Work Text:
Across the entire great green Earth, there could hardly have been a beast more miserable than Shang Qinghua.
Well – beast was a stretch, to be honest. Shang Qinghua was a cow, and a bit of a fat one, and was only terribly beastly when he was a day into his heat and had already rubbed his cunt rawer than the meat his unlucky basal cousins had become. And across the entire Earth may have been a stretch too, but if it was, he wouldn’t have known it – Shang Qinghua had spent nearly his entire thirty years of life on one farm, tucked away in a little meadowy groove at the bottom of a hill, and had yet to see anyone quite as tragic as he in those green pastures. Really, if he were to be honest, everyone else tried a bit too hard – only Shang Qinghua was putting his best foot forward in embodying the word ‘cow’, and secretly thought himself a bit better than everyone else for his self-aware nature.
Living amongst a herd of wannabe gazelles – hah! Someone had to take up the mantle of sleeping splayed out all day in the sun, and cleaning their plate at every meal, and knocking bugs away with three clumsy swats of his tail instead of one smooth sweep. And if Shang Qinghua had been born for this role, then so be it!
So, clearly, the ‘most miserable’ part was true. On this warm, sunny, idyllic farmland day, Shang Qinghua continued to be a miserable cow!
“Oh, shut the hell up,” Shen Qingqiu said, when Shang Qinghua finished relaying this sad story to him. “You’re not miserable – you’re in heat, and you’re always a bitch when you’re in heat. And ‘gazelles’ – seriously? Was that a dig at me?”
“Cucumber-bro,” Shang Qinghua said. “They say that if a purely observational comment like that strikes a chord with you, then it may – just possibly – apply to you. Worth considering!”
“Very astute,” said Shen Qingqiu. “Then – purely observationally – you’re completely the cause of your own misery, and also, you smell like a whorehouse. Can you go take care of that? You’re going to wake up Binghe with that stench, and then we’ll both be miserable cows.”
“I just did!” Shang Qinghua cried. “I’ve barely even pulled my pants up! I just got done – just you wait until you pop out this next kid, and you’re the one stinking up the place! See who has any sympathy for you then!”
“You know what, Airplane-bro,” Shen Qingqiu said. “If I ever have a heat again, you can be as mean as you’d like. I dream of the day.”
Shen Qingqiu was also a cow, but was by default a slightly less miserable one. He was, however, in the middle of a nine-month stint of miserableness, thanks to one Luo Binghe. He had already borne Luo Binghe two calves, little girls who always draped their little bodies over their father to sleep, and was well on his way with a third. And Shen Qingqiu could bitch and moan about this all he liked, and smack his hand chastisingly between Luo Binghe’s thick horns, but he was the one who put his ass right back up in the air a month after calving, flicking his tail teasingly like curtains opening for the big show. Lookie here! Come get it!
There were no privacy screens in a pasture, so most of the other cows just watched this happen and clapped politely, until that set off Luo Binghe’s fragile temper. Then they all pretended it wasn’t happening, even as they fucked like small farm animals that weren’t cows meters away.
Shang Qinghua, though, he fucked like a cow – which was, to say, not at all. This cow remained utterly (hah) un-dicked down, so Shen Qingqiu really ought to be more appreciative. Shang Qinghua would give up some prime sunny real estate for a good, no-strings-attached dicking, preferably from someone a little less clingy than Luo Binghe.
“Speaking of miserable cows, though,” Shen Qingqiu said. “I hear they’re bringing in a new bull today. Yue-shixiong saw him being carted in this morning – apparently he’s here to stud someone.”
“Stud someone?” Shang Qinghua asked. “Who? Not me, right?”
“Be serious right now,” Shen Qingqiu said, hope-crushingly. “Liu-shidi. Or so I hear.”
“Liu-shidi!” Shang Qinghua said. “You’re telling me to be serious? They’re trying to get someone to stud Liu-shidi? Again?”
“Don’t say that so loud!” Shen Qingqiu said. “Nobody’s told him yet – him or the bull. The bull for obvious reasons, but – I think they figure if Liu-shidi thinks it’s his own choice, he might go for it this time.”
“Or we could have another Ranche–” Shang Qinghua said.
“Dude, don’t speak it into existence,” Shen Qingqiu said.
The affectionately-dubbed ‘Rancher Run-Through’ had been the worst incident since the last Category 5 Binghe Event, where Luo Binghe had gored three farmers for trying to remove him from the cow pasture. Everyone had clapped even louder at that than they did at the public indecency, and it was also the reason why Luo Binghe was allowed to stay so close to Shen Qingqiu – it was less a matter of being ‘allowed’, and more that the farmers acknowledged attempting to move him was a death sentence. So Luo Binghe was permitted his spot in the cows’ pasture, where he slept with one eye closed and glared at Shang Qinghua with the other, like he had the parts necessary to get his already-pregnant mate more pregnant, and like he wanted a wife as naggy as Shen Qingqiu. Liu Qingge, on the other hand, had attacked for essentially the opposite reason; he wanted to stay right there in his pasture, alone, thank you very much.
One would think that his violent nature would make Liu Qingge an undesirable candidate for breeding – like, presumably, the farmers had decided Shang Qinghua was – but anyone could acknowledge that Liu Qingge was a beautiful, savage thing, and any calves to come out of him would be lookers. Because of this, the farmers liked bringing in bulls and putting them on the conveyor belt of doom towards Liu Qingge’s pasture, where he – regardless of heat status – would end up chasing them around, intent on spearing them right through with his own horns.
Shang Qinghua couldn’t help but feel a little bad for that new bull, and also a little sour. Like – okay, yes, Shang Qinghua might have hooved a few bulls in the chest in his youth, and that maybe possibly could be one of the reasons why no more were offered to him, but he was a perfectly eligible bachelor who had matured quite a lot, and having standards wasn’t a crime, was it? Maybe if the farmers diverted some of those beautiful bulls away from Liu Qingge’s pasture of death and despair, Shang Qinghua would have found one who met those standards!
Maybe. Probably. Probably not. Okay, so he was a bit picky – so what?! Shang Qinghua was utterly alone in his suffering!
Shen Qingqiu hadn’t had to suffer through the painstaking studding process – he had been given an adolescent Luo Binghe on a silver platter when his mother passed, and Shen Qingqiu’s general maternal aura had made him an excellent foster mother. But the moment Luo Binghe hit sexual maturity, he had mounted that adoptive mother, immediately clarifying that his general weird clinginess was actually specific weird clinginess. This naturally changed the nature of their relationship, except for the part where Luo Binghe still hung onto Shen Qingqiu’s tits whenever the urge struck him, which was all the time.
These were enviable circumstances, except for the part where Shang Qinghua would have to build-his-own-bull. And Shang Qinghua’s clock was kind of ticking right now, fast, so he would prefer express delivery.
“What did he look like?” Shang Qinghua asked. “The bull?”
“You know how Yue-shixiong is,” Shen Qingqiu said. “He didn’t go into detail. But he’s probably good enough, or they wouldn’t have brought him for Liu-shidi, right?”
“Right,” Shang Qinghua said. “Only the best for Liu-shidi!”
“Okay, you actually sound bitter now,” Shen Qingqiu said. “Go get stuck in the fence or something and wait. Someone will come along.”
“Some of us have high expectations for our bulls,” Shang Qinghua said, and then chose not to continue that thought when Luo Binghe raised his curly head. Shen Qingqiu considerately didn’t follow up either, though he did stare in Luo Binghe’s general direction, seemingly contemplating the idea of nursing him back to sleep.
“Well, when you see him, tell me what he looks like,” Shen Qingqiu finally said. “Then we can imagine what their kid would look like, if Liu-shidi doesn’t take his balls off first.”
“You got it, bro,” Shang Qinghua said, and then grimaced. From deep within his stomach, the flames had started to lick again, tonguing half-pleasantly at his lower regions. His scent must have spiked, or maybe it was just the look on his face, because Shen Qingqiu suddenly looked appalled.
“Oh my god,” Shen Qingqiu said. “And seriously, go take care of that – as many times as it takes. The shamelessness of some people, honestly.”
Shang Qinghua had no words to respond.
For the record, it wasn’t like Shang Qinghua liked smothering his friends and handlers with that terrible, revealing stench.
Shang Qinghua wasn’t an exhibitionist – no more than general desensitization to public sex turned you into one, at least – nor did he have a humiliation kink, and got no joy out of his nonexistent sex life being broadcast to the public. There were times where Shen Qingqiu flopped down onto the soft pasture grass, hair mussed and reeking of Luo Binghe’s oppressive pheromones, and Shang Qinghua would have thought auu, that’s so embarrassing, Cucumber-bro, but when compared to the alternative? It might as well have been a badge of honor!
It was certainly better than Shang Qinghua’s virginity smoke signal, crying out horny heifers in your area! Virginity rocks! Have you ever seen a guy less pregnant than this?!
It hadn’t always been like this, either. Back in the olden days (Shang Qinghua’s early 20s), his heat cycle had been substantially more obedient – regular, occurring monthly, and much less all-consuming. That was how heat cycles were supposed to be – annoying enough to get you on your feet, to hunt down the nearest pair of full balls, but not enough to completely disable you. There weren’t always bulls around, and that was fine – a sane, normal cow’s body would recognize that and shut down after, like, a day. We’ll get 'em next time!
But Shang Qinghua’s body was impatient, and had been pitching ball after ball to him to no avail, and had eventually started to ask so, what’s the hold-up, buddy? And when Shang Qinghua didn’t answer by popping out a calf or two, or at least obediently lifting his tail in the direction of the nearest bull, it had taken matters into its own hands.
Monthly heats – a privilege Shang Qinghua had long been denied! No, his came weekly, lasted days on end, and left him with a body so abused that the downtime in between was hardly a vacation at all. Shen Qingqiu had the audacity to call him a bitch – who wouldn’t be a bitch, if you had to go crawling for cooling gel for your pussy every other week?!
And yeah, his fingers still worked okay, sometimes, but he felt his own hands’ efficacy teetering down by the week. Maybe at some point he would become completely unresponsive to them, and then he would just implode into fat little cow chunks.
Okay, yeah, these thoughts weren’t helping him get off – new plan.
Shang Qinghua slid down against the brick of the outer barn wall, hiking one knee closer to his stomach in hopes of better friction. There wasn’t even anything to like, hump here, which might have added a bit of novelty to the whole process – God, didn’t that sound good? Like, maybe only a solid breeding would wipe the heats away for good, but he was a magnanimous man and would be happy to settle for something less taxing. Like, if there was a handsome face around here he could sit on or something, and someone’s tongue could cool the raging fires of his aching cunt, then that would be just great! Five stars! No baby even required!
He pushed the waistband of his pants further down his legs, then peeked down at the depths it revealed. His cunt, lips plump and pink and swollen, stared unpleasantly back at him. God, this was a waste of time.
Shang Qinghua’s leg slid idly back to the ground, and he tilted his head back, letting it thump freely into the wall. His eyes fluttered shut in resignation; maybe a bit of a break was in order. The last thing he needed was carpal tunnel.
And, indeed, he was just about to stand up, when –
Footsteps. Loud, heavy footsteps.
Who the hell was coming back here?! Wasn’t it public knowledge that this was Shang Qinghua’s sad masturbatory cubicle?
“Dude,” Shang Qinghua said, more worn than anything. “There can’t be two people jerking off in the same place. Then it’s embarrassing for both of us.”
The visitor was probably another cow, also seeking a bit of privacy to relieve themselves. But Shang Qinghua had found this secluded spot all on his own, god damn it, and wouldn’t be giving it up so easily!
There was a moment of stillness; the footsteps had stalled. But there was no sound of retreat.
Shang Qinghua felt a flutter of annoyance.
“I’m literally having a bad day right now, by the way,” Shang Qinghua said. “And this, like – completely isn’t helping. So if you could just give me like, ten minutes, then I’ll pack my shit and go, but – dude, you gotta work with me here.”
Still no movement. Shang Qinghua lifted his nose to the air and sniffed.
That was a bit strange – there was evidently a visitor, but he sure didn’t smell like any of the cows that Shang Qinghua knew. Green tea for Shen Qingqiu, leather for Liu Qingge – he had grown up with these people, and could identify their presences from half a mile away. But this smell – this was new, and unfamiliar. It almost reminded Shang Qinghua of the pine trees on the very edge of the fences, where he went to walk when he needed to clear his head – fresh, sharp, the kind of odor that tickled one’s nose and shouldered its way past all other scents. But more than that, there was an undercurrent of musk – bull musk.
Bull musk?
Shang Qinghua’s eyes snapped open, and he scrabbled on the wall for hold, and stumbled to his feet, and – oh, holy god damn fuck shit. Now that – that was a fucking bull.
There was about ten feet between them, so Shang Qinghua couldn’t accurately gauge his exact height, but fuck, he had to be huge. Even with that distance, Shang Qinghua’s forward-facing gaze came only to shoulder height, and when he tilted his trembling neck to scale upwards – feeling like he was climbing an icy peak – the fucking face on him, good god. Sharp, cold, unamused and vaguely calculating, with a straight nose and pale lips – that was a face meant for sitting, have some fucking mercy.
His shoulders were broad, and his hair – dark as ink – cascaded down them, only pulled into a loose, lazy ponytail near the ends. A few strands were braided tightly and precisely, woven in with the rest of the hair, pulled down and kept to the side to prevent flyaways near his horns. Those horns, which were huge and ivory-colored and protruded outwards from either side of his head, curving upwards into a majestic, regal crown.
He wouldn’t have looked out of place with something gold and glittering draped over them, those beautiful weapons of war, but there was none – instead, his only adornment was a silver septum ring in his nose, glimmering faintly from the sun’s light.
Oh, and the collar, connecting the bull’s thick neck to the hand of a distant farmer.
From that short distance away, pale, frightening eyes met Shang Qinghua’s – he was staring at him, and holy shit, fuck Shang Qinghua’s life, his pants were still down.
He fumbled for the waist of the pants, fingers digging into the fabric, and okay, seriously, this was not the time for wetness to be dripping down Shang Qinghua’s thighs, but it was, and who could blame him? The bull didn’t even have a shirt on, for fucks sake, and his stomach was so hard and defined that Shang Qinghua could probably rub off right there, which wasn’t helping his situation at all. He ripped those pants upwards and over the fluffy brown of his bush, nearly putting a hole in them, conscious of how he was sweating like another non-cow farm animal.
The whole time, the bull watched him with that unreadable gaze, haughty and judgmental in a way that was frankly, completely earned. Of course Shang Qinghua was beneath him, because who wasn’t, but please, please, please –
Then the cord linked to the bull’s neck went taut, and his head turned sharply to the side. The corner of his lip curled upwards, exposing a sneer of white teeth.
“Mobei,” A voice called. “What’s the hold up?”
Shang Qinghua probably should have done something at that moment, like book it or maybe get on his knees and beg or maybe do something other than just drool on the grass, but he couldn’t – he couldn’t do anything.
The cord slackened, and a farmer came into view, approaching from the other side of the barn. He eyed the bull for a moment, who had yet to move – like his heels were dug stubbornly into the grass – and then followed that gaze, towards where Shang Qinghua stood, trembling like a leaf. He furrowed his brow, then the skin around his eyes relaxed.
“Qinghua?” he said. “What are you doing out here? Go get back to your pasture.”
Communication with humans was not a two-way street, so there was no point in responding. Shang Qinghua just nodded jerkily, like he wasn’t totally pinned to the spot by that gaze, like if he reached his hand downward, the soft fabric of his pants wouldn’t have darkened and soaked through. He took a little step to the side, and the bull breathed in sharply. His pupils dilated, and he opened his mouth – like he intended to say something, or do something, based on how tense those terribly broad shoulders were – but then the cord tugged again.
“Mobei-jun,” The farmer said again, more sternly this time. “Come.”
The bull – ‘Mobei-jun’ – remained still, like an elegantly carved statue of ice, until one more tug got him moving – but not without a thunderous snarl, and his fingers tightening in his palms. Shang Qinghua briefly thought he might witness a murder – but for what, for what, why was he staring like that?! Shang Qinghua regretted having the audacity to exist and stink in front of him; he should really go find a shovel, dig himself a pit, and go lie in it forever – but in the end, Mobei-jun didn’t do anything. Instead, his body turned on one foot, in a motion so smooth it was addictive, and then he disappeared from Shang Qinghua’s sight.
The moment he did, Shang Qinghua’s knees buckled. He collapsed onto the ground, then cradled his knees close to his chest.
That was Liu-shidi’s new bull – that force of nature, young and breath-stealing and fuck Liu-shidi forever, actually, Shang Qinghua didn’t want to think about what those kids would look like. It should have been him, his, me me me me me! Me!!! My bull and my kids!!!!!!
Shang Qinghua sat there in silence, breathing shallowly like a trapped bird, and then rose shakily back to his feet. And then – faster than this fat cow had ever run in his life – he booked it away from the barn, all the way to Liu Qingge’s pasture.
By the time Shang Qinghua arrived at the pasture, the audience had already gathered to watch the show.
Naturally, when he arrived, the rest of the cows moved to give him a wide berth – even Yue Qingyuan, the only non-Binghe bull amongst their little herd, politely scooted aside to spare his nose. Only Shen Qingqiu didn’t bother to move, fanning himself lazily with one hand, his back arched up against the fence in a picture of elegance.
When Shang Qinghua sidled up to him, Luo Binghe opted to continue the fanning.
“Did it start yet?” Shang Qinghua asked, hurriedly.
“You’re right on time,” Shen Qingqiu said.
Shen Qingqiu cupped his hands over his mouth, then called out towards the pasture, where a lone figure stood rigidly near one of the corners.
“Good luck, Liu-shidi! Break a leg!”
Liu Qingge turned automatically towards the sound of the voice, his lips curling into a scowl. Indeed, if Shang Qinghua was the most miserable cow on the farm, then Liu Qingge must have been one of the most sightly – even in a sour mood, he could have tempted any bull. And he was about to tempt that fucking bull, Shang Qinghua’s bull, oh my fucking God – Shang Qinghua was about to become witness to either gore or porn, or perhaps even some gorn. Either way, nobody would be leaving those fences without dripping some bodily fluids.
Blood, cum, sweat, whatever – that should be mine!!!
Liu Qingge whipped his head around haughtily, his ponytail swinging over his shoulder. If he knew how fucking ungrateful he was, he didn’t seem to care – instead, his gaze flitted around the pasture, clearly in search of the easiest spike to demolish. And yes, Shang Qinghua would forgive him for all his nonexistent crimes if they could just switch places, please, but the opportunity came and went in a flash.
The cool smell of pine flooded his nostrils.
The smell was so pungent that the bull could have been on top of him, but when Shang Qinghua chanced to look around, he wasn’t anywhere close – he was half the fence away, that cord still looped just below his thick, bobbing Adam’s apple. The farmer who had led him to the pen was still lingering nearby, but this time, had some kind of tool in his hand – he used it to slip underneath the cord, looping it over Mobei-jun’s head and freeing him from his constraints.
Then he was jabbed in the back, hard enough to jolt him forward and into the pasture, and the fence gate shut behind him with an unceremonious click. In one smooth motion, he and Liu Qingge came to occupy the same pasture.
The two of them stared at each other, like two predators meeting across a beaten road.
“Hmm,” Shen Qingqiu said. “Well, what do you think? Purely on a powerscaling front, maybe Liu-shidi’s finally met his match.”
“No!” Shang Qinghua cried.
“No?” Shen Qingqiu said. “You think he hasn’t? Either way, he won’t be going down without a fight –”
“No!” Shang Qinghua howled again, unable to tolerate another word out of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth.
His fingers tugged frantically at the fence posts, searching for some kind of opening or weak point, but there was none – obviously there wasn’t, if these barriers were being used to contain any kind of bull and Liu Qingge. They were too tall to jump over, too flat to the ground to squirm under, and too close together to squeeze through – everything that needed to come after that aside, how in the fuck was Shang Qinghua going to get in there?
Shen Qingqiu eyed him, looking faintly concerned at this sudden bout of hysteria, but then turned his gaze forward again – the show, regardless of Shang Qinghua’s presence or panic, would go on.
Shang Qinghua sucked in breath after breath of that pine-flavored air, but it only agitated him more. Seriously, why was it so strong all of a sudden? That bull reeked nearly as much as Shang Qinghua did, but he had no reason to, so why –
“Wow,” Shen Qingqiu said, and then cupped his mouth again. “Run, Liu-shidi! Run!”
Shang Qinghua’s gaze rose from the fences, slid towards Mobei-jun, and – okay, yeah, he was hard as a fucking rock.
He had been provided a somewhat modest pair of pants, in a rare show of permitted dignity, and those fuckers had to be beyond stretched out by now. The front of them was visibly and massively tented, that soft fabric taut over what must have been an absolute monster of a cock. It was surprising Shang Qinghua hadn’t noticed it before, not just because of the bulge itself, but because of the way the bull looked; his pale, soft ears had developed a twinge of red, sweat beading unevenly down his neck, and he gave off a general aura of extreme agitation. One of his feet dug into the grass, then yanked back, tight with unreleased energy.
Mobei-jun whipped his head around, his ponytail thrashing around his head, and then grunted in deep displeasure. This was an unbearably horny bull.
Liu Qingge must have realized that it was only a matter of time before he would be pursued, and he ducked his head, enough to display his own gleaming pair of horns. They were long for a cow’s, sharpened by intentional grinding to a point against rocks and barn walls, and could pack a nasty punch. He clearly wouldn’t hesitate to defend himself – or go on the offense, even more likely, if he felt sufficiently threatened – but, despite all of that, Mobei-jun wasn’t moving.
Why wasn’t he moving?
Liu Qingge’s scent had evidently set him off, based on how hard he was, but Liu Qingge remained miraculously unassaulted. Surely any other bull would have become opportunistic by now, would have at least put up a good old college try, but Mobei-jun remained still as stone. Other than that one anxious foot, he remained planted firmly into the ground – only his gaze, just as hard and staunch as before, crept insistently along the edges of the fence.
Shang Qinghua could have been imagining it, but his eyes were a little glassy, his breathing raspy and harsh – regardless, he was looking for something.
But before he could find it, Liu Qingge charged.
Liu Qingge was a cow with no patience for games, or even for much strategy, and he wouldn’t let himself be deceived – he understandably thought he was in danger, and so he endeavored to land the first blow. His feet kicked up messy strands of grass as he ran, head ducked to permit the points of his horns the greatest amount of contact, but they never touched flesh: long before Mobei-jun’s head could be separated from his neck, he ducked his own, and the two pairs of horns collided with a crash.
“Oh, shit,” one of the farmers said. Gore it was!
The two animals sparred like true beasts, tearing up the grass and sending up thundering thuds of bone against bone. Neither of them spared the other any mercy; Liu Qingge believed himself to be fighting for his metaphorical life, and Mobei-jun now had dignity to protect. So they clashed and grappled, hard enough that Shang Qinghua thought someone’s horn might just break right off. But they persisted, both armed with enviable endurance – of course Mobei-jun had stamina, just fucking kill Shang Qinghua right now – and continued to do so, even as the clashes became less even and blood began to spill.
The farmer had long since gone tripping away; in a stunning lack of foresight, they had not seemed to realize this was the inevitable outcome. One of them removed a device from his pocket and brought it to his ear.
“Get Qingge out of there, before he does some damage we can’t afford –”
At some point, Mobei-jun’s hair had come loose from his ponytail, revealing itself to be even thicker and longer than before. At least once, Liu Qingge’s horn had successfully made contact with his face; it left only a scratch, but one that welled with fresh blood anyway, wetting his cheek with crimson. When he shook his head again, the blood dripped free, which should have been unsexy but it wasn’t at all, not when Mobei-jun’s traps kept flexing with every move. Sweat leaked in rivulets down his skin, enough to spill down beneath the waistband of his pants, which shifted and rode along the waves of his leg movements.
Throughout all of this, he was still fucking hard, that bulge sitting threateningly beneath the newly exposed thick patch of dark hair. But nothing had changed – when he did touch Liu Qingge, it was with an open-handed shove, with no intention beyond violence. Not even the adrenaline of battle could cloud Mobei-jun’s senses – but why the hell not?!
He certainly wasn’t impotent, his erection so hard it must have been painful – Shang Qinghua was dying to tend to it, fuck, how could he get in there? How could he get in there?!
From beside Shang Qinghua, there was a faint popping sound, and Liu Qingge slowed.
The farmer had returned, armed with a tranquilizer gun; he had lifted it up, aimed, and sent a dart hurtling towards Liu Qingge’s neck. When it pierced the skin, it flooded him with a surge of calming sedative – he stumbled forward, took two more steps, and then fell to his knees. His eyes, fiery with the thrill of war, dulled to a sleepy brown.
Then he face-planted right into the grass.
Shang Qinghua had thought the farmer was about to tranquilize Mobei-jun, too – and was prepared to lunge in front of him, in an act of true thirst – but instead, he lowered the gun. Mobei-jun was a stud, after all, and presumably one that had yet to be paid off – indeed, if there were any adverse effects, those full balls would cost the farm a fortune. So Mobei-jun remained standing upright and still, before taking two paces backwards.
Another farmer fumbled with the gate lock and threw it open; giving Mobei-jun a wide berth, he slipped inside and dragged Liu Qingge out by his ankles.
“Poor Liu-shidi,” Shen Qingqiu said. “What is this – the fifth time? He never learns.”
But Shang Qinghua wasn’t worried about Liu Qingge – he would wake up soon enough in his own pasture, peeved but ultimately unharmed. It was Mobei-jun whom he was worried about – Mobei-jun who had begun to pace, who was snorting like a madman, whose face had gone a little splotchy with aggravation.
At least Liu Qingge had the dignity of chastity – Mobei-jun was hard, and now alone, and getting antsier by the second. One of those thick hands slid up to his horn, gripping it in what must have been a soothing gesture; the other clenched hard enough to produce a crack, his knuckles popping from the strain. This was true cruelty – wasn’t someone going to do something about this? Who knew how long it would take that thing to go down?!
The farmers probably weren’t thinking about Mobei-jun’s poor cock, but they were thinking about the fences. Liu Qingge and Mobei-jun had smashed into them multiple times during their stand-off; if Mobei-jun decided he wanted to make a break for it, or sire a calf by every cow out there, they were no longer so sure that the fence would hold.
But there must have been a genius in their midst, or maybe Shang Qinghua finally had some god smiling down upon him, because one of them spoke up.
“Get a cow in there with him,” That farmer said, impatiently. “It doesn’t matter who, just – calm him down, before something drastic happens.”
Shen Qingqiu’s gaze, from where he had been watching Liu Qingge get dragged away, slid over towards Shang Qinghua. He opened his lips to mouth something – possibly an ill-advised dude, run – but never got the words out.
“Qinghua’s always in heat,” Another farmer said, which, ow. “He would work –”
“Just get him in there!”
And so before Shang Qinghua could voice an opinion – like fuck, yes, throw me in, please please please or wait, am I seriously that obvious? – there were arms underneath his shoulders, and he was being hoisted up into the air, stripped right down to his inner robe, and then tossed through the fence gate onto the torn-up ground.
Behind him, the gate clicked shut.
Mobei-jun’s head turned, slow and measured. Even on the soft, unearthed soil, his footsteps were commandingly loud.
It was the sound of those footsteps that finally made Shang Qinghua think wait – am I dead beef?
Like, okay, yeah – Shang Qinghua had wanted to be thrown in here, for sure, but now he was in here and Mobei-jun was approaching him, having previously opted to gore a much younger and prettier cow, and maybe Shang Qinghua was – like a hamburger – cooked? Shang Qinghua’s goods were comparatively not that valuable, so if the farmers needed someone to take the hit and be pulverized into ground beef, of course he would make the best sacrificial – er, cow. And now Mobei-jun was coming closer, probably intent on taking some of that aggression out to fuel his blood-boner, and surely something was deeply, fundamentally wrong with Shang Qinghua, because his cunt positively clenched at that. Like maybe some tender love and pussy would repair the situation, work with me here, come on –
Shang Qinghua, useless as he was, had not yet gotten up; by the time Mobei-jun stalled in front of him, at his most imposing angle yet, his ass was still planted firmly in the ground.
Shang Qinghua’s guilty gaze slid upwards from those toned thighs, past that utterly intimidating bulge, along those abs and ultimately to his face. Mobei-jun’s thick brows were furrowed and hard, forming sharp diagonal wedges above his intently staring eyes. His feet had quit the agitated movements, but his hand hadn’t; his right hand clenched and unclenched at will, revealing a vein that made Shang Qinghua feel a little lightheaded.
“You,” Mobei-jun said, his voice gravelly and low and hot. Shang Qinghua’s overactive body could easily irrigate this soil.
“Me,” Shang Qinghua said, feeling like he had sucked in helium. “Me, sorry for the disappointment, it’s just me –”
“Show,” Mobei-jun said.
“Show?” Shang Qinghua squeaked. “Sir – show what –”
Mobei-jun outright growled, a puff of air escaping his nostrils past the septum. Then – seemingly sick of Shang Qinghua’s confused noncompliance – he crouched down next to him. One massive hand closed around Shang Qinghua’s ankle, and gave him a controlled yank; Mobei-jun dragged him like he weighed no more than a feather, then dropped his ankle beside his knee, splaying Shang Qinghua’s legs wide open.
His other hand went grasping out – fingers spread to probably throttle Shang Qinghua’s pitiful skinny throat – and Shang Qinghua closed his eyes, so his worldly desires wouldn’t send him down instead of up. But then – instead of committing the murder he would certainly get away with – that hand landed on the waist of Shang Qinghua’s pants, and ripped.
Those trustworthy trousers – Shang Qinghua’s only line of defense, between himself and the elements – tore like wet tissue paper.
Shang Qinghua’s eyes opened, and his legs shut like a steel trap, operating solely out of instinct. But there was no use! Mobei-jun wrenched them right back open, pinning his chicken-bone ankles right to the ground. And so in the span of ten seconds, in just two easy gestures, Mobei-jun had his gaze fixed on Shang Qinghua’s glistening cunt.
And glistening it was, and swollen, and pink, and holy fucking shit why couldn’t Shang Qinghua be normal. When making him someone had clearly fucked up his fear and arousal systems, because Shang Qinghua’s body responded to this perilous situation the only way it knew how – providing a humble offering of even more slick. All this fucking body knew how to do was leak!!!
“There,” Mobei-jun said, and his voice sounded pleased. “That wasn’t hard.”
Shang Qinghua’s gaze was unfocused, his body having sacrificed all input to every other organ, but he managed to zero back in on Mobei-jun’s face at that – at that tone, at those words. No longer did he look angry – in fact, his face had cooled mostly back to that stoic expression from before, except for the corner of his lips, which were faintly upturned. If Shang Qinghua was any less fixated on every part of him, he might have missed the way he was still sweating, but he could never have missed the boner – it still raged on, harder than ever.
Shang Qinghua quivered. This was not something you did to a beast you intended to slaughter.
“Stay still,” Mobei-jun said, like Shang Qinghua would dare to disobey, and then released one of his ankles. His hand crept smoothly up, with the practiced ease of someone inspecting a machine, until the back of his hand touched his cunt. His thumb pressed forward, parting Shang Qinghua’s chubby lips with ease.
Then he withdrew, and Shang Qinghua could have cried.
“Your heat is terrible,” Mobei-jun said, and Shang Qinghua was staring at his hand – put it back, put it back, right now – but he could swear that he was smiling. “Pathetic thing.”
Then Mobei-jun flicked at his clit, at that hard little nub, and the sob finally broke through.
His cunt clamped down on nothing, and his thighs started to shake, and Shang Qinghua came from basically fucking nothing, spasming from his thighs all the way down to his toes. And it was so true, he was pathetic. He had resisted the urge to cry about his whole situation, but now he was being bullied and it was all pouring out and he was still fucking horny, maybe even more now. It felt so good, and it was torment – this bull was the true beast, not Shang Qinghua, not anyone else!
Shang Qinghua looked up at Mobei-jun with blurry eyes. The world had narrowed to only him, to that handsome face and those thick hands and the bulge clearly pressing against Shang Qinghua’s thigh.
“Ple-ease,” Shang Qinghua hiccuped. “Please, please, please, please –”
And he reached out, like he could dig his bitten nails into Mobei-jun and never let go, but then his legs were in the air and Mobei-jun was between them and that mouth, cool and wet and everything Shang Qinghua had ever wanted, was right where he needed it.
Mobei-jun devoured him like a starved man.
His saliva must have been medicinal – that terrible sore aching cunt of his, that fucking torture-chamber on Shang Qinghua’s body, melted like butter underneath his tongue. It dragged along the grooves between his lips, flattened all the way up along his hole, and then when Mobei-jun's perfect fucking lips closed around Shang Qinghua’s cunt, he thrashed like the world was ending. For all Shang Qinghua knew, it might as well have been – a meteor could have landed, war could have broken out, and he would have never known. He didn’t even know if anyone else was still there, or if they all had left – not when Mobei-jun was sucking on his clit with deadly precision, and all of the nerves in Shang Qinghua’s body convulsed right there and he was coming again, right onto Mobei-jun’s perfect face.
Shang Qinghua was equally fucking starved, because one wasn’t enough, nor two – he was pent up, sore and in pain, and every release unblocked that awful repressive dam just a little bit more. So when Mobei-jun started to pull his face back, Shang Qinghua took hold of those handsome horns and yanked him back, grinding his cunt right back over Mobei-jun’s lips.
They weren’t done until Shang Qinghua said they were done!
Shang Qinghua rode out release after release on Mobei-jun’s tongue, and then literally rode it, bowling Mobei-jun over onto his back with the force of his desperation. He was right – it was novel, having something to hump, and it was addictive too – each one came stronger than the last, shaking Shang Qinghua all the way to his core. He felt like he could die right there, keening and crying out and hanging onto Mobei-jun’s horns, and all would have been right with the world – there was nothing more to accomplish than this.
Mobei-jun, for his part, never complained nor faltered – in fact, his attentions only grew stronger, his tongue greedily lapping up those endless rivulets of slick that poured down Shang Qinghua’s fat thighs. And in the same way, his cock never flagged – fuck, had he been hard this whole time because of Shang Qinghua?
When Shang Qinghua finally lifted his hips off his face, Mobei-jun’s pupils were huge, dilated enough that Shang Qinghua could hardly see the whites. His tongue wasted no time in sliding over his lips, gathering up the remaining slick into his mouth, that huge chest of his heaving in breath after breath.
“Fuck,” Shang Qinghua said. “Fuck, fuck, I nearly killed you. But you look good like this, holy shit, you look so good –”
But Shang Qinghua didn’t get to finish, because Mobei-jun could take it no longer. He lifted Shang Qinghua by his hips, flipped him onto his stomach, and crushed him down into the grass to mount him. That clothed cock – leaky enough that Shang Qinghua could feel the faint wetness of the fabric, stained with precum – grinded hard against Shang Qinghua’s soft, cushy ass. It felt even bigger there, and it wasn’t even free yet; Shang Qinghua really was going to end up torn into little red ribbons. But it was fine, good, because that was precisely what he needed.
Mobei-jun withdrew, and Shang Qinghua heard the sounds of pants being yanked down, the faint wet slap of Mobei-jun’s cock springing free and smacking against those hard abs. He couldn’t resist taking a peek, stealing a glance at that object of his fantasies, and yeah, pack it up. Shang Qinghua was dizzy with glee.
Thick, heavy, and red at the tip, and adorned with huge fucking balls – that was what Shang Qinghua needed, yes. If you gave a man some tongue, that would sate his heat for a little while, but if you gave a man some cock, it would sate him for – well, the next nine months! Shang Qinghua’s ass rose into the air like he was possessed, his elbows settled into the dirt, and his tail swept to the side – Shen Qingqiu really knew what he was doing with that little trick, because Mobei-jun’s nostrils flared harshly.
“Breed me,” Shang Qinghua babbled. “Breed me, sir, stuff me full right now – please, please, please. I’ll be so good, I can’t wait any longer – ohhh, fuck, yes.”
Mobei-jun had no intent of teasing him; he felt that fat cockhead slide searchingly within the wet groove of his cunt, and then nudge forward into him with a slow, lewd pop. And Shang Qinghua would have been embarrassed by how easy it was, how greedily his cunt took something so fucking massive, but he couldn’t – he couldn’t think, couldn’t formulate even a single thought. All he could do was drool, going foggy-headed and dizzy, banging his fist thoughtlessly into the soil.
Big, big, so big, and so filling, and it stole away any of those lingering painful heatshocks just to replace them with a much more delicious stretch. Shang Qinghua’s mouth hung open like an idiot, only uttering little unhs and ahhghs with every thick inch. He grazed past spots that made Shang Qinghua keen, made him rip up handfuls of grass, and eventually he felt those hefty balls smack against his cunt – he was in. All the way in, and it was so much, and Mobei-jun must have wanted to feel it too, because his fingers slid along Shang Qinghua’s soft tummy to run over the newfound bulge.
Then Mobei-jun withdrew, and bucked his hips forward, and they fucked like true animals in Liu Qingge’s pasture.
Mobei-jun had displayed his self-control before, and had clearly run out of it; he offered Shang Qinghua no mercy, none at all. There was no slow, lovey-dovey fucking, there was no gentle start or questions about Shang Qinghua’s capabilities: Mobei-jun pounded him violently, viciously, chasing only the heat and wet friction of his cunt. Every time his hips made contact with Shang Qinghua’s thick ass, the joining of their bodies produced a smack, reddening his cheeks; this only spurred Mobei-jun on, drawing from him more growls and grunts, sending him hurtling deeper into the perfect punishment he was inflicting.
And fuck, it was good, it was so good just to be used: this obscenely fucking hot bull wanted Shang Qinghua, wanted to be inside of him, wanted to stuff him with his fucking babies and seal him up with his cock. It was the greatest form of flattery, and so thank yous poured from Shang Qinghua’s unthinking lips, desperately goading Mobei-jun into more, faster, do what our basic instincts need us to do!
“More, yes, yes, fuck me, breed me, more more more – if I’m not leaking, you’re not doing it right, fuck, sir. That’s it, that’s it, oh my God, right there, yes yes yes yes yes –”
Mobei-jun wasn’t as noisy, but the noises he made were absolute music to Shang Qinghua’s ears, those near-dizzy grunts as he tried to force his way deeper, deeper, deep enough to seed Shang Qinghua for good. Every few thrusts, he would grind forward, his balls tight against the seal of Shang Qinghua’s hole, and then he would grip his hips and yank back, so Shang Qinghua drooled front-and-back with every inch of cock he could possibly take.
His strong fingers flexed on Shang Qinghua’s ass and dug in painfully the next time Shang Qinghua came, his cunt spasming and clamping down around him.
“Slut,” Mobei-jun hissed, his voice hoarse. “Slutty fucking cow – I could smell you the second I got here, stinking up the place.”
Shang Qinghua heard a harsh breath being sucked in, and the thrusts became erratic, quicker, even more targeted.
“I won’t let you go any longer without being bred.” Mobei-jun grunted, and nothing had ever sounded better.
“Oh, fuck, yes, yes, I want that, I want it – give it to me, give it to me, put a baby in me,” Shang Qinghua babbled. “Breed me, stuff me, make me fat with your kids, now now now now now –”
And Mobei-jun acquiesced. He drove in one more time – hard enough that the smack of his balls sent Shang Qinghua through another round of ecstatic shudders – and then he came with a powerful grunt, pouring buckets of cum into Shang Qinghua’s used body. There was enough to fill him, and then more – too much, even. It flooded his insides, filling him to the brim, and then could hardly even leak out around that fat shaft. So it had no choice but to stay, and Shang Qinghua’s belly swelled with it, producing a sizable bump.
With that final thrust, Shang Qinghua’s weak knees finally gave out, and he collapsed to the ground like a stone.
Mobei-jun only sank deeper, and Shang Qinghua’s toes curled. Somewhere in the distance, there was that fucking clapping – wow, it was way more annoying when you were the one being clapped at.
“Shut up,” Shang Qinghua croaked, and someone started cracking up – Shen Qingqiu! You traitor!
Shang Qinghua pulled forward instinctively, like he could somehow cross the fence to throttle Shen Qingqiu for his crimes, but Mobei-jun promptly re-sealed the gap between their bodies. Suddenly, it became really hard to focus on anything else.
“Don’t move,” Mobei-jun said, his voice low and close. “You will stay here until it takes.”
“Yes, sir,” Shang Qinghua slurred, and that was exactly what he did.
One month later, a terrible new incident befell the farm.
It turned out that Mobei-jun, having sired a growing calf by the most undesirable cow in the pasture, did not want to be sent back to his own farm. Like any good bull, this respectable fatherly instinct made itself known through violent bloodlust, during which he guillotined a nearby farmer’s head right off his shoulders.
Witnessing a two-hundred pound bull replace your coworker’s spinal cord with his horn was considerably bad for morale, so only one farmer had to die for Mobei-jun to get his way. Such efficiency and speed with which he asserted himself – it really made Shang Qinghua hot under the collar, a sincere feeling which he expressed by fucking Mobei-jun all over the pasture.
That chunk of the cow pasture went from containing one bull to two, and one gravid cow to two, and one heifer to zero. Mobei-jun lingered by Shang Qinghua’s side whenever he could, stared at him whenever he was otherwise occupied, and slept so sweetly on his chest, horns framing either side of Shang Qinghua’s face, that he could truly understand Shen Qingqiu’s bull-directed maternal drive.
And so – despite all the body aches, and the cravings, and all the so-called misery of pregnancy – Shang Qinghua, while perhaps still a beast, was no longer such a miserable one.