Chapter 2: Emily's Summer Job

Emily burst in the door and threw her bag down on the table. Her pleated cheerleading skirt flounced as she walked.

"Mom! I'm home!" she called out. She looked around the kitchen, then into the living room beyond. "Mom? Where are you?"

There was a short silence, and then her mother's voice came from the dining room. "Emily, hon, I'm in here."

Emily walked into the dining room. Her mother was seated at the table. Her father stood behind her mom, his hand on her shoulder.

"Mom, I--oh, hi dad. What are you doing home from work?" Emily said.

"Emily, sit down for a minute," her father said. He had a very serious look on his face.

Emily frowned. "What's the matter?" she said as she sat. "Did someone die?"

Emily's mother smiled. "No honey, everyone's fine," she said. "Sweetie, we need to talk to you about something very important."

Emily bit her lip.

"Emily, I talked to your Uncle Bill today," said Emily's mom.

Emily's throat tightened. Finally, she managed to croak out, "Oh?"

"You know honey," Emily's father said. "You did turn seventeen this year."

Emily gulped. "Yeah..."

"This summer, it's your turn to go and help out at the farm."

Emily's blood ran cold. "Mom! No!!!" she cried.

"Emily!" her father said quietly. "Your Uncle is counting on you to do this. Every girl in the family has for the last hundred years."

Emily bunched her shaking hands into fists. "Dad, no..." she said. "I have too much to do this summer. I can't. And besides, I don't want to do that, with my..."

Emily's mom frowned as she glanced down at her ample chest.

"Emily, it's not that bad," she said. "Your cousin Stephanie went last summer, and she had a great time."

"Mom!" Emily shrieked. "Stephanie's not normal!"

"That's not a very nice thing to say about your cousin," Emily's mom said.

"Listen, honey, we know it's a lot to ask of you," said her father. "But it's just for two months."

Emily was shaking, panicked. "What about Adam?" she said. She thought about her wonderful boyfriend, and what he would say when she told him she had to go away all summer, to be some kind of ... cow!

"He'll miss you, honey," Emily's mom said. "But he'll wait for you. He's a good boy."

"And you'll give him quite a surprise when you get back with enormous gazongas!" said her dad.

Emily blushed. "Daaad!" she cried, covering her modest breasts with her arm.

Emily's mom shot him a look.

After dinner, Emily's mother took her into the den. Emily sat sullenly beside her mother, her arms in her lap. Emily's mom stood, walked over to the bookshelf, and came back with a dog-eared brown photo album. She flipped open to a page in the middle of the book and pushed it onto Emily's arms.

"This was me, the first summer I went," she said. Emily glanced down at the faded picture. There was her mother, a young blonde girl in a loose white T-shirt and a silly straw hat. Emily studied it for a minute before she realized what was wrong.

"Oh my god, mom where are your boobs?" Emily cried. She glanced across the couch at her mother's heavy, pendulous breasts. They hung into her lap and stretched the buttons of her shirt.

Emily's mom smiled. "I didn't have them before that summer," she said. She flipped the page.

There was another photo of the same girl, but with a pair of cantaloupe-sized milkers bursting from her tight shirt. She was squeezing her breasts together so they formed a deep cleavage almost a foot long. Two boys looked on, smiling.

"Who are they?" Emily said.

Emily's mother blushed. "Oh, just farmhands," she said. "We were friends."

Emily blushed herself, wondering what that meant. She studied the album closely. Even in the tattered old photo she could see the blue veins criscrossing her mom's pale tit flesh.

"Mom?" Emily said. "Is that going to happen to me?"

Her mother set the album down and looked at her daughter. "Well, maybe," she said. "Everyone is different. Bill has certain procedures to grow your breasts, so you can give lots of milk."

Emily slipped a hand into her shirt and cupped her little breast.

"You'll certainly get bigger while you're there. There's no telling how big you'll stay afterwards," her mother said.

"Mom? Does it hurt?" said Emily.

"What, honey?"

"Lactating."

"No, it doesn't hurt," Emily's mom said. "Your breasts might feel a little full in the morning before your first milking, but being milked feels wonderful. You might even have an orgasm." She smiled.

"Mom!" Emily cried, blushing again.

"Well, honey, it's true."

Emily stared out the car window, watching field after field roll by. It was a two-hour ride to her Uncle Bill's farm, and she was already bored. She flicked through the apps on her phone, feeling anxious and sad all at once.

I hope Adam isn't too mad at me for leaving, she thought. And I hope he still loves me when I come back as a cow.

Emily sat at her Uncle Bill and Aunt Lily's long, wooden dining table. Uncle Bill, a rugged, grey-haired man in a flannel shirt and a John Deere cap, raised his glass.

"Girls, your aunt and I are so grateful that y'all are willing to help us out this summer," he said. "You all are upholding a tradition that goes back to 1908, when your great-great-grandpa and his lovely wife first started selling their milk out of a horse-drawn wagon."

Bill gestured up at a large, framed portrait up on the wall. Emily looked up at it. There was a stern-looking man in shirtsleeves and suspenders and a woman in a gingham dress. The woman's hair was long and straight. Her breasts were so large, it looked like she was smuggling a Thanksgiving turkey under her shirt. Neither of them were smiling.

Emily glanced around the table. Next to Bill was her aunt, a vivacious woman with long, wavy red hair, and green eyes. Her breasts, each larger than Emily's head, were squeezed into a checkered shirt. A pathetically tiny handkerchief stuck out of one breast pocket.

Next to Aunt Lily was the famous Stephanie. She was a big girl with round, rosy cheeks and dirty blonde hair wrapped in a corny bandana. She beamed at Emily.

At the end of the table was Emily's cousin Shannon. Shannon was always the pretty one. Thin, blonde, and beautiful with a pair of boobs that drove boys wild. Emily cringed as she thought about a pool party earlier that summer. Adam had never met Shannon, and he couldn't keep his eyes off her, prancing around in her skimpy pink bikini. Even now she was wearing a cutoff tank top that exposed the top third of her tanned perky breasts.

To Emily's right was another distant cousin, Penny. Emily had only met her once, at somebody-or-other's wedding. Penny was Emily's age, but so mousy and scrawny that she looked two years younger. She wore her long brown hair in a pair of messy pigtails, and a pair of dorky glasses perched on her turned up nose.

She could be cute if she tried, Emily thought. Too bad she's got no boobs.

On the other side of Emily were three older girls, a redhead named Kylie, another blonde, Lauren, and a Latin girl with smooth skin the color of milky coffee named Rosa.

These were the farm's permanent "livestock", and it showed. All three girls had breasts so large that they hung over their plates. Their udders wobbled and shook as they passed plates of food to one another. Emily noticed that they wore suspenders over their tightly T-shirted bosoms.

Probably to keep their tits out of the mashed potatoes, Emily thought, suppressing a smile.

The food was simple, but hearty, and Emily filled her plate. There was a big jug of cold milk on the table. As Emily filled her second glass, she had an epiphany.