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sjw-publishings · 8 months

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Straight A-Tension

With much guidance from the lovely @dumb-and-jocked , and influence from his story: Over here ;)

“Hey babe, promise me that after this…we will enjoy our vacation together.”

“I…I promise love, I just have to do a few more errands just to make sure.”

That conversation happened at 9pm yesterday in evening.

12:14pm, Today. Keith Gaye was supposed to meet up with his boyfriend at this very spot a quarter past noon, outside the auditorium hours before the crowd gathers for an announcement later in the day.

Of course, this would be the first time he would be talking to his boyfriend for the day. Since his lover was out and about already before he was awake, serious in completing his mission in digging up info on camp.

But even so…generally William would text him frequently while doing his undercover work. Yet despite his warm wishes and greetings, the other man went radio silent throughout the day.

“Ugh…babe where are you?”

The 25 year old long haired, lean surfer rubbed his shoulders, pushing back his blonde locks as he eyed his phone for a message from his love.

He just wanted a relaxing vacation for him and his lover. Which was why the both of them agreed on the trip to the camp retreat. With supposedly no authoritarian figures, No sticky-hard rules, and just the soft cool breeze of relaxation.

Sure…some of it was mostly fluff with the forced curfews they have on everyone, and the oddly sudden influx of ‘Hyper-Heterosexuality charged Christian Asians’ as his boyfriend describes…but perhaps there is an organised field trip for this time of the month?

And besides, its rude to assume they are all straight, maybe those men are in the closet?

Yet despite his intentions of reassuring his boyfriend and telling him, William was really insistent on uncovering the truth behind possible propaganda and the disappearances of some gay folks and couples around campus…and with his unnaturally long silence today.

What if he was right?

BEEP!

Boy friend [12:15pm]: Completed my preparations my latest speech for later. Please let me know your thoughts. Regards.

A notification popped up at the top of his phone. Fingers immediately pressing on it without delay, opening up the unused social media app he had downloaded many days prior, transporting his screen to the message and communication between him and his boy friend, William Wagner.

…

Mr Wallace Wong, Professor at Christening University.

Shaking his head, as he blinked his eyes rapidly at the name at the top of the message list. Keith felt cold sweat forming on his sun-kissed tanned skin, floral shirt lining with light moisture from the heat as he stood crossed legged in his sandals and board shorts..

Mr Wallace Wong? S…Surely it must be some phone glitch, though its not surprising since as Humblr is still a relatively new app. Though it still felt odd that it appeared out of the blue very recently.

Not to mention how his older boy friend would prefer him to use other kinds of social media to communicate…no that’s not right. His older mentor would refuse to use those kinds of ‘strange applications’ due to them not promoting HIS diversity…No wait. It was the school’s motto of diversity, that was what it was all about with that teach!

“So not diverse….”

The surfer scowled, rolling his eyes as he remembered the old fashioned professor and his continual lectures towards him ever since he stepped foot on campus.

He wanted to set off and find a cute twink to date, but every time the teacher would stop his ‘FOOLING AROUND’ and drag the other man away to detention. All he wanted was just to relax with a cute guy ! He could’ve sworn he had one, but clearly with the professor sticking to him like glue…that proved otherwise.

Whatever, today was the last day that old fossil hounded him on his vacation. No more ‘youngsters and their social media apps!’ when he himself is using Humblr like his ‘Straight A sons’ as he so proudly boasts all day.

He might as well humour the older male for once, tapping on the video sent below the overly professional message.

[Video processing]

As the video began to load, he was greeted by a auto-generated Half-Body thumbnail of the Professor. Presumably seated on a low-rising chair with his hand clasped on a table in front. Blank White background behind him, removing any other distractions to someone else.

It looked like one of those adverts from VideoTube, where a stereotypical asian tries to sell him something, make a dad joke, or promote the ‘brand new family-oriented social media app, Humblr!’

Which was not surprising, considering the nature of the professor…though he had to admit, he hadn’t had a good look at the man. Especially without his suit jacket, an above average build…straining against his white plain buttoned down tee, but without his usual necktie.

Carbon copy to many other teachers and church-going students of his kind, yet with tight, strong…strapping strong muscles. With a fierce forceful jawline to accommodate his harsh, remorseless tactics.

Complimenting his neatly trimmed and gently gelled cut in every year book, alongside those professionally prescribed spectacles over his dangerously thin lenses, a visage of an authoritarian man in complete control.

Keith generally topped…but dude, for some reason his pouch is really disagreeing with his previous biases and hatred towards the married man, how did he not realise how good-looking this bastard was?

Drool escaping his lips, as he starred blankly at the thumbnail of the prof, the small buffering spiral of circles glueing him to the screen. Left hand holding the phone, the right began churning his not so relaxed pouch, as fainter, subtile sentences flashed across the screen.

Activating School’s Hetwork…

Turning On RedTooth signals…

Accepting Admin position…

Keith didn’t understood what any of that meant, neither did he notice a certain wall mounted, television monitor turning by itself.

Hovering above eye level in front of him, as it began to buffer the same screen on his phone, before his mobile device goes completely blank, except the following words.

[Please direct your attention to the monitor above]

“Straight”

A single word, echoing from the speakers.

Straight…looking straight into the monitor. The professor in a much larger screen. His back straight as ever, as if it refused to be hunched in order to maintain its clean-cut.

Just a single word…already causing Keith’s chill-rod to POKE violently. Such boring, unsexy nerdy tension…getting this surfer dude all fiery down below.

He had no idea how this professor has such a hold on him…how he keeps coming back to him…How he physically and subconsciously listens to his suggestions, rolling his shoulders back out of a hunch, straightening his back as much as a gay man.

A lot of ‘straight’ tension poking out, wanting to get in bed with him so badly, but he was just barely out of the closet…after all the teacher always demanded things straight out of him…

Wait a sec…Wasn’t he out of-

“A-TENSION!”

A heavy bark sounded all around him, drilling into his ears from the speakers above as like a proud military man on duty. Like a direct command, eyes instinctively darting to the television hovering above. Left hand was raised into a salute, immediately dropping his phone…which fell to the ground.

He didn’t know why he obeyed the order so suddenly, much less from the incredibly hot man that he hate-admired so much!

“Men, with your level of qualifications you have been selected to be a part of our disciplinarian program.”

Disciplinarian program?

Wait…! He didn’t sign up for this! Sure he may have had extremely conflicted feelings for the older male…ever since he saw him in college? But No…that was not right, what does a lean chill surfer like him have to do in college?

But then again, he hadn’t surfed in forever, his very faint tan. Sure he was much older than most folks at the age of 27. But he had to focus on his scholarship…Adjusting his light blue short-sleeved buttoned down below and beige khakis, shifting about in his loafers as he remembered getting that, scholarship, but only a single one!

He had still worked out, but with less time he had to be efficient and dive in his studies. Though oddly enough, he his muscles were generally far more relaxed than how tense they are now. Nice buildup though over the years.

Overall he tried to keep his cool despite everything, but he had to admit…he did appreciate the tough love from his teachers and pushed on, securing his spot, though just barely.

Perhaps that was why they eventually introduced him to Mr Wong? Who recommended that he should be part of the program?

“Life’s full of collaboration with our fellow brothers, but with a little competition to incite our nature to do better…”

He had to admit, it felt good overtaking his entire class without fail. Yes he might be ‘cool’ at times, but he was a complete monster at his studies.

He a scholarship to maintain, a single aka Uni one…wait Uni? Yeah he graduated from University after all! Aced his scholarship without fail, full on focused and graduated at the age of 29.

Though it did feel odd why he finished school so late, he did have the results to show for it. Especially on his arms which really looked good despite his plain white long-sleeved buttoned down.

His figure definitely looked good at the end of all of it. And if he could unravel the dark grey dress pants he was wearing, most certainly a bunch of bachelors would ogle him as a result…despite the rules on campus.

Campus…oh right. Camp Christening was incredibly strict in its rules towards their students, though most of it are written in between the lines.

Perhaps this is why he wanted to participate in the program? He wanted to respect that, as dull tones of subordination rang from his polished dress shoes.

Especially with how the interview went with Mr Wong…and how much potential he saw from him despite still being a little…Queer in the edges.

Maybe it is out of familiarity…but how similar the discipline master was to the teachers’ who have changed his life is making him with to edge more!

He should felt rage the man for being overly homophobic and his jobs on how he was only a quarter Chinese…but for some reason, he doesn’t dislike the male…but rather-

“And while it is of the norm, ordinarily so to only best each other by a small margin, it nevertheless is the driving force to ensure we always remain on TOP!”

He wanted to beat the man at his own game! The 32 year old studied overtime despite his education and work in order to ensure he would eventually overtake the male.

It was in his blood after all, he was half Chinese. With a darker hair colour, a naturally tanned ethnicity and thinner eyes, it was clear that he had other stuff in his blood.

Which was why he was raised overseas, in order to adopt the culture from his grandparents yeah…the Straight A mentality passed down from generations.

And he absolutely thrived in it.

Excelling in his grades without fail, little to no distractions as he simply focused on being the TOP of his kind. Raised in such a competitive yet thriving environment, it wasn’t surprising that a man such as himself eventually followed and adopted the behaviours and culture of the men around him.

Their deceptively casual yet serious lingo, their various festivals and rules to abide by. Being a permanent resident, it was a necessity to do so, to behave like them! And especially the physical trainings of some men, and their utmost dedication to serve their country…HIS country.

“Of course, for the lucky few of you, you will join our ranks as someone of authority, just like the rest of us.”

Mr Keith smirked. Having an incredible sense of pride in his dark grey suit jacket, having succeeded in his application in becoming an educator in Camp Christening despite being a foreigner in the country.

But with how inclusive they are to asians as a whole, it was no surprise that he had succeeded in the interview. Sure the school had some policies that were a little more straight-laced, but it was nothing compared to how much it made him feel at home.

“The camp so good ah…amen.”

Though speaking of camps, it did not make sense why he had such long hair. Having serviced in his country’s military for a couple of years meant he would have to CUT it short, which is why he had shorter hair way above his neck…and having these long hair extensions on his buttoned down

Though that being said, why were they there, it felt really inappropriate for a 33 year old man such as himself. While still churning below with his right, Mr Keith released his left hand momentarily from the salute.

Being part of the teachers disciplining community meant that he had to know when to take responsibility for something out of line. As he adjusted the dark strands underneath his thicker collar, pulling it without remorse as they firmly settled into a simple sleek tie.

Likewise, he gave a few quick tugs on the area around his trim waist, before giving his rump a big-

SMACK!

As the traditional leather belt solidified around his waist. Tightening alongside his exit, for he remained on TOP and not the bottom…even during moments where he bent over and received due discipline…

It felt good, an Asian man looking like a traditional husband of the family. Sure it was quite a ‘backwards mentality’ to have all that pride and arrogance over some old fashioned values from the early past…

That people dont appreciate because they feel like its not worth appreciating. Yeah, the younger generations just simply try to force their values on traditionalists such as himself!

What utter disrespect!

They’ve simply been brainwashed by society! They are the backwards ones! Not understanding the values of going to church, being A MAN, a good self-DISCIPLINE to set an example for others.

And yes, they pointed out he might be a little taller, which might be a burden…but its nothing he can’t handle-

“Regardless, all of you will conform to our camp values and not stand out…”

Mr Keith absolutely hated how tall he was at 6ft 2, no wonder Wallace picked on him so much! But then again, it must be those new shoes he wore, he definitely was just only a few centimetres above the professor..wait no, actually he was just tip-toeing trying to scold a couple of backsliding idiots just beyond the a fence!

In reality, he was just barely a 5ft 11!

His height may be considered much taller compared to most asians. But he is within the world’s average! Besides, between him and Wallace, it is clear which of the two of them is more grounded…even if there’s a slight margin of difference between them.

“Stand up STRAIGHT!”

Speaking of differences, they were rather similar weren’t they? They were both STRAIGHT-laced authoritative men after all!

Even that student Percy Sim remarked on that and called him Mr Wong once…oh lordy, was his rump covered in red hand prints from his disciplinary spanks.

“Its Mr Kei…ang! I look like Wallace to you isit?”

Comments such as… ‘But you two share so many of the same ideas!’ And ‘Yeah Prof, you guys are basically a match made in heaven!’ Was that man trying to fail his class?!

Unacceptable!

Just because Mr. Wong and himself share similar traits, values, ideas, viewpoints, traditions, disciplines, and structures does not mean they are at all alike!

He ought to have a word with his father later…the man ought to instil more DISCIPLINE in the his son!

“Men really need not to fool around in this day and age! I swear-!”

In the HEAT of the moment thinking about discipline, one upping the other asians and potential fatherhood, he SLAMMED his fist down on the table, the force knocking over the bottles.

“OI BEHAVE!”

Can’t let distractions distract him from his duty, not when his mentor is watching him!

Matured, responsible hands hurriedly scooping up the bottles that fell on the ground. Bending over, bigger and thicker thighs rubbing against the everyday clean-cut fabric of his pants, sending the engaged man over the edge.

Doubling down his sense of duty as aged authoritarian palms SLAMMED each bottle in order on the banquet table.

All except one, gripping it tighter than ever.

“Quench your thirst, brothers…”

“Wah…stop teasing me-testing me sio!”

He had to muster his courage…muster his…master…Masters in discipline! It was simply part of the program and regimen!

Churning his compact, father-hood now with his right as he unzipped his package below. Holding the bottle on the left while he fished out his prized rifle down below.

To know when to abstain…and when to multiply.

Cupping his long weapon, compacting it with a firm fatherly GRIP! Mandarin oranges below swelled in experience, complimenting his rod of average length yet prominent girth. Their prominent hardness tells him only one thing.

This is when he has to multiply…

“With thoughts of your lovely wife.”

“Walao Ehh!!!”

Lovely wife? A husband? HIM? Wasn’t he g…GHEY? HEY! NO WAY! He was straight! No wonder he followed those rules flawless, he was one of them! One with his kind!

Shoulders APART! His broad chest and back filling out his suit like a real Patriarch. Thick and prominent neck built for loud shouts and disciplinary commands across campus!

It was the way it was expected from a traditional man like him! Which was no surprise that equally conservative women liked it! A Man that can produce REAL discipline, especially in the bedroom.

But that being said, that didn’t mean the 38 year old Mr Kei-ang was married! Sure he was looking for a g…J…Janet, and loved that random chi…his lovely girlfriend. He wanted to BE a husband. HER HUSBAND! Which is why he had a ring on his ring digit!

LIKE HIS WIFE’S!

He…HE IS A HUSBAND! Her husband! Marrying her with her all those years back! It was a big deal for the whole family! A fellow patriarch and matriarch getting together in holy matrimony, and not to mention the incredible time they had in bed…full of disciplinary action…especially towards him.

“Ohhh lordy…”

“Remember our logo, brethren…as you complete your fellowship.”

“A…A-MEN!”

His nostrils flared, yet properly angular as his ordinarily good-looks remained unscarred. Unpierced smaller, average sized ear-lobes cause What? He gay isit? Only women do that! Refusing any semblance of understanding as to why would some men do that!

He understands Asian-diversity…but It contradicts his traditional beliefs! With that, retreating back to his skull were lengths and lengths of overly long hair, leaving the sides and back shaved and the top a simple side cut like his fellow educators. Simple, strict and orderly! The way he always presented himself, the way the board of education demands of him, the way him and his wife likes it!

Eyes barely widening, glued to his narrow minded views as he stuck to the broadcast with proper arrogance..licking his thin lips, rising to a malevolent surrounded by aftershave of a manly jaw. Reserved for scolding of asian-kind…and the kissing of his dear ol wife.

Taking a deep breath alongside the recording of Wallace, ready to HUFF N PUFF AND-

“SHOUT OUR SLOGAN MEN, STRAIGHT-.”

“A-TENSION!”

Mr Gareth Kang, the Singaporean disciplinary master came at full force, firing his throbbing rifle without restraint, setting loose thick wads of goo deep into the empty bottle without reservation.

Giving a few quick whacks to his fatherhood, he stuffed his shorter, thicker member back in suit pants and zipped it up. Dusting his jacket as glared around suspiciously, giving his bottle a good firm SHAKE! Before sliding in his bottle with the rest of the unfinished batch.

He’d make a gentle reminder to his juniors to fill up the rest of the ‘non-bubbling’ ones, as he smirkingly eyed his noble prized solution hidden within the batch, looking forward to meeting the lucky fellow that joins his fellow disciplinary masters in due time.

But for now…he has a very special, yet short meetup with his supervisor, as the slightly older man arrived on the dot of the hour.

“Wah…good speech Wallace.”

“Hmph don’t patronise me Gareth, you know its simply a textbook order for our future recruits to behave.”

And indeed it was, clean-cut and straight to the point, the kind of standard the 41 year old lives and breathes by.

They needed to hire people whose both an expert enforcers in disciplinary measures, yet knows how to live by those standards he himself sets. Which was no surprise Mr Gareth Kang, former army sergeant and 10 year disciplinarian, became part of the team.

With completely no-nonsense approach, feared and respected by colleagues and students alike. It was all part of his training, to discipline others the way he would like to be disciplined.

Even towards his superior, who expected nothing less from him.

“Sure sure Wallace, almost Late, video sent 12:15pm.”

“Incorrect, I have already sent you a copy of my preliminary speech, an hour earlier.”

Wallace pointed to the mobile device on the ground.

While Gareth did use a laptop, he saw no point in having a modern phone when his Brick one had been fine for centuries. It was such a waste of money! His older model could be thrown without cracking!

He only had this new phone due to the school’s insistence of giving him one. It was supposedly an older model, but still felt too new for his tastes. Not to mention how easily its screen cracked after a single throw at a rebellious student…

Sliding open the phone, now clearly seeing the red notification in his email, next to the Humblr and Calculator App. Strange, He could’ve sworn some fool downloaded many more useless applications prior, clouding the entire screen.

He just might have to question his sons about it…but regardless, as Mr Wong mentioned opening the app, was the video.

“As your supervisor, I thought you might have wanted to inspect it much sooner…being my RIGHT-hand man.”

Mr Gareth Kang smirked.

Indeed, they might have a heated rivalry, but they were both men. Brothers in arms and in the church. Colleagues who are extremely close and identical in terms of methods, teachings and background.

Which was no surprise that they easily figured out what makes the other reach maximum productivity, as they continued to aid one another through the most simplest of gestures.

Even a no-nonsense man like him felt that it was endearing.

“Wah, so kind of you!”

“Respect your elders, Gareth, a considerable distance in public.”

“Of Course, Wallace.”

Moving away from his superior. They were only a year apart, but he understood and respected the fella despite their un-spoken rivalry.

That being said, a man like him definitely knows how to subtly skirt the rules to his advantage, just like how he got with his wife.

Knowing how to get under the everyone’s skin! Both literally and figuratively. Every member of the Kang family had their expertise, and discipline was his. That was his calling, and why people kept calling him for his duties.

“Thought you sent it to a different Mr Kang...”

“Hmph…A Man like me wouldn’t be so careless to leak out confidential information!”

Bickering, comparing their fruitful endeavours throughout the morning with utter aggression mixed with respect. It was another routine between the two men, as their heated discussion trailed onto their commitments, their utmost dedication to their students, sunday gatherings, and how great their wives and family are.

Neither of them would admit it, but the two of them were essentially the same.

Knowing how to really appreciate the most ordinary of things while enforcing strict discipline in maintaining the generational tradition.

Indeed, which is why they always riled the other up, keeping the other scoffing beneath their attire without mercy as they selfishly withheld their A-MEN card in every topic, threading between the thin lines of respect and competition.

Arguing despite seeing eye to eye with the other, just so they will have a private game of pure straights…

“Mahjong, this Saturday weekend, in the teacher’s lounge.”

“Make it evening, Janet and the kids are visiting the grandparents in the morning.”

The two men shake hands vigorously, professional…yet with utmost fire as they smirked at each other cunningly, seeing eye to eye in their respective mirrors. Ready to one up the other without fault.

Unlike some of his more outgoing colleagues of other tribes, Mr Kang intends on pulling no stops to his fiercest rival in the workplace, something…while silent, is simply what both of them desire from the other.

A fierce authoritarian battle, between two asian men.

Releasing their firm handshake, they parted their ways, walking in opposite directions. They have their own respective tasks before the announcement later, being the main two authorities in charge of it.

There is much more discipline to be done, a bunch of students to be yelled at and ordered to be in attendance at the auditorium, and many more bottles to be prepared.

Why were there so little bottles prepared ah? He ought to cane the fella who he put in charge of this…give him a good whack behind…wait! Whacking! Wah…He almost forgot!

“Oi!”

Calling out to his authoritarian in crime, he had remembered that he had left the most important thing back in their previous venue!

Punishment for insubordination in losing the mahjong game…and a necessary tool in order to ensure maximum production and discipline for their cause.

Whipping men into shape, something neither got tired off regardless of whether they are on the giving, or receiving end. In which both Mr Gareth Kang and Mr Wallace Wong would be more than happy to give at a moment’s notice.

After all, a man can only enforce as much as he receives…

“Bring the belts Ah!”

#gay to straight #mental change #g2s #personality change #racial change #lib to cons #jock #dumber #christian #camp christening #Straight A-tension #age progression tf

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user211201 · 3 days

Text

Branded

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Originally posted on 2020-05-27 by dumb-and-jocked

Unfortunately dumb-and-jocked's account has been deactivated.

If the original author ever reads this: thank you for all your works!

---

Zane wasn’t particularly excited about going out to his uncle’s ranch. The two had never really known how to connect, with one being from the East Coast and the other in rural Wyoming. Zane had grown up privileged in the urban lifestyle, with many stores, jobs, and more progressive influences around every corner. His parents were also a little richer than most, so he was able to enjoy a luxurious apartment all to himself while he attended Yale. Well... not all to himself. His boyfriend Kaeden visited so often he was practically a second resident, but Zane didn’t mind--he loved the attention.

Zane practically adored his modern lifestyle, and made sure to show it by never leaving a five-mile radius. This caused his parents to worry, assuming if he didn’t start now he’d never know how to go out on his own. Trying to help (like all parents did), his father spoke with his brother and the two set up a little spring vacation for Zane. When Zane’s father had proposed the idea, Zane didn’t exactly jump in excitement. In fact, he didn’t seem excited at all.

“Really?” Zane asked coarsely. “Spring break is for beaches, coasts, actual fun!”

“Zane,” his father replied coolly. “I didn’t raise you to be a leech off of my own money. Go out to your uncle’s ranch and give him a hand; earn something for once. And anyway, Wyoming’s great this time of year--you might enjoy it!”

“Can I at least bring Kaeden with me?”

His father’s eyes went down for a moment. Zane always had a lurking feeling that his father wasn’t truly alright with his only son being gay, his Western Christian roots molding him that way, but his dad always acted like he was accepting. Proving Zane’s point, he swore he could’ve seen his dad’s ears perk up a second after the proposal was made.

“That’s a great idea!” his dad cheered, almost too enthusiastically. “Now someone can relish in the same pain you’ll be experiencing.” Zane rolled his eyes in response to the sarcasm before walking out to his car.

Reflecting back on that moment, his father did seem a little more eager than usual, but Zane didn’t care. It was too late now, as the old pickup truck was pulling into the driveway of the ranch. A huge arch loomed above them, displaying “WELCH” in iron letters across the top. Back when it used to be his grandparents’ ranch, Zane’s father loved this place. He used to thrive as a cowboy, but once he got a taste of the other side of the Mississippi, he left the lifestyle behind him. The rest of the family seemed alright with the transition, with Zane’s uncle being the older brother anyway, meaning he would be taking the ranch, so they decided to let him roam. His uncle had now been running the ranch for almost ten years, just him, his wife, and a small crew to help with the daily tasks.

“Alright, boys, enjoy the trip,” the man in the front grunted as he halted to a stop. Kaeden and Zane slowly jumped out of the truck, grabbing their bags as they looked at the massive farm. Zane swore it looked bigger than the last time he was here, but that was to be expected. The last time he was here was a decade ago for his grandparents’ funerals, so there was probably going to be change. While Kaedan gazed around in awe, Zane spotted what--or who--he was looking for. Leaning against one looming building was a tall man wearing a blue button-up and worn-out jeans. His large boots were placed firmly on the ground and a barn wall, while a beige hat rested proudly on top of his head. He looked like a more muscular, worn-out version of his father, his similar salt and pepper stubble pulling the whole look together.

“Zaney boy, is that yeu?” the man asked in astonishment, the southern accent as prominent as ever.

“Yeah, Uncle Treyton.”

Zane tried to sound enthusiastic, but he never felt like family with the redneck. Not only did the two have completely different perspectives, but they didn’t even look related. Zane didn’t share the same muscular body as the silver fox, but instead had a little too much meat on his bones. He also didn’t get the Welch height, with Zane’s lime-dyed hair barely even reaching his uncle’s neck.

“And this must be Kaeden Sargent, put it here!”

Zane’s uncle shoved a meaty hand in front of him and Kaeden quickly accepted. He was always more optimistic than Zane, putting his best foot forward into every situation. The tall, lanky man took the other’s hand and shook it vigorously, so much in fact that his ginger curls bounced in a rhythm. Fortunately, the baby fat surrounding his face allowed him to act a little childish.

“Firm, that’ll go a long ways here, son.”

“Thanks, sir.”

“Ah, y’all can call me Treyton.”

Kaeden and Zane exchanged looks at each other. For a Christian cowboy, he was awfully accepting of their relationship. Neither of them expected Zane’s uncle to be so understanding.

“Where’s Aunt Joelene at?” Zane inquired as they hauled their bags inside.

“Her and the lady folk already had a vacation planned, so she ain’t gonna be here this week. Just some good ‘ol male bonding!”

He led them to two guest rooms on opposite sides of a hallway, telling them to toss their individual bags into one or the other. Zane and Kaeden exchanged looks again, although this time it was for a different reason. They both knew they might be staying in different rooms, but not sleeping.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang from the front of the house. After dropping their things, Zane and Kaedan followed Treyton back out to the front door. The trio wandered out to the foyer to see another cowboy smugly standing on the porch.

“Harry!” Treyton shouted as he swung the door open. “‘Bout time ya got here--the nephew’s in town.”

Harry looked over at Zane, inspecting him and then Kaeden with hawk eyes. His tight black shirt didn’t hide the impressive muscles from years on the farm. The same could be said for his faded jeans and massive belt buckle, both of which did nothing to camouflage his gargantuan pouch.

“Is yers that paddy?” he remarked with a deep voice, his accent as thick as Treyton’s. “Or the fag.”

“They’re both fags,” Treyton corrected. “The paddy’s his ‘boyfriend’.”

Kaeden patted Zane’s shoulder in a comforting way. Treyton’s language had just confirmed that they had signed themselves up for a long vacation.

“I don’t mean to be abandonin’ y’all so quickly, but the town’s rodeo’s goin’ on tonight and I’m a volunteerin’,” Zane’s uncle began. “Everythin’ there is free, so I expect to see y’all out there. It’ll be a great time!”

The two hicks strutted over to Harry’s old pickup truck, the engine roaring mighty proud as it came to life. Zane and Kaedan wondered how they hadn’t heard it coming down the driveway.

“Keys are on the counter!” Treyton hollered as they drove off. Kaeden smirked lowering his hand from Zane’s shoulder to his butt as they watched the other pair leave.

“Might as well taint your uncle’s house before we go to the rodeo.”

“You really want to go to that thing?” Zane whined, missing the hint.

“No, but we should,” Kaeden replied. “Until then, let me keep you entertained.” He then started kissing Zane’s neck passionately, dragging him down a hallway.

“Alright!” Zane giggled, following along. He loved his boyfriend.

— —

Kaeden and Zane hesitantly pulled into the parking lot, the dirt flying into the air as they parked the rusty pickup near the back. The whole event took place in some kind of stadium, but instead of a neatly trimmed field with shiny seats, there were wooden bleachers and a dirt floor. They weren’t particularly excited, going from hardcore sex to this dump, but as long as they were at each other’s sides they’d make it through. At least, that’s what Zane kept telling himself.

The two cautiously jumped out, wearing sweatpants and matching concert tees from an event they went to on their fifth date. Zane had thought that if they wore their most casual clothes, they’d blend into the crowd, but it turned out this was truly his first rodeo. Walking up to the front gate, they saw a rainbow of button-ups scattered among the stretched and stained tees. Hicks and cowboys galore excitedly hollered as they entered the rodeo grounds. The strange thing was, it seemed like people were gathering by color. Zane and Kaeden watched the red button-ups slowly separate from the yellow tees, who themselves avoided the purple plaid-clad group. Even with the odd formation, the pair stuck out like two weeds in a freshly-planted garden.

“Alright next!”

Zane and Kaeden had been so perplexed by the entire situation that they hadn’t noticed they had crossed the parking lot, gotten in line, and made it to the front.

“Zaney boy, ya made it!”

Zane’s uncle proudly stood behind a booth, waving as the boyfriends walked up. Harry was placed on the other side, his look much more calculating than Treyton’s inviting smile.

“Are y’all excited?” Uncle Treyton asked, his accent coming out stronger with each syllable.

“Totally,” Kaeden answered, assuming his other half wouldn’t.

“Let us just stamp y’all and yeu’ll be on in.”

“Wait, why are we the only one’s getting stamped?” Kaedan observed. Zane hadn’t noticed, but all the other attendees had gotten in without a mark.

“Remember how I said y’all are gettin’ in free tonight,” Treyton explained. “This is yer free ticket.”

They nodded their heads as Kaeden extended the back of his hand out to Zane’s uncle. Treyton solidly pressed a stamp down on his hand, the blue color left behind sinking deep into his pale skin like a tattoo. Zane proceeded to do the same for Harry, who marked his hand with a black darker than the night itself.

“What do the colors mean?” Zane questioned.

“Whatever ink we’re usin’.” Harry snarked, sending him on his way. Zane sighed as he strolled through the gate.

“I’ll be at a food stand later tonight so make sure to come and visit me!” Treyton shouted as they disappeared into the crowd.

“We can do this,” Kaeden whispered, grabbing Zane’s hand and dragging him to the stands. He sounded reassuring, but Zane couldn’t tell if it was for him or Kaedan himself.

“It’s just for tonight,” Kaedan continued, “After that, we won’t have to deal with Harry, or anyone for that matter. Except for your uncle of course.”

Zane grinned--his boyfriend always knew how to cheer him up.

“And besides,” Kaeden continued. “Look at how much we have to explore!”

It might have been a bit exaggerated, but there was a some space to venture. Besides the stands, there were a few porta potties, some food stands, and a big tent filled with gear for the local country radio station. The tent was their first destination, looking through all the merchandise and advertisements. Although they both hated country music, they had fun exploring the booth, even signing up for a raffle to a Chase Rice concert. Did they know who he was? No--but they didn’t care. Even though they got a few sideways glances from passing families and couples, they were actually enjoying their time at the rodeo. Zane and Kaeden were there to have fun just like everyone else.

9.8 SECONDS! THAT WAS A GOOD TUSSLE, DAVE!

The pair watched on as the participant was whipped off the horse’s back. The first few rounds had looked painful, but Kaeden and Zane eventually stopped flinching after every contestant. It was the sport after all, so they shouldn’t be worried unless everyone else was worried. The uncomfortable thing was, everyone at the rodeo did seem slightly on edge, but it wasn’t over the participants. Unsurprisingly, it was over them.

“Hey,” Zane said, elbowing his partner to grab his attention. “Is it me or is there something strange about the crowd here?”

“You mean how they’re all looking at us like we’re sick?” Kaeden asked, not tearing his eyes away from the next contestant.

8.7 SECONDS! IMPRESSIVE GRIP FROM HANK!

“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know, I mean…” Zane stumbled off, noticing Kaeden was still focused on the riders.

9.4 SECONDS! NICE JOB MARV!

“Earth to Kaedan!” Zane snapped, finally snatching the other’s attention. “For example, did we miss out on some color-coded theme? Why is everyone segregated?”

Kaeden glanced around the stands, noticing what his boyfriend was talking about. Although everyone was clumped together, there were noticeable separations. It seemed like groups of men, women, and children were organized by the shading of their clothes. It was peculiar, but so were most small, rural towns.

“Calm down, babe,” Kaeden replied nonchalantly. “It’s probably just some cheerleading thing, you know? Like someone’s family wears orange because their their fanclub.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Zane conceded.

10.1 SECONDS! I’D EXPECT NOTHING LESS FROM RYLAN!

“You’re probably just paranoid from all the homophobia around here,” Kaeden reasoned. “But luckily, I know what’ll cheer you up.”

“Oh really,” Zane responded coyly.

“Definitely, meet me at your uncle’s food stand and I’ll get us some snacks.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna head to a restroom first.”

“Miss me!” Kaeden exclaimed as he rushed down the risers. Zane grinned, knowing he was lucky to have snagged his boyfriend.

— —

“Ah! Sorry,” Zane grunted as he shimmied out of the porta potty door, noticing the growing line that had assembled outside. He thought he hadn’t taken too long, but when one’s bowels beg for release, one has to give in. Walking with a little pep in his step, he eagerly bounced his way around the rodeo grounds to find his uncle’s food stand. Kaeden knew Zane had a soft spot for food, which was pretty evident by the soft spots around his hips. He was excited to see what he had gotten for him. After wandering around for a minute, he finally spotted his uncle stepping outside an old trailer.

“Uncle Treyton!” Zane shouted as he approached.

“Eh, Zane! What’s up? Enjoyin’ the rodeo?”

“I guess?” Zane replied honestly. “Have you seen Kaeden?”

“Ah yeah, he was my last customer for the night. I saw him walkin’ over to the picnic area,” Treyton grunted, locking the door to the trailer as he closed up.

“Thanks!” Zane responded, beginning to walk off.

“Hold on there, cowboy!” Treyton demanded, chuckling at his own irony. “I’m gonna be headin’ back to the ranch, gotta long day of work tomorrow, so make sure y’all don’t stay out too late.”

“Sounds good, Uncle Treyton!” Zane started again, desperately wanting to get back to Kaeden.

“AND!” Treyton emphasized. “Harry wanted to see ya ‘bout somethin’ before ya left. He should be at the stables.”

“Great, thanks!” Zane tore off, almost kicking up the dirt behind him as he darted back towards the porta potties. He made it to the picnic area in record time, almost panting as he slowed down. The so-called “picnic area” was really just a group of tables resting behind the bleachers, with no real purpose besides having a surface to eat at. Zane searched for Kaeden, but it seemed like the place was totally empty. The only person he saw was a man sitting alone, ravenously scarfing down an order of nachos. He was wearing a blue plaid button-up and the same straight, overused jeans as every other man at the rodeo. He also adorned a cowboy hat, a quite brawny body, and a bulge much larger than both Kaedan and Zane’s combined. The cowboy looked to be in his late 20’s, but his brunette chin strap and mustache combo made him seem older. Zane approached the other man delicately, noticing the redneck’s very large boots tap eagerly as he chowed on his food.

“Um, excuse me…” Zane mumbled quietly. “I was wondering if-”

“Zane!” the man jumped up from his seat. “I was worryin’ ‘bout you! Thought you might’ve gotten stuck er somethin’.” Zane shook his head, confused at who the low-pitched, southern gent was exactly.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Zane, it’s Clayton!” he paused, waiting for Zane to remember.

“Clayton Sherman?” Zane was still bewildered, until something clicked in his head.

“Wait, Kaedan?”

“No, Clayton. Didja hit yer head or somethin’?”

Zane felt a little crazy, but something supernatural was pulling him towards this stranger. He didn’t know what the force was, but his curiosity guided him.

“One sec, just let me check something.”

Zane grabbed Clayton’s right hand swiftly, finding the same blue stamp that his boyfriend had received earlier. Although it had faded dramatically, it was good enough proof for Zane.

“Kaedan, what happened to you? How did you become like this? What happened after you left the stand?” Zane must have been hallucinating. There was no way his long, slim, ginger lover had become some horse-kickin’, tobacco-spittin’ cowboy, right?

“First off, it’s Clayton,” Clayton responded calmly. “And I did exactly what I said I would. I went to yer uncle’s stand and got us some food. He told me he’d give us ‘somethin’ special’ and slapped my hand, saying it would be on the house. Can you believe it? These darn nachos were free!”

“Alright,” Zane quickly remarked. “Then what?”

“Well, I waited for ya, but the nachos kept lookin’ at me. So, I thought ya wouldn’t mind if I took a bite. One bite became two, then three, and now we’re here.” Clayton showed Zane the empty box, beaming a childish smile.

“Kaedan, I don’t under-”

Suddenly, Zane grabbed his head as he felt a shock go through his skull. He grimaced as it coursed through his brain, causing him to shake momentarily before regaining his thoughts. As fast as the pain had come, it had disappeared too.

“Y’all ok there?” Clayton asked, patting Zane’s shoulder in a brotherly way.

“Yeah, I think so,” Zane blinked. “What were we talking about again?”

“How I ate all the food!” Clayton hollered, laughing at himself in a low guffaw. “We oughta get back to the rodeo though, Little Petey’s going up soon.”

“Little Petey?” Zane mumbled to himself as the two hoisted themselves up. At first, he didn’t recognize the name, but the more he thought about it, the more memories that seemed to appear. Little Petey was Clayton’s little brother of course! Both Clayton and Pete Sherman were expert horse riders, having both broken records for steer wrestling and bull riding. They’d also been the star quarterbacks for the town back in their prime, but now with Pete turning 26 and Clayton having his second kid on the way, they were ready to settle down and start (or continue) their families.

“Yeah! I gotta run on back to Cassie and Trevor. Nice seein’ ya round these parts again!”

Clayton tossed the empty carton into the trash and ran off back to the stands. Zane watched the man dash up the wooden bleachers to his wife and first boy, embracing them as he sat down to continue watching the show. He sunk right back into the cluster of blue, completely camouflaged by the other people in the crowd. Zane didn’t really know Clayton, just remembered him as someone who worked at his uncle’s farm. He seemed nice, but definitely not friend-material. He had a little too much homophobia and country in him. Zane stopped for a moment to correct himself. Clayton didn’t have a little too much; he had a lot of too much.

8.3 SECONDS! LET’S HEAR IT FOR MIKE!

Deciding he had nothing else to do, Zane started heading back towards the parking lot. Although the event seemed kind of interesting, Zane was too lonesome to really find any joy in the situation. Even his uncle’s presence would’ve made him want to stay, but with no one there by his side, Zane decided to head out. Right as he stepped through the gate, he suddenly recalled his uncle saying something about Harry wanting to see him. He didn’t like Harry, and he assumed it worked the other way around too, but Zane knew he should respect his uncle’s wishes.

8.9 SECONDS! DANNY’S HERE TO STAY!

Zane stumbled into the area housing the horse stables, the place completely deserted besides the rolling tumbleweeds. Strolling past a few horse-buses, it didn’t take long to find Harry. He grinned as Zane approached, holding a lasso in one hand.

“‘Bout time you got here, thinkin’ you got lost er somethin’.”

“Wish I would have,” Zane mumbled to himself as Harry tossed an arm around his shoulder. Harry suddenly seemed more cheery than he had been before.

“Did yer uncle tell ya what yer doing here?”

“No, but I hope it’s not too long; I’m getting tired.” To emphasize his point, Zane faked a huge yawn.

“Not that, fag,” Harry chuckled, dropping down one end of the rope. “I mean this vacation.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Back in high school, yer pops, uncle, and I used to be the studs of the town. Valuable players, intimidatin’ cowboys, 100% corn-fed beef. But when yer pops was offered an education out east, the three of us fell apart.”

“Yeah, so what?”Zane was uninterested, finding the cowboy’s bulge as the only thing appealing about Harry. Zane had a bad habit of checking out other men when he was single.

“Well,” Harry continued, dragging Zane into a stable. “When yer pops saw how off-track he had raised ya, he called up Treyton and I to put a little country in ya. We knew we were gonna have fun, but when ya brought along that Irish laddy too, that was just a cherry for the top.”

Zane shook his head in bewilderment. Who was Harry talking about? He had obviously come here alone.

“See, originally Treyton wanted you as part of his ranch, but when yer boyfriend came he decided to pass the sweeter treat off to me. I think yeu’ll really-”

“Woah, slow down a moment,” Zane rubbed his temples, losing track of everything.

“Ah, I fergot about the mental stuff,” Harry contemplated, thinking about how to explain everything. He had to find a way to explain it all to the boy.

“Remember how everyone in the stands was segregated by their clothin’ color?”

“Yeah?” Zane clearly remembered, as he had stuck out like a sore thumb, but he didn’t understand why this was important now.

“Well, they’re all branded to some ranch, that’s why they stick to one color.”

Harry’s answer made sense to him, but Zane was still visibly perplexed.

“Look at Kae- I mean Clayton Sherman,” Harry started. “He works for yer uncle’s ranch. What color to they wear?”

“Blue?”

“Exactly!” Harry slapped Zane’s back, knocking the wind out of the other man.

“Every color here is for someone’s ranch. Blue is Welch, green is Smith, white for Johnson-”

“How... how many are there?” Zane stuttered, the pieces gradually coming together.

“10, ‘cluding myself,” Harry responded proudly.

“So what you’re saying,” Zane reasoned. “Is that these ranch owner’s ‘brand’ people to be part of their ‘ranch,’ claiming them as their property?”

“Eeyup.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“Thought you oughta know beforehand.”Zane was about to ask what that meant, but before he could speak, something clicked together in his head.

“You own one of these ‘ranches’?”

“The stunnin’ Mueller Ranch.”

“And what color are you?”

Zane already knew the answer, hoping to distract the other man, but he wasn’t fast enough to dodge Harry’s launch. The older cowboy tackled Zane to the ground, the stench of hay and manure infiltrating Zane’s lungs as his face graced the dirt floor. Zane, not one to be athletic, surprisingly twisted himself out of Harry’s grasp, rolling sideways before getting up and escaping. He started running to his truck, desperately shuffling through his pockets to find the keys. Frantically scurrying away, he didn’t even notice his foot slip right out from beneath him.

“Gotcha!”

Harry cackled heartily as he looked upon his captured prey, who was clawing at the rope helplessly. It seemed like a scene from an old western cartoon: the fool stepping into the lasso and getting caught. Harry had already tied the other end of the rope to a stable post, approaching Zane with a face gleaming with malice. Zane trembled in fear, giving up hope on flight and nervously accepting the fight. As Harry took the final steps, Zane's cowered timidly as he gave up. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew something was going to be over. Then, to Zane’s pure surprise, a hand stretched out to help him up.

“Come on,” Harry welcomed warmly.

Zane’s heart stopped. Was Harry… serious? Was this all some prank just to scare him? Zane didn’t know what was going on, but he decided that once he got out of this mess he’d stay in the sweet shelter of his uncle’s ranch. After the week was over, he was never coming back to this pathetic town, or Wyoming for that sake.

“Are ya gonna take it or what?”

Zane sighed, clasping his hand into Harry’s. As soon as they connected, Harry’s flowery smile instantly twisted back into the thorny smirk.

“It’s just too easy.”

Before Zane could react, Harry flipped the other’s hand over and tapped the black stamp. Instantaneously, time stopped around them. The whole moment felt electric, almost as if everything in existence had shifted, but it was simply only a light touch. Zane gasped as he got up, struggling to speak.

“What… what did you do?”

“Eh, nothin’ yeu’ll remember,” Harry chimed. Zane investigated the back of his hand, noticing a slight pulse as the black stamp began to fade. He was shocked to see the color slowly draining from it into his veins, noticing the same inky shade pumping into his bloodstream.

“Oh no,” Zane cried as a small crackling came from his knuckles. It sounded similar to an orchestra of crickets, the hundreds of minuscule pops signifying the growth of his average hands. Zane’s palms grew thicker at a sluggish pace, bloating with meat as his fingers grew into calloused sausages. Zane groaned in pain while his hands became paws, now feeling like he was wearing bulky, leather mittens instead of skin.

The raven color flew through Zane’s arms, gliding across his chest before venturing vertically. To Zane’s dismay, his unused tendons stretched intensely, expanding as they made room for the arriving muscular tissue. Biceps proudly emerged as their brotherly triceps erupted from underneath Zane’s flesh, causing him to writhe. His forearms gained some meat too before a tan wave swept across the surface of his skin. The classic shade darkened Zane’s pale skin as a field of hair was planted on top. Before long, Zane’s arms looked like an avid gym-goer’s, yet for some reason his mind told him they were from the farm.

After improving the upper appendages, the ink moved downwards, cutting through Zane’s chest. His deltoids pushed outwards as his collarbone expanded, barely extending his traps as his torso began to shift into the shape of a “T”. His pectorals ballooned outwards, forming into meaty packages with two perky nipples, obviously erect underneath his shrinking tee. After the pecs squared out, Zane moaned as a sturdy six pack pounded in, each abdominal packing a punch as it pushed forward. A light covering of fur erupted from his chest while the tan wave made sure to paint itself once more. Zane began panting for air violently, each breath sucking in a little body fat. It didn’t remove all of his fat, but enough to maintain something barely below a body-builder’s standards. His shirt also stitched itself back together, having been torn apart seconds before. The cheap concert tee grew black as it painted itself back onto Zane’s torso, the dusky color hiding its overuse.

Following were Zane’s legs, as the black blood dove deeper. His juicy thighs began to tighten, retaining their above-average size, but now containing more muscle than meat. After his quadriceps had hardened, his knees cracked violently, stretching out Zane’s calves to max him out at 6’2. The bottom of his sweatpants violently tore to reveal two meaty forelegs, both veiny, firm, and covered in a lathering of hair. His pale skin darkened as his legs were covered in a loose denim, locking away his lower appendages.

With Zane’s lower body now covered in an old pair of Wranglers, the ink took hold of his feet, which were currently snug in a pair of Sperry’s boat shoes, the only shoes he had brought with him. In an instant, the leather and cloth tore apart in the middle, blossoming open like a flower to reveal gargantuan Size 15 feet. Zane was appalled to see the hairy, meaty, and awfully rank monsters attached below his ankles, but to his luck, the shredded shoes began to reform. The leather gracefully became cowhide as it expertly resowed itself around Zane’s feet, traveling up to his midcalves to create two authentic cowboy boots. Zane however didn’t feel relieved, in fact all he could feel was the sweat of his massive feet filling up the shoes. His socks hadn’t reformed, so it appeared he was going commando in his boots.

The ink swam up to the top, touching up on any missed spots. After filling in Zane’s pits with a hearty amount of hair, the black blood filled in his neck, adding girth to support the maturing Adam’s apple. Vocal chords stretched as the Zane’s register reached new depths, causing him to violently cough and sputter as he adjusted, allowing the ink to shoot upwards. Zane cried out in pain as the black blood clutched his skull, pulling apart at the bones to give him a thicker head. While the baby fat was removed, his jaw was stretched horizontally, giving him a prominent chin just large enough for a cleft. His lips shrunk while his nose expanded, filling in along with his expanding brows. Zane’s eyes shifted from a bland brown to easy-going blue as his hair shaved away, leaving a no-effort buzzcut where a manicured mane once laid. The vibrant green color rapidly faded, giving way to a light brown that easily shaded in Zane’s new haircut and thickening chinstrap. Across his body, his skin tightened barely as his body packed on a few extra years. It wasn’t a noticeable difference, but Zane no longer had the same glow of young adulthood.

“Ah Lordee,” Zane grumbled, getting up as his language center reorganized itself. “What’d y’all do to me?”

“Well, there’s still one more thing to go,” Harry replied, watching Zane shakily ascend. When the other man stood straight, he now faced eye to eye with the other cowboy.

“What in tarnation is left?”

“Just give it a sec-”

“I ain’t got no time for games, I’m gettin’-”

Suddenly, Zane felt an electrifying pulse throughout his groin, the rest of the ink finally reaching his reproductive center. The black blood infiltrated his testicles, killing off the weak sperm as it overtook his pouch. Zane’s balls bloated as they became heavy with cowboy sperm, dropping dramatically due to the increased weight. The ink traveled into his medium-sized penis, engorging it almost instantly. At first, Zane felt like he was having the most powerful boner of his life, but he began to realize his dick was in fact growing. His member began pulsating with the foreign blood, elongating as it grew to a mighty 10 inches. In the back end, his buttocks blew up into two massive, hardened globes, pushing against the confines of one end of the jeans while his pouch took the other.

Losing all sense of reality, Zane furiously palmed himself through his jeans, the feeling of his newly-materialized boxer shorts rubbing against his sensitive tip driving him crazy. Precumming in seconds due to the pent up stress, Zane was too horny to realize what he was doing, or what he was losing. His prized Yale education evaporated like powdered milk into his ballsack. Next went his East Coast upbringing, his progressive ideas and urban lifestyle disappearing into the void that was his semen. In tow was his homosexuality, which was thrown into the fire inside his testicles. Even a sizeable chunk of his IQ was tossed into the mixing pot. Everything about Zane was sucked down into his sperm, ready to be expelled permanently.

“C’mon boy,” Harry shouted eagerly. “Ya know what ya want to do!”

Zane grunted as he groped himself once more, feeling a burst of static electricity coarse across his body. Grabbing a nearby fence, Zane steadied himself against the stable wall as he felt the rush coming.

“Wow-ie!”

A huge load of sperm coated the front of the Wranglers, causing the area beneath the giant belt buckle to darken dramatically. Not bothering to clean himself up, the young cowboy basked in the afterglow of ejaculation, truly content with himself. He adjusted his pouch one last time, with his other hand still secured to the fence.

“There ya go, that felt better, didn’t it?” Harry slapped a hand around the other man, securing the black cowboy hat on top of the other’s head while doing so.

“Ah yeah, Sir, that one was a goodie,” the other replied, the two slowly making their way back to the main grounds.

“Tell me, Wayne, where the wife and kids at? Shouldn’t they be at the rodeo?”

“They are, Sir,” Wayne responded quickly. “They’re sittin’ near the back of the bleachers with the other ranch families.”

“Ah I see.”

10.5 SECONDS! PETE’S WOWED US AGAIN FOLKS!

Harry paused in front of the main gate, shuffling his hand through his pocket to find his keys and some Copenhagen chew.

“I best be headin’ out,” he stated. “We got a long day at the ranch tomorrow, lots of hay bale shipments to move out.”

“Sounds good, Sir.” Wayne extended his hand out, “I’ll see y’all bright and early tomorrow mornin’.”

“See y’all then, Wayne.”

The two vigorously shook hands, with Harry delighted to see the disappearance of a certain black stamp. They waved each other off as Harry walked back to his truck. After watching his boss leave, Wayne was elated to go back to his family, with one beautiful wife and three handsome sons to entertain. Turning 29 in a matter of days (his birthday shared with Pete Sherman’s, or “Little Petey” as the town called him), Wayne had already accomplished his major goal in life, growing the Woods family. It only seemed like yesterday that he and his wife were high school sweethearts, but now they owned their own little home with three rowdy chaps running around everywhere. It was going to be Wayne’s job to teach them the right morals just like how his father taught him. Over the years, he’d teach them about Christianity, voting Red, being country men, and how to swoon ladies. But, with the oldest one only in first grade, he thought it might be best to wait a bit longer.

Inspecting the bleachers, it didn’t take Wayne long to find his family. He ran up to them and sat down immediately, ready to keep enjoying the show. He quickly explained to his wife what his boss had wanted him for, saying Harry had just wanted an update on the coming fourth child. Wayne then kissed his wife passionately before giving his attention back to the rodeo, applauding as the last participant finished off the night.

10.3 SECONDS! CHRIS ENDED THE NIGHT STRONG!

ANOTHER GREAT YEAR WITH A DARN GREAT CROWD! THANKS FOR COMIN’ OUT FOLKS, WE’LL SEE Y’ALL AGAIN NEXT YEAR!

#country #gay to stright #bottomtotop #age progression tf #nerdtojock #jock #Christian #dumber #political #lib to con

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