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Era de mañana en el diario "El Clarín", en una de sus oficinas se encontraba Peter Parker, un chico castaño de 27 años de edad, medía 1.85 y pesaba 90 kgs. de músculo, estéticamente bien distribuido, traía puesta esa mañana una camisa blanca que se ajustaba bien a su anatomía atlética, pero sin ser demasiado llamativo, la camisa se ajustaba bien en su pecho y bíceps, también llevaba un pantalón negro de vestir y un calzado del mismo color, bien lustrado, el cuello de su camisa desabotonado solo para permitirle respirar bien y no sofocarse, pues el viaje matutino usando sus poderes para llegar al diario había sido bastante veloz, tomó las mangas de la camisa y las arremangó para dejar descubiertos sus antebrazos mientras tomaba un folder con fotos de Spiderman, se sonrió entre sí. Estos meses habían sido importantes para él, encontró un traje alien que lo había mejorado por completo, le dió más velocidad, agilidad, fuerza, músculos, y sobre todo un crecimiento en su virilidad que él en un principio no podía creer, aún recordaba cuando solo medía 1.75 y pesaba solo 70kgs., era sorprendente lo que unos meses con el traje le habían hecho, de tener un pedazo de solo 16 cms. de virilidad en erección pasó a tener un monstruo de 25 cms. No dejaba de ver sus fotos, apaleando maleantes la noche anterior, era magnífico, pensaba en el puesto que estaba compitiendo en ese momento como fotógrafo de planta, el otro hombre definitivamente no tenía oportunidad, dió un sorbo a su café mientras seguía sentado y vió la puerta de entrada de la oficina. Llegó alguien, justamente el hombre que no tenía oportunidades contra Parker, era nada más y nada menos que su compañero de oficina, Eddie Brock. Eddie era ya un hombre de 37 años de edad, a pesar de ser mayor en edad que Peter, se veía más joven, era rubio, de cabello corto, facciones joviales, ojos azules y totalmente lampiño, la vida no le había favorecido, nunca tuvo oportunidad de ejercitarse, ni hacer dietas u otro tipo de cosas debido a su físico, medía tan solo 1,65 cms de alto y pesaba tan solo 60kgs., definitivamente no imponía de ninguna forma, todo mundo le pasaba por encima y últimamente alguien en especial. El pobre Eddie llegó agitado y sudando a la oficina, con su maletín color café a un lado. Eddie estaba vestido con una camisa de color azul cielo que resaltaba aquellos ojos suyos, un pantalón café y calzado del mismo color, todo se hubiera visto bien de no ser por que todo le quedaba grande, a excepción del calzado, la camisa le colgaba de los laterales, y ni que decir de los hombros y las mangas, daba la impresión de que un niño se había vestido con la ropa de su padre, debido a ello nunca tuvo oportunidad de ligar con alguien en su vida. Mientras aún respiraba de manera agitada veía a Parker bastante fresco y seguro de su persona. Eddie se cuestionaba cómo era posible que Parker estaba así si vivía más lejos que él del trabajo, a pesar de tener cierto recelo al castaño, lo saludó ... - Hola, buenos días Parker - Se oyó su voz algo aguda, parecía la voz de un joven de 15 años. - ¿Cómo le haces para llegar antes que yo, si yo vivo más cerca? Peter lo miró de reojo y sonriendo mientras tomaba su café, le dijo: - Por que me levanto más temprano que tú, "amiguito". Eddie miró a Parker, notó que el castaño había mejorado mucho su físico en los últimos meses, sabía que eso no era normal en una persona, además Eddie siempre peleaba por entrar en el bus de la primera hora, mínimo debería que ver a Parker en el transporte o llegar al mismo tiempo si es que Peter tomaba el bus de otra ruta. Eddie terminó por mejor dejar de pensar en ello y se metió al baño para refrescarse un poco, aún así no podía dejar de sentirse frustrado, al salir vio al Sr. Jameson hablando con Peter y solo dijo él: - Hola Sr ... Jameson y Parker vieron al rubio de reojo y siguieron en su plática ... si, literalmente lo habían ignorado. Parker le mostró al jefe sus fotos de Spiderman, Jameson quedó satisfecho como siempre con aquellas fotografías, las tomó y se fue sin decir nada, Peter vio al rubio de nuevo ... -Vaya, de nuevo se te fue el avión del éxito " amiguito ". - El castaño volvió a tomar su café y a darle un sorbo mientras se recargaba en el rubio y lo veía como poca cosa - No te preocupes Eddie, siempre debe haber un segundón para que el primer lugar brille más y descuida, cuando me den el puesto , serás mi "asistonto", te lo aseguro. El rubio apretó su puño y saco su hombro del contacto de Parker para después tomar su maletín y probar suerte en la ciudad por unas fotografías. Peter solo lo vió: -Bye "pequeñín". Oye cuando vuelvas de pasear tráeme un café ... - El castaño sonrió mientras veía salir al rubio -Pobre Eddie, casi me da pena el pobre, pero bueno, no puede competir con un súper hombre como yo ... Parker se quedó de ocioso en la oficina mientras esperaba que fuera más tarde para la hora de la comida, total, al final sabía que en la noche tomaría sus fotos, mientras tanto cuando Eddie salía ... - Maldito parker, su actitud ha cambiado , es un pedante ahora- murmuraba el rubio mientras iba a su lugar secreto dentro del diario, era un cubículo abandonado y muy reducido, solo tenía espacio para una silla y unas cuantas cosas, Eddie entró y activó su radio clandestino de la policía mientras seguía pensando en Parker - solo por que ha cambiado su físico y tiene suerte con las fotos me trata así. Ya se había hecho tarde y Parker tenía hambre ya: - ¡Maldición Brock !, ¡¿Dónde te metiste?!, Sabes que quiero mi comida a cierta hora, maldito enano. - Peter salió de la oficina bastante enojado y se dirigió a la calle para comprar algo y así calmar su apetito, ya pudiendo comprar algo se tranquilizó un poco, pero seguía molesto debido a que aún consumiendo lo que había comprado, su hambre no desaparecía. - Comí demasiado y aún tengo hambre, no lo entiendo, ¡¿Por qué me está pasando esto ?! - El castaño empezaba a enfadarse más, pero en ese momento comenzó a activarse su sentido arácnido. - Sí, lo que me faltaba- se fue a un callejón oscuro y metió su ropa de civil en una bolsa de telaraña -Vamos a perseguir a los chicos malos y a tomar fotos. Mientras tanto Brock salía a toda prisa, escuchó sobre un asalto a un banco cercano y salió disparado del diario, directo a la acción. Al salir vió al mismo tiempo a Spiderman ir hacia la escena del crimen, no era lejos, Brock corrió lo más deprisa que podía, pero llegó demasiado tarde, al estar ya en el lugar solo vio cómo Spiderman salía de escena y varios criminales envueltos en telaraña, pegados a los postes de luz, el rubio se sintió fatal, otra escena de acción se le había escapado. - Maldición, así no lograré nada. Tomó fotos de lo que podía y regresó al diario lo más pronto que pudo, tenía en mente lograr ofrecer sus fotos antes de que Parker apareciera, aunque era muy raro, Peter nunca estaba en la escena y aún así conseguía fotos. Al llegar a la oficina se sorprendió, Parker ya estaba ahí, entregándole varias fotos a Jameson. Brock veía como su oportunidad se desvanecía mientras el jefe entraba a su oficina con Peter detrás de él, el pequeño rubio solo se sentó en su escritorio bastante agitado de tanto correr y entonces ... -¡¡¡Brock !!! Parker gritó como si fuera el jefe al entrar en su oficina compartida, mientras que el rubio solo lo veía con enfado y Parker cerraba de un portazo el lugar y Eddie lo cuestionó. -No sé cómo le haces ... Tú estabas aquí en la oficina y vuelves con fotos y no estás cansado ... - Peter se acercaba poco a poco a Brock que aún seguía agitado, pero confrontándolo, el rubio no sabía si eso era una buena idea o no, pero ya lo estaba haciendo. -¡¿Qué quieres Parker ?! -¡¿Qué quiero?! - Parker sonrió con algo de burla, y así tomó del cuello de la camisa con ambas manos a Brock, levantándolo del suelo, mientras el rubio veía como los pectorales, bíceps y antebrazos del castaño se tensaban en la camisa. - Esas no son maneras de contestarle a tu futuro jefe .- Parker acercó su cara a la del rubio - ¡¿Porqué olvidaste mi comida, maldito enano ?! -¿Cu ... cuál comida ?, No me pe ... pe ... pediste na..nada, solo un café... si regresaba, pero ... - ¡Cállate !, Deja de balbucear como estúpido , sabes que si te pido algo tienes que traer eso y más, en todo caso no me trajiste ¡Nada !, Eso no es de buenos amigos. ¿Oh si? Pequeño charal sudoroso. Las venas del antebrazo de Parker estaban dilatadas debido al tiempo de mantener suspendido al rubio. - Tú ... Tú no eras así .... ¿Que te pasó? - Dijo el rubio algo asustado y triste mientras el semblante de Parker cambiaba de ser agresivo a estar algo fuera de sí, soltando a Brock y dejándolo caer al suelo. - Yo ... Yo ..., Vete por comida y no tardes - El castaño le lanzó billetes en la cara a Brock - Hazlo ya ... Después de eso el rubio se arrastró por el suelo, tomó el dinero y salió disparado de la oficina, pero aún le temblaban algo las piernas. - Maldito Parker. ¿Qué se creé el idiota? No, mejor no lo hago enojar más, no se qué más me podría hacer - El rubio vuelve con una ensalada y pechuga de pollo asada, no había tardado nada en verdad. - Ahí tienes Parker, que te aproveche.- Eddie no pudo evitar decirlo con un tono algo desafiante. - Ya era hora - Mientras tanto Peter no prestó atención al tono de Brock, estaba tan hambriento que solo le importaba la comida, el rubio de lejos veía cómo Peter comía, parecía ansioso y desesperado, como un animal salvaje, incluso soltaba unos cuantos gruñidos , así que prefirió salir e ir al baño, mientras tanto solo pensaba en la conducta de Parker durante los últimos meses, se dirigió al baño del piso, abrió la puerta y se dirigió a uno de los mingitorios. Desenfundó su pedazo de carne, solo medía 8 cms., Y eso si fuera erecto, en reposo solo eran 5 cms, así es, el rubio era pequeño hasta en eso. Mientras orinaba y sentía pena por si mismo oyó abrirse la puerta del baño, para su desgracia era nada más y nada menos que Peter que lo observaba, el castaño comenzó a olfatear, cómo si oliera algo en el ambiente y mientras hacía eso su pantalón de vestir marcaba la gran erección de Parker, el pedazo caliente de 25 cms. de su entrepierna, estaba al máximo. - Aaaaahhhh- el castaño parecía apreciar algún olor. - Aquí huele ... - Dijo el castaño acercándose a Brock. -¿Qué quieres decir con eso? - Eddie guardó su falo y subió la bragueta de su pantalón, tenía un presentimiento y pensaba mejor salir lo antes posible de aquel lugar. - Seguro es el baño, está mal lavado, saldré y le diré al personal del aseo. Parker se acercó al rubio y lo tomó con bastante fuerza. - ¡Eres tú! ... ¡Tú apestas! - Parker volvió a cargar al rubio como lo había hecho ya hace rato y empezó a frotar su gran erección en la entrepierna de Eddie mientras al mismo tiempo le oprimía su pequeña hombría. -Quieres ser preñado.- El rubio estaba acorralado y se sintió indefenso, no podía ocultar su rostro de preocupación. -Parker, si ... si ... huelo así es por qué corrí mu ... mucho hoy ... Me pondré des ... desodorante para no mo ... molestarte ... - Tú quieres ser preñado- Parker parecía un animal salvaje que no razonaba. - ¡¿Preñarme?!, ¡¿A qué te refieres ?! Parker soltó a Brock pero solo para tomarlo fuertemente por la cintura. -Sabes que necesitas un macho, pequeña perra.- El castaño empezaba a merodear con su mano de forma lasciva el cuerpo del rubio aún por encima de la ropa de éste, la mano de Peter empezaba a deslizarse hacia la pelvis de Eddie, casi por tocar su hombría, pero en ese momento Parker se detuvo . - No ... No ... Esto no está bien ... No ... - Peter soltó al rubio de inmediato y salió rápidamente del baño. Eddie sudaba frío, solo en el baño, pegado a la pared aún, traumatizado, se sintió débil y frágil, sus piernas no dejaban de temblar, era la primera vez que alguien intentaba violarlo, solo pudo encogerse y quedarse en estado fetal en el piso de aquel baño.

The Bull's Bucket The sun was rising over Mathew Acres farm as John, a shy and slim 20 year old horse, walked up to the barn for his first day of work. John had been hired to go into the farm every morning at sunrise and milk a bull named “Fulbon.” John had no idea how you could even milk a bull, but he was told the instructions were in the barn. All he knows for a fact is that he was told to wear clothes that can get messy, because it was a messy job. He knew he would be working in a barn, so he expected the standard barn mess, but he wondered why the messy part was pointed out. He assumed the farmer was just being cautious and continued walking to the barn. The barn was an average looking barn, basically what you imagine when you hear the word, but the smell was a bit different. It didn't smell like a barn… it smelled like a gym locker room. He smelled the same musky manly smell he used to smell in the high school locker room. Every time the wind blew, his nose felt like it was dug deep in football uniforms. The smell of musk got stronger as John opened the barn doors. On the left was a door labeled “closet” with a row of large stables next to it. He noticed one stable had leather hanging from it, the leather looked like the arm assist used in a gym to hold your arms as you did pull ups. On the right was another set of stalls the same size as the ones on the left. Only the right stalls had no leather hanging down. It was only the one stall on the left that had the arm rests. John walked in and looked for the stall labeled “Fulbon.” The stall he was looking for was the stall with the arm rest hanging down. The leather arm rests hung about ¼ of the way from the roof of the barn to the floor. He wondered why they were there as he walked up to the stall. The bull was sleeping in the right corner under a large black comforter type blanket found on the top of beds in hotels. The blanket was bulky and covered the bull’s body well. As John approached the door of the stall, he noticed a defining curve in the center of the bull’s body curving up out of the blanket. John assumed this was a casual pillow or awkward fold in the blanket. John looked around the barn and couldn’t find any clue as to what to do. He leaned over the stall door and looked for some sign of instructions. As he leaned in, the door moved an inch forward quickly and loudly. The bull under the blanket woke up to the banging door. John stepped back, worried about what the bull would say. “Are you the new milker,” the bull asked in an intimidating voice filled with frustration. John quietly nooded. “Thank GOD!” the bull smiled and said “the last one was terrible!” “I’m sorry about that,” John said, being polite. “He would always jerk me around like I did something to him... he just wanted to finish and go. Jokes on him though I never gave him all I could anyway.” John stared at Fulbon. “You,” he asked him. Fulbon raised his eyebrow to John and asked him “what did you think you were doing here?” “I thought I would be looking for a bull named Filbon who was going to help me with the milking, maybe he would relax the cows I was milking, I’m not sure.” Fulbon moved the blanket off of himself and stood up. “You’re milking me,” Fulbon said. John looked down at the bull’s male parts that created the bulge he thought was a wrinkle in the blanket. The testicals hung down just above his knees like ripe fruit from a tree, the shaft of the bull looked like a tree limb curving out of his body and down with a head just above where the balls hung. “What?” John knew what the bull said, but internally he wanted the bull to say he was kidding. “Every day I need my seed to be drained so that the seed I make stays as fresh as possible. I need someone to make sure everything is flowing smoothly and to make sure they get everything they can.” John stood there and felt a small blush of excitement. The bull’s male parts looked extremely smooth and soothing, and he could already imagine the wet girth in his hands. “You want me to make you cum,” John asked just to be sure the bull was being serious. “Until I tell you I’m dry, yes. Your job is to fill up the bucket until I tell you I’m all dried up.” John looked around for the bucket but didn’t see anything. “Check the closet,” Fulbon said as he stretched his body trying to wake himself up. John walked over to the closet door and opened it to see a normal looking closet of barn equipment. He looked around the closet until he saw the only bucket in the back corner, which looked like the white paint was peeling off. He grabbed it and walked back to Fulbon’s stall. “Is this it,” he asked. “The one soaked in dry seamen, yes” he told John. “This is all you,” John asked, fascinated that the bull in front of him could make that much liquid. “I’m impressed,” John said, opening the stall door. “It's what bulls do” Fulbon told him, shaking his balls around with his left hand. John set the bucket down in front of Fulbon and asked; ‘What now?” Fulbon put his elbows in the arm rest and flexed his cock to signal that it was time for the milking. John stared at Fulbon’s body, looking over his tone legs and stomach like an art exhibit. John got down on both knees to the side of the bull cock and grabbed it on the end. John started running his hands from the bottom of his cock to about half way, applying just enough pressure to make a soft sloping noise. “Not bad,” Fulbon told him. John smiled as he continued his rubbing motions. He stood there on his knees watching this beautiful cock spring to life in his hands. He could feel the blood dripping in through the thick tendons of Fulbon. For several moments John caressed the warm log in his hands, paying close attention to remain calm both internally and externally. Fulbon didn’t want to admit it this early, but he was honestly enjoying John’s hands. He felt his meat cramp up as John rubbed the bottom half of his cock with such gentleness that Fulbon felt like he was getting a special treatment. Fulbon wanted to mean, he wanted to let go of the pleasure building up in his voice. He also didn’t want John to hear the groans and get arrogant and change what he was doing. Before John came along, he was used to his cock being thrown around like a frisbee in the hands of his previous milker. The only reason he ever climaxed before was to give the milker something to work with. He gave the previous milker as little as possible to encourage the milker to quit. That tactic finally worked when John showed up. Now that John’s soothing hands were caring for his cock, Fulbon thought he would have a true climax today. He was willing to give John everything he could brew if John kept milking him like this. “How’s this,” John asked him without ever losing concentration. When Fulbon opened his mouth to talk, the moan he was holding back belted out all at once. John didn’t jump at all. John simply paused his caresing for a moment and looked up to ask “to much?” “Actually that’s perfect, I don’t remember the last time my shaft was loved by hands this gentle.” John looked back down at the meat in front of his face and said; “I just want you to spill as much seed as possible, and I want you to enjoy it too. Plus, I’m extracting your seed the same way I extract my own seed.” Fulbon laughed and asked “and how do you do that?” “I don’t force the seamen out… I rub myself calmly as I think about another man being in bed with me and the cum just naturally flows out.” Fulbon grinned and said; “Smart. I can see you have a lot of experience with tending to meat.” John tightened his grip but kept the same speed and said “I guess so. I’ve seen a million ways to tend to meat and i've tried them all… by myself at least. I’ve never laid down with anyone.” John felt a brief moment of jealousy and loneliness as he rubbed the bull’s meat. The first time he touched another man’s cock was for a job. He thought about what this meat in his hands would look like spread out on his bed. Fulbon could see the sinking spirits of John and felt bad for him. John was a decent guy who was hard working and knew how to operate another man’s machine. “I’ll tell you what,” Fulbon said. John slowed his rubbing down and looked up at Fulbon. “You’re a cool guy and you’ve never been with anyone else. I’ve been with countless lovers before, and all of them were too violent to enjoy or wouldn’t stop talking, usually both were true. Even outside this milking stand my lovers have been a pain to deal with. You’re the first one I’ve enjoyed… or even respected for that matter. If you tell the farmer you need to come back tonight to try milking me again, because you couldn’t get much out of me today, he’ll let you come back anytime after dark. Just warn him you’re coming so you don’t spook him and you can walk right up here. I’ll be waiting.” John blushed and asked “what about the milk from right now? Won’t he know you’ve already given me your milk today?” “Good point,” Fulbon answered. He then suggested “only fill it up a fraction of the way. Hand him the bucket of what I gave you and tell him this was everything, then say you want to try again at sunset.” “Good idea,” John said as he picked up his movements where he left off. He continued the same movements for a few more strokes then said “let’s try something else.” john took his hands off of the shaft stood up to stretch his legs and arms. As he did that, Fulbon stared at the horse who supprised him with how good he was at his new job. As Fulbon looked at John, he noticed a curve crawling down his left leg. Fulbon felt bad for John because he thought John was hard as a rock and secretly needed release. Fulbon didn’t know how to bring it up, but he didn;t want to be the only one enjoying himself. “Enjoying this,” he asked John. John continued stretching and said “Absolutely! I can’t believe you haven’t cum yet.” “I’m getting there. I takes bigger loads longer to come out.” John nodded in agreement and blushed again. Fulbon then looked back down at the curve in John’s pants and said “speaking of loads coming out, you can loosen up that grip on your pants. I actually find it hotter when the milker’s cock is out too. Plus it feels less awkward.” “You’re sure?” as much as John was enjoying it, he only saw this as a job, and was worried about looking unprofessional. “Don’t worry,” Fulbon assured him, “the farmer never comes up here during the milking, and no one else ever comes either. Until the farmer sees you with that bucket, he stays far away, he doesn't want to risk seeing the process. John trusted Fulbon’s words and took off his shirt. He threw the shirt to the back corner of the barn and took off his shoes and socks, throwing them in the same pile. “I’ve heard a lot about horses,” Fulbon said watching John unzip his pants. As the zipper slid down, John’s long bump in his pants grew a little longer, then popped out of the pant leg and straight out infront of him. “I want to see if it’s true!” “I’ll let you decide.” John put his pants in the same pile and turned back to Fulbon who was still as hard as he’s been all day. John slid the underwear down, kneeling as he did so. When the underwear was at his feet, John stood up and put his hands on either side of his hips. Fulbon knew John was no athlete, which was made obvious by his thin body, but Fulbon was still shocked to see that John's cock was only a few inches shorter with about the same girth. “It’s not true,” Fulbon sarcastically said. Before John could say anything back, Fulbon said “you’re even bigger than I expected. I’m really going to need a taste later.” “Don’t have to tell me twice,” John admitted. He got back down on his knees, but this time he was directly in front of the bull’s shaft. The tube in the center of the bull cock was staring him right in the face like a one eyed snake. John reached his arms out and grabbed one of Fulbon’s testicals in each hand. He played with the thick and round fruit of the bull and shoved his face into the round head. He stuck his tongue out inside of the cock and licked his innerer tube. Fulbon couldn’t help himself any more. This wasn’t just the first time this move was being done on him, but he was doing it so well too. Fulbon groaned and told John “I’m really close.” John didn’t say anything, mostly because his mouth was suffocated against a bull’s meat. John heard Fulbon, and started squeezing the seedful fruit harder. He tossed them around in his grip as if he were trying to shake something out of them. Thanks to his strong grip, John could feel the cramping in his testicles. The sensation of feeling a bull’s seamen about to erupt made him drip cum a little himself. His hands were nowhere near his own seed sack, yet his sperm were starting to swim out anyway. John, lost in the moment, pulled his mouth out of the cock tube and started licking the head like candy. John was still licking the head and teasing the balls when the first squirt hit him in the face. The small load of cum splattered on his right cheek. When John felt this, he moved to the side of Fulbon where he first started and continued using both hands to shake the bull’s fruit. This method produced a few squirts of pre into the bucket, but he knew this wasn’t all his balls were holding. John then experimented with a new strategy and treated Fulbon’s testicals like an udder and squeezed them up and down. One white river lasting two seconds gracefully fell into the bucket. John watched the stream as he squeezed Fulbon’s balls, hypnotized by the shiny and white flow coming out of the other end. John slowed his squeezing and paid close attention to the folds of skin and veins in his hands. This method released a few more rivers of seamen into the bucket. “Keep going!” Fulbon clenched his teeth and opened his legs, trying to get the biggest possible load he could make. “I can still feel more down there!” John kept his hands squeezing the bull’s testicals and moved his head up against the lower curve of the sack. He started licking the curves between the testicals and pressed his tongue in the valley between the two balls. Fulbon and his seamen both felt John’s tongue exploring the underside of his balls. The intense pleasure was enough to send his climax over the edge. Fulbon sprayed a highly pressured stream with more force than his other two cum rivers combined. The white waterfall made a straight line with no slack directly into the bucket. He stood there and sprayed like a can of violent silly string. This agressive ejeculation lasted for a little over a minute. The entire minute, John was underneath Fulbon stimulating the seed as much as he could. The cum river faded into a few drops as the remaining sperm dripped out of his cock. Finally, he couldn’t feel any more milk in his sack. Fulbon looked down to see the bucket of his milk only centimeters away from the top. “I’m done,” Fulbon told John. John got out from under Fulbon’s testicals and looked at the nearly full bucket. The site of the collection of cum made John dump a few loads of cum himself. The site of another man’s seed made his seed want a taste.