“You suspect that you’re suffering from more than one illness, Miss Hereford?”
“I think so, yes.”
Beatrice Hereford sat on the examination table, answering any question the doctor had about her condition. Lately her body’s been acting fairly strange. For one, her breasts have jumped up about six cup sizes over the course of a week, from the lower B’s to about mid J’s. They would be murder on her back if it weren’t for the sudden muscle strength she’d been experiencing to mitigate it. Plus, they’ve been producing an alarming amount of milk, and she’s not even pregnant! At first she suspected some form of galactorrhea, but she’s been noticing several other things her body’s been doing.
“These started growing on my forehead yesterday,” Beatrice explained, pinning her bangs back with her palms. Two conspicuous lumps were forming equidistant from each other on the sides of her forehead. They were about the size of a quarter and stretched the skin red. “They sting when you touch them, too. That could probably mean something.”
“Yes, I think it does,” the doctor pondered, looking at the lumps, “And you say they started forming yesterday?”
“Uh huh,” Beatrice confirmed, “My ears have been changing too. They’re getting longer and hairier for some reason. They kinda look like cow ears now. You don’t think this is all related somehow, do you?”
“I know you probably won’t like this,” the doctor sighed, “but it’s often my job to be the bearer of bad news. One more quick question, have you drunk any raw cow’s milk in the last few weeks?”
“Uhh… I think two weeks ago?” Beatrice pondered, “My friend works for a local farm looking into selling their raw milk. You don’t think something bad was in the milk, do you?”
“Afraid so,” the doctor explained, “We’ve been receiving reports of an airborne illness infecting dairy cows around the local area. We’re not sure where it’s coming from, but so far all we know is that it makes their raw milk take on muta-genetic properties. The disease is curable, but since the infected cows don’t exhibit any symptoms, it makes treatment difficult. Plus, once a human drinks the infected milk, the effects from there are beyond treating. I’m afraid to say, Miss Hereford, but you’ve caught the Bovine Mutation Virus.”
“I… what?” Beatrice balked.
“You did say yourself that your ears looked like they belonged to a cow, correct?” the doctor continued, “If my theory is correct, then those forehead lumps are going to grow into small cow’s horns too. Not to mention… well, to put it bluntly, your swollen chest and premature lactation.”
“N-no,” the patient gasped, “Doctor, you can’t be serious about this!”
“Deathly serious I’m afraid. I’m sorry to say that presently there’s no cure for your condition. Once the virus enters the human body through the milk, it’s too late. The only way to prevent it is by pasteurizing the milk, or by administering a vaccine to the cow itself.”
“Oh dear… I guess that’s that then,” Beatrice slumped, “I’m half cow now I guess. Is… is my milk contagious?”
“Thankfully your own milk doesn’t carry the virus,” the doctor explained, “so no, it’s not contagious. I should explain what else you should expect going forward, Miss. I’m going to prescribe a milking pump for you, because you’ll need to milk yourself at least twice a day. Besides that, you may find yourself mooing like a cow on occasion, and… well there’s no other way to put it, the sight of either a penis or a vagina will make you go into heat. Luckily, not your own, but just a precaution to keep in mind.”
“Don’t worry,” Beatrice assured, “I have good self control. Thank you for the examination. I’ll order the pump when I get home and be sure to warn my friend’s farm. See you in a month?”
“Of course,” the doctor nodded, “Your health is my priority.”