Strange Science by FrigofFury

This commission was graciously donated to the Mother of Demons by FrigofFury, who wrote it originally for an art trade that was never fulfilled on.  The story is a fantastic, detailed tale of transformation and mad science.   Enjoy it, and consider reaching out to FrigofFury for comissions (pairafeelya@gmail.com!)

They say curiosity killed the cat, but felines don't hold a candle to scientists when it comes to lethal curiosity. It certainly killed one Daniel Berstrom, scientist. That is to say, me.
But I'm getting ahead of myself and perhaps being a bit misleading. Curiosity had made me a research scientist, which made me dependent on research grants, which made me poor, which made me desperate, which made me take a position with a very strange agricultural biotechnology startup halfway around the world.
Being familiar with neither maritime law nor the Pacific Ocean, I didn't notice that the promise of “regular shuttles between the research facility and San Francisco” didn't necessarily imply that the facility was in California's Silicon Valley or anything like it. I learned this on the ride from San Francisco's main international airport to a smaller regional airport. The van had a driver who knew nothing about the company except that it was “biotech or something” and three passengers: a Filipino construction foreman, a Ukrainian programmer, and me. We got into the 'shuttle' from the advert: a propeller-driven plane that appeared designed for cargo rather than passengers. Two more construction workers and one of the men loading cargo joined us so that all six passenger seats were filled, then we took off, straight out into the ocean.
My seat was behind the construction workers who didn't appear to speak English and next to the cargo loader, who unscrewed the back of his chair and reclined it so he could immediately go to sleep. With no one to talk to and nothing to see but the evidently endless ocean out the cockpit window ahead of us, I decided to follow the cargo loader's example.
It was a long flight, and by the time the co-pilot came back to let us know we were starting our landing descent I had a bit of a back-ache. The cockpit window still showed featureless ocean below clouds, so I used my time to review what little I knew of New Sunrise Biosciences. Remuneration took the form of room and board, a small salary, and shares in the company. It was enough to make ends meet, and if the company became the next big technology success story, then maybe I'd make enough to be comfortable.
My task would be to adapt proprietary genetic transfer techniques to new species hybridizations. It didn't sound very similar to what I'd done before, but evidently they'd been pleased to see my lab experience working with DNA in living cells, so there was overlap of some kind.
“We're about to touch down!” the co-pilot yelled back into the cabin, and I put my things back in order, as he'd mentioned that despite the gentleness of most landings, they were sometimes surprisingly hard depending on weather. It was just as soft a landing as he'd predicted, however, and soon we were rolling down a landing strip that appeared to be jutting out into the water on its own. The San Francisco airport, where the runways jutted well out into the bay, had been a bit like this, though this landing strip was much more basic-looking. It gave me no clues whatsoever regarding where we were. While it was still rolling slowly along the blacktop the plane took a sharp left turn as if to drive into the sea, but it stopped near the edge. The cargo loader and the copilot sprang out to tie off the plane.
It didn't hit me immediately. There was water off the side of the runway every direction I looked, but until I actually stepped off the plane and looked around I assumed that I would see land adjoining the runway somewhere. But no, we had just landed on some kind of enormous barge that served as a floating landing strip. There was a crane that seemed to be preparing to pick up the plane and stow it below-decks, but that was almost the only superstructure visible.
Nearby they pushed the luggage cart into a cargo lift then led us down a narrow set of stairs to fetch it at the lower level. A short walk from there brought us to a gangway down to a large tugboat.
“Where are we going?” I asked the cargo loader, since he seemed familiar and shepherded us along with the cargo.
“We're headed to the arcology. Usually we use the yacht, but it's a short trip and the tugs have to test their engines regularly, so they fill in sometimes.”
“The arcology?”
“That's what we call the New Sunrise. It's not really an arcology, but the name stuck.”
“The lab is on a ship?” I asked uneasily.
“Everything is. Don't worry, you won't be cramped, or seasick.” He laughed, looking at my face. “At least, not once you get there.”
I was violently ill on the way, emptying my stomach of the snacks we'd been given for the flight. It was with tremendous relief and very unsteady legs that I stepped on the gangplank that took me up to a deck set about three quarters of the way up the outer wall of the arcology. I barely had a chance to look at it on the way over, gaining only an impression of a giant round puck floating in the water. The young woman with an American accent who greeted 'technical staff' kindly chatted with the Ukrainian programmer while they waited for me to recover my composure. In retrospect it's a little amusing that I was so embarrassed by my indisposition in front of two pretty girls.
I was still a bit green when I got into the little golf cart and didn't say much while the American woman drove along the deck around the outer edge of the arcology, pointing out to us this or that feature which increased its stability or its resistance to rogue waves or whatever. It was interesting to know that it was constructed with the hulls of a collection of tankers that had been slated for scrapping, but she didn't come close to answering answer my unspoken question: why build it at all? Why was the lab out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean?
“Hello Dr Patras! Mr. Berstrom is a little sick from the trip over in the tugboat,” the American explained to large, olive-skinned woman wearing lab goggles who emerged from a hatch to fetch me when we arrived at the section of the structure where I was to live and work.
“Ah, all my sympathy, Daniel,” the imposing woman told me, “The tug is guaranteed to give motion sickness to anyone prone to that. You'll be glad to know that it's rarely possible to notice the movement of the New Sunrise.”
“Thank you, Dr Patras,” I managed without sicking up all over anything, and the ladies started off again.
“Welcome to New Sunrise, please, call me Elene,” she said smoothly, shaking my hand with one hand and using the other to wave farewell to the American and Ukrainian. She wasn't as imposing as I originally thought while I'd still been sitting, but she was definitely tall and sturdy as women went. Also attractive, but in a more mature way than the young women.
“I will do that,” I said, and lifted a hand to my head because a skirl of wind had just loosed a large droplet from a tall fabric wall that surmounted the outside of the arcology. It had of course dropped smack onto my head.
“Come inside. It can get a bit wet out here under the mist nets,” she said, one edge of her smile curling up. “They do dual duty as fresh water collectors and ocean spray defense. Not at the same time, of course. There's sensors that detect how brackish the water is.”
As she led me deeper inside, I looked around at the offices, which were pretty unimpressive and nondescript, not to mention mostly empty. It looked like someone had acquired a large lot of unneeded secondhand office furniture because of low prices.
“The division is just getting off the ground,” she explained, reading my thoughts, “Though really there's plenty of space everywhere right now. There's barely two hundred people on New Sunrise currently, but we could easily fit a hundred times that with some work. Not that we expect to get that big. We can fit about a thousand without having to build anything. And there'll still be plenty of space. Here. Take a look out the window there.”
We'd reached the other side of the arcology's huge outer perimeter structure and the window looked out over what looked for all the world like a bit of farmland plucked from the countryside and plopped into the midst of the arcology, ringed all the way around by the perimeter constructed from freighter hulks.
“How?” I asked
“It was originally a flotilla of barges that we docked in Kamchatka, and we loaded it up there, then built the perimeter around it. It actually still floats independently of the ring we're in now and if you watch closely you can see the connecting flanges adjusting slightly. It's had five years to mature.”
“Are those sheep?” I asked, looking at a small herd of animals grazing on the side of a hillock.
“No, those are cattle. This place is deceptively big. We're about six stories up where we are now, and that's almost twenty hectares of prime farmland, plus more than five additional hectares of forest. Well, it's trying to become a forest, at least. Five hectares might not be enough to really serve.”
“And a farmhouse, plus a barn?”
She chuckled. “That's a genius bit of marketing, actually. It'll go on our agricultural product packaging someday. There's actually an ultra-modern lab underneath, and that's actually where you'll probably be spending most of your time. I'm sorry that you won't get this nice view, but you're going to be our hands-on man. How are you with breeding?”
“With what?” I was a single man who hadn't had a girlfriend in a while, so my mind went off in wrong directions.
“Animal husbandry. Breeding techniques and all that?”
“Oh, uh, I'm pretty good at single-celled organism husbandry, but animals... The family cat had kittens once, and that is about the extent of it.”
“Spay and neuter. You're supposed to spay and neuter your pets.”
I laughed at what she clearly meant for a joke. “I was eight or so.”
“Then I suppose it can be forgiven. Besides, we don't often spay or neuter here, either. The whole point is that this is a breeding farm. Or it will be at any rate.”
“I don't really see how we could support enough livestock out here to pay for all this.” I said, scratching my head.
“We won't. Only a few animals will remain here, and the rest will be shipped in, impregnated, and shipped out. Perhaps. We'll have to determine how exactly it'll all work.”
“I see,” I said, but I didn't. “Okay, I have to ask why there's an experimental breeding farm in the middle of the ocean. It can't just be because you want to protect trade secrets.”
She looked at me strangely. “Have you already signed your contract?”
“I'm afraid I haven't. I wasn't actually sure I was even hired, though being led in here did seem like a positive sign in that respect.”
“Yes. Well, let's get those contracts signed and we'll get into some of the more sensitive details.”
To my surprise, the contracts were all very old-fashioned and in paper form, requiring a signature and a thumb-print with actual ink. They were also all conducted under the laws of a nation I'd never heard of before, though when I asked about it Elene reassured me that it was basically just a standard contract and pointed out that it allowed me to stipulate payment in USD to a large multinational bank, so I needn't worry about any shady dealings. This didn't precisely reassure me, but I was far too curious to find out what was going on to fret about legal details.
“So,” she said when the papers had all been signed and stored, “You might think that we're out here to avoid US labor laws, but actually we pretty much follow all those laws for all the employees currently working on New Sunrise. The protection of proprietary information is a real part of it, but not the biggest part. No, the big deal is avoiding the FDA, the MHRA, the EFSA... all the agencies that like to throw up obstacles as soon as they hear you're trying something new. And what we're trying is really new. It can also be pretty scary to people who don't understand it, so we're trying to lead with the product first and answer questions about how it's produced later, once people know it's safe. The only way to do that is to find an accommodating nation in which to host the laboratories. Because this arcology is is under its flag, it's basically like their territory.”
“So when we fly back and forth, we're crossing national borders? Isn't that illegal?”
“The landing strip is US-flagged, so it's considered a civil domestic flight. It's the boats that go between countries, but that's easier to finesse legally.” She shrugged. “Of course, that's our lawyers' jobs to handle. All we care about is that no one's going to tell us we have to a license or an inspection or go before a board of examination before we do anything, here.”
“Mom, may I take Jack parasailing? Oh, hello,” a gorgeous teenaged platinum blonde said, barging into the office.
“Callie, this is Daniel Berstrom, my newest technical scientist. Daniel, this is my daughter Callie. She may be helping from time to time, to get experience. She's a bit of a genius, and is close to completing a bachelor's degree in biology, though she'll have to return to the mainland to finish up some of the hands-on lab work. Not that she doesn't get a lot experience here, but of course the professors don't get to see that.”
Daniel smiled sympathetically at the girl, who had blushed charmingly at her mother's description of her. “I'll be happy to have a genuine genius as an assistant. Quite sets me up as an important person.”
“You are important, Daniel. Everyone here is very important, and if you ever feel New Sunrise isn't treating you as if you're important, let me know and I'll do my best to fix it.” She turned to Callie, who was waiting a bit impatiently. “I have no objections to parasailing, but Jack's parents have to be okay with it.”
“Thanks Mom! Nice to meet you Daniel!” She half-waved and ran off.
Elene looked fondly after Callie's retreating back then led me to a lift.
“I would never have expected you would have a teenager,” I commented as we descended, both because Elene did look rather young to have a fifteen or sixteen year old daughter, and because I wondered if they were really biologically related. There were certainly similarities, but I would have bet the girl's light blond coloring and light blue eyes were natural, and it wasn't easy to explain how a woman with Elene's darker Greek coloration could produce such a Scandinavian-looking daughter. Maybe a step-daughter, I thought.
“Would you believe I put a lot of work into it?” she asked.
“Pardon?” It was a very cryptic statement.
“Callie is the product of a IVF technique I invented and tested myself. I'm very pleased with the results.”
It was both impressive and unsettling. Clearly Elene wasn't a stranger to live tests of rogue science.
As if reading my mind, she said, “Sometimes you have to use yourself as a test subject if the ethics board won't let you do trials another way. It's a sadly small baseline, but one is better than zero!”
I think that was the first moment I realized my new boss was quietly starkers. My growing disquiet warred with my escalating curiosity. Curiosity, having gotten a solid head start, won handily.
“Be careful on the gangway. It's calm today so it's barely moving, but when the waves are larger, it can sway a fair bit,” she warned me as we crossed over the gap between the arcology perimeter and the edge of the central farmland.
My fascination was so powerful I think it overpowered any recrudescence of motion sickness. “How did you do it?”
“Well, I just kept dividing the blastocyst, using one part to test-sequence and the other part for repeated gene insertions, until I got what I wanted. It was an incredibly crude and laborious process, but the proof is in the pudding. Callie is about 51% my genes, about 47% her male progenitor's genes, and 2% other genes I was able to obtain, mostly for well-understood physical traits like hair color. She turned out a little more extreme than I expected, but in a good way. If I were to do it again, it would be a great deal easier and I could fix some mistakes I made the first time around, but fortunately with the latest techniques it's not really necessary.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. This all sounded far too advanced for the current state of genetic engineering to me.
“Dr. Kim's technique allows us to introduce gross genetic changes into germ and somatic lines even in adulthood.”
“Wait, you can change the genetic makeup of adults? Adult humans?”
“Yes, though of course we're focused on animals right now. We have a variety of gene treatments for metabolic diseases we're putting through government safety trials via intermediary firms, but they all originated here, with this technique. This family of techniques. Unfortunately we can't use the technique directly because naturally anything that can change genomes so completely can be difficult to contain, so we've had to stick to some special cases were we could engineer the medical device with the technique, then sell a generally inert device. Well, a synthetic tissue. So, it's been lucrative enough to fund further investments, but we're not all fabulously wealthy yet. Fortunately we anticipated that challenge. That's where this arcology and our department comes in.”
My head was spinning. Was this agribusiness or gene therapy or what? What was this giant, floating mad-scientist's laboratory really about?
“The procedure for getting foods approved is easier than that for getting drugs or medical devices approved, and 'nutritional supplements' require almost nothing at all in many jurisdictions. And if we make treatments that really work powerfully and obviously, we can sell them as expensive supplements in select markets until people demand that their regulatory agencies approve them. We'll change the world and become very rich in the process.”
I licked my dry lips, both inspired and alarmed by her earnest belief. It seemed crazily plausible, and also just crazy. And I was going to be a part of it.
“It's always so cold down here because we're literally walking on the inner hull of the farm,” Elene told me, using her hand to open a large hatch labeled simply 'Agricultural' in block letters, with a note below it adding 'livestock deliveries other side' in a neat hand. The hatch opened into a large room with an open stairwell and two lifts separated by a sturdy fence and gate. The lift on the other side was much larger, probably to accommodate livestock, while the personnel lift was small and evidently served four floors besides the landing. We took it to the second level from the top, which was full of equipment that was at least vaguely familiar to me. I was a little disappointed at how old some of it was – I'd assumed New Sunrise would install all the latest technology, but Elene pointed out that even her department had to justify its purchases and be choosy about when the latest equipment was really necessary.
“I don't want to alarm you,” she told me, “But while we are making money, we have some rather pressing loan obligations, and we need to make sure we meet them. Securing new lines of credit would be extremely difficult, as you might imagine.”
She continued on through the sparsely-populated lab, introducing me to the international team of technicians and several scientists on loan from other departments all of whom seemed to think I would be taking over their duties. Each time Elene would disabuse them of the notion, telling them I'd be working 'in the barn'.
“Oh, it'll be good to have a more scientific fellow in charge up there,” one said.
“We hired some farm girls from the Punjab who were keen to escape arranged marriages,” Elene explained the comment to me, “It was worked out well for everyone, I think, but despite their skill and diligence with the animals, they aren't that well educated in other ways. I think you'll complement each-others' strengths nicely.”
The term farm 'girl' was accurate – they didn't appear a great deal older than Callie, and their wide, surprised eyes during introductions made them seem very innocent.
“But Miss Elene,” Nakhal, the elder, protested when informed that we'd be working as a team, “He is a man!”
“Yes?” Elene said, baffled.
“You said we would not be working with men!”
“And you didn't, for a time. Obviously that can't remain the case forever, because we need to hire the best new people. And you can be very sure that Daniel will be very respectful. I wouldn't tolerate anything else.” That last sentence sounded like it was directed at me as much as it was at them.
Happily they seemed to accept that reassurance. Their acceptance of me was reluctant, but not overtly so, and Nakheela wasn't shy about familiarizing me with all the various implements for handling livestock. Even Kareema, who didn't really speak any English, was willing to work quietly next to me. I think I probably blushed more than anyone else, which I think might have softened their hearts toward me a little by the end, because Nakhal began reassuring me that I would probably not need to perform this or that breeding step. Elene was relentless in insisting that I at least be taught how to perform all the relevant tasks, even if I wouldn't need to do them myself. It was a fascinating interplay to watch, and it decided me that regardless of sanity, Elene was a thoughtful boss.
I would definitely be careful not to cross her, however.
After my tour of the barn, the next stop was the farmhouse. It wasn't just a façade: a large part of the inside was reminiscent of an old-fashioned farm house as well.
“You'll actually be living here. Mostly alone for now, because Nakhal and Kareema are living in the apartment attached to the barn, but the kitchen is shared. We haven't quite figured out who will really end up living here.”
“Where did you get all this stuff? It looks vintage,” I said.
“I believe the whole of it was bought in a single estate sale. It really is farmhouse furniture, handmade in the 1910s or 20s.”
“It'll be like living in a museum.”
“Hopefully not as bad as that. It's simple, sturdy stuff that has already seen generations of wear. I don't think you have to worry about damaging it with ordinary use.”
“I guess this is my room?” I asked, seeing my baggage in one of the rooms.
“It must be, if that's your stuff,” she said with a shrug, “Facilities handles the details. Do you have any other questions?”
“I'm sure I have loads of them, but I guess I should unpack a bit.”
“Do you know when the rest of your things will arrive?” she asked.
“Uh, this is about it,” I admitted.
“Oh. Well then, I guess that makes things easy. I'll touch base with you later.”

At first it was very surreal to live in an old-fashioned farm house in the midst of a farm floating on top of a genetics laboratory in the middle of the ocean, but the work was so unrelenting and interesting that I had little opportunity to dwell on it.
Instead I was helping collect stem cells from dairy cows and comparing them to genetic material recovered from recently-mounted cows. It was far too complicated for me to understand it all right off, but I could see that genetic material was definitely being transferred from one cow to another via the bull. That genetic material from the bull was showing up in the cow wasn't that surprising; mothers ended up carrying around quite a bit of genetic material from their child, and those children have half the father's DNA. It was much more mysterious to me how an unrelated cow's DNA jumped to another, but this was the goal of the project and I assumed it would become clearer as I learned more. I asked Callie to explain it once, but I wasn't willing to tell her that I couldn't make heads or tails of her rambling, speculative-sounding description. I did get the uncomfortable impression that maybe no one actually 'got' how it all worked.
Another thing we weren't getting was the set of genes that were supposed to be transferred. Instead we tended to get either 'overtransfer' where the target genes showed up along with a bunch of excess non-target genes, or 'undertransfer' where no extras showed up, but many of the target genes were missing as well. Elene began to get frustrated, and I could hear her grumbling about the 'unimaginative desk jockeys' who were pressuring her in some way. I began to see her in the labs downstairs more often and extra vials turned up in the refrigerators. I was certain that she'd begun conducting private experiments again, but decided it was much better not to say anything. What she did on her own time was her own business, I reasoned.
I somewhat accidentally made it my business when I ran out of an important reagent and decided to borrow a bit from her private stash. It was late and I was exhausted, but I was especially driven to complete my task because Callie's tasks were waiting on me. Feeling less professional than a teenager who liked to show up to work in her bathing suit fresh from ocean sport was uncomfortable for me. Also just being around her unconscious attractiveness was uncomfortable, but not necessarily unpleasant when I was in her good graces.
So, I swiped some reagent from her mother. It was the company's reagent and I, unlike her, was working on assigned company business, so I felt fully justified. Besides, I'd replace it in the morning. No doubt this reasoning would have been fine, except that the contents of the bottle were not the reagent I expected, which I discovered fairly quickly when it failed to develop the slides I needed. Naturally I tasted just a bit of it to make sure it's what I thought it was and discovered it was some other liquid entirely. Hastily, I resealed the container and put it back where I found it, then washed up very thoroughly, including gargling with peroxide solution. It was very unlikely that any of it would be any kind of threat to me, but I wanted to take every precaution.
I felt fine and noticed no changes over the next several days, so I put it out of my mind. Whatever it was, it didn't appear to have caused any negative effects.

Two months later, with Callie gone off to the mainland and the rest of us still with nothing of commercial value to show, the project was 'put on the backburner' and many of its resources shifted to the moderately-successful botanical teams. Nakhal and Kareema were given a furlough and, under the strong impression that my position was about to be eliminated, I leapt at the chance to take over a reduced version of their duties while they were gone.
That's when things started to get weird.
First, Elene asked me to inject something into a pregnant cow's womb. Given the various techniques we'd attempted since I'd started working for New Sunrise, her instructions weren't that out of the ordinary, though I felt very strange doing it. Afterwards I felt that the strange feeling was very well explained as the beginning of the flu, because I came down with a fever and aches for several days. I counted myself lucky that I escaped without the typical runny nose and cough.
When I was feeling hale enough to return to my duties, I learned that the cow had also suffered a brief illness and that she now appeared to be on the point of delivering her calf early. That seemed likely to be a side-effect of Elene's treatment, though I kept that to myself, not wanting to antagonize her when her favourite project had been shelved.
I continued feeling not so well, but Elene offered to join me in assisting the calf's birth, so we both were present to see the second most shocking sight of my life: a full-grown human woman emerging from a cow's vagina. At first, I thought it had to be the mother of all twisted jokes, because the woman in question looked like Callie.
Immediately a number of problems with that interpretation presented themselves. For one, she was attached to an umbilical cord. For another, on closer inspection, she didn't actually look that much like Callie. She could pass as Callie's younger sister, but definitely not Callie herself. Finally, once she got over her surprise, Elene was jumping for joy and shouting about victory and Nobel Prizes. She was too excited to explain well, but apparently she had modified a descendant of the blastocyst she'd used to impregnate herself with Callie and somehow enabled it to accept DNA cross the species barrier in specific loci. That didn't entirely make sense because I knew for a fact that the creature started out as an ordinary cow fetus and had been well into the pregnancy, but whatever the explanation, it was inescapable that something with large amounts of Callie's genes had just emerged from the womb of a cow.
After perhaps ten minutes of celebration and talking fragmentary technical gibberish to herself, Elene looked at me and suddenly turned very serious. “Daniel. Look at me.”
“I am looking at you,” I said, because I was.
“You cannot tell anyone about this yet.”
“Okay?”
“Until we prove that the caliform taurus is going to be commercially viable, we have to keep this to ourselves.”
“Caliform taurus?” I asked, since that sounded like a clue to what the fuck had just emerged from the cow.
“A taurus with Callie's form,” she explained her etymology, but nothing else.
“Oh. Well, I won't say anything to anyone.” And had no idea what I would say anyway.
“Good, good. But take care of her. She's very valuable.”
“Elene, I need to ask. Is that a cow, or a person, or... I have... ethical concerns, here.”
Instead of getting angry at being challenged, Elene brightened right up. “Oh, that's a very important question, isn't it? I'm glad you thought to ask. If everything is as I expect, most things about her except her brain and some sexual characteristics will be entirely human. But it's a calf's brain in that human-looking head, don't be fooled.”
“It is?” I said dubiously.
“I'm 95% certain. I really need to get ahold of a CT scanner or something to prove it. Nevertheless, it seems unlikely that I would be wrong about her brain. Her sexual characteristics appear to have come out right.”
“How so?” I asked.
“Her mammary base is more developed than in a regular human, though that's much less obvious now than it'll be after she's had a calf of her own. Her primary reproductive organs also appear larger than normal.”
It was surreal to watch the cow clean her human-looking calf while we watched. I could only assume that Elene was right about this dubious miracle, but I still didn't feel altogether right about staring at a helpless girl's private parts. Though she wasn't really a human girl in the ordinary sense, she was a calf that looked like a girl. Like Callie's sister. It was really very uncomfortable to be doing so at Elene's insistence. It was indeed true, though, that the 'caliform taurus' had physiological differences from a human girl of the same size and apparent developmental stage. I still felt like a creep.
“Shouldn't she have a blanket or something?” I asked.
“Don't be softheaded, Daniel. She's not a human girl.”
“I just meant that she's small and doesn't have body hair to keep her warm,” I ad-libbed.
Elene laughed. “You're perfectly correct. Good thinking, Daniel. You know, once this is a breakout success, they'll give me plenty of latitude to reward those who saw it through. This could make you a very rich man.”
“That sounds good,” I said warily, “But I think we have a lot of work left to do.”
“Yes, 'we' do, don't we, Daniel,” she said, grinning as if she'd trapped me into becoming her accomplice.
Which was just the truth.

Mild flulike symptoms continued to dog me for the next couple weeks, but I did do my best to help Elene deliver three other caliform tauruses. The final caliform taurus was a major blow to the program in Elene's mind, because it was supposed to be the control, a standard bos taurus calf we could use for comparison. Nevertheless, they seemed healthy and grew fantastically fast. The first, which we'd named Alphie, was already 8kg heavier than when she was born. Despite our worry to the contrary, it was not that difficult to teach the calves to use their opposable thumbs to help suckle from their mothers. They really did seem a bit brighter than one would ordinarily expect of cattle.
My gene surveys found that the transfer was much more accurate than any of the previous attempts, but there were some differences between what I was seeing and what Elene described as her DNA transfer plan. For one thing, there was clearly considerable human influence on their motor control nervous system. That seemed like a very plausible explanation for why the calves were doing so well with their human-shaped bodies. For another, there was a lot of tampering in the genome that she hadn't mentioned. I refrained from confronting her about it, though. I just tried to take really careful notes and be careful in general.
When I wasn't working, I was usually sleeping, to the point where the New Sunrise events calendar bot, thinking it had identified a pattern, asked me if I wanted to mark myself as 'on holiday'. I didn't answer it, of course, and simply tried to get through it all, wishing I could get over my strange not-quite-illness.
I had already been getting out of shape between sedentary work and too many garbage snacks, and during this time my fattening front sort of crept up on me. Embarrassingly, it looked almost like I was growing boobs, which had a lot to do why I had never made any attempt to participate in company functions of late. I'd gotten so blobby that my pecker felt smaller when I was wanking. I promised myself that I'd shape up, get a hair cut, and start working out, after we delivered experimental success. It wasn't until one day I looked down at my erection to find it truly much too little that I got the idea that my penis was actually shrinking. Looking at the strange configuration of the fat deposits on my upper chest and thighs, it finally occurred to me that there was something seriously wrong with my body.
Before I'd started working with caliform tauruses, I would likely have thought I was hallucinating or something, but now I got a sinking feeling that I knew exactly what was afoot. A trip to the lab confirmed the worst. Actually, it was worse than the worst I had suspected. I thought I'd find some mosaic infiltration of caliform taurus genes, but it was more than that. When I sequenced my own DNA, I found that my genome had somehow become almost indistinguishable from the caliform tauruses. There was barely more than a trace remnant of my previous DNA, and I only found that because I re-ran the sequencing in different ways until I found it. Further, I could see all the tell-tale signs of the metabolic reconstruction processes that had remolded calves into bodies that looked like Callie's little sisters.
For a little bit I panicked, trying to decide how to call the New Sunrise hospital and convince them of the impossible, or if I should call Elene to get her to fix it. Finally I took decisive action: I combined my vodka stash and some orange juice into a drink, then passed out in bed.
I felt absolutely horrible in the morning and it was still true that I was changing. Examining myself in the mirror with fresh eyes, I was forced to admit that I hardly even looked like myself anymore. I couldn't pass as the bloke on my identification card. I suddenly had a terrible feeling. I hadn't tried the lift in over a week, and it used more sophisticated biometric scanners for authentication. I threw on some of my increasingly ill-fitting clothes and rushed down through the farmhouse's lowest floor to the personnel elevator. It just blinked red when it looked at my altered features, or when I tried to put my hand on its scanner plate. The fingerprint scanners used in the barn and the living areas of the farmhouse were still accepting my prints, but the structure of my hands had shifted enough that the full-hand machine no longer recognized me.
I trudged upstairs, holding my head and wanting to vomit. I knew I should call Elene immediately, but I wasn't at all sure how she would react to discovering that her gene transfer vector had escaped the experimental setting. I knew it would kill Elene's project totally if it got out. How much was I willing to bet that she would actually try to help me?
Yet, what would anyone else be able to do? Maybe Dr. Kim would understand what had happened and find a cure. Or maybe he would help Elene make the threat to New Sunrise go away. Or maybe I should try to go to the authorities. But who was the authorities? The police of the tiny island nation that relied heavily on money from New Sunrise's financial backers?
I had to find a way to reverse the process on my own. Or at least something that showed promise. That would offer everyone a way out. And all I had to do was be a genius molecular geneticist. Now, I was never a slouch, and I definitely graduated in the top quartile of my class in a competitive university, but I couldn't fool myself into thinking I was a genius at the level of Elene or her daughter. I was pretty sure I was doomed, but I didn't see what else I could do.
Fortunately for my plan, there wasn't that much overlap in our working shifts. Elene performed her regular duties or slept during the day while I was working, then worked on the farm at night, when I was usually sleeping. We did have brief meetings in the evening and morning, but often not face-to-face, and she wasn't usually paying much attention to me anyway, mostly either reviewing my reports or giving instructions. If I just continued wearing shapeless hoodies and not calling attention to myself, she might not even notice the change. For a while.
The flu symptoms persisted, and armed with my new knowledge that they were actually a manifestation of the widespread remodeling of my body, I prepared myself for the changes to come. Some changes were so subtle I might not have noticed if I wasn't watching for them: slightly smaller hands and narrower fingers, lips taking on a bit more of a bow, my nose becoming more delicate. Some were subtle but still hard to miss, like my shoes becoming too big for my feet. Some weren't subtle at all, like my poor penis becoming a truly pathetic little thing, suitable for directing urine but not much else. Because all my body hair had been falling out, it was easy to see that my ball sack shrank into a similarly sad state, becoming a tight little pouch between my legs. Perhaps it was that lack of testosterone that left my arms slim and frankly less muscled than anyone else working in the barn.
Desperation lent me the energy to continue working, and I discovered that my original sequencing results had been misleading. Unlike the caliform tauruses, I had extra chromosomes in many cells that were simply deactivated and so didn't show up in the mRNA-based sequencing techniques. Sometimes the deactivated chromosomes were mine, and sometimes they were that of a cow we'd been using for other gene transfer experiments. Because I couldn't get to the machines on the lower levels, I couldn't be sure exactly how common they were or what the ratio was. I did begin to understand more about what had happened. Elene hadn't used a single process to control which genes got transferred, and some of them had expected to be inserted into a cow genome while others expected to insert into a caliform genome. So, I was learning things, and the fact that I still had my own DNA lurking in my cells meant it was reversible. Theoretically.
The calfs continued maturing at an incredible rate. At eight weeks they looked basically fully grown and by nine their weights had plateaued. Because they'd continued to walk on their hands and knees, I had the 3d printing department make cushioned hand and knee covers that acted like hooves and seemed to make them more comfortable. Despite the weirdness, I was cheered by the happiness of their moos after I'd helped their limbs to behave more like their bovine brains expected them to.
In the meantime my penis and testicles shrank until my balls retracted entirely back into my body, and my poor willy looked hardly larger than a big clitoris. The two halves of my scrotum joined at a marked cleft where a vagina might go, and I could see the writing on the wall. I might be distinguishable from a caliform taurus with the right tests, but soon there'd be no other way to tell the difference. The day I woke up and realized I was no longer peeing out of my penis, I was hardly even surprised at the progression, though it was still a blow to see my expectations borne out.
Amazingly, Elene had still not noticed that her main research assistant had entirely changed sex. I'd done my best to obscure my change, but it seemed inevitable that she would notice. Perhaps it was that my voice still hadn't changed much, or maybe it was just that she didn't really look at people very often.
“I'm bringing the girls back,” she said, referring in her patronizing way to Nakhal and Kareema.
“You are?” I said, surprised.
“Yes, I know, but I'm sure they can be trusted to keep things to themselves. And then you don't have to work such long hours. I can see how tired you've been. ”
It startled me that she could tell I'd been tired but not that I looked like a completely different person. “Thank you,” I said, because the moment demanded it, but I dreaded their arrival.
“Well, don't thank me just yet. I expect we'll have to wait for the planting season to finish before they'll agree to return. I just wanted to tell you so you knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel.”
“Uh, thanks!” I said, more genuinely cheerful this time. I did appreciate her recognition of my hard work, and the fact that I had some more time to make progress before my inexplicably-intact cover was blown.
Our caliform tauruses went into estrus shortly thereafter, and I frankly balked at Elene's demand that I help the bulls mount them. It was just a step to far too help a huge bull penetrate their little bodies. Instead of raging at me, though, Elene just rolled her eyes and said she'd do it. I had to attend, of course, and I claimed to have a cold so I had an excuse to wear a face mask during the rare face-to-face work session. I think Elene knew I was fibbing, but she seemed to attribute it to squeamishness rather than hiding my face. I was happy to confirm that belief, which was at least partly true.
And she was right about the bulls not hurting the humanoid cows; they seemed to really enjoy being mounted, to the point that they exhausted the bull rather than the other way around. As Elene had said, their vaginas were bigger than they looked from the outside. I wondered if it would be the same for me once the changes were complete, or if I would stay human-standard in that respect, like the rest of me seemed to be.
Well, not entirely human standard. My breasts were very wide but not especially prominent, which wasn't like Callie. She had left behind a bra marked 30D, and an experimental attempt to wear it showed that my breasts didn't fit in her cups very well at all, though the band size seemed about right. She didn't leave behind any bottoms to test out, so I didn't have any way to compare waist or hips, but I thought my hips had to be a great deal wider than hers. I at least felt like my hips were huge because the jogging bottoms I'd worn loose before were now tight around the bum and loose at the waist. Also, my body hair never had started growing again, so I looked like I'd just been waxed all over. I certainly didn't mind that last bit; I'd never enjoyed shaving my face, and I certainly wouldn't have wanted to learn to shave anywhere else, either.
But the changes were still ongoing, so perhaps the hair would come back. I crossed my fingers that it wouldn't. It was a bit of normalcy I could very well do without.
Unfortunately, despite facilitating many rounds of mating, the caliform cows didn't get pregnant. We switched to in vitro fertilization, but attempts to implant the zygotes in the caliform wombs failed. Elene hypothesized that it might have been because we'd stopped having the bulls mount them, and suggested we wait until the estrus cycle returned to try again. I also crossed my fingers, because I was starting to count on the success of the project to ease the discussion when I revealed what had happened to me.
The funny thing when you only work with others virtually is that you often don't say a word for days at a time, or at least I didn't. The bulls and the cows paid no attention to me, so I mostly just made little grunting noises from time to time, either when surprised, or disgusted, or when doing something strenuous.
I was doing all three the day Nakhan and Kareema returned. I was actually feeling better than I had in a long time, and was wondering if that meant that I was finished with my odd transformation into, for most purposes, a sister caliform taurus to those in the barn with me. I did sort of feel a weird kinship with them, having gotten to know them better and finding them very cute in their way. This day I was trying to get a randy bull to shift his attention from me to Alphie, which was basically a daily struggle. If left to themselves, the cattle would all rut constantly, but Elene wanted each coupling documented and scheduled, so I had to keep them apart until the prescribed moment. When presented with an option between me and anyone else, they always seemed to want to mount me. Fortunately the way the railings were constructed, I had no trouble avoiding their amorous intentions. I merely sometimes had difficulty refocusing it. It was especially difficult that day, because I was feeling just as randy as the bull was. I had awoken that morning to see that the puffy mound between my legs looked very like the enlarged vulvas the caliform tauruses had developed, which covered elastic, pliant vaginas that could withstand being pounded by the bulls. I was very interested to experience my own, but I had to focus on completing the task before me.
So, I was trying to push one of the bulls' heads toward Alphie when I slipped on some of the wood dust I'd put down on the padded floor and put my knee straight into a cow patty before stumbling into a drinking trough. I jumped up, but my clothes were already soaked and soiled. I quickly stripped naked and, since I was going to need to use the shower in the barn made for washing the cattle, I also collected Alphie's hand and knee hooves so I could wash all of us at the same time. I had the hooves cleaned and drying and was myself mostly clean when I noticed the bull was making his way toward the wrong cow, so I hurried back to close the gate.
That frustrated the bull, so I gave it a little manual stimulation to get it back in the mood then ran back to Alphie so he'd follow me. It was a little risky to get in the enclosure with the bull, but I wanted to get it over with so I could go back to my room and scratch the itch between my legs.
I think Alphie must have smelled my excitement, because for the first time ever, she moved to meet me like she did with the other califorms when they were in heat. I went to dodge around her, but she lurched to the side, and I tumbled over her, barely catching myself before hitting my head on the bottom railing
And then the bull was upon me. I tried to wiggle out, but he was experienced in this game, and had no trouble corralling me and following my rump. And then he plunged into me.
There was a small, sharp pain, but then it was all pleasure. At first I tried to escape, but there just wasn't enough room to move. Then I tried to want to escape, because the bull was scratching the itch very nicely with his relentless ramrod. Then I abandoned myself to it, because the truth was that my new genitals were literally made to take bull cock, and I wanted the bull to ride me all the way to release.
“Daniel must have stepped out,” I heard Elene say then, from very nearby, “But you can see that he's already got Big Red mounting Alphie there, like the schedule says.”
“Wow, they look so similar. How do you tell them apart?” Nakhal asked.
I kept my head down, not wanting to be recognized as the cow being mounted.
Elene chuckled. “Truthfully, I can't tell them apart. I have a condition that makes it almost impossible for me to recognize faces, so I mostly leave it up to Daniel to figure it out. I know this is Alphie because she's the one scheduled for mounting today. Probably you should ear-tag them so we don't get confused. We can tell them apart by sequencing, but it's a pain.”
“Okay, we'll tag them soon. What's this thing on the floor?”
“That's a contraption Daniel rigged up to make it easier for the cows to stand and walk around of four limbs like their brains want them to. I'm not sure why Alphie isn't wearing hers. Oh, I bet Daniel was cleaning them in the shower here. He should have put then back on her before leaving, though. Here, let me show you where the others are...”
Their voices faded as Elene took them away, and I let myself subside back into the pleasure of the moment again, reassured that they'd have no idea it was me. I was almost there. A little more, and then finally a moo of ecstasy was torn from my lips. The bull seemed to finish around the same time, and when I emerged from my haze I could feel its cum sliding down my thighs. What was wrong with me? I'd just enjoyed being raped by a bull! Well, sort of. Whatever it was, I'd enjoyed it a lot, and I enjoyed it a little more stretched out of the ground with my arms over my head in post-coital lassitude. Even if they came by and saw me here, they'd have no idea it was me, I justified my lounging to myself.
The relaxation of a good fucking so overpowered my anxiety regarding being discovered that I fell fast asleep.

I woke to the sound of Nakhal and Kareema talking to each other in Punjabi as they slipped something onto my hands. Oh shit, it was the hoof gloves.
“Noo!” I said.
Well, no, that's what I meant to say.
What I really said was “Moo!”
They just laughed and held on firmly with their farmer's strength, tightening the hooves around my hands.
“Moo! Mooo!” I said, panicked by my suddenly-discovered inability to speak English. In fact, I sounded exactly like the other caliform tauruses. Exactly. I slumped limply, stunned by this foreseeable but crushing turn of events. I couldn't speak, and now I couldn't write, and I had dried bull cum caking my thighs. Soon, Nakhal and Kareema had my knees in the other hoof attachments, and I thought my transformation was truly complete. Without advanced sequencing, no one could even tell I used to be Daniel Berstrom.
I was almost immediately proven wrong about it being truly complete, however, because Nakhal and Kareema also used a tagger gun to install an ear tag in each of my ears so they wouldn't get confused as to which of us was Alphie. They also put me in a collar that made it more convenient to lock me in place. Then my transformation seemed truly complete.
Meanwhile, the real Alphie had disappeared. Where had she gone while I was being mounted? Surely they'd find her soon and realize that they had an extra cow? How long would I have to live as livestock?

They didn't find her that day, or the next, and so I took Alphie's place in every barnyard respect. The 'food' was boring, and licking my water from the same spout as the other califorms was a little gross, but being mounted was just as good the second time as the first. I could hear my own moos this time, and still couldn't suppress them. I was just so damned horny I couldn't help it. It certainly helped me be patient until they inevitably found Alphie.
Another day passed and still no Alphie. Now Elene came to visit and examine my vagina for pregnancy – normally my job, but since Daniel was missing, Elene had to do it. As was usual, she look some samples of fluid from various parts of my vagina, measured my temperature, and brushed my teeth. It was strangely intimate and impersonal at the same time.
When Elene returned, she gave what sounded like very tense instructions to Nakhal before hurrying away. Nakhal came closer to pass the news on to Kareema, but unfortunately it didn't matter how clearly I could hear them when they were speaking Punjabi. All I knew for sure is that I was moved to a regular stall and instead of being mounted occasionally according to schedule, I was mounted over and over by all the bulls over the course of the next two days. I was floating on a sexual high so consistently I didn't, at that moment, care whether I ever got fixed.
But then I crashed violently to earth: the next time Elene inspected me, she jubilantly announced that I was pregnant and the blastocyst successfully implanted in my womb. My womb, of all the califorms, was the one where a bull's seed could take root, and without any outside intervention? As Elene danced for joy and praised me as a ten billion dollar cow, I had the lowering thought that I was far more successful as livestock than I had ever been at anything else.
After that I was put back in with the other califorms, who somehow knew I was pregnant, because they rubbed themselves against me and nuzzled my vulva as they never had before. Because I wasn't being bred any more I soon began to rely on their affection for release,. I would just spread my legs and rub as best I could with my hoof hands while the others lapped at me until I could finally achieve orgasm. It was an ignoble existence, though it had its compensations.
I had been existing like that for almost a month when Elene made an unexpected visit. “Well, Alphie, we have a problem,” she told me.
“Moo?” I asked.
“Well, we found another caliform taurus wandering around. The girls thought she was Callie because they didn't know she'd left for the mainland, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to let them continue thinking that for a while.”
“Moo,” I said.
“Yes, I'm aware of the implications of your situation, and we can't let that get out, not even to the girls, yet. I've told them I let Daniel go, and I brought 'Callie' back to my quarters. But Alphie... I hope you don't mind me calling you that, because it makes it much easier to keep things straight if I call you by the name on your ear tag. Anyway, Alphie, I think the calf growing inside you is our ticket to fixing this whole mess. The same profit sharing agreement as always, dear, and if you can give me a healthy calf, it's going to make you rich. And with money, I'm sure we'll be able to help you out somehow or other.”
“Moo,” I said with resignation.
“I know. Hang in there. I think you're probably really sexually frustrated with the caliform's elevated libido and no outlet.
“Moo,” I agreed.
“No shame in that. I'll have the girls put you back in the rotation, okay?”
“Moo!” I objected.
“Great, agreed!” She said, smiling as she stood.
I mooed after her, but it made no difference. And besides, I wasn't quite unhappy with it. If I was going to be bored for months, I at least didn't want to be sexually frustrated at the same time. I had enough of that as a teenager.

As it turned out, I wasn't doomed to as much boredom as I expected. Besides my frequent interludes with the bulls, Elene came by almost every day to keep me company and chat about how the research was coming. At first that was also a bit frustrating both because I couldn't say any of the things I wanted to say and because sometimes she would talk to me while I was distracted by the bull, which meant that I'd lost the thread by the time I came back to myself. 
Gradually I just got used to it, listening when it suited me and enjoying my life as a somewhat pampered farm animal when it didn't. When scheduling permitted, she was also often kind enough to loosen the fore-hooves enough that I could get my hands out and use them after she left and thus had plausible deniability. The first time she'd taken them off for me, we'd had every expectation that I could use them to write messages to her and we could have a little conversation. Unfortunately, it seemed like my fingers had lost the trick of making letters. After working at it, I realised that I couldn't actually keep the letters straight in my head when I tried to envision them. I had to copy letters down, then look at them to see what they might be. Elene was at least as fascinated as she was sympathetic, telling me that this was an interesting example of transgenic mosaic processes. I could still read, however, so on a hunch she tried giving me a keyboard. To my shock, I could finally communicate.
“Why can I type but not write?” I typed.
“Because you type whole words and don't have to envision letters, Alphie. You know that scans show that your brain has exactly the same organization as the other caliform tauruses at the gross level. It was bound to have cognitive affects. Skills that you used actively during the change, however, would have been preserved by neural elasticity. When was the last time you wrote something by hand, rather than typing it? Before the changes started, I would bet.”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Well, there's the explanation. I'm sure you could re-learn someday if you want to, but now wouldn't be a good time...”
We had a short conversation to plan my immediate future. Unfortunately, it was far too risky to give me access to a laptop, so Elene decided we wouldn't repeat that part of the experience. I might have objected more if I wasn't entirely dependent on her goodwill and research, not to mention her opposable thumbs.  So, after I'd enjoyed the use of my fingers by myself, I made sure we didn't get caught by re-tightening the lacings as best I could with my teeth.
I didn't see that much of Nakhal, but Kareema came by often to wash me and massage me. I couldn't understand any of the things Nakhal told her or what she sometimes muttered to herself, so I didn't know if she was supposed to be fisting me or if she simply enjoyed my happy mooing noises, but by then I'd lost any sense of shame in that respect. She was a pretty, gentle, and strong girl whose hand I enjoyed having on and in me. I know she got off on it, and that was a good thing as far as I was concerned. She worked very hard and seemed a little lonely. She deserved an outlet as much as I did.
As time passed, my torso swelled. My belly started first with just a little bump, then my bosom began to deepen. It was the latter that was actually the most alarming, because they didn't grow a couple cup sizes over the course of the pregnancy like ordinary mothers' breasts did. No, they grew visibly, week after week. Kareema gave me wonderful rubs and massages with skin oils that helped my skin stretch without pain or angry stretch marks, but they just kept growing, hanging ever more heavily from my chest.
The pregnancy proceeded much faster than an ordinary human or bovine term, which was evidently because the fetus grew at cow fetus rates. Elene assured me that the calf would be born when it was only a little bigger than the average human baby, and the caliform body she'd engineered had a wide birth canal.
Halfway through, Elene started playfully referring to them as my 'udders' and told me she was very pleased with them. I found their sustained growth somewhat alarming, but the bigger they got, the better they felt when Kareema massaged them, and the longer she massaged them. I also thought they looked prettier than they had when they'd been wide and flat. The burgeoning tissue made my tits like a swelling water droplet, becoming ever rounder, and wobbling heavily when I moved. Somewhere along the way I went from apprehension regarding what would happen when I started lactating to pleasurable anticipation. My breasts passed the size of volleyballs and my nipples multiplied in both length and width, but still they didn't produce.
The combined weight of my belly and breasts started to create discomfort. Kareema must have noted how much difficulty I was having in sleeping soundly, so Elene brought in what appeared to be an adjustable massage chair to support me in more positions. It was in that chair that I was first experienced being attached to an industrial milker.
The teat-cups were special clear models that allowed inspection of the milking action, and it was both fascinating and arousing to watch its rhythmic manipulation of my nipples, which had grown enough that the smallest sized cow cups could properly attach and knead my nips. No milk came out in that first session, but I thoroughly enjoyed the sensations.
The 'dry' milking happened once a day for about a week, and by then I was wondering if something was wrong. I don't know if it was Kareema's own idea or instructions from Elene, but she started fisting me during one morning session. I mooed loudly, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of suckling and fucking. She couldn't go very deep because of the calf I was carrying, but the combination of that, the milk machine, and a certain amount of sex starvation took me over the edge for the first time in a while. When I opened my eyes after the shuddering climax, I saw the creamy traces of my first ever let-down inside the bells of the teat cups. I was finally being milked for real.
That first milking I only produced a tiny amount, but the second milking of the day produced a little more, and by the next morning I started to feel like I was producing quite a lot. I had no idea what 'a lot' really was yet. I gave more the next session after that, and yet more the milking after that, until they had to add a midday milking just to keep up with it. And still it increased.
The sensations kept increasing as well, to the point that I was always hovering on the edge of orgasm while being milked. I would wiggle my hips for Kareema to remind her to finish me, and she was good enough to oblige. My continued nipple and breast growth had moved me up a teat cup size, too, which felt even better and allowed more powerful spurts of milk, which I found perversely satisfying. It was actually a good life in many ways, though there was always the worry in the back of my mind about the possibility that Elene wouldn't find a way to reverse my state. For now it was all novel and enjoyable, but I was sure that some day I'd want to become more than a farm animal. Well, I already did, but I was ready to enjoy what was good about it, at least.
Finally I delivered the calf in a process that was uncomfortable, but not nearly as painful or prolonged than I might have expected. I pushed her out, and then she was suckling at my giant teat within minutes. I looked down at her with eyes bathed in oxytocin, and felt a rush of affection for the bizarre hybrid creature I'd birthed. She didn't really look that much like a newborn, being too large and well-developed. When they weighed her, the scale said 6.4kg, almost twice the mass of a regular human baby, but much smaller that the 28kg or so the other califorms had been born. The extra size was necessary and intentional, Elene explained to me later, because she'd foreseen the need for newborns to contend with much bigger nipple sizes. None of that mattered for me at that moment. I just felt a profoundly peaceful happiness.
Elene didn't interfere with my bonding with the calf they named Secunda, but she did observe it quietly.  After almost a week of resting, nursing and producing vastly more milk than Secunda could ever drink, Elene finally elected to change my postpartum routine. I was still given plenty of time with Secunda, but sometimes Kareema or Elene herself would take her for a while so that the bulls could be let back into my stall.
By then it was a relief. I loved spending time with my little calf, but my libido had returned and milking alone wasn't entirely enough for me. It was a relief and a joy to be filled with bull cock again.
Within days tests showed I was pregnant again, but this time they took me and Betie (one of the other caliform tauruses) to a set of gynecologist's chars, where they carefully extracted the blastocyst from my uterus and implanted it in Betie's. The procedure was quick and almost painless, though there were quite a few tests afterwards that were dull.
“It's amazing that she could get pregnant while still nursing!” Nakhan said to Elene while the process was in progress.
“Is it?” Elene asked.
“I've never seen a cow get pregnant until after weening.”
Elene chuckled. “Alphie isn't quite an average cow.”
“It is amazing.”
“Yes it is, isn't it?” Elene said, and caught my eye.
“Moo,” I agreed.
Then my routine resumed. A couple weeks passed and I was pregnant again, but again the blastocyst went to another cow. The process repeated ever couple weeks until all the other caliform tauruses were pregnant alongside me. I was a bit surprised that I was so fertile while nursing, but Elene didn't explain why that might be.
Once all the other caliform tauruses were pregnant, Elene finally went to the New Sunrise board to reveal the project's success. She was very confident that they would laud her work as genius, and and more to the point, lucrative genius. The way she said it implied that she thought their focus on profit was a little sordid, but was willing to go along with it in order to have a better research budget.
It was a very big day when a crowd of mostly men came to visit, one of whom was the famed Dr Kim himself. With him were a bunch of investors in suits, looking very out of place in the casual atmosphere of the farm and even the labs underneath. Elene needed all her height and confidence to corral them, like a bunch of wealthy cats. The proverbial fat cats.
At first they had seemed skeptical or even a bit hostile, but upon seeing the vast amounts of milk being produced from just a single animal, they started listening  more to what Elene was saying to Dr. Kim.
“So Alphie is the only fully fertile specimen so far,” Dr. Kim said thoughtfully, “But you think her genotype is close enough to the others that they can bring her offspring to term. You think Seconda will also prove fertile. Why precisely do you think that?”
“Certain of Alphie's characteristic extrachromosomal genetic anomalies are reproduced and normalized in her germ line, which is also true of Secunda in both somatic and germ line cells. We're not sure with the others yet because we don't want to disturb the fetuses.”
“Normalized in her germ line? That's very strange. Why is Alphie so different from the others?”
“It could just be chance,” Elene said evasively.
“I don't see chance working that way in the process you described, but, then, we don't really understand much of that process anyway, do we?”
“We're very close to the beginning of the program,” Elene pointed out.
“We are. It's fascinating, but I'm afraid I can't support your request to begin a new round of treatments on Alphie until we prove that her offspring are fully fertile. Until then, we need her to remain our source of new caliform tauruses.”
“That makes sense,” Elene admitted, and next time she caught my eye she gave me a little apologetic shrug.

After that my life changed rapidly. Elene's afternoons working in the barn became shorter and less frequent, and as soon as New Sunrise could arrange it, there were a bunch more cows to accept my young. I didn't mind the return to intensive breeding, but I really missed both the mental stimulation of Elene's company and the physical stimulation of Kareema's, now that there were more farm hands and she wasn't the only one taking care of me. None of them were mean to me, but they weren't as palpably affectionate, and I felt like when they did fist me it was merely by rote. Elene still occasionally was able to loosen my hooves, but only once or twice a week at most.
Like the other caliform tauruses, Secunda grew rapidly. It felt longer for me, impatient as I was, but it was still almost miraculous how a 6.4kg baby calf could reach full grown in less than four months. It was a great victory for Elene when Secunda hit her first estrus. Elene's star had not risen as far as she'd hoped in the company due to political developments at the executive level, but she felt certain that a pregnancy from Secunda would strengthen her hand enough to start attempting her corrective treatments on me, starting with a restoration of my vocal cords. My hopes rose with hers, but sometimes I wondered if there was some wishful thinking there. The executives who sometimes came to look at me did seem to have great hopes for the department, but they also seemed anxious and under pressure, which didn't augur well for their willingness to indulge Elene.
At the same time, I happened to overhear a milking machine technician saying that my average milk production approached that of traditional cows while requiring much less feed to maintain it. My 'sister' cows were also developing impressively large breasts, and every sign pointed to my production not being a total fluke. We had to represent an absolute leap in dairy technology, let alone all the other applications of the technology. How could they not acknowledge that in a concrete way?

I got to see the end of this big triumphant meeting between Elene, Dr. Kim, and Mr. Park, New Sunrise's Chairman of the Board. The triumph, unfortunately, was all on Mr. Park's side, who commended Elene on her signature contribution to the company. He insisted, however, on exercising a clause in Elene's contract that allowed him to buy out her employment.
“It's no reflection on the quality of your work, Elene,” Dr. Kim attempted to intercede, “It's really quite astonishing.”
“But, we need someone more focused on monetizing the discovery,” Mr. Park said, taking back the conversation. “I entirely understand why a research scientist like yourself might feel compelled to keep tinkering with Alphie's no-doubt interesting genes and performing behavioral experiments, but that's not a good fit any more. Don't worry, you're still guaranteed your shares, plus the discovery bonuses; we're merely tapping someone else to pick up where you left off.”
“Dr. Kim?” Elene asked, looking outraged and betrayed.
“Not me!” he denied, looking startled.
“Who else could possibly understand what we've done here?”
Dr. Kim looked uncomfortable and motioned back to Mr. Park.
Mr. Park smiled patronizingly and said, “I'm sure you can't object to your own daughter taking over the transgenic research program.”
“Callie?” Elene said, stunned.
“Yes, I know she's very young, but she's already making waves in the field. We want to call her in to run things before anyone else gets to her.”
“Does she know she's taking it from me?” Elene asked tightly.
“No, and I would suggest you not make things awkward by telling her. Unfortunately our decision concerning our parting of ways is irrevocable, regardless of whether Callie agrees to take the position.”
“You can't do this!” Elene said, “You don't understand, Alphie is special. She's not like the other califorms, and she needs my help.”
“Well, you can explain all that to Dr. Kim at any length you chose,” Mr. Park said as his assistants inexorably forced Elene out of the barn, “In the meantime, we need for you to immediately turn over your...”
I didn't hear the rest of what was said because the door closed between us, and I was alone.
Alone, and facing the possibility of remaining so for good.

I was like a zombie for the next few days, almost a dumb animal in fact. I'm not the most optimistic person in the world, but even I, after a black period, began to wonder if there might not still be a way out of this. Callie was a smart girl. Maybe she'd figure it out. Surely some other opportunity to save myself would arrive.
The initial developments weren't helpful, though.
For one thing, the interim department executives started experimenting with giving me lactation drugs and hormones. They weren't the worst thing possible, but they made the experience of being milked a little less pleasurable, and they disrupted my mood. For another, they got new artificial hooves that were considerably more comfortable for long periods on all fours than the prototypes I'd designed. The reason this was bad was because they impeded other things I liked to do, like rubbing my clit, or occasionally managing to get a hand free so I could reacquaint myself with fingers. Once these were on, my arms were very resistant to behaving like anything except cow forelegs. The same was true of the hind leg hooves, though it didn't really matter, since I hadn't walked on my feet since the beginning. I might have been more depressed by the cow print on the elbow gloves and stockings than anything else. It was actually the redesigned collar they put on me that was the worst part, because they often used it to lock me in place much more tightly than Kareema had. With Elene removed, almost every remaining human aspect of my life was lost.
By the time Callie arrived, I was half catatonic from lack of intellectual stimulation and sexual frustration. I'd mostly given up imagining scenarios by which I escaped my situation and instead fantasized about being fucked more often.
Callie's arrival didn't immediately change that, though she did take me off the hormone cocktail they'd had me on and instead had a mechanical bull cock installed to fuck me to orgasm toward the end of milking. Orgasms intensified the final let-down action in my breasts and thus made me more empty. That was sufficient to increase my 'natural' production to the hormone-assisted levels, which made me absurdly happy because it broke up the monotony of my existence a little in a positive way. My greater 'natural' size set me apart from the other caliform tauruses, whose bodies didn't respond so strongly. It also gave me a positive view of Callie, who seemed much more gentle and thoughtful than the handlers I'd had to deal with when Kareema or Nakhal were off shift.
It got slowly better after that, because the more success Callie achieved, the more control over the barn and lab she seemed to get. I also dodged a major bullet I hadn't even known about. While two lab technicians were taking samples they discussed a disagreement between Callie and one of the other husbandry experts over whether they should surgically remove the caliform tauruses' “useless vestigial” lower legs. My relief that Callie would shoot down such an irrevocable step was itself a revelation: apparently hope was sneaking back into my mind.
A few weeks later my hope increased dramatically when Callie came to visit me alone one day.
“What's so special about you, Alphie?” she asked herself aloud. “I know you're different. Your genes are messier than the others, clumpier and with more pseudopolyploidy. And you act differently. You were genuinely sad after they kicked Mama out. And you like to get up on your hind legs, and your foot movement is different. The neurologists tell me your CT scans are not definably different, but I do wonder sometimes. Would you get up on your feet if I changed your artificial hooves to allow it?”
“Moo!” I said, excited.
Callie spun around, surprised by my response to her musings, but just then the mechanical bull had started plunging into me, and seeing that I was now mooing involuntarily she just chuckled and shook off her momentary impression that I comprehended her words. It was frustrating to me later, once I was no longer too distracted to even feel a sense of regret.
Nevertheless, I was fitted for new rear leg attachments with two sets of hooves. When kneeling, it worked as before, but I could also straighten out my legs, making the 'knee' hooves retract and lock. Once the leg was locked into the underlying braces, I could stand on my feet even though I hadn't stood that way in a very long time. Not directly on my feet, though, because they'd put a hoof-like boot at the end of the attachments under the idea that I'd find this more intuitive. After so much time out of practice, I wasn't sure how much of a drawback it was. I was far from a stranger to standing on hooves, at least.
I had enough purchase with my fore hooves on the stall railing to pull myself fully upright, which made me something of a sensation. They were so surprised at how much I insisted on standing that way that they decided to take off the rear leg attachments to see if I could stand on my own. I couldn't. I could make my thighs hold, but the tendons in my ankle had tightened up so much that I couldn't place my feet flat on the ground. Back into the attachments I went, to my mixed consternation and relief. At least I was sort of on my feet.
I was again visited by investors a little while later, this time as they were serving as guides to a group that I could only conclude were high government officials. I was worried by Callie's absence during this visit, and I didn't quite like how they looked at me and my body, but they left without incident and nothing seemed to change for the worse. I got better at walking in the new hooves, and with my huge udders, each of which was bigger than a basketball and very heavy when full of milk. Callie had a new milking bench installed that was like the one I'd used while pregnant, but up higher so I could stand up from it. Kareema was also restored to being the main worker in charge of me, which meant more massages and fisting when I requested it by wiggling my bum. Judgmental people might have accused her of bestiality, but as the beast I certainly had no complaints about her. If anything I felt bad that I wasn't really able to do anything for her directly, though she did seem pleased when I vocalized my enjoyment.
Unfortunately Elene had been incorrect in her prediction that Secunda would be fertile like me, and Callie was under pressure to find out what would make the herd sustainable. She took up residence in the barn and worked long hours, frequently coming out to visit us all. A friend of hers came to visit one day, trying to convince Callie to accompany her age-mates on a trip to San Francisco, but Callie turned it down, saying she couldn't afford to sacrifice an entire week, which was the minimum since the transport plane only shuttled people back and forth to the city once a week. I don't know if she was lonely afterwards, but I did catch her furtively and somewhat sadly masturbating to the sight of Gammie going down on me. The poor girl had no outlet, I thought, and felt very sorry for her. More than that, I wanted to be her outlet. I wasn't sure if it counted as an incestuous thought to be attracted to someone who was basically a biological sister, but I figured that farm animals were crossed with siblings all the time. If I was going to be treated like a farm animal, I shouldn't be held to a human standard.
“Moo,” I said, looking right at her.
She tried to ignore me, so I raised my voice and mooed again. This confused Gammie, so I had to attend to that for a moment, but when that was done, I saw that Callie had walked closer to the railing. I smiled at her and mooed again in what I hoped was an enticing way. I could smell her arousal.
“What is it, Alphie?”
“Moo,” I told her, and pawed the ground next to me.
Callie looked around to see if there were any humans watching, then vaulted the railing. “What is it?”
I was getting close and it was difficult to focus, but I mooed again and pawed the same spot.
“Do you think I'm another caliform and you're inviting me to your little orgy?” she asked, sounding amused, but also interested.
“Moom oo, oo,” I muttered, because Gammie's tongue was amazing. I could feel Cammie's nearness by her sweet lady musk. Suddenly I wanted her so bad that I was able to tear away from poor Gammie and try to embrace Cammie.
Being more than a little clumsy and not really designed for that very human display of affection, I basically ended up toppling onto her. Being a strong young woman, she caught me, but the pressure spurted milk all over her shirt and down her trousers. She very gently prevented me from hitting the ground, having to descend with me a bit, and then we were both laying in the soft artificial “dirt” padding of the  barn floor, looking at each other. That is to say, Callie was facing me while looking down at her soiled clothes and perhaps at my wet mound, swollen with lust. I was looking at Callie's tightly clipped hair and cute little nose.
Then she disentangled herself from me and levered herself up, much to my chagrin.
“What was that about?” she asked me, stripping off her soiled shirt.
“Moo,” I said innocently, then mooed again at the sight of Callie in just a bra and panties. She was so hot and I was so randy that I hoofed it over to her and bumped my head against the wetness between her legs just like the other caliform tauruses sometimes did to me. What can I say? Sometimes a cowgirl ends up imitating what she sees.
Fortunately Callie wasn't upset, just chuckling at me and rubbing my head affectionately. Her hand paused for a moment, and then she pulled down her panties to expose her scented gate. I extended my long tongue and tasted.
“Moooo,” I said, tasting again. One good thing about mooing is that it doesn't really occupy your tongue, so I could just taste and dive and feel the folds within her, mooing in excitement throughout. Her hands sank into my hair and held my face between her legs, and I was very happy to stay there until a spasm of internal muscles and a rush of fluid into my face told me that I'd finished her off.
“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit,” Callie said, astonished at what she'd done, but still letting me lap up the last of her climax. “I guess you like the taste.”
“Moo,” I agreed.
“I suppose it's not really fair to leave you like this,” she said.
I looked at her with my head cocked quizzically. Had she suddenly figured out that I wasn't an ordinary caliform taurus?
She walked to my side and knelt with her hand above my rump. “I guess you're very clean, aren't you?” she asked.
“Moo,” I confirmed.
“And excited,” she said, touching her hand to my vagina.
“Moooooo!” I said, reflexively backing up into her hand, trying to push myself onto it. I wasn't doing a very good job of acting different from the others, but I really wanted Callie's hand inside me.
Happily, she obliged, thrusting her whole fist inside me a few inexpert times before I exploded with my own orgasm. She might not have been an expert in fisting, but the excitement and surprise of it being her hand really drove me wild.
Unfortunately my burgeoning udders had made a major mess, so Callie took me off to the milking machine so she could clean up. It was a rather mundane end for a magical experience, but it couldn't take away the fact that Callie and I had had sex, which made me feel very good.
After that I was obsessed with trying to get Callie to come play with us again. I say 'us' because I made liberal use of my status as livestock to engage in all sorts of sexual contact with the other caliform tauruses who, after all, looked like her except in that they had much larger breasts. I could see that it turned her on, and whenever it was late and Callie seemed to be the only one around, I'd become especially shameless, mooing at her ruthlessly while wiggling my enormous, milk-filled globes.
I could tell she was aroused, but resistant. I thought I'd have to devise a more clever plan, and in the meantime settle for Kareema's more expert but less tantalizingly unobtainable touch.
My opportunity arrived from a very unexpected direction when Kareema decided one day to suckle at my teats directly. I didn't mind at all, but I thought perhaps it wasn't the best idea for her to drink my milk unpasteurized. The small amount of transgenic DNA left in my milk after pasteurization wasn't going to do anything, but raw milk had live cells and other microorganisms in it. In fact, babies' immune systems were strengthened by them, but given the poorly-understood mechanisms of gene transfer that had turned me into Alphie the caliform taurus, it seemed like my live cells might be particularly risky to ingest.
She was out ill the next day, and I feared for her. Would I soon have a new barn-mate, or was it just a coincidence? I wished her well. On the other hand, her absence opened up a hole in my massage schedule, and I knew what to do.
“Moo,” I said plaintively, rubbing the side of my udders with a fore hoof and looking at Callie soulfully, “Moo.”
“What's wrong, Alphie?” Callie asked.
“Moo,” I repeated, wishing I knew where Kareema stored the creams she rubbed our bodies, and especially our breasts. I would have pointed my nose at them and mooed like a bovine Lassie. The best I could do was rub at my breasts like they were uncomfortable.
“Do you need a milking, then?” she asked, not really looking at me. She was actually looking into space thoughtfully. “No, you were milked less than two hours ago. Are you just in estrus and want... wait, you're uncomfortable without Kareema to give you a massage, aren't you?” She laughed, “Oh, Kareema was right after all. That's really funny. Hmm. I wonder where she keeps that crème?”
Callie left for a short time before returning triumphantly with the massage cream, and she climbed into my stall to start applying it.
I mooed happily and pranced a bit as a sort of show of thanks, and then she started to apply it. She began in a very businesslike style, just putting some on her hand and applying it to my skin. Even that felt good, but what I really wanted was for it to be the kind of sexual experience it was with Kareema. I felt like I might be getting my wish when she removed her blouse and trousers so that they wouldn't be soiled, but sadly matters didn't immediately escalate.
This time it was Deltie who helped. She came up behind Callie while she kneeled next to me and actually bit the back of Callie's panties, pulling them down. When Callie turned to fend Deltie off, all I had to do was lean into Callie to push her off balance and onto her back. Then we were upon her. I wasn't lucky enough to reach her cleft first, so I had to content myself with complicating Callie's half-hearted attempts to get back up long enough for her to give in to the moment.
I stood for a moment where my fore hooves bracketed one leg and my hind hooves prevented her from raising the other. Within a few seconds Callie's objections were forgotten and she grabbed Deltie's head much as she had mine before. Jealously, I released her legs and went around to her torso. Her eyes were closed, so she didn't realize I was approaching until I dropped one huge teat directly in her face while lowering myself onto hers. Following Deltie's lead, I yanked up Callie's sport bra and latched onto her exposed nipple like I was trying to feed.
Callie moaned and my nipple slipped past her lips. Then the most wonderful thing happened; she began to suckle herself.
I don't know what it was about her, but Callie's lips pushed me to the edge of climax directly, and over it withing seconds. In my paroxysm, I must have sucked particularly hard myself, because Callie's whole body bucked. Being in the aftershocks myself, I felt like I knew just how she felt, and moved to her other nipple while giving her my other nipple to suck. Callie accepted this arrangement, and we began again.
I'm not sure when I remembered that it wasn't a good idea for Callie to be drinking directly from my teats, but by then she must have gotten a stomach full of my milk. I almost panicked at that moment, but then Callie heard a sound that she interpreted as a farm hand performing chores nearby, so she hopped up and left as I mooed in distress.
This actually turned out to be a wonderful thing because Callie sneaked back later to give us both a wash, this time with the main door between the outside and the barn locked, giving us the leisure to enjoy each other without anxiety. I tried to figure out a way to warn her about the milk, but I couldn't think of anything while distracted by her gorgeous hands on my body. While we cavorted under the warm spray, slick with soap, I wanted to be Callie's personal cow forever.
But, the shower had to end, and the next day Kareema was back on the job, looking tired but otherwise okay. I guessed that she'd had some 24-hour bug that was a pure coincidence. I happily played along the next time she wanted to suckle, wishing it was Callie but being very satisfied with Kareema.
Then Kareema was out again the next day, and when I saw Callie I reassessed whether she was entirely well either. She certainly seemed very serious and thoughtful as well as exhausted in a way that was unlike her. She did not come play with me, and it filled me with so much anxiety I even turned away Secunda when she tried to comfort me, which I regretted later when I was really horny and locked up without anyone to help me to relief for a long restless night.
Kareema returned the next day, but she still seemed under the weather for that and the next several days, disinclined to erotic playtime. I watched her closely, and I imagined I could see small changes here and there over the next several days, but then she got better and I again started to believe it was all coincidence.
Then I realized that she looked better than just not-ill; she looked almost rejuvenated. There seemed to be more spring in her step, her skin tone cleared a little, and her libido seemed to jump higher. She let me eat her out for the first time, and I definitely gave her an orgasm, which made me feel very powerful in a way. At first she shied away from suckling again, but before a week had passed, drunk with post-coital lassitude, she did it again, getting her fill.
Her illness recurred, and I knew it wasn't a coincidence this time, but it was also clearer what it was actually doing. It seemed to be making both her breasts and vulva swell in addition to continuing to renew her skin. It might even have lightened it slightly, but I wasn't sure if that was real or a product of my expectation that she would begin to look more like Callie. Again the illness seemed to clear after a few days, and I could tell that Kareema had make some of the same connections I had. She actually felt openly at her enlarged breasts before deciding to suckle a third time, just a little, and without it being part of sex.
The very next day Kareema brought Nakhal and told her something in Punjabi that I imagine was an explanation of the effects suckling my breasts had had on her physique. Nakhal very tentatively and skeptically tried her own suckle, though she avoided looking me in the eye.
“Actually, that's quite good, isn't it?” she said in English after tasting my milk, and took another drink.
That was that, and off they went. The next time Nakhal came she brought at old-fashioned milk pail and hand-milked me while I mooed ecstatically. It was less comfortable than the high-tech milking machine, but the novel sensation was still wonderfully erotic for me despite her businesslike demeanour.
It was far from the last time one or the other of them hand-milked me, and I strongly suspected that they had made some kind of side business of selling my milk for the effects. It was reckless and dangerous, but at the time I was still a bit on the fence about whether I was a full member of the human race, or just an animal who understood English. If humans wanted to make themselves more like me, then I wasn't inclined to object. The only one I really worried about was Callie.
After several weeks of that, almost everyone who had formerly taken care of me was abruptly removed and a very upset and exhausted-looking Callie took it over personally. It was obvious that she had figured out what was happening. Unlike the others, however, she seemed to have remained ill for an extended time, and her breasts had become much larger. Nothing like mine, but still quite impressive.
Callie's illness and changes lasted a few more weeks, during which I could watch her feverishly researched what had happened because she spent most of her time in the barn with us. She didn't talk to me like Elene had, though, so I had only conjectures as to what she was finding with her tests. I did know that she had begun lactating, because on more than one occasions she had to change clothes when leaking milk seeped through her clothes and the 32H nursing bra she once left hanging where I could see the tag.
Not long after she'd recovered and the changes seemed to have stopped, the officials came to tour again. What's more, they came in tow of someone who must have been a very high-ranking personage, as armed security swept through the building beforehand. The chubby-cheeked leering fellow inspected my body very thoroughly while making comments in Korean to one of his flunkies, who said something to a translator, who said something to Callie, who was standing well off to the side and looking very apprehensive. Callie, the translator and the leader's assistant had a short conversation before the assistant returned to tell the leader something he didn't like very much. The leader's frown focused on Callie as he looked her up and down, but he didn't say anything further before moving on to inspect the other cows.
After that they left, and Callie stayed behind to calm down.
“Moo?” I asked.
She came over to rub my head. “You aren't used to a bunch of visitors like that, are you, Alphie? Well, I told them I wouldn't go along with them trying to tell us what to do here, no matter what they offered me. I just hope Dr. Kim makes them take no for an answer.”
I mooed sympathetically, and she gave me a nice smile and a pat on the side of my boob before she had to leave.

They didn't take no for an answer, though. The following morning workers I didn't recognize delivered a new milking machine that was installed next to my home stall and given its own pumps, milk lines and collection churns. My milk was now being separated from all the others, and refrigerated without being flash pasteurized. It didn't take a Callie-level genius to deduce that my milk was now being sold for its body-changing effects. A very ill-understood effect, I was sure, but then, women had been exposed to worse risks in the name of beauty for hundreds of years. It would no doubt make New Sunrise tremendous profits.
Wardrobers and a camera crew visited at one point, putting me in a sort of party girl's cow costume, though they argued for a long time about every part of my wardrobe in an Asian language I couldn't identify. It wasn't a bad experience, as they were very careful to make sure I was comfortable throughout. I thought they might be trying to decide how human I should look, first applying makeup, then removing it, or trying to position me without the milker and with. In the end they took enough pictures that I couldn't be sure which they'd decided upon, if any.
Callie was still around through all this, but I saw her less time and we hardly ever got to shower together. I think she must have missed our connection as well, because when we did get time together, she was affectionate and warm right away. The season had turned and I could tell it was very cold outside the next time I really had a chance to taste her because of how many layers she had to peel off before she revealed her wonderful chest. She got down to massage me like she had before, and I was in heaven, mooing contentedly to have her hands kneading me so intimately.
My only frustration was that she didn't take off her skirt so I could minister to her needs as she did to mine. Then it occurred to me that maybe I could offer turnabout more perfectly. I turned and put my hooves on her knees and lifted my forequarters up to her. She instinctively leaned back slightly so our heads wouldn't collide, but that was perfect for my purposes because it put me at the perfect angle to free her nipples from her bra.
I was enthralled at the first sip. It was thicker and more hearty than cow milk, and more importantly, it tasted of Callie. She moaned, and I mooed, and soon I had coaxed her onto her back on the padded floor, suckling at her teats and tickling her with my own. I wanted to drive her wild and make her forget all the reasons we shouldn't be doing this.
I succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. Laying supine allowed her skirt to flip up, and when I went to grind my vulva against hers, I discovered that she had a very unexpected part that she hadn't previously, and that part slid right inside me. Compared to a fist or a bull's cock, it wasn't that big, but it was definitely a good-sized member. My huge breasts hung down so that I couldn't see what was going on below chest-level, but I didn't need to see it to bounce on it. My first experience in cowgirl position as a cow girl was a magical, messy experience. Milk droplets flew everywhere from my teats, culminating in a sustained spurt when I came, mooing loudly. Even Callie expressed some milk when she shot her load into me. I enjoyed lapping it up as I rested on her afterwards.
“That wasn't a good way to test if the transgenic cock really works,” Callie told herself afterwards as I continued to lick her “Who knows what will happen when I pass this back to you?”
“Moo,” I said, not caring.
“Of course, this might be a productive test, for all I know. It would serve me right if I ended up changing too. Alphie, your boobs feel great,” she told me, rubbing around their edges.
I expressed my agreement by sucking at their centers, then I walked backward to where I could see her vagina. And proud cock. Now that I could see it on her, I was impressed with her size. Certainly Daniel Berstrom's old prick couldn't have compared on that score, though it was similar otherwise. She even seemed circumcised, though a careful examination with my tongue revealed that she had only the most vestigial foreskin.
“Whoa now,” Callie said, pushing my head away.
“Moo,” I said petulantly.
Callie giggled. “You're so funny, Alphie.”
Her tone was so delightful I brightened up immediately and flopped down beside her, resting a hoof between her legs, my massive tits on her chest, and my head on her shoulder. “Moo.”
“Oh, sweetie,” she said tenderly, and made no move to dislodge me. I was quite content in that moment.
Meanwhile, Callie's mind never stopped. After laying there for awhile, she seemed to become more pensive than relaxed. “The key has to be in there somewhere,” she muttered to herself, then added, “Alphie, sweetie, I have to get up. Sorry girl.”
I let out a reluctant moo as she wigged out from underneath me, and I caught another glimpse of her altered anatomy. It wasn't until then that it occurred to me that while I had had lots of time to acclimate to my new body, she was still in the early days and weeks. And while some changes were comparatively moderate, what had sprouted between her legs was not.
She gave me a quick but affectionate shower during which I restrained myself from tempting her again, and then she was on her way.
It was almost a week later when they discovered that I was pregnant again. I felt like I knew whose it was, and I was so happy, then so scared. What if they disposed of it, since it was an unscheduled insemination? The technicians noticed the genetic anomaly almost immediately and brought it to Callie's attention, who came to inspect the re-tests personally, saying that it might be a critical breakthrough that she implanted on her own. She didn't explain how exactly she implanted it, of course.
The technicians didn't transplant this one, and my second pregnancy went much like my first from my perspective. From the point of view of the ultrasound technicians who were monitoring, however, it was obvious that something was very different this time.  That led to more tests, and close attention by Callie, who seemed bright eyed and excited at first, fading into tired and determined later. This upset me partly because I worried she was pushing herself too hard, and partly because it meant I couldn't entice her to give me a quick fuck in the moments when we were alone.
Then I noticed I was feeling a bit off, myself. I didn't quite feel sick, but I had a strange lassitude that seemed reminiscent of when I'd first become Alphie. I inspected my body for changes as best I could, but I didn't find any that weren't related to my impending pregnancy. I was well into it before I noticed that my breasts were growing again. I had seen the others pregnant often enough to know that this wasn't that unusual, but unlike them, my breasts kept growing.
Callie noticed as well, and seemed to redouble her efforts even as a steady flow of executives visited to check in on her work, seeming inclined to congratulate her. They also came to examine me, and discussed how large I might get with the technicians, who acted as proud as if it was their doing. I was personally conflicted about it. On one hand I'd become so heavy it was difficult to stand on my hind feet and I wondered how my growing breasts might impair my future mobility, but on the other it was a bit of an ego boost to be the star of everything again. Everyone said how good I looked, and marveled at the firmness of my udders, which remained impressively round and firm despite their enormity. I'd surpassed an average cow in milk production, and they said that I might double it in the end.
After a while I decided I was okay with that. If I was going to be a cow for the rest of my life whether I wanted to or not, I may as well be the best cow in the world.

Late one night while I lay on my side in the special bed they'd arranged to accommodate me, a visit from Callie shook me out of that complacency.
“Alphie!” she said quietly.
“Moo?” I responded, waking from a nice dream that faded to another pleasant reality. I was always happy to see her.
“Alphie, do you know my name?”
“Moo,” I said in my most affirmative intonation.
“Is my name Elene?” she asked.
“Moo,” I said negatively.
“Is my name Kareema?”
I mooed negatively again, trying to suppress my excitement.
“Is my name Callie?”
“Moo! Moo!” I mooed.
“I thought so. Okay, I'll see what I can do.”
She gave me a little pat on the head and rushed off, leaving me in turmoil. What had she meant? Clearly she understood I was smarter than the other cows, but what would she do to 'help'? I was curious, excited, and fearful all at once.
Not long after that I delivered a caliform demi-cow named Chrona. Based on Nakhal's comments to a technician, my hips had widened a bit further, making the birth canal even more capacious. That amazed me, since my breasts meant I hadn't gotten a good look at my hips in a long time. Chrona, on the other hand, amazed everyone except me by having a complete set of bull gonads in addition to her cow womb. It was the breakthrough everyone had been waiting for, and Chrona became the new darling of the barn. Since she was nursing at my breast, that meant everyone was visiting us both much of the time, but after a little while they started weaning her because they were afraid that prolonged exposure to my breast milk might impact the development of the male parts they were counting on.
Another round of photographers visited to once again put me in a sort of costume for photography, capturing my giant new assets. I couldn't easily stand up straight, so they put me in a sort of corset made to look like something a Bavarian milk maid might wear, if she had breasts like beach balls and nipples big enough to need the size 'large' teat cups when being milked. The corset had a strong support structure that helped transfer the weight down to my hind hoof attachments, making me feel relatively sprightly, so I could actually shuffle along on two hooves as long as I steadied myself on railings. Held in that position, my chest blocked most of my view below eye level so I had to be extra careful, but it wasn't like I had any long treks to walk. They also stuck imitation cow ears and horns on my head, plus a little tail on my butt. Everyone thought I looked very cute.
I wasn't entirely sure the video of me being milked later was a legitimate part of the photoshoot or a liberty taken for a masturbation aid, but I was never at my most attentive while drifting in the mild buzzing euphoria of being milked.
One bad thing about the period while Chrona was growing up was that I was back to never being mounted by the bulls. I had other outlets, and I always had complicated feelings at best about being bred by bulls, but it was hard to replace the feeling of being totally filled. Somehow it just felt right, no doubt because I had significant bos taurus genes shaping my perceptions.
Another thing that was edging into bad territory was the continued growth of my breasts. The photography session had helped fortify my pride in them, but it also let me know that with a little help, I could still walk on two feet. If they continued growing, then that would change. Even walking on four legs I'd get to the point where my nipples dragged on the ground before much longer. I liked being a sexy bovine marvel, but not an immobile one.
The next time Callie really visited me, she looked excited. She had obviously also experienced more growth and her bra was too small for her, but she was focused more on me.
“Oh dear, you poor thing,” she told me, hefting my heavy udders experimentally, “I've been so close, too.”
“Moo?” I asked.
“I finally have a treatment that I think will give you human vocal chords, Alphie. I can tell you're much smarter than the others, and I think you understand a lot of what I say. Maybe even this. I also found a way to block further changes that I tested on myself and might work for you, too. If I give it to you now, I won't be able to give you your voice. If I wait, then I don't even know how big you're going to get. Your transgenic vectors seem not to have shut off, and they're multiplying the expression of the genes that make your breasts so large and productive. I'm really not sure what I should do with you.”
“Moo,” I said. It was a tough spot.
She hefted her chest. “If it was me, I think I'd prefer the voice. Would you prefer the voice?”
“Moo!” I said, half because I thought I agreed, and half because I was really excited that she was treating me like a person. And half because I enjoyed watching her hands on her breasts.
“Alright, I'll get the changes started. I hope it works fast so I can give you the blocker.”
“Moo,” I said, but then I lost track of what was going on because she took off her bra right in front of me.
“I was going to go use the milker and give you some,” she told me even though I wasn't really capable of paying much attention because she was holding a large, beautiful orb up for me to suckle. “But this is faster and easier, I think.”
I latched onto her turgid nipple and applied a little bit of vacuum, and I was rewarded with her  warm, delicious human milk, still thicker and fattier than my own. She continued talking to me as I suckled, but I didn't really follow anything she was saying. I think maybe I managed to distract her in turn, because she stopped talking in the middle somewhere, but it might also have been because she could tell I wasn't following whatever she was telling me. I didn't care one way or another. At that moment, I didn't even care that her milk was supposed to give me my voice back. All I cared about was the feel of her nipple, the taste of her milk, and the joy of her strong hands supporting my massively sensitive udders.
When I came, I practically doused her with my milk, which forced her to remove he rest of her clothes, in turn giving me access to her gorgeous cock, which had definitely gotten bigger since last I'd seen it. I was fresh from an orgasm but she hadn't had one yet, a fact I was determined to change. I found I could just barely fit her in my mouth, and apparently cows don't have gag reflexes. She said various things to me, but I was so focused on making her explode that I couldn't think. Fortunately she didn't really expect much from me.
She must have been pretty distracted as well, because she didn't notice that she'd hit the gate release. I vaguely knew what was happening because Betie and Gamie arrived to see what we were doing, but I didn't really think of any implications except that maybe it would be even better if I had help giving Callie pleasure.
Betie bumped Callie affectionately and Gamie went right for her vagina with her tongue. The two arriving together toppled Callie and I, fastened face-to-crotch as we were. It wasn't really a problem as Callie caught herself on the padded floor without much difficulty, and her knees had ample cushioning in the form of my breasts. With me in the way, the other cows walked around to rub up against Callie's flanks.
Then the bull arrived. I mooed a warning, but the excited interloper was moving quickly and accurately, so all I really had time to do was hook my fore hooves around the tops of her thighs so that when he slammed into her she wouldn't rip painfully out of my mouth. And slam into her he did. She yelped in surprise, then let out a stream of low curses that sounded torn between anger and ecstasy. Then the sensation of having her cock sucked while being rammed in the cunt finished her off in seconds. While she shuddered, the bull finished his business in her as well, then wandered off while Callie gasped and the rest of us mooed in confusion.
“That wasn't an experiment I'd planned on conducting,” Callie finally said philosophically. “Sorry girls, I need to go take care of some other things.”
I mooed farewell, and she walked carefully away, favoring her abused womb and trying to avoid trailing any dripping bull cum.
Callie disappeared for a while after that, worrying me greatly. Meanwhile, both the size and productivity of my breasts continued to creep upward. Because my nipples lengthened and widened apace, they had to move me to the largest teat cups available to accommodate their girth. I was beginning to feel like my body was attached to my boobs rather than the other way around, but they felt so amazing that it was difficult to be too upset about it. I had thought I enjoyed being milked before, but now not only were the sensations enlarged to go with my breasts, my greater milk capacity and productivity meant that I got to enjoy the sensation for longer stretches.
The next time I saw Callie she was being escorted by a watchful man wearing a suit very similar to the government officials, so she didn't try to talk to me, but her private smile while checking on my developments brightened my outlook and gave me confidence that she had matters well in hand. It did much to make up for the fact that my breasts had progressed from matching a traditional cow's when considered together to exceeding a traditional cow's when considered separately. While I was being milked, I loved it, but later, when I struggled to remain standing with their weight on my chest, I wondered what would happen and how big they'd get.
I'm not sure how much time later it happened, but just after my mechanical fucking at the end of a milking session, I realized that some of my mooing sounds had sounded decidedly girlish. After so long without speaking it was a struggle to even try to speak, but I found that I could definitely make human sounds, if perhaps not words. I couldn't tell why, but I just couldn't quite remember what it was like to speak, though I knew that if I did, I would understand myself immediately.
The next day when Callie visited, I hummed loudly at her, and she came over with wide, pleased eyes. “It's working!” she whispered to me in triumph and relief. “Thank goodness.”
“Unh,” I agreed enthusiastically.
She gave me a wink and stepped away as the watcher approached.

I next saw her that evening when she woke me from my slumber with a light pat on the side of my breast.
“Alphie!”
“Moo?” I said reflexively.
“I don't think we can wait any longer, we have to do this now,” she told me.
“Moo?” I asked groggily.
“Oh dear. I hope I'm not rushing things,” she said more to herself than to me. “I can't turn back now, though. Here.”
She bared one plump breast for me, and that woke me right up. I mooed happily as I suckled, because it's a sound I could easily make with my mouth full, but I knew I should be trying to make human sounds, so she didn't think she was wasting her time and effort. I tried sort of humming.
“Good, good. Drink up, girl,” Callie said encouragingly.
It was a challenge to reach around by breasts, but I felt something hard pressing against my left boob and I wanted to know what it was. It was a huge bull cock. Or rather, it was a cock that would have been unusually thick for a bull, had it been attached to one. Instead, it was attached to Callie, and it was absolutely giant on her. As it grew and hardened, her monster cock had forced its way between my monster breasts to plant its head hotly in the space between the base of my jaw and the beginning of my shoulder. My hoof wasn't flexible enough to touch it, so I shrugged a shoulder in a half-hug.
“Oh, uh, that. I sort of got some bull DNA injected and this happened. I'm not sure what to do about it.”
I had to explore it with the only appendage really available to me, so I unlocked from her breasts and started to run my long tongue around her glans. Having given Callie a blowjob before, I had a very good idea how much she'd grown, and there's no way I could give her another. I could, however, enjoy the feel of her shaft with the sensitive skin of my tits, and map every ridge and bump with my cow's tongue.
“Oh Alphie, you shouldn't do that,” Callie warned, “I haven't really gotten ahold of...” she gasped and trailed off as I squashed her prick more tightly between my boobs to steady it for my oral assault. “Alphie, we should at least wait until you can...” she tried again, but I wasn't really listening. I was a cow in peak estrus, and she had the tool to scratch my itch.
Callie pulled away, and I couldn't keep my balance. Fortunately I was already not standing all the way up, so I just sort of sat down and settled onto my back, bringing my hind hooves up behind Callie's legs to steady myself. My breasts had become so heavy that Callie couldn't easily counterbalance my movement, which meant that she fell right onto me and my two milky cushions. Her penis was almost in the right spot enter me, and I gave it a bit of a squeeze with my thighs.
“Oh, fuck it, then,” Callie said, speaking in a muffled tone from the canyon between boobs.
Callie was as thick around as any fist, but I was ready and she had her body weight behind her, helping to part my pussy lips. It was a tight fit, but the discomfort was much less than my excitement at getting the first really good fucking in a long time, and from my favourite bull, so to speak.
She slid in slowly, her eyes squeezing shut as she focused on it. I mooed happily, wishing I could say something more humanly encouraging, but going for what came naturally in the moment.
“I guess that's as far as I can go,” she said after she'd worked herself a fair ways in. I couldn't see my vagina because my mounds were in the way, but I had to guess she was still 20cm or more from fitting it all in me. Well, I wanted it all, so I whined a little, and instead of going deeper, she pulled out. To show her what I wanted, I rolled over onto my hooves and walked over to my milking bench to use it as a support. Then I flopped backward on it and wiggled by way up until I was more or less fully supported, with my legs wide open toward Callie.
“Well. That's... you're a smart girl, Alphie,” Callie said and followed me to the bench. “I hope you really like those giant tits, though, because if we make another baby, there won't be much I can do about them.” As she talked, she illustrated by grabbing ahold of my erect nipples as if they were two joysticks. Which they were, for me.
The implications of her words only filtered through to me a little belatedly. She could still do something about my breasts? I had thought that ship already sailed. But then, at the moment, with Callie's hands gripping my nipples and my huge, bouncy milk factories wobbling wonderfully as Callie thrust deeper and deeper on each stroke, I couldn't recall exactly why I had thought there was anything wrong with them. They were beautiful and felt great.
And then I felt Callie's thighs begin to slap against my buttocks, and I stopped thinking about that at all. I just watched tit flesh surge back and forth, or up and down when I could catch Callie's heaving chest when my cleavage opened up enough to catch glimpses through the canyon. And then there was a sort of bulging sensation in the base of her cock, moving swiftly to the tip, then exploding inside my vagina. It was like a garden hose in there. I don't know where it all came from, because even after she pulled out, she was still sending large arcs of cum all over, and it felt like a small flood of her semen issued from my vagina to spill down my cheeks and onto the floor.
“Shhh!” she told me, laughing, and I realized I'd been mooing and squeaking loudly, alternating between my bass bovine voice and a soprano girl's voice.
“Mooroo,” I said apologetically.
“Oh dear,” Callie said, gasping and laughing. “I do how I didn't jump the gun. We rally must clean up post haste.”
She took care of it, washing me off first before hooking me back into the milking machine, then quickly cleaning up the rest of the mixed milk and cum.

Callie avoided me after that, until it was confirmed that I was indeed pregnant again. Once she decided that it hardly mattered if we had sex, we started having trysts any time she could fit it in. She let me in on the secret: she'd set the spy who'd been watching her up with Nakhal, whose milk-augmented body proved more enticing than following Callie around in the middle of the night. She explained to me that both her milk and, now, her baby, would make my cells far more resistant to future transgenic tampering of the kind I'd been undergoing, so I'd soon reach my truly final form.
By then my growth had already slowed, and soon enough it had stopped. They were big enough that I couldn't stand on two legs for more than a few seconds at a time, but at least they stopped before they'd become so heavy I couldn't stand at all.
I was determined to speak, though, and I started babbling as much as I could between feedings. My lips felt a bit too big, my tongue seemed too long, my vocal chords easily got raw, and sometimes I reverted to moos almost without noticing, but I did make progress, and the farm hands' amusement at my attempts to talk shaded into disquiet as I began to say things that were nearly intelligible. By long habituation, I was still acting like livestock, but I was starting to sound like something else.

A few days later Callie arrived with the watcher and several company executives at her back. She was dressed in a fitted business blazer and pencil skirt ensemble that didn't hide her chest so much as make it look more proportional, and her hair was swept into a professional-looking updo. Between her natural stature, her moderate heels and the additional height added by her coif, she was the tallest and most physically impressive person in the room.
“Hello Alphie,” Callie said, and I knew it was my moment.
“Etho Cathie,” I lisped, and raised one fore-hoof in answering greeting. A ripple of shock ran through the executives, and even Callie looked a little surprised and relieved, as though it was more than she'd dared expect. I tended to moo more during our midnight liaisons, though I'd managed a 'Thuck meoo' at least once.
“How are you feeling today?” she asked, slowly and clearly.
“Gub,” I said with a smile, but I could see their skepticism that I was really responding to Callie's question. I added, “Ib mag loth of milg thogay,” and patted one enormous udder with the same hoof.
That startled mutters from the executives and their assistants in various languages.
“You understand what we're saying?” Dr. Kim asked
“Ob gorth,” I said, and nodded.
“Remarkable,” he said, and he turned to the other executives. “Alphie is clearly sentient.”
“Let's not be so hasty, Dr. Kim,”  Mr. Park said unhappily. “If that were true, then,”
“It is true, Mr. Park,” Callie cut in.
“Miss,” Mr. Park began to respond angrily, but Dr. Kim interrupted with a raised voice.
“With all due respect, Mr. Park!” He lowered his voice, “This is indisputable evidence, and I remind you that it is part of the charter of the company that we will tolerate no abrogation of the rights of sentient beings.”
“We're going to lose our diplomatic cover,” Mr. Park objected.
“Then we must speak for ourselves. Or maybe even Alphie will speak for us, if we respect her rights as a person and treat her as we would a valued employee.” He turned to look at me.
“Would you be willing to sign a contract as an employee of New Sunrise?”
I wasn't sure how I should answer that, so I looked at Callie, who nodded slightly. I turned to Dr. Kim. “Yeth.”
“She doesn't really understand that question,” one of the other executives said with naked hostility.
“Neither would a human child,” Dr. Kim countered, “But we have some reason to expect that Alphie might be something of the prodigy that Callie is, don't we?”
Callie nodded and shrugged. “It's hard to know for sure, but she's obviously capable of learning rapidly.” She smiled reassuringly at me, and I smiled back, staring at her lips. And the shape of her body.
“How will she even understand the contract?” the executive persisted, then nodded at his assistant. “Jeong Hae, you have your contract on you, don't you?”
“I don't see the relevance of this,” Callie tried to intervene, but Jeong Hae had already fetched the paper out and presented it.
“Alphie, tell me one word on this page,” he challenged me.
I looked at it, but all I could think about was comparing Callie's body to Jeong Hae's. They had interrupted my milking before I the machine could finish me and I was having a lot of trouble thinking. “Ib neeg thu thinith,” I told Jeong Hae, patting my breasts again.
“That doesn't matter,” Dr. Kim interceded again, pushing the paper down. “We can have it read and explained to her at whatever pace she needs.”
“This is a very dangerous path, Dr. Kim,” Mr. Park said warningly.
“They're all dangerous, but they're not all acceptable to me. I will not budge this time,” Dr. Kim said.
I guess Mr. Park had to think about that for a minute because there was a silence, but I can't say exactly how the rest of the conversation went because I was poking my hoof suggestively at the milker controls, trying to convince Callie to turn it back on.
She did motion for one of the workers to come do so while shepherding the group out, which was good because I still mooed during the climax. It was nevertheless especially sweet because even if I was always going to be stuck as a cow, it looked like I was also going to get to be a person again. And being a cow wasn't bad at all, when it felt so good.

Epilogue

I never did entirely recover the ability to speak normally. My tongue was too long, my lips where too plump, and I couldn't help but moo sometimes when surprised or excited. I was mostly able to get my point across in interviews, in which I quite truthfully said that I and my sisters were all well treated and enjoyed our lives. I also explained that I had a freak mutation that gave me a 'half-human' mind unlike my sisters, who were clever, but basically just regular cows who didn't understand or speak English. This was apparently a critical legal point for New Sunrise, and as their efforts to legally sell renowned and highly sought-after product of the herd's breasts prospered, they became increasingly accommodating of any request Callie or I made.
For example, New Sunrise engineers and wardrobers provided me with special clothes that almost amounted to wearing a lightweight exoskeleton, which allowed me to get around on two feet when necessary, though not very quickly. I was really more comfortable remaining naked and on all fours most of the time, but if I needed to meet with people, walking into the room clothed and on two feet really was a must.
Chrona reached sexual maturity and took over impregnation duties from the bulls because she could inseminate directly. Bearing Chrona's calves seemed to push the other caliform tauruses milk production even higher, though they never really approached mine. I tried interacting with Chrona to see if she had inherited human-level intelligence from Callie or I, but all I got for my attention was her impressive cock in my cunt. It wasn't nearly as big as Callie's, but still a nice experience withal. Nevertheless, I didn't take it as indicative of a developed intellect.
Elene returned, and because I really didn't want her to tell Callie about Daniel, I pretended to have forgotten about that previous life, which she seemed to think was a likely and convenient outcome, though she clearly felt a little sorry for me. I wasn't sorry for me, though; I was now technically rich, world-famous, and got banged every night by the smartest, hottest woman in the world. I decided I wouldn't tell Elene that last part.
Not that it was entirely in my hands. Callie only fit in my vagina, but Chrona's more reasonably-sized penis could fill other holes, a capability I started to explore somewhat by accident, then with intent. Instead of getting upset when she caught us at it, Callie understood that 'cows will be cows' and took my invitation to join in. I discovered I really loved being stuffed and getting stuffed. Thus it became an occasional treat for Callie to share me with Chrona. That was how, one night about a month after Elene had returned, she walked in on her daughter being one end of a double-team.
“Callie!” she said sharply.
“Mom!” Callie squawked, alarmed.
“Moo!” I complained when Callie suddenly stopped fucking me.
“What are you doing with those animals!”
“Alphie isn't an animal!” Callie shot back hotly, the amended. “Well, not just an animal.”
“Alphie is half animal, and half your sister, Callie,” Elene lectured in a lower tone. “And she appears to be involved with Chrona, who is your calf. I could hardly believe you used your own material to create Chrona, and now I begin to suspect just how you did it!”
“Moo!” I shot back at her defiantly, because that's all I could say with Chrona's cock filling my mouth.
“Who are you to say it's wrong? Besides, Alphie likes it. Don't you, Alphie?”
I mooed agreement.
“Bloody hell, how did that happen?!” Elene said, noting Callie's giant cock, still part buried in me.
“Some bull DNA,” Callie said shortly. “It was a bit of an accident.”
“You're too reckless daughter,” Elene resumed lecturing.
“Oh, and you were so careful, mom! You were the one who left T7A reagent in the refrigerator in an improperly marked container, and it killed your research assistant! Don't think I don't know who that superchromosomal material came from!”
“It wasn't... entirely fatal,” Elene said defensively.
“It may as well have been. This is about all the Daniel Berstrom left in the world,” Callie said, motioning down at her cock.
Elene looked at me and away. “Indeed. Well, I suppose it's your own business. Between you and Alphie. And Chrona.”
“Right. Now, will you let us finish our business?” Callie crossed her arms under her beautiful, bountiful breasts.
“Fine. Just... lock the door or something next time,” Elene said before retreating.
Callie watched her out, then resumed stroking. “She's going to flip her lid when she finds out that you're carrying my baby. A human baby, I mean.”
“Our lithle girl,” I lisped happily, having finished Chrona already.
“Yes, our little girl,” she said, patting my belly.

Curiosity got us into the odd situation of raising a quite curious family in an early 20th century farmhouse afloat in the midst of the Pacific Ocean, but in the end I wouldn't change a thing.

FIN

FOF, the author, can be reached at PairAFeelya@gmail.com