WL_68

WACO’S LUMMOX
Waddie Greywolf

Chapter 68

"My son, why hide your face in fear?"
"See you not, Father, the Elf king?
The Elf king with crown and flowing cloak?"
"My son, it is a wisp of fog."

From: Der Erlkonig by Johnny Goethe

Jimmy Joe knew Rocky was living with Monty, but he had full assurance the bio-droid cowboy would be absent from Monty’s quarters for the evening. Shane and Cole planned to put Rocky up for the night in one of their downstairs bedrooms with its own bath. It seemed like everyone was in cahoots to get Jimmy Joe and Monty together. Maybe, like Angus, they were feeling sorry for him for what he went through the last couple of days without Burt. Their parting wasn’t pretty, but the ramrod didn’t want Monty to know the lurid details right away. He didn’t want the memory of Burt and his bad experience coming between them. If Monty was to learn about it, Jimmy Joe wanted to be the one to tell him.

Angus figured something was coming to a head when he invited his ramrod to spend a couple of days at Mars Port as his guest and Jimmy Joe accepted in front of Burt. Angus called it a retreat for them to get away together to plan for the future of the ranch. He wasn’t fooling either man. It was a nice way of putting it, but Jimmy Joe knew Angus was growing more insistent he should be taking over Hoot Austin’s job of weaning his ex-cowboy slave ramrod. The night after his ramrod spent the night with Monty, while they were fucking Coyote John, Angus noticed Jimmy Joe’s rodeo scar was gone, his balls were bigger and hung much lower than before. Later, when he asked Jimmy Joe about it, he explained, but Angus didn’t believe him. After Shane confirmed it and Angus got feedback from him about Monty’s transformation at Mars Port, he knew for sure it was true. It lit a fire in Angus’ belly. He didn't want to wait any longer. He decided he had to have his ramrod’s ass and he planned to get himself a big-old piece come Hell or high-water.

It wasn’t for domination so much as he wanted a closer bond with his top-waddie. Angus watched the Long-shot do its number on the older cowboy, and like Cole Jenkins, his Ramrod was becoming one of the hottest buckaroos in West Texas. Jimmy Joe wondered if they would get out bed for the two days. He didn’t care. It was something he wanted, it was something he needed, and something he couldn’t get from Burt. Jimmy Joe Russell was the undisputed husband between him and Burt, but he had a tendency to allow himself to become henpecked; or, as Angus so indelicately put it, pussy-whipped. After his one visit with Monty, Jimmy Joe decided he was ready for Angus’ grand opening. Jimmy Joe watched his boss in action many times with their cowboy slaves, and he was convinced he would return from Mars Port a satisfied camper with a big-old smile on his face and his butt-hole whistling a happy tune.

Burt was no dummy. He knew exactly why Angus wanted to get his mate away by himself. Burt blew up after Angus left and demanded to know about all the things that happened to Jimmy Joe, and why he was now accepting Master Angus’ invitation to Mars Port? There was much yelling and posturing on Burt’s part. Jimmy Joe tried to calm him to no avail. He knew if Angus heard him ranting, raving, and carrying on, Burt would be history. For all Burt’s selfishness, he was a steady fuck and a live in companion for Jimmy Joe. He wasn’t ready to give that up just yet. Sure enough, Angus overheard Burt’s explosion. The big cowboy stealthily returned near a window outside to watch and listen. When Angus heard enough, he burst into his ramrod’s house without knocking. Angus looked like the bull of the woods; his eyes were narrow and red, his nares were flaring, and his face was bright red from anger. To the big man’s credit, he didn’t yell at Burt or Jimmy Joe.

Angus very calmly told Burt to gather his shit and return to his masters’ ranch immediately; he was no longer welcome on his ranch. Burt forgot his place as a slave and Angus would not tolerate such insubordination or disrespect for his ramrod. Angus gave no further explanation nor did he yell at Burt. He just stood his ground so forcefully both men knew there were no more words necessary. Burt knew he overstepped his bounds and was wise enough to resist further argument or comment. Jimmy Joe knew his boss well enough to know there was nothing he could say to make him reconsider his decision. Burt silently gathered his belongings. Angus told Jimmy Joe to stay in his house, and he quietly walked Burt to the gate. After Burt passed through, Angus deleted Burt’s access code to his gate. He walked back to his ramrod's house and apologized, but told him he didn’t want Burt on his property again unless he was accompanied by his masters.

During the angst and drama, Ramrod Russell could only think about one thing – when he could get away to be with Monty again. He didn’t know if he could wait until the following Thursday evening, but being a cowboy with duties and responsibilities, he knew he must. He wouldn’t jeopardize his position for a minute. Angus heard about Jimmy Joe and Monty’s trysts from his youngest brother. Shane was enthused about Monty and his new, budding relationship with Ramrod Russell. Angus knew Jimmy Joe would be alone Sunday and took pity on him. He told him to leave the ranch in the hands of their top two lead cowboys and come with him.

* * * * * * *
Monty led Jimmy Joe up to his bedroom. The first thing Jimmy Joe saw was his boots on Monty’s orange crate altar. He was pleasantly amused the boy didn’t try to hide his obvious prominent display of his boots as a symbol of his sexual attraction and devotion for the object of his affection. Jimmy Joe picked one up and admired it. “Damn! I hardly recognized ‘um,” he said, “Ya’ done a fine job on ‘em, Slave. They look almost brand new. I think a good slave should take care of his master’s boots for him,” he said seriously, then added, “especially, if he cares about him.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Master Russell. If I needed an excuse, that would be as good as any,” Monty said equally serious.

“You don’t need an excuse, Slave?” Jimmy Joe asked and looked nonplussed.

“Naw, sir, I jes’ love boots. That’s enough in itself, but it makes it extra special when they belong to a handsome cowboy I come to care about,” Monty said honestly. “All cowboys love their leathers and their boots. They’s not only clothing but also tools of their trade. It’s a necessary part of their lives, but it also marks them and frames their personality. You can’t live on a ranch, work cattle every day, be in and out of a saddle, wearing marshmallow-pumps and designer jeans. It soon becomes apparent you need heavy-duty protective clothing. Cowboys invest large sums of their hard earned low wages to buy the best they can own what speaks to them, their personalities, their strengths, their beliefs, and the finer points that complete their persona. Just as a bird is known for its wings, a cowboy is known for his boots. Their personal caparisons, of which boots are a part, become them, and they take on the personality of the wearer, but just as a cowboy’s boots become an extension of his personality, they also take on the personality of their owner until they form a metaphorical symbiotic, almost spiritual, bond with each other.

"The oldest pair of boots in any cowboy’s closet are filled with precious memories. Even though they may look worthless to you and me, they are too wonderful for him to throw away. He will take them out and pull them on several times a year like he might visit an old friend to remember the good times they shared together. Some think boots are soul-catchers for cowboys. They believe the energy Chakras from a cowboy’s body gravitate downward and collect in his boots. Why do you think most cowboys wanna’ be buried with their boots on? H’it ain’t ‘cause they paint their toenails, neither,” Monty laughed, “When any man entrusts his boots to my care, it ain’t only a responsibility, it becomes an obligation, a sacred trust. They must be shown the proper respect and reverence they’s due. It becomes an experience bordering on the metaphysical. They become sacred vessels which once contained the essence of their owner. They hold a small but separate part of the cowboy’s life-force what left ‘em in my trust,” he declared and smiled at Jimmy Joe.

“Is that why you got them on this orange crate?” Jimmy Joe asked.

“Yes, sir, the orange crate becomes more than just a place to put them, it becomes a central focus of the room. It draws attention to itself as a place of honor. It becomes an altar for securing and protecting the Chakras caught inside the boots. It says, the essence of the life-force, which vibrates around and sometimes fills a pair of boots is worthy of admiration, and their handsome, strongly masculine good looks should be appreciated and respected just like their owner,” Monty elaborated.

“Is that why the candles are placed around them?” Jimmy Joe asked.

“Yes, sir, the candles are to ward off evil spirits when I pay homage by making love to them,” Monty admitted shamelessly.

“And have you made love to ma’ boots, Slave?” Jimmy Joe asked like he was fishing in deep water.

“Every night before I go to bed, sir, and every morning before I leave my quarters," Monty said without nuance.

“Is ‘zat why you urged me to leave ‘em with you with a promise to clean and polish ‘em for me, jes’ so’s you could make love to ‘em?” Jimmy Joe asked and grinned.

“It is, sir. Any job worth doing should have a fringe benefit, but there’s more to it than that. You wanted to leave a part of yourself behind like any animal might mark his territory. What stronger statement than to leave such a personal item behind in my care? You were secretly hoping they would remind me of you while we were apart. They were also a good reason to reunite us again, if only to give them back to you. Naturally we both hoped for more, but in this world you never know,” Monty said, finished his comments, and remained silent for a few minutes. Jimmy Joe was stunned by the understanding, sensitivity, and the intelligent way the young man expressed himself and his ideas.

“Tell me about the man what makes boots?” Jimmy Joe asked like a pilgrim seeking wisdom from a prophet.

“Not all boots are created equally, sir. Even some individual leather craftsmen don’t make boots of equal quality. It depends on the talent, the skill, the heart, and how much love the maker puts into them. Manufactured boots are a product of a corporate mass mind. They are made in large quantities to make as much money as they can without much thought to quality. They are as soulless as the corporations and the machines what make them. Any serious buckaroo will seek out an individual boot maker who puts a part of his soul into every pair he makes. Is there any doubt in your mind there’s a part of me what dwells inside them boots you be wearing?” Monty asked.

“I ain’t never thought about it until you said it, but think’n on it, I'd have to say there ain’t no doubt in my mind. No, none whatsoever, Son. I’m convinced. I’m a believer. I ain’t had ‘em off since I put ‘em on here Thursday night except to shower; even then, I carried ‘em into the bathroom with me and locked the door behind me. It’s not like me to wear the same pair several days in a row. I wear a different pair every day. I thought you’s bullshit’n me there for a minute, but I’m beginning to see what you’s talk’n about. I may have been a skeptic at first, but some of the things you said's got a ring of truth to ‘em. If not, I done made friends with the best fuck’n bullshit artist this side of the Brazos,” Jimmy Joe proclaimed and laughed, “I know one damn thing – like I done told ju' – they fit ma’ feet and wrap around my legs like they’s make’n love to me,” Jimmy Joe said.

“‘At’s what I made ‘em to do,” Monty said and smiled.

“Does that mean you’ll take care of my other boots for me, Slave?" Jimmy Joe asked.

“It would be an honor and a privilege, sir. You may rotate ‘em if you like. Just as long as you leave a pair here for me to show my love and pay homage to when you’s away,” Monty replied.

Jimmy Joe’s old cock instantly got hard. Why would the kid’s willingness to please him and take care of his boots cause a sexual response? To say he was bemused wasn’t strong enough. He was flabbergasted. He understood what ‘fetish’ meant but Monty’s ideas went beyond mere sexual aberration. His explanation bordered on adoration. He wondered if Monty’s faith in him might be misplaced. He didn’t see himself as anything special. He was just a plain, old, brown dirty cowboy who knew about cowboying, wrangling horses, cattle, and slaves, but he knew nothing of the world Monty came from or existed within. Yet, why was he so drawn to this young slave?

Jimmy Joe didn’t want to say what was running through his head, but he was thinking he was getting a damn-sight more appreciation and respect from Monty than he ever got from Burt. Since he became a freeman and a ramrod, he could remember Burt going through the motions of the slave ritual and paying homage to his boots only once in over a year. Burt would never consider touching one of Jimmy Joe’s boots let alone clean or polish them for him. Burt got upset when Jimmy Joe wore his new buckaroo boots to bed. He was going to fuck Burt while wearing them, but Burt called him an old pervert and wouldn’t let him. He suddenly got a headache.

* * * * * * *
Earlier in the day, right after they arrived at the ranch, Shane and Cole called Angus and his ramrod into their house to share with them the heroics of Monty on Mars, rescuing his beloved little sister. Angus and Jimmy Joe were as amazed as anyone, but Jimmy Joe felt intimidated by what he saw. He panicked and got it in his head Monty was way out of his league. He knew the young man was special, but this was beyond his comprehension. He was ready to walk down to the old barn and go through the gate to return to his small world. Angus set him down and talked with him like a Dutch uncle and called him a crazy old fool if he didn’t follow through with what he started with Monty. Shane and Cole were ‘A-mening’ everything Angus said like a bad Greek chorus. They insisted Monty was so impressed by Ramrod Russell he walked around in a mental fog for several days. They went so far as to show Jimmy Joe brief snippets of Monty kneeling before his orange crate altar and making love to his ramrod’s boots in private. That softened the old cowboy's heart and brought tears to Jimmy Joe’s eyes. His thoughts of empathy and protection went out to the boy.

Shane and Cole assured him Monty had a couple of surprises for him he learned from Master Jesse and Utah he couldn’t wait to share with him. They wouldn’t be specific, but they told him they knew he would enjoy them. The more the ramrod learned about Monty the more he admired and fell in love with the young man. Just being in his presence and the ease with which they related to each other was enough to make him feel like a coward from his earlier feelings. Angus was right, he was an old fool. Jimmy Joe was around long enough he knew when a man was bull-shitting him. He could detect no mendacity or deceit in this young slave. Monty was giving, sincere, and honest. He didn’t try to play people to get something from them. He made himself the best he could to be accepted on his own merits.

One thing Ramrod Cole said to him stuck in Jimmy Joe’s mind. “Y’ain’t got chore’self no idea what you got a’ holt’ of with that boy, Ramrod. Can you imagine how alone and isolated Monty’s felt all his life because he’s so different. The one basic way he ain’t different from us is he needs someone to care about him; someone special for him to love; somebody he can give his’self to without feeling like they’s try’n to suck him dry. Seems to me like you was recently in the same fix, but Hell, we all need the same damn things. We see what Monty’s going through, but he needs some’um more’n anybody around here can give him. To be blunt, he needs a daddy. He needs a cowboy like you what can show him how to become a good man, and you know what, Ramrod? Ain’t another cowboy in West Texas what’s got his'self a bigger, deep-seated need to be a daddy than yore’self. I never understood that sort a’ thing until ma’ boy pointed it out to me a couple a years ago. Slave or no, I can’t imagine myself living my life any other way than being Shane’s pa, and no matter what the future brings I will be his daddy until he don’t need me no more.

"Burt would never let you be his daddy, although you tried yore’ dead-level best to be. Burt would be passive in yore’ bunk, but there was never any doubt in anybody’s mind, he was always in the driver’s seat. ‘At’s why you’s always so frustrated with him. He never would listen to you or let you be the leader. We’s all bet’n when you’d git chore’ craw full and send him pack’n. I bet ma’ boy, here, you never would, ‘cause you’s too faithful. Guess what? I won. I won, ‘cause I know’d how much you believe in the Cowboy Way,” Cole declared and smiled at Jimmy Joe, “You never would’ve neither, less'n Master Angus ain’t ordered Burt off his ranch. To my way a’ think’n, Cowboy, Master Angus done saved yore’ life. You and Monty is try’n to navigate the rough waters of the oceans of life alone in two small boats, when you could be together sailing high above the choppy seas in a luxury yacht. Bottom line, Ramrod, that boy needs you, and you shore’ as Hell need him,” Cole concluded looking him hard in the eyes. Jimmy Joe felt overwhelmed when Shane and his boss-man broke up laughing and agreed with Cole.

* * * * * * *
“What can I do for you this evening, Master Jimmy Joe?” Monty asked.

“I's kinda hoping we might spend some time together in yore’ bed, Slave,” he replied.

“I’d like that very much, sir. I need to clean myself. Do you mind waiting for a few minutes?” Monty asked.

“I don’t mind a’ tall,” Jimmy Joe replied.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Monty asked.

“I would. I’ll take off my clothes and relax while you’s in the shower," the ramrod replied.

“Certainly, Master Russell. My home is your home, sir. Make yourself comfortable," Monty urged him.

Monty made his ramrod a cup of coffee and brought it to him. Jimmy Joe removed his clothes and was sitting on Monty’s bed wearing only his buckaroo boots. He looked stunning. Monty set his coffee on his night stand next to him. “May I take care of your boots before I shower, Master?” Monty asked.

“I’m sure they’d appreciate it, Slave. I know I would,” he replied.

Monty got his cleaning equipment and rags. He knelt before Jimmy Joe’s boots and cleaned them good. He took his time and finished by buffing them to a deep luster. He took each one and lovingly paid homage to it. He watched as Jimmy Joe’s big cock grew to a larger size as it became engorged with blood. Having his boots cleaned and paid homage to was highly sensual to him. He wondered if Monty didn’t have some further inside information about the psychology of a cowboy and his boots he was withholding from him. He thought a lot about their earlier conversation. Bits and pieces were falling into place to make a lot of sense. Monty excused himself and went to his shower. He turned on his radio to his favorite country and Western station and turned it down low. He made his ramrod another cup of coffee before he left.

Jimmy Joe laid back on Monty’s bed and pulled the soft down comforter over him. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been more relaxed and comfortable with another person. It was nice to be with someone so agreeable as Monty. Burt was always upset with him about something. It was difficult to come home in the evening, listen to a constant harangue and then make love to your mate. That was the problem. They didn’t make love. Jimmy Joe would finally have his fill, either order Burt to suck him off, or he would forcibly rape Burt’s ass. He wondered if Burt didn’t push him to the limit just to get Jimmy Joe riled up enough to rape him and take out his frustrations by giving him a hard fucking. Burt used sex as a weapon and Jimmy Joe would make a counter assault on his throat or his ass. Funny thing was, it was about the only thing Burt never complained about. Monty wasn’t gone long when he returned to join his ramrod. He was wearing his terrycloth robe and had it tied up around his middle. Jimmy Joe raised the comforter for Monty to join him, but Monty sat on the edge of the bed instead.

“Before I get into bed with you, there’s something I have to tell you, Master,” Monty said quietly.

“All right,” replied Jimmy Joe.

“Since our night together and the changes I made to yore’ body, I learned more about my gift. Cable, David, Jonathan, Master Jesse, and Utah helped me understand what it is and how best to use my talents,” Monty explained.

“Your master showed me and Master Angus a video of you saving Maxine at Mars Port. It was pretty impressive. You were a hero, but I’m afraid it made me feel insignificant. It made me wonder what you could possibly see in a dumb old cowboy like me,” Jimmy Joe lamented.

“You mustn’t think that a’ way, Master. I see a good man, sir, a fine cowboy; one of the finest men I ever run across. It would destroy me to think you might turn away from me because of my gifts,” Monty said and turned his head away from him. Jimmy Joe saw his words really hurt the kid. He raised up and threw his arms around Monty and held him tight.

“I promise, I won’t. Kiss me, Son. Show me your love,” he said strongly like he was taking charge. Monty turned into his strong arms and they shared a good kiss. “Now, that's better. What chu' got to tell me, Son?” he asked.

“It’s probably best if I show you. Sit here on the edge of the bed, sir,” he indicated for Jimmy Joe to sit up with his boots on the woven grass mat on his floor. Monty stood in front of him and slowly undid his robe. He pulled it back to show Jimmy Joe his perfect little cunt.

The ramrod gasped. “My God, Boy, what happened to yore’ cock and balls?" he asked in awe.

“They ain’t gone, Master, I just been taught to morph my genitals. Just like I made your balls bigger, I made my cock smaller to become a clitoris and my balls are temporarily stored in my abdomen. I asked Master Jesse and Utah to teach me how to make one for you. I wanted this for you, sir,” Monty explained. He watched as the cowboy raised his hand to touch it and then pulled away. “Don’t be afraid, sir, it’s yours to do with as you please," Monty encouraged him.

Jimmy Joe didn’t need a second invitation. He was on his knees, threw his arms around Monty’s waist and butt, and buried his face in Monty’s little pussy. It was a highly emotional experience for the old cowboy. It was the first vagina he’d seen in over twenty years. Tears were steaming down his face as his tongue worked Monty’s small man in the boat and filled his heavy cowboy-porn mustache with juices. Jimmy Joe wasn’t a quiet cunt eater. He was making all sort of ‘Umm’ slurping and gurgling noises, and ‘Oh, yeah’ sounds as he’d take a breath and dive back in. His tongue was driving Monty crazy. Jimmy Joe stopped for a minute. Monty looked down to see his ramrod’s penis harder than he ever saw him before. He couldn’t understand why Jimmy Joe would worry about Angus Goodnight when he, himself, was a magnificent specimen of a man. Monty couldn’t wait to feel his ramrod inside his new orifice.

“Oh, Son, this is so good. It even smells and taste like the real thing,” Jimmy Joe said.

“It is the real thing, Master Russell. It’s a real cunt. It was custom designed for your penis,” Monty said.

“I don’t understand,” Jimmy Joe looked puzzled.

“I had your genetic information inside me from swallowing your come and your several deposits up my ass. I morphed into a copy of you in sickbay on the Bandersnatch so Master Jesse and Utah could see your penis and teach me how to create a vagina to fit; sort of a snatch-to-match,” Monty said and giggled, “It’s a perfect fit for your cock, sir. It’s like a tight velvet-lined case for a fine fiddle,” Monty said.

“Son of a bitch! Christmas done come early!” he exclaimed, “Can we try it?" the ramrod asked.

“Sure, but I hope you’ll be gentle. You’re my first. I’m a virgin. We might have to use some lubricant,” Monty suggested.

“Oh, my God, it will be a first for both of us. I ain’t never had me no virgin before. Of course I’ll be gentle,” Jimmy Joe replied.

Jimmy Joe was good to his word. Monty made certain he was properly lubed. The ramrod very gently worked his way through Monty’s hymen and slowly proceeded to greater depths. It was a wonderful sensation for both of them. It didn’t take the old cowboy long to understand what Monty was talking about when he used the term ‘custom cunt.’ Monty’s vagina felt like the perfect fit of a fine pair of suede gloves, but this was one long glove made especially to receive and pleasure his ramrod's penis. Jimmy Joe thought to himself, no cowboy could wish for more. It was the most incredible feeling the big cowboy ever experienced. Little by little, inch by inch, Ramrod Russell carefully moved into his new home. He decided he might like to stay for a while and make it his own. Monty was in a state of ecstasy he never encountered before. He couldn’t imagine how wonderful his ramrod would feel inside him. When Jimmy Joe whispered his slave had his all resting within him, Monty let out a sigh of contentment. “You feel so good, Master,” he breathed softly, “Is it like you remembered, sir?” Monty asked.

“I never remember it being this fine, Slave,” the ramrod replied.

“Do you like my present, Ramrod?” Monty asked.

“More than I got words to tell you, Son,” Jimmy Joe replied, “It’s strange, here I am fuck’n probably the finest little cunt I ever had wrapped around my cock, but I don’t think on you as a woman. To me, you’re my talented slave-boy what has offered his master a wonderful gift. This has to be the supreme act of giving to give up your own masculinity for a while to please and satisfy your master. How does it feel for you, Son?" Jimmy Joe asked.

“Like you complete me, Master. Like you got the missing part what's filling me with your goodness. I could sleep all night keeping you warm inside me,” Monty said.

They lay together for a while with Jimmy Joe taking a gentle stroke from time to time. Each time Monty would moan or groan at his ramrod’s strength. It seemed like Monty was getting tighter with each stroke of his penis, and Jimmy Joe worried he might be hurting the kid. “Is it uncomfortable for you, Boy?” he asked after a good long stroke.

“Lord, no, Master. I’m just keeping myself as tight for you as possible to give you as much pleasure as I can. Don’t be afraid. You ain’t gonna’ hurt me none. If’n you do, I’ll let you know. It’s time my cowboy rode me like he rode my ass the other night. Take me, Ramrod. Take all you need,” Monty urged him.

“Do you think you can climax from me fucking you?” Jimmy Joe asked.

“Ain’t no doubt in ma’ mind, sir. ‘Sides, I made a few improvements on my cunt women don’t have. You jes’ do the fuck’n and leave the rest to me,” Monty replied.

Jimmy Joe began to fuck Monty the way he remembered from his past. It was like roller skating, riding a bicycle, or even a pony. Once you learn, you never forget. Jimmy Joe found his mind drifting to the good times of his youth, back across what seemed like eons of time and other sensual feelings over the years. Everyone had their merits, but fucking Monty’s cunt was like a excellent dessert, a fine brandy, or a good cigar after a wonderful meal. Monty’s eyes glazed over at the onslaught of his ramrod’s roaring hard penis. He couldn’t imagine Angus Goodnight could bring him more comfort than his ramrod. Of course, he never planned to offer his vagina to Master Goodnight. Angus had a wife; his own cunt to fuck.

No, he decided he would only offer it up to his ramrod and perhaps his two cowboy slave dads, but only if Ramrod Russell agreed. Since Monty found he could morph he had more perverted thoughts than a dog has fleas. Maybe they weren’t so perverted as they were inventive or delightfully deviate. Certainly it would differ from the participant to a casual observer. Is there such a thing as a casual observer when witnessing sex? An oxymoron, perhaps, or a new oxygen bleach for idiots. With new parameters it creates new paradigms, or as Monty decided to think of it, theme and variations. Jimmy Joe was about to reach his eighteenth variation; slow inverted retrograde; physical and emotional pay dirt. The very most bang for a buckaroo.

One of Monty’s more stimulating variations was to share his bed with big Bart and Telly and get fucked from both sides. Having a vagina and a prostate gland would surely have its greater benefits. Monty’s mind began to drift to his relationship with Shanna and wondered if he felt as good to her as Jimmy Joe Russell was feeling in his vagina. He wondered if he was large enough to satisfy her completely, but vaguely recalled growing larger when he was inside her. He thought it was his imagination, because his penis was more stimulated and consequently became more engorged with blood.

He smiled to himself. Now, he wasn’t so sure. He remembered how Shanna moved under him to give him the most pleasure she could, and he found himself copying her moves under his ramrod. Each time, Jimmy Joe would let out a sigh or moan of pleasure to let Monty know how much his participation was appreciated. Monty kept it up until he was worried Jimmy Joe might shoot too soon. He didn’t want him coming right away. Monty’s cunt was hungry. Jimmy Joe just got it broken in. Monty wanted more of the big fine, fully erect, aged, prime, grade-A cowboy beef that was packing his pussy with care.

“You git’n tard, my Sweet Slave?” Jimmy Joe asked as he stole a kiss or two.

“I ain’t doing the work, Ramrod. You’s the one what’s work’n up a lather. I’m doing ma’ best to help, but how long we go is up to you. I’m good for another hun’nert miles or so,” Monty said, hugged him tightly, and locked his legs around Jimmy Joe’s small, well formed butt.

“I wondered why my boss-man insisted I spend the night and come home in the morning. Now I know. He knew some’um I didn’t,” Jimmy Joe declared. “His little brother done told him about yore' gift for me. They hinted around about you having a surprise for me, but they never let on it was some’um s’wonderful as this.”

“You gotta’ go home this evening, Master?” Monty asked disappointed.

“I told him I would, but that was before I knew about chore’ gift. Since he done told me he’d take care of things, I think it’ud be all right if’n I stayed. I think he was count’n on me staying anyways. We won’t have to rush none, and I can break in yore’ sweet little pussy real good for ya,’” Jimmy Joe said softly, kissed Monty deeply as he moved around inside him for a couple of long, deep strokes. Monty was in ecstasy and moaned his approval. They fucked for a couple of hours, stopping from time to time to relax, until Jimmy Joe said he had to get his rocks or he was afraid his dick might drop off. Monty told him he certainly didn’t want that, but if it should happen he wanted it to fall into his cunt so’s he could give it a good home and take care of it for him. Jimmy Joe was the consummate cowboy lover and fucked Monty until he was sure the young man was about to climax. When he felt the extra moistness and Monty’s cunt opened to him like flower on a hot summer’s day, he knew his partner was ready.

He felt himself building to his own climax and rode his partner down hard until he emptied all his hot cowboy goodness into his slave-boy’s cunt. They were fucking in the missionary position, but Jimmy Joe rolled them onto their sides. He remained inside Monty for sometime. They continued to make love in the afterglow of their coupling talking softly and enjoying each others company. Finally, Monty told Jimmy Joe he should probably douche himself. Jimmy Joe reluctantly withdrew from his slave’s warm cavity. Monty took great delight in cleaning his master with his mouth. After he finished he went to his shower and cleaned himself. When he returned he brought a warm, damp cloth to further clean his ramrod. Jimmy Joe seemed appreciative.

They decided to get an early start to sleep and wake up early to have another round in the morning. Monty set his coffee machine an hour earlier than usual. He helped his ramrod off with his boots. They quickly went to sleep, but late in the night Monty felt Jimmy Joe nudging him. He felt his ramrod’s hard penis poking him in his back. Monty rolled over and gently guided him into his vagina. They held each other and slept hooked together in an embrace the rest of the night. When Monty heard the click of his coffee maker he began to move about and slowly woke his master. Jimmy Joe gave Monty the fucking of his dreams. He was slow, strong, but gentle and had him begging for release. It was a powerfully moving experience for both.

Monty brought them coffee and got his ramrod into his shower to pamper him. It was obvious Jimmy Joe wasn’t used to such attention, but he soon came to enjoy and appreciate it. While they were in the shower Monty morphed back to his male appearance so Jimmy Joe could observe his transformation. He was amazed, but not so threatened by Monty’s abilities anymore. They were through with their morning ablutions early, and sat together finishing their coffee before walking to the big house for breakfast. Before they walked out the door, Jimmy Joe took Monty into his arms and kissed him tenderly. “Thanks for everything, Son. I couldn’t ask for a greater gift of love than what you gimme’ last night and this morning. I won’t require that of you ever' time,” Jimmy Joe allowed, “I can appreciate you and love you just as much as a man,” the old cowboy said softly.

“How ‘bout once't a month, full moons, birthdays, and special holidays?” Monty smiled.

“Sound’s good to this old cowboy,” Jimmy Joe agreed. As they were walking through the first meadow, the ramrod turned to his young save and spoke, "Where do we go from here?” Jimmy Joe asked rhetorically.

“That ain't for me to decide, sir. While I appreciate you thinking on me, you're the master and ramrod. I'm just a slave, but I'm comfortable with it. I don’t know what’s going on in your world, Ramrod, but I’m grateful you could spend some time with me. I'd be grateful for any time you might choose to spend with me, sir. Like I said, I’ll take what I can git," Monty replied quietly.

“That’s good. This Thursday evening, for sure. Count on it, Son,” he said and took Monty's hand in his.

“I’ll look forward to it, sir,” Monty said softly.

The sun was barely creeping over the horizon as they walked across the meadows to the big house for breakfast. They were warmly welcomed and sat down to a wonderful breakfast. Talk was lively about what was to be accomplished for the week. Shane had several things he wanted Monty to get done. Nothing was said about Jimmy Joe and Monty spending the night together, but before Ramrod Russell left to go through the gate, Shane told him he was welcome to visit any time he could get away. Jimmy Joe thanked him. Monty walked his ramrod to the old barn to the gate. Thus began regular visits from Ramrod Russell to the ranch and Monty’s quarters. They formed a tight bond which became a mutual support for each other through the good times and the bad.

Jimmy Joe went to Mars Port with his boss, but he was pleasantly surprised. While he did get the b’jesus fucked out of him several times, Angus saw to it they had plenty of time for relaxation, recreation, and toured the wonders of Mars. Jimmy Joe came back in better spirits and felt better about himself than he did in a long time. Jimmy Joe was pleased his boss-man approved and encouraged his budding relationship with Monty, but Angus drew the line with them living together. He thought it was unwise for the time being, and Jimmy Joe had to admit he was right. He was learning to enjoy his time alone which seemed to enhance his appreciation of his time with Monty all the more. It also gave him more time and motivation to keep a smile on the faces of Angus' slaves. They swore to a man they never left a session with their master-ramrod what they weren't fully drained and satisfied.

* * * * * * *
The little stick turned blue. Scudder was pregnant. Austin Taycious was having a ball thinking up names for himself as the child’s god-what-ever. ‘Auntie Austin’ was his favorite, but he also had a fondness for ‘Mother Taycious.’ It sounded very serene and cloistered. He wondered how he might look in a habit. He thought it was all very ‘Sound of Music’ and would go around humming “How do you solve a problem like Maria?” Scudder was pleased he was pregnant, but ready to throttle Taycious for his overwrought imagination. He could be like Disney on steroids, but Scudder needed him more than ever if he was going to cover up his delicate condition. New clothes had to be considered, and he was concerned the clothiers might become suspicious.

He thought he could get away with claiming poor eating habits and rapid weight gain. Who would believe the Holy Prophet was pregnant? He needed some kind of prosthetic device to make him look like he had a penis in case he had to strip to his underwear. Austin had connections. He knew everyone in the world of kink and managed to get a device dykes used. It was sort of a double-dong device that would fit up Scudder’s cunt but on the outside it had a real looking cock and balls that would hang in place. Scudder dismissed it out of hand. He wouldn’t even try it until Austin called in Commander Hawkins and Officer Jones, and they talked with him.

Jones worked with Scudder and carefully inserted it for him. Norman was surprised at the comfort and sensuality of the device. He began to wear it quite often. It did give his pants the proper ‘mission accomplished’ look of his dick-less, crotch stuffing, pom-pom waving predecessor. It gave him that ‘in charge’ bull-of-the-woods look. It announced, in no uncertain terms: you must do what I say because I have a big package that delivers hot nukes on command, and if you fuck with me, I’ll bend you over and ram a stiff one up your butt. Scudder was quoted as saying: It only takes a small missile to start a war, but a big one to win it. He was only slightly more quoted than Bush.

Once Dubya’s minions had him sainted by his own church, they promptly forgot about him. His ignorance and stupidity was swept under the political carpet. He became the patron saint of golfers because of his ultimate sacrifice of giving up the game to show his support for the families who suffered the terrible loss of a son or daughter because of his false oil wars which he lied to the American people about. Only history will know whether he was a better cheerleader or president. His contemporary critics insisted he was a consummate failure at both. Either way, he was the ultimate coward. He was neither man enough to be on the line of the college gridiron nor the front line of combat. Even though he’s long been interred, he’s still listed as missing or AWOL by the Mississippi Air National Guard. Fortunately, for the country, no one but a few mouth breathing, knuckle dragging NASCAR loving rednecks miss him anymore.

* * * * * * *
Shanna Ruggles was in her third trimester. While her mother was supportive, her dad withdrew from her. He had little to say to her and treated her like a pariah. Charlie Ruggles didn’t like the idea of her giving birth to a bastard's child, having to be saddled with the expense, bother, and humiliation of raising a bastard kid, but neither was he willing to have it aborted. He was, however, willing to give it up for the government’s new baby genius program. It was a new program which reportedly scientists could test a child while still in its mother’s womb to determine its IQ potential. If it tested high enough the family was paid large sums of money and the baby was taken away at birth to be tended by special government caretakers who would carefully raise, groom, and educate the child to reach its maximum potential for the greater good of humanity and the Theocratic conservative party. At least that’s how the government sold the idea to the public. They hinted they were creating a super race of conservative humans for the good of mankind to protect the one percent. Appropriately enough, the program was called Ultra-Con. Of course, every child they tested were found to have an IQ which was off the charts. The truth was there was no such test. They would take any baby but paid the same price for all. It was the government’s underhanded way of harvesting succulent young babies for their reptilian overlord's consumption.

Someone came up with an idea to inoculate the babies with a deadly virus which would be species specific and spread rapidly throughout the reptilian population decimating their race. Perhaps then, they would withdraw and leave Earth alone. Unfortunately, over the years the fundamentalist Christianists rounded up those research scientist who were doing honest science and sent them to Cheney camps as heretics and nonbelievers. Real scientists of any consequence didn’t believe in intelligent design, also known as creationism. They knew it was a fraud. Since religion and science are incompatible, most scientists were admitted atheist and worked hard to bring sanity and reason back to their country only to be committed to Cheney slave work camps to die after short periods of time.

The fundamentalists enslaved or killed those who had the talent to fight against the reptiles. Those who were left were good, faithful Christianists who toed the line of fundamentalist propaganda and dogma. Since they were untrained in the finer points of genetics and bio-engineering, they didn’t have a clue how to proceed. Their alternate solution to the problem was prayer. They prayed a lot, but it didn't do much good. The babies they were so adamant about protecting which once swelled a woman's belly were being used as food to swell the bellies of alien reptiles. The more babies who disappeared, the harder they prayed. The shame and greater insanity of it was, no one stood up against the madness and stated the obvious truth: that perhaps, just maybe, their sky-daddy was deaf, blind, or just didn't give a shit.

The public was about to storm the White House, but the government bought themselves some time by declaring there was no such thing as aliens and certainly only the lunatic fringe believed in alien abduction. When that dam began to fail, Scudder went on television and announced he was told by God himself it was his holy will so many babies and young children were disappearing from their beds at night. God began the rapture and the innocent children were being taken first. Sixty-four percent of the population believed him. The other thirty six percent were either in the government who were part of the deception or they were in Cheney camps. Poe’s law became the ultimate reality which sealed the fate of man on planet Earth.*

Shanna Ruggles was becoming more depressed and detached from her parents by the day. Her mother was concerned about her. She had no one to talk with. She tried prayer until her knees bled. She tried going to Pastor Yates and his wife, but they depended heavily upon her parent’s generous contributions to their church for their survival. They certainly weren’t going to suggest any course of action which might alienate Charlie Ruggles or his wife. Neither did they offer her much comfort. They were of the opinion she was complicit in a crime against their god and society. She sinned against her parents and her religion to have premarital sex; therefore, she deserved whatever happened to her.

It wasn’t quite as severe and demented as honor killings among Muslims, but it had its intended effect. She considered suicide, but she didn’t want to kill her baby. She thought about running away, having the baby, giving it to a good family with whom she might contract who would not sell the baby to the government. After she was satisfied the child would be well taken care of, she would commit suicide. All sorts of possibilities ran through her mind, but they mostly took planning and would require outside help. She knew she didn’t want to go on living in such a closed world, but she didn’t know how she might go about breaking out or replacing it with a better situation which would be acceptable for her and her baby. There seemed no escape, and she was running out of time. The more frustrated Shanna became, the more closely she was watched for erratic behavior. She spent an inordinate amount of time on the Internet.

Shortly after the discussion with Admiral Long and Judge Potter about the baby belonging to Monty’s master, the Admiral decided it might be a good idea to place robo-cams on Shanna to protect Shane’s property rights and those of the Grange. Ping’s knowledge and sophistication of digital logic and systems was years ahead of anything being used on Earth computers. Microsoft became fat and lazy and lost their strangle-hold on the world market when they came out with the severely flawed and clumsy ‘Ultra-Vista’ operating system. It was far worse than the original 'Vista.' (It was suppose to be Windows 13, but they figured there would be too much superstition attached.) People either switched to Windows 14 or traded privately hacked and upgraded copies of Windows 12 around the net. Ping used her own version of an operation system she created which so smoothly integrated with all operating systems you couldn’t tell your computer was taken over by a second or in some cases a third source.

One morning Shanna started her computer, and after she logged on using her password a different screen came up. It wasn’t strange or unusual looking. It seemed to fit with her operating system and had an appealing decor to it she found attractive. There were just a couple of lines of text. “Good morning, Shanna. Do you need someone to talk with?” Shanna read and was confused.

“Who are you?” she typed.

“A friend. A concerned mother who has heard your prayers.”

“Are you an angel sent by God or Jesus?" Shanna typed.

“No.”

“Are you the Devil?” she typed.

“No.”

“Who are you then?”

“A mother.”

“Are you the virgin Mary?”

“No, I’m not human.”

“Are you a demon?”

“Goodness, I hope not. Would it help if I send you a picture of me, my mate, and our two kits?”

“Yeah, sure, I suppose. Kits? Is that a typo? Are you feline?” she typed.

Ping hit a key and on the full screen was Ping, Pong, Jack, and Jill posed in an almost formal family portrait. Shanna was stunned. She never saw such wonderful, handsome creatures in her life. They were beautiful and looked like a cross between a spectacularly colored ring-tailed cat and a small primate. It was obvious from the picture they were a happy family.

“As you can see, we’re not cats. We are of another species altogether. We are called Langerians or Langers. We cannot speak as you do, but we have other ways of communicating. Our names are unpronounceable to your race so our human brothers and sisters call me Ping and my mate Pong. My son is Jack and my daughter is Jill. If you speak out loud – not so loud as to be overheard – I can hear you,” Ping typed

“Where are you from, Ping?” Shanna asked in a moderate voice.

“From a solar system far away from yours. Unfortunately, our planet no longer is habitable. It was destroyed by a parasitic race of reptilian aliens who took our kind for food. When there were no more, they destroyed our world,” Ping typed and Shanna read on her screen.

“My God, that's awful. Why have you revealed yourself to me?” she asked.

“Because you are troubled. I am a mother. I know about such things.”

“How do I know you aren’t demonic?” Shanna asked.

“You don’t. If I send my kits to you, will you believe we mean you no harm.”

“Send? How?” Shanna no sooner got the words out when a bright flash of light almost blinded her. Standing on either side of her were Jack and Jill. They immediately released a relaxing pheromone which kept Shanna from jumping out of her skin. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed quietly as she watched Jill bow deeply to her and offer her small hand. Shanna took her hand and held it for a moment. “Good to meet you, Jill,” she said and turned to look at Jack as he bowed deeply to her. She took his hand and told him the same. They moved to her bed and sat on the edge smiling and looking at her. “Can you still here me, Ping?” she asked.

“I’m here, Shanna. I can hear you fine,” Ping typed and appeared on Shanna's screen.

“They’re even more beautiful in person. They’re almost full grown,” Shanna said.

“Don’t remind me.” Shanna saw on the screen and laughed. “Kids or kits in any solar system grow up with their own individual, unique set of problems,” Ping typed. “Shield your eyes, Dear-one, and I will bring them home.” Shanna did as she was told, the light flashed again and Jack and Jill were gone.

“Are there many of you Langerians, Ping?” Shanna asked.

“For many years my mate and I thought we were the only survivors of our world when it was destroyed by the evil forces I described to you who now threaten your world. Your government is keeping their presence a secret for the time being. We were rescued by a wonderful human whom we consider our savior and companion. Recently, another friendly race discovered a derelict spaceship with about sixty of our kind barely existing. It was adrift in another solar system for generations. They were rescued and have been given a temporary home on another world in your solar system.”

“Which world?” Shanna asked.

“The world you call Mars.”

“Mars is lifeless,” Shanna said.

“On the surface, yes,” typed Ping, "there are great caverns with many endangered species hidden away from the approaching hoard of parasitic races."

“Why are you interested in me and my baby, Ping?" she asked.

“You need help. You carry a special child. You must not let your father sell him to the government. They are not telling your dad the truth about what will happen to him.”

“What would happen to my baby, Ping?” Shanna’s voice lowered like she was bracing for the worst.

“It is too terrible for me to tell you, Shanna,” she watched the words come across her screen.

“Are they to appease the parasitic alien race you speak of?” Shanna asked. She read the information about babies and young children disappearing by the thousands. She thought it was all reactionary spin to turn good, God fear’n Christian folk away from believing in their country, the Holy Prophet, and God.

“Yes,” Ping typed.

“What am I to do, Ping?” Shanna broke into sobs. Ping’s heart went out to her.

“There, there, Dear-one, talk with me. Maybe I can help.” Shanna saw come across her screen.

“I don’t know how you could help me. It all seems so hopeless.”

“Would you be willing to give up your family to join us?” Ping asked.

“Who is us, Ping?” Shanna asked.

“A gathering of many species who are working together to escape the scourge of the parasitic aliens who are now beginning to harvest your world. They are the same race of reptiles who destroyed our world. They are served by a race of small gray aliens who are little more than evolved insects whom they have enslaved and who do their bidding.”

“Then the final days of Earth are really here?” Shanna asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid so, but it won’t be as you have been taught by your religion. Jesus won’t be coming back, and there really is no supreme being to help your people either.”

“But our bible tells us so,” Shanna said defensibly.

“You bible is wrong, Shanna. It is nothing more than a collection of stories and myths. Those who believe and are unable to accept a new life without religion will be left behind. Religions were a part of man’s evolution on this planet as was his physical and mental development. It was part of survival of the fittest. Religion was never intended for the betterment of mankind, only for control. The race who is now in the process of harvesting your species for food was instrumental in forming early religions. Why do you think there are so many? They can’t all be right, yet each feel the same way you do; theirs is the only true religion. Even within your own religion there are thousands of opposing factions. Myths and gods were created to insure mankind will never be able to unite against a greater common enemy. They put just enough into the dogma to appeal to the simple minded and the rest was enough to scare the strongest man into believing. Strong, but weak minded men, could easily be controlled by weaker, stronger minded men. It has been carefully planned and orchestrated for thousands of years.

"Occasionally, when Earth has become overpopulated in some areas, they have returned to cull and harvest humans for food. A number of civilizations in the history of your world have vanished in a short period of time for which there is no explanation. Earth is like a great meat market for them. There was one factor they didn’t count on. Through natural selection, man began to use more of his brain, and it became bicameral. Brain development began to become more important than brawn and the cultivation of myths became great fertilizer for growth. Some of the most outstanding accomplishments of man in the form of music, art, literature, philosophy, and science have been stimulated by myths. Unfortunately, religion also brings separatism, hatred, and wrath in the form of intolerance and an easy justification for personal greed, persecution, and war. The good news is, with the understanding of their world and universe through science, man is beginning to awaken to the knowledge he no longer needs religion. He can grow, adapt, and become good through knowledge and reason.”

“I don’t believe you. It’s all lies. Jesus will come for me. I know it in my heart. God loves me and won’t let bad things happen to me. You’re telling me all this just to get my baby. Get thee behind me, daughter of Satan!” Shanna switched off her computer. She collapsed in tears at her desk. There was only silence in the room.

Shanna was afraid to turn on her computer for several days, but strangely enough, for once in her life, she didn’t run to her parents or any of her Christianist friends to tell them what she experienced. She felt as much or more betrayed by their lack of compassion and understanding for her situation than any hatred or fear she could muster toward Ping. Before she finally decided to go online again, she thought about many things. What if Ping was right? She considered how much control her parents were imposing on her without her consent. She was an adult, and yet they were treating her like a child. She was a prisoner in her own home. To argue the point with them was as futile as resisting assimilation by the Borg. They would simply tell her it was for her own good, and they were doing it because they loved her so much. She didn’t understand now, but later she would thank them. She wondered if there could be such a thing as loving someone too much? She slowly pressed the power button on her computer, and the hard drive whirred to life. She sat staring at the same screen she saw before. “Are you there, Ping?” she asked quietly. She watched as the letters spilled across the screen.

“I am here, Shanna.”

* * * * * * *
The week passed quickly. Monty was busy from morning until late at night. There was a new passion about him everyone noticed. He was working his ass off from dawn to well beyond dusk until Shane finally insisted he take time off for recreation. Even then, he was busy entertaining his little sister, Bobby, and Dexter. Rocky went with them everywhere. He became their big brother and guardian. He stayed in his room at Monty’s most of the time, but when Monty was entertaining his slave brothers or Ramrod Russell, Rocky stayed in the downstairs bedroom in the foreman’s house. He was comfortable in both places, but came to enjoy Shane and Cole’s company. He was learning quickly and looked forward to returning to Mars Port and Venus to visit his relatives.

Thursday afternoon came and Jimmy Joe walked through the gate looking like he stepped out of a Western catalog. He was scrubbed from head to toe and smelled like a desert flower. It was his night to get away from the ranch, and he came to spend it with Monty. Ramrod Russell found Monty working in his leather shop finishing up the final repairs to the Ong’s tack. He worked on it off and on all week, but he was almost finished. One sight of Jimmy Joe made Monty’s blood drain from his head. Monty thought the big cowboy had to be one of the best, if not the finest, looking buckaroos he ever met. Jimmy Joe didn’t bother with small talk, he took Monty into his arms and kissed him hard. Monty could hardly get his breath. Jimmy Joe smelled so good Monty was ready to eat him right there, but he restrained himself; however, he couldn’t resist going through the slave ritual with his ramrod. Jimmy Joe was wearing another handsome pair of boots Monty never saw before, and they made his mouth water.

After they kissed another stimulating kiss, Monty fixed his ramrod a cup of coffee and went off to shower. He planned to clean himself right after he finished work. He wanted everything out of the way before his ramrod arrived, but Jimmy Joe never knew when he could get away. He surprised Monty a little early. They were invited to the big house for supper. Ms. Biddle moved Cajun night to Thursday that week because she had a social she wanted to attend Friday evening. All the regulars would be there.

Everyone had a good time at supper. The men seemed to be in good spirits as things were going well at all the ranches. Hoot and Cotton were careful not to mention anything about Burt being back among their slaves. When they found out about Angus banishing him from his ranch, they were not happy with him, but they were like two parents with a wayward child. They were disappointed with him and let him know. Their displeasure and hurt probably did more to bring Burt down than anything. The Admiral took his ship away from him. Lazarus said he could fly second chair, but he would have to work hard, keep his nose clean, and display more maturity to earn the right to be called captain of his own ship again. That cut him deeply. Some worried it might devastate Burt beyond repair, but he was a slave long enough, he knew he could rise above his set back. He made up his mind to let his experience with Jimmy Joe be a lesson for him, and he would make amends. He accepted the responsibility for his mistake and asked his masters to apologize to Ramrod Russell for him until he got a chance to do so himself.

“How is Coyote John coming along?” Shane asked Jimmy Joe.

“Tomorrow is his last day for his break-in period. He gets his first diaper Saturday and becomes a baby-slave. He’ll be allowed a few more privileges. He’s actually coming along better than anyone expected, but he’s much like I was. I suspect he’s just going through the motions," he replied.

“Ain’t that what you want him to be doing, Ramrod?” Cole asked, “Does it really matter how or why he’s doing it, if he’s doing what he should?”

“Yes and no,” replied Jimmy Joe, “Master Angus is watching him closely. If it comes down to a battle of wills between them two, there ain’t no doubt in my mind who’s gonna’ win, but I hate to see the cost Coyote John might have to pay.”

“We got us a couple of slaves who came to us from other ranches what’s been clipped. It don’t change ‘em much, but it shore' 'nuff calms ‘em down. So he has to sing soprano in the choir,” Hoot said dryly. The men laughed, but Monty didn’t. Jimmy Joe felt him bristle. He didn’t say anything but put his hand on Monty’s leg under the table.

Later, when they were alone, Jimmy Joe brought up the subject. “You still got feelings for Coyote John, Son?" he asked.

“I’d be a damn liar if’n I’s to deny it, Master Russell. You can’t share a close space with a man for six months, have sex with him two or three times a day whether you want to or not, and walk away without some feelings for him. Make no mistake, my feelings ain’t the same for Coyote John as they are for you. There ain’t no comparison, but ‘yes’ I care about him and what happens to him. I have an investment in him as a human being. I don’t wanna’ see Coyote John castrated jes’ like I wouldn’t wanna’ see no wild animal robbed of its masculinity. I don’t know if I could let that happen,” Monty said.

“What could you do, Monty?" Jimmy Joe asked.

“I don’t know, sir, I don’t know if there’s anything I can do, but I come to believe inaction can sometimes be worse than the worst action. I guess I just have to hope he comes around or breaks and becomes the slave you and Master Angus want him to be,” Monty replied.

“I know you’re learning about your talents ever’ day, Boy, but promise me you won’t go'n do some’um stupid. Whatever happens to him, he ain’t worth your effort trying to protect him from some’um he brung on his'self. H’it ain’t chore’ place to step in and be a hero for Coyote John Tin Penny. No one expects it, not even Coyote John his'self, and you could git chore’self in a whole mess a’ trouble. You could destroy all the faith and trust yore’ masters placed in you. I know you care about him, but I ain’t a bit jealous. I know'd ju' ain’t never had nothing with him like you done shared with me. I know it in ma' heart. You know what your problem is, Slave?” Jimmy Joe asked and answered before Monty had a chance to respond, “You’re too damn good for your own good. If you ever bond with anybody, human or critter, they become the most important thing in your life. You want to please them, and you want them to love you,” Jimmy Joe declared.

“Ain’t that what ever’body wants, Ramrod?" Monty asked.

“Some more’n others, but to you, it’s yore’ life’s blood,” Jimmy Joe said.

“I guess it’s hard for me to understand why I ain’t having to go through what Coyote and other slaves I’ve heard about go through. I know I’m a slave and I never forget it in my mind, but Captain Shane and Ramrod Jenkins, Master Morris, and Boss Potter treat me like I’s family. I try to remember my manners and always take them into consideration before I do anything, but they ain’t being mean to me or making me do the things I hear you men are doing to Coyote.”

“We ain’t doing nothing to Coyote John you ain’t done with me or your slave daddies. The difference is, you do it without being forced. You ain’t had to perform for your master because he’s got his own nest to feather. He pretty much leaves it up to his lead cowboy slaves and now me. There may come an evening when Captain Shane may test you to see if he thinks you’s fully devoted to him, but I doubt it. Remember how you explained to me not all boots are created equally, it depends on the circumstances?” Jimmy Joe asked.

"Yes, sir,” Monty replied.

“Not all slaves are created equally. What did you do so bad they made you a slave? You had sex with a woman you loved and what loved you. You weren’t even under age. You were both adults. You didn’t try to kill one of your buddies in a drunken barroom brawl over a whore. There’s a big difference. Look at Loud and Fuzzy. They were made slaves for being three time losers for drunk and disorderly conduct. There was a little property damage the last time, but it didn’t amount to a hill a' beans. You don’t see them being treated like we’re treating Coyote. I ain’t saying Bart Swinson and Telly Ferguson don’t make them old boys toe the line. If you asked them, I’ll bet they’ll tell you they require ever’ thing of them we do of Coyote. They jes’ go about it differently. Breaking a slave can be compared to breaking horses. Some you can work with and show they gotta’ do what you say, but you won’t hurt ‘em none if they cooperate with you. Others, you gotta’ saddle and ride ‘em down hard ‘til you break ‘em. You know Coyote. Do you think we could get him to cooperate if we treated him like Captain Shane treats his slaves?” the ramrod asked.

“Naw, sir. He’d jes’ laugh and do what he damn well pleased,” Monty replied.

“'Ere ya' go. There’s your answer. Besides, Shane Goodnight ain’t like Angus Goodnight. I don’t know’s he’d even consider taking on a slave like Coyote John. Shane was treated the same way we’s treating Coyote John. I know, I was there. In some ways they treated Shane worse. I seen what they put him through. You don't see no other slaves running around with rings through their nose, tits, and the head of their cock. Angus done that to his little brother to announce to the world he was first and foremost his slave. I have to admire Shane for still wearing 'em as a reminder to everyone he was once a slave. There were times I had to take care of Shane when Master Angus and his slaves went some’ers and Master Hoot and Cotton loaned me out to take care of their baby-slaves. Do you see the difference, Son?” Jimmy Joe asked almost in a pleading tone.

“Yes, sir, I think I understand. I keep forgetting some people like Coyote John will just take advantage. He did with me, but then again, I let him. I jes’ don’t think I could handle him being emasculated,” Monty said.

“Don’t dwell on it, Boy. Don't let it stick in yore' craw. In some ways yore' devotion to those you love is one of the most admirable things about you, but even that should be tempered with sound reason. I promise, if it should happen, it won’t be because we didn’t try ever’ damn thing we could to get him to break and submit willingly. He knows I been coming here to the ranch to see you. I don’t know how. I threatened my slaves with severe punishment if’n they told him anything. It’s one thing for slaves to gossip. They all do it. Hell I done it, but you don’t do it with a new slave during his break-in period. Coyote always asks about you. He wants to know ever’ thing you’re doing. I tell him a few things, but I don’t tell him a lot. I certainly don’t tell him about your talents or nothing about ma' new boots. I swear he took one look at them boots you gimme,' knew where I got ‘em, and who give ‘em to me. He got a funny grin on his face like he knew. He asks me if you been treat’n me right like a good slave should? I don’t tell him nothing, but I know he knows.” Jimmy Joe paused for a while. Monty didn’t respond. “I know what you’re think’n, Boy, but I don’t think it would be a good idea,” Jimmy Joe said, smiled, and shook his head.

“Probably wouldn’t do no good no ways,” Monty replied and smiled.

“I don’t know. To be honest, the thought done crossed my mind, but I wouldn’t let you do it without Master Angus’ approval. I got my job to think about,” he said.

“I would never jeopardize your job, Ramrod. I jes’ thought if I could talk with him for a while I might be able to convince him to try harder. I don’t know why. Ah, who the Hell a' my kid'n? He ain't never listen to a damn thing I said when we’s in jail together. He jes’ thought I’s a stupid kid what didn’t have sense enough to come in out of the rain. I certainly wouldn’t do nothing without your permission,” Monty conceded.

“Lemme’ talk with my bossman. He’s a crafty old codger. He might have an idea. Jes’ when I think he ain’t the brightest penny in the jar, he comes up with some’um what blows me away. I think he’s as interested as you and me to see Coyote John makes it. He ain’t the type what makes bargains with slaves, but there’s one young slave he’s devoted to who he would do anything for without him asking,” Jimmy Joe declared.

“Little Bear?” Monty asked.

“Yeah. Little Bear would never ask Master Angus for anything, and for that reason, Angus would move heaven and Earth to bring Coyote around. He loves the boy that much,” Jimmy Joe confirmed.

* * * * * * *
Monty showed Jimmy Joe the three new bodies in his lab. It was a little unnerving for the old cowboy, but it wasn’t like looking at dead people. It was obvious the bodies were very much alive. He couldn’t get over how much Dexter’s replacement body looked like Captain Shane and for a young adult male the bio-droid’s equipment rivaled his own. He remembered changing Shane’s diaper for him several times when he was a baby-slave. Shane was Angus’ little brother all right, and it made the ramrod’s asshole get a sharp twinge at the sight when he recalled his getaway retreat at Mars Port with his bossman. A satisfied smile crossed his face and his sphincter muscle itched.

The two younger bodies who were about the same size Dexter was currently, were fashioned after relatives of the Goodnight family with minor adjustments so they wouldn’t be mistaken for the originals. The adjustments were enhancements and according to Monty, the bio-droid children were more beautiful and handsome. Shane was pleased. Monty told Jimmy Joe they would be ready to receive the two young whale brains Monday or Tuesday of the following week. Monty had the deceased whale brain sitting outside his quarters in the full sun for almost a week. At the end of the week he planned to take it back to the lab for testing. If there were no signs of life he would return it to the rocks for further exposure to the sun.

Jimmy Joe and Monty spent a wonderful evening together. Monty didn’t morph for his ramrod that evening. He found himself with a deep need to be oral with his love object. Through trial and error Jimmy Joe learned the way Monty best responded to having his face fucked and gave the young man what he needed. Late in the night he knocked on Monty’s backdoor, and they shared one of their best couplings since they started cohabiting. It left them both drained. They were in wonderful spirits the next morning. They enjoyed a great breakfast at the big house, and afterward, Monty walked his ramrod back to the gate.

They said their goodbyes and Jimmy Joe went back to his duties at his ranch. When they were getting ready for their morning, Monty helped his ramrod on with the pair of boots he was in charge of for the week. Jimmy Joe left his older, worn pair with Monty to take care for him until the following Thursday. The old cowboy could swear the boots Monty took care of were filled with love. They never felt better. When he went in to check on Coyote John, the first thing the big Indian caught sight of was Jimmy Joe’s cleaned and polished boots. His knowing smile made the ramrod uneasy.

* * * * * * *
Shane gave Monty his approval to have his workers proceed with the installation of the two young whale brains. They were much further developed socially and had a much faster capacity for adjusting than the more mature brain of their Uncle Rocky. Monty allowed the young brains to remain hooked up to computer interfaces so they could see and learn. With Shane’s permission he allowed them to get robo-cam feeds from many of the people and critters on the ranch. Several from the other ranches volunteered for them to watch their daily lives.

The coyote cowboys thought it was a cool idea. The only time the brains couldn’t watch was in private moments which Kyron would oversee and shut down that particular feed. Children of any species learn at a more accelerated rate than their more mature counterparts. That’s not to say Rocky was any slouch or a dullard by any means. In his first week, he became so integrated within the ranch family an outsider couldn’t tell the difference between him and any other cowboy. He expressed an interest in working with the cowboys and began to learn faster than any hand they had. His strength was amazing. He didn’t need a horse to stop the largest steer. He would rope it, set his boot heels in the dirt, and the animal wasn’t going anywhere. When the cowboys asked why they couldn’t do that, Shane replied it was simple, they didn’t have titanium bones. Thus Shane’s comment was immediately picked up by the voices on the winds and became a popular new ballad about the bladder whale who died, was resurrected to cowboy heaven to live with his savior Captain Shane and all the cowboy saints who saved the living whales. The young whale exchanged his silicon stones for titanium bones. On an on it went about how Kuklacon the Venusian whale became Rocky the Earthling cowboy. It went to number one in several solar systems.

* * * * * * *
Friday afternoon, Monty had one last job to do around the old barn before he went to his quarters to clean up for supper. He was joining the rest of the men in the slave quarters. Ms. Biddle had a special night off to attend a social event. Monty was mucking out Jenny’s living area to put some fresh straw down for her comfort. To keep her out of his way he fed her to keep her busy. Easy thoughts of his ramrod filled his head. He could still smell Jimmy Joe’s musky masculine smell on him and his mustache. Monty was totally preoccupied. He wasn’t even thinking about what he was doing. As he was bending over a bale of hay to cut the wire with his clippers, he was startled when a huge set of arms gently engulfed him from the rear and slowly pulled him up close to the body of a big man. He figured it was one of his cowboy brothers, and allowed it to happen without fighting. The big man bussed a kiss behind his ear and spoke quietly, “I hear tell you got something for me, Slave-boy?” the man asked. Monty turned into the big arms of Angus Goodnight. A pleased smile crossed Monty’s face. “I also hear’d I gotta’ pay for it by providing you with some comfort,” Angus said and grinned as he placed his big rough hand on Monty's butt and pulled his crotch tight with his own so the slave might feel his master's excitement.

“Yes, sir, Master Goodnight, you done heard right,” Monty said as he threw his arms around Angus, hugged him, and laid his head on the big cowboys massive chest, “I wouldn’t ordinarily be so bold if’n I ain’t heard how good you was. You come 'highly' recommended, Master,” Monty said and chuckled at his unintended double entendre.

“And jes’ what is it you seek from me, Young Slave, and what have you heard?” Angus asked continuing the play.

“I would be happy to tell you, Master, but first I would beg to pay homage to your fine boots and pledge my love to you as yore' humble, obedient slave,” Monty replied with a smiled.

“Of course you should. I sometimes forgit there's a few slaves who actually enjoy the ritual,” Angus said releasing the young man. Monty fell to his knees and lovingly paid homage to his master’s boots. They completed the ritual with a goodly kiss.

“Thank you, Master Angus. Some master’s boots are more tasty and bring a slave’s heart more joy to pay homage to than others. Yours are particularly satisfying, sir. There really ain't no payment necessary, Master. A gift should be just that, a gift, but if you’re pleased, it’s always considered good manners to show your benefactor your appreciation, sir, even if he is a humble slave,” Monty said and smiled.

“And how would I do that, my handsome Slave-boy?” Angus asked as he stole another kiss.

“By breaking the maker of your gift to yore' saddle, sir,” Monty replied.

“How much appreciation will I have to show, Slave?” Angus played with him.

“Depending on how much you think my craftsmanship is worth, as much as you wish to gimme,' sir,” Monty replied.

“I hear’d tell you drive a hard bargain. I was told you didn’t want me to cheat chu’ none,” Angus challenged.

“Only because I heard your appreciation would be so fine, Master. While my ass ain’t the deed to the ranch, I certainly hope it might satisfy,” Monty said with humility.

Angus threw back his handsome head and laughed. “From what I heard, Slave, I ain’t got me no doubt it will. Are you through with yore’ chores, Son?” he asked.

“I have just a little left to do, and I’ll be finished, sir,” Monty replied.

“Here, lemme' give you a hand,” Angus grabbed a pitchfork and went to work alongside Monty. They finished in no time and left the old barn to the calls of a happy ass who was thrilled with her clean bedding. Monty could only imagine how happy his other ass might be a little later.

It was still early afternoon, but the sun was beginning to make its downward journey into night. Prior to moving the barn and his quarters to the Potter/Goodnight ranch the windows of his shack had an Eastern exposure, and the morning sun would fill his living area. Now it faced West, and his quarters were flooded with the late afternoon sun. He thought he liked the sunset better than the sunrise. The morning sun never seemed to offer much warmth, but in its new position, the setting sun kept his space warm and comfortable for hours after it took its leave for the night. As it was making its final descent, everything inside took on a magical quality. Objects and paintings sparkled and glowed like it was the last treasure hold of a great mountain king – perhaps, the great Elf King himself; however, unlike Der Erlkonig, Monty planned to deliver on his promise, and his promise, along with his gift, was for recreation and renewal. Monty excused himself to clean his body for the evening and supper. He asked Master Goodnight if he cared for something to drink. He could offer him coffee, some fresh, sweetened sun tea, or some Southern Comfort.

“What’s a slave doing with alcohol?” Angus asked.

“I didn’t know I weren’t suppose to have it, sir,” Monty said, “I bought a pint one evening thinking I’d git drunk. I brought it home, had one taste, ran to the bathroom, threw up, and never opened the bottle again. I just happen to have it from my days prior to becoming a slave,” Monty told the truth. Angus roared with laughter.

“Good. You won’t never become a drunk then. I think I’ll opt for some tea, Son,” he laughed. Monty made him a big Mason jar full with a sprig of mint he found growing down by the creek. He showed Angus his quarters. Angus heard about it, but this was the first time he got a chance to see for himself. He was as awed and blown away as everyone else. He couldn’t believe the paintings. Monty showed him everything including introducing him to both sets of workers. He showed Angus Dexter’s new body and the big cowboy fell apart laughing at the bio-droid’s likeness to his little brother. He loved the idea. He was also impressed and interested in the two small children’s bodies. Monty introduced him to the brains and told him they were to be placed into their new bodies Monday or Tuesday depending on his and his worker’s schedules. As they were leaving Monty’s leather working area he grabbed a box off one of the shelves and tucked it under his arm. He took Angus to his bedroom area.

“Can I help you undress, Master Goodnight?” Monty asked him. Angus grinned.

“If’n you git ma’ clothes off me, and help me on with them new boots, we ain’t leaving here until I pay for ‘em,” the big cowboy said.

“We got time. It’s early and they don’t serve supper in the slave quarters until seven on Friday nights. Lemme’s shuck ma’ clothes off first, sir,” Monty quickly took his boots off and stripped. He came to Angus who was sitting on the edge of his bed and helped him off with his boots, but not before paying a bit more homage to them. He helped the big cowboy undress and carefully laid out his clothes. When he was fully naked he handed him the box of boots. Angus sat on the bed again and slowly opened the box. A big smile crossed his face as he let out a low whistle. “Damn fine look’n pair of boots, Son. Takes me breath away. Did yore' ramrod buddy tell you I damn near tackled him and ripped his pair off’n him?” Angus said and laughed.

Monty laughed with him. “He told me you offered him the deed to yore’ ranch,” Monty replied.

“I did, but the sucker wouldn’t hear of it. Told me they weren’t for sale at no price. Did he tell you he wouldn’t let me fuck him less’n he was wear’n yore’ boots?” Angus asked. They fell together laughing.

“Naw, sir, he didn’t tell me that,” Monty admitted. He helped Angus on with his new buckaroo boots. He stood and stomped around in them like any good cowboy might. Angus grabbed Monty and held him close and stole a tender kiss.

“You better go clean yore’self, Slave. Do a good job, I feel a whole shit-load of appreciation coming on,” Angus said spreading his cowboy bullshit on heavy, “Do you wanna’ pay homage to ma’ new boots before you shower or afterward." he asked.

“Both, sir,” Monty replied. They shared another laugh.

“So be it,” Angus said and Monty fell to his knees.

* * * * * * *
Angus fucked the young slave with all the love and appreciation he could pour into him. He made damn sure he didn’t cheat the boy an inch. Monty got his all. The big cowboy had no idea Monty would be such a fine partner. If he wasn’t a man of reason and more of a selfish, romantic nature he could imagine himself coveting his ramrod’s buddy, but Angus wasn’t that way. That didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate a fine piece of buckaroo butt and a good fuck when it came his way, and this was certainly one of those times. Just about the time Angus was about to shoot his load, the sun leveled off and illuminated Monty’s bedroom with every color of the rainbow, but their individual bodies took on a bright red-orange glow about them.

It was as if they were two gods about to create a separate universe with the joy and love of their coupling. Monty wondered if that might have been the real story behind the big bang. Perhaps it wasn’t procreation so much as two gods conjoining to re-create themselves. It certainly was as valid a metaphor as four elephants supporting a disk on the back of a giant turtle. Angus ejaculated with a great roar and Monty had no problem getting his at the same time. They lay hooked together for some time stealing kisses and enjoying the moment.

“Are all them stories I be hear’n ‘bout you true, Son?” Angus asked.

“If’n you be hearing them from your ramrod or your little brother, yes sir, they be true,” Monty replied.

“You can change your shape to be most anything or anyone you want?” Angus asked.

“Yes, sir, as long as I got the person or critter’s genetic information on deposit in my body, I can morph into anything I want. Now I got me a big ole load of yore’ cowboy cream in ma’ gut, I can become a carbon copy of you,” Monty assured him.

“Can you become my ramrod?” Angus asked.

“Sure, I do quite often. I stand in front of my mirror and change into him ever’ night and jack off think’n on him,” Monty said quietly like it was true confession time.

“I never thought about it, but what the Hell, why not?” Angus said like an amazed kid and laughed, “Can you change into him right now with my dick up yore’ butt?” he asked.

“No problem, Master,” Monty replied and began to morph. Angus watched as the handsome young man morphed into the spitting image of his mature ramrod cowboy. It was like Angus was looking at Jimmy Joe in a new light. It was like he was looking into the soul of the good looking buckaroo.

“Oh, Son, that’s so hot!” Angus exclaimed and took a couple of extra long, deep strokes into the image of Jimmy Joe.

Monty smiled. “You horny old pervert,” Monty said just like Jimmy Joe might. Angus howled with laughter.

“He’s called me that,” Angus said still laughing, “And he’s right!” he exclaimed. Monty changed back. “Do I git dessert after supper?” Angus asked and grinned.

“It would be an honor, Master Angus. I’s hope’n you might like seconds. To break in a new pair of boots like them you really need several good rides. You might consider taking my ramrod buddy for a good ride in ‘em. I’m sure he wouldn't say 'no' to help you break ‘em in,” Monty teased.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Angus asked surprised.

“Ah, Hell no! Me and the ramrod ain’t that way. I want him to have all the happiness and joy he can git with me or without me,” Monty said.

Monty cleaned his master and himself. He helped Angus dress, dressed himself, and they walked through the lower meadow to the slave quarters for supper. No man missed Angus’ new boots, but no one said a word. There were a lot of knowing smiles and nods to one another, but not one comment was made... that is, until Shane walked in. He took one look at Angus' new boots, grinned real big, and shook his head. “Handsome new boots you be wear’n there, Brother,” Shane said. Everyone laughed nervously.

“Thanks, Little Brother, I think they’s quite nice ma'self,” Angus replied with a grin.

“Mr. Morris, make sure he signs a contract with my slave to pay for them boots,” Shane instructed his business manager. Cole almost fell on the floor laughing. Angus got a big, shit-eating grin on his face that said he deserved Shane's dig.

“He already done paid the first installment, Master Shane,” Monty spoke up on Angus’ behalf. Everyone in the bunkhouse roared with laughter.

“Good! Good! How many more payment' he got, Son?” Shane asked like a broker.

“Several. He promised to make another large deposit after supper,” the cowboy slaves were hooting, laughing, and slapping the table.

“Good! Glad to hear it. You keep 'at big fucker honest, Son,” Shane said and patted Monty on his back. Everyone laughed.

They sat down to a wonderful dinner. Supper in the slave quarters at the Potter/Goodnight ranch was always a treat. The cowboy slave cooks were excellent, and they never served a bad meal. They loved their work and went to great lengths to provide good, healthy, quality meals for the men. Even Boss Potter joined them. That evening they had six new slaves for supper. They were seasoned slaves from other small ranches which were going under and needed a home. A couple were rescued from a small ranch where the owner was cruel and mistreated them. They were afraid of their shadows and were almost starving to death when they were found. They were taken care of and nursed back to health by some slave rescue workers who came to Boss Potter and Shane and asked to take them in.

They couldn’t believe the good food and clean bunks they were given. Their personalities began to change almost immediately, and they became good contributing members of the cowboy slave family. The men sat and talked over dessert and coffee. Many of the slaves drifted out into the cool of the evening for some relaxation. Several were on kitchen duty and helped the cooks clean the dishes and mop the floors. Angus and Monty thanked the cooks, paid their respects to Boss Potter and Captain Shane and walked back through the meadow to the old barn and Monty’s quarters. Monty helped Angus undress again after he removed his own clothes. This time he wanted to suck Angus off and almost did, but Angus wanted more of Monty’s ass and fucked him again until he shot deep inside the young man.

They lay together talking afterward. “My ramrod done told me you said something to him about speaking to the Coyote,” Angus said.

“Yes, sir, but I don’t know's it would do any good. As you know, he’s awful set in his ways. He gives the term 'pig-headed' new dimensions,” Monty replied.

“Yeah, but ever’ man’s got a weak spot. Tonight’s his last night alone in his cage. They already done got him locked down for the night. Is it true you can transport yore’self from place to place?” Angus asked.

“Yes, sir, it ain’t hard,” Monty replied.

“I got me an idea, Son, if’n you're willing to go along with it,” Angus said.

“I’ll do anything you want, Master Angus, if it’ll help Coyote John and keep him from git’n castrated,” Monty replied.

“It jes' might. While I stay here and wait for you, go to him. They’s plenty of room for you in his cage. Don’t let-on me or your ramrod knows about you coming to him. Stay with him a while. If he should want sex with you, do you have a problem with it?” Angus asked.

“Naw, sir, not a bit. I love Coyote John. I don’t love him like I do Ramrod Russell or how I might love you, Master Shane, or my cowboy slave daddies, but I do love him, sir,” Monty replied.

“I understand, Son. I know what you’re saying. They’s different ways to love folks, but I think you got a pretty good grip on it. Offer him your comfort, but don’t give him your soul. Somehow, I know you understand what I’m git’n at without a lot of palaver from me,” Angus said.

“Yes, sir, I understand, but I might be gone for an hour or more, sir,” Monty warned him.

“I don’t care," Angus said, "I'll wait no matter how long it takes. I wanna’ be here when you git back. I wanna’ hear how he reacted, and you jes' might need me as a cushion to bounce back, if'n you know what I mean,” Angus said.

“I do, Master Angus, and I appreciate you giving me a chance,” Monty thanked him.

“If it works, that’s all I care about. Now where's that bottle of Comfort, Son?” Angus asked. Monty got it for him and brought him a clean glass. He poured Angus three fingers and set the bottle on the night stand next to him. Monty threw his large comforter over the big cowboy. Angus wished him well. Monty gave Angus a hug and a quick kiss, stood back from him, and disappeared. Angus couldn’t help chuckle to himself. He got up, found an extra large robe he guessed correctly Monty kept for guests, and put it on. He took his glass of Comfort and walked around looking at Monty’s treasures and his ramrod’s boots, cleaned, and polished in their place of honor on the orange crate with votive candles placed around. It was a nice sentiment and a strong statement of Monty’s affection and respect for Jimmy Joe Russell.

* * * * * * *
“What the fuck!” exclaimed a startled Coyote John Tin Penny when he realized there was another naked man in his cage with him, but he instinctively recognized it to be someone he knew. He raised himself on one arm and looked to see his former cell mate lying next to him naked. “Monty? Is that you, Kid?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes, John, it’s me. I didn’t know if I could find you, but I seemed to have nailed it,” he said and smiled in the soft light coming through the door into the room where Coyote’s cage was. Coyote John threw his arms around the young man and hugged him to himself. Monty felt the big Indian sobbing in his arms. He felt John pull his warm blanket up over Monty to get closer to him so they were touching skin to skin. He could feel the Coyote’s penis growing strong.

“How did you get here? I didn’t hear you come in. How did you get in my cage? The lock's still on,” he said.

“It’s a long story, John. You probably wouldn't believe me if'n I's to tell you. I wanted to come see you. I need to see if you’s all right,” Monty said and watched as tears came to Coyote’s eyes and a couple ran down his cheeks.

“I’m all right, Kid. You shouldn’t worry yourself none about me, but I’m happy and proud you did. I won’t ask how you got here. I’m an Indian and we believe some pretty way-out shit. I suspected there’s people what can project themselves from place to place or folks what can go from a dream state to a physical state some'ers else. Are you asleep? Are you dreaming yourself into my arms? Am I in a state of lucid dreaming?” Coyote asked.

“No, we're in Texas," Monty replied and laughed, "I think if you took a little of all them ideas, mixed them together, and tossed them out the window, you'd come close to understanding, John,” Monty laughed and stole a kiss.

“You always were a lovable little shit, but you could come up with some of the damnedest crap. You always could get a laugh out of me. Tell me, do you still love me, Boy?" the big Indian ask.

“Would I risk coming to you like this if I didn’t, John?” Monty asked in reply, “Do you still love me?” Monty asked and grinned at him.

“Still?” Coyote asked surprised, “Ain’t no sense lying to you, Boy. I didn’t realize how much I loved you until I lost you, but if any man should know me, it’s you. Even if'n I's to tell you I love you, you know my love ain’t worth a plug nickle. I can’t be the man you need. You need a daddy, Boy. You needed a daddy when you’s with me in jail. I knew it, but I’s too damn ornery, selfish, and set in my ways to even try to be what you needed. I knew what you's hurt'n for and took advantage of you. I give you just enough to git what I wanted and no more. Look at me, I got a boy of my own I failed miserably. I love him, but I couldn’t be what he needed either. I don’t know why, but I stopped worrying about it a long time ago. I jes’ can’t be what other people want me to be.

Coyote John continued, "I put Ramrod Russell onto you. I told him I done trained you-up to be a real good slave. I know'd he’s been fuck’n you. Don’t even try to deny it. I see the satisfied look on his face after he's been with you. I can always tell because he don't bathe for a day afterward, and I can smell your scent on him. He carries you with him ever' where he goes. He's smitten with you, Boy, and he’s the right man for the job. He’ll be the best gotdamn daddy you could ever want, Son. He’ll take good care of you. He'll raise you up right to be a fine respectable cowboy. He'll teach you to be a good man, and that's some'um I could never do for you. I couldn't be happier for either of you. Just like ma' boy's happy with his new family, I want you to be happy with Ramrod Russell,” Coyote John said.

“I ain’t got much time, John. They's watching me pretty close. I gotta' git back before they discover me gone. I come to take care of you. What’ll it be? You want a blow job or you want a piece a' my ass?” Monty asked and put to him like a used car salesman.

“I’d love me a big-ole piece of yore’ sweet ass, Boy,” Coyote said sincerely.

“Well, this time you gotta’ fuck me in the missionary position. You lied to me, you asshole! You can fuck a man face to face!” Monty exclaimed and grinned.

Coyote laughed. “Ah, Hell, you didn’t know no different. I fucked guys that way before. I don’t know how much good I can do you. They got a huge butt-plug strapped into my ass and when I git to moving about it massages my prostrate.* Makes me come real quick,” Coyote lamented.

“Do your best, Cowboy. I need me one a' them special rough-rider fuckings you used to gimme' from time to time,” Monty urged him. Coyote got on top and had no problem getting his erect cock into Monty’s ass. He fucked the young man hard for sometime and finally collapsed from the exhaustion of his climax. He lay on top of his partner for a while getting his breath. He withdrew and Monty cleaned him with his mouth. While he was going down on him Coyote let go some piss into his mouth. Monty gulped it down. Coyote released more until he drained himself.

“You ain’t had no problem becoming a slave, have you, Kid?” Coyote asked and smiled at Monty as he stole a kiss.

“Not a bit, John. You done trained me-up good. At’s what I come to talk with you about. Don’t jes’ play-act with them men, Coyote. Let ‘em break you. Play their silly game. Make 'em think they broke you anyway. Trust me, they ain’t to be fucked with. You can’t get around these men. I hear things. Slaves talk among themselves. If’n you don’t toe the line or allow yore’self to be broken they’s gonna’ cut chore’ balls off. They's dead serious, John. I love you jes' enough I don't wanna' see that happen. You ain't no hound dog, John. You never were. You's a wild fuck'n animal, and I can't stand the thought of that happening to any animal, especially one I come to know and care about. I done begged ‘em to let me come to you, but they wouldn’t. I thought if I come to you, you might listen to me. You know'd I ain’t got me no ax to grind, John. I jes’ come to love and care about you like you’s ma’ big ornery, mean-ass Indian brother. You're right, you weren't no daddy, but sometimes you treated me like a little brother. All I want for you is to be safe and sound. We took care of each other in jail, didn’t we?” Monty asked.

“Yeah, Kid, we made a good pair. You did all the giving, and I done all the taking. You trying to tell me it’s payback time?” Coyote asked as a challenge.

“Naw, sir. What payback? Don’t insult me, John. I done what I done because I wanted to, because I come to care about you, not because you took it from me. I thought you learned your lesson about that. You told me so, or were you lying to me?” Monty asked with anger and hurt in his voice.

“Easy, Kid. You’re right. I learnt ma' lesson the hard way. Don't hold no grudges, neither. That was thoughtless on my part, but that shouldn’t be nothing new to you. Lie back here in my arms, let me hold you and relax, Boy. Let this worthless old hound dog make a little love to ya,'” he ordered. Monty did as he was told and got the surprise of his young life. Coyote began to go down on him and suck his cock. Monty moved his hand down to stop Coyote, but he slapped his hand away and continued until Monty climaxed a big load. Coyote swallowed everything without gagging, but he didn’t stop. He kept sucking until Monty wondered. He released a little of his piss to Coyote, and he gulped it down. He sucked and sucked until Monty emptied himself into the big Indian. Monty was about to breakdown in tears he was so moved by Coyote John's actions.

“Does that tell you how much you mean to me, Boy, and how much I missed you?” Coyote asked, held Monty in his big arms, and bussed a kiss behind his ear.

“Yes, sir. Thanks, John. I needed that. It meant a lot. I love my old hound dog. I'll always love you. I hate to shoot and run, but I gotta' go now,” Monty said.

“I know you love me, and in my own perverted way I love you, Kid. Don't go – ” John started to beg. He barely got the word 'yet' out when Monty disappeared from his arms. He grabbed at nothing but air trying to keep Monty with him for a moment longer. He fell forward and wept into his blanket. He slept soundly with the smell of the young man surrounding him like a Sou'wester protects a fisherman from an oncoming storm.

End of Chapter 68 ~ Waco’s Lummox
Copyright ~ © ~ 2008 ~ 2017 ~ Waddie Greywolf ~ All Rights Reserved
Mail to: Waddie Greywolf <waddiebear@yahoo.com>
WC = 18,060
01/31/2017

* Poe’s Law: http://rationalwiki.com/wiki/index.php?title=Poe's_Law

* http://www.williamhenry.net/art_dis-cerning.html

* Coyote John’s a cowboy. He don’t know the difference between “prostate” and “prostrate.” Ain't real sure I do either.