Chapter 39: Churchin’ It Up Naked

[Imagine me going to church with other humans ... just like this]

CHURCH

Because my father had apparently made it a point in choosing my demise as a dairy worker insisting the dairy owners be members of his annoying religious obsession, it was promised I would be “taken in tow” so I could attend church services on Sundays. I wasn’t thrilled but there was an opportunity to also get to stop by a little grocery while in town. I definitely loved the idea of a chance to spend a few dollars to buy some junk food and candy, the vital sugar-sustain of any city kid body. I felt I was long lacking a candy bar induced high. With nothing but three meals of quality cooking each day to keep me going I still longed for some sugar treats. And I had a crazy notion sugar would make my balls perform even more supernaturally, the sign of a true addict in denial.

But there was a problem.

My father’s own words were I be “taken in tow” to church on Sundays. I couldn’t believe he envisioned my being towed, what, pulled along by my penis by the holy water font, down the aisle? It was merely an old saying, maybe. But because I mysteriously became breeding livestock including the son’s weird mindset it wouldn’t be possible for me to go along to church now, NAKED. I was branded, ID tattooed, towed along not with a halter but rather a penis that gathered attention wherever it swung and leaked gizem. Yet the son came to me in the milk house telling me I was going to have to attend church “next Sunday”. But how I was handled in the mix of animals, humans and nymphs at the dairy didn’t make the civilized world part of my domain anymore, I thought.

[I was high output breeder livestock for heavens sake - no churching it up for me - I’ll be fucked if I wanted to go]

I simply looked at him as if he was insane. “I’m naked. That doesn’t go to church real well.” “You’re G-O-I-N-G!”, he demanded. “We told your father we would make it available and we will keep our part of the bargain. I don’t want to take livestock to church but there you go; you’re going.”

My father must have had some sort of power I was unaware of to be able to put the fear into these dairy-men. It was something political, surely, and I thought about what it might have been if I’d been required to go to church naked in high school. Maybe like I was being groomed ahead in school for this breeder livestock summer job. Everybody would be really interested in me naked going to class with a growing penis.

How odd now I thought that sounded kind of cool. Maybe girls would like me.

[But I wasn’t quite this excited about the son’s demands for going to mass]

The entire bit about both doing my father’s bidding and making me livestock, what the hell? Nothing made sense and I put it out of my mind. I didn’t want to think about it but I did want to think about letting my bunk mates fuck me right away.

The angels weren’t helping me save my soul and the only creatures I cared about were reaching my soul through my ass hole with fingers in as far as they would go. It reminded me of the old saying, “Do you have hope in your soul or soap in your hole?” I had nymphs in my hole using the soap, Happy- mess.

I wished I’d had a picture of him making his demands as I stared at him while Lilly sat on top of my butt and we rolled in the water on the floor. He was having this conversation with two slimy naked people, one with an immense boner.

We cleaners were busy when he arrived to tell me about church. He first took moments to stare at us fucking around in our slimy state.

Lilly sat smiling as she reached around to roll me over and commenced fucking as his words gained volume with his obvious angst. He didn’t seem to get the oddity of this situation. He was just mad. She didn’t say a word but rose and fell on my penis smiling and moaning for accent after slowly and steadily directing his attention to her vagina as my penis went in.

His glaring eyes fought the distraction going on in front of him. He should have known better than to confront us in there where we got down and dirty. He had to accept my situation as his version of what he’d dreamed of as a teenager. I was an intruder in his realm. I was also getting fucked out of my mind, gloriously, nothing for him to share now, visuals only.

He’d walked in on us as we were ready to “clean” the place up, already having a ball messing with each other. I smiled silly obviously enjoying her hand pushing in through my anus, driving his distraction as I next got up on the ladder per her instructions. And I didn’t care how he got me to church because the situation was his problem, not mine. I stretched splayed, arms and legs out for Lilly to have access in my rectum as her hand disappeared up inside me and my penis grew while flailing about.

He watched as my erection grew longer and fatter, as gooey blobs of gizem were erupting little burps with Lilly doing her tricks. She next leaned to suck my penis a long deep draw and then gave me a gooshie slurp tongue shared kiss passing the gizem to me. “MMMMMmmmm!” We were putting on quite an explicitly detailed show for him. She gathered the gizem as it came out and rubbed it up over the front of me and I groaned and moaned with twisting ecstasy which managed to bring a lot more gizem to the surface. Then I turned slightly and hugged Lilly and she in turn twisted around to become the sit down receiver for my now well primed slimy piston.

I got up on my knees straddling her in front of me and started, slowly dipped my penis just in and out, back and forth, smiling at him as I did it and I made my eyes roll up in my head as an act of ecstasy. He, growled, shook his head and I said, “M-O-O-O-O-O”. He stomped off as I filled her vagina with my erection, just in and out of her again and again. We made lots of love noise, “MMMMmmmm, slurp, OOOoooh,” squishy sounds to send him on his way. “Fuckin’ A,” he muttered, one of his favorite choice cusses as he slammed the door behind him.

“Go to church naked, livestock? What the fuck!,” I grunted. I was becoming quite quick use with my ‘F’ word especially in regard to the thug son. “I wonder why he didn’t make it a point to ask me if I had a hard-on!”

I gave up trying to figure him out and would tell all the sisters about it, see what they thought. I hadn’t yet gone to church not even while I still had clothes to wear. I figured there was some reason why the family feared my father’s influence and were somehow trying to placate that so there wouldn’t be trouble. I was starting to have some deeper dark doubts about my own father’s involvement, so bewildering. In the back of my mind I toyed with the possibility that being taken to church naked, livestock, was some kind of validation process for an imagined higher power, deity, whatever. Hell, I was fucking deities all the time, already.

I was livestock and I certainly looked like it. I was branded, tattooed, dirty and beat up looking. Impossible and yet there it was. Too bad I was liking my role as penis provider and I wasn’t going back to my old self. “Fuck that! I’m the well primed lover of goddesses.” The parochial boy in me was hiding now.

I kept complaining. “Taking a naked guy to church. What the fuck is wrong with him?” I sped up our intercourse imagining myself being in church at that very moment, fucking with Lilly in a pew, maybe on the alter for everybody-holy’s benefit. Going to church meant I would leave the milking early, leave it to the nymphs to finish up. The trip to town was to be earliest mass, 6:30 A.M., church for farmers who needed to get back to the work at hand, in my case - more fucking. “Whoa, hold up the fucking. I gotta go talk to God.”

[This is what Sundays, breaks in work, were supposed to be about like playing badminton (and fucking) and reflecting on life (and more fucking)]

I was teased mercilessly for intending to go. “Save your soul, aye? No way brother. We’re going to fuck you til you’re too late for that. We’ll have our fingers up your ass, hooked on, filling up our souls with gizem. You just try to take that to church with you. C’mere Your Holiness. We’ve got a couple of holes for you fill with some of that good greasy grace of yours.”

Siza and Fern were determined to scare me out of going. I had to explain my motives to them. “Good Junk Food? Forget that?” I had a sugar addiction from early in my childhood career. I had spent most of my meager earnings on penny candy and/or ice cream in various forms. I tried to relay the wonders of the sugar high to them. I even promised to share with them, on my return, hoping they wouldn’t mess me up by making me late.

I didn’t actually believe they were unaware of the sugary items I spoke of. Supernatural creatures were all knowing. They were just tormenting me which was also their nymphish way of being gremlins.

“I’m disappointed in you”, said Fern. “I thought you meant it when you said you really didn’t have any faith in that religious stuff anymore.” “I don’t, honest, but I do have a firm belief in candy and junk food.” “You come here and give me some lovin’ like you really believe it, sport, have faith like you worship me and maybe I’ll let you go satisfy your stupid addiction.” I smiled, even laughed, moved up behind her like a quarterback to the center and rubbed the end of my penis up and down real slow to get a rise out of her. I reminded her, “Once you hike it up here I’ll pass some love on the fly but you have to give it up to me first. Ready? Hike!” “Don’t worry Your Holiness, you just make that penis do its job full blast, and don’t dribble. I’m the ball handler and I want it all - right here. Swing that big bat of yours, right now.”

I pulled Fern back to me and cuddled close to feel her warmth, held her like that until she complained. “I love you Fern and to tell the truth I’m dying to go fuck with parishioners at church. Can you imagine the son trying to get me into the service looking like I do? That has to make it worth going. Talk about funny. If I dared you to fuck me in church I bet...” I stopped my statement short. When I thought about that dare I got kind of worried I should have just shut up to simply leave her with nothing but my previous thoughts and my penis warming up in stir, vagina jail, the slammer.

I had not only the intent of NOT saving my soul but also getting to buy some cheap candy, the first available opportunity. It required a stint in worship-not but attendance-yes. I knew the drill so very well after 18 years of solid preparation. But I’d never before tried going to church with no clothes on. It would be like a common bad dream come true, naked among strangers, but my ego wet nymphish new attitude was primed and ready. I had turned my life’s anger into the will to upset the cart.

I grabbed Fern tightly around the middle, held on to let go of a few more rounds to really top her off and hopefully keep her satisfied for a while. And I loved the feel of all that gizem, so very bubbly warm, coming back out of her to squeeze between us on contact, spurt. She seemed okay with that and the tighter I held on the more noise the bubbles made, that sizzle sound increasing and subsiding with my applied pressure squishing around, SO GOOD.

I knew how to day dream my way through church, that boring ceremonious contrivance. But it did feel just great to juice up Fern right before leaving with the dairy family, well spent vent before holy roley. It made me feel very much more relaxed before the drive into town. What a great tool, hose off in the parlor and go. “Good morning Sunday!” made my dangle feel so fine and I didn’t have to worry about getting all dressed up so I just left with a nice shiny sheen.

Something in light of going to church naked tickled me no end. How weird. I wasn’t sure where that mood came from but I was going with it. I was a changed kid in that I was far more spunky in attitude. About nudity? Totally braver regarding my tendencies although shy with the under tow. I wanted to be a rebel. Being naked in public was rebellious. I mostly blamed Siza and maybe Lilly for giving me that new courage. I was loving the attention and my naked self was getting me attention deserved.

I smoothed, slicked and parted the hair down on my stomach and below, the only hair I cared to worry about. Siza had rubbed my bald head all over with her vagina previous to the milking and that magic was what they used to keep me smooth as a baby’s butt. I was a shiny gizem soaked soul - church going and ready to go. Churching it, ready to rumble in the pew.

I remembered farting on the slick pew varnish, sitting, a little sweaty in the summer time, letting go a big squeaker embarrassing my mother to death. She threatened to kill me if I didn’t cut that out.

“You have hair around your ass hole too,” said Fern as she read my thoughts. “Come here and I comb it for you.” I gave her a look and she knew I knew she was giving me a hard time. “No thank you. I think I already know which finger you’ll use but why haven’t you shaved that like you do my head?” “C’mere,” Said Fern and not wishing to disobey I bent over for her convenience. “OW! What did you do?”

Fern had reached in while spreading my cheeks wide and I got a sudden pinch. “I pulled out your hair.” “How many?” “One.” I only had one hair around my anus?” “That’s right.” I gave Fern a look and shook my head. “Much fuss over one hair,” I groaned. “Well your bald down there now and that’s for embarrassing your mother.”

For the ride to town I was to be picked up by the owners in front of the milking parlor. I was ready to leave through the milk house when Siza came up behind me and reached around, showed me an empty Happy-mess bucket. “Before you go I need a refill Honey.” “OOOoohh! We gotta hurry, I gotta go.”

Size steered me over to Pool as Pool bent low working on a cow. I was smeared with left over to lube and penis pushed in as she sighed with pleasure. “Love me Pool so we can quick get some more soap for Siza.” Pool felt really good as she worked our coitus so expertly. She heated up immediately and squeezed like somebody had turned up the stove.

Siza pushed me to bend over a bit. She pulled my butt cheek aside as she used the rest of the left over to make her fingers go in quickly and suddenly my erection came alive inside Pool. Pool, fucking, moved to a much higher level of desire and it wasn’t going to be long before I was filling up that bucket over flowing.

Off I went and Siza pulled me back out of Pool to direct my penis into the open bucket as the shock from the shot took the bucket out of her hand. I re-aimed, she grabbed and held the bucket to the floor with all she had. The bucket filled overflowing immediately, lots of it boiling out over the sides on to her. As soon as she had enough for her purposes she shoved me back into Pool so that we could finish up our love with a tremendous climax. I had gizem all over the front of me and I complained about having to get ready for church all over again. “You guys are chaos.”

Siza came around to the front of me laughing as she noticed I was a sheen from my chest to toes and she said, “You are all shiny, polished up for prayers. That’s the best way to go to church, a shiny soul.” I’d already thought of that line. I wasn’t happy as she suddenly lifted the bucket over flowing with Happy-mess and dumped it on my head while yelling, “Okay ... for the finishing touches...” I was doused.

[An example of gremlin intent, always]

My immediate response was to grab my glasses as I felt somebody grab me by the penis. I was being pulled along the walk way. I could see well enough to note I was being taken out through the milk house and was hoping I could use the hose in there to wash off. The son had just arrived outside in his truck and was honking the horn impatiently.

Hands pushed me out the milk house door, rushing - not stopping, out behind the tank truck into the open air that was cool and much cooler feeling because of the evaporation of the gizem in the dryer air. The door slammed behind me and I could hear the nymphs all laughing. Their teasing was just so mean and never ending.

The horn kept honking and I gave up trying to be “ready” for church while naked, slimed, gooey glasses, and I just walked around the tank truck and out to the waiting church goers.

There could have been room in the cab, packing me in tight, but the son pointed at me to get in the back. “What the hell happened to you?” He smiled wide as he said that and he knew. I was being treated like he was as a kid while he was trying to have sex with them. It was no wonder he told me to leave the nymphs alone. But I hardly had choices in that matter and he probably never got covered in gizem and didn’t realize what the stuff was.

I would ride to town like livestock on the bed of the truck with evaporating slime to make things colder. I was not comfortable and I ducked behind the cab to avoid the wind. Luckily the ride was only about 10 miles distance so I spent time licking and sucking on my glasses, holding them up in the wind for evaporation to try to make them somewhat cleaner while flying hay chaff stuck to me all over on the gizem I was wearing.

I could tell the conversation was terse inside the cab. He’d come from town to pick us up, the owner’s wife, Bernice and I. He probably considered it a miserable job to ferry us around, far beneath his importance. Bernice was closest to the passenger door and the wife sat in the middle. There were no seat belts to deal with in those days and no law against riding on the bed of the truck either, especially if you were livestock, naked human or otherwise.

There was little talk. It was known the son disliked the wife and Bernice wasn’t one to start a conversation with him. I watched them through the back cab window. The wife had wrapped her arm around Bernice to gather her close, to make room to her left because I think she wanted to stay as far away from the son as she could. I had to wonder if he’d ever tried to seduce her and I was glad she was at least as tall as he was to protect herself.

Her grip didn’t relax at all and in fact seemed to want to hold Bernice closer, almost head to head. I could also sense her anxiety toward the son and that wasn’t pleasant plus the floor shift gave the son instance to have his hand close to her leg. They were not a happy group riding together.

We arrived in the one horse town to go through the stop sign at the crossroad and angled over to the church parking, near the front. The church was a small building, fairly plain construction and very unlike the city churches I was used to. The son parked the truck and they all got out.

“You stay in the back until I come to get you”, commanded the son. “I’ll be back out after mass gets started. Don’t want to cause any extra fuss when I bring you inside.” “Hmmmph”, I thought. He actually thought he was going to take me into the building. I wished I’d smeared extra cow poop on myself before departing the parlor. Those darned sisters and their endless teasing, thoughts that could have led to an erection sticking out as I stood leaning on the side board. If I’d wanted to play with myself, waiting, a possible retaliation scheme, I would make a big Sunday morning woody in front of church for passersby to admire.

I wished I had a big cigar to smoke as I stood there on the flat bed of the truck leaning on the sideboard and watching people get out of their cars.

I waited for a little while as church goers walked by on their way to the front door. They would look at me with disdain as if I was a specter of horror, keeping their distance from the parking slot I occupied. The wind traveling down the highway had thoroughly given me goose bumps, nipples erect but penis unaffected unless I started thinking about nymphs.

I was still a bit shiny through road dirt from the Happy-mess dousing. So I made a sight to see with my penis jack hanging loose and swinging which I tried to accent with a little gentle motion, even leaned forward against the side boards to make more dangle and a little gentle pulling, stretching. But I didn’t care what I looked like after I saw the looks those snobby faithfuls were giving me. I supposed they considered me just livestock, but still. Screw them! I hoped I smelled real bad too, like monkeys at the zoo on a hot summer day.

I noticed some cow manure on the floor of the truck bed and I decided to work up some body art before the gizem all dried. I’d already licked my glasses clean and used an old rag from the tool box to help wipe them clear enough to see. But with some added manure I could really get a good look going to help the church goers form opinions. It was indeed art work with texture, body earthy, and I didn’t want them to have any doubts about my condition or that I was a breeder so I made sure that I spread plenty of manure up my ass crack like I should, like a regular bovine would be.

I rubbed the manure around between my legs, knees, up the back and the mixture of left over gizem made it look like any critter with a bit of loose bowels, a common barnyard scene, a true work of shit art. Then a little stroking on my penis with my imagination turned toward thoughts of the nymphs and my stiffening erection got bigger.

I continued to play with that to while away the time which only produced some more gizem to grease up my art. I was turning into a real scene.

Most of the holiest and on-timers were all inside; only a few stragglers still coming by; some day dreaming a bit until they noticed me in my state and that really woke them up.

I was tired of waiting on the truck bed. I decided to go up to the entrance and just sit on the steps to wait for the son. I was brazen. I was suddenly the heathen rebel with a cause, and a boner. I was sweaty livestock with an attitude. Funny, what got into me? I was going to give those parishioners something to think about as they went inside to vent their rotten souls for all the transgressions of the past week. They’d screwed each other over in lieu of the coming Sunday when they would be forgiven of their sins. Let them get an eye-full of my penis, poop, to see how well they were able to repent afterwards. Fucking haughty livestock naughty-naughty.

I sat there stretched out and played with myself as the late arrival disciples gave me a wide birth, walking up the other side of the steps by the holy water font, almost crashing into the door frame as they gawked my direction. None of them said a word to me. Apparently they accepted me as dirty livestock that somehow got loose and strayed. So when all had passed and into the building I got up and went to holy water font for a drink, or rather took the water and splashed it on the front of me to mix in with the dirt and poop for more effect. I made sure my penis was soaked dripping for accent.

Now I was really looking good as I had pangs of doubt about my bravery. “Wow,” I thought. What a great photo this would make to send home to my old high school friends. “From my summer job before college, best wishes. See you in the Fall.”

But pretty soon a big old ugly nun came out of the front door and stood glaring me down from the top steps. “Shoo!” she growled. “You git!” “Fuck you and MOO you old cow!,” I growled back.

I was really feeling my oats and surprised myself with my courage.

She looked astonished as I wagged my penis at her. She paused for moments as I got up and moved in her direction pointing my gripped penis directly at her, gizem spurting and audibly so. How cool was that? You’d think it was a live snake. Her eyes got very big as she turned around to go back inside with a huff while hanging on to her veil and beads rattling. I was feeling meaner than mean. I wondered if the hateful son was rubbing off on me. I was The Devil incarnate.

Moments passed before the son came out of the church pissed off. “What the fuck are you doing you cock sucker?,” he said. “W-h-a-t!?” I looked at him incredulous, shrugged my shoulders sand didn’t budge. “Come on, let’s go. I never dreamed you were going to be a pain in ass at church. Mother fucker, people are talking in there.”

I slowly got up after having sat down, brushed my butt off and the funniest thing, I got a bigger erection. “Oh, for Christ’s sake!,” he griped. “This is church, not some whore house!” I smiled and turned around slowly pushing me out at the middle for drama, side to side, hands on my hips, erection in a wide swing like I was doing the Hula Hoop as he gestured for me to follow him. I grabbed my penis to play with it, stroking to keep a hard-on taut. “This is just a different kind of whore house,” I muttered. “Shut up if you don’t want a good beating when we go back to the dairy!”

The son grabbed me by the shoulder and directed me toward the restroom off the foyer. I wondered what he had in mind. I got worried as he pushed me through the door into the men’s room interior. An old man was just coming out of a stall as I entered ahead with a thud on the door and he stopped short. I think he almost swallowed his tongue. He gaped at me up and down as the son kept pushing me toward the sink. The son took a look at the old guy and immediately barked, “Okay, the shows over!” The old gentleman didn’t move as he seemed to be trying to get words formed and the son glowered. “Show’s O-V-E-R pops. Here you go,” and he made way for the man to leave as he shoved me into the sink with his back side.

The old guy shuffled out muttering something and I couldn’t imagine what his thoughts were in the confusion of a slimy filthy naked guy busting into the men’s room at church like that. The son started ripping paper towels out of the dispenser and shoving them at me as I groaned out a, MO-O-O-O-O!”. “Hurry up you FUCKER. Get that shit washed off of you and quit playing with your dick. Son - of - A BITCH!” He reached over and turned on the hot water spigot to almost full blast in the old fashioned separate faucet plumbing. I figured I better get busy doing what he said before the real hot water arrived. I took several towels at a time and soaked them to start washing myself off.

I’d made quite a mess on the floor as I was hurry-washing. The son was cajoling me to get going. I figured I was clean enough and he growled “Bend over!” I didn’t like that idea but followed his lead as he shoved me over further. He took water with his hands cupped and starting throwing it at my butt crack and it was getting warmer all the time. He was cussing a blue streak and I thought “How churchy that sounds” when he actually rubbed more water up and down my ass crack and that made me jump. “Hold still dip shit! Do you think I like touching your ass? Jesus Christ! Do you actually have the shits?”