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Zoe the Maid, Part 4
🕑 Added 2025-02-15 02:12:36 +0000 UTC$7/Bronze Directory
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Summary: Zoe accepts a job as a maid. Contains: Female: udder, multi-breast, cow-girl, pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, multiples, weight gain, stuffing, and more.
This story is a work of fiction. As specified throughout the story, all characters featured in this work are 18 years of age or older.
-
As the days passed, Zoe continued to change, and grow.
The odd pink swell on her pubic region had continued to bloat and swell, becoming steadily more pronounced.
But that wasn’t all. It wasn’t only expanding, but changing. On one of the rare occasions that Zoe allowed herself to examine it, she found some oddly symmetrical bumps. Four in total. She glided her fingers over them, her whole body going tense as her muscles spasmed. She leaned back on the wall for support, gasping for breath as she tried figure out what was happening to her lower abdomen.
She garnered an odd sense of relief in tucking the swell away in a pair of long, supportive panties. Avoiding the issue proved to be the fastest way to quell her anxiety. She would save this matter for a later time. Maybe by then it would have improved, or resolved itself. A simple rash fading away.
Her breasts were a different matter entirely. Zoe did her best not to stimulate them, but her nipples practically begged to be touched sometimes. And occasionally it was impossible to resist that urge, such as when she was in the shower, diligently washing her body. Her hands would wander, motions repeated, fingers unconsciously cupping and stroking. Then a stroke would become a squeeze, her eyes fluttering, her skin tingling. Before she knew it, milk would be leaking in steady droplets.
Often she found herself playing with her body without even noticing. Upon waking up in the morning, her hands would always be cupping her chest or her pubic region, both of which would be warm and tender, as though she had been stroking and fondling those areas all night in her sleep.
In consequence, her breasts felt heavy. Bloated and full.
The changes were happening so fast, it was hard to keep track of it all. She wanted to consult with a physician, but she was just so embarrassed.
And then, there was the hiring contract.
Zoe browsed through the numerous papers and forms. She cursed under her breath as she encountered various stipulations she had never previously bothered to pay mind to.
Employer accepts no liability for any and all mishaps.
Employee forfeits any options to sue or take legal action against Employer for any reason.
Employee is explicitly not allowed to publicize anything that is discovered or occurs on the property.
Full confidentially is mandated and any violations will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
It was insane! Based on these rules, Zoe didn’t even think she was allowed to seek out medical attention.
Her hands were trembling as she shoved the contract aside.
She pulled out her laptop and started doing some web searches. She even went to some forums, looking for any testimonials regarding an affliction like hers — particularly the strange pink mound.
But there was nothing to be found. At least nothing that matched her symptoms. There were a few mentions of rashes that seemed to be mostly related to allergies.
In the days that followed, Zoe felt increasingly warm, and donned light clothes, like tank tops, even on days that it was cool out. She was beginning to realize that her breasts were a source of heat on their own. And they were only getting bigger. As she surveyed her reflection, she noted that they seemed too large for her small frame. Her cleavage bulged generously over the neckline, her skin soft and dewy, her breasts looking flawless, but perhaps almost fake in their perfection. Round and bloated, not sagging as much as normal breasts would. Hers were full. Full of milk.
Zoe did not wear a bra most days, as any one she tried on just felt uncomfortably constricting on her sensitive body.
But in the absence of a bra, her breasts often rocked and jiggled under her tops, and on the occasions that she crossed paths with Garrett, his eyes would flicker there, just briefly. The two mostly ignored each other. Or attempted to.
Zoe kept herself busy. When she wasn’t doing coursework, she was cleaning. She tried not to obsess over her changing body. Distraction was key.
Most of her jeans had stopped fitting her by then. She switched to sweatpants and leggings. Zoe also took to wearing longer shirts to conceal the growing pink mass beneath her waist. She tried to avoid any physical contact with it, because it was just as sensitive as her breasts were. A single stroke could leave her trembling and weak in the knees. It was as though a brand-new bundle of nerve endings were centralized right there.
And despite her efforts to leave those areas alone, Zoe continued to wake up cupping herself. Sometimes her nipples would even be leaking milk down the undersides of her breasts and along her torso.
Somehow her changes could not be ignored. Parts of her body were growing and stretching. Things were getting odd.
“Oh god,” Zoe whispered one day when she caught a glimpse of the sight she had been meticulously trying to avoid. The pink mound on her lower abdomen had only gotten fuller and plumper as it grew away from her body. The bumps upon it had grown as well, now oddly distended, each sticking out nearly half an inch! With this latest development, the pink swell looked distinctly like something that made no sense. It looked like a cow’s udder.
Zoe was shaken. She needed a drink. She pulled on some joggers and a T-shirt, and went downstairs, pacing. She grimaced at the way the mound jiggled with her movements. Going into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of wine and aimlessly tried calling Josephine, not even sure what she intended to say.
The answer was a busy signal. Unsurprising. Zoe took another swig of wine, before going into the living room and placing the glass on the coffee table. She considered calling her mother, but hesitated. She gazed at her phone, feeling utterly helpless as she plopped down on the couch.
“This place is huge!” said an unfamiliar voice.
Zoe stiffened. She looked up as three strangers strolled into the living room. Zoe drew up her legs self-consciously, trying to tuck herself deeper into the couch somehow. She grabbed a cushion and hugged it against her torso in an effort to conceal the oddities plaguing her body.
The three people who had entered the room looked to be around Zoe’s age, all three clutching notebooks. They appeared to be students of some sort.
“Oh,” said the female amongst them, adjusting her glasses as she gazed at Zoe with perceptive eyes. “Apologies.”
Suddenly Garrett strode in, looking tidy in his usual button-down shirt and trousers, his dark hair combed neatly. At seeing his tenant, he spoke, “Zoe, these are my new interns: Eugene, Beth, and Robert.”
“Robbie,” corrected one of the young men in a nasally voice.
Garrett ignored him. “Interns, this is Zoe, one of Josephine’s friends. She lives here and also works as a maid on the premises.”
The trio of interns “oooh”ed and “ahhh”ed though Zoe wasn’t sure what they could have found so interesting about her.
“Nice to meet you,” she said stiffly, not even attempting to smile. She averted her gaze, feeling surprisingly uncomfortable. She supposed she had gotten used to having this whole house to herself. Just her, and Garrett.
“The interns will be working on site here for the next several months,” Garrett went on. “They will have full access to the house and will come and go as necessary for their projects.”
“We’ll try to stay out of your way,” Beth assured Zoe.
Zoe nodded stiffly.
“Shall we continue the tour,” Garrett said impassively to the interns. “The door on the left is the guest bathroom. And this way is the lab.”
As they walked off, Zoe uncoiled just a bit. Her hand unconsciously cupped the soft heap that was pushing out the front of her pants. Still, it felt like her own skin, or a hyper-sensitized version of it. She had neither the time nor energy to worry about these interns.
Zoe lifted her phone again, unable to help doing another web search. Looking for something. Anything. This time she used terms like “udder growth on women” and “udder development in humans.” But she found nothing other than the odd story or fake testimonial. She regressed to her daze, wondering vaguely if she was going insane. Could it really be an udder that she was growing? Her mind reeled as she sat there, thinking.
-
Zoe’s stupor lasted all weekend. She lay in bed, just staring at the ceiling. Even on Monday morning, she couldn’t motivate herself to get out of bed, despite that the alternative was missing her classes. In the early evening, she heard a knock on her bedroom door. It took a while to snap out of her reverie. She sat up with a grimace at how awkward her body felt. She crept over to the door and opened it, just a crack.
It was Garrett.
She felt a strange tingle in her bloated areas. His presence was a strange relief; a revitalizing breath. A contrast to the crushing loneliness.
“We have an arrangement, Zoe,” he got straight to the point. “Josephine and I are quite busy. If you want to continue to live here rent-free, you have to handle the upkeep.”
Oh. “Right,” she managed. “Sorry.”
Garrett gave her a stern look. It was as though their night together and never occurred. Then he turned and walked off, already looking at his watch. He was a busy man, indeed.
Zoe gingerly closed the door again. A glance at the clock told her that it was five in the evening. It was true that she hadn’t done any cleaning in the past few days. Or schoolwork, at that. She was certainly slacking.
Her mind numb, Zoe got washed and dressed, taking care not to look at or touch her odd pink mound. She put on the maid uniform, which seemed to fit her more snugly now, but wasn’t uncomfortable. She was surprised by how sufficiently it contained the pink swell, the material curving supportively, as though it had been made to.
Zoe went downstairs and got started. Cleaning was a distraction, at least. She meticulously swept, dusted, and mopped the floors. She did the dishes and wiped down all the kitchen counters and cupboards. She even ran the vacuum under the couch cushions.
By the time she finished, hours had passed, and no one was in sight. She assumed that Garrett was holed away in his lab, potentially with a few of those new interns he had following him around.
Zoe’s stomach grumbled. She looked down at herself, her chest heaving gently. She was surprised that the pink swell wasn’t as pronounced as she had expected. The waist apron helped conceal it, serving as an overhang. She wondered if she should change her clothes, but then opted against it. Why bother?
Zoe grabbed her keys and left the house, soon finding herself driving aimlessly through the night. She turned into the first fast food restaurant she spotted and cruised along the drive-thu. She felt as though she was on autopilot as she ordered five double cheeseburgers with a side of large fries to accompany each, as well as three extra-large milkshakes — two vanilla and one chocolate.
She was already eating as she drove off, biting greedily into the greasy sandwiches. The alternative rock music playing on her speakers paused, and a glance at the dashboard screen notified Zoe that she was getting a call through the Bluetooth.
Ethan.
Zoe didn’t bother to answer. She just kept driving. She was three burgers in, her stomach gurgling pleasantly. She turned into another drive-thru, this time a fried chicken place. With her voice muffled from the fries she was chomping, she ordered the family-size bucket of fried chicken with several biscuits and gravy on the side.
Zone began to suck down one of the vanilla milkshakes, which seemed to fill her body with warmth despite the substance being icy. It was sweet and delicious, and made her eyes flutter with pleasure. With effort, she managed to refocus on driving as she pulled over to the payment window to pick up her order.
She made stops at two more fast food drive-thrus that evening, gobbling food down and never pausing. She ate as she drove, as she ordered, and even as she picked up more food. The restaurant workers would gaze oddly at her through the window, perhaps noticing the accumulation of greasy paper bags and food containers in the passenger seat of her vehicle.
Zoe felt absolutely stuffed after she finished her order of burritos. She hadn’t even left the lot of the Mexican restaurant. She had pulled into a parking spot to finish off her binge.
It was only after she had finished that Zoe steadily regained herself, and was left a little stunned. She wondered what had gotten into her. These food binges were nowhere in the realm of ordinary. It was like she had been possessed. Zoe inhaled deeply as she shook her head.
She pulled down her mirror to gaze at her reflection; at the grease and sauce that smeared her face, and the crumbs on her lips. She licked them off, frowning.
Her body was thrumming. She breathed heavily, her belly achingly tight. She rubbed the bloated heap with her sticky fingers as she leaned back and whispered, “what the fuck.”
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