The Cult of Surabhi: Milktec No. 4

...back at home, Milktec Industries is back in the headlines again! Milktec President and CEO, Harvey Millerson, announced a sweeping investigation of so called "Milk Maids". Allegations of impropriety concerning Milktec Doctors have been long known to the American public, but with the recent discovery of Tabatha Cushing, new life has poured into the scandal.

' We certainly do not condone this type of behavior,' Millerson announced to the press. 'Any Milktec Employee found illegally using our serum will be found out and prosecuted to the full extent of the law.'

Millerson was then pressed as to whether any of his family member or household staff had used the company's body altering elixir. 'That is a disgusting question, and you should be ashamed of yourself. Milktec Serum is a clinical and highly regulated substance used solely for industrial purposes.' Mr. Millerson declined to comment on the multiple reports of recreational use.

Up next, more information from the sixteen week long Battle of Stalingrad, but first here is a word from our sponsor, Milktec Industries !

—

Mark Coulson turned on the radio. A smooth crooner emerged over the crackling static and filled the cab of his brand new Cadillac with a pleasant song. Milktec Industries had been good to him. Good enough to make him uneasy about what he'd done, but not good enough to keep him from doing it. Despite his obscene paycheck and all of his workplace privileges, he couldn't shake the feeling it would all end sooner rather than later. All of the doctors knew the company held an axe over their necks. The second the war ended, all of it would come crashing down. The public would learn everything. The government would turn on Milktec in an instant. Coulson wondered if the war would ever end. If it did, the vials clinking in his briefcase made a handsome insurance policy.

He discussed it with his wife, Carol, the day before he started with Milktec. Rumors already swirled around the company even back then. Introducing a hucow to the world wasn't an easy sell. The public rebelled against the idea at every step. Religious fundamentalists decried the clear sexuality of the changed humans. The general public feared the result of an evil corporation gone mad with transformative power. Beyond that, the public couldn't easily dismiss their own prudish hangups. Milktec remained undeterred and sold their product to the government, promising a method of easily feeding an entire army with milk capable of making men stronger and faster.

Milktec did too good of a job. The rumors and gossip about hucows helped of course. Men wanted their wives to sign up. Women chatted about the benefits of being a hucow. And the milk sold like nothing before it. The perfect product for the end of wartime rationing. By a year after the Germans surrendered, every American home had a bottle of hucow milk in the icebox. With that acceptance came a new demand. Milktec serum went for $5,000 a vial. Only enough for maybe two hucows, but their milk would be worth ten times the investment. The Milktec Milk sold over the counter came watered down. They siphoned out all the kooky chemicals to make it safe for everyone to drink. Mostly safe, anyway. Coulson suspected it retained some addictive properties. Pure hucow milk, though, was something else altogether.

As part of his orientation, Dr. Coulson saw the effects of pure hucow milk. A volunteer young woman took a large glass with her breakfast. Within two hours her bust line increased by a full cup size, and she exhibited the enhanced libido of a relatively tame hucow. While not particularly desirable those symptoms could be managed. Next, he saw a demonstration of what Milktec termed, "refined" hucow milk. An at-home chemist could distill chemicals from one bottle of milk and infuse another bottle with it, doubling its potency while negligibly increasing its volume. This could be done multiple times over with no difference in taste, smell, or sight. A bottle of hucow milk with a potency of ten was enough to cause a woman to drop on all fours within an hour as her tits grew to inhuman proportions and milk sprayed all over the floor. Coulson knew it to be true because he had seen it.

His thoughts flitted back to that day and all the other days where he saw a radical transformation as he neared his estate. Shifting in his seat, his cock stirred at the memories. The changes surprised the women every single time. No matter how much the process was explained and even demonstrated to them through pictures or movie reels, they couldn't understand until it happened to them. Coulson liked watching that moment more than any of the others. All at once it would pass over their face, a look of pure bliss as the weight of the world lifted away and their dugs filled with milk.

Coulson never said a word about it to any of his colleagues, but Wilson knew somehow. Maybe it was in the way he treated the hucows, the mild combination of reverence and dominance. Nevertheless, it alarmed Coulson when Wilson approached him on the subject. "Have you heard of the Cult of Surabhi," Wilson had asked. Of course, he knew Coulson was aware of that fringe group. Everyone at Milktec knew.

"Of course, I believe they're all wanted for sedition or something like that," Coulson replied.

Wilson laughed, a big guffaw, "No, not sedition, I'm afraid. The FBI wants them for questioning. They're determined to bust up a ring of serum smugglers. What do you really know about the Surabhists?"

Coulson had found the conversation alarming. It occurred in the break room at the facility. Wilson chatted as though he talked about the weather, not about an illegal group of smugglers being hunted down by federal investigators and Milktec's own internal force. "They're radicals who believe hucows should roam freely and every woman should have the option. They're the type who take the milk enhancements for their own pleasure."

"Yes, that's what the good folks on the radio say," Wilson mused. "I've heard they, these Surabhists, simply share a philosophy. That the hucow is beautiful and bountiful and shouldn't be restricted. I don't think they're going around spiking the milk supply to surprise a chaste housewife with bra busting teats."

The conversation had ended there. Wilson went off to his office, but Coulson knew the man didn't broach such a sensitive topic without cause.

Large floodlights lit the estate grounds, making the brick and glass of his home sparkle in the night. It was late. All of the staff would be long gone. All except one. He parked his car in the garage and headed inside to find Carol. Their guests would be arriving soon.

Of course, his suspicions proved correct. The secretive conversation with Wilson did not end after the first encounter. For weeks, the two of them exchanged loaded questions and knowing glances. Over time, Coulson divined that Wilson knew much more about the Surabhists than he should, and Wilson drew out Coulson's sympathies to the cause.

"I represent a group," Wilson had finally said, "of like minded individuals. And we are seeking new members."

A handshake later, it began. Wilson gave Coulson a set of tasks. Altering records, ferreting away odd chemicals at the lab, and eventually to steal his first set of serum. Coulson thought they would be sold for profit, but Wilson made no move to do so. Instead, he kept them, like a monk might keep a relic. Eventually, those vials went to a different cell of the cult, for their own special uses. The next batch went to a man Coulson met at one of the meetings Wilson organized. It went on for months. Stealing, lying, and obscuring tracks as Coulson earned respect and value in the Surhabists. Wilson led the entire enterprise. His jolly old fool demeanor melted away when he spoke of this cult business. The man was cunning and constantly cultivating his web of deceit, but Coulson shared the vision and eagerly awaited his own reward.

As Coulson entered the house, he shut off the exterior lights, plunging the estate into darkness. His closest neighbor lived three miles away, and a thick forest surrounded the grounds. Even a car passing by on the road would be hard pressed to notice the dim lights of the house. He opened the door and ventured inside.

***

"Carol?" he called.

"In the study, dear," she replied. Her airy voice flitting through the house. As he entered the room, she turned to greet him. Carol sparkled in a white evening gown, looking as beautiful as ever. With enthusiasm, she wrapped her arms around her husband and kissed his cheek, leaving a smudge of red lipstick. Her hand ran over his, and she noticed the briefcase. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes, six of them," he answered, moving into the room and putting the briefcase down on a table. The room had been rearranged for the night's festivities. Chairs lined the walls and four sofas created a semicircle around the hearth. Tables jutted against the backs of the sofas for drinks and the like, in the center of each was a large pitcher of milk, rivulets of condensation rolling down the side.

"Six? That's too many, Mark. They'll notice that six have gone."

"Wilson wanted six. He'll take care of any questions," Mark replied, opening the case. He withdrew the six vials of serum and placed them carefully on the table. "Where is she?"

"In her bedroom," Carol said. "She's nervous, but excited. Today she made a big fuss with the other girls about it being her last day on the job. Told them she was moving west to live with an aunt. She may have over did it actually."

"And you're still ok with it?" Mark asked her. Early on, she opposed to the idea, especially before she went to a meeting with Coulson. Once she saw what their lives could be, Carol's mind started to change.

"Of course dear," she said with a reassuring smile. A bell rang from the front of the house. "Oh, they're arriving."

A few minutes later, four couples joined Mark in the study. Mark served out drinks and quiet conversations stirred among the new guests. When Wilson arrived, Mark left Carol to play hostess and drifted over to a corner to speak conspiratorially with the leader of their group.

"It means a great deal that you're the first to take this step, Coulson," the taller man said. "Well, the first other than myself, of course."

Coulson nodded, "And you have no regrets?"

"Only that I have yet to take my own reward, but that's where you will come in. After tonight, I too will ascend. Though it unfortunately must be a bit more private."

"You've made all the arrangements?" Coulson asked, his voice quick and hushed.

"Yes, by this time tomorrow, Hoover himself will be kicking my doors in."

Carol walked over to them, smiling broadly. "Surely we're beyond the need for secrets by now, aren't we?"

Mark loved his wife more than anything or anyone. They'd been high school sweethearts together and suffered through lean years before he completed his degree. When he landed the Milktec job, he'd been happiest to tell Carol. After years of struggling, they needn't worry about money any longer. "Of course, dear. Only going over a last few details."

"Well, it's about time to get started, don't you think," she said with a devilish grin. "Mark if you could pour the milk, I'll fetch Betty. Oh, and Wilson, you brought the...what are we calling them?"

Wilson smiled, "Robes. No need to make them any more archaic sounding. Yes, your set is just over here."

Carol took him by the arm and walked over to a case Wilson had brought as Mark moved to the serving table to prepare the milk. He poured glasses for everyone, but made special preparations in one. He took it over to the hallway door and set it on a pedestal.

When Wilson first explained the rituals, Coulson found it all obscene. They needed the pomp and circumstance to hide behind, to take away the personal connection to what was being done. When they wore the robes and the masks, they could be Surabhists. When they took them off, they could return to the world and their ordinary lives. So they designed robes and crafted masks and established ceremonies. Only the enlightened could be revealed in their presence, only those who had received the "Blessing of Surabhi" as Wilson called it.

Watching these people, respected finance men, even a Senator, putting on their masks and robes, filled him with an excited anticipation. Their lives vanished beneath blank white masks so they could bear witness to the ascension. Tonight, Mark's mask looked different. He had brought them the reason for the ceremony, and so he would receive the honor of the bull's head.

Wilson struck a distinguishable figure even in his anonymous garb. The cowl did a poor job of hiding his steel grey hair, and his wicked eyes sparkled behind the mask. "Come with me, Mark," he said, ominously. "We'll begin."

***

They moved to the front of the room as the other took their places in a circle round them. Mark could see the small shape of Carol standing by the hallway door, clothed in identical faceless costume.

Wilson spoke, "Friends, welcome. We have been invited into the gracious home of Mark and Carol Coulson to witness the divine ascension. Tonight, we will sample in the carnal pleasures, and we will help bring into the world the evolution of the human form. Before you each is a glass of hucow milk. This is a sweet nectar precious to us more than water itself. I ask you to join me as I drink."

With great flourish, he took his glass of hucow milk and drank it down. The others did the same. Carol lifted her glass from the pedestal and drank. Mark downed his own glass a bit slower than the others, relishing the sweet tasting liquid.

"Tonight, we are brought a willing supplicant. Let her come forward."

Carol took this cue to open the door and lead in a blindfolded woman. Other than the blindfold, Betty was stark naked. The girl had worked for the Coulsons for almost a year. Mark noticed her perky body in Betty's first week, but when it came to choosing their hucow Carol picked her out. The two of them developed a special friendship that led easily into Carol explaining the virtues of being a hucow. Carol promised the Coulsons would take care of her for the rest of her life, and she'd never have to worry about working again. The economics intrigued Betty, but the bashful girl joined their cult the night Carol brought Betty into the Coulson bed. Carol offered the main up to her husband with eager fervor. Betty loved the attention, and professed she'd harbored secret affections for Mark since she started. The decision happened the next morning. Betty would become the Coulson's hucow.

Betty could feel the eyes of all the others on her even if she could not see them. Wilson's hand brushed her shoulder, and she jerked back at the touch. Carol had explained what would happen, but left out several specific details at Wilson's suggestion. It seemed right to defer to his judgment as he was the only one to have attended an ascension.

"Betty, you have come here tonight to receive the Blessing of Surabhi. You have been told all of what will transpire, and you have consented to receive this gift. Do you so agree?"

Betty laughed nervously, "Yes."

Wilson revealed a syringe from underneath his robes and showed it to the gathered few. "Then Betty, take your position, please."

Carol helped the girl kneel down and fall forward onto her hands. Mark was treated to the inviting sight of Betty's ass and freshly shaved pussy. Her whole body looked so young and fresh, quivering with anticipation. Her small tits quivered with each movement like tiny rum cakes with cherries on top of them, hanging beautifully from her chest. Dark hair splayed across her back with some falling down around her face. Carol kissed her on the cheek before stepping away.

"Let us all give thanks for this Blessing and bask in the glory of Surabhi!" Wilson said.

The cultists mooed.

Wilson plunged the syringe into Betty's tight ass and pressed down on the plunger, sending the serum pumping into her veins.

The serum took effect immediately. Coulson knew they had been refining the serum to be more and more potent, but he hadn't seen anything this fast acting yet. In seconds, Betty's flesh rippled as her cells rapidly divided and multiplied. Her rump went through the change first, flaring out into a thick, meaty ass that begged to be fucked. Her breasts throbbed with growth as they caught up to her other changes, doubling and tripling in size as new tit flesh sprung into being. Milk began to drip from her lengthening nipples, the sweet cream splashing onto the carpet beneath her. All the while Betty moaned in the wildest throws of pleasure as her mind flooded with hormonal urges.

Wilson placed a cup underneath one of the ballooning tits and gave the nipple a quick tuck, smiling at the spray filling the glass. "The honor of the first sip from this new hucow goes to her master and keeper," Wilson announced, giving the glass to Mark. "Let your hucow provide all that you desire until the end of your days. To Mark Coulson!"

The other cultist mirrored the toast. Mark took the glass and drank down the first drops of his new hucow's milk.

"And now to complete the ceremony, we must give to the hucow what her heart desires, the affection of her master. Let her be glorified in the act of rutting with her bull."

Wilson picked up the bull's head mask and handed it to Mark. He placed it on his head, guiding it onto his shoulders by using the pointed horns. Wilson assured him it was all made of cloth and fabric and not in fact the hollowed out skin of an actual bull. Mark expected to be horrified by the mask, but instead he felt empowered. He could look out of the eyes at the others, all envious of his position, and then down at the waiting cunt before him, slick with arousal for him. He was a god.

He pulled his robe open and let it slip off his shoulders. Some of the onlookers applauded his nakedness, but he didn't notice. His lust took control as he positioned himself behind Betty and let his cock slide along her wet slit, coating it in her arousal. With a quick movement, he sheathed himself inside of her. She let out a satisfied moan. The intense feeling clouded his head, her pussy clamping down on him as he pushed further and further inside of her. With a concentrated effort not to blow his load immediately, he rutted with his new hucow, wetly slapping into her rump, letting her grunt and wriggle with pleasure as her udders sprayed milk on the ground.

Mark's attention drifted briefly to the others in the room. They kept their masks on, but many had pulled aside or removed their robes entirely. Husbands toyed with their wives pussies. Wives stroked the breasts of other women as they bounced up and down on the husband's cock. One man had a woman on all fours like Betty, sawing into her cunt like a desperate dog. All of them remained transfixed on the hucow spectacle, entirely envious of Mark.

Mark's attention turned to Carol. She had remained beside Betty stroking the girl's beautiful face as the transformation manifested, but now she stared at her husband. She tore away her mask and an expression of excited horror filled her face. "The milk," she said, "but you promised I would be one of the last."

Mark spoke through the bull's head with an echoing voice, "I am the leader of the cult of Surabhi, be grateful for the blessing." He hadn't understood until then what Wilson tried many times to explain. The sex could be compared to nothing except the divine, yet still the power and control intoxicated him in an entirely different way.

Carol pulled open her robe as the refined milk took control of her body. Her already buxom chest wobbled with change as her tits swelled wider and wider. "No...no not yet," she complained. "I wanted this, but not now! I wanted it on my terms, not to become some mindless cock hungry cow. I helped make you what you are Ma....mmm.....mooooooooo!"