**Word Count: 3,172**
**Transposition**
**Part One: Signal Loss**
Courtney smiled to herself. The young scientist had spent four years on the teleporting device and it worked — short distances, inanimate objects, a few living things up to the size of a large dog. The transmitter hummed on the platform beside her like an equation waiting for its proof. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and looked over at Alexis, her girlfriend and fellow scientist, who was finishing the camera setup across the lab. "Is everything ready?" Courtney asked, tugging her white lab coat straight. "This is a huge moment and we don't want to miss it."
Alexis smiled. Tall, blonde, built in a way that made Courtney quietly envious — curves that strained her lab coat in places Courtney's never would. Courtney had always been the brain. Flat-chested, practical shoes, hair in a bun she forgot about. Her body was the thing that carried her mind to the lab. Next to Alexis, she looked like a rough draft next to a finished manuscript.
"Cameras are live. Are you sure about this?" Alexis asked. Through the shared wall, the light from Professor Hamilton's office bled under the door — the old physicist who'd argued the funding committee into backing a twenty-six-year-old's impossible idea. "What if something goes wrong?"
Courtney crossed the lab and hugged Alexis. Her girlfriend's arms around her washed the last of her nerves away. "Everything will be fine. Start the transmitter."
She stepped onto the first platform. The metal was cold through her flats. Her body tingled, then went ice-cold, and before she could scream, Courtney blacked out.
Alexis watched Courtney shimmer on the platform and touched the matte-black wristwatch on her left wrist — her shield, the device she'd spent longer building than the teleporter itself.
Courtney's outline softened. Her chest pushed outward beneath the lab coat — subtle, a cup size at most. Her hips shifted. Her hair loosened from the bun, fell longer. Small changes. First pass.
The anomaly readout spiked exactly where Alexis had designed it to spike.
She slipped a leather notebook from beneath the console — separate from the project log — and wrote: Trip 1\. Breasts: \~A/B. Hips: slight. Hair: longer. Cognitive: pending. Through the wall, Professor Hamilton's office had gone quiet. The light under the door was warmer. Softer.
Alexis wrote that down too, on a different page.
Courtney came to on the second platform with a headache like a slammed door. She stumbled forward, and Alexis caught her, guiding her to a chair. Something was off. She touched her nose — her glasses were gone. Her fingers pressed the indent on the bridge where they always sat and found nothing.
She looked down. Her breasts were bigger. Small, but there — filling her palms when she cupped them without thinking.
"Did it work?" Courtney asked. She rubbed her forehead. "Do my boobs look bigger to you?"
Alexis shrugged. "They look the way they always do."
"I can't wait to see the look on Professor Hamilton's face when he sees we pulled it off," Courtney said, stretching. The stretch pulled her lab coat tight across a chest that shouldn't have filled it.
"Who's Professor Hamilton?" Alexis asked.
Courtney stared at her. "Hamilton. Physics department. He funded this entire project."
"You mean Professor Lionel? She's right next door."
"No, I mean Hamilton. This is wrong." Courtney stood, unsteady. "Something changed. You have to send me back through."
"We already know it works. You don't have to—"
"Something is wrong, Alexis. Please — if you love me, believe me."
Alexis held her gaze. Nodded. Courtney stepped back onto the first platform, her heart hammering. The cold came. The dark swallowed her.
Second pass. Alexis leaned forward as Courtney's body reshaped itself on the platform.
The lab coat flushed from white to pale pink. Courtney's breasts swelled — DD, pushing the coat open, straining new buttons. Her waist cinched, her hips flared. Flats stretched into low heels. Hair past her shoulders now, lighter, curled. Her features had softened — nothing dramatic, but the sharp, focused angles of Courtney's face had rounded into something prettier. Easier to look at. Harder to take seriously.
Alexis adjusted two parameters on the console. Cognitive index down. Somatic sensitivity up. The leather notebook: Trip 2\. Breasts: \~DD. Pink coat. Heels. Role projection: assistant locked. She's beautiful.
Her pulse thudded in her throat.
Courtney blinked awake in the chair. Her pink lab coat settled around her thighs and her heels — cute, low — clicked on the tile. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing, heavy, warm, pressing against buttons she didn't remember buttoning.
The headache was softer this time. Fuzzy. She tried to remember what had been wrong before — something about a name, a man. The word she wanted kept slipping away. "Anom... anoma... there was an anomaly, I think?" She pressed her fingers to her temple and looked around the lab. Half the equipment was unfamiliar. "I guess it works, though, right?"
Wasn't this my project? The thought surfaced and sank before she could catch it. Of course it wasn't. She was Alexis's lab assistant. She'd been helping Alexis with this for — a long time.
A tall, slender woman entered the lab. Dark hair in a tight bun, glasses, conservative blouse. Something about her made Courtney's breath catch. Wow, she's hot. The thought arrived with an image — herself between this woman and Alexis, skin on skin — and her thighs pressed together under the lab coat.
"I gather the machine works," the woman said.
"Twice, without major issues," Alexis confirmed. She gestured at Courtney. "My lab assistant volunteered for both runs. Some mild disorientation but vitals are stable."
"Excellent. I'd like to observe the next run, if you're planning one," Doctor Lionel said, moving to review the data on the console.
Courtney was on her feet before anyone asked. "I can totally go again," she said, then paused to check her reflection in a dark monitor. "Just let me fix my makeup first."
Alexis caught her in the hallway. Pressed her against the wall and kissed her hard. Courtney moaned into it, arching forward, her big tits crushing against Alexis's chest. Her hands found Alexis's ass and squeezed. When had she become this? It didn't matter. Alexis's mouth was on her neck and the only word in her head was more.
"Have I told you how hot you make me?" Alexis murmured.
Courtney giggled. The sound came out high and unfamiliar and she didn't care. "The only D I want is a dildo and you using it on me tonight."
They came back flushed. Courtney swayed her hips walking to the platform — a performance she didn't know she was giving. Thumbs up. "Let's do this\!"
Cold. Black.
Third pass. Alexis gripped the console edge.
The pink lab coat dissolved. Shiny pink spandex shrink-wrapped itself around a body still expanding — breasts surging past Alexis's size, straining the fabric until her nipples printed through. Her ass rounded into a tight shelf. Heels climbed to five-inch spikes. Hair spilled to the small of her back, platinum blonde. Lips fuller. Eyes wider. Emptier.
Alexis's breathing had gone ragged. She adjusted the final parameter — cognitive floor — and pushed it to baseline functional. The leather notebook, in handwriting less steady than before: Trip 3\. Breasts: larger than mine. Spandex. Spikes. Cognitive approaching floor. One more.
Doctor Lionel stood at the console reviewing transfer data. She hadn't looked up during the transformation — her focus was entirely on the energy signatures and quantum coherence readings. Her lipstick was a shade darker than when she'd entered the lab. The bun had loosened at her temples. She didn't notice either thing.
"Energy signature is remarkably stable," Lionel said, making a note. "Whatever you've built here, it's elegant work."
"Thank you," Alexis said. She wrote on Lionel's page in the notebook: Vanity markers emerging. Softening ahead of schedule.
Courtney, like, couldn't remember how many times she'd been through the teleporter. She tugged at her pink spandex top and giggled at how her boobs jiggled. They were massive. Bigger than Alexis's. She cupped them and the weight zinged straight between her legs.
"Like, am I going to be late for class?" she asked.
Alexis and Doctor Lionel both looked at her.
"Class?" Alexis said. "Courtney, you haven't enrolled anywhere. You barely graduated high school, remember? I tutored you in math and you still only managed a D."
"Oh." Courtney twirled a strand of platinum hair. "Right. That, like, totally sounds right."
A tiny part of her — small and flat-chested and wearing glasses she didn't own anymore — surfaced in the back of her mind. I was smart. I was miserable. I was so wound up inside my own head I forgot I had a body.
Now things were simple. Her boobs were huge and the spandex was tight and Alexis loved her and she didn't have to solve anything.
Better, she decided. This is so much better.
"Can I, like, go through one more time?" She bit her lip. The thought of the teleporter made something warm pulse between her legs. "I think it would totally help me sort things out."
Doctor Lionel shrugged without looking up from the readouts. "The data shows remarkable consistency. Another pass would only strengthen the sample."
Courtney minced to the platform in her spike heels, tits bouncing, ass swaying. She faced them and grinned. "Let's, like, totally do this\!"
Cold. Dark. Gone.
Final pass. The one Alexis had built the entire system around.
Courtney's breasts surged to the size of basketballs — massive, impossible, the kind of proportions that could only exist in a reality rewritten to accommodate them. The pink spandex dissolved and reformed as cow-print, white and black patches stretched over those enormous tits and clinging to her inflated ass. A steel collar materialized around her throat with a ring and a small cowbell that chimed once. A leash coiled from the ring, the leather end hanging against the platform.
Courtney dropped to her hands and knees. Not a fall — a settling. Her body found the position the way a key finds its lock.
Alexis crossed the lab. Picked up the leash. The leather was warm in her palm. She clipped it to the collar ring — the motion precise and practiced, though she'd never done it before. It felt like muscle memory. It felt like finally.
She checked her wristwatch. Still shielded. The leather notebook, with a small heart drawn beside the entry: Trip 4\. Final. Breasts: basketball-sized. Lactation imminent. Cow-print. Collar. Leash. Cognitive: pet-functional. Complete.
Doctor Lionel was at the console, recording energy dispersal data. She'd taken off her glasses at some point. Her hair fell in soft waves now, the severe bun completely gone. Her blouse fit differently — curvier — and she'd crossed her legs on the stool in heels she hadn't been wearing that morning. Her voice, when she spoke, was softer.
"Transmission efficiency is nearly perfect," she said, smiling at Alexis. "Please — call me Elena. I think we've been working together long enough."
"Elena," Alexis said. She filed the name. Thought about Elena on a leash — silver, to match the dark hair. Thought about two cowbells chiming together. She wrote on Elena's page: First-name basis. Glasses gone. Heels manifested. Phase 2 ready when I am.
"Everything checks out," Elena continued, reviewing the data with no apparent awareness that the test subject had transformed into a cow-girl on a leash. The numbers were what mattered to Elena. The numbers were excellent.
Courtney looked up at Alexis from her hands and knees and her whole face lit up. The cowbell chimed.
"Like, my boobies feel super heavy and full," she said in a sing-song voice. She hefted her massive tits. "I have big udders\!" She giggled. "Are my udders full of milk?"
"Women have boobs, cows have udders," Alexis said, giving her ass a playful swat. "You're my cow. And that's Mistress Lexi."
Courtney mooed. Then giggled. "Like, okay Mistress. Are you gonna milk me or what?"
"When we get home. I promise." Alexis kissed her forehead. "Wait for me outside?"
Courtney pouted but obeyed. Her cowbell tinkled down the hallway.
Alexis said goodbye to Elena, who was still recording data, who had not once looked at Courtney's basketball-sized tits or collar or leash with anything resembling surprise, because in Elena's rewritten memory, Courtney had always been this way.
The apartment had always looked like this — pink accents, cow-print accessories by the door, milking equipment in the spare room. Reality had done the redecorating. Alexis led Courtney inside by the leash and her pet bounced through the door, cowbell chiming, whimpering about the pressure building in her chest.
"They hurt, Mistress. They're, like, so full and hot and I need—"
"I know, baby. Come on."
The milking room. Padded bench, warm lighting, the pump on standby. Alexis unclipped the leash and Courtney sat, her enormous tits settling into her lap, heavy and tight. Her nipples were swollen dark through the cow-print spandex, and two wet spots had spread where milk had started leaking.
Alexis knelt in front of her. Slowly — making Courtney watch — she peeled the cow-print down. The fabric clung to her breasts, resisted, then gave, and Courtney's tits spilled free with a bounce that made the cowbell sing. They were enormous — round, flushed tight with pressure, the skin shiny and hot to the touch. Her nipples were fat and dark, areolas swollen wide, and a thin stream of milk was already running from the right one, tracing a line down the curve to pool in the crease beneath. The left nipple beaded, swelled, and began to drip too — twin streams running warm down the undersides of her massive tits.
"Please," Courtney whimpered. Her voice was nothing. Small, desperate, stripped of every word she'd ever known except the ones that mattered. "Please Mistress they hurt I need you to—"
"Shhh." Alexis cupped the left breast with both hands. The weight was staggering — warm, heavy, alive, the flesh yielding around her fingers like something that had been waiting to be held. The milk shifted inside, full, a pressure that pulsed under her palms. She lifted it, squeezed from the base toward the nipple, and pulled.
The milk hit her palm in a hot stream and Courtney keened. Head thrown back, mouth open, the sound ripped from somewhere deeper than her throat — from her tits, from her cunt, from the place where the old Courtney used to keep equations. Her hips bucked off the bench. Her thighs fell open. The cow-print shorts were soaked through with wet that wasn't milk.
"Oh — oh Mistress — oh fuck —"
Alexis squeezed again. Long, firm, milking from the base to the tip, and her pet's whole body shook. Milk sprayed through Alexis's fingers, warm and sweet-smelling, running down her wrists, dripping to the floor. She switched to the right breast — cupped it, felt the weight, pulled. Another stream. Courtney's stomach clenched. Her hands clawed at the bench.
"Good girl." Alexis's voice was rough. Her own pussy throbbed in time with each jet of milk, each broken sound Courtney made. She'd been wet since Trip 1 and the ache had only grown across four transformations and an agonizing walk home. She squeezed both breasts now, alternating, pulling, and Courtney's moans dropped into something animal and constant — a sound that vibrated through Alexis's hands and settled in her cunt. "That's it. Let it out for me."
"Feels — so — I can't — Mistress please don't stop don't stop don't —"
Alexis leaned forward and took the right nipple into her mouth.
Courtney screamed. Her hands flew to Alexis's head, pulling her in, and the milk flooded Alexis's mouth — warm, sweet, thin, so much of it that it spilled from the corners of her lips and ran down her chin. She sucked hard and Courtney convulsed, hips grinding against nothing, soaked shorts pressed to the bench, and the orgasm crashed through her like a power surge through a dead circuit — her cunt clenching in rhythmic spasms, her stomach rippling, her massive tits bouncing against Alexis's face as she came and came and came.
"MmmmmMOOOOO — oh, oh fuck, Mistress, oh god don't stop — I'm — moooooo —"
Alexis didn't stop. She switched to the left nipple — bit down gently and Courtney's whole body seized, back arching off the bench, a fresh spray of milk hitting the back of Alexis's throat. She swallowed, sucked harder, and her pet broke apart beneath her. One long continuous orgasm that crested and crashed and crested again, each wave pulling more milk from her aching tits, each stream triggering another clench in her pussy, a loop that fed itself. Suck. Spray. Cum. Suck. Spray. Cum. Courtney's eyes rolled back. Her fingers clawed Alexis's hair. Drool ran from the corner of her mouth and she didn't notice, didn't care, didn't have enough left inside her skull to care about anything except the mouth on her udder and the hands on her tits and the white-hot circuit of pleasure that had replaced every thought she'd ever had.
More. Just. More. Milk and cum and Mistress's mouth and good. So good. Good cow. Full udders empty udders fill them up empty them out good good more—
Alexis pulled back. Milk on her chin, her neck, soaking through her shirt. Courtney slumped against the bench, twitching, tits still leaking in lazy streams, the bench beneath her ruined. The cowbell chimed once, softly, as her breathing slowed.
"Good cow," Alexis murmured. She wiped her chin and kissed Courtney's sweaty forehead. "Such a good cow."
Courtney nuzzled into her neck. Made a sound that wasn't a moo and wasn't a word. Something simpler than both. Her eyes closed and her massive, spent tits rose and fell with each breath, milk still beading at the nipples, and she was, for the first time in her life, completely and perfectly happy.
Alexis held her until she dozed off. Then she slipped the leather notebook from her pocket.
She turned past the pages of documentation — Trip 1, Trip 2, Trip 3, Trip 4, the careful measurements, the small heart — to a fresh page.
Wrote: Courtney — Complete.
Turned to Elena's section. Read through the entries: the loosening bun, the vanity markers, the heels, the softened voice, the first name. A slower project. A different shape. But the same destination.
She uncapped the pen. Wrote a date — three months from now — and beneath it: Phase 2\. Begin.
Closed the notebook. Checked her wristwatch. Smiled.
In the other room, a cowbell chimed softly as Courtney shifted in her sleep, dreaming simple dreams about warm hands and full udders and a Mistress who loved her.
END
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