|Click to go to post and caption|
Cowgirls do it better.
I don't do a lot of multi-panel captions these days. I feel at some point it goes beyond caption and becomes a illustrated story. However, a story requires more than a single panel. When making captions for people, some people LOVE intricate detail. This was one of those situations where I wanted to use a series of images to tell a more erotic story. I liked how this one turned out and I'm thinking of doing a few more.
How often to you read multi-panel captions? Do you finish them when you first start them? Are the pictures what keep you reading them when you do?
“Good luck, son. You’ll come back a man or not at all.” My father’s last words stung particularly hard these days. My time in Montana had done little to toughen me up like he had hoped. One look at me was evidence of that.
My first week in the field proved more than I could handle. Between the unforgiving heat of the Montana summer and the ridicule from the other local ranch hands, I was ready to try to sneak back to L.A. However, I was cut off from civilization - dad had made sure to confiscate my credit cards and cell phone. I was banished to the big house and made to work in the kitchen with Momma Murphy. She paid my whining no mind and put me to work, teaching me how to cook and clean up afterwards. It made it all the harder to eat my meals with the boys after they came in from a hard day’s work.
Perhaps as a way to motivate me, Momma Murphy prepared all my meals herself. I got small portions of meat and lots of salad while the other boys ate hearty meals of steak and potatoes.
“When you can work like a man, you’ll eat like one.” Momma Murphy’s country-isms were her response to my petulance. Brody seemed to be the only one who humored me. He found my pouting amusing but he was good natured about it.
So I slaved in the kitchen, wearing an apron and feasting on Momma’s Murphy’s meals. After a few weeks it got even harder to lift the iron pots and I constantly burned myself on the oven. Momma Murphy made me soak in a iron tub using one of her country remedies. Of course I resisted but the soothing bath salts proved too relaxing for me to ignore. I soaked my body everyday and used a special lotion on my skin that Momma M provided.
At first I didn’t notice the changes. They started out small, but eventually they became too prominent to ignore. My skin was too soft and supple, my lips too plump and kissable. I started losing weight rapidly in certain places while gaining it in others. My Wrangler jeans were growing so tight in the pants that Momma Murphy made me wear girl’s jeans. By the time the summer was over, I was unrecognizable.
Momma Murphy had the local doctor to check on me, but told me he could do nothing until the blood tests returned from the university. While I waited for the results, I did my best to hide myself from the cattle hands. While I convinced Momma Murphy to give someone else lunch duty, I still had to serve the boys dinner. They got a kick out how girlish my hips became and would even smack me on the ass as I passed them at the table. It was an embarrassing situation to be in, but not simply because of my downgraded status. I liked the way my ass jiggled whenever it got smacked. I couldn’t help but sway my ass like a plump target as it grew bigger each day.
After another month, it was obvious I was transforming into a woman. The doctor told me my hormone levels were altering at a rapid pace and he had no answers for it. He told me it was only a matter of time before my cock vanished into a slit. Each day my body feminized itself more and more, my manhood shrinking until it was a nub. I looked no different than the other ranch girls the boys chased around the property.
The hormones within my body flooded my mind with urges. At night I fought the temptation to explore my blossoming curves, but the awakening desires of my flesh demanded gratification. Each night of carnal pleasure brought new thoughts. I looked at the cattle hands with a new sense of appreciation for their hard, toned bodies. They in turn watched my nubile body with desire in their eyes. Still, I would only let Brody near me. He was the only one who comforted me. But even he wasn’t immune to my feminine allure. I could feel his attraction radiating off of him whenever he stood close. I started seeing him in my dreams, wondering... yearning...
The day I woke up with only a moist slit between my thighs, my body seemed to pulse with energy. I walked around in a sensual haze. My ripened body radiated a carnal heat and I strolled around the ranch with a new awareness. I felt like I was searching for something. I finally came face to face with Brody in one of the cabins and I immediately noticed that the longing in his eyes matched my own. Wordlessly he took my hand and lead me to one of the rooms, locking the door behind us. When his strong hands started to undo my shirt, I did not resist him. My body recognized its master.
Brody’s rough hands touched my smooth skin with firm grace I did not know he possessed. I moaned out his name, no longer ashamed of my desire for him. After he stripped my body, I undid his jeans and found the object I had been lusting for. It felt like velvet steel when I gripped it, engorging to it’s full size at my touch. There was no hesitation in my actions - I wanted to taste Brody’s maleness and imprint onto my newly feminine soul. I took my time with it, learning every vein and ridge with my tongue. My cowboy groaned loudly as his little filly fed on his massive meat.
Finally, Brody could take it no longer and flipped me onto my back. He put his hat on my head before finally slipping between my thighs and pushing his prick against my opening. I pleaded with him to take me, mewing with anticipation on my lips. With one hard thrust, my cowboy broke my maidenhead and filled me with his tool. I groaned, feeling like Brody was about to be split me open. Yet somehow my pussy molded itself into a perfect sheath. When he finally took hold of me, I could do nothing but spread my legs and take his carnal assault. Each thrust dug a little bit of the remaining masculinity out of me, making me more a woman: HIS woman.
I lost track of how long he fucked me, but he eventually flipped me over and mounted me like a young mare in heat. He was the stallion claiming me and I met his into his thrusts eagerly. I was no longer a silly city boy, I was Brody’s country girl, and I shouted it when he finally flooded me with his cream.
After that day, I the cattle hands treated me differently. Instead of jokes, I got whistles and catcalls. I gladly took them their lunch out in the field because it allowed me to spend some extra time with my man. My brazen cowboy would pull down skirt or jeans and mount me just to show the others how well he had broken me in. Now that he was being groomed to take over the family business, he’s moved me into his bedroom in the big house. It looks as if I’ll never return to the city - I didn’t become a man and I never want to be one.