“All your vitals check out,” the woman said. “Come with me”

Marcy hopped off the exam table and for her clothing. Just before she could reach the woman shot out and grabbed her wrist.

“You can come as you are.” She said pleasantly.

Marcy felt something in her stomach drop. Naked? Through the facility? Rapid thoughts of being stared at or even screamed at kicked up an equally rapid heartbeat.

“Like this?” She asked nervously.

“Yes. Please come with me, your appointment time is only so long.”

Marcy put her hands over her pubic area and did her best to pin her breasts down with her elbows. The woman laughed, most certainly because she looked silly.

They did pass people in the hall- a mix of people in lab coats and well-tailored suits. No one seemed to care that a grown woman was nude at her place of work. She received casual glances, but was otherwise ignored.

They took an elevator at the end of the hall up to the top floor. Instead of stark white walls and linoleum flooring, the hall was carpeted and dimly lit. Not far ahead were darkly stained wood doors. The woman opened them and stepped back, signaling that Marcy was to go ahead. Her heart still pounding, Marcy slowly made her way in, the sharp shutting of the door being her making her jump.

“Marcella Rand?”

The incredibly large office was decorated in dark, muted colors. A library of books lined the walls of a floor above them. The floor to ceiling windows connecting both floors. Another woman sat behind an imposing partner’s desk. Her long dark hair brushed the shoulders of her open lab coat. A fine, probably expensive blouse fell perfectly over her chest.

Marcy’s nipples hardened in the cool draft. She attempted to press them down again but her arms wouldn’t warm up. She awkwardly tried to cover her pubis again only to free one breast as her elbow settled down the middle of her chest. 

The woman smiled, taking in the little show before finally clearing her throat.

“It’s alright, darling. Come, sit.” She had a crisp English accent over an unexpected deep voice. 

She gestured to a leather arm chair across from her. Marcy shivered all the way toward it, giving a small squeal when she settled into the cold hide. Assuming she’d be again told to stop covering herself, she gripped the arms.

“I’m Dr. Nigella Mayfair. I don’t need to introduce myself too much further, I think.”

She smiled but not enough to ease Marcy’s nerves.

“It’s Marcy-“ she blurted, taking a risk by rubbing her arms.

“Alright, Marcy. Yes...yes...” she flipped through a stack of papers on her desk. “Ah, Here. But it won’t matter for much longer.”

No, it wouldn’t. All the cows had a serial number to identify who they were and what quad they belonged to. The plate on their stall doors said it all.

Marcy shook her head.

“But let’s use it for now. Should we have to. Before we begin, Marcy, you’re going to keep your hands off your body and back their place on the armrests.”

“Whhhhy?” She asked through chattering teeth. She expected to be reprimanded, but Nigella’s face remained pleasant.

“A little obedience training, dear. Best to get started quickly. Come on, hands.”

Marcy slowly peeled her arms from her sides and did as she was told. 

She looked down at her chest again, watching as a darkening flush spread from her nipple to her areolae. She shifted in her seat, trying to ignore that she was wet.

“Excellent. Now, darling, I hope you know that you stood out from the pool. This isn’t usually  part of the intake.”

She didn’t think so. This was likely reserved for the rare employee that signs up.

“...and this isn’t what we do when you’re working here.”

Marcy’s stomach dropped again. Now things were truly unknown. She had no more ideas to hang on to. She could be told anything- pleasant or terrifying.

“It’s been a bit since your psychological profile was built. How many years after you been here?” She said absently, scanning her papers.

“Fff-“

“Wait!” Nigella interrupted. “Here’s another lesson. Cows never speak. I don’t need to tell you how quiet and obedient our cows are, do I?”

She hook her head again. The doctor continued.

“Five years. Since you were 21. Even then your profile stood out but we held back from pursuing. The position needed to be filled- it was more of a priority. 

Now, yours was unusual as it closely matched the applications we receive for the Hucow process. And it didn’t read like you were trying to impress...”

Marcy actually remembered that second interview requirement. It was partly a medical examination- the interviewer sat at his desk watching her as the leads to the machines behind her read her brain waves and heart rate.

“You were asked about any prior experiences. Professional- initially...”

The frequencies had momentarily sped up. Nothing like critical beeping of heart failure, but noticeable enough. 

Enough for the interviewer to press on.

“Then personally...”

He assured her it would be fine. She was definitely getting the job, they just needed to know more.

“And the things you shared, Marcy-“

She snapped her head up, returning to the present.

“Impressive.”

The sheer embarrassment of hearing her own words nearly drove her to curl into herself, obedience we damned. Though this was a perfectly normal thing to discuss, Marcy had the privilege of secrecy as a worker. No one needed to know. She could move about just like everyone else with her charade.

Her palms started to sweat. Then she felt single salt drops descending from her neck and down her chest. 

“I’ve done a few things before,” Nigella started, paper in hand.

“Closed my eyes and get on all fours on my bed. Try to get low enough to rub my breasts against the sheet. I call myself a cow but it never feels real enough.

I don’t know how to assemble or even go about buying a goat milker, but I think about it a lot. Hands free pumps haven’t worked either. 

It’s so embarrassing but I do pick up the pamphlets and read them over and over. I want to be the woman on the cover- her body molded to someone else’s needs. I want to give up control sometimes.”

The sweat accumulated enough to roll in larger drops. Marcy fought against the urge to brush it off but was very much losing. A cold fat drop landed on her nipple and Marcy screamed, curling up into herself on the chair. 

She refused to lift her head. She’d accept her dismissal without having to look the doctor in the eye. It would be essier. She didn’t want to leave- she was sick and afraid but her unrelenting desire to transform her body kept her in her seat.

But like before, a pleasant voice wafted in.

“Excellent job, cow.”

Marcy remained curled but lifted her head. Dr. Mayfair was even smiling.

“The only other person to sit here got up right away. The Women who signed up are molded by the program alone. They have a mild interest and time on their hands. Some are curious but never finalize their acceptance into the program. But you know yourself, Marcy. You’re a hucow, ready to be put to use.”

Marcy curled tighter into herself. The cool air that hit her clitoris was threatening to make her even wetter. But there was nothing to cover herself with. She could only sit and obey.

“The changes can be unpleasant, but are reversible once you’ve reached the end of your contract. I’m sure you’ve read about your other options should you want to continue, but you’ve already made your choice, correct?

“Yes,” she replied weakly, trusting she would remain in a good mood.

“Come up on my desk, cow. All fours like you’ve done at home.”

She lifted herself up and carefully arranged herself on the tooled leather, mindful of the pens and papers.

Dr. Mayfair palmed her breasts. Outside of the company, they were considered beautiful. Full and pert enough to not need a bra. Unusually large areolae with charming pink nipples.

But she wanted a cow body. Impossibly large, incredibly pendulous breasts that would weigh her down. Thickly veined. Teats as long as an inch.

“One more thing to get you ready.” She gently tugged on her hard nipple.

“You don’t be saying them much. Actually not at all. And please know there are consequences to speaking. You won’t like what happens.”

Her hand wandered down her belly, her fingers ghosting over her clitoris.

Marcy bucked away from the touch. Dr. Mayfair quickly stood up and pressed a surprisingly heavy palm to her back. She wasn’t being penetrated. Instead soft fingers tugged gently on the hard nub as if to see if it would stretch. 

“A little vocabulary refresher,” she said.

Nigella moved her hand back to her breast.

“Udder.” She squeezed, hard pressing her nipple between her fingers.

“Teat” the sore nipple was squeezed again. Marcy tried to pull away again but the doctor held her by her chest. 

“Hucow,” once she was certain Marcy wouldn’t move she released her and pressed a button on her desk. The shaking cow was startled by the opening double doors. Two men in white wheeled in a small stretcher. 

Strong hands suddenly bore down, trying to pull her off the desk, Marcy’s fight or flight kicked in, finding her screaming and bucking as she was wrangled onto the stretcher. Thick straps secured her head, arms, waist, and legs. Her breathing became laboured, but with a small prick in the crook of her arm, everything slowed down. Her breath. Her anxiety. The voices above her head speaking numbers 

HC-4765...

The ceiling started to move and a cold air washed over her body. Her nipples were hardening again. Her clit throbbed and she felt the telltale wetness seep our from between her legs.

People were looking at her, finally. Their slightly blurred faces displaying interest. 

She remembered wanting to cover up before but gave a drowsy laugh. How silly- cows are never covered up