Page 2 of Milk & Malice: Vadik (The Caged Hearts Pet Play #6)

Vadik

It would take months at this rate, and I hadn’t even found the right specimen—let alone begun any procedures. Ankles and wrists were no good for long-term integrity, but I’d already figured a way around it. The titanium and keratinised components were designed, manufactured, and on their way to me.

I glanced at the man’s bloodied knee. The cartilage around it was smooth, rounded—a beautiful specimen. My future pet couldn’t be too frail. She would need strong bones.

With a sigh, I picked up the drill and pushed it through.

He screamed.

I smiled.

His stump was strapped down so I could work uninterrupted. The screams were just a bonus.

He didn’t know it, but he served me well. Because by the time I chose a pet, her surgeries would be perfected—not these half-hearted trials.

I’d collated sketches, blueprints, and anatomical notes over the years—and more recently, enough to ensure my success. I would become the only doctor to create a functioning human cow.

A small shard of bone bounced off my Perspex mask. I smiled.

I had never felt more alive.

***

I was reading the ingredients on a probiotic drink when I saw her—bending forward, arm outstretched for the same organic kefir I’d chosen. Full-fat. Raw. The good strain.

She had taste. That was promising.

The cream sweater did nothing to hide the volume of her chest—Double D, easily.

I took a step back, hiding my face by dipping it down. Watching.

Curved. Rounded. Wide-set iliac crest.

Excellent pelvic width-to-waist ratio.

Another step back. Slim ankles. I frowned.

Fragile tibia?

Hmm. I would need to conduct more tests.

But as my eyes climbed the slope of her calf, up the firm thighs hidden beneath a floral skirt, the fullness of her gluteal mass gave me hope.

She had strong quadriceps. Weight-bearing femurs.

Maybe even naturally thickened patellae.

A solid lumbar spine.

Then I saw it—

The hair.

Golden. Strawberry. A blend of copper and fire. Thick, shaggy strands—like a Highland heifer in spring. Shaggy, sweet, and designed for breeding. Not that I would ever breed a pet.

The probiotic kefir was abandoned. I placed it on the nearest shelf.

I retrieved my phone.

One snap.

Two.

Then I opened the measurement app. Began estimating.

Height: 165cm

Shoulder width: 42cm

Est. bust: 34DD

Hip spread: excellent

Gait: unknown. Must observe.

She reached for Greek yoghurt.

Not low-fat.

Not low-fat.

Yes—5% fat.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding.

The full-fat would’ve been optimal for future yield—higher lipids, better viscosity—but I had time.

Plenty of time. I could enhance her mammary tissue gradually. Diet. Hormonal conditioning. Glandular massage, if needed.

She would produce.

She would adapt.

She would be perfect.

I lowered my gaze as she turned, pretending to scan the lower shelf. Her trolley wheels squeaked, and when she reached the end of the aisle, I followed.

Slow steps.

Eyes on her ankles.

My specimen.

I’d found her.

My future HuCow

***

I rummaged through her fridge.

She ate well. Balanced macros. Minimal processed or ultra-processed food. Excellent organ support. Clean gut flora.

She was neat. Methodical. I liked that.

Still, I kept my gloves on.

No skin. No hair. No prints.

I wouldn’t risk contamination. Not at this stage.

A few sentimental items were scattered through the living room—photos, knick-knacks. I didn’t stop to look. They were irrelevant. The day I collected her would be the day this life of hers ended.

The floor plan of her apartment was stuffed in my pocket.

I moved to the bedroom. Pulled out my phone. Opened my notes.

Clothing samples. Size estimates. Waist-to-hip ratio logged.

Hair strands retrieved from her brush—secured in a sterile pouch.

Her tail would match perfectly.

Lena Sidorova had no idea how fortunate she was.

How chosen.

I could’ve picked anyone.

But I picked her.

***

Within three weeks, I moved down the hall from her. The Pakhan paid me handsomely over the years, and I was putting it to good use. Between his salary and my insurance payout, I had every tool I could require—be it in my home or at work. The current apartment I acquired was only a pit stop.

The daily visits to her home were not enough. The strawberry blonde with clear blue eyes and mammary glands that made me thirst refused to let me sleep. It angered me, having to move between two homes and work every day. Then I began to use my time wisely in the new apartment.

Day and night, I went over every bone, muscle, and tendon. From her skull to her toes. The schematics were a work of art, just like her mammary glands. My crude sketches made my dead heart sing. I ate, slept, and breathed Lena.

As for her health, she now took enhanced vitamins.

Planted in her drinks.

Moya milaya korova.

My sweet cow.

My brothers thought they had pets?

Once Lena was transformed, she would become the supreme pet.

More cow than human.