ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This story may not be reproduced in whole or in part without author's permission.
This story is a fictitious product of my imagination and should not be read if the reader has a hatred of gay/bi people, gay sex, etc, or sex-oriented writing in general. Any semblance to real life within this story is purely coincidental. This story uses components of abstract sexual fantasies and may not be for you. A few involving mpreg, muscle growth, vore and acts of homosexual intercourse. If you are not 18 years of age, I recommend you click off your browser because it is likely this content is illegal for your reading.
Quick note: To further clarify this story will include straight sex, but at the heart of the story focuses on men. I hope you enjoy! Shoot me an email at the end of the story if you liked it! Also thank you to everyone that's emailed me it's been awesome being able to hear from you guys!
CH 4.
The next morning Marc woke up to and empty bed. He wasn't surprised he had already guessed where Ken was, Marc quickly made his way downstairs to eat. In the dining room he was greeted with a familiar sight with his uncle and Ken. He tried saying hello, however, neither of their attention was on him or their food. It was focused solely on the TV.
A muscular man was being put into a police car screaming and crying. He was bald, white and had piercing light brown eyes. He was wearing jeans but no shirt which allowed his glorious upper body to be on display. His stomach however, did not match the rest of him; there was a layer of pudge were abs should have been. It sat on his stomach and jiggled as he was forced into the car seat.
"What a tragedy," Uncle T said shaking his head.
"What happened?" Marc said causing Ken and Uncle T to look at him. The banner with the news story headline popped up on the screen as a reporter started talking. The words read: COWMAN EATS FARMER.
"Just moments ago. Police arrived on the scene responding to a call by a farm hand, saying a Cowman had gone on a rampage. It was there they discovered a shocking scene that Randall Howard, a local cowman farmer, had been consumed by one of his own Cowmen."
Images of a man younger than Marc's uncle came on the screen. Pictures of weddings, birthdays,and even camping images. In all of them the Randall Howard guy had the same goofy grin.
"Princeton, one of Randall's most beloved Cowmen, snapped. Many may remember Princeton for having won the award for best milk in the state two years ago."
A photo of the Randall and Princeton popped onto the screen. The two had their arms around the others neck. They were at a fair and Princeton had a medal hanging from his neck.
"No one knows what caused him to do this. Authorities say when they arrived Randall was already inside of Princeton and digestion had already started. There was nothing they could do."
The screen went back to Princeton's live arrest. He was shouting things. "I didn't mean too," and "It wasn't my fault."
That was all Marc heard before his uncle turned off the TV and threw the remote back on the table.
Uncle T let his gaze go between Ken and Marc, "Sorry boys, I just can't stand people not knowing what they're talking about."
"Can a Cowman really do that? Did he really eat that guy?" Marc said with an unintended panic rising in his voice. If one Cowman could do that, could they all do that? He thought.
Uncle T dragged his hand over his face and groaned. Marc realized this wasn't going to be a straight forward answer.
"Yes, technically they can but," His uncle held up a finger putting emphasis on the word "but". "They don't because Cowmen are naturally friendly and passive. Even though they look like tanks, they're lovers not fighters."
Marc could certainly reason that. The first three he met were wonderfully kind, minus the ball to the head. He also knew though 'they don't' was not a denial so he continued with his questioning, "But the news story said—"
That wasn't a Cowman. That was A Bullman." His uncle spoke in a low tone.
This time Ken, who had become distracted by his massive plate of food when the TV went off, spoke up. "A what?"
Marc felt a little better knowing he wasn't the only one confused. He was almost worried this was another countryside fact that everyone out here knew.
Uncle T let out a deep breath and clasped his hands together. "I'll be honest with you boys, Bullmen are..." Uncle T searched for the right words, "They are a special type of Cowmen."
"Special how?" Marc asked.
"Well to name a few, They're rare,and all men. If there is a female, I'd like to meet her. They have larger, bodies, muscles, and penises compared to normal Cowmen. They're highly fertile. They age differently than normal Cowmen, but more importantly they're more aggressive if provoked."
"And their milk is better too?" Marc said. The reporter had mentioned how the Cowman, Princeton had the best in the state.
"That's a bit trickier. The simple answer is yes, I won't get into the details of what it does right now, but it's getting the stuff that's hard."
"Why?" Ken said with bacon bits flying out his mouth.
"Bullmen don't tend to produce milk. If they do it's during breeding season, or for a couple of months after their baby is born. That's why Princeton was so rare. He could produce milk outside of breeding and nurturing season."
"How do you know all this?" Marc asked.
Uncle T laughed. "Marc, I don't just milk Cowmen here. I study them, because I love learning about their culture. I want them to love it here. I go to other farms study the Cowmen there. See what works, what doesn't work and incorporate it here. I've been able to met a few Bullmen as well."
"Wait, so any of the Bullmen out there on the farm can eat me?" Marc felt his heart pump faster.
"Woah, slow down. I don't have any Bullmen here. Like I said they're rare."
"But aren't the male Cowmen technically `bulls'?" Marc replied.
Uncle T chuckled again. He was never in short supply of laughter when Marc had a question. "Marc, you can't think of them like actual cows and bulls. That's just a name people used because of the milking and it stuck. Bullmen have a special gene. So NO, not all male Cowmen are Bullmen.
Really?" Marc said still skeptical. He was ready to run out of the house if his Uncle even alluded to them being in danger.
"Marc, you know how all squares are rectangles, but not all rectangles are squares. It's like that. All Bullmen are Cowmen, but Cowmen are not all Bullmen."
Marc nodded his head. Maybe he could relax a bit. It seemed he wouldn't be getting eaten alive. "How do you know you don't have any Bullmen?"
"Well if there was a Bullmen here they tend to be natural leaders and lead the rest, but trust me no one here is like that. Also, the key is that their puberty is a bit different than a Cowman's."
Marc noticed he'd totally let that statement fly by the first time. "What do you mean, different than a Cowman's? Do Cowmen not age like us?"
"Not at all Marc." His uncle stated.
"What happens during a Cowman's puberty?
Uncle T looked at Ken, then back to Marc. "I'll let you guys know when we're a bit closer to the time."
With that Uncle T ended the discussion and the trio went to finishing breakfast in silence. Marc picked at his food processing what he had just been told. Ken engulfed food with reckless abandon. Marc figured that maybe Ken was just too young to care. Although he could see Heather having the same non-care attitude about it. Heck, She might have already known. Is that what her farm had, Bullmen? If so, no wonder, her and Ken turned out like this.
Ken finished eating and scurried back to Marc's room. Marc began to leave, after excusing himself from breakfast, until Uncle T asked Marc to stay behind for a bit.
"Marc, I don't want you two playing video game all the time. Try and give Ken some mental stimulation, he needs it." Uncle T let Marc back up to his room.
Marc found Ken sitting on the bed, waiting to hear what game they'd play today. Marc walked over to his dresser and went in the bottom drawer. He pulled out a checkerboard and pieces. He'd brought it, hoping to play with Uncle T, but here that was like trying to catch a celebrity.
Marc ran his fingers along the board. Memories of playing with his parents entered his mind. They used to do a family game night every Friday. Mom was the best a checkers, she easily schooled him and his dad. He wondered what the two were doing right now.
He quickly pushed those thoughts out of his mind. "How about checkers?"
"I've never played," Ken said.
"Well, let's go outside to the backyard, I can show you." The two raced off, Which Marc was happy to do. Staying in the room would have caused him to get more depressed.
The two found a patch of grass and sat down. Marc pulled out the checkerboard and started to set up the pieces.
"Sorry if you want to play chess, but my parents never taught me." Marc continued placing pieces on the right squares. "They don't know how to play chess either."
"That's okay, I've never played so I'd be terrible too," Ken giggled.
Marc quickly went over the rules, to which Ken never questioned, he just nodded his head in agreement.
The two played for about an hour. Ken never asked to hear the rules again, or how he should play. After a few losses Ken began to give Marc a real challenge and by the end Ken even managed to win a few. Marc was stunned by how well Ken had caught on.
"Hey dipshits!" A voice said cutting through the good atmosphere. The two boys on the ground turned their heads to see Trevor, strolling towards them.
Marc rolled his eyes he was not in the mood for this dude. Ken though, smiled brightly and waved his hand. Marc sighed, Ken wanted to be friends with the Cowmen on the farm, apparently even this jackass.
"What are you two love birds doing?" Trevor snickered.
"Playing checkers, want to join?" Ken said.
"Nah, I got better things to do than hang out with you two." Trevor said.
Marc was starting to get pissed off. After his encounter yesterday he didn't have the patience for this dude. "Well, why don't you go do those things. He was offering to be nice."
"Is there some rule on the farm where I have to be nice back?" Trevor smirked. The way his mouth curved at the corner just pissed Marc off. Marc stood up taking a step towards the Cowman.
Marc looked over Trevor's body. He had muscles that where obvious through his tight shirt, but they didn't ward Marc off. Trevor was no more special than a regular highschool athlete.
"Leave." Marc said.
Trevor pushed Marc, and he fell back on his ass. Trevor started laughing, but Marc quickly shot back up and connected his fist to Trevor's jaw. Trevor flew back, taken by surprise.
Marc immediately felt better all his sadness and anger over being at this farm had been channeled into his fist. Marc felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through him. He looked at his victim and his high was killed by what he saw. Trevor's face was filled with tears and his eyes were widen with shock. Marc's smile turned into a frown. He couldn't believe he did that, he never resorted to violence. Why did it feel so right in the moment?
Marc couldn't take the look on Trevor's face anymore and walked closer. Trevor crawled away until he got himself up and ran off. Marc was a little speechless he couldn't believe such a big guy with a cocky personality was such a wuss.
Marc stared at his hand. Why had he done that? His parents would have been so disappointed in him. Cowman were passive in nature, his uncle said so. Therefore, he wasn't even in any real danger. Ken came to the side of Marc and poked him.
"You okay?" Ken said
"Yeah but, I think I need to be alone for a while." Marc walked off to his bedroom, leaving Ken and his checkerboard behind him.
Marc laid on his bed. He was in total silence.
There was a knock on the door and Uncle T came in. "I heard about your fight."
Marc winced he didn't want to be reminded. "Did Trevor tell you?"
"No, Ken did. I found him sitting in the grass with a checkerboard playing by himself." Uncle T scooted Marc over and sat next to him on the bed.
"We're here to take care of the Cowmen. I know you're dealing with a lot more than a kid your age should, but others are facing tough times too. Both Trevor and Ken had it tough."
Marc thought about that. Ken didn't have any friends. Trevor, who just got here, probably didn't have any either. Maybe all three of them had it hard.
Marc hopped out of bed. He knew what he had to do.
"Woah, you okay?" Uncle T said shocked at his nephew's sudden action.
Marc nodded his head, then asked "Do you know where Trevor is?"
After hearing where, Marc raced off to go find the Cowman. Marc came upon Trevor in the backyard crying under the large oak tree he couldn't pass. While anyone could see Trevor, it'd be hard to know he was crying unless they got up close. None of the other Cowmen thought were even the slightest bit interested to come over.
When Trevor saw Mark approach, a look of horror grew on his face.
"It's okay," Marc said raising one hand to show he meant no harm, his other hand was occupied, carrying a wash cloth with ice in it. Marc knelt down to where Trevor was and pressed his sleeve to Trevor's face to wipe away his tears.
"I'm sorry," Marc said.
"It's okay," Trevor was still shaking at Marc's touch.
Marc's eyes fell to the ground. "It's not though. I hope one day you can forgive me." Marc pressed the washcloth with ice to Trevor's face. The area was slightly swollen, but not extremely noticeable yet.
The two sat under the shade of the tree not exchanging words. Until Marc decided to speak up,
"How old are you?" Marc asked.
Trevor gave him a strange look.
"I'm only trying to make small talk."
"I'm sixteen," Trevor answered.
"Cool, I'll be sixteen...tomorrow actually!" Marc had gotten so side tracked. His birthday almost passed him by. Although without his parents it wouldn't really be his birthday.
"When's your birthday?" Mac said trying to get his thoughts to veer away from his mom and dad.
"I was born in January." Trevor answered. Marc liked how Trevor's voice sound when he wasn't being cocky. It was very soothing. Way different that the douche he was trying to be.
"What year?" Marc continued his questioning.
"Last year."
"What?" Marc looked Trevor straight in the eyes. The young Cowman didn't seem to be joking. Marc looked over Trevor's body. The muscles, the size of his legs, the size of his arms. What kind of joke was this?
"You looked shocked. Did you not know that humans and Cowmen age differently?"
"No!" Marc said. How could his uncle skip such an important detail? "Well, I guess my uncle did say your puberty was different, but still."
"He probably meant our shift." Trevor said taking the wash cloth from Marc's hand and holding it himself.
"Shift? What like you turn into something else?"
Trevor smiled, for the first-time since he met Marc. It was such a warm, peaceful smile Marc felt his heart jump at the sight.
"No, it's just the last stage in our maturity. When that happens, we're officially 18."
"18? How can you know you're 18? How can you know you're 16?" Marc didn't get it at all.
"We're not humans. So, your concept of age doesn't really apply to us. But once we understand how it works. We can approximate how old our body is."
"How though?" Marc was still not following.
"We just know. All of us do." Trevor shrugged his shoulders. "And then after shifting we age like normal humans."
Marc sat with Trevor under the tree. No more words were shared. The ice in the washcloth melted and Trevor handed it backing thanking Marc, avoiding his eyes. Then, Trevor quickly got up and walked off shoving his hands in his pockets.
Marc decided to return to the house. He thought about looking for Ken, but he had probably returned home. As he entered the main hall, he heard the door bell ring. Being the only "worker" in the area he answered it.
There stood Heather holding a pie.
"This is for you! Actually, my mom and dad made this for your Uncle, but semantics."
"You walked all the way here with a pie?" Marc said in disbelief.
"What, no I drove!" Heather pointed to an old red station wagon. Then she shoved the pie into Marc's hands.
"I met your brother," Marc said.
"Did you get along?" Heather said intrigued.
"Yeah, you were right Ken is quiet, but he's pretty cool."
"Who's Ken?" Heather asked.
"Your brother?" Mark said unsure.
"My brother's name isn't Ken." Heather said.