A Day In The Life Of Udder Girl
The beeping of the alarm clock woke me from my dreams. {Oh no, it's already half past 6? Just another five minutes!} I hit the snooze button, and tried to get back to the luscious dreams, but the morning sun shone directly in my bedroom—it was too bright to fall asleep again. Apart from that, i forgot what the dream was about anyway. I thought about my boring job, and decided to get up. {My next job won't begin so early!} i thought.
Finally i groaned and thought: {Time to stay up.} I rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up. The weight of my breasts didn’t make it easy. Damn, did they grow again this past night? I tried to remember the dream i had, but it was useless. All i could recall was that it was a good dream.
I looked out of the window once i finished stretching. The scene was beautiful; i could directly see the cove with the harbor. {Larissa, you are a lucky girl: you will never again find such a great flat which is so cheap!} i thought to myself.
Sighing i turned and made my bed. If it weren't for this job, i would be happy. At least my good friend Yasi worked at the same company, so we weren’t alone amongst all this boredom. {And the breasts are always in the way} i thought as i shook out the blanket and made the bed.
In the bathroom i took a long look into the mirror. {Strange} i thought. {Other than my bigger bust size, i look completely unchanged! At least if i don't look further down.}
I sighed. Sometimes i imagined how it would be to still be a normal girl without all the new endowments.
My breasts seemed to still be growing, although much slower than in recent weeks.
Any illusion or delusion of normalcy was ruined when i looked down at my breasts. Still somewhat in denial of my new reality, i felt the need to lift my left one up to see it in the mirror, seeing more of it in all its “glory”. In place of a areola with a nipple i have a huge male member! And that's not all: the milk production out of my mammaries is so high, that i have to milk them regularly. And that's just my breasts.
I hefted both breasts to check their weight. They were heavy indeed! Each with what for most intents and purposes was a penis, each one significantly longer and thicker than the most well-endowed lover i’d ever had. For a moment, i couldn’t stop staring, still struggling to take in the mysteries of my changed and changing body. {Are they even bigger than last night?!} i gasped as i studied them, sighing from both that and the need to get to work. {Enough musing about things i can't change!}
I started my morning wash, cleaning my teeth and washing the areas beneath my breasts and udder, to minimize inflammation. Yes: udder. Like a cow’s, other than far bigger.
As usual it became full and heavy during the night: a giant wobbly sac of milk, hanging to my knees. At least my breasts didn't produce as much milk as my udder… that would make things even more complicated.
With my morning wash concluded, i prepared to milk my udder—or udders, depending how one defines these things. One giant sac with 4 huge teats, each nearly as big as my breast prongs had become. Unlike my boobdicks, my teats don’t get hard.
I hoped that the technician, one of the few anywhere nearby able to repair my milking machine, would schedule a repair appointment soon. It was getting annoying milking myself by hand, not the least aspect of which was how much time it took. {At least I’m much better off than Teresa!} i giggled.
The most expedient and comfortable option was sitting atop my huge udder as it sat on the bathroom floor, near the middle of the room. Relaxing into a zen-like state and repeatedly rhythmically tugging each teat in turn until that section was empty was absolutely the most efficient way to go for the manual process. If i had absolutely nothing better to do and all the time in the world, it would be a good opportunity to meditate. At times, it even felt really good. These were the times i doubted my sanity, all too aware that many others had already lost theirs as a result of the world-wide mutations.
Getting dressed was its own adventure, more so every day as i grew. All my bras were far too small! And that’s not even taking into account my huge nippledicks, absolutely unhideable no matter what i did. {Guess i’m going to have to get into special custom bras} i thought with resignation. {Maybe Yasmin will help me with that. She has exquisite taste.} All i could do was relax and let my boob cocks go down as much as they could. The stimulation from the fabric when getting dressed or undressed or sometimes even just walking or moving around at all tends to arouse them.
{Oh no! It's already so late!} i realized. I had to hurry. Quickly i finished dressing, grabbed my bag, and wobbled as quickly as my fattened, liquid-filled (even still after milking) body allowed, to the bus station. The jiggling and new-each-day weight distribution made me nearly topple several times.
The tips of my nippledicks were still visible and with the new growth my lowest udder teats hung just beneath the bottom hem of my longest work-suitable dress. Had it been just me in a new, bizarre body, i might have caused a scene, even been arrested. With so many others reeling from the sudden, dramatic changes and the shattering of life as we knew it, no one paid me any mind beyond typical brief polite smiles in passing. Indeed, i was doing better covering myself up modestly than many others faced with wholly different severe physical alterations far less amenable to what until now had been standard modern industrialized society human clothing.
Settling in at my well-appointed, spacious desk, the day got very slightly better: no one griped at me for being slightly late. This may have been because everyone above me in the org chart had more pressing issues with which to deal.
My work is rather boring: every day the same dull crap. I have to type in countless medical data about the newest transformations in the city. At first this sounded interesting, because of all the unique transformations. All too soon patterns of sorts emerged, falling into seemingly mindless repetitiveness, made all the worse by the super-boring clinical writing style of those entering the raw data. Yet it couldn’t truly be mindless, else a code jockey could have put something together to take raw OCRed scanner output and process it into the end result of what i was doing.
{Be thankful you have a job, Larissa!} i chided myself. {And a life, after so many others lost theirs!}
Indeed, i had reasons to be grateful, despite the soul-crushing tedium.
Late in the day i took a big stretch. The rub of the fabric felt all too good.
I felt my left nipple harden significantly, it having enjoyed more cloth rubbing friction. Nobody was watching. {Should I...?}
It was so tempting. It was time for milking anyway. {I could do it right here!}
I could, and i did: i pulled my entire left breast out, aroused at how great and big it felt and looked, my nippledick lengthening, girthening, and hardening in response. Days like this, i just don’t care: i need this!
I gleefully shoved my lengthening, hardening boob cock into my mouth. It felt so good! By far this wasn’t the first time, though it was the first time i did it at work. It’s hard to resist the amazing feeling, not to mention that my milk tastes pretty good, i think.
I know, most people have some kind of cock now, even those who’d been 100% genetic women. It had come to the point with all the changes around me where i felt weird for not having one, before mine finally grew.
I’m not sure what my boss or coworkers would think, if they caught me now!
Eeek! I hear someone coming! As quickly as i can, i stuff my massive milky boob and nippledick back into my top.
Whew!, that was close! Dang! I’m still raging hard on my left side, because i didn’t get to finish and it feels too amazing! Oh, it’s my BFF Yasmin—double whew! At least she knows of my boob cocks and understands that they sometimes have a mind of their own.
“Heyyy Chesty Bestie!” Yasmin chirped, all smiles as usual. She planted her right hand on the back of my chair, as she often did to be more friendly and closer. “How’re things over here?”
{Raging hard out of control} i thought, almost saying it aloud. I’m still regularly in disbelief how much more nippledick i have on each side than one generous hand-hold can cover. I’m effin’ huge! “Struggling through another day of tedium and untoward arousal.”
“Yeaaahh, i know how that goes with arousal. All 18 of my nips go off at the same time, putting on quite a show. Mutant Problems” she giggled at the end. “Think you’ll be done in half an hour, so we can get outta here on time and hit the gym?”
We often go to the gym together after work. “I’d rather go to it than hit it.”
“You know what i mean, silly pedantic udder girl!” she laughed, patting my shoulder then turning around and taking her leave.
The rest of the day was rather boring—as expected. I met up with Yasmin down in the lobby and we headed straight out.
She’s grown a little taller along with growing her horizontal humantaur midsection and hindquarters. Of course like most of us, that’s not all she’s grown since the transformation.
She manages to stay so stylish and mostly tastefully covered up, i admit to being a bit envious. More than that, interacting with her enlivens me and soothes me. Good, close friendships can be like that.
On the way to the gym we discussed work. Nearly everyone likes watching Yasi’s butt sexily rotate with each step when she mounts stairs, secretly including me when i can get a look.
“My boss is an complete dork. He changes his mind faster than i can do something” Yasmin complained.
"Yeah” i sighed. “My boss isn't really better. I wonder how she got this job.”
“If i could i would change my employment. But at this time that's simply impossible” she too sighed.
She was right: the economy remained a complete mess, as it had been for years. It never really recovered from the Accident day.
We talked more about work while we changed clothes. I couldn’t help admiring Yasmin’s breasts. They weren’t as cumbersome as mine, each being far smaller in size, and she had so many of them. Sometimes i was really jealous of them.
The gym equipment remained as it had always been: designed for “normal” human bodies. Of course “normal” humans were now very very few. Beyond the expense of purchasing all new equipment and the lead time and expense of designing everything afresh from scratch in the first place, the mutations were so manifold and widely diverse in nature that it wasn’t possible to make machines for everyone. Neither myself nor Yasmin were fully comfortable on the machines, but they had to do.
She likely would have been better off on the treadmill, which at my new weight and especially unwieldy distribution was untenable. Sweetheart and true friend that she was (and is), she chose being near enough to converse over being a distance away on equipment better suited to her specific needs.
Showering at the gym after our workouts was both pleasure and stress. Pleasure because it meant having more quality time with my BFF; stress because my thoughts and feelings seldom failed to drift to sexuality. Whether more pleasure or stress or somewhere in between, showering after exercising was necessary—at least for me.
This evening while i was washing my breasts i was wondering how it would feel having many of them, like Yasmin. Not being to be able to please all of them or even reach all of them due to having just 2 arms in the usual human places must be frustrating. Maybe i'm not so unlucky after all.
Oops!—she caught me looking at her body! She’s smiling, as she always does, as a friend. If she has any idea what’s going on in my mind, she’s obviously forgiving me for it. Whew!
Not being alcoholic beverage drinkers, we once again wound up at one of our favorite juice bars after gym. They serve light meals, but neither of us felt hungry enough in the moment to order anything like that. We always find so many things to talk about, even after these many years of friendship and getting together regularly.
She’s pretty modestly covered, and here i am with my giant udder growing huger by the moment as it fills up, hanging well below my dress for everyone to see. Thankfully there aren’t many people here tonight, and several others are closer to my level of undress than Yasmin’s level of dress, despite their reveals being utterly different rather than udderly. Probably it’s a good thing that Yasmin’s the more modestly dressed one: she’s awfully cute. My hair looks so stuck in the past and ragged compared to her ’do. It’s amazing (and rather nice) that no boob lovers and/or ass pounders are making moves on her tonight. Maybe society is evolving to something better after all, despite the challenges?
We chatted for over an hour, as we often do, all the way out the door as we left the juice bar and along the street until we split off for her walk home and my climbing aboard my bus home.