Grab 'Em by the Horns, Pt. 5

Andy is starting to face his own personal difficulties as he attempts to finish his shift at the local pizza place. But maybe God wants him back in his dorm room.

***** ***** *****

When Laurence didn’t come down to the front door to grab the pizza, Andy didn’t know what to think. It wasn’t as if he regularly did this—he had never missed a pickup of food before. Of the things Laurence might be doing that could keep him busy, Andy thought it was safe to assume it wasn’t a girl. Neither he nor Laurence were particularly fond of Rob’s easygoing relationship with sex, and Laurence didn’t even have a girlfriend.

So, taking the four boxes of pizza and one box of leftover garlic bread upstairs with his own key, Andy was almost certain he wasn’t going to walk in on anyone having sex. Rob usually went to the girl’s room, and Laurence—well, Andy didn’t know if he had regular intercourse, but he was happy enough not to have the man talk about it with him. Andy had offered to bring the pizza over to his roommate, and luckily he was able to take it directly up to the room when no one came.

He walked down the hallway to room 107, completely distracted from the very audible sound of moaning emanating from the very same room. He was too busy running scenarios through his head: why hadn’t Laurence come down?

So when Andy opened the door to his suite and found himself face to face with Rob and some horrifying bovine-human monstrosity, it was a complete surprise. A…woman? But she looked so much like a cow, except for her massive, hairless penis. Andy flushed purple with shame as he watched her squeal and low as she came from both her vagina and her penis. She screamed a name over and over: Lorraine. Hers? He had been stunned motionless as the door shut behind him, never having seen any sort of sex act before. Heaven, he had never even kissed another girl before. And now he was staring at some kind of animal mutant, a cow girl with a penis? Rob was having sex with someone who had a penis?

Andy watched, transfixed and horrified, as this Lorraine spurted her thick semen onto the wall above him. His mouth hung open, ashamed but unable to look away, and he didn’t even notice when a thick drop of cum fell from the ceiling onto his bottom lip.

His hearing had been muffled for a moment, as if he had cotton in his ears, but his name brought him back to the present. “Andy! Don’t you think Lorraine is kind of old-fashioned? Oh! Like the…like the kid’s mom in Back to the Future! Tell me you know what I’m talking about!”

Staring blankly at Rob as he cradled Lorraine’s strange, erotic body, Andy didn’t even comprehend the question. Lorraine gasped, “Oh my God!” as she drew her body into the corner of the couch, trying to cover her chubby body. Andy stared at her too, but he scarcely knew what he was looking at anymore. As he met eyes with the chubby cow girl, and then he bashfully looked away, he absently flicked his tongue out to lick up what he thought was only saliva. Salty and musky as it was, he only expected it to be his own. Then his throat bobbed, and he swallowed the tiniest load of Lorraine’s semen.

“I—pizza—Larry…oh sweet Lord!”

Andy covered his face and dropped the pizza boxes, trying to escape the room without looking at them again. He moaned in confused shame, desperate to ignore the growing bulge in his pants. There was no way he was getting turned on right now. It was unholy!

He ran up the stairs to the ground level and out into the parking lot, gasping for breath. He wasn’t athletically inclined, but he ran out of the dorm hall as if his life depended on it. Part of him thought for a moment about returning straight to work, but he needed to be alone. He needed to process what he had just seen.

A horned woman? Horns, like cattle horns. Long, horizontal horns sticking out of the side of her head as she…mooed. Andy ran his hand through his hair as he replayed the images of her in his mind. She was…kind of cute—what! Andy gagged and nearly retched into the bushes outside the main entrance. He leaned heavily against the wall, taking deep breaths as he tried not to think about it. Five, ten minutes passed as he steadied his breathing and tried to push the though of sex from his mind. After a moment, he rubbed his eyes and sighed. He was never going to forget about this—not for a long time—but if he didn’t get back to work, he was sure to lose his job. His manager did not mess around with employees missing work.

Andy pushed his tall, gangling body away from the wall and slammed the car door shut behind him as he folded himself into his parents’ second, much older, car.

**** *** ****

The next two hours passed like any other Friday night, busy and hot in the kitchen as they cooked for the largely college-age demand. Andy wiped his greasy forehead with his sleeve and turned back to the pizza dough he was kneading smooth.

"Order up!" someone shouted from the front, but Andy barely heard it.

He was staring down at the sphere of dough. The shift was starting to drag. Normally he liked the hum of this place during peak hours — the broken ceiling fan spinning lazily above him, the familiar beeps of the ovens, the faint smell of flour and sausage grease, the voices raising as the cooks and the wait staff bickered. But now everything felt off. Too loud. Too hot.

He pressed his thighs together and tried again to knead the dough smooth, until it was pillowy and bounced back when he poked his finger into it. Kind of like breasts, he thought. Heavy, warm breasts or a nice, round ass.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered — then immediately flinched. “I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean any of that. Oh God, please forgive me,” he murmured with a plea. He hadn’t meant to take His name in vain, or to think those vile things about…pizza dough? Andy looked back down at the counter, one eye squeezed closed as if it could protect him from whatever heat was taking over. He had never had such lewd thoughts, such un-Christian thoughts. His parents would be ashamed. His priest would be ashamed! Andy colored in shame as he gazed at the dough, just the perfect texture, and couldn’t stop himself from picturing more naked women, more naked creatures like that cow woman. Approaching him, taking him, making him feel more pleasure than he could dream of.

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. He wiped it away with the hem of his sleeve, then tried to straighten the cross necklace against his chest. It kept sticking to his skin. Everything was sticking, even his shirt and the thick material of his jeans felt suctioned to his body, slowing down his every move.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

The worst of it was down there. His privates. He had been hard for the past twenty minutes, and nothing was helping. Not walking, not standing, not not tensing other muscles in his body, not even bending forward to mop the floor earlier — which, he realized with a sudden, shivering disgust, had only made it worse. He’d felt the bulge throb against the seam of his pants, had to retreat into the walk-in freezer several times just to keep from panting.

“I’m under attack,” he whispered to himself, a desperate whine at the edge of his voice. “This is temptation. This is a test. Like Job. Or Daniel. This is Satan. This is—”

He stopped and groaned, gripping the edge of the counter.

Images were flashing behind his eyelids. Of that woman upstairs. The cow-woman. She had looked so inviting: soft, bloated, heavy. Those thick, lactating tits swinging like pendulums as she stood there naked and dazed. Her penis — her massive penis — twitching under her tiny udder as if begging for worship. And she had looked right at him. Like she knew something. Like she had wanted to…

Andy exhaled, a dry and shaking breath. He was stiff again. No, not again — he still was. He looked down, horrified, and pressed his palm flat against the front of his pants. “Stop. Stop, you disgusting—just stop,” he growled, but his member pulsed against his hand in reply.

His fingers didn’t move at first. They just…pressed. Feeling the warmth through the cotton. Then they rubbed his bulge once. Then again, and his knees went weak.

“Lord, forgive me,” Andy muttered, already groping himself again. He really shouldn’t be thinking of that cow woman. There was surely something wrong with her, wrong with him! But he kept rubbing himself, groaning as his length pressed against his jeans. Because something in him — deep in his belly, throbbing in time with his cock — didn’t want to stop. Something wanted to keep thinking about that woman. That thick, soft body. That udder. That wet cock.

Her milk.

“Oh, fuck—no. No, no, no, I don’t want to—” He gasped, stumbling back from the counter. His hand shot away from his crotch, shaking. He looked around to make sure no one had seen.

The place was as busy and as it had always been, running faster than should be possible to fill orders, completely unaware of Andy’s struggle. None of his coworkers were even in this section of the kitchen. They were all cooking or serving, and Samantha was washing dishes. Andy closed his eyes and folded his hands, painfully aware of his erection, of his nearly overwhelming desire to touch it again.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name…”

Nothing happened. His hands were sweaty and his fingers wouldn’t stop trembling. He opened one eye, then both, looked down at himself. He was still hard. So hard that it hurt. His balls felt heavy, roiling, like they were ready to explode.

“Thy Kingdom—Th-Thy Kingdom come—ahh!” Andy couldn’t help himself from moaning as a wave of pleasure moved through him, blooming around his crotch and echoing outward. It was more than he could take. He couldn’t even pray right anymore.

He was still gripping the counter like a lifeline when the side door banged open and Samantha peeked her head into the kitchen following her break.

“Oh my god,” she said brightly, brushing a wisp of hair from her glasses. “I’m so glad you’re here! Have you taken your break yet?”

Andy didn’t respond right away. His jaw was clenched, his thighs were tight, and he stared pointedly at the dough sitting on the counter. His erection was throbbing, barely contained, and the sound of her voice sent a tremor through his chest.

Samantha stepped further inside, hugging her oversized bag to her hip. “Well you should do that before it’s too late. What have you got, about two hours left?”

He managed a single sharp nod, his eyes still fixed on the counter.

“You okay?”

She was right next to him now, standing on tiptoe to look over the counter. Her sweater was too big — cream colored and dotted with cartoon mushrooms — and the collar had slipped off one shoulder. She smelled like vanilla chapstick and dry shampoo. Familiar. Safe.

Andy swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” she said softly, and her voice lost its teasing edge. “Hey, are you—are you shaking?”

Andy tried to laugh, but it came out strangled. “I’m just tired,” he said.

“Here.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a mini water bottle. “Drink this. You’re sweating.”

“I can’t.” He took a step away from her and averted his eyes, holding fists behind his body as he fought to take control. He just felt so unbelievably horny. He had never thought of sex this much in a single year, much less in one night! It was making it really hard to—

Samantha stepped forward. “Andy, seriously, are you—?”

Her hand touched his arm, and it was like striking a match.

He turned to her too fast, his movements jerky, unnatural, like his body had bypassed thought. His hand caught her wrist. Her eyes went wide—but she didn’t pull back.

“Andy…?”

He kissed her.

He gave no warning, no hesitation, and had none of his own. His mouth found hers, hot and desperate, and she gasped against him. Her glasses bumped the bridge of his nose. Their lips slid, clumsy and too wet, but he kept kissing her—open-mouthed, deep, like he was trying to pull something out of her throat. She froze—but she didn’t stop him. Then, slowly, she raised one hand and gently brushed his shoulder.

The kiss lasted a second too long. Her breath hitched, and then he pulled away.

His eyes were wild. Her lips were wet, and her face flushed pink beneath her freckles.

“I—” she started.

But Andy was already stumbling backward, his face contorted with horror. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like he’d tasted blood.

“Oh God. I’m sorry. I’m so—I didn’t mean to—God help me!”

“Andy—”

But he was gone. The door slammed behind him before she could take a step. Samantha blinked, her hand still half-raised in the air. Then she touched her lips. Her smile came slow, uncertain.

“…Huh.”

**** *** ****

Andy was sweating through his shirt by the time he slammed the driver’s side door shut. The seatbelt dug hard into his lap, right where he didn’t want pressure, and he winced as he pulled it loose around his hips with fumbling fingers.

“God,” he whispered, one hand clutching the wheel while the other hovered over the ignition. “Help me. I’m—I’m not strong enough. I know I’m not.” All of those years, all of the prayers and the services he had dutifully attended, and none of it was going to be of any use. God had abandoned him, whether he had done something wrong or was being tested. He was on his own, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist touching himself. All he wanted to do right now was unzip his jeans and rub himself until he came.

He swallowed hard and turned the key.

The engine roared to life. Headlights flared against the back wall of the employee lot. He backed up too fast, tires screeching slightly, and jerked the wheel to correct. His foot mashed the gas a little too eagerly, but he didn’t let up. He couldn’t. If he gave himself even one more second to think, he was going to park again and go back inside and find some excuse to push her against the wall and shove his—No. No. That was the Devil talking.

Andy was hard. Not just aroused — aching. Pulsing. As if something thick and molten had rooted itself in his gut and was flooding him, rising in waves that reached up his spine and made his thoughts blur at the edges. He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other trembling violently against his thigh as he fought against the rising desire to touch it.

The streetlights passed overhead, one by one, washing the cab of the car in cold white pulses. Every time the light changed, he found himself saying a prayer. Half-formed, repeated ones. Old ones from his childhood, drilled into him by memory and fear.

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection—against—the wickedness and snares of the Devil—” His breath caught in his throat. He clutched the wheel tighter as he drove over a pothole and the vibration nearly made him orgasm, without even touching it. He held onto the wheel as if gripping it could somehow stop the betrayal happening between his legs.

“I’m being tested. This is a test. This is my trial. My thorn in the flesh. This isn’t me. This isn’t me.”

He looked down at his crotch. His jeans had a thick, obscene bulge straining against the zipper. It looked unnatural, like he had stuffed something down there, like it didn’t even belong to him. He already had a damp stain spreading down the front of his pants. The image of Lorraine's cock flashed again behind his eyes—thick, pink, drooling—and his hips bucked against the seat.

“No! Jesus, please—please just take this away!”

But it wouldn’t stop. He could feel his precum soaking into his underwear. His thighs twitched. The car bumped over another pothole and he moaned, the vibration shooting straight through his hips.

He wanted to cry. He should’ve gone to his pastor, or to a hospital. He should’ve locked himself in the prayer closet back home and begged the Lord to cleanse his mind and heart. But he hadn’t. He had let this thing in, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About her huge, full breasts. Her adorable little udder and her warm, curdling scent. That enormous cock. The look on her face when she moaned and her eyes rolled back.

Andy groaned through clenched teeth and pressed his forehead to the wheel for a split second at the red light.

Something was wrong. More than wrong. Something was moving inside of him spiritually. He felt like there was a hole in him, and something had crawled through. Some hunger, some presence. He felt it guiding his hands, his thighs, his cock. He wasn’t choosing to turn right onto campus, or choosing to park at the dorms in his usual spot, or getting out of the car with his erection bouncing awkwardly in his pants. But his legs moved anyway, and his toes hit the vinyl lightly as he took the stairs to the basement level two at a time. His heart pounded faster with every step, his breath quickening, and something deep in his chest purred like a motor.

Andy’s hand was trembling so badly that he nearly dropped his keys. He fumbled it against the door, missed, and tried again. Then finally he slid it into the lock, and almost immediately, the smell hit him.

Sweet. Cloying. Warm, and wet, and animal. Like milk left out in a sunlit field unspoiled. But not quite. There was a human undertone to it — skin, sweat, something like sex. The scent of it clung to his lungs, thick and pungent, and he nearly gagged as he stepped inside the darkened suite. The TV was on, but the volume low. Just a flicker of golden light stretching out from the living room.

“Hello?” His voice came out high, breaking like a teenage boy’s. “Rob? You—”

The moment his eyes adjusted, he saw them.

The woman Lorraine was sprawled on the couch. Her round, curvy frame was curled into a position of lazy, drowsy pleasure — seductive and slack and so obscene. Her tank top had ridden up, exposing her soft belly and wide, pale thighs. Her chest rose and fell slowly, her small udder pressing against her lap like a deflated balloon. Her pale pink teats, more delicate than he expected, dangled loosely from the soft flesh.

Rob was kneeling on the couch beside her, suckling. His lips wrapped around her teat as if it were a straw. His hand was on her thigh, stroking her gently, while her eyelids fluttered and her mouth opened and closed. From her mouth issued faint mooing and involuntary moans, wildly indulgent and filled with a simmering heat.

Andy’s knees buckled, and he staggered against the door frame. “Oh my God—oh my God, what is this. What is this?”

Neither of them looked up.

Lorraine’s cock — Jesus, her cock — was barely visible as it poked out of her crotch beneath her udder like some obscene monument. Flaccid. Only a tiny inch showing above the curve of her massive testicles. It was smooth and featureless like a model, nestled between her thick thighs like a toy put away. But Andy had seen it when it was hard. It was so much more than that. His eyes locked on it as it twitched. Her udder pulsed with milk. Rob’s hand slid further up her thigh, teasing close to her balls.

Andy dropped to his knees, his breath was coming in fast, frantic gasps now. He pressed his hands together, hard. He had to pray now if he had any chance of making it out unsullied. He had to pray, and he had to mean it. "Our Father—Father—who art—who art in—"

His words stuck in his throat and refused to come Just panic. Just heat. He suddenly couldn't remember the rest. And though he tried again, his mouth opening soundlessly, nothing more came out. His tongue felt thick and useless. His body was shaking with the violent need for release thrumming throughout him.

You are a sinner, came the voice in his mind. You’re not praying. You’re watching.

He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. Because the cow woman made a noise then — not quite a word, more like a helpless little whimper — and her eyes rolled up slightly as Rob moved to the next teat. She grabbed her gently, pressing the soft udder toward his mouth. And Andy realized she had seen him. She was looking straight at him now, her eyes half-lidded and deep brown. Her eyes were seductive and loving, but she was quickly slipping away. She opened her mouth, and a trail of drool slipped over her lip as she moaned again, soft and whispering: “Mmmnn…”

“Lorraine,” Rob groaned between his attentions on her udder. His mouth was coated in warm, fragrant milk, and it looked so very delicious. Lorraine moaned and responded to his mouth, thrusting her hips upward as he sucked. Then Rob met Andy’s gaze, his lips still glistening with milk, and nodded once. He seemed so calm and assured, so in control of the situation. As if this were normal.

As if this were right.

Andy’s throat tightened. “I… I’m not…”

But he was already crawling on his hands and knees, his erection thumping against his legs each time he moved forward. The living room carpet was scratchy under his palms. He could hear the sound of his own breathing, choked and fast, as he closed the distance. Rob slid back slightly, still holding the udder gently between both hands, and without a word he guided Lorraine’s body to the side. Her teat swayed, pale and soft, faintly dripping, and Andy’s lips parted. He needed this so badly, more than he had needed anything before. He needed to fuck her, to drink from her, to claim her.

“No,” he whispered, his face moving ever closer to her cute little udder, almost hidden beneath the rolls of her tummy. He could smell her, the animal musk of her desire, the sweet milky scent of her teats. “No. Please don’t let me. Please don’t make me. This is wrong. This is—I’m not—I’m a Christian! I’m not—I’m not—!”

He opened his mouth and took the teat between his lips.

The moment Lorraine’s warm, swollen nipple touched his tongue, he jerked like he’d been shocked. Milk trickled into the back of his throat — thin, lukewarm, and watery, like a poorly made latte. But it was sweet. Sweeter than anything he'd ever tasted. The moment it entered his body, something inside him twitched. His toes curled. His chest rose with a startled sob, and he moaned as he sucked again.

His cock surged upward in his pants, the tip now peeking out over the waistband of his jeans and his boxers, dribbling precum and desperate for release.

“Oh f-fuck. Oh fuck—!”

His hands were on her now, one clutching the udder, the other grabbing her hip as he latched on tighter, sucking. It was like an instinct had taken hold — drink, said the voice inside of him. And he did. Every drop made him hotter. Hungrier. He was messy and uncoordinated, and her milk leaked all over him as his mouth came unattached in his fervor. His jeans were soaked. His cock throbbed with every swallow. His balls ached like they were going to burst.

Lorraine moaned softly above him, chest rising and falling. “Mmmm… y-you’re doing so good, Andy…”

He flinched, but he didn’t stop.

Rob moved to her other side and rubbed her shoulder, letting Andy feed. He was nodding again, slowly, like he understood. “She’s really something, huh?” he said, his voice low. “Took me a while to get it too.”

Andy let the teat slip from his mouth, panting. His lips and chin were wet, his hands shaking. “I can’t—I can’t stop.”

“You’re not supposed to,” Rob said.

Andy looked at Lorraine. She looked back with her soft, round face, the most adorable little muzzle. Her flushed cheeks and her back hooves and her fuzzy ears. Her tiny, chubby body was dwarfed by the impossibly long cock twitching between her legs. He had no idea how something so huge could even fit inside her, but it was real. It was hers. The same as her fat ass, her plush tits, her drooping little udder — all hers. And he craved it so badly.

He felt the prayer rise in him again as he tried to resist. “Father, forgive me…” But the words dissolved into a gasp and in a moment he was moving again.

Andy’s zipper slid down with a soft rasp, barely audible beneath the blood pounding in his ears. His cock sprang free, painfully hard, glistening at the tip. He didn’t look down. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to see it — didn’t want to see himself. But he was already moving forward.

Rob had shifted back onto his knees now, watching. Lorraine lay in front of them like an offering, her soft frame stretched along the couch cushions. Her thick, fuzzy thighs were splayed lazily, her flushed cheeks glowing beneath the flicker of the TV screen. She had spread herself for him, open and willing. She said nothing, only made pleased little moos each time he touched her. Her cock twitched slightly as Rob ran his fingers along it, slow and idle. Milk still beaded at the edge of her udder, glistening faintly in the dim light.

Andy climbed over her.

His hands found her thighs. His knees pressed into the cushions. He positioned himself between her legs and began to pleasure himself, blindly, rubbing his slick shaft against the soft cleft between her legs. He avoided her face. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t look into it, her monstrous, sinning, beautiful face.

Her skin was warm. Silky and wet and velvet-soft. He could feel her heat against his cock, and his hips moved on their own. He brushed his erection against her cunt and moaned at the sensation of her folds. Then his lips parted and a sound escaped him. Something tight and helpless and high. Rob's hand stroked Lorraine’s cock, coaxing it to rise inch by impossible inch from her belly. Andy refused to look. He focused only on her thighs, on the sweat-slick skin under his hands, on the point where his cock nestled between her folds.

This isn’t happening.

I’m not here.

This is a nightmare. I would never give in.

But he was beginning to thrust into her now. Rhythmically. Helplessly. His cock slid into her with obscene ease. She was soaking. “Oh g-god… oh God oh God oh God—!” Andy cried, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. Lorraine exhaled a soft moan beneath him, and her thighs tightened gently around his waist. She was so small, so soft, and she made it easy. She didn’t resist. She just lay there — warm and wet and ready.

“Do it,” Rob murmured from somewhere beside him. “She wants it. You can feel it.”

Andy groaned through clenched teeth and grabbed her hips. He pulled back just enough, positioned himself without looking, and then—pushed once more.

Her pussy took him in again with a wet, gliding sound that almost made him scream. Her folds spread, slick and tight, and his cock slipped fully inside her like it belonged there. His hands trembled on her hips as he sank deeper. “Oh—oh Jesus,” Andy gasped.

Lorraine moaned again. “Mmoooo…”

Rob squeezed her cock and leaned forward to kiss her shoulder. Each thrust sent a jolt through Andy’s body — guilt and pleasure tangled so tightly he couldn’t tell them apart. His breath stuttered in rhythm with his hips, his cock buried to the hilt in something so impossibly tight it felt like a dream.

He whispered, “Forgive me. Forgive me, Lord. Forgive—f-fuck—”

And then his words disintegrated as his thighs slapped wetly against hers. Her breasts bounced with every movement. His fingers dug into the soft swell of her hips, and he leaned into her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His balls slammed into her each time he thrust himself deeply into her bovine pussy.

“I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean—I didn’t—please, God…”

He felt her tighten around him. Her body shivered. He was close, so very close to finishing inside of her. He shouldn’t want it, but he needed it. Her slick heat sucked him in, her pussy fluttering around his cock, and his balls tightened with warning. He couldn’t hold back. He realized he didn’t want to.

He grabbed her tighter, his fingers digging into the furry folds of her body, and thrust once. Twice. And then—

“—ahhHHH!”

He moaned as he came inside her. His orgasm hit him like a gunshot — his entire body seized as he emptied himself into her. His cock throbbed, spilling again and again into her warm depths, and he let out a strangled sob as his hips jerked wildly, lost to the pleasure. At last he collapsed onto her, gasping, broken. He had utterly spent himself, utterly betrayed himself and his Lord. It was his first time. For his entire life he had held himself back, not even masturbated, because he knew he should keep himself pure. And now he had broken his oath to himself and to God, and he had nothing.

But Lorraine was there, mooing quietly and stroking his hair as she held him gently and soothed him into slow, easy breaths that eventually turned into sleep.