Cow Boy II, Part 9 (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.

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Gina lowered herself into the offered wheelchair, and Ms. Clark pushed her along.

As the others wandered after the two, Taylor realized that he had been informally designated the escort for Wendy, if just because all the others had readily abandoned the girl.

Gritting his teeth, Taylor took Wendy’s arm, and helped the struggling girl waddle along.

As they lagged behind the rest of the group, Taylor could not help staring at the way Wendy’s monstrously gigantic belly heaved up and down, as though she was being pumped up like an inflatable ball. Her belly button was the size of a tangerine, and it was throbbing. Taylor almost wanted to lay his hand on Wendy’s incomprehensible mass, as he wondered if it was as tight as it seemed. When Wendy groaned and whimpered, Taylor decided against it. He gripped the thin girl and helped angle her massive belly through the door at the end of the hall, through which the rest of the group had already disappeared.

Gina had heaved herself up from her wheelchair, and she practically staggered to what looked like a massive playpen, congested with pillows, within which squirmed several creatures, perhaps a dozen, their combined horribleness and adorableness leaving Taylor’s jaw hanging slack. They crawled about sluggishly, each humanoid with prominent cow-features. They were also each nearly the size of a one-year-old child!

“These are newborns?” said Taylor in shock.

The rest of the group hushed him, some giving Taylor reproachful looks. An unfamiliar man swooped forward—he might have been Gina’s husband—and helped Gina into the pen where they slowly eased her down.

Panting and sweating, Gina looked overwhelmed, but was holding it together. She grunted, and her four breasts tightened then popped out of what little clothes she had on. Her nipples were flushed, swollen, and protruding massively. They were the largest nipples Taylor had ever seen! Gina cradled her massive udder as it spurted and trembled between her legs. The creatures immediately took notice. They crawled towards her.

Taylor watched in silent horror as the woman was practically buried beneath her offspring. The husband watched on lovingly, occasionally leaning down to help a child gain better access to Gina’s four nipples and four teats. Infants though they were, the creatures fought and struggled, like a litter of pups. And despite how engorged she was, Gina’s limited quantity of nubs meant that she couldn’t feed all of them simultaneously.

Taylor found himself backing towards the door. It was too horrible to watch any longer. He wondered if those things were inside of him at present. Would he himself descend to such a terrible state?

Wendy squeaked and gripped the doorframe when Taylor abruptly let go of her. Just short of running, Taylor left the room and hurried off, pushing his way into the first available elevator, and pressing the first floor button repetitively, almost desperately. Before he knew it, he was dropping himself into the passenger seat of Jack’s car. “Go,” Taylor breathed, holding his head as he leaned down.

Was that going to happen to him? Breasts the size of volleyballs? A dozen of those fat, squirming babies, attacking him as his body helplessly squirted milk? Or maybe he would end up like Wendy, so massively swollen he was hardly able to move. What if Taylor’s second pair of breasts grew—larger? What if he grew a fucking udder between his thighs?

“Taylor…” said Jack, his voice concerned. The idiot still hadn’t started the car. Instead, he placed his hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “Hey. You’re fine. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Taylor sat there, breathing for a long time. Eventually, he unfurled himself, trying to blink back the wetness in his eyes. Jack knew better than to mention it. Self-perseveration and all that.

“I feel sick,” Taylor admitted, as Jack started the car and pulled off from the curb.

“Yeah?” said Jack distractedly. He reached out blindly to place his hand on Taylor’s belly. And he rubbed it, causing Taylor’s cheeks to heat up. “I should have come with you,” said Jack.

Taylor pushed Jack’s hand off him. The idiot never seemed to quit. “Just take me back to my dorm,” Taylor mumbled.

“As you wish.”

With the passage of time, Taylor was getting more and more pregnant. His stomach was growing rapidly, and all the eating didn’t help. People were noticing, starting to ask questions, and Taylor was at a loss of what to say.

He took a protocol of ignoring the odd glances and awkward inquiries. He just hoped that it didn’t get back to his parents. He didn’t even want to think about how his family would react.

Taylor’s lower set of nipples seemed to be sticking out more every day, where they were uncomfortably squished beneath his first pair of unwanted breasts. Worse than that, they were rapidly growing. Taylor now, undeniably, had two pairs of breasts attached to his body. The bottom ones were getting more and more plump. A-cup anthills had become full, sensitized B-cups, that were still squashed beneath the bigger mounds above them.

It was unnerving. Taylor tried his best to ignore them, but the discomfort was so unbearable at times, he didn’t know what to do.

Towards the end of the school day, they always felt sore. Taylor found himself unconsciously cupping the undersides of his heavy upper-breasts, if just to give the lower ones some relief. His classmates stared at him, but Taylor could barely find the energy to care. He was almost delirious in his discomfort these days.

Then there was the matter of…support. Wearing a bra? It seemed practical, if…queasy. By then he estimated that his upper-boobs were DDs…DDDs? Fuck. A bra seemed better than nothing, because nothing was proving to be torture.

Taylor knew the incorporation of female undergarments would probably only increase the visibility of what was happening to his body, but he was starting to realize that he wasn’t hiding anything. The other day, he had heard some football players placing bets on whether Taylor was one of those “cow-bitches.”

Upon getting back to his dorm, Taylor’s daily routine was now to lock himself in his room and drop his fatigued body onto the bed. He would struggle out of his increasingly ill-fitting shirts, then arch his back and sigh in relief as his swollen DDDs heaved up towards his collar, and their weight was lifted from the smaller breasts beneath them.

Though they were irritated, Taylor did his best not to touch them, as he knew this would probably only make things worse. The last time Jack had tried, Taylor had cuffed him right in the ribs. Despite it, when Taylor awoke every morning, he often felt a tingling warmth in both pairs of breasts, and found his hands planted against his torso, rubbing, massaging, and squeezing his tingling mounds, as he wondered, in panic, What if I’ve been doing this all night?

“Fuck,” was all he could think of that, quickly slapping his hands down to flank him on the mattress.

It was the weekend, and Taylor had been generous enough to allow Jack to stay the night.

“You sure like to play with them,” Jack said with a smirk as he cupped his latest bruise.

Shooting a glare, Taylor began to sit up. His stomach grumbled, causing him to mutter some obscenities under his breath.

“Do you want me to get you something?” Jack sat up as well.

“I’m fine,” Taylor snapped. He climbed to his feet and hastily pulled on some clothes. A too-small tank top that he truly had to stretch over him. A pair of sweatpants he had far outgrown, his swollen ass sticking out blatantly. His breasts heaved against his neckline, cleavage generous and sweaty in the attire. Taylor looked down at his body’s transformation, hands absently resting on his rounded belly. He still couldn’t get over how fucked up this whole thing was. Men with the gene usually got more muscular, masculine, and bullish. They didn’t typically get womanly and pregnant. He was a fucking anomaly among anomalies.

“You okay?” said Jack.

Taylor ignored him as he opened his bedroom door. He threw Jack one more glare, then walked out, and into the small kitchen.

Taylor was barely conscious of his roommate’s stare. Taylor found his drawer in the refrigerator, and immediately began to fill his arms with blocks of cheese.

“Taylor?”

Taylor paused. He turned around to see Peter seated on the couch, an open laptop sitting on his lap. In Taylor’s experience, Peter was pretty weird. Mike served as a healthy buffer between them, but unfortunately, Mike was nowhere in sight. “What?”

“Normally I don’t really give a shit about this kind of thing, but I just wanted to mention…”

“Yeah?” said Taylor dangerously.

“You’re getting really, really, fat,” said Peter flatly. There was no mirth in Peter’s expression, just his deranged aloofness.

The two students stared at each other for a while. Teeth grit, Taylor released a long breath. “Thanks,” he answered coldly.

“Any time.” Peter returned his attention to his laptop.

Body tense, Taylor struggled not to throw the toaster at Peter’s head as he collected the rest of his cheeses and made his way back to his room.

He dumped the packaged cheese-blocks in a pile on the bed, before stalking over to his full-length mirror, ignoring Jack’s look of concern.

It was true. His belly was rounded and bulging, looking five-months along—maybe even farther. His breasts were round and large, the B-cups beneath them giving them an even greater lift than before. His ass made him look as though he’d gotten fat-injections like some deranged popstar.

Before he could stop himself, he released a sob. In seconds, Jack stood behind him in the mirror, Jack’s arms wrapping around Taylor’s bloated waist.

“It’s okay,” Jack assured.

But that just couldn’t be true.

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