The Birthday Bull

Chapter One

Procurement

Michael knew he needed a change for quite some time. His job of many years had become tedious, the people in his life had grown annoying, and his town in general was fast becoming a rundown slum. The security of his job was the only thing keeping the man glued down, so when his pink slip arrived one afternoon, he knew it was time. After seven years of toil, he decided to take his severance and start somewhere new; he was moving to the city.

Three weeks later, he found himself staying in a small hotel and hunting for jobs. The city was beautiful, the people were interesting, and the women were gorgeous. Hooking up with one of these pretty girls was what Michael had in mind as he prepared for a Friday night out. Being unattached, young, handsome, and charming, he knew he had a decent chance of getting laid. Dressed impeccably, every hair in place, the man set out on a night he couldn’t have imagined.

Byron’s Brewery wasn’t far from his hotel. He strolled in, finding the place rather crowded with all sorts of the city’s populace. A few empty stools remained at the long bar, where Michael took a seat. Quickly ordering a scotch on the rocks, the man set about scanning for interesting women. Ladies were everywhere, but all seemed to be with their men. Hopefully, the scotch would help ease his self-consciousness, he thought, as he finished his drink. He didn’t like coming to bars alone, but his lack of friends in the city made it his only option.

Turning back to the bar, Michael had just ordered a second drink, when someone sidled up to his right. He looked over to see an attractive woman: pretty green eyes contrasted with red, wavy, short hair. Her face was round and cute, dotted with light freckles. She wore a little green dress which stopped rather short, allowing her to display the shapely legs she bore. Pretty black shoes adorned her little feet, he noticed, casually glancing down.

“Hi there,” she smiled, catching Michael’s eye.

“Hello,” Michael greeted, returning the smile and receiving his drink.

“I’m Abby,” the woman said, extending her fingers.

“Michael,” he said, taking her hand. “Would you like a drink?”

“No thanks, I have one,” she answered, pointing to a table where sat a large, red-haired man. “I was hoping you’d like to join me. My brother’s just leaving, and you seemed to be alone.”

“Yep, I am,” Michael replied. “And yes, I’d love to.” He happily followed her lead to the table, unable to stop staring at her little body as they went. That was easy, he thought to himself.

“I have company now,” Abby told the big man when they arrived at the table. “Off you go!”

The man gave Michael a once over, as if he didn’t trust him. Finally, he stood. “Be good to my sister,” he said, pointing his finger at the man. He then walked off without any further comment.

“He’s mad because they just called him into work,” Abby explained, taking a seat. “He doesn’t like me in a bar alone. But anyway, sit. Let’s chat.”

Abby seemed to grow more and more pretty as they talked. She was fun, flirty, and seemed interested in everything Michael had to say. She asked him question after question: how old was he? Where was he from? Did he like to drink? Did he ever do drugs? What sort of diet did he enjoy? Did he work out? Before he could return a question, she was on to another. He felt like all he was doing was talking about himself.

“How about tattoos?” she asked, returning from the bar; she had insisted on buying the next round. She set down his scotch before dragging her chair closer to his.

“No tattoos,” Michael answered, sipping his drink. “You?”

“Well,” Abby smiled, “maybe you’ll find out…”

“Mm. I know I will,” he shot back, feeling more confident with each passing scotch.

“I don’t know,” she played, sipping her martini, “you seem a bit shy for my taste.”

“Shy?” laughed the man, knowing this could be true. “Nah. Not really.”

“In that case,” the woman asked, leaning in close to his ear, “what about sex? What kind of sex do you like, Michael?”

His heart began to pound! This girl was so direct, he almost felt uncomfortable. He had many kinks that few people knew about, and he was suddenly embarrassed. It took a long time for him to be comfortable telling his partners all his fantasies. Telling a stranger at a bar was far too embarrassing.

“Ha ha,” he laughed nervously, tipping back his drink. “You know, all sex is good in my book.”

“Aw, you are shy!” she teased, placing her hand on his leg. “Okay, I’ll help. Are you a breast man?”

He glanced at her chest as she arched her back, her cleavage protruding from beneath her dress. “Um, yeah,” Michael said. “Breasts are good.

“I don’t think you’re a breast man,” she smiled. “Are you an ass man?”

The girl stood from her seat, turning her back on Michael. He stared as she bent forward slightly, her sexy butt nearly in his face.

“That’s um—Yes!” he stumbled, amazed with this woman.

“Maybe you’re a leg man,” she taunted, again taking a seat. Crossing one over the other, she ran her hands down her curvy bare legs.

Michael’s eyes followed her hands, but continued on to gaze at her shoes. “Feet,” he heard himself say, captivated. “I think feet are sexy.”

“Oh! A foot man,” she jeered, allowing her shoe to dangle from her toes. Her heel was pink, round, and flowed into a high arch that left the man drooling. He could only imagine what they must have looked like bare.

“Want to get out of here?” Michael asked, swallowing the last of his scotch. He wanted this woman badly. Not only that, he was feeling a bit drowsy and hoped the fresh air would help.

“Let’s do it,” Abby quickly agreed.

Michael stood up, the room spinning. He gripped the table a moment to steady himself. He wondered why he was so drunk; he could down three scotches easily.

“Alright there?” laughed the woman, taking Michael’s arm.

“Yeah. Just… dizzy,” he said, laughing it off. He wasn’t about to blow this opportunity!

“Don’t worry, I can drive us,” Abby offered when they got outside. “Just over here, you lush!”

It was halfway to her car that Michael started to drag his feet. The streetlights swirled around his vision, and everything Abby was saying seemed like it came from a distant shore. He was about to sit down in the road, when a familiar face suddenly appeared and hefted him up: Abby’s brother.

What’s he doing here? thought Michael, as if in a dream. He saw a blurry van… An empty bench seat… Passing lights through a window as they drove…. Voices came to him from the front of the vehicle: an argument about doses… Something about timing… Then darkness took him.

Chapter Two

Orientation

Michael awoke slowly, bright lights in his eyes bringing him toward consciousness. He had no idea where he was or what had happened. A memory of the pretty woman he had sat with popped into his mind, and he recalled drinking scotch. Must have passed out drunk, he thought, squinting at the ceiling. Why were these lights so damn bright?

He turned his head to the left on the pillow, seeing a white painted, cinderblock wall. He didn’t know this wall. Turning his vision to the right, he saw a small room. A closed door was on the wall at which his feet were facing. A toilet sat at the opposite wall, besides which hung a plastic curtain. Nothing else was in the room other than the bed on which he lay, and Michael had no clue where he was.

He sat up, his eyesight becoming more clear. Standing, he slowly approached the metal door, peering out of a small window at face height; he could see only a hallway leading off in both directions. With a tug at the door handle, he found it locked tight. Was he in jail? he pondered, going to the curtain near the toilet. Pulling it back revealed a small shower stall; a bar of soap, towel, and a washcloth were placed on the floor.

Michael sat down on the bed, wracking his brain to remember how he had gotten here. What in the world did he do to end up in jail? What happened with that woman, Abby? The night was coming back to him slowly: the bar, the large man, the van! Had he been kidnapped? he wondered with sudden fear!

A loud click at the door startled the man out of thought. He stood as it opened, a woman entering. Michael was surprised to see some type of rifle in her hands, poised at her eye and pointed at him. Following behind the armed individual came another woman. Similarly dressed in a black uniform, this one wielded a long rod. The women took places along the far wall, staring down the confused man. Lastly entered a third woman, taller than the others and much more intimidating.

While the two females bearing weapons wore their hair pulled tightly back and displayed a military demeanor, the red-haired amazon standing before Michael allowed her long hair to flow freely. Muscles bulged from beneath her tight black pants and pale-skinned arms. The little black tank top she wore barely contained her bosom. She held nothing in her hands, simply crossing her arms as she glared at the man with her cruel brown eyes.

“What the hell’s go—” began Michael.

“Shh!” the woman interrupted, placing an index finger to her lips. “You do not speak to me, unless spoken to. Understood?”

“What, seriously? Who are you, Lady?” Michael angrily asked.

“Zap him!” ordered the woman, not at all approving of the man’s first interaction.

“What? Wait!” Michael cried, retreating a step. The woman carrying the rod quickly approached, sticking him in the right shoulder. Jolts of energy and pain rippled through his body, and he somehow found himself on his knees. Another poke in his side laid him out, twitching in agony. The guard had retaken her post before he regained his senses. The woman in charge gave him a moment to moan on the floor as he recovered.

“Get up!” she barked, when her patience had run out.

He slowly stood, the pain diminishing. The man felt immediate fear now, knowing that this couldn’t be a jail. These people meant business, and they weren’t beyond hurting him. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

“I will have your respect and obedience,” the woman sternly told him. “Anything less, and you will face painful reprimands. Understood?”

“Yeah,” Michael nodded, still shaking.

“Allow me to welcome you to The Stockyard,” she went on. “I am the herdstress. You are no longer Michael. You are my property, and will henceforth be known as bull number 27. You will not escape from here, so put it out of your mind right now. Any attempt will only result in punishments you can’t imagine. Behave, and you will find us fair and humane. Understood?”

“Yes,” he answered, not at all liking what he was being told. Escape was the only thing currently on his mind, despite the grave warning.

“Under the bed, you’ll find your garment,” the herdstress said. “You are to strip completely before putting it on—no socks, no underwear—everything comes off. All jewelry, if any, is to be removed. You have five minutes to change, and then it’s time for your exam.”

With that, the woman left the small room, her two guards keeping their posts. Their eyes were glued on him as his mind raced. Should he rush them? he wondered. That rifle was aimed directly at him; he’d be dead before he could do anything. Besides, the pain of the electric prod was too fresh in his mind for much bravery at the moment. Being shot might have been preferable to that electricity again. He stood, hesitating, afraid to act.

“Let’s go,” ordered the female with the prod, using it to point at the bed. “Change!”

Seeing little other option, Michael bent down, feeling under the bed. His fingers found a folded item, which he pulled out. Unfolding it, the man found little more than a white linen gown. With a glance to the women intently watching him, he began to undress. He kicked off his shoes and undid the buttons of his shirt. Slipping it off, next went his undershirt. He reluctantly unfastened his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and let them drop. He stepped out of them, his back to the women, and pulled off his socks. The worst part was dropping his boxers, sensing the eyes of the women on his bottom. Slipping the garment over his head, it came down to just above his knees.

“The watch,” the guard said when Michael turned to face them. He unclasped his timepiece, tossing it on the bed.

“Alright, let’s go,” she ordered, pointing to the open door with her prod. “Out the door, to the right.”

The man walked out of his cell and into a white hallway. Quickly looking around, all he saw were walls spaced with periodic doors. The hall eventually made right degree turns in both directions he could see. He was led a few doors down, until he was ordered to stop. The guard opened the door before him, ushering him in.

He found himself standing in an exam room: a table, scale, counter of instruments, and everything one would expect at a doctor’s office filled the area. In the room waiting for him was a short, petite young girl. Wavy blond hair flowed to her shoulders, pretty blue eyes were behind thick rimmed glasses, and she wore blue scrubs. The stethoscope around her neck completed her outfit.

“Hello,” she smiled quite pleasantly. “I’m Nurse Lilly. I’ll be having a look at you.

Michael heard the door shut behind him. Glancing back, he saw that the guards hadn’t left. While the rifle was no longer pointed at him, the woman held it at the ready.

“Go ahead and slip off that gown,” the nurse said, picking up a clipboard.

“Um,” began Michael, sensing that this woman was more tolerant than the others he had met. “I don’t know what’s going on, or where I am… Can you just tell me—”

“Hey!” barked the guard behind him. “Do as you’re told!”

“It’ll be much easier if you cooperate,” the young nurse said. “I know, it’s embarrassing. But I’ve seen it all before.”

“But,” the man delayed, feeling ashamed, “I—I don’t have anything on under this.”

“That’s the way we do it,” the nurse smiled, tapping her clipboard with a pen. “Let’s go. Chop-chop!”

Michael’s face burned in embarrassment as he pulled the gown up and over his head, dropping it to the floor. He covered his crotch immediately, feeling three pairs of female eyes on his naked body. The man hated being barefoot in front of others, let alone completely nude!

“Alright, we’ll get your weight and height first,” Lilly informed, motioning to the scale.

Not knowing what else he could do, Michael walked over and stepped onto the platform. The nurse adjusted the counter weights until she found the sweet spot, recording the number on her form. He turned around when prompted, and Lilly lowered the height rod to his head. “Okay,” she said, with a jot of her pen, “take a seat on the table, please.”

He did as instructed, sitting with his hands cupped over his crotch. Inserting the eartips of the stethoscope, the little blond placed the chestpiece on the man’s breast. “Try and calm down,” she smiled, hearing his racing heart. “Take a few deep breaths.”

After recording her findings, the nurse produced a thermometer, placing it under Michael’s tongue. He hated the doctor. He hated being nude in this way. Everything about this experience was humiliating him terribly! He wanted to know what was going on.

“What is this?” he whispered after she removed the thermometer and was feeling the sides of his neck. “Why am I here? Who are you people?”

She walked to the counter, ignoring his questions. Returning with a reflex hammer, she began to tap his knee. “Look,” she said quietly, “all you can do at this point is cooperate. Just do as you’re told, and they’ll make it easier for you.”

“Make what easier?” he asked nervously, the nurse moving to his other knee. “There was this woman at the bar. Abby. She’s involved, right? Where’s she?”

“I’m sorry, Michael,” she said, jotting down her findings. “But to them, you’re just a piece of meat now.”

A piece of meat? he frantically thought. What is she talking about?

“Lay back, please?” Lilly cheerfully asked, sliding the leg extension of the table out as the man reluctantly complied. He lay there, staring at the bright ceiling, wondering how he could escape this place.

The nurse, after retrieving a couple of items, stood near his feet. Michael felt something dragged along his right foot, causing him to flinch. He glanced down to see the pointed handle of the reflex hammer moving to his left foot. He pulled back when scraped, hating his feet to be touched.

“Quite sensitive,” observed the nurse, producing a pink vinyl tape measure. Holding it from the man’s heel to his big toe, she measured the length of one foot, then the other. After the widths of his feet were also taken, she wrote a few notes on her clipboard.

Pocketing her tools, she stepped beside the man on his right. “Hand at your sides, please?” she asked.

He lay there, feeling that if his privates were uncovered, he’d have nothing left. Lilly smiled when he didn’t move, taking his wrists in her little hands. She pulled, but he was stubbornly holding them in place. “C’mon, Michael,” she said sweetly. “I’m just going to look at your tummy.”

He reluctantly let her place his hands at his sides. Fully exposed, he had never felt so humiliated. He glanced at her pretty face as she looked down upon him, before quickly averting his eyes. The nurse placed her warm hands on his pecks, gently squeezing. She worked her way down his ribs and to his navel, her fingers pushing in, feeling his muscles. She traced the outline of his hips, and that’s when he first noticed his penis beginning to grow.

“Very good,” the nurse said, removing her hands from her patient. She walked to the end of the table, sliding in the leg extension. “Please stand, and we’ll get some measurements.”

Michael sat up, covering himself before he stood.