The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tessi lived with her husband Matthew in their row house. She was in her late-20s, but he was a bit older than her, in his mid-thirties. They had no children; they had only ever had their marriage, and they had by this point been married for a number of years.

They were situated on the outskirts of town. And their row house was the last in its row, and not only the last in its row, but it also the last in the last row of rows, so it was the true boundary between their town and town living, and the rural world around which bordered them.

Beyond the rowhouses, the only thing that was past was a dairy farm. It was a pretty brief walk back to it; only about ten minutes or so, and this was Tessi’s favorite place to go for milk. She went there frequently; it was the only source of milk for their household that she would accept.

Matthew didn’t drink milk, so though Tessi thought of going to get that milk as “going to get milk for the household” she was really only going to get it for herself.

When she had started using the milk from that dairy farm— it seemed like long ago now, she thought she had been doing it for so long— when she had started using it, she had only ever put it in her coffee, but lately it had been tasting so good that she had started drinking it straight, in glass after glass. She couldn’t seem to stop herself when she reached for it. There was something that kept her returning to it again and again, using it more and more often, excusing it to herself.

When she drank it, a strange thing happened... her body would flood with arousal, and her head would become all disoriented.

She could never do anything about this arousal, because she didn’t believe in masturbation, so all day long when she was at work at the hotel which employed her, she felt tormented by the lingering effects of the milk, and had no way to alleviate the torment.

One night, when Matthew got back from work, Tessi had only one thoughtless thought on her mind. She needed to fuck more than she needed anything else; and as soon as Matthew had gotten inside, she took him by the hand and pulled him up to the bedroom.

Now, in Tessi and Matthew’s marriage, sex was a rare occurrence. Matthew enjoyed it more than Tessi, but this wasn’t any great wonder. Most people probably enjoyed sex more than Tessi did, who could barely tolerate it at all.

But this was not the way that she was feeling on this particular night. The only thing Tessi could think about was getting filled, stuffed full like a thoughtless animal, she needed to be stretched, she needed Matthew’s cock up inside of her and ramming into her cervix.

She stripped them both naked, not caring whether she ripped their clothes apart in the process. She just needed to get them both naked for each other.

Once she had gotten her pussy bare, it only took a few pulls to Matthew’s cock for him to harden, and then Tessi settled herself down on Matthew, getting herself stabbed up exactly where she needed it—rocking—rocking—the stabbing—the stabbing—

Matthew had never known his wife to fuck like this, but he had no complaints. She seemed to be fully enjoying herself, and sex was such a rare treat for them that he could only hope this meant she was learning to enjoy it... he could only hope this would mean he would soon be getting sex more frequently than he had previously been getting it—he drove up harder into Tessi, and she moaned and moaned as if she were suffering, simply from the intensity.

But the truth, Tessi wasn’t suffering at all. She had never felt anything so pleasant in all her life, or known satisfaction to be anything like this. If sex was like this all the time, she could understand why other people liked it so much. She rode Matthew harder, harder, her fists clenching on his shoulder, and lifting up him up from the bed only to rock him hard back into it—and in that moment, his cock stroked her just right inside, and Tessi screamed her release because it took her hard—then immediately, as soon as she had come, she rolled off of Matthew, and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

Matthew tried waking her from it, because he knew his wife did not like to sleep naked, but she would not be woken.

It didn’t seem so strange to him—she had clearly worn herself out with such vigorous fucking.

But every day from that point on was the same. Matthew went to work in the mornings, and Tessi stayed home for a few hours and drank her milk, then went to work at the hotel. Her shifts always started later than Matthew’s.

Most of the details of each day got away from her... at the end of them she couldn’t remember anything that had happened to her during, or anything she had done, and then when Matthew got home, all she wanted to do was fuck him—and then as soon as she came, the arousal and disorientation cleared away and she immediately fell asleep.

When she slept, she dreamed, even though historically she had never been a person who could remember her dreams. But she remembered them, now. Dreams of passionate vigorous sex, and milk, heavy full breasts... these dreams were strange to her, because Tessi was as straight as could be; she was not a lesbian, there was no reason she should have been having erotic dreams about breasts, but she woke up feeling so rested, from sleeping so deeply, that she couldn’t bring herself to really mind it.

All of this did have her falling asleep very early in the evenings. It left Matthew alone to be awake all night, all by himself. He thought this was strange behavior, though he hadn’t at first. His wife seemed to have developed the habit of fucking him mad and then immediately passing out for the entire night long, sleeping so deep she would not wake again until morning and not a moment before, no matter how he tried to rouse her. She was sleeping the sleep of the drugged, and fucking him with wild abandon first, seemingly to put herself to sleep... then when she slept, she so frequently moaned... she had never behaved like this before, she was not an early-sleeper, an early-to-bed-der, and she was certainly not such a frequent fucker. Nor did she usually moan erotically all night long while asleep. Matthew couldn’t think what might have triggered such a drastic change in her, or why she was doing things perfectly in accordance with this habit at all.

But in the end, he was getting sex every night, after going his entire marriage hardly ever getting it at all. And more importantly, Tessi seemed to be sincerely enjoying it, which she had never done before—even if she was immediately passing out from exhaustion afterwards. So maybe it all worked out to be a fair trade. In the end, Matthew decided he wasn’t too worried about it all.

This went on for a while. One day, some time later, Tessi woke in the morning again, once again emerging from a heavy sleep.

Matthew had already gotten up and left their row house to go to work. This day happened to be a day off from work for Tessi, so it was alright that she had slept later than usual; even with her heavy sleeping, on a regular day, she still managed to wake up in enough time not to be late for her shift. That was the benefit of having a shift that started in the midmorning; but today she’d slept even later than that. It was early afternoon now. She’d already slept half of her day off away.

Tessi swung herself out of bed, and went down to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

To her horror, she saw that the milk bottle was empty; she moved it aside—hadn’t there been two bottles in here?

There was the second bottle—it was empty too.

They were out of milk! How had this happened? It was a disaster.

Tessi immediately resolved to do something about this catastrophe. First, she grabbed her purse, got into her shoes. Then she snatched both the empty milk bottles out of the fridge; she had slept in her clothes again last night, just managing to get back into them before passing out, so she could just walk out the door now she had her shoes on, and her purse slung over a shoulder.

One of the things Tessi most appreciated about the dairy farm behind their house was that they let people keep their milk bottles and bring them back to be refilled over and over again for new purchases; they didn’t make their customers constantly by new bottles every time they wanted more milk; so she was making sure to bring the empty bottles with her, so they could be filled back up. She didn’t want to have to bring two new bottles back with her and dispose of these ones now in her hands.

Next Tessi went out walking behind the rowhouse, and started crossing the fields towards the farmhouse, where she had many times previous bought milk directly from the farmer.

She walked about five minutes and came into line with the farm’s field fences. Behind them, there were cows and cows as far as the eye could see—so many of them... but there were no people anywhere to be seen, who she might have hoped to buy milk from, or seek retail assistance from. She appreciated the cows for all they did to give milk, to provide that delicious substance that she loved to drink, but she wanted a human in this case so she could do something about the milk shortage currently happening in her life.

As she walked, Tessi began calling out for the farmer across the fields. Calling and calling... it was eerie, the silence, the echoing, and the only sound was her voice passing across empty uninhabited land... and then just the faint mooing or shifting of cows as they went about their cow-lives, eating grass... waiting for the farmer who was nowhere to be found to come and milk them.

Tessi reached the first farm structures of the property. The farmhouse was further ahead on the property, but it wasn’t always necessary to right up to it. She’d hoped to find the farmer but she hadn’t been too worried about it; there was a self-serve milk-dispensing machine outside the first building on the farm, and that was what she had come to now. She put one of the bottles under the nozzle, and pressed the button to make the dispensation start.

Nothing happened; she shook it; but from the hollow sound it made she realized, with ever-growing horror, the machine was empty too.

Luckily there was a cell-phone number printed right on it, and she quickly dialed that; she could tell the farmer the dispenser was empty and he could come refill it. But no one answered the call.

Tessi had only been growing more desperate the longer this outing had gone on; at every turn, her hopes were dashed, and she had to try something different. She ventured off onto an area of the farm she had never stepped foot on before; she passed some signs as she went, each one of them announcing the area was forbidden and should not be trespassed upon. But she ignored these; she kept calling out for the farmer as she walked, but as she went further, all she could find surrounding her were more cows, and then more cows after those.

She came to a structure she had never seen before. This structure—which she couldn’t entirely tell what it was, had arisen before her, and she couldn’t help but notice the sole defining feature of it was that it had a heavy steel door, a stoop below this, and on this stoop—two full bottles of milk.

From behind the steel door, Tessi could hear strange mooing sounds; but there were cows all around here, and probably inside too... so she wrote these off, and forgot about them.

Tessi hesitated, focusing on the two bottles of milk again. They looked so lonely sitting there on the stoop. She turned her head from one side to the other, looking once more for the farmer; but he still wasn’t there to be seen... this was exactly why Tessi had come here... here was the solution to her milk-less-ness, and even better, not a single solution, but two. She had run out of two bottles of milk, not one, and now she had two bottles to replace them both! She couldn’t believe her good luck.

She had only thought about this a short time, but she had made up her mind. Tessi bent down and picked up the bottles of milk; so she would have to dispose of these old bottles she’d brought with her after all, once she got home. She didn’t mind the idea so much now that her panic at being without any more milk was gone.

Having picked both new bottles off the stone cement stoop, she stood there a minute. She didn’t feel right about just taking them... stealing them... so holding the bottles together in the same hand, with other two bottles under her other arm, Tessi took out some cash from her purse and looked around for a rock.

Finding one, she set the cash on the stoop and quickly weighted in place with the rock which she had retrieved.

She wasn’t quite ready to walk away yet, though. The steel door still presented a problem for her, or at least a curiosity for her. What was behind it? It didn’t appear to have a lock on it, or to require any sort of key for entry, so she should be able to walk right in and find out... but instead she turned away and began walking off the farm.

If Tessi had turned the other way and gone in through the steel door, this was what she would have seen.

Inside that steel door, there were two cow-pens. But the cows contained within these pens were not quite the regular cows that Tessi had seen all around the farm. They were human cows, a genetically-modified hybrid between cow and human.

The one closest to the door, who Tessi would have seen first, if she had gone into the structure through the steel door entrance after all, had a gaping mouth, and vacant eyes. Her tongue darted out sometimes and again; but her eyes never animated and stayed vacant in their look...

The human cow was on her knees in her pen, pressed up to the grate barred-fence that blocked off her section, on her knees in the pen, kneeling on the hay that bedded the ground of it.

But she could not be on her hands and knees, because the human cow’s arms were pulled behind her back by chains which went round her wrists. So though she was kneeling, she was more than anything hanging forward, hanging down on her chains.

The cow was really neither fully a cow, or a human... she had a cow’s horns, a cow’s floppy ears, a cow’s tail, and a cow’s teats, four of them. Two absolutely humongous melons level with about where her breasts had once been; but so she could have four udders for the expression of milk, she had two equally huge melons just below these top two udders, snug up against and where her abdomen had once been, and still was, hidden up under so much flesh tissue.

The cow hung forward on her chains, and on her knees; they were naturally splayed far apart in order to decrease the discomfort the chains gave her in that position. This tilted the cow’s pelvis back, and again, if Tessi had come into stand on the other side of the fence the cow was behind, she would have seen what was there for the seeing of any curious pair of eyes: would have seen what was completely evident if one was standing in front of it. The cow had a deep and thick dildo plugging her pussy, and a second deep and thick dildo plugging her ass.

Both these dildos followed a machine to the back of the cow’s stall, from which the chains hung, with one wire coming out of each dildo, and keeping it electrically powered so it could constantly pump the cow hard, and keep her constantly fucked; the dildos vibrated the cow as they pumped, as well, so existence for the cow was something of a constant orgasm and nothing else.

These dildos were not the only thing hooked up to the cow’s body. On each of her large, distended nipple-teats, for each of her breastlike-udders, there was a tubelike-jar around it, at the end of which a hose was attached. These hoses also led back to the machine, and they had the cow constantly expressing milk. The milk would flow from each teat synchronisticly, and then it would travel the hose back to the machine, where it would automatically fill a great drum with this hucow milk.

Because the machine which forced the cow to express was also the machine which was hooked up to the cow’s dildos and the cow’s chains, it could control her completely. When the cow had first been put in her pen, the chains had been important, because when the cow had struggled and tried to resist or wrest free, the machine had known to introduce electrical shocks into the cow’s wrists, which could be shocked hard enough to make the pain radiate through the rest of her arms. But the cow had long since struggling.

Now the chains were most useful for holding the cow in the ideal position, where gravity was weighing down on her breast-udders the perfectly calculated amount to make expression happen naturally and without stopping. Whether the cow was awake or asleep was not important... at all times her breasts were flowing milk through the pumps that forced them to produce, and the machine synchronized this with the cow’s dildos too, to maximize the sensation the cow was being put through at all times, though her mind had long since shut off and she could not know it.

The breast-pumps pumped her with their jar-like suction... the dildo pumped her cunt and ass in perfect time, so the cow felt a sucking so hard it was painful. That suction applied to each of her udders entirely, seeming to draw up into the highest, farthest up point in each udder, to suck so hard from there that it hurt... and yet the machine never stopped sucking, and the heavy fullness which was painful in itself, especially because of the hanging position of the cow’s upper-body, never decreased... but at the same time the cow’s senses were being bombarded by the deep and comprehensive fucking, which was similarly rough, so it ached constantly in near pain... and yet that near pain was causing the cow constant ecstasy, erasing the cow more and more all the time with constant orgasms that never stopped... that kept rolling on and on like waves... and coming.

The cow couldn’t know it—nobody knew it, except one person—but the milk which she expressed into the drum below the machine had a special use for the farmer. He was the only one who knew this use; but in the regular milk which he sought from his fully-animal cows, he added a few drops of the hucow milk into every liter... only ever a few drops in each liter, because the milk was incredibly addictive. He did this to boost his sales; even the trace presence of his hucows’ milk was enough to make everyone prefer his milk to that of his competitors.

This trace presence of hucows’ milk was what had been affecting Tessi. It had been drugging her consistently into arousal, into sleeping with her husband, dreaming erotic dreams, feeling disoriented; the thing which led her to have that mindless, animal, trancelike sex.

The farmer also used the hucows milk to feed them; they fed on their own milk, because their milk had a transformational property; when concentrated enough, it transformed any human gradually into one of the genetic hybrids between cow and human, making them thoughtless, without will, and completely pleasure-obsessed.

There was a second hucow in the pen that was across from the first’s... and this cow was outfitted and placed just as the first was.

If Tessi had gone in and seen this, found any of this out, she would never have drunk the farmer’s milk again.

But she would never know any of it, because instead of going through the door, she had turned around and walked home.

She had gotten back home now. She put one bottle of the milk she’d taken from the farm into the fridge, but she left the other out on the table. She got a glass down from the cupboard, and she licked her lips as she watched the creamy stream of fluid pour into the glass. She wondered what percentage it was; it looked much thicker than the milk she usually bought from the farm.

The smell was hitting her before she’d even swallowed any of it down, and the smell was distinctly seductive; she couldn’t hold off on swallowing it down as quickly as possible; she didn’t even try.

One sip and Tessi was convinced: this was the best milk she had ever tasted in her life, better even than the milk she usually expected from the farm. There was something about it... it took her a minute to think... it was like in the regular milk there was something extra delicious, even more delicious than the entire thing by itself. A spot here or there that was extra delicious... extra succulent...

The thing about this milk was it was like that spot had become the whole beverage. That deliciousness she had maybe been unconsciously chasing every single time she had ever tried drinking it, was here— and it was all the liquid, entirely. She was drinking pure deliciousness and it was that simple.

It was having an effect on her body. Tessi could feel her mind clouding. She was dizzying— it was so hard to think. It was so hard to go on. Everything she’d been thinking about doing during the course of her day off, all of it seemed completely unimportant... and too hard to remember. Trying to remember was giving her a headache. The day was too heavy, there had been too much to make sense to her anymore...

And the confusion wasn’t the only thing she was feeling. She was also starting to feel aroused, though she couldn’t even entirely be aware of it. Still she could think enough to understand she needed relief; she immediately started masturbating herself under both skirt and underwear, right there in the middle of her kitchen.

When she felt her fingers touching herself, it roused her a bit. She could think enough to understand masturbation was unacceptable; this gave her a little motivation. She simply didn’t stand for masturbation and never did that to her body, would never have disrespected herself that way, or so she would have thought; she had to stop herself doing it now; she tried to pull her hands back from herself; but the more she tried to fight, the more she thought of the milk again... the more she craved it, even if she knew it was the thing that had done to her. Drinking more would only send her further down this slope; but it was still all she could think about. She poured a second glass, and kept drinking it.

With every sip, her mind numbed out; and the urge in her body for sex strengthened. By this point she was hopelessly addicted to the milk, and pleasuring herself without knowing it anymore while she was milk-drunk, but her mind came back to her in time for her to watch herself change; though so much seemed to be changing she wasn’t sure if it would change all at once or if it would be done changing just after doing this.

She had to rush to the bathroom and consult the mirror to get a truly good view of what was happening.

Her breasts were beginning to swell.

They felt sensitive as they got bigger, too—Tessi was trying to hold onto her panic but it was slipping away; there was pleasure inside her breasts that was building as they swelled—the bigger they got, the bigger and bigger, the more heat and warmth she could feel trembling inside of each one of them; they finally seemed to stop growing, but they were so tender.

They had grown out, as if inflated with air. Gotten bigger... and bigger... and now they were too big for Tessi even to see over.

They looked strange. Her waist had stayed tiny, but her breasts had come out so far they had to be sticking almost a foot out from her body, and they were so heavy they hung down and almost entirely hid her stomach behind themselves.

Somehow the fabric of her shirt had been responsive enough that it had stretched to fit around them. But now Tessi could see her nipples popping the fabric of her incredibly stretched out cotton shirt—and this was so humiliating Tessi wanted to hide her face. It was indecent... it was improper... she didn’t want her breasts to be visible but they were. She didn’t want her breasts to be so huge, but they just were.

She found it unbearable to keep herself clothed; she stripped her stretched out shirt, and her bra had already ripped itself in half under the strain; the cups of it only two little jokes that barely covered the space around each newly engorged nipple. And once she’d torn her shirt off, both of the cups fell to the bathroom floor; and Tessi could see her breasts naked now.

They hadn’t looked like this before; they were completely, absolutely smooth, also completely standing out from her body and full. Such fullness, such firmness they could stand and support themselves with no other intervention from a garment; she had noticed them before, but now they had finished growing the effect was even more extreme; they came out maybe a full foot or two from the bones of her chest; and they were so heavy they sat low, though they sat firm and springing. Truly, her stomach looked tiny and flat beneath them, her waist tiny and skinny; she looked like a mismatched person; with body parts from two different women; they huge chest of one, the tiny stomach and waist of another, they didn’t go together at all.

Or she was caught between two versions of herself, the woman she had been, and whoever she would be now, whoever she would be next. The woman who’d had this stomach, these hips, that waist... small, petite... the woman now with these huge breasts hanging down, sticking far out... she didn’t feel quite like either; she wasn’t who she had been but she wasn’t who she would be, not yet, not fully... she felt a bit of a stranger to herself, caught in flux, between two states...

And yet the arousal that flowed, that moved loose and wet inside each breast seemed to be drawing her in... if she followed that feeling she would become more of this second woman, this woman... the woman these breasts belonged to... it couldn’t be her, it didn’t feel like it could be her yet... but if she followed that feeling, there was no telling what could happen as a result.

She realized she had already followed it, so far. She’d taken off her shirt and bra, on impulse alone, impulse, animal impulse... and she was still finding the constraints of clothing to be unpleasant, even though her pants and underwear were causing no discomfort; the parts of her body they surrounded had not changed at all, unlike those which her shirt had contained.

Once she was fully naked, she found a next impulse calling to her. It was undeniable that she needed physical relief. There were no two ways about that. She simply needed it, simply did and it couldn’t be argued with. She needed relief worse than ever, but manual stimulation wouldn’t do it for her anymore. She needed something to stick her, she needed to get really plugged, but she had no dildo.

She went back into the kitchen, took a cucumber up from the counter, moved aside her skirt and underwear both, and slid the cucumber home inside of her.

The milk was still working its effect on her; she felt the arousal everywhere, the confusion getting stronger... the warmth was in her pussy now and she was already clenching down around the cucumber harder than she had ever clenched on anything in her life. Clenching and clenching... clenching and clenching... her breasts were shaking she was clenching so hard, and it was all mindless... it was all pure pleasure; and Tessi came without knowing it because her confusion had gotten so bad by that point that this was impossible to know; and then in a daze the cucumber was taken back out of her without Tessi remembering it had ever been in, and she sat back down at the table to drink another glass of milk, which only served to make Tessi more confused and unthinking.

Slowly, she rose from this again, and was both disgusted and horrified to think of what she had just done with the cucumber now glistening with her juices on the counter. Something was wrong with her; she needed... some kind of help... she took her phone off the counter to call for help, but as she stared at the screen, she couldn’t for the life of her remember how it worked.

By the time evening came around, shortly before Matthew was due to come home, she’d dropped her phone on the counter and forgotten it, and she was feeling more confused and more horny than ever.

She was tired of standing; this was too much, now.. to be clothed had been too much earlier in the day, and now, to be naked was still more comfortable... but to be standing was uncomfortable... she wanted her bed, she only wanted to get down on her bed... and without thinking about it, she followed after this direction. It felt so comfortable, so easy to just follow the feelings she had inside for a trail; and once she was on the double bed which she shared with Matthew at night, she felt much more comfortable, once again, and she could completely let that arousal inside flow out of her breasts out into the rest of her body.

This was the position Matthew found her in when he got home from work that night: on all fours, on the bed; elbows digging into the comforter, knees digging into the comforter, her head turned to face him when she came in.

But her body was wrong—it did not look like the body of his wife. Her breasts were much too large—they were so long and heavy they were the same length as her upper arms down to her elbows, as her upper legs down to her knees... her breasts were even with her knees and elbows against the bed. Her elbows and knees were digging into the comforter... her nipples, her areolas around them, and the surrounding skin at the very fronts of her breasts were digging into the comforter too. It was unnatural—her breasts were as long as half her leg—her breasts were as long as half her arm— and now that Tessi was looking at him, he could see an expression on her face that had been becoming more and more familiar to him over the last few weeks.

It was desperate, craving sexual arousal, but even this was a higher pitch of it than he had so far seen. She’d looked at him with something like this over the course of the past few evenings, when she’d fucked him with such complete abandonment of self, but there was a greater intensity in the look now; the quality of it was higher; she almost looked inhuman. There was something distinctly animalistic about it, something primordial.

Matthew had worried when he’d come in; Tessi had not been anywhere else in their row house, not anywhere on their lower level, and he’d called for her and gotten no response... and he’d walked everywhere, from room to room, and not seen her, until finally, he’d checked their bedroom last of all. But as he’d been searching for her, and he’d worried more and more, he’d never worried so much that he’d hit upon what a bad state he would eventually find his wife in; she was much worse off than he’d worried; he stood there in their bedroom doorway, watching Tessi just for a minute, to see what she would do... almost not quite believing what he was seeing...

All Tessi thought when Matthew came in was that there was someone there... someone there, someone there who had a dick, and he could put it in her, stick her hard when she needed it bad, and she did—but she couldn’t think anything more sophisticated than that, because the words were getting so much harder... thinking at all was becoming a strain, language was too confusing, and it hurt her head... but she still understand. Language was the only way that she could make him understand, make the man understand, and that was her greatest interest in him, interest in him as a man... language was the only thing she could use to show him how much she needed his dick inside.

“Hey... g—guy...” Tessi struggled to speak. She couldn’t even remember his name right now, or how she related to him, why they were in the same... the same... did it start with an h? H-O-U... she couldn’t finish, couldn’t finish the word... the reason why they were in the same place, she had to settle for, because she couldn’t remember the other word. There were so many words and she was forgetting them all in real time... she struggled to speak again. Soon she wondered if she would even be able to speak at all.

“Hey... guy... fuck... now... f-fuck in... f-fuck... i-in... p-pussy...” she started rocking on the bed. “Fuck... please... Demand... you fuck...”

Matthew approached the bed... he knew this situation was wrong... Tessi was acting strangely, didn’t seem able to speak, couldn’t even seem to remember her own husband’s name, but there was something about her... the way her breasts jiggled against the bed, when she rocked... just the sight of them made Matthew harden in his pants. He just wanted to touch them, get his hands on them... the wild, hot passion that had been between them these recent times they’d been having sex together, it had been great, but with Tessi feeling so much more affected, how much more wild and hot would it be? He was too curious about that to pass up the chance... too curious to try and take Tessi to get help, or to find the reason behind whatever had gone wrong with her. He reached out to touch one hanging-on-the-bed breast, and he fisted a hand around a roll of tender, soft, squishy breast-flesh.

As soon as Tessi was touched, her entire body trembled; she felt such pleasure and barely even noticed. One touch, she shook, one touch, the pleasure flooded her; then she collapsed forward, unconscious in sleep on the bed, utterly exhausted.

This was a disappointment to Matthew; but he let her sleep. It seemed the acceleration of her lust had meant an equal acceleration of her tendency to fall asleep early, and to fall asleep unwakeably— so now, as on all other nights, his only possible reaction could be to leave her sleep it off, and wake up again in the morning, when she would.

Tessi slept a long time, late into the next morning. Matthew was already gone for work when she woke; her body felt strange to her. Last night had become a blur so easily... she couldn’t remember almost anything that happened; and now she shifted uncomfortably in her body. She felt like she was wearing clothes that didn’t fit; everything was awkward, and wrong... off... her breasts were still huge, the same size... she remembered that, from before the night had slid into darkness... but there was... something else... she rolled over on the gray linen cover; Matthew must have draped it over her, she’d fallen asleep on top of the comforter, and never made it under; but when she’d rolled, she’d rolled out from it, and then in her discomfort shifted back so now she was lying on it again, on both the gray linen cover and the comforter; she stretched out, wiggling her toes, her legs, trying to see what it was about her body that felt so... weird...

She put her hands on her breasts; immediately, her pussy clenched, they were so responsive; and they shook in response. Or more like; shifted... jiggled... like there was something wet and heavy in them... she kept running her hands down—Oh!

That was wrong, those shouldn’t be there, but she had a second set of breasts, it felt like... right underneath the top two. Two full hanging circles, the same size, the tops of the second set hanging directly against the bottoms of the first; now her stomach would barely be visible at all. There had to be a substantial fat layer over the front of her stomach, beneath where this second set of breasts began, but they were so full and heavy they seemed to completely obscure it, her abdomen too... and the rest of her body seemed pudgier—all traces of the petite, tiny woman she had been were gone now; she was heavier, fuller everywhere, even her frame seemed a bit more wide-set, to sustain the four hanging globes that were now the most prominent feature of her body.

The second set of breasts were as responsive as the first; they gave her the same amount of arousal when they were touched; they jiggled in that same way that was liquid, but... but...

Tessi was feeling more like herself now that she was more awake. She shouldn’t have two sets of breasts. It was almost like... having udders, like she herself was a cow; all four nipples seemed elongated, almost on the way to being teats, and some of them were beading... a white substance... it couldn’t be—it had to be—milk—

Tessi reached with one hand, and squeezed a nipple. Immediately, a little spray of milk came out, and Tessi shrieked in unexpected pleasure... it had given her such arousal to do that; but that milk... it smelled familiar... she had gotten some of it on her hand, and she licked it off with her tongue.

It tasted familiar too. It tasted just like the milk she had taken home from the farmer’s, the milk she had found on the cement step... she had a bad feeling now what had been behind the steel door... she had drank milk from a human cow, and now her own body was giving the same substance, which meant that she was on her way to becoming... she was almost... she was at least partly, herself... a human cow.

She felt her eyes tear. She’d drank that human cow’s milk, and it had made her body start transforming... it wasn’t even done now... oh god, she needed help, she needed some way to make it stop... she needed someone to help her, and Matthew was still at work... she needed a friend...

She fumbled for her phone, but it wasn’t on the bed-stand... she couldn’t remember where she’d left it yesterday... she stumbled through the house, and her udders—breasts, she corrected herself, she had to cling to her humanity as much as she could—while she still could, and then she corrected herself again. No, there would be some way to stop this... she’d get help, the transformation would be stopped, then it would be reversed. She would be safe, she just had to find—

There was her phone, she saw it downstairs on the kitchen counter. She must have left it there when she’d gone into the fridge to pour herself another glass of milk. The very milk which had finally triggered this transformation to happen.. but her breasts jiggled, so immense with liquid, with the milk she had inside, and it was distracting. She remembered the way her own milk had tasted and was dazed for a second...

She fumbled for the phone and went down on her knees, but then the top set of breasts hung down on the bottom set, applying pressure, weighting them in, and her bottom two nipples squeezed out a bit of milk from each from that application, beading milk, dribbling milk... the feeling of it oozing out, pressing out, was so scrumptious that it distracted her for a moment. And she could smell it in the air; the memory of her last taste was overwhelming, and she felt her addict’s craving for the milk return, stronger than before; with effort, she stood, and took her second liter of milk out of the fridge and drank the glass. When she tasted it, for a minute, she forgot all about her new teats for a few minutes.

But she was reminded again, when the milk was all drunk, and she’d been standing there masturbating in a daze for a while. Her breast, when she stood, had dribbled and streamed more milk under the pressure of gravity; and it woke her up again... she had to stop her breasts streaming out; the more she felt them run, the more it dazed her—she had to stop it.

She went down on to all fours, so that no more milk would be squeezed out, but her breasts swung and dragged on the floor; that was distracting too; if she left her body lie forward on the floor, the way she so wanted too, she’d be putting all her body weight on her breasts and making her milk pour out all over the floor... even though... it would feel so good to have that breast-pressure... to express the milk everywhere and let it flow all over the floor... she would come and come; and she could just lie on them and force all the milk out...

To prevent this from happening, she stayed down on her fours, instead of letting herself fall down to be pillowed on her chest, but the smell of the milk that had already streamed out; the feeling of it, sticky against her skin was confusing her thoughts again... she went down onto her forearms and twisted to the side so one hand could masturbate her while she leaned onto the other forearm, so she would not fall forward.

As she masturbated, she went back into the milk-daze; and she released her control of her bodily function. She had lost all control over her body and started excreting excrement without so much as a thought of hesitation. And that excrement was running just like a cow’s, going down wet and streaking between the cheeks of her ass.

This brought her back from the milk daze; she noticed that she had just shat herself, and some of it had gotten onto the floor of the kitchen; and she was horrified again, and so, so deeply sad... but her hand stayed masturbating her, and the milk lingering in her system numbed out even her thoughts of horror and sadness, and she just kept masturbating.

In the milk-dream, she crawled around the island counter, not knowing what it was anymore, and ended up on the opposite side of it from the small pile of excrement she had left on the floor. She kept masturbating, once again leaning on a forearm, her other hand in her pussy.

She began to moo; this called her back from the dream, and she realized herself again. She had mooed. That was abnormal—she reminded herself she was transforming into a human cow, and she needed help.

Her phone had stayed in the hand of her forearm which was extended along the ground, supporting her, the forearm she was leaning on, all the time.

She had to lift that arm to make the call, but when she did, she lost her support, and she was so top-heavy she fell forward, right onto her breasts.

She moaned, and it came out more like a moo again... it felt... it made all of her breasts tingle, entirely, and her nipples were all crushed against the tile in such a way she could feel the milk streaming out constantly; it triggered an orgasm in her; the weight of the back of her body pressing her breasts harder against the floor which only made the orgasm more extreme; her breasts were so full, it felt good to flow release—she was coming—and coming—

In an orgasmic daze, she managed to think—to think to call—she needed help now more than ever, she’d fallen and couldn’t get up, and she would need someone else to help her up; she knew Matthew would have left the door open when he left in the morning, knowing she was still at home, so thank god for that; the friend she called would be able to come in and help; but as long as she was alone, she would never be able to make the choice to get up and relieve the pressure from her breasts; to stop the milk pouring out of her. The experience of feeling that happen was simply too good.

Still, she managed to remember how her phone worked this time, and dialed the number of her friend Marcela. “Please... Marcela... I’m in trouble... I need you to come over... and help me...” Her voice was strained. Marcela couldn’t know it was because she was still coming.

“Tessi!” Marcela exclaimed in surprise. “Oh my god—of course, I’ll be right over!”

She was the one to hang up, so Tessi let her phone fall onto the floor; into the stream of milk her body was sending out.

It was pooling all over the floor and still running further... but it smelled so good... it turned her on to express, to smell, to taste... and her breasts didn’t seem to be emptying at all, they always had more to lactate; but the milk was so close, just under her face; she put her tongue out, and started licking at it.

It made her mindless, it made her unthinking, it made her aroused—it made her orgasm increase in intensity, and she rocked on her breasts, unknowingly pressing more milk from them, and licked her own milk up from the floor, like a cat... and licked and licked... and drank and drank, cat-like; and forgot about everything else, everything that was beyond what she was experiencing.

When Marcela got to Tessi’s house she found the door open; and there was no immediate sign of Tessi, but there was a delectable scent in the air; something that drew Marcela by the nose, something that attracted her. It was a pleasing smell, she was curious to get closer to it...

But when she came around into Tessi’s kitchen, she was horrified by what she found.

Tessi was lying on the floor in front of her kitchen’s island counter, but seemed to be somehow cushioned up off of it. Cushioned up high like it wasn’t possible for her to lie flat against it, for some reason, but she was craning her neck down, and she was licking up a white liquid that was pouring out on the floor... from under Tessi’s body... could it be... it was milk!

And when Marcela looked around behind the island counter, she saw a small pile of poo there; the edges of it, touched by some of the milk which had streaked over and reached it.

Marcela clapped a hand over her mouth in shock; Tessi’s body was making milk, it was getting out of her, and then she was licking up her own product; and she had shitted on the floor over there like an animal. And now she was only moaning; mooing; rocking on those cushions—they were her breasts—Tessi hadn’t been kidding. She was in a lot of trouble, and Marcela had to help her. The thing she’d been smelling must have been the milk—it smelled so good—but Marcela had to help.

She guided Tessi back up, but Tessi had a hard time standing. She only managed to get onto her hands and knees, and crawl around, mooing, after Marcela. She seemed dopey and happy to follow along.

But if Marcela couldn’t get Tessi standing she was going to have a problem getting her out of the house; and as it was, she couldn’t take her out like this, so naked it was indecent; all her nipples were long as teats now, and each one was leaking milk in a steady stream that dribbled all over the floor.

Tessi’s arms gave out again, and she rolled over onto her back. Marcela knelt down beside her to help her up again, but Tessi shifted in such a way that two of her breasts knocked against each other, and a stream of milk jetted up into Marcela’s open mouth, and struck her right on the tongue.

Immediately, Marcela felt affected. She had been thinking clearly, despite the heady scent of milk in the air... but now that she had tasted it on her tongue, she couldn’t think in linear manner anymore; all she could know now was that that milk had been delicious; she wanted to taste more of it.

She was already kneeling, but she bent down lower still, putting her hands on Tessi’s body. She rolled Tessi onto her left side; her right most upper and lower breasts pressed against the left-side ones and made them pour milk; Marcela drank from a right nipple; so long and cylindrical, tubelike it came into her mouth. The milk was more amazing the longer she tasted it.

Tessi began mooing again and bucking her hips; Marcela didn’t want to stop drinking, but Tessi’s demand for sexual attention couldn’t go unheeded, either. Marcela put her hand down to Tessi’s pussy and stroked it hard and fast; for Tessi, this meant immediate orgasm; the pleasure of one breast being pushed into streaming milk outwards, the pleasure of a second being sucked and laved at with a tongue, and now, finally, contact to her over-sensitive pussy. The orgasm started and didn’t stop.

But Tessi’s hands were seeking something, reaching out unaware; they found Marcela’s body, they squeeze and rolled Marcela’s breasts; they reached down lower, and pawed and groped at Marcela’s pussy. This made Marcela come, too, and they were both shaking and shuddery as they sexed each other.

Marcela thought it was one of the best things she’d ever felt. She and Tessi were fucking; and she was drinking the best thing she’d ever tasted.

A few drops in a liter caused a slow transformation; an entire liter of hucow’s milk triggered a quicker transformation, but fastest of all was the transformation that came from drinking a hucow’s milk directly from a hucow’s teat. Vaguely, Marcela felt her body shifting too; her breasts were starting to get heavy—and it felt like a second set of them were buddying lower, below the first, over her stomach. Now all four were swelling up, getting heavy with liquid... she was making her own milk, now too! How wonderful!

Tessi’s breasts wouldn’t grow anymore, but that didn’t mean she was done transforming, either. She ears were flopping down into cow’s ears. Two horns were poking up, and extending from the top of Tessi’s head; a tail was coming down from the skinplace above her tail bone, and it flapped above her butt, which was still streaked with excrement she’d never cleaned...

Marcela had started from a point of being less transformed, but she was catching up now, too. Her breasts had swelled to the same size that Tessi’s were, but now other parts of her body were changing too. She felt her body extending into a tail; her ears becoming droopy things; horns, poking through.

She felt her own breasts finish swelling; it took Marcela a long time to think of the word she needed but it was changing... she was changing, too, she would also be a cow, like Tessi—who she saw now also had horns and ears like hers, a tail that swung and flopped like hers... Marcela didn’t care that she’d been changed. She wanted to be a cow, now. It was so sexy.

Tessi’s milk was addictive, and Marcela could neither stop drinking it, nor stop changing, and eventually the two of them were two cows in a mess of their own milk and their own filth still fucking, their breasts knocking together and forcing each other to spray more milk out all around them.

Tessi couldn’t believe how good it all felt, with Marcela sucking against her; she only wished she had more mouths close by for each of her other teats; they all needed suckling as much as the one Marcela had between her teeth, but satisfaction on one, release of pressure for one was better than release of pressure for none of them at all. It was even better with Marcela’s hands twisting between her legs, even better with her hands on Marcela, feeling udders in them, growing udders, growing up into her palms and then having so much loose flesh with milk behind it that that flesh spilled up between her fingers.

Then sometimes when her hands wandered down, between Marcela’s legs; then she had wetness under her hands and they slid against dripping, eroticized, erotically-responsive skin; then if she let her hands come back to Marcela’s head, she could feel things there two. She could grab Marcela by her recently emerged horns, and by them, pull Marcela’s mouth further onto the teat she had in her mouth; or she could smooth her hands down over Marcela’s hair to find her ears, and then pet them in a way that made Marcela make a muffled moo-like sound into Tessi’s breasts; the vibration of it got inside the center of Tessi’s teat, and that sent out reverberations that made it all the way down to Tessi’s pussy, and it reverberated inside of there, too.

Tessi’s hands kept wandering, and Marcela’s hands kept wandering Tessi too; sometimes Tessi’s hands came on to her own body, to follow Marcela’s, or touch the backs of them with the fronts of hers; Marcela stopped touching Tessi’s pussy to feel in her hair; she felt Tessi’s ears, too, and then Tessi cupped the back of her hands, and slid them aside to feel her own ears. They felt just like Marcela’s had when she’d touched them. They were both becoming more and more like each other all the time; both more and more like the exact same kind of hucow...

Marcela traced Tessi’s horns while she kept suckling; then Tessi felt them herself. Also just like Marcela’s... and then Marcela was sliding her hands down Tessi’s back, hugging her body closer to her mouth, passing near to her ass but stopping before she got all the way down; finding the beginning of Tessi’s tail, and gathering it back into her hand like a cord she was drawing up, and she looped it in her hand, rolling sections of it behind her fingers like fidgeting she didn’t know she was doing; it was pleasant to be touched on her tail, Tessi felt, for she could think properly no longer.

She did not panic or become distressed that her tail had been looped and pool in the palm of Marcela’s hand, the way a full cow might have down; she liked the rolling of it that Marcela was doing; no cow had ever experienced that, ever known what that experience could be like because they all would have spooked as soon as their tails were gathered up and kept from swinging, being able to swat; but Tessi was completely docile and relaxed; having her milk drunk was almost like drinking the milk itself. As if the release of the milk itself also drugged her body; it calmed her, filled her with a general sense of happiness that had no form, no specificity, no direct cause. It was just a generalized spread; and Tessi welcomed it. It was a nice underbed for the pleasure above. A foundational underlayer that made the pleasure which rested on it so much more enjoyable, from Tessi’s perspective.

So she stayed happy and enjoyed all the many aspects of the sex happening between Marcela and her; there were so many affecting her at once, and they layered themselves over each other too. She kept running her hands over Marcela, loving the feel of her body under them; she did what Marcela was doing to her, because it felt good. She drew Marcela’s tail up, gently, until it was pooled in her hand, then rolled and rolled it in her fingers; then she took Marcela’s hands off of her body, and guided them back to her own body all the time while Marcela kept drinking, too addicted to ever stop... she showed Marcela what her own horns felt like, what her ears felt like; what her own tail felt like; because she remembered how much she had enjoyed feeling her changes under her hands, and then remembered she had still not felt her own tail; while Marcela still held hers, Tessi drew her own up, and she was the one rolling it like now the way Marcela had been doing it first. It was nice they were becoming so alike to each other; both cows now.

Tessi couldn’t think at all anymore. She was a completely stupid cow, thoughtless, that strange hybrid with humanity. And when Matthew came home and found her, he was lost to her milk, too. It started an infection going in their community of row houses; people from house after house were drawn by the smell; their either drank from her, and transformed into cows like her, if they were women... or if they were men, they became addicted and desperate to fuck her; more and more people came, and Tessi was infecting everyone around her without ever knowing it. From her perspective all that mattered was that there were always mouths drinking from her; sometimes four at a time; and there were always dicks fucking her; sometimes plastic, sometimes mechanical, sometimes flesh; as a cow, it was the only life she could desire, and she could neither know nor care about the damage she was wreaking all around her. She only went on enjoying her life, a perfectly joy-filled cow.