Cow Boy, Epilogue Part 2

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

Summary: At eighteen, Lucas begins to experience certain physical changes. Contains: Male: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, multiple breasts, udders, gender transition, and more.

Previous Chapter

-

The moment John entered his house that evening, Michael could tell that he was upset.

"What's wrong?" Michael said. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, it's just..." John trailed off.

Michael kissed him. He kissed his small belly. "Sit down. We'll talk over dinner."

John agreed. He allowed Michael to usher him into the dining room, but when they walked in, John was surprised by the sight of the meal. There were a few baked chickens in addition to a mountain of mashed potatoes and a mound of buttered spinach.

Michael noticed his astonishment. “You have to start meeting your daily calorie needs, John. Or you’re going to start feeling like crap. I just don’t want you to crash.”

“What needs are those?” said John, baffled.

“For a pregnant person of your…background…it’s usually 10,000,” Michael mumbled the figure. “A day.”

At hearing this, John had to take a deep breath. He made his way to the table and dropped himself into a chair. “Maybe we were reckless.”

“What do you mean?” said Michael, joining him at the table.

“It’s just…”

“I love you, John. And I already love our children.” Michael took his hand. “I know you do as well. Do this with me. Be excited with me,” Michael entreated.

John couldn't help smiling. “Fine.”

-

John had expected their sex life to take a hit because of his condition, but if anything, it was the opposite. As the weeks passed, Michael only seemed to want him more. Michael’s libido nowadays stunned him a little, as was his stamina. And every morning, John felt a little fuller, a little tighter. He knew it was all in his head.

One morning, John struggled to button his trousers, but it just couldn’t seem to accommodate the two new curves on his abdomen: His belly, which had swollen a good deal since a few weeks before. And his udder, which seemed to develop more and more each day, now a distinct mound in his briefs. John worse a blazer and had pulled a loose blazer around himself, but he felt awfully hot. Beads of sweat shone on his temple. The struggle of getting dressed every day was starting to drain him.

Staring in his full-length mirror for a few moments, John shrugged the blazer off then loosened his belt and shoved the hem of his pants beneath hid belly but over his udder.

It was more comfortable but mad his bump much more evident than before.

Though what was the point of trying to hide it any longer? Everyone knew what he was.

As John walked through the kitchen, he could hear Michael watching the news.

"Doctor—how would you classify this? Is it a disease? It almost seems like a new species has developed," spoke the stilted voice of a reporter.

"That's exactly what it is. Medically speaking, we have a new, intelligent, mammalian species on our hands. And they're on par with humans in functioning, if not moreso."

"Moreso?"

"In terms of procreation, they have us beat. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they out-populate us in a few decades if things continue as they are…"

As he passed the back of Michael’s chair, John leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “Working from home today?”

“No, I’m heading out in ten minutes. Mandatory meeting.” Michael rolled his eyes as turned his head to smile up at John.

Their lips met. Michael cupped his belly.

“Have a good one.”

“You too.” John headed out the door.

-

The holidays were a tough time for John. He had always maintained a distance from his family, but in recent years, Michael had pressured him to bridge that gap.

John’s family home was crowded with his several siblings and dozens of cousins. Everywhere he looked were cow noses, cow ears, black patches, bulging udders, protruding tails, round bellies, multiple breasts, and so on. It was only by luck that he managed to bump into any of his immediate family members at all.

“John!” said John’s sister, Terry. She took hold of John’s shoulders and looked him up and down. “Oh wow. Looks like you’re one of us.” Terry grinned.

His face heating, John nodded. Beside him, Michael smiled.

“John.”

John turned and swallowed as another woman approached. “Hello mother.”

John’s mother, Martha, waddled over. Her four breasts were as round as bowling balls and heaving on her chest. Her udder was slightly larger, and bulging out in the front of her dress. Besides her mounds, Martha was a generally plump woman, with a round face, a double-chin, thick thighs, and a round, bulging bottom. Her mass stretched out the cotton dress she was wearing.

“Oh John,” Martha held either side of John’s face and pressed his forehead to hers. And then she pulled back. “Well look at you. I didn’t know you got yourself pregnant!”

John muttered, “Yes, well…”

“How far along?”

“Three months.”

Martha blinked. “Oh. So is your cousin Chloe.” Martha nodded towards someone behind John’s back.

John turned to look at Chloe. Chloe was wearing a tight dress and looked four months along in a regular pregnancy. John looked six, if not larger. John gulped.

“Well…look at you,” Martha repeated, examining John’s frame. “Of all my children, I never thought that you would have babies. Do you know that your sister Lila’s pregnant again? And Robbie’s wife too? You’re all giving me so many grandchildren—I can barely keep up. And it looks like you’re carrying a heavy litter.”

John felt Michael wrap his arm behind him and rub his shoulder. Suddenly he suspected that this pregnancy wasn’t going to be an easy one.

-

He was certain that he looked ludicrous in court a week later. He felt full and tight, and his belly button was protruding now. His udder was swelling every day, now the mass of a softball. His bottom had gotten larger as well, his two pairs of C-cups stretching the button-down he was wearing.

John stood. “I’d like to call Mark Sanders to the stand,” he said, his belly heaving as he breathed in and out.

Throughout litigation, his clients mostly took to staring at him now. The judge also threw glances at John every chance he got, clearly thrown off by the sight of him. Even the opposing lawyer could barely argue his case. Everyone in the courtroom was distracted and practically falling over themselves to process that a real life cow-boy was in their midst.

John was jaded and a bit contemptful, but he managed to keep it to himself. His back was aching by the time court was adjourned. He made his way to the firm to pick up his things. Just as he finished packing his briefcase, there was a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he called.

The door opened and Dirkman entered the room. John tensed at seeing him. “Sir,” he said.

“John.” His boss smiled. “You look well.” Dirkman’s eyes flickered to John’s belly.

“Excuse my appearance,” John unthinkingly rambled as he smoothed his hands over his abdomen. “The doctor, he says I may be carrying, an, um, heavy…litter.” John wanted to hit himself the moment it came out of his mouth. He had not, in the least, been obligated to explain the details of his condition, nor had he wanted to, at that.

Dirkman just stared at him for a moment. “Well—great,” he said awkwardly. “I just wanted to come by and congratulate you on your last case. You’re doing quite well in court lately. Me and the other partners were thinking of increasing your litigation hours.”

John opened his mouth but held himself from speaking.

“So what do you say?”

John was overwhelmed. As his condition advanced, he had wanted to wind down, focusing more on desk work. If anything, he was successful in court because he was a distraction to the opposing counsel. Meanwhile, judges overcompensated in their verdicts in their efforts to not seem discriminatory towards him. John didn’t voice these things. Both he and Dirkman already knew it. And ironically enough, that had become John’s appeal.

John unconsciously rubbed his belly as he thought carefully about what he would say. He wouldn’t oppose the proposition. This was his career, after all. He wouldn’t look weak, or less-capable than any other attorney at the firm. “”I think that it’s an excellent idea,” John stated carefully.

“Perfect,” said Dirkman, offering his hand. John shook it. “I’ll have some new cases on your desk by tomorrow morning.” With that, he left.

Maybe he should have been happy. This was a great opportunity, after all. He felt miserable, but maintained a cool expression, lifted his briefcase, and left the room.

John spent the next few days in court. His back was sore, and he was exhausted. By then, he was four months along, but looked eight. Despite it, John maintained his poise. He paced the courtroom and questioned witnesses, absently rubbing the underside of his belly as he did. He tried not to think about the way everyone stared at him. Tried not to think about how tender the udder was getting, more bloated every day, nubs starting to distend. His breasts were fat, plump, and sleek with sweat. And god, he felt heavy. How many babies did he have in there? No, he was not to think of it…

By the end of each day, John felt ready to pass out. Michael had taken to picking him up because he was often too exhausted to drive.

“You’re overdoing it,” Michael said as John eased himself into the passenger seat of the car that evening.

“Michael, just drive,” said John, watching his round belly gently heave up and down.

“The doctor doesn’t want you on your feet so much. He even offered to do house calls,” Michael continued. “He said that you should start thinking about—”

“Michael, I’m only four months along,” John retorted. Lately Michael had been pressuring him to start thinking about pre-maternity leave. But John was completely fine. Besides, he was gaining traction at work, and he didn’t want to lose momentum by taking a long, unnecessary leave. He was weeks away from making partner.

“The doctor said that you’re carrying a heavy—”

“Just stop,” John cut him off. “I can’t argue with you while I’m this tired.”

And thankfully, Michael did stop.

When they got back to the house, John eased himself out of his clothes down to his boxers. He then pulled on an oversized T-shirt he had been using to sleep in. It stretched over his belly and didn’t completely conceal the mound.

John sat on the bed and leaned back against the pillows. He slid his hands down beneath his belly, and pushed his boxers down in the front so his udder rose to the cool air. He released a deep sigh as he cupped the mass. It was so tender. It was now five inches in diameter, the nubs each an inch long and quite thick. John slowly shifted onto his side.

He felt Michael climb into the bed beside him. Michael kissed his shoulder and slowly slid down his boxers down. As he did, John lifted his cellphone from the night stand. He wanted to check his work email one more time. But still he groaned in encouragement, eyes fluttering as Michael’s fingers explored him. Then withdrawing.

John grunted as Michael entered him, the phone slipping somewhat in his grip. John moved with the thrusts, his body rocking, his face flushed as he gasped for breath. He was holding his belly. He reached down with his free hand and clasped Michael’s arm.

“I swear,” John gasped out, as Michael gave another powerful thrust. John’s four breasts jiggled. “It’s like you’re trying to get me even morepregnant than I already am.”

Michael released, and Jonh’s eyes rolled upwards, his work phone slipping completely from his grip to clatter against the floor beside the bed. “Nnnnnghhhhhh…” His back arched, and Michael held him tightly, until John sunk down, still panting, his face and hair sweaty. “Jesus, Michael,” John said as they finally broke apart. John held his belly, which was throbbing, heated, and tight.

John managed to reach down and recover his phone as Michael buried his face against his nape and began to doze.

Brushing his moist hair out of his face, John turned on the screen of the phone as he continued to catch his breath. He checked the company inbox. There were some memos that he scrolled through, a letter from Dirkman and the other named partners thanking him for all the extra courtroom hours he was putting in. He saw some spam messages, including one called “Group Therapy.” John briefly scanned it with his eyes.

Just before deleting it, he paused, and read the email more slowly. It was a cow-personsupport group. All cows were welcome: showing, not showing, pregnant, not pregnant, even those with cow genes but no cow features at all.

John resented being regarded as a farm animal. His finger hoovered over the delete button. But for some reason, he saved the email to his “Follow-Up” folder. With that, he lowered the phone to his night stand, tugged at his nightshirt, and closed his eyes.

The End