low

Athlete (male or female, but I'd personally prefer male) acquires and uses experimental bovine growth hormone. Initially they're very successful at adding lots of mass, but later side effects include growing a tail, horns, and cow ears, plus huge genitals (for a guy) and four massive lactating breasts (for a female). In an effort to avoid bad publicity and legal repercussions, the company the hormones were stolen from abducts the victim and forces their transformation to progress in order to serve either as a stud or a milk cow.

Part I

Jake sat, staring at the vials, running over the whole story in his head. All the signs pointed to “bad idea”, but the thought of finally getting the leg up on Kyle and his bitchy girlfriend Sam was so tempting. The quintessential quarterback/cheerleader couple eclipsed him and his own girlfriend, Dana, constantly. Not out of spite, it’s just how popularity worked. Part of it Dana’s family being farmers, and Sam’s being lawyers. Part of it was Kyle’s meteoric rise on the football team, and Jake’s slow burn. Jake couldn’t decide: was using the hormones cheating? If it was, did that make Kyle being born with a broader frame and 4 extra inches cheating too? Despite his doubts, Dana promised to help him get the xrBGH, and she came through. It was no secret how much he envied Kyle’s ability to pack on muscle; how he coveted Kyle’s broad, thick chest and shadows of abs that he saw so often in the locker room. The veins crisscrossing his shoulders and arms, his strong pillars that propelled him across the field… Jake tried to excise the burning jealousy, but instead it was only fueled by memories of Dana looking Kyle over.

Dana wouldn’t admit it, but she had a thing for just that kind of beef, but she couldn’t stand the pompous, overbearing personality that came with it. Her devious plan was coming together perfectly. Jake had always been a bit on the shorter and skinnier side, but she’d had feelings for him since 4th grade. The cute face, the long, brown hair... Even if she wanted more in a man, she was convinced that Jake would be able to close that gap, given enough time, encouragement, and, every now and again, some special help from her folk’s farm supplies. Even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself, she had a burning curiosity about being strong like Jake and Kyle.

Jake’s fiery memories were interrupted by guilt of his own transgressions. Dana had caught him ogling Sam’s sizable rack on more than one occasion. If it wouldn’t sink his sports career, he’d be tempted to complain to the sports department how much of a distraction her bouncing tits were while he was trying to play.

Dana knocked on the door. “Yeah?” Jake responded. She swung the door to their bedroom open. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re confused by it.” She sat next to him on the bed.“You stick the needle in the vial, pull some out, stick it in your ass, and squeeze the plunger.” “I know what to do, I just don’t know if I want to,” he retorted. “Would it help if I did it? I’ve done it once or twice,” she prodded with sarcasm. Before he could object, she’d already filled the syringe. “Come on, get those shorts off, hot stuff.” He pulled down his pants and underwear. She smacked his ass. He stood stunned for a second. “What was that for?” he asked indignantly. “I bet you didn’t even notice the shot.” “You already did it?” “I told you, I’ve done this once or twice.” She showed him the empty syringe. “Your family slaps your cows?” he asked in slight disbelief. “No, just our partners,” she said slyly. “Hey, you’ve gotta hit the gym. It’s almost 3:00.” “Yeah, okay. You tagging along today?” “No, Ma wants some help at the farm. One of the bigger tanks has a leak, and she doesn’t want to pay the sheet metal guys to fix it.” “Remind me never to buy anything from your farm ever,” Jake said with a laugh. “I wouldn’t let you if you tried,” Dana smiled. The couple shared a quick kiss before parting ways.

Part II

Jake was a regular at the campus gym, like all the athletes. His preference was for early afternoon sessions, trying to be entirely done before the 5:00PM rush. More importantly, it kept him from being compared to Kyle, who usually came in at about half past 5. Something in the shot had given him a tremendous burst of energy. Instead of his usual routine, he decided to wing it, and put some work in across his whole body. First on the menu: Chest. He put 135lbs on the barbell and pulled himself under it. His chest wasn’t anything special for someone who had worked out for a few years. A bit of mass, a bit of definition, but it was nowhere near where he’d like. 135 meant only one of the large weights on each side of the bar. It was a fair challenge for normal folks, but he wasn’t competing against normal people. He brought the bar off the catches with no particular trouble. He pumped the bar up. “One,” he thought. “Two.” “Three.” “Four.” His vision was spotted by the bright lights above him. Something reminded him of how embarrassed he was when the football team had their first group workout. Kyle warmed up with twice the weight he used. He could only imagine Kyle’s working weight was even more impressive. “Twenty. Wait. Twenty?!” Kyle was confused. He hadn’t been able to put up 135lbs for 20 reps EVER. In fact, he was particularly excited when he managed to hit 9 two sets in a row. He was a bit worried. He didn’t feel like he had been doing his working weight. He looked over at the weights to make sure he had put on the 45lbs plates. Much to his surprise, he had. With a certain disbelief, he sat back down under the bar. Another twenty easily went by. He couldn’t believe it. He had been stuck on 135lbs for the better part of a year.

Did it have to do with the injection?

“There’s no way. Drugs don’t act that fast.” He put the thought out of his mind, and added some weight. After many trials, he sat below over 300lbs. Finally, he found a weight that was truly challenging to him. He managed 12 reps, then 10, then 9. He felt his chest burning like never before. Putting a hand to it, he was utterly horrified to feel his hand meet his chest where no such chest should be. It had pushed out multiple inches over the span of an hour. He fumbled with his pocket trying to find his phone. He had to call Dana. In the middle of his panic, he paused. A phrase had popped in to his head:

“Never look a gift horse in the mouth.”

He locked his phone and slid it back in to his pocket. Looking around, nobody seemed to be paying him any attention. He certainly felt he had earned the obscenely massive chest and impressive bench weight after all the work he’d put in for the past few years, but it still didn’t sit right that he’d get it paid back all at once... He pressed onward. He loaded the arm curl machine with 55lbs. Again, his standard weight for the exercise. In ten minutes, he was pulling 195lbs. This time, he paid much more attention to his arms as he worked them. Each rep, they seemed to flex and bulge more than the last. If he wasn’t so concerned by the development, he’d be turned on. Fear was giving way to excitement. He loaded some weight on to the ab crunch machine. His gut had always carried a bit of chub, much to his dismay. He watched in abject amazement as he saw actual muscle pushing out beneath his pecs, instead of the usual slight rolls. First it was a vague bulge, then a clear line between the abs, and then the individual abs came in to focus. He got carried away, adding weight and crunching it, adding more, crunching more. His 8-pack abs pushed out like fists adorning his gut. His obliques had joined and bulged to support them.

Shoulders. He sat under the overhead press machine. He didn’t bother figuring out how much he could handle, and set the machine to the max. It was a struggle at first, but he was quickly pushing 250lbs it like was 50. His shoulders had clear splits where the different muscles joined, bulging out and straining his shirt.

Legs. He didn’t stop until he had quads, calves and an ass that filled his pants to the point of splitting seams.

Back. His shirt was a lost cause, pulled apart by his increasingly wide, thick lats. All the various accessory muscles looked like a mountain range under the stressed fabric.

This was too much. He jogged back to his apartment, unintentionally adding a half dozen inches to his legs’ girth.

He slammed the door behind him, leaving a hand-shaped indentation where he had gripped too tightly. On the counter was a note from Dana.

“Probably going to stay the night at the farm. Have fun. Don’t eat the soup in the fridge, I’m saving it. <3 Dana”

Part III

Jake came to sprawled across his bed, his expansive build covering an inhuman portion of the Queen-sized bed. A sharp headache accosted him from both his temples. Shock overtook him as he realized the gym session and the impossible muscle mass were not figments of his imagination. He pushed himself off the bed and lumbered to the bathroom. He couldn’t fit through the door heading straight on, so he turned to the side and slid in as best he could. It was a tight fit between his bulging pecs and rippling back, but he managed. Looking back in the mirror was a monster. His traps had crept up to his ears, and his arms were thicker than his waist had been earlier in the day. His thighs looked like tree trunks. Looking over himself, he couldn’t help but get a bit turned on. He flexed his abs, watching the bulges spring to life. He rubbed his temples trying to ease the dull ache. There was something off about them, but he had more pressing matters than a sore head. Experimenting, he struck a pose. Moving on, he tried every pose he remembered, not a single one failed to show off his immensity. He saved his favorite for last: the double bicep pose. Standing in front of the mirror, he brought his titanic arms up. For a moment, he just played with his forearms. He rolled his wrists, watching all the different sinews flex and bulge under the skin. Breaking the spell, he balled up his fists, and flexed his arms as hard as he could.

“Jesus.” He thought.

His biceps were almost as big as his head. He could see the split beginning to form between the different sections of the muscle. Looking in the mirror, he watched the thick vein throb across his towering peaks. He held the pose for a few seconds before relaxing and trying it again. This time, his biceps WERE as big as his head. The vein throbbed prominently again, and the split deepened across his arms. He flexed even harder, eyes glued to the mirror. He knew it. His arms were growing even as he watched. The veins pulsed as branches continued to spread across the muscles decorating his arms. He flexed and bounced his pecs. They too grew in front of his eyes.

There was no denying it now: he was unabashedly turned on. His modest member clearly tenting his pants, he tried to squeeze out of the bathroom, only there was a problem: his flex session had pushed his pecs too far out to come back in as he had. Pausing in front of the door, he pondered his situation for a moment, before his vicious libido reminded him of his duty. He tried in vain to push through the door, but there was no time left to waste on this obstacle. Nearly stuck, he grabbed the door frame and pushed it out, splintering wood and drywall with hardly any effort. He effortlessly tore off what remained of his pants and underwear and landed on the bed. He grabbed his dick and stroked furiously to the images he saw in the bathroom mirror.

His last memory before blacking out was a pressure welling up in his groin.

Part IV

That night his sleep was restless, with dreams of rolling, yet uneasy pastures. Something was not right in them. He was on full alert, but he could find nothing in the green fields to explain the anxiety. He awoke early in the morning, before the sun crept above the horizon. The panic after waking was shorter this time, and his headache had receded. Rubbing his face, he rolled out of bed. Sitting on the edge for a minute proved to be too much for the wooden bed frame, which collapsed under his tremendous bulk. A bit shaken, he strode to the bathroom’s ruined doorway, which again required more ad-hoc maintenance before he could make it through. He slid half-way through before something jerked his head to the side. He twisted his head around, catching whatever it was on the other side. He reached up and grabbed... something, protruding from his head. Now completely shocked out of his post-sleep stupor, he tried pushing himself further through the door. A new sensation greeted him: something pressing against his junk. Not his pillar-esque thighs, those he recognized now. This was something new. He reached down. His hand met meat. Groping himself, he felt so much. His dick had to be thicker than a two-liter bottle. Exploring, he found a pair of balls that was perhaps even larger than would be appropriate for such a package. With added haste, he created more space for his expanded figure. Pushing through to the bathroom mirror, his eyes opened wide.

Horns.

The things on his head were horns. Long, thick, horns, attached to his forehead. He stumbled backwards in to the shower. After the shock wore off, he got up and looked at the mirror again. They were still there, but he felt less fear and more curious. He poked the sharp tips and ran his fingers along the bony protrusions. He tried different angles, and something settled inside him. They fit him well. His hulking mass, his horns, his oversized junk (which was now putting his arousal on full display), all the parts seemed to add up just right.

Making a mess out of the bedroom door, he plowed in to the kitchen. He was starving. He downed the full gallon of milk, two boxes of cereal, the entire jug of protein powder he used for shakes, and kept going until he heard a loud knock at the front door.

Panic crept up again. He couldn’t go outside. There was NO way to explain what he’d become. He slid as quietly as a metric ton of muscle could to one of the rooms overlooking the street. There was a dirty pickup truck parked out front. He couldn’t see who was on the porch, but he saw the telltale red “FARM USE” plates; it had to be Dana. He eased in to the front room, and cracked the door open.

“Dana?” he asked quietly. The door violently swung open, and his vision went black. It was not Dana.

Part V

Cold metal.

Jake could feel cold metal on his back as he jerked awake. Despite his instincts to panic, he paused to his situation. His ankles and his wrists had chains around them, holding them outward a bit. He was at an angle: slightly upright, but most of his weight still resting the large metal platform behind him. He could feel his nuts touching the ground beneath him. (God damn, had they really grown that much?) His head was resting on his pecs, which he could barely see over. He turned his head to get a better look of the dirty, dimly lit room around him, but he didn’t get very far: his horns hit his traps, which, he found, now rose well above his head. From what he could see, the room was fairly large, with rustic wooden walls, large barn-style doors ahead of him, and a concrete floor covered with dirt and boot prints. He could hear voices – mens’ voices – outside the doors. He did get a glimpse of the chains binding his limbs. If this was a farm, the size of the links meant they were probably kept in case they needed to tow VERY heavy equipment. Trying not to make too much noise, he pulled at them. At first they were as sturdy as could be expected, but the more effort he put, the louder the groaning the metal made. He could feel a burning in his arms and chest as he put more force behind it, effectively using the building around him as a titanic pec flye machine. He ramped up the tension. A terrible creaking echoed through the large room as he pushed the chains – and his body – past the point of no return. He could feel his pecs bloating out further, pushing his head up. His biceps swelled as he pulled against the metal and whatever it was anchored to. Before long, doubts formed that there would be enough room for both of the muscles if they continued their onslaught. He could already feel them pressing against each other.

With a thundering crash, the chains broke, tumbling wildly to the ground.

Now freed of his upper chains, he flung himself forward, landing squarely on his pecs, and in a limited way, his arms. He felt all of his prodigious manhood on the ground now. Above his glutes, he felt an unfamiliar sensation. Something hitting his back. At the same time, he also felt whatever was doing the hitting. It was long and fairly thin, whipping back and forth almost on its own.

A tail?

The thought assailed his mind. There was nothing else it could be. It was his final straw. Jake screamed obscenities at nothing in particular, trying to push himself up and tear off the remaining chains. All rationality fled his mind, replaced by raw primal panic. He had to get out. He had to fix this. He had to fix himself.

He heard shouting outside. Obviously he had made quite a racket, but even after that, the doors remained unopened. Something had drawn the mens’ attention outside of his rural prison.

There was a new sound, though he couldn’t tilt his head far enough back to observe its source. The sound of splintering wood. Hefty parts crashing inward. He sensed more light in the room, but there was something blocking it from his point of view. Whatever it was, it had to be enormous to block most of the light from both the towering barn doors.

He could feel the floor shudder as the shadow’s tremendous owner made its way closer to him. He strained as hard as he could to look up, and was greeted by… hooves. Hooves dominated by calves that spread as wide as he could see, with a white and black fur pattern coating them. A soft, fleshy warmth pressed across the top of his body. Hands grabbed his shoulders. Silently, almost effortlessly, they lifted him to his feet. As his view rose, he saw thighs that outstripped even his own. Behind them, yet plainly visible from the front, were glutes which had flourished to match the gigantic quads. Following the figure up, he came to abs that stuck out of the bovine-themed torso like boulders. He stumbled, regaining his balance. Now on his two feet… were they feet? They didn’t feel like feet. Whatever he had on the end of his legs, he was now standing on them. The comfortable material on top of him receded, flopping down in front of him.

Tits. Massive, beckoning breasts, anchored to pecs as large as the mammaries, if not somehow larger. His eyes snapped to the face previously hidden behind the mammoth chest. It was feminine, familiar.

Dana. Yet, it wasn’t wholly Dana. There were differences. The face was a pleasant mix of her features with a clear bovine persona atop it. She smiled. She sauntered closer until her monstrous bust was pressed against him.

He couldn’t help but let his cock harden as the breastflesh pressed against his own massive chest. Dana put one of her hands on the thickening pillar of meat and bit her lip with a grin.

“I hope you’ve got a taste for milk… because I’m aching for some grade A beef,” she cooed, rubbing Jake’s shaft.

—loW

#hypermuscle #hyper #mf #transformation #bovine #cow #adult #forcedgrowth #growth #furry #impliedgrowth