Bull Master: Ch3 Travel Plans
#3 of Bull Master
Thwack ... thwack ... thwack thwack thwack. Bob pummeled his legs while he thought about his situation. The blows barely budging his skin, as the massive stria of muscle in his thighs absorbed the force. "Amazing," Bob thought, "I barely feel anything, yet I'm pounding on my legs as hard as I can. I wonder who ..."
Bob tore off for his computer, forgetting about his new found strength; closed the distance far faster than ever and slammed into a wall. "Owwww," Bob wailed, rubbing his bruised shoulder, "I really have a lot to get used to before this developing body of mine kills me." Common sense now burned into his brain, Bob walked the rest of the way to his computer.
Logging into his favorite chat site, Bob sought out the only person Bob thought would be able to comprehend his situation. The one who recommended he try the infernal product in the first place: Cowgirl69. Bob hopped from room to room searching, "Come on, come on. Where are you? I know you're in here somewhere," he whined.
"Gotcha," Bob trumpeted at finally tracking down Cowgirl in a chat room mixer of sexually enhanced singles looking for dates.
"Now to send her a private chat request ..." he directed. His fingers flying over the keyboard in anticipation and dread of what she might say.
JustBob: Cowgirl, we need to talk privately.
Cowgirl69: Hey, Bob. Certainly. What's on your mind?
JustBob: I need to talk about the cylinder you recommended I try to continue me enhancement pursuits.
Cowgirl69: What of it?
JustBob: uum ... well ... you see ... I've ... uum ... changed.
Cowgirl69: Really ... interesting ... how so?
JustBob: Well ... let's just say that Bob is now running with the bulls.
Cowgirl69: ? ... I don't understand. What are you trying to say?
JustBob: I'm saying I'm a fully functional bull now cause of your suggestion.
Cowgirl69: Reeeally ... Can I see?
JustBob: Are you serious?
Cowgirl69: Absolutely!
JustBob: Why would you want to see it?
Cowgirl69: I told you, I've been working with those virile creatures for years. To see a bull cock on a man would be a huge turn on. I never told you this, but doing a bull has been a longstanding dream of mine.
JustBob: Seriously?
Cowgirl69: Yup.
JustBob: Can you come to me?
Cowgirl69: No.
JustBob: Why not?
Cowgirl69: Cause I live in a commune, and I'm needed here, as I said, to tend to the bulls. You're unemployed, so should be no problem for you to up and leave.
JustBob: Sure, but ... how?
Cowgirl69: Plane, train, automobile ... don't care. Just get here ... can't wait to see ... the beef.
JustBob: Alright, alright ... I get it. I'll get to you as soon as I can. Though it won't be easy with these ... changes.
Cowgirl69: If anyone can figure it out, you can. I'm sending you my contact info. See you soon.
Bob stared at himself in a mirror to take full stock of the difficulties he would face trying to hide his bovine half to get to Cowgirl. What he saw was a mismatch of bull and human. Below his waist, Bob was the pinnacle of the bovine species, if they could walk on two feet. Bulging, rippling muscle of unyielding power adorned his legs. Covered by a black pelt of bristly hair, those legs aptly framed his symbol of masculinity nestled between, which was beginning to stir from the attention. Bob's passions began to flare, but were quickly doused by the sight of his weak human half. Where his legs seem to belong to an eight foot god, Bob's upper body remained the property of a simple six foot human. Therein was Bob's challenge to get to Cowgirl. How to hide his bovine half without attracting suspicion?
Four weeks, hundreds of web sites, and thousands of dollars later, Bob had a plan in place. Despite the increased risk, Bob chose to book a flight. His desire see Cowgirl as soon as possible overrode his paranoia of being caught. Playing into his decision was the fact that it was the middle of winter and no one would look twice at someone heavily bundled, not, however, against the cold but discovery. To create that look, Bob had to sacrifice three weeks of time while internet tailors worked to create the custom pants and shoes needed to disguise his bovine half. Loosely cut, the pants obscured most of the definition of his muscled legs to keep wandering eyes away. Bob was also able to hide his proportional differences by wearing the pants low on his hips with a long bulky shirt. The entire getup was extremely uncomfortable, but worthwhile in Bob's mind for the prize at the end of the road. Even though he truly had no idea what that prize was.
"Have a good day, sir," deadpanned the cabby as Bob paid the toll plus tip for the ride to the airport. He left his car at home since he was unsure when he would be returning home. Walking away quickly, Bob could feel the cabby's eyes on his back. He had made sure to tip the cabby well since the warmth of his disguise inside the enclosed cab made him extremely hot. The heat caused him to sweat. Sweat exuded his natural odor; the scent of a bull. Bob hastily apologized and concocted a story that he was a farm supply salesman just coming off a sales call from a breeding farm, but the cabby was hardly amused. His cab was going to reek of cow for the rest of the day.
Bob hoped that was going to be the worst complication of the journey. A sentiment that held until he reached the security check point. Having only a carry-on bag, Bob figured ...
"Beeeep," the magnetic scanner whined as he stepped through.
"Sir, please step back and try again," directed the security personnel.
"Beeeep," again the scanner complained.
"Damn it," Bob thought, "I don't need this. What set the stupid thing off? I'm not carrying any metal specifically to prevent this. Damn it."
"Sir, please turn out your pockets, spread your legs shoulder width apart, and raise your arms," commanded a female guard.
"Alright," Bob complied.
"Why won't this thing work," the guard smacked the handheld scanner in her palm. "Technical assistance required at check point 12. Handheld scanner malfunction," the guard squawked into her radio.
"My apologies for the delay sir, but I'll have to pat you down manually so I can get you on your way. Would you prefer a male or female guard?" she questioned.
Bob took a deep breath to keep his fear and frustration in check. "You'll do fine. Just get this over with. I don't have any idea why I'm in this situation in the first place."
"Understood, sir," intoned the guard; proceeding to begin patting Bob down. Up his arms, down his sides, across his chest flew her hands finding nothing. Bending down, investigating hands made their way up Bob's calves, past his knees to his thighs ... The guard paused suddenly, cheeks flushing at the realization of what she may have just contacted, jaw going slack as she looked up at Bob with apologetic eyes.
"Yes, that's all me," Bob deadpanned wanting this to end without further indignity.
"Uh, sorry but I ... uum ... need to investigate further since ... uum ... that can't be physically possible and and ... uum ... I haven't found the source of the alarm," stammered the guard reaching to direct Bob behind the privacy screen. Bob stepped back away from the aggressive handling, his foot crossing the threshold of the scanner.
"Beeeep," it declared.
The sound jarred the guard, who shook her head and retreated from her aggressive posture, sanity returning. "Please remove your shoes and step through," she stated.
"Argh, fine," Bob whined, removing his shoes and crossing under the silent scanner.
"Thank you, sir," complemented the guard, not making eye contact. "It appears this nail embedded in your shoe is the culprit," she stated while setting off the scanner with the diminutive piece of metal.
Bob shuffled from side to side, attempting to keep his nerves and building erection under control.
"How the hell did such a tiny piece of metal cause such trouble?"
"Well, with increased airport security over the past years brou..."
"Okay, okay. I get it. Can I go now?" interrupted Bob.
"Sure, sir. Oh ... uum, take this please," hoped the guard, handing Bob her card while biting her lip,"uum ... My number's on there. Call me some time ... please."
"Uuh, heh, I'll consider it, heh. Right now I've got somewhere to go, but ... we'll see," Bob and his cock responded to her forward offer. He picked up his bag and walked to his flight's gate bowlegged from the tumescent weight between his legs.
Relaxing in his seat, Bob couldn't help but smile as he recounted the events of the day, and that the hard part of his plan was complete. All that remained was to meet up with Cowgirl and see where things go. Bob's mind wandered over all of the possibilities until the plane touched down;
nervous excitement rising.
Stepping off the plane, Bob's head spun. He had no idea who he was looking for, what they looked like, and he was far away from home. Round and round thoughts went never ceasing until he saw his name in bold print on a placard.
Bob approached the middle aged man holding the sign, and introduced himself, "Hi, I'm Bob. Are you with Cowgirl?"
"Yes, I'm Shawn. I do the running around the community for the commune. Cowgirl is anxiously awaiting your arrival," he offered, "Shall we go."
"Absolutely," Bob replied. He followed Shawn out to his vehicle, and went to open the door to get in. As he stepped back to avoid the swinging door he collided with Shawn. The two men tripped over each other, neither seriously injured, except for Bob's left buttock which stung. Each of the men straightened themselves out and entered the car. As they pulled away from the airport, Bob's eyes became very heavy.
"My apologies, the trip must gave taken more out of me than I thought," Bob yawned, "I hope you ... aren't offended ... if I ... zzz."
"Don't worry, my friend. Rest. You have much more ahead of you," Shawn foretold.
To be continued.