"...And last, but certainly not least, this week's podcast is sponsored by Miss Mary's Dairy nutritional supplements. We get it, you're on the go with less time to get a full meal in now than ever. When you need to fill up, Miss Mary and her award-winning nutrient boost formula and huge variety of great tasting flavours are here for you. That's why Miss Mary is offering listeners of this podcast 20% off your first monthly order of supplements when you check out using the promo code 'Spoons' at the online store. Miss Mary's Dairy. Looking good. Feels good. Tastes good. And now, back to the show..."

------

Heather awoke to a cold and alien sensation, her head spinning as she groggily regained consciousness. It was difficult for her to recall the night before, her mind racing with sparks of memories that felt dreamlike and unreal, glimpses of a past that seemed more like a nightmare. She stirred, feeling her body come back to her, control returning for the first time in a while as she tried to move but couldn't. Her hands and legs were bound, and as she tried to see what was restraining her, Heather saw only darkness as something was attached to her face, covering her eyes. Scared, she tried to scream, now realizing that whatever was obscuring her vision had also pried her mouth open with an invasive tube running down into her throat. For a moment, the young New York native struggled to determine if she was truly awake and not still dreaming, but as she wrestled with her bindings, the cool air brushed her naked skin and she felt more and more of her senses ignite in a way that was all too real. As her body became her own again, Heather felt different, changed. She felt bloated and heavy, as though she had undergone some warped transformation, the scope of which was unknown. Now more frightened, she thrashed against her restraints, feeling the electric pulse of a machine at her crotch, startling the spooked young woman further. She was hooked up to something, an apparatus of some kind that vibrated softly against her labia and clitoris while what felt like vacuum seals clamped onto her raw nipples. Suddenly, without warning, there was a jolt, a stark increase in the intensity of the vibration that sent a tide of force rippling through the young woman's confused body as the tightly-clamped seals began to pump. She writhed in her confinement, screaming into her gag as best she could, frightened, alone, and unable to do anything. 

Meanwhile, in a control booth not too far away, a man sat at a console, monitoring not just Heather, but dozens of other women, each of them restrained just like she was. The man sipped his coffee while flipping between the various feeds and diagnostics when the door to the room slid open and an intimidating figure entered. 

"How's our newest heifer?" The figure asked in a demanding tone. The man winced a little as she spoke, hastily pulling up a chart with some prepared notes. 

"Good morning, Mary. Number 22 slept well through the night, her body acclimated to the enhancements quickly." The man said, one eye on his notes, one eye on the commanding presence before him, a woman taller than any he'd ever known, with a few critical exceptions. 

"Her milk has come in, only took two days to induce. I've begun her first pumping and the projected output is around 40 gallons today. Starting off small, but she's showing some promising signs of growth. 

"I'd rather not wait, I have a quota to meet." Mary said, coldly.

"Increase her nutrient feed by 20%, I want 80 gallons out of her before the weekend." 

The man shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the order he was issued. 

"Is there something wrong, Antoine?" She asked, sternly. 

"It's only her first week here, Mary. Don't you think you're pushing her a little hard?" He answered, the concern in his voice amusing to the tall, intimidating woman. She smiled, her face bright and cheery, a world-renowned beauty mark rising with her grin. 

"Your concern for the livestock is appreciated, Antoine. But I need to ship a product and I can't do that with lazy heifers." Mary said, stepping in close, towering over the sitting man. He tried to stand from his desk chair, but she clamped her huge hands on the headrest and firmly pushed, pinning Antoine in the seat against the desk. 

"These are my cows, my property, and if I work them too hard and they break, I replace them. You know, in a way, that's kind of a metaphor for you and your work here, Antoine." She said, leaning in uncomfortably close, almost whispering in the terrified worker's ear. 

"If you don't want to do it, I'll find someone else who will. Understood?" 

"Yes Mary." He said, defeated. She stood back up and smiled, turning to leave the room. 

"Remember, 80 gallons by Friday. Chop chop." She said, ducking under the door frame as she exited. 

Once she had left the room, Antoine let out a heavy sigh of relief, loosening his tie as he leaned back in his chair, a cold sweat caking his forehead. His work had paved the way for Mary's success, and this was how he was being treated, like a grunt on the warehouse floor. It was ridiculous, but Antoine knew there was nothing he could do. He couldn't speak out against the work he was doing for Mary without getting crucified himself and at a rather modest 5'4" compared to her staggering 6'11", it's not like he could intimidate her into getting what he wanted. No, for now, it seemed his best course of action was to do what the boss wanted, the disrespect notwithstanding. 

At his console, he brought up the control menu for Number 22, Heather's enclosure and began to tinker with the values to her nutrient feed. She would need more growth hormone to achieve the kind of numbers Mary was looking for. But as he went to finalize his work, an error message appeared on screen. A valve failure, limiting the intake of the nutrients needed to keep Mary's cattle healthy. He sighed again, this would mean a trip into the enclosure to fix the problem manually, a trip he loathed making. 

Finishing the last of his coffee, the sullen engineer muttered to himself and left the safety of his control booth. He didn't like entering the enclosures, feeling a certain degree of discomfort at seeing the cattle up close, but it was work that needed to be done, work that required direct, hands on approach. A hatch slid open with a hiss of hydraulic relief, a familiar sound for the jaded technician, less so for the occupant of the enclosure. As entryway opened, Heather, still frightened and confused as she became more and more aware of her surroundings, jolted in her bindings, shaking the entire system as she writhed in fear against whatever was coming closer. The catwalk Antoine stood upon rocked and swayed slightly and he braced, waiting for the tremors to subside. 

"Good morning to you as well, Number 22." He said sarcastically, continuing his walk to the valves. Heather could barely make out what he said, her mind still numb. Somebody was addressing her, her kidnapper perhaps? As her slowly returning consciousness raced to piece together what had happened to her, she fought against her restraints, more violently than before. The suspended catwalk began to move again, rocking back and forth with an intensity that startled the veteran engineer. There was a snap, a pop as some support screws holding the walkway aloft broke free from the cement ceiling they were driven into and without warning, half of the platform, with Antoine on it, crashed into the enclosure with Miss Mary's newest heifer. 

Antoine groaned, opening his eyes slowly. The sudden fall stunned him, but he remained conscious, perhaps unfortunately. He opened his eyes just in time to see a massive leg shift against the restraints, coming down straight on top of him. Acting quickly, he rolled to the side, catching a glimpse of the massive foot that crushed the metal catwalk like it was made out of tin foil. 

"Shit." He muttered, rising to his feet. He had never been on the ground in an enclosure, seeing them only from the birds-eye view of his monitors or the suspended walkways for the occasional maintenance, but this was something else, something visceral. Before him sat Heather, Number 22, hooked up to her feeding machine and milking apparatus, moaning softly as the stimulator buzzed against her puffy vagina. She almost didn't register as human, perhaps due to Mary's insistence on referring to her cattle as property, but seeing the transformation up close painted the heifers in a totally new way, one that filled Antoine with a small amount of pride knowing his research was responsible. 

She was massive, at least 30ft tall. As he looked upon her writhing form, the engineer struggled to recall what she looked like prior to her transformation, seeing only a thickened, fattened creature with titanic breasts laden with milk. Her curves were outrageous, with hips that nearly filled the entire width of the enclosure and thunderous thighs that rippled with movement, all sat atop the fattest ass science could create, all by design of course. The heifer's bodies were altered so heavily, so completely by his hormone treatment that they needed the additional mass to sustain their new bodies. She was beyond Rubenesque and beautiful, a marvel of science unlike anything the world has ever seen, and yet, as Antoine looked upon his work from the lowly perspective for the first time, he saw something else. Fear, and a sadness so profound he couldn't help but feel it too. 

But his sympathy was quickly replaced by the blaring of sirens and flashing of lights. An alarm had been sounded, which was the standard protocol when someone entered the enclosures. The ringing pierced the air, startling the captured titaness as she began to once again fight her restraints, thrashing and pulling and stomping as best she could. A heavy footfall lunged outward towards Antoine, stopping just short as the bindings held the powerful leg back, much to his relief. Still, even with the alarm bells ringing, the technician had never seen a heifer this worked up. The nutrient feeds the cattle were given contained a powerful sedative that kept the girls in a state of constant bliss and euphoria, a sort of dreamlike trance of constant pleasure aided by the vaginal stimulator. Without it, Antoine knew that a panicked heifer could very well break free of her restraints if she fought hard enough. As the lights of the alarms bathed the enclosure in a glow of deep red, the lone engineer knew he didn't have much time. He had to get back up to that catwalk and finish his work, only then could he put Heather back to sleep. 

------- 

"This is Sharon Hendrickson, reporter for the NY Free Press, date November 15th, 2018. I'm currently on my way to the Miss Mary's Dairy factory here in New York, I've landed an interview with Miss Mary herself. She thinks this talk is going to be about her recent string of awards and nominations, but while I'm there, I want to look deeper Into the recent allegations of animal cruelty. Snoop around, do a little investigative reporting. I'm coming up on the headquarters now so I'll sign off." 

She sighed, saving the voice recording on her phone and stowed it away in her bag. Sharon paid her cabbie and stepped out onto the street before the megalithic Manhattan building, the Miss Mary's Dairy headquarters and bottling factory. The lobby was clean and modern, and as Sharon checked in with the receptionist at the front desk, she was lead to a luxurious looking conference room where a spread of pastries, confectionaries and, of course, Miss Mary brand drinks were laid out. The young reporter scoffed, taking a seat as she reached for a muffin, contemplating whether or not to include a drink before ultimately deciding to abstain. She ate her muffin and waited, sitting alone in the conference room for far longer than she had expected to be kept waiting. As a single clock on the wall ticked the time away, the reporter grew more and more restless with each passing minute. 

"Update. I arrived at the Miss Mary headquarters and have been waiting for close to an hour with no sign of the eponymous Miss. The interview was scheduled to begin 45 minutes ago." Sharon said as she continued her previous recording.

"Aside from the complimentary breakfast platter, I don't think there's anything for me here in this conference room. I'm gonna see what I can find out, actually flex that journalism degree." 

The clock continued to tick as she put away her phone and stood up. The Miss Mary's drinks, glistening with condensation as their chilled temperature faded more and more, sat on the table, untouched. Sharon breathed deep, her gaze fixed upon the garish, colourful bottles as she contemplated her plan of action. The allegations against the Miss Mary's brand was heavy, and if there was any truth to them, the intrepid reporter was resolute in her desire to see that truth brought to light, but she had to be smart. For all intents and purposes, Sharon was alone behind enemy lines and she'd likely have to go deeper to find what she wanted know. The risks were great, but the allure of a compelling scoop were far greater. 

The door to the conference room opened slowly, just enough for Sharon to peek down the hall and see no movement coming from either direction. Carefully, she slipped out, keeping a vigilant eye upward for any security cameras that might lying in wait as she headed deeper into the unknown territory. The trek was, for the most part, relatively uneventful as Sharon pressed on, looking for a way off the ground floor. With no fanfare, she passed a few occupied offices with little more than a glance in her direction as he tried to keep a low profile, but all pretences of stealth were shattered when the reporter rounded a corner to an elevator with a lone woman stationed in front of it. Sharon locked eyes with the woman before trying to snap back around the corner unseen. 

"Excuse me? Who are you?" The woman called out. The reporter winced, trying to come up with a cover story, but every second spent around the corner made her seem more and more suspicious. She had to say something, anything. 

"Hey! Hi!" She announced with as much charisma she could muster as she bounced around the corner to meet the lone woman, whom she could now see with much more clarity. She was a squat, older woman with short hair and a name tag clipped to her shirt that read 'Sue', looking rather tired as she stood behind a narrow desk.

"I'm Shar... Shelly. Michelle. I'm a new hire, looking for my station." 

The lone woman looked at the young reporter before glancing at a clipboard, as if to corroborate Sharon's bold-faced lie. Sharon simply smiled her most placating smile, silently screaming inside over fear of being busted so quickly. 

"Michelle Mendelssohn, formulation?" Sue asked, an eyebrow raised. 

"Yeah! That's me!" The reporter responded, a little heavy on the forced excitement. 

"Your shift starts in three minutes. You'll need to hurry. Sub floor 11." The squat woman said, opening the elevator behind her. Sharon was dumbstruck, incredulous that she was able to bullshit her way in, but relieved to have established a cover. Thanking Sue, Sharon wasted no time and entered the elevator quickly to avoid any further questioning, the doors closing behind her. The young reported wiped her brow, taking a moment to collect herself before retrieving her phone to resume her recording once more as the elevator began to descend. 

"Ok, update. I'm in an elevator with no buttons heading down to what I can only assume will be sub floor 11 of the Miss Mary's factory. I don't know what I'm gonna find down there, but when these doors open, I'm gonna continue my search. Let's see if we can find any skeletons in the closets, mostly metaphorically. Sharon Hendrickson, signing off for now." 

------

The alarms and sirens continued to blare, the noise almost unbearable for a regular sized person, Antoine could only imagine how excruciating the sound must've been for someone with eardrum's as big as Heather's. Indeed, the gigantic woman fought violently against the milking machine that had imprisoned her, her muffled screams anguished and afraid. As he watched the humongous heifer in the throes of panic, each frightened shake and spasm straining the bindings holding her in place, Antoine knew that if he didn't act quickly, there would be a breach. While the concrete enclosures would certainly prove too much for any of the 30-40ft heifers to truly escape from, having them loose from their restraints, their milking machine, their feeding tube, that was the nightmare scenario, a point of no return. With no way to regulate their sedatives and stimulants externally, a heifer could regain full control, and a heifer in full control, fully lucid, was a danger that could not be returned to their restraints unless they did so willingly, which was unlikely to happen. 

There was no way in or out of an enclosure on the floor level, with the only personnel access being the maintenance catwalks overhead. Cleaning machines entered through panels on the walls too small for a regular human to squeeze through, and the heifers themselves were placed in the enclosures via a ceiling mounted rail that delivered each one after the genetics team was finished with them. Indeed, unless he developed the ability to scale sheer surfaces, there was no way he was getting out of the enclosure without some help. 

The engineer pondered his escape as Heather kicked again, the heavy-duty cables holding her leg restraints fighting a losing battle against her enhanced, stirring form and it was in this raw display of power that Antoine saw his way to freedom. Heather's knee, as it lifted with each stomp, shot high up into the air before being held back by her bindings that were eventually pulled taught. Although they didn't rise all the way up to the remnants of the catwalk, the cunning technician saw his opportunity regardless. With a powerful THUD, Heather's massive foot slammed into the floor of the enclosure and Antoine acted quickly, darting his way onto her huge extremity. While her senses were still dulled, the anxious heifer had enough faculty to feel the tiny man scurry onto her foot as though it was a rat or some other small vermin, only further fuelling her ongoing panic. A dangerous play, but one Antoine had planned for, and as Heather instinctively attempted to shoo away her perceived pest, her leg once again shot high into the air, taking the precarious passenger along with it as he was catapulted upward at great speeds. In a display of athleticism far more impressive than anyone in his modest shape could hope to achieve, the tactful technician leapt off the enormous foot towards the still-hanging section above, managing to climb the railing to safety. However, as Antoine threw open the panel covering the nutrient regulation valve, Heather, her frenzy intensifying faster with each shrill shriek of the sirens and alarm bells, fought harder and harder, fully managing to rip her left arm free from the wall as she blindly swatted around her enclosure in a panicked fervour. 

There wasn't much time, and Antoine hoisted the valve open as far as he could, sending a deluge of hormone and sedative-laden nutrient feed spilling into Heather's mask, down her feeding tube. She gagged with surprise at the sudden sustenance flowing into her, confused by the new development taking hold of her as she continued to thrash, testing the other bindings to their absolute capacity as metal creaked and concrete cracked. But as the slurry of chemicals poured into her stomach, Heather felt her mind cloud, her body loosen. She was being put under again, and she could feel the sensation of her consciousness being ripped away once again after she was able to wake for a brief, terrifying, but hopeful moment of lucidity. She didn't want to go back to sleep, and she fought with all her might but found the restraints seem heavier, her body sluggish, she was losing, drifting further and further into the subconscious recesses of her own mind until finally, to Antoine's relief, she slumped over, out cold, a single tear streaking down her massive face. 

Back In the safety of his control room, Antoine fell into his desk chair, frazzled and exhausted from the near-death experience, one he hoped to never repeat as he put in a note to reinforce both he maintenance catwalks and the enclosure restraints. The alarms had subsided, the nutrient feed issue resolved, but never had the engineer felt more defeated than now, punctuated by the door to his control room sliding open and that intimidating figure hurrying in once again. 

"What the hell happened?!" Mary barked with concern, just none for him. Antoine drew a heavy sigh and stood from his chair. 

"There was a valve problem with 22's feed, she must've not been getting enough of the sedative and nearly broke loose with me inside the damn enclosure!" He shouted, stepping closer to the large woman than he would have liked in a moment of frustration, looking her squarely in her cold, steely brown eyes. 

"I'm fine by the way." 

"I can see that." Mary countered. 

"But the situation is resolved? 22's hormone intake has been upped?" 

He could not believe what he was hearing. In his years working with Mary, he knew her to be an ambitious woman, motivated by the bottom line, but something about this moment, the sheer contempt being shown for his well being drove Antoine across a line he never thought he'd cross. 

"Mary!" He exploded, shouting directly at his Amazonian employer. 

"Do you care at all that I almost died in there?! From safety issues that I have brought up multiple times in the past!? Do you give a single shit about my well being, at all?!" 

As he seethed with rage, Mary merely looked back, her amused smile lingering. It had been a long time since anyone had the nerve to challenge her so directly, but rather than lay into the pathetic excuse for a man that she towered over, she laughed, stepping back as she shrugged. 

"Antoine, darling. You clearly handled yourself, it's why I picked you for this position! I knew you were capable so why should I worry? Now then, get yourself a coffee, straighten your tie and get back to work and I'll forget this quaint little outburst of yours." She said, wiping some dust from his shoulder, her superior attitude dripping off of every dismissive word. 

"Unbelievable." Antoine scoffed. 

"Excuse me?" Mary asked, the amusement in her voice subsiding. For a moment, the fed-up technician stared daggers at her, contemplating his next sentence carefully as she stared back expectantly. He was treading on thin ice and knew it, but he was at the end of his rope. 

"I'm going home." Antoine said, loosening his tie defiantly as he began to walk towards the exit only to be stopped by Mary's large arm.  

"Excuse me?" She repeated, incredulity now present in her tone. 

"The flow regulators are on, the whole system is on autopilot. I nearly died, I'm going home." The engineer reaffirmed, pulling his employer's arm off of himself. He began to make his exit, taking a few unchallenged steps before feeling the force of Mary's grasp, like a hammer and a vise all in one, grip his shoulder. With little resistance, the tremendous woman tossed Antoine back towards his control console, sending him tumbling over his desk chair. He fought to stand up, but her enormous form was already upon him, looming over him with malice as she planted a high-heeled foot onto his chest. With fear in his eyes, Antoine looked up at the mountainous Mary, awaiting his certain doom only to be caught off guard by what she said next. 

"How'd that date of yours go last week?" She asked innocently as she pressed her foot into his sternum with a terrible pressure. 

"What!?" He asked back, confused, his mind struggling to fully process the question as the adrenalin from his trip to the enclosures began to return to him. 

"What was her name, Valerie? Was she cute? Did she put out?" Mary continued, grinding her heel harder against Antoine's chest. 

"Yes, no, I don't know!" He howled, feeling the pressure bruising his bones. Mary laughed, clearly enjoying herself as she pumped her foot one final time before releasing her hold of the defeated engineer and stepped back. Antoine gasped for air, crawling away to his console in fear as the gears slowly turned and he came to understand exactly why Mary was asking what she was asking, what she was threatening. 

"That's good." She smiled, crossing her strong arms as she continued. 

"But, you know. New York can be such a dangerous place, one wrong turn, one little mistake and someone like Valerie could wind up on business end of one of our milking machines. We don't want that, do we, Antoine?"

Breathing heavily, his panting pained, all the technician could do was think of how underhanded and cruel Mary could be. He knew she was ruthless, but this was a new low. 

"No, we don't." He said sullenly. 

"Goodness, no. Now, I think it's probably best if we clean ourselves up and get back to work. Otherwise, it'd be a real shame if Valerie happened to, I don't know, just disappear." Mary laughed, her twisted grin stretched across her face. 

"Yea, I get it, Mary." Antoine said, hoisting himself onto his feet with a groan. 

"Just wanting to be clear." She said sweetly as she turned to walk away, stepping out the doorway before ducking her head back into the control room, beaming with smug satisfaction. 

"Oh, I forgot to mention. I'll be leading a tour of the show factory upstairs. If you need anything, hesitate to ask." 

And with that, the tremendous woman who had been so callous and cruel mere seconds ago blew a kiss and winked at the engineer cheekily. Antoine felt, the combination of fear and pain swirling around within him as he sat in his desk chair and coughed. Mary had made herself crystal clear, any disobedience would be met with retribution, leavened not just upon him, but the people he cared about. Her capacity for viciousness ran deep, this the technician knew, but he never expected to find himself falling into those depths himself. Leaning back, Antoine felt trapped, alone. He was done with Miss Mary, done with her dairy, but he saw no option that guaranteed his safety or anyone else's. The thought of spending the rest of his career as a drone, doing the bidding of his malevolent mistress for the rest of his life filled him dread, but there didn't seem to be any other solution. 

Antoine closed his eyes tight, as if to squeeze the memory of today from his memory, but as the darkness blanketed his vision, the lone engineer saw nothing but the whimpering, frightened form of heifer number 22, Heather. The terror, the sadness, the hopelessness that he felt was mirrored on the poor creatire's face, or as much of it as he could see and for a brief moment, all the sympathy Antoine felt prior returned like a great flood of emotion. He scrambled to his console, bringing up the video feed to her enclosure, seeing the damaged catwalk, the broken restraint, and the sleeping giantess all from his familiar birds-eye view as he watched her with intent as he had so many times before with all of the other cattle. However, before, when Antoine monitored the heifers, he felt nothing at all. Now, there was a steep sense of guilt, a powerful and sickening knot that tied itself inside the poor man's stomach. He clenched his fist, flicking through the feeds of the other enclosures, from 1 all the way to 26, watching the sedated women doze as the milking machine extracting countless gallons of milk from each of their titanic tits. This was what he had created, for her. A means to her twisted ends built on the backs of innocent women. Antoine risked everything for this company and got nothing in return but bruises and self loathing. 

"Fuck this." He grumbled, banging his tightly gripped fist against the console, standing up. He had a plan. A dangerous plan, a last resort he had come across when reworking the hormone formula, a nuclear option. Entering his access codes, Antoine brought up the master menu, a way to regulate the nutrient intake of every heifer buried deep within the concrete catacombs beneath Manhattan. He felt sweat bead upon his brow as he looked at the screen, feeling a disembodied power that came with it, steeling himself for the insane, incredibly dangerous thing he was going to do, something so dangerous that it could very well destroy him, but it would definitely destroy Mary. 

Antoine exhaled sharply and increased the growth hormone intake of every heifer by 150% while dropping their sedative intake to zero

----

The steel cable stressed and strained, whimpering as more and more heft pulled against it, smaller wires fraying against the increasing bulk. There was a final moment of resistance before the sole remaining arm restraint of Heather, Number 22 was ripped from the wall like it's counterpart prior, shocking the captured giantess awake as she fell forward. Once again coming to in the strange, cold space, the frightened girl felt her anxiety begin to return heightened by the tube that still ran down her throat and the mask that blinded her. But for all her anxiety, Heather felt different, stronger, and the cruel apparatuses that had been affixed to her felt tighter, smaller. The straps and seals that fastened the feeding tube and blinders to her face were pressing into her skin as though they were shrinking. Instinctively, the New York native reached for the uncomfortably headwear to remove it, tearing the polymer contraption away with ease, coughing and sputtering as she discarded the feeding tube, still flowing with a brackish fluid of some kind. Heather breathed deeply through her mouth for the first time in a while, straining her eyes against to soft glow of the enclosure lights, the first light she had seen in months. 

"Fuck." Heather gasped quietly, fighting to catch her breath. She was sweating profusely, no doubt triggered by the extreme amounts of nervousness and fear she experiencing, but as she raised a hand to brush some sweat from her forehead, what Heather saw only added to that anxiety. Her sensitive eyes finally adjusting to the light, the beleaguered blonde caught a glimpse of shapes, pink and pendulous, resting between her arms as she moved a hand in to wipe away the beading sweat. She thought nothing of it at first, her momentary comfort taking a precedent as she leaned back and pulled her hand away, then noticing something else. 

With a wide-eyed fascination one might have for a train wreck or plane crash, the young woman looked at her forearm and hand, now emblazoned with a tattooed barcode and seemingly fatter, thicker, than she had ever remembered. As she inspected her limb, Heather's curious eyes wandered back to the strange shapes she saw earlier, whatever little colour still left in her sunlight-deprived skin draining as she witnessed her new body for the first time. 

Mortified, Heather looked down at her breasts, massive and engorged with powerful veins snaking outward in all directions. The suction cups of the milking machine were still fastened tightly to her fat, puffy nipples, straining against her newfound size as they dutifully pumped an almost infinite volume of creamy milk from her bloated boobs. Heather grabbed one of the suckers and pulled, feeling a riveting jolt of pleasure and pain as the suction cup came loose from her raw nipple with a satisfying POP, sending torrents of milk splashing to the cold, concrete floor. 

"What the fuck?" Was all Heather could ask, her voice shaky, scared and confused by her new shape. Indeed, as the sedatives that left her brain hazed slowly wore off, the young blonde felt a wave of thoughts and memories return as she struggled to understand where she was and how she came to be here. Visions of a time before danced in her mind, almost tauntingly of a life she once had but felt so far away. Heather looked upon the rest of her body, seeing her curves ballooned out to such cartoonish extremes and recalled a gown, a wedding dress that she worked so hard for, hitting the gym three times a week just to be able to fit. And as that thought returned to her, tears streaked down her face as she remembered more and more about her life, her fiancé. Heather had no idea how much time had passed, how long she had been captured for. Had the date of her wedding come an gone? Did her fiancé wait for her? Did he even look for her? 

As the tears fell to the floor, joining in the puddle of milk that streaked out from her titanic tits, Heather felt so alone, so angry, grabbing at the clitoral stimulator that still buzzed between her legs, pulling it loose with ease. The only restraints left holding the gigantic woman in place were her ankle bindings, each of them ready to burst from Heather's slowly swelling form, a growth she didn't seem to be aware of yet. She sat back against the wall of the enclosure, defeated, feeling a curious sensation brush against the top of her head as she moved to a comfortable seating position. Her head had scraped up against the concrete ceiling, crumpling some kind of metal railing system that hung overhead into scrap against her forceful momentum. The puzzled giantess scratched her head quizzically at the sudden, unexpected contact and as she did, Heather looked around her prison for the first time, taking in the odd concrete box for what it was. There were no discernible entrances or exits, just rows of odd panels that lined the walls. In front of her lay the wreckage of the catwalk that she had shaken loose during her prior panic attack, it looking like little more than Meccano panels from a child's playset.  

"Hello?" Heather called out, looking around in the hopes of finding a response. Her voice echoed off the walls of her enclosure, reverberating against the cold surfaces of the claustrophobic box she had found herself in. She sat in silence for a few moments, feeling nothing but the constant stream of milk trickling from her heavy breasts before being overwhelmed with a new sensation. In an instant, the restraints still fastened to the captured New Yorker's ankles snapped away as Heather expanded outward and upward for the busty blonde to witness firsthand. Her head bumped into the solid ceiling with a dull thud as the massive woman tried to find space against the concrete walls that seemed to be closing in around her, crouching down on the ground as her voluptuous curves filled the cramped chamber. While this new development was startling in its own right, Heather felt very little beyond the vibrant pulse of her body's newfound expansion, every fibre of her being alight with energy and pleasure. Without laying a hand upon herself, the growing giantess reached an orgasm, shuddering wildly against the powerful ripples of expansion. If pressed for an answer in that moment, Heather would've lamented, somewhat shamefully, that she discarded her clitoral stimulator too soon. 

The pulses slowed and the young New York native fought to catch her breath again, the warm feeling of her orgasm fading as she returned to the reality of her problem. She was stuck, in a room that, to her, seemed to be shrinking. In truth, Heather had grown to around 50ft tall, a height no heifer at Miss Mary's Dairy had ever achieved, for good reason. Indeed, the enclosures were designed for a maximum of 35ft, even that being uncomfortably small. But I'm her new form, the gigantic woman had difficulty finding any comfort, with cold stone walls pressing against she from all sides. Shifting a bit, she tried to lay on her side, accidentally kicking a wall as she fell into place. The sheer cement wall cracked from the impact, giving far more purchase than Heather expected. Thinking quickly, the bloated blonde queued another kick, winding up to deliver a forceful strike when, to her surprise, the strike came from the opposite side of the wall. A flurry of dust and debris shot forth as something hammered the wall from the behind it, cracking the cement even further. However, Heather was undeterred, hopeful to find her escape as she let her foot fly, compromising the wall with the force of an industrial wrecking ball. With each powerful hit, the prison seemed to weaken, the cracks and seams spidering outward along the floor and ceiling as she continued to pound the failing wall along with whatever was helping her from beyond. Finally, with one resolute kick, Heather smashed into the wall with all her might, sending chunks of masonry loose as a large hole was formed. Elated, she shifted, turning around to crawl through only to be met with a curious sound, the sound of someone else coughing amidst the cloud of dust. 

"Hello?" Heather called out cautiously, ducking her head into the hole. The response wasn't immediate, the other person fighting back a lung full of concrete-laden air, but to Heather's relief, a feminine voice spoke back. 

"I'm... I'm in here." They said, suppressing a cough. 

"Are you here to help me?" 

The dust settled, leaving Heather a clear view into the neighbouring compartment and at its lone occupant. It was another woman, perhaps 10-15 years Heather's senior with beautiful dark skin and lush, wavy hair that plumed outward. The new woman's body was similar to hers in height and shape, outrageously curvy and enormous breasts capped with thick nipples that constantly leaked rivulets of white milk. Elated to no longer be alone, the relief Heather felt was palpable, but as she heard her newfound companion's question about help, her heart sank a little as the New York native realized that they were both prisoners and still very much trapped. 

"No, I'm stuck in here too, I was hoping this would be the way out." Heather admitted, a faint sadness in her voice. 

"Damn. Do you know where we are?" The other woman asked, shifting to make room in her already-cramped enclosure, as if to invite Heather in. The blonde just smiled and stayed by the makeshift entrance they had created. 

"Not a clue." Heather replied. 

"I just woke up here, attached to all that... stuff." 

The two sat for a moment, considering the situation they seemed to share, a silence hanging in the enclosures before there was another powerful thud against the wall behind the older woman. She turned with a start, feeling the vibrations of the wall run along her back as more dust was shaken loose. 

"Hey, what's your name, kid? I'm Patrice." The woman said gently, turning back towards the neighbouring enclosure. 

"Heather." Was all the blonde said. Patrice smiled and affirming smile, a comforting warmth resonating from her that Heather longed for, certain she may never feel it again. With a sudden jolt, the older woman kicked the wall behind her, more and more torrents of dust and debris raining from the breaking wall, turning to the New Yorker with a smirk. 

"Well, Heather, I don't think we're alone down here." 

--------

The elevator door slid open revealing a sleek and sterile laboratory setting. Workers clad in full-body coveralls, masks, and gloves walked with purpose down the open hallways and in an out of various rooms like buzzing bees, much to Sharon's fascination. Slipping out onto the floor, the intrepid reporter looked around, spotting another table with a stationed worker like the one upstairs and cautiously approached. 

"Uh.. hi. I'm, um, Michelle Mendelssohn. I work down here?" She said, more of a question than a declaration. The person behind the table, this a younger looking man referenced a clip board, scribbling something down before directing Sharon to get changed and proceed into processing for her first shift. She thanked the man and quickly went where directed, trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible as she entered a small locker room lined with spare protective gear.  

"When in Rome." she said to herself, reaching for a set of coveralls. The degree of PPE being worn by the other workers seemed excessive for what should be an innocuous beverage operation, and as Sharon zipped up her suit and fastened her mask, she pondered why the Miss Mary's staff were so heavily dressed. Stowing her old clothes in a vacant locker, the reporter breathed deep and exited through the other side of the lockEr room. Sharon stepped out into a large thoroughfare, looking around for a moment when she was approached by a another man,  middle aged and dressed similarly to the other workers. 

"Mendelssohn? Is that you?" The slightly grizzled man barked, walking up in a hurry. Sharon froze for a moment, but knew her best course to action was to play along. 

"I'm here, reporting for duty!" Sharon said, mustering some convincing enthusiasm. 

"You're late." The man responded. 

"But we'll let payroll sort that out. I'm Craig, you'll be shadowin' me for your first day. Welcome to formulations." 

With that, he turned and began to walk, waving Sharon on to follow as he entered a large vestibule. 

"Before we begin, I'm s'posed to give you a little walk-through of the facility. Don't go wanderin' off now." Craig said in a slight drawl, muffled by his mask. A heavy bulkhead slid open to reveal a chamber far larger than Sharon expected to see, stretching on for yards and yards with a ceiling that must've been at least 80ft high. Filling the expanse were tanks, rows and rows of tanks filled with what she could only assume was milk with workers tending to them dutifully. She didn't know how far down the elevator she took here traveled, but with the presence of a room this large, the formulation lab had to sprawl pretty far under Manhattan. 

"Woah." She gasped, astounded by the sight. 

"Yep, it's pretty impressive. Easy to get lost, too, so stick close." Craig said, continuing on with his tour. 

"This is the main chamber of formulation. Every drop of Miss Mary's passes up through here to be infused with our nutrient formula before headin' up to the bottlin' plant." 

"And how much milk is that?" Sharon asked, dumbfounded. The older worker laughed, leaning against a railing as he looked out over the vast chamber. 

"On average, we see about two thousand and eighty gallons of white gold pass through here every day." He explained, folding his arms. Though the fact seemed relatively mundane to Craig, Sharon reeled at the information he was relaying. 2080 gallons of milk a day? Such a high volume seemed impossible, there weren't enough dairy cows in the whole state of New York! And even if there was, the transportation of that much milk in and out of the city every single day seemed impossible as well, the traffic in New York was rough already without multiple tankers hauling milk into Manhattan regularly. Nothing the reporter was told, nothing she had seen lined up with the statistics and facts the Miss Mary's brand was eager to taut in the interest of public relations and "transparency". Sharon knew to be skeptical, she was here to investigate allegations of animal cruelty after all. But taking in the scale of the operations before her, the young reporter feared those claims may be the least of her worries. 

"C'mon, keep up." Craig said expectantly, interrupting Sharon's moment of contemplation. 

"We got three more stops to hit then it's time to get to work. Follow me." 

"Right. Sorry." She said, quickening her pace to meet the grizzled man as he continued on his way, leading her deeper into the formulation lab. As Craig walked and off-handedly remarked about the things they passed, Sharon saw something that stood out as though everything else in that bizarre place was somehow normal. Off in a corner of the massive chamber sat a secluded corridor flanked by two guards, armed and armoured. The security in the formulation lab wasn't exactly relaxed with the attentive reporter spotting several patrols of security clad in helmets and padded vests, equipped with batons as they made their rounds. However, these two guards were unique, stationed in front of a particular pathway, carrying rather intimidating firearms and ballistic armour. The only people in New York with armed guards like that were usually criminals, sometimes politicians, and Sharon knew Miss Mary definitely wasn't one of those. There had to be something important behind the guarded checkpoint. 

"Hey, Craig. What's that door over there?" She asked, pointing nonchalantly in the direction of the secluded corridor. The older worker turned and squinted, chuckling as he realized what his younger shadow was inquiring about. 

"That there heads to the livestock enclosures." Craig explained. 

"You and I don't have clearance to go anywhere near that door so I suggest you give those boys a wide berth." 

"Livestock? But I thought all our milk was sourced from local dairy farms." Sharon countered slyly, turning to back to face her guide in the hopes of learning more. From behind his mask, Craig raised an eyebrow, almost offended by the question. 

"Did you skip the orientation or somethin'? That's just a crock the marketing department came up with to appease the hippy-dippy liberals. All our juice comes from livestock on-site." He said before turning to continue his tour. Sharon scratched her head, processing what she had been told. If there was an on-site space for cattle, then that would lend credence to the accusations of animal abuse but it still seemed so preposterous that anybody could hide enough cows to produce 2080 gallons of milk under the streets of New York. She looked to the corridor intently, watching the guards as someone clad in a lab coat was let through without fuss. There seemed to be no door she had to bypass, as long as she could slip past the guards, Sharon could see what was back there. 

"Wouldya quit lollygagging and come on?" Craig asked, somewhat aggravated as he stared at the young reporter. 

"Oh, right. Sorry." Sharon said, her mind racing to come up with a way to give the older worker the slip. 

"Um, actually, Craig. I, uh, need to go get my inhaler. For... asthma. Do you mind if I take five and catch up with you?" 

"Asthma? You sound fine to me." Craig said skeptically, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. 

"Oh, yea, I'm ok now, but these long walks just... they just really knock the wind right outta me! So, I'm gonna... go." Sharon explained, turning to leave without waiting for a retort. Not the smoothest exit, she thought, but it'll have to do. Making her way back by the vast tanks of milk and formula, the reporter casually slipped off towards the outer area of the massive chamber, onto the path that led to the guarded passage. She didn't have the most elegant plan, but as she crept up towards the corridor, Sharon took a deep breath and prayed that what she was about to do didn't earn her a bullet to the chest. Swallowing her fear, the intrepid reporter walked into view, approaching the guards in a panic. 

"You have to help me, please!" She shouted, running up to the pair of stationed guards with her hands held high. Instinctively they raised their weapons defensively, pointing their rifles at the strange woman who had approached them. 

"Ma'am you need to step back unless you have authorization to go this way." One of them said with authority, taking a step towards Sharon. Nervous, but undaunted, she continued her ploy. 

"Please! Craig fell into one of the milk tanks! I need your help!" She pleaded. The two guards looked at each other with confusion, the one closest taking a mother step 

"We're not the people you should be asking, ma'am. I'm telling you to step-" 

"There's no time!" Sharon interrupted. 

"He can't swim, we need to do something!" 

The guards stood, unmoving for a moment. After some brief consideration, the one closest lowered his rifle and turned to his colleague. 

"Aw hell, Benny. We gotta do something." He said, taking a step away from the corridor. His partner stepped forward as well, as if to object to the other guard's suggestion. 

"But, really, should we be handling this?" Benny asked cautiously, lowering his weapon. 

"It's Craig, man! That dude would jump into a river full of nails to pull my ass out, we gotta try. You call it in, I'll see what I can do." The first guard said emphatically, taking another step away from the door before turning back to Sharon. 

"Where did he fall in?" He asked. 

"Back there, near the entrance." She said, directing the guard back the way she came. He nodded, giving his partner a look as the two trotted off to see how they could help, leaving the corridor to the cattle enclosures completely unguarded. 

"I can't believe that actually worked." Sharon said to herself with incredulity as she quickly jogged down the corridor out of sight. Rounding a corner, the young reporter found herself before another elevator, this one emblazoned with a very clear "Genetics/Enclosures. Authorized personnel ONLY". She was in deep, and this elevator was certain to carry her deeper into the belly of the beast. And while her distraction had provided a way in, Sharon felt a wriggling notion of dread spring up about her way out. That would have to be a problem for the future, she decided as she hopped about the loft and hit the sole button on its dashboard. With that, the doors shuttered and the elevator began to descend.  

-----

The wall came down with ease as Patrice and the unknown resident on the other side kicked away at the concrete. When the dust cleared, another woman poked her head through the hole, hoping to learn more about the situation as well. Heather had a hard time seeing the new woman past Patrice, catching glimpses of short brown hair and curves, plenty of curves. 

"¡Hola! ¿Sabes lo que está pasando?" The woman asked, catching Patrice off guard as she turned to Heather and shrugged, unable to understand. 

"It's Spanish." The busty blonde explained, crawling closer towards the entrance to Patrice's enclosure, the centre of the three now-joined chambers. 

"Do you understand it?" Patrice asked, scratching her head. 

"A little. She's fast, and I haven't spoken any since high school, but I'll try." Heather said. Patrice shifted out of the way as best she could, giving Heather a good look at the new woman beyond her short brown hair. She had wondrous hazel eyes that complimented her beautiful face, with full, pouty lips. And like the other two, this new woman's body was grown to the same extremes, with thick droplets of milk streaming out of her titanic breasts. 

"Um. Mi nombre es Heather, ella es Patrice. Estamos, uh, atrapados aquí." Heather said slowly, impressed with how much she had retained, having not spoken the language in years. When the new woman made herself known, she was initially dejected when neither of the two girls before her spoke back in her native language. However, as Heather spoke the somewhat stilted Spanish, her face lit up with hope, a tremendous smile forming across her gorgeous lips. 

"¡Sí Sí! ¡Mi nombre es Alejandra!" She said, laughing from the excitement as she introduced herself as Alejandra. Heather smiled and looked to Patrice who, unsure of what was said, smiled back with a confused but reassuring thumbs-up. From there, Heather began to ask Alejandra questions about what she knew and, in turn, answered any that she was capable of, relaying all the information to Patrice. Speaking faster than Heather could keep up with at times, the new girl spoke of how she came to New York from Peru to see her younger brother's graduation. How while she was here, she went out into New York as a tourist, seeing the sights of The Big Apple. While it all seemed innocuous and unhelpful at first as Alejandra rattled off all the things she did in town, one of the designations struck a chord with Patrice in a way she couldn't quite understand. 

"Wait." She said aloud, interrupting the fast-talking girl as she turned to Heather. 

"Get her to back up, repeat what she just said." 

"Uh, ok. Alejandra, ¿puedes repetir, um, esa última parte?" 

Pausing for a moment, she nodded, and started over, telling a story of the last thing she remembered before she woke up here, a factory tour of a dairy drink company's headquarters. While she spoke in a language Patrice didn't understand, the brand name was said in English, and that alone was enough to trigger a memory within the inquisitive woman. 

"Miss Mary's Dairy!?" Patrice asked aloud, turning to heather. 

"Yea." The blonde girl answered. 

"She says she was on a tour of the factory and then she woke up here. Does that mean something?" 

Patrice cracked a smile of partial disbelief, amazed at how the circumstances of their situation lined up, all it taking was the corroboration of another person. 

"I didn't bring it up because I didn't think it was important, but one of the last things I remember was signing up to do a survey for Miss Mary's." She said, looking back a me forth between her two companions. 

"I went in to test some concept flavours and fill out a some forms, but now that I think back, I can't remember what happened after that. I can't remember how I got home, I can't remember if I even left!" 

"I mean, I guess that makes sense for you guys, but I don't think I've had any experience with this place before." Heather said, lazily resting her head in her hands. 

"¡Somos super tetonas! ¿Crees que tiene algo que ver con nuestras tetas? " Alejandra asked, rather bluntly, squeezing a hefty breast as milk shot out. Heather laughed at first, thinking it to be a joke, but as her laughter faded, the young New Yorker recalled the milking apparatus attached to her, an experience likely shared by her companions. 

 "I think Alejandra might be on to so-" she said, suddenly cut short. 

"Heather?" Patrice asked, looking through the hole to the neighbouring enclosure. There was no response as the blonde girl simply doubled over, silently shuddering. 

"¿Que esta pasando?" Alejandra asked, her concern unheard as she received no response from either of her new friends. She leaned into the hole to try and see the cause of the silence when there was an earth-shaking tremor, a rumbling so powerful that all three titanesses fell to the floor of the enclosures. Alejandra braced, catching bits of debris and dust as the foundation of their prisons began to rattle apart, soon understanding why as a hand, massive even to her, burst through the wall. 

"!Oh Dios mío!" She shouted, ducking out of the way as best she could, only to be met by another limb encroaching from the opposite side, Patrice's leg. With wide-eyed shock, the short-haired woman watched as her new companion's body expanded outward, comparing it to the growth spurt she herself had experienced a short while ago. Behind Patrice, Heather's massive frame came into view, swelling upward and outward in a similar burst of growth, the two giantesses gasping and moaning as their bodies transformed once again. The ceiling split and the walls came down as Alejandra screamed in terror, watching helplessly as her cohorts outgrew their prison, only to cut her scream short as she felt the strange sensation return to her. Her body convulsed, every hair on her skin standing up straight as ripples of power shot through her and before she could think, Alejandra was growing along with her new friends. 

----

The elevator opened to a forked hall, one way leading to the enclosures, one leading to whatever "Genetics" was meant to represent. Sharon pondered her choices for a moment, hearing the elevator behind returning upward, reminding the reporter of her limited timeframe. Instinctively, she bolted down the path to the right, the path labeled "Genetics". Security seemed oddly slight, with no locked doors or people stationed anywhere, a stark contrast to the scene upstairs with its hustle and bustle. 

"Where is everybody, lunch break?" She asked herself aloud. Cautiously, she stalked the empty halls looking for a place of interest when she came upon a small office, unlocked of course. Slipping inside, Sharon bolted the door behind her and looked around, seeing very little beyond a filing cabinet resting in the corner of the room and a basic desk with a computer filling the centre. Sitting down at the desk, the reporter was again surprised to find the terminal unlocked, with the desktop just sitting, waiting for anybody to come along and peek. Not that she was complaining, this was an opportunity she had been looking for, pulling open the file browser and inter-system email to scour for anything dubious. 

It didn't take long for Sharon to find something dubious.  

Opening a folder of the most-recently viewed files, Heather found a document called "heifer_growth.xls", a chart detailing the rate of growth and output of the cattle Miss Mary's allegedly had. With the bizarre file was an attached comment left from  a colleague with a link, a video, and wanting to learn more, Sharon clicked ahead. 

The young reporter didn't know what to expect when she opened the video, but footage of several doctors standing around a naked woman, strapped to some sort of operating table wasn't it. As the video played, it detailed a chemical process administered to this woman causing an extreme transformation in both size and shape, as well as hyper development of the subject's mammary glands. The footage showed her progress, compared to other subjects, other women that this company was experimenting on and Sharon watched, mouth agape and eyes wide as she saw the changes these poor women underwent. Growth far exceeding the natural limit of any person with women in the 20-30ft range, their bodies fattened and bloated, all in the pursuit of milk production. It was haunting and surreal, so far out of the realm of what she expected to find that her first instinct was to disregard the information as fake, like a prank shared around an office. Dread set in as Sharon continued to search the computer, finding more documents, more files, more evidence condemning the Miss Mary's Dairy company, more disturbing images and statistics to linger in her mind. This was the story of the century, a scandal that was sure to resonate throughout world, far greater than any story she had ever broken before. Though she thought she would feel some triumph at finding a scoop like this, instead Sharon felt disgust at the malignant evil she had found 

"Excuse me? Michelle?" A voice asked from across the room, startling Sharon as she looked up to see the door she locked now open and standing in the door frame was the face of it all, Miss Mary. 

"Or, I suppose I should say, Sharon Hendrickson?" Mary asked, coyly. The reporter's blood ran cold, staring at this mountain of a woman who looked back with an almost smug satisfaction,like a cat that had caught a mouse. Slowly, Sharon stood up from behind the desk, her tense gaze remained fixed upon the intimidating person in front of her. 

"The girls on that chart, in that video. Who were they. Where did they come from?" The reporter asked, stalling as she tried to come up with an escape plan. 

"Couldn't have waited for our interview, huh? I swear I was on my way in." Mary insisted, stepping to the side as the two armed guards from before filed into the cramped office. 

"I'll indulge you with an answer, it doesn't make a difference now, anyway. Those girls are my property, volunteered to work for me." 

"Bullshit, they volunteered! Where did they come from?!" Sharon pressed, the guards approaching with menace, their weapons trained squarely on her. Mary folded her arms and let out an amused scoff. 

"A few of them were headhunted. Wet nurses, mothers of multiple pregnancies, they seemed like ideal candidates at first." She said, 

"But it turned out that my science team did a better job than expected. Stuff like that didn't matter, our process could be applied to anime with mammaries, I could make anyone I wanted into fat ol' dairy cow!" 

Mary let out a boom of laughter as Sharon shifted, grabbing the monitor off the desk and holding it at the ready as a makeshift weapon. The guards paused and the reporter used her second of bought time to question further. 

"So you kidnapped people, is that it?" She asked, preparing to attack at any moment. 

"I like to think of it as offering a generous employment opportunity." Mary said, matter-of-factly. 

"But, our selection process did yield an unexpected boon when it came to the removal of certain unwanted individuals."

The two guards approached Sharon, their weapons trained on her as one produced a set of zipties and maneuvered closer to restrain the trespassing reporter. Sharon threw the monitor stunning one of the guards as she tried to run past, rounding the desk as she made a mad dash to the exit. The other guard took aim, preparing to fire when the towering tyrant stepped in front of the door. 

"Don't shoot, you idiot! I want her alive." Mary barked, thrusting a powerful hand outward and clamping onto Sharon's shoulder, trapping the reporter in place for the goons to restrain. 

"How'd you know I was here?" She asked as the guard grabbed her arms and began to fasten the ties. Mary laughed a dismissive laugh and shook her head. 

"I was notified the second you left the conference room, Sugar." The colossal corporate figurehead explained. 

"I had thought about letting security stop you right then and there, but I did a little homework on you and came up with a much better idea. Though, and I'll admit, it was pretty funny when the REAL Michelle Mendelssohn showed up for work today." 

The reporter was only made more nervous by Mary's cryptic declaration, having little time to think about it as the guard pulled the zipties tight, binding Sharon's wrists as she was marched out into the hallway. Mary stood to the side, smiling all the while, seeing the confusion on Sharon's face, enjoying every moment of it as she began to walk, the guards pulling their new captive in tow. 

"A journalism degree from Syracuse, two nominations and one win for the Goldsmith Investigative Reporting prize, you fancy yourself a real Nancy Drew type, don't you?" Mary said, idly listing accolades as she walked down the sterile hallways of the genetics wing, stopping before a large hydraulic door, her goons dragging Sharon along when the reporter finally spoke. 

"You can't keep me here, you have no legal right." She said, gritting her teeth. Mary merely laughed as the door opened, revealing an open room with a sinister operating table in the centre, the same one from the video Sharon watched alone in the vacant office. 

"Of course I don't, but I'm certain you know by now legality isn't much of a priority here." Mary said, gesturing the guards to the table. 

"So, you're going to kill me then? As if the free press doesn't know I'm supposed to be here? If I go missing they'll know it was you!" Sharon said, resisting the authoritative pull of her captors as they lead her to the centre table, lined with various straps and holds meant to restrain whomever was placed upon it. 

"Well, Nancy Drew." Mary said, slipping on a pair of XL latex gloves. 

"That's the funny thing about it. I don't intend to kill you, but I can't let you go, either. You know how this works, you've seen too much. So that leaves the dilemma of what to do with you and how to deal with any Nosy Nora's that might come looking for you." 

"And?" Sharon asked nervously, struggling against the guards grasp. Mary just smiled, watching from a distance. 

"And, my solution to the dilemma is simple. Do you know who recently sponsored this year's Police Ball? If you guessed lil ol' me, you'd be correct!" The enormous woman laughed with a chipper smile as she prepared some sort of equipment. 

"So you bought off the cops, big whoop. People are still gonna come looking for me!" Sharon countered. 

"No, they won't." Mary said matter-of-factly.

"As of this afternoon, Sharon Hendrickson was pronounced legally dead. Freak car accident, she was in a cab that went right off the Brooklyn bridge! How tragic." 

As the room filled with the self-satisfied laughter of the cruel women that had taken her captive, Sharon was mortified at what she was hearing, recalling the face of the cab driver that ferried her to he interview in the first place, likely drowned at the bottom of the Hudson River. As the guards cut the ties around her wrists in order to properly strap her onto the intimidating table, the young reporter knew she had no choice. She had to break away now at the risk of being shot, or face a life of whatever Miss Mary had in store. Throwing her shoulder, every ounce of her weight with it, into the guard closest to the door, Sharon bolted free, taking the very brief window to sprint to the door. There were shouts, commands to stop, but Sharon paid them no mind, running blindly as she expected to feel the heat of a bullet tear through her chest cavity. Instead she was stopped, halted in her tracks by a menacing form far more agile than she expected. Standing between her and the door stood Mary, her iron grip fastened around the reporter's neck, squeezing the air right out of her punished lungs. 

"Come on, sugar. You're gonna have to do better than that." Mary said casually, hoisting Sharon up by her own neck with ease. She pounded her fists on Mary's tree trunk of an arm, hoping to loosen the tyrants hold on her. 

"Why.. are you doing this?" Sharon croaked out with what little breath she had. Mary simply slammed the reporter onto the operating table, holding her in place while the two disheveled guards strapped her down. 

"Why, what?" Mary asked, her tone dipped in honey. 

"Why am I letting you live? Why did I instruct security to let you find your way down here? Why did I start a multi-million dollar dairy drink brand built off the backs of some very literal human resources?!" She asked with theatrics as her voice crescendoed, backing away from the table. Sharon winced as the last of the buckles holding her in place was pulled taught, unable to move, only struggle in place. Mary chuckled, selecting a large syringe from a prepared tray of instruments and loomed over the tortured reporter, her trademark smile painted across her face. 

"Because I wanted to, Nancy Drew! Because when I have an idea, no matter how big or how small, I see it through. Even if it involves spending millions of dollars on black market pharma R&D to figure out how to make women gigantic with some fat ass titties." She laughed, giving the syringe a flick before she plunged it into Sharon's neck. The fluid within the syringe drained into her body as she struggled helplessly against it. 

"But why not use real cows?! This is so fucked up!" Heather shouted, panicked and sweating under the heat of the light over head. Mary placed an enormous hand on her face, as if to comfort the distressed reporter before giving her a few gentle-yet-dismissive pats on the cheek. 

"That would be so wrote, you know? And I never do things the easy way, no ma'am! Have you ever seen that skinflick about the two giant sluts that fight in San Francisco?* The idea came to me after catching it on tv one night and I thought 'you know, I bet I have the capital to get that off the ground'." Mary said, replacing the empty syringe for another.   

"When I told my chief geneticist my plan, he couldn't believe it either! He was so certain we could use this to inoculate millions of people to do my bidding, create an army of super-powered drones from anybody that drank my products, but I shot him down! I'm ambitious but world domination just sounds tiresome, y'know? I just want the success, the reputation, a product that every low-rent YouTuber and small-fry podcast will happily shill for as long as I keep paying their bills! A product that millions of stupid idiots buy every day because some d-list celebrity endorses it! That and the bit of scratch I make on the side selling camera feed footage from the enclosures to horny billionaires. The money is nice, but I did it because I knew I could. Because I wanted to. I think that's quite empowering, don't you?" 

"Burn in hell" Was all Sharon could say, tears welling in her eyes as she felt the effects of whatever Mary injected into her take hold. 

"Indignant to the last, Nancy Drew. I don't like you, but I can respect your gumption, so let these last words to you be my parting gift. When you go under, you likely won't be waking up again for a long, long time so when you sleep, I want you to dream of me. I want my face to be the only thing you see, I want my voice to be the only thing you hear. I want you to drift off to neverland so broken and defeated, that death would be a mercy for you. I want you to wish for that while we change you into a useless cow with no purpose on this earth but make me money." Mary said, letting every spiteful word drip out as Sharon, her consciousness rapidly fading, could only cry. 

"It's been so long since I've been down in the lab, I forgot how much fun with this!" The malevolent mountain of a woman said, turning to the guards with glee. 

"Well, that's what you pay me for, Mary." Another voice said as a figure walked into view. Sharon's vision was clouded, but she saw the shape of a man, somewhat small and soft looking, staring down at her. 

"She's all yours, Antoine." Mary said, removing her gloves. Sharon saw the man nod before turning back to look at her, leaning in close to inspect the company's newest property. 

"Hello, Number 19. Welcome to the rest of your life." 

----

There was the sound of a crack, sharp and terrible as foundation and masonry were torn asunder, powerless to stop the burgeoning tide of growth. Heather, Patrice, Alejandra, and several other women, presumably other cattle of Miss Mary's burst forth from the sub-level of the enclosures, up into the formulation floor. The workers were caught by totals surprise, the expanse of the sub-floor proving too large to escape from as those caught near the epicentre of the growing heifers were overtaken by their expanding bodies. The tanks and vats of milk shattered and spilled, sending creamy white tidal waves crashing down into the breach the girls rose up from, drenching them in the flood. Not that any of the growing giantesses paid the chaos much mind, their bodies still so rapt in their orgasmic expansion that they had little else to think about as they rose higher and higher towards the 80ft ceiling of sub floor 11 

"And here we have our top-secret formulation lab! Here, all our product, sourced from local dairy farmers, is infused with our patented, all organic nutrient formula! Please, no flash photography." Mary said in a sweet, performative voice as the veritable Amazon led the tour group through her facility. Behind her, dozens of smiling workers clad in lab coats toiled, pouring various fluids into beakers and flasks, simulating the appearance of real work within a small, looking nothing like the REAL formulation lab down below. In truth, these actors were here to perpetuate a version of the sinister company that wasn't real, parading around like Oompa Loompahs to Miss Mary's Willy Wonka. The tour group oohed and awed at the flashy theatrics and cheery environment, eating out of their guide's hand like the gullible sheep she needed them to be. But as Mary turned to continue the tour, the lights flickered in a peculiar way as glass bottles and jars clinked against the countertops, shaking as a slight tremor rocked the building. The group paused, with some more dramatic attendees dropping to the floor to shield themselves from any potential disaster as the ground beneath them shook ever so slightly. The Eponymous Miss looked around, confused, her outwardly sweet demeanour dropping momentarily before lighting up with a bright smile as she attempted to regain controlled the situation. 

"Goodness, that was odd." Mary said, looking out to the somewhat-rattled crowd. 

"I think they're doing some construction down in the subway tunnels. Please, let's continue." 

With the tremor gone, the tour group seemed satisfied with Mary's lie, the excursion resuming as the faux workers began their routine again. Not long after the group of enthusiastic tourists and fans of the Miss Mary's brand continued their tour, however, another slight quake was felt, followed by an aftershock that rippled and rumbled throughout the floor. The vibrations slowed, seemingly subsiding before an ear-splitting alarm was sounded, followed by more powerful tremors, each one building in intensity. The crowd began to panic with frightened screams and worried shouts tossed around as the world shook itself apart around them. 

"Please, everyone! Remain calm!" Mary ordered, trying to reign control of the group back in. 

"Obviously, we're experiencing some kind of seismic phenomenon, please follow the the signs to the gift shop, I promise you will be safe there!" 

As she waved the group past herself, the tremendous woman knew that the blaring alarm was not meant to signal some kind of natural disaster, it was meant to warn of a breach. Never in her years of running her company had she heard the alarm sound, it's shrill siren a herald of grave importance, signifying the worst case scenario. Those that knew the true source of Miss Mary's product within the company knew of the gravity the alarm held, something only to be used when the proverbial shit hit the fan, and with the feeling the violent vibrations rocketing through her headquarters, the monstrous mogul knew that her time of reckoning had come. Quickly, Mary moved against the deluge of nervous workers fleeing the rumbling building, flocking to her for answers as to what was going on. Irritated, the enormous woman pushed them aside and continued towards a way deeper into the headquarters, fighting to stay upright as the quakes became more and more powerful when it happened. 

Out of the floor in front of her, a massive arm burst forth into the main floor hallway, demolishing the fixtures above as the growing woman it belonged to clawed her way up from the sub-levels. Mary recognized the gigantic girl before, as she would any of her cattle, her property. Continuing to swell through the ruined hallway was Kisume Soto, heifer number 11, easily three times as tall as she was the last time Mary saw her, now at a whopping 100ft and climbing. 

"Shit!" Mary shouted, turning around to find another path, barrelling through the confused employees as they stared with slack-jawed confusion at the literal giantess that had emerged. Mary didn't have time to answer their questions, navigating the cramped corridors of her headquarters as she raced to find another way down amidst the chaos. As she pushed through hurried crowds of  workers and secretaries, the shattering of marbled tile shot through the halls as Mary turned her head in horror to see another body coming up through the floor of the building's main lobby. This one, dark skin glistening with sweat and milk and dust, glorious hair puffed outward in an unflappable afro, was Patrice Desjardins, heifer number 16, rising up onto the ground floor. The tile split away even further as two more figures reached up towards the light, numbers 20 and 22, Alejandra Cabrera and Heather Cunningham. It was a sight to behold, this trio of women, bodies like fertility idols, milk raining down like a storm as they overtook the hapless lobby with their encroaching curves in a display of unstoppable feminine power, their bodies shooting towards at least 125ft in height. 

"What the fuck is going on!" Mary roared in disbelief, watching as her entire empire very literally crumbled from beneath her. The sound of cracking concrete and twisting metal was drowned out by the soft, yet enveloping moans of pleasure from the growing heifers, with more moans audible from below growing louder, a sign that more were yet to emerge. Spinning on her heels, Mary sprinted to the nearest elevator and hammered on the button to descend, praying the integrity of the building would hold long enough for her to make it down. She heard the crashing and smashing of more and more destruction from beyond the walls of her tiny metal elevator, fearing that there may not be anything left for her to investigate when the doors opened.  

Meanwhile, the scene above continued to prove no less chaotic as several of the growing giantesses broke through the external facade of the Miss Mary's Dairy building, spilling into the streets of bustling downtown Manhattan as their unchecked growth continued. Few words were uttered as the relative serenity of the New York minute was suddenly interrupted by the presence of the strange and beautiful giants, crashing into the urban sprawl like a force of nature. The pedestrians on the street saw the avalanche of milky voluptuousness descend upon the busy intersection, the deafening crunch and crash of broken masonry and glass mixing with the unmistakable sounds of pleasure that emanated from the impossibly large girls as they grew. The cacophony of chaos only worsened as many turned tail, screaming hysterics as they fled while others stared with a rapturous awe of the various women of all sorts that came crashing out, each one gigantic and curvier than Venus herself. The drivers did not fair any better as the streets became a mess of goddesses and milk, convulsing and cooing as their bodies shot outward in all directions, blocking traffic completely. As the living roadblocks came down, many drivers attempted to flee as well, turning into the opposite lanes of traffic in the slight hopes of escaping the insane situation, only to be trapped as more giantesses burst forth from below the street.  The luckiest were the people above in the high rises and sky scrapers surrounding the scene, safe to observe the chaos below, subject only to the slight rumblings of the wild activity. For what seemed like an eternity, more and more heifers broke free onto the surface, growing larger and larger, their engorged breasts raining torrents of milk down upon the world below until the last of them emerged. There, like a scene more wild and depraved than any mind could conjure, twenty-giantesses lay, slowly expanding into the already crowded intersection.

Back beneath the streets, below the Miss Mary's headquarters, the elevator door slid open and the aggravated Amazon bolted in a sprint. The formulation sub-floor had been completely levelled with nothing left standing as the heifers outgrew their way upwards.

"This is going to be a PR nightmare." Mary said, a long drawn sigh escaping her chest as she quickened her pace deeper downward. Passing a demolished channel where rivers of rich milk once flowed, she saw a chasm torn into the concrete, a gaping hole dug out from the now milk-flooded enclosures below. These subfloors were the epicentre of the Miss Mary's company, housing the malicious milk magnate's precious livestock and treating every drop of milk she sold. From the foundation to the workforce, there was nothing left standing, nothing salvageable that could be reused if she ever hoped to resume her abhorrent business. Slumping her shoulders, Mary felt a sense of defeat, a feeling the psychopathic woman hadn't felt in years, perhaps decades. Everything she worked so hard to create, the company she spearheaded to international success, had been destroyed in seconds. 

And Mary was pissed. 

----

Heather shot awake, sending a spray of milk outward as she found herself pressed between the bodies of Alejandra and another woman, a brunette she hadn't seen before. Her resulting jolt startled her Latin comrade awake who sat upright in a similar manner, only to feel her head collide with the side of a downtown office building. The exterior of the building stood no chance as Alejandra's head smashed through like a wrecking ball against a sheet of dry wall. 

"¡Estoy bien!" She groaned to Heather, who had watched the scene unfold in a state of total shock. Alejandra scratched her head before looking to the befuddled blonde, confused at what had her so shaken. 

"¿Qué?" She asked, an eyebrow raised as Heather merely stared in silence and pointed to the wall behind the confused woman. Slowly, Alejandra turned to see what the younger girl was so  worked up by, seeing a perplexing sight. Staring back at her was a man, scurrying backwards, away from the enormous hole she had knocked into the office building. And as Alejandra had that realization, she looked around and saw the scope of their situation. She was huge, the transformations her body underwent being far more extreme than she ever could have imagined. The cramped New York streets seemed like an extremely detailed miniature model, with toy cars and tiny people. But as she saw the tiny people run and breathed in the outside air, the first fresh air Alejandra had breathed in years, the milky titaness was certain what she saw was all real. Alejandra was not the only one among the group of giantesses to come to grips with their new reality, however, as frightened shrieks and more gasps of horror began to resonate from among titanic women as they roused front their growth-induced trance 

"What the fuck is going on!?" Heather shouted, looking at the madness that surrounded her. The commotion roused a few more of the hazy-headed heifers, including the brunette woman next to. 

"I think I know. I think I can explain everything." The woman said, holding her head as though she has just woken up from the longest hangover of her life. She turned to he busty blonde, giving her a tired smile, but before she could speak, a call rang out amidst the cramped metropolitan landscape. 

"Heather!? Where'd you go, girl?" Patrice called out, her powerful voice echoing across the busy street. 

"I'm over here with Alejandra! We're ok! Heather called back, relieved to hear the older woman's voice. Down around the corner of the intersection, Patrice stood up among the group, rising to a full standing height for the first time since she was captured by Miss Mary. Despite the years of inactivity, the 200ft woman's body felt stronger than ever and rose with perfect balance, even with the weight of her extremely enlarged features. As she took a few cautious steps through the mess of milk and cars, her heavy feet sinking into the soft Tarmac with each footfall, Patrice carefully walked to her friends and helped them to their feet, sharing a hug as best their monster-sized tits would allow. 

"Crazy day, huh?" Patrice asked, looking back on the others as they slowly rose to their feet, their faculties returning to them as the last of the sedatives and growth supplement wore off. 

"You don't know the half of it." The un-introduced brunette interjected, folding her arms as the wail of sirens, fire trucks and first responders drew closer. 

"Patrice, this lady said she knows what happened to us." Heather explained, turning to the unknown woman. 

"What's your name? I'm Heather."

"Sharon Hendrickson, it's nice to meet you Heather." The reporter replied, getting used to the sights and sounds of the outside world after spending the last two years as one of Mary's heifers. 

----

"Antoine! You better be in here!!" Mary roared as she kicked the door off its hinges, barging into the  control room, miraculously left untouched by the breach. She scanned the room, finding it to be devoid of anyone, kicking a desk chair against the wall in frustration. Quickly, the mountainous woman, steaming  with rage, accessed the main console, hoping to find the cause while cursing her engineer's sudden disappearance. Using her executive access, she brought up a log of the console's recent activity, noting the alterations to the levels of growth hormone and sedative administered in the heifers' feeding tubes. 

"That little weasel. That fucking bastard." Mary said, fuming quietly. This was not an accident, this was not a mistake, her chief geneticist knew exactly what he was doing when he released all the safety measures and disabled the enclosure alarms. Nobody saw it coming. She clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles cracked and with a roar slammed her massive hands down upon the console, smashing it's keyboard and heavily denting the metal frame that housed it. Panting, Mary stepped back, silently contemplating how she would rectify this situation, how she could spin this in her favour. She had some of the press in her pocket, surely she had enough money to make this problem go away. But as she stood in quiet thought, there was another tremor, another quake. The lights above flickered as dust rained down, the already battered foundation groaning against the tonnes upon tonnes of women that had been loosed upon the city streets above. As the shaking grew more violent, a fixture above came loose, crashing onto the floor in front of the beleaguered business woman who stared blankly at the fallen piece of equipment before turning to flee before he whole world came down around her. 

----

The police and fire department arrived to a rather perplexing sight. Forming in a circle within the intersection, the heifers sat and talked and laughed. Sharon had explained her run-in with Miss Mary, relaying how she learned the vile truth of where the insidious company got its product, how Mary used tours and contests to lure in potential victims, how she was keen to subject anyone she didn't like to a twisted term of servitude. This, in turn, prompted the discussion of how each of the heifers came to be sitting in that  Manhattan intersection, the girls going one by one, telling their stories. A few members of the group, rightfully spooked as they came to grips with their new reality, had fled, stomping off into the city, desperate to outrun their fate. Indeed, the things that had happened to the heifers, the transformations they underwent, they were difficult to accept. But the girls that remained found comfort in each other, strength in their combined hardships, bonding as they opened up to one another. The authorities on the scene were dumbstruck, any attempts to relocate the assembly of giantesses going unnoticed and unsuccessful as the massive women, all stark naked and dripping with milk, sat peacefully and talked. Ultimately, all the police and first responders could do was evacuate anybody nearby while keeping the rest of the city away from the group, counting their blessings that the titanic women didn't seem to mean any harm. 

"And that's the last thing I remember!" One giantess boomed, her think New Jersey accent hanging off lips with every word of her story. 

"That's crazy, Sabrina! I can't believe anyone would be petty enough to kidnap someone over some fashion advice." Heather chuckled. 

"Well if you had the stones to wear what Mary was wearing, you'd do the same!" Sabrina, the jersey girl said, erupting in a howl, her heavy, milk laden breasts shaking with with each jovial guffaw as the group of girls shared a laugh. In the surrounding streets of Manhattan, gaggles of onlookers had assembled to catch an eyeful of ruckus downtown, held behind the hastily-constructed perimeter established by the NYPD. Thousands had gathered to see the gigantic women, with social media alight with activity and pictures capturing the events as they unfolded. With anxious attention, the world watched, waiting to see what the top-heavy titanesses would do next, nervous of the potential danger as headlines about a few stray giantesses hitting the outlying suburbs of New York began coming in. But to the relief of many within the city, the strange sisterhood that had assembled out of the now-ruined Miss Mary's headquarters seemed content to sit patiently and wait for the proper authorities to arrive as they enjoyed each other's company, getting to know one another as friends through their shared tribulations. Their conversations echoed through the streets of the dense New York borough, but when a quiet moment came, Heather felt a subtle sadness wash over her, one that Patrice noticed. 

"Heather? What's up, girl?" She asked tenderly, placing a hand on the sullen blonde's shoulder. Heather forced a smile, looking around the circle of women who looked back warmly, friends forged through their harrowing nightmare. 

"I just.. I'm glad you guys are able to share your stories, but I still can't remember how I fit in to all this. I'd never even heard of this stupid company until today!" The New Yorker said with a pout. 

"All I can remember from before is my fiancé, and it hurts to think about that. He certainly wouldn't want me now, even if he did wait around for me." 

With tears welling in her eyes, Heather forced another smile, a nervous laugh breaking as she tried to hide her pain but couldn't. Patrice wrapped her arm around the young girl and gave her a loving hug, as did Alejandra, understanding that her new friend was distraught, even if she couldn't understand why. The rest of the group offered their support, consoling their saddened sister, but Heather's lament came with a heavy reminder for everyone. Thy were free now, but each of them were ripped from their lives, some for multiple years, forced to live as the grotesque livestock of a power-mad bitch while time passed them by. 

"What are we gonna do?" Cassie, one of the younger heifers close to Heather's age, asked solemnly." Nobody spoke for a few moments, each of the massive women considering what to do next when the silence was broken by the mechanical whirring of rotor blades. Over a row of high rises descended a lone news chopper, the first to get airborne and investigate gathering of busty babes that assembled downtown. Lazily, it circled the group, pulling far closer than any of the girls would have expected, marvelling at the miniature aircraft as it hovered by. Sharon, having ridden in her fair share of news helicopters, saw the opportunity such a vessel could provide, a reliable means to tell her story, their story, to as many people. As possible. 

"Hey!" Sharon shouted, her voice far louder than she was aware of, but nevertheless, the chopper altered course, hanging in front of the massive brunette's face. 

"My name is Sharon Hendrickson, reporter for the New York Free Press, have I got a story for you guys." 

The rest of the girls watched as Sharon brokered an agreement, the news helicopter communicating with the towering reporter through their onboard loud speaker as best they could. Eventually, Sharon turned to the rest of her group with a smile. 

"Ok, ladies! We're going to Central Park!"she announced, a place suggested by the news crew in conjunction with the local police as its openness would provide the heifers with some freedom to move around without causing too much damage. carefully the massive women stood up, each of them towering above the punished New York street. However, as Sharon herself stood up, the foundation beneath her collapsed, causing the brunette to trip backwards into the ruined Miss Mary's headquarters, sending streams of milk high into the air. 

Meanshile, down below, Mary rounded the corridor back into the demolished formulation sub-floor, sunlight peaking through the hole in the ceiling where her cattle had broken free, when she saw it coming. High above on the city streets, one of her heifers was falling down, her scientifically fattened-ass eclipsing the sun above as she descended onto the rubble with a tremendous boom. The main floor gave away against the tonnes of weight that collided with it and the 200ft brunette fell deeper into the sub-floor. Mary had less than a second to respond, standing perfectly still, paralyzed as one of her prized creations careened towards her, certain to flatten the tyrant beneath the incalculable mass of the humongous heifer. The force of the impact deepened the hole torn into the earth where the initial breach occurred, sending Mary's broken body plummeting into the milk flooded rubble of the enclosures. 

Heather quickly jumped to Sharon's aid, helping the grounded girl up, both of them oblivious to the ramifications of Sharon's little tumble. 

"Thank's." Sharon said, smiling as she tried to downplay her slight embarrassment. Heather smiled and pulled the reporter along a few steps as the rest of the heifers began to migrate towards Central Park, leaving rich trails of milk in their wake. 

"Hey, Heather?" Sharon asked, stepping around a bus full of tourists.

"What's up?" The blonde answered back, a softness in her tone. Sharon stopped walking as she turned to look to the younger girl. When she entered the Miss Mary's Dairy headquarters, the intrepid reporter didn't know she was walking into a story so impossibly grand that she almost didn't come back. And while the circumstances of her freedom, all 200 feet of it, was certainly unlike anything she would have ever imagined, Sharon felt a responsibility to see the truth exposed. She learned a great deal from the other heifers and their own fateful encounters with Miss Mary, but Heather's past was a mystery, one the reporter wanted to solve more than anything. Sharon put a hand on the beautiful blonde's shoulder and smiled. 

"I want you to know that I'll do everything I can to figure out how you got wrapped up in all this. I know you want answers, I wanna help you get them."

Heather smiled back, saying nothing as the two took a few more steps into the city. Ahead, Patrice and Alejandra walked together, giggling to each other as they held hands and carefully navigated the tight streets of Manhattan. Brushing against an unoccupied bus stop, accidentally crumpling the tiny metal frame as her foot soared by, the short haired Latina turned back to Heather and Sharon with a look of embarrassment before waving them on to catch up. 

"Thank you, Sharon." Heather said, graciously. 

"Gotta flex that investigative journalism degree somehow." The brunette replied, chuckling as they joined their hurried to re-join their friends, bringing up the rear of the literal parade of gigantic women that moved through the busy metropolis. As they neared their destination, Heather watched her friends before her as Patrice, still holding Alejandra's hand, pulled in close, nibbling at the short-haired girl's neck who giggled a flustered protest in Spanish. Breaking their handhold, Alejandra retaliated by planting a firm hand on Patrice's curvaceous booty, digging her fingers in as she playfully shook her partner's fat ass, looking back to Heather with a mischievous wink as the blonde gave an approving nod back. 

"You better me some Spanish, quick, Heather. Or else you're gonna end up as our permanent translator." Patrice teased. 

"More like permanent 3rd wheel." Sharon laughed. Heather said nothing, laughing along with her new friends as they neared their destination. For the young New Yorker, the day's events were harrowing and exhausting. Her past was clouded in shadow, the mystery of her involvement looming large in her mind, but instead of sadness, Heather felt comfort, optimism. With her sisters by her side, Heather felt empowered to find the truth, ready to face the uncertain future, together. 

----

Long after the chaos of the afternoon had left, long after the search and rescue teams had come and gone, the halls of the clandestine laboratories beneath Miss Mary's Dairy headquarters sat empty for the first time in years. Glistening beneath the moonlight, pools of milk rippled dozens of feet below street level as the exposed enclosures were bathed in the glow of the moon. There was a tranquil serenity, juxtaposing the destruction mayhem that had been wrought but hours earlier, when the peaceful scene was interrupted. Pockets of air bubbled up to the surface of the deep rivers of milk, with each of the 24 enclosures still pumping out the extreme growth hormone concoction meant for the heifer's feeding tubes. The milk, tainted with the powerful transformative chemicals, chopped and churned, the surface mottled with waves of increasing intensity as though something were stirring in the creamy-white depths. There was quiet, if only for a moment before a large hand emerged from below, reaching for the very heavens themselves as it swelled slightly, growing larger by the second. 

THE END(?)