WARNING! Contains adult subject matter.

Rating: NC-17 for explicit sex: M/M, Bull/Bull, Anal, Oral, Fetish

(c) Copyright 2004, Evoquus, All rights reserved.

Feedback is appreciated: [email protected]

MACHO BULLS...

by Evoquus

"The name of the game is No Limit Texas Hold'em. Ante up two bucks, and nothin's wild this time, you herd of sissy steers!"

Deirk sailed the cards around the table before any other bovine could object, but that didn't stop them.

"Aw come on, wild cards make it more interesting."

"Oh all right," snorted Deirk. "Jokers are wild." He finished dealing two cards face down to each player, then picked up the box of playing cards and shook out the leftover jokers. "Heads up! Low-flying wild cards!" The hot-headed Hereford flung them across the room.

"I'm in." Kilain tossed in two white chips, followed clockwise by Hurn, Jaaq, and Kotter. Though it was a friendly game, it seemed that whenever it was Deirk's turn to deal, friendships strained.

Sheltering his cards from nobody's prying eyes, Jaaq the Aubrac studied the three of spades and eight of clubs. No matter how long he stared at his hand, he could not come up with two aces.

"Jaaq has crap," announced Hurn.

"Shut up, Ag-NES!" The Aubrac folded immediately, tossing in his hand.

"That's BLACK Ag-NES to you," ribbed Hurn.

"Can someone please explain to me why we all came here just to play cards?" huffed Jaaq.

A stoic Texas Longhorn swiveled to answer the pouting Aubrac. The Angus ducked to avoid a serious eye-poking from the rotating bony antennae.

"Because my Best Man is also my best friend, and he knows that I like to play cards."

Kilain the Longhorn was the only true alpha bull among them, a personality trait not hampered by the impressive rack on his head. But he rarely resorted to asserting himself, preferring subtler, gentler, more amiable forms of persuasion. It was always easy to command respect when a single head butt could kill, but true friendships were earned, and he found those much more lasting.

"Yeah, but who ever heard of playing poker at a bachelor party? And why HERE of all places?"

"Knock it off, Jaaq," said Deirk. "It's Kilain's night, let him have it. And what's wrong with my office? We got practically the whole complex to ourselves, and all the snacks you can eat."

Jaaq rolled his large brown eyes. "I assume you're referring to the vending machines."

"Can I help it if I'm on a budget?"

"I have no complaints," said Kilain. "A low-key gathering of friendly beef is just what I needed."

"Uh oh, sounds like someone's a little lactose intolerant two days before his wedding."

"Not intolerant," sighed the Longhorn. He looked at his cards again, though he had already committed them to memory.

It wasn't his turn to bet, but Deirk tossed in a blue chip anyway, just to keep the game rolling. "Five bucks."

"Methinks me Best Man has mediocrity. I'll see it." Kilain the Longhorn tossed in five, as did Hurn the Angus.

Kotter the Brahman folded and then jostled the table as he went to the cooler for another beer. The large hump on his back managed to get in the way of just about everything, but the cool-headed Brahman had long since learned to use his liability as an asset. With his keen wit and gentle demeanor, he usually got along with just about anyone he literally bumped into. Among friends Kotter rarely had to excuse himself.

Deirk dealt three cards face up on the table with two more to come. Now, in addition to their two down cards, the remaining players each shared the king of spades, king of diamonds, and ten of diamonds.

"Fuck... this game just got expensive," mumbled Hurn.

Kotter returned with his beer and another for Jaaq to cheer him up. Of the lot, Jaaq the Aubrac was the least experienced player, but he could always drink more beer to cover his losses, something Kotter was well aware. Keeping everyone in good spirits was the job of the herd, tonight.

"Buck, buck, buck, buck, b-GAWK!" Deirk tossed in five blue chips while clucking at Hurn.

"I'm feeling lucky for some reason," said Kilain, matching the twenty-five buck bet.

All eyes were now on Hurn. The Black Angus frowned at his dwindling pile of chips, quietly calculating just how much more expensive this game was going to get if he didn't do what any sane bovine would do and fold. But instead of tossing in his cards, he tossed in his chips, then sat up tall and proud proclaiming, "I'm feeling lucky, too."

Four guffawing bulls snorted snot at him.

"Wow... look at that poker face," laughed Deirk. "You must have four aces hiding under those two cards."

"And it will cost you a bundle to see them, Dreck," Hurn fired back.

"Oooh..." Jaaq and Kotter pushed their chairs away from the table in mock fear of the beastly showdown that was about to commence.

Deirk just smiled politely at him and dealt the next card up... the nine of diamonds. "Three to a straight flush on the table."

"Twenty-five!" Hurn tossed in five more blues.

"From your pile to mine," answered Deirk with his five.

Kilain matched without comment. Then Deirk turned over the final shared card... the king of clubs.

The room exploded with the roar of five bellowing bulls looking at three kings and a partial straight flush and what was bound to be a very expensive card game.

Kotter patted Jaaq on the back. "Man, did you do the right thing!"

"I am so glad I got out cheap," the Aubrac laughed. "Thanks for dealing me crap, Deirk. And a special thanks to you, Hurn, for pointing it out to everyone."

"Spoken like a true dairy cow," insulted Hurn. He clutched several of his few remaining chips and tossed them in. "Shall we say, oh how much was that... THIRTY-FIVE for starters?"

"I'm still feeling lucky," said Kilain matching the bet. "And Hurn, you do realize that I am marrying a Holstein on Saturday."

Hurn covered his suddenly gaping mouth. "I am so sorry Kilain, I didn't mean anything by that."

"I know," nodded the Longhorn, also knowing that from now on, the Angus would choose his racial epithets more wisely.

"All right," said Deirk. "I'll see your starters, and I'll raise you your enders, Smart Mouth." He tossed in thirty-five followed by another fifty bucks.

Hurn frowned at his chips. This was dirty pool, even for poker. "Hey come on, man. I only have twenty left."

"Awww," sniffled Deirk.

"Can he do that?"

Kilain shrugged and threw away his cards. "He called 'no limit.'"

Deirk raised his brows at his friend. "You're folding NOW?"

The Groom looked his Best Man straight in the eyes without having to say, "Duh, Asshole!"

Suddenly Deirk felt like shit, but the game wasn't over yet. He faced down Hurn, who still owed fifty bucks to the pot.

"I know what you're thinking," whispered Deirk. "Kilain just folded with a full house. So he must think I have the king of hearts, 'cuz no bovine in his right mind would believe for one second that I have a straight flush. Why, the odds of these two cards being both the jack AND queen of diamonds are astronomical... whoooopsie!"

Deirk pretended to accidentally flip up one of his cards... the queen of diamonds. Tipping his hand like this was nearly always a bluff, but it was no less infuriating.

Hurn fumed at him, clenching his jaw. The other bulls said nothing, save for a few uncontrollable snorts, but the tension in the room could have held up the Golden Gate Bridge.

The angry Angus tossed in his last twenty...

"The bet is fif..."

... And slammed a long gift-wrapped box onto the table, cutting off the smug Hereford.

"Hey, that's my present!" protested Kilain.

"No it isn't," clarified Hurn. "I haven't given it to you yet."

"No deal," sneered Deirk. "Who knows what's in there."

"I do. And I swear it covers the bet."

"Forget it! Show me the money or fold!"

"Deirk," said Kilain in a quietly menacing tone. "Let's just end this, please."

Deirk grimaced, only just realizing how uncheerful the mood had become at Kilain's party. Plus the bull of honor had already lost a significant chunk of change. The only way Deirk might redeem himself was to give Kilain two gifts instead of one. He had no choice but to accept Hurn's offer. Deirk furled his brow at Hurn and growled, "Fine."

The game was over. It was time to show their cards.

"Who wants another beer," chimed Kotter jumping up from his chair. The clumsy Brahman flipped the table skyward sending cards and chips in all directions.

"Oops... sorry guys," he winced, then calmly endured a stinging shower of invectives from Deirk and Hurn.

All of the them jumped to their feet preparing for a bull fight. Of the five, Hurn and Deirk were by far the most incensed, ready to kill Kotter for what looked like deliberate sabotage.

And then the music started.

From a large boombox by the cooler, the Bee Gee's belted out "Stayin' Alive," and Jaaq the Aubrac gyrated directly in front of it, seesawing his interlaced hands. Taking advantage of the diversion, Kotter skipped over to join the bizarre bovine discotheque, hoping Hurn and Deirk would be less likely to kill him if he were dancing like John Travolta. Then again...

The two with the most money at stake stared down each other. Kilain patted them on the back and chuckled, "Who wants another beer?" He wisely left them to sort it out on their own, knowing of course that there could be only one solution to this problem.

Kilain bent over the cooler to pull out some cold ones and elbowed Kotter. "That was brilliant. Thanks."

"No problem," nodded the air-humping Brahman.

"You guys know what you look like, right?"

"Oh, we know," laughed Jaaq. "Just lightening the mood and trying to make seventies disco dancing look so much more fun than goring a buddy to death over three hundred bucks."

"Well keep it up. I just might join you."

Kilain discoed his way over to the only two bulls not dancing and held out a beer for each. "Join my party?"

Hurn and Deirk stared at him and then at each other, not willing to give up the fight just yet.

"What did you have!" demanded Hurn.

"You tell me what YOU had!!" rebounded Deirk.

"You both have... A BEER!" Kilain shoved a bottle into each of their puffed-out chests.

Deirk glanced down at his then accepted the peace offering from his friend. He chugged a couple of mouthfuls and grinned at Hurn. "You had crap!"

"You had WORSE crap!" snorted Hurn in all seriousness, then observed his own beer dribbling down the front of his shirt. He grabbed it and chugged more than Deirk.

"Here we go," chuckled Kilain. "Now we're ravin'."

Hurn and Deirk gave up the card game to see who was more bullish at pouring beer into his gut. The poker pot would be sorted out later, all except for one item which Kilain wanted to sort out right now.

"I'm opening my presents!"

"Hey!" was the unanimously agreeable response. Seeing that the crisis had been averted the dancing bulls grabbed fresh beers and brought over their naughty gifts purchased solely for the Groom's impending wedding night. Though buffalo shuffling had ceased, the music continued its appropriately erotic thumping.

Kilain held tight to Hurn's gift. "Is it mine now?" he asked sarcastically.

Hurn smirked and nodded.

Kilain tore open the wrapping and snorted, trying his best not to turn red. "Is this for me or for Mirin?" He held up a 24-inch bull dong. His buddies roared.

"I'll leave that decision up to you," laughed Hurn.

"Hey, where is your better half, anyway?"

The Longhorn shrugged. "My Dairy Queen is at home, probably watching 'Oprah.'"

Hurn winced.

Kilain was quick to change the subject by choosing the next gift, a much smaller one from Kotter. Inside was a wide adjustable cock ring. This time the prevailing bovine reaction was more of a jealous "ooh" than a guffaw. "Definitely MINE," claimed Kilain.

"Gawd, I want one!" demanded Deirk.

"You have to get married first," kidded Kotter.

Kilain turned it over and over, then set it back in its box. "If I don't start opening something else soon, I'm apt to drop everything and put this puppy on right now."

"Holy shit! NO!" Jaaq thrust his gift into Kilain's face - another long box. "And just so we're clear, this one is definitely for Mirin."

"Then why are you giving it to me," Kilain laughed, opening it anyway. He looked inside and nodded, then pulled out yet another bull dong.

The shock value of a disembodied penis had waned considerably, so the good-natured friends merely chuckled politely.

"Thanks, Jaaq. Mirin will be so pleased."

"It's mine."

The room went silent, except for the pounding rhythm.

"What?"

"It's my dick," the Aubrac grinned proudly. "That's why it's for Mirin."

Kilain dropped it like it was poison. And then the bulls roared louder than ever.

"You made a cast of your own fucking dick??"

Jaaq nodded, maintaining his Cheshire Cat facade.

"Let me see that," demanded Deirk. He grabbed the impressive dong and compared it to the slightly shorter version that Hurn had delivered. "This one isn't yours is it?"

"No," Hurn smirked. "You'd never be able to lift it."

"Har har."

Deirk's gift was an elegant leather ball stretcher which evoked more jealous bovine oohs. "And I know just where to put this," Kilain said mysteriously. "Guys, you really outdid yourselves. This Saturday night is gonna be... wait, who's that from?"

A fifth package remained unopened, yet no one claimed ownership.

"Uh oh... most be something really horrible." Undaunted, Kilain tore into the small blue box and pulled out a dainty piece of lingerie. The bulls snickered as he lifted it up and held it open. "What the hell is this? Split-crotch panties??"

"Are those for you or for Mirin," laughed Hurn.

Kilain flung the feminine garment at him. "Very funny. Maybe they're for you. Whaddaya say we see if they fit?"

Hurn ducked. "Oh no you don't..." The other bulls were upon him, eager to witness the Angus in sexy sundries.

"Hold him down!"

Cattle calls and bovine bravado rocked the walls of the tiny room as four bulls dressed up the uncooperative fifth. Then the door burst open and a very angry, very broad Belgian Blue in a business suit stormed in.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!" thundered the massive bull.

The party animals froze, then Jaaq sassed, "Hey Buddy, this is a private affair."

"Shut up," squeaked Deirk in a panic. "Um... Mr. Tarkus. What happened to your business trip?"

Kilain closed his eyes and muttered, "Deirk, you idiot," then expected to spend the night in jail for criminal trespassing.

The Belgian Blue was twice the size of the largest among them, and underneath that expensive suit was not one ounce of fat. He stared down his petrified employee, exhaling fury from flared nostrils.

"What the fuck are you doing in my office!!"

Deirk stood up in order to kowtow. "I'm sorry Mr. Tarkus, I had no other place to go. We weren't hurting anything. Just having a harmless bachelor party."

The angry bull got much angrier. "A bachelor party... FOR YOU?!!"

Deirk shook his head and made a desperate decision: Tarkus could not fire an employee who did not work for him. The harried Hereford allowed his eyes to betray his best friend. Tarkus followed them to Kilain.

"Thanks a lot, pal."

"So," the bull raged as he approached the Longhorn. "You're having a party at my expense. Do you find my office... ACCOMMODATING!?" He lashed out at a chair, sending it crashing into a wall.

It wasn't Kilain's refined instincts that told him not to assert his dominance, for he was clearly outmatched, and that was very rare. "Look," he said, trying to keep everyone calm. "We'll just leave."

"I don't think so," threatened the murderous bovine. "That won't do at all. The life of this party has only just arrived..."

Tarkus loosened his tie preparing to kick every ass in the room, and there was no doubt that he had the physique and the strength to take them all on simultaneously. No one made a move as each tried desperately to think of way out of this very bad situation.

As if on cue, the boombox magically changed tunes, and the Belgian Blue slowly removed his entire necktie, gyrating his hips to the music. Kilain felt disconnected from reality as the Belgian delicately draped his tie around the Longhorn's long horns, and then continued to disrobe to the smarmy swooping brass of "The Stripper."

Kilain glanced at Deirk, who was doing all he could to keep from convulsing with laughter, then the bachelor looked down and turned a deep scarlet. "Deirk," he chuckled under his breath, "I am going to kill you."

Intense fear gave way to rowdy whoops as the other bulls finally realized the gag and surrounded the hot Belgian stud as he peeled off his suit, dress shirt, trousers, undershirt and underwear. Soon the modulating muscular mass was down to nothing but a G-string, which did absolutely nothing to conceal the biggest package of all.

As an alpha bull, Kilain was more accustomed to playing the dominant role in the off Broadway play of seduction. But Deirk had obviously gone to a lot of trouble to set up this little soiree, and though it made him uncomfortable, Kilain was confident he could be bullied graciously. And for once, it was nice to be not the most intimidating bovine in the house.

"Mirin would have loved this," grinned Kilain, "but this one is definitely for me." He knelt down and allowed himself to be seduced by this golden Blue idol.

The Best Man fed the Groom twenty dollar bills which protocol allowed him to stuff into the stripper's G-string using his mouth, each one buying him a little face action for a few seconds. Deirk had paid extra for the stripper to work out and pump up just before joining the party, and his bulging body glistened with proof that the Belgian stud had kept his end of the deal. Kilain mopped him with his face.

"What's Mirin gonna do when you come home with a puss smelling like Blue crotch sweat?"

"He's gonna lick me cleaner than... the cleanest thing." Kilain had no time for clever metaphors, not while bull crotch beckoned. It wasn't long before Deirk ran out of twenties and had to go hunt for more. Meanwhile the Belgian danced on hold, torturing the bachelor with sexy undulations. Kilain couldn't wait for the ATM. He took a chance and buried his head between the stud's legs on credit.

"You're kinda cute," said the bovine hunk. "This one's on the house." He slowly thrust his skimpily-clad crotch at Kilain, allowing the Longhorn to nuzzle and lick and thoroughly saturate his face with Blue musk.

"Bet he doesn't shower for a month," chuckled Kotter.

"Unh-unh," grunted Kilain, lost in heady heaven.

The stripper turned around and bent over. The Groom wasted no time driving his nose between those powerful butt cheeks.

"Gawd damn!" marveled Hurn. "I'm getting married just so I can have this dude at my bachelor party!"

"Take a number."

The naked bull getting his ass spit-shined spied the frilly frock on the floor. He picked up the panties and spread them wide open.

"Whose are these?"

The bulls all pointed to the guy on his other end.

The Blue turned around and held the panties open at groin level, mesmerizing Kilain with his pelvic gyrations. Before the Longhorn knew it, the dainties completely engulfed his face.

"Oh... so that's what those are for," pondered Jaaq. Everyone else laughed, not believing he might actually be serious.

Caught up in the dizzying, testosterone-thick atmosphere, Tarkus' impostor abandoned stripper protocol and pushed down his G-string. His gooey red tip poked out of its sheath and teased the Longhorn within an inch of his mouth. Without warning, a large bovine tongue darted out of the panties' crotch. Howls, cheers, and snorts resounded as it lapped at Blue bull cock.

"You catch on quick, soon-to-be-ex-bachelor." More stud cock burst forth from the sheath and penetrated deep into the panties.

"Holy m-mouth fuck!" stammered Kotter.

The bulls watched in awe as more and more Belgian cock emerged from one bull and disappeared into the other. The Longhorn's muffled moans and straightened neck confirmed to his buddies that what they thought they were witnessing truly was happening.

"How is Kilain doing that?" asked a stunned Hurn.

"Lots of practice?"

"Or maybe he wants it so bad that he doesn't know it's impossible."

"Forgive me fellas. This is way too painful" Deirk ripped open his pants to free his straining hard-on. No one else wasted any time doing likewise. The circle jerk continued with all bull cocks aimed at the bachelor.

Though no one could see Kilain's face, he was obviously enjoying himself, bobbing slowly on the cock that reached halfway down his throat.

"Did you know he could suck cock like a hippo?" whispered Kotter to Deirk.

The Hereford shook his head, enthralled by the connected bulls.

"How big is Mirin?"

"He's not nearly as big as this guy."

"Amazing!"

The stripper grabbed the bull by the longhorns and rode his mouth like a Harley for a while, then pushed and pulled him harder and faster as he neared climax. Deirk released his own cock to help the Belgian out, cupping his rumbling grapefruit-sized balls, waiting for just the right moment... which was just about... now.

The Belgian pulled back hard on the handlebars forcing his bull-choking cock into the Longhorn's stomach. Deirk squeezed the stud's balls and could actually feel the huge reservoir deflate as it emptied into his best friend, filling his belly with thick Belgian cream.

One-by-one the party guests baptized the bachelor bull with their own flavors of home brew, which they rubbed into his fur until his whole body was caked with matted skank. The Belgian carefully pulled out his spent cock, then Kilain removed the girlie panties and quietly stuffed them in his pocket.

Cheers, whistles, and enthusiastic applause rained down on the stripper who not-so-humbly took several very deep bows for everyone to get their last looks in. Then he donned the minimal amount of clothing to make him respectable on public transportation.

Kilain stood up to shake his hand and address his friends. "In my opinion, Mr. Tarkus, here, has earned his tip, wouldn't you all agree?" No one objected when he handed the stripper a brick of cash that represented the spilled poker chips scattered on the floor.

"Thanks guys." He kissed the green wad. "Next semester's textbooks."

"You're a college student?"

"Well, heh, some of my professors might debate that. You guys were great. I almost feel bad about taking your money... especially from you." He reached out and tenderly caressed Kilain's horn.

Lost in a brief moment of infatuation, Kilain recovered and reached for the money. "In that case, give it back."

"I said, 'almost.'" The Belgian pulled away and headed out the door. "Gotta catch a bus. See ya."

The others swooned as Belgian Blue beefcake departed.

"Fuck, he was hot."

Kilain gave Deirk a hug. "Ya done good, Buddy."

Deirk stole a whiff from his friend's muzzle. "Gawd, I can still smell him." His tongue was on the Longhorn before he could react.

"Whoa!" Kilain jerked away from his lingual friend. "Maybe I'd rather smell like Belgian than Hereford."

"Oh come on, you already reek from ALL of us."

"Not where it counts," he grinned, licking his own muzzle. "Hey, guys, I hate to eat and run, but I promised Mirin I'd bring him back an hors d'oeuvre, and I can't think of anything tastier than what I'm wearing."

"No problem, Bully. We'll clean up here."

Kilain collected his naughty booty. "Great party. See ya at the wedding. You guys have your tuxes, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, for the hundredth time. Black with black cummerbund, black tie, black everything else."

"White shirt."

The groomsmen rolled their eyes. They weren't that stupid.

"And on that awkward note, I shall leave thee."

The Holstein waited patiently for his mate to return. Though he too was entitled to a bachelor party, the symbolic gesture of having one last fling before being shackled forever to his mate did not suit him. His marriage to Kilain would be anything but encumbering, for they were perfectly matched. He had nothing to prove. And to prove it, he encouraged his Groom to attend his own bachelor party. The dominant bulls always had one before settling down. Only the submissive bulls with inadequate sperm counts insisted on them as well. Mirin's sacs were as potent as his mate's. Nothing to prove.

When Kilain walked through the door, Mirin greeted him with a hug and a kiss and a hearty laugh.

"My, my, my," chuckled the Holstein, "exactly where has this face been?"

"You like my cologne?"

"Mmm-hmmm!"

Kilain remained passive as Mirin nuzzled and sniffed and licked the Belgian scent from him.

"I don't recognize him."

"No, I've never met him before. He was the hired entertainment - an exotic dancer."

"You had a stripper!? And you didn't call me???"

"Sorry, man, I kinda got caught up in the moment. But I brought him home to you. You're welcome to sloppy seconds."

Mirin's nose meandered over Kilain's chest. "I found Deirk... And Kotter."

"Yeah, they're all there somewhere."

"I'd say it was your bath time."

"If your tongue is up for the challenge."

"My tongue has yet to be defeated."

"I knew there was a reason for marrying you."

In the bedroom the Holstein methodically removed all traces of bull semen from his mate, who relaxed on his back while being groomed.

"You're such a cum slut," said Kilain while Mirin worked his tongue over a particularly stubborn clump of matted fur.

"You say that as if it were a bad thing."

"Oh, no, no, not at all." He leaned forward to stuff his own tongue into his mate's mouth. "It is precisely the reason why I produce so much of it."

"Mmmmm... win-win."

Mirin broke the wet kiss to drag his tongue along the pulsing red Longhorn shaft. It dribbled predictably onto Kilain's upper chest, but the evidence didn't last long. Mirin gave Kilain a quick peck then stood up. "Let me take care of business and when I come back, I will take care of you."

Kilain smiled. He was so in love.

In the bathroom, Mirin flushed himself out and then liberally lubed up in order to take on the very long Longhorn. Though he had been fucked a hundred times in as many positions, he took conscious steps to ensure that his ass remained naturally resilient. Gobs and gobs of grease were essential.

He looked at himself in the mirror and marveled at his good fortune.

"You love him," he told his look-alike, "and he loves you."

His likeness nodded.

"We are a perfect match, and not even admitting that aloud can possibly jinx it. He's a Dom. You're a Sub. He's a top. You're a bottom. He's exceptionally potent, and you're a cum slut. And in two days, you'll be married to him."

He placed thumb and forefinger deep into each nostril and touched finger tips together to form a ring. "Two days..."

Mirin emerged all ready to be impaled by bovine, but his jaw dropped when he saw Kilain had made other plans. On the bed, the dominant Texas Longhorn bull lay provocatively on his right side wearing nothing but a soiled pair of split-crotch panties. Not designed for a bull's anatomy, they were pulled back unnaturally to align the hole properly, causing his overwhelming genitalia to spill over the top.

"What the hell are you wearing!?"

"Do you like it?"

Mirin did not know how to respond.

"I got them at the party... And I want you to fuck me."

Now the Holstein donned a nervous smile. "You want ME to fuck YOU?"

"Yeah," shrugged Kilain as if he could not make himself plainer. He reached down with two fingers and held the panties open. "Your dick goes in here."

Mirin coughed a surprised guffaw. "And you're gonna wear that thing the whole time? I don't think so."

"What's wrong? Come on, it'll be a kick."

Mirin bit his lip. "It's just that, I've never topped you before and..."

"Don't you think it's about time?"

"Um, I guess so... I just didn't think you wanted me to. And I never would have imagined you... in those."

The nervous Holstein felt even more inadequate when his dick refused to cooperate. Kilain was quick to remedy that.

"Come here. You need some dressing up, too." He wrapped his new leather ball stretcher around the Holstein's sacs, making the low hangers hang even lower. That did the trick. In a few seconds the Holstein was long and purple and pulsating.

"Fuh-uh-uh-uck..." hissed Mirin as his mate curled his tongue around the veined shaft.

"I want you," whispered Kilain. "Mate with me."

The bull lay on his back with his legs in the air, the hole in the panties waiting to be filled. Mirin was in love with him. It was easy to find his confidence again.

He worked the tip of his cock through the panties and felt around for the Longhorn's entrance. Once the point found its mark, instinct took over, and the Holstein speared his mate in a single stab. Ill-prepared for the violent thrust, the Longhorn bellowed in pain, startling his already-startled mate. Mirin began to pull out in response but Kilain wrapped his legs around him to hold him in.

"It's okay... just give me a minute."

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me."

"No, don't be..." He nuzzled his mate tenderly. "We just took each other's virginity. That's how it's supposed to happen."

They embraced and held each other close while Kilain's colon acquiesced to its overwhelming inhabitant. He could feel it getting hard again.

"Your dick likes its new digs."

"Mmm-hmm," cooed Mirin. "It must be in love."

"Mine is, too." Kilain's own phallus had grown to full length between them.

Mirin slow-fucked his mate while body-fucking his cock as it lay sandwiched between them. This was often how Dom fucked Sub, and it was Mirin's favorite position. The blissful look on Kilain's face, eyes closed, mouth open, brows tight, confirmed to the Holstein that he was doing everything right.

"Now I know how I look."

Kilain opened his eyes and smiled. "Hmm?"

"How I look when I'm in my happy place."

Kilain closed his eyes again. "Oh yeah... I'm in your happy place..." Then he said with a grin, "and you're definitely in mine."

For the next twenty minutes, the delicate panties received a grinding workout. How they remained in one piece was not anyone's concern. That they would probably never come clean again could not be lower on the list of top ten million things to care about.

Each bull used his body to please the other, and when it was over, both were thoroughly pleased. Mirin lay on top of his mate, heaving with exhaustion. "This is harder than it looks," he wheezed. Nevertheless, he had sufficient energy reserves to lap up his mate's soaked chest.

Kilain hugged his soon-to-be-spouse running his fingernails up and down his spine. "Better get used to it."

Mirin snickered then suddenly pushed himself up. "What?"

The Longhorn gazed up at him wondering what the big mystery was. "I enjoyed it."

"Well... so did I, but..."

"But what?"

Mirin could not believe that he felt it necessary to ask this question. "Are you still going to top me after we're married?"

Kilain shrugged. "Sure, if it's that important to you."

"IF IT'S THAT IMP..."

The Holstein sat up in utter dismay.

"Mirin, what's the matter?"

"I can't believe you!" he snorted. "We're getting married in two days and you're practically a stranger to me."

"Oh cut the dramatics" snorted Kilain, sitting up too. "Is that how you fuck a stranger?"

"You know what I mean."

"No I don't. Really."

"Kilain, we have been living together for a year. We make love nearly every night. And nine times out of ten, when you cum, it's somewhere very deep inside of me, almost in the exact physical center of my body. That's what I like. That's how I like it. How could you not know that is important to me?"

"Take it easy, Lover, I didn't mean anything by that. You never told me how much it meant to you, that's all."

"I didn't think I had to."

"Look, nothing's changed. Of course I'll still top you. But now I know how good it feels, too. When you cum in me, you warm my heart in more ways than one. All of a sudden it's like I can see rainbows after being colorblind all my life."

"Kilain," Mirin asked nervously, "what happened to you tonight?"

"This happened." He snapped the panty waist band. "For the first time in my life, I truly surrendered myself..." He looked away. "... and it was amazing."

This made no sense to Mirin. "Surrendered yourself how?"

"Well... I gave the guy a blow job."

"But you've given me dozens!"

"Not like this," he emphasized. "Our roles were truly reversed. I wanted nothing more than to be used by this total stranger, to give him the best blow job in the world."

Mirin scowled at the implication.

Kilain sighed, "No, no, you don't understand. When I'm sucking you, I'm still the one on top. I'm still in control. You don't cum until I decide, and I know you well enough to be able to bring you to your highest height."

It was true. Kilain could suck him long and slow for what seemed like hours, teasing him, tormenting him, frustrating him, bringing him to the brink of orgasm several times but not letting him go over. There were times when Mirin just wanted to curse him and storm into the bathroom to masturbate. But in the end, every time, every - single - time, when Kilain finally let it happen, the Holstein exploded like a fire hose, and it was sooooo worth it.

"What else?"

"Hmm?"

"How else did you surrender yourself to this guy?"

Kilain lowered his head. There was no way to put a positive spin on it. He bit his lip and confessed, "I tongued his ass."

As expected, Mirin did not take it well. He said nothing at first, but his eyes cried for him. "You have never done that to me," he said softly.

"You think I don't know that?" Kilain was just as mystified as his mate, but he tried to explain it anyway. "It's not something a Dom does to a Sub... (damn)... I mean, we have this relationship... and you do it to me all the time and I love it, but reciprocation was never a priority with me."

"Nor with me, I suppose." Neither could face the other.

Kilain paced the bedroom. "But with the Belgian, everything was different. He was in command... He was just a fucking stripper, but he was in total control. And then he bent over... He didn't force himself on me... He didn't even ask me to do it... It was more like a gift, or an opportunity. For a couple of seconds, he allowed me the ultimate experience of a lifetime - the honor and privilege of licking his ass. I... I didn't even have to think about it. I just stuck my nose in his butt and drove my tongue in."

"And how did that make you feel?"

Kilain stopped pacing and looked at his mate. "Liberated."

Mirin nodded. He tried to understand. He thought that maybe he did. But he did not rim Kilain in order to feel liberated. He did it simply as another intimate gesture of devotion.

He didn't know what to think, except that he was still very upset. His hands were already full to overflowing with wedding plans. Now was not the time for his mate to have an identity crisis. And then there were those ridiculous panties. Mirin found them far more repulsive than kinky.

"Get rid of those."

"No." Kilain shimmied out of them being careful not to rip them.

"Then at least rinse them out."

"Done." He took them over to the sink and ran them through a steady stream.

"What's so special about them, anyway? I mean, if you want to explore subordinate sexual roles, fine, but you don't see me wearing panties."

Kilain had nothing to hide. "I like them. The stripper put them on my head and gave me an awesome upper GI." He turned off the tap and shook out the excess water, then spread the panties flat to dry. "So I thought I'd get a lower GI from you the same way."

Evidently Kilain thought that was amusing, but Mirin did not. The truth had finally come out: the panties were less about self-discovery and more about bringing home the fucking bachelor party right into their bedroom.

"This bites!"

Kilain went to console his mate. He held the Holstein's head to his chest and stroked the back of his neck. "Maybe some things HAVE changed. But you have to expect that will happen. Bovines change. Bovines grow. They find new interests. You don't want to stagnate, do you?"

Mirin did not answer.

"Some things will never change. I'll always love you, for one. And I still want to get married, for another. And I swear that you'll get more than your fair share of Longhorn cum up your butt."

The Holstein snickered. That last bit sounded so trivial compared to the first two. Of course Kilain was right. That's why he was Dom. Mirin signaled an acknowledgement by kissing the hard belly of his naked lover, then he worked his way lower.

The two of them showered together just as they did every morning. Mirin was thankful that that hadn't changed. Each bull vigorously scrubbed the other's back, just as each gently soaped and massaged the other's bulbous ball sacs. And as the warm rain showered down on them, they embraced, pressing their soapy chests and groins together, rubbing each other clean. Thank God that hadn't changed.

They toweled off and dressed, then stood side-by-side at the double-wide mirror as they combed their own fur. Mirin noticed something was missing.

"Where are the panties?"

"Where do you think?"

He leaned forward onto the counter and stared at Kilain's reflection. "Are you fucking wearing them NOW?"

Kilain continued combing unrepentant. "No one will know." He returned Mirin's reflected gape. "If it really bothers you so much, I can take them off."

Mirin knew that look. There was no way he was taking them off, so it was best just to drop it... but not without a fight.

"Why do you insist on wearing them?"

Not willing to get into it, Kilain replied with his usual charm, "Because they remind me of you."

"Oh really? Are you sure they don't remind... never mind."

He didn't want to hear the answer. Mirin was much more concerned about the humiliation they both would suffer if anyone caught his mate wearing female undies, but that likelihood was remote at best. Even if another bull stood next to him at a urinal, he wasn't apt to see the offending lingerie. Mirin faked a smile. "If it makes you happy, then it makes me happy."

Kilain put away his comb and gave the Holstein a wet one on the lips. "Then you must be ecstatic. See ya tonight."

"Have a good one," Mirin called after him. "I may be home an hour later than usual. Some last minute catering issues."

"Then I will have dinner ready for YOU." Kilain walked out the front door.

"Thank you," said Mirin to his mirrored twin. For several minutes he stared silently at his likeness, wondering why it wasn't changing.

Deirk snuck up on the unsuspecting Longhorn and stole a whiff from behind his ear.

"Oh, man, you showered."

Kilain turned around from his desk and grinned, "Hey! Who let you in the building? Yeah, sorry about that. There wasn't much left after Mirin was through with me... Where did you find that stripper anyway? He was terrific!"

"The same place you find anything these days. Google."

"Heh, well thanks, Buddy. It changed my life." Kilain picked up some papers to scan through.

Deirk snickered. "I don't know about that, but I sure wished it was me getting a mouth-, throat-, and stomachful of Belgian."

"Someday," chuckled Kilain. "Why don't you hire him for yourself?"

Deirk shook his head. "Nah, he had to split. School's five hundred miles away. We were lucky things worked out as well as they did."

"We sure were." Kilain took an intense interest in his paperwork, hoping Deirk would take the hint.

"So... the big day's coming up," continued the Hereford.

"Yep."

"Nervous?"

"Nope."

"Really? What about Mirin?"

Kilain sighed. "Poor Mirin's a wreck."

Deirk's mood suddenly changed to empathy. "Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine. I'm not going to let it bother me."

"He's probably under a lot of pressure with all the wedding stuff."

"No doubt," said Kilain as if discussing the weather.

Deirk considered his response to be more callous than necessary. "Does he need some help, maybe?"

Kilain put down his papers. "This gigantic wedding was his idea. I just wanted a simple one. He knew it and promised to do all of the running around on his own. And to be honest, I think he's done a great job. Everything's a go for tomorrow. Once it's over, I'm sure he'll settle down and things will be back to normal again."

Kilain still wondered why Deirk was at his workplace. "Is there something else?"

"Um... yeah. I need the panties back."

"What!?" The Best Man had his undivided attention now.

"I think they belonged to Tarkus."

"The stripper?"

"No, the REAL Tarkus. He's gone totally berserk, tearing up his office and interrogating everyone about a small blue package. But he won't say what's in it."

"Um... sorry Buddy, but I don't have them anymore."

"Shit... okay... damn..."

Kilain leaned forward. "Are you in any trouble?"

The Hereford shook his head. "I don't think so. Tarkus specifically did not want Security involved. I'm pretty sure it'll all blow over."

Kilain sighed in relief, but remained somewhat unsettled. "Well... Good luck."

Deirk patted him on the back. "You too. Only one more day of freedom."

As Deirk walked away, Kilain reached into his pants and fingered the forbidden lace. "Or maybe the whole rest of my life."

When Mirin walked through the front door at noon, both he and Kilain were startled.

"I didn't expect you home until late," said Kilain, returning his attention to the computer monitor. It took all of the alpha bull's willpower to resist the urge to clear the screen. He was Dom, damn it. Nothing about this was shameful.

"I have errands to run," Mirin replied, shutting the door behind him. "Why are you home... web surfing... in the nude."

"Not entirely."

Mirin stole a closer look and rolled his eyes. "Oh, of course." Then he saw the bizarre image in the online catalog his mate was perusing. "What... is... that?"

"Strap-on udders," Kilain declared factually.

"Wh... what... why... why are you looking at that?"

"Mirin..."

"Why, Kilain? Tell me!"

"All right, if you insist. I just realized that I'll need something like this to fit inside the bovine brassiere that I ordered. Because I am sure you'll agree that I would look pretty silly wearing a bra with nothing to fill it."

Staggering backward, Mirin displayed a look of horror that reflected his world crashing down around him. Kilain stood up to put out the fire that he had just dumped a tanker of gasoline on.

"Mirin, obviously I had not intended for you to see me like this. That's why I came home early. You have to understand that something is happening to me... I think it is something wonderful, but I don't know yet. In any case, I need to figure it out real soon..."

He could tell that his mate wasn't listening. In fact, his mate wasn't doing much of anything except staring at Kilain's feet with the largest Holstein eyes he had ever seen.

"Breathe," reminded Kilain.

Mirin found his outside voice. "ARE... THOSE... NYLONS??"

Kilain stuck out a leg and admired it. "Oh yeah. Whaddaya think? They are surprisingly comfortable. Heh, forgot I had 'em on. Pissed me off, though... Instructions don't say anything about having to shave your legs beforehand. I ruined three pair before I finally got a clue."

"GOT A CLUE??... WHAT CLUE MIGHT THAT BE!!?"

"Mirin," he said calmly, "Don't talk to me like that. I don't yell at you."

"Why are you doing this? Why now? Why the day before our fucking wedding? Do you NOT want to get married? Is that it?"

"Of course not."

"Then why are you doing everything within your power to drive me MAD? I don't need this right now!!"

"Mirin, this isn't about you."

"Of COURSE it's about me! Because it's about YOU!! And YOU and I are about to be WED!!"

Kilain sighed. "I'm sorry that you're taking this so hard. I frankly don't see why it bothers you so much. It's not like I'm asking you to wear anything."

"GODDAMNIT KIL... Oh no..."

On the monitor Mirin spied a portion of a pop-up ad for Bovine Bride magazine.

"Oh no... no way... no fucking way..."

With the wireless mouse he dragged the bovine falsies away, revealing a tasteful image of a Longhorn cow modeling a full length puffy white wedding gown. Mirin threw the mouse into the darkest corner of the room. Kilain had never seen him so angry, nor found him so attractive.

"That's IT! This nonsense stops NOW!!"

Kilain calmly folded his arms in protest. "Mirin, what I choose to view online is no one's business but my own. Must I clear the cache every time I log off now?"

"Have you completely lost your mind!? All our friends will be there. Your family will be there. My GRANDPARENTS will be there! Is our wedding ceremony how you plan to publicly announce that you wish you'd been born a cow??"

"You know damn well I don't wish that. I am a Dom bull. Always have been, always will be. But it's MY wedding too. I am marrying YOU, not our friends and family and grandparents. I don't give a damn what THEY think of my attire, but..."

"Kilain, I am a Sub. I like being a Sub. I'm PROUD of being a Sub. Everyone knows it and everyone is perfectly happy with it. I get pleasure by giving pleasure, and nothing gives me greater pleasure than pleasing YOU. But even I have limits. Not only am I a Sub, but I am also a BULL goddamnit, and I have my bullish pride. And you know what? You're absolutely right. Some things change. But I swear to you, there is one thing that will NEVER change. I will NEVER marry a bull in a wedding dress. NEVER!"

Kilain allowed the steam to clear, then said calmly, "Mirin, I am very disappointed in you. How could you think that I would choose to walk down the aisle in that dress. I mean, look at that bust line. There is no way I could pull it off."

Mirin clenched his jaw, totally not laughing.

Kilain sobered up. "Sorry, but you deserved that."

"I don't deserve any of this."

The bull in nylons glanced at the monitor again and shook his head, chuckling at his mate's ridiculous notion.

Mirin tried for a straight answer. "So are you telling me that you are NOT planning to wear a wedding dress tomorrow?"

"Oh please..."

"Tell me Kilain!"

"Mirin, I cannot believe you would even think that."

"You refuse to answer the question. What am I supposed to think?"

Kilain sighed. "All right, I'll admit that I have had second thoughts about the tux."

"And the dress?"

"It's a pop-up ad! It's visual spam! It means nothing, believe me."

"Then are you going to wear the black tux that we agreed on?"

Kilain shrugged.

"Don't do this," Mirin warned. "If you humiliate me in front of everyone, we're through."

"Mirin, why would I..."

"KILAIN!..." The Holstein waited for the reverberation of his outburst to die down. "Let's just end this now."

"What?" Kilain uncrossed his arms.

Mirin's voice quaked. "I know you, and... I don't know why you are doing this, but there is obviously something wrong and you don't want to go through with it..."

"That's not true!"

Kilain held out his arms, but all Mirin could see was a freak wearing stockings and panties. He shook his head. "This isn't going to wor-rrk..." His voice cracked entirely.

"Calm down. Everything will be fine. I won't wear a dress."

Mirin hyperventilated for a few seconds then looked up into his mate's eyes, his mate who had never lied to him. "You'll wear your tux? We'll both be in our matching tuxes?"

"I will wear a tux. I will appear as masculine and as dapper as can be."

"No dresses or veils?"

"On my honor." He raised his right hand and smiled that smile that made him so handsome.

Mirin let go a brief sigh of relief but then held it. "I won't be able to see you before the ceremony..."

Kilain frowned at him. "If you do not trust me, then we should not get married."

"Don't give me that! Yesterday I never would have dreamed... Yesterday... My God, it seems like an entire lifetime!"

"Hmm," smiled Kilain. The Longhorn's eyes sparkled at his mate. "That is the most romantic thing you have ever said... If one day seems like a lifetime, then just imagine how many lifetimes we shall share together."

He held out his arms to his distraught mate and wielded his subconscious power. Mirin melted into those arms that wrapped soothingly around him, bringing him to his mate's chest. "I love you, Mirin. Tomorrow, I am going to marry you. I am going to put my ring in your nose and everyone will see who the Dom is and who the Sub is. Some things will never change."

Mirin sighed and held onto his mate, feeling his angst fade away. "I love you, too, Kilain. I want so much to be joined to you. I just wish you could tell me why this is happening."

"I don't know for sure, Lover. I just know that I feel free. When I wear these delicate things, it's like this tremendous weight of macho bullshit has lifted from my shoulders. All the pretense and posturing are gone."

"But you were never like that. I hate macho bulls!"

"I see it in everyone's eyes, Mirin. It is a constant daily reminder of my place in this world. 'Watch out, here comes the Longhorn. We'd better change the conversation from scented candles to earthmovers.' It affects me whether I like it or not. But now I've discovered a defense, a shield against self-inflicted machismo. It rides close to my skin, and no one knows it's there but me."

"I don't get it, Kilain. If no one knows, then nothing will change. You'll still be treated the same way. Everyone will see you as the dominant bull in the room."

Kilain smiled brightly at him. "But I won't feel this constant nagging need to prove it. I won't care anymore. How can I? I'm wearing nylons!"

Mirin managed a smile of his own. "I'm trying to be okay with this, really I am. But for the sake of my own mental health, do you think you could put off this weirdness until AFTER we're married?"

Kilain patted him on the back and released him. "Done." He disappeared into the bedroom and returned wearing his office attire. "Got some last-minute things to finish up before our honeymoon. I should be home soon enough to make dinner, but if I'm running late, I'll bring something home, all right?"

Mirin nodded, then muttered, "You're still wearing them."

Kilain wheeled around before reaching the door and planted his hands on his hips. "I am not."

"Prove it."

"Excuse me?"

"Take off your pants."

Kilain cocked his head and silently stared down Mirin for a few intense moments. "I will do as you ask, my Love... The question is... Are you absolutely sure that you want me to?"

Mirin recognized the lose-lose situation. He shook his head dropping his eyes. "No, Kilain. If I did not trust you, I would not marry you."

Kilain smiled again and opened the door. "Ditto. See ya tonight."

Mirin said nothing as the door closed behind him.

That evening, Mirin returned home to an empty house. All of the catering was taken care of. The church, the minister, the reception hall, the flowers, the food, and the band were all ready to go. Everything was going off without a hitch, yet Mirin was still a wreck. The one thing he thought he could count on was a no-show: his Dom's sanity. Kilain was Mirin's rock, and now his foundation was crumbling. He had never felt so lost.

The Dom came in a few minutes later carrying a couple of very large garment boxes.

"Is that your tux?"

"Yep."

"Let me see it."

"Nope. Bad luck."

"But my tux didn't come in that box. Maybe you got the wrong one."

Kilain disappeared into the bedroom and stuffed the boxes in his closet then locked the door. He turned around and Mirin pressed him.

"Please, Kilain... we are so close to the finish line. I just need to know that this one final detail is okay."

Kilain gave him a hug. "Trust me, I look fabulous. You'll love it."

"Kilain... don't do this." The quavering voice returned.

The Longhorn let go his embrace and moved his palms to either side of the Holstein's face, holding him rigidly. The two bulls stared eye-to-eye.

"Look at me, Mirin. What do you see? I beg of you, for your own sake, look at me... really, really look."

Mirin frowned at this stupidity but relented as usual and did what he was told. He looked at him and studied the face he had studied a thousand times before. He knew every hair, every pore, every imperceptible blemish. Mirin knew this face, and he studied it once again. He looked... and finally saw.

He understood that some things never change, but not this time, not this face. What Mirin saw was truly inspiring, as magical as it was paradoxical. Staring back at him, Mirin saw the placid face of a Dom bull in perfect peaceful harmony with life.

"You see, don't you," grinned Kilain. "You know."

Mirin nodded. He raised his hands to his lover's forearms and caressed them. "You're getting married tomorrow," Mirin said with a tear. "Today is the day before your wedding day. It should be the most nerve-wracking day of your life, yet you have never looked so serene. I am... humbled."

Mirin held his mate's hands. "There is one thing I am sure of now, Kilain. No matter what happens, no matter what catastrophe strikes, no matter what you wear, no matter what anyone thinks, tomorrow, at the stroke of twelve, I am going to marry you."

The bulls hugged, and the bulls cried.

The next morning, Kilain was out of the house by 8:00 A.M. "Got a million things to do, Love. Hair stylist, manicure..." He pecked his mate on the lips. "And I know you do, too. The wedding's at noon, right?"

"Kilain!"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm an ass. I know I shouldn't kid about these things today of all days. Mirin, I can't thank you enough for taking care of everything. I know I barely lifted a finger to get even my own tux. But I know it'll be worth it. It will be perfect! Everything will be great! In four hours you and I..."

The hyper Longhorn came to a halt and looked at his watch then at his mate with the utmost awe. "Mirin," he breathed, "in four hours we will be married."

The handsome Holstein nodded a teary smile. "Hard to believe."

Kilain looked at his watch again: 8:01. "I gotta go. But I promise not to forget our little lunch date at NOON. You don't need anything from me, right?"

Mirin shook his head at the antsy bull. "Just be there..."

"Okay, I will." He was gone.

Mirin stood inside the silent, lonely house, wondering about his mate, wondering what he had changed into today, wondering if he was on medication.

"The ring... Oh God, don't let him forget the ring!"

For Mirin, the next four hours passed quickly. Weeks of forethought and planning had anticipated nearly every conceivable snag, and as it all came together in the final hour, meshing like the gears of an intricate timepiece, the preparations for his "ex-bachelor party" ran like clockwork. He still needed to coordinate caterers, direct traffic, and deal with last-minute emergencies, but it was nothing he could not handle.

By eleven thirty all of the ushers had arrived in their matching black tuxedos, including Deirk and Hurn who continued to probe each other as to what cards the other had held. Arriving guests were ushered to their seats. Everything was perfect and running smoothly. But of course, there was no sign of Kilain.

"Stop worrying, Mirin. This is how it goes at a Dom-Sub wedding."

"I know, Jaaq. We're all supposed to see him at the same time when he makes his entrance. It's a stupid fucked-up tradition conceived ages ago by a sadistic Dom to force his Sub to stand at the altar in a controlled panic wondering how humiliated he'll be when the time comes and no Dom shows up."

"He loves you. He'll be here. And we're all here, too. He knows we'll kill him if he screws this up."

Mirin took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to calm his nerves. Under his breath he muttered, "Kilain, I don't care what you're wearing, just be here."

At 11:59 the organist signaled the wedding party to enter from the side of the church. Mirin took his position at the left side of the altar, flanked on either side by groomsmen in black satin tuxes, leaving a conspicuous space on Mirin's immediate right.

It was the longest minute of Mirin's life.

The minute passed, and the organist paused to allow the church bells to chime twelve ridiculously slow peals. The final bell tolled, and all eyes turned to the back of the hall. The doors to the narthex opened, and the congregation stood.

The lights in the narthex had been dimmed so it was difficult to make out the silhouette, but it was there. Kilain had come.

The backlighting raised and the organist played "The Dom's Procession," but the figure remained stationary.

Mirin could see that it was Kilain, for the Longhorn's profile was unmistakable. And Mirin could see something else. The gown that adorned him looked to be the exact opposite of a black tuxedo. It was white, flowing from head to foot, flaring out near the bottom and rustling perceptibly.

Mirin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. If this was how Kilain would test him, so be it.

He opened his eyes and held out his right hand for his betrothed, and Kilain came forward. The bull strode slowly down the center aisle with the confidence of royalty. When the light touched him, it was plain to see why. He wore a brilliant white tuxedo enshrouded in a handsome white satin-lined cloak that flowed behind him mysteriously as if catching a hidden breeze. His horns polished to a glassy sheen; his hair set and highlighted with subtle orange and white stripes. He looked like a bull possessed by a tiger, and at that moment, he possessed everyone in the church.

As he passed, each row sat down in reverent submission, but no one could manage to close their mouths.

Nearing the altar, he deftly removed his cloak and handed it to his Best Man. Then he took Mirin's right hand with his left, and the wedding party all faced forward for the brief ceremony to commence.

As the minister gave his blessing, neither bull paid him any heed, for their thoughts were only of the other. Mirin covertly squeezed the hand of his Dom to thank him, then noticed that there was something clasped within their palms. It seemed his mate was passing him a note, but they held it tightly between them. Kilain squeezed back as an acknowledgement... or maybe to thank Mirin as well.

When it was time to exchange rings, Mirin nervously pocketed the note. He placed his symbol of eternal devotion on Kilain's left ring finger and uttered a humble, "With this ring, I thee wed."

Kilain admired the golden band and smiled. Mirin smiled back and hoped to God that he hadn't forgotten.

The dominant bull reached into his breast pocket and removed a large diamond-studded nose ring. Mirin stifled a gasp, recognizing the pattern as that of a British Duke. Kilain held it delicately between thumb and forefinger for all to see: two golden half circles invisibly hinged at the bottom. It was still open, ready to bite down on his mate.

Mirin flared his nostrils in preparation, but Kilain was not ready to insert it. Instead, he turned to the congregation and gave an unanticipated speech.

"The traditional nose ring of a Dom-Sub wedding," he orated, admiring the polished gold. "It reinforces the relationship of a same-gendered union. A union that might falter should the wrong bulls pair. A union of two Doms might end in violence, of two Subs in despair. So we have this ring to advertise to the world and to remind us who is who... and how we should behave."

He twirled the brilliant bauble between his fingers.

"This ring comes with a special clasp that, once locked into the nose, it cannot be removed... not without considerable damage and expense... to the ring, of course."

[Polite chuckles]

"It is a symbol of pride for both Dom and Sub, for it shall only be inserted by the Dom in a ceremony such as this, among witnesses who can see for themselves that the Sub is a willing participant. After all, some might consider such an audacious symbol... demeaning."

He held the ring in front of Mirin, who bent down to allow him to insert it, but Kilain snatched it away again.

The Dom caressed the ring and uttered a plaintive, "But no one wonders if the Dom is a willing participant."

Mirin straightened up slowly. This he had not planned for.

Kilain looked him tenderly in the eyes. "Mirin, some things change."

The Holstein's eyes widened as the Longhorn squeezed his fingers, closing the ring in mid air until it clicked. Not all gasps were successfully stifled. The Cadillac of nose rings was now worthless.

"And some things never will. Mirin, my love, I cannot in good conscience marry you..."

He reached for the Holstein's left hand.

"... as a dominant bull."

The ring slipped loosely over Mirin's ring finger.

"With this ring, I wed thee, Mirin, as my life partner, my equal, and my better half."

Kilain addressed the audience while smiling at his mate. "To look at us, we appear as different as night and day. In some ways, we still are. But appearances alone can never tell the whole truth."

He gestured to the crowd, "All of you here today, and all of this extravagant splendor... this was entirely Mirin's doing. My only part in this grand affair was to somehow manage to show up on time. Now you tell me who is the bigger bull."

Mirin smiled modestly as Kilain returned his attention to him. "I trust Mirin with the rest of my life. And I know he trusts me with his. Where it matters, we are truly equals. And I prefer Mirin's handsome nose just the way it is. No one's ring belongs there."

He turned to face his doubters. "Now I know that these words may ring hollow, especially given my grandiose entrance. But the truth is... I don't care. I don't care about ANY OF YOU... what you think of me, that is. I would gladly stand here in a dress, if I believed it was my beloved's wish."

Kilain winked at Mirin, who shook his head in brief terror. The tiger-bull touched his face to placate him.

"As far as I'm concerned, there is only one person here. Only one person I care about... only one person I need to impress..."

He took Mirin's hand and smiled that smile.

"And by golly, I just married him."

Mirin gazed at his mate while letting his words sink in, then nodded softly and said, "Well done, Kilain. You sure did."

He pulled his tiger to him, and the black and white bulls kissed long and hard to uproarious applause.

The Holstein whispered, "As your equal, I suppose I should ask permission before I rip your tux off and fuck you senseless right here and now."

"Permission granted, my Love. However, in all fairness I must warn you that underneath this tux you will find two red fishnet stockings, one lavender garter belt, and a stunning black silk bodice capped with two electric blue pasties."

"Maybe later then," he snorted, then paused to admire the sparkling loop that dangled loosely on his finger.

"Um... perhaps we can have it resized," whispered Kilain.

"No," said Mirin. "I'd rather break my knuckle to resize my finger."

The bulls proudly strolled hand-in-hand down the main aisle nodding to well-wishers.

Mirin uttered an aside, "Blue pasties, eh?"

"With gold tassels." Kilain waved to his parents.

"You sexy, sexy Momma."

Outside the church, Mirin reached into his pocket and removed the note that Kilain had passed him, except that it wasn't a note at all, but two playing cards: the jack of diamonds and king of hearts. He smiled at the reference.

"I'm not much of a card player; however, I know that these two characters are not exactly equal partners... but that's okay." He wrapped his arms around Kilain. "You shall always be King of my heart."

"And you, my Duke of diamonds, shall forever enrich me."

Kilain clasped his spouse's right hand with both of his own, palming the cards between them again.

"Do you know what this is, Mirin? It is the winning hand that life has dealt me. Because of my stature and breed, I have always had it easier than most. But when things come too easy, it is easier to lose appreciation for them, and easiest to lose them altogether."

Kilain caressed the back of his spouse's hand. "Two days ago I didn't have the heart to play a winning hand. Today... I'm happy just to hold it."

Mirin added his left hand to the mix and pondered, "Do you suppose anyone will miss us at the reception?"

"Excuse me?"

"I have a bodice to unwrap."

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