Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My name.

What was it again?

It should’ve been simple. A reflex. But when I tried to grasp it, it slipped through my fingers like mist. All I could do was stare blankly at the black-clad officers swarming my apartment, their heavy boots thudding against the floors, their voices sharp and commanding.

They weren’t my owner.

So, I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t cry out when the front door was battered off its hinges with a deafening crash, sending splinters of wood scattering across the floor. I remained curled up inside my kennel, pressed against the cold, sticky plastic, just as I had been told to before he left. I was being good. He would come back soon. He always did.

Except… he hadn’t.

And the smell was starting to change.

The scent of old milk clung thick in the air, sweet and spoiled, mixing with the damp rot of something I couldn’t quite place. Mold speckled the wooden floor beyond my kennel where my milk had spilled and dried over time, forming dark, sticky patches. It hadn’t been that long, had it?

I squinted through the filmy blur of my eyes, my head hazy and slow.

"—Ma’am?"

A voice. Close. A hand waved in front of my face, fingers snapping once. I blinked sluggishly, my ears twitching at the sound. The soft jingle that followed made my breath hitch—ah. My bell was still on.

I swallowed, my throat dry. "...I..."

I didn’t know what I wanted to say. My tongue felt too thick, my thoughts sluggish. The only sensation I could truly register was the dull, heavy ache in my chest—so swollen, so bloated, tight and sloshing from days, weeks of neglect. The clips pinching my nipples had started to fail, the built-up pressure forcing little leaks to slip through, trickling down the curve of my breasts. Even the smallest movements made my overfilled tits wobble, the sensation almost painful.

The officer in front of me crouched lower, his face coming into focus. He had animal ears, perked in attention—canine, maybe. His sharp eyes scanned my expression carefully.

"Your name, please. Do you remember it?"

My lips parted. I tried to pull the answer from the fog of my mind, but what came out instead was a low, involuntary sound—soft, uncertain.

"Moo..."

That wasn’t right.

My brows furrowed, frustration pricking at the edges of my confusion. Why was it so hard? It was something so simple, so basic. I was a good girl, wasn’t I? Good girls knew their names.

"Muuni," another voice interjected.

I startled, my ears flicking. The officer standing beside him—taller, more experienced, with a document in hand—flipped through a stack of papers, her expression neutral. "That’s her name. She was reported missing months ago."

I stared at her. My heart thudded sluggishly in my chest.

Missing?

No. That didn’t make sense. I wasn’t missing. I was home.

I shifted slightly, my tail twitching against my bare thigh. My legs ached from being curled up for so long, but the idea of stretching out, of stepping past the threshold of my kennel, felt... wrong. It wasn’t mine to leave. It was his.

My lips parted, my voice small. "That can’t be right..."

The female officer barely reacted, flipping through more papers as if waiting for me to make sense of my own words.

"I’ve just been here," I insisted. "Being taken care of."

The words tasted strange, even as they left my mouth. My mind still felt slow, but something was stirring beneath the surface—a vague, uncomfortable sensation that prickled at the edges of my thoughts.

The female officer lifted a brow. "Taken care of?"

Her tone made something cold creep down my spine.

I hesitated, my fingers curling weakly against the floor of my kennel. "Yes," I said, quieter this time. "My owner. He’s been pampering me. Letting me rest. Feeding me. It’s normal."

The male officer exhaled sharply through his nose, but it was the woman’s reaction that made me pause. Her expression flickered, something shifting in her gaze—not judgment. Pity.

A sharp, unpleasant twist formed in my stomach.

She pursed her lips, flipping to a different page in the file before meeting my eyes again. "Owner," she repeated, slow and deliberate, like she was tasting the word. Rolling it around in her mouth like something sour.

Then, after a beat—

"You mean Doctor Jenkins. The man who kidnapped you."

I blinked.

The words didn’t register at first. They sounded strange, foreign, like a phrase in a language I barely understood.

Kidnapped?

No.

No, that was wrong. That was wrong.

My chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, my pulse thudding heavily against my ribs. My ears flicked back against my skull, something tight squeezing in my throat.

"That’s—" I stopped, my voice trembling.

That wasn’t true.

Was it?

I searched her face, looking for the lie, the misunderstanding, the mistake. But there was no hesitation in her stare—only quiet, heavy certainty.

The pressure in my chest ached even more.

The kennel door creaked. The male officer had finally worked the latch loose, the metal rattling as he pulled it open. My body sagged forward slightly, my limbs weak and sluggish, my skin sticky from days of stale air and neglect. I barely even noticed when one of my swollen breasts shifted against the ground, another weak trickle of milk seeping from the clamp’s failing grip.

I should’ve crawled forward. I should’ve moved.

But I stayed rooted in place, my fingers curling against the plastic floor.

Because if I stepped out—if I left the kennel—

It meant I believed them.

And I didn’t know if I could.

Chapter Text

It took a lot of coaxing for me to crawl out of my kennel, the act more troublesome than I had thought it'd be. Not only because of the heavy weight of my breasts basically making up 40% of my body fat, but because my body had grown sore and stiff from being crammed into that small cage for weeks on end. It was a miracle in itself I hadn't starved to death but, there were vague memories of me munching on something made of fabric during my much more desperate moments.

I could only wonder where my cow print undergarments had gone.

One of the other officers had rummaged around the house to see if I had any clothes that fit me. The pants were easier to get on, the shirt—not so much. There wasn't a moment in time where I was spared from the reminder that yeah, I needed to get milked. Badly. And that my breasts had basically swollen to an unhealthy weight and size from neglecting them. 

To be fair... It had never been my job to milk myself. I mean, it sounded weird even thinking it. My owner had basically drilled it into my head that the only proper way to be milked was by another's hands. And he couldn't have been wrong, it always felt good when he had done it.

Ah... My palms flattened over the peaks of my breasts, pushing my nipples into softening again after a moment. There wasn't anything to be horny about right now, but I guess any stimulation was enough for me in the state I was left in.

Everything had mostly been a blur. An ambulance had been waiting for me outside, even through dull and clouded skies the light was enough to make me squint as I was assisted down the steps and towards a stretcher. My legs... They were numb.

Whatever had taken place next, I couldn't remember. I fell asleep and woke up next in a hospital room, an IV and some other tube stabbed into my forearm. "Ugh..." I groaned, my back stretching out slightly as I shuddered under the warm blanket on top of me. "When did I even get here..."

"Not too long ago," a voice answered from nearby.

I turned my head slowly, the ache in my neck making itself known as I caught sight of a woman seated beside my bed, clipboard in hand. Her eyes flicked up from the paperwork she was reading, studying me with a quiet sort of patience. She was older than the officers from earlier, dressed in a plain but neat blazer, her posture upright but not tense.

She was waiting for something.

"...Oh." I swallowed, my throat still dry despite the IV line feeding me fluids. "Oookay"

There wasn’t much else to say.

I blinked sluggishly, trying to get my bearings. The hospital room was clean, white, and sterile—too bright for my eyes, too crisp and cold compared to the stuffy warmth of my kennel. I was lying in an actual bed, sheets soft beneath my fingers, and yet my body still ached from the unnatural positions I’d been stuck in for weeks. My joints throbbed dully, a stiffness lingering in my legs that made me hesitant to move.

More than that, though—something felt different.

It took me a moment to place it. My chest was... lighter. The constant, unbearable pressure that had plagued me for weeks had eased.

I blinked down at myself, hands sluggishly dragging up the blanket pooled at my waist. My shirt—hospital-issued, loose, and scratchy—was thin enough that I could see the softened shape of my breasts beneath it, no longer grotesquely swollen, no longer filled to the point of aching.

The clips were gone.

"You were put on a milking machine while you were unconscious," the woman said, as if reading my thoughts. "Your body was under significant strain. It was necessary."

I processed that information slowly, my fingers flexing against my stomach.

"Huh."

That was all I could really say about it.

I probably should’ve been embarrassed. Or maybe violated? Some stranger had hooked me up to a machine and drained me without my knowledge, after all. But... I wasn’t. It didn’t feel any different from when my owner had done it, except the method had been mechanical instead of by hand. The relief it brought was the same.

Actually, I felt better than I had in weeks.

My shoulders slumped, an exhale slipping from my lips. I could think a little clearer now without the constant pain and discomfort pressing at the edges of my mind.

The woman clicked her pen against the clipboard, drawing my attention back to her.

"Muuni, can I ask you some questions?"

I blinked at her. Then, after a beat, I gave a slow nod. "Okay."

She hummed in acknowledgment. "Good. First, do you know how long you were in that apartment?"

I frowned slightly, my ears twitching as I thought. "...A few days?"

"You were reported missing almost five months ago," she said carefully.

That... didn't make sense. My mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Five months? I wasn’t missing. I was home. I was being taken care of.

"I don’t—" My voice faltered. My ears drooped slightly. "I don’t think that’s right."

The woman’s gaze didn’t waver. "Your landlord reported your unit abandoned months ago. Your family believed you were dead."

I swallowed thickly. But at the same time... "...I don’t feel dead," I murmured absently.

The woman sighed. She scribbled something on the clipboard before flipping to a different page. "Next question. Do you remember how you first ended up with Doctor Jenkins?"

My owner.

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. "He found me," I said vaguely.

"Where?"

"...I don’t know."

It wasn’t a lie, not really. The memories were hazy, pieces floating just out of reach. I remembered being with him. Remembered being fed, dressed up, played with. I remembered the kennel, the collar, the warmth of his hands.

But before that?

Empty.

The woman was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, her tone softer. "Do you believe he had your best interests in mind?"

I blinked. "He took care of me."

"That’s not what I asked."

My thin tail twitched under the blanket. "...I think so."

The woman sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose like she had expected that answer.

"Muuni," she said after a moment, her voice gentle. "You were kidnapped. Brainwashed. The way you've been living, the things you were subjected to—it wasn't care. It was control."

My chest felt tight. I didn’t like how she was looking at me. I shifted slightly, my hands curling into the sheets. "...Then what happens now?"

The woman watched me carefully.

"There are places," she said after a pause. "Facilities designed to help people like you recover. We offer rehabilitation services for demihumans who’ve been through similar situations. The environments vary depending on the subspecies—there’s a farm program for those with more bovine traits, like yourself. Open fields, proper care, trained professionals to help with reintegration into society."

A farm.

I blinked slowly. That... didn’t sound bad.

Fresh air. Space to move. No cramped cages, no soured milk pooling beneath me.

"...Would I have to go?" I asked after a moment.

The woman didn’t answer immediately. "It’s strongly encouraged," she admitted. "But no, it wouldn’t be forced. You’d be given options."

Options.

As far as I could remember, I’d never had options before.

Chapter Text

The truck rumbled beneath me, its steady vibrations lulling me into a state of half-consciousness. I was warm beneath a scratchy blanket, the scent of hay and fresh air creeping in through the small ventilation window near the top of the enclosed transport. It wasn’t like the suffocating, stagnant air of my kennel. This was... clean. Fresh.

But it was also unfamiliar.

My ears flicked at the distant sounds of life outside—soft moos, the low hum of conversation, the occasional rustle of movement against grass. My tail twitched restlessly beneath the loose hospital-issued clothes they’d given me, and I shifted slightly, feeling the weight of my chest sway with even the smallest motion.

It wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. The milking machine had drained me well, but even then, I could already feel the slow, dull return of fullness in my breasts. They’d told me it would take time for my body to adjust to a proper schedule again, but honestly? I hadn’t really listened. I hadn’t needed to before.

I swallowed, my throat dry. I felt... odd. Empty, almost. Not just physically, but in a way I couldn’t quite place.

The truck came to a slow, rolling stop.

I perked up slightly, blinking as the back doors were unlatched and swung open, flooding the space with golden afternoon light. I squinted, my ears twitching back at the sudden brightness.

A man stood at the entrance, clipboard in hand, his expression relaxed but professional.

"Alright, Muuni," he called, his voice carrying over the warm breeze. "You’re here. Come on out, slowly."

I hesitated. My fingers curled against the blanket draped over my lap. This was... real. It was happening. I wasn’t in my kennel anymore. I was somewhere new.

I obeyed, shuffling forward carefully. My legs were still weak from disuse, but the physical therapy I’d received in the hospital had helped me regain enough strength to stand on my own. Even so, my balance felt off. My chest was still heavy, my body still recovering, and I had to steady myself as I took the first step down onto the dirt path.

The first thing I noticed was the sky—wide, open, stretching endlessly above me. The air was warm, thick with the scent of grass, soil, and something distinctly animal. In the distance, I could see rolling green fields dotted with figures—other demihumans, all distinctly bovine in nature. Some lazed in the grass, basking in the sun, while others stood near wooden fences, chatting in soft voices. A few were being led towards a large barn-like structure, their tails flicking idly behind them. My ears twitched. This was... a lot.

Before I could fully process it, there was movement from my left—a sudden, energetic shuffle of hooves against dirt.

Then—

"Ohhh, you’re adorable!"

Something soft crashed into me, and I barely had time to let out a startled noise before I was enveloped in warmth. My face was buried in something plush, and the heavy weight of another body pressed against mine, making me stumble slightly.

My muffled noise of protest quickly died as I realized what was happening.

Breasts.

Big, soft breasts.

They were smushed tightly against mine, molding together like two overfilled pillows. I could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of our shirts, the gentle pressure making a faint heat crawl up my neck.

"Oops! Sorry, sorry, I got a little excited!"

The woman—another hucow, clearly—pulled back just enough for me to breathe, though her hands remained firm on my shoulders. I blinked up at her, a little dazed.

She was taller than me. Thicker, too—her arms and legs were plump with healthy weight, her figure full in a way that suggested she’d never known starvation. Her horns were larger than mine, curling slightly at the ends, and her dark, droopy ears flicked with delight as she grinned down at me.

"You must be Muuni!" she chirped, giving my shoulders a squeeze before stepping back fully. "I’m Bess! Welcome to the farm!" I stared at her. She was... bright. And loud. And warm in a way I wasn’t used to.

I shifted slightly, still feeling the lingering press of her body against mine, my skin tingling where our chests had been mashed together. My tail flicked behind me. "...Hi," I murmured. Bess beamed.

"Oh, you’re precious," she cooed, reaching out to gently pat my head, her fingers brushing between my nubby horns. "Poor thing, you must be overwhelmed, huh?"

I swallowed, my gaze flickering back towards the open fields.

A little.

Maybe more than a little.

I wasn’t used to this. I wasn’t used to any of this. The openness, the freedom, the lack of cages and walls keeping me in place. It made my stomach twist with unease. But Bess didn’t seem deterred by my hesitation. If anything, she looked more determined to ease me in.

"Don’t worry, sugar," she hummed, looping an arm around my shoulders in a half-hug, her voice dropping into something softer, gentler. "We’re all here for the same reason. You’re not alone."

Bess was practically bouncing with excitement as she led me through the sprawling farm, her arm still casually draped around my shoulders, the gentle pressure of her warmth lingering against me. Her enthusiasm was almost infectious, and I found myself leaning into the comfort of her embrace without meaning to. My tail swished behind me as we moved through the fields, the soft grasses brushing against my legs and the distant clucks and low bleats of the other farm animals filling the air.

The farm itself was vast, with long stretches of open land, large wooden barns, and smaller enclosures dotting the landscape. It wasn’t just hucows here, I quickly realized. There were others. Chicken demihumans strutted around, some pecking the ground while others fluffed their feathers. Pig demihumans, some with wide hips and solid, muscular builds, worked together to collect hay and brush the dirt away from some of the troughs. It was a cacophony of different voices and sounds, all blending together in the most serene way.

"Alright! First things first," Bess said cheerfully, as she guided me past a large pen where the pig demihumans were working. "We’ve got different kinds of work here, but it’s all simple stuff, okay? You’ll start with light duties until you get settled in. Don’t worry, you’ll be so much more comfortable in no time!"

Her words were punctuated by a light squeeze of my shoulder, her large, soft breast pressing into my side for just a moment. I couldn’t help but feel it. The weight of it. The soft warmth that seeped into me, and a tiny, unexpected part of me... liked it. Maybe even more than I should’ve.

We moved past the pigs, and I found my gaze wandering a little too long at the way their bodies moved—solid, thick, with rippling muscle and curves in all the right places. The whole farm was filled with these thick-bodied demihumans, each one robust and healthy, unlike me in my too-thin, malnourished state. I couldn’t stop my tail from flicking nervously, a pang of guilt and unease curling in my stomach.

Bess noticed, of course. She seemed good at reading people, or maybe I was just that obvious. "Don’t worry about them," she said, her voice softening a little. "It’s not about being perfect here, Muuni. We just focus on what’s best for us, okay?" She flashed a bright smile, her dark eyes sparkling with a level of warmth I wasn’t quite used to, but which felt... nice.

Before I could answer, she tugged me forward, her pillowy chest pressing into my side once more, making me flinch slightly. I couldn’t help it. The softness of her was distracting in the best way.

"Look! Over here!"

I blinked, momentarily snapped from my thoughts as I followed Bess’s finger to a large, open pen where a few other demihumans were working. They were... bulls. Big, powerful figures with thick, muscular bodies, horns that curled sharply at the tips, and faces that held a certain pride, even while working. Their movements were slow but deliberate as they carried large bundles of hay and stacked them carefully into large bins.

"They’re just about done with their tasks," Bess explained, guiding me toward them. "They’re strong, but we all have different roles. Some work the fields, some take care of the animals, and others work together to maintain the farm. That’s what we do here—work together."

I nodded. Seeing the bulls made me feel small in a way that was unfamiliar. I was used to seeing cows, hucows like me, but these bulls were different. Bigger. Stronger. There was a kind of confidence in them that I couldn’t quite place, and the fact that I was here, surrounded by all these demihumans with different traits, made me feel... out of place.

Yet Bess...

She was still talking, and I was still listening. "You’ll find your place here, Muuni. You just have to give it time. It’ll be good for you. And for us." Her voice dropped into a more intimate, almost reassuring tone. "You’ll fit in just fine, trust me."

She nudged me with her shoulder as we passed one of the bulls, her chest brushing mine for the third time in less than a minute. This time, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling the slight thrum of heat in my chest, the way her softness felt against me.

I glanced at her—she seemed completely at ease with it.

I swallowed, noticing my body’s reaction before quickly turning my gaze away, my face flushing slightly.

"So, um... how long do you think it’ll take to... to adjust to everything here?" I asked, my voice a little unsure, my nerves betraying me.

Bess paused, her bright, kind eyes meeting mine. "Well, I can’t promise it’ll be easy at first, but we’re here to help you. And you’re gonna be so much better off once your body starts adjusting. I promise, Muuni. You’re gonna get stronger, and maybe even a little healthier, too. Your body just needs a bit of love... and some proper care."

She paused, her hands resting on her hips as she leaned closer to me, practically radiating warmth and confidence. "And maybe a little milking too, huh?" She giggled at me teasingly, her smile playful.

I felt my chest tighten involuntarily, my nipples growing stiff beneath the fabric of my shirt at the mention of it. Despite the ache of needing to be milked, I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of embarrassment and arousal at the thought.

Her eyes flickered to my chest, and I swore I saw a knowing glint in them. "Don’t worry, hon. They’ll take care of you here."

I didn’t know what to say to that. I could only nod, my cheeks flushing even deeper. The soft, rhythmic sway of Bess’s breasts as she moved in front of me was doing nothing to ease the sudden tension I felt. In fact, the contrast between her warm, overflowing softness and the tight, aching feeling in my own chest made me miss the fullness I had once had. I missed being filled in a way that felt so... natural.

Bess’s voice snapped me from my thoughts. "Come on, let’s head to the barn. You’ll see the rest of the girls there." She tugged me gently in the direction of the barn, her arm still resting around my shoulders, her warmth a constant presence against me.

The farm, the people, the work—it was all too much for me to process right now. But as Bess led me forward, her easy-going presence settled my mind. For the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel so alone.

I could get used to this place.

Chapter Text

It felt weird to be given clothes outside of the usual cow print bra and panties my owner had me stuck in. What should have been freeing with less to wear eventually made me feel too exposed, though I never got the chance to voice that thought out when it mattered. 

Still...

Bess had left to go greet some other newcomers. And it took quite a few other hucows just a couple of minutes to find the right sized shirt that would fit me. Naturally, because the women had a bigger chest to accommodate for, the top was the easiest find within a wardrobe of hand-me downs. The fabric was stretched thin around the neck area, but it wasn't enough where the side would sag off one of my shoulders. My chest made sure of that.

It was like a game of dress-up to the other hucows, some teasing my embarrassment, others still oddly finding me to be adorable (as if we weren't all the same kind of species). I didn't know how to feel about it, but my tail fluidly swayed a little behind me regardless to the intent behind their comments. I was used to hearing such compliments from my owner, or... I guess I should just call him Jenkins now. Since he seemed to have abandoned ownership of me without notice.

My thoughts were interrupted as the one who had been doing my measurements this entire time tightened the measuring tape around my hips. A low whistle coming from behind me. "Well, that's a shame," the woman said. "40 inches. That's considerably the bare minimum for a healthy hucow." She said it like it was common knowledge, but even I didn't know that—though, I didn't know a lot of things about myself anymore after being locked away for so long. 

My ears flicked with displeasure at the measurement. 40 inches didn't sound bad, so why was that such a shame? I felt healthy enough. "Oh," I said, feeling a bit dumb suddenly. Some of the other women shook their heads in the background while moving through lines of clothes, as if mirroring her disappointment. "Well I was pretty malnourished when they'd found me, so..."

"No, no. I understand just fine," She said, one of her hands coming to ruffle through my hair. "It's just unfortunate to see another hucow being so mistreated. By my guess you'd be at a pretty healthy 46 inches if you had been eating correctly." She tilts her head, considering. "Mm.. Maybe 50, if you weren't in a high-stress environment, either."

High stress? What made her say that? Considering she seemed to work a job here and didn't look to be just another one of the many looking for rehabilitation, she probably knew what my situation had been. Or maybe she was just that good at reading people. Maybe my body showed signs of what being under constant stress did to it. Though then again, I had grown so used to Jenkins' treatment I must've stopped realizing midway through just how straining it had all become.

The only comforting thing that didn't make me feel like a stranger in my own body was that my chest size stayed relatively normal. The skin did end up stretched, and the marks were there, but otherwise once I had been milked at the hospital everything was fine up there. I could already feel the telltale little slosh of milk filling them up again, but for now it wasn't an issue I needed to focus on. It felt a lot better to have something in there rather than nothing.

"...Do I get to keep the clothes after all of this?" I wondered, watching as a shorter girl rifled through a clothing line of denim jeans of varying sizes. They weren't particularly pretty clothes, but I didn't have anything else with me other than the hospital-issued clothing.

"Of course," The woman hummed, slotting the measuring tape back into its base. "Though don't grow too attached to what you have on in the beginning. You'll likely outgrow them within a few weeks." The lady had said it so casually that I nearly missed what she was actually saying to me, too focused on the multiple pants that all seemed a little too stretched out at the waistband for my hips to keep on. A part of me wondered, can't they just give me a belt? And then the other part of my brain that sluggishly caught up wondered.

What the hell did she mean outgrow them?

One of my ears flicked as I gave a questioning, albeit slipped out, 'moo?' in response. The lady only chuckled at me, like she expected that exact reaction. "Don't worry about it, Muuni. It's nothing drastic or anything! I just mean we're giving you the smallest pairs we have right now. You'll be expected to get a little fuller once you're put on a healthy diet again."

"Oh," I breathed out in relief, nervously laughing in response. I didn't know what I thought of in that moment to have me so worried, but... outgrow didn't sound like the right way to put it. Wouldn't it be grow into...?

"Found 'em," The shorter woman called, taking a pair of light brown chaps. The sides of them had some odd design where the hips were cut-out. It was clear they'd been worn down by previous hucows in the past. They didn't look too bad, it was a wonder why nobody had taken that set of pants home with them before already. Although, considering the size, maybe it just never fit the others after they recovered. The pants sort of reminded me of what cowboys wore—well, I guess it'd be cowgirls now. 

The short woman handed them to me, and I wasted no time putting my legs into them, shimmying the waistband up past the start of my hips and below my belly button. I thought they'd be a snug fit from afar, but Christ. This really did put into perspective how malnourished I really was. If I hadn't worked to button them once I tugged the waistband over my hips they would have certainly fallen off of me. There was wiggle room for everything—my hips, my thighs, my calves. A gust of wind would probably make these flap while outside...

"Oh, wow," I huffed, my ears straining upward as I peered down at myself. "I thought you were exaggerating, but... Yeah. I can see how bad this is now."

"Mmhm," She nodded at me, and I swore I saw her mask a pitying look at me before her lips were quirked up into a small smile. Maybe to comfort me a little. It didn't. I could only wonder. If I hadn't been taken by Jenkins, would I have looked similar to Bess? Or a better question, did I use to look like her? Surely I wasn't this bad off. Something must have enticed Doctor Jenkins into kidnapping me all those months ago, but I truly didn't remember what I looked like up to that point. 

It wasn't like I had lost all memories of my past life, but... well. A few years leading up to when I was taken are hazy at best. I don't even remember why I particularly knew Jenkins to begin with. I remember, at some point during the beginning of our little pet dynamic, he would grab onto my hips a lot. There had to have been some meat there before, right..? Hm...

The woman who had measured me gave my shoulder a reassuring pat down. I must have been zoned out while looking down at my legs for too long that it was a cause for concern. "Seriously, don't worry about it. The people here are good at what they do."

"And what is it that they do for hucows?" 

She hummed, tapping her chin lightly. It was an important question, she couldn't just give me something as simple as 'help you recover'. "Well, it depends on the situation. Our rehabilitation farm isn't just for cases like yourself. Sometimes it's to help with addictions, or illnesses, or physical therapy..." She stood up from her stool, and I could notice her thin tail curling around as she considered it. "...Well, if we're going to be specific about your case... From what I've read about you, at least, they'll likely set you on a meal plan. As well as exposure therapy. You don't seem too frightened of other people though, so they may change plans midway through if you fair well enough."

"One thing is certain: you're going to be gaining some weight," She shrugged, pocketing her measuring tape while circling around me. One of her fingers poked at the opening cut-out on my hip, her fingernail barely sinking into the flesh there. It made my ears perk before drooping again. "Enough to fill out these jeans, hopefully. Might take you a few weeks, it really depends on how much food your body can handle after receiving so little for so long. They'll start you off with small portions."

It was odd knowing there were meal plans out there to help people gain weight rather than lose it. But I wasn't too opposed. I didn't exactly like feeling my ribs poke out whenever I laid on my back. And, if I was being honest with myself... I felt envious of the girls around me. Even if some of them were here specifically to put on the weight they had currently, it just made me feel singled out even more. How many more would pity my appearance until I looked how a hucow should?

"Moo..." I huffed. I didn't mind the woman coming to squish my cheek and coo at me like I was some poor thing, because that's exactly how I felt right now. At least their motives came from a place of genuine care. It made it sting a little less.

"Oh."

The shorter lady who had been looking through clothes this entire time finally spoke up again, a soft sound of leather being slipped out of denim. "Found a belt left in one of the other pants. This should help you." 

I took the black leather belt in hand, quickly putting it through the loops around my waist and buckling it at the front. I could immediately feel the difference, and it made me ease up in a way I hadn't realized. "Thank you," I mumbled quietly, though my eyes flicked back up to the ladies who had helped me. "Thank you," I repeated, with more confidence backed behind it. "I'll do my best not to get in anyone's way while I'm here."

However long that was going to be...

Chapter Text

The next day was the start of my first morning in the rehabilitation farm.

All of the people on the farm were given their own dormitories, separated by species. The inside of each one was divided by gender as well—the women had female roommates, and the men had male roommates. It reminded me of college a little, and it felt like I could grow into a comforting rhythm if I thought of everything as a class of some sort. But I was getting ahead of myself, I didn't know shit about this place other than that.

When I awoke in the morning, I was a little startled to find another hucow in the used-to-be empty bed across from me in my dorm. I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to muffle the little 'moo!' that nearly escaped me, my tail twitching anxiously under the blanket. Okay, nothing to be worried about. We're all here to get better, and so far everyone's been nothing but kind to me. So...

Okay. Maybe I did need a bit of exposure therapy. Why was I shaking? I didn't want to bother the girl across from me, even if she was supposedly going to be my roommate for the time being (unless this was just some girl who had snuck in during the night...). It wasn't a big deal. She was going to talk to me one way or another eventually, but... still. Anxiety curled its way into my empty gut.

Hungry. Maybe I was just hungry. That was it. A bit of breakfast would ease the anxiety off.

Carefully shifting under the weight of my blanket, I stepped on the carpeted floor beneath me, my hooves gentle. I couldn't help staring at the back of the women before me as she slept on her side, turned away. Her horns were notably bigger than mine, which got me wondering. Did Jenkins do some weird shit to mine? Sure, women didn't necessarily possess big horns unlike the bulls, but mine felt pathetically tiny. They barely peeked past my nest of hair. And hers... they had sharp points, long enough I could see them past the back of her head.

Mmh... Breakfast. Let's just focus on getting started on that.

I was quick to tiptoe (or as good as someone with hooves could tiptoe) across the room, moving into the little kitchen section the dorm came with. It was small, but I was smaller as of now. So the size didn't quite occur to me. 

Opening the fridge, I wa surprised to see the shelves jam packed with food. The fridge wasn't empty last night, but it was not this stuffed either. Had that other girl put this in here? The thought made my tail flick against my thigh, curling in on itself a little... was she also on a meal plan? Or did hucows just... eat a lot? The fact I couldn't tell made me snort air out of my nose like an upset bull. I really don't know anything about who I am anymore...

Well, whatever. There was quite a lot of food in here. So I could at least figure out what my favorites are. That's something I could learn about myself pretty easily! My eyes darted around for what to start with, and eventually settled on a cake mix far off into the back of the first shelf. Ooh. I knew it was bad to have dessert first thing in the morning, but if the idea was for me to put weight back on, my guess was high calories would do the trick. Besides, it'd been so, so long since I'd last had anything resembling a dessert!

Pulling the mix out, I bumped the fridge door shut with my hip, stepping close to one of the cabinets that had dishes inside of it. Shouldn't be too hard, just needed to mix it in a bowl with some eggs, a bit of vanilla extract, and some milk. My tail twirled as I hummed to myself, pulling out the needed dishes and... most of the needed ingredients. Huh.

I had to double check the fridge, even the freezer just to be sure, and yeah... there wasn't any milk. How the hell do you get everything but milk? It was too late now, I was already set on making this cake thing happen and would not be deterred by the weird grocery choices my roommate and suppliers had made. Three eggs were cracked against the bowl, plopping into the dusted cake mix in the center. A few dollops of vanilla extract to go in, and...sigh.

My head slowly turned over to the entrance of the kitchen, then stretched out a little to catch a peek of the bedroom past the small living room. She was still curled in bed... so, there was nothing really stopping me. And to be fair, this was a cake made purely for myself. So...

Carefully, one of my hands pulled at the hem of my thin shirt up, bunching the fabric over my breasts. The exposure to air against them made me shudder quietly. Sensitive. Probably from being stretched tight for too long. Though I could feel it—the slight swell that had already taken place in just the matter of a day and a half since my milk had been pumped out of me. My guess was by tomorrow, I would've had to milk my poor tits regardless. They'd grown too used to overproduction.

"Mmh..." My tail flicked up as I squeezed one of my tits lightly, as if to test just how heavy it was and how much it'd give under my fingertips. It was nothing compared to how they'd been left in the kennel, and for some reason that disappointed me a little. But that disappointment was forgotten the moment I pinched my nipple through my white bra. I should probably... fuck, that felt good. I pinched it again, a little harder this time. Did they throw my clips away? I could only imagine so when they'd driven me to the hospital. My fingertips weren't going to be tough enough to match the squeeze those clips ever gave me.

It wasn't long before my other hand slowly joined in on my other tit, both simultaneously starting to get massaged by my fingers. It was only to stimulate a working milk-flow, but I was already starting to forget why I wanted milk to come out to begin with. Was it time to get milked already? Did my owner need his fill again? "Sorry... I-I'll work faster, I promise—!" My hips bucked up against the counter as I gave my breasts an intentional squeeze, my heartbeat thudding hard against my ribs. Suddenly I wasn't in the kitchen again. What kitchen? No, I was on my owner's bed, and he was impatiently waiting under me for my milk to finally spill into his waiting mouth. 

It was only when tears started to sting at the corners of my eyes that I blinked back into reality—although I wouldn't doubt the fact milk shooting out of my tits was also the cause for clarity. "Damn it..." I didn't take my bra off, the milk soaking through. Didn't even angle my breasts properly before starting, and now there was milk dripping off the edge of the counter and onto the tiled floor. This was going to be a pain in the ass to clean...

But still... Fuck, I just couldn't be bothered. My fingers hooked under my bra, tugging it down my perking nipples. I was getting this goddamn cake done one way or another. 

I circled my aching nipples, noting how puffy they'd become. Was it because I had clips on them for weeks on end? Or because I pinched them too hard moments ago? Whatever the case, the texture felt nice against the pad of my fingers while I teased them. My methods for milking myself weren't exactly practical. And I wasn't sure if they ever would be again, I had grown too use to stimulating the milk out of my body.

A little squeeze there, a bit of bending against a counter here, and sure enough my milk was drooling down into the bowl. I didn't remember how much it had told me to put in it on the box, but maybe a cup or two would be alright... or three. Or... No, get it together! You'll ruin the goddamn cake!

I whined impatiently, pouting at myself for having to stop my milk from overflowing the damn bowl. It took a lot of restraint to pull that suffocating bra back up my leaky breasts, smearing milk against the underside of them in the process. The bra was white anyways, it wouldn't be noticeable. Though the smell was another thing.

By the time the oven timer had given its angelic 'ding!' to tell me my cake was finished baking, I had already settled into a pretty freakish rhythm of letting my milk go down the kitchen sink drain. I couldn't remember when I'd started it, but this milk needed to go. It was distracting, and my bra was overstimulating me now. At some point I'd began to whine, and it was a miracle I hadn't woken my sleeping roommate up just yet to the disaster of a first impression. Though, even that idea turned me on further, my hips rutting lightly against the counters edge. The motion made the metal holes in my belt clink with every delivered impact against it.

"God, God, God... Focus on the cake, focus on the...!" My head tipped back with a whiny 'moo' as a large spurt of milk came cascading down into the sinks drain. It didn't feel like there was this much milked backed up in there, but maybe the stimulation wasn't helping my case. It could have been causing this over abundance for all I knew.

I had to will my hands into stopping with one hard, stinging squeeze. The pain jolted me from my pleasurable haze, my breath shallow, mouth panting. I could barely see the sink in front of me from how blurry my eyes had gotten in that moment. And the smell of something delicious finally made me whip my head around towards the oven—

My cake hadn't burned.

But that was only because my roommate had taken it out of the oven, helping a bite of it to herself. She hardly paid me any mind, her tail swaying lazily behind her as she leaned against the other counter, cake beside her. "Hey."

"..." Would it be alright if I just died on the spot? "...Um.. haha... Hi." She raised her eyebrows at me, eyeing my leaking breasts. My eyes followed, and I quickly tugged my shirt down as hard as I could over them. Fuck, they actually got worse from how worked up I became. My shirt nearly tore at the neck by the tug due to how much bigger they'd gotten from that alone.

"You should probably finish milking yourself before your chest aches later."

"Nope. It's fine. Um. I'm used to it." 

My roommate only gave me an expectant look, like she could already tell how embarrassed I felt. If we weren't both hucows, this would've been ten times worse. A sheep would have probably fainted at the sight of their roommate milking themselves in their kitchen sink like this...

She pushed up off the counter, sauntering over to me, and I immediately felt my heartbeat pick up again. My face burned, my ears pinned back in shame, tail tucked between my legs. I felt like I was going to get picked on just by her neutral expression alone, my vision swimming already. I would never recover from being caught like this, but—well that'd just make it worse...

"Here," She said, and before I knew it, my roommate was up behind me, her chest against my back as her arms looped around me. Her hands rubbed up my stomach, holding my tits from underneath. The contact made my breath hitch, a startled, unintelligible sound following. What the hell? I couldn't help myself from freezing.

"You're squeezing them wrong. I mean, sure, you're getting the milk out, but—" Her hands gently kneaded into the swollen flesh. I could feel her fingers sinking into them from below—her fingernails were sharp. "If you keep stimulating yourself like that, you'll only keep making milk until your breasts are irritated and inflamed."

She let out an acknowledging hum, completely unbothered by my stillness. "Actually, you mightve already gotten to that point. These definitely feel inflamed..."

"I—I! Hold on a damn minute, wait—!" My hands finally jerked upwards from the bottom of my shirt, gripping her wrists tightly. I was too anxious to consider loosening it. "I don't even know who the hell you are. How are you gonna just—touch me like that!" It was a reasonable response, or so I thought. My roommate only looked confused, like she'd never been rejected from touching another being unprompted before. 

"Sorry," She said, letting go of my tits. They jiggled back into place before stilling after a moment. "I'm used to all the other hucows here being touchy. We sort of just help each other out with milking without think. Didn't realize you weren't the same, considering you so openly... and loudly... milked yourself in our kitchen."

I froze up again, my eyes squeezing shut as embarrassment washed over me like a second tide. She wasn't wrong there. In a way, it sort of felt like masturbating in the open while knowing someone else could walk in on you. "My name's Shellby, by the way. I already know you're Muuni, they informed me before you got here last night."

"...Right," I sighed heavily, one of my hands coming to itch at my neck. Although she'd moved her hands off me, she was still pressed into my back, our hips connected. I noticed that she was actually taller than me, too. It was hard to take a guess at her height while she was asleep, and when she was across the kitchen just moments ago. Her breasts were up high enough to press into the back of my head. Big, but that was probably expected for her size. Or maybe she hadn't been milked lately either.

...

"Uhm," I coughed into my hand, tail flicking against her, unsure of where to go from here. She wasn't moving, but neither was I. I still felt shame for how far gone I'd easily become just to get some relief, but oddly enough, that was starting to die down the longer she stayed latched to me. Maybe it was the warmth of her body that did it, or the fact she wasn't weirded out by me getting worked up and milking myself like that knowing fully that she could've come out and seen me anyways.

Maybe I should have said something like 'nice to meet you Shellby!' or any typical response you'd give to someone you're meeting for the first time. But the lingering ache in my breasts made that unthinkable. And when I thought about it, Shellby was equally being weird. She should have long since moved away from my back. Was she expecting something?

"They weren't kidding when they said they needed to put you on a meal plan," Shellby said out of nowhere, making my ears perk in alert. I twisted my head back to look up at her—okay, the height difference was vast. "You're kind of a twig compared to me."

"Rude," I said, because yeah. It honestly was. She probably didn't even know if I had an eating disorder or not to be saying something like that. "I can't exactly help being starved for a few months..."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that, it's just..." Shellby's hands patted against my hips, her thumbs rolling circles into the exposed skin from the cut-outs. "My hands could probably wrap around your hips and meet in the middle. That's pretty bad for hucow standards." As if to prove her point, her fingers spread out, and sure enough, the tips of her fingers really could meet in the middle. Right below my belly button. I whined at that.

"Well that's what the cake you so gracefully took to eating was for," I huffed, my hands prying hers off of me. I decided to break contact first, striding over to where my cake was placed down. Shellby had taken a good five bites or so out of it, the inner softness of it exposed now. "You could have at least told me it was done instead of taking the first serving of it."

"Well, that was the cake mix I had bought last night," Shellby countered. She didn't sound particularly upset about it, just stating it how it is. "I could have gotten mad at you for taking food that you don't even know was meant for you, but I'm not. So let's call it even, hm?"

...Damn it. "Alright," I mumbled, already grabbing a fork from nearby and digging it into the innards of the cake. "I apologize for not asking before taking stuff out of the fridge. I didn't want to bother you while you were asleep." Nevermind the fact I was fucking terrified of waking her.

Shellby only shrugged at that, unbothered as she stepped off to rummage through the fridge herself. I took a few bites out of the cake, and... it tasted pretty good. I wasn't sure what I expected when using my own milk... wait, did she know my milk was even in this cake? Uh... she didn't have to know about that part. The rest of the cake was shoveled into my mouth with shame, though I was more focused on leaving none left to save her from eating anymore of my milky cake without knowing. Not all heroes wear capes, or whatever...

My stomach growled lightly by the end of it, gurgling a little as it digested. I was surprised to find that I didn't feel uncomfortably stuffed from eating an entire medium-sized cake in one go. The woman who measured me had said I'd need smaller portions to start, but I felt fine. At least for now, I did.

Shellby pulled a plastic jug of something out of the fridge, and—don't fucking tell me that was milk.

Chapter Text

It turned out that Shellby was here for physical therapy. Working a life at another farm, it made sense that her big body was used for actual labor. Actually, if it weren't for her obvious breasts, she could have probably been mistaken for a bull. She was big, that much was established, but after initially calming down from my very traumatizing first meeting with her, I got around to noticing just how built she was. 

There was softness here and there on Shellby, but it was because a hip injury left her mostly incapable of overworking her body like she was supposedly used to. Ironically she was the one scaring off predatory demihumans at her farm rather than the damn dog they'd hired... Regardless, I'd come to learn she wasn't all that bad—if a little too blunt for my liking.

I was told there was a cafeteria area where the people who worked here would make you check-in if you had a meal plan in your schedule. Which I did. So when I came around the entrance, there he was—a bull demihuman dressed in uniform. There was an apron over blue overalls and a white undershirt. He could have been mistaken as one of the kitchen staff if not for the pen and clipboard he had in hand—besides not being in the cafeteria kitchen in general...

When I got close enough, the man's brown floppy ears twitched above his shoulders. It was particularly impossible to keep quiet against tiled floors when you had hooves. I would have found the multiple 'clop's following behind me embarrassing if it weren't for the fact there were so many other hucows around as well. It was normal here, I guess.

"Well hello there," He called, his voice was surprisingly gentle despite his appearance. I expected him to have been as blunt as a lunch lady, or something. Maybe it was time I stopped judging people by first glance. "I haven't seen you around before. You must be the new name on my list today! I'm guessing it's Muuni, right?"

Why does everybody here get to know my name already? This was starting to get annoying. "Yeah. I'm Muuni," I gave him a little nod, feigning a polite smile despite the bit of irritation that gave me. It wasn't his fault. Wasn't exactly a real issue, either... "I was told to be here around the afternoon for lunch?"

He gave me an enthusiastic nod, checking something off on his clipboard. "Yuppers. You should be here for dinner as well—do keep in mind that you can still eat at home. Extra servings are encouraged!" His tail gave a quick flick behind him, his lips pulling into a closed smile. "Oh and, please, do clean your mess when you're done. Otherwise they will make you clean it yourself." 

"Got it, no need to tell me twice," I told him, feeling myself grow comfortable with the bull already. Although it was sort of an obvious thing to tell me to not make a mess. Really, who would actively—?

I felt my thought process pause as I stepped through the front doors of the cafeteria. The place itself wasn't an issue, but the people... um. I understood that I truly was in no position to judge and all, but this felt a little excessive. 

Not everyone was like this in here, but there were quite a few demihumans eating like complete slobs. Food rolling down in streaks under their chin—chins, I should say. Dripping onto fat guts on their laps. Some couldn't even bother to lean forward to eat, their tray of food was plopped right onto their stomach, or held in both hands as they ate straight from the tray itself.

Mmh. What? That was the first question I had. The second was, is this what being on a meal plan meant? Becoming fat? My ears hadn't been perked this high in awhile, and I was most certainly frozen in place. It felt like I was watching from outside of my body from how overwhelming it made me feel. I couldn't tell why, it's not like I hadn't seen overweight people before in my life. But this felt like a cautionary sign. Especially because some of these people most certainly were put on meal plans themselves.

Now I understood why he had warned me to not be messy. And, I was a little scared to find out what he meant by making you clean up the mess yourself. It wasn't like some of these people would have the talent of being able to run away if they were caught making a mess. Let alone bend down to clean where they'd been. Hm...

Nevermind that. I had to be staring too much, because one of the more ill-mannered demihumans was staring directly at me with a suspecting squint. As if he wanted me to say something out loud rather than judge in silence. 

Focus. You're just here to get lunch...

"Muuni!" A voice called out from the side of me, and before I knew it, a force had slammed into me from the side—cushioned by soft breasts. I was having a moment of deja vu... 

"Hi Bess..." I muffled, my face pushed right between her big knockers. My tail curled slightly before twitching a couple of times, an involuntary 'moo' being silenced against her chest. Her arms tightened around me at the greeting, and I could already tell she was probably grinning real big. "...Didn't think you'd be here."

"Hm?" She finally looked to realize she was basically suffocating me between her pillowy tits, but to be honest, I didn't make an effort to move either. "Oh heavens, I'm sorry about that!" Though the chuckle right after said otherwise about how guilty she felt. Still, Bess had let go, allowing me to breathe. My arms managed to slip around her too, returning what would've been a normal hug if not for the size difference. She had to visibly crane her neck forward a little just to peer past her boobs to look at me. "I had already forgotten just how short you are."

"Maybe you're just too tall..." I groaned. This was the third time I'd been reminded of just how small I was, and not just because of my height. If this is how I'd be reminded, though... well... My nose let out a huff of air, looking back up at Bess. "Does everyone eat here, or are you on a meal plan too?"

Bess gave me a quick nod, her mood far from deterred despite what happened. She clapped both of her hands on my shoulders, reaffirming her squeeze on them. "Yep! I'm actually nearing the end of my meal plan, believe it or not. Took a long time, but I shoooould be at the perfect weight in a week or two now."

Huh.

That wasn't the response I expected. Considering how healthy Bess looked, I would've never thought she was in need of gaining weight. If anything, I aspired to look just like her since I got to this farm a day ago. I hummed at that, choosing not to voice my opinion out. I was sure she'd gotten that response a lot already, considering I did in fact not believe it.

"Do you know uh... what's up with them?" My arms released Bess, and she did the same when I moved my body to turn slightly, nodding my head towards two hucows who were still stuffing their faces full. Their shirt was already drenched in whatever they'd been eating, the extra food was really not necessary. More over—why did they keep serving them when it was clear they didn't need it?

Bess seemed confused for a moment at what I was talking about, only to glance up towards the two fat ones from afar. Then back at me. "Mmh... You mean Jack and Andrew?" As if I would know their names. "They got set on meal plans, too. But I guess they got a bit out of hand. It happens." She shrugged, as if it wasnt a big deal seeing some other demihumans out in public pigging out so violently. "Your meal plan is only concluded when you say it is. If you feel dissatisfied with where you're at, you can choose to still get assistance on achieving the weight you want. Whether it's to gain or lose it."

Oh. Oh, that was so fucked. Wasn't that basically an indefinite source of food? You could probably live comfortably here if you didn't mind the people or scenery—or having a small dorm for a home. "I see," Is all I told her. Because anything else would have probably given away how I truly felt about that. It didn't seem right, but... It was certainly interesting.

That was one way of putting it.

Change of subject... "Anyways, could you show me where I can go get food? Havent eaten much today." If we weren't counting that cake. Bess was quick to plaster a smile back on her face, eagerly tugging me along and towards where they served people. " 'Course I can! I just got done with my lunch, but I'll help myself to a second serving so we can eat together."

This was going to be a stranger arrangement than I thought.

Chapter Text

Bess and I had settled into one of the more secluded cafeteria tables to the side. It was a rather small and round table, with the seats circling around it. Spotless. Bess had insisted on me grabbing more food than what I had initially picked out, and considering how healthy she was, I trusted her judgement. She wouldn't do me wrong, I think.

The two of us sat close together, considering there was no spacing between where we sat her thigh could almost touch my own under the table. The fat of it expanded when she would sit down, I learned, quietly noting that in the back of mind. It's not like I had been purposely looking at them, it's just... well, she radiated a certain heat. It felt more noticeable under the table when we were near each other.

Bess had taken to grabbing the same amount of food as I did, as if to silently tell me she wasn't just insisting I get more food that she herself couldn't even handle. It reinforced that this was okay to eat. And considering this was her second serving, it wasn't as much as it could've been. Hm. But now wasn't the time for comparisons, we were such different people that it didn't feel fair to do that.

She'd insisted on me getting a few scoops of ice cream, tied with steamed vegetables on the side. A few pre-made sandwiches, a small bowl of stew... Honestly, if she hadn't gotten the same foods as me I would've thought these were just random pickings. Maybe they were. None of them really made sense together, but that wasn't the point. The point was to eat and gain back what I had lost...

"Can you eat a lot? I should have asked that before making you pick this out..." Her ears drooped in worry, though that didn't stop her from picking up one of her sandwiches and taking a big bite of it, the lettuce audibly crunching in her mouth.

I wasn't too sure. But, I didn't want her to feel guilty when she was only trying to help me out either. I swallowed down my nerves, giving her a small smile. "Yeah," I probably lied, my hand picking up the spoon that was dipped in the stew beside me, swirling the contents a little. "I'll manage. I haven't eaten good in awhile, so I've got plenty of room to spare..." I audibly gulped at that. I wasn't even sure if that's how it worked.

But it seemed to cheer her up immediately, her ears giving a little wiggle as she took another big bite out of her sandwich—the crust is what remained. "Oh," she munched around her words, "Good! Mm, you're gonna love the food here then. It's pretty damn delicious!"

Yeah. I could have probably figured that... I had to forcibly resist side-eyeing the fatter hucows across the cafeteria from us, my shoulders tensing a little. I took a spoonful of my stew to distract myself. Although her company was distracting enough. If it wasn't her breasts that I had been acutely aware of since our first greeting, now it was the little rolls of her stomach that sagged against her lap. Huh.

I couldn't see how big her stomach was whenever she stood, although to be fair everyone's stomach did appear bigger when sitting down. I thought Bess was far from something considered fat—maybe chubby, sure. Thick even, if I were being honest. She clearly had a lot of extra cushioning on those thighs, and her chest—I couldn't tell. It was always hard to tell a real hucows chest size considering it could always just be the extra weight of milk sloshing in there.

I didn't even realize I had finished my stew until I was sipping on nothing but an empty spoon, and that Bess was eyeing me right back. She didn't seem bothered by my blank and obvious staring, casually picking up a third sandwich to bite into. There were a few crumbs dropping with each chomp. Most crumbs landed on her plate, and others...

I felt my thighs squeeze together. Bess grinned at me, but I didn't even notice. She let out a long sigh, and that was what had managed to make me snap my attention back to the food in front of me. My stomach felt warmer now, pleasantly so. But I wasn't full either. So maybe I wasn't lying earlier. 

At some point while I was onto my second sandwich, Bess' thigh had started to press into mine. I didn't realize it at first, probably because I had finally gotten into a slow rhythm of eating what was in front of me, but some of her upper thigh had managed to make skin contact with where the cut-outs on my hips were. And all I could subconsciously think was 'soft', but I wasn't sure if that was at the ice cream I had slipped onto my tongue or not because, yeah, the texture was pretty soft. Maybe it had melted a little from my slow eating.

It took me awhile to turn and realize that Bess had long since finished her serving. The table we were at was right beside a wall, and Bess took to laying her back fully against it to stretch out a little. Her belly looked stuffed—a little more so than earlier, but she seemed content regardless of it, her hands coming up to rub at her stuffed gut in gentle circles. I couldn't stop staring.

I really did want to be like her.

Maybe I should get a second serving myself...

Bess nudged me under the table with her thigh, successfully startling me into biting on my spoon. Eugh... She seemed content with herself in managing to spook me, but I was far from pleased about it, a slight scowl being sent her way. 

"What was that for..?"

"You keep staring me," She said simply, her grin widening enough to crinkle her eyes a little. "You wanna help me out a little? My gut's feeling real uncomfy right now." 

My ears twitched at the offer—no, why did I think that was an offer? She was asking for help... Still, I didn't immediately shoot her question down, and that must've been enough to encourage her to lift her shirt up a little, exposing the gurgling mess that was her belly. It looked bigger when her shirt wasn't basically constricting it, or maybe she'd been sucking her stomach in before. I couldn't tell anymore. It didn't matter.

There were stretch marks littering the side of it, I noticed. A bit darker than the rest of her otherwise smooth skin. It had at least two rolls folding in on themselves underneath it, and her pants were probably hiding a third if I bothered to look hard enough. Sweat started to bead off me, I felt warmer than I was a minute ago. 

"My ice cream will melt if I don't finish it off..." I countered, it sounded like a believable excuse, if only to buy me a little more time to calm myself down. I didn't understand what had me so worked up all of a sudden, but my thighs had long since begun to shake from how tightly they'd been squeezing one another. Bess felt the tremors against her soft thigh. I didn't even notice hers was against mine.

"Here, then. We can both help each other out," She offered, and, before I could move out the way, Bess took the spoon from my hand. I was stunned, unable to take it back from her long enough for her to dip it into the melting ice cream in front of me. She held it up to my lips, her eyelids lowering as she stared back at me. "I can feed you while you rub my stomach. It sounds fair, don't you think?"

My hand didn't even drop from where it'd been holding the spoon up, palm curled around empty space that used to be where it was. I said nothing, but I didn't make any sign of total discomfort or rejection either. She must have taken that as a yes, because she kept on insisting.

Bess took my other hand that had been buried in my lap, gently guiding it to her swollen stomach. I didn't need her to coax me into rubbing it a little, I just... did. The moment my hand touched the soft, stretched skin of her belly I immediately got to work. I had never done something like this before, but it's like I just knew. 

My mouth opened slightly to say something, but all she did was push the spoon into my mouth, and. I'd just leave it at that. It didn't matter if I said anything or not, Bess was going to do as she pleased it seemed. So I swallowed down the ice cream, the chill down my throat welcoming to ease the heat that had spread over the back of my neck. It took an embarrassing amount of time for me to inch my gaze away from her face in favor of looking at her belly instead.

It wasn't as big as the other hucows I'd seen, and to be honest I still thought this was a healthy weight. Chubby, that's what she was. Enough where it was noticeable when she sat a certain way or maybe even dressed differently, but when she stood... it was like it wasn't there at all. It felt oddly revealing for her to show me this, let alone feel her stomach and knead into it.

Her tail flicked up once, and, after a particular rub—it was probably the sweet spot. Bess' ears shot up shakily with a pleased 'moo', her back arching off the wall to push more of herself into my waiting hands. I could feel how her heart had lost its calm rhythm. Was this good? Or was the relief just that pleasurable? I... I wanted to find out.

She had offered to feed me, but eventually lost focus—two bites in, and she was entirely too blissed out to keep scooping the ice cream up to feed me. That was fine. It was kind of distracting, anyways. I was a little more interested in where this would go. Bess' stomach gurgled underneath my touch, the muscles physically rippling against my palms to accommodate the sound. 

"Oof...Mmh, you're good at this," Bess huffed breathlessly, managing to giggle a little through a breathless moo. Emboldened, my hands wandered from the side of her belly, all the way down to her belly button. The little hole was practically engulfed in fat, but that didn't stop me from pushing a finger inside of it, curling the tip upward. I didn't know why I'd done it, but it felt like something she'd enjoy—and I was right.

She had to bite her lower lip to muffle a small moan, one that reached my ears at this distance but was drowned out elsewhere from the cafeteria chatter. My other hand trailed down her navel, noting the tiny little curls of hair there that trailed all the way into her pants. It took me far too long to stop myself from actually going below her waistband, entranced in the soft rolls I'd managed to find and squeeze between curious fingers. The give of them... it was like no other, not even my breasts felt like that. Even when filled to the brim.

"...Sorry," I muttered, my hands reluctantly letting go of her. My eyes drifted to the tray in front of me. My ice cream had melted... 

"No, no," Bess had to catch her breath, but laughed nonetheless in amusement. She finally pushed her shirt back down—but it was obvious it didn't fit as well as it did before she sat down to eat. "That was good, you really helped me out there."

I wasn't sure what that meant, but I didn't want to know either. What the hell was that...? I—I need to focus on finishing my food. "I'm glad," I managed to force out, my mind buzzing into an uncomfortably numb feeling. My face was burning up, and now I really did have a reason to sweat. "My ice cream melted..."

"I'll get you some more next time to make up for it," She said. It wasn't an offer, because she was already sluggishly making herself stand, taking her tray with her before I could even interject.

Bess turned, her tail swaying happily behind her as she pushed her hips out proudly. "I'll see you around for dinner, Muuni."

"...Likewise."

Chapter Text

Considering I was only a day into being at the farm, there weren't any jobs tasked for me just yet. Supposedly I'd be put into a working job here around the one week mark. So, next Monday. That was alright, I guess. It gave me a reason to interact with other people and ease my nerves some more, even though Bess was oddly enough doing most of that for me already.

Bess... Just the thought of her made my insides clench uncertainly. Although that could also be from the fact I'd seriously stuffed myself a little too much, thinking I could handle a second serving after she had left me alone. I wasn't like her, so I couldn't understand what part of me thought I could take so much food at once like a champ. 

Regardless. It was too late to dwell on my poor life choices, I'd made many of those already. I had to occasionally lean against a wall and catch my breath when making it back to my dorm. The fat my stomach had accumulated would die down after it digested later. I think... There wasn't much, but the fact I couldn't see my ribs anymore was telling. Considering I have four stomachs like all the other hucows did, it was disappointing that I got full so, so easily. I wanted a proper gut, though that was most definitely just because the food was making me delirious.

When I got into my dorm, Shellby was nowhere to be seen. My guess was she had work already—she'd been here way past a week, after all. And needed genuine training rather than just eating and socializing. All things considered, I got off pretty easily from my predicament. I could have been tortured by Jenkins when he had me, for all I knew. The consequences for being gone a few months was honestly nothing...

I made my way into the living room, groaning as I flopped down onto my couch. It sunk underneath me a little as I sprawled out on my back, one hand tucked against my stomach, the other resting against the couch cushion. Mmh.. My tail flicked absently as I rubbed over the pathetic little bump there. It paled in comparison to the guts I'd seen—and touched—today. But it was only my first day here, I had time... Indefinitely so. 

My other hand squeezed the cushion under me and, subconsciously, I noticed how it kind of resembled how Bess' belly felt when I'd kneaded it. I gave it a few more squeezes, my other continuing to rub at my stomach. The top of it first, then a little lower, brushing against the hem of my shirt. I could only fantasize a little about the cushion I was feeling being my own stomach as I rubbed it, eventually opting to pulling my shirt up over it and bunching it under my tits. Which, I didn't quite pay attention to at the time. Those had gotten heavy again.

I squirmed, damn it. I don't know what it was but—fuck, I was so envious of Bess. Of all of the women and men here. Why did I have to be so brittle? I wanted my weight back. I wanted something I could sink my fingers into and proudly show off. My body shifted restlessly onto its side, causing the many foods inside my stomach to audibly slosh alongside the milk in my breasts—which, if I had bothered to care right now, would notice were getting bigger by the minute. I was getting too worked up. 

My thighs squeezed together as I huffed quietly, my teeth digging into my bottom lip as I squeezed my eyes tight. The couch cushion wasn't enough, I needed something softer—my breasts. My free hand immediately jolted up to one of my heaving tits, squeezing and kneading and testing its growing weight against the palm. By now my other hand was way past my belly button, stuffing itself under my waistband which, I now realized, was tighter than before. That was what did it for me, cutting a moan from my throat. Oh my god. I'd actually put on some weight.

I couldn't even bother to unbuckle my belt, fuck it, let my wrist be pressed up against my navel as I fingered myself. It felt good to have something pressing into my belly, no matter how small it still was. My hips rutted up against my wrist, a breathy 'moo!' breaking from my parted lips. I was panting again. Oh my god—I wasn't going to survive dinner with Bess. Would she let me touch her belly again? I should have let her feed me. No, I should've let her sit in my lap and press her belly into mine while it rumbled. Maybe fed her the rest of my own food, for all I cared. 

My tail was whipping against the cushions now, and I was dangling dangerously close to falling off the couch with each hump my hips gave. I paid no mind to any of it—all I could think about was her belly, and how I wanted one just like hers. "A-Ah—!" My head tilted back with another moo, my lips trembling as I turned speechless. Milk was leaking out, and I only fingered myself harder, encouraged, enlightened, desperate—

"O-Oh mmy—gh!!" Warmth immediately squirted into my palm, seeping into my panties. A different kind of warmth drizzling from my chest. It took me too long to come down from my high, making a mess out of myself and the poor couch cushions. 

My tits had managed to leave a slight tear down the middle of my shirt's collar, having become too big for it to support. I didn't care. I'd missed feeling full, the steady leak of milk an almost comforting feeling. 

I really wasn't surviving dinner.

Chapter Text

I ended up flaking out on Bess.

The world would give me divine punishment for it later, I was sure, but... it was probably post-nut clarity. I didn't want to weird her out, and I knew that if I showed up for dinner tonight with her that I'd probably lose her as a friend (if that's what we even were now).

So, I opted to stay home and eat there instead. Shellby had finally come back later, luckily long after I had cleaned myself and our couch up... I didn't need another embarrassing incident with her, but she seemed pretty content from how her day went. A little happy to see me, actually.

"Oh, hey," She greeted me at the door, closing it behind her as she set her belongings down against the table nearby. "How was your first day?" I gave her a short shrug. I didn't plan on telling her about what happened, but honestly, outside of what went down with Bess—nothing really did happen... 

"Nothing really," I said, reaching to turn the sound on the television down with the remote. "Had lunch. Came home and passed out. I think my body couldn't handle having a proper meal after so long," I gave her a short chuckle, my body leaning back to give my basically nonexistent gut a pat for emphasis—only for me to shudder slightly. Wrong move.

Shellby's ears flicked in acknowledgment as she went towards the kitchen. From behind I noticed that there was sweat damping her shirt up—not just her armpits. Jesus. What did they have her doing to get results like that? The slobs at the cafeteria made me nearly forget that they did physical therapy here, too. 

"Did you see Luis?"

"Who?"

Shellby came back with a plate of leftovers. "That bull at the cafeteria. The one in charge of check-ins." She sat beside me, the plate resting in her lap. Upon closer inspection, it was some sort of pasta loaded with tomato sauce and basil. I guess it made sense, it could store energy for her tomorrow.

"Oh... Yeah, I saw him. He seemed like a good guy." To be honest, it was hard for me to remember anything outside of what happened with Bess earlier. It kept replaying in my head and, equally making me feel guilt for staying here instead of heading to the cafeteria again.

I could just make up an excuse maybe. Say I stuffed myself too full to go for dinner. Hm. My ears flicked in thought. "Yeah," Shellby agreed. I would have never guessed what would've come out of her mouth next. "Don't get too friendly with that guy, he's one of the breeding bulls around here."

"I'm sorry?"

Shellby took the wrong moment to start slurping down her pasta, licking the smeared sauce off of her lips. It gave me too much time to question that, no matter how little the time between her eating and what she said next was. "I know, you wouldn't expect that from a guy with a demeanor like his. Usually, they're full of themselves. Or hitting on every woman that breathes in the same room as them." She only shrugged at that, swallowing the rest of her food down. "I guess that's what must make him a breeding bull—he knows how to put others at ease. Real charmer, I guess."

"...You're making it sound like you've—"

"If you don't wanna get speared by my fork, you won't finish that sentence."

My hands raised up slowly, dropping the thought right there. "Can I at least know how you know for sure that he's a breeding bull?"

Shellby set her plate down with a huff, her legs kicking up to lay on the coffee table in front of us. "It's one of the job opportunities here, for one," She looked to her side, directly at me. "And I asked him around the first week I got here. He was pretty open about it. Went in full, unnecessary detail—I don't think that guy has a filter when he starts tellin' you something."

This place couldn't get any weirder. "Wait, so if that's a job opportunity, does that mean—you know... there's a job opportunity for getting bred? Please don't tell me that's a thing..."

"It's a thing."

"Oh my god."

"Yeah. Muuni, you do not want to go down that path. You can help with taking care of crops instead. It's not too bad," Shellby gave herself a self-satisfied grin at that. Considering that was her previous occupation, I wasn't too surprised she'd market it to me. Though it was also hard to see the charm in farming considering her hip had nearly shattered during work.

"Obviously I'm not going to do either of those things," I huffed, my arms crossing against my chest. Damn, I had completely forgotten that my breasts filled up from earlier... Thinking back on it, just this morning Shellby had been pretty willing to milk me the proper way. So...

"Hey."

"Mmh?"

"...Could you, uh... milk me?" The words felt embarrassing when they slipped out, but I was already on a pretty bold streak today. I'd done much, much worse than ask to be milked. And if she didn't do it, I'd probably be aching tomorrow morning or fuck it up even more by tonight.

Her eyebrows lifted at that, but nothing else really gave me the impression that Shellby was stunned by my request. If anything, she was already moving to face me fully. "Weren't you the one freaking out this morning over me touching you?"

"Yeah, but this time I'm actually asking you to do it..." My ears pinned back, a pout forming on my lips. "If you don't wanna, then just say that."

"That's not what I said," Shellby clarified, though it was obvious she could tell I was going to start trying to pity her into doing it. Before I could do anything, her hands grasped at my hips, successfully getting a startled 'moo!' out of me. But I didn't push her away.

I was pulled into her lap in an instant. In this position our height difference didn't really matter—our breasts were going to touch regardless, nipples rubbing together as I went to adjusting my hold on her shoulders. Oh no. This is not what I had in mind when I'd asked...

Shellby's hands remained on my hips, her sharp fingernails leaving faint indents into the exposed skin from the cut-outs... I really needed to invest in getting some sleepwear. My thighs had spread over her lap, knees laying right beside her hips on the couch. I couldn't stop myself from squirming a little—there was no ignorance here, I knew just how compromising this position was.

...I kind of liked it.

My tail curled tightly against my lower back, and I could feel her hands tighten a little to keep me from moving any more than necessary. She didn't need to say anything for me to get the memo, and I promptly tried to keep myself still. It made her ease the grip she had on my hips.

"How did they even get this full again?" She mumbled, uncaring of just how we were doing this. Of course she was... Her hands left my hips to brush up against the stretched skin at the sides of my tits, where skin strained to hold all of the milk inside of them. "You were practically pouring a buckets-worth of milk out this morning, and you're already backed up again?"

I let out a nervous sound. There was no explaining it without revealing my sins. I couldn't just say 'whenever I get horny my breast milk builds up faster', that'd be weird—though, I was certain she already thought I was weird enough without that knowledge. It wasn't like she was any better, judging by right now. "Er... I was used to be milked a lot in the past. It kind of just happens." Not entirely a lie there.

Shellby only hummed up at me, her hands testing the weight of my breasts—it wasn't needed, this little assessment of hers. All I asked for was her to milk me, not evaluate how much milk I'd garnered over less than twenty-four hours... But, still. I've come to accept that I'm a little bit depraved, and that I wasn't going to complain about her taking her time to touch me so intimately. If she wanted to make my tits jiggle in her hands all night, I'd probably let her. They kept rubbing up against her own breasts, too.

"Mmh." She hummed, not really giving me any response to that. While she was busy weighing my breasts in her palms, I couldn't help but look up at the horns looming on her head. They really were bigger than most other horns I'd seen on hucow women. Sharp to the tip, probably deadly enough to pierce through flesh if she rammed someone hard enough. Maybe that's what made her good at protecting her farm back home, too.

"I'm curious. Mind if I try something?" I blinked down at her, grounding myself back to the present moment. I gave Shellby a curt nod, though a little unsure as to what that would've entailed. Then again, being curious has led to a lot of good things today.

Suddenly, her hands weren't just idly touching my breasts anymore. She was kneading them from underneath, like she'd done earlier today. But her thumbs—they circled all the way to the peak of my nipples, effectively make me cry out in shock. She must've known what I'd do, because one of her hands snaked down to wrap an arm around my waist, keeping me on her lap. 

Shellby pressed me closer to her, but I kept trying to get off of her, my legs lifting me slightly off of her lap—it left my breasts front and center across from her face. To which she slowly sunk her head between them. "S-Shellby! What the hell does this have to do with milking me!?" My voice was shaking, and fuck me, I was getting so fucking horny right now.

She didn't honor me with a response, or if she did it had gone muffled against my chest, the faint vibrations of her voice making me shudder and buck up with a whine. Just like that, I could feel it. My tits growing softer, sagging. I was getting so worked up that my milk production was doubling over again. Was that it? Was that what she was trying to do—? I—

"S-Stop! Shellby!" My hands weakly shoved at her shoulders, more so rocking her back and forth rather than any real effort in trying to pry myself from my roommate. My shirt wasn't going to last, it was straining at the sides, the hem rising slightly over my lower stomach as it was beginning to fail at covering me properly. Every shuddering movement from me only caused the milk inside my growing breasts to slosh louder, a dizzying sound that should've been defeaning against Shellby's ears. 

All I got was another hum, her other arm finally joining in keep my waist trapped against her. She was going all in, her tail swishly slowly against the couch cushions. My hands grabbed onto her horns without a second thought, a high-pitched whine coming out involuntarily. "Wait...! Mmh—please! M-my shirt—!" I could barely form sentences over the gasps and sighs I let out. Even if I would lose my shirt in the process... I'd missed being this full. I really, really did. 

My tail practically slapped anywhere it could whip, which wasn't much considering how short it was. I wasn't even trying to push her away anymore, more like angle myself so I wouldn't fully suffocate her like this. My breasts were well past the size of her head now, small shredding sounds occasionally coming out of nowhere as they grew in heaviness and size. Ultimately, they were beginning to sag. My bra wasn't enough to support them properly, the nipples slipping out and poking through my shirt. 

Another muffled sound between them, and I couldn't stop myself from moaning. They were so fucking sensitive now, like they were back in my kennel, except I actually had something to stimulate them now. Eventually, I gave in. My hips rutting up against her like a needy dog, pants eventually turning wet as drool came out of my mouth and down my chin. I was salivating.

It didn't take long, the milk beading out of my perky nipples, soaking down my shirt—I was going to burst. Or maybe my shirt was. Maybe both. It shouldn't have pleased me the way it did, but, fuck it. "Shellby..." I moaned, my eyes rolling back behind my heavy eyelids. I was trembling, my shirt was up to my ribs now, fighting for it's life to contain my milky, swollen breasts. 

The last thing I remembered before blanking out was a loud, resounding rip, and the heavy sag of my tits against Shellby's head. I had no idea how I'd drain all of this out tonight. Or if I even wanted them drained anymore. It was scarily similar to what Jenkins used to do to me—stimulate me until my breasts became too heavy for me to handle. But this? This was the farthest I'd ever gone.

And I could only wonder if I could go further.

Chapter Text

I was still horny by the time Shellby had finished whatever on God's green earth that tiddy teasing was. She did indeed milk me—properly. While also apologizing for her actions earlier. I should have been mad at her—but I wasn't. It felt good, and it only reinforced what I wanted for myself.

I wanted to feel heavy.

My breasts had stretched themselves the biggest I had ever seen them. Which I had found odd. Jenkins would stimulate my breasts for hours on end, but it never gave him this result. I didn't know I could even get this big! It must've had to do with something else, and for now I didn't care about finding out. The end result was still the same.

My goddaamn shirt was torn in half down the middle. And now I had to wear one of Shellby's shirts instead. It had a fuzzy texture to it. A little ticklish against my breasts at first, but eventually I stopped noticing the new sensation. It was cuter than the plain t-shirt I'd been given before, so it wasn't a total loss. I couldn't say the same for when I'd be out in the sun, though. The shirt felt built for colder climates.

I was a little sad to discover that all that weight gained on my breasts went away after Shellby helped to milk me over the kitchen sink for real this time. To my utter surprise, it didn't make me horny. Not even my nipples grew hard with her hands gently massaging my tits into freeing its excessive milk. Although that was probably because I'd cum not too long ago before being milked that night—I had been spent...

Though that wasn't the only weight to leave me last night, either. Waking the next morning, I discovered my little bump had all but disappeared. My pants kind of sagged again without the belt on while I was in bed. I drooped my ears, a melodramatic and drawn out 'moooo' leaving me to mourn my loss. Goodbye, gut. I didn't get to enjoy you for long. 

But today was a new day. And after reaffirming the fact that I wanted a build like Bess, I was determined to see my meal plan through. I didn't keel over and die from two servings of multiple meals in one sitting. So I felt a little unstoppable so early in the morning.

Shellby was still asleep by the time I'd gotten up, but that was fine. I didn't need her distracting me on my mission today. 

My hooves clopped against the floor as I made my way straight to our kitchen, already thinking of all the ways I could put on weight as soon as possible. I needed something heavy...my hands pushing past an arrangement of vegetables as I searched. Something filling. Something... like a shake. My ears perked as my hand wrapped around the plastic casing of a protein bottle. 

Pulling it out, I immediately checked the back of it to see how many calories were in it. Hm... It wasn't enough, but it held some sort of value. It could be heavy. And it wasn't like I wouldn't be stacking other substances and meals on top of that today, either. 

My hip kept the fridge door open as I twisted the cap off, giving it a faint sniff before immediately raising the opening to my lips. It went down in slow chugs—the quality of it was thicker than I imagined. It was a little cold too from being inside the fridge, leaving me to shudder slightly as it chilled my teeth. It kind of reminded me of ice cream, except it was a lot less tasty.

It only took three minutes to finish it between quick breaks to catch my breath, the bottle emptied and useless now in my hand. Oof. That had settled pretty fast, actually. My other hand came down to rub at my belly and... mmh. It was soft. I liked that a lot, especially the little bit of liquid I could feel digesting in there. But I needed more, and there was plenty of food I could get to experiment with.

I didn't mean for Shellby to wake up and find me at the beginnings of my pig out session on the kitchen table, but she didn't look surprised. I wouldn't be either if I'd seen what some of the folks here on meal plans looked like...

"Eating my stuff again?" She asked, her arms stretching over her head with a loud yawn, her ears shuttering slightly. Her stride was lazy as she sat on the edge of the table near where I was seated, eyeing the toaster strudels I'd stacked onto my plate. She didn't know it yet but... I'd cooked the entire dozen of them that the box came with already. It just looked like I made a few because there were only a few left now. "Did you at least save some for me?"

Shit. "Yeah, actually. Here..." I slowly slid my plate over to the side of her, knowing there were no more in the freezer for my roommate to have. Those were the last of 'em. My hands hid my face in embarrassment, not bothering to look her way after the exchange. I really wanted the last of those, too. Strawberry with a cream filling was a really good combination for a toaster strudel to have...

"That's not what I meant," Shellby said, the sound of the plate being slid cutting through the silent pause in between. "I meant if you had anymore left for me to feed you."

My head lowered down against the kitchen table, my arms falling limp to my sides. "You know, you have a real special way of phrasing things that make me feel dumb. What the hell else was I supposed to gather when you asked me that?" She couldn't see it, but I was pouting now, my ears pinning back in embarrassment. It was hard to pinpoint what about this was more embarrassing. Probably the fact that I wasn't opposed to letting her feed me...

"I like to make things a little more complicated," Shellby shrugged, smiling down at me before she picked the plate of strudels up from beside her. Moving the other wooden chair from out under the table next to me, Shellby sat down, almost equally leveling our heights. Shellby picked up one of the remaining strudels, letting it rest between her fingers as she leaned in close, her warm breath ghosting against my cheek. "Come on, open up."

I groaned, lifting my head from the table just enough to peek at her through the curtain of my messy hair. "You’re such a pain," I mumbled, but even as I said it, my lips parted instinctively when she pressed the warm pastry against them.

The moment the flaky crust hit my tongue, my tail gave a slow flick, and my ears twitched in silent approval. The strudel was still slightly warm, the icing soft and just barely melted over the top. When I bit down, the strawberry filling gushed onto my tongue, sticky and sweet. I moaned—softly, involuntarily—as I chewed, feeling the satisfying weight of food settle into my stomach.

Shellby let out a chuckle, her other hand slipping beneath the table. "You’re adorable, you know that?"

I felt her fingers graze my stomach—my stomach, which, at this point, was pressing against the waistband of my pants in a way that wasn’t there just an hour ago. I had eaten a lot since waking up, enough that I could feel the stretch of my belly pushing against the fabric. Even if just a little. The shake, the eggs, the sausage links, the buttery biscuits slathered in gravy, the mashed potatoes I found left over in the fridge—everything had gone down easily, my appetite suddenly ravenous and unrelenting today.

And I felt it now. My gut was full, heavier than it had been, sitting against my lap in a way that felt foreign but... good. My pants were tighter, the waistband digging in a little, and my shirt had ridden up just slightly, exposing a sliver of soft, swollen belly and the peak of my belly button.

Shellby’s fingers trailed over the curve of it, her touch featherlight, nails grazing my skin just enough to make me squirm. "Already makin’ progress," she murmured, almost approvingly, before she lifted another strudel to my lips.

I didn’t hesitate this time, my mouth closing around the pastry as she held it there, my hands resting limply in my lap as I let her feed me. My ears twitched in response to the sensation of her hand still idly rubbing over my belly, kneading it slightly as I chewed.

"You’re gonna be so soft," Shellby hummed, her voice carrying a kind of satisfaction that made my face heat.

I swallowed, licking a stray drop of icing from my lips. "I was soft," I muttered. "And then I lost it."

"We'll make sure it stays," she said easily, nudging my cheek with her finger before popping the last piece of the strudel between my lips. I chewed, feeling my stomach gurgle in response, heavy and warm and... full.

And then, without warning, Shellby pulled me into her lap.

I squeaked, my legs spreading slightly to accommodate her plush thighs beneath me, my belly pressing snugly against her own slightly toned stomach as I instinctively braced myself against her shoulders. My breasts, though not as painfully full as they had been yesterday, still felt sensitive enough that the sudden press of them against hers sent a shiver down my spine.

"Shellby!" I whined, shifting as I tried to adjust to the new position.

"What?" she said, feigning innocence as she wrapped her arms around me, keeping me in place. "You’re so small still. Let me enjoy it while I can."

I groaned, ears flattening against my head. "I literally take up your whole lap right now."

"Not enough of it," she corrected, her fingers squeezing at my waist, her thumbs brushing the slight swell of my belly. "But don’t worry, we’ll fix that soon, won’t we?"

I swallowed, my face burning. The way she said it—like it was a promise, like she was going to personally see to it that I got bigger, softer, heavier—made something deep in my gut tighten in the most unfamiliar, intoxicating way.

I let my head drop against her shoulder, too full, too flustered to argue. Shellby just chuckled, rubbing lazy circles into my back. "That’s my good girl." 

All I could do was moo at her...