M.D.

byhoo_hoo_boo©

Though I hadn't entered and knew nothing about it, I apparently won the competition. I was embarrassed. My wife, Trixibell, had entered for me; she used my name and everything. The entry was based on my farming activities and she used all the fancy language. "Conserving Soil Carbon" she called it and she described my efforts to compost. I just wanted the cows to do well. I'd had enough of living with the ass out of my pants and being unable to afford anything better.

Because I was flying to the capital to meet the minister and collect my prize, the kids were jealous. We kept telling them that they weren't invited. Eventually it was resolved, Jon, Don and Ron went to stay with Uncle Con. Aileen, Gaylene, Rayleen and Carlene went to stay with Auntie Lurlene. Trixibell was happy to pack them up and send them on the train. It was a performance.

Then it was my turn to go. Trixibell had me all packed up and on my way very quickly, she promised that she would take good care of the farm.

Six days in the capital, I wasn't enthusiastic. I'd have much preferred to stay at home with the cows and the bloody bull- he worried me, too cantankerous to load up for the butcher and too valuable, with his pedigree, to shoot and leave to rot in the paddock like I should have. The little bastard was huge and he could run. We called him M.D., short for Managing Director because he could manage and he was direct. I thought the A was missing; MAD would have been just as accurate. I liked the name Malevolent Destructor; it was a perfect description of him.

The kids loved watching him, he had no inhibitions. They didn't need pictures to help with their sex education. Several times I just avoided being gored. He often destroyed a lot of fencing and the cows always took a long time to get back into the paddocks. I'd tried to keep him from the heifers, but he decided otherwise, and had mated with all of them. He didn't care about whether they were ready or not. Trixibell promised to stay away from him. No telling what he'd do if he thought she was in estrus.

Having to wait in an airport lounge is especially difficult. The announcement of the flight being delayed for six hours was made just after Trixibell left. She said that she had things to do and we had kissed our fond farewells. I settled into a seat and waited for check in. I thought of what I might have forgotten while I waited. My mobile phone began to vibrate and I answered it. I was expecting it to be Trixibell but it was a male voice and, after introducing himself, he informed me that the convener of the convention had unfortunately died, and the convention had, at the last moment, been cancelled.

"Bugger," I thought, but I was also pleased to be able to go back to the farm. It was the first time I appreciated having the bloody airport so close to the farm. I tried to ring Trixibell but when she didn't answer I started to walk home.

Fifteen kilometers isn't far when driving a car but to walk it, with a full suitcase in hand and in the blazing summer sun, is something else.

I was most appreciative when Sol Gerschwittzen pulled up alongside and offered me a lift. I was very surprised, he worked for Fordy O'Murtrie. Fordy and I didn't get on. In fact, I had a lot of reasons to dislike the bastard.

"If you don't tell, neither will I," Sol said. I agreed. The truck was wonderful, almost new with air conditioning and Sol loved driving it.

"Thought you'd like a ride in your truck," Sol said.

"Thanks," I replied.

Fordy O'Murtrie had sold M.D. to me. He didn't mention MD's malevolence and the impossibility of managing him. I thought that was a low deed. Bastard! When I'd had enough, I called Fordy, the bastard, and asked him to truck M.D. to market for me. Fordy, the bastard, was hesitant but eventually agreed.

M.D. didn't want to get onto the truck. Fordy, the bastard, had brought a cattle prod and started using it. M.D. didn't like it. He bellowed with the pain, he pawed at the dirt, he looked around and suddenly he was running. The noise was incredible as he hit the side of Fordy, the bastard's truck. The noise continued as M.D. put his head under the tray of the truck, and with a massive effort, Fordy the bastard's truck was tipped over. M.D. demonstrated his thoroughness by attacking the bloody truck. The windows and lights were broken, the doors were wrenched off. I thought Fordy, the bastard, would help but he ran and hid as M.D. wrecked the truck. When the damage was done, M.D. casually sauntered to the paddock where all the heifers were.

Two days later I got an account in the mail, to pay for the bloody truck. The price was vastly exorbitant; he wanted new replacement value to be paid, for the use of a crane and the transport of his truck off my property. My lawyer said I had no defense and I'd be better off paying the bastard. I didn't know my lawyer was Fordy O'Murtrie's too, the bastard.

So, it was a pleasure to ride in my truck, and a fine truck it was too. Sol dropped me at my gate, he wasn't able to take me to my door, Fordy, the bastard, would have found out and sacked him.

"Thanks," I said, as I got out. "By the way, what's your real name Sol?"

"Kevin," he said.

"Why Sol?" I asked.

"Fordy's idea." The bastard.

"Ok." I thought about it for a moment. "Why Sol?" I asked.

"Promise not to tell anyone?"

"Yep."

"It's short for asshole."

"Ok, Kevin. Thanks for the ride."

The walk up my drive to the house was easy in spite of the sun; I thought Trixibell would be surprised. The dogs came to see me and were pleased my time away had been so short. It was the beginning of a lovely home coming. From the front gate I saw a car parked beside the house. I saw it was red. As I got closer I saw it was a Mercedes sports. He bought it at the same time he bought the truck, the sheer expense and frivolity of it had the whole district talking. While the rest of us were struggling, he decided to demonstrate his wealth, and drove around in it through the summer, with its top off. The hard top was on now; obviously he didn't want to risk having a chook scratch up the upholstery or a dog bury something in it. I wondered why Fordy O'Murtrie, the bastard, would be visiting.

The only sign of life around the house was me and the dogs as I approached. I walked to the back door and looked in through the window. I had expected to see Trixibell and probably Fordy, the bastard, in the kitchen, at the table, but no one was there.

I put down the suitcase and wandered around the house, looking in the windows as I went. There was no one in the dining room, no one in the lounge, no one in Donny's room or Aileen's. But as I peered into our bedroom I saw a movement. I got down low and looked properly. There on our bed was Trixibell. She was naked, facing the bed, and holding her up by the legs was Fordy O'Murtrie, the bastard, who was also naked and fucking my Trixibell. It was all too much for me. I sat by the window and muttered,

"The bastard," over and over. I could hear her scream and it wasn't a scream of anything but pleasure. I was in shock and not sure what I could do. Fordy, the bastard, was obviously welcome in my house and in my bed. He's a big cuss, twenty two stone of pure muscle and six feet six inches tall. I could go in, yell at them and pick a fight, but getting out could be a problem. I figured I'd have to be smart.

I went and got my suitcase from near the back door and hid it. Then found some cattle drench in the shed. I went back to the house and peered through our bedroom window. Fordy, the bastard, was still playing wheelbarrows with my Trixibell.

I figured that he'd be a while yet. I unlocked the back door and quietly went in. I could hear Fordy the bastard grunting and my Trixibell moaning. On the table was a bottle of alcohol. Neither Trixibell, nor I drink, so it must have been for Fordy, the bastard. I was lucky the bottle was open. I quickly and quietly tipped out some of its contents and tipped in some premixed drench. There must have been enough to drench about twenty cows.

"If Fordy, the bastard, thinks he's active now, wait until he has a sip of this," I thought to myself, "he'll be shitting himself inside out." I left the kitchen, went to the shed and got a jimmy bar, some screws, wire and some bags. I went to the long drop dunny and started work. With the jimmy bar I took off all the iron below the seat at the back, then with the screws and wire I secured lots of bags, no one would notice. I went and got two bricks and put them by the dunny, ready for when they were needed. Next was the bloody car. I looked in the window and there I saw Trixibell's knickers hanging off the gear shift.

"Bastard!" I thought. I got some cow shit and stuffed it up the exhaust; it was quite a task poking it up as high as it could go. I found some wood on the wood heap and with another block of wood hit it into the exhaust, as tight as I could. Then I went to the hay shed, got a few biscuits of hay and threw them around the yard. I also opened the gate. Lastly, I got the video recorder and its tripod, who said I was a bumpkin? I sat behind the dunny and waited. The smell around the breather pipe wasn't so far from high heaven, as is normal in summer.

I waited for hours it seemed, but it was only about half an hour really. The back door opened and Trixibell was laughing and naked as she emerged with Fordy, the bastard, also naked, following. They were laughing and she did a little jig, her breasts bounced as she held her hands up and showed her body to the bastard. She bent over and with her hands pulled the cheeks of her ass apart. He was all smiles as he watched.

In his hands he had a bottle and two glasses. He put them on the outdoor table and suddenly started chasing her. My Trixibell screamed with delight and started running. She didn't get far; the bastard quickly caught her, picked her up, and carried her to the kid's sandpit. There he put her down, spread her legs and put his head between them. I could hear him sucking and her moaning. He had quite a feast with Trixibell's legs spread wide, and she squirmed as he lapped at her. Lucky I had the camera going, it recorded her orgasm as she shook, trembled and shouted. He persisted as she continued with multiple orgasms and shouted all the time. Eventually he stopped and she recovered her breath, slowly. I heard her say,

"I'll get you for that!" He laughed. She lay there, breathing loudly, I could hear it, and he waited.

"Right Buster," she said. She threw her naked body over him and pummeled his back with her hands. It was nothing to him. He laughed as she worked around him, her nakedness on his. Then she stopped and I watched her hands go to his cock. She played as he stretched out in the sandpit to accommodate her. I watched her play with the bastard's balls, she had them in her hands and then in her mouth. She pretended to growl and shook her head as though she was trying to bite his balls off. I almost shouted,

"Do it, Trixibell, do it!" But I didn't, she didn't and he laughed. Then her attention went to his cock. She stroked it, she sucked it and she sat on it, unable to decide how she would deal with it, giving a big impression that there were too many options and all of them were good. She played with it, enjoyed it and cooed at it like it was a pet, her pet.

Then she reached up and kissed him, they kissed for some time and she went down again.

"I'm thirsty," I heard her say. Her mouth went over his, the bastard's cock, and with her hands she stroked him, trying to urge out her drink. She murmured her encouragement as her hand slicked up and down. They were very busy, too busy to see the result of what I'd done.

The trail of hay biscuits had been found by M.D. Slowly he followed the trail, savoring as he went, through the gate and towards the trees where they stopped. He was enjoying his feed. He knew that the house block was trouble to be in and he was quiet.

Trixibell continued with her encouraging. He, the bastard, groaned as she worked. I changed the video camera's focus with the remote so it would get the close up detail. She would have worked up quite a sweat as she changed hands and pumped him harder. Soon he groaned with a stutter which removed the modulated charm. I could see her move with urgency as she struggled to keep up, trying to catch it all. She wailed with her mission and his hips moved, rising then falling as she clung to him like a limpet.

It was over after some time and was so painful to watch. Both lay back, she against his, the bastard's, shoulder. She'd shown him her ability to swallow and both were satisfied as they rested.

He reached to the table. I bet she didn't tell him that was where we mixed the compost and bathed the dogs. He took the bottle as she took the glasses. Together they poured, and with glasses full, the bottle was returned to the table. I heard the chink of glasses. Together they drank. It was beautiful to watch.

"I think there is something wrong with this," he ventured.

"If detergent is a good wine description, then it's good," she replied. They sat there considering.

"This is normally the best wine- it costs a fortune."

"I know."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Not nearly as much as you will be," I thought. They continued to sit. I wondered how long it would take and started counting.

"One, two," I watched, as I counted.

"Nineteen, twenty."

"I'm sure there was something wrong with the wine," he said again. I almost laughed out loud.

"Twenty six, twenty seven," I could see him looking round. His eyes stopped when they located the dunny.

"Twenty nine," and he was up, racing. I picked up the bricks. I never realized he could run so fast, it must have been the propulsion I could hear- a continuous fart all the way. The door to the dunny was flung open and he was inside with his bum on the seat, in better than Olympic time. I quietly opened the curtain of bags and could see his testicles hanging. I stretched my arms out as wide as I could, then rapidly brought the bricks together. There was a bang of the bricks as they slammed together.

A blood curdling scream followed. It was mine. Bloody thumbs. I'd jammed both of them between the bloody bricks. Worse than that, I'd missed his bloody testicles. I could hear movement inside the dunny. He was trying to hurry as I put my arms under my armpits and held them there tight.

"Ooo!" it hurt. The dunny door opened.

"Who's there?!" He wanted to know. But there was another noise. I turned to look and crouched low. M.D. was hurtling towards the dunny, with his head down and horns pointed ahead. For Fordy, the bastard, there was apparently no change of subject from that which had brought him to this malodorous place. I heard him say, with a good deal of wonderment,

"Shit!"

M.D. was bellowing, saliva bubbled round his nostrils and hung in strings from his chin. Fordy, the bastard, was running. I think I was enjoying myself a lot more than him. The house was too far away so he headed for the next best. Trixibell was also demonstrating a turn of speed. I could understand their haste; I'd be running too if I was being chased by that much cantankerous beef, bone and gristle. Both were in the gleaming, expensively appointed, red Mercedes Sports car faster than I could have ever imagined.

In front of me, the dunny was swept away by M.D., his horns having caught the door and with it he knocked the dunny down. He also fell in the pit. There was a splash of shit that flew everywhere. The stench was unbelievable and the sky turned black with flies as he bellowed and struggled. He eventually got out of the shit and raced again, he was mad; I'd never seen him so angry. I stayed still with my hands in my armpits, my thumbs burned as I watched. The smell was like nothing I'd ever experienced. It stung my nostrils. The flies slowly cleared and I was able to watch as he arrived at the car and looked inside. I could hear the starter motor turning and see the panicked shock on Trixibells' and Fordy, the bastards', faces. M.D. hurried around the sports car.

"Perhaps Trixibell will think to put her panties on," I thought.

The sports car continued to be red on top, but its sides turned rapidly to brown. M.D. was bellowing and stamping around with a manic look in his eye. The strings of saliva and the foam from his nostrils added conspicuous, white patterns to the shit on the car. He was angry, very angry. He stood a moment, lowered his head and put his horns under a wheel arch. Then he lifted and like a toy, the bloody car flipped over. I knew that Trixibell and Fordy, the bastard, were ok, I could hear them screaming. M.D. flipped the bloody car again. I could hear Fordy, the bastard on the phone,

"Yes, that's it, a bull!" he shouted. At least he had the presence of mind to do that! While M.D. circled the car, waiting for his chance to get at the occupants, it took the fire brigade, the police, the ambulance and the news reporter, about twenty minutes to arrive in convoy with lights flashing. It had the feeling of Christmas, there were so many lights. They stayed in their vehicles as they assessed the situation. M.D. stood and looked at them. Then a cop got out, leant on the open door, and as he waved the flies away, he also aimed a gun. I had the feeling that the cop was about to shoot, when suddenly M.D. started running. He quickly made distance. He headed for the paddock and escaped. Someone closed the gate behind him.

The jaws of life were used to take the top off the bloody car. It took a while.

"Poo, it sure stinks," I kept hearing. And embarrassed laughter as the rescuers began to realize what was going on. They got Trixibell and Fordy, the bastard, out and loaded them into the ambulance. There were tears of relief as they were rescued. Both of them were still naked. They had lots of friends, black clouds of flies swarmed around them. I heard them being asked who they were, they were so covered with shit they were unrecognizable and Fordy, the bastard, owned up to being me. The news reporter was very busy, and when they were loaded into the ambulance he was quickly in his car, desperate, I guess, to get the first interviews at the hospital. With lights flashing, Christmas left the farm in convoy.

I went around the bloody sports car with the video camera to record the thoroughness of M.D's work, and then turned it off. I figured I had something of value. I also picked up the wine and the glasses and got rid of them. It took a while to get the wood out of the exhaust pipe too. The time was useful because I decided I'd go to the capital after all, there was still an hour and a half to wait before the flight was due to leave. It would give me time to think of what I'd tell my kids.

*

Note:-

Long drop dunny- an outside toilet, usually a corrugated iron structure with a seat incorporated inside over a deep hole in the ground.

Heifer- a female calf less than a year old.

Chook- hen, rooster, chicken- they are chooks.

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by Anonymous07/09/17

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