Your head is a mess. You can barely think. It feels like you just got knocked out, like a car just ran you over, and now you just feel yourself... swimming. Or--Or you're not swimming. You're... wet? Your conscious starts to slowly return to you, bit by bit, but it's oh so slow. And as it does, it feels so, so... good? You feel--you feel... fatter, but also smaller? You feel soft? You feel... ooh, gods, why do you feel so sensitive...?!
"...drick... Ken...ck..."
You try to open your eyes, and it's hard. You're so tired, you're so bloated, you're so... FULL. But someone is calling your name. You feel a hand sink into your bulging mass, massaging you, and this helps relieve some of the pressure, a few squirts of... something... squirting out of your--wait. WAIT. WHAT--
"Kendrick, sweetie," you hear your mom whispering to you--and your eyes finally open. There she is, right in front of you! Staring at you. "Wake up." She looks so... concerned, an expression in her eyes you've never seen, and you open your mouth to respond--except you don't do that. You don't do that because you can't do that. You don't have a mouth. You wobble in alarm, and suddenly her palms press into either of your fleshy sides, rubbing around, massaging you more, and she coo's, shhhing you. "It's okay sweetie, mommy's here."
You don't even know what to think. You just let your eyes roll back into your head as you're taken care of, in love with this feeling, listening as your mom looks up to address Lila. "A week?" she asks, chiding her, the beautiful woman you know as your neighbor bashfully rubbing at the back of your neck, a blush on her face. "Y-Yes, I... listen, ma'am--I love your son, I do, but it's really hard to take care of an udder!"
...An udder.
That's it. Your mind has just about snapped.
"Ugh. I can't believe this had to happen... he was doing so well at college--and now, you've been given his dorm. I don't even see how that's fair. And he can't take classes anymore, and he's so needy, and... oh, honey," Alicia's voice trails off, looking at your eyes, which just look lost. "It's okay! I'm sorry. We won't talk about this in front of you. I know how much it upsets you." As she pets over you, your whole body flooding with calm and pleasure, you do manage to pry your eyes away from the woman petting your simple, pillowy body--attached at the hips to the girl you really wanted to get to know, in a reality you don't understand--and try to find the remote.