lick and suck them. She looks down at her stomach, it sticks out farther than even the most pregnant of tummies, she sees it’s also coated with sticky orange sauce.

She mutters to herself, “I need a shower.” One more burp escapes her lips, she feels so bloated and heavy, she really over did it this time. She curses a blasphemy under her breath at the recurring back pain as she rises from her seat. Fiona whimpers, the pain stabbing her lower back as she looks towards the bathroom door, she didn’t know if she could handle standing in the shower for very long. She decided to change her plan.

Fiona pulls a chair up to the kitchen sink and sat down, the thought of her decreasing mobility never crossing her mind as she pulls her cotton panties off. Reaching for a sponge she lathers it up with soap and water before giving herself a sponge bath. She squirms a bit in her chair as the warm water washes over her.

She scrubs her breasts, lifting up one milk udder it quivers and oozes over her hand as she cleans under it, before doing the same with the other. Just trying to wash her flabby knockers is difficult, they proved to be unwieldy to hold, especially as soaped up as they are.

Moving from her big floppers she turns her attention to her stomach. Fiona slowly rubs the sponge over the circumference of her round, round tummy. She remembers back to class when the Professor mistook her for pregnant. 

With how far it stuck out, somehow defying gravity, it’s an easy mistake to make. Her belly even had stretch marks like an expecting mother, light pink marks coat her stomach, much like the deep purple marks on her breasts, she squeezes the sponge and moans as the water rolls down her stomach to her pussy.

Having herself an erotic washing experience Fiona is all clean. She sits up from her chair and grabs the bathrobe she had put on for the delivery boy. Such a comfy robe, especially for one as naked as Fiona is. She moves back to her love seat, plopping back down she closes her eyes in relaxation.

At that moment there’s a knock on her door. Fiona stirs, what in the world? Who could that be? It’s about six o’clock, it’s getting late. A voice came from outside, “Fiona, it’s me!”

It’s her mother, Doris Stewart.

Fiona quickly sits up, the painful stuffed feeling and her general back pain disappearing in her excitement, “I’m coming mum!” she hurried to open the door, to see Doris standing before her.

Genetics is truly a marvelous thing, the two women bore such a striking resemblance to each other. They share many physical features, both of them have freckles, and the same chin, eyes, and hair color. But there are things separating mother and daughter, preventing them from being complete clones of each other.

One such thing is the age between them, Doris having a few more wrinkles on her face, some crow’s feet around her eyes, and her strawberry blonde was fading in color. The other difference is height, while Doris stands at five foot eight at full height, the height of the average Scottish woman, her daughter Fiona took after her father and stands taller at six foot three.

Fiona’s lips turn into big smile as she exclaims “Mummy!” before giving her a big hug, wrapping her long thin arms around her. While she hugs her Fiona couldn’t help but blush, feeling the other things she physically shares with her mum, notably her mother’s stomach and breasts. 

Her mum had been a human dairy cow before her and had the enormous stomach to prove it, it pushed against Fiona’s as she hugs her. Her mother’s breasts were also large and floppy, kept in check by a massive bra and girdle she was obviously wearing under her clothes, the motherly mammaries brush against her own. Fiona broke the big hug, inviting her in, “Please, come in! Forgive the mess, I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Well, I was in town to do some things and I just decided I should come and visit you!” Doris explains as she enters Fiona’s apartment, Fiona getting a better look at her mother. Doris wore a loose white skirt and a blue top that was covered by a jean jacket.

Doris has a bit of a waddle to her walk as unlike her daughter she’s quite the butterball, Fiona’s natural thinness most definitely came from her father, she’s nothing like her rotund blimp of a mother. Around her chubby neck Doris wore pendant shaped like a cow’s head, a symbol of her pride as a retired human dairy cow.

Fiona watches her mum drop into her love seat, filling it up with her vast body, inwardly grimacing as she wanted to sit in that chair. “Oh? What kind of things?” Fiona curiously asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other to ward off the inevitable back pain from standing. A smile crept on her mum’s chubby cheeks. “I got you a present.”

Doris reaches into her bag and pulls out a box containing a deep fryer. Fiona’s mouth drops, “M-mum?” “I know living in Aberdeen is expensive. I know you’re doing the best you can living on your own and being an adult, especially now that you’re milking.” Fiona grimaces, she and her mum have always had disagreements over milking and especially now that Fiona found herself doing the same thing she always disliked.

Doris caught the look on her face, quickly adding “Which I know you're doing for your own reasons, I understand that Fiona, trust me. But, again, living on your own is so expensive, and this…” she picks up a Lochness Burger carton “...can’t be good for your budget. So I got you this deep fryer so you won’t have to waste any of the money you’re trying to save. You’ll have to buy your own oil though, that came separately.”

Fiona didn’t know what to say. 

She loves her mother very much, but ever since she became a young adult their relationship had become strained as she rebelled against the traditions her mum lived by. It’s been rough, these last few years, they argued so much over the ethics and merits of human dairy. But when Fiona began human milking Doris was overjoyed, even though Fiona made it clear she was doing it reluctantly. She really was a great mum, always accepting her and her choices.

“T-thank you, mum.” Fiona was able to say. “Anything for you, honey baby.” Doris calls her daughter her pet name from when she was a child, causing Fiona to cover her face moaning, “Muuum!”

Doris giggles some as she heaves herself up from her chair, “I have to say Fiona, you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.” Fiona chuckles awkwardly, “It’s the diet, you and I both know how it is. Growing up I can’t remember you eating ANYTHING healthy, I remember you having ice cream for breakfast!” “Hah!” Doris laughs “I still do on occasion, even though I’m long retired from milking. Now, could you show me? I want to see how much you’ve grown.” 

Fiona obliges her mum, slowly undoing her robe, opening it up to show her bare faux pregnant belly and her milky udders. She didn’t feel any sort of embarrassment over being naked in front of her mother, it was like being naked before a doctor. Fiona knew her mother knew milking like the back of her hand, this was like an examination more than anything. 

It’s not like she hasn’t seen her mum naked either. She can remember as a child watching her beefy cow of a mother naked and hooked up to the pump, her many rolls jiggling all over as her milk tanks were pumped, even then she could tell the act of milking was very pleasurable and to a young girl like her even fun. One day when she was peaking on her mum she was spotted. Doris invited her into the “milking room” and taught her how the pump works and the history of the culture.

Doris reaches out and rubs Fiona’s firm perky tummy, rubbing the front before moving both hands to the sides. “When you opened the door my eyes went to your stomach first.” Doris began talking as she continues to examine Fiona’s pot belly “In fact, at first I thought you were pregnant! You’re...not pregnant, are you? Because that would-” 

“Mum! I’m not pregnant I swear!” Fiona cut off her mum’s embarrassing question, adding “In fact I...well, I really haven’t had sex for a while. I’m...not getting a lot of attention from boys.”

Her mum gave her a sympathetic face, patting her pot belly, “Awww, don’t worry your head over it too much, baby. You have more important things to worry about, like school and your degree! After all, like you’ve said, once you get your degree you can stop milking and live the life you want to live.” Fiona smiles, “Thanks mum.” Her mother’s words helped alleviate the worries her milking lifestyle gave her.

After examining Fiona’s tummy Doris moved on to her breasts. Fiona’s sagging boobs hang down to her belly button while being pushed aside by her big protruding tummy. Doris places her hands under each breast, she could feel the humid warmth underneath as she lifts them up, her daughter’s tits overflowing her hands while quivering and wobbling like jelly.

Doris weighs them in her hands, very pleased with her baby girl’s breasts she smiles, telling her “You have a very impressive bust, pumpkin, but you’ve always been gifted, you could say it’s your good genes, after all, you started to sprout early!” 

Fiona bit her inner lip, her mum bringing back some rather embarrassing memories. She can remember the humiliation growing up. Her good genes made her body develop early, she needed her first bra by the time she was in third grade, not something she particularly savored. She can still remember the teasing and taunting, the other girl’s playing keep away with her bra in the locker room. Puberty made things worse when her boobs just started ballooning and she was the eye of every boy.

Fiona moans, “I know mum.” It was all she could say while her mother continued her examination. Her mum’s porky fingers trace her purple stretch marks, a sign of her body struggling to catch up with her growth, giggling she says “Look at these! Your stretch marks are certainly pretty, a lovely shade of purple. Getting so big, my baby calf.”

Fiona squirms, her cow dream coming back to her. So that’s who that was, the vague female voice in her dream praising her, that’s who her subconscious picked.

Her mum’s fingers go down to her areolas. She circles her index fingers around the pink areolas, the sensitive parts of her breasts causes Fiona to moan loudly, “M-mum! Those are really sensitive!” “Shhh” Doris sooths her as she kept it up, her fingers now moving towards Fiona’s fat porky nipples. Fiona let out deep gasp as her mum started to press her fingers against her nipples, the merits of this examination lost on her.

Doris presses and squeezes, so proud of her daughter’s breasts. She’s been keeping to her diet, fattening up so well. Doris knew it took a lot of discipline to stick to such a strict regime, but it’s paying off, her rack making it self evident. Doris continued to caress and squeeze and touch Fiona’s breasts, making her squirm and moan louder and louder, until white milk squirts out, making a mess on her mum’s jacket.

Doris stopped her examination, dropping Fiona’s tits onto her stomach.

Fiona turned a ghostly white as she squeaks “S-Sorry mum!”

Doris shook her head reassuring her, “Don’t worry honey, it’s okay. It just means your breasts are nice and healthy, that’s all.” She wipes off the milk stain on her jacket as the color returns to Fiona’s face, before telling her, “Now then, could you turn around? Don’t think I didn’t notice your bum, Fiona.”

Fiona turns around and bends over, lifting up the back of her robe to show her mum her bare bum, wanting to know what her mum felt about her newest development. Doris begins to rub her daughter’s newly plump backside, giving Fiona’s bottom a motherly pat that jiggles her bum, remarking, “Your figure takes after your father, God rest his soul, it’s why you’re still so rail thin aside from your tummy and breasts, but now...well, it looks like your genes are giving way to your appetite. Your bum is just the beginning, your legs and arms will most likely be next, you might even grow a double chin at some point.”

Her mum’s words made Fiona cringe somewhat, trying to imagine herself with a double chin.

Doris turned Fiona back around and helps close Fiona’s robe shut. “Oh Fiona,” she gives her a very proud smile, “You’ve grown into such a wonderful young woman. I’m very proud of you.” They hug, their tummies rub against each other as mother and daughter embrace each other. “Thank you mum, that means a lot to me,” 

Fiona told her, meaning every word of it, thankful for the support her mum has given her since becoming a human dairy cow. Doris breaks the hug, telling her, “I’m sorry Fiona, I wish I could stay longer, but I have a train to catch. Remember, I love you and I’ll support whatever you want to do with your life.”

Doris gives Fiona one more peck on the cheek before they parted ways. Upon her mother’s exit Fiona plops down into the loveseat her mum’s blubber once filled, relieved to be off her feet. She really had been on her feet for far too long, but it was nice to see her mum.

She glances over at the deep fryer and lets out a contented sigh. She may despise what she has to do, but she is still glad her mum supports her choices and even goes out of the way to help her by getting her tools like this. It means she’ll be able to cut down on the Loch Ness burgers and save the money Sophie paid her for her milk.

Fiona undoes her robe, moving her hands to her breasts hanging off her stomach, her nipples lazily pointing downward. Her right hand touches her left nipple with her thin fingers, her nipple still hard and pointy, as well as damp from her earlier lactation. Playing with her nipple made her squirt into her hand a bit, startling her. She reaches for a napkin with her free hand before stopping mid way. She looks at her hand with a curious glimmer in her eye.

She licks her hand and her head swoons. Her milk tastes amazingly sweet, she couldn’t believe it. It reminded her of vanilla ice cream, slightly melted on a hot summer day. She licks her hand again and again as she feels her pussy throb, the taste of her own milk having such an effect on her, whether it was psychological or something else she didn’t know.

Fiona got up off the love seat and hurried to the pump. She needed pleasure and she knew the pump would give her the pleasure she needed. She puts a jug inside the machine, but it’s for a different purpose. Rather than pumping milk for Sophie, she’s going to pump milk for herself and her own use. But most importantly to induce pleasure, like a glorified sex toy.

Fiona hastily applies the spirit gummed cups to her aroused nipples before assuming the position and flipping the switch. “Fuck!” Fiona yells out. Already horny the electrical charges didn’t have to do much, but every single bit of stimulation made the difference, her wet pussy evident of this. Fiona curls her toes and fingers tightly as she moans “Mmmmmph!”

Suddenly there’s a knock on her door which startled her, making her gasp. “Fiona!! Are you okay in there!!” Shit, it’s Shane, Fiona slams her fist on the ground, she didn’t want any interruptions she was getting too much into this. “NOOOOO!!!” She cries out, giving the wrong answer.

Shane on the outside tenses up, while he and Fiona didn’t get along he wasn’t about to leave her while she’s in trouble, he yells out “Don’t worry Fiona, I’m coming!” He shoves his shoulder into the door, bursting the week door open. He rushes to the main room where he stops, seeing the naked Fiona on her hands and knees and hooked up to some kind of milking contraption like a farm animal.

“F-Fiona?” The young punk couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Fiona lets out a carnal moan, “Nnnnnnnmph! I don’t wanna explain! Just…just fuck me!” She reaches behind her and grasps her right buttock, tugging her cheek to show her gushing cunt and her anus “Just fuck me anywhere I don’t care! Stick your cock in me!” She pleads, so horny like a savage beast in heat. Shane needed no further incentive, his jeans and boxer briefs came off as he lunges, sticking his cock in her sopping vag.

Fiona screams as Shane starts to thrust and kiss her back up to her neck. “NNNmmm Baby, oh baby!” Fiona repeats over and over as Shane fucks her. He reaches forward and fondles Fiona’s milking tits, just adding more stimulation to her wobbling fun bags, it forces even more milk out of her. Fiona bucks her hips, her head is spinning, her eyes are rolling in the back of her head. The only thing she can do is moan like the cow she is.

“MOOOOOOO!”

The two fucked for two hours, the milk jug overflowing and spilling onto the floor.