“Thanks again for inviting me to Thanksgiving dinner with you guys.  It means a lot,” said Oz, hitching his backpack up on his shoulder while we waited for the bus.

“I told you already, Oz, you don’t have to thank me.  The more, the merrier,” replied Geena.

“It’s called Thanksgiving, Geena, not The-More-The-Merrier-Giving,” said Oz.  “Let me give thanks, will you?!”

Geena laughed and tossed her hair back.  “Okay, okay, say it as much as you want.  But you’re very welcome.  My aunts love having guests over!”  She slipped her arm into mine, and leaned up against me.  I knew she was trying to subtly reassure me.  Geena and I had been dating a while but this was a big milestone for us: the dreaded family dinner.

I had already met her aunts once before, but I didn’t really know them, yet.  And now I was going to be spending four whole days at their ranch outside of town!

I was fretting so much about the visit that I wasn’t even thinking about how weird it was that there was a bus shuttle between the ranch and the college campus.  Geena had described the ranch as a “hobby farm” that was “out in the middle of nowhere.”  When the bus pulled up, it was completely empty, except for the driver.  Geena, Oz, and I stepped on with our bags, shuffling back even though there was no point since we basically had the bus to ourselves.

I looked out the window as we started to roll.  The familiar campus disappeared, and the town dwindled.  Shops and small apartments gave way to single-family homes, which started getting spaced out further and further, until after about twenty minutes there was nothing but woods and pastures and sometimes a small pond.  In late November, the woods were gray and bare, and the ponds were still and slushy.  It wasn’t much to look at.

“Your aunts must get bored living all the way out here.”

“Naw, they stay busy,” replied Geena, leaning over my lap to peer out the window.  “Look!  There it is!”

I craned over her head, catching a glimpse of a red barn through the trees.  Then the bus rounded the narrow country road and I got to see the ranch in all its glory.

From Geena’s description, I had thought it would be smaller.  Maybe, for Geena, it was.  She had spent every summer of her girlhood here with her aunts, and she often talked about it nostalgically.  But for me, seeing it for the first time, I thought it looked imposing rather than cozy.  There was a three-story farmhouse with a big, wrap-around porch that looked like some kind of rustic mansion.  Behind it, there were two big red barns and a third building.  Or, more accurately, a complex of buildings; there was a long, low white clapboard building and a bunch of sheds and also a few pens ringed by wooden posts.  There was a tractor sitting outside the barn farther from us, and on top of it, a scruffy rooster perched on the steering wheel, all hunkered down against the autumn chill.

“Isn’t that chicken cold?” I asked.

“Who, Henry?  Probably, but he’s stubborn and he won’t ever go into his chicken coop, no matter what the weather’s like.  My aunties say Henry is the only boy they’ve ever been unable to train.”  She laughed.

I forced a smile, but I felt a little bit panicked.  What if I turned out to be a hopeless case like Henry?  I really, really liked Geena, and I wanted to impress her aunts. 

Right then and there, I decided that I would do anything and everything to make a good impression.  I would stop at nothing to prove to Geena’s aunts that I was worthy of her! 

“What’s that white building in the back?  Another barn?” asked Oz.

“Oh, that’s the barracks,” said Geena, as the bus pulled to a stop.  The air brakes hissed and the door opened.

“The barracks?” repeated Oz, picking up his and Geena’s bags before I could.  I silently cursed.  I should have thought of that! 

“Yeah, the ranch is technically a non-profit.  They do a lot of reform work in conjunction with the university, helping to train up boys and give them a second chance.  They’re all alumni so it means a lot to them.”

“What do you mean, reform work–” I began to ask, but before I could even finish my sentence, the door of the farmhouse burst open, and out came Geena’s aunts.

There were three of them, and I hadn’t yet quite worked out how they were related, if at all.

Aunt Agatha, the oldest, had a very tall, willowy figure, much different than Geena’s full-bodied one, and she spoke with a clipped British accent.  She was dressed in a severe blood-red dress, but to tell you the truth, she had such a powerful aura that I would have lowered my eyes even if she were wearing pink bunny pajamas!

Aunt Helga had a more curvy figure, but she was shorter and lighter than Geena, with pale skin, eyes, and hair.  She emerged after Agatha, wearing a pair of chocolate-brown capris and a blue checkered shirt that looked suitably rustic for the farm life.  The buttons were straining from the pressure of her bosom, which was lifted with a laced corset.

Aunt Naomi, the youngest, was much darker skinned than Geena, with thick hair kept up in braids.  It was covered in a purple paisley bandanna that matched the legging under her skirt.

She spoke first: “Geena!  Come here, baby!” 

“Auntie!” cried Geena, rushing up to hug her aunts.  All three of them enfolded her into an embrace, while Oz and I stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the porch, waiting awkwardly to be invited in.

“Well, well.  Who is this fine young man?” asked Helga, eyeballing Oz.

Oz grinned and stepped up onto the porch, setting down his and Geena’s bags to stick out a hand.  “Hi.  I’m Oz.”

“Like the wizard?” asked Naomi teasingly, a glint in her eye.

“The wizard of Oz was a humbug.  You’re not a humbug, are you?” asked Agatha, lifting her nose in the air to peer critically at Oz from under her delicate glasses.  I got the sense she didn’t really need them much; she might have been a mature woman, but she didn’t seem a bit weak or frail.  Quite the opposite!

“No, miss.  Unless you’d like me to be,” said Oz, with a dashing smile.

Aunt Agatha’s lips twitched.  It was almost a smile.  “Good answer.”

“And here’s Mike!  We’re so happy you’re visiting us this weekend.  Geena’s told us so much about you,” said Aunt Naomi.

I felt my face getting warm.  Oh, no!  I was blushing!  I should thank them for having me over.  I should tell them I’m happy to be here, I thought. 

“I’m happy to thank you,” I said.  All three of Geena’s aunts laughed and I blushed harder.

“ENRIQUE!” hollered Helga suddenly.  Me and Oz jumped.

From the front door emerged a guy not much older than us.  He had cafe-au-lait skin and very long eyelashes.  He was a total heart throb, with a full six-pack and a massive dong.  I knew this because he was completely naked, except for a pair of black work boots, a black collar, and a strap of black leather on his upper forearm that looked like it would pop off if he flexed.

“Our guests’ bags,” instructed Helga, pointing.

Enrique swiftly picked up Oz’s and Geena’s bags like they weighed nothing at all, and stuck his hand out for mine.  I felt my blush going supernova; I handed over my bag, and Enrique winked.

“For a millionth time, Enrique, no boots in the house!” exclaimed Agatha, giving Enrique’s bare ass a slap as he walked inside, leaving a perfect pink handprint there.

“Sorry, Mistress Agatha!” said Enrique cheerfully as the door slammed behind him.

“It’s so hard to find good help,” sighed Agatha.

“Oh, auntie, Enrique’s been your foreboy for at least five years.  You love him,” said Geena with a roll of her eyes.  “Come on, guys, let me show you around!”  She reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze.

“May I use the bathroom first?” I asked, finally managing a coherent sentence.

“Sure!  Right down that hall, to the left of the dining room,” said Geena, leading me into the main entryway.  The interior of the house was an incredible, harmonious mash-up of all three of the aunts’ styles: lace doilies (Aunt Agatha), huge vases bursting with orange lilies (Aunt Naomi), sensible, symmetrically-spaced wooden picture frames (Aunt Helga).

As I walked down the hall I couldn’t help but look at the family pictures.  All of them featured all three aunts.  Usually, Aunt Agatha was in the middle.  Sometimes, Enrique was kneeling on the floor at her feet, sometimes with Aunt Helga’s or Aunt Naomi’s hand on his head.  In most of the pictures the aunts were matching colors.  In a few, there was a younger girl with them… Geena!  It was fun seeing Geena grow up in the pictures.  The walk to the bathroom took a lot longer than it should have as I admired all the photos.

When I emerged and returned to the entryway, I realized I was all alone.  Panic flooded me.  I didn’t know where Geena had gone!

Okay, Mike, don’t panic, I thought.  Just be smart.  Logically, the bedrooms were probably upstairs, right?  There was a big stairway right in front of the door; I put my hand on the bannister and walked up, listening closely for Geena and Oz.

When I got to the second-story landing, I heard water running.  Ah-ha!  That must be them!

I followed the sound to the end of the hall, where a white door was partially cracked open.  I approached it.  Yes!  I could hear a woman’s voice inside, humming.  Probably Geena putting away our things.

“Knock, knock,” I said, swinging the door open.

I immediately discovered I had made a grave error in judgment.  This wasn’t Geena’s room at all… it was Aunt Agatha’s!  She was sitting at an antique vanity, combing out her hair, and she was naked except for a black, see-through négligée.

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, covering my eyes immediately.

“No need to apologize, Mike.  You’re family here,” said Aunt Agatha without a hint of embarrassment.  I peeked through my fingers.  On the vanity, sitting right there beside a couple of compacts,  was a very familiar-looking dildo… oh, my God.  It was a copy-cock.  It was my cock!

Aunt Agatha followed my gaze.  “Oh, do you like my little toy?  Geena got this for me, for my birthday.  It’s a wonderful specimen, isn’t it?  I’ve had so much fun with it.”

“It’s not that little,” I said, as I backed up toward the door.  “Listen, I– um– I’m sorry to intrude, I didn’t mean to, I thought–”

“Oh, no, don’t apologize, Mike.  In fact, I’m quite glad to have you here.  Enrique is busy in the kitchen at the moment, and I’d appreciate a strong, young pair of hands to help me with my bath.”

I peeked out from behind my hands.  I didn’t believe for a second that Aunt Agatha needed a young pair of hands.  She was plenty strong herself.  But this was also the very first interaction we were having in private, and I knew this was an opportunity to prove to Aunt Agatha that I was an awesome boyfriend who was worthy of her niece’s attention.

So I said, “Sure.”

“Good boy.  Go and run the bath for me, and put in two cups of lavender epsom salt.  The towels are in the linen closet just outside my door.  Be so kind as to fetch me a full bath towel, and two washcloths.”

Even though she worded it like a request, I could tell, immediately, that this was not a request at all.  The way Aunt Agatha spoke implied she expected to be obeyed, and I didn’t even think of refusing her.

I went into the ensuite bathroom, where I found a huge white claw bath tub.  I turned the knob to get the water running, checking the temperature carefully, and then walked back out to retrieve the towels.  I set them by the sink in the bathroom and shook in the bath salts, perfuming the steam in the bathroom so that it felt like a spa.

“Aunt Agatha.  Your bath is ready,” I called.

The bathroom door opened and Aunt Agatha stepped in.  Her back was ramrod-straight.  With a graceful motion, she let her négligée slide to the floor, baring herself.  For an older woman, her skin was surprisingly supple and smooth.  That was the second thing I noticed.  The first was… well… you know.

Aunt Agatha walked right over to me and put her hand out.  Without thinking, I put mine out, and she took it to steady herself as she stepped elegantly over the bath.  The surface of the water rippled as she put one foot in, then the other, then eased herself with a relaxed sigh into the warm water, tilting back her head to let her hair float.

“Thank you, Mike.  You seem like such a helpful young man.  You know, Enrique is a wonderful asset, but I’ve always liked men with a bit more meat on their bones.”

She reached up and squeezed my arm.  Her grip was strong and sure; her fingernails were perfectly trimmed.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said hesitantly.

Aunt Agatha laughed.  “Ma’am?  Goodness, I hope I’m not that old.  Please, Mike, call me Auntie!  You’re practically family.  Besides, it’s so rare we have a well-behaved boy around the house.  I spend all day disciplining all of the riff-raff that the college sends us, all those impudent little whelps, and it’s quite tiring, but very rewarding, of course…”

As she spoke in her posh British accent, her hand remained on my arm, and slowly it began migrating downward.  I stood rooted to the spot, under her spell, feeling a storm of emotion: embarrassment as well as pride, anxiety as well as excitement.

“…I’ve been keen to have you over but Geena didn’t want to scare you off.  She’s so considerate, isn’t she?  But I said, Geena, dear, bring your little friend, I’m sure if he’s half as lovely as you’ve told us then he’ll fit right in…”

Her hand slipped down to the tops of my jeans and her fingers danced around my button.

“Hand me the shampoo, won’t you, Mike?”

“Of course… Auntie,” I said, reaching for the bottle.  She easily could have reached it herself, if her hand weren’t occupied.  It had found its way to my inner leg and was caressing me through the fabric, lighting up every nerve.  I could feel my crotch getting tight.  Aunt Agatha surely noticed.

“And the washcloth, as well, Mike.”

“Yes, Auntie.”  I turned to snag the washcloth off the side of the sink; when I turned to hand it to her, my crotch came right into contact with her hand.  I made a squeak of surprise as she squeezed.

“Oh, dear, that wasn’t the washcloth, was it?” said Aunt Agatha with a wicked smile, and I grabbed the side of the bath to steady myself.  “You’d better scurry off and find your friends before you tear out of those pants.  You’ve got a rather big erection, did you know that?

There was no point in denying it.  “Yes, Auntie!  Sorry, Auntie!” I gasped.

“Hm… it seems familiar for some reason…”  She fondled my crotch thoughtfully, examining my member with her hands.  “I have the strangest sense of déjà vu right now…”

I squirmed.

Aunt Agatha chuckled.  “I’ve always liked big, sensitive men.  But don’t let me keep you, Mike!”  She made a shoo motion, and I turned to leave.  I felt her give my bottom a sharp pinch before I scrambled out of the bathroom and back down the stairs.

Geena had told me that her aunts were friendly, and I should expect all sorts of cheek pinching… but I hadn’t realized she meant those cheeks!

As I caught my breath on the landing, I heard a peal of Oz’s laughter from outside.  Relieved to have found him, I walked out of the house and towards the nearest barn, where I could see movement inside.

I stepped inside, inhaling the sweet-smelling hay and loamy dirt.  Oz was sitting just outside the second stall on a little three-legged stool, with Naomi standing over his shoulder.  Geena wasn’t there.

“Mike!  Hey, look, I’m a milkmaid,” said Oz cheerfully.  He had taken off his shirt to show off his nipple rings.  He didn’t look like any milkmaid I’d ever seen.  Both of his hands were extended inside the stall, though, working away like he’d done this every day of his life.  “Aunt Naomi is showing me all the livestock.  This place rocks!”

“We were just about to go out to the pumpkin patch, but you should come and try,” offered Naomi with a warm smile.

“Oh, um– I never milked a cow before,” I admitted.

“Cow?” they said in unison with a cock of their heads.

I took a few more steps into the barn and realized, with a start, that there weren’t any cows at all.  Inside each stall was a young, naked man, his hands tied behind his back and a bit gag in his mouth.  Dozens of eyes followed me.  Expressions ranged from desperately eager to stubbornly seething. 

In front of Oz was a tall, muscular guy I recognized from the football team!  He was stark naked, a length of rope tying him to the stall, and he was standing with his legs wide apart as Oz stroked him with one firm hand, the other holding a bucket in front of him.

“I know it’s a holiday, but on a farm, the work never ends,” said Naomi casually, arms crossed as Oz pumped the thick cock in front of him.  “I milk all of the studs twice a day so that we always have fresh product; there are a lot of customers who rely on us, you know.  Besides, it keeps them all calm.  Most of the trouble-makers from the college aren’t bad boys.  Just frustrated.  With some relief and discipline, they learn obedience quickly.”

“That’s… good?” I said weakly, watching the football player’s eyes roll up into his head. 

“Got milk?” joked Oz; the stud’s knees shook and he came, squirting his thick, white ejaculate into Oz’s bucket.

Naomi laughed and put a hand on Oz’s shoulder.  “You’re a natural, Oz!  You could be a foreboy at a farm one day yourself, if you wanted to, you know.  Enrique can get the whole barn milked in less than an hour.  We’re old-fashioned, here; we do it all by hand.  Do you want a demonstration, Mike?”

“A demo–?” I began to ask, but before I could finish, Naomi had snagged my pants, tugged them down, and released my still half-hard cock.  She cuffed it in her warm, rough hand and squeezed, drawing her palm down the shaft with the most incredible combination of friction and smoothness.

I gasped and shuddered, feeling the pressure building.

Oz whipped around and held up the bucket.  “Whoa, Aunt Naomi, careful where you aim that thing!  Mike’s ready to blow!”

“Oz!” I cried, embarrassed because he was totally right.

Aunt Naomi’s eyes crinkled with a smile and she let me go, leaving my cock bobbing at full attention.  “Maybe tomorrow you’d like to help with the morning milking, Mike?  I’d be happy to reward you for your service.  An extra set of hands on the ranch is always appreciated.”

I looked down the rows of stalls and all of the naked, tethered studs gazing out at me.  It seemed like a lot of work.  And I doubted I had Naomi’s or Oz’s skill.  But I had made a promise to myself I would be a good guest.  “Sounds… great,” I agreed, as Oz passed Naomi the bucket. 

“Follow me.  I have a few special cases in the back I’m still breaking in.  Let me just store this sample in our freezer and I’ll show you!”

I stuffed my cock back into my pants.  It barely fit.  I was already in way, way over my head, but Aunt Agatha and Aunt Naomi both seemed to approve of me, so far.  I was well-aware that, with Oz around, I was going to have to be extra agreeable; Oz, I knew, would steal the show if I wasn’t bringing my A-game.

Aunt Naomi carefully transferred the sample Oz had wrung out of the stud into a neatly-labeled tube, setting the bucket aside and placing the tube into a little mini-freezer in the corner of the barn.  Then she slid open the back door and led us outdoors, into a pen in the back, where three sullen-looking guys stood tied up against the back of the barn, mouths gagged with bits, butt-naked, their bare feet dirty in the soft dirt.

“These three are still learning how to submit to their superiors, I’m afraid,” said Aunt Naomi, reaching for a whip that was coiled up on a hook on the wall.  She flicked it out; the three guys all glared silently.

“If I knew misbehaving would get me whipped by a beautiful woman, I would be bad, too,” said Oz with a grin. 

Aunt Naomi laughed.  “Oh, Oz, you tease.”

I felt a bubble of jealousy.  I was the one trying to impress Geena’s aunts!  And here was Oz, flirting and milking and being himself like it was the most natural thing in the world! 

Aunt Naomi flicked the whip around in the dirt with small puffs; two of the guys flinched at the sound, shifting their weight with anticipation.  In the cool November air, the sharp, hot sting of the whip on their skin probably felt good.  I could imagine it myself, though I definitely couldn’t picture myself doing it outdoors, naked, in front of other people.  Anyone could just walk right up to the house and around the barn, and they’d get an eyeful!

“Mike, would you like to help with this one?” asked Aunt Naomi.

“Sure!” I said, quickly, not wanting Oz to steal more of the limelight.  “Erm… I don’t really know how to whip anyone, though.”

Aunt Naomi laughed.  “Oh, no, Mike, I wouldn’t ask you to do that!  Your job will be much easier.  You see, this one here is new.  He doesn’t yet understand how exquisite it can feel to give oneself up to the dominance of a skilled and powerful woman.”  She reached between the middle one’s legs and gave his balls a squeeze.  He whimpered and spread his legs a little more.  I could see now that all three were wearing cock rings; they were being denied relief, forced to enjoy the pain, instead.  Their sullen expressions had turned reluctantly hopeful.

“So… what should I do?” I asked.

“You seem obedient.  I wonder if you wouldn’t mind showing these rascals what they’re missing.  You see, we don’t rent out the livestock until we’re sure they’ll be good.  Our ranch guarantees all of the stock is perfectly trained, whether our clients need a boy for an hour or a whole weekend.  But since some of the cases we accept are, well, remedial, it can take a bit for them to fully understand their place.  …you understand your place, though, don’t you?”

Aunt Naomi raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Aunt Naomi,” I said.

“Very good.  So let’s take off those clothes and show them how a proper submissive accepts the lash!”

I cast a desperate look over at Oz.  He grinned and gave me a thumbs-up.

There was no getting out of it.  I kicked off my shoes and socks, feeling the dirt under my feet, and then pulled away my sweatshirt, letting the cool autumn air touch my skin.  A small breeze tickled my chest.  I dropped my pants and stepped out of them, standing bare in the yard.  I looked around worriedly; I didn’t want anyone catching me naked outside!  But the ranch was isolated.  It was just me, Aunt Naomi, Oz, and the three disobedient trainees.

“Well, well.  Geena’s picked out a nice specimen, hasn’t she?” said Naomi, her eyes mapping out my body.

I tried to act casual.  “Geena knows what she likes,” I said, trying not to sound full of myself.

“Very good taste,” said Aunt Naomi approvingly.  “Now, you three!  Pay attention!  You’ll see how Mike here submits?  Submitting itself is a reward.  Mike knows this.  Mike, turn around and put your hands on that hay bale.”

I turned and bent over, biting my lower lip.  I peeked over my shoulder.  “Do we have to do this out here?  Isn’t it warmer in the barn?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be warm soon enough!” said Aunt Naomi, and then she swung her arm.  The whip cracked against my backside and I jumped, grabbing the hay bale.  The straw prickled my palms, but the main thing I felt was the sting of her whip. 

She was right; it warmed me up immediately.  My cock was still aching from her brief touch, earlier, and I had to exercise every ounce of self-control in my body not to hump the hay bale itself as Aunt Naomi began lashing me with her whip, drawing lines of heat and pleasure across my back and my ass.  I grit my teeth, trying not to groan as my cock pulsed with every sharp crack! against my skin.

“Do you see how he enjoys the attention?  How we can trust his cock to be free, because he holds still and behaves himself?” called Naomi.  Her whips landed on my skin, licking it with pain. 

Crack!  Crack!  Crack!

My hips juttered forward and I groaned, clinging to the hay bale, my cock leaking.  Under Geena’s training I had grown used to this feeling, the gentle, beating rhythm that came right before she pegged me, drawing out the most incredible climaxes of my life.  I couldn’t help but melt at the whipping.

When it suddenly stopped I nearly cried out for her to continue.  I was shivering but I wasn’t cold, even though I was naked.  When I looked over at the three studs, their eyes were all wide with envy and admiration.  One of them even whimpered a little. 

Aunt Naomi nodded her approval.  “Now, Mike, since you’ve been good, I give you permission to finish yourself off.  …why don’t you mark that one on the end?  He’s especially bratty.  We haven’t let him cum since he’s gotten here.  Maybe you can motivate him to behave, and if he’s good, we can give him a good work-out tomorrow.”

I rose unsteadily on my feet.  “You… you want me to cum on him?” I asked.

Aunt Naomi smiled and nodded.  “Go on.  Go show him what the reward for obedience looks like.”

She wanted me to pleasure myself here, outside?  In front of her?  Onto one of her studs?

He made a small, muffled sound through his gag.  It sounded almost hopeful.  I glanced down; he was hard, the cock ring tight around the base of his shaft. 

He wanted to be good, I could see it in his eyes.  He wanted to prove he could have what I had.  And it was up to me to help him, to perform well for Aunt Naomi and impress her with my obedience.  Geena had definitely told her all about what a great submissive I was, and I couldn’t stand the idea of letting her down.

So I walked across the bare ground and stood at the end of the three studs, and reached down to take my cock in my hand and stroke it.

“Come on, faster than that.  You’ve earned it, Mike.  Milk that big, thick cock for me,” purred Aunt Naomi.

I tugged it faster, working my erection, aiming at the thigh of her disobedient stallion.  I felt so exposed, but I imagined the soft, warm weight of Geena on top of me, and I came, splashing my jizz onto the bare skin of the roped-up boy.  Our eyes met; he gave me a small nod, and I felt myself blush. 

If you had asked me, I would’ve said he was already broken.  But I knew the ranch’s standards were high; they didn’t just want good boys.  They wanted perfect boys.  The kind who would someday serve the university’s most treasured Zeta alumni, who would kneel at the feet of the most world-renowned Dommes.  This was their chance to stop being brats and start being beloved, cared-for subs.

“Perfect!” proclaimed Aunt Naomi, coiling her whip up.  “What a good lesson for you three… tomorrow, maybe, I’ll give you the opportunity to try it on your own.  But I think that’s enough for today.  I don’t want to overwhelm your little minds.”

Two of them whimpered and jostled, the denial of Aunt Naomi’s whip a punishment itself. 

“Now, I have a few little piggies to spank–”  (I definitely knew she didn’t mean real pigs!) “–so why don’t you boys go clean up for dinner!” said Aunt Naomi. 

I turned to pick up my clothes; my heart dropped when I saw that I had accidentally kicked dirt and straw all over them.  They were filthy.  They looked like I’d rolled around in the barn in them.

Aunt Naomi followed my gaze.  “Oh, just leave those, Mike.  There’s fresh clothes inside.  I’ll get Enrique to clean them for you.”

“But–” I began.

“Thanks, Aunt Naomi!” said Oz, throwing an arm around my shoulders and beginning to lead me out of the paddock, toward the house.  I dug my heels into the ground but he dragged me over the ground easily.

“Oz!” I hissed, as he led me away.

“Relax, Mike!  We’re in the middle of nowhere.  It’s not like anyone will see you naked,” said Oz.  “We’re just going to the house.  I’m pretty excited for the turkey.  Do you prefer dark meat or light meat?  Me, I’m a fan of both.”  He laughed and elbowed me in the ribs.

“Okay, let’s just hurry,” I said worriedly as we rounded the corner toward the back yard.

I stopped dead in my tracks.  There, behind the house, was another pen; inside of it was a line of five naked boys on their hands and feet, Aunt Helga standing over them with a crop, slapping their thighs and asses, getting them to move in perfect formation.  She looked up at us;  I tried to look as normal as possible.

“HALT!” she barked.  The five crawling boys all froze, all of them with one hand in the air, mid-step.

She put her crop in her belt, walked over to the fence around the paddock, and climbed over it spryly, dusting off her hands.

“Hi, Aunt Helga.  What’re you doing, training sheep?” asked Oz.

“Sheep dogs.  But to herd a sheep, one must first become a sheep,” said Aunt Helga, putting her hands on her hips.  “Come, I need you in my garden.”

“But–” I began.

One of the “sheep” behind Aunt Helga wobbled; without even turning around, Aunt Helga shouted, “STEADY!  NO MOVING!” 

He froze.

“What were you saying, Mike?” she asked, her hand hovering over the crop stuck through her belt loop.

“Nothing,” I said quickly.  “We’re happy to help in the garden.”

“What’re we harvesting?  Cucumbers?  Eggplants?” asked Oz, grinning.

Aunt Helga scoffed.  “Ha, you wish!  Come.”  She stomped over toward a neat square of vegetables.  I followed; the grass was springy and soft.

She crouched at the edge of the garden, reached down, and plucked a long, green zucchini from a vine.  She straightened and held it out to Oz.  “Do you know what this is for?”

Oz leaned forward and licked it, putting his lips over the end obscenely.   “…hmm… it’s so plump… I think I can guess.”  He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Nein!  It is for eating!” said Aunt Helga, smacking him over the head with it.  She reached down and grabbed a leafy bundle, pulling a huge orange carrot from the ground.  She waved it in his face.  “And this?”

“That’s a nice, thick, ridged carrot.  I bet I know what it’s for,” said Oz, gripping the dirty root with a wink.

“Nein!  It is for eating!” said Aunt Helga, smacking him over the head with it. 

She pointed to a massive orange pumpkin.  “And that!”

“For eating?” I guessed quickly

“Nein!  For carving!”

I was glad she wasn’t holding the pumpkin.  I didn’t want to be hit in the head with it.  It was the size of a small boulder.

Aunt Helga reached up to feel my arms.  “Perfect!  You’re a big, strong man.  You can bring the pumpkin inside for me!”

“Of course, Aunt Helga,” I said, sizing up the pumpkin worriedly.  It was enormous.  I stepped carefully into the vegetable garden and crouched, wrapping my arms around it.  With a grunt, I lifted it.

“Watch the radishes!”

I couldn’t see where I was going; I put a foot out, feeling blindly, trying not to step on any of the plants.  I didn’t understand how Aunt Helga had even managed to grow so much, considering how cool the weather was getting.  But I didn’t question it; I was completely focused on my grip.  If I dropped the pumpkin, I was positive Aunt Helga was going to reconsider how to use the zucchinis.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped out of the vegetable patch and onto the relative safety of the grass, but my relief was short-lived.  I felt a hand cup my crotch, suddenly, and I fumbled the pumpkin, just barely managing to seize it before dropping it onto the ground.

“Why does this look so familiar?”

“I’m sure you see lots of ‘em around here,” offered Oz nonchalantly.

“No, no, I’ve seen this before, I am certain.”  Helga pulled on my cock; my legs shook and I clung to the pumpkin.  I hid behind its looming orange ridges as Helga tugged me this way and that, trying to keep a firm footing.  The garden had been watered recently and the ground was slippery with mud; with every step I was getting splashed with it.

I heard a soft whump as one of the “sheep,” balanced for too long, finally fell over.  Helga released my shaft and turned with a yell.  “I SAID STEADY!  Mike, take the pumpkin inside, dear, I need to get my flock back in order.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and turned, wobbling after Oz, up the back steps of the farmhouse.

“You got it?” asked Oz.

“Uh-huh,” I grunted under the weight of the pumpkin.  The house was warm and smelled divine, like freshly baked bread.

“SHOES OFF!” called Aunt Agatha from the kitchen.

“Not a problem, Auntie, Mike’s already naked!” called back Oz.

“Oz!” I snapped, but I could hear laughter in the kitchen.  Aunt Agatha’s voice… and Geena’s!

I’d finally found her!

I carefully walked into the kitchen and found a table to set the huge pumpkin on, glad to be rid of it.  I turned and found Aunt Agatha and Geena side-by-side at the counter, wearing matching orange corsets and knee-high boots… and nothing else.

“We’re about halfway done with dinner.  Go wash up!” instructed Aunt Agatha.  “We’re still waiting on the turkey.  Mike, do you like breasts, or thighs?”

I stared at Aunt Agatha’s outfit.  “Um… both,” I said.

Geena turned and bounced over to me, grabbing my hand to pull me toward the nearest washroom.  “Wow, look at you!  You look like a farmhand!” said Geena with a giggle.

“Yeah, I got the grand tour,” I said, looking down at myself.  I was covered in mud and sweat, my backside criss-crossed with red marks and my cock plump from all the attention it had gotten.

“It’s kinda sexy,” she whispered conspiratorially, rinsing a washcloth in a basin of water and dragging it across my chest.  I shivered at the delicious sensation.

“…you think so?” I asked.

“Definitely.  I’m so glad you’re having fun.  Aunt Agatha said she’s very impressed.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief.  “She likes me?”

“Oh, she loves you.  Having a hunky, obedient guy walking around is her dream come true,” said Geena.  “And unlike most of the guys who come to the ranch, you don’t need to be trained.  You’re just… good.  As Aunt Naomi would say, sweet as pie.”

I leaned my head against Geena’s chest and breathed out a sigh of relief.  I didn’t think I’d ever manage to get Oz’s crazy confidence or charm, but knowing that I was accepted by Geena’s family, with their high standards and their discerning eye, was enough. 

It was more than enough. 

It was something to be thankful for.

– The End –