“We understand the public’s concern over the Bovine Health Booster that the foundation is providing,” Lusamine said to the assembled press. “Rest assured that we will cease providing the supplement to Paniola Ranch until we can prove that it is safe for human consumption. In the meantime, Paniola’s MooMoo Milk will be booster free from this time forward.”

“Madam president!” came one woman up front, her hair a tangled mop of red. “Does that mean we might see a return of the health booster to Paniola’s Miltank population in the future?”

“When we can prove it is safe for human consumption,” Lusamine replied smoothly, “we will release our results and then resume supplying Paniola so that the public can rest easy. That will be all.” With her designer heels clacking against the floor, she turned and strolled back into Aether Paradise, ignoring the din of the press hurling questions after her.

“Madam president,” Wicke said, falling in beside her. The newly-promoted branch chief pushed up her glasses. “How do you propose to prove the supplement’s safety for human consumption?”

Lusamine snorted. “Simple. Whatever portion of the supplement makes it to consumers will be heavily diluted through the Miltank’s milk. If we can prove a human can take in the same amount we give to the Miltank, that will more than do it.” She crossed her arms. “Aether’s best scientists worked on that in order to improve pokemon health. I won’t see their hard work impugned!”

“But… how will we prove that, ma’am?”

An immediate, impulsive decision hit the president. “By giving a human the same amount of supplement directly that we give the Miltank—no, in fact, let’s give a human double the dose, just to prove the point extra hard!” She held up a hand to forestall Wicke’s protestations. “I know, I know, who could I possibly ask to take such a risk? No one.” Her eyes flared. “I’ll do it myself. Arrange for me to take a double serving of Bovine Health Booster every morning with breakfast for the next few months.”

Wicke’s voice was laced with concern. “M-Mistress, do you really think that’s wise—” Her concerns died as the president turned and fixed a gaze on her. She glanced to the floor. “I’ll see it done, ma’am,” Wicke muttered.

Lusamine sniffed and strode away with purpose the moment the lift’s doors slid open. “See that you do.”

---

The supplement was a liquid that was given to the Miltank to drink every morning. A double serving was quite the sizable jug, but Lusamine quickly got in the habit of gulping it down in between bites at breakfast. It didn’t even taste that bad, either; kind of grassy. She supposed she should have expected as such for pokemon that spent their time in farms.

Other than that, there was nothing to do but wait out the results of her little demonstration. She couldn’t wait to show the world just how effective the science of Aether really was.

As days passed into weeks passed into a month, Lusamine dutifully drank down her double dose, and she didn’t feel endangered at all. In fact, if anything, she felt more energized than usual. She quickly found herself with more energy throughout the day, being capable of taking stairs at a solid clip, and she even felt she could walk faster.

One morning, Wicke approached her, clipboard in hand, as she sat down for breakfast. “Madam president…” the bespectacled woman said with an air of tremulation as Lusamine gulped down her morning dose of Bovine Health Booster, “your recent health check has some… unusual results.”

“Unusual how?” Lusamine said, spearing a fresh cut of fruit and sweeping it into her mouth.

“Your hormone readings are… unusual. Very atypical. Not unhealthy, but…”

“Then what’s the problem?” Lusamine demanded. “You know, Wicke, not only do I feel fine, I feel better! Did you know I have more energy and stamina?”

“I’ve noticed, ma’am,” Wicke muttered.

“And I’m stronger, too,” Lusamine continued, unfettered. “I’ve checked in the gym, you know. I’m just stronger, despite having no time for workouts. The health booster at work, don’t you think?”

“It’s… it’s possible, I suppose…”

“And,” Lusamine said, “my sense of smell has never been stronger! My eyesight is sharper, too! In fact, we might be able to market this as a miracle drug!”

“Madam,” Wicke said sharply, “I think you’re being quite reckless! The hormone levels aside, you’ve… to put it bluntly, ma’am, you’ve put on a lot of weight in a short amount of time.”

Lusamine chuffed. It was true. She’d plumped out a bit lately, growing wider in the hips and the chest and getting a healthy layer of fat around her stomach. She’d had to have new clothes tailored. “We both know I was a stick of a woman before, Wicke,” she responded. “A bit of meat on her bones never hurt a woman. And besides, I think we know the culprit.” She gestured at her breakfast. Recently, her appetite had become ravenous. She’d had to order double and then triple servings for her food in order to keep up. She’d also lost all taste for meat; that was fine, though. Leafy greens were healthy and more delectable than ever, and nuts made up for the protein. Even the grassy taste of the booster was growing more appealing by the day.

“You worry too much, Wicke,” Lusamine said. Her branch chief pushed her glasses up and said nothing.

---

Lusamine took to walking without her heels on unless in public. They just didn’t feel right for some reason, no matter how she had them fitted. Likewise, Wicke protested that she was actually starting to lose height—nothing tremendous, but still an inch or two. Lusamine wasn’t worried. She looked young, but she was still on the wrong side of forty. People shrank as they aged. It was just a fact of life.

Her weight gain had continued until before long, she looked more curvaceous than Wicke herself. Again, Lusamine brushed off her assistant’s concerns. She felt energetic and healthy and was noticeably stronger still. Plus, Lusamine didn’t mind growing a little curvier. At one point in the evening, she’d taken to posing before her mirror in just her panties, squishing up her plump tits and enjoying her newfound figure.

It was at one of these sessions that Lusamine first noticed that her breasts, which had grown sweetly tender as of late, actually started to dribble a pale fluid. Frowning, Lusamine examined the liquid. It was definitely milk—and of a thicker viscosity than she remembered when she’d mothered Lillie and Gladion. Well, it was unusual, but not unheard of for sudden weight gain or hormonal changes to trigger lactation in a woman. She would just ride it out. She shook her head, resolving to hide it from Wicke and the doctors. They were such worrywarts. Besides, it would probably last only a day or two anyway.

When it persisted the next night, and the night after, she discreetly arranged for the paradise’s care center to send her a milking machine. She spent the evenings alone in her room, sighing wearily after a long day’s work, listening to the machine whirr and feeling the gentle ache as her breasts released their bounty. It wasn’t anything to worry about at all; in fact, it actually felt pleasant. It felt right.

More days passed and more supplement was downed, and other changes started to occur. Everyone noticed the subtle change in her complexion, of course. Lusamine was adamant that the slight echo of pink to her coloring was indicative of a glow of health, and she was forceful enough and energetic enough that if they had doubts, they kept them to themselves. Other changes probably would have been harder sells—so, like the lactation, she just hid them.

Her fingernails darkened in color and grew too solid to trim, so she began wearing gloves, taking the measurements herself and ordering them remotely to avoid worrying her tailor. Normal shoes sufficed to hide a similar change in her feet. Just as her sense of smell had blossomed, so had her hearing improved—but with it came a change in her ears. They were broadening, growing flat and flappy and long. Still, her famous curtain of long blonde hair—which was more luxurious than ever!—was an effective mask.

Four tender spots began appearing on her stomach, growing day by day. Lusamine was practiced enough in medicine to know they were not malignant, so she wrote them off as age spots. Why show them off or mention them to people? They would worry needlessly. And besides… they were tender in the most delightful way, and at night, as she continued her secret ritual of using the machine to milk herself, she sometimes drifted her ungloved hand over them and delighted in the sensation.

A weird pressure accompanied a bump on her tailbone, but Lusamine wasn’t worried. It didn’t hurt, and it was simplicity to hide the growing bump as well. Likely she had just been sitting too much at her desk. She made a mental note to grow more active—why hadn’t she gone outside lately? She’d acquired a recent appreciation for the outdoors; grass and flowers and water and natural sunlight were the greatest feelings of all, and she increasingly found excuses to do her day’s work on the paradise’s deck or in the indoor enclosure they used for conservation. Being in sun and nature felt like coming home.

She had so much to do, as always, that she just had to reschedule her scheduled health check-up, delaying it by two weeks. And then again—and then again. Wicke and the doctors were growing distraught, but didn’t they understand how busy she was? Besides, she was the president. She set the schedule, and that was that. She also resisted Wicke’s attempts to get her to reduce her daily intake of Bovine Health Booster, and had outright bellowed when the branch chief had suggested she stop taking it outright. Sure, some of these changes were unusual, but Lusamine felt better than ever! Healthy! Certainly, Wicke couldn’t be trusted to know that some of Lusamine’s downy body hair (which everyone had; for women it was just too pale and fine to normally see) had grown pink like the skin underneath, or that it was gradually starting to thicken. Hair changed as you got older, and that was that. Nothing to get concerned over. She shaved in the evenings and didn’t let it preoccupy her.

Inevitably, however, things came to a head when Wicke confronted her one afternoon.

“Madam president, I’m sorry, but I will not reschedule tomorrow’s medical appointment,” she said.

Lusamine turned and looked up at her cohort. (Up? Looked up? When had that happened? Hadn’t Wicke always been shorter? Ah, it was no matter. Lusamine’s force of personality more than made up for it.)

“As I’ve explained,” she said, fighting the urge flick one of her broad ears, “I have far too much on my plate.”

“That’s what you’ve said last time,” Wicke responded, uncharacteristically forceful. “And the time before. And the time before! Every two weeks for four and a half months! Ma’am, you need to get looked at!”

Aether’s president lazily waved away her employee’s concerns. “I feel better than eve—”

“Lusamine, you have shrunk by well over a foot!” Wicke shrieked, cutting her off. “Your entire figure has changed, your diet should not be able to sustain a human, and you keep ordering odd-tailored clothes and acting cagey about it! You need a checkup!”

The initial shock from Wicke’s outburst had faded into indignation. Who did she think she was talking to? Didn’t she know Lusamine was in charge? “I am the president of this foundation,” she replied tersely, “which someone in your position would do well to remember.”

“I’m aware.” Wicke took in a deep breath. “Fire me if you wish. But be aware that if you miss tomorrow’s appointment, I’ll reach out to young master Gladion and miss Lillie and ask how they feel about their mother taking a dietary aid meant for pokemon for over half a year and then refusing medical attention. I wonder how upset they’d be?”

Lusamine’s heart nearly stopped. Wicke would really involve her family like this? “That’s cold,” she said, sullenly folding her arms. “Very cold, Wicke.” She sighed, not looking forward to the following day. “Fine. I’ll go.”

---

The president wasn’t surprised that Wicke was present for her checkup. She didn’t bother trying to shoo her away. “Let’s just get this over with,” she said, and without preamble, she threw off her clothes to show her new body to her assistant and doctors.

A chorus of gasps met her.

“I’m fine,” Lusamine said, her tail thrashing behind her. (Now that everyone knew, she supposed there was no point in deluding herself any longer. She had a tail. Long, thin, tipped with black at the end. She didn’t see what the fuss was. She barely noticed it anymore and in fact, it helped her keep balance as she walked. Quite useful.) “You’re all overreacting.” With a grunt of effort, she tugged off her custom-made gloves to reveal black-hooved hands. One of the scientists nearly fainted and Wicke had broken out into a sweat.

Lusamine stood there in her bra and panties, tail thrashing, hooves on her hands and feet, looking quite cross. Wicke took a tentative step forward. “Oh,” she said, reaching out to stroke her boss’s pink fur. Lusamine hadn’t bothered trimming it this morning, since the jig was up anyways. “By the gods…”

Her eyes, and hand, drifted lower, and Aether’s branch chief squeaked out in dismay when she saw what was on Lusamine’s tummy. “Are those—madam president, you have an udder!”

“Now let’s not be hasty,” Lusamine said crossly. “I think you’re jumping to conclusions here—a-ahhhhhh…”

Her voice cut off as Wicke grabbed one of the four teats on Lusamine’s belly and gave it an almost fearful tug. A dribble of milk trickled out, and with it came a release of subtle pressure that Lusamine hadn’t even realized was there. Endorphins flooded her. “Well,” she said, “th-that’s new.”

One of the doctors adjusted his specs and stared at him. “Madam president,” he said, aghast, “you’re… a Miltank!”

For a moment Lusamine wanted to protest that he was being silly—but then she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Really seeing herself after others had reacted gave her pause. She was far shorter than before, plump and round in a decidedly bovine fashion. The fact that she still had a woman’s curves—if exaggerated to the degree you’d expect from a cow—was pleasing to her, but there was no denying what she was: a pink-furred, hoof-footed, milky Miltank.

The realization crashed on her for a moment and then she shrugged and flipped her hooves through her hair, letting her broad cow’s ears go unconstrained. It felt good to have them free. “It seems I am,” she said. “Oh well. Do hurry it up, everyone, I have other business on my agenda today.”

They all just stared.

---

Wicke made her way to the president’s chambers, readying the day’s report. This path had become familiar. She’d invented a story of ‘medical emergency’ (not technically untrue) to explain why the president could no longer meet face-to-face or take video calls, but Lusamine still insisted on taking an active hand—er, hoof—in the foundation’s affairs.

Knocking once for politeness, Wicke let herself in, as Lusamine had given her leave to.

The president was seated on her new bed, her old four-poster having been abandoned for a big cushion filled with hay and straw. She was quite fond of it. She spoke aloud, reciting trade orders to a speakerphone to some fellow in Orre.

“—I trust that should suffice?” she finished.

“Indeed, miss Lusamine,” came the man’s voice, distorted slightly by the speaker. “And I wish you well on the road to recovering from… whatever your ailment is, and look forward to seeing you face to face once more.”

“It might be a while,” Lusamine said airily, “but your concern is appreciated.” She reached over, switched off the speakerphone, and leaned back with a sigh.

The milking machine was running, its whirring hum quiet enough to avoid detection on the president’s calls. She had it running constantly. Her milk production had stepped up greatly as of late.

Wicke knew better than to interrupt the president during such a moment—she greatly enjoyed being milked, even if she denied it—and waited politely for a few minutes while Lusamine let out the occasional soft moo of contentment. Finally, Wicke coughed, and Lusamine sighed and switched off the machine.

“What’s on the docket for today, Wicke?” she said, rising with a stretch.

“The usual, ma’am,” Wicke replied, still not used to her boss’s new appearance. Since the checkup, they’d taken Lusamine off the Bovine Health Booster, but the damage was done. The transformation had continued unabated. She’d had no meaningful changes in the last week and a half, and the doctors were cautiously confident that this was as transformed as she would get.

She was indisputably a pokemon. Oh, there were reflections of her former human status: her more voluptuous shape, her lingering human breasts (as milky as her udder), her unchanged, voluminous mane of blonde hair. But the tail, the fur, the hooves, and even her wet-nosed, horn-topped face all said you were looking at a pokemon, not a human.

Lusamine stepped towards Wicke, who coughed and tried not to notice how her udder jiggled as she walked. One of said udder’s teats was still dripping milk slightly. “Well, let’s go,” said the bovine pokemon. As another concession to humanity, she wore a top—a black sports bra, specially made to be as accommodating as possible—along with a matching bottom that was like the lower half of a bikini, though the president’s flesh ballooned around it.

The two of them walked into the hall, Lusamine’s hooves click-click-clicking as she went, and Wicke thought idly how similar it was to the sound her old heels made.

As they entered the lift, Lusamine crossed her hooves behind her back. “How are the proposals on informing Gladion and Lillie coming?”

“Ma’am? You were serious? I thought we would wait until…”

“I’m back to ‘normal’?” Lusamine finished with a snort. “If—and that’s a big if, Wicke—that ever occurs, we both know it’s years in the making. I can’t just not see my children in that time.”

She had a point. Wicke scribbled a note to focus the efforts on informing the young master and mistress.

(But how, she thought desperately, do you tell two teens that their mother turned herself into a cow?)

“You know,” Lusamine continued, “I don’t even know if I want to go back.”

That startled her. “M-madam? What do—”

“Think about it, Wicke!” The president gestured one hoof through the air in emphasis. “The foundation is about pokemon conservation. Now that I am a Miltank, I understand their plight better than ever! Plus, we all know that pokemon are made of stronger stuff than people. I’ve never felt healthier or more energetic.”

Wicke didn’t know what to say, so she kept wordless. The president didn’t seem to care.

As the lift’s door slid open and Lusamine walked out, tail hiked behind her, employees tried their best not to stare. If she minded, she didn’t show it.

“Wicke,” she said thoughtfully, “whatever the plans are for lunch today, cancel them. I feel like grazing.”

Wicke sighed and penciled it in. It was the third time this week. “Yes, madam.” And as she walked, she couldn’t help but shake her head at the craziness of it all: here she was, taking orders from the president of the Aether Foundation, one of the wealthiest, most influential individuals in the world…

And she was a walking, talking, occasionally mooing Miltank, and she didn’t seem to mind it one bit.