Cow Boy II, Part 8 (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 

-

Jack lightly shook himself and tore his eyes away from Taylor.

Taylor held his belly, breathing heavily. He was a little regretful about his display of self-indulgence, but at least Jack looked rattled. Taylor watched his belly heave up and down, tight, and pressurized, an uncomfortable squirming within.

“I was thinking…” said Jack. “Just because we can’t have…intercourse…doesn’t mean we can’t pleasure each other in other ways.” He grinned.

Taylor glared at him.

“Strictly for therapeutic reasons. Nothing romantic.”

“So you’re starting to realize,” said Taylor.

“What?”

“That you’re nothing but a huge cock and a decent body.”

Jack’s expression darkened. “Yes,” he said compliantly.

Taylor smirked at Jack’s lack of self-respect. “Good,” he said. “Now get the check.”

-

Taylor’s breasts were getting so round and plump, they were almost sore. Sitting up in bed, he gently slid his hands along the full masses, and winced. He hesitated, then shifted his hands to the heated flesh against his ribs, directly beneath his breasts.

The fat was really collecting there. It was almost like he was developing…new mounds. Taylor allowed his thumbs to brush each of the pink…moles…directly centering the mounds. His shoulders

trembled. Who am I kidding? Taylor thought in dread. He knew what happened to many of the others with his affliction. They developed extra—extra breasts. He had been in denial for so long. And now it was—happening! Fuck!

Jack sat up on the bed behind him, the sheets falling down his nude body and collecting at his lap. He reached around and gently stroked the new mounds, his bare chest pressing into Taylor’s back. Then Jack leaned forward and kissed Taylor’s cheek. “I think they’re beautiful.”

“D-don’t touch them!”

But now Jack was leaning over to kiss them. He kissed, nipped, and gently flicked the new pink nubs with his tongue.

Taylor’s body continued to throb with waves of arousal. It’s okay, they're barely visible, he told himself, his heart pounding.

Taylor heard a short buzz. Pulling himself out of Jack’s despicable arms, he leaned down to the nightstand and lifted his cell phone. It was Ms. Clark from Group Therapy. The message informed that the session scheduled for that evening would be taking place at the nearby hospital instead of the library—room number 427.

Taylor blankly stared at his phone as Jack read the message over his shoulder. He suspected he knew what this was about.

Jack frowned at the uneasy expression on Taylor’s face. “Do you want me to come with?”

“Of course not!” Taylor snapped. He climbed off the bed and started getting dressed.

Taylor had not done his laundry in a while. He was stuck wearing a too-tight T-shirt that left some of his five-month-pregnant-looking belly exposed. His sore, tingling DD-cups, simply refused to be contained in a bra, which left his large nipples protruding against the semi-transparent white cotton of his shirt. The sensation of his tender pink nipples rubbing against the inside of his shirt left Taylor hot squirmy. They became uncomfortably, almost unnaturally erect, and his cheeks reddened. But it was still better than dealing with a bra.

Few of Taylor’s pants fit his anymore, so he pulled on some stretchy joggers that showed off his very-plump ass as Jack gazed at it in appreciation.

With that, Taylor slid his feet into a pair of shoes and walked out of his dormitory apartment, ignoring as Jack followed after him. He breathed heavily as his plump DDs gently wobbled in his shirt. The sensation of them rocking and pressing against the mounds beneath them was entirely distracting.

Taylor froze when Jack snatched the keys from his hand, and went to the driver’s seat of Taylor’s car. Taylor sighed and rolled his eyes, before climbing into the passenger’s side.

As Jack drove off, slow and steady, much the way a centenarian might, Taylor found his hand consistently sliding up to cup one of his breasts. He squirmed uncomfortably, and every so often, Jack would throw him a glance.

To distract himself—and also because of his stomach’s grumbling—Taylor pulled some chips out of the glove box and began to stuff them into his mouth. Taylor’s car seemed to be constantly stocked with snacks. Taylor didn’t put much thought into it. He didn’t want to. He was chronically hungry, so the

presence of snacks seemed like a convenient enough circumstance.

The car finally stopped, and Taylor heaved a sigh. Jack began to unbuckle his seatbelt, but he glared at him warningly. And so Jack stayed put, and watched, frowning, as Taylor got up.

“I’m looking for room 427,” Taylor said at the counter once he had ridden the elevator up to the fourth floor.

“Oh, Mrs. Sanders’ room.”

Taylor winced. He had suspected that this would be about Gina Sanders. Last Taylor had seen the woman, she had been truly massive. The lawyer had looked far beyond the point of popping. It had actually been a bit disturbing to watch her, between struggling beneath her girth, fumbling with her phone, and arbitrarily stuffing handfuls of food into her mouth. With her four massive breasts, and

the bulging mound of what Taylor could no longer deny was an udder, Gina had looked as close to a cow as Taylor could imagine a person being! Her belly had quavered, and shifted, and seemed to be constantly swelling, even as she struggled to endure the meetings, practically sitting in a puddle of her own sweat.

“Yes,” Taylor managed. “Her.”

The nurse pointed out the direction of door 427. Taylor swallowed, and walked off. He dragged his legs, one after the other. He finally reached the door in question, to hear some quiet murmuring

beyond it. Taking a deep breath, Taylor pushed himself inside.

There was a small crowd of people—the therapy group—all cluttered around a single bed. There was Ms. Clark looking quite pleased with herself, and bull-boy, his arms folded uncomfortably. Wendy looked extremely nervous, her skinny, petite body absolutely struggling to carry the massive mound of a belly attached to it. Her belly was wider than she was, bigger than a beach ball, and Taylor couldn’t even imagine how Wendy had managed to negotiate it through the door. Taylor unconsciously held his own stomach. Still, he felt a stroke of resentment as he noticed that Wendy had not developed breasts, primary or secondary, at all.

“Mmgghhh…” Wendy groaned quietly as she leaned heavily on the wall. She wasn’t in labor, just absolutely straining. Who knew how her body accommodated it all. Taylor absently wondered why no one had gotten the girl a wheelchair.

Swallowing his nerves, Taylor stepped past Wendy, bull-boy, and several others within the odd group. There were wobbling breasts, bulging udders, swollen bellies, and the occasional tails. Taylor gently nudged his way through them until he finally caught sight of the bed.

It appeared that Gina, indeed, had had her baby. She was sitting up, a hospital gown hanging around her shoulders. Her torso was exposed, and her four massive basketball-sized breasts were contained in what looked like a pair of bandeaus. They quavered strangely, flushed, swollen, and

bulging from the material that struggled to contain them. The front of the bandeaus were wet, and fat nipples the size of D-batteries protruded evidently against the stretched material.

Taylor could hardly see what had become of Gina’s stomach, her breasts were so plump and large. They hoovered over a throbbing cushion-sized mound in Gina’s lap, that was presently covered by a sheet.

Gina forced a smile at Taylor, though the woman looked weary, and rather foggy. Her cheeks were

puffed out as she mechanically stuffed what looked like mini-donuts into her mouth from a massive bowl sitting beside her on the bed.

“I think that’s everyone,” said Ms. Clark, beaming around at the group. “Thank you all for coming. I

know it was a very abrupt change of venue, though I thought this would be a good experience for you all, especially for those of you still having trouble accepting your conditions.” She gave a pointed look at Taylor, who reddened. “I proposed this to Gina, and she was happy to welcome the group—and so soon after delivering. Please feel free to ask her questions. You can find out what to expect in your own deliveries. As you can see, Gina is doing quite well. She couldn’t be more ecstatic.”

Gina gave a feeble and unconvincing nod. Taylor was stunned. “Where’s…the baby?”

“Oh, the babies…they have a room to themselves,” said Gina, her voice muffled as she chewed. “My husband’s seeing them now. Though I can’t be apart from them for too long…” As if on cue, Gina’s

four breasts quavered. She cupped her lower left breast and released a quiet groan.

There were uncomfortable shuffles, especially amongst the pregnant women in the group. From the wall, Wendy moaned quietly. And then there was that freak, Violet, who had no abnormalities, and was gazing at Gina in envy. Taylor resisted the urge to strangle her.

On further examination of Gina, Taylor noticed that Gina’s face seemed fuller, her arms and legs softer, and she was starting to develop a double chin. The lawyer continued to eat, almost frantically. In fact, a nurse came in and changed Gina’s shrinking bowl of mini-donuts with a full one.

“The hunger is normal,” Gina explained nonchalantly. She coughed a few times, but still continued talking with her mouth full. “The doctor said my body needs extra calories for the nursing. I had a heavy litter. Anyway, my husband and I are thrilled.” Everything was said with the monotony of her profession.

“You wanted this!?” Taylor burst out before he could stop himself.

Gina frowned. “Of course this was planned.” She winced as her bandeaus moistened more, and the fabric began to drip milk. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to…”

“No worries at all,” said Ms. Clark indulgently. “In fact, would it be okay if the class—?”

“Of course,” said Gina. With that, Ms. Clark helped her off the bed.