Chapter VII
Relieving Pressure
Kat's whole body felt slow. How long had it been since they dumped her in the office and shut the door? How long had it been since she'd had a thick dick in her? She could still smell Luke on her skin. The faint tinges of his scent only worsened the ache in her body. She needed to be milked. The thought hit her as foreign and unseemly, but she saw no sense in denying it. She'd never seen a nursing woman's boobs, but doubted they looked much like hers at the moment. Perhaps some lesser version, but not these massive stripper sized jugs literally stretching from the milk build up. Her nipples never popped much before, either. Now they remained painfully erect and a little leaky. Fat, brown buds sticking off her tits — they reminded her of the air nozzles on a tube inflatable, but that might have been simply another way of envisioning someone's lips on them.
It wasn't only her tits that had progress, of course. Unknowingly, she'd changed much like her neighbor in the makeshift quarantine. Her lower lips had thickened and remained mostly wet no matter how hard she tried to divert her attention. Her clit was barely hidden by the upper folds, and merely walking was enough to give her small, electric jolts of pleasure. Her ass, too, had grown to remain proportional with her hips. From what she could tell, the cleft of her cheeks was over a foot and a half from top to taint, each cheek a wobbling hemisphere of gratuitous flesh. And at the top of that crack was a sensitive nub of bone or cartilage, which she dreaded to see progress further.
Again, like Joy, she'd spent much of her time in the locked office masturbating. It helped quell the maddening urge, but it didn't stop it. Sheer willpower, and her general malaise of aches was the only thing keeping her from kicking the door off its hinges and finding a cock to stuff in her. It came with immense disappointment when the door finally opened and instead of a man walking through, Becca entered the room.
The older woman wore a blue surgical mask, a pair of latex gloves, and carried what appeared to be a trashcan skewered with a coat hanger in one hand and a roll of blankets under her arm. Becca remained fully clothed, but Kat could sense something a different about her. She seemed a little less tired, less drunk certainly. Some of the lines in her face had smoothed, perhaps. Becca put down the things and rested her hands on her hips. "How're you feeling?"
"Tired," Kat answered. She tried to fold her arms to hide the aggressiveness of her leaky tits, but it did little good. "And really horny," she confessed.
Becca nodded as she cleared off the desk. "We're making a pretty big mess of things for the owners of this place. Not sure they'll mind in the end, but I hate to do it." She moved a computer with little care, dragging cables and a keyboard over to a corner of the room. With the desk clear, she laid out the blankets.
"What's happening now?" Kat asked.
"Well, Kat, you and I don't know each other very well. I'm a lab manager for a hospital, so not a nurse or a doctor or even a lab specialist, but you pick stuff up. More importantly, you get kept in the loop on things. A friend of mine included me on an email chain between some virologists and other specialists."
"Have they found a way of stopping this? Reversing it?"
"Not yet. They're working on that, but not yet. They have figured out a few things though. The bad news is that this can get worse. Good news is that we can slow it down. There was an initial case they've been studying for a while. Poor girl is...well, worse off than you."
"Worse how?"
"Let's cross that bridge when it comes."
"Please, just tell me. Not knowing is worse."
Becca patted the table. "Come, sit."
Kat shuffled slowly over to the desk and hopped on it. The strange growth at the base of her spine made sitting feel strange. "I'm growing a tail," she said, giving life to her fear.
Becca looked around at Kat's backside. "Yes, that's part of it. Easiest way of thinking of it is that cow DNA got all mixed up with human DNA thanks to a virus. Normally, that'd take a millennia with a fraction of a percent chance of it ever happening at all. Factory farms, rapid cellular iteration, biopha— ah, you don't care. Point is, parts of your body are firing up massive cell growth with the wrong blueprint. The viral load makes it worse, and, as luck would have it, there's tons of the virus in every little drop of your milk."
"So, I did get Joy sick." Kat laid down on her side at Becca's direction, looking like a nymph in repose by an idyllic stream. If the nymph was halfway to turning into a cow. Kat looked at her hands. "Am I going to get hooves?"
Becca shook her head. "The first cases haven't. Men get muscle growth and changes to their genitals. Only one of them has developed a tail, but several have horns. No horns for us ladies." She put her gloved hand on Kat's lower abdomen. "Anything feel strange here?" Becca moved her two fingers to a spot of slightly discolored skin. "Here?"
Kat winced back. "God, that's...sensitive. Not good."
Becca frowned. "Two of the earliest patients to show symptoms developed what the reports termed extraordinary dermal mammary development coupled with unique fatty tissue."
"I'm growing even more boobs?!"
"Maybe. And due to its placement, might be better to call it an udder." Becca tried to manage a smile, but it faltered on her lips. "Lie on your stomach if you can, otherwise on your hands and knees. I need your front part over the bucket here. Sorry it's not nicer, but it's clean."
"Why? What are you gonna do?"
