Bred by the Bullman

Hey everyone, long-time reader, first-time contributor.

I noticed there weren't many stories in the beastman subgenre of the nonhuman category, so I decided to write a little something. And as a side note, this is just the first part of an ongoing series I've planned. Please enjoy. ;)

*****

Robin dragged the ruby red lipstick across her plump lips, puckering, pouting in the mirror a moment as she admired herself. She smacked her lips together and returned to her other cosmetics, her makeup almost managed. Mascara was last, and she lifted the brush to her lashes as she gazed into her blue eyes.

When she finished, she flashed a playful smile. Her hands slid up the sides of her recent purchase, a revealing dress which pronounced her pale, freckled cleavage and clung to her ample hips and ass. Placing her palms on the countertop, she leaned forward and said, "Hey handsome," in a sultry voice.

Laughing a bit, Robin turned and collected her purse. As she clacked down the stairs of the apartment in her high heels, she swept a stray strand of ginger hair from her face and thought about the evening ahead. She was ready for a little infidelity, and it wasn't like she hadn't slept around before. Sorry, Richard.

Exiting the building onto the stone street, she started off in the direction of the downtown district. The trek would take her no longer than ten minutes, and the time went by quickly. As she walked, she stared up into the darkening sky, the stars already showing themselves between dark gray clouds.

"Damn, that babe's got an enormous ass," Robin heard from somewhere behind her. Another voice added, "I'd ride that any day. She knows how to back that up, no doubt."

Robin felt her cheeks color at the comments as she glanced over shoulder. Sitting on a stoop and sharing a bottle were two big beastmen — both canine — who barked and wolf-whistled. "C'mon girl," said one of them, baring his teeth in a lazy grin. "We don't bite."

Though she knew it wasn't right, Robin swayed her hips a little more deliberately, trying to get a rise from the pair. It had the intended effect, and she heard, "Gonna make her my bitch," as she rounded the corner onto Adam Street. She breathed a small sigh, stomach fluttering.

Ahead, in the distance, sat Breslin's, the light of a nearby lamp post catching the golden filigree of its sign. It hung above a large glass window, and as Robin drew closer, she could distinguish the patrons inside, drinking, laughing, talking.

The bar was moderately upscale, though it saw its share of rough and rowdy characters. When Robin had visited last, Richard had made a point to tell her never to come alone. He said she'd get knocked up before the door closed behind her.

Smirking at the memory, Robin reached for the handle.

...

"I'm in the mood for a mojito."

"We make the best, Miss."


The bartender prepared Robin's drink as she searched her purse for money. He was clearly experienced, his motions deft as he moved from ingredient to ingredient, mixing sugar, lime juice, mint leaves, white rum, seltzer... and by the time he'd placed the finished mojito in front of her with a garnish of twisted citrus peel, she had just retrieved her wallet.

"Let me pay for that, sweetheart," came a rich, resonant voice.


Robin turned her head, craning her neck to see a tall bullman towering over her. He lowered himself onto an adjacent stool, resting his colossal weight on the creaking wood as he placed a few folded bills in the bartender's outstretched hand.

"What a gentleman," Robin said, pleased with the attention.

"Gentle with ladies like you," the bullman replied. "I'm Slate."

"Robin," she said, then lifted the mojito to her lips and sipped. "You meet a lot of ladies like me?"

"None with your kinda figure," Slate answered. Robin blushed as the bullman caught the bartender's attention and ordered, "Two shots of whiskey. What I mean to say is, you're a fine piece of ass, and that's the plain truth of it."

As the bartender filled two shot glasses, Robin realized beastmen were incapable of subtlety. Though Slate had made a valiant effort at the start, it took him all of ten seconds to reveal his intentions. Still, he was handsome, and she decided to humor him.

"I'm a fine piece of ass, huh?" Robin asked, finger tracing the rim of her glass. She pinched the citrus peel and brought it to her mouth, tasting, teasing it against the corner of her full lips.

"If ever I've seen one," Slate said, watching Robin play with the peel.

"Have you been with a human woman before?" she asked, curious.

"Plenty. They're usually eager to see what a big bull cock is like."

Robin took a drink from her mojito, savoring the tart, tangy flavor, then turned toward the bullman with a demure expression. "And what is it like?"

"Most of them can't walk come morning, but they never complain," he said with a grin.


"Yeah? Tell me more," Robin prompted, finishing her drink. She was beginning to feel hot.

"Take a shot with me and I will."


Slate slid the whiskey to Robin, and she paused. Under any other circumstance, she'd decline the offer — self-proclaimed lightweight that she was — but as she met the bullman's smile with her own, it felt natural to raise the shot glass, nod, and throw it back.

The bullman exhaled an acrid breath and Robin did the same, grimacing at the taste. He smacked his chops and said, "There was this one girl, think her name was Jenna. Met her here a few weeks ago and took her back to my place. Two more shots," he said to the bartender. "So this girl, she says she's never messed around with a beastman. Was always scared to, she said. The size of my cock certainly didn't help." The bartender placed two shots in front of Robin and Slate. They tossed the whiskey back and the bullman resumed his story. "Let's just say she couldn't stand up the next day, or the day after that. Fucked her so hard it took her almost a week to recover. Stretched her out real nice."

Robin shivered. She tried to hide her arousal, casually turning her flushed face toward the crowded room. "I thought you said you were gentle with the ladies?"

"Ladies like you. Ladies who deserve a tender touch."



"And what if I'm not looking for a tender touch," Robin said, and she felt the bullman rest his heavy hand on her bare thigh. She looked over, up into his dark eyes.

"I know exactly how to satisfy a slut like you."

...

As Slate slid into the backseat of his SUV, Robin followed, shutting the door behind her. The bullman spread his shoulders against the window, loosening his belt with a grin. "Finally get to see those lips of yours put to use," he said as he undid the last button of his pants.

Robin gasped as he pulled them down. Though he wasn't fully erect, Slate's shaft was already a foot long, smooth and black with three ridges, ending in a flared head as broad as a battering ram. It was girthy, pulsing as it grew engorged.

She crawled forward on her hands and knees, arching her back as the hem of her dress climbed her thighs. A sudden flash of light made her blink. The bullman had a smartphone against his chest and was taking pictures.

"Who said you could—"

"C'mon," Slate said. "I'll keep them to myself and a few friends."

Rolling her eyes, she crawled the rest of the way to his legs and pulled his pants around his knees. The bullman's massive ballsack was swollen, almost taut, and Robin rubbed her legs together instinctually. "You'll keep them to yourself, okay?"

"Sure," Slate answered, "Now start sucking."

Robin trembled at the abrupt command, leaning in to take the bullman's flare in her mouth. She strained her jaw as his insistent hand pressed against the back of her head, and, inch by inch, his shaft slipped between her plump, red lips. Another flash of light made her squint.

"This mouth has some mileage, alright," Slate said. "Most chicks can't even fit the flare." As he bounced her head up and down on his cock, the sloppy sound of sucking filled the car. The bullman snorted out of his large nostrils, relishing the sensation of Robin's tight, wet throat.

"Lift your dress, slut," he said, taking more pictures.


She reached back and pulled the cheap material forward, exposing her black thong and big, pale ass. Slate turned his camera to video mode, filming her as she lavished the flat of her tongue against his fat testicles.

"Yeah, keep going. Just like that. The guys are gonna love this."

He'd bet his buddies that by the end of the month, he'd breed ten human women. Having impregnated only five, he wasn't going to meet his goal, but six wasn't bad. Plus, she was a redhead, and that must count for something.

Robin withdrew her mouth from Slate's balls, trailing strands of saliva. He placed his smartphone in the recessed cubby of the door behind him and moved to the middle of the backseat as he said, "Time to ride the bull, baby."

"You want me to climb on top? I'm not sure if—"


"You're no blushing maiden," Slate said, wrapping his hands around the swell of her wide hips. "I doubt you'll have a problem."

He hoisted Robin onto his lap with impressive strength, then gripped the base of his veiny shaft and positioned its flare in the fleshy parting of her spread thighs. She looked down, still hesitant, watching as a white dollop of precum stained her black panties.

"Take it slow," she said.

Robin bit her lip, then pulled her panties aside to reveal a damp patch of pubic hair. Her heart pounded in her flushed chest as the eager bullman aligned himself beneath the dark curls and began to prod and press. As he pushed impatiently against her pink folds, they began to cave inward, little by little, until he finally slipped inside with an audible squelch. Robin released a withheld breath, trembling as she placed her palms against Slate's shoulders to steady herself.

His laugh was low and mocking. "Pretty tight for a slut."

Slate grabbed hold of Robin's hefty asscheeks and lowered her as she grimaced and quivered. A long, plaintive moan escaped her mouth and her eyelashes fluttered as she struggled past the halfway mark of his monstrous manhood, the size alone enough to make her squirt. Her legs jerked and spasmed, and she leaked into the bullman's lap as he laughed again.


"Not gonna stop until I'm balls deep," he said. 

Robin's inner thighs twitched as she said, panting,

"I just need a second to—"

Slate hilted himself with one hard thrust, taking the rest of her pussy before she could finish her sentence. She gasped and threw her head back, paralyzed in pain and pleasure, helpless in the bullman's grasp as he lifted her up his slick shaft. He slammed her down again, then lifted her and slammed her down a third time. He held her there, relishing his conquest.

To his surprise, Robin started to rock her heavy hips. Slate leaned back into the leather seat and let her do the work, watching with smug satisfaction as she rode him toward her peak. She was already closing in on her climax, grinding her groin against his base while he groped her asscheeks. The SUV shifted back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

"You've got me ready to blow my load," Slate hissed.

Robin shuddered as her pussy convulsed around the bullman's cock. The rippling of her contracting muscles milked him of his seed, and through her hazy, half-lidded eyes, she saw his features tighten as he furrowed his brow and clenched his teeth.

"Fuck!" he grunted.

A bloom of warmth swelled inside Robin as Slate's face slackened in ecstasy. She could feel each powerful jet of sperm from the bull cock flexing within her, its flare flush against her ripe, defenseless womb. Pulsing, throbbing, he drained his massive balls deep into her belly, filling her with steaming seed as she whimpered.

Slate's orgasm showed no signs of stopping. If anything, it seemed to be growing more intense. He squeezed Robin's round ass as he hosed her innermost depths, building toward an even greater release. She began to roll her wide hips and brought her wet lips to his ear.

"Does that feel good?" she whispered, words like hot thunder. "Do you have more pent up inside your balls? You wanna put your calf in my belly?" She rolled her hips faster as the bullman's expression contorted and his fingers dug into her flesh. "C'mon stud. Breed me."


With a powerful bellow, Slate wrapped his muscular arms around Robin and held her firm against his heaving chest, so tight she couldn't move. The air left her lungs as she struggled to breath, and as she squirmed in his vice-like grip, the bullman bellowed again. He erupted inside her with the force of a geyser, so hard she could almost hear it.

Robin groaned at the mounting pressure in her midriff. With each contraction of the bullman's balls, her belly bulged a little bigger, and soon enough she looked like a pregnant woman nearing her second trimester. After several sweaty minutes of straining and grunting, Slate's steady stream slowed to a final few spurts, and he loosened his hold to relax in his seat.

He watched as Robin rubbed her swollen stomach with motherly affection. She smiled at him, then reached back to massage his ballsack as he said, "You make yourself up nice and pretty but you're just a high-class cumdump. Bet you would've let anyone who bought you a cheap drink blow their load in you, huh?"

"Only an alpha like you," she replied.

"Hah!" Slate slapped her sore asscheek and she yelped. "Well I'm not done yet. Gonna take you back to my place and spend the rest of the night showing you how a prize bull mates his heifer."

...

A month later, as Robin stroked her hand across the stretched skin of her rounded belly, she thought back to that night. The calf kicked inside her womb and she smiled, lost in a fantasy, and she wondered what Slate would think if he could see her now.


Though he no longer answered her texts or calls, she knew he'd be proud. He'd mated his heifer, and she was due any day now.