“Milk & Leather”
Logan had always been proud of his body—lean, athletic, sculpted from years of early-morning workouts. His sneakers, though, were his true obsession. Nothing compared to the feel of a fresh pair, snug against his feet, the new rubber scent filling his nose.
So when he wandered into a strange little shop on the outskirts of town, he couldn’t resist browsing. The place had a weird, musky smell—like damp earth and something… animalistic—but his eyes locked onto a strange pair of black-and-white sneakers tucked in the back.
They gleamed under the dim light, bizarrely smooth, their shape just slightly off, but something about them made his skin tingle.
A tag dangled from the laces: “Break Them In.”
Logan smirked. Challenge accepted.
He slid his feet inside.
Heat.
Instant, unbearable heat surged up his legs, sinking into his bones, filling him with an unnatural tightness. His calves tensed, swelled, the muscles spasming as if fighting against the change.
Then came the pain.
A sharp, brutal pull at his jaw. Logan gasped, fingers flying to his mouth as his teeth thickened, the front ones bulging outward, flattening, growing massive, square, bovine. His gums stretched, his molars broadening, his jaw widening, forcing his lips apart as saliva pooled around his now uselessly huge, dull teeth.
He choked on a moan as his nose flared, his nostrils widening, the cartilage thickening, his whole face pushing outward into a blunt, squared-off muzzle.
His tongue lolled out, fatter, heavier, pressing against his oversized teeth. His breaths were hot, thick, animalistic.
His ears twitched.
Not a normal twitch. No—they were moving, crawling up the sides of his skull, growing longer, floppier, soft fur sprouting along their length. His hearing sharpened, every sound in the shop suddenly too loud, too sharp, too much.
Then his spine arched.
Logan groaned, body spasming as his ribcage expanded, his broadening chest pulling his shirt tight, the fabric digging into his thickening frame. His once-defined abs blurred, his stomach pushing outward, swelling, his entire torso reshaping, losing its human sharpness in favor of something bulkier, heavier, bestial.
The pressure built lower, deep in his gut. Something tight, growing, shifting.
Then—tearing.
His sweatpants split at the seams, shredded by the sheer bulk of his changing lower half. His thighs had thickened, muscle giving way to something softer, rounder, covered in a creeping layer of short brown-and-white fur.
But the worst—the most horrifying, humiliating change—was still happening.
A swell of pressure bloomed between his legs.
A new weight—warm, full, sensitive—pushed outward, forcing his legs apart. Logan gasped, whimpered, his hands flying downward, gripping at the heavy, fleshy mass now hanging between his thighs.
His udder.
It was growing.
His skin stretched, pulled taut, as four thick, swollen teats sprouted from the heavy, pulsing sack between his legs. His fingers trembled as he touched them, feeling the heat, the unbearable fullness, the aching need.
His ruined sweatpants fell away completely, his boxers snapping apart, exposing the bulging, swaying udder to the cool air.
A deep, animalistic groan rumbled from his throat.
His spine twisted again, and then—a tail.
It burst from his lower back, a thin, wiry appendage sprouting coarse hair at the tip, flicking involuntarily.
His legs—no longer human legs—buckled beneath him.
His feet stretched, bones popping, toes merging, the sneakers warping, reshaping, hardening into hooves that clacked against the shop floor.
Logan’s breath hitched, his udder twitching, his muscles trembling as the last pieces of humanity drained away, his furred, bovine body shuddering under the weight of its new form.
He tried to speak.
Only a deep, pathetic moo rumbled from his throat.
And the sign on the shelf flickered once more.
“Break Them In.”