Administration (from The Merger)
A corporate takeover includes free mandatory bovinification for all employees. Excerpted from the paid anthology The Merger. Mature.
Stephen sat down at his desk and took a deep breath. The office was hot today, and buzzing with low chatter as people shifted cubicles and rolled their favorite chairs around. He wasn't moving; he wasn't important enough to get shuffled.
Aside from the bustle around him, it was a normal day at the office. His only new email was the one from Mr. Bayer about the merger. That was good, right? It meant he wasn't getting downsized yet. Right? He logged onto the project database and started updating each entry.
And then his chest felt tight. Not like a heart attack, not like something was clutching him, but like the front of his chest was snug against his shirt. It was the same white shirt and blue tie he'd worn a hundred times before, so what was different today? He tugged at the side of the collar and loosened his tie a little bit. A little bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. He looked to his right. Craig was in the cubicle opposite his, earbuds in, working away, unfazed by the warmth.
Craig wasn't worried about his performance review. Craig wasn't worried about some new boss coming in and deciding to fire any employee who'd gotten a bad review.
Stephen got up from his chair and brushed back his short, dark hair. Quick trip to grab some water, that was what he needed. Each step, the pressure pushed against his chest, like it was swinging up and down. He folded his arms across his chest to keep it from bouncing as he walked to the water cooler. Was he gaining weight? He hadn't been eating too well lately.
He reached out to push down the blue lever, then froze. He stared at his black fingernails. When...? How? The water spilled over his cup and he jerked back, leaving a small splash on the ground. His eyes darted from the wet carpet to his hand. His fingernails were larger. Blacker. Thicker. A sudden flush ran across his cheeks and sweat prickled beneath his shirt. He shoved his hand under his armpit to hide it. As he rushed back to his cubicle, he tried to ignore the feeling of his skin stretching and his fingernails growing thicker and bulkier..
Craig still had his head down in his computer when he got back. Stephen plopped down into his seat and spun to the side, so Craig couldn't see him extracting his hand from his armpit. His fingers quivered. He tried to move his pointer and middle fingers independently, but they refused to separate. The thick black nails on both fingers squeezed together, and then with a pop of bone and sinew, his fingers had joined. He wiggled his new, broad finger and the bulky black keratin hoof on top.
Stephen's and Craig's computers chimed in unison. Stephen glanced up at the new mail notification. He left his left hand in his lap and reached for his mouse.
Hey, Stephen! We're glad to have you here on the Agrico team. We're going to make a few slight adjustments to your position. If you've got any problem adjusting, just let us know!
Stephen gulped dryly. He glanced back down at his lap. His pinky and ring finger had grown together, leaving him with three fingers and big, black hooves. He clopped the tips against each other and curled his fingers as best he could. He could ball them into a fist or spread them out, but with his hooves' curved edges, narrowing to a point where the two big hooves met, typing was a nightmare. They clattered over the keys and spewed gibberish onto his screen.
Dark brown fur tickled his wrist and palm. It came in thick but sleek, and felt bristly when he wiped his forehead with it. He left his hoof-hand laying on the side of his keyboard and typed as fast as he could with his other hand.
TO: Erica Vale
RE: RE: Change in management
I'm having a problem right now. My hand just turned into a hoof and this is going to sevfcvb
In the midst of writing, his right hand had started changing too. He recoiled in surprise, popping the R clean off his keyboard. His pointer hoof had nearly grown to full size; his second hoof was catching up; and his thumb had already sprouted its little stub. He held his hooves close to his chest. He didn't know what was going on, but if he didn't get these hooves fixed, he definitely wouldn't be able to keep up with Craig. He glanced nervously to the right. Was this happening to Craig too? No, he was just chewing on some gum and staring at the screen.
Was this all in his head, or was this real? Stephen's stomach churned at the thought of going up to someone and asking if he had cow hands. Relax, he thought. I have to relax. I'm just stressed. He cradled his hoof-hands against his chest and took a few slow breaths.
And then his chest surged forward. His skin squeezed up against his hoof-fingers. It dragged against his shirt, jutting out so tight and tender that his shirt came untucked. His nipples were rock-hard on top of his small breasts. He couldn't even stifle his moan, a sharp "Aaaooh!" His breath came in hot pants. He lifted his hands away to stare down at the hoof-fuls of soft flesh wrapped up in his plain white shirt. His cheeks were bright red. He pushed his hooves and brown-furred arms over his chest and hunched down to try to cover up the fact that he had breasts now.
There were two options: either this was real, and he needed to see a doctor, or this was in his head, and he also needed to see a doctor. Either way, he was asking for a sick day. This was too much.
As soon as Stephen was on his feet, he lost his balance. His heels popped into the air and sent him toppling forward onto his desk. He spread his arms to catch himself but smacked his sore chest right on the keyboard. The keys clattered and the computer bleeped angrily at him.
The front of his feet dug into the ground as his heels rose higher. The stitches of his shoes popped and groaned against the growing hooves inside. His toes twisted together, knotting into a pair of hooves. His toes pulled in strange directions, twisting around the growing hooves crammed inside his shoes. His legs shoved his ass up into the air and pushed his chest and cheek against the cold desk. He was puffing for breath. Sweat rolled down his forehead and dampened his hair. With a groan and rip of faux-leather, his shoes burst open. He stumbled onto his large back hooves. His socks had torn through, leaving bare the brown fur racing up his calves.
A jolt shot along his spine, racing through his chest, his head, his groin. His package squeezed against his snug underwear. His breasts swelled out again. The skin stretched around the growing mass, so tender that his shirt felt like sackcloth. His D-cups strained so tight against his shirt that it began to stretch around his buttons. Glimpses of his cleavage poked through the gaps. His thoughts buzzed with energy, too anxious and confused to focus. He just wanted to be able to work! He had to be productive. Work. Be productive.
His legs clenched and hiked his ass higher into the air. Brown fur tickled its way up his thighs and around the curve of his ass. His cock pulsed with a powerful throb. He couldn't blush any harder than he was right now. At any time, someone could come in and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing and he'd just have to stand there with an erection and stammer about ohhh god. It happened again, another throb--more powerful, lingering a second or two longer.
As he relaxed, his cock shrunk back, slightly smaller than it had started. Each new throb made it stiffen, but robbed it of a little more of its size.
His thighs grew into his slacks, filling up the empty space until they hugged his hips. His ass swelled into the seat of his pants. It grew pert and round and soft to the touch--he reached back and grabbed a handful of it, then stifled a groan. Why did that feel so good?
His breasts ached as they swelled out against his shirt. The fabric tightened across them as they grew bigger, heavier, even harder to keep under control. He needed to squeeze them against something. He had to. He grabbed the edge of his desk and shoved his chest against it, grinding back and forth slowly. He ignored the creaking of the keyboard under his tits and just focused on the feeling of fluid making them swell thicker and heavier.
That was right--they weren't just breasts, they were tits. He peeled himself off the desk and they wobbled in front of him. His shirt stretched to its absolute limit trying to keep them under control. His hooves struggled with the buttons until he got enough purchase to push them through the buttonholes. Button by button, he was able to liberate his tits from their tight prison. His chest bounced as he took a desperate gasp of air.
His shaft throbbed again. He bit his lip and groaned; his hips bucked. He stumbled back and bumped his thick ass against the cubicle fuzz. Was this some kind of punishment for a bad performance review?
Stephen, wide-eyed and out of breath, glanced over at Craig. He had fallen out of his seat. The man was slumped against the side of his desk with his legs spread open and his hands stuck under his shirt, rubbing at his chest His eyes had gone unfocused and he was openly smacking his lips as he chewed on his gum.
The pulses that ran through his cock drilled up into his body. Every muscle in his lower abdomen flexed. Those throbs came again and again, in waves, like some sort of dry orgasm that grew more powerful each time. Each time, his cock retreated back a little further into his body. Each time, a dizzy surge of pleasure swelled up inside of him, but he couldn't get any relief. His jaw fell open and he let out a low, guttural groan.
His hips hadn't stopped growing. They were thick enough to split the seams on his slacks. His belt was bearing down on his waist, tighter and tighter the curvier he became. The buckle held; the strap snapped open, and the button on the front of his pants popped off. The sag of his slacks was an immediate relief for his thick, squeezable ass.
Stephen was dizzy, caught between his desire to work and his rapidly-changing body. He took up so much more space now, even though he'd lost a few inches in height. He had so many new shapes and curves and contours to feel. There was just all this surface area to explore. His hooves propped up his breasts and felt them slosh against each other. They grabbed his ass and squeezed. They reached through the ripped-open slacks and rubbed along his shapely thighs.
Stephen's head tipped back and he let out a long groaning, "Nnooh." He still felt so hot.
With one powerful throb, his cock quivered, then spread open. It felt like a rose blooming, all sorts of folds and gaps and space unfurling itself. His new labia swelled up plump and damp and begging for attention. He doubled over and clutched at his churning stomach. His body was, making room for new organs. For her new organs.
Stephen looked down at her chest over her broadening nose. Her breasts were visibly growing, stretching outward from her body, yet not sagging as much as she would have expected. There was something thick and sloshing inside of them, keeping them firm. When she moved her body, they wobbled and slumped against each other. A smooth coat of brown fur covered them. She reached up her hooves and stroked the fur and bit back a heavy moan.
The brown fur on her cheeks was starting to hide her bright blush. Cautiously, she stepped forward with her hooves, until she could plant her arms on her desk and let her breasts swing beneath her. She squeezed one of her big F-cups and watched the nipple swell up thicker and stiffer. Both nipples were engorged, nearly twice as long as before.
Her head felt like it had been stuffed with wool. But she wasn't a sheep, she was a cow! Stephen's lips curled at the corners but she fought back the urge to laugh. This was serious. She didn't want to...
Stephanie cocked her head back and let out a loud, long moo. Her swollen mound rubbed against the front of her underwear, while in the back, spur of bone wiggled out from her spine. It twitched to one side, then the other, back and forth, until she had to reach back and tug it out above her waistband. A brown-furred, black-tipped tail batted across the backs of her thighs.
Stephanie shook her head and her long ears bounced against the front of her face. She tried to clear her thoughts of bovine influence, but the harder she tried not to think about it, the more she thought about the little stubs of horns poking through her hair, or the polished sheen of her hooves, or the consuming, burning need to wrap her hooves around her teats and squeeze.
This was a bad idea, she thought. With her hooves wrapped under her breasts, she could actually feel her skin stretching around that growing, milky weight. Bad, bad idea. Don't do it. You're not a cow.
Stephanie squeezed, and out came a gush of milk onto the desk. It gathered into a puddle and dripped onto the floor. Her throat tightened and she let out another, even more bovine moo. It didn't sound like it had come from her throat, it sounded like some big heifer in a barn who needed to be milked.
Needed to be milked.
Stephanie needed to be milked. Her thick tongue slipped out and licked her broad nose at the end of her muzzle. With both hands wrapped around her breasts, she pulled at one nipple, then the other. Her hooves knew how to mimic the feeling of a calf's mouth around a teat. In no time, she was spraying milk onto the desk. Her pussy was dripping wet against her snug underwear.
Stephanie blinked slowly and turned to her right to look for Craig. No, that wasn't her name. Her name was Crystal. Her fellow cow-girl had her shirt wide open, milking herself onto the carpet with one hand, and rubbing at her crotch with the other. She was a Holstein with pretty splotches and some truly productive tits, but she couldn't quite match Stephanie when it came to curves.
Stephanie let out one last milking moo, then slumped back into her chair. Her plump ass was a tight fit and her breasts hung against her torso, rising and falling with her deep breaths as she tried to think straight.
The full version of this story can be found in The Merger, along with more stories from Agrico's corporate takeover.