The Cow Formula Overdose

You step through the door and freeze.

She’s already on the couch, leaning back like she’s been waiting—plaid shirt loose, curls spilling over her shoulders, that knowing little smile locked right onto you. But something’s different. Heavier. The way she breathes, the way the couch dips under her… like she didn’t quite stay the same while you were gone.

“I didn’t want to start without you,” she says softly. “I found something at the farm supply store… this experimental milk they use on livestock. It’s supposed to boost production—make everything ramp up way past normal.”

She lets that sit for a second, watching your reaction, smile widening just a little.

“I might’ve taken a little too much.”

Then she exhales—and it happens.

Slow. Steady. Unmistakable.

Her body shifts against the cushions, sinking deeper as the change builds, impossible to ignore now. She closes her eyes for a second, letting it wash over her, then looks back at you with that same playful expression—just warmer, more intense.

“It’s not stopping,” she murmurs, almost like she’s enjoying it.

She reaches for your hand, guiding it closer, her skin warm—alive with that same quiet, building pressure.

“Good thing you got home when you did.”