#or mooenby

[debu-neko-kun]

Sammy’s Formula

Short second-person weight gain and moo-cow TF; I kept it pretty gender neutral, since everyone can be fat and moo-y. Anywho, is this my first story in several years starring my boy Sammy? Yes. Is he going to make you a giant obese milky cow? Also yes. Enjoy! “Alright darlin’, drink up when you’re ready!” 

The wide, green-haired moo-boy stood in front of you, his sizable hips taking up most of your view of the back of the spacious barn-turned-laboratory. An excited grin is plastered on his chubby face; his fat-heavy arms jiggle as he hands you a cup. It’s a regular clear plastic cup labeled “Serum B”, the pink liquid contained within smelling strongly of sweet cream and strawberries. 

“I’ll be filmin’ this for scientific record, just like we talked about; that still okay, sugar?” 

You nod. You’d come this far, traveling all the way out here to Sammy’s Sunshine Dairy, answering an ad calling for volunteers to help with a product trial. You skimmed it, noticing that It promised 500 dollars, and with Sammy being a reputable local business owner that specializes in weight-boosting milkshakes and products for moo-boys, you figured it was easy money. Taste testing for 500 bucks? Yes please. Besides, Sammy’s calm and friendly demeanor instantly put you at ease, which made it all the easier to say yes.

With one last little breath, you bring the cup to your mouth. As soon as it hits your tongue, your senses are awash with sweet, fresh strawberry flavor; it’s like the best strawberry ice cream you’ve ever had, but somehow better. You can’t help yourself and take another big gulp, then another and another.. Before you know it, you’re standing in the middle of the room holding an empty cup. Sammy beams at you from behind the camera. 

“I reckon that means you liked it.” he chuckles, shifting his stance to get a better angle with the camera, black skirt riding up to expose a considerable amount of his girthy cheeks. If he noticed, he didn’t say. “Lemme know if ya feel anything yet.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, your gut rumbles loud enough to echo across the walls. You put your hand to your stomach, a little embarrassed; maybe dairy wasn’t quite agreeing with you today. As you hold your hand there, you begin to notice something; your shirt is shifting beneath your grip, sliding and bunching, tightening around your middle… and that’s when you feel the mass of your belly growing out, pushing your hand away as it thickens and softens into a proper belly right before your very eyes.

“Woah, that’s fast! Didn’t expect it to go so quick, sugar. Should stop right about… now.” Sammy spoke. 

You watch in stunned silence as the soft swell of flesh begins to peek out beneath your shirt, the fabric unable to cover it any longer; a small sliver quickly turns into a wide patch of exposed flesh. You can feel a strange soothing warmth as the rest of your body begins to rapidly soften like rising bread, pants pulling tight around your growing cheeks, underwear receding, shirt sleeves gripping the dipping lard-wings you’re developing. 

“U-Uh, any second…” Sammy shuffles nervously, watching you grow fatter and fatter. 

What was that stuff? What’s happening? These questions escape your lips as your chest fills out like water balloons stuck on a milk spigot, blowing up and up, nipples perfectly visible through the tightening fabric, growing faster than the rest of you to catch up; the sudden onslaught is too much for the shirt, and it begins to tear from the collar straight down the middle. 

“W-Wait, didn’t ya read the advertisement?” Sammy speaks, a look of confusion now mixing with mild panic. “It said you’d be testin’ my new line of moo formula; y’know, like the formula that turns ya all chubby and cow-like? This was supposed to be the beginner dose, but it looks like ah might have… well, overshot it…” 

Your pants are the next to go, a catastrophic failure beginning with the sudden rupture of the seat of your pants and culminating in so many ripped and snapped seams you were rapidly left standing in just your underwear. The camera captures your enormity in frame, from your bare rolly thighs that squish together in silken flows to the gut dipping down and encroaching on their territory, to your bra-obliterating breasts that encroach on your belly in turn. As if turning into a parade blimp weren’t enough, you feel a warm, numb tingle on your head like running water; reaching up, you can feel two cow horns poking out of your skull, nubby and short, but otherwise sitting amongst your hair like they’d always been there. You turn your head, fat cheek pressing into shoulder in an effort to look at your couch-filling ass, and feel two fuzzy new cow ears flopping against your cheek. 

You reach out to your belly with lardbag arms as thick as bed pillows and place your dimpled hands on the gut that grows, and grows, and grows some more… you feel your back fat touch the shelf of an ass that has by now outgrown even your underwear and you shiver; everything on you is softening, drooping, widening, filling, touching, jiggling. The sensations are almost overwhelming, but… 

It’s not bad? 

Not something you’d thought you’d think, given the circumstances, but it was true. You felt like you had just crawled beneath a comforter straight out of the dryer, or slipped into a hot tub: only the hot tub is *you*, your girthy circumference and sheer volume certainly enough to fill one at least. 

“Oh, it looks like it’s slowin’ down… a-at least, ah hope so…” he mumbled in his thick southern accent, looking more than a little embarrassed himself over his formula error. 

You confirm his suspicion: the growth is finally slowing, the last pounds creeping in at close to solidify you as a nearly spherical ball of lard. But just as it stopped, a tingle began at the peaks of your breasts; you pat at them, hammy arms squishing them together as you work to try to soothe the tingle. 

The tingling builds and builds until finally, like a dam breaking, streams of milk begin pouring down your breasts, tickling your belly before dripping to the floor.

“W-Well… if’n you want, ah can just… pay ya now and send ya home with some of my pajamas…” Sammy spoke sheepishly. “But bein’ that large, might be a little bit of an adjustment… ah can always set you up a room in the farmhouse, let ya work here for a while if you’re interested. Long as you want, ‘till you’re adjusted to bein’ a cow– seein’ as it’s permanent an’ all– or just for as long as you wanna work ‘round here as a dairy cow. What’ya say? You want to hang around?” 

You grip your belly and let out a long, happy moo. 

“Good enough answer as any, I reckon.”