HOME | DD

Description
Her belly bobbed as she moved heavily toward her front door. Her breasts jiggled against it, udder wobbling beneath it. "Mmm..."

Her belly brushed both sides of her doorframe as it carefully preceded her exit. One of her hands clutched her swollen udder, Cona wincing every time it bumped against her stomach or thigh. "Mmm."

She opened the drivers side of her car, but found she could no longer fit inside regardless of how hard she tried. Sweat pouring down her temple, Cona pulled out her cell phone and called a cab.

When the driver arrived, he peered out at her, looking both skeptical and uncomfortable. She hurriedly hauled herself into the back of the car, having him bring up the passengers seat as far as it would go to accommodate her girth.

She slowly seated herself, groaning loudly as her belly crushed down on her abused udder. Panting, she gave the driver the address.

She felt incredibly nauseous by the end of the haste five-minute drive. Handing the cabbie some cash, she shifted herself slowly out of the car, releasing muffled yelps whenever her body shifted onto her taut udder. She stared up at the small white building that met her. It was somewhere near the woods, and mostly isolated by trees. Cona made her way toward it.

Someone answered the door immediately. Beyond him was a lab full of weird devices and dim lighting.

The person in question was pale, thin, and wearing black-shaded goggles. Upon spotting her, he removed them, staring oddly upon her physique.

"Dr. Webber?" Cona managed breathlessly.

"Yes, that is me," said the man. He looked young for a scientist.

"I need your help," said Cona.

An hour later, she was seated on a table, drinking coffee, and trying not to moan in discomfort. Webber was still blankly looking at her odd bulges, so she lowered her mug and slipped off her jacket.

She watched his eyes bulge. "W-what seems to be the problem?" Webber asked.

"Besides the extra breasts," said Cona, reaching gingerly down to unbutton her skirt. "I've grown a huge – gut, and...this." She tugged her skirt down to expose the udder, and watched Webber's jaw drop.

She rubbed the mound, frowning unhappily. It seemed to have swollen yet more from all the distress, knobs fat as ever like chubby fingers. The taut udder almost seemed to tremble. "Mmm..." she moaned, holding either side of it, and feeling it impossibly tighten against her fingertips.

Webber continued to stare, his jaw slack.

"Can you...mm...help me?" Cona asked, wincing. She watched Webber open and close his mouth a few times.

"I'll have to run some tests."

Nervous of the prospect of Cona traveling in her "condition," Webber rolled two spare beds together to create a massive one, allowing her curl carefully upon it for the night. In the morning, he had her shed her clothes and gave her an exam, still wearing a dazed expression. Webber lifted each of her massive breasts, examining the fat nipples until she moaned. He moved on to her abdomen, feeling around the taut skin, and observing the same squirming sensation she felt. He paused to stare at the mound, before lightly shaking his head and moving on to her udder, jammed awkwardly between her belly and thighs. He had her recline, and she whimpered as he examined it.

"This is the most unusual thing I've ever seen," Webber confessed.

Cona sniffed, finding no consolation in this.

That afternoon Webber drove her back to her house, assuring her they would continue monitoring her from there. It would make things easier for both of them if she remained comfortable and avoided travel. Webber left to organize supplies, and Cona sighed. She was slightly proud of herself, at least for finally confronting her dilemma and taking measures to correct it. She took retreat in her bathroom and cleaned herself up the best she could.

Her breasts seemed to have become four massive volleyballs competing for space on her chest. Her nipples were continuously stinging, and she couldn't figure out why. She could barely handing the arousal let alone the pain.

When Webber returned, she was surprised to see he'd brought her some groceries. He'd clearly noticed her difficulty and embarrassment with leaving her house. That afternoon she hefted her shirt up over her belly, its massive expanse filling up her lap as Webber pressed a stethoscope against the flushed skin.

"Any idea what's going on?" Cona asked tiredly.

"Not a clue," Webber responded. He looked up, noticing her fallen expression. "But I see potential."

He seemed strangely optimistic despite his unawareness. Cona could only nod, and hope he figured it out soon.

She spent the following days eating and having Webber's regular exams. He continued to pack her fridge with groceries, and she was relieved to not have to eat fast food ever day anymore. She had gotten kind of sick of pizza.

Carrying herself to the front door when Webber came over had become an ordeal for her, so Cona simply gave him a spare key to her house. Her belly had soon come to be the size of a medicine ball, and she looked as though she was overdue with quadruplets. She spent most of her time reclined for the sake of her aching udders, and Webber measured all her extra parts regularly, confirming that the were still steadily growing.

She fidgeted uncomfortably where she was. Her udder regularly shifted and trembled, making her whimper in discomfort. Upon examining it, Webber confirmed that it was indeed...engorged.

Her cheeks flushed in mortification.

"To think a human can produce this volume of milk – and on her lower abdomen," he mused. "It's almost as though you've developed genes of a-"

Cona was close to tears. All the handling was making it tighter than ever. "It hurts," she whined.

"Well you know what to do."

"Mm?"

He wasn't serious. She couldn't... She couldn't! She wasn't a fucking cow! "Ohhh-!"

Webber had taken one of the knobs and grasped it in his fist, jerking it, and making her squeal. He pulled it up and down for a moment, until she felt a burning sensation run along its length. Her eyes flew open and she released a gasp just before a spurt of milk flew out from the tip.

Cona panted as Webber smiled successfully. He lowered the bud and she watched milk continue to dribble out of it. "Get to work," he said.

She stubbornly waited for him to leave, glaring darkly at him throughout the rest of the exam. After she locked the door behind him (milk beginning to seep into the front of her sweatpants, to her dismay) she trudged heavily back to her room and reclined on her bed, doing her best to reach for the swollen udder.

She groaned. Her cheeks reddened.

She hastily reached for one of the knobs and began to tug, yelping with each jerk. After a few moments, milk came spurting out, offering a tingling sensation all throughout the udder, and leaving her panting in both pain and pleasure. She reluctantly continued, not caring that her bedroom was splattered with milk as the spurts grew and grew in volume, but was addicted to the sweet relief, the lessening pressure, and the growing softness with every gush.

When finally the udder could produce no more milk, Cona inhaled, and slowly forced herself up. The udder was sore, but not painful.

She heavily approached her mirror. It seemed smaller, and rather shrunken looking. Sighing, Cona returned to her milk-drenched bed.

- - -

"I see you finally took the initiative."

Her cheeks burned, but Cona said nothing as Webber continued his daily exam.

"How does it feel?"

"Mmm...better."

He finished up, removing his gloves as Cona gingerly tucked her udder back into her pants. She watched Webber rummage around in his shoulder bag before withdrawing-

She blanched.

"I know this is for – erm, cattle, but I thought it could be useful to you."

A cow pump. Cona's many breasts heaved as she stared at it.

Webber thought right to change the subject. "I also brought-" He withdrew something else.

Cona's eyes widened, her cheeks reddening. "I'm not-"

"Well they're clearly encouraged.

She glanced down at her four breasts, perched upon each other and propped against her belly.

"Your body seems incredibly keen to produce milk. So keen, it went as far as mutating you."

What did that mean? ...what was he implying?

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

After Webber left that night, Cona got undressed and stared at her round breasts in her bedroom mirror. They weren't engorged. They were just fine. She reached out to gently squeeze one, then winced at the lack of resistance. She glanced down at the udder, which was beginning to swell up again, to her irritation.

Her biggest problem was becoming one Webber hadn't yet addressed. Her belly was simply massive, weighing heavily on her small frame, and reducing her waddle to a stagger. It constantly got in her way, her back ached badly, and she could barely fit behind her kitchen table anymore. She was beginning to have trouble even with doorframes. She couldn't fit properly through them, but managed to ease her belly through, scraping its sides – and Webber noticed her scratches. He'd off-handedly mentioned he'd widen the doorframes for her, to her embarassment. Her belly was growing bigger and bigger, and at frightening speeds. It preceded her, entering rooms moments before her, like she was lugging around an individual entity. She couldn't reach her navel, but could grasp the sides of it, pacifying that uncomfortable squirming sensation that came and went.

Deeply breathing, Cona decided to surrender her thoughts to the night. She had to stay calm, and she had to take things one step at a time if she was ever to make it through it.

A few days later she was reclined on her couch, idly observing her belly where it towered over her. With one hand Cona snacked on chips, and with the other, she rubbed her uncomfortable udder, unaware of how she stimulated it. The phone rang, and she paused mid-bite. Following a moment's hesitation, she snatched it off the coffee table. "Hello?" She paused. "Mmm, John?" she moaned, still unconsciously rubbing her udder. It was getting sore and itchy, and really fattening up again, but she could put off milking it for another day. "I'm, very sick, yes," she said into the line. "Ummm, tuberculosis." There was a pause, and she swallowed. "I miss you too."

Cona froze when she heard a key turn in the lock. "I have to go." She sighed. "John – I really have to go."

She hung up the phone just as the front door opened and Webber entered the house. After putting down his things, he approached her, thoughtfully looking down at her momentous abdomen. "How is your mobility?"

Still flustered, Cona blinked, somewhat unnerved by the inquiry. As though to suggest her mobility wasn't consistent...which it wasn't. Her mobility was admittedly declining.

"Fine," she said, becoming a little defensive.

"Hm." Webber lifted her shirt as usual, pressing the cool stethoscope against her flushed navel. Just what was he listening for, anyway?

"Don't let me interrupt. Feel free to keep eating," Webber mentioned.

But she'd suddenly lost her appetite, her jumbo bag of potato chips left forgotten on the coffee table. She watched Webber pull out a measuring tape and wrap it around her abdomen. "Two more inches since yesterday."

She shuddered. "You say that as though it isn't a bad thing."

Webber gave her a smile. "I consider myself an optimist." He pulled a hammer out of his shoulder bag. "I'll get started on those doorframes."

From the couch, Cona watched Webber get to work on the doors. She unconsciously continued to compulsively eat as her belly innocently gurgled and tightened.

- - -

When Cona awoke the next morning, she released a cry of surprise, her udders tighter and more swollen than they'd ever been. She could barely sit up, but just managed, clutching the pink mound as it dribbled milk onto the bed. Deeply breathing, she grabbed the cattle pump, which had been shoved arbitrarily into her night table, before lifting her nightgown and trying to fit it on the udder. Moments passed, Cona panting with her efforts as she tried to compress her udders into the bowl-shaped attachments.

Her udder didn't fit! In fact, it far outsized it!

Squealing in disgust, Cona threw the contraption against a wall. She again reclined, continuing to pant. With a defeated sigh, she reached for her udder.

- - -

Cona left her bedroom later that morning, grateful to have the pressure relieved, her udder flexible again. It was just that it was getting increasingly difficult to reach beyond her belly. She'd cried out in frustration the dozens of times the knobs had slipped from her fingers throughout the milking process. Her neck and back were aching from the strain.

Cona settled her swollen body down in the living room, catching her breath for a while. She then heaved herself up all over again and headed to the kitchen for breakfast. She urged her belly though the entranceway, the doorway now extra-wide, and her body no longer touching the sides.

Cona cornered the refrigerator.

She couldn't really cook anymore, as she couldn't get near enough to the stove, her belly serving as a massive barrier. In the last several weeks, she had taken to on-hand foods like bricks of cheese and butter sticks. She had really taken to dairy as of late. Clutching anything that was edible to the best of her ability, Cona dropped them onto the kitchen table, and cautiously lowered herself into a chair – sideways, so she could manage to reach the food. "Mmmm..." she held onto the udder, shifting about to a position where it suffered the least amount of impact with her belly.

Just as Cona lifted a container of cookie dough, she paused, hearing a key turn in the lock of the front door. Webber was early today. A few moments later, the man in question entered the kitchen. He paid no mind to her questionable breakfast, but had come baring grocery bags. He rested them on the table and began to pack them away. Cona returned to her cookie dough, and the rest of her day was spent plowing through the latest purchases.