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Chapter 1Jake's Dukes and

StevenDavid taught me how to read the

calendar in the kitchen. I never knew the humans could keep track of the days; I

don't know why they would. It never seemed important to me, but I will admit

it's been helpful in rememberin' important things like my birthday and gettin' my

coat trimmed. My favorite part of the year is at the beginnin' of spring. My

humans take me to the groomers at the store and leave me there for a day. I get to lay there chewin' on those

really nice bones with bacon strips tucked inside while a human cuts my fur

shorter. It takes forever, but I don't mind. I've gotten good at finishin' the

bone about the same time they finish with me. They don't even care how much I

drool on their table. When that's done, they take me to this big, slippery room

and I get to play in the hose. They rub this bubbly stuff that smells like

pineapple into my coat and massage my back. Man, it's so nice! My tail's goin' crazy

just thinkin' about it. The best part is when they get the big vacuum hose and suck

out all the sheddin' fur. I'd look like a big, blond cotton ball if my hair

wasn't short. I could just stay there all day gettin' petted and pampered. Sometimes there are other dogs in

there. One of our neighbors' dogs, a Malamute named Bruce, goes with us every

now and then, and David even comes along from time to time. I only see him

smile when they bring out the brush. (Even he can't resist!) Bruce is crazy

furry just like David. He sheds all over the truck while we're gonna' the store--so

much so that he and David had to ride in the bed this time. We're so happy to

have all that extra fur shaved off for the warm months. Down here in Texas, you got about two

months of really harsh winter, and the rest of the year is all over the place.

I never know if it's gonna' be hot or cold. Sometimes it's cold in the mornin' and

hot in the afternoon. Other times it's just hot all day, and I never know what

to expect. I'm glad we have the ponds on the ranch. There's nothing better than

jumpin' into the cool water after a long day in the sun. Even with the shorter

coat, you just can't get away from the heat some days. I feel bad for Bruce.

He's probably never been cool in his life. If he ain't pantin', somethings

wrong. I'd understand why a Malamute is down in Texas if he was here to help

his owners like I am, but Bruce isn't a workin' dog. He's the pet of my humans'

kids' friend, and he comes over a lot now that all the kids left. When I'm done workin', we play out in

the field. Once the sun starts goin' down, it cools off a lot. We get a couple

hours of where there's just enough light to see while bein' just cool enough to

forget about the heat entirely. You get to just relax without the sun in your

face and the smell of burnin' grass fillin' your nose. Apart from these pants I

have to wear, I don't think I could be happier. A bunch of years ago, I started gettin'

in trouble a lot when I got excited in the house. I'd start gettin' hot

all-over and thinkin' about buryin' my bone (if you know what I mean). It's not

like I was tryin' to make the humans upset. It just took me a few months to

learn that they didn't want to watch me play with myself. I stopped doin' it in

front of them, but it didn't change the urges or the way I would poke out of my

sheath every time my mind started to wander. My humans would put a blanket over me

to cover up, but I was already panting by then--way too hot for that. And the

feelin' of the blanket in my lap was just too good. I think they threw a couple

blankets and pillows away before they realized that wasn't gonna' work. I used

to be so sensitive to stuff like that. The wind blowin' the right way could set

me off, and I'd have to just stop and spill out in the field or at the dinner table.

At least they didn't cage me, and they laughed every now and then. I'm really

not sure what they wanted to be honest. Only the humans seemed to mind me takin'

care of myself like that. I had to run supplies between the barn and where the

horses, Buck, Carol, and Steven, were workin'. Steven and Carol would cheer me

on when I got goin'. I guess it's a cultural thing. It's such a pain to have to

leave the room when it gets hot and heavy like that, 'specially since the

humans know exactly why I'm leavin' anyway. It was a real distraction for a

couple years. Every summer, work picked up on the

ranch, but I was takin' breaks to deal with myself every two or three hours. David

said I was gonna' need to get a girlfriend or they were gonna' have me fixed,

but he never said what that meant. I don't really want a girlfriend or pups of

my own. I like bein' free to play on my own. Buck and Carol were havin' foals

at the time; Buck said that when dogs mate, we get stuck together forever, so

I'm gonna' wait until I find the right girl. If I'm gonna' get stuck forever, I

want to make sure I like her first. I probably won't get any girls because of

these ridiculous pants. I remember the week I got them. It was

my eighteenth birthday. The male human pulled me into his bedroom with David

and a box full of their human clothes. David never wore any clothes, so I

wasn't sure why I needed to. Then again, I never saw David out of his sheath,

not that I went lookin'--blech! It started with a pair of long blue

jeans. The knees were faded and ripped a little. It fit around my hips like a

glove, and the human seemed happy with it. I already wore this blue bandana

around my neck over my collar. It was nice to have if I wanted to dry my face.

It wasn't in the way, and it made sense for me to have it. But pants? David

said the pants were supposed to help keep me from givin' the humans an eyeful

of my junk; I could just excuse myself and leave when I had to deal with it instead

of playin' in the middle of the room. Apparently the humans didn't want to

watch after all. I guess they don't do it themselves. That makes sense, I

guess. I couldn't walk in the jeans. I tried,

but as soon as I moved, everyone started laughin'. Those pants constricted

everything so much! I couldn't bend my legs, and they squeezed my butt so much

that I felt like someone was holdin' me there. My tail was stuffed down into

one of the legs, too. It was awful. The brim of the top was up over my tail

bone, so it bent my tail too far up and hurt. I wanted to just cut a hole in

it, but gettin' my tail through would have been even harder. My tail is curly

and should be up against my back unless I'm in trouble; those jeans were just

impossible to wear. Let's not even talk about the obvious discomfort from havin'

my boys stuffed up in there. About as fast as it took David to tell

me I could take them off, I had already wriggled out and thrown them in the

corner. My fur felt matted and tangled. I was desperate for a brushin', standin'

there bow-legged and miserable, and it quickly set in that nothing in the box

of pants would be comfortable. We spent all day goin' through the different

options. What I thought was comfortable didn't work. What worked was

uncomfortable. The human and I were both gettin' frustrated at each other, and

David was losin' patience with me. I can't decide to be comfortable, and I

can't control my needs either. At one point I let the static build up in my

fur, and I would shock the human or David every time something they had me wear

was bad. There were a couple decent options,

things I could live with, but were still uncomfortable compared to the freedom

you get when not wearin' anything. A pair of cargo shorts made that list; loose

and short, they let me move pretty well and kept me covered. Still, the pockets

made it heavy, and it made runnin' harder when the legs pulled on each other

and rubbed on my thighs. I wore them for a day or two, but the tanglin' of my

fur became outright painful. Even the humans wanted them gone. I remember there was this harness-lookin'

thing they got for me, but it took a while to stuff all my goods into it in a

way they wouldn't fall out, and that kind of stuffin' is anything but

comfortable. Still, it was just a few straps and a pouch on the front. It had

one elastic band around the hips above the tailbone, then two more that wrapped

around my thighs right under my butt. David said it was made 'specially for

crossbreeds like me. It covered me up and gave me the freedom I wanted

everywhere else; I guess that's fine. It worked until I started gettin' all hot

again. The elastic didn't keep me from breachin' over the top or off to the

side of the pouch, and it just soaked up all my mess and made me wet and

uncomfortable. I was startin' to question the value of being single. We tried again with the jeans about a

week later. David said he had an idea, but I nearly threw up thinkin' about havin'

to squeeze myself into them again. This time, my humans weren't in the room.

Maybe they gave up. I would have, too. David sat me down on the corner of the

bed and started rummagin' through the box to find the jeans. "I used to have a similar problem,

you know," David said quietly. He never told me about himself, so I was

both curious and worried all at the same time. "I was quite the stud back

in my day. I had mates hike in from two counties over just to breed with

me." David pulled the jeans from the box and turned to me with the hint of

a smile on his face. "One young lady came all the war from Amarillo to

share a bed with me. I think you're gonna' be in a similar boat once your

seasons get milder." "You mated with a lot of girls,

but you're not stuck to them anymore?" I cocked my head at him. "What on Earth are you talkin' about?" "Buck says when dogs mate we get

stuck forever." David sighed and shook his head.

"Buck," he said with a smirk. "Is an idiot. Now, stop stallin'.

Let's get these pants worked out." "Are you really gonna' make me

wear those awful things again?" Somehow the thought of David makin' me

wear the jeans was worse than gettin' locked in the cage. I started thinkin' about

what I might have done to deserve this, but he laughed. "I had this apron they put on me.

It was pink, flowers on the side. I looked like a total fruit cake." David

shook his head. His fur cascaded down his chest, and the whole mane waved when

he talked. It was hard to stop lookin' at it, this rare effect, 'specially

since he was always so quiet. "Hold on, pup," he said. "I think

there's a way to make these work for everyone." He had a pair of scissors

in his hand and took some rugged cuts into the legs midway between the knees

and the hips. "We'll start there for now." He tossed the cut-off-shorts

at me. "There; put 'em on." My stomach turned when the denim hit my

hands. I shuffled into the pants again, embarrassed and anxious to get them off

as soon as a foot slipped through. I swallowed a lump of nausea when the

constriction met my cargo. "It's like they're tryin' to stuff my balls up

in my stomach when they make me wear pants." I had to wonder how and why

the humans always wore these. It's not like I needed help keepin' warm. "Oh, I know," he replied.

"That's why I kept the apron." David walked towards me once the pants

were on. I was, again, mummified, and whined to share with him just how sad I

was. David kneeled down in front of me and started lookin' close at my front.

"I think there's a way to get some more room in there." He undid the

button on the pants and pulled the zipper down. I let out a shameless grunt of

relief as my anatomy flopped out. "There's a couple of extra panels of

fabric in there we could put together instead of that zipper. Should give you a

lot more space to work with." He put a hand on my hip and turned me

to the side, askin', "How is it on the legs?" I could feel his hand

pressin' the crease between by butt and my thighs. "Is this the

problem?" I nodded, tryin' to bend my leg at the hip. I got maybe an inch

before the fabric pinched. "It's weird havin' my tail pressed

down like that," I complained. "Can they fix that, too?" "Probably. A little cut right

there, right where the belt goes," David's finger hooked over the brim of

the pants right at my tail bone and tugged a little. "...That would probably

give the space you need. I think we could move that useless zipper back there,

too. I'll have to ask what she can do." David held my hip again and turned

my back to him. My tail was tryin' to wag; the thought

of finally findin' a solution was more than excitin'. I put my hands on the

bedding and leaned forward. The air in the room was still and stagnant, gettin'

warmer. "Can we turn on a fan?" I asked while lookin' around to see

if there even was one in the room. "I've got three times the coat you

do, and you're tellin' me it's hot?" David scoffed and put his hands

between my thighs, pushin' them apart. It felt weird with the fabric between

his hand and my thigh--didn't feel like David's hand. A wave of heat washed over

me in the moment, and I started to wonder what it might feel like to have Bruce

do that to me. My tongue rolled out of my mouth, and I began to pant a little. "I'm gonna' cut these legs

shorter," David said. His voice brought me back to reality like wakin' from

a nap. I looked down and saw I was peekin' from my sheath. I started tryin' to

distract myself with thoughts of runnin' around in the sprinklers. Why did I

think of Bruce? I felt the cool metal of the scissors

run against my thigh as he mounted them on the edge of one of the jeans' legs.

I wasn't excited about the scissors bein' that close to my boys, but there was

not much to be done. The sound of the jeans bein' cut was so nice--I just liked

the sound in general, but 'specially because I could tell it was givin' my leg

more mobility. He cut up until it was only a couple inches below the lower

crease of my butt. "How's that?" David pulled

the scissors away, and I lifted that leg out to the side as far as I could

before it became uncomfortable. "It's definitely better, but it

still pinches." I pointed to the obvious crease encircling the curvature

of my butt. "Can you do it shorter?" "If I go any shorter, Jake, you're

gonna' look like a bigger fruitcake than I did in that apron." David's

tone was something between jokin' and disgust as he pulled my ankle back down

to the carpet. I moved my foot back into the imprint it had made while standin'

there. "Please, David? I don't care how I

look. I just want to be comfortable." "Fine, I'll make them as short as

I can," David said while mounting the scissors back up on the shorter leg.

"Just don't come cryin' to me when the workers start teasin' you." My

tail began waggin', constricted by the uncut pant leg, but still evident enough

that David had to hold it in place until I calmed down. He began cuttin' it shorter again, this

time cuttin' above where my butt met my leg, over the corner of my hip where my

legs made the outer joints. "Turn around, pup." David

tugged on my hip. "I need to be careful goin' around the front. No point

doin' any of this if you get yourself caught in the scissors." My tail was never as still as I turned

to face him. I brought my tongue back into my mouth as not to breathe all over

him while he was below me. He mounted the scissors again and began to cut. It

was like he knew exactly where to make the cuts. I was sad that they would have

to zip up the front again. I almost enjoyed havin' the pants on when they were

this open. "You smell strong," David

said lowly. "This time of the year, all the women start pickin' up scents

like yours, lookin' to mate. I'm shocked nobody's come by the ranch lookin' for

you yet with a scent that strong--damn!" He put his wrist over his nose and

shook his head. "Sorry," I muttered. It was

genuine, but I was so tired of apologizin' that I couldn't help but give a

little sass. "Let's get this finished up so you

can get that thing out of my face." Another minute or so later, he had my

leg up on the bed to cut along my underside. I could feel the weight of the

denim disappear as he made the final snip. One side of me was still anchored,

but I could barely tell I was wearin' anything on the side he cut. "How's that?" He asked, standin'

up with a mild grunt. "This is awesome!" My tail

became erratic again. "Now, the other side?" I turned my back to him

again, leanin' forward, hands on the bedding and feet in their little spots

again. I looked over my shoulder at him and smiled wide. Who wouldn't be

overjoyed? "I'll cut the other side to match

and give them to the humans to finish up. No need to do both sides while you're

in 'em. Now, give them back." Part of me liked bein' able to talk to

David, so it was sad to have to stop, but it was just too nice to know I would

have a suitable pair of pants soon. I dragged the pants off and handed them

back. "Thanks so much, David," I

said as I reached out to hug him. He didn't hug back, but I think he appreciated

it. "No problem, pup." David

tossed the pants back into the box, put the scissors in the drawer, and began

walkin' towards the door.  "Now, go

have some fun. I'll come find you when they're done." Ears perked and tail flappin', I raced

out of the room and into the yard. I must have run a dozen laps around the

fences just to burn off all the excitement. When I was finally exhausted, I

laid down next to the pond near the woods. Nothing on the ranch could see me

out there. It was kinda' my secret spot to relax away from everyone. I started thinkin' about Bruce. I had

never envisioned him like that, pettin' me like that, but now I couldn't stop. It

was too hot to be thinkin' like that. I moved down into the water with the

surface ripplin' up against my hips. The cool water felt great between my toes.

I splashed a little onto my tummy and laid back. It wasn't quite sunset, but

the trees were tall enough to keep the sun out of my face. I could feel myself

growin' out of my sheath with the odd flicker of imagination convincin' me that

the water's ripples were someone's fingers grazin' over my sheath and the thumpin'

muscle inside it. Did Bruce ever think like that about

me? He was a couple years older than me, so maybe he was past all this. I ran

my hands against the insides of my thighs and tried to get that same feelin' as

before, but it just wasn't the same. It had to be someone else's hands. I

enjoyed just lyin' there. Normally, as soon as I started gettin' hot, I just

played with myself until I was finished, but this was different. I wanted to

just let it happen on its own. My entire train of thought was

different when I was hot like that. Lyin' there, the cicadas became a hypnotic

backdrop to the haziness that covered my thinkin'. I could feel the things I

thought about, and the more I leaned into those thoughts, the hotter I got. The

water quickly stopped bein' enough to keep me cool. I let my tongue hang over

the side of my mouth and panted however loud I needed to. My toes kept curlin' in

the water, and my hands moved wherever they wanted. I had never been this

involved before. A breeze shifted the trees and perked

my ears, drawin' me back from the intoxication of my daydreams. With a deep

breath, I realized how big my tool had grown. The tip rested above my navel and

was leakin' continuously into it. I wasn't sure what was water and what was

something else, and I liked it. I tried to sink back into my daydreams again,

but I just couldn't find them. I started to wonder if what David said about the

teasin' would be true. I wasn't very close to the others, but

they liked me. David seemed happy even though he was teased, and it's not like

I was wearin' an old woman's baking apron. They're just shorts. Really short

shorts, but still guys' pants. I could feel the throbbin' meat on my tummy

weaken and begin to pull back into my sheath. I thought about savin' it for

later, as if this episode was just to charge it up for a better finale. There's

something of an art to pleasurin' yourself, and I was just realizin' it in that

moment. Once it finally subsided and withdrew into my sheath, I got up and

shook myself as dry as I could. What dampness was left did a lot to further

cool me down in the wind--I almost got cold walkin' back toward the house. The

sky was turnin' pink and orange, the sun tired and ready for bed. I wondered if Steven knew anything about

Bruce. Those two always got along really well, and Steven joined us to play out

in the fields when he wasn't stuck workin' overtime to cover for pregnant Carol.

Passin' by their little house built by the stables, I thought to knock on the

door, but Buck walked out just as I approached the doorstep. "Oh," Started Buck. "Hey,

Jake." He looked like he was on his way to the stables again with a large

pitchfork over his shoulder. I couldn't help but admire his physique. His skin

was tight over his muscles, and I could see the vein runnin' up his bicep. His

hair was short enough that it gleamed--smooth for horse's hair, that's for

sure. My eyes were closin' a little in thinkin' about it. I eyed the details of

his muscles, drifting down from curve to curve until he spoke up: "What's

up, kiddo?" I had narrowly avoided gettin' caught, shook my head to clear

my mind, and smiled back to him. "Is Steven home?" "Yeah," Buck said, twistin' his

chiseled torso to point over his opposite shoulder. His mane lifted in the

wind. I thought about what sounds he would make when he was turned on. I could

barely think straight anymore. "He's in his room, but he's about to head

to the barn I think. There's more hay to stack up. Actually--" Buck

dismounted the pitchfork from his shoulder and handed it out to me. "You could

take this over there and save me the trip. Oh, and there's some rope in there

I'll need in the stables. Can you bring that back when you're done?" I just nodded; I knew my face looked

heavy, but I was too focused on not lookin' at Buck's naked lower half. The

curiosity was burnin' me, but I managed to avoid lookin'. I'm not sure why I

needed to. It wasn't like we didn't look at each other all the time. They'd had

an eyeful and a half of me by now. Now, I wanted to see more of him. Walkin' away with the pitchfork in both

hands, I thought about how Buck barely had a sheath to speak of, his tool

tucked neatly away, and how his balls could each fill my whole hand. I had

observed this before, but it never mattered until now. I wanted to look, but I

didn't do it. I wanted to see what it looked like when he was hot and heavy

like me. I wanted to do more than look. Carol said he was big for a horse. I

thought I might have to hug it with both arms to get anything done. That's probably not true. Could I wrap

my hand around it though? I held out my hand to let my eyes measure the girth I

was imaginin'. I caught myself pokin' out of my sheath and took a deep breath,

lookin' around to see if anyone saw me. I'm not sure why, but I didn't want to

be seen like this even though I'd openly played with myself in the middle of

the field before. They've all seen it, but, somehow, this was different. This

time is was for someone. I had to check the barn to make sure

the vagrant owl wasn't hangin' around. He was nice, but I wanted to be alone

with Steven when I talked to him. I set the pitchfork on the long table and

crawled up on one of the barrels. Come to think of it, I had never taken the

time to appreciate the barn. I sat and looked up at the loft where the owl

stayed and the mounds of hay that filled the lower level. Poor Steven had to

turn that mess into bales and stack them up in the loft. The sound of Steven's hooves perked my

ears as he approached the door, and I looked toward it eagerly. My tail began

flappin' behind me, and I leaned forward with my palms on the edge of the

barrel between my knees. Steven walked in whistlin', turned to

shut the door, and continued walkin' in. He must have not seen me, because he

got almost half way through the room before he stopped. He jumped a little. I

couldn't help but giggle. I'd never spooked a horse before. "Jesus--you blend right in with the

hay, Jake." He put a hand over his heart and laughed, puttin' a hand on

his knee and breathing deep. "Warn me next time you're gonna' sneak in

here." "I didn't sneak. Buck wanted me to

bring the pitchfork for you." "Oh, thanks." With a last

sigh, he stood up and walked toward the table. I kept my eyes fixed on him

while he walked. My legs began to swing a little, heels knockin' against the

barrel's side. "Er, something on your mind, Blondie? You're starin' at me

like a hawk." "Buck wanted some rope, but I

didn't find it." "Oh, it's up in the loft where it

always is unless that bum owl snatched it." Steven grabbed the pitchfork

and walked over to the hay mounds with a wheel barrow. "I thought you were

done for the day, Jake? I mean, I appreciate the help." "I just felt like hangin' out I

guess." I knew where the rope was. "That's not like you. Everything alright?" "Yeah." A lump formed in my

throat. I wanted to ask him what it was like to be with someone, but I just

couldn't bring myself to speak the words. I hopped off the barrel and walked to

the ladder. When I reached the top, I took a moment to look back down at

Steven. He was shufflin' through the hay with

the pitchfork to untangle it. I could see every muscle in his back from his

tail to his broad shoulders. After a shiver, I moved over to the rope and

tossed the coil down to the ground floor. "If you're lookin' for something to

do," Steven said in short breaks between thrusts at the hay. "You

could always help me haul this off to the packer. Four hands make it faster,

even if two of those hands are attached to noodle arms." He laughed, and I

smiled along with him as I hopped off the ladder. "I'd rather jump around in

it." "You save that for the leaves next

fall, Blondie." He began liftin' clumps of loose hay into the wheel

barrow. "Let's not make more work for me." I made my way to the barrel and hopped

back up on it in the same position I had been when Steven entered. My tail

swished from side to side gently. I quietly watched him work for some time.

Breakin' the hay from the mounds into looser clumps took a bit of back work,

and I took the time to admire it. I guess that's not really true. I was askin' him

questions in my head, things I really wanted to know, needed to know. I had a

long list, and I ran through it a couple times. "Who do you think about..." I

began speakin' without realizin' what I was sayin', and, by the time I caught

myself, it was too late to stop. "When you're playin' with yourself?" Steven stopped and stood upright; he

didn't turn or look at me. "I figured there was more to this visit than

some rope." He took a deep breath and set the pitchfork against the

support beam. "I don't know what I'm

saying..." I got very quiet, and I could feel all the nerves in my stomach

goin' at once. "I just needed to talk to someone." "What, have you got a girl you're

hot for now?" He turned towards me, wringin' his hands and dustin' them

off.  "Look, I'm no good with girl

advice, but I can try. Buck's the one with the mare, you know. That's not

really my thing." I fixed my eyes on his. I didn't really

know what to say; I just wanted him to keep talkin'. "What do you

mean?" "Eh," Steven shrugged. "It's

complicated, Blondie." He scratched his mane and sighed, leanin' against

the beam. "I'm not really thinkin' about a female right n--" He

accidentally knocked the pitchfork over as he spoke and stopped to pick it up. "Neither am I." He stopped

reachin' for the pitchfork when I said it. I had to look away. I knew he was

smarter than me, and I knew he would realize what I meant. He stood upright and

faced me. I wondered which of us was faster if I needed to run for the door.

David would have killed me if he knew I was interested in another guy. He hated

the idea of it. I never really thought about what Steven might think, and I was

all of a sudden about to find out the hard way. "Oh... Huh. I always took you for

a breeder." Steven began walkin' closer to me. I felt his big hand on my

shoulder, and I looked up at him to see him smilin'. "Don't be sad, Jake.

I won't tell anyone." He shook me by the shoulder a little, turned, and

resumed his work. It was like this thing that had eaten me away all afternoon

was no big deal. That was nice. "Earlier I thought about another

guy, and it set me off again, stronger than before." "Who?" "Promise you won't laugh." I

gave him a stern look. He turned and made a zippin' gesture over his mouth. I

said, "Bruce," and looked away as it escaped my mouth. I heard him

crack up and begin apologizin' immediately. "Okay, okay," he said, composing

himself. "Alright. I mean, he's a nice guy, Jake. You're pretty close.

Sorry for laughin'; I don't know why I thought you were gonna' say, 'David.' " I punched him in the arm and snarled,

"Oh, god no!" He flinched and began laughin' again. "Alright, ease up, cowboy! Just

havin' some fun is all." Steven reclined against the table and crossed his

ankles and arms, lookin' at me with his head tilted just slightly. "Now,

what started all this?" I told him about David's plan to cut

down the pants and how it was goin' well: "Up until he was right there

behind me and spread my legs like this--" and I repeated the motion to

Steven. I put my knees together and stuffed my hands between them afterward.

"I don't know--something about how it felt to have someone else do that just

messed with me, and I don't know why I pictured Bruce. I spent a couple hours

just lettin' my mind wander down by my pond. I've never been that hot

before." I put a hand on my tummy and noticed that my navel was still a

little slick; that was not water. "I made such a mess without even finishin',

and now I can't think straight." I paused and let the silence take over

for a moment. He was a good listener. I let the quiet sink in for a bit before

continuin'. "I had to talk to someone, and I don't know why I thought

you're the only one I thought might..." I couldn't finish the sentence. I

was tired of talkin', convinced I had nothing important left to tell him. "Understand?" Steven finished

my sentence for me. "Yeah." "More than you know, Jake." "What should I do?" I looked

up at him. Could it be he had an answer? He seemed so composed. He must have

learned some kind of trick to it. "Tell him." "But he likes girls." I

looked back down at the little alcove Steven dug into the hay mound and wanted

to go crawl in it and sleep forever. There was a long pause. Steven realized

I wasn't gonna' be convinced, and I was glad he didn't try. "Guess I

should answer your question," he said. "My question?" "Yeah, who I think about when I'm

alone." "Who?" I could see a coy smile on his face as

he opened his mouth to speak. "Buck." I suspect he never told anyone

other than me, and he was devilishly amused by the confession. I could tell he

was gettin' chills, and he shook his head with a gentle whinny. "He's got

legs strong enough to kick down this barn and arms big enough to rebuild it.

Have you seen that man's ass--oof!" I couldn't help but laugh a little, and

a wide smile lingered on my face when I stopped. "Hey, no laughing!" He pushed

my arm with his knuckles, knowin' better than to actually punch me back. "You

can't deny he's a hunk." "I never really noticed until

today. I think he might have seen me lookin'." "Oh, be careful, Blondie. Those

eyes of yours will get you in trouble." We laughed together and let the

image of Buck's bare, blushin' bum carry us into a comical afterglow. It wore

off soon enough. "Steven," I started, lookin' at

him. "Yeah?" "Do you ever think of me?" I

think I spooked him again. "I, uh..." He took a deep

breath and sighed out, shifting on the table only to land back in the same

position. "I mean, you... Er." He rubbed his forehead, looked at the

door, and looked back at me. "You walk around the ranch with your tail up

like an open invitation. Half the time when you come to drop something off,

you're standin' at attention like I'm supposed to do something about it.

Honestly, I've thought several times that you're tryin' to get with me, but I

never asked. You're always so... clueless. You probably don't even realize how much

you show off to everyone." "I'm sorry." I looked back at

the pitchfork. I had never been so embarrassed in my life. My tail sank down

over the edge of the barrel, ears pulled back. One hand remained between my

knees while the other held onto the opposite shoulder. I was slowly curling.

"Nobody told me to hide myself except the humans, so I thought you all

didn't mind. You could have said something." "I didn't mean it like that,"

he said. He rubbed my back then scratched with his thumb behind my ear. "I

was tryin' to say, 'Yes.' I'm sure anyone who likes guys has thought about you.

Carol teases me all the time about you. Why do you think she cheers you on when

you're out there paintin' the fences?" It brought a smile to my face to know

they weren't teasin' me after all, but teasin' Steven. I turned my head into

his hand and nuzzled at his wrist. I closed my eyes and felt a sense of relief

wash over my mind. Steven's hand scratched lightly behind my ears. This time,

it was all five fingers. I could have fallen asleep there; I just relaxed and

let him pet on me. I'm a sucker for a good scratcher. I think he was relieved

to talk to someone, too. I started thinkin' about Bruce and what

I might say to him, if anything. My tail swished every now and again when I

remembered where I was; my arms relaxed, and I held my hands in my lap. My mind

was wanderin', and I wasn't goin' to stop it. I thought about how nice Bruce

looked comin' back from the groomers. You could really get a sense of how...

solid he was when his coat was short. He's the kind of guy you could give a

real hug to, someone who doesn't flop when you squeeze him. I thought about how

soft his chest would be when I hugged him and pressed my ear to his heart. I thought about how our hips would

touch and how warm he would be pressin' against me. My mouth opened a little;

Steven's hand scratched under my jaw on the neck. I turned my head to give him

more room. Steven's chest looked soft, too. I'd never considered a horse before

today. I remembered how the light made Buck's skin look so tight. I wanted to

just chew on him. I could feel it in my gums--just the urge to bite on something.

My mouth began to water a little. I tried to keep from droolin' on myself, but

there was only so much I could do with visions of turning Buck into a chew toy

in my head. I hear Steven chuckle; I'm sure he knew what my imagination was up

to. His hand moved down my shoulder and rubbed the small of my back. I wondered how big Buck would get when

he got turned on, how wet his belly would be when he was layin' down thinkin' about

someone else, thinkin' about me. I wondered how it might taste if he let me

lick him. I shivered, swallowed, and found my tongue hangin' from my open maw.

I was pantin' gently, and I realized that I no longer knew where Steven's hand

was. Lookin' down, I could see it placed on my thigh; his other hand had

removed my bandana from around my shoulders and set it on the table next to us.

I didn't even notice it was gone. I was peekin' out of my sheath again. I

looked up at Steven and saw his face was relaxed, his eyes heavy. He wasn't

lookin' at my face. I stared at his big, black eyes for a little while, and he

eventually looked back. His hand moved no more than an inch inwards, but I

reacted immediately without thinking about it. I was always afraid of gettin'

in their way. Years of working together trained me to yield to him. My arm

closest to his hand pulled up, moved back, and rested behind me on the barrel.

Without realizin' it, I made myself open to him, invited him in, and he

obliged. Steven's hand pulled away from my

thigh. He stood up and walked in front of me. Sittin' there, my knees came to

about where his hips met his thighs; my eyes met his delicious chest, and I

looked up to him with a cocked head. What was he up to? My knees came together.

My other arm joined the first behind me, and I leaned back against them to give

myself some space. I kept my eyes on his, my tail brushin' from side to side. I

started to smell something new, something strong. My feet started to shake. Steven looked so serious, and I was

anxious about how I was presentin' myself to him like that. I was still growin'

out of my sheath slowly. It picked up pace when Steven's big hands wrapped onto

my knees, thumbs together in the valley between my thighs. Both his hands

pushed gently up my legs, and the rush of blood to my head made me dizzy. I tilted my head back and closed my

eyes. My legs were shakin' now, and a knot grew in my stomach as his fingers

reached the tops of my thighs. His thumbs cradled my cargo, and he lifted each

unit with a thumb, appraisin' the value of their contents. His hands moved a

little further up, and his thumbs traced where my sheath met my lower belly,

the fur still damp and slick from the pond. My tool was throbbin'. Every time he

moved his hands, I clenched, and I could feel some of that slick mess poolin' up

on my tip into a thick drop, which ran quickly back down my shaft and onto

Steven's thumb. I was pantin' loudly. I didn't care. I was eagerly awaitin' whatever

Steven might do with me. I was eager, sure, but not ready. He

ran a leathery fingertip along my shaft from base to tip, usin' the trail left

earlier to slide smoothly. I quivered and stopped pantin' for a moment to

breathe in, the exhale stealin' a gentle whine from my throat. I moved my right

hand without meanin' to; I tried to grab his hand, but he grabbed mine first

and set it back down on the barrel. I looked down at the crime scene that was

my lap and then back up at Steven. I hadn't planned this, but like hell I was

going to back down now. He was focused on my lap as well, ignoring

that I was lookin' at him. I couldn't keep my eyes open for long. One finger's

strokin' turned to a palm, and the rest of the fingers wrapped around to

envelop me. I could feel my pulse as I throbbed against the gentle pressure

applied by his hand, and the smallest of his movements was plugged right into

my breathing. He played me like an instrument there in the barn. Steven made me

gasp, whimper, whine, and yelp on command. He did everything I had done to

myself a hundred times, but I moaned like a hot bitch when it was his hands and

not mine. He pushed his fingers between my thighs

and pulled my legs apart. It was everything I wanted, and I submitted to him. I

could smell him becomin' even more aroused now, and I'm sure he could smell me.

I watched him play with me. He was touchin' himself as well with his free hand,

and I watched his own pleasure growin'. It looked heavy. It pulled down on his

sheath as more came out. I could see the vein runnin' along the top and the way

is compressed as he squeezed. It was plump--looked like a juicy steak, and my

gums became sensitive to the idea of feelin' it press against the roof of my

mouth. My tongue hung out of my maw and dripped with saliva. I drooled onto my

chest, and neither of us cared. When Steven had finally coaxed the rest

of himself out of his sheath, he placed his meat onto the barrel between my

thighs in the space he made for himself. He used a finger to rub the blunt head

around where he was drippin'. My hand shook as I lifted it from the top of the

barrel, positioning it on my thigh as if waitin' for his permission to go any

further. "Go on..." I had never heard

his voice so low and sincere. I swallowed and took a deep breath,

holdin' it as best I could while he gently stroked me. I put my fingers on the

length of meat presented before me. It was hotter than I thought it would be,

and it was firm enough to hold its shape while still soft enough to fit my hand

perfectly when I squeezed it. I wrapped my hand around it. My fingers couldn't reach

my thumb. "You look surprised," he

cooed at me. "Were you expectin' something else?" I just looked at him and smiled after

he did. I shook my head. "There's just so much." I brought my other

hand around and grabbed a little further down the shaft and lifted. "I

don't even know what to do with all of it." "Whatever you want, cowboy."

He stopped strokin' me, pullin' his arm away to give me space. There was nothing

between me and my giant, juicy new toy. I pulled it close to my face. He was

almost as long as my torso when I sat upright, and I had the perfect distance

from where it peaked to my nose to get both nostrils filled with his scent

right from the source. It was a drug of some kind. I looked up at him. "Can

I...?" I looked away, embarrassed to ask something that sounded so silly. "Don't let me stop you." He

put his dry hand on my head between my ears and ruffled my fur a bit. I could

feel a little force from his fingertips, pullin' my head a little closer to

him. That was signal enough. I scooted closer to the edge of the

barrel and sat up straighter, usin' my hands to scaffold his tool upright. My

tail flicked back and forth. My pantin' was heavy, and I could feel the wetness

of my breath coat the head of Steven's gift. I nervously pushed my tongue out

past my teeth and let it land flat and broad at the crown of his head, waitin' for

my droolin' to run down my tongue and lubricate what was without-a-doubt the

best thing I ever licked. I pushed my tongue across the head, eyes closed. I

imagined the shape as my tongue scanned it, but I was thrown off my train of

thought by the taste of his pre. Salty, slippery, sticky, and supple,

this single drop sent me into a frenzy. I hurried the rest of that lick and

went back for more. My grip tightened, my back arched, and my tail came to

attention. I wanted more of it. I heard Steven gasp. I don't think either of us

was ready for it. I lapped at his head eagerly, focusin' on where the pre came

from whenever it did. I could have stayed there for hours like that. "Let me help," Steven said

after some time. I hadn't the slightest idea what I was doin'. I just wanted

more. There were cords of our saliva-pre mixture between his meat and my mouth

as he pulled me away from it. I felt awful havin' to stop. He pulled my hands

off of him and put his own there instead. I put my hands in my lap and felt a

pool of my own pre had formed between my thighs. I looked down to see how much

was there, but I was intercepted my Steven's tool bein' pressed against my

nose. I didn't think twice and began lickin' again. He put a hand on my head

like before and gripped a little where my fur was thicker. He kept me from movin'.

Instead, he moved himself such that I could only lick where he let me. "There's a lot to play with."

I was lickin' the shaft a few inches below the head then. "Don't just do

one spot." I licked whatever I could reach, tryin'

greedily to get more than he would let me. When he had some pre built up, he'd

let me lap at the head until it was clean. "Good boy..." He trailed off.

Those words were strong to me; they made me confident. "I want to see you finish," I

said to him, pullin' away. My muzzle was a mess with saliva and pre smeared all

over. "There's gonna' be a lot. You

ready?" "Yeah. Show me." "Alright, cowboy. Sit still."

He let me go and put both hands on his shaft. He used the product of my labor

to lubricate his hands, and he began to massage the full length of his meat. I

was sittin' shotgun, hands grippin' the edge of the barrel under me. I wished

so badly I could do it for him, but I knew better than to get in his way. He

had me trained faster than anyone else. I licked my chops to remember the taste

and waited for more. It didn't take long for him to warn me. "Alright, here it comes," he

said. His breathing quckly picked up pace and strength. "Lean back." I leaned back as instructed and

watched. He took a sharp breath in and quickened his pace, gruntin' and growlin'

as the chills washed over him. As soon as I realized what was goin' on, I saw

thick ropes of his cum pourin' out of tool, flared like a sunflower. It

splashed against my chest and looped down onto my tummy, fillin' my navel and

coatin' my own tool, sheath, and balls in one strong shot. A second wave

followed and splashed up into my cheek, runnin' down my neck and resumin' its

previous path. By now, my thighs made a funnel for the runoff. The third was

weaker, and Steven moved closer to let it pour out over my lap. A river formed

between my legs, and I could feel it runnin' down my calf and drippin' from my

toes onto the dirty floor of the barn. Steven was pantin' loudly, and his pumpin'

slowed to a thoughtful massage, squeezin' out every last drop onto my tummy.  He held still for a while, leaning

forward on one hand's knuckles on top of the barrel. I could tell he was tryin'

to catch his breath. The smell was overwhelming, and I just couldn't believe

how coated I was. I kinda' wished he had hit my face more, but I was happy

enough with the generous bathing I'd already received. I looked up at him, and

he was smilin' while pantin'. He let go of his meat and grabbed my hand. "Now the real test," he said,

pullin' himself up to my mouth again. I hesitantly licked the new juices. It

was much stronger than the pre, but I still liked it. I gladly cleaned off his

head and went back to clean off his hand. "Good boy..." He pulled himself

away and let his meat drop. It slowly began to recoil back into his sheath.

"Now it's your turn." He grabbed my tool with both his hands,

usin' his thumb and index finger to tighten a kind of ring around the base of

my shaft, below where my knot had already begun to swell. This made it grow

quickly, and Steven used his other hand to pump me quickly and with a good deal

of pressure. My hips began shiverin'. I couldn't get control of my nerves, like

I was constantly reactin' to how it felt, and could never catch up to it. I

nearly lost feelin' in my arms, elbows locked, as I quickly reached my own

climax. I was less of a pourin' and more of a

shootin'. I yelped a little at each shot. I could hear Steven's reactions, but

I couldn't focus enough to understand him. I must have fired at least fifteen

shots from my bright red pistol. When the clips finally emptied, I shivered and

let myself melt. I leaned forward, light-headed, and Steven let me rest against

his chest. I heard him sigh under my pantin'. I was strugglin' to catch my own

breath. "Christ's sake, Jake. I've never

seen someone so pent up." I felt a hand on the back of my head. He began

to scratch and pet me. I suddenly realized how heavy I felt covered in his goo

and how tired I was. "I need to wash up before I go

back to the house," I mumbled between breaths. I could have fallen asleep

against him. "Yeah, you and me both. Nice shootin',

Tex." I looked up at him to see what he meant and saw several lines of my

own cum splattered across his face and neck. One of his eyes was closed. He

grabbed my bandana and began wipin' himself off. "Yeah, let's get you

cleaned up; the last thing I need is everyone else knowin' I hosed you down

like that." He pressed the bandana to my chest only to find that it was

entirely saturated by the mess he made on me. "We're gonna' need more than

this..." I looked down and found my bandana glued to my chest. We laughed.

"How you feelin', Jake?" "Good. Real good." "Good. Let's use the owl's blanket

to wipe some of that off. You can run back to the packer with me and we can

hose you down with some cool water. Deal?" "Yeah." "Oh, and, uh, Jake." "Yeah?" My head cocked as I

looked back up at him. "This stays between you and me,

alright? Nobody else's business what we do in here." He had a serious face, and I was a

little concerned, but I didn't let it bother me. I was still tryin' to regain

feelin' in my feet and elbows. I nodded and smiled. My first attempt to hop off the barrel

ended when I leaned forward again to feel the goo coolin' off and makin' my fur

sticky. Fun as it was, I hated sticky fur. I leaped off the barrel and hurried

up into the loft to grab the owl's blankets. "Are you sure we should use his

blanket?" I asked. I wasn't particularly friendly with the owl, but he

didn't hurt anyone. "Hey, he doesn't pay us to use our

barn. I don't think I need to ask to share his blanket from time to time."  I chuckled at what the owl might look like

when he sees how brutally violated his blanket would be. As I reached the top

of the ladder, I saw through the hatch on the wall that the sun was on its way

down. I stopped and admired it for a minute, then looked down at Steven. He was

lookin' at me. "Thanks," I said. "No problem, Blondie, but get a

move on. I'm gonna' be here all night workin' on this hay." I suddenly liked his nick names for me.

I toweled off with the owl's blanket and left it crumpled on top of one of the

bales. He would be in after sunset, so he might even get to salvage it before

the mess dried. I didn't really care either way. I was in a state of amused

carelessness. I just couldn't be bothered by anything. I looked wet, but not

suspiciously so. I carried the pitchfork and followed Steven to the packer. He

hosed me down a bit, and then got back to work. I spent the rest of the evenin'

at my pond washin' up a little better. I kept findin' little slippery spots in

my fur where we'd missed. The night was calm. The cicadas were

gone to make room for the crickets, who told me it was time to go inside, but I

was too comfortable there in the grass next to the water. I fell asleep. Well,

I tried. Around the time I realized I was driftin' off, I heard the angry rants

of the owl from the barn. I doubled over laughin' and kept gigglin' about it

for the rest of the night. I went back to the house, curled up in my bed, and

slept like a pup without any thoughts of Bruce, Buck, or Steven cloudin' my

mind. I felt lighter than air. I was happy.The next mornin', David woke me up by

throwin' the shorts on my face. "Mornin', sunshine.""Mm, mornin'," I groaned back

before yawnin'. It felt good to stretch. The shorts made good blindfolds, and I

tried to snooze."A little birdie told me you were

out late last night," he continued, nudgin' me with one of his feet."Steven and I talked about stuff

for a while." I was awake now. I dragged the shorts off my face and looked

at them."Short enough for you, fruitcake?

They're called, 'Daisy Dukes.' " He took a breath and gave an irritated

sigh. "Human females wear them when they're in heat, so keep that in mind

when you're prancin' around out back.I stuck my feet through the tiny shorts

and arched my back to lift my butt up so I could get down into them properly,

shiftin' them around my hips until they fit into place. Not one inch of the

shorts felt invasive or constrictin'. They had expanded the front so I could

fit comfortably, and there was a space hemmed into the belt in the back

fastened with a zipper to keep everything on without forcin' my tail out of

place."That frilly tail of yours will

help keep them on without a belt. Now, if something's still wrong with them,

you go talk to the humans yourself. I don't owe you any more favors." I looked at him, and he was smilin'.

"Thanks, David. I'll go walk around and see if they're as comfortable as I

think they are.""No problem, kiddo. Have

fun." He walked into the kitchen and sat next to the humans at the table.I felt like something was missin'; I

patted around for my bandana and realized it wasn't on. Lookin' around the bed,

I didn't find it. One of the humans whistled at me, and there they were wavin' it.

I went to grab it and noticed it had been cleaned. It smelled like the humans'

clothes when they came out of the machines. I sniffed it a bit, and then put it

on. I could smell Steven on it still. I remembered what it was used for, and I

wore it proudly as I stepped out into the field lookin' for a job to do.Everyone gave me hell for my pants. I

didn't mind. Ironically enough, I didn't really have crazy heat waves like I

had before. I didn't particularly need the pants anymore. When I did get hot

and heavy, I could just ignore it until I was done for the day. My pond became

the premier spot to empty my boys. That is, when Steven wasn't workin' on me

himself. We played almost every other day without meanin' to.Sometimes I'd see him walkin' along the

fence and my mouth would water; I'd go wait for him in the barn and he'd gladly

give me a second helping... and a third.  We

made a signal to each other so even if we never got to catch up during the day,

the other would know it was time to play. We'd stick a bucket of water outside

the barn. We knew it was for cleanin' up after.I didn't play out in the open anymore.

It's for the better, I guess. The humans bring me around more often, and

they're much more willin' to pet on me now. When Bruce came over, I talked to

him about anything. I actually kinda' forgot about my feelings for him. He was

one of my only friends. I didn't need to complicate that.Steven quietly moved in to my

"best friend" position. We talked a lot after work, and we'd get

together even if we didn't want to play. It just felt nice to be around someone

who really knew me and liked me. Didn't need to say anything about it. He liked

my dukes, said that havin' me covered up teased him, made him want to take them

off. I understand clothes now. I like my dukes, too.