Power Steering, Part 2
Our steered protagonists achieve their ultimate goals.
"Yeah, c'mon, give it to me!" he cried to the big rhino behind him. Ferd hadn't seen the guy before today, but had been instantly attracted to him - short, thick, built like a truck. Handsome, too, to Ferd's eyes. Cyrus had said he wasn't into rhinos, but Ferd dug those horns, the hard dermal plates. He felt those hard dermal plates slam into his ass, shoving back as hard as he could. "Season my fuckin' meat!"
The young rhino snorted, a little confused. This eunuch had come up to him in the showers and basically planted itself on his cock, wanted him to fuck it, and now it was ordering him around? Who the hell was in charge here? The snort came from the recognition that the fact he was even asking himself that question meant it wasn't him, and he didn't like that. He gripped the steer's sides with this three-fingered hands, squeezing hard and lifting a bit, getting up under it and letting gravity help him fuck its ass as hard as he could. His cock was as hard as it got, the challenges the steer kept bleating at him getting his competitive gander up.
"Yeah, there we go," Ferd sneered as he felt the rhino's cock harden up inside of him, and realized the young rhino had just needed to feel more dominant. "Please, sir, give it to me harder," he cooed, halfway between earnest and sarcastic. Either way, it made the rhino want to give it to him harder. The young man pulled backward on Ferd's hips as he thrust. Ferd rolled his eyes; he could have pushed back even harder, but if that was what it took to keep the rhino good n' hard like this, so be it. "Oh, yeah, oh, please..."
"Yeah, bitch, take it!" the rhino cried, finally shooting, his armored cock firing its spunk into the steer's well-stretched asshole. No longer needing the pretense, Ferd pushed backward, pinning the rhino up against the wall and forcing his cock up into his ass as far as he could get it to go, feeling every squirt up in him. Once he felt it start to go squishy again, he let off, leaving the very confused rhino with a rapidly shrinking erection and the vague feeling that he'd just been raped.
"Damn, power bottom," Cyrus snickered as he passed by Ferd, who cleaned up and met him out by the scales. "What'd you hit?" Ferd asked.
"Six thirty-two," Cyrus grinned. "Up six pounds from last week."
"Nice, bro," Ferd stepped on as Cyrus stepped off. "Six thirty-four," he announced.
"What? No way, look at that," Cyrus pointed to the scale, the long arm still tipping. "That's not at all centered." He tapped the smaller weight just slightly back to the left, and the arrow swung back up. "See, six thirty-one."
"Nah, bro, now it's stuck at the top," Ferd pointed, tapping the weight slightly to the right. "Six thirty-two, same as me." The needle came to rest right in the middle where it should. "Dumbass," Ferd gave his buddy a playful punch to the shoulder.
The two turned to walk to their lockers when one of the trainer snakes walked in. "You two," the trainer pointed at Ferd and Cyrus. "Ssstand for inssspection," the snake ordered. Both had just come from the showers after their after-work-workout. It was their third of the day, after their before-work and lunchtime hours. Evening Workout had been cardio, but one of the trainers had suggested they drop that, not wanting their meat too tough, so instead they now had six weightlifting routines, all concentrating on different things, and did three of them per day, alternating days for six days a week.
Ferd felt himself drop into his trance, no longer fighting it. He liked it when the trainers ordered him around, it made him feel useful. He used to get annoyed, pissed off that whatever pissant was telling him to do something was trying to tell him what to do, but no longer. He brought his legs together and stood tall, chest out, gut in, arms back and at his sides, his towel falling to the floor. Cyrus did the same thing next to him, the two bulls' eyes glazed over as the snake inspected their bodies.
"Very niccce," the snake felt Ferd's bulging gut, his abs making clear ripples but pushed outward by the submuscular fat he'd been developing. The reptile's hands moved down to Ferd's ass, once pert and hard as granite. It was still hard, just covered in a layer of soft tubbiness, giving it a shiny roundess. "Yesss, marbling very well." The snake's hand came around to his front, feeling Ferd's shrivelled cock and empty sac. "And thisss...doesss your penisss ever get hard anymore? Ssspeak."
"No, sir, not for more than a year," Ferd replied.
"And you? Ssspeak," the snake asked Cyrus.
"No sir, not for more than eleven months," Cyrus replied. He'd kept getting stiffie until about two weeks after his gelding. Ferd never had managed a real erection since his castration.
"Yesss, good," the snake nodded. "Fffollow me," it waved them over to one of the offices. The two bulls stood obediently while the snake ran a receiving tube up their cockheads, then pierced each of them from beneath, running a ring through and clipping a tag to the ring before popping the captive bead in. "Thessse mark you asss meat. You have sssurrendered all rightsss and are no longer legal persssonsss. Give me your walletsss."
The two bulls opened their lockers, fished their wallets out of their pants, and handed them to the snake, who took their driver's licenses out and set them aside, then tossed all their credit and debit cards into the shredder. "Tossss your clothing and belongingsss into the trasssh." Mindlessly, the bulls obeyed, pulling their clothing out of the locker and tossing it into the big trash bin, along with their gym bags, wallets, hats, and everything else they had with them. "Ssstand in that line," the snake pointed to a line of guys leading through a door neither of them had noticed before. All the guys in it were big muscleheads with some extra weight on, same as they were - one ram, a horse, a bear. No other bulls that they could see, but somebody up through the passageway had horns.
"Man, this is great," Cyrus grinned dopily as they got into line. "Finally done with havin' t'go t'work, with working out all the damn time. Man, it's all finally payin' off," he beamed.
"Totally, bro," Ferd agreed.
"Hey, check it," Cyrus nodded back toward the trainer, who had just told the rhino to stand for his own inspection.
"Huh?" Ferd turned to see the rhino scoff, the snake grab the big rhino by the ears and give him the cold stare, his mouth moving as the rhino's muscles went slack, the big guy relaxing as the snake told him what's what. "Hah. Resisted inspection. His balls're toast," Ferd chuckled. "No big loss, though," he turned back to Cyrus. "He wasn't really all that good."
"Yeah? Well hung though, right?" Cyrus took a look back at the rhino's swinging erection, a big ol' thick cock.
"Not exactly...it's, like, a normal cock, he's just got that super thick skin. It's like getting fucked by a hot dog with the bun on," Ferd shrugged. And he'd called it, too, the snake leading the rhino through the door to the gelding pens.
Only a short time later, their line got moving, all the meatheads in it loaded up onto a flatbad truck and driven to an auction house. "Oh, man, I thought we were heading to the butcher's," Cyrus said aloud, clearly disappointed.
"Naaaah, bro," the ram who'd been in front of them in line shook his head. "We get auctioned off either to butchers or restaurants."
"Oh, okay, cool," Ferd nodded. Well, not really, but at least they knew the deal now.
A couple of cobras, big thick guys, got all the gelded mammals off the truck and into the line leading up to the auction block. They weren't the only guys getting auctioned by far; there was another truckload ahead of them full of guys Ferd recognized from their gyms, and several others that had to be from other gyms around the city. They were herded off the trucks into a winding maze of those barrier ribbon things, and slowly wound their way around, eventually heading up on the block itself.
The meat was being sold in lots, usually by species. The ram ahead of them went with three of his fellows, the four of them freshly shorn, all flexing and showing off their own big, well-marbled mutton shanks and roasts. The two bulls were just sold together, seeing as how they were the same breed and so similar in size and development. Ferd and Cyrus grinned broadly up on stage, hitting a most-muscular, moving into a crab, and other poses to show off their own thick meat.
The bidding exploded, the steer igniting a war between the city's steakhouses, and the two bulls kept getting chills as the numbers shouted out for them grew higher and higher. Wolf's Steakhouse and the Komodo Hibachi Grill ended up the finalists, but Simba's Savannah and Nanook's Polar Grill held in there for awhile. That was actually kind of too bad - he kind of liked the idea of Simba's, where they set you loose in a big park, and the lions would hunt and eat you. Ferd dug the idea of the challenge, but they dropped out of the bidding.
"Man," Cyrus said to him, "Wolf's is all prestigious and hoity-toity, but if Komodo gets us, we'll get to get taken apart right there at the dining table...that's fuckin' hot," Cyrus grinned to him. Ferd agreed, but in the end, hoity-toity won out, and Wolf's outbid Komodo's. "Damn, I just realized what that means," Cyrus' smile somehow got even wider. "We're Grade-fuckin' A, bro!"
Ferd glowed at the thought of it, all the way up the narrow, single-file line out to wherever they were going. He started hearing bleats from ahead, and figured it out - this was the kill line; they were being slaughtered here, not at the restaurants. Some of the guys around him were getting nervous. Cyrus looked back at him but just grinned. Ferd pushed up close to him, rubbing his buddy's sides. Soon it would all be over, and he'd be Grade A.
Grade A, Ferd thought as he rested his head in guide. "Fuck yeah," he muttered, and the nail fired.