Cow-Girls II: Breakfast
(Contains female expansion:wg, light TF, brief bondage, subtle themes of psychological/physical domination)

     Pamoola awoke to the sound of the morning bell. She stretched her arms out above her peacefully as she waited to be pulled to her feet. She could distinguish from the footsteps she heard coming down the hall that it was Mr. Pete who would be helping her up today. That meant that it was either Monday, Friday, Saturday, or Sunday.
“Morning, Moola.”
“Mooning, Mooster Pete.”
The tough, warm hands took hold of her wrists, and with a yank, Pamoola was pulled to her feet. Mr. Pete has such a charming moustache, she thought, as the attendant gave her a winning smile and walked off to the next suite.
She turned to the mirror. Maybe she was bigger than yesterday. It was hard to tell. She wasn’t allowed to wear garments yet, so she could never figure out a basis for comparison of one day to the next. She turned around to see her behind- still no way to tell. She ran her plump fingers over smooth, black-and-white patched skin. Then she turned back around to see how her udder was doing. It had certainly filled up overnight.  
She heard the bell again. It was the same kind of bell she wore on her neck, but much louder. Shuffling out of her room, she saw Moory, just out of bed.
“Good mooning, Moory.”
“Mooning, Pamoola.”
Moory looked like she would be promoted upstairs some time soon. She was already the largest, roundest of all the novices.
They turned to walk to the dining room- as they did so, they heard a commotion coming from one of the suite’s ahead. High-pitched screaming, followed by a rustle of bedsprings. They waddled a bit faster to see what was going on.
“New one,” said Mr. Pete, brushing off his hands as he led a rather thin new recruit out of her suite. “You two show her around, maybe she won’t panic again with friends near. I don’t want to have to gum her again.”
He walked off, and Moola took a closer look.
“Mooning, hon. What’s moo’re name?”
The new moovice looked up. “Mmmmm…Mm mm mm?”  
“Didn’t moo hear, he gave her a chew. Moo can’t talk around one of those,” said Moory, “Check the bell.”
Pamoola leaned in. “Moolanie. What a pretty name.”
“Nice to moot moo, Moolanie. Moo can come with us.”
Moory and Pamoola each took an arm, and the three waddled down the length of the hall to the weigh station.
“Moo have to weigh in every mooning, before breakfast,” Moory explained, “that way they can help if moor weight hasn’t improved.”
      Pamoola was the first to step onto the  large metal plate on the floor. A monitor on the wall displayed the digits 8.1.
     “Moo broke eight! I’m so proud of moo!” Moory shouted. Moory and Pamoola hugged, squishily. A very round nurse sitting at her desk beneath the monitor clapped, before typing the digits into her computer.
     “Moor turn,” said Pamoola. Moory stepped onto the scale: 11.25
     “Wow, almost point-one above yesterday,” the nurse mused, “it’s tough to keep mooking progress on the bottom level once moo’ve broken ten.”
     “Still a bit disappointing,” Moory sighed, “I felt like I was going to collapse after dinner last night.”
     Moolanie’s turn. Pamoola ushered her onto the scale: 5.
     “5?” The two girls and the nurse shouted together.
     “That’s not above moonimoom, is it?”, Pamoola asked.
     “It’s exactly moonimoom,” replied the nurse. “Now moo two get her to breakfast. If she hasn’t broken moonimoom weight by tomoorow, she’ll have to be sent back.”
     “Don’t worry,” Pamoola said, “we just need to know how to take out a chew. Can moo?”
     The nurse sauntered over to Moolanie, taking a tiny spray-bottle from the inside pocket of her white coat. She stuck the end up one of Moolanie’s nostril’s and squeezed. Moolanie felt the gum turn to liquid, and she swallowed.
     As soon as she did, the sedating effects began to fade. She remembered- remembering. What had she remembered before? She  struggled with this as Moory nudged her forward.
     “Come oon,” Moory urged, “Breakfast is this way.”
     There was something unusual afoot. What was it? Moolanie could hardly tell if she recognized her location. She was so groggy, but the feeling that something was out of place could not be denied. Something about Moory. The way she waddled about seemed a bit odd, though Pamoola and the nurse seemed to walk in the same manner.
She continued to struggle with her thoughts as she followed her two friends farther down the hall, and up to a tall, very wide double door. They were a bit large, weren’t they? They seemed to dwarf Moolanie, at least in width and circumference. Those rear ends were especially striking, each cheek seemed eight times the size of the head of its owner. Moolanie placed a hand on her own; it wasn’t nearly that size… was it?
She stopped in place, captivated. Since when had her behind been so big around? It felt… awkward. She ran her hands back and forth and across,  arching her back in order to touch where the cheeks met her thighs. There was an abundance of mass for her to squeeze and sift around. This was a new development! One hand rose to her stomach, and she looked down. Her feet were hardly visible, past her breasts and belly! She ran her hands across her chest and abdomen. Her stomach felt to her hands like an enormous, bloated stress ball, and her breasts looked and felt more than ever like large… breasts. Was this usual for her? It seemed so alien.
Then she remembered- this morning. Screaming, as she found she could not sit up for her cumbersome breasts and belly in the way. A strange man had run in and stuck some kind of gum in her mouth that calmed her down and made her groggy… and then there was a blur and she was here.
This had to be some unusual circumstance. Why else would she have screamed?
And this was something else entirely! As her hands ran up and down her soft, over-stuffed pillow of a belly, she felt a tickle at the base… as if she had run a finger over her nipple. She grabbed, and jumped at the sensation. A bunch of them! There was something round and fleshy protruding from the base of her stomach- like another breast. Almost like… an udder.
Suddenly, she remembered Moobelle! That udder had seemed so strange for a woman to have…
And her own name wasn’t Moolanie! In a flood, the past 48 hours or so came rushing back- She had arrived at the residence at Mr. Brown, she had said ‘no’ to some request or another, she had run, was apprehended, and now- she was here. Apparently, as one of Mr. Brown’s ridiculous, fattened up cow-women.
Her two friends turned around. “Moo okay over there?” asked the larger one, Moory. Moolanie- no; Abele began to panic. She knew there was nothing she could do, no way to escape- but this was too much. She groped the udders in her hand. She could feel it! How could they have managed to put nerves in there, and so many? As she caressed them, she felt a warm rush through her body, and found herself blushing.
“Don’t play with that now, moo don’t want to spill anything,” one of them called. Spill? Surely this udder couldn’t lactate?
Abele’s thoughts were interrupted as two squishy arms seized her own. “There’ll be plenty of time for that after breakfast,” Moory lectured, “but now you’ve got to eat.”
Abele chuckled to herself at the thought of what “eating” would entail. It must take a good, solid hour of eating to fill up one of Mr. Brown’s cow-girls.
As she was led through the enormous door, she felt her stomach drop at the sight: rows of cow women, all standing in booths, all sucking on nozzles that stuck out from the wall in front of them. She could barely help but stare at the spectacle as her two companions pushed her along to find an empty stall. Each occupant sucked at her nozzle so earnestly, so enthusiastically. Could what they were eating be so delicious? Or had some aspect of these girls’ cow treatment have turned them into pigs?
She would soon find out. The one called “Pamoola” ushered her into one of the booths. “You can adjust the nozzle so that it’s angled to your height. Just eat until you’re full, then someone will come get you.” Pamoola said this with an authoritative air, and stepped back.
     Abele eyed the nozzle warily. The idea of drinking from something so plainly phallic made her a bit uncomfortable. She was hungry, though, now that she thought about it. She leaned in for a sip. A small one. Little suction was required to send a wave of something warm and thick gushing into her mouth. It was like what she had been force-fed the day of her capture. It was very thick, like a milkshake. Sweet, but not too sweet, and warm, but still very thick. Almost like yogurt. Also, this substance, whatever it was, seemed this time to be too delicious to resist. One sip gave her a warm tingling all over. It was too much. She couldn’t stop herself from diving back onto the nozzle, chugging as quickly as she could.
“Wow,” said the voice of Pamoola behind her, “Moolanie’s really going at it.”
“Come oon,” answered Moory, “watching her’s mooking moo even hungrier.”
She heard them walk off, but quickly forgot about them. Each gulp was fantastic, she could hardly contain it. She braced against the wall, trying to exert every bit of her strength into sucking as hard and as fast as she could. She couldn’t keep her back from arching from the overpowering feelings of joy, pleasure, and relief running through her. All traces of panic and discomfort vanished from her mind- washed out by the taste of this sweet, milky soup.
Her forehead broke out in a sweat, as she drank at an industrial vacuum’s pace. A few minutes passed Her belly began to feel a bit full, but that was no reason to stop now, and only briefly did she wonder how it could have taken so much time for her to begin to feel quenched.
Minutes passed. Minutes? She was chugging! That small part of her mind not fully focused on her vigorous and impassioned eating tried to grasp the enormous volume of matter she would have to be consuming in order to chug for MINUTES at a time.
And then she was full. Was she? Now was one of those rare occasions where it seemed fit to see if she could make room. Or stretch. She kept sucking.
A few more minutes of impassioned sucking passed, and she was well past full. Her abdomen was even starting to hurt a bit, at the sheer tightness of just how full it was in there. She could go a bit longer, though. It didn’t hurt badly- yet. But her mouth. The muscles were beginning to tire. Each suck was weaker than the last, and brought less into her mouth. And her swallowing reflex was beginning to strain as well, sometimes requiring a few seconds to completely swallow the last mouthful.
She strained to suck in more and more, but the sweet drink was now beginning to drip out of her mouth, cheeks and lips too exhausted to hold her mouth shut. As she caught her breath, she finally noticed the sweat pouring down her face, and her  heaving chest. She found it hard to stay standing, extremely fatigued from the exercise, and was becoming drowsy from the enormous meal. Her legs began to weaken.
No! she thought. That would hurt a lot, if she were to fall. The thought of such a big, heavy girl falling down made her cringe. Especially with the added weight of what she had just eaten. How much? She rubbed her stomach- she would have screamed in alarm, were it not for the calming effects of her breakfast- but she only giggled, as she felt the stomach which now must have quadrupled in size since she had started eating.
A loud ding came from somewhere in her stall, as the nozzle sputtered to a stop. She wondered what that could mean, but could wonder only vaguely, as she was still chiefly concerned with the growing urge to fall asleep, while still standing at a precarious imbalance.
Brisk footsteps behind her. “Careful, now, careful,” she heard. Those strong, rough hands she had felt pull her out of bed that morning grabbed one of her arms. Mr. Pete, she had heard him called, was supporting her. As she leaned against him, she moaned, “Help muh-muh-moo… so sleepy.”
“Don’t worry, girl, I’ll have you hooked up in a second”, he said. His soothing voice was no help to her efforts of staying awake enough to support her engorged belly. Drawing on all her force of will, she stayed upright as Mr. Pete pulled a harness around her, and straps from all sides of the stall. She heard a few clicks, as she was buckled in place.
“That’s a good girl, you can relax now,” said the soothing voice of Mr. Pete. She did so, and a sublime wave of warmth and comfort washed over her. Her full weight now supported by the harness, she could finally relax. As she let herself sink down into the harness, her head drooped down into her breast, and she immediately sunk into a gentle sleep.