Milk Man II: Part 7 -- The Second Rite
by AbsMan420
You know how when you're drunk and you get news you're not expecting and it takes a bit of time for it to sink in and process? Like, you anticipate certain responses from people so that everything progresses the way you, the drunk guy, expect it to. But then, something happens or someone says something that throws the whole scene out of whack and you're stuck in that moment of being helpless to follow what's happening because you're lost trying to figure out what's just HAPPENED.
Oh my god, look what I just said -- that's drunk-talk! I just realized I'm drunk! Look, I'm showing all the signs: I'm off-balance and unable to process information -- though I don't feel nauseous, like I usually do when I'm drunk -- and I'm happy about that, at least -- but I definitely feel like I'm not in control. I'm kind of relaxed, actually -- more than that, I'm kind of horny. Like I'm drunk AND stoned. It's definitely a buzz, whatever the hell is going on.
It's the milk. It's gotta be. I've drunk the milk of four out of five of these Herdsmen. The feeling of contented energy that I'd get drinking solely from Angus is multiplied and magnified by three -- and one of those guys had so much milk as to almost fill a gallon jug. It's no wonder I feel the way I do. It would be perfect, except...
Except Holstein rejected me! He and Angus are on the other side of this massive maple tree arguing about it right now, in voices low enough to get a feeling of intensity, but not exact words. The others are with me, Ayrshire with his arm around my shoulders while Shorthorn tries to keep Jersey from going ballistic. Jersey has taken this slight personally. He tells Shorthorn in a voice loud enough for Holstein and Angus to hear, "Fucker's only doin' this 'cuz he knows I want this one!" while he tries to force his way to Holstein -- even though I think he's ALLOWING Shorthorn to hold him back. Actually, a lot of the reason I can't hear Holstein and Angus is because of Jersey.
Ayrshire says quietly, "Guernsey, this isn't about you, man. This is Holstein gettin' all self-righteous. He does it all the fuckin' time. He's the only one of us who didn't choose to be in the Herd, so he thinks that gives him some kind of right to complain."
I look at him, kind of weavy. "Didn't CHOOSE to be...?"
"I know," Ayrshire says, flexing his pecs. "Who wouldn't want this, right?"
I certainly would, and that's sort of like a decision-maker to me. With the confidence of a drunk, I break away from Ayrshire and head to the other side of the tree to tell them so. Mother-fucker's not gonna reject ME because HE wants to make a political statement.
Holstein leans against the tree with his arms crossed, trying not to listen to Angus, who's right up in his face, speaking with an angry posture, quiet but intense. It would take little more than a swing of Holstein's powerful arm to knock Angus easily away, but Angus is an angry dog, not about to give up the fight.
They look up simultaneously and see me approaching. Holstein says, "Go away, kid. This doesn't concern you."
"Like hell it doesn't," I say.
Ayrshire has followed me, and now puts his arm around my back, trying to lead me away. "C'mon, Guernsey," he says. "Let these guys talk it out."
I push him away. "No. Fuck this. Fuck this!" Approaching Holstein, I continue. "Who the fuck do you think you are, huh? Where do you get off playin' god with my life? I've worked damn hard for this day, and I want it!"
Holstein glares at me, his eyes smoldering. "You don't know what you want," he says. "You don't even know what you're asking for."
"Doesn't matter," I say. "The consequences of my decisions are MINE to live with. You don't have the right to decide for me. And that's just what you've done! You're saying that because something is wrong for you that it's wrong for me. Well, that's bullshit! I'm sorry, Holstein. I'm sorry you're not happy being what you are. Doesn't mean that I'M not gonna be."
He pushes himself away from the trunk of the tree, sizing me up. Holstein has six or seven inches on me, easily, and probably fifty/ sixty pounds, but I don't back down. I don't even flinch. "So," he grumbles, "you WANT to be someone's slave? You want to be someone's prostitute? That's what it is, you know." He's speaking to the Herd now, not just me -- the guys have gathered around to watch the scene. Even Shorthorn and Jersey have stopped fucking around. "We treat it like some big game, and maybe it is, a little. And yeah, okay, I admit getting your milk sucked is probably the most amazing sexual experience in the world. But, that's how he hides the fact that it's prostitution. He's taking advantage of us!"
"So you're gonna stop him by denying me?"
Holstein sighs, dropping his head. "That's not... I told you, Guernsey, it's not about you."
"Well then, you know what? Stop making it about me, then! Make it about YOU. You want to rebel, you want to run? Fine. Do what you need to do, Holstein, but don't think you can make that decision for me."
There's a silence amongst the Herd, as they all study Holstein for his reaction. He takes a moment with my speech, nodding his head with pursed lips. "Fine," he says, finally, glancing quickly at the guys. "You want to be a part of this? Be a part of it, then. But you're making a mistake."
"Maybe," I say. "But I doubt it."
So Holstein grunts, and breathes deeply, and allows his transformation to begin. Apparently, they DON'T have to be sexually stimulated to transform, or maybe after they do it long enough, it becomes reflex. Whatever. Holstein's pecs swell and grow as he sneers at me. His full-size is as big as Jersey's, making his physical transformation the most dramatic of all -- the most change. At his full-size, there's no question about who the big boys REALLY are. There's no doubt about who's prime.
We continue to stare at each other -- and nobody moves.
"Well, c'mon, Little Calf," he says, not able to hide the lusty depth that his voice has gained in the transformation, "drink."
His nipple is engorged and swollen, right on the underside of the muscle, the tiniest drop of milk on the tip. I lean forward slowly, until I can no longer see his eyes over the shelf of his pecs, and take it in my mouth.
One draw out of him, one little pull, one tiny mouthful, and he suddenly slaps my face away, knocking me back. I stumble over a root and land on my ass -- I do manage to swallow, though. "There," he says, "you drank everybody's milk. Congratulations. Welcome to the club."
With that, he spins around and marches off into the cornfield, leaving in the direction of the bikes.
There's a stunned silence amongst the other guys. "Yo," Jersey says, looking in the direction of Holstein's exit, "he musta been serious." Then, to me, he says, "You don't know how much it hurts to be ready for milkin' and have to keep it in there. It's like blue balls in your pecs."
Ayrshire shrugs it off. "Aw, he'll find some farmer's son and a hayloft before he's two miles down the road. Fuck him. What's important is, Guernsey made the first rite!"
"Congratulations, boy," says Shorthorn, helping me to my feet with his strong arm. Once I'm standing, he kisses me. I'm a little light-headed over the sudden movement, and still dizzy from my buzz, but I know enough to kiss him back, to enjoy the tickle of his mustache on my upper lip. Finally, he breaks it, and says, looking deep in my eyes, "You kiss mighty good. Gonna be a right fine pleasure to get to know you, I reckon."
Jersey pulls me away from him by the scruff of the neck. Like a drunken sailor, I collapse in his arms and kiss him quickly several times. Jersey smirks and grabs the back of my head, forcing his tongue into my mouth, not allowing me to escape. I shamelessly press my erection into him. I can feel Jersey's press against me.
"Hey, hey, hey," says Angus, in an authoritative voice, "none of that till the BULL's done with him!" He tries to separate us, but I'm too drunk to be separated. I continue to hold Jersey's cock, even as Angus speaks to me. "You okay, Guernsey?"
I smile, and try to say confidentially, "I'm feelin' a little kind of drunk," but it comes out a bit louder than I expect. Jersey's balls fit so nicely in my palm.
The guys are laughing, but that's okay. I laugh, too. Everything's okay -- I'm gonna be in the Herd!
"Okay," says Angus, holding up his hands for silence, "we're gonna continue, even without Holstein." Jersey cheers a bit here, breaking Angus' concentration -- earning him a level look. Jersey stands directly behind me now, his hands on my shoulders, massaging me -- Though I have to reach behind myself, I still enjoy playing with his cock. "Anyway," Angus continues, "Guernsey, you got past the first part of your initiation: you drank milk from all the other Herdsmen. Hell, even Holstein, eh? So now, the second part. Ayrshire?"
Ayrshire comes around the trunk of the tree, carrying his saddlebag. I hear Jersey sigh in my ear. "Here it is," Ayrshire says. "Looks like you've earned it, Guernsey."
"What is it?"
Ayrshire hands the bag to me. "Open it," he says, trying to conceal his smile.
I can't even begin to imagine what it could be as I handle the leather saddlebag. Whatever it is -- and from the shape, I'd say some kind of bottle, or tube -- it's big. "This is the weirdest Christmas ever!" I joke, unzipping the bag.
What I pull out is the biggest fucking dildo I've ever seen in my life. Nearly as long as my forearm -- and nearly as thick, too -- with a long, flared head, one that looks like it would get in your mouth easy enough, but then the ridges of the crown would get stuck behind your teeth. One would need a dislocating jaw to get something this big into one's throat.
It's so life-like, veins clearly visible -- except for its impossible size, it looks like it's somebody's actual cock, molded into this... Well, it's not a dildo, exactly. It's a butt-plug. My god.
The others look at it with an almost reverential awe -- some uncomfortable smiles, some hazy memories -- and then Angus says, "It's the BULL."
"What?"
"Yo, that there is a cast of the BULL's cock," says Jersey, behind me. "In lifeless plastic and rubber, that's the BULL."
Ayrshire laughs. "Do you see why your life is different once he fucks you?"
They all laugh again. I don't.
"Well," says Angus, "ONE way your life is different." Flexing his pecs.
I'm still drunk, I think. This isn't making any sense. None of this has made any sense. "So, what?" I ask, stroking the solid shaft. "This is for practice, or something?"
Angus chuckles, like the rest of them. "This is the second rite, Guernsey."
Even drunk, his meaning dawns on me. "I gotta put this thing inside me?" I turn to each of them, seeking answers, but still babbling. "I just rode twenty miles, I just drank all that milk, and now I gotta put this fuckin' thing INSIDE me?"
"RIght options," says Ayrshire. "Wrong sequence."
"What?"
He speaks as if to a child. "You got the order wrong," he says. "You just drank our milk, NOW you're gonna put that thing inside you, THEN you're gonna ride twenty miles."
"What?"
"It's a Big Ride, Guernsey. Understand?"
My face falls. "Oh, my god..."
He smiles. "You DO understand."
The guys all chuckle, and Angus steps forward again to speak. "We've all done it, Guernsey," he says in that tone of simple honesty that Angus brings to everything. I can't help but handle the huge dildo, feel the heft of it, imagine the blunt intrusion. Angus puts a hand on my shoulder as he speaks.
"Don't worry. You're full of our milk right now -- it'll keep you relaxed and help you adjust physically. It may seem a little impossible right at the moment, but you'll be surprised at how well-trained you are."
"You might also be surprised by how good it feels," Ayrshire adds, pinching his cock beneath his bike shorts -- he's turned-on by the thought.
Jersey snorts. "After a WHILE..."
Angus cuts them off, as always, bringing us back to focus. He looks me right in the eye. "So what do you think, Guernsey?" he asks. "Will you take the second rite?"
I look at their anxious eyes, eager for my choice -- all of them have the same lusty expression, the same memory, the same chubbed-out dick. Hell, even Angus is excited. This thing is SO big. What could that possibly feel like?
THEY'VE all done it...
Is it me, or my buzz that answers, "Okay, I'll do it"? Has this drunken feeling removed my inhibitions, as well, or am I that desperate to join the Herd? Or is the truth that I finally have sexual liberation at my fingertips and I'm excited about the brass ring?
There's a cheer from the Herd, supportive pats, and encouraging words. "I'll show you how to take that thing right proper, boy" Shorthorn says. When Ayrshire and Jersey squawk their disapproval, Shorthorn continues, grabbing his own package as an example, his half-hard dick snaking down his thigh. "None o' ya'lls got as much experience showin' guys how to take somethin' big than me."
"Nobody's got more experience TAKING something that big than me," Ayrshire retorts. "When was the last time you bottomed out, Shorthorn?"
"Yo, either one of youse can help put it in, but I get to relax the hole first."
"Gentlemen," Angus interrupts, establishing order, "the way we fight sometimes, you'd think we were REAL brothers. Ayrshire, YOU held it last -- it's yours to give up. Guernsey, I suggest you relax and get ready."
Ayrshire takes the dildo from me and -- when he sees the look of confusion in my eye -- motions for me to spin around. I put my back to him while Jersey approaches my front. Smiling, Jersey slowly pulls down my bike shorts, the waistband catching on the tip of my erection. "Yo, this is sexy as shit, ain't it?"
Jersey, in his heat, has started to transform again, almost unable to help himself, like a teenaged wet-dream. As I squat down for Ayrshire, holding Jersey's shoulders for balance, my face is immediately before Jersey's semi-bloated pecs. "Drink it if you want it. But you better want it."
Angus actually starts to object, but Jersey cuts him off with, "Aw, shut the fuck up, Brainiac. He only got a mouthful from Holstein, and I ain't gettin' blueballs now. Drink it, Guernsey."
So I do. I take Jersey's swollen nipple in my mouth and slowly draw. So warm, delicious. Even feeling the blunt tip of the dildo against my open ass doesn't scare me. I don't know what they've lubed it with -- probably the milk they use for everything else -- but I can feel the slick prodding on my hole.
It starts into me, so I try to only focus on the salty skin of Jersey's pec, the tip of his nipple on the tip of my teeth, and the taste of his bland-flavor on my tongue. It's pushing my hole open, forcing more and more. "Yo, relax," Jersey purrs, when I helplessly nip him.
"You're doin' good, boy."
"It's gonna hurt a little at first," says Ayrshire in my ear, "but then it's gonna feel SO good."
The milk fills my mouth -- the latex BULL fills my ass. As my hole pops around the ridge of the rubber head, I orgasm for the first time, shooting all over my stomach and Jersey's thigh, moaning. The guys chuckle warmly. "The first of many," says Shorthorn.
"Told you it feels good," says Ayrshire, insistent with intrusion.
Jersey wipes the spunk with his hand and then licks his fingers clean. He flicks his eyebrows at me and smirks.
Deeper it goes, as my stomach swells from Jersey's milk. I try not to think about how this must look, about how the scene appears, about the apparent impossibility of the physical act. I just allow my feelings to take over -- I lose myself in the pain/ pleasure, the taste of Jersey's abundant milk. How can I be hungry for more? Yet, I am.
My ass is hungry for more, and more it gets. And more. And still more after that. How can it possibly be?
Drunk. Drunk on Jersey's marvelous masculine milk! Horny. Lusty. Want them all to fuck me. Want the world to fuck me. I moan. "Deeper," I rasp, leaning my forehead against Jersey's pec. "Yeah."
"Now you're startin' to feel it, Guernsey."
"Take it, boy. Take it all."
"Yo, suck the other side."
And still it doesn't stop. How can there be room...? How can I still be thirsty? I can't swallow in time with the flow, and the milk dribbles again. My ass is so full of cock.
Jersey orgasms this time, as I finish his tit. I hear his breath hitch and his hips buck, so ass-full, I draw his lips to mine and kiss him. He thrusts against me, pressing his hand on the back of my head, forcing his tongue in my mouth and, with his free hand, he grabs the base of the dildo away from Ayrshire and pushes the thing the rest of the way into me, until I feel its rubber base against my ass-cheeks. I orgasm again when it hits home.
Ayrshire pulls my bike shorts back up -- the saddle seems almost designed to help hold the latex cock in place.
Jersey and I break our kiss, and I look up, drunk and stupid, into his eyes. Euphoria.
"Yo, you ready for the Big Ride?"
I smile. The massive intruder in my ass dictating my emotions. "FINALLY!"
Again, the guys cheer. Or maybe they do. Or maybe I just think they do in my fantasy -- I'm so lost in this fuck that doesn't end that I don't even know what the hell is real. Drunk. Lusty.
It feels so fucking good!
Jersey sweeps me up in his arms, like an expectant bride, and carries me through the cornfield, toward the road, toward our bikes. My head rolls over on his shoulder and I stare stupidly up at him, admiring his rugged looks, his lantern jaw. He smiles, and quietly asks, "When the BULL's done with ya, who you comin' to see?"
"You," I say, stroking his jaw with my hand. "You, you, you."
He smiles, nodding his head like a winner. "Oh, yeah."
We emerge from the corn where the bikes lay -- Holstein's is gone. Angus appears a bit put-out by this, but he quickly assumes control. "Okay, I'll ride lead. Guernsey, I want you to ride in front of Jersey -- I think you've had a little too much to focus clearly on your riding. Jersey, keep an eye him."
"Yo," Jersey says, setting me down on my bike, which Shorthorn has uprighted. The bike's saddle presses the butt-plug securely in place and holds it there. Shorthorn winks and walks away. I moan.
Someone puts my helmet on me, attaches the microphone, the earpiece. I can barely focus. It hurts. It feels so good.
I hear Angus' voice through the headset. "C'mon, Herd. Let's ride."
It takes every bit of concentration to pedal my legs, each motion shifting the giant cock inside me. How...?
Twenty miles to go.