Cow Boy II, Part 11 (Patreon)

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Note: This is simply a male version of Cow Girl: Laura.

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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Taylor continued to suck hard on the straw, appreciating the quick access it gave the concoction to his stomach. Soon his sucks yielded a slurping noise, and the straw was scraping against the bottom of the bowl. With some reluctance, Taylor gulped down the remainder of the batter in his cheeks, then pulled away.

Taylor slumped back on his seat, grateful that he had not settled for one of the kitchen stools, because he surely would have toppled back by then. He squirmed and endured the uncomfortable pulsing sensation that filled his heated belly. It was warm inside and out.

Taylor ran his hands over the tank top his fertile body was presently squeezed into. It was moist with sweat now, his belly rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath, his breasts rocking, and pubic region feeling more sensitive and tingly than ever. His stomach housed a tightness, and he couldn’t be certain, but it was subtly increasing despite that he had stopped eating, the pressure chronic, and making him want to do little more than collapse in his bed.

Yet somehow Taylor heaved himself up and reeled over to the massive container of ice cream he had left by the heater.

Taylor hauled the ice cream over to the counter, where it replaced the massive bowl he had been gorging from just moments earlier. Taylor peeled the cover off, and gazed into the large vat of milky sweet buttercream dessert. He did not know how long he had been stuffing down cake batter, but the three-gallon tub of ice cream was now completely melted, the container slightly warm beneath his fingers. Removing the large straw from the emptied batter-bowl, Taylor placed it into the tub of ice cream, and closed his lips around it.

He filled his mouth with a thinner, yet still quite indulgent, concoction. It certainly went down easier than the batter had. A quarter of the way through the container, Taylor pulled back, taking deep breaths. He licked his lips and leaned back in his seat, cupping his belly, and acknowledging the frightening reality of his appetite—that as stuffed as he was, he still seemed to be insatiable.

Taylor felt uncomfortable, verging on nauseous, yet as he stared at the tub of melted ice cream, all he could do was salivate. His compulsiveness abruptly spiking, Taylor heaved himself off the chair, grunting as he did, his belly making him feel stretched and bloated. He tugged at the hem of his tank top. It seemed to have gotten shorter and tighter, now exposing inches of his lower belly. His sweatpants barely contained his swollen backside, the waistband sinking against his crack while a sheen of sweat pasted Taylor’s clothing against him.

Legs unsteady, Taylor made his way to the fridge. He released a belch, and covered his mouth for fear that something else would come up. Then his insides squirmed, and he was filled with the weird assurance that he would not hurl. In fact, his stomach had plenty more to take on.

Taylor reached into the fridge and pulled out a box of butter sticks, before he returned to his seat at the counter, groaning quietly as he sat back down, the pressure on his gut increasing in consequence of his positon.

Ignoring the way his belly pulsed, Taylor languidly opened the butter, pulling out four long, thick blocks. He unwrapped them one by one, and dumped them into the tub of ice cream, where they plopped against the thick, creamy liquid, Taylor gaze rapt as he watched each block begin to melt.

He then lifted his straw and began to stir, the anticipation almost pleasure enough for him. But not quite.

Taylor wrapped his lips around the straw again, closing his eyes as he sucked. The ice cream had taken on a salty, buttery taste now, thick with flavor, yet still sweet as it rolled down his throat with each eager gulp.

His skin was flushed, his stomach quivering as its burden increased more and more. He cupped it absently, trying to contain his impulse to grunt out until after he had finished his meal. His clothes felt tight and uncomfortable, the hem of his tank top even higher now.

When Taylor finished, he pushed the container aside, and lowered his head against the counter, as he enjoyed his reprieve from binge-eating, brief though he knew it was. He continued to endure that continuous pressure, feeling his shirt tighteningagainst him. Both pairs of breasts were tingling now, nipples aching, and he could see that his DDDs were bulging heavily against his neckline, close to popping free. Taylor continued to pant, his focus on his belly, as it tightened and ached against him. He knew that his roommates would be home soon, and with that thought, Taylor climbed up from his seat with a small groan.

Too weary to bother with adjusting his clothes that felt as though they were shrinking by the moment, Taylor lurched about the kitchen, graceless and hurried. He washed the bowl ineptly and shoved it into a cabinet, before grabbing the emptied tub of ice cream and bringing it back to his bedroom with him, where it would be disposed of in his personal garbage. Peter and Mike didn’t need to know the intimate details of what a pig Taylor was becoming.

His belly gurgled when he was finally able to collapse against his bed. “Ohhhh…” Taylor moaned, reaching down to cup his taut abdomen. He slid his tank top up over the mound, sighing in relief as his heated skin was exposed to the cool air. Too exhausted to bother with properly undressing himself, turn off his lights, or even think about his afternoon classes, Taylor closed his eyes and fell asleep.

-

When Taylor awoke, it was dark outside of his window blinds. He grimaced as he came to the realization that he had slept the whole day away.

He climbed out of bed, still feeling uncomfortably bloated. He jerked down the hem of the tank top in the process, but came to realize that the coverage was now truly abysmal. The material was stretched tight, and did not even cover his belly button…which didn’t make much sense, because it hadthat morning.

Taylor gulped, and shifted his attention to his gut. He ran his hand over the large swollen bump, and marveled at it for a while.

He made his way to his bedroom mirror, his feelings of shock turning into horror, then self-disgust. He’d had another growth spurt. His belly made him look as though he was seven months pregnant! Taylor turned to his side and examined his profile. There would be no hiding this now. It couldn’t pass as weight gain. It was an obvious pregnancy.

Taylor’s scrutiny shifted to his tits, both which looked fuller and rounder, the upper mounds perched high. The lower ones were visibly bulging beneath them, nipples large and erect. He cupped one, and winced. So tender. Taylor wiggled his shoulders absently, hoping for some resolution or miraculous adjustment, hoping for the mounds to withdraw and somehow shrink away, but all four remained evident. The lower ones were no longer hidden beneath his upper breasts, instead serving as a shelf to them. They had gotten quite full, at least C-cups by then. It’s fine, Taylor silently tried to console himself, to keep his breathing from thinning any further than it already had. He was sure that a couple of tight strapless bras would keep things discreet enough, at least until the abortion put a stop to these ongoing developments.

Regardless, he was going on a serious diet. He couldn’t afford to get any fatter. These changes were practically obscene!

With that in mind, Taylor tore his eyes away from the mirror, and forced himself not to look down at his body anymore. He just kept reminding himself that this was all temporary as he made his way about the room, his swollen ass rocking behind him. He arduously tried to pull his sweatpants higher up his swollen ass, then wearily deemed that he could benefit from a cup of tea.

Taylor left the room carefully, plump and tousled as he was. He peeked out and sighed in relief at seeing that neither of his roommates were still up. In case of an intrusion, he had wrapped an oversized robe around himself, though it did not do much for his insecurities.

Taylor made his way back into the kitchen, grimacing every time his breasts jiggled too greatly, or the fabric of his shirt rubbed against one of his overly-sensitized nipples.

He put the kettle on the fire and grabbed a mug from one of the cabinets. He got out a spoon, some sugar, and made his way to the fridge.

In his search for some cream, Taylor rummaged around his shelf. His fingers made contact with a large block of cheddar, and his body seemed to freeze. He cradled it yearningly, his eyes sliding over the several blocks of various cheeses that accompanied the cheddar block. It was a collection of sorts. He had been cravingly it madly. But Taylor knew that he had to dispose of it. And with that resolution, he began to fill his arms with the fattening clumps of dairy product.

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