"Lucas, don't take your drawing to the dinner table. You can get food on it. Leave it up here."
"Okay!" and with that, Lucas dashed to his room, only to reappear in front of my door on his way to the stairs.
I only had a few minutes. My cooking wasn't that great, and I knew Lucas was a picky eater. As soon as I heard his footsteps thumping down the stairs, I uncovered myself and leapt to my feet. Or, that was my initial plan. Due to the additional weight of my udder, I continued hurtling forward. I kept my face from hitting the floor, but my udder easily slapped down, causing an unnerving wave of nausea to press into my gut. I dry-heaved, waiting for the intense pain to leave the offending organ. It didn't help that trying to massage the pain out instead caused my heart to flutter against my will.
I slowly, carefully heaved my naked body upright. I attempted to suspend my udder with an open hand as I waddle-walked my way to the door. Leaving my room, I made a beeline to Lucas's room. He'd fortunately left the drawing discarded on his desk, next to the numerous crayons he used to make it.
"Alright, all I have to do is..." I needed to make sure to try to least-invasive thing first, in case that was enough. I grabbed the black crayon and wrote 'not' next to my name. Then, I waited.
And nothing was the result. I didn't feel any change like before, and I didn't have the time to waste waiting for it to happen. I took the black crayon again, and scratched out my name entirely.
Still nothing. I scratched out the udder, so it looked like my stick figure had a giant gut. I could work off a beer-belly, but there was nothing I could do about an udder. When I felt no different, I tried scratching out the character, then crumpling the paper into a ball.
Yet more nothing. I carefully flatten the drawing back out. It had been maimed beyond recognition, and Lucas would definitely notice. Worse yet, this testing has only proven that it may absolutely be Lucas that has this power, not the crayons or the picture. What if he got mad and drew me as a complete cow? What if he decided to turn me into some sort of amalgamation of creatures? No, there was still one more possibility, and it fortunately aligned with what I had to do anyways: destroy the work.
As long as there was no evidence, Lucas would never suspect that I'd destroy one of his drawings. He'll eventually write it off as accidentally misplacing it, or whatever. It didn't matter what excuse his mind would make up, the important part was that he wouldn't blame me.
I lumber my way back to my room with the paper in-hand. As I crept through the hallway, my udder continued to fight my legs with every step. Its bare skin constantly informed me of the cool air, and it was hard to focus as each of the four teats waggled every time the pink mass swayed. Perhaps, if this didn't work out, I'd get more accustomed to it until I could ignore this constant assault of sensations...No, I need to think positive. This will work, and the udder will be gone. And if it doesn't, I'll just get Lucas to draw another one of me without the udder, and that'll fix me.
I re-entered my room, closed the door behind me, and set about clearing a space on my desk to set Lucas's art in an open area. I then moved over to my closet, retrieving some spare matches I'd kept from an old science project. Striking a match, I carefully ignited one corner of the maimed artwork. The fire passed over the page slowly, and I watched to ensure the fire didn't flare up too large.
The flame seemed to slow down once it reached the crayon at the center, and I could swear it looked like the color changed to a strange shade of red. A strange scent rose from it, and I started to feel lethargic as the paper finished burning. Maybe this was a sign that it had worked? I waited for the fire to burn itself out, swept up the remains, broke it down into dust, and tossed the remains into the bin next to my desk. As I did, I continued to grow even more tired. This had to be a sign...
I sluggishly turned off my light, moved to my bed, and got in to sleep this whole thing off. The udder was sending all sorts of sensations as I dragged my sheets over it, but it felt so distant to my half-awake mind.