FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Cynthia stepped off the sidewalk and trotted to a stop in front of the mostly-blank storefront. The building's interior was clearly still under construction, but sign posted outside welcomed job applicants and directed them inside, so Cynthia was reassured that she was at the right place. She stepped inside and was waved over to a restaurant booth by a woman in a suit. Workers were still loudly assembling a counter across the dining room, and Cynthia cringed at the noise as she sat.

The suited woman shook Cynthia's hand. "Welcome, I'm Amanda. I do HR for VolunDairy." She gestured apologetically at the construction. "Sorry about this. We're trying to open as soon as possible, so we're doing a lot of things at once. I'll try to make this quick."

Cynthia nodded. The archaic saw and hammer construction methods were giving her a headache, but she had heard that the restaurant was obsessive about their aesthetic, so it must be important. The real wood alone must have been massively expensive. "That's fine with me, as long as you hire me," she said, trying to sound confident. In reality, she'd been jobless for months, and her savings were running low. She needed this job, and it was definitely worth putting up with an unpleasant interview.

Amanda chuckled. "We actually hire everyone who is willing, at least into the training program. Then you just have to make it through that. Do you know anything about our restaurant?"

Cynthia was so excited by the fact that she wasn't facing a difficult interview that the almost missed the follow-on question. "Oh! Um, not much. I've heard good things, but I don't know many details."

The HR woman smiled. "That's fine. As you probably know, we're a Vegan restaurant, so that means no ingredients obtained from an animal that can't consent. It's all right if you aren't Vegan, but we can't let you bring in any food that doesn't meet our standards. Don't worry, we'll feed you on long shifts. We target a high class clientele, so customer service is extremely vital. Right now we're hiring for the production side, so you'd be mostly behind the scenes, but you might be required to interact with customers from time to time."

That was fine with Cynthia. She didn't know much about cooking, but that was presumably what the training program was for. "That all works for me. I'm excited to get started!"

Amanda smiled widely and turned on her tablet on the table. The screen filled with text, along with the standard thumbprint scan mark. "Here's our employment contract. You can look it over as long as you want. If it's good you can show up tomorrow at this same time and we'll start your training."

Cynthia picked up the tablet and started to read, but the construction workers chose that moment to begin using a power saw on some large piece of hardwood, and the sound made her grind her teeth. She didn't think she could read through a lot of text with that going on behind her giving her a headache. All these contracts were the same, anyway, and it wasn't like she was in a position to turn down a job. She pressed her thumb to the reader with a shake of her head. "I think I'm good!"

The HR lady looked relieved. "Great to hear. I was getting worried we wouldn't have enough people to open on time. Glad to have you on our team." She reached over the table to shake Cynthia's hand.

"Thanks!" Cynthia stood and left the booth. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

Amanda stood and led Cynthia to the door. "You will. I'm also overseeing the training to make sure it goes well."

Just before Cynthia reached the door, she tripped on a compressed air hose that had been run across the hallway. Amanda caught her and held her in place, but her fall pulled on the cord and yanked a worker over by the tool he was holding. He fell against her, and the business end pressed against her arm with a loud puff of expelling air. Cynthia yelped and patted at her arm where the gun-like tool had hit her, fearing that she had just been sawed or punctured, but her skin was unbroken.

The worker steadied himself and chuckled at Cynthia. "Hey, don't worry. It only works on wood." He pressed it against a decorative metal sheet on the wall and pulled the trigger on the tool. It puffed out air again, but didn't put a nail into the metal. It was reassuring, but Cynthia noticed he didn't trust it enough to demonstrate on his own skin.

Cynthia nodded and stepped more carefully on her way out the door, giving Amanda a final thanks as she strolled back toward the slidewalk. She felt more relaxed than she had in days, knowing this job would let her escape eviction. If the place was as classy as it looked, there might be some good room for advancement too.

Cynthia woke easily the next morning, excited to get started at her new job. She rolled out of bed and strode to the corner of her apartment that was the bathroom. She hopped in the shower stall and rushed through soaping herself down. When she got to her breasts, she jumped and pulled her hands away. They felt sore, and the rubbing of her sponge was almost abrasive against her nipples.

She grumbled and finished the rest of her washing. The free hormone treatments the government provided for birth control were great, and even stopped her periods completely, but there were still occasional side effects. Cynthia had experienced tenderness in her breasts before, though admittedly not as intense, and shrugged it off this time.

There hadn't been any instructions on what she should wear to training, so she stuck with a classy blouse and long skirt. It wouldn't be the best if she was learning how to cook, but the restaurant was high end enough that she couldn't imagine stepping inside wearing anything less. Getting her bra on had been mildly uncomfortable, but she could deal with that.

The slidewalk commute was easier this time, now that she knew where she was going, and she arrived just a couple minutes before she was expected. The construction on the public areas of the building seemed to be finished for the time being, so there was only Amanda there to greet her and usher her into the back. The room she was led to was already occupied by several other women, seated in a row of chairs facing a wallscreen.

Cynthia took the last remaining empty chair and looked around. It was weird that the group was entirely female, but with only seven people it was possible it was a coincidence. It would make more sense if some of them were working in customer-facing positions; some companies still liked exclusively hiring attractive women for those roles. But none of the women in this room fit the traditional image that would imply. Several were overweight, or simply plain. Cynthia herself would admit she was nothing special. Too thin, breasts too small, hair somewhat unmanageable. Collectively, the women present didn't present any clear image that would indicate they had been selected for their looks. So why an all female group?

The HR rep walked up beside the screen and faced the women. "That's everyone we're expecting, so let's begin. When we open, this will be the break room, but for now it's the training room. We'll start with a video about the company." She pointed a remote at the screen and the restaurant's logo popped up. "I'll come back at the end to answer any questions."

Cynthia turned back to the screen and got comfortable in her chair. She wished the lights had been turned down so she could discreetly adjust her bra. It had gotten more uncomfortable in the time since she had put it on.

The video started up and quickly grabbed Cynthia's attention. It showed a very fancy dining room, of a design similar but not identical to the one being constructed outside. A number of well-dressed patrons dined there, served by a number of serving staff of all gender presentations, which again made Cynthia question the makeup of her training group. The video went on predictably, explaining the company's core values of extreme customer service and high quality product.

Cynthia grew bored with the video as it continued to resemble a long commercial for the restaurant itself and let her attention start to fade. There was nothing she really needed to know being presented, and it was close to putting her to sleep. She wondered if there was any value in just showing an advertisement instead of actual training. However, she suddenly perked up when the focus moved to the back of the restaurant where everything was prepared. The kitchen looked ordinary, but there was an adjacent room that revealed the restaurant's gimmick.

Cynthia gasped as the camera showed a row of human-cow hybrids, all smiling happily as they milked themselves into metal jugs. The restaurant was able to serve vegan foods that contained dairy because they employed a number of spliced employees to provide milk. She was as much surprised by the strangeness of the idea as by the necessary cost. Splicing was new and expensive. Splicing enough people to provide for an entire restaurant must have cost a fortune. No wonder they targeted a high-end clientele.

All the women in the video looked extremely happy in their work. In fact, some looked borderline orgasmic. There could be no question that the milk was being given willingly. For a moment, Cynthia felt a pang of jealousy at how much they clearly enjoyed their jobs.

The video finished explaining the restaurant's setup and policies and the HR lady returned. "Now you all know what makes our restaurant so special. For the next stage of training, we like to explain your duties one-on-one. It may seem a little inefficient, but we've found it gives us our best results. We'll be calling you back one at a time, so please wait patiently until you hear your name."

Cynthia sighed, resigning herself to more boredom. She was glad to have a job, and more glad that this training time was on the clock, but so far it was pretty dull except for that one part of the video. The time passed slowly as other women were called in, with Cynthia's only distraction being the increasing tightness and discomfort in her bra. That feeling was now joined by a similar tightness from her panties, which seemed to be digging into her hips and failing to cover her rear as well as they usually did.

Meanwhile, there didn't seem to be any pattern to who was being called back, so she had no idea how much longer she'd be waiting. Nobody came back to the waiting room, so the room slowly emptied out. None of the other women seemed interested in small talk; everyone seemed slightly nervous or uncomfortable.

Eventually, the uncomfortable tightness of her clothes got to be too much for Cynthia and she decided a quick run to the bathroom was warranted. Thankfully, construction on that part of the restaurant was complete and they had been shown where it was before the video. Once she was locked inside, she stripped off her shirt and examined her breasts. They were definitely swollen, pushing out over the top of her too-tight bra. Cynthia reached behind her back and quickly unhooked the bra, breathing a heavy sigh of relief as her enlarged breasts settled on her chest. She rubbed at the indents in her skin where her bra had dug in.

She looked down in concern. Something was definitely wrong with her hormones. She'd gained at least a cup size over her usual A cups, maybe two. Cynthia resolved to make an appointment with the birth control center immediately after the training was over. For the moment, she didn't have much choice but to put her shirt on without her bra. Her nipples still felt extra sensitive, and made very visible bumps in her shirt from being erect, but it was still preferable to crushing her breasts. It didn't help her pants fit any better on her hips and rear that

were also seemingly swollen, but that was more manageable. Blushing slightly, she stashed the bra in her purse and returned to the waiting room, just in time to hear her name called.

The only other person in the side room was Amanda, the woman Cynthia had interviewed with the previous day. Cynthia forced a smile as she entered and sat in the chair.

Amanda smiled back. "Nice to see you again! Are you excited to join our production team?"

Cynthia nodded. Cooking wasn't her favorite thing, but she was very happy to have a job. "Definitely."

"Great to hear!" Amanda looked her over. "As one of our cows, your job duties will be fairly simple. You need only show up on time every day, follow our dietary rules, and avoid milking yourself when we can't collect it. Is that all good with you?"

Cynthia froze, blinking rapidly in surprise. She thought she'd be cooking, not getting spliced like those women in the video. "What?! No...I can't be a cow. That's not what I agreed to."

Amanda looked confused and disappointed. "I'm sorry, but it is. Didn't you pay attention to the contract you signed?"

Regret flooded through Cynthia. She knew she should have read the contract more carefully, even in the unpleasant environment. It was obvious now that it was a trick all along. They had distracted her so she would sign before fully understanding. Still, she couldn't let herself be changed like that. There was no way she could do that; she'd just have to find a different job. "I'm sorry, I have to quit, then."

Amanda nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that. We'll just need you to pay us back for the splice treatment you've already received."

Cynthia's stomach dropped. "What treatment?"

"You were given your splice as you left your interview. You had already approved it, and we find the process works better when the employee isn't stressed about receiving it. You've probably already noticed some changes."

The construction worker with the air tool. It wasn't a construction tool at all; it was a pneumatic injector. Cynthia reflexively patted at her arm where she'd been injected, then her eyes went wide and she grabbed her chest. "So these..."

Amanda smiled. "Just getting started, but yes. That's one of the first changes. There will be more, of course."

Cynthia shivered. "Can I stop it?"

"There is an effective reversal process, but we won't be paying for it when your time with us ends." Amanda looked serious. "I suggest you think very carefully about your employment prospects elsewhere as a cow-splice before you decide to quit today."

The full weight of her situation struck Cynthia. She was already on her way to being a cow, and had nowhere near the money needed to undo the process. What other job could she do if she needed constant milking? She really had no choice but to take a job with VolunDairy. "Can I...get some other job? Cooking or...hostess maybe?"

Amanda shook her head. "No. We've filled all those positions, and it wouldn't fit our image to have a cow working in those roles. If you stay, you'll be providing milk."

Cynthia lowered her head as her last hope was cut off. "I understand. What do I do next?"

"Your splice changes will finish over the next couple days. You'll spend that time here. You may return to your home after that, but most production team members choose to stay with us." Amanda looked her new employee up and down. "Cheer up hon, all our cows and up loving their work."

That seemed unlikely to Cynthia, but she nodded anyway. "If you say so. How much will I change?"

Amanda held a hand up and wobbled it back and forth. "It varies. FDA regulations require you to be at least fifty-one percent cow for us to use your milk, and we tend to err on the high side near sixty percent. It won't be subtle. On that note..." She leaned over and picked up a box from a stack beside the table. "This is a box of nutrient bars. You'll be wanting them soon. Eat as many as you want. We'll give you more if you need them. I apologize in advance for the bland flavor."

Cynthia almost laughed at that, despite her situation. Of course someone who worked for a high end restaurant would apologize about the food they gave out to their indentured servants. She looked over the nutrient bars, noting the impressive density of calories the nutrition facts claimed. "You said there's room for me to stay here?"

The other woman nodded. "The area for our production team is larger than the tours show. We have plenty of space for lots of cows."

It was hard to say if it was more demeaning to be simply called a cow or by the euphemistic 'production team'. "Is there anything more you need from me?" Cynthia asked quietly.

"Nope, you're good to go. You can join your new coworkers and enjoy the rest of the on- boarding process!" Amanda had switched smoothly back to the tones of a bubbly recruiter. It was disturbing to see her enthusiastic about doing this to people. She gestured through another door toward Cynthia's new lodgings.

---

Cynthia woke up in the night to her panties painfully constricting her hips. She had complained before going to bed about not being allowed to return to her apartment for clothes, but the reasoning was becoming more clear. The barracks-style room was full of other women in various states of change, a significant number of them also nude from outgrowing their clothes. A bit of discussion had shown that all the others had been similarly tricked. There was an adjacent room labeled 'Milking' that they weren't allowed to enter, but could hear the sounds of other women from. Nobody knew if that group were volunteers or conscripts.

Cynthia peeled off her panties and sighed in relief as as her increasingly ample ass jiggled behind her. As far as she could tell, she still looked human, though there was significantly more of her to look over than there had been earlier. Fueled by intense hunger, she had been constantly eating the nutrient bars, not caring about the lack of taste as long as they filled her stomach. So far the extra calories had collected mostly in her breasts and hips, but there was still a layer of pudge building all over her body. Her formerly small breasts now overflowed her hands, with nipples that were thick and prominent despite the fact that she felt neither cold nor aroused. She already dreaded seeing herself in a mirror.

That didn't stop her from opening two more nutrient bars and messily devouring them. If her clothes hadn't woken her up, the constant hunger would have soon. There was no use trying to hold off; she'd just lay awake with her stomach churning painfully, and it wouldn't do any good to starve herself to death. The bars sated her for now, but the hunger would be back in force before morning. She curled up on the bed, not needing any sheets with how warm she was feeling. It was hard to tell if the heat was thanks to the process of the change or the fat she had already gained. As she laid on her side, she could feel one of her breasts resting on top of the other, which they'd never been big enough for before. She sighed.

---

The morning arrived with a grumble in Cynthia's stomach. She rolled onto her belly and grunted in pain. Her breasts had grown more, easily the size of large melons, and were painfully sensitive. Bracing herself up on one arm, she fished around beside her bed with the other, searching for her box of nutrient bars. She heard the box crunch, but somehow didn't feel herself touching it. Cynthia let out a deep groan and shifted to look over the edge. She froze.

Her hand was in fact brushing against the box, but it wasn't the hand she knew. At the end of her arm was a cow's hoof, with the two halves of the split hoof at the end of two slightly dextrous "fingers", with no sign of a thumb. She stared at it, a low whimper building in her throat, then scrambled to stand up and look around, wanting to find anyone that could give her her hands back. Her feet clacked against the hard floor and she stumbled and fell back onto the bed. Her feet had met the same fate as her hands. In fact, from her feet up to mid thigh her legs were indistinguishable from those of a cow, down to the bone structure and brown fur covering them.

A gentle tap on her shoulder startled her out of her surprise at these latest changes, and she looked up to see Amanda giving her the HR smile. "Hi there! Looks like you're taking the splice very well. Bad luck on the hands, but don't worry, we're accustomed to dealing with employees with reduced dexterity. Come with me, we'll move you to the stables early." She held out a hand.

Cynthia scowled, but accepted the hand up, though Amanda actually grabbed her by the wrist. It was hard to balance on her new hooves, especially with the extra weight she was carrying unbalancing her. Her breasts caused her the most trouble as they lagged behind when she moved and kept going when she stopped. She felt like everyone else was watching her as she leaned on Amanda, taking small steps toward the door to the milking room, but she didn't look around to verify. It was embarrassing being seen naked, but none of the cows in the orientation video had been wearing clothes, so she figured that was a part of the job she would have to get used to. Maybe if she changed enough it wouldn't even feel like people were actually looking at her body.

The adjacent room looked like a milking barn, as reimagined to go inside an Apple Store. There were clearly a few rows of stalls, and they were keeping their existing employees at the far side so as not to disturb the incoming group. Cynthia could see the occasional head popping up above a stall's walls, with varying amounts of cow features visible, but she tried to ignore them. Amanda led her to one of the further rows and opened up a stall. The floor in this room was much more grippy on Cynthia's hooves, and she was less worried about slipping and toppling over.

Inside was what might have been a weird ergonomic chair, along with what was unmistakably some very modern looking milking equipment made of white and clear plastic. She didn't know why there were six suction attachments visible, though. Different sizes, maybe?

"This is where you'll be milked." Amanda pointed out the cushions at knee and chest height. "Those are adjustable in height. You want to kneel on the lower ones and lean forward to rest on the top set. It's pretty comfortable, and leaves your chest accessible. It should be easy to step off of too." She looked at Cynthia appraisingly. "You look like you could use a session now. Hop on up and I'll show you how it goes."

Cynthia wasn't quite sure she was ready to be milked, either physically or psychologically, but the painful tightness in her breasts made her willing to try. She moved forward awkwardly and leaned against the milking bench before carefully kneeling on the pads. As promised, she could comfortably lean forward and rest her shoulders on a padded surface. She wouldn't want to sleep in that position, but it was nice for getting off her weird new feet.

While Cynthia got adjusted, Amanda collected the milker cups and brought them nearby. "Once you're used to this, you can do it yourself, but it's good to have some help at first." She brought two of the milker cups to Cynthia's nipples and they stuck in place with mild suction.

Cynthia gasped as they attached. She felt the tug on her nipples even though they were hardly pulling. She expected the suction to increase, but Amanda did something with the other four cups first. Unexpectedly, she felt them stick to her lower abdomen. There wasn't the same shock of sensitivity as she felt from the ones on her nipples, but there was a bit of a tingle. Was it a psychological thing? It wasn't like she had an udder there. "I don't think that's neces--"

Suddenly, the suction from the cups increased, pulling hard on her nipples and the four blank spots on her abdomen. Cynthia whimpered, then her breath caught as the first sprays of milk were pulled from her nipples to pool in the cups. The suction paused, and she was briefly left panting. She could hardly move as she caught her breath. "Holy shit. What--ah!" She was cut off by the suction resuming, but not all at once. There was a pull on her right nipple, then left, then cycling through each of the four on her belly.

Cynthia sagged forward against the padded chair, no longer making any effort to hold herself up, her mouth hanging open as she panted. Amanda was entirely forgotten. All the other girls she had seen were forgotten. For the moment, the only thing that mattered was cups pulling at her nipples and relieving the intense pressure within her breasts, the pleasure of it seeming to make a quick stop in her dampening pussy before continuing on.

She whimpered in time with the tugs on her nipples, a wave of warm relief spreading out from the areas of suction. Not just her breasts, even. Her abdomen felt the same way, as if her mind was transferring the very real sensitivity from her breasts to her belly where there was nothing to suck on and no pressure to relieve. She could swear the cups there were pulling her skin up into them, more and more coming into contact with the smooth plastic. With the chair supporting her on her shoulders, her hands were free to trail down the front of her body. Her altered hoof-fingers couldn't feel much, but her palms found warm flesh, and more of it than her weight gain could explain.

Her lower belly was rounded outward, and warm, and somehow jiggly. She squeezed it with her hoof hands and it gave easily, like a thick water balloon. Cynthia vaguely knew something was wrong, but her position prevented her from looking, and she doubted her ability to move while she was subjected to the pleasure of milking. She could only knead her belly as it grew larger, and heavier, and seemed to slosh with some internal liquid. Soon, the cycling suction felt even better on her belly than it did on her breasts, and she was reduced to involuntary low moaning sounds to express how amazing it felt.

Cynthia's pussy clenched on air, and she felt wetness drip down her inner thighs. She whimpered and grunted, increasingly unable to make herself form human sounds, and shifted her rear as if expecting something to come mount her. At that moment, Amanda caught her attention again, rubbing a hand through the growing fur on her back. "Don't worry, honey. Lots of cows go into heat during their first milking. The hormones get all mixed up. Do you want the breeding wand?" Cynthia was too muddled by lust to process the words, but she did understand the feeling of smooth, rounded plastic pressing against her wet, cowlike pussy. She tried to yell "Yes!" but it only came out as an energetic "Moo!".

Her intent came across clear, and the object sank slowly into her. It stretched her almost painfully, as if it was designed for a passage slightly larger than she currently possessed. Still she squeezed down on it, panting with need as her milking-induced heat was indulged. Amanda didn't move it once it was in, but some aspect of the machinery kept it locked deep inside her. Cynthia's juices dripped around it onto the rubberized floor, unlike the carefully collected milk that her body continued to produce.

It was obvious now why the cows in the introduction video loved their jobs. The milking alone was orgasmic, but this new addition made her never want to leave. Then it began to vibrate, and she was no longer capable of anything close to conscious thought. There was only the suction on her breasts and udder, and the vibrating toy making her climax over and over.

She came back to herself minutes later as the dildo was gently removed. The milking cups were already gone, leaving a faint soreness on all six of her teats. She slowly lifted herself from the milking chair and groaned softly.

Amanda helped her to her feet, brushing a hand along the cowgirl's furry back in a soothing gesture that was annoyingly effective. "There you go. Your transformation is probably complete now. A good milking usually finishes it up pretty well. Have a look at yourself if you want, and I'll take you to get cleaned up."

Cynthia mooed inquisitively, and tried to figure out what happened during her milking. Her balance was thrown off even worse than before. It wasn't just that her breasts had grown again, though they had, and were close to the size of basketballs. She had also gained an udder, hanging large and heavy between her legs, with four thick teats still dripping with milk. She shivered, looking at it like an alien growth, rather than a part of her body that would be with her until she could afford to change back. Her tufted cow tail lashed behind her, a new feeling that just barely made the top three for weirdest things she was feeling at the moment.

The new cowgirl reached down and hefted her udder. It wasn't as heavy as she expected, though she supposed it had just been emptied of milk. Reaching further down, she found her pussy, with larger, thicker lips than she was used to feeling. She'd never seen a cow's vulva before, but she knew if she could position a mirror right she'd see one on herself. Besides the different feeling, she was way wetter than she'd ever been on her own. When she brought a hoof-hand up to her face, almost brushing up against her new big, black cow nose, she realized it wasn't just from herself.

She turned to Amanda and whisper-yelled, not wanting any others on the "production team" to know her complaint, "What is this in my pussy?"

Amanda shrugged. "It's semen from a male cow-splice. You did consent to the breeding wand, remember?"

Those words were vaguely familiar. "I wasn't thinking straight! And...I thought that was just a name!" Cynthia stomped her hoof and flicked her large, cow-like ears in annoyance.

"It was an accurate name," Amanda commented. "We always strive to be perfectly clear. We can't be blamed for others not paying proper attention to the information they're given."

That was the same excuse they had for the complicated contract. "How accurate, exactly?"

Amanda smiled. "Extremely. We've tailored the fertility of our cow splice formula to be extremely receptive. There's about an 85 percent chance you'll be impregnated by this session. Most of our production team eagerly volunteer for it. It gives a solid boost to your milk production numbers and really raises your earning potential."

Cynthia rubbed her belly just above her udder, imagining something growing there. How much more productive could she get? Would it make her breasts and udder even bigger? She wanted to yell at Amanda for tricking her into this, but it was clear now that nothing she could say would get through the woman's corporate detachment.

Still distracted by the implications of her breeding, she allowed Amanda to guide her to a shower. At least she wouldn't be expected to go around smelling of milk and sex. As Amanda sprayed her down with a shower wand, she pondered how she would manage it herself with hooves for hands. It looked like she'd be living here with the others until she changed back. She winced as she wondered if they'd charge her rent to stay and take it out of her production pay. It

would be nice if she could make extra progress toward unsplicing while not paying for her apartment.

At least she had other people going through this with her, even if it sounded like her splice changes were more significant than average. Maybe she could ask some of the volunteers what was so great about this that they'd gone into it knowing what they were getting.

***

3 Months Later

This was so great. Cynthia stood from her bed in her "stall", actually a very small private room, and strolled nude into the common room for the production team. Her breasts and udder were feeling a little sore so she'd probably hit the milking booth before breakfast. She rubbed her belly, trying to gauge if her pregnancy was starting to show through the thick layer of pudge she'd put on. It turned out that the provided meals were from the restaurant, with less fancy presentation than the paying customers got, and it was easy to eat enough to put on pounds, especially now that she was pregnant.

Amanda's talk about her fertility had been correct, though Cynthia didn't know if that first application of the breeding wand had done the job because she hadn't been able to resist asking for it on every milking since then. It had stopped trying to inseminate her once her pregnancy test came back positive, but getting milked still felt amazing and she was getting addicted to starting the day with a milking and a body shaking orgasm, so she hadn't stopped using it.

She waved hello to one of the volunteer group she'd made friends with. The other woman insisted on being called Bessie, even though Cynthia was confident that hadn't been her name before getting spliced. It was possible she was like one of the other volunteers, who Cynthia had learned had gone by 'Michael' pre-splice, but Bessie never spoke about her past. She was just happy to be a curvy, milky, pregnant cow, and it hadn't taken long for Cynthia to join her.

Cynthia continued on her way to the booth, waddling slightly with the weight of her full udder. She was getting better at hooking herself up using her hoof-hands, but still needed an attendant to undo the milkers and use the breeding wand. Her plans to change back had dropped steeply in priority in her mind, except for her hands. She'd like having those back, if just to touch herself.

She'd considered being part of the tour, where customers could see cows clearly enjoying their work, but she didn't think she could tone down her reactions enough for public consumption. There was a rumor going around the "recruited" cows, as they were calling themselves, that their splice was designed to be extra sensitive to pleasure. Cynthia believed it, and found it difficult to be angry about it. In the end, this was the best job she'd ever had.