The wheels of Beau Richard's old Sedan rattled along the long dirt road leading to the farm. Dust kicked up behind it all the way to the big, stereotypically red barn that served as the main gate. At twenty years old, the reporter was anxious to get himself a big scoop and make a name for himself. He already had the body for stardom, he thought to himself. Not too muscular, not too lean. Just the right amount of meat on his bones to give off that dangerous mix of cute and hot that got people talking.
His target this time was a mind boggling institution that was sure to give him the breakthrough he needed. 'Luke's Farm for Breeding Stock' sounded innocent enough to the unknowing bystander, but Beau knew the truth. These so-called farms for men were a fucking scam. They were places that lured in guys from all over with the promises of honest work and abundant cash, only to turn them into the equivalent of livestock cumdumps for a cheap penny. Of course, these weren't actual documented fact, rather, well researched conspiracy theories at this point. It was his job as the soon-to-be star reporter of the Daily Taurus to drag these rumors into the light.
Getting down from his car and taking off his expensive sunglasses, Beau narrowed his eyes at the stylish, square signboard. The name of the farm was accompanied by the upper half of a shirtless, heavily muscled man with only a straw hat on and a wheat stalk between his white teeth. The sex appeal alone made it clear that this was designed by a gay man for others like him (or for himself, really).
Well, I guess part of being an exploitative business is looking good for your marks, Beau thought to himself.
He theorized this might be why they accepted his tour request so quickly. Gotta look good for the public. Not that the public knew much about these types of farms to begin with. They were as infamous as they were private. Most men who walked in settled right away, and the very few that left refused to talk about it, which stank to high hell in Beau's opinion.
"Luke's Farm would be delighted to give you a tour of the facilities whenever a proper time is agreed upon, chaperoned by the owner, Luke Donovan himself," the reply email had said.
He did not even consider the possibility of meeting the hoity-toity owner on his first try, but if they were this sure of their cover stories, it would be a shame not to take them on. Beau smiled to himself as he walked to the entrance, already preparing the bashing piece that'll be sure to set the public on fire.
"The Perversion Farms behind the Kind Farmer Facade" or "Milking the Morality of Men".
Hmmm, not good enough, he thought to himself. He'll find something better.
As he walked towards the gate, surrounded by lush green grass on both sides, his phone rang. It was a message from his supervisor, Morgan.
"You at the farm yet? Don't forget to sneak a couple of photos."
Beau reacted with a thumbs up then stuffed his phone into his pocket, took off his sunglasses and started looking around for someone to talk to amidst the suffocating heat. Right away, he spotted a huge figure next to the gate.
It was harder NOT to notice him, really. The man, who was the size of a goddamn refrigerator and had a straw hat draped across his face, sat slouched on a rickety, wooden chair that looked comically small in comparison. The sun brought out the deep color of his skin, part brown and part hard-earned tan, and his clothes couldn't be more appropriate if they tried. Faded blue overalls, black work boots caked with mud, and a frayed white t shirt that stretched tight across his chest, which could've been used as a billboard, honestly. His neck was so wide it was probably the reason the collar of his t shirt was full of small tears, and his arms rested crossed in front of him like stacked tree logs. Even just sitting there, the man radiated raw, immovable power.
"Umm..." Beau swallowed, suddenly aware of the frailness of his gym cultured body and how hot the fucking plains were, "excuse me."
The giant stirred. His lower half shifted in its place, thighs fighting to break out of the denim, and his head slid back just a bit, and with it, the hat. Beau saw a five o'clock shadow on a square jaw and a hazel eyes that gave him one quick look before going back to its nest.
"Reporter, right?" The guard said, with a voice that could rattle rocks, "Boss'll be here soon."
Beau blinked. "Yes, I'm Beau Richards. Here for the tour with Mr. Donovan?" He cringed at the formality, but he had to appear respectful if he wanted these people to cough up their secrets. But the guard didn't even move, prompting Beau to shuffle around awkwardly.
How does a god-sent hunk like this end up working for such a sleazy place, Beau caught himself thinking while sneaking glances at the mass of muscles near him, but came up with no satisfactory answers.
Barely a minute or two passed before the heavy farm gates swung open, creaking from their age, and out stepped the man himself, and the guard shot up right away, the chair hilariously shooting from under him.
"Sam," the man addressed the guard, who nodded respectfully, "good watch."
Luke Donovan was exactly the type of man Beau imagined the owner of this farm to be. Mid fifties, broad shouldered, and thick in every part of his body, he carried the commanding bulk of someone who spent years doing the work rather than posing in mirrors. Each muscle moved with that masculine power that couldn't be defined. His bald head, shaved clean, shone under the sun's glare, and a short salt and pepper beard only added to that middle aged appeal.
He was definitely not Beau's type. Too old, too rough, too much gut. Still, it was impressive how well he carried himself, Beau thought, like those men who got women all over them by being themselves in the most obnoxious way possible.
"Beau, right?" his voice was deep and gravelly, dipped in that southern drawl, "I'm Luke Donovan. Glad you made it out, son."
He extended his calloused hand, and Beau had to stop from staring at the huge forearms (almost double the size of Beau's) jutting from the striped, white dress shirt with the rolled up sleeves, tucked roughly into dress pants that exuded class and effort, but still looked lived in. He shook the hand mechanically. The grip was firm and backed with power, but not hurtful.
"Thanks for seeing me on such a short notice. I was under the assumption it'd take a whole lot more for you to agree."
Luke smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling. "Ain't got nothin' to hide. It's been a long time since we've had a fresh buck on the property, so I'm excited to see what you think of the facilities."
Beau had to smile and bite back a sneer. The condescending tone was exactly the reason he hated these rough and tumble men who thought they had it all figured out, the way to be a human animal, and looked at you with pity for not wanting the same dirt and shit living conditions.
"Come on," Luke said, heavily dropping his hand on Beau's shoulder, with the latter almost buckling under the pressure, "we got a lot to cover."
He signaled for the guard, Sam, to follow them, which he obediently did, and the three headed inside, Beau's frame dwarfed by the two farmers on each side.
*****
They passed the gate and moved in a line towards the back of the building, surrounded by open offices all around. There were what seemed to be secretaries and lawyers, people that appeared removed from the ground work, yet still busy and moving plenty. Beau barely had time to look around before they reached the back, exiting into open space.
The air smelled of worked earth, fresh hay, and manure. Out in the fields under the midday sun, various men were deep in honest labor. They appeared to all be between 30 and 50 years old. Donning various farm attire from denim pants and flannel shirts to sleeveless tees and stitched up aprons, the male specimen could make you work up a sweat just looking at them. Their bodies alone told stories of decades of tough work. Thick, muscular builds that showed lived-in bodies rather than sculpted decorations, and clothes that hung just a bit loose, as if to show that they were aware of their bodies and how they were perceived. Broad backs rippled as they hoisted hay bales in and out of pick up trucks, and mighty arms helped drag around cows and other cattle like steel cords. Some carried solid bellies that spoke of good living and hard-earned beer, others still held compact waists that rested atop tree trunk glutes.
Beau didn't notice he was staring, specifically at the rather loose bulges these guys seemed to have, until Luke's voice snapped him from his open-mouthed trance.
"This, here, is where the standard farm work is done, the real work," Luke explained, taking in the sight like it was his first time as well, "Milking the cows at dawn, baling the hay, building fences, plowing fields, feeding livestock. Sunup to sundown. Builds real strength. Keeps the blood burnin'. Most of 'em came up through the lines like you're about to see. Gave me everything, and I'm happy to give back. It's not the same as them normal ones, but it's a family alright."
The reporter kept from sucking his teeth at the last statement, but his looks betrayed his thought anyways.
"You think I'm kiddin'?" Luke's voice vibrated through the air, and Beau felt himself shrink a little.
"No, sir."
Why the fuck did he call him sir? Beau regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth.
Luke paid him no mind, instead scanning the parameters until he located who he wanted, brought up his fingers to his mouth and let out a deafening whistle.
"RUSTY! COME HERE, BOY!" Luke yelled out over the noise of wood and cattle.
From the middle of the field, a tall thick man in his late thirties straightened up instantly. The man, Rusty, as Luke had called him, was helping two other men fix up a fence, one fat and one lean. He was drenched in sweat, resting on the ground just moments ago after repeatedly swinging down a sledgehammer on a fence stake, strong enough for the force to be felt in Beau's feet.
The man practically ran at them, and Beau was able to get a closer look at him. He was built like a football player, complete with the cap and wide boulder shoulders and bulldozer legs that squeezed out of his jeans shorts with difficulty. The white tee he was wearing was translucent from sweat, and black hair spread over his taut, square chest, coming out in tufts from his collar and sleeves.
Rusty stopped in front of them, eyes lowered in respect, chest rising and dropping heavily like a tired horse. "You called, boss?"
"Rusty here is one of our old hands," Luke said, resting his hand on Rusty's enormous shoulder. The muscle barely gave. "Been with us fifty years. Strong back and a very sweet heart, this one."
Rusty smiled warmly, beaming his teeth at his boss through his big, bushy beard. "Boss has been nothing but kind to me even since he took me in. I had nothing and nowhere, but now I have more family than I know what to do with."
Blarg, thought Beau. "Don't you think that that is exactly the type of exploitation these institutes need in their employees?" He asked instead, taking out his phone to, surprisingly, no objections.
Rusty looked at Beau coldly, and his look perfectly captured his next words. "Who the hell're you?"
"Beau Richards, with the Daily Taurus. I'm doing a report on male farms."
Rusty's gaze dropped a couple degrees as he gave Beau a look over, then he turned to Luke.
"Is he giving you trouble, Boss?"
Beau felt a cold chill run down his spine as Rusty spoke words full of intent. He suddenly realized how outnumbered he was. It might've been different had this been a normal company or organization, but these were real men, wild men. The grunts of effort, the wet slap of flesh hitting the dirt, the the clang of metal tools. These weren't the fresh 20 somethings that Beau had expected. They were practically retired bulls, exercising their God-given male freedom in the most primal way possible.
"Nonsense," Luke patted Beau on the shoulder. "Beau here is a precious guest of ours. Don't go scaring the young buck now."
It was the same condescending tone, but Beau was very grateful for the warm reassurance. The man might have been a sleazebag, but he seemed to at least have common courtesy. Rusty seemed to also realize this, and quickly changed his demeanor.
"My apologies," he beamed at him and extended his hand, "can't be too careful with outsiders."
Beau smiled nervously and took his hand. Damn, was being huge as fuck a requirement here? Beau thought as his hand got enveloped for the second time today in Rusty's meaty paw, and his dick gave a traitorous twitch, waking up against his tight pants.
Rusty shook hard, and Beau fought to keep his balance. He also found that his mouth had gone dry. He'd been swallowing for a while and the sheer power on display was making it hard to focus. Rusty's sweaty scent was already enchanting, but the way his thick quads flexed with each move, the way his ridiculous bulge swung visibly, and the way his pecs bounced with each breath. It was just unfair.
Being surrounded by all this oozing man sex was just unfair.
A buzz from his phone drew his attention from his current predicament. It was Morgan, again. He checked the phone while Rusty gave Luke a run down on work's progress,
"Got anything good, yet?"
"Working on it, I'm almost there," Beau replied and tucked his phone away again. His reporter sense was tingling, and it wasn't just the male pheromones around him talking.
This is the front, he reminded himself. This is just the pretty wrapping to the fucked up shit they have inside.
Luke seemed to read his mind. "Looks pretty normal so far, don't it?" He gave Beau's shoulder another squeeze, and Beau could almost smell his sweaty pits. "It's not that different from any other farm. What you're really dying to see..." he paused for a second, "...is the next stop."
Beau gave a curt nod, and Luke smiled, already aware of the reporter's inner workings.
"I'd love to give our guest a proper family welcome, so I'm having Sam tag along," Luke spoke to Rusty, addressing the giant who had done nothing but quietly stand behind his boss this entire time, staring down Beau with minimal interest. "Would you mind tagging along as well?"
Rusty, ever so smiley, agreed right away. "Anything for you, Boss."
He turned and yelled out to his coworkers to let them know, and the fat man who was fixing the fence with him, yelled back before turning to continue his work. He knelt to inspect the hole in the ground, probing into the cold soil while his own furry ass stuck out from brown work pants, no underwear in sight. The hairy crack, almost half out, looked alluring, drawing Beau's yes to it instinctively, but the now large entourage ushered him along, and he had no choice but to leave the forbidden paradise behind.
*****
The air changed the moment they walked through the heavy side door of the long annex. It got warmer, heavier, and thicker. The smell of sweaty flesh in the perfectly conditioned room went straight to Beau's dick. That deep, animal musk that made a man's nuts swell without permission. The corridor stretched out long with bedroom lighting, but that wasn't why Beau felt suffocated.
The heavy wooden walls were lined up with stall-like apparatuses. They weren't glory holes, but bigger and sturdier fixtures, designed for real men. Completely open right below the hips, they were framed by thick, black rubber gaskets that were sealed tight around the men locked inside.
And every single opening was filled with prime male ass.
Thick and powerful legs were spread wide and hung high with padded stirrups. Some were fixed the other way around, with the feet poking from small holes near the floor. Asses presented shamelessly, sweaty and already glistening from a previous round of breeding. No two asses seemed to be the same. Some were dark and hairy, chubby around the edges but solid nonetheless, some where white and marble-like, smooth with physiques good enough for the greatest of porn stars. And even when two asses resembled each other, the difference still existed in their exhibited holes.
Beau felt all the blood rushing down stairs as his eyes zoomed from tight, smooth puckers twitching nervously and erupting with goosebumps as lube was applied to them by various working men, to down right gaped holes that seemed to have taken more dicks that Beau had ever seen in his entire life. Those ones, especially, felt like they were calling out to Beau with how cum pooled in their cusps, slowly dripping onto the otherwise clean floor while partially clothed men, cocks hanging out casually, chatted happily around them. Like they were nothing more than pieces of furniture.
The wet, rhythmic sounds of male fucking, whines and groans, echoed off the walls, and Beau's eyes zeroed in on one particular 'booth'. He was a short, super stocky man with a trucker hat on and a red flannel shirt. His pants were dropped to the floor, and his hairy ass was swinging wildly as he pounded the ever loving shit out of the hole in front of him, which seemed to belong to the pale lower half of a college gym bro. The top's heavy balls were swinging wildly with every thrust.
While Beau was stunned and locked onto the free use buffet, Luke walked the line down slowly, gesturing proudly at the row of male dumpers practically drooling to be bred and fed.
"This, as you can see, is the breeding wing," he explained, like a teacher explaining a science experiment, "Every man on the farm comes through here at least twice a day. Mornin' and late afternoon are usually the busiest times, so the traffic's a bit low right now."
He paused next to a pair of raised fuzzy legs, with a perfectly round and supple ass attached below. The hole appeared to have been freshly used, with the dark anal ring winking involuntary every now and then, fresh cum and lube spilling from it and making a mess of the whole area between his cheeks. "See, the younger ones - the bucks - are the main product here. Young adults full of virile and potent seed, with a primal drive to inseminate and be inseminated with anything on two legs. Cock always half-hard, balls always churning cum."
"This one's Joey," Luke said, slapping the hairy cheek like it's a prime cut of meat, which caused the man inside, Joey, to practically sing out in ecstasy, "He's- I think he was 18 when he joined, but now should be around..." he paused to check a plaque hanged next to the stall, "19, right."
The absurdity of the whole situation was making Beau's head spin, but even then, his reporter sense was unable to ignore the plaques that Luke had consulted. Matter of fact, there was one next to every occupied booth. Each one featured a head shot of a young man with some information about him. The one belonging to the Joey guy read:
Buck #112 - Joey Riechter
Age: 19
Height: 5'11"
Build: Stocky, especially in his lower half, with a masculine upper body
Body Hair: Fuzzy all over
Hole: Luscious, squeezes hard, recovers fast
Average Daily Yield: 20-22ml
Heat Cycle: Near constant (best after 2 breedings)
Notes: - Loud, responds best to spanking and verbal degradation
- Prefers big dicks (9+ inches)
Beau's head spun as he tried to make sense of these obscenely humiliating plaques. How did these guys agree to this? How did this Luke guy manage to place them under his spell?
Buck #101 - TJ Jensen
Age: 24
Height: 6'
Build: Swimmer's build, small waist, lean muscle definition
Body Hair: None
Hole: Tight entry at first but blooms open beautifully, puffy and pink lips with a constant grip
Average Daily Yield: 14-15 ml
Heat Cycle: Low heat throughout the day, heightened performance when spike hits (advised to supply as much bulls as possible during)
Notes: - Prefers curved dicks for hitting his prostate
- Susceptible to anal orgasms during peak hours (advised to keep under observation and cage protocol during said hours)
The upside down guys, the ones who seemed to be on their stomachs inside the walls, had the same plaques as well. The one being used by the short, stocky guys read:
Buck #80 - Jim Louser
Age: 20
Height: 5'8"
Build: Wrestler's Build, high muscle definition, huge supple ass
Body Hair: Slight, spread over the chest and down the happy trail, pits and pubes
Hole: Loose, like sliding through butter, comfortable to use and deposit
Average Daily Yield: 30-31ml (#7 in the top 10 producers this week)
Heat Cycle: Constant, in heat whenever not in recovery mode or on work duty
Notes: - Double duty preferred, smaller dicks to suck on preferred
- Responds best to verbal praise and words of love and encouragement
- To Handler: collect ass deposits when possible and feed orally
It was all too much for a normal person to process.
"Ho- HOW? HOW CAN YOU KEEP THEM LIKE THIS?" Beau finally erupted, trying to drown out his painful boner with anger.
Sam and Rusty froze, and Luke turned towards Beau, stepping closer to properly face the agitated man. Beau felt himself shrink away as the old farmer blocked out the light, his eyes looking down at Beau like he was a curious alien case.
"Keep them 'how' exactly?" He simply asked.
"Like... Like..." Beau struggled to find the words, his voice feeling weak against the moans of pleasure echoing off the walls.
"For your information, son," Luke started speaking again without waiting for him,"Most new bucks we get are assigned farm duty at first. Given time to observe and decide for themselves. But most end up signing up right away, all on their own. Why," Luke turns back to Joey and taps his middle finger against the guy's hole, prompting him to shake his ass aggressively, trying to push it out further than physically possible as the hole searched the air for a proper dick, "Joey here didn't even last the whole day before forcing US to sign him in, ain't that right, Joe?" He addressed the man behind the wall.
"Yes, Sir!" Came the enthusiastic reply muffled through the wood, "Once I saw all the fun the bucks were having, I couldn't get it off my mind."
Luke laughed in response. "We found him sneaking into the other side, trying to convince one of the older bucks to swap with him. You still make me laugh when I remember how you begged us, practically humping my leg."
Sam smiled, and Rusty laughed with Luke. Joey gave another slutty moan through the wall, clearly in another state of mind.
"Thank you as usual, Sir! I can't express my gratitude enough. I hope you'll let me service you again one day." Joey was practically buzzing against Luke's hand on his ass.
"I did nothing 'cept what we agreed upon, Joe. Clark-" he paused and turned to Beau, "my husband, that is, thought highly of him the last time he came over to the main house." He patted Joey's ass one last time as he prepared to move, the meat jiggling as a result, "make sure to get your fill today, son. You're on site duty tomorrow."
"Yes, Sir!" Joey replied happily.
Luke looked around to find a technician, then snapped his fingers at a chubby man wearing nothing but jeans and a black apron over his hairy chest. Luke pointed at booth #80, Jim, and the technician nodded wordlessly, grabbing a huge, blunt syringe from a nearby shelf and handing it to Luke just as the stocky guy, who never slowed down for a second even with the incoming crowd, gave a loud, frantic cry and dumped the guy's asshole with his babies.
He slumped against the wall for a while, before taking a deep breath and recollecting himself. He adjusted his cap, and unlatched from Jim's messy ass, spilling some of his work and possibly others on the floor. He noticed Luke and greeted him as he picked up his pants.
"Carl is one of our truckers," explained Luke after greeting him back, "he isn't in the buck-bull rotation system, but he gets breeding privileges for his service. Like I said, every member of the farm is like family."
Once Carl left, Luke handed the syringe to Sam who moved to face Jim's gaping, protruded hole, and tipped the syringe inside without even touching the swollen lips. Jim's toes curled, and he wagged his ass happily, only for Sam to rest his giant shovel hand against his cheek.
"Easy, boy," he said in his deep voice, and Jim went limp immediately, his asshole hanging loose for any to work with,
Sam pulled the syringe's handle backwards, sucking up the cocktail of male DNA stewing in Jim's ass until the syringe was full.
"Come on, then," Luke pushed a confused Beau, "You can make your judgment after you see the boys face to face."
Beau wanted to object, but his brain seemed to be short circuiting because of his involuntary libido. His dick was already spewing enough pre cum to stain his underwear, and he had to adjust his groin carefully. Unable to object right away, he went with Luke as they headed towards a door in the corner of the room which led to the other side of the breeding walls, where the boys were stashed.
The space was more brightly lit, and warmer too, on account of all of the naked men locked and loaded into their saddles. Here, the bucks were fully visible, and the smell of sweat and aged musk hung heavier than anywhere else. The male bodies were pumping all their fluids at full force with every breath. Some were on their backs, practically lounging as their insides got rammed through. Others were on their stomachs on body chairs made specifically to accommodate them and not strain their muscles. They held on to said chairs for dear life as they got fucked against it, their dicks sticking out rigidly from holes in them, probably to avoid cumming from friction. These ones also seemed to work double duty, getting their mouths stuffed full by patrons and sometimes technicians, oscillating back and forth as their body was put to work. Soft and whorish moans, wet sucking noises, and the sounds of skin on skin slaps filled the air.
"Jesus Christ...." Beau exhaled quietly.
"Quite a sight, ain't it?" Luke smiled proudly. "We strap 'em here for hours. Four, sometimes six. Prostates get worked over good by old bulls and patrons. Human dick after human dick keeps the gland swollen and the seed churning naturally, no drugs or plastic. The constant stimulation, curated individually, is what pumps out the richest, thickest load you'll ever see when we get 'em to the milking station. Nature's way, son. Use it or lose it."
Beau started walking between the rows of strapped in men, each lost in his own world of unbridled pleasure, not even registering the new comer.
"This- They- This can't possibly be oka-"
"But it is!" Luke cut him again, already aware of his next words, and Beau couldn't help but look at the man for answers. "They're taken care of. Fed right. Rested proper and cleaned up between shifts. No rough stuff unless they ask for it."
He inserted his fingers into the mouth of a guy on his back who was getting fucked roughly, as if to make a point. The guy started sucking instinctively. "These boys know what they're signin' for. They love it so much we have to cut back on their hours for their own well being, but it's honest work. They're as valuable as every single man on this farm."
Beau's dick was just throbbing now, begging him to touch it. He had to swallow back the desire to grab it right then and there despite himself.
"The older ones that you saw outside, like Sam and Rusty," Luke continued, "they're what we call bulls. They're veterans who put in their years of milkin' and pumpin', gave the farm every drop they had. Now they get to reap what they've sown. Breed whenever they want, get milked whenever they want." He takes out his fingers from the hungry guy's mouth much to the latter's confusion, and wipes it across his face while the guy smiles happily.
"No one says no to a bull who proved himself." He says, staring straight at Beau.
"That's... That's disgusting..." Beau managed to croak out, voice feeble against his violent heart beat, "You're running a goddamn whorehouse with extra steps. Strapping guys up like that, letting anyone fuck anyone raw willy-nilly. How is that not asking for every disease in the book? You're exploiting them, using them like livestock, using their own libido against them!"
Luke's stare stayed on Beau, looking the lively guy up and down.
"Whorehouse?" He let out a chuckle, his powerful frame shaking as he gave Beau a pitiful look. "Boy, you been down in the city too long. This 'exploitation' you speak of is honest work! These bucks eat better than anything your processed shit can manage. They sleep in their own rooms, free to stay or roam in the plains as they like. All bulls and patrons are thoroughly scanned before being allowed inside. We also do regular testings and have doctors one push of a button away."
He gestured at the various young men getting being fucked like kings.
"Down in your bars and bath houses, men hook up without so much as a condom. Drunk, high, carrying who knows what. But it's different here. It's all in the family, between people you trust. They get paid good for their efforts, for doing what they like, and I dare you to find someone here willing to disrespect them for it. You called them livestock? They most certainly are. My precious livestock, my responsibility to take care of and nurture. What do you know about that, son?"
Beau opened his mouth to argue, but couldn't find the words. He didn't want to admit it, but part of him knew Luke was right about the city scene. He'd seen it, felt it, even. The dubious touches, the morning panic, the pills you swallow 'just in case'. The scene in front of him was still filthy, unfathomable, but at least it looked honest.
He felt his breath shorten, as his phone buzzed in his pocket, causing his focus to spin out of control. He almost wanted to run out yelling had Luke's hand not found his back, as it did multiple times already. The tanned, powerful hand supported him, grounding him with ease.
"How about you ask them yourself?" The older man suggested, "see what they have to say about it."
Beau nodded, trying to hide his blush from Luke. He couldn't help admiring the man's professionalism against all the preconceptions he had about him. There, in the stuffy room that seemed to bring out a very primal urge in Beau, he couldn't help but silently rely on the old man's charm.
Beau's mouth opened, then closed. He moved forward on unsteady legs towards Joey first.
"Hey... Joey?" He asked, "you really... chose this? all of this?"
Soft laughter erupted around Beau. Joey, who was now getting fucked by someone on the other side, lowered his head backwards to look up at Beau while his body shook back and forth.
"Fuck yeah, man!" Joey panted, voice wrecked with lust, "Best decision I ever fucking made. Don't gotta pretend or trouble myself. I just trust the boss and get stuffed as much as I want, then cum as much as I can. My body never felt better. I never felt happier, either."
Beau grimaced. "But the plaques... the ratings... they don't make you feel like... like you're a disposable cumdump?"
"Are you kidding? I fucking love it. Some bulls come here specifically for me. Each dick-OH,OH-" he pauses as the dick spearing through him hits his spot right on, "E- Each dick fucks me like I wanna be fucked, treats me just the way I ask."
Beau, unsure how to get through to Joey, took a step back and fished out his phone, now annoyingly buzzing against his aching dick.
"Don't forget what you're there for! I need updates, Beau!" Morgan's messages read.
Beau thought to take a picture, to get Morgan up to speed on how things were here, but the moment he opened the camera app, the phone got yanked out of his grip. He looked up, coming face to face with Sam.
"No unsupervised pictures." The giant said simply, "but you're free to walk around."
Beau backed away from the towering figure, now lost as what to do exactly. From the corner of his eye, he saw a man laying motionless on his stomach, eyes half closed as his back rose and fell softly. It was Jim, he realized, the one who liked getting double stuffed and fed the used cum.
Sam seemed to notice Jim as well, and moved towards him. Without a hint of hesitation, he grabbed Jim's face by the chin and held it up. Jim gazed through his breeding haze, seemingly unaware of who Sam was, until Sam placed the syringe to his lips. As if on a deep instinct, Jim's lips latched around the syringe's blunt tip and he started nursing on it as Sam pushed the content into his eager mouth. He downed the whole thing in under a minute, licking his lips and looking around for more.
"Hey, Boss!" he said when he saw Luke, and then turned to greet Rusty with a much higher, more gleeful voice, "Hey, Rusty!"
Rusty laughed out loud, a deep rumble from his thick belly, before proceeding to step forward, unbuckling and dropping his jeans in the process.
"Hey there, little guy. Don't worry, I got you."
It was a very simple move. Rusty lined his dick, hard and girthy, fuming with musk, in front of Jim's face, and the eager cocksucker took it into his mouth and started suckling on the head peacefully, with no rush to get to Rusty's orgasm immediately.
"Jim, was it?" Beau attempted a last ditch effort, "Is being these men's fuck toy something you really want?"
"Why wouldn't I want it?" He answered without giving Beau half a glance, voice garbled from his mouth being full of man meat, "I love men and I love dick, and I've been shamed about it my entire life.But Boss and the bulls can give me all that I want and more. And they really love me, love feeding me. What's not to like?"
Rusty smiled softly, like a proud brother, and patted Jim's head while Jim closed his eyes in bliss.
Beau didn't know what to say. The anger suddenly burnt out, leaving only a thick, undeniable heat. He wanted to run, he wanted to scream, but he couldn't muster the energy to do either.
"Come now, son," Luke steered him, into the next exit, "Milkin' floor's next. That's where you'll finally get what this whole place is about."
Beau was grateful for Luke's guidance, muttering out a weak thanks as he was led through the used, hot bodies. Sam followed behind, Beau's phone safely tucked in the front pocket of his overalls, and Rusty, seeing the group move, plucked his dick out of Jim's mouth, much to the buck's dismay. When his whining didn't stop, Rusty knelt in front of him, holding his chin and giving him a quick, hearty kiss before telling him to be a good boy. Jim was about to object when his eyes fluttered open and body began jerking in motion with a new fucker working his ass.
The four of them walked through the doors, the moans fading behind as new, more lively sounds started reaching Beau's ears.
*****
The new room was a stable, and a vast one at that. Heat lamps hung from the ribbed, barn ceiling above organized rows of polished, wooden frames. Although they had the same intention, these frames were built for men, not cattle. They were filled with a fresh layer of straw, the noise from which muffled the sounds of heavy breathing and moaning and the rhythmic hum of machinery.
Every frame held a buck on all fours. They were all naked, of course, with their legs spread with wooden ridges at the foot of their stalls to help with access to their groins. Some were rigid like a plank, and some arched their backs and raised their asses high in blind submission. The ones that seemed to be coming fresh from the breeding wing displayed the evidence proudly for all to see. Their softly twitching holes were glistening, shining with the remnants of bull cum and clear lube as it dribbled down their legs and over the machinery.
Beau couldn't see their dicks as each one's shaft was covered with a black rubber sleeve that contracted and relaxed in calibrated motions. All these sleeves were connected to clear plastic tubes that dumped their contents into a steel tank at the far back.
The wet mechanical sucking made its way into Beau's brain, slow and insistent like dozens of hungry mouths working in perfect tandem. One buck's hips rocked gently into his tube, low moans slipping out like he's getting the most wonderful scratch to an itch that has bothered him for years. A few had extra help from the attending bulls, getting their assholes fingered or being allowed to suck on a bull's dick while their caretakers filled out their charts.
"This here's the milking wing," he said as he walked along the middle isle, inspecting what appeared to be medical charts, "where all the hard work pays off."
He waved his hand at Beau to follow, and the reporter did as told.
"Every buck comes here right from the breedin' wing. We keep track of their bodily activity so we can bring 'em in right as their prostates are about to explode. Mornin' loads are usually denser, higher sperm count, but afternoon ones tend to go on longer, yield more volume. Those are usually the money makers."
He grabbed one of the tubes that was stuck onto a stocky buck. The buck's head was buried in the hay in front of him, a satisfied stream drooling from his mouth while one of his legs shook ever so slightly and his abs squeezed with each pump of the machine. Luke tugged at the tube, and the buck gave a scared moan before a dribble of man cum shot out from the black sleeve, through the tube, and raced towards the tank.
"See how we build it? Pure, heavy, potent. These are the loads that get people spending."
At this point, Beau's arousal had soaked through his underwear and into his pants, painting a dark circle around his tent. It was all so wrong, but the sight of these big burly men being reduced to leaking, moaning livestock was doing irreversible stuff to his brain. However, the stimuli assaulting Beau's senses proved too much to handle, and he couldn't even notice his own erection. Sam, on the other hand, did, and he nodded at his boss when he felt the new buck was ready.
"You're a reporter, Beau," Luke addressed the hypnotized male, snapping him back to reality, the sound of his own voice feeling weirdly sweet from the old farmer's lips, "You want the truth, right? You can't write a piece that doesn't have your heart in it."
Beau looked at Luke, really looked at him, and noticed for the first time how warm and dependable the old man was, how he exuded authority in every corner of his farm without needing to lift a finger. He looked at him and nodded.
Luke gestured towards an empty stall at the end of the row, all fresh and clean. "Just once, for your important article, strip down and lay in position. Let my bulls show you what these bucks experience every day."
The outrageous suggestion made Beau blink in confusion, hesitantly taking a step back, only to bump into Rusty's belly. His heart slammed against his ribs.
"I... I can't..."
"Son," Luke said gently, and Beau felt his knees buckle, "you're already leaking just watching. You don't expect to write an honest piece without taking the plunge, do you?"
Beau looked around him, at the various faces lost in pleasure, at the myriad of dicks sheathed into the milking machines like they've found home. He felt the smell of male sweat clog his nostrils and the figures of the older bulls around him close in from above.
"...Just to see..." he whispered, voice cracking, "for my story."
"Attaboy!" Luke praised him with a satisfied smile, and Beau felt his dick spew some more precum when his hand patted his shoulder, some indiscernible emotion rising inside him.
Sam stepped from behind, resting one big, shovel hand where his boss's hand just was. The other pushed against the small of Beau's back, causing the shorter man to shift uncomfortably.
"Easy now, boy," he said, like he was handling a wild horse, "We got you."
Beau looked around, confused, while Rusty moved to the empty machine and started fiddling with it until it came to life, the black sleeve sucking at air in anticipation.
"Machine can't do its thing through these fancy ass pants. Gotta start movin', Bowey," Rusty smiled and urged him to undress.
Beau's hands shook as he fumbled with his belt. He didn't strip fully, he couldn't bare to show it all just yet. Instead, he just unbuttoned his dress pants and tugged them and his briefs down to this thighs. His cock sprang free between his legs, rock hard with a delicious shade of pink, already leaving precum trails in its wake. His white shirt stayed buttoned with its tails hanging loose over his exposed ass like a last shred of dignity.
With bated breath, Beau lowered himself into the stall. Sam helped him place his legs against the ridges made to open him up, and Luke guided him forward, letting him fall into position. Beau finally dropped on all fours, knees sinking into the hay, its fresh scent a comfort in his awkward position. His cock swung shamefully between his legs, pulsating in anticipation. Beau couldn't handle the shame of being looked at in his pathetic state, so he tried bury his face in his hands.
"Hey, now!" Rusty called out to him, sliding his meaty paws over Beau's hands and pulling them and the entirety of Beau's body forward. "No need to feel bad about it, Bowey. We've all tried it, nothing to be ashamed off."
He patted Beau's head, just like he did Jim, and Beau couldn't help but feel comforted. Were those the instincts of a good bull? The ones honed over years of breeding and being bred? The ones that put young bucks like Beau at peace just like that? Beau wondered as he held Rusty's trustworthy gaze.
"I... this is just for the story!" he tried to talk his way back into control, but a Rusty's chuckle quickly stopped that.
"Of course, of course."
Behind him, Beau felt a cold touch spread over his dick, jolting him forward. He couldn't move though, on account of Sam holding him in place as he applied some more lube. When he finished, he gave the dick a few tugs, which caused Beau to bite down as to not moan, and fitted the silicone sleeve over it.
"OH, SHI-" Beau's breath hitched as the first, real suck hit him. He felt his balls seize with pleasure, the sensation zapping him through the spine and forcing him to push out into the air. He tried to hold still, let it happen without reacting, but the machine pulled again, its mechanical hunger outpacing human senses, and his body betrayed him. His hips rocked with the milking, and low whimpers started to leak from his mouth.
The euphoria stacked up fast, and he found himself getting lost in the pleasure, bucking without a care in the world. His outrage was forgotten as sex took over his brain, his need to shoot his seed causing him to helplessly gyrate his ass into the air, like the bucks around him, moaning deeply like a whore getting plowed. "Fuck.... oh, FUCK... don't stop... PLEASE!"
In the midst of his experience, Beau heard Luke's laugh. It was warm and deep, like it came straight from the earth.
"Boys," he gave final instructions as he prepared to leave, "make sure our new buck is thoroughly satisfied before bringing him back."
"Yes, Boss!" The two giants answered in tandem while Luke turned and walked away.
Beau tried to call out, to tell him to come back, but he didn't find the strength as the machine started pulling threads of precum as if it couldn't wait to be fed.
Sam, who had shadowed him since the moment he stepped onto the farm, grabbed his ass cheeks with his hands, making them feel like tennis balls in his giant shovels. He pried them open, forcing Beau's pucker out into the open. Heat flooded Beau's face as he felt the cold air against his asshole, and even more when Sam started smearing colder lube on it. He wanted to say something, to explain to Sam that he wouldn't be able to take his cock, not if its size was like the rest of his body, but Sam's grip was like steel, his movements showing off a practiced ease as he worked Beau's hole open for breeding.
"You're gonna have to push out, Beau," Sam said, his deep voice vibrating through his fingers and into Beau's body.
The reporter flinched at being instructed like this and turned to his handler.
"Hey, man, please..." he didn't know WHAT he was begging for.
The next move surprised him. Sam leaned in, easily covering him, and kissed the top of his head reassuringly. Beau stared at the man behind him, at the now magnificently hanging monster cock as it perked up and got ready to do its job. He couldn't help but admire him, all of him, and feel safe in his care.
"Go easy on me..." he finally resigned.
Sam nodded, then pushed the blunt head against Beau's entrance. He started pushing in as Beau pushed out, inch by inch, the huge snake boring its way through his guts and pushing his organs out of the way to make room. Beau found himself groaning non stop as he felt the burn on his unused ass lips. Meanwhile, Rusty crouched next to his head, resting one thick forearm on the stall while he watched Sam work him open.
"Sam here's the top bull on the farm, Bowey," he spoke with a reminiscent tone, like he was telling a story around the camp fire, "hands down. Every buck feels at ease with him. The whole big and scary thing is just the image he liked to keep. He's very much a gentle giant on the inside."
Sam pushed in deeper, and Beau felt like his bladder and prostate, pretty much all his internal organs, were being squished flat.
"He never rushes. Never goes hard unless you beg him to," Rusty continued, scratching his crotch, "he broke me in, actually, when I first came here, back when I was a skinny twig like you. First man I ever let into my ass, but definitely not the last. Man, after he was through with me, I was shaking like a leaf, just like you are right now." Rusty laughed and poked Beau's nose.
Beau felt his blush grow stronger, and wanted to object at being called a skinny twig. It was just that every man on this farm was built like a gorilla. But he could only hum in response, broken noises escaping as his hole yielded to the gentle monster behind him. His own cock was also on fire from the machine, milking him in sync with Sam's pushing.
When his bull finally bottomed out, his heavy, hairy balls resting snugly against Beau's smaller ones, Beau felt his anal ring about to snap, and let out a yell that joined the rest of the moaning bucks in the wing. Rusty chuckled again, then stood up and tossed his jean shorts right off. He was free balling under it, and his hard cock swung free, heavy and veiny, standing straight against his curly, messy bush. He climbed into the stall, sandwiching Beau's face and shoulder with his thick, hairy thighs.
The scent went straight into Beau's brain, releasing chemicals and hormones he couldn't comprehend. It was raw. Sweat, soil, and the animal stink of a man who had worked hard all day and was aching for a warm hole to fuck. Beau felt his lips part and his mouth start to water. Rusty, getting comfortable in his new position, grabbed his cock by the base and tapped him against Beau's lips.
"Sorry I scared you off earlier, cutie," Rusty grinned at him, "you never know with outsiders, you know? And, honestly, you're much more sweet without a stick up your butt... Well, I guess that's the wrong expression to use here, am I right, mr. reporter?"
Rusty let out a guttural laugh, and Beau couldn't help but giggle through his anal training. The man in front of him wagged his hard, sweaty cock once more.
"You want this cock, Bowey?"
Beau nodded hard, afraid Rusty might change his mind. But Rusty didn't, and he pushed his ass forward to feed Beau his cock. The head slid in easy, followed slowly by the girthy trunk. Beau sucked greedily, opening wide and loose to get as much of the salty, sweet heat as he can. Rusty's big hand settled on the top of his head, petting him affectionately as he pushed deeper, until Beau's nose rested against the damp pubes.
For a moment, Beau's entire world centered around three points. Three points of pure fire setting his body ablaze. His hole, his cock, and his mouth. He found himself gazing up at Rusty's comforting body with longing.
"You said..." Beau tried to talk, mouth full of farmer cock, "you were like me when you arrived?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I... become like you one day?" Beau found himself asking without realizing what was going through his head.
Rusty's grin mellowed out, and he shook his hips sideways to really bury Beau's face in his crotch.
"Stick with us, Bowey, and we'll grow you big and strong, just like the rest of our family."
Beau let out a deep moan in response, closing his eyes and getting lost in the sensations. Sam chose that moment to start moving properly, dragging his monster cock out as Beau's lips clenched tight before digging in faster. Each thrust dragged over Beau's prostate, sending white hot sparks up his spine. The milking sleeve answered every thrust with fiercer suction, on its way to inevitably get Beau's balls to give up their contents. Beau's noises grew louder, indistinguishable from every other buck in the barn.
"Oh, man! Look at him go! What a natural. I've always wanted a younger buck bro. What do you think, Bowey? You feel like calling me big bro Rusty?"
Beau nodded as much as Rusty's dick that was wedged in his throat allowed, and he smiled, he actually smiled, happy at the thought of being under Rusty's wing. Under Rusty's everything.
The rhythm built fast, the three men working in tandem like the piston of an engine. Sam's balls slapped against Beau's behind, wet and big. Rusty allowed him to nurse on his cock at his own pace, letting the buck get his need properly. The machine didn't slow either, tugging on Beau's dick like it was a cow's udder, searching for the milk inside it.
Beau came first, unsurprisingly. He cried out hard against Rusty's cock as pleasure took over his body and blanked out his mind. He saw stars as the machine kept on sucking on him through his orgasm, sending every drop of cum he had straight into the waiting tubes. Even when he had nothing left to give and started jumping in place from his sensitive dick, it kept on working him, making him whimper from over stimulation.
Sam came second, probably timing it to Beau's orgasm. He emptied out into Beau with a soft grunt, filling the young buck with his first taste of real bull seed, before withdrawing slowly and letting Beau's stretched hole breath in the air as it spilled it content, unable to close up properly no matter how much it tried again and again.
Rusty followed seconds after, throwing his head back and letting Beau handle everything. Beau found himself swallowing down Rusty's thick, creamy load like life saving water, marveling at the delicious saltiness. Even after Beau had sucked it squeaky clean, Rusty didn't move and let him nurse on it happily, his mind and shame utterly gone.
When Sam unhooked the machine from Beau's dick, Rusty took it as his signal to get off the stall as well. Beau didn't object, having spent every ounce of energy he had, and collapsed into the hay with blissful moans. Rusty petted his sweat-damp hair.
"You did a good job, lil' bro. A really good job."
"Yes, he did," Sam rested one hand on Beau's ass, tracing lazy circles with his cum. "You're home now, young buck."
Beau didn't argue, didn't confirm or deny. He just breathed, and let the warmth of their hands and the scent of their bodies lull him to sleep among the never ending sounds of bucks getting milked all around him, experiencing what he had just experienced. He was just like them now.
Thoroughly bred and fully domesticated.
*****
The R&D wing was much more composed and quiet compared to the rest of the farm, as expected of a research facility. The only sounds were those of slow conversations, the occasional moan, and the hum of monitors. The area, which was clinically clean, basked in sunlight coming through high windows and spreading over cool, smooth concrete. There were a couple of couches and setups where bucks and even some bulls lounged around, lying naked peacefully with their legs spread, some even appeared to be napping. Gym equipment was also spread around, some opting to work out their excess energy in the cool heat. Older bulls who appeared to be lab technicians went around assessing the bucks' states and writing down notes. Some bucks were kneeling in various positions for the bulls to inspect them thoroughly, some taking samples or administering medicine. Other pairs lay half-hidden in some corners, preferring to have a private moment as they fucked lazily while they talked, as casual as giving each other a back scratch. It was that specific sense of serenity and ease that made this Luke's usual work spot.
The steely man behind the entire farm sat next to a simple workbench like the man scattered around. The top was cluttered with charts, sample vials, and a laptop displaying real time yield graphs and delivery tracking. Additionally, a short but very muscular bodybuilder man knelt between Luke's legs (Buck #57 - Peter Grady), completely naked. The buck was working hard on his owner's dick, lavishing it with spit and lapping at it like he was enjoying a lollipop, with reverent kisses and sucks throughout. Luke himself was scrolling through production numbers while absent mindedly petting Peter with his free hand.
The economy of male milk was varied and rather complicated, but the demand was there and it was big. The morning loads, clean and dense, taken from bucks with lavish coaxing, were the luxury items. They went to high-end private buyers for pleasure or formalities. It was all in the advertising after all. Later produce, same quality but with less advertisement, had many buyers. Fertility clinics or discrete couples, supplements for body builders like Peter or older men chasing a testosterone boost, or even niche gourmet products in underground circles. All vetted thoroughly, of course.
The farm took a 60% cut with the rest going to the bucks. That, along with great living conditions and any tips or gifts from patrons, amounted to a pretty sweet deal for each buck. Even ones that weren't as popular, sadly, were given a secret boost from Luke's own funds. Clark complained about it sometimes, but Luke had promised himself when he started this project that no man would be left wanting under his roof.
Right then, the double doors to the wing swung open, and in walked Rusty. His clothes were disheveled and his t shirt was sweatier than ever, but more importantly, he was carrying a naked, exhausted reporter, on his broad back. Beau Richards appeared to be in post-orgasmic bliss, eyes glossy and arms looped weakly around Rusty's thick neck. As the older bull made his way to him, Luke saw that Beau's stretched hole was leaking all over Rusty's shirt and funneling into his jeans. Sam followed after them, just in range to help if needed.
Once they reached Luke, Rusty eased Beau down gently. Beau's legs buckled when he tried to stand on his own, but Rusty kept a steady arm around his waist.
"Couldn't walk after his first time in the barn," Rusty explained with a fond chuckle, "had to carry him like a prize sheep."
Beau leaned into Rusty's side, nuzzling into the bigger man's hairy pec. "Thanks, big bro." He turned to Sam and thanked him as well, "and you too, Sam."
Sam smiled at him proudly. "You took me well, young buck."
"Yeah, but you ruined my t shirt, lil bro," Rusty laughed, "and my shorts are soaked! Just kept that cream flowing from your hole."
Beau appeared a bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry... I- I can't properly close it... right now... it's still open..."
Rusty ruffled his hair. "It's okay, lil bro. Means you got bred properly. Wear it proudly!"
Beau looked up then, at Luke. Peter was still working him contently, lips sealed around the head and cheeks squeezing and releasing.
Luke met Beau's eyes, and raised his right brow. "So, son... what did you find out in the end? How does my farm hold up?"
Beau's voice came out small, but sure. "I was wrong, so fucking wrong." His eyes darted towards Peter, full of envy. "I... I wish I could make it up to you."
Luke let out a warm, genuine smile. He gave Peter's head a gentle pat. "Sorry, Pete. Looks like the new one wants a turn."
Peter pulled off, a glistening thread connecting him to the shiny head. He got up and stretched before going over to Rusty and Sam. "All yours," he told Beau.
Beau snuck a quick glance at Rusty for help, and the big man ushered him with a nod. Finding the courage though his new bro, Beau knelt between Luke's legs without any words, and cautiously raised the half-hard cock to his mouth. He stole another glance at Luke, who was still smiling at him, and kissed the head lovingly. The kisses flowed and soon turned into happy, gentle sucking.
"Well, ain't that a change," Luke announced, caressing the domesticated buck, "I'm glad you were open to the truth, son."
Beau moaned around the thick shaft pushing out his throat, then pulled off just enough to speak.
"I want to stay," he announced his wish, "please, let me stay!"
"No," immediately came Luke's reply, and Beau's heart sank for a second before he continued, "Can't let you stay just yet. You got loose ends you gotta tie outside, and that's before we can run your tests and officially register you."
Beau's eyes shone at Luke's declaration. "So... I can really...?"
"It'd be my pleasure, Beau."
Beau felt his heart flutter at Luke calling him by his name, and returned to work on the his farmer's cock with renewed vigor. It was then that Sam stepped forward, pulling Beau's phone from his pocket.
"Your phone has been buzzing ever since we hooked you up on the machine," he said, "you need to handle it."
Beau stared at the screen where Morgan's name was flashing, but didn't reach for it, instead choosing to nuzzle into Luke's balls, inhaling his scent. "He can wait."
Luke laughed and petted him again. "So can I, son. I'll still be here when you finish your call."
Beau hesitated, then accepted the call, keeping Luke's cock hot and heavy across his face.
"Where the hell are you?? You were supposed to send a draft hours ago!" Morgan's angry voice came through the speaker phone.
"Yeah.. yeah.. no, I'm still here..."
"Well?? What the hell happened?"
Beau looked at Luke, who gave him a knowing nod.
"It's... It's more than you think," Beau told him, "Way bigger story. You need to come down here, I can get you in!"
Morgan's tone was cautious but curious. "You serious?"
"Yes," Beau said, lips brushing against Luke's head, "Dead serious."
Luke's hand tightened gently in Beau's hair, a silent praise for playing it well. Truth be told, he wasn't really looking for more bucks at the moment. It wasn't herding season. But one look at Beau's online profile told him he'd be a fool to pass up such a promising addition, and looking down at the cute buck happily chatting with Luke's dick in his mouth, he knew he made the right choice.
So if Beau wanted to invite his friend over, so be it.
Luke would always provide for his family.
END
This story is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in it are 18+ of age.
As usual, I'm very happy to receive any and all feedback, whether it's about the writing or direction of the story, other works you wanna see, or just chat in general. Thank you for reading!
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