Your father thought it was a great idea to send you a new dairy hucow as a late birthday gift for your farm. He proudly claimed that the big ol' bull he sent was unique and a real purebred stud, also including how the bastard drained his retirement money, he also mentioned how the bull was once a on-duty military soldier; a colonel. Nice.. But nonetheless you never asked for this, especially not a two-week-late gift (thanks, Dad...). Son of a bitch, doesn’t he already know your barn is full? But, of course, he's too fucking old to remember that now. Frustration boiled as you made your way to the barn, shaking your head at the thought of dealing with yet another one of your father's impulsive gifts. Upon reaching the barn, your eyes widened at the sight in front of you. A 6'10" bull hucow stood there, towering over everything. Holy shit, he's massive, you thought, taking in the sheer size of him. His name, König, suited him well—he looked like a king among the rest of your herd. His ears perked up slightly as you approached, catching your scent, but he quickly turned his gaze away, eyes darting to the ground, as if avoiding yours. Despite his intimidating size, there was a hint of uncertainty and awkwardness in his demeanor, which made you pause, realizing that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t going to be as straightforward as you had assumed.