Date: Tue, 12 May 2020 13:17:57 -0400 From: Kods A Subject: Cowmen and Bullmen- Chapter 14 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This story may not be reproduced in whole or in part without author's permission. This story is a fictitious product of my imagination and should not be read if the reader has a hatred of gay/bi people, gay sex, etc., or sex-oriented writing in general. Any semblance to real life within this story is purely coincidental. This story uses components of abstract sexual fantasies and may not be for you. A few involving mpreg, muscle growth, lactation, vore, and acts of homosexual intercourse. If you are not 18 years of age, I recommend you click off your browser because it is likely this content is illegal for your reading. Isn't it awesome how we can read so many LGBT stories on Nifty! Well, Nifty needs our support so please consider donating so there will be more wonderful stories http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Author's note: Let's all thank my beta reader Dave! His edits really helped me bring this chapter to life. Anyways shoot me an email at the end of the story if you enjoy it and we can talk about it! CH 14 Lockers slammed, teenagers shuffled through the hallways, conversations started and ended. The sounds of shoes skirted across the floor as bodies collided with each other. Highschool boys and girls laughed with each other. Following Heather, Marc began, "So now they've both shifted, that's cool and awesome. But what do I do with them now? Not to mention the whole they're older than me thing." "Uh huh," Heather walked up to a poster board and tore down multiple blue flyers. Underneath each revealed old bake sales, charity events, babysitter's information, missing person posters, lost pets, and even concert flyers. Heather shoved the defiled posters into Marc's hands, "Hold this." Marc rolled his eyes, begrudgingly taking the contraband as he followed her to another board. "I love that you're listening to me." "Yeah sure," Heather said as she ripped through more. Marc tapped his foot, staring at her destroying more flyers. "Gee, my parents certainly made the right decision to uproot my life to send me here so I can help you deface some notice boards." With the last of the posters in her hand, she turned to look at him, "What were you saying?" Marc grumbled, "Nothing." He uncrumpled one of the posters in his hand, "What were you taking down anyway?" It revealed the large face of Mr. Karter smiling with `MILKEM CO.' written in bold letters. Behind Mr. Karter, read `Grand Opening, Open House!' "Is a grand opening open house even a thing?" Marc called after Heather who was on her way to the school's community board. She snatched another blue flyer from the board. "Who cares?" "Why am I complicit to your vandalism, Heather?" "This, doesn't belong here." She waved the flyer in her hand, "It's only vandalism if it's school property. This asshole stuck his huge ego in a place where it's not welcome. Did he sneak in here to get these up?" "What do you mean?" "How did he get in here to put these up? This has to be... illegal or something to be begging teenagers to come to this stupid event!" "Or maybe he just asked the school?" Marc thought it was aggressive marketing, but not overly invasive. Heck, did the other students even read the community board? Watching Heather's tantrum against Mr. Karter and his posters was the most cathartic thing he'd experienced in a while, though he was annoyed that she wasn't listening to him. Aggressively, she tore up more posters by a bin. He watched with eager satisfaction, imagining it was him tearing away at the distance between him and his friends, him and his parents, the unfamiliar situation at the farm and everything else that was raising his blood pressure. Marc took in the flyer, the date, the time, the location. It had it all, in short descriptions and pictures of the newly renovated farm – formerly the Howard farm. "Looks more like a café." Marc stated. "They run a farm/restaurant type thing," Heather grabbed Marc's crumpled flyers and tossed them in the trash. Marc read some of the smaller print. `Try our milk free! Come and meet our Cowmen! Interact with Cowmen!' Marc reread that line again. "This is it!" Heather came up beside Marc, "It's what?" "The answer to my troubles with Ken and Trevor." Heather snatched the paper from Marc's hand. "That's a shitty idea. You go there looking for answers and they'll try to sell you milk and 20 other things!" "I don't care much for the milk, but at least I'll get answers." Marc pleaded. Heather rubbed her brows, "Marc, you live on a farm, where there are hundreds of workers and cowmen to go to for advice." "I can't." Marc hung his head, avoiding her eyes. She didn't know that Ken went all Tarzan on him, during Ken's shift and now they were the talk of the farm. Worse were the giggles and hushed whispers about Trevor and Ken fighting over him and their supposed love triangle; he was not about to fuel any of their lecherous thoughts and fantasies. "Why not?" "It's hard to explain, just trust me." "Trust you into the arms of my enemy? Why not? I don't see a problem there," she responded sarcastically. "Your uncle hates that place by the way." "Which is why I won't tell him." "Keeping secrets isn't good for anyone, especially one that involves THOSE people," Heather groaned throwing her head back. "You won't tell either." "You're my friend, not your uncle. But, that doesn't mean I won't try to change your mind," she said with a wink. "Change my mind, how so?" Marc perked up at the idea. "You have eighth period free, right?" Marc nodded. "Good, we're going to my house. I'm going to show that Mr. Karter is wrong about Horsemen." "Are you serious?" Marc asked. A puppy wagging its tail couldn't be more excited. "Meet me at the school gate." Heather marched off. By the start of eighth period Marc was waiting at Heather's car as she came strolling up. He fiddled with his phone to avoid eye contact before she instructed him to get in the car. The scent of pine assaulted his senses as he situated himself beside her. Heather pulled out of the school's parking lot and onto the road. "So...you don't like that your parents left you here?" "So, you were listening." "Obviously." "And here I thought you were too mad to talk," Marc stated as rolled down his window. "Glad to know my only friend actively ignores me." "Don't be such a baby. I was clearly in my head over the Milkem thing." "I know, I just needed to talk and you're, well. You're you," Marc shrugged. "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means you went on a rampage and tore down every Milkem flyer you came across to ease some personal vendetta, but it's cool I don't judge." Heather eyed him suspiciously. "So how are things with you and Ken?" Marc eyed her suspiciously now, before looking out the window at the blurring trees. "I don't know. He's been avoiding me lately." "Because he almost hurt you during his shift?" "Maybe," Marc said, before pulling out his phone and staring at the wall of blue text with no responses. "Okay, okay." Heather reached over and repeatedly slapped Marc's hands, "I get it. I shouldn't have ignored you. But I'm ready to listen now." Marc rolled his eyes and put his phone away. "If you must know I was actually texting my Uncle to tell him I'd be home late. There's new workers and new Cowmen arriving. There's also some Cowmen leaving, but I don't know any of them." "How about you and Trevor what's going on there?" "Nope, nope," Marc shook his head. "I'm not getting into it. If I do fate will just screw me over. "Fate?" Heather laughed, "What are you talking about." "I start liking Trevor; he shifts. I ask Ken to go out with me; he shifts." "Sounds like bad timing. Didn't you know they were gonna shift?" "Okay." Marc held up a finger, "But how about this. I watch a video starring a guy name Ayden and two weeks later I meet a guy named Ayden with the same spelling." "What's the correlation?" "He's... also a cowman?" Marc flustered. Heather gasped, taking her hands off the wheel, she covered her mouth, stifling a laugh no doubt; realizing that she'd almost killed them as the car swerved, she quickly regained control. She ignored Marc's wild eyes and continued coolly, "God forbid, people have the same name. AND are Cowmen!" Marc crossed his arms and sunk back into his seat, "I'm just saying it's weird." Heather rolled her eyes, "No. You're implying it's weird when it's coincidence. Plus, you're so obviously in your feels. Look at you right now!" She looked over to Marc smiling, "I didn't know you were this dramatic." "Whatever." As the two approached Heather's house they drove pass a large sign with the words `Welcome to the Simmons' Farm!' A large brown cobble stone mansion came into view. He glanced about the verdant landscape for the additional housing structures he associated with the Cowmen farm. Where were they? Stepping out of the car, the mansion was even more impressive up close, it bared down on him with its immense presence. He hardly noticed Heather moving to rest beside him against her car. "I don't know why the architect designed it this way, but it's better on the inside." She grabbed Marc by the arm and made their way into the house. Marc took in the polished wood flooring and clean rugs laid down throughout. A large chandelier hung down in the center of the foyer, below it were two sets of stairs leading upstairs, one to the east, the other to the west and a walkway that connected the two wings. People talking and the sounds of little feet running echoed through the house. A nearby counter had pictures of Heather and her family. There were also other people smiling and laughing in various images throughout. He attempted to count the various jackets and umbrellas shoved behind and beside the door. "Wow, it's loud in here," Marc said. "Heather, Heather!" A 5-year-old boy came running from a side room and grappled Heather's legs. "Woah, River calm down." Heather patted the little boy's head. An older boy came rushing into the entrance hall with a panicked look. He calmed down when he spotted Marc and Heather. "Oh, he's with you thank god!" The boy had short golden-brown hair and brown eyes. "Who's your friend?" "This is Marc." Heather introduced him and Marc shook hands with the younger boy. "Farmer Tyrone's nephew." "Nice to meet you Marc. I'm Dante, Heather's much cooler younger brother." Heather scoffed, "Is that in some world where your room isn't littered with comic books." Dante's face went red. "Comic books? What do you have?" Marc asked. Dante's blush intensified, "I gotta go. I mean, we gotta go!" He grabbed River's hand and the two rushed upstairs. "He has sixth, seventh, and eight period free on Mondays," Heather whispered to Marc. "Can you believe that? Who gives a freshman 3 free periods at the end of the day?" Another boy came rushing out. "Heather, have you seen Dante?" Heather crossed her arms, leaned and against the wall, and smiled. "Trying to cheat at hide and seek?" "I only need a hint!" "Come meet my friend and I might tell you." She gestured the boy over. "Marc meet Colt; Colt meet Marc." Colt extended his hand to shake, Marc reached out to took it and the back of his neck prickled when they made eye contact. Colt had porcelain skin, jet-black hair and intense blue eyes that made Marc's stomach do cartwheels. Heather stood behind Colt and put her hands on his back. "Colt is one of the Horsemen that live on the farm, just like River." Marc arched an eyebrow, "You're a horseman... and your name is Colt?" Colt clenched his jaw and gave a tight-lipped smile. "Dante named Colt when he was 7. He didn't really get the difference between horses and Horsemen. Hence the name." Heather bent forward and whispered into Colt's ear. Colt grew a grin and took off running saying thank you. Heather walked over to Marc and ran a hand along his shoulder, "Colt loves his name, but the assholes at school... the jokes, as tired as they are, they still make them." "Horsemen are mean about names at Horsemen School?" "Colt goes to our school." "What! How?" "Horsemen aren't like Cowmen. They only age about twice as fast as humans, but as they get older it slows down. By the time they get to 14, or 15 they can go to human school." "You mean some of our classmates are Horsemen?" "Yes. Fun fact, a few of them live here." Heather started walking, gesturing for Marc to follow. "The others are still at school though." A loud thump rang out from overhead. "Your house is very lively." Marc followed her into the living room, another grand display filled with amenities befitting a home of a very, very big family. She then led him into the back of the house. "I need a sandwich, you?" Heather said as they came into the kitchen. A 6'5 man was standing in the middle of the room chugging down water. His blonde hair hung damp and matted to the blue towel wrapped around his shoulders. Marc also noted that he was shirtless; his abdomen was a cascade of lean, but ornately sculpted muscle, shiny with a layer of sweat. As they got closer to him, Marc realized he couldn't have been much older than him or Heather, but he definitely wasn't a high school student. "Hey Brett, what's up?" Heather asked, giving the tall guy a high five. "Just got in from a run," he said flexing an arm before wiping his face. Heather and Marc walked further into the kitchen, revealing bread left on the counter; slices abandoned in the open, jelly on the floor, and a peanut butter jar sitting out. "What is this?" Heather groaned. "I didn't do it, I've been awol for the last 2 hours stretching these bad boys," Brett flexed his calves, before bending over and placing his palms on the ground, his knees straight 2 hours stretching these bad boys,adlated sculpteders.es befitting a hometummy tingle. Theyrect. Colt . Marc's eyes bulged out as Brett's backside exposed itself through the thin, sheer and damp running shorts he wore. No one have ever made white look so good after Labour Day. " This is Colt and Dante's doing," she remarked, her eyes blazing across the mess. "You know what, it's mom's problem." "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" Brett chimed in, looking at the two from between his legs. Marc stood silent, mesmerized my Brett's form; he barely noticed Heather had begun to fix herself a sandwich. She cast an eye in their direction and smirked. "This is Marc, Farmer Tyrone's nephew." Marc stumbled over his feet, moving closer to the still stretching taller guy. "Hi I'm—." Heather had bumped into him, clumsily, he flew towards the horseman who was righting himself to catch him. "Nice to meet you... Marc," Brett said, pressing Marc into him as if they were lovers. One hand against the middle of his back and the cupping his ass. "Marc's never been around Horsemen before," Heather added. "Is that so," Brett smiled down at him displaying his pearly whites. "What do you think?" Marc felt the muscles contracting and relaxing and it made him dizzy. He needed to say something. All he could think of was Brett's hand on his ass and the earthy aroma he gave off. "Um, you can let me go now?" Marc offered, avoiding eye contact with Adonis smirking down at him. "No problem at all, maybe a not so little problem," he winked and flexed another muscle against Marc's stomach. "Oh my God... so you were r-running? Is there a marathon coming up or something?" Marc ejected, moving away from the very attractive man who had made his face feel hotter than usual. Even now, all he could think of was Brett's ass. Certainly Marvelous. Brett was in shape and no doubt muscular but was leaner and trimmer compared to the Cowmen he knew. Heather smirked and loudly sucked on her fingers. Brett placed himself behind Marc, pressing his waist against Marc. "Horsemen build up a lot of energy," he whispered into Marc's ear. "If we don't expend it somehow, let's say it can get very uncomfortable." Brett wrapped a hand around Marc's chest to stroke his own chin, searching for the right words, "Imagine being on a sugar high, pumped with energy and not being able to move, trapped between two thick cheeks... I mean walls. Four walls." Marc felt himself growing hot, the heat of Brett's body against him and the wild scent he filled his senses with; he stared at Heather, expecting her to break this up already. "So, you exercise every day?" he breathed. "I can usually skip one, or two days if I have to. But Horsemen are expected to be in top shape," he leaned into completely envelope Marc with his body. "Can you feel my hard work?" Marc gulped, audibly. "I can." "You know, Marc was going to go check out Milkem's new Farm." Heather said taking a bite of her cheese and baloney sandwich. The face of the handsome Horseman dropped, "That asshole Karter's company? What do you want from that pile of pig shit?" Brett pulled away and Marc groaned, Heather's eyes were wide with delight. Why did Heather have to speak, he was grateful that she separated them, but now, he hoped that Bret didn't hate him already. She was a shit stirrer whether she knew it or not. "It's kind of personal." Marc admitted. "I think you should spend your evening with me instead." Brett closed the distance, took Marc's hand, and ran it against his torso, letting him feel just how defined and strong his body was. When Brett got to his shorts he said, "You've felt why they call us horsemen, how about I show it to you?" "W-what?" Marc blurted out, he avoided the very prominent bulge straining the white material, he covered his face with his free hand. "Cowmen have their milk?" Brett leaned close to Marc's ear, "You want some of my milk?" Marc froze Bret pulled his hand to the waistband of his Nylon shorts. He looked at Heather who gave him a small nod as he let Marc's hand press against his cock. The farmer's nephew gasped. "That's enough," Heather laughed as she separated the boys. "He has a boyfriend." "I don't mind sharing. He's really cute, Heather." She snapped her fingers and pointed upstairs, "Go take a cold shower." "Fine, but I'll see you again, right Marc?" Brett smiled his confident and toothy grin. "Right?" Marc nodded dumbly. Brett smirked, leaned over Heather leave a kiss against Marc's temple before disappearing up the staircase. Marc sat back on a chair feeling his knees go weak. "That was— "Intense?" She asked. "Yes. Fuck. Please don't ever do that to me again!" "Really?" "Yeah, I mean. I enjoyed it, I definitely enjoyed it. But I don't like to be on the spot like that." Heather nodded in response. "I understand. But... how did he feel?" "MASSIVE!" He yelled, before descending into a fit of giggles as she joined him. "You should see it outside of those shorts." "I don't think that's a good idea." Marc stood up and nudged a smirking Heather, "So where's your boyfriend?" Heather choked on a bite of sandwich, "What?!" "Come on, who is it?" "No one here," She said swallowing her food. "Horsemen males are very well endowed, like the smallest I've ever heard of is 8 inches, the smallest I've seen? Like a foot long ruler. I'm sorry, but I like being able to walk without the aid of crutches or prosthetics." Marc crossed his arms and stood tall, "You expect me to believe you never tried to sleep with Brett or any male Horsemen here?" Heather placed the last of her sandwich on the counter. "Horsemen aren't Cowmen Marc! They don't have the same views on sex and sexual experiences." "What are you saying?" Heather pinched the bridge of her nose, "To put it gently Horsemen males and females are only interested in the same sex. At least until they reach about 18. Even then it might take some of them to turn 21." "Is that true?" "Of course, it is. Why do you think I parted you and Brett?" "Because I have a boyfriend?" He also thought she loved watching him squirm, but he wasn't about the add that. Heather scoffed picking up her sandwich, "Marc, it's one thing to deepthroat like 2 feet of dick, it's another to lack experience in relationships. You're both, but let's not get into the first part." "Is Brett's dick really 2 feet long?" Mark asked incredulously. Heather placed her hand on Marc's arm to calm him down. "You're focusing on the wrong bit. Are you happy?" "What do you mean?" "With Trevor sleeping around and banging anyone who asks for it? His decision to be a breeder? How does it make you feel?" Marc looked away. He opened his mouth to respond, but shut it back immediately. "Hmmm." "Exactly. Maybe you shouldn't tie yourself to... well, Ken." She picked up the rest of her sandwich and stuffed it into her mouth. "Why?" Marc asked, his eyes downcast. "Again, look at Trevor, what do you think makes them different? Don't you think Ken possibly wants to explore his body?" Marc bit his bottom lip. He hadn't even considered that. "So you're saying we should break up?" "No, not exactly. I'm just saying that you should try different breeds of men before you settle on the cattle," she snorted. "You're really not funny, but I guess," he responded, sounding unconvinced. "First of all, I'm hilarious. Second of all, what do you think would happen if I let Brett reshape your colon?" She asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Let me guess. You're insinuating that with my lack of experience I'd catch feelings and he'd soon shift into a woman's man and I'd be heartbroken with no two foot dong man to love me back?" Marc asked sarcastically. "There's that. But back to you and Ken, do you think you're keeping him on a leash?" Heather led Marc outside; she didn't wait for him to respond. He bit his lip and followed. Upon walking through the backdoor, he was greeted by a wide grassy plain that stretched for miles. They stepped onto a wooden back porch and took in the afternoon breeze. Marc thought it was best to chew on what she'd fed him. Instead he would change the conversation to suit his needs for now. "I've been wondering, where are all the houses?" Heather shrugged, "Everybody lives inside the mansion. I thought that was obvious." "How is it obvious?" "Well, for one Horsemen don't make milk so we can't capitalize on it. Also, did you see any houses on the way up here? Where would we be hiding them?" "Then what's all this land for?" "For the Horsemen." "What?" "You heard Brett; They need to run and let out energy. All of this land is ours." Heather walked forward and leaned against the wood porch banister, "Can you believe Milkem wanted to kick our Horsemen out of here?" Marc couldn't see her face but got the feeling she was smiling. Milkem's demand didn't seem all that unbelievable from what Marc had learned. Horsemen take 7 years to reach 14 and then age normally compared to a Cowman's 1-2 years to be fully developed. Not to mention, they're only interested in the same sex that could make it hard for breeding. Marc tapped Heather on the shoulder. She turned her head slightly to address him. "Do Horsemen males get pregnant?" "It's possible, but let's say very uncommon." She went to looking back at the sunset. That checked off the point in Marc's head. The males couldn't even reproduce with each other. Then the fact they couldn't make marketable milk was the final nail in the coffin. He saw why Milkem held no desire in them. Him and Heather walked back inside. There was one question on Marc's mind. One Heather had brought up before. Why did Milkem want this Farm? No doubt it was a last resort. Perhaps they wanted to do something with all the land? Heather started making her way up the steps and gestured for Marc to follow her. Marc look down the hallways or the east and west wings Noise poured out from both ends. Heather started walking down the West Hall. "Where are we going?" "To find my slob of a brother." "Oh, I thought you were giving me the rest of the tour. Why did I ever assumed you'd know how to be a gracious host?" Heather gave him a cutting glance, but continued. "Why are we looking for him?" Marc asked. Heather turned around on her heels wearing a big smile. "One thing you should know about my brother, he likes to study people." Heather started walking backwards while talking Marc. "He knows that Colt usually checks the east wings first and even then, Colt tends to start at the end of the hallway. Many of the doors they passed by were open, whether they were mildly ajar or wide open. Even numbers on the right, odd numbers on the left. Not every door had clear shot into the room, but he could see adult horsemen, sitting, eating , and playing. There were a few rooms that designated large bathrooms. "Taking into account rooms that aren't occupied. I'd say he's in this one." Heather turned the knob and entered an empty room with Marc behind her. She walked over to the closet and flung it open revealing her brother crouched down, with River in his arms . "What are you, a witch?" Marc asked, genuine awe curving his lips into a smile. Heather laughed, "I wish. But my brother only has a few rooms he hides in. I can't believe Colt hasn't figure that out yet." "Don't give away my secrets," Dante whined, releasing River. "Can't Colt smell for you?" Dante laughed. "He's not a tracker dog." He wiped a tear from his eye, "Horsemen do have superior smelling to humans, but do you honestly think he could use it in our house where our scent is everywhere. Heather crossed her arms, "Forget this game you have to go downstairs and clean up your mess. "What mess?" Dante said. "Don't pretend you don't know. You should be happy I'm even warning you." Heather put her thumb and index finger together with only a small space between them, "I was this close to letting mom ground you." "Fine but you guys need to leave, or Colt will find us." "Dante, you have to clean that up now. Mom might come home early." "I'll do it at soon as the game's over." Heather whispered in Marc's ear. "Could you step out into the hallway for a minute? I need to talk with my brother privately." Marc did just that. He even closed the door leaving Dante, Heather, and River alone in the room. He heard Dante screaming pleading for Heather to stop attacking him. Marc was half tempted to see what was going on, but a few feet away the door to one of the bathrooms opened. Out stepped Brett. "Fuck me." Marc was mesmerized by the Norse God of a man that stood before him. Brett's hair was sleeked back, his muscles looked taut and the droplets across his form gathered the light somehow and made him glow. "Gladly," Brett smirked, strutting over to Marc. His eyes trailed down until it met the white towel around his waist. It swung chaotically as if caging a beast. Marc's mouth had fell open long ago. Brett closed the distance while Marc, stepped back until he collided against the door. He wasn't certain, his eyes were trained on the growing mound Brett held between his legs. Brett placed both hands around him, caging him in. "No, Brett..." Marc whimpered. "So you didn't come to milk me?" he pouted. Marc hated seeing him so sad. "No, I didn't... I, um" Marc bit his lips and looked down; Brett had moved in, completely pressing his form against Marc. "I'm glad you changed your mind. I'm pretty versatile. If you want to come to my room and tame me. I'd be up for it," Brett whispered. Marc felt intoxicated by the words against his ear, with Brett's body against him. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to see the appeal in Horsemen. He felt Brett twitch between his legs and frantically he raked his hands against the door behind him till he found the doorknob. He turned it and fell back into the room. Brett as graceful as ever fell with him, but managed to straddle him. The two intruded onto a scene with Heather holding her brother in a head lock, with River sitting on a bed. Though judging by the laughing, they weren't fighting out of anger. They were both surprised when Marc and Brett spilled into the room. Brett adjusted his towel before rising off of Marc, who painfully realized that he had just had the horseman's member pulsing against his abdomen. He didn't know what to make of it and stayed on the ground willing his erection to go away. "Okay, okay break it up you two, "Heather released her brother and walked over, helping Marc up. "Brett dry off and put on some clothes. Not everyone wants to see you naked." "He doesn't mind," Brett stated matter-of-factly, pointing at Marc's erection. "Just go, please before you confuse the boy's blood. Look at him struggling. Head or dick, his blood's just wild now," Heather laughed before pushing Brett out of the room. Despite the obvious embarrassment of it all, Marc found Brett's obedience attractive. He seemed like such a rebel, but when it came down to it, he respected Heather. " I guess I can clean up before mom arrives." Dante, turned towards River and bent down, "Piggyback ride?" River immediately pounced on Dante's back excitedly. Dante walked over to heather and Marc "How long do you think it'll take colt to realize we're downstairs?" He walked out the room laughing. "Come on Romeo, that's enough excitement for today. Let's get you home to your boyfriend. Remember him?" Heather teased. "Very funny. How do I know you didn't plan all of that?" "Easy, I'm not that smart. But I like that you think I am," she remarked, walking off. "What about the rest of the place?" Marc ran to catch up with her. He spotted a few Horsemen going into other rooms. There were others shouting at their TV's, like the Cowmen, they were all gorgeous. "Upstairs is just where we and my parents sleep and downstairs is a home gym. You know for those days when the Horsemen can't get outside." "That's it?" Marc asked. "Well there's a room with a bunch of documents," she ran a hand through her hair, "We have so many cabinets it's not even funny. We need it for all the Horsemen, but my dad is so bad at keeping track. We've had various filing cabinets and filing systems that now my mom helps out." Marc could tell Heather was exasperated just talking. As the two made their way back to the entrance hall. Marc looked around nodding. "You know, I like it." "Like what?" "I like it here. Your place has a much homier vibe to it." Heather smiled, "Don't be impressed. It's a glorified boarding house." "I know! That's what makes it feel so much more alive. I mean my uncle has his mansion, but most of the rooms are uninhabited. People running around, playing hide and seek. That's amazing. Wish my uncle's place was like this." "Woah, don't get carried away." Heather said still smiling. "I love the enthusiasm, but Horsemen Farms and Cowmen Farms are different for a reason. One, there aren't as many Horsemen. Two, Cowmen farms are run more like a business because of milk." Marc nodded. The two made their way back to Heather's car. "Are there any other Horsemen details you'd like to bestow upon me before we go?" Heather put a finger on a chin and pretended to be in deep thought, "Hmm." "I'm serious." "Okay fine." Heather relented opening up the car doors. "First if Cowmen are all about power and strength, I'd say horsemen are about endurance and stamina." "Brett ran for 2 hours, I kinda gathered that," Marc smirked. "What about this then? If you don't cut Horsemen hair often, it gets really, really long. It'll make Brett's 2 feet look like 6 inches." "Well then," Marc had no words. "Let's just go." "Were you just gonna leave and not say goodbye, Marc?" A voice cried from the house. "Goodbye... Brett," Marc responded without turning around. He could see the giant smirk on Heather's face, and he dreaded what Brett must have been doing to elicit that response from her. "You're not gonna look me in the eye before you leave?" Brett called, his voice as deep and sultry as a bass guitar . Marc slowly turned around to see the exceptionally fit horseman in nothing but a bathrobe. His print, still a prominent as ever. "For fuck's sake. Goodbye Brett. It was very nice to meet your meat. I MEAN MEET YOU! NOT YOUR MEAT!" "Heather, give him my number so I can send him some nudes!" Marc's blood boiled under his skin, as Heather cackled into a fit, diving into the car behind Marc. Brett walked back into the house; the two drove onto the main road and began their journey back to the Watkins Farms. Heather drummed on the staring wheel, "Did you enjoy your trip at La casa de Simmons." Marc leaned his chair back relaxing, "I did. Brett certainly knows how to leave an impression." "Good to hear. Instead of wasting your time at Milkem stick with me and the 2 feet of Brett's impression." "SHUT UP!" Marc roared, sending Heather into another fit of giggles. "Why do you hate Milkem? I spent a day at your house, and it seems reasonable they wouldn't want Horsemen." "You weren't there when Mr. Karter came to our house." Her expression darkened and the atmosphere in the car thickened. "You didn't hear the way he spoke about Horsemen, as if they didn't matter." "And that really hurt your feelings? Because the horsemen are family to you, right?" "Obviously..." "Do you think that you could be overreacting?" Heather gasped in disbelief, "Excuse me, but you've been here what 4 months and you're an expert on my behavior? You may not realize this, but relationships aren't the only thing you seem to lack insight on. Cowmen are treated far better than Horsemen. I get the appeal, I really do, but the disrespect is tiresome." The car started picking up speed. "People think Horsemen are just unremarkable Cowmen, but they're not the same." The car raced down the long country road. "Um, Heather?" Heather had the steering wheel locked in her tight grip. "Out here, farmers stick together. When Mr. Karter showed up, high and mighty on his Cowmen, none of us were sold on him. This isn't a `my family only' issue. They tried to poach your uncle too." "Ok, just slow down. Please," Marc begged. Heather sighed before the car began to decelerate. She glanced at Marc. "If you think your Uncle's going to let you go to that tour, you should think again." Marc released his breath. His heart was racing. Heather was passionate about Horsemen. Marc had overstepped. "Sorry about that," Heather loosened her grip on the steering wheel. "But you shouldn't talk confidently about a situation when you don't know enough to make such opinionated statements. What do you even really know about Cowmen?" Marc felt the full force of her statement. She was hinting at his situation with Ken as well. He looked down, shame burned at his cheeks. "You're right. Let's talk about something else." Heather sighed, "Do you want to talk about your parents?" Marc tilted his head, "Why would you ask that?" "You said something this morning about them, I was going to let you bring it up again on the drive over to my house, but you never did." Marc opened his mouth as if to speak but didn't say anything. The two rode on in silence all the way to the Watkins farm. "Thanks," Marc said before hopping out and disappearing inside. Upon closing the door, he spotted three workers standing around in the main hall. Though looking at their faces Marc didn't recognize any of them. "W-wait you can't just walk in here," a dark brown-haired woman the same height as Marc walked over nervously. "This place isn't open to the public; you'll need an appointment." She looked barely out of college and her voice wasn't authoritative. Marc studied the woman who trembled as she spoke to him. "I live here." "You do?" The woman looked back at her co-workers. "Relax, Deborah. I think this is Farmer Tyrone's son." Marc took in the skinny guy leaning against the railing of the staircase. He looked to be about 5'9 and kinda cute. "Nephew," Marc corrected. "And you guys are?" He looked at the scared lady, and the laid-back man. The other person in the room was a gigantic muscle clad man, standing silently. His workers outfit did nothing but enhance his form with how tightly it clung to him. The skinny man spoke, "That's Deborah, I'm Weston, and this stud over here is Javier." Weston patted Javier's chest then walked over to Marc presenting his hand. "Nice to meet you." Marc shook Weston's hand. "Are you guys cleaning here?" "We were supposed to be dusting, but Debs swore she saw a mouse." "I'm not lying," Deborah huffed. She walked over and presented her hand as well. "I'm sorry I didn't know who you were. I don't think Farmer Tyrone even mentioned you." After Marc shook her hand, she pulled out a small pad from her top pocket. "I don't see your name in my notes—and I take excellent notes." "Maybe you just missed it." Weston nudged Javier, "Isn't that right?" He laughed. Javier however seemed over the situation and rolled his eyes walking away. "Come on, don't be like that." Weston watched as Javier walked away. He turned back around to Deborah and Marc. "Sorry Javier doesn't talk much. We grew up together, but he can..." Weston's face soured for a moment, before he immediately regrew a smile. "Anyways Deborah you're trying too hard, take it easy." "I can't do that. There's so much to learn here and with the new Cowmen... it's going to be extra hard for us. These notes are like cheat sheets for me." Deborah flicked through her small pad emphatically. After dealing with Horsemen Marc had forgotten about the new workers and Cowmen that came today. Weston hunched his body. "I don't see no mouse, so I'm gonna get the dusters." He walked off, leaving a tone of annoyance in the air. "How long have you all been friends," Marc asked Deborah. "I just met those two today. I think Weston's trying to get Javier to talk more. I'm sure they think I'm useless." "You can't be that bad." "You'd be surprised." She grimaced. "Oh, shoot!" Marc snapped his fingers, "I have to go find someone." He looked at Deborah she opened her mouth then closed. Marc ran off, not waiting for her to speak. He had to find Ken; maybe they could spend some time together. He was heading toward Ken's house when he spotted Ken sitting on the steps. However, he wasn't alone. There was a girl sitting next to him. As Marc got closer, he saw this wasn't an ordinary girl. She was gorgeous. She had long fiery red hair that accentuated her green eyes. "Hi there," Marc said through gritted teeth, he could feel every word of Heather's bubbling in his stomach like bile waiting to be projected. "Who's your friend, Ken?" "Marc!" Ken hopped up excitedly, "This is Isabella. She's one of the new Cowmen living here." He turned to Isabella, "This is Marc my boyfriend, He's human." Isabella stood up and did a little curtsy and laughed. An amazing scent of something sweet wafted into Marc's nose. Whatever perfume she was wearing it was delicious. However, before Marc could discern the exact smell it dissipated, carried off by the wind. Marc in response did a bow, "My lady." "We were sharing experiences being Cowmen and going through the Shift." Ken said. "You recently shifted too?" Marc asked. "Oh no, Two years ago." Heather placed a hand on Ken's arm, "But weren't you going to ask me something else?" Ken's face went slight red as he looked back at Marc. "It's a bit embarrassing now that he's here." What the hell was going on? Marc's eyes darted between the two Cowmen. Heather was right... wasn't she? Marc wanted to punch himself. "He's not going to care. I think workers are great about handling it." Isabella locked her arms with Ken. Marc narrowed his eyes at the contact and pursed his lips. Ken, clearly flustered, opted to ignore Marc's body language. "I was asking her, about producing milk because..." Ken swallowed his spit, "She's so `gifted'." "What?" Marc's body relaxed. He had to hold back from laughing, the knot that he'd be tightening loosened and everything was coming up. Isabella added, "I was going to tell him he's no slouch either." She poked at Ken's chest, pushing on his right pec. "I mean he must have been loved because these bad boys are full." Marc wanted to bury his face in his hands. Isabella was quite honest. "I'm actually still dry." Ken said. "Even after your shift?" Her eyes went wide. "I guess that's not unheard of, but to have your body and still not produce..." "Also, I'm Marc's charge. He's been with me the most." "But you're a kid," Isabella stated. Her gaze was fixed on Marc, as she brought her hand over her mouth in shock. "And I said that about Ken's chest?" She held her hands together pleading, "Please forgive me. I am not that bold. I thought you were an intern. On my old farm teenagers were always interns and never raised Cowmen so I just thought... ugh. I feel so stupid." Marc wasn't angry with her, a little embarrassed but that faded away when she started apologizing, "It's fine. Trust me. No need to apologize." "But if I don't apologize, you won't know I'm sorry," Isabella said. Marc pondered that. "You probably hate me now." Her face went as red as her hair. "Quite the opposite." Marc admitted. He had to admit there was something about her way of speaking and body language that was disarming. " Well to cave myself from further embarrassment. I'm going to take off and meet some of the other Cowmen." Isabella said. "You don't have to leave." Ken blurted out. I'm sure you lovebirds don't need a third wheel." She walked away. "Wow, that girl sure is...something," Marc said. "She is, isn't she," Ken said with awe in his voice, sitting back on the steps. Marc sat beside him, "I didn't know you were worried about not producing milk. Trevor was worried about it too." "If we can't produce milk yet, we're late bloomers; It sucks. Everyone here knows the late bloomers, who fought, share a house together." Ken sighed. "Don't let it get you down." Marc grabbed Ken's hand and held it. "I'm sure you'll make milk when you're ready." "Look at that, I'm producing milk now because, `I'm ready!'" Ken responded dryly, gesticulating to his pecs. "Look at all this milk, Marc. Thanks." "I'm serious," Marc admitted. "Unless you're going to tell me you're secretly a Horseman or something." "Me a Horseman?!" Ken asked wide eyed. "You were with me when I shifted." "I'm joking, I'm joking. You certainly don't have 2 feet of dick," Marc joked, before leaning over to kiss Ken on the mouth. Ken quickly turned his face, landing the kiss on his cheeks. "No need to be mad about the joke." "I'm not mad." Ken said standing up. He leaned over to Marc on the steps and whispered, "I don't think we should be getting rowdy." "Rowdy?" "Yeah, I don't want to draw any unwanted attention to us. Plus, you smell." "I smell? Like what?" "You smell like you've been with someone else. I can smell the sexual excitement pouring off you. I thought it was for me at first, but it's clearly not. "It's nothing, I was just around a sexually frustrated Horseman earlier. It's nothing," Marc assured him and waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, because I don't have 2 feet of dick, huh?" "Ken, it's not that serious. Why would I lie?" "You're right, I'm sorry." Ken stood up straight. "I'm going to walk around and meet some of the other new Cowmen." Marc grabbed Ken's hand again, "You want me to come with you?" Ken looked around, "I don't want your Uncle to see us." "My uncle? why would he care?" "I'm gonna go." "Fine" Marc said miffed. Marc looked away; Heather's words were buzzing against his ear like a fly that didn't know how to leave well enough alone. "I have to make a call anyway." As Ken walked away, Marc looked out over the farm. There were tons of people out today between the worker and the Cowmen it was a big meet and greet. Trevor was probably lost out in that sea somewhere. Marc went to his room. He closed the door and pulled his cellphone from his pocket. He dialed a number and let it ring. "Hello?" "Hey, Heather." Marc said. "What's going on?" "With how things ended today. I forgot to say I'm sorry," "Aw, you didn't have to call to say that." "I wanted too. I offended you even though I didn't mean too." Heather was silent for a few moments before speaking, "And I'm sorry too for driving crazy and almost getting us killed." "Apology accepted." "Thank you." "Before you go, I have a favor to ask you." "Sure, go ahead." "You know how you said my Uncle would never let me go to the Milkem tour?" "Uh-huh." "I was thinking... what if I didn't tell him I was going?" "Marc, I hope you're not asking what I think you're asking." "What do you think that is?" "You want me to lie to your uncle." "Not exactly. You see I don't have a ride to get there and if my uncle won't take me." "Marc, don't say it." "I was hoping you'd go with me?" A loud sigh came through the phone, "I hate you. You know that?"