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He's late again. He's been a little bit later each week. He's probably doing it deliberately to annoy you, as far as you can tell, that's the main reason he does anything. He knows that you don't have any choice but to wait for him, because nobody else can empty your aching udder. For the third time since you got here, you look down at it. Your udder just sits there, growing out from where your belly button should be. You've had this stupid thing for months, but when it gets big like this, you still find it hard to believe its part of you. The only saving grace is that it isn't usually this big. After you get milked, it stays deflated for a while, small enough that you can mostly ignore it as you go about your day. Sometimes you forget it's there entirely until something brushes across one of your teats, even when you're empty, they stick a couple inches forward from your belly. The trouble really starts about five days after you've been milked last, which is when your udder really starts producing milk again. Once it gets going, it fills up faster and faster the longer you have to wait to be milked. On the sixth day, you can still hide it if you're really careful and wear very baggy clothes (you've got a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that are a couple sizes too big that you keep around for the occasion), but by the time you've gone seven days without being milked, it's impossible to hide or disguise. In fact, at that point, your udder is big enough that it starts getting in the way of walking around, so you're housebound until it's time to come here and get it taken care of. It's currently late on day 7, and your udder is distended out enough that it's rubbing against your thighs, and it's filling up fast enough that you're visibly larger than you were when you left your house. You've already taken your pants and shirt off so to let it hang freely, in order to alleviate some of the discomfort. On your first few trips here, you were too embarrassed to be seen naked when he shows up, but at this point it's a sacrifice you're willing to make, especially if he keeps making you wait like he is now. You rub the udder gently where it's sore from being hidden on the trip here, you can still feel the imprints left behind by the band of your sweatpants pressing against the sensitive skin. You need to depants to get milked anyway, and the udder hangs down low enough to cover your genitals, so there's no real point in modesty, even if the Guy you're waiting for is the last person you'd want to be naked in front of.

Your legs are feeling tired from holding up the extra weight, so you decide that as long as you're putting your pride aside for practicality, you'll go ahead and sit down on the milking stool to wait. The stool is tiny, about a foot tall, so you have to told yourself up a bit to sit down, but it's still more comfortable and dignified than lying down on the dirt floor, which is your other choice for seating arrangements in the tiny shed. The only other thing in the room is the milking machine, which isn't much more than a tank with a couple of buttons on it, attached to a tube that splits into four nozzles. You stare at the milking machine longingly, wishing you could simply use it to empty your udder yourself, but you know from past experience that somehow it only works when that Guy uses it. You don't know how he's made it only work for him, but then again, you don't really know how he made you grow an udder either, and if you ask him, he just taunts you about it.

The wait, and the weight, is starting to get to you. With nothing else to occupy your mind, the milk pushing against the skin of your udder is a constant frustration. You reach down and grab your top two teats, pulling on them to try and milk yourself. You know it won't work, if it were that easy, you wouldn't bother coming here. Whatever that Guy did to make you grow this thing, he made it impossible for you to milk yourself, because your teats don't even have holes at the end for the milk to come out of. The milker does something weird that you've never quite caught to get the milk out, and you know it's the only way to relieve yourself, but when your udder gets this big sometimes you find your hands wandering down to tug in vain. You don't want to admit it, but the feeling of having the teats pulled is pleasant, giving a brief respite to the otherwise maddening feeling of your taut udder, and for a while you get lost in the sensation, closing your eyes leaning back a bit.

"You look like you're having fun" Guy has snuck up behind you. How long had he been standing there? You drop your teats and quickly spin to face him, hoping he doesn't see your face redden. Guy, as always, looks happy to see you, which he probably is, considering how much joy he seems to get from bothering you. Originally, Guy was a friend of a friend, and you'd met him at some party, you can't even remember which one. When you'd learned his name was Guy, you made some lame joke about how he was "just some Guy". As far as you can tell, that's the only thing you ever did to him, but after that he'd gone out of his way to annoy you when nobody was looking, always flashing the shithead smile he was sporting right now.

"You're late!"

"Oh, am I?" Guy said, insincerity dripping off his words. "Sorry about that, you know how I am with time."

"I've been waiting here for over an hour with this full...full...thing!" You gesture at your udder.

"Oh, what thing is that? Do tell. Out loud, please."

"...my udder." you mutter. He always makes you play these little games, forcing you to ASK to be milked, as if he's doing you a favor, as if he wasn't the one who set the milking schedule, as if he didn't refuse to milk you early so your udder would get large and uncomfortable, hell, as if he wasn't the one who gave you the damn thing in the first place!

"And what do you want me to do about it?" Another infuriating grin.

"You know!"

"Say it."

Something in your brain flips, and not for the first time, the anger you've been holding in erupts. "To milk me, you asshole! I'd do it myself if you'd let me, god knows I've tried! If you hate doing this so much you could just take this damn thing off me already! You can't keep doing this to me forever for no reason!" You're real heated, and a part of you wants to take a swing at him. You've thought about doing that, or going public and reporting him somehow, but he's made it clear that if you ever retaliate against him, he's spiteful enough to never milk you again. Without any guarantee that someone else could figure it out, you won't take that risk. You don't even want to know what happens if your udder is left to grow indefinitely.

"Oh, rest assured, I've got my reasons. Maybe I think you're cute when you're mad. Maybe I like watching you squirm. Or maybe I just want the milk. It IS good milk, you know." The thought of Guy drinking YOUR milk makes you feel strangely possessive of it, which is a thought you refuse to examine further. "But when you're right, you're right. I am getting tired of the routine, maybe I don't really feel like milking you right now. Guess I'll just skip this week."

Your eyes go wide as you realize he's baited you into a trap. You try to recant your words, although you can't quite bring yourself to apologize, but Guy cuts in before you make too big a fool of yourself.

"Welllll...okay, maybe I'm still willing to milk you, once it's worth my while. What you've got in that tiny milkbag right now, though?' Guy rubs his hand across your udder gently, and you suppress a shiver, "There's not enough in there to satisfy me." He brings his hand back and slaps your udder. It isn't a hard slap, but the skin is very sensitive, so it's enough to make you recoil and hunch over instinctively to protect your udder. "How about you wait here a bit, and I'll come back later and see how you're doing." He turns and starts walking out of the shed, and you straighten up and try to chase after him, but you try to move too fast, sending your udder swaying side to side, and you can't make it to the door before and he closes and locks it. You bang on the door for a while, but you can hear that Guy already walked away. You start trying to break the latch on the door, but the shed is pretty solidly built, so it'll take some time to break through.

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You sigh as you lower yourself down onto the stool. You've been trying to force open the door for an hour or two, and you'd even made progress by chipping away some of the wood, but your udder is really getting heavy now, and you have to sit down for a bit to rest your legs. You tell yourself you'll get back to the door later, and you almost believe it. Your udder is now big enough that it's resting on the ground when you sit on the stool; when you shift yourself, it tickles slightly from rubbing against the loose dirt floor. After you've rested for a few minutes, Guy comes in. You wouldn't put it past him to have been waiting outside for you to give up before coming back in.

"Well well well, now we're getting somewhere." he says, staring at the growth you've made. You glare back without saying anything, trying not to look too pathetic. "But I see here you've damaged my shed. That's no good, if you got out, you could really hurt yourself." He holds his hand up to stop you from defending yourself. "I'm not mad, though. Really, if anything, it's my fault for leaving livestock unsupervised. I'll just have to remove the temptation to run."

He starts towards you while taking a brass ring out of his pocket. It's a few inches wide with a long chain dangling off it. You reach out to try and shove him away, but he's ready for you, and he grabs one of your teats first and gently tugs on it. You've never had someone else tug on your teats before, previously Guy has only used the milker, and the feeling of having someone else stroke you there is amazing. For a moment all the tension in your udder is relieved, and you feel completely relaxed, your arms dropping to your side. The feeling distracts you long enough that he's able to reach up to your nose. You scrunch your eyes closed and prepare for something unpleasant, but you don't feel any pain, and he quickly takes his hand away and steps back. Unsure what he's done, you reach up to your nose and feel around. There's the ring, but how is it..? To your horror, you realize he's somehow painlessly pierced your nose with the heavy ring. It doesn't hurt, but you can feel it hanging from your nose, and when explore inside your nose it's clear the ring pierces all the way through your septum. The ring is sized for a cow, so on you, it's big enough to hang across your mouth and almost reach down to your chin. You try to remove it, but there's no opening or clasp to undo, and when you give it a few experimental probings you can tell it's solidly implanted.

You look up to see that Guy is already back outside the shed door, but he's left the door open this time, and you run after him as best you can with your swaying udder. However, when you get to the door there's a harsh, painful yank at your nose that drags your head backwards. You turn around and realize there's a chain attached to your nose ring, and the chain runs up to the ceiling of the shed, where it's attached to a metal loop. You turn back to the door and try to grab at Guy, but he stands just outside of your reach and smirks at you. "There, now my cow is nice and secure, and you don't have to worry about getting yourself into trouble by walking around in places you don't belong, like outside. You're welcome! Why don't you wait right here while I go fetch you some dinner." Adding insult to injury, Guy has left you alone with the door to the shed wide open. You can see your freedom just a few feet away, but the chain keeps you in place. You go to the center of the room and try to reach up to the loop you're attached to, but even when you bring the stool over to stand on, you can't quite manage to touch it. You try to jump up off the stool, but you're barely able to jump with all the liquid filling your udder, and after the second time you almost fall flat on your face, you reluctantly give up on getting the ring off and resign yourself to being chained inside the shed until Guy decides otherwise. The chain is long enough that you can reach the whole shed comfortably, so you tell yourself that you're not really any more trapped than you were with the door locked, Guy is just trying to degrade you, and you won't give him the satisfaction. Even in your head, the words ring hollow, there's a big difference between being locked in a shed and being chained in one.

Speaking of Guy, he's back, and he's placing a jug just inside the shed door. "Dinner time! It'd be rude of me not to offer dinner to my guest, especially when you made it in the first place! Bon appetit, Bessie!" You wait until he's gone to examine the jug, and you see it is full of milk. Oh god, it must be your milk. Guy doesn't empty the tank until you leave, and since you have no way of getting at it yourself, you've never actually seen your milk before, at least not more than a couple loose drops. You can't hide your curiosity and lean in to take a closer look. It looks like normal milk, and it smells...well, like milk, unsurprisingly. There's something about it that you can't quite place, though. Knowing that you produced it, that it's a jugful of your milk, somehow makes it really appealing to you. No way, that's too weird, even for this situation! You go back to the stool, resolved to wait the night out hungry before you drink your own supply.

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As best as you can measure without a clock, it's been an hour since Guy chained you up and left you alone. The good news is, it feels like your udder has slowed it's growth, although maybe it hasn't totally stopped. The constant pressure of the milk inside is impossible to ignore, but it's possible to PRETEND to ignore it, so that's what you've been doing. The bad news is, you're starving, and you've been staring at the jug of milk for the last 20 minutes. A part of you keeps insisting that's YOUR milk, and YOU deserve it, and dismayingly, your empty stomach is finding that argument increasingly compelling. "Okay", you tell yourself, "I won't give in, but I'll just go take a little sip, just to know what it's like." You walk over and pick up the jug, and lap up a tiny bit with your tongue. The taste washes over your tongue, and it's delicious. It does taste like milk, but it's the most clear and refreshing milk you've ever had, and you're gulping the whole thing down before you realize it, making sure not to spill a single drop. Now that you've drunk the whole thing, you feel very full. You don't think you'll have to eat for days, and you feel energized, too. You can see why Guy would value this stuff, and you have a perverse moment of pride at how good your milk is. Then your stomach starts to tingle, and you wonder if you've made a mistake.

An energy fills you, sweeping across your body before concentrating in your skin. You feel the energy shoot outwards as a thin layer of white fur with black spots covers your body. The energy then focuses above your ass and you turn to watch a short tail with a little tuft at the end grow out, lengthening down to behind your knees. It occasionally flicks around behind you, sometimes slapping into your legs, but you can't figure out how to control it yourself. You wait for more changes to your body, but they stop there, leaving you only partially cowed. The energy gathers up inside you for one last push, then releases into your udder, and it's like someone opened a spigot inside you. Your udder starts growing again, faster than you've ever seen it, and indeed it's swelling fast enough that you CAN see it expanding. It's already bigger than it's ever been, at this rate, it'll only be a few minutes until it touches the ground while you're standing! You hobble your way over to the milker as fast as possible, which isn't very fast. You have to take wide, wobbling steps around you udder as it dangles against your knees pushing them apart, and you also have to be careful not to get tangled in the chain attached to your nose ring, so walking even the few feet to the machine takes you a full minute of effort. You get there, pick up the four nozzles, and shove your teats into them. You press the button on the milker like you've seen Guy do, but nothing happens. You look all over the machine for any other buttons, anything that might make the machine work, but there's nothing. You can feel the milk splashing into your udder, you watch as it sags closer to the ground, your feel your center of gravity gradually moving forwards, and you resort to banging on the machine randomly until you hear Guy walk in again.

"Easy buddy, you don't wanna break that machine, I don't have a spare!"

You NEED to be milked. Pride be damned, you're going to beg Guy to milk you, maybe if he sees you debase yourself he'll get this damn milk out. You run up to him, grab his shirt, and say "Mooooo! Moooo? Moo moo MOOO!?" You reach up and cover your mouth, that's not what you meant to say! You try again, but your whole vocabulary has been replaced with moo. You're not even making actual cow noises, maybe if you were it would be less humiliation, but you're just saying the word "moo" over and over. You look back at Guy and do your best to make "moo moo moo!" sound like a plea for help.

Guy smirks and pushes you backwards. You're barely standing up at this point, so it doesn't take much to make you fall down on your back. You try to get up, but you can't get your feet under you. Your udder is so big that your legs have to spread wide around it, making it impossible to lift yourself up, and it's too heavy to push yourself up or roll over. "Well, I was gonna milk you, but it looks like you're ready to lie down and sleep for the night! I'll come back in the morning and see how you're doing then, okay buddy?"

"Mooo! Moo mooo!" You yell after him, but that does about as much good as you'd expect. Realizing that you're going to be stuck with a steadily growing udder for an entire night, you reach down and manage to fumble your way to your teats, then you start yanking to try and milk yourself. You still can't get any milk out, but the feeling of playing with your teats makes the taut, uncomfortable feeling ease up just a little bit. You try to prop yourself up with your hands, but as soon as you take your hands off your teats, the terrible full feeling of your udder returns, and you shoot your hands back down and start pulling and massaging again. The relief you feel every time you try to milk yourself makes your brain feel like cotton, and you get so caught up in the sensation that that you just keep going, losing all track of time and place, occasionally letting out a soft "Moo" of pleasure. A few times your udder grows or shifts a bit and you lose your trip on a teat, and the feeling of urgent need that sweeps over you then drives you mad. You dig through the mound of flesh that's now piled on top of you until you find another one of your teats and grab hold of it again, sometimes pulling slow and gentle, sometimes yanking as hard as you can.

"Well, good morning, sunshine!" Wait, Guy is back already? You look around and realize there's daylight shining through the open door. Had you been at this all night? The fact you've completely lost yourself in front of Guy makes you jerk your hands away from your udder, much like you did when he caught you yesterday. Unlike yesterday, the humiliation you feel does nothing to stop the urge, and your hands immediately jump back to uselessly milking yourself. You let out a few pitiful moos, doing your best to focus your pleading eyes on Guy, but you keep losing focus and letting your head loll back. Even though it's what you want more than anything, you barely understand Guy when you hear him say "Alright, I guess you've got enough milk, let's get you hooked up." He drags the machine over and sits down, attaching the nozzles, and finally the pressure starts to slacken. The milking feels great, at first, but as your udder shrinks you start to come back down from your high, and with awareness comes shame. You hang your head low as you realize Guy completely broke you, you would have done anything to get milked last night, and by this morning you weren't even mentally capable enough to give in. Even now, able to think clearly again, you keep giving out little pants of excitement every time the pumps pull more milk out of you.

As you near the end of your milking, your fur recedes, and right as you finish the nose ring falls out, landing on the floor with a thud. "Oh thank god that's out" you say, then "Oh, I can talk again!" Despite yourself, you find yourself feeling thankful that Guy reversed the changes, and your tail swings back and forth in joy...wait. You stand up and glance behind you, and the cow tail is still back there, swaying around on it's own.

"I'm gonna let you keep this one" Guy gently tugs on your tail. "Just a reminder of what happens if you get snippy with me. Now get. Next time, I'm keeping your voice." He hands you your clothes and you quickly change into them, snaking your tail down one of your pant legs. It wiggles on it's own, trying to get free of the confining material, and you do your best to keep it still. As you slink your way outside and back towards your home, you can't bring yourself to make eye contact with Guy, your head hanging low in shame. "Hey!" Guy calls out from behind you, just before you're out of sight. You turn and see that infuriating grin.

"See you next week!"