Cow Boy II, Part 7 (Patreon)

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Note: This is a male version of Cow Girl III.

Summary: Sequel to Cow Boy. Decades following Lucas’s ordeal, the cow-person condition is becoming an epidemic. Taylor has the misfortune of contracting the gene. Contains:  Male: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, multiple breasts, udders, lactation, and more.

Previous Chapter

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Stacy was staring, her pretty little jaw hanging slack. Flanking the skinny blonde were two of Taylor’s other friends, both dressed in club attire. “What the fuck,” said Stacy, blinking rapidly, as though she thought her vision might be deceiving her.

Taylor’s arms were folded over his waist, though it didn’t seem to be doing much to disguise his condition. “I…um…yeah…” he said, dropping his arms, his cheeks reddening as his friends continued to goggle him.

Taylor’s string tank top and blazer did little to hide his swollen breasts and protruding belly.

“What happened?” said Stacy, her high voice sounding almost hysterical. “I mean, I just like saw you, Tay!”

Taylor bit his bottom. “It’s just stress…I guess.” Yeah right.“And, um…Jack.” His face darkened. Fucking Jack.

Taylor gasped as Stacy suddenly collided with him, the blonde’s frail body squeezing him in a feeble embrace. “We’ll get through this, Taylor! We’ll start doing yoga together. And then cardio Wednesdays, and—”

Taylor zoned out as Stacy continued to yammer about her intensive, hours-long exercise routines. His other two friends didn’t seem nearly as gullible as they stared at Taylor in silent horror. Maybe they had realized what Taylor was.

“Thanks Stace,” said Taylor, detaching his friend from his body. He self-consciously tugged his shirt down. “In light of things, maybe I should just stay in…”

“No way,” Stacy protested. “I don’t care how fat and gross you get. You’re coming out!” Stacy grabbed Taylor’s hand and pulled him out of the room. The other two followed.

The group of four marched out of the dorm, Peter eying them, and Mike just grinning. Before Taylor knew it, he was speeding off into the night in the passengers seat of Stacy’s car.

Taylor pressed his lips, trying not to reveal how nauseous he felt from all of Stacy’s high-speed twists and turns. He kind of wished that he had volunteered to drive. In the darkness, he absently placed his hands on either side of his abdomen. His navel felt tense and uncomfortable, and his innie belly-button had gotten rather shallow in recent days. Taylor swallowed and gazed out his window, in denial of what was happening to him. He couldn’t believe how fast this thing was growing. He already looked five months along!

The car came to a screeching halt, and Taylor was pitched forward, only his seatbelt saving him from smashing face-first into the dashboard. He covered his mouth as the others began to unbuckle their seatbelts and get out of the car. Taylor took several deep breaths, and only when he was certain that he wasn’t going to hurl, he uncovered his mouth and climbed out as well.

Stacy tossed her keys to the valet, and the quartet headed for the doors. The line was about half a block long. They waited, which quickly became a unique experience for them. They were used to promoters monitoring the line and picking them out to give them advance access.

“I don’t care how chubbyand gross everyone thinks you are,” Stacy whispered loudly. “You have an amazing personality, Tay! It’s amazing!”

Taylor bit the inside of his cheek and stared off, his confidence continuing to be chiseled down to the size of an apple core.

Miserable as he was, Taylor was silently astonished that Stacy hadn’t recognized his condition for what it was. Maybe she didn’t watch the news.

When the group finally reached the doors, following a twenty-minute wait, the bouncer eyed Taylor’s belly after checking IDs. Taylor held his breath.

Thankfully, the bouncer allowed them all entrance.

The interior of the club consisted of the usual collection of flashing light and throbbing bodies, an environment that Taylor usually found to be thrilling, but was now just wearisome. He quickly separated from the others and disappeared through the crowd, finding himself against the wall on the outside of the dance floor. He heaved a sigh, relieved to be apart from Stacy’s backhanded insults. Again he tugged at his tank top, looking down to watch his breasts bulge against his neckline with every inhalation, his body quickly growing sweaty from the densely-packed environment.

A few feet away, a guy caught his eye and flashed a smile, but Taylor quickly averted his gaze. Knowing his luck, it was probably another cow-dick. Taylor eyed the various couples practically having sex on the dance floor, and shuddered to himself.

“Taylor.”

His eyes snapped up. He nearly snarled at the sight of Jack standing beside him, nursing a drink.

“You cool down yet?” Jack asked.

“What the fuckare you doing here?” Taylor snapped, before he narrowed his eyes. “Here to knock up some other unsuspecting college guy?”

“Actually, I was hoping to run into you.”

Taylor scoffed, but Jack wasn’t deterred. Jack cornered Taylor against the wall, placing his hand on the side of him. Why did the idiot always come back for more insult?

Jack’s eyes drifted down to Taylor’s rounded abdomen, catching the shape of it through the erratic lighting. Jack inhaled sharply. His hand shaking slightly, he reached down, but stopped himself just short of touching.

Taylor sneered. “You like this, don’t you!?” he accused.

“You look good,” Jack admitted.

“I look like a cow!” Taylor snarled the words, but the music was loud enough that no one else could hear it.

“Taylor…” Finally Jack’s hand did make contact. Taylor tensed, but didn’t react further. Instead he waited, biding his time. Jack took it as invitation to slide his hand down to Taylor’s hips. “You’re really growing,” said Jack.

Taylor kept glaring, and Jack dropped his hand.

“I’m…sorry. About before,” Jack said. “The sex, I mean—I just figured if we were going to be together anyway…what did it matter?”

Taylor’s face flushed. “For the tenth time Jack, we are never, evergoing to be together. You’re not my boyfriend. You’re not my friend. We’re not even acquaintances. And as soon as I can, I am getting an abortion. Then you won't even be my fucking baby-daddy.”

Jack’s face fell. “Right…of course.” He calmly sipped his drink, though he looked livid, and Taylor was entirely pleased.

Jack pulled away and leaned on the wall beside him. Taylor folded his arms over his abdomen and absently watched as Stacy was dry-humped by some rando to the most disorienting House music Taylor had ever heard. He did his best to ignore Jack, as well as the weird pressure in his belly. He breathed in and out, feeling as though he was getting fatter by the moment. Jack extended his arm and rubbed Taylor’s back, undeterred by the scathing look Taylor sent his way.

Taylor blinked when he felt his pocket vibrating, and he dug out of his cellphone. His eyes widened when he saw that it was the clinic where he had scheduled his abortion. He pulled away from Jack and struggled through the club to make his way outside, even at the risk of being denied re-entry. Panting somewhat, he accepted the call and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, can I speak to Taylor please?”

“Yes, this is him,” said Taylor keenly.

“Taylor? How are you?” The woman on the other line didn’t wait for an answer. “This is the clinic. I’m afraid that we have to push your appointment.”

“Push?” said Taylor, his heart sinking.

“Yes. We have been quite backed up, what with—everything that’s been going on,” said the woman vaguely. “So your appointment has been delayed three weeks.”

“Three weeks!?”Taylor snapped. He had been getting so close! He had been counting the days! He nervously scratched the underside of his left breast, at the soreness there.

“Yes, three weeks. I’ll send you the details by email! Bye, now!”

The line went dead before Taylor could voice his outrage.

He stood there on the sidewalk, plump and panting, his belly bulging in his top. Taylor just huffed and puffed, struggling to breathe through his mounting anxiety.

Someone squeezed his shoulder. “You okay?”

Taylor turned to Jack. The guy was like a terrible growth that kept coming back. Taylor’s fists clenched. He was going to deck him! No, he was going to murder him!

“Do you want to get out of here?” said Jack, flushed. “I mean, there’s a diner around the corner…”

Taylor began to calm down at the mention of food.

“How about it? Late-dinner? On me.”

Taylor would make sure that Jack came to regret that offer. So Taylor bit his lip. Finally, he nodded. “I hope you brought your credit card,” Taylor spat, pushing Jack aside as he marched towards the diner.

-

Taylor ordered everything on the menu. Literally—everything! He savored the sight of Jack’s uneasy expression as the dishes were brought out, one by one, to cover the table. Every time Taylor finished one, it was promptly replaced another.

Taylor knew that he had no hopes of consuming all of the food, he just enjoyed the strain he was inevitably putting on Jack’s wallet, as well as the thought of Jack’s awkward explanations to his ritzy parents. Taylor snickered to himself.

“Glad you’re enjoying,” Jack stated flatly. He sipped his lonely iced tea.

Taylor ignored him as he worked his way through a platter of mozzarella sticks. The milkshake was good. He would have to order another. Hell—he’d order five more! It was Jack’s treat, after all.

Taylor knew that he was technically binging, and going far beyond his daily calorie intake, even given his recent gluttony, but the pleasure of Jack’s stunned expression far outweighed Taylor’s concerns about weight gain. Insults seemed to be useless, so Taylor hit Jack where it truly hurt—the wallet. Taylor knew how stingy Jack was with his spending, and how obsessive he was about his credit card statements. It was all his parent’s money, after all. As such, Jack had always been a cheap date but a good fuck. Taylor moaned as he stuffed down another large spoon of macaroni and cheese, hoping to embarrass Jack as much as he drained him, even despite the uncomfortable tightening of his belly. Taylor absently rubbed the mound beneath his table, before lifting his face and motioning to one of the servers. “Waiter! Another serving of this, please!” He vaguely motioned at several dishes.

He then threw a smirk at Jack, to notice that Jack’s disturbed expression had fallen. Instead Jack was staring, his eyes practically fogged over as he chewed his bottom lip.

“What?” said Taylor, slightly startled.

“Nothing!” said Jack. His eyes darted away.

Taylor absently scratched the underside of his breast, still uncertain about Jack’s stare. He was distracted as massive bowl of steaming, buttery mashed potatoes was lowered in front of him, then shrugged to himself, and continued to feast.

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