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The stablehand simply can't help but stare.
When he's working with beasts as imposing and impressive as the bulls in the stable, there's not much to do but stare when he's done giving them fresh food and water. They can come and go as they please, considering that they're plenty intelligent enough to let themselves in and out. They're also intelligent enough to know that this is the best deal possible for them: if they stay in the king's 'possession', they get free food and water, as well as a warm place to sleep. They practically take care of themselves, but the lack of thumbs makes a few tasks somewhat more difficult. That's the only reason the stablehand is around, really.
With white coats, broad shoulders, and golden horns that catch the light in a surreal way, these bulls aren't standard. Not at all. That's why the king likes having them around, but he only managed to persuade them to stay with him upon the promise of sufficient care. These things are too smart to be caught in any sort of trap, and if they don't like their conditions they can simply leave. That's why the stablehand is so invested in making sure the bulls are happy - it's his job to fill in care where the bulls can't take care of themselves, and if they leave out of dissatisfaction, he'll face the king's wrath. That's not something he wants to risk.
At first, it was fear and pay that kept him in this job. After a while, he started noticing other factors.
If his job is to keep the bulls happy he reasons, shouldn't that include worshiping those heavy, swollen balls with his tongue? shouldn't that include offering up his body for those thick cocks and even thicker flares? Shouldn't he be taking care of all of their frustrations, if they can't do it on their own? He's never worked up the courage to act it out. Next time, he always promises himself. Next time.
Eventually, the day comes when he doesn't get a choice.
It starts out normal. Just an average day of service, helping clean out the pens and replace water, getting fresh food and ensuring the highest level of comfort. He's feeling bold that day, but not bold enough - the most he can do is attend to his chores while naked, which isn't even that out of the ordinary. Nobody would think twice if they were to chance upon him doing indoor work on a hot day with minimal clothes, especially because nobody ever comes down to the stables. It's not unheard of.
His cunt throbs just from being in the vicinity of the bulls while he's so vulnerable. He keeps imagining one of them simply knocking him over and taking him right there on the floor, or mounting him while he's on a breeding rack. Maybe they wouldn't even want to fuck a human. Maybe they consider humans lower than them.
His breath catches in his chest. Maybe that will make them want to fuck him more , if they see him as a lower being.
He gets his answer. The bulls have waited long enough.
One of them huffs irritatedly through his nose while he's hanging the water bucket back up on the wall. He turns around to see it staring expectantly at him, but he can't decipher what it wants. He just replaced the water, the food, and the bedding. What else is there?
It steps closer and lowers its nose to nudge him against the wall. Its cold, wet snout makes contact with his cunt. Oh .
He peers around and underneath the bull - it's not hard, not yet. This could be his chance to get a taste.
Promptly, he skirts around the bull and kneels between its legs, ignoring the discomfort of hard dirt on his knees as he examines the sheath and balls. Surprisingly clean, but maybe he shouldn't be surprised, considering the general intelligence of these things. They'd know well enough how to take care of themselves. Still, when he uses both hands to caress the bull's nuts and presses his face against the sheath, there's a persistent scent, musky and heady. He uses his tongue, making out with it, already slick and hot between his thighs.
It doesn't take long for the bull to express its approval of the stablehand's actions. Its cock slides out of its sheath, thick and long - easily larger than the stablehand's forearm - and he kisses the tip as it presses into his mouth. He uses his hands to stroke up and down the rest of the length, encouraging the bull to get fully hard. It huffs through its nose and paws the ground with a front hoof, twitching under the stablehand's touch. Perfect.
When he's sure the bull is ready to go, dripping precum from the tip like a faucet, he stands and hurries to the wall of hanging equipment. The bull makes a low, disapproving sound, but promptly changes its mind when it sees the stablehand hauling a breeding rack out from some dusty corner by the equipment wall.
While the stablehand is figuring out how to adjust the rack to the right height and get himself arranged on it, the other bulls seem to figure out what's going on and crowd into the room. The one the stablehand serviced is first in line, of course, and the others are polite enough to recognize that he has first pick, because he was insistent enough to make his needs known. Now that they're aware the stablehand is open for business, however, they're all eager for a turn on him.
The stablehand finally finds something that works - if he spreads his legs like this, and leans against this bar here, he can grab this with his hands...probably? He still hasn't quite figured it out by the time the bull gets impatient and rears up to mount the stablehand properly, plunging the head of his cock into the stablehand's ready and waiting cunt. The stablehand cries out, arching his back, and dissolves into moaning and whining as the bull starts to rut into him like it's in heat. He's so wet, so eager, so needy, and the bull wants to take advantage of that.
Its cock is already hammering the stablehand into submission, so its flare is a different matter entirely. He can feel it flex and pulse inside of him as the bull pumps a load of hot cum right into his womb, pressed up perfectly against his cervix to lock it all inside, and it forces him to cum on the spot, his eyes rolling back in his head. He's still coming down from his high when the first bull pulls out - but he's recovered by the time the second one pushes in.
He doesn't stay in control of himself for long.
The next morning, one of the groundskeepers is awoken by the strange sight of one of the king's bulls poking its head through her window. When she follows it, she's met with a strange sight in the stable - a fucked-out stablehand, his belly hanging heavy with cum, and a herd of contented bulls. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened.
Alerting the rest of the castle's staff spreads the word quickly, and eventually the king himself wants to see what nonsense the stablehand has gotten up to. When he storms into the stable, fully expecting to throw the stablehand into the dungeons, he's met with the sight of the man whimpering like a breeding bitch underneath one of his bulls, which looks like it's having a good time. The others, milling around, seem perfectly happy themselves.
The king rules that, as long as the stablehand keeps up with his other chores, there's nothing wrong with this new habit. It may even be beneficial, as a means to keep the bulls stress-free. The stablehand can't agree verbally at the moment, with his brain addled by pleasure, but the bulls seem on board with the proposition.
This new habit of the stablehand's ends up getting him an unexpected audience. With his belly full of cum and frequent breaks to get bred by the bulls, he finds himself under the watchful eyes of several knights and other members of castle staff, who seem perfectly happy to watch him struggle to go about his business. It's harder for him to move when he's round enough to look six months pregnant, after all. The breeding breaks are especially popular, for obvious reasons, and the bulls seem content to show off their new toy, allowing others to watch as they reduce the stablehand to a mindless, sloppy mess.
Eventually, there's only so much that can be explained by the constant input of cum. The stablehand's belly is growing full and round enough to be suspicious, and an examination by the royal physician confirms that he's pregnant - with what, it isn't certain, but the knowledge that he's going to be pushing out something's calves within a month or so just makes his audience grow. If he's honest with himself, he...doesn't really mind it. There's something nice about having witnesses to his purpose, witnesses to his true position. He likes it when people know where he belongs and what he's good for.
It's good news for him, then, that there's already people watching when the first twinge of labor hits. Something changes in his lower belly, like a weight has dropped - and then the pain starts. It comes on slowly, but inexorably, a wave of agony that immediately brings him to his hands and knees. As soon as he can move even slightly, there's a bull on either side to guide him over to the breeding rack. He bends over onto it and spreads his legs, moaning when the next wave of pain hits, hoping that the audience he's gathered can see how wet and loose he is, how much the bulls have used him.
The next contraction comes with the urge to push. He follows through on it, heaving against the sensation, and something finally breaches his cervix, stretching him open with another burst of pain. Still, even though it hurts, it hurts so much , he can't help but cum, shuddering clenching hard as the child fights its way out of him. His cunt burns as it finds its way out into the world, leaving behind a searing ache that throbs in time with the stablehand's heartbeat. The next one doesn't give him a break before it follows its sibling, struggling through his cervix in a way that makes every muscle in his body tense.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can vaguely tell that most of his audience is jacking off, but that's not his concern at the moment. One of the bulls has decided to take advantage of the situation, and a familiar sight - that sheath - is right in front of him, within mouth's reach. Still in labor, he moans and whimpers into the bull's sheath as he services it with his tongue, coaxing its cock right into his mouth. There are already tears pooling in his eyes from the pain, but the bull only makes it worse by forcing its cock past his gag reflex and into his throat.
He can barely breathe, barely make noise, barely think. There's a cock stretching out his throat and a calf stretching out his cunt, and he doesn't even know how many calves he's carrying - if it's one from each bull, there are at least seven, but he doesn't think he's that big. He wishes he could carry that many at once, his cunt twitching at the thought of being so pregnant that he can't even move, pinned down by his sheer weight - but he won't get the opportunity to get knocked up again until he finishes pushing out this batch of babies.
Before he cums again, he bears down.