Short second-person weight gain and moo-cow TF; I kept it pretty gender neutral, since everyone can be fat and moo-y. Anywho, is this my first story in several years starring my boy Sammy? Yes. Is he going to make you a giant obese milky cow? Also yes. Enjoy!
“Alright darlin’, drink up when you’re ready!”
The wide, green-haired moo-boy stood in front of you, his sizable hips taking up most of your view of the back of the spacious barn-turned-laboratory. An excited grin is plastered on his chubby face; his fat-heavy arms jiggle as he hands you a cup. It’s a regular clear plastic cup labeled “Serum B”, the pink liquid contained within smelling strongly of sweet cream and strawberries.
“I’ll be filmin’ this for scientific record, just like we talked about; that still okay, sugar?”
You nod. You’d come this far, traveling all the way out here to Sammy’s Sunshine Dairy, answering an ad calling for volunteers to help with a product trial. You skimmed it, noticing that It promised 500 dollars, and with Sammy being a reputable local business owner that specializes in weight-boosting milkshakes and products for moo-boys, you figured it was easy money. Taste testing for 500 bucks? Yes please. Besides, Sammy’s calm and friendly demeanor instantly put you at ease, which made it all the easier to say yes.
With one last little breath, you bring the cup to your mouth. As soon as it hits your tongue, your senses are awash with sweet, fresh strawberry flavor; it’s like the best strawberry ice cream you’ve ever had, but somehow better. You can’t help yourself and take another big gulp, then another and another.. Before you know it, you’re standing in the middle of the room holding an empty cup. Sammy beams at you from behind the camera.
“I reckon that means you liked it.” he chuckles, shifting his stance to get a better angle with the camera, black skirt riding up to expose a considerable amount of his girthy cheeks. If he noticed, he didn’t say. “Lemme know if ya feel anything yet.”
As soon as he finishes speaking, your gut rumbles loud enough to echo across the walls. You put your hand to your stomach, a little embarrassed; maybe dairy wasn’t quite agreeing with you today. As you hold your hand there, you begin to notice something; your shirt is shifting beneath your grip, sliding and bunching, tightening around your middle… and that’s when you feel the mass of your belly growing out, pushing your hand away as it thickens and softens into a proper belly right before your very eyes.
“Woah, that’s fast! Didn’t expect it to go so quick, sugar. Should stop right about… now.” Sammy spoke.
You watch in stunned silence as the soft swell of flesh begins to peek out beneath your shirt, the fabric unable to cover it any longer; a small sliver quickly turns into a wide patch of exposed flesh. You can feel a strange soothing warmth as the rest of your body begins to rapidly soften like rising bread, pants pulling tight around your growing cheeks, underwear receding, shirt sleeves gripping the dipping lard-wings you’re developing.
“U-Uh, any second…” Sammy shuffles nervously, watching you grow fatter and fatter.
What was that stuff? What’s happening?
These questions escape your lips as your chest fills out like water balloons stuck on a milk spigot, blowing up and up, nipples perfectly visible through the tightening fabric, growing faster than the rest of you to catch up; the sudden onslaught is too much for the shirt, and it begins to tear from the collar straight down the middle.
“W-Wait, didn’t ya read the advertisement?” Sammy speaks, a look of confusion now mixing with mild panic. “It said you’d be testin’ my new line of moo formula; y’know, like the formula that turns ya all chubby and cow-like? This was supposed to be the beginner dose, but it looks like ah might have… well, overshot it…”
Your pants are the next to go, a catastrophic failure beginning with the sudden rupture of the seat of your pants and culminating in so many ripped and snapped seams you were rapidly left standing in just your underwear.
The camera captures your enormity in frame, from your bare rolly thighs that squish together in silken flows to the gut dipping down and encroaching on their territory, to your bra-obliterating breasts that encroach on your belly in turn. As if turning into a parade blimp weren’t enough, you feel a warm, numb tingle on your head like running water; reaching up, you can feel two cow horns poking out of your skull, nubby and short, but otherwise sitting amongst your hair like they’d always been there. You turn your head, fat cheek pressing into shoulder in an effort to look at your couch-filling ass, and feel two fuzzy new cow ears flopping against your cheek.
You reach out to your belly with lardbag arms as thick as bed pillows and place your dimpled hands on the gut that grows, and grows, and grows some more… you feel your back fat touch the shelf of an ass that has by now outgrown even your underwear and you shiver; everything on you is softening, drooping, widening, filling, touching, jiggling. The sensations are almost overwhelming, but…
It’s not bad?
Not something you’d thought you’d think, given the circumstances, but it was true. You felt like you had just crawled beneath a comforter straight out of the dryer, or slipped into a hot tub: only the hot tub is *you*, your girthy circumference and sheer volume certainly enough to fill one at least.
“Oh, it looks like it’s slowin’ down… a-at least, ah hope so…” he mumbled in his thick southern accent, looking more than a little embarrassed himself over his formula error.
You confirm his suspicion: the growth is finally slowing, the last pounds creeping in at close to solidify you as a nearly spherical ball of lard. But just as it stopped, a tingle began at the peaks of your breasts; you pat at them, hammy arms squishing them together as you work to try to soothe the tingle.
The tingling builds and builds until finally, like a dam breaking, streams of milk begin pouring down your breasts, tickling your belly before dripping to the floor.
“W-Well… if’n you want, ah can just… pay ya now and send ya home with some of my pajamas…” Sammy spoke sheepishly. “But bein’ that large, might be a little bit of an adjustment… ah can always set you up a room in the farmhouse, let ya work here for a while if you’re interested. Long as you want, ‘till you’re adjusted to bein’ a cow– seein’ as it’s permanent an’ all– or just for as long as you wanna work ‘round here as a dairy cow. What’ya say? You want to hang around?”
You grip your belly and let out a long, happy moo.
Cross-posting this from AO3: a Naruto kink fic involving Shino getting some fat milky cow titties from poison or whatever and Kiba helping him out. Enjoy!
“And why does he have to do this again?” Naruto asked, peering around the shoulder of his pink-haired teammate. Across the room, Shino carefully assembled a small portion of everyone’s food on a plate. He worked diligently from pork bun to wild herb salad, a corner here and leaf there, until he had a small selection before him.
“He’s checking for poison. Those insects of his can detect and quickly break down poisonous substances far better than any human body can.”
“Creepy…” the short blonde ninja shuddered.
“Hush! Do you want another grudge on your head?!” Sakura growled.
“Hey, it’s not my fault bugs are gross!”
“I can hear you, and would appreciate it if you would show some respect.”
A small swarm of black insects crawled out of Shino’s sleeves. They marched up to the plate of food samples and covered them like sesame seeds, nibbling away at the meager portions with invisible mouths.
Naruto covered his mouth and fled the room. Sakura sighed and followed after him.
“I swear, if you puke…!”
‘Good, silence is better for focus.’ Shino thought, watching the bugs from behind his dark black glasses as they each nibbled and munched. The cicadas chirped outside, a natural melody soothing and comforting to his soul. Suddenly, the door behind him slammed open, and he could tell who it was before he spoke.
“Oh, food’s ready? Why didn’t anyone tell me?!” the irate visitor spoke, messy brown hair ruffling further in his fit.
“Kiba… the food isn’t ready. However, I’m nearly done testing it-”
“What for?” he interrupted, swiping a bun from the table. “Looks fine to me!”
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”
His deep, commanding tone was enough to make him give pause. He lowered the bun.
“Huh? What, you really think it’s poisoned? Come on, who could’ve gotten in? We’ve been here all day!”
Kiba was incredulous, waltzing back and forth across the room. “Look, no assassins in here! Although, I have my doubts about what you do in your free time…” he scoffed. Suddenly, a tickle on his hand: a beetle was crawling off the bun and to his skin.
“Wah!” he cried, recoiling in fright. The bun bounced against the floor, landing by his feet.
“What the heck, Shino? You could’ve killed me!”
Shino said nothing. The bugs slowly returned to him, moving off the plate and bag into his sleeves.
“It is complete. The bugs tell me there is nothing; because of this inference, we may eat.”
Kiba sighed. “You had to poke me with a beetle just for that? Not cool…”
“I have to make sure. I-”
He stopped short, putting a hand to the table.
“Hey, something wrong?” Kiba asked, cocking his head to the side.
“I’m… what…. Hrgh!” Shino grabbed his stomach. He clenched his teeth, sweat drops forming on his head.
“Poison? For real?!” Kiba shouted. “Guys, get in here!”
“Impossible…” Shino choked, falling to his side in agony. Kiba ran to his teammate’s side and held him up in his arms, a worried expression on his face.
“Shino! What’s going on?! Talk to me!”
“I…. I-I didn’t- hnn…”
Shino seemed to melt in his hands, growing weaker by the second. And yet, he felt him press down firmer and firmer into his lap…
Naruto and Sakura burst into the room. “Kiba- hey, what’s wrong with Shino?”
Kiba shook his head. “I don’t know. One second, he was checking the food, and the next, he was on the floor!”
Naruto walked around the table to get a better look at him.
“Woah! What’s wrong with his belly?”
“What do you-” Kiba started, looking to his middle. Where once there was a glut of loose coat fabric, there was now a steadily growing bump.
“Quick, get his coat off!”
Kiba held him while Naruto slipped his arms out of his attire and tossed it away, giving the group a better view of his body. To their collective horror, Shino’s body seemed to be changing; each ab, each bicep, every defined muscle slowly smoothed out into a foreign mass.
“He’s… h-he’s…”
“...Fat!” Naruto blurted.
As much as Kiba wanted to pass it off as some strange, reversible swelling, his eyes led him to believe otherwise. Right there in his arms, Shino had blimped from a slender and fit 120 lbs to a chubby 200, and the growth didn’t seem to be stopping.
“Hrmph…” he groaned, tight black shirt stretching up and over his creamy, lard laden belly, his chest swelling to match. Pink nipples poked against the fabric, becoming more and more visible as his chest was squeezed tighter in its confines.
“W-What do we do?” Kiba asked.
“I haven’t seen anything like this…” Sakura spoke in a half-whisper, raising her hand to her mouth. Shino’s pants filled the air with a cacophony of the stressed cries of hundreds of failing fibers. His leg wraps stressed, and finally ripped altogether as his calves swelled, his thighs threatening to do the same to the thin wraps there. With a tiny *shrip*, his shirt split at the base, the tear rising over his flabby belly and up between his rapidly rounding breasts.
As if his rapid fattening wasn’t enough, he began radiating a strange, purple glow.
“What? Kiba, Naruto, move back!” Sakura shouted.
“B-But-” Kiba hesitated, holding his friend close despite the mysterious glow.
“It could spread, you have to let him go!”
Kiba just clenched his eyes shut, prepared for the worst. Fortunately for him, the glow remained solely around Shino. Unfortunately for Shino, the glow brought new changes.
“H-His face…” Naruto gasped, gazing on as Shino’s nose slowly became boxy and snout-like under his glasses, the flesh turning just as black. His cheeks fattened and rounded out, hiding all evidence of a jaw line and becoming like two fat blobs of freshly pounded rice dough. His pants creaked ominously as his massive buttcheeks continued to blimp and spread out, his ever-burgeoning waistline and blubbery thighs compounding the issue. The fibers could take no more and, in a sudden motion that sent wobbles rippling through, shredded along his thighs in a spectacular show of jiggling fat.
Kiba opened his eyes to the feel of something fuzzy touching his arm. His mind jumped to the feel of a puppy’s ears, and indeed, something (or, rather, a pair of somethings) had sprouted on either side of Shino’s head. Two floppy, fuzzy, and inhuman ears, as brown and soft as his hair.
“When will it stop?!” Kiba growled. “Sakura, Naruto; go find help! I’ll stay with him.”
Naruto nodded, and quickly left the room.
“We’ll get you help, Shino!” Sakura vowed, and rapidly followed.
The floor groaned beneath the two as Shino’s weight climbed ever higher, his flab spilling out of Kiba’s grasp. His pants were all but gone, his undercloth rapidly vanishing between his cheeks and under the sagging belly that oozed across his thighs.
Everywhere Kiba looked, more fat appeared. Rolls at his sides, dimples on his bare butt, the curve of his swelling chest… all seemed to amplify second by second.
“Hmrph… m-muh…” Shino murmured in his inebriated state. He shifted, trying to arch his back, but simply wobbled back and forth. His belly had grown past his thick knees; if the growth keeps up, he’ll never walk again, Kiba thought. It already seemed like an impossibility. After all, what kind of human could hold up a belly so thick you could lose your arm up to the elbow in it? Who could carry a butt that touched the back of their calves when they walk? Who could bear breasts fatter than water pots?
Shino Aburame, that’s who!
“If I have to carry you from now on, I’ll do it…” Kiba grunted, struggling to keep him in his lap. His soft back pooled in his lap, roll upon roll of fleshy flab sinking around his thighs. His arms blimped into swollen, dimpled bags of pudding that pushed against his chest.
More ripping fabric sounded out, and Kiba was certain his painfully stretched shirt had given up the ghost. Instead, his eyes were drawn downwards, to his feet, where his bloated feet shredded through his shoes, his legs changing into more animal structures. Hooves formed where his toes where, and slowly it dawned upon Kiba what he reminded him of.
As if to confirm it with a final taunting hint, Shino’s shirt split open, his gargantuan udders bouncing forth with a spurt of milk from each swollen nipple. As the warm liquid rolled down the curve of his sloshing chest, the growth seemed to slow to a halt, and Shino began to wake.
“Hnn… K-Kiba?...” he muttered, putting his hands on his belly as his strength returned.
“Shino, you’re alive! I thought… I was sure…”
Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes. Shino’s eyebrows narrowed in confusion.
“What happened?... Why do I feel so heavy?”
He moved his head down-- fat neck limiting full motion -- his eyes scanning the masses before him from the two wet breasts to his massive belly. Much else was limited to imagination alone at this angle.
“What is all of this… stuff?” he asked, cupping his breast. A wave of aching fullness washed across his chest, and milk dribbled down over his short, fat fingers.
“The food was sabotaged, and you started changing… I sent the others to get help.”
Shino was quiet. Even for the chief analyst, this was a lot to take in. He shifted, trying to get a grip on the floor, but just ended up stumbling like a massively overweight deer. He huffed, and tried again, this time with Kiba’s help, managing to get to his knees. His massive rear rested against the backs of his legs, blobbing over his hooves and onto the floor.
Panting, he rested in that position, a thin sheen of sweat plain on his skin. Kiba scooted to his side, blushingly avoiding the view his massive friend’s naked rear.
“So… heavy…” he huffed, holding up his thick, quivering breasts which squished into and squeezed between his fingers. Milk streamed down his front, onto his belly. “Too… full...”
Kiba’s face flushed. Seeing Shino, whom he admitted only half heartedly and only to himself that he’d had a fleeting crush on, leaking milk in only scraps of his uniform, was enough to fluster the cocky ninja.
“Kiba, please… milk me…” he grunted, squeezing his chest together. Kiba’s eyes widened, flush deepening.
Out of all the years he’d known him, he couldn’t remember the last time the quiet boy had asked for help, let alone with something so… personal.
It must be the poison, lingering in his system… he thought. He would never talk like this! But he looks so helpless there… what do I do?!
“H-Hold on, I’m sure Sakura-”
“Hnn!” Shino gasped, his chest leaking in achingly small streams. “Kiba! Please, they’re so heavy…”
Kiba bit his lip. “I… I don’t know how…”
Suddenly, Shino’s hands were pawing at his own, bringing them up to his tender breasts. “Try l-like a cow…”
A cow. That’s what he was now: a giant, helpless cow, begging for release. Kiba’s head spun; was he really going to milk Shino like one?
“Just hold still…” he nervously spoke, fingers curling around each nipple. With a gentle pinch and a firm tug, milk spurted fast and hard out of the obese man, spraying down onto his own shirt. Shino let out a moan comparable to a moo, his fat cheeks blushing. Kiba tugged again, and again, building up an embarrassingly regular rhythm. Shino’s steamy breaths washed across his face, making the deed all the more shamefully intimate. Tug by tug, squeeze by squeeze, Shino seemed to calm, his heavy breasts emptying into more manageable sizes.
“B-Better?...” Kiba asked quietly, hands still cupping his moobs.
Sakura and Naruto abruptly entered with Hinata, all three stopping short with eyes wide in shock as they observed the floor-bending boy-cow with flushed breasts still dripping milk, and the red-faced Kiba sitting across from him. Despite their presence, Shino gave a tired answer.
“Better…”
A brand new story, idea courtesy of the ever-excellent commissioner (https://www.deviantart.com/doom7951) I really really liked working on this for ideas that may be obvious! Stay tuned for more flubby boys soon-ish!
Contains: male weight gain, ssbhm, male lactation, human to boy-cow, cute fat gay stuff
James slumped down in the seat. It felt so wrong to be waiting here, he thought, thinking about what his boss would say if he saw him sitting here… he tapped his foot on the floor, hoping that would make him feel busy, but it just earned him a dirty look from the receptionist, so he opted to just slump deeper into his chair.
“James Rode?”
He sat up, smoothing out his button-up shirt. “Yes?”
“The doctor is available to see you now. Please enter the door to the left.”
James entered the office, expecting to see a sterile hospital room with gurneys and little jars of tongue depressors… Instead, he found himself in a carpeted room, the walls all wood paneling and decorated with diplomas and woodsy paraphernalia like bundles of herbs and wooden carvings.
Perhaps he knew less about this therapy stuff than he thought.
“Hello, Mr. Rode. I’m pleased to see you’ve made it; have a seat, if you’d like.”
James hesitated by the door. ‘I would *like* to go home…’ he mumbled, but stepped his way to the wide couch situated in front of the desk. He gently lowered himself into it, feeling more than a little small with his slender frame surrounded by so much empty seat.
“A little introduction, if I may.” the therapist smiled, tapping the plaque on his desk. “Dr. Maxwell Sweet. I used to own Sweet Farm Dairy, if you can believe it.”
“Never heard of it.” James spoke.
“Ah, well, can’t impress every time.” he chuckled, continuing on about his schooling, but James was already zoning out, sizing him up in his head. Dr. Sweet was slim, pale, well-dressed… probably didn’t spend too much time outside anymore, if the dairy story was to be believed. He wore glasses, making him seem bookish, and the clean-shaven face and well-kempt part in his smoothly combed brown hair made him seem concerned with appearances… not much to go on yet, but James felt like he’d make a respectable adversary in the boardroom regardless.
“…but I felt genetics wasn’t as fulfilling by itself. Are you okay, Mr. Rode?”
“Hmm?” James snapped out of his focused expression, taking a moment to rub his sharp blue eyes. “Sorry, a little tired. Late meeting yesterday…”
“Do you have a lot of late meetings, Mr. Rode?”
“James,” he corrected, “But yeah, I suppose I do. It’s the only way to stay ahead out there, you know?”
“I understand.” Dr. Sweet smiled, scribbling something on a pad on his desk. “Would you say this is the main source of your stress? The pressure to succeed, that is.”
“I, uh-” James stammered. “Are we starting already? I thought you would say when we were starting.”
“Just building a picture, that’s all. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to let you know when we get into the real stuff, if you’d like.”
“Okay, well… thanks.” James wilted a little. He wasn’t used to this, showing his cards so openly…
“Stress is the main reason you’re here, correct?”
“Yes… I mean, well, I’m here because of my boyfriend… I didn’t notice anything, but my boyfriend Kriss says I’ve been acting stressed.”
“Stressed in what way?”
“Distant… angry, sad, stuff like that. He says I haven’t been eating either, but I mean, when do I have the time? There’s just a lot to do, and nobody gets that. Nobody understands how hard it is to keep doing the same damn thing day after day, never getting a moment to just stop and relax. It’s not my fault I have to stay a few hours over every day, it’s not my fault I miss the train, it’s not my fault I have to stay with this job or else-”
James stopped, noticing the psychologist watching him intently, a furrowed-brow intensity in his expression.
“Sorry.” James sighed, folding his arms over his ribs, his gaze drifting back to the dried lavender on the wall. “Yeah. Just stressed.”
“I see,” Dr. Sweet said, underlining something on the pad with a quick scratch. “Well, I’m very glad you came to see us, James. I think this treatment will be very helpful in getting you into a better state of mind.”
“Yeah… that’s what Kriss said, too. What is this treatment, anyway? Are you just going to ask me about my past and… give advice, or something?”
“Oh, nothing like that, no. You see, I specialize in a sort of blended treatment. It’s quite ahead of its field, really. Good for people with a lot of stress and little time on their hands.”
Dr. Sweet drew a pile of papers out of his desk, dozens of forms and documents all neatly compiled into a novella of legalese. He set it gently on the desk, in front of James, and extended a pen out for him.
“…Provided you’re willing to participate, that is.”
James took the pen and the papers, sitting back to read over the front page. It was mostly filled out with his insurance information and medical history, employment information from his company, current address… everything except his name. He flipped it over, just finding more information about liability and “understanding patient responsibilities.” Just thinking about pouring over fifty sheets of legal information outside of the office, and for free, made him flip back to the front.
“Alright… well, whatever gets me out of here faster, I guess.” he murmured, scribbling his name at the bottom of the paper.
“Excellent! If you don’t mind, I’d like to get started immediately.”
Dr. Sweet’s drawer slid open, and out he pulled a small bottle of milky white fluid and a syringe.
“W-What is that for?” James asked, shocked at the sudden development. The therapy scenes in movies certainly hadn’t mentioned needles.
“Just something to help you become a little more pliable. We need you like putty for the hypnotherapy to take hold; don’t worry, it only lasts for a few minutes, and it’ll keep you relaxed for the rest of the day. That’s not so bad, is it? I promise you won’t have to keep up with any medication from here on out.”
Despite the cold sweat forming on his brow, James rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. Dr. Sweet drew some of the liquid from the bottle with a casual precision, stood up, and slowly approached the nervous patient.
“Hold still, and…” James felt a small pinch, followed by the dull ache of the injection. “That’s it. You’ve done wonderfully already, James.”
“Hmm… thank you, I guess.” he grumbled, letting out a heavy sigh.
“The medication should activate momentarily. While we wait, why don’t we pass the time with a bit of word association?”
The room around them was already starting to feel a bit… warmer. Familiar, even. He adjusted his collar a bit, leaning back against the couch.
“Do you know how this works, James?”
“I just say the first thing that comes to my head?” he asked, stifling a yawn with his palm.
“Correct. Alright now… your first word is “barn.””
“Tractor.”
“Good.” Sweet smiled. “Your second word is ‘pasture.’”
“Uh… grass. No, hay.” He muttered hazily. He felt like laying himself down on a soft patch of land, sunlight warming his pale flesh,,,
“Very good, James. Don’t think too hard about them. Now, your third word… ‘milk’.”
“Moo…” he spoke dreamily, still thinking about the sunlight and the field. A bubble of lucidity popped to the surface suddenly, bringing a blush to his face. “N-No, I, uh, I mean cow. Cow, that’s it.”
“Excellent.” Dr. Sweet continued, scribbling more notes on his pad. “And when you think of cows, what are some words you think of?”
“Big… u-uh, soft? I don’t really know…”
“That’s fine, James. Imagine a cow standing in a field… what do you think it’s thinking about?”
A warm, electric tingle trickled down from the top of his head, flowing into his spine and down his back. He tried to focus on the words… what does a cow really think about?
“Uhm… eating? How nice the sun is on its back?…”
“And how do you think it feels when it’s warm and fed? Do you think that would make a cow happy, James?”
The tingle turned into an odd, pulsing sensation, coming from somewhere in his core… or maybe deeper than that. A warmth in his cells.
“Y-Yeah… doctor, this feels… weird…”
“The medication can be a little strong, especially the first time. But just focus on my words… would that make you happy, James? Softness, warmth, food… nothing to think about but being tended to? I like to think so.”
“Hmf… y-yeah, that’d be nice…”
Soft… warm… hungry…
“Good,” Sweet began, suddenly dropping his pen. James jolted upright, forced free from his mental drift as quickly as the pen hit the desk. “That’ll conclude our session. Remember what we’ve talked about today; it’s always good to stay in touch with that simple, wholesome part of yourself. Try and slow down a little, and indulge it; I think you’ll be feeling a lot better if you do. See you again in a week?”
The sun was just beginning to set by the time James arrived home. Warm wafts of sweet and savory air swept around him as he shuffled through the threshold, inviting him straight through the living room and into the kitchen. There, a tall, clean-shaven man with swept back blonde hair stood, whistling to himself. The creak of the floor alerted him to James’s entrance, the apron-clad gentlemen turning to greet him.
“Oh, hey! I thought for sure you’d be running a little late, I’m not totally done with dinner yet. How did your appointment go?”
“Mm, that smells wonderful…” James murmured, slumping into one of the dining chairs. “God, I’m starving….”
“Here,” Kriss, his boyfriend of two years, spoke, setting a dish of buttered buns in front of him. “But don’t fill up before you get to the ham. I worked really hard on it as a nice reward for you finally going to that clinic. Speaking of…”
Kriss sat down in front of him as he stuffed a bun into his mouth, propping his face up on his hand. “You didn’t say how it went.”
“The appointment? Right, sorry… it was okay. Good, actually. It was good. It was kind of weird, and I didn’t think I’d need a shot for psychotherapy, but… it was nice. I feel all calm and… gooey? I can’t really explain it… really hungry, too. Mostly hungry, actually.”
James reached for another bun, nibbling on it gently.
“Well, I guess it’s working already. I haven’t seen you eat like that in… well, ever. It’s nice, honestly.”
The oven alarm beeped as James polished off a third bun, absentmindedly chewing while Kriss got up to retrieve the ham.
Soft… warm… hungry… the words bounced around his brainstem, burying themselves somewhere in the middle of sub and thoughtful consciousness. He remembered saying them, but the meaning was mostly detached… regardless, they just sounded so right.
His ruminations were interrupted by a loaded plate being placed in front of him, also interrupting his roll supply. He breathed in the delicious scents of brown sugar in the ham, cinnamon in sweet potatoes. It was like nothing he’d ever smelled before; it was comfort, it was calm. It was…
“Mmf, Kriss, this is incredible. Is this a new recipe? I could eat this forever!” he lit up, happily nibbling on the ham slice with gusto.
“Oh, uh… we had it last week, actually. Whatever they gave you sure made you hungry, huh?” he chuckled, looking a little confused, but relieved at the new development. After all, it was healthier than watching him starve himself on coffee and the occasional stick of gum. In only a few moments, James had the entire plate polished off, and returned to munching on bread rolls.
“Want some more? I made extra in case you wanted to take some to work, but-”
“There’s more?”
Kriss hadn’t seen him this happy since he’d said yes to their first date.
“Shh, we’re almost there.” Kriss cooed, shouldering the bedroom door open, his boyfriend carried bridal-style in his arms. Normally, this would be like carrying a bag of flour, but after his uncharacteristic gorging, James felt more like a sack of potatoes. Or, perhaps, one large sack filled with one very large, round, painfully full potato in the center.
“I’ve never eaten so much in my life…” James whispered as he laid out on the bed. He immediately curled onto his side, holding his stomach in his hands.
“I can tell… are you sure you’re okay, babe? You can tell me anything, you know.”
“I-I’m fine, honestly… just ate too much.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
A familiar silence crept out of the dark now, cutting into the dim room between them. Finally, James spoke, “Kriss, I just- well, I’m not good at this, I haven’t… been there, like I should have. We’ve been together for a long time now and I still haven’t really… opened up.”
Kriss sat down on the bed next to him, looking at the sheets next to James. James reached out, grabbing Kriss by the hand.
“I’m sorry. Really. I’ve been too into my job and I want to spend more time with moo-”
He hiccupped, covering his mouth in sudden embarrassment. “You! God, I’ve had cows on the brain lately…”
“You certainly eat like one.” Kriss smiled gently, poking his stomach.
“H-Heh… so, uhm,” James said, “Will you give me another chance? To show you the real me… not the work me. Actually me?”
Kriss leaned over, brushing the tousled hair out of James’s face. “Of course, sweetpea. You know I’ll give you all the time you need to get back in your own head again. And while you’re still trying…”
Kriss cupped his cheek, and leaned in to plant a little kiss on his soft lips. “Maybe I can do something to keep you motivated.”
Kriss woke before James-- given his “work early, work late” schedule, this was an uncommon occurrence, but not an unwelcome one. He liked the way James looked peacefully slumbering; it reminded him that he could still stop and relax, that at least he wasn’t hard-wired to run until he dropped. That the hamster wheel didn’t spin forever.
He snuggled up closer to his slumbering partner’s back, looping his arm around his side in a gentle embrace. Kriss’s fingers brushed his chest, expecting to feel cool, taut flesh on ribs… instead, his hand touched soft, plush breast.
“H-Huh?” he muttered, startled, his hand recoiling instantly. He knew James, and had never known him to be any more than twiggy at best. Panic rising, he threw off the sheets and flipped on the bedside lamp, exposing the tubby imposter. There, on the bed, was James-- or, at least, he thought it was… same messy black hair, same little blotchy brown birthmark on his shoulder, same pink underwear. This James would have been a perfect replica, if it weren’t for one big thing:
This James was fat.
Well, fat was pushing it, but he definitely had a lot more of it than when he went to bed. His back, once a bony map of shoulder blades and ribs, was now a padded mat of pale pudge, the vaguest hint of love handles forming at his sides. Butt fat pulled his briefs tight, the waistband receding back to squish the tops of his cheeks into two blubbery cupcake tops. His thighs, once slender and toned from his constant jogging around the office building, smooshed together like gently dimpled bags of thick jelly.
“Mmmn?...” he stirred, sitting up. His round face squinted against the harsh light, and he raised a chubby hand to shield himself from it. Kriss’s green eyes darted up to his rounded arm, down to his puffy chest, back up to his cutely dimpled chin, back down to the subtle dome of his belly.
“Kriss?... Oh no, did I oversleep?”
The words clogged in Kriss’s head; what could he say? James was nervous, prone to panic at the slightest change…
“You’re… you-” he choked quietly, staring in disbelief. James, following his line of sight to his belly, let out a little yelp of surprise.
“W-What happened to me? I-I didn’t eat that much, did I?...” he stammered, poking the peachy flesh of his abdomen gingerly.
“Impossible…” Kriss whispered, stepping back towards his boyfriend. “Maybe it’s just… water weight? Temporary swelling? Are you allergic to anything?”
Pressing the gentle swell of his arm, it was impossible to think this could just be temporary. “I don’t think so…”
“Well, in any case, I think we should call a doctor.” Kriss said, stepping over to the dresser. “If I can find my phone…”
“Just… use mine.”
It took a moment to tear his eyes away from his freshly-plush body long enough to reach for his cell, thumb tapping the home screen. The time-- 5:55 am-- appeared on the screen.
“Oh! No no no, I’m going to be late!”
“James, the doctor-”
“I’ll go after work! I need to get ready; how did I forget the early meeting? I never forget!”
James scrambled to his feet, butt bouncing in his underwear as he bounded into the bathroom, the door shutting quickly behind him. “Kriss, can you find a white shirt for me, please? And my good watch!”
“If they still fit…” Kriss mumbled with a sigh, shuffling to find his clothes. So much for the fast-track relaxation therapy.
‘Give it time,’ he thought, ‘Nobody changes overnight.’
But as he pulled out the obviously too-small button-up from the closet, he suddenly began to doubt these words.
James rushed into the office, speed-walking his way through the lobby to the elevator. He barely managed to squeeze by in time for the doors to shut, his belly bumping against the metal as he slipped in.
“Ouch…” he murmured, regarding his sensitive new softness with a little rub. It was only with this did he notice how stressed the buttons were on the shirt, or how a thin sliver of belly fat was drooping out of the bottom. He quickly pulled his pants higher to disguise it, tucking in the shirt like he wasn’t covering for a freak medical condition. Not like it helped much… the fabric was still ungodly tight against his chest, outlining his newly-blossomed moobs like half-filled water balloons in cloth, and similarly highlighted the uncharacteristically pudgy belly beneath. At least his pants had always been a little big for him… they, at least, did a little better at preserving his modesty.
He waited impatiently for the ding, and squeezed through the doors before they’d fully opened, managing to narrowly avoid two coworkers on his way to the meeting room. They said something he didn’t quite hear, but he heard the word “wide”, which was enough to make him flush gently. No time for that, he thought, walking as fast as he could muster with what felt like fifty extra pounds bouncing on his frame. Sweating lightly, he finally arrived at the meeting room, slipping in just before the last coworker. They scoffed at his speedy entrance, but upon seeing his unusually rounded face, decided that it wasn’t worth starting a fight over-- he was clearly suffering enough if he looked like *that* after just one day.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen…” James’s boss began, addressing the crowd. And so it was, James thought, letting the voices around him whisper out into the back of his mind. He’d wait until his name was called, he’d give his report, and then he’d be back to hammering out the numbers until home time. The daily routine… though, there was nothing ‘routine’ about today, as the chair was quick to remind him. Where he used to sit at the edge of the seat, he now filled it out plentifully; so much so that the chair arms touched his sides if he fidgeted an inch or so in either direction. It was an alien feeling, being so plump- he couldn’t even bring himself to say it, but the words hung there in his mind.
Round. Chubby. Soft. Thick. *Fat.*
He grabbed his thigh amidst his anxious ruminating, fingers squishing pliable blubber beneath the trouser fabric. The sensation sent warm, pleasing tingles across his flesh, rumbling deep into his core. It felt… nice?
He scanned the room, making sure nobody could read the feelings passing through his mind and body, but everyone else seemed to be knee-deep in their own happy places too; zoning out to cope was half of the job, after all. A sudden, deep gurgle bubbled in his belly, his hand shooting up to grab at his belly. Where his thigh had been plush, his belly was absolutely pillowy… the silky smooth glob of fat oozed around his fingers where he pressed, sending out another wave of delight across his body. As if to respond to his pressing, another gurgle rumbled against his palm, and he could feel his stomach rising like slow baked dough with his breaths. In, out… warm, soft. He couldn’t help but smile, sucked into the world of squishy comfort. Even as his belly rose in the *out* breath. Even as the chair began to press into his sides ever so softly. Even as the buttons stressed and strained, struggling to keep up with his widening form until-
*PING*
The first button on his shirt reflected off a steel mug, snapping everybody out of their stupor with a jolt.
“What was that?” the boss asked. Everybody looked around, but thankfully James’s airy belly was covered by the desk.
“Hmm… well, in any case, that’s the long and short of it.” the boss shrugged, shuffling some papers in his hands. “James, you’re up.”
James looked up, half-lidded in a relaxed daze. “Huh?...”
“Your numbers. You *do* have your report, don’t you?”
Like an apple in a cauldron of caramel, the thought of the report slowly bobbed back to the top of his focus.
“O-Oh, right, yes sir, I uh…”
He reached for his briefcase, grasping at air beneath the desk.
“Is everything alright, James?”
Everybody in the room shuffled, slumped, retreated back to the comfort of the sounds and sights of desert islands and snowy cabins. Meanwhile, he was out in the open, and floundering.
“They’re, uh… late. Late client.” he smiled nervously. The boss looked at him, eyes narrowed in confusion, but simply shook it off.
“Just have them on my desk by tomorrow, okay? Now, who’s next?”
Back at his desk, (and with his pants hiked higher than ever) James let out a deep sigh, wincing as his buckle pinched sensitive belly fat.
“Just keep it together, James....” he whispered to himself. He tried to bounce his leg, but found that it just made the rest of him bounce too, and stopped. He logged into his computer with one hand, the other squeezing the stress ball on his desk, but it only reminded him of how much softer he was…
Throwing the ball in the trash can by his foot, he decided his best bet was to focus on his work. Not on the fat ass threatening to blow out the seat of his pants, not on the small overhang his belly would surely be creating if he wore his pants correctly. And not on the strange warmth rushing to his head… just financial information, market watches, and emails.
Five minutes later, and he was still staring at his home screen, unable to bring himself to start working. There was just something at the back of his mind, something creeping up on him; a deep hunger that swelled up inside of him like a consumptive balloon.
“That’s it… just hungry is all…” he assured himself, pushing away from his desk. All he needed was an early lunch, and it would be back to work as usual. Something light…
Before he knew it, he was sitting down at the cafeteria with three hefty cheeseburgers and a heaping plate of thin fries drowned in cheese.
James took a thick, mouth-filling bite of a burger, losing himself in bliss.
“Mmf, so good…” he moaned to himself, prompting a blushing intern to speedwalk to the exit. One hefty gulp down, he sucked down a glob of sugary vanilla milkshake, chasing it with a handful of fries and another bite of burger. Not only did it chip away at the hunger, but his worry too. Suddenly he felt okay; eating like this felt *right*. He absentmindedly rubbed his belly, the gentle touch enough to rip away another button and rub cheese onto his shirt. He didn’t care; why should he? The belly beneath his hand was soft, fat, and jiggly, and it was fun to pat and wobble. And the more he ate, the more he was able to wobble it. One burger down-- and another button popped-- he felt twice as comfortable. Arm fat billowed out in his shirt, small rips forming that pushed dollops of fat through. Pant fibre finally reached capacity, pulling back from his pudgy calves as his thighs claimed ever more real estate within them. Fingers and toes chubbed into cute little sausages. Wrists, ankles, and neck slowly became less defined. Cheeks chubbed, chin flubbed; his masculinity was smudged by the heaps of fat, androgyny taking the wheel.
But still he munched, a happy grin on his face as he grazed the haystack of fries. The warm feeling in his head turned hot, two points burning the warmest… but two points on his chest gained his attention the most. His chest-- rather, his breasts-- ached terribly, prompting a whine from the freshly cherubic gentleman. Pudgy fingers pawed at the last button left on his shirt, but it was simply too tight to be undone. Instead, he opted to just rub at his moobs beneath the fabric, gulping his shake heartily. Finally, the button popped, and he let out a sigh of relief as his fat breasts plapped onto his belly. The sudden motion forced milk out of the little pink nipples in small rivulets, drops running down the curve of the swollen mounds and dripping onto his belly.
“G-Guh…” he groaned, scooping the last of the food into his maw just as his belt buckle burst off. He was exhausted, but sated… for now. Already, his mind was feeling clearer, and already he was starting to regret the sudden gorging… he was huge! And was that… milk?!
“Sir, if you’re going to be in here, you need to put on some clothes-”
The security guard looked taken aback as James turned and unsteadily rose, his pants open and his shirt hanging free. His ass fat rose behind him like two fat pumpkins squeezed into a pair of briefs, rising up with plentiful flesh visible.
“A-Are you okay?...”
James huffed, wobbling on his feet as he attempted to center himself. “I’m- *bruuuarp* o-oh, sorry…”
The guard just stood, watching him slowly lumber out of the cafeteria and off towards the elevator.
The slow drive was filled with a quiet anxiety, wondering if Kriss was right: what if he had just gone to the doctor in the first place? Why didn’t he just go to a real hospital to see why he was dripping milk all over the upholstery?
That was it, though. He knew why he was like this… where else could it have come from?
Doctor Sweet.
Sweat dripped from his apron of a belly as he squeezed in through the front door. The receptionist simply buzzed him through, and he waddled straight into the pastoral office.
“Aha, James! Right on schedule. Please, have a seat.”
James panted heavily, taking the time to rest on the doorway before he entered.
“What… did you do?” he huffed, continuing on towards the desk. “Look at me! This… has to be some kind of reaction… to that medicine!”
The doctor smiled, unfazed by his bloated appearance. “I’ll say. I’d be more than willing to explain it, if you’d just have a seat.”
James stopped, the exhaustion he felt quickly overtaking his urges towards aggression. “F-Fine…”
The massive boy collapsed in the seat like a falling boulder, nearly taking up the whole couch with his bulk.
“Excellent. Now then… you said there was a reaction, yes?”
James gestured to his body.
“So… chills, fever…?”
“I’m fat! I’m huge! I’m… l-leaking!” he burst out, wobbling in anger. Try as he might to seem imposing, he felt like a bowl of pudding.
“Oh. Oh dear, I see the problem… you must’ve skipped the waiver.” Dr. Sweet sighed, shaking his head. “Well, too late for take backs now, I’m afraid.”
James put his hands on his belly in worry. “W-What do you mean?”
“Well, if you’d read the waiver… you’d see that this therapy involves a permanent genetic alteration.”
“G-Genetic?...”
“Yes. We force a mutation-- I won’t get too deep into it now, there’s really no use-- to shave off the rough edges, essentially. I felt it would be important in your case to emphasize the potential for softness, and it seems your body agreed. Surround yourself with soft, and become soft.”
“That… that’s-” James struggled, trailing away quietly.
The doctor continued. “You see, I was like you at a time. Angry, frustrated, stressed, upset at life… but my time as a dairy worker gave me new insight. Being surrounded by gentle docility at all hours of the day taught me to be gentle and caring myself. But this process took years... once I started in medicine, I spent endless hours trying to find how to distill this process into a formula, to turn the experience into a chemical.”
James watched him with confusion, hands gently kneading his fat to keep himself calm.
“Well, I discovered it alright. It’s a bit unwieldy, but with a little guided thinking, it works wonders. Really brings the farm experience home, wouldn't you agree?”
James looked down at his belly, at his nipples streaming milk onto his bellybutton. “Y-You’re saying I’m turning into…”
“A cow, yes. You’re well on your way, in fact. Here, take a look.”
The doctor withdrew a handheld mirror from his desk, and held it up for James to see. He felt like he was staring into a barber mirror, only instead of finding himself with a new haircut, it was fuzzy cow ears and a set of tiny, nubby horns on his head. And somehow, it didn’t feel wrong… in fact, he felt pretty cute.
“Oh… woah…” he murmured, poking the ear gently.
“See? Nothing to worry about! And just as stated in the forms, you’ll be paid a weekly sum for participating in this new therapy. I doubt a cow would be acceptable in an office building, aha.”
James patted his cheeks, a smile forming on his face.
“And if you’ll allow me…”
The doctor set down the mirror, and withdrew a familiar milky white bottle.
Kriss waited in the kitchen, checking his watch every few minutes, waiting for James to get off of work so he could take him to the hospital. He shouldn’t have even let him go to work… what if he was more sick than he thought? What if it wasn’t just swelling? What if-
*Thud*
The front door shut, and Kriss sprang up from his chair, scrambling into the living room.
“James-”
The breath caught in his chest as he took in the full scope of his boyfriend. The 200-and-change chubster who had left that morning had blossomed into a wide, easily 600 lb. wall of blubber. He stared up at his polished, nubby horns, at his furry ears, down at his absolutely shirt-shredding tits… blood rushed into his face so fast he stumbled, nearly falling forward.
“Oh no, are you okay?” James asked, bright blue eyes full of worry. He waddled forward, belly rippling against the front of each knee as he slowly walked like he was wading through waist-high waters. His chest swayed back and forth, barely contained by a tiny stretched-out tee. Despite being more than three inches taller than him, Kriss suddenly found himself pressed face first into warm boy cleavage, peachy flesh enveloping him. James’s flabby, pillowy arms pressed around his back as he cuddled him in an embrace.
“What… happened?” he breathed, head spinning as he tried to process the changes in his boyfriend.
“O-Oh! Right… it’s part of the therapy! Dr. Sweet made me into a big cuddly cow, and I really like it!” he smiled, clasping his chubby hands together. “Though, we may need to get some new clothes… these shorts are kinda tight on my butt.”
For added emphasis, he slowly turned around, revealing the skin-tight shorts had all but retreated into his huge, bare ass, the rolls of his back flab sagging down to nearly meet the top of them.
“A-Aha... “ Kriss said, woozy once more. He clutched the wall to keep from falling over.
“Do… do you not like it?” James asked, timidly pushing his fat thighs together. His ears twitched gently, sending an arrow straight through Kriss’s heart.
“When I read the waiver, I didn’t expect it to be like, well… all of this. Babe… you’re so adorable my head is going to explode. ”
A happy smile brightened his face once more, and James let out a little laugh. “G-Gosh, don’t scare me like that!”
Headrush fleeting, Kriss managed to push off the wall and back into the arms of his lover. He pecked at his blubbery neck, giving him gentle kisses up and across his cheek.
“O-Ooh, these are nice…” Kriss murmured, squeezing his arms around his chest. “You’re like a big stress ball, I love it.”
“H-Hey, careful, they’re still a little full…”
Kriss moved in for a kiss on the lips, pulling away to give his chest another little squeeze. “Full? Like… with milk?”
James nodded. “You’ll have to milk me until the pump arrives, otherwise they’ll get too full and I’ll start to ache… that is, if you want to. I can still just go to the clinic-”
Kriss tugged at his shirt, freeing one of his blubbery boobs. His thumb traced the nipple gently, practically melting James into a puddle.
“A-Ah, god, have you done this before?...”
“No…” Kriss said, bringing the breast to his mouth. Sweet, creamy milk flowed onto his tongue, which he swallowed down. “But I can learn.”
