It had only been a few hours since he escaped from the sperm dairy, and his urge to cum was already almost more than he could handle. He didn't realize how invasive the alterations to his physiology had become. The prison doctors told him that he had been treated with a mixture of hormones and chemicals to supercharge his libido and sperm production. This was meant to prepare him for his new life as cum-producing livestock
He had spent days chained up in a barn alongside other men, days of hearing nothing but rhythmic mechanical pumping and frantic moaning as they collectively came their brains out day in and day out. This endless haze of arousal as he was forced to climax over and over again was all he knew.
He felt the itch of pulling at his groin which brought him back to reality. He couldn't ignore it, but he had to. He couldn't go back. They told him he would never leave, but he would prove them wrong. After a month, he couldn't bear the thought of enduring this for the rest of his life. He had to find a way out, and one day he got it. An attendant didn't secure his restraints as well as he thought he did. He was able to overpower him, take his keycard and slip out, dripping a trail of precum all the way.
Until today he hadn't known where the farm was. He was chained and hooded like all the rest of the subjects they brought in. He saw palm trees and sandy shores in the distance: he was near a beach. He saw a group of teenagers partying near the water with their car parked nearby. He was able to sneak into the car and found the keys lying on the dashboard. He pulled on a pair of used boxers someone had left in the front seat and started the car. The partygoers looked over in shock and surprise, but he didn't think they caught a good look at him before he was able to drive off the beach and onto the road. It was a small road with very few cars around. On a warm sunny day like today, a shirtless driver wouldn't be too out of place.
He would check behind him occasionally, expecting police cars or some sort of pursuer, but there was nothing. As he calmed down he felt himself shift from fear to irresistible horniness. He still felt the adrenaline in his system which coursed like erotic lightning through his body. His dick felt extra sensitive and he felt himself getting hard as the cloth of the boxers rubbed against it. He reached down to give himself a few strokes.
He shook his head and put both his hands back on the wheel. What had they done to him? He didn't realize it back at the farm where he was used to orgasming over a dozen times in one day, but his sex drive had been increased to astronomical levels. This was the longest he'd gone without a milking since being sent to the farm, and he could barely think. He swerved to avoid an oncoming car.
His horniness continued to build until he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled over and jumped out of the driver’s seat as a haze of lust overwhelmed him. His entire body was out of his control; immediate orgasm was all that mattered. Eventually he threw his head back and exploded onto the dirt beneath him. He heaved a great sigh of relief as he got back into the car. It was only a few minutes before he felt the urge rising again.
This is how the escaped sperm bull lived for the next three days. He moved from place to place, only staying still long enough to eat, sleep, and shoot a few loads. The endless need to masturbate was starting to erode his sanity. He could barely sleep, and what sleep he did get was always cut short by wet dreams.
Eventually, he got sloppy. His image began showing up on traffic cameras across the state. He tried to mitigate his exposure, but it had become so hard to think. The constant need to cum had left him emotionally and physically exhausted. He just wanted it to end. When police finally caught up to him, he surrendered peacefully. His large, throbbing erection led the way as he was escorted to a police car.
When the officers returned him in chains to the farm, he expected to return to the barn with his fellow bulls. But the farmers had other ideas. As he passed the barn, he looked back in confusion. “Moo?” He said questioningly.The bulls were trained only to communicate with animal noises which helped to dehumanize them and acclimate them to their new roles as livestock. Punishment was severe for bulls that dared to speak. Now that he was back on the farm, he knew better than to use words.
“Oh no, stud. We have something special for you,” said the farmer leading him away. They took him to the farm house and down a flight of stairs into a hallway. The hallway terminated in a cell closed off with iron bars. In the center of the cell, a thick leather sleepsack laid on the floor with thick chains fastening it to attachment points in the walls. “Wild bulls like you need a little extra work to break. This will be your home for the next while. Once you’re nice and docile, you can rejoin the other bulls. Should only take about a year or so.”
The bull shook his head and backed away from the cell, “Moo!”
Just then, two other burly farmers entered the hallway. “Let’s get you settled in, bull,” said the first farmer with a devilish smirk. A leather hood was pulled over his head, cutting off his sight. He panicked and lashed out at the people around him. Two of the farmers pinned his arms as the third buckled and locked the hood. The three of them dragged him into the cell and forced his arms into the sleepsack’s sleeves. He bucked and struggled until he felt the thick zipper fasten just below his chin. It was over.
Then he felt a tight rubber tube slide over his dick. He forgot everything else and reflexively pushed as far into it as he could. In that moment his fears and anxieties left him. He was ravenously horny and the tube felt so good. He let out a long lustful “moo!” Once again, he was nothing more than livestock that needed milking.
One of the farmers chuckled. “Looks like he’s excited to be back!”
“We’ll see how long that lasts,” said another farmer. He placed a hand on the bull’s hooded head. “By the way, stud, we’re tripling your quota for the next week to make up for your absence.”
They switched on the milker and locked the cell behind them. The bull was shooting his first load before they had even gotten up the stairs. As he fought the post-orgasm sensitivity, he started to wonder if he had made a mistake. It no longer mattered though. He was a milking bull, and there was no escaping that. As he built toward his second climax the hallway echoed with creaking leather, rattling chains, frantic mooing, and the endless slurping of the milker.
