Erik lay down on his bed, staring out the window at the barn Daphne and he had just created. Daphne was still down there, freshly milked, trying to get used to chomping on piles of hay and walking around on hooves. It had been bizarre milking his own brother, but then again, everything about today had been bizarre.
For one, his parents hadn’t asked where Devon happened to be. Glancing over across the hallway through the open doorway to his own, Erik could see Devon’s old room across the hall. It looked much the same as it had when they’d left that morning, but obviously there was now no way Devon--er, Daphne--could comfortably live in such a room, much less easily climb the stairs to the second floor.
Had his parents simply forgotten all about Devon, Erik wondered? Furthermore, what had happened to Blaise and Dom? Erik had searched all over the pet store for them. He had never been particularly close to or even fond of his older brother’s pals, but it seemed wrong to just leave them in that zany place. However, Erik and Daphne had never found them, and Dr. Moreau had said he would ‘ensure they got out safely in their own time.’
Erik wasn’t quite sure what had happened after that, only that the next thing he knew, he and Daphne were out in the street in front of the store, and Erik felt he knew how to use some magic. As his work with creating the barn and convincing his parents had demonstrated, Dr. Moreau had clearly done something to give him a bit of a ‘lesson.’
“Honey, come downstairs for dinner!” called Erik’s mom.
Erik complied, hurrying downstairs, his stomach growling in spite of the day’s odd events. Perhaps using magic worked up one’s appetite? Erik was also a little unnerved to see a large glass of fresh milk beside each plate.
“Thanks for milking Daphne earlier, dear,” Erik’s mother said as she sat down at the table, Erik’s father already seated. He set aside the newspaper he had been reading and nodded in a friendly greeting to his son.
It would be even weirder drinking Daphne’s milk than it had been milking her, but Erik was indeed thirsty. He reached forward and took a swig from his glass before starting dinner. The milk tasted surprisingly good, sweet and creamy. It wasn’t long before Erik found himself craving another sip, and his parents seemed to be enjoying their drinks quite a bit as well. Maybe milk from a familiar tasted better than the regular variety, Erik thought.
However, the more Erik drank, the odder he felt, as if a gurgling tingle was building up inside him, sending pins-and-needles sensations wriggling out across his skin. Even so, he couldn’t stop himself from craving more and more milk.
“Getting that cow was a great idea,” said Erik’s father, his voice sounding oddly high pitched, and climbing the octaves with every syllable spoken. “It’ll be great to have fresh milk whenever we need it.”
By the time Erik’s father stopped speaking, his voice had risen so high in pitch that it sounded like a flighty woman speaking rather than the gruff, no-nonsense tones with which Erik was so accustomed. Furrowing his brow, Erik glanced over at his father and almost gasped to see that the middle aged man had shrunk somewhat, and still seemed to be losing muscle mass, acquiring a slim countenance, particularly around his waist. Above his waste, however, Erik noticed two distinct bulges slowly swelling ever-larger.
“You’re so right, honey,” spoke a deeper, more gravelly voice from the other end of the table. Erik looked over to see his mother going through what seemed an opposite transformation, her breasts shrinking and flattening back into her chest, her shoulders broadening, her face growing gruffer and sprouting some stubble.
Erik felt another intense craving for more milk and, hearing his own stomach gurgling and feeling more of those strange sensations, realized with a sinking feeling that he may not be exempt from whatever the milk was doing to his parents. He quickly glanced down, an action that caused his lengthening locks of smooth, wavy hair to trickle down his back and drape over his shoulders and the swelling mounds on his own chest. The breasts, for what else could they be, rubbed sensually and not unpleasantly against the fabric of Erik’s shirt as they continued to expand past A cup, then B, then C…
“Mom, dad, stop drinking the milk!” Erik yelped with what could only be described as a feminine gasp. The room seemed to be growing larger, as she must be shrinking, feeling more of the chair beneath her as her rump expanded to cover more of it with a fuller, softer cushion.
“Why?” asked the gruff voice of Erik’s former mother, who now looked like an entirely male version of his old self. “Is something wrong, Erika?”
“What did you call me?” Erik asked, gasping as something tightened around his--her?--new breasts, hoisting them up. He realized he must be wearing a bra now, and looking down again confirmed that his clothes were indeed changing. A final tug between his legs and the tunneling and internal churning sensations that followed signified that he was now very much a she.
“Are you alright, Erika?” asked the sweet voice of Erik’s, or rather Erika’s, new mother, who was now a woman wearing a simple yet feminine outfit, the same way that Erika’s new father was wearing a polo shirt and slacks from work. Erika herself seemed to be wearing a blouse and a skirt now.
“No, don’t let it affect your minds!” Erika yelled as she felt a wave of fog seep into her own brain. She tried to fight it, tried her hardest to retain all of her male persona, but she felt the magic changing it all the same.
Erika didn’t lose any memories; she remembered growing up as the male Erik just fine, and doing all the things he liked to do, but her personality was shifting into a much more feminine state. She found herself losing any and all interest she had ever had in sports, that attention being fully diverted towards reading romance novels, watching teen dramas, shopping for cute outfits with her friends, and learning magic with her bovine familiar. She even found her attraction to women melting away and reforming into thinking several of the boys in her class were cute. Maybe with Daphne, she could even whip up a love potion for them…
No, Erika thought, trying to drive the feminine thoughts away, but it was too late, and she couldn’t stop her mind from reforming.