HuCow's Delicious Milk
The figure moved with ease through the department store. It was excited to leave its current pair of panties behind in this location. After the last one, Cherry Tart, had made Delilah White into a perpetual virgin, the figure wanted to try another form of body modification. It had an idea for a delicious one. It was why the current pair of panties looks so much like the white and black pattern of a dairy cow. There was a simple question written on the rear.
Got Milk?
The figure was eager for this new fun. Mind-controlling girls gave it such a rush, but transforming them was just as much fun. There were so many wicked things it could do with this magic. This game was exciting. It couldn't wait for that wonderful rush that imposing its will on its target would bring.
It couldn't wait for the girl to try on these panties. She was just perfect for it. It had found her, peering through the mist that fell from the waterfall in its lair. The perfect girl to be transformed.
The shoppers in the huge box store paid no heed to the figure. It slipped between them, almost flowing like shadows. Nondescript and unremarkable shadows. Its true form was utterly alien, but they didn't see it as anything more than the background. Their eyes slid across the figure to stare at what they really were here for.
All the material goods spread out before them. The wealth of nations brought to their fingertips.
They had no idea how fortunate they were. They took it all for granted.
Not that the figure cared. It just wanted to satiate its own lust for mischief.
The figure reached its destination: the Junior Miss section. It was for girls who were ten to thirteen to shop at. Of course, its target was older than that. Not that she looked it. That's what made her perfect. On a rack holding bras that were little more than trainers, it draped the panties.
The figure shuddered, eager for the fun to begin. Then it flitted away. It moved through the shopping crowd, heading back towards the store's automatic doors. The mist awaited. Back to its lair to watch the fun.
It trembled in anticipation. It could feel its prey coming closer and closer to the section.
Abigail Hart hated having to go to the Junior Miss section shop for her clothes. She was nineteen. Nineteen and four foot eleven! She looked like a twelve-year-old girl and had the chest to match. She barely qualified as an A-cup. She kept hoping and hoping her breasts would grow, but nothing seemed to work. Not any of the apocryphal ideas she'd gotten off the Internet-- she'd drunk whole milk every day for a year and had nothing to show for it--nor did the suggestions from her friends.
She played with her nipples when she masturbated.
She secretly bought a breast pump and placed it over her little buds, hoping the suction would grow them.
She wanted them to be bigger. She'd settle for a B-cup. Something more than the little mosquito bites she currently had. Something that would make her look anything close to her age.
Because of her childish build, she was suspicious of any guy who wanted to date her. They were always such pervs. The rest of the boys wanted girls with big breasts. Huge honkers. The type of lush sweaters pillows they could snuggle up to.
It wasn't fair. Her mother wasn't flat-chested. Her mother had tits. Her mother would just say, "Abigail, you'll blossom one day. You'll see. You got to be patient. You're a late bloomer."
At nineteen, it was hard to keep believing that.
She sighed when she reached the bra section. She hated having to browse here. She couldn't get anything sexy. She wasn't even sure why she bothered.
Like I need
any
support
, she thought. The only thing that had developed were nipples. They were getting bigger. When they got hard, they were noticeable. And that just embarrassed her. At least a training bra helped to hide them.
She slouched up to the display, gazing at the selections and...
"Got milk?" she read, staring at the panties.
She grabbed them, studying at the dairy cow pattern on them. She frowned, her fingers sliding over the letters. A tingle rippled through her. Thoughts of buying a new bra were abandoned.
Why do I need a bra?
she thought to herself.
Panties in hand, she marched up to the cashier. The tingle coursed through her body the entire time. The cashier felt it, too. They went through the motions of her paying, but at no point had any barcode been scanned nor had any money been exchanged. After all, the panties weren't the store's. They were Abigail's. They were made for her. If anyone else took them, the results could be unpredictable.
A gymnastics coach had learned that.
Then Abigail was out the door and heading home with strange ideas of large mammaries, heavy udders, filling her young mind.
* * *
Abigail Hart
I stared down at my flat chest and shook my head. Every morning, I hoped that something would happen.
That there would be
some
amount of growth that would've happened overnight. They were barely more than bumps. My nipples had developed nicely, my areolas wide, my nubs thick. When erect, they thrust out fairly far. There were girls my age, like Courtney, with tits much bigger who didn't have nipples half my size. It was so unfair.
I'd rather have small nipples and huge tits then the reverse.
"I'm never going to get a boyfriend," I muttered. I stared at myself in the mirror. I had no hips. I wasn't even five foot tall. At nineteen, I'd given up hope of gaining any more height. I would forever be short. My mother had 3 inches on me and D cups to boot. Why had genetics abandoned me?
I threw on my new pair of panties I'd bought yesterday. The dairy cow pattern on them was... exciting. They made me tingle when I touched them. It ran all the way up to my breasts. My nipples. I could almost fantasize that if I put on these panties, I would grow huge tits. Just the largest udders. Bigger than double D's. Then F-cups. Then G or maybe even in H-cups.
Maybe I'd gain J-cups like that Japanese porn star.
