"Cowsplay" short story

Lesse here. This includes strange costumes, rubber cowgirls (furry? Aiee! Well, perhaps a little), inflation, a touch of rubber, some vague allusions to transformation and perhaps a hint of transgender for spice, although that’s up to the viewer. So if none of that’s interesting, ta! Not sure if it really fits the overall themes for BodyInflation.org, so I've placed it here for a quick once over by the public. If consensus is a no go, it gets yanked.

I've been pretty sloppy for a long time now when it comes to writing. Any excuse is valid when it comes to not sitting down and starting. Something –anything- on tv or online? Good enough! I'm making an attempt to fix this by working on speed; the ability to sit down and slop an idea onto the keyboard for later revision into coherency. This does take a bit of a toll on the readability, I suspect. I'd like to run something past the few readers amongst those watching here and see if this makes any sense whatsoever.

Anyways! This is a very very veeeery rough first draft POS I wrote up when someone sorta/kinda asked for some specific ideas as part of a stories n' text/art trade with them. In retrospect I tried to pack too many concepts into a very tiny space; such as is it the suit or the wearer inflating, is their mind being altered, are they who they think they are or someone else entirely. Many of these will lack detail to the reader, if they’re recognizable at all.

....

Ok, this is pretty much complete hack writing crap. My goal was to keep things under an hour of effort, tops. Nothing even in the way of spell checking! I hope, once properly shamed by knowing this is online, to come back and actually fix it, but presently refuse to look for fear that it'll hurt my brain. On with the pain!

Their comments leading up to my insanity were
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Rubber cowgirls = Extremely hot. Just messing around with a floaty concept. We've discussed this idea before; but I love the dairy cow girl where her speech becomes impeded to cute cow speak, and just wants to be milked and loved. Would like to fine tune possible shapes. Also: Errect air taught nipples & udders = smexy.
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Considering my varied levels of weirdness, who am I to argue. So! My rebuttal.

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She really didn't remember much. Actually that was incorrect. She remembered quite a bit. Just... not who she was. That was a maddening gap in her thoughts. Name, history, personality. It was all a nebulous haze. If pressed on the matter she would admit to not even being positive of her exact gender... before. Every furious attempt at cognition and recollection came up the same; nothing past twenty or thirty minutes ago.

The room was hers, definitely. That much she could recall. Glancing around she found herself bemused to be in the middle of what was clearly the detritus of her own life, the bits and pieces of what was clearly a very spacious and comfortable bedroom; desk here, bed there, half open closet revealing a selection of relatively androgynous apparel. Each item, on its own, recognizable as hers. That hairbrush, those books, she could recollect where they were purchased, even making use of them. But every attempt to make a connection beyond that? The mental fuzz.

And then there was the box. It sat upon the rumpled covers of the bed, next to a discarded pair of jeans and a rather nondescript blue tshirt. There was no underwear about, and she made a quick mental note to check the nearby dresser. Perhaps that would shed some light on her, or whomever. But... the box. Some sort of postal delivery, she mused, to judge from the packaging and the return label on the side. Of course the "to" field had been torn off, much to her frustration.

Not that the box was central to her difficulties. No, it was merely the messenger, the delivery route of her present predicament. Holding up one hand she sighed, contemplating the gloss and shine of her palm as she flexed her fingers. A slight twist to the left brought the mirror affixed to the securely locked bedroom door into view and she glumly assessed her appearance yet again.

The assumption that she was looking into a funhouse mirror could be forgiven, since at first glance the wildly outlandish figure portrayed in the silvered surface would be right at home in a carnival atmosphere. First appearances gave the impression of nudity, but the almost reflective 'skin' gave the lie to that, clearly being a layer over her svelte figure. Black and white irregular patches alternated across her figure, a rosy pink overlaying her groin and the buds of her breasts, much to her initial chagrin. The material traveled across both hands, snugly outlining her fingers to their black tips, as well as down to her toes, which seemed to be encased in snug booties. The appearance of being her skin came both from it's extreme tightness, so much so that she could barely pull the substance away from her body before it snapped back elastically, as well as the fact that it continued on right up her neck, covering her face in what could either be the most delicate mask ever made or some truly remarkable makeup. Even her eyelids were coated, she'd discovered on closer examination in the mirror, and her hair, of the same material and colored its own outrageous plastic hue, made rustling susurrations of latex sound as she ran her fingers though it again. Almost of their own accord her hands stole up to the set of small horns adorning the top of her head, one dropping down behind her to tug at the base of the tail affixed firmly to her back.

"Cow..." she murmured, startling slightly at her voice. It sounded... not right. Nothing unusual, a husky contralto. Just... not hers. But it was right. She was, well... a cow. Possessed of a very fit body, perhaps in her early twenties and remarkably fit and rather beautiful, if it weren’t for whatever she was encased in. But was it her? She did not know.

For the first time since she became aware of the room, something changed. The background noise seemed different. She tilted her head, listening intently. There. Perhaps it was someone else in the house? No, not quite that. Her hands, still rubbing at the horns and her tailbase, suddenly stopped as her fingers encountered something new. Turning, she presented her rather impressive behind to the mirror, shaking it a bit to see what specifically was going on back there. "Whuh?" she managed, staring in puzzlement. Her tail, previously a thin whip, now looked like some sort of strange party favor attached to her rump, almost tubular and stiff in its appearance. A bubble had grown at its tip, spreading up its length until it had slipped underneath her fingers. Now she knew what that sound was. It was the hissing expansion of her cowlike wisp of an appendage.

Curiously she squeezed, tugging lightly to try and determine how this was happening. Almost immediately it became apparent this was not the wisest course of action, as a sudden sense of tightness invaded her rump at her motions, and the sound, earlier so indistinct, became a clear hissing, as if a leak had been sprung in a tire. But this was no loss of gas, and her eyes widened as the twin hemispheres of her rump bulged outwards, tail jutting from between them. The fabric clenched against her ass, invading every crevice as she gasped.

"What the hell... muh." Her yelp of befuddlement died off as she tried to remember what she had intended to say. The words had vanished like a popping soap bubble off of the tip of her tongue. "What's.... muh!" Again that damnable fuzz. "My voic... muh. Muh! Mooo!" As the bovine exclamation burst forth she clapped both hands over her mouth, ignoring her expanding derriere. "Moo, can't talk! Moo?" Words and deed didn't quite match, and she found herself experimenting furiously for a few moments. "Me moo! Me cow moo! Mooo, moo moooooo! Nuuughmooo!" She found herself dancing in frustration, attempting to enunciate.

Speech distractions aside, she suddenly found her attention brought back to what was going on down below in a very direct manner. The hissing had, if anything, increased in volume both audibly and apparently volume wise. Her rump, once quite sleek, now domed out like twin basketballs, and the sensation of tightness was creeping through her groin. She slapped both hands on her crotch with a startled "moo?" as the suit fwomped out there, forcing her legs apart slightly. Whatever she was wearing was definitely double layered, since it pressed into and against her with taut insistence, exploring every crevice and cranny. Or, was it her.... expanding? It felt so very sensitive, so very her as her hands rubbed across the increasing swell of her fake rubber sex. Things felt weird down there, and as she glanced down her face burned with sudden embarrassment. It was an udder! A pink rubber balloon udder, cute little nipples popping out as she swelled. "Oh mooooo," she moaned, pawing at herself.

She stared down at herself helplessly as her legs now got into the act as well, thighs growing with undeniable pressure. It flushed through her body with remarkable speed, and before she could really consider a plan on how to stop this her knees began to stiffen, calves bulging up as well. Calves for a cow, she thought somewhat hysterically, a tear slipping out and sliding down her polished cheek. "Moo, what's happening to moo!"

Holding up her hands, she could only watch as her arms puffed outward as well, her athletic appearance starting to fade as her figure began to resemble a collection of balloons perversely crushed together. The breasts were slow to start, but when they began to round out off of her chest they quickly caught up with her udder. She moaned at the almost painful tingle as her nipples expanded airily, corking up with audible pops. The mirror seemed a funhouse resident in truth, showing the warping of her body to her in uncompromising clarity as she grew, expanded, inflated like some bizarre toy.

Clutching at her now staggering bustline she whimpered as the bulge of her arms and cleavage threatened to overwhelm her chin. It was getting hard to move, and the sensation of her neck expanding, holding her head in a slowly increasing vice, was chilling. She felt enveloped, body pressed and strained in impossible ways. Leaning forward, she attempted to peer around her breasts, but it was an impossible task, made worse by the burgeoning sensations of her body. With a flicker of horror she realized this was, in some way, remarkably stimulating. "What the moo? I'm... I'm... moo?!" She found herself suddenly wanting to reach down, reach down and squeeze that swollen taut udder. Hands drifted down, only to stop several inches short. "Moo?" She was too big, she realized. Between the growth of her arms and body, she could no longer reach herself. Even getting fingers to the turgid air pumped nipples on her breasts proved to be impossible. "Oooh... oh moo!"

Fortunately the room was spacious enough to encompass her now enormous figure, vast breasts adorning her swollen shape, legs thrust out tightly as she wobbled, waving her arms in an attempt to relieve the pressure coursing through her. If only she could just rub against something, perhaps relieve some of that strain. But this too, proved to be beyond her capacity as she tried to walk forward, to perhaps bump into the wall with her now quivering nipples. Slowly, ever so slowly, the pressure under her arms and along her groin had grown and now, she started to float. "Mooooeep!" she got out as her body rocked forwards, hands flailing wildly as she twisted in the air. This was followed by her rotation backwards, like some absurd weeble wobble, oscillating in midair. "MoooOOoooooooOOOOoooooOOOOoooo," she managed as her motions started to stabilize, more from her complete and utter inability to move than anything else. Now titanic, the cowgirl balloon shivered a bit, captive by nothing more than air as she slowly rose higher and higher.

"Somemooooone! Fucking stmooopid voice!" she desperately shouted. "Milk moo, please! Oh god, the pressure! Milk moo, milk mooo!" She did not know if it was her or the suit anymore, and did not care. Her mind was a haze of stimulation, and she would have done anything, _anything_ to have someone squeeze and caress her and relieve that bone deep need to release. Helplessly she cried out again "Milk mooooo!" from her state of delirium, when she suddenly fell silent.

The lock on the door clicked, the handle starting to turn.